TorontoBatFan asked why I did not have Superman use a lead lined suit to protect him from New Krypton. This is an explanation of the choice I made.
The lead lined suit is a very good suggestion that has been used in other fics, and in the comics. I decided that this was a turn of events that happened so fast, that Superman didn't have time to think it through except to react -- perhaps this experience urges him on to use that type of suit in the future.
Remember that in the Superman Returns universe, he's only been active as Superman for a year or two maximum, and is still young and learning, unlike our experienced Supes from the comics. (His trip to Krypton was mostly in stasis)
There -- that's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it:)
Disclaimer: Superman and his fellow characters are the property of Warner Bros. Studios and DC Comics, and created by Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel. The fact that my real brother's name is Clark is beside the point.
6. Solitude
The impact vibrates his molecular structure, and his body heats up. Nothing in his experience can compare with the sensations, emotions, and sound that move through his being. Then, it is over, and only white light remains -- not a blinding glare, nor a harsh glow, but a gentle, warm luminosity – a welcoming illumination that brings him home.
"Kal, open your eyes. Look at me."
Superman dutifully follows the voice's instructions, to see Lois looking down at him from her penthouse balcony.
"That's it… come on." He lifts up on his toes to fly to her, but seems rooted to the ground. He looks down to find out what is holding him back, but the three-piece tweed suit with vest, pale blue shirt, and blue and red diagonal stripe too-wide tie are not what he expected.
Oh, I'm… uh, Clark -- that's why I can't fly. No, wait, that's not right. I'm me, Superman… Clark or Kal -- the name doesn't matter, I should still be able to defy gravity.
What's going on here?
He looks up at her; she turns to pick up Jason, so he can wave too.
Again, Clark tries to fly, and nothing happens. He looks up at the two beloved faces that haunt his waking dreams, and sees Lois's brow furrow.
"Clark, what are you waiting for? Jason wants his fly 'round before bed. Get up here now."
Clark whips his head around, astonished that Lois would out him like this in public.
Wait… when did she learn my secret?
Jimmy Olsen and Perry White appear to the left of Clark's shoulder, and he jumps back. Jimmy cranes his neck to see Lois, and then shakes his head.
"Yeah… Clark," Jimmy snarks, waving a shot glass of double-malt in the air, "Get up there. Do the flying thing –- or can't you do it without the cape?"
Clark can't believe his ears, and a fiery blush proves his loss of composure.
"Oh… uh, Jimmy… I, uh, don't know what you're talking about. Umm. What flying thing? I-I'm not S-S-Superman."
Perry claps Clark on the back, startling him, and making him cough. He taps Clark's nose with his unlit cigar. "Now, Kent, don't you let him get your goat, son. You know who you are." Perry shoves the chubby cancer stick in his mouth, and pokes his finger at Clark's chest. Kal's anxious eyes follow Perry's wink down his arm to his forefinger. What Clark sees at the end of that digit causes his world to tilt on end.
Superman's exposed insignia makes it very clear which who Perry means.
Clark's mouth hangs open, aghast, and he clutches at his unbuttoned shirt to pull it closed.
"Cla—ark!" Lois's bellow draws his attention upward, where she is gesturing at him to get up to the balcony.
Looking nauseous, Clark squeezes his eyes shut. Dizzy – looking up – heights…
"…always scared me…" and he is floating above the Daily Planet building, with Lois's warmth clasped in his arms.
"What… always scared you?" She looks into Superman's eyes, confusion colouring her newfound adoration for this impossible being. Faltering, he fumbles in the air, and Lois slips out of his grasp. Frozen, he watches her fall, and shuts his eyes against his shock and inability to act.
When he dares to peek, he grabs at the edge of his desk. So… dizzy. Gil glares at him from across the newsroom. The security guard, Leslie, is the first to approach him. "May I help you sir? I'm sorry, this is a restricted area – only D.P. employees allowed." Clark looks down at his familiar Superman colours and raises his eyebrows.
"Uh, I'm… Superman. I, uh…" Why am I here – and in uniform?
For a second, Leslie looks amused, and then purses her lips, "Super… who? I'm sorry sir; I'll have to escort you out of the building. Perhaps you should call and make an appointment." When he doesn't move, she takes hold of his arm, and he allows her to lead him to the elevator.
As he passes the tall windows, mirrored by the darkness of night, Clark is surprised to see that he is wearing his horn rims, and grins a sigh of relief. That's why they don't know me – my disguise.
His smile freezes into a rictus of shock as he sees Lois nose-dive past the casement, toward the pavement far below.
"Lois…" He runs to the window, crashes through the glass, and plummets into the void.
He lands with a soundless puff of dust in the fertile soil of his Smallville farm. He picks himself up, brushes the dirt off his jeans, and reaches up to adjust his glasses, but they are not on his face. Patting down his jean jacket pockets, he looks around on the ground for them. Well, I don't need them… I'm home. He peels off his jacket and t-shirt, so that his sun-thirsty alien skin can soak up the golden rays, and he smiles at the glint from the wind vane as it creaks in the breeze.
Like a childhood chant, Clark calls, "Mom… Mo-om, where are you?"
He peers in the barn, and sprints up the stairs to the loft. The window looking out over the fallow field beckons him. Clark pouts. Where are all the animals? Shelby?
Taking the veranda steps two at a time, he throws open the front door, and finds the house exactly as he left it; his mother's favourite coffee mug sits empty by the sink, and the worn kitchen table, set with the inevitable scrabble game, glows under the warmth of the overhead lamp.
"I'm ho-ome."
He tilts his head, and closes his eyes to listen for her heartbeat.
Nothing – NOTHING.
No heartbeats.
Anywhere.
He races through the homestead, frantic, "Mo-o-om!"
Oh, GOD… I'm alone…
Ending up in his room on his childhood bed, Clark crawls under the covers, and pulls them up over his face. He stares at the underside of the blankets in the awful silence, and whispers,
"Mom?"
------------------------------------------------------
"Kent. Lois. My office." Lois rushes in, carrying a file-stuffed leather satchel, to find Perry, worrying an unlit fat Havana with his broad fingers. He jams it in his mouth and chews the end. When he notices that Lois notices, he rips the cigar from his teeth, stuffs it in his desk drawer, slams it, and spits in the trashcan.
That no-smoking policy is sure rough on him -- for me it's an… excuse…
"Lois, why haven't you submitted the museum heist piece? Without waiting for her answer, he throws open his office door. Damn it to hell, where is Kent?"
With an exaggerated eye-roll, Lois dumps her bag on the floor in front of Perry's desk. "Clark's not here, Chief. I – have no idea why, I'm not his keeper."
"The article, Lois? Any chance it'll be on my desk before the deadline?"
"Yeah about that – um."
"Look… forget it, we've got bigger fish to fry here. Binny the Dodge thinks he spotted a certain bald maniac in South America."
"Does this mean I get first dibs? Let me handle the Luthor story – he's there… I can feel it."
Perry waves her request off as if it wasn't important.
"Whatever – someone's gotta nail it before the Inquisitor scoops us."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Chief – I was only here for… years... before the absent Boy Scout showed up."
"Boy Scout?"
Lois exhales some tension, and explains something she thinks is as obvious as Perry's craving for a good smoke.
"Clark – you know, he's like a boy scout –– I can just hear him… golly, shucks, be prepared…"
Using his famous quiet-voice, Perry cajoles, "Lois, what do you have against that young man? He's never been anything but helpful to you."
Now, Lois is pacing. Her voice is not quiet.
"Right. He only gets your ear all the time -- he gets the best stories -- and he's never here when you need him."
She stops and leans on the desk, gripping the edge, white-knuckled. "This is because I'm a woman, isn't it?"
"Not this again…" as in the past, his balance of noble suffering and distain makes Perry White master of the eye roll.
"Yes, this again – do I need to do a feature on it to make you take me seriously?" Her voice cracks with emotion, "Even your nephew… gets his own office."
Perry stands, a warning look awakening in his warm brown eyes, "Now, Lois…"
Contrite, Lois stands up, shoulders her bag, and turns to leave. "I'm sorry Chief… that was way out of line. I--"
"—Lois, are you worried about your partner?"
Lois makes a disgusted face, "Clark? No… no, actually, I'm concerned about… Superman."
"For heavens sake, Lois, I think he can take care of himself."
"I don't know, Chief – I saw him put this on my desk last night… this is why I haven't finished the article."
She draws the envelope from her leather shoulder bag, holding it with a reverence and delicacy – as if it might shatter in her hands. She extends it out to Perry.
Taking the offered packet, his eyes scan the address label, and widen as he reads. His lips move, forming the word DEATH.
He looks up to meet Lois's brimming gaze. She collapses in the chair. "I can't. I can't… deny… how I feel, Perry." He looks at her as if she just grew a third eye, and Lois collects herself. "Forget what I… just – forget it." She scrambles out of the chair, grabs the envelope, and hurries to her desk, pausing only long enough to snag her coat on her way to the elevator.
Once the doors to the lift close, Lois hugs the manila wrapper to her chest and sobs, "Kal… oh, Kal," and sinks to the floor of the car.
TBC
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