"… totally awesome!" was the first words that floated into Agent Davison's semi-conscious mind. "The way you fried his metal butt! We didn't really see anything after; the heat roasted the optics in the cameras. But it was still freaking amazing!"
Davison recognized Dr. Mullen's voice. He slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on the bare floor of the scrub room. His chest was bare, his muscular frame covered by a cooling blanket. Dr. Mullen and Dr. Morales were a few feet away, standing close enough for the length of their bodies to touch. Kneeling over him was Superman, who looked down at him, his crystal blue eyes full of concern. The protective suit was gone; his red and blue outfit once again bare to the world, his cape cascading around him.
"You kick his ass?" Davison asked; his voice soft and faint.
Superman smiled widely. "I dumped him on the moon."
Davison frowned, and then seemed to shrug slightly. "Less paperwork for me." He pushed himself to a sitting position and let the cooling blanket fall away. The room spun and he grabbed his head and closed his eyes.
"Here…" Superman handed him an open bottle of cool water. "You're severely dehydrated. Drink this. Slowly." He added.
Davison grabbed the bottle and took long, slow sips. When he was done, he held the half filled container to his temple, relishing the cooling sensation. "You save the city?" he asked, his eyes still closed.
"Both reactors have been cooled. Reactor two is actually flooded with coolant."
"And we even managed to restore the power relays." Mullen added. "I am happy to report that Metropolis is up and running again, thanks to yours truly."
Dr. Morales cleared her throat loudly.
"Thanks to us." He corrected himself.
"So we're not going to meltdown or explode?" Davison asked.
"Not today." Superman assured. His features went dark.
Davison immediately understood why. If power had been restored to the city, then the chair Lois Lane was trapped in…
Davison looked around the small room. "Dr. Yamamoto?"
Superman glanced towards the far wall. There, a cooling blanket covered a small form. "He ruptured his kidney when Metallo threw him into the wall. There was nothing I could do." He admitted.
Davison looked at him. He wanted to say something comforting, but nothing came to mind. He shook his head and took another sip of cool water.
"Chainsaws and Lipstick" began playing faintly.
Superman looked at the Federal agent.
"It's got a cool beat." Davison offered. He pulled his cellular phone from his pocket and pressed the send key.
"Davison. Who is this?... How the hell did you get this number?..." he sighed heavily, pulling the phone from his ear and offering it to Superman. "It's for you."
Superman took the phone, not at all surprised to hear the deep growling voice on the other end.
"I found her." Batman said plainly. "Whatever was blocking the trace signal just cut off a few minutes ago. I pinpointed the source of the transmission."
"Where?"
"Metropolis. Lower east end. Suicide Slums. Sixty-nine Terrace Loop."
"Sixty-nine Terrace Loop." Superman repeated. He tossed the phone back to Davison and was gone before it hit his hands.
Davison looked at the now vacant spot, then over towards Mullen and Morales, their hair dancing in the wind left behind by Superman's departure, then finally down at his phone. He pulled it to his ear.
"Seriously," he said. "How'd you get this number? Hello? Hello?" The line was dead.
He slid the phone back into his pocket and pushed himself to his feet. "Where's my shirt?" Morales pointed towards a mound of cotton one the floor. He picked it up, and slid it back over his torso with a grimace.
"Now what?" Mullen asked.
"Now," Davison answered, locating his firearm and sticking it in his waistline in the small of his back. "You get the rest of your staff in here and get this plant back together, reset the hard drives, reconfigure the systems; whatever the hell you need to do, just make sure what happened today never happens again!" He made for the door.
"Where are you going?"
Davison paused at the door. "Sixty-nine Terrace Loop." He answered flatly. "Pray Lois Lane is still alive. And pray harder for whoever Superman finds there if she isn't."
Six minutes ago...
Jeremiah was walking slowly through the dim hall, the gun in front of him, business end forward.
Lois had vanished around the corner and he was searching for her carefully. He was done playing games. He was going to kill her, one way or another! But he wasn't taking any chances. The last time he underestimated her, he ended up in a pool of his own blood, barely conscious. As it was, he couldn't see out of his left eye, his nose was severely broken and would require cosmetic surgery to repair, his head was pounding, probable due to a mild concussion, and remaining upright was more of a challenge that he wanted to admit.
Simply put; she had beaten the crap out of him.
"Noah is going to love this…" he thought to himself. "Now I can't tease him about the time Susie Colpepper stole his lunch money."
He swung around the corner, the gun out before him, ready to fire.
The hall was empty.
To his right, the door to the sound proof room hung open, to his left, the hall loomed out.
"Where are you hiding?" he whispered. He thought of going into the darkness of the sound proof room, but his aching face made him think twice. He pulled the door closed, and after fishing the key from his pocket, he locked the door securely.
He quickly stuffed the key back into his pocket and turned towards the hall. His steps were slow and steady, his ears fighting past the ringing and straining to hear the faintest tell tale sounds. His eyes scanned the shadows and the dimly lit corners.
"You out here, Lois?" he called out. "Are we playing hide and seek now? Why don't you just come out so we can talk about this…? I think I owe you and apology." The gun swept back and forth slowly. "I didn't mean for it to end like this," he went on. "To be honest, I was actually hoping Superman would fail to save the city." He continued to inch forward. "You and I would have been completely safe in here. No matter how bad things got out there, we would have been perfectly fine. And when the smoke finally cleared, I would have lived up to my word. I would have given you back to Superman, considering he survived, and I would have turned myself in to the authorities. But then you got free…" He reached the junction and went left, the generator behind him.
"How'd you do that, by the way?" He asked as he moved. "Those straps were pretty tight. What'd you do? Break your own wrist and yank it out?" He whistled. "That must have hurt like hell. I'll admit," he said, his fingers gently touching the side of his swollen face. "You're one tough broad. I really underestimated you. I won't make that mistake again." He inched to the next corner and swung around again, ready to fire.
The hall was empty.
"By now, you must realize that there's no way out. The plate covering the stairs? Its remote controlled, kind of like a car door. And I have the only key." He tapped his pocket. The final corner was just a few feet away. He inched towards it. "I'll make you a deal," he said softly. "If you come out now, I promise no to shoot you. We can put you back in the chair and we can see how all this plays out." He was at the corner, gun at the ready. "What do you say?"
He swung around the corner and nearly fired at the staircase and empty darkness.
Lois wasn't there.
Jeremiah screamed obscenities into the darkness and stormed back down the hall, murderous intentions on his heart and mind.
Lois was trembling.
She tried to stay as still as she could in the narrow space behind the fifty-five gallon drum of, based on the smell, could only be gasoline. The generator beside her was running steadily, a sound like a muffled lawnmower droning in her ear. Even still, she could just make out Jeremiahs voice in the dimness of the hallway. She listened to his insane rationalizations, his mindless meanderings, his wild explanations; all while huddled in the dark corner, her hand over her mouth. She wasn't worried about him hearing her breathe, but had to stop herself from screaming "Drop the gun and I'll show you how tough!" when he called her a "tough broad".
She watched him reach the hall, her heart pounding as he hesitated. When we went left, she exhaled slowly. She listened to him rant, and watched him inch towards the next corner, then swing around and out of view.
She waited another second, listening to his voice grow just a tad softer.
And then she made her move.
As silently as she could she crawled out from behind the drum and as quickly as she could, she began limping down towards the other end of the hall. She snaked around the sound proof room, and made a left at the end of the hall.
She didn't even pause and take it all in; rather she tore into the desk searching for a phone or a weapon or anything she could use to her advantage. She quickly rummaged through the drawers, the shelves and everything else. The best she could do was a six inch letter opener. He held it in the light and tested its weight. It wasn't much, but Lois figured it would have to do.
A gun went off behind her and something slammed into her left shoulder, spinning her around in a spray of blood and pain.
Lois fell to her back and grabbed her shoulder, warm red fluid pouring through her fingers. She screamed, her throat cracking with the sound. Tears streamed from her eyes.
And Jeremiah stepped over her, the barrel of the gun pointed at her head.
Her heart was thundering in her chest again, both intense pain and fiery rage boiling inside her as she looked up at him. She was breathing heavy and her eyes were burning.
And Lois realized that she was about to die.
And too her surprise, she wasn't afraid.
She was angry. Angry she was going to die on her back rather than on her feet, fighting.
To his credit, Jeremiah didn't gloat. He didn't brag or boast or say anything crass or snide. He simply pulled the trigger.
And clicked an empty chamber.
Lois didn't hesitate.
She kicked out with her right leg as hard as she could, her foot connecting squarely with Jeremiahs knee.
He howled in pain and fell to his back, clutching his ruined knee.
Lois rolled to her right side, the pain in her shoulder immense. She pushed to her knees, and with her right hand, she snatched the laptop computer from the desk and feel forward with it, trying to smash it into Jeremiahs head.
Even in excruciating pain, he managed to dodge to one side just as the small unit crashed into the stone floor, breaking in half. Jeremiah roared, and backhanded her across the temple. Lois fell against the wall, her head hitting the surface of the two sided mirror. Her eyes fluttered and when her vision came back, it was to see Jeremiah fist hurtling towards her face.
She ducked, and he hit the mirror, a cracking sound coming from his hand. He howled again and pulled his hand away slowly.
Lois was on him then.
A right-cross connected with his jaw and sent him reeling. He fell back and she mounted him again. She landed two solid blows on his already swollen left side.
Before she could land a third, Jeremiah reached up and grabbed her left shoulder and squeezed, his thumb digging into the exit wound.
Lois screamed. The pain was so intense, she nearly vomited. Her vision blurred and the room spun.
Then a hook caught her on the left side of her jaw and sent her to her back.
Lois lay sprawled on the floor, dazed and disoriented.
This time, Jeremiah crawled on top of her. His hands snaked around her throat and he began to squeeze.
Lois grabbed his hands and tried to pry them away from her throat, but between her broken thumb and her failing strength due to blood loss, she couldn't free herself.
She punched him. His head turned with the blow, but still he squeezed.
She hit him again, and again, and again.
And still he squeezed.
She fought frantically, her arms flailing, her legs kicking, her air fading. Her fingers clawed at his face; deep crimson lines trailing down his swollen cheeks.
And still he squeezed.
Darkness crept into the edges of her vision. Her energy was fading; her arms felt heavy, and her legs distant.
She was dying.
She looked up at Jeremiah, his face a swollen, emotionless mask. If he took any pleasure in what he was doing, it didn't show. His eyes were glazed over slightly, as if he wasn't really seeing the woman dying beneath him, but something much different, much further away.
"Not… like… this…" Lois whispered to herself. "Fight, damnit!"
And she struggled again, the surge of adrenaline giving her a boost of strength.
She placed her feet flat on the stone floor and pushed up with her hips, lifting Jeremiah for a second. She tried to scamper out from beneath him and escape, but he remained in place, straddling her chest and torso; although she did manage to move a few inches.
Her hands flailed again, searching. Her right hand found something; a hard, long, pointy piece of metal.
She snatched up the letter opener and swung it widely with what little strength she had left. She stabbed Jeremiah in the chest, the blade plunging three inches deep just below his left color bone.
Jeremiah blinked twice, looked down at her, and then at the silver handle protruding from his chest. He slowly released her neck and fell away from her, staring in astonishment at his new wound.
Lois gasped for air and coughed hard. She rolled to her side and crawled away from Jeremiah, her back eventually pressing against the large shelf of computer terminals.
Jeremiah just sat there, blood rushing profusely from his chest. He looked at Lois, his one good eye tearing slightly.
They sat there in the dimness for a long moment, just staring at each other. Neither spoke, neither moved. Lois was massaging her neck; her breathing was ragged, and her throat was sore and raw. Her thumb was tucked against her stomach, her legs pulled close to her chest. She sat there silently, curled in a small ball.
Jeremiah was sitting with his back against the far wall. His legs were spread out before him, his hands were at his sides and his chest rose and fell steadily. And with each breath he took, a little more blood seeped from his chest.
Seconds turned to minutes.
Minutes dragged past.
And they just sat there silently, too hurt and too tired to fight any longer.
It's impossible to know how long they would have been content to just sit in the shadows of the room, each silently nursing their wounds, neither willing, or even wanting, to make the first move.
It's impossible to know, because in a blur of speed and a hail of lead, dirt, and rocks, Superman smashed through the ceiling.
Superman recognized the brownstone immediately; the four-story structure which, only a year ago, he saved from fire. The structure that had meant death for three people trapped inside a lead walled basement. And as soon as he saw it, he knew who was behind it all.
He scanned the unit as he streaked towards it. No one was inside. It was completely vacant. All the units were empty and devoid of furniture. And the lead walled basement beckoned him.
He dived into the building, crashing through the skylight and slamming into the floor of the lobby, and into the basement beneath.
The moment the roof exploded in between him and Lois, Jeremiah had not doubt about what was happening. Superman had found them. He didn't know how, and to be honest, it no longer mattered.
It was over. He had failed to kill Lois. The lack of seismic activity, burning air, or screams of pain, panic, and horror indicated the reactor had been saved from meltdown.
And Superman stood in front of him.
He looked down at Jeremiah, his eyes bright red, fiery energy licking at the edges. His face was a mixture of fury and revulsion. His hands were balled into tight fist and the very air was thick with his rage.
Jeremiahs heart seemed to shrink to the size of an acorn. Fear gripped him, so intense and complete, he couldn't remember ever feeling anything else. He looked up at him and knew in that moment what it was like to be an ant looked up at a very large magnifying glass.
"Superman…" the soft, horse voice called to him.
And just like that, as if someone had hit an "on/off" switch, the fire and fury in Superman's eyes faded, and all the tension drained from his body. He turned slowly.
There, on the floor, curled into a small, bruised ball, was Lois.
The right side of her face was a mixture of red, black, and purple and severely swollen. The left side was deep red. Dry blood sprinkled her chin and mouth. Crimson liquid seeped from the hole in her shoulder. She was cradling her left hand to her chest, her right hand limp in her lap.
And the moment he saw her, Superman began to cry.
He went to her, dropping to his knees and reaching for her slowly. The tips of his fingers gently brushed her swollen cheeks, tracing the once perfect line of her face. She reached for him just as tentatively and touched his face with a blood stained hand, feeling his strong neck and rugged chin. They looked at each other with love and sorrow and a million things unspoken.
He pulled her close and she wrapped her right arm around his neck, clinging to him as if he was the last solid thing in the world. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as if he was afraid she might turn to smoke and disappear if he squeezed too tight.
Lois began to sob in his chest.
And Superman cried with her.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered to her. "I'm so sorry." He said it over and over as they cried. "I should have been there for you. I should have saved you. I'm sorry Lois."
The moments passed by.
Lois pulled away first. She looked into the crystal blue eyes of the man she loved most in the world, and even though it hurt like hell to do so, she smiled. "Smallville," she began. "I had him right were I wanted him." She looked over his shoulder towards were Jeremiah sat and found nothing but a small pool of blood.
"He's in the next room." Superman said softly.
"He's going to escape." Lois cried, trying to pull herself to her feet. Superman stood and helped her stand.
"No." Superman said plainly. "He's not. He's just sitting there." Lois looked at him and then towards the two way mirror. "Stand back." Superman told her, and guided her back to the far wall. She hobbled as she went, favoring her injured ankle.
Superman turned to the two-way mirror and his eyes filled with fire again, this time unleashing a wide beam of heat. The two-way glass shattered a moment later.
On the other side, in the once sound proof room, Jeremiah sat on the floor facing him, clutching his knee, his face a mixture of pain, revulsion, hatred, and defeat.
The two men locked eyes, neither spoke for a long moment.
"The reactors?" Jeremiah asked.
"Safe." Superman answered plainly.
"The city?"
"Safe."
"The power?"
"Restored."
"Your wife?"
Superman hesitated for a moment. He spared a glance over to Lois, her own eyes locked on the man on the floor, her face unreadable.
"Safe." He answered. "And you're going to pay for what you did to her." He added.
Jeremiah smiled. "I see why you picked her." He offered, looking at Lois. "She represents the best humanity has to offer; strong, passionate, brave, caring, and compassionate. She's quite a woman. She reminds me a little of Lisa…" His eyes lingered on Lois for a moment, then back to Superman.
"I can't imagine what you went through after the fire," Superman began.
"Can't you?" Jeremiah interrupted, looking at Lois. "I think you know exactly how I felt, what I still feel to this day! The rage! The pain!" He pointed at Lois. "I tortured her for the entire world to see. I shot her! I beat her! I tried to kill her! LOOK AT HER!"
And Superman did. He saw his wife beaten, and bruised, and bleeding, and crying. The emotions boiled inside him and he slowly turned back towards Jeremiah, the fire filling his eyes once again.
Jeremiah smiled. "You want revenge?" he teased. "You want to kill me, don't you? You want to shear the skin from my bones with your heat vision, or beat me into paste, or tear my limb from limb. And the funny thing is; your wife is still alive. Imagine how I feel about you…"
"You..." Superman hesitated, his body trembling. "You murdered dozens of people on the ferry. You blew up a school bus filled with children for heaven's sake. And you nearly destroyed the entire city. And for what? Revenge?! Nothing you do will bring her back. Lisa would never have—"
"SHUT UP!" Jeremiah screamed. "YOU DON'T GET TO SAY HER NAME! YOU DON'T EVER GET TO TALK ABOUT HER!"
Superman went silent.
"She thought the world of you. You were her hero. She would lie out on the roof some times just to see you fly by." Jeremiahs eyes glazed over, as if he was seeing something far away. "She died praying you would save her." He added.
Superman didn't respond, and his eyes dropped.
"I wanted you to know how this feels, Superman; failing to save the one you care about most. To lose the only person in your life that matters. To fell the pain of having your heart ripped out, and to have to live with the pain; to live with a giant hole inside you that can't be filled. I wanted you to suffer, like I suffered, and I would have destroyed the world if I had too!"
Superman looked at him again, the resolve building him. "I'm taking you in." he said plainly. "You'll stand trial for the crimes you committed, and for the lives you destroyed."
Jeremiah looked at him for a moment before he spoke. He sighed. "You forgot the rules." He said softly. "For every person you save, another shall die." And he looked from Lois and back to Superman. "You can't save everyone."
Jeremiah grabbed the chair.
A hundred thousand watts.
One hundred amps.
He didn't scream or cry out in pain. He didn't twitch or thrash or flail. His body went rigid and his jaw slammed shut. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body began to smolder. Superman was suddenly next to him, pulling him from the chair, the current jumping briefly into his invulnerable body. Sparks erupted from the chair in a brilliant shower as Superman tore Jeremiah away.
And as he held the man, his body limp in his arms; still, silent, unmoving; he knew he was too late.
Jeremiah had been correct after all; Superman couldn't save him.
He lowered him gently to the floor and closed his eyes. He looked down at him, not sure how to feel or what to think.
There was the sound of glass cracking and Superman turned. Lois was stepping into the sound proof room.
He went to her, blocking her view of the body.
She looked at him, her eyes fierce and determined, her face mixed with fear and fury. And in that look, Superman understood.
He didn't try to stop her as she stepped around him.
Lois looked down at Jeremiahs lifeless form. Her eyes slowly slid over his body, from his feet, to his legs, his knee bent at an odd angle, to his waist and chest, the letter opener still protruding from just below his collar bone, his face a swollen mass; crimson lines carved down either side, his eyes closed, never to open again.
Superman turned and looked at her. Neither spoke, or even moved for a long time.
Then Lois vomited.
Superman was beside her then, holding her gently. "We need to get you to a hospital." He said when she was done, lifting her into the gentle cradle of his arms. She wrapper her good arm around his neck as he walked back towards the gaping hole he created in the ceiling. A moment later, she felt them rise into the air, nestled gently in his powerful arms.
They raised the height of the brownstone, floated up through the shattered skylight, out over the rooftop, and then slowly descended down towards the street.
Lois picked up the sound then; the thunderous thump of helicopter blades and the hum of the engine. It was a large medical chopper, painted bright with red and white, the medical seal embossed in bright green.
It descended from the sky in a storm of light and noise and wind, touching down in the center of the empty streets, sending stray scraps of paper and discarded plastic containers flying and dust clouds rolling. Before the wheels could swell under the weight of the craft, the doors opened and people rushed towards them.
Among them was Agent Davison. And Clark Kent.
Lois looked from Superman, to Clark, and back again.
"It's J'onn." He whispered to her ear.
She squeezed her arm a little tighter around his neck. "No." she whispered. "Don't leave me."
Superman hugged her a little tighter as well. "I won't." he whispered softly. "Ever! But you need medical attention, and the world needs to see Lois Lane-Kent," he added emphasis to Kent. "with her husband. Not with Superman."
Lois pulled away and looked up into his eyes and reluctantly, she understood.
They medical team reached them, a gurney rolling beside them. Superman gently lowered Lois to the gurney and they feverishly went to work in a storm of questions, jargon, and pre-emptive treatment.
And Clark was among them, gently holding her hand, whispering encouraging words to her ear and through her mind. But Lois only had eyes for Superman. Even as they loaded her into the aircraft, she refused to take her eyes off him. And he didn't take his eyes off of her.
Until Clark Kent stepped in front of him.
The two men eyed one another, very aware of the watchful eyes of Special Agent Davison and Special Agent Sanders.
Clark offered his hand.
Superman took it and shook.
Out loud, Clark said. "Thank you." as they shook hands. Mentally, the Martian telepath whispered. "I will await you at the hospital, were you may take your proper place by her side."
Superman nodded, and then watched his double ganger rush towards the helicopter and climb inside. Then he watched it rise into the air and speed off in the direction of Metropolis General. Inside the cabin, Lois watched Metropolis sweep by beneath them, the bright lights of the city dancing below. Clark was seated beside her and the medical team was beginning to treat her. Lois looked up at the man whose face was like that of her husband and smiled. "I'm tired, J'onn." She thought.
"Then, by all means, rest." The deep, heavy voice tingled through her mind. He placed a soft hand on her forehead and Lois closed her eyes. And finally, after all she had endured, and with a slight telepathic push, Lois allowed herself to fall into the dark of unconsciousness.
"Where's Jeremiah Kuttler?" Davison asked stepping forward.
"Inside." Superman answered. "In the basement."
"Alive?" Davison asked.
Superman didn't answer.
Davison looked at Sanders, who nodded and went towards the brownstone entrance, leaving Superman and Davison alone in the street. In the distance, police sirens could be heard.
"How'd you know it was him?" Superman asked.
"I ran the address through the computer. The fire caught my attention, and once his and his wife's name popped up, it was just a matter of connecting the dots. They guy worked as one of the technicians at LexCorp Hydro-Nuclear. He was the fourth member of Yamamoto's team. In fact, he programmed the control systems for the reactor chambers. That gives him access to the chambers, the tram, and the ferry. The school buses must have been something he cooked up on the side. He wasn't in any of the interviews we conducted at the plant because he was supposed to be on vacation; guess where."
"Australia." Superman answered, seeing the pattern. Davison nodded.
"Once the security log is back online at the plant, I'm sure well see that Mr. Kuttler made an unscheduled visit to his job within the last twenty four hours. Just in time to plant the rod. I'd love to know where he got that kryptonite fuel rod."
"The Stangin Research Facility." Superman offered. "That's what he was working on: a kryptonite powered reactor."
Agent Davison rolled his eyes. "Score another for science. Kuttler had PhD's in nuclear physics and applied nuclear engineering. Those bombs must have been his pet project. And get this, his younger brother is on our most wanted list; Noah Kuttler, aka the Calculator."
Superman seemed to consider it all very carefully. He was quiet for a long moment.
"Should I ask what happened in there?" Davison asked finally.
Superman looked at him, his face serious. "He killed himself." He answered flatly. "He was right. I can't save everyone."
Davison shrugged. "Some people shouldn't be saved."
Superman looked at him. "You can't mean that."
Davison returned his look evenly. "A ferry full of people. A school bus. A research facility. The entire city of Metropolis. Lois." He said each pointedly. "This guy was as far gone as they get." Superman opened his mouth to respond, but Davison held up a hand to stop him. "Should he have to die for it? That's not for us to decide." He admitted. "But consider the alternative; he goes to trial, some hot shot lawyer gets him declared insane. He spends some time inside a minimum security hospital, where he eventually escapes and tries all this again, except maybe next time, he gets it right. Personally, I prefer the more definitive solution."
Superman blinked at him, not sure what to make of the man before him. "I thought we were supposed to be the heroes…"
Davison laughed. "You're the hero." He admitted. "I'm just a guy with a job to do." The other officers and agents were arriving, a swarm of suits and uniforms rushing towards the brownstone en mass. Davison went to join them.
"Shouldn't you be getting to the hospital?" Superman asked. "Your ribs…?"
Davison looked back over his shoulder. "I'll be fine."
"But your ribs…" Out of pure instinct, Superman X-rayed him. What should have been a pair of broken ribs on the left hand side of his torso, were now completely healed bones.
Davison smiled at him. "They don't call it the Meta –Humans Division for nothing." He offered.
Superman opened his mouth, closed it, and finally offered the Special Agent a nod.
Davison returned the gesture and disappeared into the building.
Superman stood there for a moment longer, allowing the tension of the last few days slowly fade from his body.
It was over. Jeremiah Kuttler was dead. Lois was alive. Metropolis was safe.
Superman took to the sky.
When next Lois opened her eyes, she was in a hospital room, lying on a bed in a paper gown, covered in a light blanket and a lighter sheet. She felt groggy and tired and her body felt numb and distant. She looked for and found the IV taped to the bend of her right arm, the small bag it was connected to full of a transparent liquid.
She tried to sit up, and an intense, albeit distant pain shot through her shoulder. She looked down at it and saw a mass of bandages covering her from the collar to the upper arm, her left arm in a sling. Her left hand was in a small cast, her thumb immobile. As sensation floated back to her, she felt something tight and restrictive around her right ankle.
"Use the bed controls." Clark offered. He was sitting in a chair beside the bed. He leaned forward over her, taking her right hand softly into his own.
She smiled at him, and then frowned. "Are you really you?" she asked.
He smiled back. "It's really me, Lois."
"Good." Lois smiled. "I was afraid I was going to have to sleep with J'onn again." She joked. Clark smiled. He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
Lois glanced up at the IV bag hanging over the bed. "Great. I wonder if they have this to go." She looked back to Clark. "What time is it?"
He glanced at his wrist watch, a gift from her on their second anniversary. "Almost ten thirty."
"That's not bad." Lois yawned. "I thought I'd be out longer."
"It's Wednesday."
She raised an eyebrow. "I've been out for two days?" Clark nodded. Lois looked at him for a moment, and then shrugged slightly, frowning at the pain in her shoulder. "Guess I needed the rest. What's the damage?"
"The bullet went in and out." Clark explained. "You were lucky. It missed the bones and didn't do any permanent damage. Only twenty-seven stitches."
"Only?" Lois interrupted with a frown.
Clark shrugged. "Your arm will need to stay as immobile as possible for at least a week, then, after your stitches come out, you'll need about six weeks of physical therapy."
"Great." Lois sighed. "And this?" She moved her left had slightly.
"You dislocated your thumb and broke the bone." Clark regarded her carefully. "How did he break your hand?" he asked.
Lois smiled. "This," she wiggled her hand again. "Was all me; had to get free somehow."
Clark was silent for a moment, and just looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. "You are full of surprises." He said finally.
"Hey, Lois Lane-Kent is no body's victim." She stated matter-of-factly. She went on to recount her experience of events that lead up to Superman's arrival in the basement. She told him about the Stangin Institute and the work they were doing there, about the proposed ten million dollar grant. She spoke about Alisa, and the kryptonite fusion reactor, about the explosion and waking in the dark sound proof room, about the chair and the pain, about her escape and her battle with Jeremiah.
Clark listened intently, and when she was done, he gave her the details of his own experiences since the last time he spoke to her on the phone. He told about the tram and the ferry, about his night spent listening to the heartbreak of Metropolis. He spoke about the school bus and the small boy he saved and gave his cape to, about the reactor and his battle with Metallo and finally his emergence in the basement of the brownstone.
"He must have really hated you." Lois said softly.
"In a way," Clark began. "I understand why." Lois raised an eyebrow. Clark edged a little closer. "Lois, when I saw what he did to you, I wanted nothing more than to break him in two." He explained. "I wanted him to feel every bit of the pain he gave you. And then some! And you were still alive, still whole. His wife is gone. And in his heart, for whatever reason, he truly believes I'm to blame." Lois opened her mouth to protest, but Clark held up his hand. "And while I don't condone his actions, I understand his motivation. When somebody hurts someone you care about, someone you love; you want to hurt them back. It's human nature."
Lois smiled at that. "Human nature?"
Clark smiled back. "Yes!" he answered, ignoring her jab. His face turned serious then as she looked into her eyes. "I was so afraid I was going to lose you." He admitted.
Lois pulled her hand away and ran her fingers through his hair. She smiled at him. "I'm not letting you off that easy, Smallville. You're stuck with me!"
And again, Clark pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the smooth soft skin gently.
A nurse entered the room then, all smiles and well wishes. "Good. You're up." She beamed. "We were afraid you were going to miss breakfast again." She was carrying a tray of covered dishes.
"What's on the menu?" Lois asked.
"Runny eggs, under cooked sausage patties, over ripe fruit salad, and month old apple juice." The nurse answered with a wink and a smile.
Lois frowned. "Good thing I'm in a hospital."
The nurse placed the tray on a serving stand and slid it into position. "You are one lucky woman." She offered.
"I wasn't hurt that bad." Lois replied, adjusting her height with the bed control.
"Not that," the nurse corrected. "Your husband." She gestured to Clark. "He's been by your side every second since you came out of surgery. I don't think he's even been to the bathroom. I had my tonsils taken out last year and you know what my sorry excuse for a husband did? Played golf! You have a good man."
Lois looked at Clark; his crystal blue eyes behind the thick rimmed glasses, his dark black hair, the perfect lines of his face, his smooth soft skin. She pulled him close and kissed his lips softly. "He's the best. He's my Superman."
"Yum." The nurse went on. "Superman! Now I'd love to be the one to fold his cape at night!"
Lois and Clark looked at one another and smiled.
"I'll let the doctor know you awake." The nurse said as she left the room.
Lois pushed back the sheet and blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
"Where are you going?" Clark asked.
"Bathroom."
"Let me help you." Clark offered, standing.
"No!" Lois protested, pushing him away. She grabbed the IV stand and began limping towards the restroom. "I can still do things myself. I'm not helpless!"
Clark looked at her. "No." he thought to himself, watching her hobble into the small room and close the door behind her, a wide smile gracing his lips. "You're not helpless at all."
"And you better not be x-raying me in here!"
Epilogue
It was raining. The sky was covered in dark swollen clouds that hung low over Metropolis, blocking out the moon and stars beyond. It was late.
Noah stood alone in the graveyard looking down at the tombstones.
The first read "Lisa Ann Kuttler; Beloved wife and Mother." The second: "Jeremiah Kuttler; Beloved Husband and Father." Noah had added "and Brother" in black permanent marker. He wasn't sure if it would last in the rain, and didn't really care.
It had been three weeks since the funeral, and for obvious reason, Noah had waited to come pay his respects.
He stood there for what seemed like hours. The rain had poured down on him relentlessly since he was without an umbrella.
"Good-bye, big brother." He said finally, and he turned and walked slowly towards the cemetery entrance and the streets below.
He made it as far as the walkway.
In a gust of wind, Superman was suddenly in front of him.
"We need to talk." Was all he said. He grabbed Noah by the coat and shot into the air like a rocket. The speed was so intense, that in a matter of seconds, the blood rushing from his head, Noah blacked out.
When he woke, it was bright and sunny and hot. Really hot. Sweat dripped from his face and brow. Something hard was pressing into the side of his face. He slowly opened his eyes. He was face down in the dirt and sand.
He pushed away from the ground and looked around. Dry desert stretched out around him in nearly every direction. In every direction, as far as he could see, was nothing but sand and rock and dirt.
"Where the hell am I?" he asked out load.
"Egypt." A voice answered. Noah looked up.
Superman floated down to him. He was holding something. He landed a few yards away and looked at him fiercely.
Noah backed away. "W-what do you want?"
"Answers." Superman said plainly. He eyed Noah. "But first, I need you to understand something. I would never have killed him. No matter what he did to her, he would have lived to face justice. I'm no executioner. I need you to understand that."
Noah's eyes feel then. He had indeed hacked the FBI database and read the reports for himself; the forensic reports, and both Lois Lane's and Superman's own eye witness accounts of the events. He even read the coroner's report, which confirmed electrocution as the cause of death. But hearing Superman say it out load, well, Noah needed to hear it, even if he didn't realize it.
"Thank you." He said softly. "I know he killed himself. And I'm sorry for what happened to your…" he stopped himself before saying the next part. "I'm sorry about what happened to Lois."
Superman didn't respond. He just looked at the man across from him for a long moment in silence.
"On Krypton," he began finally. "Crime was virtually non-existent. When some one did break the few laws that they had, they were of course tried in a court of justice, and if found guilty, they were sentenced. Since there were no prisons on Krypton, the guilty had to serve out their sentences in the Phantom Zone."
Noah's blood ran cold. He looked at the strange device Superman held. It was metallic and shaped like a large dust buster, except the front in was divided into four equal slots and the handles had two grips.
"It's a lot like limbo." Superman continued. "There is no such thing as time. There's no up or down. No real since of weight or mass. You're just there. What seems like a year in the Phantom Zone is only a minute here. A life time there would be a day. You won't die, no matter how long your there. You won't age or get sick. You'll get hungry, but you won't starve. There's no food or water, but it doesn't matter because you won't need any; you can't really die in The Phantom Zone."
Noah's throat was suddenly very dry.
Superman aimed the device and pulled the trigger.
And tore a hole in time and space.
The vortex was the size of a large Jacuzzi and appeared beneath Noah almost instantly. Noah had a moment to see the earth simply vanish from beneath his feet, and then feel himself falling into nothingness.
Superman caught his wrist and held him over the hole. He floated above him under his own power. He looked down at Noah.
"WHO ELSE KNOWS!?" he roared.
"NO ONE!" Noah screamed, clinging to Superman's arm with all his strength.
"Don't lie to me!" Superman warned, shaking Noah slightly and lowering him closer to the hole.
"I-I'm not lying!" Noah shot back. "Pull me up!"
"Who knows!?" Superman said again.
"Luthor!" Noah cried. "Luthor! He knows!"
"And?" Superman lowered him a little further.
"And Brainiac!" Noah screamed.
"AND?!" Superman lowered him further. Noah looked down. He was waist deep in the vortex. He couldn't feel his legs.
"THAT'S IT! I SWEAR! NO ONE ELSE KNOWS! PLEASE!"
"Did you have anything to do with kidnapping Lois?"
"NO!"
"He had help, Kuttler! Was it you?"
"NO! I TOLD HIM NOT TO GO AFTER YOU! I TOLD HIM TO LEAVE YOU ALONE!"
"Then why'd you tell him about my secret identity?"
Noah was down to his chest, now. It felt like he was in a pool of ice cold water. "I WAS DRUNK! I DIDN'T KNOW I TOLD HIM! I SWEAR! SUPERMAN, PLEASE! I'M TELLING THE TRUTH!"
Superman looked down at the man clinging to his arm, more than half his body gone inside a swirling black hole of inter-dimensional energy.
And he believed him.
Superman pulled him free of the vortex and tossed him to the dust and sand of solid earth. With a simple press of a button, the vortex simply dissipated, leaving behind a gentle swirl of sand.
Noah was breathing hard; his heart was like a jackhammer in his chest. He rolled to his back and reached down and squeezed his legs, ensuring they were attached and whole.
A shadow fell over him and he looked up at Superman hovering a few feet above him.
"He went after my wife, Kuttler." He said plainly. "He nearly killed her. He murdered nearly sixty people. He blew up a school bus! He couldn't have done all that on his own."
Noah looked at him and shook his head. "You don't understand." He began. "Jeremiah was the 'smart' one! He graduated high school when he was fourteen; he finished college five years later with a double PhD! To him, math was like breathing. It was his life. It was all he ever cared about. Until he met Lisa."
Noah sat up and brushed the dirt from his pants. He looked up at Superman again. "She was his life. His world. His sun and moon. He could have been anything, done anything, but all he wanted was her. They moved to Metropolis because of her. He went to work for the plant because it allowed him to be closer to her. When he lost that, it broke him. His body may have died in that basement two month ago, but his heart and soul died over a year ago. He asked me to help him… you know… get you. And I told him to let it go. I swear to you, I begged him to drop it. A dozen shots later, and I may have let your secret slip. Hell, I could have told him where the Secret Society holds there annual clam bake, I was so wasted."
"Is that your excuse?" Superman asked angrily.
"No." Noah shot back. "But it's the truth." He pushed to his feet and stood facing Superman. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened to Lois, but I didn't have anything to do with it. I told him not to go after you, I tell most of my clients to leave you the hell alone to be honest, but he was a different man after Lisa died. He was broken."
Superman looked at him for a moment before he spoke. "I believe you." He said at last.
Noah shrugged. "Now what?"
"Well, you are a wanted man." Superman answered. "But I'm not taking you in. You have work to do."
Noah frowned. "What do you mean?"
Superman floated a little closer. "You're going to use your considerable resources and connections to make sure nothing ever happens to my wife. Lois Lane-Kent's safety is now your responsibility." He said matter-of-factly. "If anything happens to her; kidnapping, hostage, assassination, if she even get's a hangnail, I'm going to hold you responsible." He floated closer still. "You could run, you could hide in a lead lined box, but I promise you, I will find you and when I do, dropping you in the Phantom Zone will seem like a pleasure cruise compared to what I'll do to you. Do you understand me?"
Noah swallowed hard.
"Good." Superman said. And he began rising into the sky.
"Wait!" Noah called out. "Where are you going!? You can't just leave me out in the middle of nowhere!"
"You're a smart guy, Noah." Superman yelled back as he continued to fly away. "You'll figure something out."
And Noah Kuttler, the genius known to criminal underworld as the Calculator, watched Superman disappear over the horizon.
Less than an hour later, Superman soared through the skies over Metropolis. Life had returned to the city; its citizens ready to resume their lives; ready to once again put their trust in him.
Trust in Superman.
Millions of lives under his watchful, protective eyes.
And while he had to admit, he couldn't save everyone, he made a solemn promise to them, and to himself:
He would always try.