Jimmy
Now:
Jimmy loved dancing with Penny. They had both taken lessons in ballroom dancing to be prepared for the wedding. Not to mention that it just wouldn't do to step on your fiancée's feet. After the first two dances, the newlyweds went and sat down at the family table.
The dance for the rest of the wedding party. Clark and Esther chose to sit this one out while Cat and Bruce took center stage along with groomsmen and bridesmaids. Cat and Bruce looked good together as they danced, laughing and chatting, enjoying each other's company. The dance seemed to have improved Bruce's impending moodiness, at least a little. Odd that Clark was buddies with a moody spoiled playboy, but then, Clark had friends in lots of odd places.
Jimmy turned his attention back to his own fiancée.
"We are so eloping," she murmured in his ear.
Jimmy chuckled. "There's a conference next month in Vegas. Perry's sending me."
"Remind me to take that week off," Penny said. "I'll meet you there."
"Clark'll be at the conference, too," Jimmy told her. "I'll ask him to be best man."
"Sounds like a plan."
Then:
Walter Smith groused at the fact that Jimmy seemed to prefer hanging out with Clark Kent and his fiancée than with the staffer from the Daily Planet International section. Jimmy ignored him. Smith was a well known complainer. If it wasn't the photographer assigned to him, it was the accommodations. If it wasn't the accommodations, it was the weather, or the food, or his allergies.
The Tazarastan peace conference was going well enough and Jimmy had managed to get some good shots of Superman speaking to the government officials and representatives of the various involved parties. But even Superman was getting worn down by the difficulties of mediating between parties that were only interested in destroying one another. The animosity ran deep, especially after the Tazarastan interim government admitted to wanting Superman out of the picture and they were absolutely against the fact that women were involved in the security arrangements.
"So, what do you think Superman will do now?" Jimmy asked Clark over dinner. "I mean, if the interim government is balking at having him involved, what can he do?"
"I think it's only one person in government group that's actually against Superman," Clark explained. "That's General Akim Kahn. And he's been implicated in a plot to kill Superman and may have been involved in the deaths of the WMD inspectors last month."
"Unfortunately, there's no proof," Esther reminded them. "And he's the nephew of the current Prime Minister."
"So, where does that leave the negotiations?" Jimmy asked. Having dinner with Esther and Clark was like taking a college level class with food as a perk.
"The other parties are unlikely to request Superman to absent himself, especially since he's been assisting in the reconstruction efforts," Clark told him. "He's acceptable as a neutral mediator so long as he stays out of the way of their defense efforts. And he's been doing that."
"But the problem of their objections to having women involved in any capacity isn't going to be solved so easily," Esther reminded them. "The pre-revolution government had started secularization and allowing women to participate in the economy. When that fell apart under pressure from their more conservative neighbors, their economy and everything but the military took a big hit."
"But they don't believe it, do they?" Jimmy asked.
"Change is a scary thing, especially change that demands a rethinking of nearly every social belief a society is based on," Clark said. "Especially when those beliefs are so self-important, so skewed in favor of one gender, one class, one clan. When it's so easy to be part of a system that blames the victims for their problems, and lets the perpetrators of atrocities not only get away with it, but be applauded for their actions."
"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?" Jimmy observed.
"I'm on the short list for a Pulitzer for my research on this whole mess," Clark reminded him. "Yeah, I've thought a lot about this. And I don't see a way out for them. It may take generations for them to recover from everything that's happened."
"Olsen, my office," Perry yelled into the bullpen. Jimmy saved the digital photo he'd been working on and hurried into the editor-in-chief's office.
"Jimmy," Perry began. "I've been asked to send a photojournalist to Tazarastan."
Jimmy found himself holding his breath. "And you're asking me if I want to go?"
Perry nodded. "Clark is going."
"When do I leave?"
Clark and Jimmy sat on the carpets in the mud brick hovel. Both were dressed in native garb, the long tunic with a wide belt and vest, loose white trousers. Clark's glasses looked incongruous under the dark turban.
"Now, tell me why we're here again?" Jimmy asked as their host went to get more tea.
"Well, Mir Kharim Naseer is a local scholar and leader," Clark explained. "He's also a friend of mine from way back."
"You have friends in strange places," Jimmy commented.
"Remember, I spent about four years just traveling the planet. Spent most of my time in villages like this one."
"I thought you spent your last sabbatical in South America?" Jimmy said.
Clark smiled. "I spent about six months here right before college. They're good people, so long as you let them make up their own minds, don't try to force them into anything. They're proud and independent. But this is where change takes place. These are the hearts and minds that have to be won."
They had come to the village to ask Mir Naseer about the militia groups that were still terrorizing the area. Naseer told them what he knew over tea and a meal. At least Jimmy assumed Naseer answered Clark's questions. Jimmy had only picked up a smattering of native words in the three months he'd been in the country. Clark, on the other hand, seemed to speak like a native. Jimmy had caught him reading Arabic language newspapers their first week in the country.
"Does that include crazy generals?" Jimmy asked as Naseer came back one of his daughters and the tea.
"Yes, it does," Naseer answered. His accent was thick but understandable.
"You've been practicing," Clark accused with a smile.
Naseer shrugged eloquently. "It is always good to learn your neighbor's language."
"It is also good to learn your friends' language, my friend," Clark replied.
"And your enemies, Kalil," Naseer told him, referring to Clark by the name he'd been given in the village fifteen years before and clapping him on the back.
"Especially your enemies," Clark agreed in English.
Jimmy looked up at General Akim Kahn standing on the grate overhead. Jimmy and Clark had been traveling cross country, visiting villages, talking to the people. Then a uniformed militia unit took them hostage at gun point, taking them to what appeared to be an abandoned, half destroyed prison. They'd been forced to climb down into a stone-lined pit that was barely large enough for them to lie down in and an iron grate slammed shut on them.
"I don't like Americans," Kahn told the two men in the pit. "I especially don't like American spies."
"General," Clark said calmly, "you are well aware that we are journalists, not spies. You also know that people will be looking for us."
"I know you have value as hostages," Kahn told them. "I know that you are friends of Superman."
"Superman does not enter war zones," Clark reminded him. "He does not interfere in politics, even when they've devolved into violence." Clark added something in another language that Jimmy couldn't make out but the general's companions started laughing. The general himself went white with rage.
One of his companions spoke to him quietly, apparently urging away from the prisoner pit. With a final inchoate shout at them, the general allowed himself to be led away. The man who had been urging the general away stopped for a moment, looking down into the small stone lined holding pit.
"If you value your lives, you will call Superman," he advised.
"And what does General Kahn want with Superman?" Clark asked. He seemed unnaturally calm, sitting on the cold stone floor of the cell looking at the man standing above them. The man crouched down to get a little closer.
"Ten years ago, the general's home village was attacked by…," he began. "It doesn't matter who, only that they bombed one of the mountain dams. His family – his mother, father, wife, sons – all killed when the village was washed away. Superman did nothing."
"Superman does not enter war zones," Clark repeated. "And as much as I feel for the general's loss, I do not understand the demand for blood payment from someone who does not condone violence and was powerless to prevent it."
"The general doesn't care."
"Why am I not surprised? For those setting out on revenge, first dig two graves," Clark told him. "Superman will not come for us. But our blood price will be exacted. Make no mistake about that." There was something very cold and alien in Clark's expression. Something Jimmy had never seen before and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to see it again.
Most people thought the Middle East was hot desert. Jimmy knew better. The cell was bitterly cold. Jimmy rubbed his hands together to keep his circulation going. Clark was sitting quietly, legs crossed, staring at the wall as almost as though he could see through it and the yards of dirt beyond.
"CK, do you really think somebody is looking for us?" Jimmy asked finally. He'd fallen asleep for a while and was now stiff as well as cold. He didn't think Clark had moved at all.
"If I give you a boost, do you think you can reach the grill?" Clark asked, finally unfolding himself and standing up. As tall as he was, the grill was a good two feet beyond his reach. He put out a hand and pulled Jimmy to his feet.
"I'm pretty sure they locked it," Jimmy reminded him.
"Try it anyway?" Clark suggested, weaving his fingers together to give Jimmy a foothold. Clark was stronger than he looked, Jimmy realized as he climbed onto the taller man's shoulders to get to the iron grill above them. He pushed up on the metal and to his astonishment, the lock mechanism shattered, allowing him to swing the grill out of the way. "It's open," Jimmy said quietly.
Clark gave him an additional boost and Jimmy clambered out of the pit. Jimmy looked around for the ladder the militiamen had used when forcing them into the pit. He didn't see it, so laid down on his belly to reach for Clark's hand to help him out. Clark ignored his hand, coiling himself like an athlete, then jumped, catching the edge of the stonework. Jimmy grabbed the back of his shirt and helped him out of the pit.
Clark settled the grate back over the pit, then beckoned Jimmy to follow him down the unlit corridor to the outside, and possible freedom. As they got closer to the exterior of the building, Jimmy could hear gunfire.
Suddenly, a man appeared in the open doorway carrying an automatic rifle. Mir Naseer. "Kalil, Jimi, I was told you needed rescuing," Naseer told them with a grin.
"What are you doing here?" Clark asked, keeping his voice low.
Naseer handed Clark a package the size of a ream of paper wrapped in oiled cloth. "You must leave now, out the back," Naseer instructed. "Do not come back until Superman is welcome here."
"You know I can't do that," Clark told him.
"Then may Allah and his angels watch over you," Naseer said, pushing the two men toward the back way out of the compound. "As they watch over all fools."
It was announced the next day by official sources in the Tazarastan government that General Kahn had been killed in a firefight between government forces and one of the insurgent militias in the area Jimmy noted that the announcement didn't mention which side the general had been on, or that he'd taken two journalists hostage.
One week later, the general's uncle, Prime Minister Amin Kahn stepped down from office and sought refuge in Italy.
Jimmy asked Clark what was in the package Mir Naseer had given him. Clark just smiled and said: "Ask Superman in about five years."
Oslo City Hall, Oslo, Norway. Jimmy looked around at the hall the Nobel Peace Prize would be awarded. The ceremony was set for early afternoon. As at the ceremony in Stockholm, the dress code for ceremony itself merely dictated dark suits for men and dresses for women, but the banquet was strictly formal. Jimmy wasn't too unhappy that he wasn't expected to attend the banquet following the candlelight parade.
Security was tight around the building. Helicopters whirred overhead and both uniformed and plainclothes police were patrolling the area around the hall. Of course they were cautious. Over a thousand diplomats, royalty, film and TV stars from all over the world were in attendance. He knew Clark and Esther were somewhere down there with the other attendees. It had been Clark's research that had have given Superman the edge he'd needed in the mediation.
Jimmy had gotten some good shots of Superman landing earlier in the day. The ceremony of lighting the lamp of peace with Oslo school children was in the morning, then Superman visited the palace to meet members of the Norwegian royal family.
The audience was settling down in the hall and Jimmy made his way to where the rest of the press was assigned. The fanfare was sounded and the audience stood as the main doors to the hall opened.
Superman entered the crowded room to thunderous applause. Through the telephoto lens, Jimmy could see a faint flush rising into his face. Superman and the Norwegian Nobel Committee chair were followed by the royal family and their security. The royals made their way down to the front, near the stage as Superman and members of the Nobel committee went up the steps to chairs set up on the right side of the stage. The committee chair went to the podium to present his speech.
As a member of the press, Jimmy had a small earpiece to hear the translation of the speeches into his own language. He noted that although there had been a similar headset on Superman's chair, the Man of Steel wasn't wearing it.
The Committee Chair began his speech, welcoming Kal-El to the ceremony, introducing him as this year's recipient of the Peace Prize for his work on the peace process in the war torn areas of Tazarastan and its neighbors.
Jimmy watched as Superman frowned slightly at the effusive praise being heaped on him. Jimmy remembered something Clark said at the airport in Tazar City as he was preparing to get on his plane back to the States. The Nobel committee had just made the announcement the Superman was this year's winner. 'What good is a bloody prize when every time you turn around, the tyrant-wannabes tear down everything you helped built up?'
Jimmy saw much of the same frustration in Superman's face as he sat and listened to the speeches.
Finally, it was time for Superman's speech. The essay had already been given to the press so it could make it into the papers.
"I am both honored and humbled by this honor," he began simply. "I am not a diplomat, and frankly I have no wish to become one. I don't know why the government of Tazarastan asked for my help, although I have suspicions and this is neither the time nor the venue to air them. I am honored that my meager assistance was accepted and that it seems to have done some small good. I am humbled to know that it was not really my work that has made a difference.
"That honor belongs to those men and women of the hamlets, the villages, the neighborhoods and towns who have chosen to follow the rule of law over the rule of passion, have chosen self-determination over tyranny, have chosen to build up rather than tear down. These are men and women who have chosen a different honor, one that values life over death, an honor that values truth above everything, especially over the tales and promises of tyrants, diplomats, and politicians.
"These are the men and women who know from brutal experience that liberty is earned, not granted, taken, not given, and that peace must be fought for just as hard as liberty. But that battlefield isn't the streets, or in the skies. That battlefield is found in the heart, in the mind, around the dining table, around the conference table. It is found in the careful balance between your needs and mine, his needs and hers, this village and that one. It is found in the realization that this is one small planet in a very big cosmos and if we cannot live together, we will not live at all.
"Like liberty, peace is neither granted nor given by tyrants, diplomats or politicians. Like liberty, peace is earned by those who will not abide the orders of tyrants, those who value life, those willing to tell the tyrants 'I will not fight for you. I will not send my children to fight for you. But, I will defend myself, and I will defend my children, against you.'
"This honor belongs to them, and I am honored to have walked alongside them, at least a little ways, on their path."
The audience sat stunned for a moment, then rose to their feet in applause.
Way to go, big guy.