Chapter 5
Metropolis
Tuesday, September 29, 2020
At 3:30 PM, Clark's phone rang and Lana's name appeared on the screen.
"I'm about to go into a meeting but I just wanted to ask; are we still on for dessert tonight at my place? Is 7 PM still good?"
"Yes. I still plan to be there and seven is perfect."
"Okay, good. See ya then." Lana hung up.
Lana had wrestled with an idea she had after speaking to her mom on Saturday. At first, she resisted it and thought it would begin going down a slippery slope for their relationship. But after a rather intense internal debate, she gave in to her urge to confirm what she felt. Something was not adding up with Clark's stories. He was hiding something big from her. She was not worried he was hiding another relationship; it was something else.
She drove to his apartment building at 344 Clinton Street right after lunch on Saturday. It was a small apartment complex, less than 20 units, she judged. The parking lot was accessible only to residents with a magnetic card key. She parked along the street and walked through a side pedestrian access gate and spotted the space for apartment 3D. A deep red Ram 1500 pickup truck was parked in the space. She looked inside and recognized it as Clark's truck. To confirm it, she looked at the tailgate that bore a Tampa, Florida dealership sticker from which the truck was provided.
With that in mind, she returned to her apartment and began unraveling the riddle that Clark Kent had been.
Clark arrived precisely at 7 PM. Lana met him at the door and gave him a kiss. "This is for you," he said. In his hand was the yearbook her mom had given him. She looked at him and smiled.
Friday, October 9, 2020
"I don't know how to explain it, Lex. All I know is that twice now I have been saved from a terrible tragedy. Call it karma, call it coincidence, call it 'the hand of God', I don't know. But something sentient is out there doing these things and I have no clue why I'm on the receiving end of them all the time."
Lois had accepted another dinner invitation from Lex. He had returned the day before from a lengthy overseas business trip and the first order of business was to invite Lois for dinner. This time, the dinner began later and by the time they had finished, most of the staff had left for the evening. It did not escape her attention that there would be fewer eyes on the two of them that evening.
"If this is a sentient being like you think, Lois, perhaps you have been saved twice because you're always putting yourself in dangerous situations," Lex offered.
She frowned. "Let's see. I was saved at a cut-rate 80's revival rock concert being held at a dilapidated stadium, and I was drunk on my ass after a night with a friend, about to be beaten and raped by thugs. How is that putting myself in dangerous situations?"
Lex smiled almost imperceptibly. "You're a reporter, Lois. In fact, you're the best investigative reporter that the Metropolis Journalism Guild ever judged, given the number of consecutive awards you've won. Don't you think that might make you a figure worth saving? If this is a sentient being like you believe, then it's smart enough to know you're worth saving."
They sat in overstuffed leather chairs next to one another in a room that Lois had never been in. It was his inner sanctum that he referred to as his den. It was lit with small LED spotlights fixed in a black ceiling and that dramatically pierced the otherwise dark room and sparingly illuminated nearby objects in the rest of the room. Relaxing music drifted from hidden speakers and the electronic blinds that covered on a curved wall of floor-to-ceiling windows had been opened, providing a breathtaking view of nighttime Metropolis. A ten-foot cantilevered balcony ran from in front of the panorama windows and wrapped out of sight, presumably to Lex's bedroom. A door, unnoticeable unless looking for it, led from the den to the balcony and a titanium and shatter-proof glass safety rail replaced the ornate wrought iron rail that previously had been installed. The new railing allowed for a virtually unobstructed view of the city through the windows in the den and when on the balcony at the café table that sat there. A narrow alcove led from the den to Lex's bedroom and there were several original paintings on the walls along with small bronze sculptures and unique pottery in dimly lit spaces within a wall of books.
Lex had shifted his chair to an angle so that he did not have to turn his head to look at her. He lifted his glass of scotch from the small table that had been between them and took a sip. "I certainly think you're worth saving."
Lois stood and walked to the wall of glass and looked out onto the city. "But of all the people in Metropolis, Lex? Each time I'm in some type of peril, it's there. Yet there are still stories of people getting beaten, mugged, robbed, and raped elsewhere. They may be fewer than before, but they still happen. There are a lot of reporters too, I'm not the only one in Metropolis."
Lex rose and walked up beside Lois. He turned to her. "Wasn't John Corben purportedly saved by this so-called, Avenging Angel? He's a reporter."
Lois's jaws tightened at the name. She turned and looked at Lex. "A reporter? No, he's a douchebag who writes stories, he's not a reporter."
She turned back to the window. "Quite the view, Lex," she said, wanting to change the subject. A slight shiver went through her as the dropping temperature outside turned the glass cold.
Lex stepped behind her and gently rubbed her arms for warmth. "It's the most beautiful view I could imagine," he said, and then added, "at least it is now."
Lois, with her back to Lex, smiled. She knew where this evening was headed, and she was determined not to let it go that far. She turned to face him. "And you know that I know how you want this evening to end. And I know that you know that I won't let it get there, right?"
Lex smirked. "You can't blame me for trying, Lois. You're my sun, moon, and stars."
"It's not that I wouldn't love to, Lex, under any other circumstances. And it's not like it hasn't crossed my mind a thousand times; I mean that.
"I'm a reporter, I believe the things you tell me, and you have to admit, that is a hard-fought victory for anyone in your position. I trust you, I'm obviously very attracted to you, and if I wasn't, I wouldn't be here right now. And the day may come when I decide not to go back home after dinner with you." She smiled and leaned forward and kissed him. "But that day isn't today. Until then, if you want to see a better view of the sun, moon, and stars, you should consider getting a telescope."
Lex smiled and pulled Lois closer. He kissed her more deeply than before and she did not resist, waiting instead to see if he would persist or resist his more primal urges. He broke and said, "Just as you're worth saving, you're worth waiting for, Lois. You've won my heart and I'm patiently waiting to win yours. I think you know me well enough by now that I won't force myself on you."
She kissed him chastely and then separated from him. "Which is why I feel safe coming back every time, Lex. I hope that will always be the case." She let go of him and announced, "But now, I have to go, regrettably. It's been a wonderful evening. Thank you for the exceptional dinner and conversation. Please tell Chef Charles that I said he's killing it!"
Lex nodded, chuckled, and led Lois to the door. He retrieved her jacket and helped her with it. "Ronald will see you home, Lois. Good night," he said, and Ronald opened the door and followed her out.
Riding home in the limousine, Lois looked out the window and thought to herself, I could get used to this.
Thursday, October 15, 2020
"I could eat Italian food every night," Lana said. "I think it's my favorite type of food. Unfortunately, I'd weigh about 350 pounds if I did."
They sat at a table near the front window of a popular family restaurant specializing in authentic Italian cuisine. Clark had never been to Italy so he accepted the claim with a grain of salt. "It's good, I'll say that. It seems much better than the food at Italian chain restaurants." He paused. "I think I'd prefer Mediterranean or Japanese if I had to eat it every night. Italian would be high on the list, though. Just below whatever my mom was making," he added and winked.
He took his fork and twirled it in spaghetti and lifted it to his mouth. He froze in place for an instant and put it down on the plate. "Excuse me," he said, standing up.
"Is something wrong, Clark?" Lana asked worriedly.
"No, um, stomach problems. I just have to go to the men's room." Clark got up and rushed off.
She watched him head off and disappear from sight into a hallway.
He raced through the kitchen and out the back, taking flight, responding to the sound of screams and sirens. A fire raging in a twelve-story apartment building in the Suicide Slum district had trapped residents. He hovered high above the burning building, out of sight and watched the emergency response. The fire department was there and seemed to be handling the situation, getting residents safely out while holding the fire at bay. Thick smoke billowed from the building, and using his x-ray vision, watched as half a dozen firefighters searched and then escorted the last few residents from the threatened building as some were dousing flames.
A pair of firefighters were taking the last remaining resident to safety when the resident began gesturing. One firefighter moved the resident along and the other turned and climbed up to the empty eleventh floor above. Clark watched the firefighter closely as he or she went from room to room in an empty apartment, searching for something.
More sirens from responding emergency service vehicles obscured the voices and it was impossible at that time to determine what the firefighter was searching to find. After some time, the firefighter lifted an article and carried it to door to the apartment. Before he or she could descend, the staircase collapsed, and the firefighter fell back to a location near the doorway he or she had just exited.
Firemen below furiously fired streams of water on the staircase on the floor below the one that had just collapsed while others tried to extend ladders up from two floors below. The stranded firefighter just sat and watched the attempts.
Clark sensed that the ladders would not reach the threatened firefighter or that they were unstable and trying to descend a ladder over a gaping hole from which smoke, ash, and steam billowed and flame leapt was not the solution. He dove down through the thick black smoke and through the back window of the apartment that the firefighter had exited. He walked up from behind and stood for a moment, and assessed the chances that the firemen would be able to rescue the stranded firefighter.
"Can I help?" Clark asked and the firefighter spun around to look at him and he could see through the protective hood that it was a woman firefighter. She just stared at Clark for a moment, and he smiled reassuringly. She was holding an urn in her lap. He reached down to help her to her feet as she continued to stare at him. He bent, picked her up as she held the urn, and walked to the adjacent apartment and kicked the door off its hinges.
Carrying her to the center of the living room, he burned a large hole in the floor then extinguished the flames that were beginning to spread and floated to the tenth-floor apartment below. That apartment was thick with smoke and the charred kitchen implied that the fire may have started there. He burned a hole and extinguished it twice more, carrying the firefighter down each time.
He set her down in the darkened room. The smoke had cleared on the eighth floor, and she removed her hood and breathing apparatus. She was a youthful middle-aged woman with tears streaking down her cheeks. "I think you'll be safe now."
"Can I hug you?" she asked.
He smiled. "Yes, of course."
She hugged him and concluded it with a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for saving me," was all she could muster amid the tears.
"No," Clark replied, "thank you for risking your life to save others. I have a special affinity for first responders."
She nodded and started to move to the door and stopped. "Aren't you coming?"
"No, I need to avoid the attention. I have another way of exiting."
"Why? You deserve attention for what you do," she replied.
Clark shook his head. "It's people like you and other first responders that deserve attention, not me."
She stared at him and then asked. "Are you the one they call the Avenging Angel of Mercy?"
Clark grimaced. "Yes. That's really a mouthful, isn't it? I hate that name."
She grinned. "Why?"
"Because, I don't avenge anything," Clark told her, "That's not why I do what I do. And angel? Well," he said and chuckled, "I'm certainly no angel."
"Well, I'm sorry but I have to disagree with the last part, and I think my kids will, too," she said.
He smiled. "I think your fellow firefighters are outside the door and you should probably let them know you're okay."
She nodded and walked toward the door and when she did, Clark launched himself up and out of the building through the roof, smoke, and steam. Moments later, he returned to the table where Lana was patiently waiting.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yes, of course," he replied. "I actually had to take a call while I was in there."
She then gave him a strange look and a subtle smile as Clark picked up his fork and took a bite of spaghetti that was no longer warm.
Friday, October 16, 2020
"I saw something, Perry," Lois said, eyes wide. He was handing her article back to her with its usual spelling and grammar corrections in red. "Of course, I wouldn't put that in the story, but I could swear before all the firefighters left the building and just the pumpers were used, I saw something fly out of the roof. It happened in a split second, like something shot out of a cannon through the smoke!"
Perry cocked his head. "Lois, get a hold of yourself, it was a fire. It was a major fire. Things heat up. Things explode in a fire. It could have been a gas bottle, an oxygen bottle, or a fire extinguisher for God's sake."
"It never came down, Perry. And I was watching. It shot up in the air and never came back down."
"Well where do you think it went, Lois? Outer space?" He frowned. "It was dark, Darlin'. It probably landed in Centennial Park. You said there was thick smoke everywhere. What are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying that I think I glimpsed whatever it is that is intervening in emergencies. I'm saying I think I saw the Avenging Angel of Mercy."
The editor in chief looked at her skeptically. "And you think whatever it is, it flies. That's what you're saying?"
She crossed her arms. "That's what I'm saying. I won't put it in writing, but I'm telling you, Chief; once this thing is exposed, you'll know I wasn't full of it."
"Okay, then," Perry replied and stared at her until it became awkward, then she nodded and left. He watched her head out the door and then he chuckled.
"Lois," Cat Grant said.
Lois sighed. "Yes, Cat?"
"Were you out with Lex the other night again? Are you two becoming an item or what, because, well, you do know what I do here at the paper, right?" She grinned.
"Annoy the living shit out of me?" she quipped. "And yes, I also know what you get paid to do. And yes," Lois admitted, "I had dinner with Lex. We discussed the ramifications of the Avenging Angel of Mercy over dinner and then I went home." She cocked her head. "Now, do you see anything newsworthy about that?" Without giving Cat a chance to respond, she added, "I didn't think so."
"Slow down, Sister. I'm not trying to badger you."
"Oh, we're doing this now." She plopped the story on her desk and sat at her computer. "What is this, a new tactic? I have work to do, Cat."
Cat sat in the empty chair that once held John Corben. "I wanted to talk to you, woman-to-woman." Lois looked at her and said nothing. "What's he like? I mean seriously and off the record. What is Lex like in private because he doesn't seem to be the type of person that you'd be interested in being with."
Lois squinted. "I don't know if you're serious or punking me right now."
"Cross my heart. I'm serious." She paused. "I get your interest in Jose Delgado; hell, I'm interested in climbing that tree. But I don't get the draw of Lex Luthor unless you're a gold digger, and I know you better than that."
"Wow, we're actually having a real conversation here, aren't we?" Lois chided and Cat nodded. "Okay. Truth is, Lex is a different person in private. He's not the cold, calculating business mogul you read about. Nor is he the guy who will ever end up wearing a lamp shade on his head at the end of a party. But he's so damn intelligent, Cat. He knows so much about almost everything and he's such a forward thinker that just talking with him is fascinating. He's a gentleman and in today's world, that's really refreshing."
"So, you aren't interested in him for anything other than his mind?"
"Well, I'm not saying that, exactly," she confessed. "But I'm not interested in him for any reason that you'd want to write about.
"It's his character and attributes that keep me interested in him. He's considerate, he's thoughtful, he's articulate, he's perceptive, and he's very instinctive. I know those things don't exactly make for a hot profile on Tinder, but they're more refreshing and fulfilling than some sleazy lounge lizard peppering you with lame pick up lines on you all night."
Cat nodded. "Interesting. I never thought about Lex Luthor in those terms, but I could see how they can be alluring." She paused. "So, I also wanted to ask you about Jose. You two aren't dating, are you? I know you see each other now and then but that's nothing serious, is it?"
"Nope," Lois said dismissively. "Look, Jose is a nice guy and he's a gentleman too. He's a good-looking man but we don't mesh particularly well. We get together to exchange information mostly. They're polite meetings, usually over lunch or coffee; maybe a quick bite for dinner but believe me Cat, that's it. We are not an item in any way, shape, or form!"
"So, no weirdness between us if I take a crack at him?"
"You mean other than the usual weirdness? No, Cat. There would be zero additional weirdness between us because you're banging Jose, or whatever forestry euphemism you prefer." She paused and looked Cat dead in the eye. "In fact, I actually think you two would make a great couple, if I'm being entirely honest because you're both great at what you do and are committed to it." She paused and Cat smiled. "I can't believe I actually said that out loud."
Lois paused and Cat said, "Well damn! Are we bonding here, Lane?"
"Not a chance," she replied. "See ya, Cat. I have work to do now."
"Thanks, Lois," Cat said and got up.
Lois looked up from her monitor, suppressing a smile. "You're welcome."
Ten blocks away from the Daily Planet, Lana Lang was reviewing the raw video a WGBS news crew had taken of the Suicide Slum apartment fire. She had learned of the fire during the ten o'clock WGBS news broadcast when she got home the night before. Besides watching it for content, she was focused on the recorded time.
Clark had returned to the table after excusing himself for about ten to twelve minutes the night before. Upon his return, he told Lana that he had been delayed by a telephone call he received while in the men's room. That could have explained the duration of his absence but it did not explain why he smelled of smoke. It was not the smoke that one might smell if food or cooking oil was overheated or burning in a kitchen. It was the faint but unmistakable acrid smoke scent that one would experience at a fire where chemical, organic, and mineral-based materials were all burning together. It was the smell of a house fire and Clark was wearing that scent when he returned from the men's room.
Lana looked at the digital imprinted timer on the video feed from the fire. And although she did not look specifically at her watch when he left the table, she did check it while he was gone longer than normal. Without question, Clark was gone during the height of the fire, and he returned before it had been extinguished.
Rumors of a miraculous rescue by the Avenging Angel of Mercy were running rampant on social media sites but no official or resident had been identified or quoted. Aside from the harrowing stories of those rescued by the brave men and women of the Metropolis Fire Department, no other official story was released.
Lana read the rumors and thought about what she knew and what she suspected. Clark was always different. Clark was cloistered his whole life to prevent others from knowing him well. Clark has inhuman speed. Clark was impervious to injury. Clark was unselfish and had a deep respect and genuine concern for all life. Clark had an ironclad sense of fairness, right and wrong, and respect for the law. Clark arrived in Metropolis when the Angel of Mercy first appeared. Clark was hiding something from her, something big. These were the facts about Clark that she knew.
The Avenging Angel had superhuman speed. It had superhuman strength. It had respect for the laws of man. It was apparently impervious to injury. And, it had compassion for humanity and life.
It was frightening to think that the man she was in love with was some kind of metahuman or freak of nature. She decided that she would wait to see if Clark willingly shared what he was hiding with her rather than confronting him with it. But she would not wait much longer because she needed answers.
Tuesday, October 20, 2020
At the morning staff meeting, George Taylor announced that he received notification from the owner that due to dwindling circulation numbers, the Daily Star was having its budget cut effective January 1, 2021. The budget cuts, he said, would likely affect jobs by the end of the year. The editor in chief encouraged his team to work hard to boost circulation any way they could and stave off layoffs.
After he released the staff, he asked that Clark remain. "Clark, you're a great journalist and we couldn't be prouder having you as a member of our staff as Journalist of the Year. But Son, I'm sorry to tell you that you have the least amount of seniority among the staff and I'm afraid you will be the first person laid off in January."
"How certain is it that layoffs will happen, Sir?"
"I'm 100 percent sure they will happen. I just don't know how many will lose their jobs, Clark."
Clark said nothing and nodded, acknowledging what Taylor had said.
"But I'm going to put in a call to my friend, Perry White, and see if he has something for you." He clapped Clark on the shoulder. "I hated to have to tell you this, but I wanted you to know with as much advance knowledge as possible to land another job elsewhere. If Perry has anything, I'm sure he'll jump at the chance to bring you on board."
Clark thanked Mr. Taylor and shook hands with him. "I'll work until I'm told to leave," he promised. "Don't worry about that, Sir."
He left the Daily Star building and walked along the street in the direction of City Hall. Along the way he thought about what he might do if he lost his job. He concluded that he could freelance or perhaps run a news blog. Both would free him from the demands of traditional work hours and allow him to focus more on his nighttime work. His only concern was making enough money to pay his rent, utilities, and food. Maybe he could do part-time work during the day and be a nighttime stringer for the paper.
As he approached City Hall, Clark gently pushed his way through a throng of campaign workers handing out flyers, buttons, and bumper stickers for candidates. It was one week before the elections and the mayor was announcing a plan he was submitting to the city council to clean up the Suicide Slum district, Centennial Park, and make Metropolis Park more family friendly. Clark had been assigned to cover the announcement during the staff meeting.
Before he reached the building, a small skirmish between opposing political candidates' surrogates erupted near the steps of City Hall. Clark moved in to intervene and separate the parties before it escalated. "Piss off, nerd," he was told as he tried to calm the groups. "Get the fuck out of here, Four Eyes," one particularly aggressive surrogate wearing a ski mask said and violently pushed him. Clark lost his balance and began to fall backward. As he tried back peddling to keep from falling, he was tripped up by others who had rushed to the skirmish. He ended up sprawled in the street with traffic barreling toward him.
Police raced to break up the skirmishers and a hand reached out from the sidewalk to pull Clark out of the path of an oncoming delivery truck. As he was yanked from the roadway, he landed in the arms of Lois Lane.
"Jesus, Kent! What were you thinking? You could have been killed!" Lois scolded.
"Thank you, Lois," he stammered. "I was just trying to keep that from getting out of control."
She hooked his arm and pulled him away from the agitated group. "Are you okay?" She physically turned him side to side to inspect him.
"I seem to be fine," he replied.
"Well, this isn't Smallville and that's not Friday night at the little league football game over there. Those people get crazy during election season. You need to be careful," she admonished as she brushed the back of his overcoat off.
"I guess I'm fortunate you were nearby when it happened." Lois straightened his tie. They began walking together toward City Hall. "I presume you're here for the same reason I am."
"Mayor's announcement? Yeah. C'mon."
They walked up the steps to City Hall and joined the other reporters covering the Mayor's announcement. They finished forty-five minutes later and left together. They reached the sidewalk and headed in the same direction.
"The mayor's last push to get reelected," she quipped cynically. "This happens about this time every four years. It's nauseating! But this is what we get paid for."
"For the time being, at least," Clark muttered.
"What does that mean?" Lois asked, frowning.
"George Taylor announced at this morning's meeting that there would be budget cuts with layoffs this year. I'm the low man on the totem pole and I will be the first to go," Clark said.
"Pfft! They won't fire you, Clark. You're the Journalist of the Year," she reminded him.
"Not according to Mr. Taylor," he replied. "He basically told me to start looking for other jobs."
Lois stopped dead in her tracks and spun him around to face her. "You're telling me that George Taylor told you that you would be fired by the end of the year?" Clark nodded. "That's just…just…wrong! It's unbelievable!" Lois looked at Clark. "What will you do?"
"I don't know. I was thinking maybe freelance work? Maybe a blog."
"Freelance work will make you a few bucks, but they aren't steady like a salaried staff reporter job. And it takes a while to monetize a blog, Clark. I hope you have something more in mind than that." She took him by the arm and pulled him along, moving him away from the city hall building.
"I can always go back to Smallville and work at the Sentinel and live at the farm, I guess."
"Geez! I can't believe this. It's so…so…corporate!" Lois fumed and he asked her why she seemed so upset. "Because we're all journalists, Clark. We have to stick together on some things and protecting our livelihoods is pretty close to the top of that list. We may competitors but we're all in the same boat and what happens to one could happen to all."
This time he stopped and gently turned her. "And that's the only reason?"
She squirmed a bit. "What? What do you mean? Of course, it is," she replied dismissively. "What other reason would I have?" She feigned a chuckle. "It's not like I'd die without having your stories to read."
"So, you're saying you read my stories?" Clark asked smiling.
Damn, I walked right into that one. "I read all my competitors' stories, Kent, don't you?" she asked accusingly. But before he could answer, she went on. "Get over yourself; not everything is about you, Clark. I get pissed off when I hear of anyone, regardless of how little talent they may have, losing a job solely because of corporate profits." She had regained her bravado. "Did you think there would be any other reason?"
He shrugged. "I don't know." He paused and looked her in the eyes and that spark was still there, whether she felt it anymore or not. "Hey, do you want to get a cup of coffee and maybe a donut? It's my treat for pulling me out of the road."
She stared at him for a moment. "Okay. I'll take that in payback," she said. "I know just the place."
After a seven-minute walk, they ended up at a small donut shop in the heart of Metropolis. They each ordered two donuts and a cup of coffee. Clark paid and they found a small table in the corner of the shop where they sat.
"I love this place because they handmake these every day," Lois said, biting into a maple frosted cake donut. She rolled her eyes. "These never get old," she said, muffled by the donut in her mouth. She washed the bite down with a swig of coffee. "The coffee's great too. It's night and day from the transmission fluid that they call coffee at the Planet."
"Ours is pretty bad, too," Clark admitted. "It's the one thing I won't miss when they kick me to the curb."
Lois frowned. "Don't say that, Clark," she replied quickly and stared at him for a moment. Then she added, "I'm sure you have a disgusting refrigerator in the employee break room you won't miss either."
Clark laughed and nodded. Lois joined in. "They're just the worst, aren't they?"
Once the laughter died down, Clark grew serious and took a sip of his coffee. "Look, there's another reason I wanted to talk with you." He paused and took a deep breath. "I need to apologize to you."
"To me?" Lois narrowed her eyes. "What did you do that you'd have to apologize to me for?"
"I finally read the letter you wrote to me after that day on the bridge. It was…" he paused, searching for the right words.
Lois felt flush. "It's not important. It's over, so move on."
"It's important to me, Lois. I said things to you, accused you of things that I'm ashamed of now. After reading the letter you wrote, I realize how wrong I've been and how unfairly I've acted toward you. I blamed you for something that was not your fault and I'm sorry, and I hope that you can forgive me."
She swallowed hard and looked down at a half-eaten donut. "I knew you blamed me for what happened. And the letter? Well, I thought that you didn't believe me or care what I had to say." She looked up. "I'm a big girl and I'm over it. And you don't need my forgiveness."
"Okay, but I am sorry for what I said to you that day."
The truth is, I probably could have prevented it from happening had I warned Perry White about John Corben before it all happened. I knew what kind of guy he was, but I stayed quiet, and this poor guy and his fiancée paid the price, she thought, and a lump formed in her throat.
She snuffed and cleared her throat. She absently fanned her face and regained her composure. "And as long as we're unloading baggage here, solidarity among journalists is not the only reason I hope you don't leave Metropolis." She studied his face. "I felt like there was something special at one time between us. Call it a spark, a connection." She looked at Clark and said softly, "Your fiancée wasn't the only thing that was lost that day, you know?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Now my mom is always bugging me about being alone in the big, cold city."
"Your mom's so cute. She must be happy that you're back with Lana Lang, first love, local girl, small town values and all." She let out a barely perceptible sigh. "It must be nice…" she began, and then trailed off.
"Well…" Clark replied and said nothing more.
"I've heard moms can be hard on their son's choices of their ladies," she offered. "Not that I had a brother…or a mother for very long. I'm sure that's not your mom, though."
She thought about Lana Lang and how prying Clark away from her would be impossible, even if she wanted to. Lana was the whole package, and by comparison, she was a dented can. But in her defense, she had something special developing with the third-richest man in the world and his wealth had nothing to do with it. She knew that no matter what might have become of a relationship with Clark Kent, spark or no spark, Lex Luthor could never be viewed as a consolation prize in anyone's book.
They sat in silence for a while, deep in their own thoughts. Lois finished what remained of her second donut. Clark ate his and drank the rest of his coffee. He looked at his wristwatch. "I guess I better be getting back to the Star. I wouldn't want Mr. Taylor to have to fire me before I get laid off," he quipped.
"Yeah, I should be getting back too," Lois replied. They headed to the door, dumping their trash on the way out. They stood on the sidewalk outside the donut shop. "I go this way," Lois said. "You go that way," she added. "Thank you for the coffee and donuts. I'm glad we had the chance to talk."
"Me too, Lois. The only thing I regret is that it took so long to happen."
She stared at him, and he looked into her eyes. A smile came to her face. "Really? That's the only regret you have?" He gave her a quizzical look and before he could answer, she added, "What about the other thing?"
"What other thing?"
"Those goddamn glasses! Jesus Christ on a cracker, Kent. Could you find anything less flattering than those things if you tried? What were you thinking when you bought those? You need to do something about them!" She smirked, and then marched off and called out, "I'll see you around, Smallville."
He smiled and headed the opposite way. And suddenly, 'Smallville' sounded less like an insult and more like a term of endearment to him.
Returning to his cubicle at the Daily Star, Clark saw that he had a voicemail waiting. It was from Lana. He entered his code to retrieve it.
"Hi Clark," it began, and he could detect a certain nervousness in her voice. "I didn't want to bother you at the press conference with this, but I was wondering if you could come by tonight after work? There's something that we must talk about and I," she paused, "well, it's important and I think we need to talk. So, could you text me and let me know if you'll be coming over and what time? Thanks. Talk to you later."
He listened to it a second time. I wonder if she knows, he thought. If so, he was not sure how she figured it out, but if not, he decided it was time to tell her everything anyway. She has a right to know. I'm tired of hiding it from her all these years and it's not fair to either of us.
Clark texted Lana that he would be there between 6:30 and 7 PM. She acknowledged it.
He tried not to think too much about it and let the discussion take what direction she wanted. After all, it may have nothing to do with his secret and more to do with the fact that it had been seven months since they reconnected, and Clark seemed unsure if he wanted to pursue a deeper relationship with her. And why is that? Was it the time spent with Lois that makes you question being with Lana? She had been nothing but patient with him. There is no obvious downside to Lana and yet, I am drawn to Lois for some reason. Why?
He spent the rest of the day considering ways to broach the subject of his special heritage. Whether or not she suspected Clark was hiding it, he was going to reveal it and he felt the direct approach was best. I will sit down with her, look her straight in the eye, and tell her that…that…what? That I have been lying to you since I was 13 years old? That I'm some strange visitor from another planet in a distant galaxy? Or maybe that I can fly but I don't need a ticket or an aircraft?
It suddenly dawned on him the enormity of telling Lana. She had known him since they moved in next door and that was ten years of lies and deceit. They were not meant to be hurtful, but they were lies nonetheless and it was a lot to overcome. How would he tell her without making her think he was deeply delusional and slamming the door on him?
But Pete accepted it. Lori accepted it and so did Lori's parents. Maybe Lana would accept him for what he was and not be angry at ten years of lies.
It was 6:47 PM when Clark knocked on Lana's door. She opened it and smiled. "Hi," she said brightly. She hugged him and kissed his cheek. "Come in." She shut the door behind him. "Have you eaten dinner?"
He nodded. "I grabbed a quick bite before I came over. Have you?"
"Yes, but not that much." She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a small platter of sliced cheese and meats and put crackers on it and set it on a bamboo tray. She took it to the coffee table and placed it there.
"Can I help you with anything?" he asked.
"No, Clark," Lana replied. "Just have a seat on the couch and I'll be right there." She pulled a bottle of wine from a rack beneath her countertop, opened it and grabbed two wine glasses from the cupboard. She carried them to the living room and placed them on the coffee table and sat next to Clark.
Lana poured the wine into the glasses, and they clinked them but offered no sentiment. She began. "Clark, I wanted to talk to you about something and I don't really know how to begin." She struggled to continue.
"Lana, before you say anything more, there's something I want to tell you." Lana looked relieved but not sure what was coming next. "We've known each other for a long time. The only person I've known longer than you is Pete, and from the moment I first met you, I've loved you. I've shared much with you but there are things I haven't shared with you that you deserve to know."
He paused and took a sip of wine and Lana looked less alarmed. "When we were young, people always treated me like I was different. I hated that but I understood why that was. I know my folks kept me away from others, particularly when I was very young and before you moved in next door. There was a reason for that, Lana, and it had nothing to do with a predisposition to cause others harm or some cultist type beliefs my parents held. I am different."
He detected a slight smile on her face. "I'm much different in fact and it's why my parents kept me away from kids my age when I was really young. They were afraid that once others found out about me, people would come and take me away.
"You see, I was adopted but not from my mom's cousin. I'm…"
"The Avenging Angel of Mercy?" Lana interjected.
He paused. "Yes," Clark said and exhaled and slumped back against the couch as though he had been holding his breath the entire time. "How did you know?"
Lana admitted that she had her suspicions for a while but that once her mom told her she had seen him leaving the farm an hour before he was at her door, she knew he was different. Then, at the restaurant after he returned to the table, she smelled smoke on him and she saw the news about the fire and it all fell into place. She omitted her trip to his apartment parking lot.
"And you're super-fast, you're impervious to injury, you have unmatched strength, and you care about everyone and everything," she added.
"And that's not all," Clark admitted.
"Like what?"
He took a deep breath. "I'm not a human, Lana. I wasn't born on Earth." Over the next hour, he explained his heritage and how he arrived on Earth. He revealed some of his other powers but not all and he did not tell her about the Fortress.
When he told her about his ability to hear things, she reacted immediately. "So wait! You did hear what I said to Margie Stenner and those other girls the last day of school when we were in junior high, right?" He nodded. "That's why you were so mad and wouldn't talk to me or Pete on the bus, right?"
"Yes," Clark admitted. "I was mad because I was hurt. I felt deceived. I desperately wanted to fit in, and all the cards seemed stacked against me. You and Pete were the only ones who didn't treat me like an outcast but then I heard you. I wasn't sure if Pete felt that way too. What you said about your parents forcing you to be nice made sense and it hurt. It hurt me badly because I didn't know who to believe, who to trust."
Lana took his hand. "You know I didn't mean any of those things."
"I didn't at the time. It wasn't until you sent me that letter at Christmas that I understood."
"Is this why you can't have sex?" Lana asked bluntly. "I mean, I know you have the parts, Clark. But I guess it doesn't function the same way a human's does?"
He suppressed a smile. "I can have sex, Lana. And everything works the same."
"So, it's me you don't want to have sex with," she said flatly. "It's like I've been throwing myself at you but hitting a wall. Is that it?"
"That's not it. Lana, I may look, sound, and feel human but I'm not human. You don't deserve to be deceived into having sex with another species. It has nothing to do with what I wanted, Lana." He paused. "But there's something else."
"I was going to tell you everything in the loft just before graduation, the night we almost made love. I wanted that connection more than anything in my life at that point. On some level, I still do, Lana. But that night my life changed, and I began to see this world more like an adult instead of a child." Lana began to cry. He did not say anything for a while and let her regain her composure. "I saw the world for what it is and not what I dreamed it was."
"Clark, I…am so sorry…I…did something stupid on the spur of the moment and it meant nothing."
"But it meant everything to me, Lana," he said.
"It's been five years and I'm still apologizing to you for it. I'll apologize for the rest of my life because I know how badly I hurt you." She teared up again. "I want you in my life Clark. I cannot think of a life without you in it. And now that I know the truth about you, I want you even more to be part of it."
He said nothing for a moment. He took her hand and looked her in the eye. "And I will if you let me be part of it. I want to be a part of it.
"Lana, I love you. I loved you then, I love you now. I want you to be a part of my life, too. And because I love you, it would be so easy to just give in and pretend that none of it mattered. But it does matter and at some point, it will destroy us because it will be the pretending that drives us apart and I don't want that.
"That's what I've been wrestling with these last seven months. It's not about me deciding whether I could ever love you or not. I've never stopped loving you. It's not about whether I want to make love to you; I think about it every time I see you. But it's about deciding whether mistakes we both made in the past can be buried deep enough that they'll never come back to ruin things.
"Some mistakes can, but some mistakes change the world as we know it forever and that's what happened for me, Lana. I can't go back to seeing it the way I saw it before that happened. We can move forward together but as nothing more than the closest of friends."
Lana took his hand in hers. "I was pretty sure this was the reason. I knew deep down inside that it would come back to haunt us. I hate myself for making such a stupid decision." She kissed his hand. "But I want you to know something, Clark." She paused and tears began to fill her eyes.
"I was 17 at the time and you seemed so reluctant to make love to me and I wanted us to do it so badly. I understand why now, and the reason makes me love you more than ever, but at the time I thought that you saw something wrong with me. I needed to know if there was." She paused and wiped away a tear that had streaked down her cheek. "I thought about not telling you because you would probably never would have known it. But I didn't think it was right to deceive you, either. I hate that it hurt you so deeply and I hate that it changed the way you saw me. It wasn't some fling to scratch an itch. I just needed to know I wasn't broken and that I was worthy to love."
He put his hand on the side of her face. "I wanted it just as badly as you did. I was afraid of losing you, Lana. But as badly as I wanted to make love to you and still do, it just wasn't worth not having you in my life. As sorry as you are for what happened, I'm just as sorry for making you feel that you needed that validation."
"You don't need to apologize, Clark. I love you, and now that I know everything, it all makes sense to me. It was a serious of unfortunate events that changed things." She paused a moment and then asked, "So where does that leave us? I hope it's more than Christmas cards once a year."
"I know what I'd like but it's up to you, Lana. Nothing has really changed, has it? I'd like us to stay as close as we are right now. Even if we find another partner in life, we still need close friends we trust and can turn to when we need it, friends who know us better than anyone else in the world and who we trust to tell us when we're right and when we're wrong. We need a close friend who we can count on to be there without excuses. I want to be that special friend in your life and for you to be that in mine."
Lana cried and nodded. "I can do that. I want that, too, Clark." She threw her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her while she cried on his shoulder.
"Lana, this isn't the end for us," he said softly. "Just the opposite."
She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. "You know, when we reconnected, I was over the moon just to be back together, just knowing that someone I trusted to care about me was nearby to help, to understand, and to share things with. That hasn't changed, has it?" He gave her a reassuring smile.
"I hope to show the world by example a better way to exist, and I need help. I need someone to talk to at times who knows where I'm coming from. I need someone to cover for me when I slip up, and who will give me straight advice when I need to hear it, even if it's not what I want to hear." He paused. "Lana, this isn't 'we'll still be friends' and then you'll only see me on the street in passing every few months. If you think about it, you'll begin to understand how badly I need a friend like you."
She reached out and took her wine glass in her hand and drank from it. "You're right," she said. "At first, I was just crazy happy being back in your orbit and having you in mine. Since then, it's gotten complicated, I guess." She sighed. "Clark, it's going to take some time for me to adjust knowing that our relationship won't go farther than this. But if you can be patient and we can stay close, I too would rather have you in my life like this than not have you in it at all."
"Yes, I will promise you that," Clark replied.
"Then so do I," she said and held up her glass of wine in a silent toast, "with one caveat." She swallowed and smiled sadly. "Will you go to the WGBS Halloween party with me next Friday? I've told a bunch of people I'd be bringing a date there, and there's no one else I rather have with me than my new old best friend."
"Then that's where I'll be," Clark replied. "I'll always be here for you, Lana."
Friday, October 30, 2020
"Who's that behind that mask and cheesy Errol Flynn moustache?" Lana asked playfully as she answered her door.
Clark lifted his mask. "It is me…Zorro!" He walked through the door, and she closed it behind him. "And there's nothing cheesy about me except for my plastic Dollar Store sword!"
Lana was wearing a 1920's flapper outfit that was tight-fitting and sequined. "You look great, Lana. It makes me wish I was alive in the Roaring 20's!"
She giggled. "Love the cape."
He took off his hat and did a half twist to look at it. "If you like this one, you should see my other one."
"Which reminds me," Lana began, and playfully backhanded him on the chest, "when are you going to show me your outfit? You said you wanted my opinion."
"Come over tomorrow during the day or I'll come by tomorrow night. It'll probably be too late by the time we get back tonight."
"Okay," Lana replied. "I'll come by tomorrow and you can show me. Then we're going to have a conversation about those glasses. You really don't need them to see, do you?" He shook his head. "I didn't think so."
It had been ten days since their talk and over that time, Lana had begun to adjust to the relationship. She seemed less anxious, and Clark seemed more open and relaxed as well. Lana still had moments where she shed tears, disappointed about what might have been, but she resolved herself to focus on what would be in their coming years. They were communicating better and less guardedly. And admittedly, it was easier, and he was more playful.
They arrived at the party and Clark was introduced around. With a mask and moustache, he needed no glasses and enjoyed having an evening out without wearing them. Lana appreciated it too. They ate, they drank, they danced, and they laughed.
Lana was squinting. "Who is the woman in the skimpy Cleopatra outfit? I've seen her somewhere but with the makeup, I can't place her."
Clark looked. "That's Cat Grant from the Daily Planet," he said. He looked around for Steve Lombard but did not see him.
"Oh yeah, I met her at the awards ceremony. She must be here with someone because the party is only for WGBS folks and their guests," Lana replied. They wandered in her direction and saw that she was with Doyle Swift, the lifestyle editor for the WBGS news. "Oh no!"
"What?" Clark asked.
"She's with 'Doyle the Boil'. They call him that because he's such a pain in the ass." Then she started giggling. "He's always in everyone's personal business. Don't talk to him or you'll not see me the rest of the night!"
"That guy in the creepy clown suit?"
"Yes. Do. Not. Engage. With him," Lana ordered.
"Lana Lang?" Cat Grant called out.
"Yes? Oh, hello Cat," Lana replied, dragging Clark along with her. "It's nice to see you."
"It's the face that launched a thousand ships," Clark quipped and nodded.
"And who is the man behind that mask," Cat said in a deep voice and reached for Clark's mask.
He stepped back. "If you were to learn, I'd have to end you with this fake plastic rapier," he said, drawing the thin sword from its sheath. "It's me, Clark Kent," he added with a smile.
"Wow! You look great, Clark. The pencil-thin moustache becomes you. And of course, Lana would look good in a potato sack!" Cat said.
"Oh, stop," Lana replied.
"Seriously, let me get your picture together, okay?" They stood side by side and she took the picture. "Oh c'mon, you can do better than that, can't you?"
Lana clung to Clark's side, knee raised, and one arm over his shoulder. He put his arm around her waist and the other on his hip.
She snapped the picture. "Wow, that's not very spicy but cute. One more!"
This time, Clark dipped Lana back and she held his hat in an outstretched arm while he kissed her. "Now that's more like it!" Cat cried. "I love it. Thanks, you two." She walked away and said to Doyle, "You see that? That's what I'm talking about."
"Whew," Lana said, and fanned her face as tears pooled in her eyes. "That was nice, Clark, but I think I need a drink after that."
Clark immediately felt guilty. "God, I'm sorry, Lana. That was probably unfair to do."
She put on a brave smile. "No, it's okay. It all still feels new, and it'll still take more time getting used to it." She squeezed his hand. "But I also know that it's far better than not having you with me at all. So, let's see about that drink."
Sunday, November 1, 2020
The phone rang in his home office. "Hello," Ari answered.
"Is he still employed?"
"He is, but not for long. I am told…"
"I don't give a damn what you're told. I want him gone, is that clear? I want to see the letter he receives by Tuesday, is that understood?"
"It is," Ari replied.
"I'm pulling my money on Wednesday if I don't have that letter on Tuesday. Is that understood Mr. Grossman?"
"Yes. Don't worry, you…" He quit speaking when he heard the click at the other end of the call.
He took a deep breath and dialed Dale Rennick, CEO of Telestar Media, the parent corporation of the Daily Star.
"Hello?" a deep voice answered.
"Dale? This is Ari."
"Yes, Mr. Grossman. What can I do for you?"
"I want a termination letter with Clark Kent's acknowledgement scanned and in my email inbox by close of business tomorrow. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Make it happen and don't make me call around looking for it. You won't like the results." Grossman hung up.
Ari Grossman was the major investor in the Metropolis Senior Citizen Housing Project investment group. Ari hated dealing with others the way he just had, but his silent partner scared him to death and without his silent partner's money, the project was dead in the water and Ari would be one of a six-member investment group that would be sued into bankruptcy within a matter of weeks.