Superman: Aftermath - Chapter 8
Title: Superman: Aftermath
Author: Saavikam77
Fandom: Superman Returns
Pairings: Lois/Richard, Clark/Lois
Rating - This Chapter: PG-13
Summary: In the days following the events of Superman Returns, both Clark and Lois are reeling from events that have changed their lives forever, and the city of Metropolis is in shambles. Things only get worse as Lois's relationship with Richard takes a nosedive, the US government wants to send a survey and potential mining mission to New Krypton, and vast amounts of kryptonite show up in the hands of criminals on the streets of Metropolis.
Chapter Summary: Friday starts out bad for Clark when he unearths his ship, Perry mulls over a few things at the Planet, the Metropolis PD makes a surprising discovery about Luthor, and Clark's day goes from bad to worse.
Chapter Word Count: 5,323
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction. Superman and the DC Comics universe are property of DC Comics and Warner Brothers. No money has been made or will be made from the production of this work. Darn it.
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Chapter 8
Digging up the crystal star was taking a lot longer than burying it had. He wouldn't have believed it, if he hadn't known how hard he was pushing himself. Having foregone all sleep thanks to a massive earthquake and landslide in Peru that made Metropolis's problems pale in comparison, he'd barely had time to return to Lois's - his - apartment to shower, snag some coffee - little good that seemed to do - and head back to Kansas.
Now he stood, shovel in hand and going on a half-hour already unearthing his ship, feeling utterly depleted. Facing the day's first tiny ray of sunlight peeking over the empty cornfields at him, he paused, wanting to drink it in, if just for a moment, before finishing up.
As he luxuriated in the rush of energy, photons soaking into his skin to begin to recharge him, he realized it was more than just physical fatigue. Last night... the things Lois had told him about Jason, everything she had said... it was simply too much to process. As if coming home to discover he was a father wasn't shock enough, finding out that Jason wasn't just a sickly little boy by nature had floored him, and he couldn't seem to stop the mental loop that demanded to know how Lois could have done such a thing. He'd believed her when she'd said she had snapped, but... No, he had no recourse but to believe her. He knew, from somewhere deep down, that she never would have hurt Jason on purpose. She was his mother! She was every bit the ferocious, protective mother tiger he'd seen.
And she'd made a mistake.
They had both made mistakes. Terrible ones.
As the sense of gut-wrenching guilt threatened to overwhelm him again, he shook off his reverie and breathed deeply, taking in as much of the fresh autumn air as he could get. Feeling the worst of his fatigue eased, he got back to work, striking the shovel into the ground once more.
A few moments later he reached the heart of the ship, brushing the remaining dirt away from the hatch, sealed only two weeks ago by his own heat vision. Another intense, focused beam from his eyes, and he pulled the door away, setting it aside as he peered down into the darkness.
I should never have built this ship, he lamented before climbing down into the space that had been his home for more than five years. He made his way up the narrow catwalk to the front of the pod, where the controls were cool and dark, asleep, he had thought, for good. Finding the master crystal in the center of the console, he placed into the activation slot, his stomach knotting, and it hummed to life as the ship lit up in crystalline splendor, completely intact. No one but him, and possibly his mother, would have believed the ship and its contents would not have been destroyed upon its landing, but then, Jor-El had designed the tiny craft that had born him here to crash to Earth as a meteor, the exterior melting and burning in such a way that left the life pod completely intact, so it wasn't as if the idea was even implausible. Clark had merely borrowed the design for his own return craft.
Coming fully online, the ship responded to his presence at once, displaying the telemetry of their final descent through the atmosphere on the large holographic screen filling the fore wall of the pod. The fiery blaze of reentry seemed to surround him for a moment, until the open fields of Kansas came into view beneath the night sky, Earth rushing to meet him, to welcome him home.
But this was not what he came for; he had to know what he'd seen in those final moments before stasis. His gut twisted again.
“Replay the sensor logs from time marker two point eight four three one through two point eight four three nine,” he ordered the computer. The time span was only a few moments, but it held something crucial.
The computer complied immediately, and the image of kryptonite meteors slamming the hull of the ship filled the screen. Other sensory information ran up the side: locations of the meteors, their velocities, impact forces, the ship's course and corrections made to adapt to the barrage of hits, all in the symbolic Kryptonian language he had learned so many years before. “Come on...” he quietly urged. It has to be here.
At last, the warning sensor he remembered lit up, a match struck in the dark. Proximity readings flowed up the side of the screen, with recognition sensors picking out the details of the unknown. At last, an image of the thing came into view. No, it can't be. What is that?
A mirror image of the crystal star he stood in stared back at him, its spires reaching outward in every direction. The star was dark, save for one glowing tip, a sensor of some kind. Clark read the details of the other ship as they raced up the screen. Yes, it was a crystal star, as it appeared, but it was small. So much smaller, he noted, that it couldn't hold a full grown person. Could it-? No, he had been the only child sent away from the planet.
Hadn't he?
The image of the star faded as his ship had passed it in space, the sensor readings coming to an end. It had been so far out from Krypton. What if it had been sent away from the planet, only to be stopped in its course? What if this star had returned to find Krypton dead, as he had? So many new questions presented themselves, and he still hadn't answered the old ones!
Frustrated, he removed the master crystal from the activation slot and returned it to its original placement, leaving the star dark once again, save the gray early morning light slowly creeping forward into the pod. After a bitter last look around the cold space, Clark climbed up from the interior of the ship and reburied it in under five minutes, hoping - praying - this would be the last time he'd have to face the vessel that had taken him so far away for so long.
Just as he patted down the last bit of dirt with the shovel, he heard her.
“Clark!” his mother's voice called to him from the farmhouse, nearly a half mile away. Uh-oh. He hadn't told her he was coming out this morning, hadn't bothered to wake her when he came in the front door. He'd simply crept upstairs, changed into less conspicuous clothes, and set out to unearth his ship. He'd hoped to be finished and cleaned up before she woke. But now Martha Kent would have his hide. Of this he was certain. Especially if she had seen the mounds of Kansas dirt piled high in the empty field.
“Clark Kent, what have you done?” she called again, this time prompting Clark to drive the shovel into the dirt and head back to the house at an accelerated pace, knowing it would be better to get it over with than prolong his anxiety. He stopped at the foot of the steps that led up to the porch, eliciting a startled jump from his mother. “Clark, how many times have I told you not to do that!?” she scolded, hands on hips and a dark look on her face.
“Sorry, Mom,” he apologized meekly.
Regarding him with her usual motherly scrutiny, she pulled her sweater around herself tightly in the chilly October morning. “Son, what were you doing out there?”
“I had to dig the ship up,” he started to explain as he came up the steps, trying in vain to brush the dirt off of his jeans and t-shirt.
With a final exasperated huff, Martha put a hand on her son's shoulder and ushered him inside the house, brushing more dirt off of his back. “Well, whatever for? Come on, I'll fix you breakfast.”
Looking at her with tired, grateful eyes, he smiled weakly as she sat him down at the kitchen table. “Thanks, Ma.”
Martha snickered, “What else are mothers for?” She set to work in the kitchen, and continued, “So, are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
Clark ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I remembered a few days ago that there was something out there, in space, I mean, that the ship detected. I was just going into stasis, so I couldn't react at all. I realized the ship might have a log of whatever it was.”
“Oh, Clark! Do you mean there might be someone out there after all?” Martha cracked four eggs into a bowl and began to beat them with a fork.
“No,” he shook his head. “I don't want to jump the gun on that, but there was some thing, at least. I had the ship's computer replay the logs from that time. Mom, you probably won't believe this, but―”
Martha turned quickly to her son, “After the things I've seen?”
Clark smiled lopsidedly, “Okay, you'll believe it.” But his smile evaporated as he explained, “It was another ship, like mine, only smaller.”
“Like the one we found you in.” It wasn't a question, just a fact tinged with hope for her son.
“Yeah. But, I don't know... My ship didn't get any life sign readings.” He shook his head. “It seemed dead, like everything else, but there was a sensor beacon on it that was still running, like it was waiting for something.” He closed his eyes, a hundred questions running through his mind on an endless loop that he didn't know if he would ever be able to answer.
When a steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of him, Clark looked up gratefully at his mother and took a long sip, groaning with delight. If only caffeine had the same full effect on him that it did on most people. At least he could pretend it would re-energize him.
Still delighting in the sensation as the warmth of the coffee spread throughout him, his thoughts returned to the puzzle that was New Krypton. His mother hadn't received that day's paper yet. “Mom, there's more,” he said, straightening in his chair a bit. “Remember the crystal I told you Lois and I took to S.T.A.R. Labs? Well, Dr. Hamilton discovered that it's sending some kind of distress call out into space.” Clark looked at Martha intently, knowing her next question.
“Well, is there anyone out there to answer it? Do you think this other ship might intercept the signal?” she asked as she slid fresh scrambled eggs onto a plate. For a farmer's wife, she had always been deceptively astute and more at ease with the unknown than most folks. But then, having an alien for a child would do that, Clark supposed.
“I don't know. I just wish I had more answers right now. If there's even the remotest chance that someone or something might be attracted to Earth by that call, then I've got to be prepared for it.” Clark put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on the palm of his hand, shutting his eyes briefly.
“Clark? Oh, Clark,” Martha sighed as she placed the plate of eggs, with two pieces of toast and a slice of bacon in front of her son. Poor boy was so tired he had fallen asleep over his coffee, she realized as she shook her head and patted his shoulder. He'd pushed himself so hard in such a short time; she knew he would run out of steam sooner or later.
Feeling the warm touch, Clark came awake, eyes popping open as he sat up with a start. “Oh, sorry. Thanks, Mom,” he said, shaking off the sleepiness that had overcome him to attack his breakfast immediately.
Smiling sympathetically, Martha sat herself down opposite her son. “Clark, I know how tired you must feel, after all that's happened the last two weeks. But I also know that you will find the answers you're looking for. You just need to find those crystals that that horrible Lex Luthor robbed you of. I'm certain of it.” With a final nod, she dug into her own breakfast.
Across from her, Clark's mind continued to reel as he wolfed down his food. God, fresh eggs, fresh bacon - things you would never find in Metropolis. Like Lex Luthor. He wouldn't return any time soon. The crystals. Could Jor-El have included a message for him for this circumstance? Clark had to find those crystals. He had to find Luthor. He had to know what to expect. He... he was late for work!
Clark swallowed a large gulp of coffee to wash down the last of his toast, and rose to go clean himself up.
“Hold it, young man,” Martha Kent commanded, shaking a finger at him. Clark froze, feeling twelve years old again and very much in trouble. “Now you just sit down, have another cup of coffee, and take your time. I know you're looking at the clock, but considering what you just told me, work can wait.”
With no will left to argue her point, Clark sat down again automatically, embarrassed, still tired. “Yes, ma'am,” he conceded, making a note to call Perry and let him know he'd be late. The Planet would just have to wait for now.
“All right, then,” his Ma nodded as she got up to pour them both more coffee, the sun finally beginning to shine through the kitchen window. Clark turned his face to the light and let it soak in, feeling the warm rush of photons feeding his energy-starved cells. That's better...
“Now, how's my grandson?” Martha began, and a real smile finally appeared on Clark's face.
* * * * *
“Good morning, Metropolis!” the newscaster reported cheerfully. “Today is Friday, October sixth, two thousand six. In our top news today, Superman is again being hailed as a true hero. Last night at around seven thirty-five the top three floors of the main building of Metropolis Towers Condominiums exploded into flames and collapsed, prompting the Man of Steel into action...”
But Perry wasn't listening. He'd seen the entire disaster unfold on TV the previous evening, and had only checked in with his staff here to make sure it was all being covered properly. Finding that Lois, of all people, had the situation under control, he'd reluctantly gone back to contacting his staff in Washington to begin to set up their coverage of what was shaping up to be an international fiasco: the possibility of a future survey and eventual mining mission to New Krypton.
This morning found him in his office even earlier than usual, on the phone again to Washington, London, Moscow, Tokyo, and Beijing, spreading the Planet's web as far as he could get it to reach on short notice. Every foreign correspondent that could be activated was tapped. He'd even called Richard in early to help get their other international contacts up to speed, and as soon as the rest of his staff got their butts in to work, he'd call the daily staff meeting to get them into gear for what was coming. The sheer magnitude of the situation was simply too large to not address personally, especially in light of the world's initial reaction to the news of the distress signal New Krypton had been sending for a full week now. The international community had already begun to cry in outrage at the news, more concerned with the slim likelihood of aliens descending upon Earth than the very real disaster that had occurred in Peru overnight. But, the editor reminded himself, wherever the news took them, he had sworn to go.
He just hoped Kent would manage to get in before the staff meeting, considering it was his and Lois's joint effort that had sent the world into such an uproar in the first place. After the reporter's phone call and flimsy excuse for being 'a little' late, though, Perry had his reservations. Already, it seemed that Kent might be returning to his slightly unpredictable work habits and sporadic presence in the bullpen. Not that that necessarily meant anything; leg work was part of the job. But tardiness for the morning staff meeting? Not a good sign, unless said reporter had some serious story to bring in. With Kent, there was just no way to know right now what he might come in with, as lost and overwhelmed as he seemed. Perry supposed that was to be expected, however, in light of his return to the 'real world' from his long sabbatical; getting back into the swing of things around the Planet was like jumping into a raging river.
It was a good thing the young man was such a damn good reporter, otherwise the editor might have been given serious reason to demote him back to writing obits.
Finally growing impossibly annoyed by the droning newscaster's supposed 'in depth' report of the condominium explosion, Perry shut off the television. Those fools wouldn't know real journalism if it bit them on the ass. He poured himself some more coffee, and reached for two antacid tablets before sitting down to get back to work.
Any normal, 'slow news' day, his stomach might have been fine, but with what lie ahead, it was threatening to erupt, much as it had so often after Superman had left them on his apparent trip to see what was left of Krypton. The increasing pressure to churn out the grim headlines as the state of the world fell into chaos in a hurry had begun to eat at him, finally producing an ulcer the size of a ripe tomato. His doctors had all agreed: time to retire from the paper. “It'll be better for you,” they had told him. “You need to cut down on all the stress. Let someone else take over.” But Perry had vehemently disagreed, stubborn as always, and continued as editor-in-chief without missing a day, pushing his paper and himself to keep up with the thundering pace of the news. After a trip to the emergency room and a stern lecture from Alice, his wife of more than forty years, though, he was forced to admit it really was getting to be too much. Refusing to leave his post, he compromised and brought on his nephew, Richard, hijacking the rising young editor from the Planet's sister paper in London. The kid had jumped in whole-heartedly to help save the Daily Planet, taking the worst of the stress off of Perry and motivating a disheartened staff. His charm and continued enthusiasm, despite the horrific downward spiral the world had been in, had been a godsend.
Richard had been everything the Planet needed, and to top it all off, he had been just the thing to get Lois Lane out of the funk that nearly destroyed her journalistic career.
Looking up another contact, Perry remembered the first day Richard had come into the office, bursting with ideas and raring to get started. Lois had been late getting in that morning, and arrived looking particularly green around the gills, her mood showing to everyone that she was not to be bothered; in a fairly short time, she had become a piranha in a tank full of minnows. The entire staff had known by that point to steer clear of Miss Lane, seeing clearly how Superman's disappearance and her oddly timed pregnancy had changed her. Perry had been forced to squash the office gossip that sprang up in its due course about the whole situation, but that didn't stop the overly-curious glances Lois received when she wasn't looking. The staff may have thought they had her figured out, but at least they knew better than to say anything to her face. If they had, they might have lost an appendage of two, or possibly taken a stapler to the back of the head.
Richard, unfortunately, hadn't been warned about her, and Perry made sure no one tried to fill his head with speculation over Lois's entanglement with the 'caped wonder'. Upon their introduction, the young man stuck out his hand and grinned, excited to meet the 'infamous' Lois Lane and eager to work with her. Lois had rolled her eyes with a huff, turned, and walked away, snapping back, “I've got work to do.” To everyone's utter astonishment, a month later the pair were dating.
Perry, still thinking the couple's first encounter, looked up and out into the bullpen as he dialed the Planet's Canadian correspondent. There, he saw Richard, rushing back to his own office to make more calls. Ahead, Lois sat at her desk, tightly focused on her own work. Having barely seen them speak to each other in almost a week, Perry had no doubt something was wrong. And he knew that that something was a man with a cape and a big, red S on his chest.
The editor knew his nephew was about to get his heart smashed, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. As long as they don't take the paper down with them, he thought, just let it happen quickly. Richard didn't stand a chance in hell, and all Perry could do was hope the kid had the strength to get through it. With those thoughts, Perry's stomach kicked into overdrive.
* * * * *
At nine o'clock, Maggie Sawyer strode into Bill Henderson's office, where the police commissioner sat with Chief Simms, already discussing the Luthor case and the Feds' attempts to nose in on it. Perching on a corner of Henderson's desk, she slapped a thick file down with a thudding smack. “Chief,” she nodded congenially, “Commissioner. You're not going to believe this.”
“Oh?” Simms, a tall, balding black man, that had more than earned his position in the Metropolis PD, snatched up the file and thumbed through it quickly, eyes scanning to pick out the details. “Well, isn't this interesting?” he smirked darkly, his eyes narrowing as he landed on the preliminary report of the fingerprints analysis from the Vanderworth estate.
“That's what I said. Looks like Luthor had quite a crew. Except for the woman Lane identified as Katherine Kowalski, who we connected to another prisoner at New Troy State Pen, they've all got pretty hefty criminal records and are all linked, in one way or another, to her,” she said, stabbing the page with an index finger.
Henderson let out a low whistle as he glanced over the top edge of the file to see the name highlighted on the page. “Well, we knew Luthor was connected, but this! This is definitely more than we bargained for.”
Chief Simms looked up at the Inspector from his seat, dark eyes narrowed. “Better get surveillance put back on her. Check out all her recent contacts. Take a detail off of Suicide Slum if you have to, but find out how the hell that woman is connected to Luthor. 'Cuz if this means what I think it means, then not only are we gonna have trouble keeping the Feds out of it, but we have to accept the possibility that Intergang is back in business,” he spat out the name in disgust. “And that means getting Interpol involved again. Christ.” Finished, he slapped the folder shut, pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, and sighed heavily.
“It gets worse,” Sawyer added. “The Vanderworths got a court order giving them their estate back early this morning, so now it's only a matter of time before the Feds swoop in.”
With suddenly widened eyes, Simms slammed the folder back down on Henderson's desk. “Damn.”
The Commissioner shook his head gravely and crossed his arms over his chest. “See if you can't file an injunction to keep the family from getting too close to that house, Sawyer, and in the mean time, get Lane back in to ID Luthor's thugs and put them on the Most Wanted list.”
“Right.”
With his lips pressed tightly together, Simms stood. “All right, then. Let's get to work. I've got a feeling this is gonna be a long day.”
* * * * *
“Where have you been, Clark!?” Lois demanded, stalking across the aisle as her partner finally shrugged off his coat at his desk. “Perry held up this morning's staff meeting for forty-five minutes for you! I swore to him that you'd be here, but it became clear you weren't planning on showing up!” Her eyes flashed with fury as she waited, hands on hips, for his explanation. “Well?”
Clark, already mad enough at himself for being late, could only shrink back from her sudden verbal assault, trying his best to give a meek apology, “I'm sorry, Lois. It's a really long story. You... wouldn't believe it if I told you.” She'd never believe it, for certain.
“You're two hours late and all you can tell me is 'it's a long story'? You're going to have to do better than that. Perry's out for blood this morning.” Shoving a notepad into his hand, she glared up at him, “Here. These are the notes from the staff meeting. You'd better get yourself up to speed pretty quickly; a lot's happened since yesterday. Oh, and steer clear of Perry.” With the unspoken addition that he'd better steer clear of her, as well, she turned and strode back to her desk, leaving Clark to look over the notes she'd left with him.
He gave them a quick glance, reading off the bulleted points to himself, Possible mining mission... Space shuttle Atlantis... International response to the 'distress signal' story... Presidential invitation for the G8 to come to Washington!? Possible presentation to the UN Security and Economic Councils!? What the hell?
Clark sat down, hard. A lot had happened, and none of it was good. Forgoing reading the rest of Lois's notes, he crossed the bullpen quickly to question her. “Lois, what exactly happened in the last twelve hours?”
Lois looked up from her computer. “What do you think I gave you those notes for!?” Sighing, she knew that was a pointless question. “Clark, as soon as this morning's Planet hit the news-stands everyone went berserk, as if New Krypton's distress call is gonna bring down an alien invasion or something. The president's called for an emergency meeting of the G8 in Washington, along with Chinese President Hu, to discuss the possibilities for mining, and then destroying, New Krypton. He wants to get the survey mission started with the next shuttle launch.”
“But, what about the Virgin Galactic flight? Hasn't that set back NASA's launch schedule?”
Lois shook her head. “No such luck. That was a privately-funded venture with only minimal NASA support. God, didn't you bother to read the press packet I almost died to bring back with me!?” Her eyes were flashing again; clearly that particular day was a sore point with her. Honestly, it was already a bittersweet memory for Clark, too.
“Um, of course I did. I, uh...” he stammered in response.
“The point is, the next launch is still on schedule for next week. If the government can get the okay from the international community, it'll be the first phase of a joint effort between the U.S., Russia, and China. They're looking to try to get their hands on some of the crystals for 'purely technological and economic' purposes,” Lois explained, miming air quotes and rolling her eyes with her usual heavy sarcasm that said she knew better. “On the flip side, the president also wants the G8 to back him up in an address to the UN Security Council so he can get proper approval to load up on kryptonite and possibly destroy New Krypton when they're done with it if the mining mission goes forward. Looks like we were all right, after all.”
Clark stared at Lois unintentionally for a moment, his eyes wide.
“Clark?” She snapped her fingers at him a few times. “Hey. You in there?”
He shook his head and blinked a few times. “Sorry, I, uh... did Perry give us a specific assignment?”
“Yeah. You get to go back to the Luthor story. Latest word is he'll be brought up on charges in at least fifty countries for creating New Krypton, on top of the UN's planned tribunal, and more countries will probably jump on that band wagon if that signal attracts anything extraterrestrial. I, on the other hand, managed to nail down an interview with the current head of the UN Security Council, Kenzo Oshima, for one o'clock this afternoon. You wouldn't believe the line of press I managed to jump over for it.” Stopping abruptly, Lois shook her head and turned back to her computer, ignoring his continued presence.
He knew then, by the set of her shoulders and the tension in her jaw, that she'd gotten them separate stories on purpose. Feeling his heart sink, Clark returned to his desk without a reply. Now she's mad at both sides of me. Great. Though... after everything last night, how could I blame her?
And now he was back on the Luthor story, alone. He glanced back at Lois, hoping it was only temporary, and felt his gut trying to crawl up into his throat, his chest constricting with the weight of newfound guilt for managing to mess things up, again. Why can't I just get things between us to go back to some semblance of normal? he complained to himself, twirling a pen in his fingers as he pried his attention away from Lois and back to the notes she'd given him. But his common sense got the better of him at the ridiculous thought. What the heck am I even thinking!? There is no normal for me. And there is no 'us'. There's just this horrible mess that is all. My. Fault!
CRACK!!
The pen in his fingers snapped, startling him out of his thoughts, and all he could do was stare at it a moment, as if it was some physical proof that everything was going straight to hell. After a moment, he managed to collect himself, and tossed the splintered pen in the trash. He knew he'd have to be more careful, not get so worked up. As if cracking the photo on Lois's desk hadn't been his first indication that his control wasn't as tightly honed as it should have been. Too many things were happening at once, too many things he just wasn't prepared for.
Sitting back in his chair, Clark closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shutting out the noise of the newsroom and trying to concentrate only on the situation at hand. He needed to look at this objectively, logically. Everything was tied up in the crystals, and Luthor had them. If he could get to Luthor, he could get to the crystals. Then maybe he could find out more about the distress signal and hopefully more about the other ship. And afterward... afterward they could deal with the government diving head first into something they knew nothing about, something they couldn't possibly be prepared for.
Flipping back through Lois's notes, he located the information the Vanderworths had supplied to the police in hopes of finding Luthor. After making a quick phone call, he gathered up his coat before heading back out of the bullpen.
Across the aisle, Lois watched Clark rush out as quickly as he'd entered. She'd seen him snap the pen in half and then guiltily stow it in the garbage, and for a moment she felt a twinge of regret for being so rude to him. Ego like an eggshell - easily cracked, she thought. Maybe I'll apologize later.
Maybe.
* * * * *
Author: Saavikam77
Fandom: Superman Returns
Pairings: Lois/Richard, Clark/Lois
Rating - This Chapter: PG-13
Summary: In the days following the events of Superman Returns, both Clark and Lois are reeling from events that have changed their lives forever, and the city of Metropolis is in shambles. Things only get worse as Lois's relationship with Richard takes a nosedive, the US government wants to send a survey and potential mining mission to New Krypton, and vast amounts of kryptonite show up in the hands of criminals on the streets of Metropolis.
Chapter Summary: Friday starts out bad for Clark when he unearths his ship, Perry mulls over a few things at the Planet, the Metropolis PD makes a surprising discovery about Luthor, and Clark's day goes from bad to worse.
Chapter Word Count: 5,323
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction. Superman and the DC Comics universe are property of DC Comics and Warner Brothers. No money has been made or will be made from the production of this work. Darn it.
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Chapter 8
Digging up the crystal star was taking a lot longer than burying it had. He wouldn't have believed it, if he hadn't known how hard he was pushing himself. Having foregone all sleep thanks to a massive earthquake and landslide in Peru that made Metropolis's problems pale in comparison, he'd barely had time to return to Lois's - his - apartment to shower, snag some coffee - little good that seemed to do - and head back to Kansas.
Now he stood, shovel in hand and going on a half-hour already unearthing his ship, feeling utterly depleted. Facing the day's first tiny ray of sunlight peeking over the empty cornfields at him, he paused, wanting to drink it in, if just for a moment, before finishing up.
As he luxuriated in the rush of energy, photons soaking into his skin to begin to recharge him, he realized it was more than just physical fatigue. Last night... the things Lois had told him about Jason, everything she had said... it was simply too much to process. As if coming home to discover he was a father wasn't shock enough, finding out that Jason wasn't just a sickly little boy by nature had floored him, and he couldn't seem to stop the mental loop that demanded to know how Lois could have done such a thing. He'd believed her when she'd said she had snapped, but... No, he had no recourse but to believe her. He knew, from somewhere deep down, that she never would have hurt Jason on purpose. She was his mother! She was every bit the ferocious, protective mother tiger he'd seen.
And she'd made a mistake.
They had both made mistakes. Terrible ones.
As the sense of gut-wrenching guilt threatened to overwhelm him again, he shook off his reverie and breathed deeply, taking in as much of the fresh autumn air as he could get. Feeling the worst of his fatigue eased, he got back to work, striking the shovel into the ground once more.
A few moments later he reached the heart of the ship, brushing the remaining dirt away from the hatch, sealed only two weeks ago by his own heat vision. Another intense, focused beam from his eyes, and he pulled the door away, setting it aside as he peered down into the darkness.
I should never have built this ship, he lamented before climbing down into the space that had been his home for more than five years. He made his way up the narrow catwalk to the front of the pod, where the controls were cool and dark, asleep, he had thought, for good. Finding the master crystal in the center of the console, he placed into the activation slot, his stomach knotting, and it hummed to life as the ship lit up in crystalline splendor, completely intact. No one but him, and possibly his mother, would have believed the ship and its contents would not have been destroyed upon its landing, but then, Jor-El had designed the tiny craft that had born him here to crash to Earth as a meteor, the exterior melting and burning in such a way that left the life pod completely intact, so it wasn't as if the idea was even implausible. Clark had merely borrowed the design for his own return craft.
Coming fully online, the ship responded to his presence at once, displaying the telemetry of their final descent through the atmosphere on the large holographic screen filling the fore wall of the pod. The fiery blaze of reentry seemed to surround him for a moment, until the open fields of Kansas came into view beneath the night sky, Earth rushing to meet him, to welcome him home.
But this was not what he came for; he had to know what he'd seen in those final moments before stasis. His gut twisted again.
“Replay the sensor logs from time marker two point eight four three one through two point eight four three nine,” he ordered the computer. The time span was only a few moments, but it held something crucial.
The computer complied immediately, and the image of kryptonite meteors slamming the hull of the ship filled the screen. Other sensory information ran up the side: locations of the meteors, their velocities, impact forces, the ship's course and corrections made to adapt to the barrage of hits, all in the symbolic Kryptonian language he had learned so many years before. “Come on...” he quietly urged. It has to be here.
At last, the warning sensor he remembered lit up, a match struck in the dark. Proximity readings flowed up the side of the screen, with recognition sensors picking out the details of the unknown. At last, an image of the thing came into view. No, it can't be. What is that?
A mirror image of the crystal star he stood in stared back at him, its spires reaching outward in every direction. The star was dark, save for one glowing tip, a sensor of some kind. Clark read the details of the other ship as they raced up the screen. Yes, it was a crystal star, as it appeared, but it was small. So much smaller, he noted, that it couldn't hold a full grown person. Could it-? No, he had been the only child sent away from the planet.
Hadn't he?
The image of the star faded as his ship had passed it in space, the sensor readings coming to an end. It had been so far out from Krypton. What if it had been sent away from the planet, only to be stopped in its course? What if this star had returned to find Krypton dead, as he had? So many new questions presented themselves, and he still hadn't answered the old ones!
Frustrated, he removed the master crystal from the activation slot and returned it to its original placement, leaving the star dark once again, save the gray early morning light slowly creeping forward into the pod. After a bitter last look around the cold space, Clark climbed up from the interior of the ship and reburied it in under five minutes, hoping - praying - this would be the last time he'd have to face the vessel that had taken him so far away for so long.
Just as he patted down the last bit of dirt with the shovel, he heard her.
“Clark!” his mother's voice called to him from the farmhouse, nearly a half mile away. Uh-oh. He hadn't told her he was coming out this morning, hadn't bothered to wake her when he came in the front door. He'd simply crept upstairs, changed into less conspicuous clothes, and set out to unearth his ship. He'd hoped to be finished and cleaned up before she woke. But now Martha Kent would have his hide. Of this he was certain. Especially if she had seen the mounds of Kansas dirt piled high in the empty field.
“Clark Kent, what have you done?” she called again, this time prompting Clark to drive the shovel into the dirt and head back to the house at an accelerated pace, knowing it would be better to get it over with than prolong his anxiety. He stopped at the foot of the steps that led up to the porch, eliciting a startled jump from his mother. “Clark, how many times have I told you not to do that!?” she scolded, hands on hips and a dark look on her face.
“Sorry, Mom,” he apologized meekly.
Regarding him with her usual motherly scrutiny, she pulled her sweater around herself tightly in the chilly October morning. “Son, what were you doing out there?”
“I had to dig the ship up,” he started to explain as he came up the steps, trying in vain to brush the dirt off of his jeans and t-shirt.
With a final exasperated huff, Martha put a hand on her son's shoulder and ushered him inside the house, brushing more dirt off of his back. “Well, whatever for? Come on, I'll fix you breakfast.”
Looking at her with tired, grateful eyes, he smiled weakly as she sat him down at the kitchen table. “Thanks, Ma.”
Martha snickered, “What else are mothers for?” She set to work in the kitchen, and continued, “So, are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
Clark ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I remembered a few days ago that there was something out there, in space, I mean, that the ship detected. I was just going into stasis, so I couldn't react at all. I realized the ship might have a log of whatever it was.”
“Oh, Clark! Do you mean there might be someone out there after all?” Martha cracked four eggs into a bowl and began to beat them with a fork.
“No,” he shook his head. “I don't want to jump the gun on that, but there was some thing, at least. I had the ship's computer replay the logs from that time. Mom, you probably won't believe this, but―”
Martha turned quickly to her son, “After the things I've seen?”
Clark smiled lopsidedly, “Okay, you'll believe it.” But his smile evaporated as he explained, “It was another ship, like mine, only smaller.”
“Like the one we found you in.” It wasn't a question, just a fact tinged with hope for her son.
“Yeah. But, I don't know... My ship didn't get any life sign readings.” He shook his head. “It seemed dead, like everything else, but there was a sensor beacon on it that was still running, like it was waiting for something.” He closed his eyes, a hundred questions running through his mind on an endless loop that he didn't know if he would ever be able to answer.
When a steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of him, Clark looked up gratefully at his mother and took a long sip, groaning with delight. If only caffeine had the same full effect on him that it did on most people. At least he could pretend it would re-energize him.
Still delighting in the sensation as the warmth of the coffee spread throughout him, his thoughts returned to the puzzle that was New Krypton. His mother hadn't received that day's paper yet. “Mom, there's more,” he said, straightening in his chair a bit. “Remember the crystal I told you Lois and I took to S.T.A.R. Labs? Well, Dr. Hamilton discovered that it's sending some kind of distress call out into space.” Clark looked at Martha intently, knowing her next question.
“Well, is there anyone out there to answer it? Do you think this other ship might intercept the signal?” she asked as she slid fresh scrambled eggs onto a plate. For a farmer's wife, she had always been deceptively astute and more at ease with the unknown than most folks. But then, having an alien for a child would do that, Clark supposed.
“I don't know. I just wish I had more answers right now. If there's even the remotest chance that someone or something might be attracted to Earth by that call, then I've got to be prepared for it.” Clark put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on the palm of his hand, shutting his eyes briefly.
“Clark? Oh, Clark,” Martha sighed as she placed the plate of eggs, with two pieces of toast and a slice of bacon in front of her son. Poor boy was so tired he had fallen asleep over his coffee, she realized as she shook her head and patted his shoulder. He'd pushed himself so hard in such a short time; she knew he would run out of steam sooner or later.
Feeling the warm touch, Clark came awake, eyes popping open as he sat up with a start. “Oh, sorry. Thanks, Mom,” he said, shaking off the sleepiness that had overcome him to attack his breakfast immediately.
Smiling sympathetically, Martha sat herself down opposite her son. “Clark, I know how tired you must feel, after all that's happened the last two weeks. But I also know that you will find the answers you're looking for. You just need to find those crystals that that horrible Lex Luthor robbed you of. I'm certain of it.” With a final nod, she dug into her own breakfast.
Across from her, Clark's mind continued to reel as he wolfed down his food. God, fresh eggs, fresh bacon - things you would never find in Metropolis. Like Lex Luthor. He wouldn't return any time soon. The crystals. Could Jor-El have included a message for him for this circumstance? Clark had to find those crystals. He had to find Luthor. He had to know what to expect. He... he was late for work!
Clark swallowed a large gulp of coffee to wash down the last of his toast, and rose to go clean himself up.
“Hold it, young man,” Martha Kent commanded, shaking a finger at him. Clark froze, feeling twelve years old again and very much in trouble. “Now you just sit down, have another cup of coffee, and take your time. I know you're looking at the clock, but considering what you just told me, work can wait.”
With no will left to argue her point, Clark sat down again automatically, embarrassed, still tired. “Yes, ma'am,” he conceded, making a note to call Perry and let him know he'd be late. The Planet would just have to wait for now.
“All right, then,” his Ma nodded as she got up to pour them both more coffee, the sun finally beginning to shine through the kitchen window. Clark turned his face to the light and let it soak in, feeling the warm rush of photons feeding his energy-starved cells. That's better...
“Now, how's my grandson?” Martha began, and a real smile finally appeared on Clark's face.
* * * * *
“Good morning, Metropolis!” the newscaster reported cheerfully. “Today is Friday, October sixth, two thousand six. In our top news today, Superman is again being hailed as a true hero. Last night at around seven thirty-five the top three floors of the main building of Metropolis Towers Condominiums exploded into flames and collapsed, prompting the Man of Steel into action...”
But Perry wasn't listening. He'd seen the entire disaster unfold on TV the previous evening, and had only checked in with his staff here to make sure it was all being covered properly. Finding that Lois, of all people, had the situation under control, he'd reluctantly gone back to contacting his staff in Washington to begin to set up their coverage of what was shaping up to be an international fiasco: the possibility of a future survey and eventual mining mission to New Krypton.
This morning found him in his office even earlier than usual, on the phone again to Washington, London, Moscow, Tokyo, and Beijing, spreading the Planet's web as far as he could get it to reach on short notice. Every foreign correspondent that could be activated was tapped. He'd even called Richard in early to help get their other international contacts up to speed, and as soon as the rest of his staff got their butts in to work, he'd call the daily staff meeting to get them into gear for what was coming. The sheer magnitude of the situation was simply too large to not address personally, especially in light of the world's initial reaction to the news of the distress signal New Krypton had been sending for a full week now. The international community had already begun to cry in outrage at the news, more concerned with the slim likelihood of aliens descending upon Earth than the very real disaster that had occurred in Peru overnight. But, the editor reminded himself, wherever the news took them, he had sworn to go.
He just hoped Kent would manage to get in before the staff meeting, considering it was his and Lois's joint effort that had sent the world into such an uproar in the first place. After the reporter's phone call and flimsy excuse for being 'a little' late, though, Perry had his reservations. Already, it seemed that Kent might be returning to his slightly unpredictable work habits and sporadic presence in the bullpen. Not that that necessarily meant anything; leg work was part of the job. But tardiness for the morning staff meeting? Not a good sign, unless said reporter had some serious story to bring in. With Kent, there was just no way to know right now what he might come in with, as lost and overwhelmed as he seemed. Perry supposed that was to be expected, however, in light of his return to the 'real world' from his long sabbatical; getting back into the swing of things around the Planet was like jumping into a raging river.
It was a good thing the young man was such a damn good reporter, otherwise the editor might have been given serious reason to demote him back to writing obits.
Finally growing impossibly annoyed by the droning newscaster's supposed 'in depth' report of the condominium explosion, Perry shut off the television. Those fools wouldn't know real journalism if it bit them on the ass. He poured himself some more coffee, and reached for two antacid tablets before sitting down to get back to work.
Any normal, 'slow news' day, his stomach might have been fine, but with what lie ahead, it was threatening to erupt, much as it had so often after Superman had left them on his apparent trip to see what was left of Krypton. The increasing pressure to churn out the grim headlines as the state of the world fell into chaos in a hurry had begun to eat at him, finally producing an ulcer the size of a ripe tomato. His doctors had all agreed: time to retire from the paper. “It'll be better for you,” they had told him. “You need to cut down on all the stress. Let someone else take over.” But Perry had vehemently disagreed, stubborn as always, and continued as editor-in-chief without missing a day, pushing his paper and himself to keep up with the thundering pace of the news. After a trip to the emergency room and a stern lecture from Alice, his wife of more than forty years, though, he was forced to admit it really was getting to be too much. Refusing to leave his post, he compromised and brought on his nephew, Richard, hijacking the rising young editor from the Planet's sister paper in London. The kid had jumped in whole-heartedly to help save the Daily Planet, taking the worst of the stress off of Perry and motivating a disheartened staff. His charm and continued enthusiasm, despite the horrific downward spiral the world had been in, had been a godsend.
Richard had been everything the Planet needed, and to top it all off, he had been just the thing to get Lois Lane out of the funk that nearly destroyed her journalistic career.
Looking up another contact, Perry remembered the first day Richard had come into the office, bursting with ideas and raring to get started. Lois had been late getting in that morning, and arrived looking particularly green around the gills, her mood showing to everyone that she was not to be bothered; in a fairly short time, she had become a piranha in a tank full of minnows. The entire staff had known by that point to steer clear of Miss Lane, seeing clearly how Superman's disappearance and her oddly timed pregnancy had changed her. Perry had been forced to squash the office gossip that sprang up in its due course about the whole situation, but that didn't stop the overly-curious glances Lois received when she wasn't looking. The staff may have thought they had her figured out, but at least they knew better than to say anything to her face. If they had, they might have lost an appendage of two, or possibly taken a stapler to the back of the head.
Richard, unfortunately, hadn't been warned about her, and Perry made sure no one tried to fill his head with speculation over Lois's entanglement with the 'caped wonder'. Upon their introduction, the young man stuck out his hand and grinned, excited to meet the 'infamous' Lois Lane and eager to work with her. Lois had rolled her eyes with a huff, turned, and walked away, snapping back, “I've got work to do.” To everyone's utter astonishment, a month later the pair were dating.
Perry, still thinking the couple's first encounter, looked up and out into the bullpen as he dialed the Planet's Canadian correspondent. There, he saw Richard, rushing back to his own office to make more calls. Ahead, Lois sat at her desk, tightly focused on her own work. Having barely seen them speak to each other in almost a week, Perry had no doubt something was wrong. And he knew that that something was a man with a cape and a big, red S on his chest.
The editor knew his nephew was about to get his heart smashed, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. As long as they don't take the paper down with them, he thought, just let it happen quickly. Richard didn't stand a chance in hell, and all Perry could do was hope the kid had the strength to get through it. With those thoughts, Perry's stomach kicked into overdrive.
* * * * *
At nine o'clock, Maggie Sawyer strode into Bill Henderson's office, where the police commissioner sat with Chief Simms, already discussing the Luthor case and the Feds' attempts to nose in on it. Perching on a corner of Henderson's desk, she slapped a thick file down with a thudding smack. “Chief,” she nodded congenially, “Commissioner. You're not going to believe this.”
“Oh?” Simms, a tall, balding black man, that had more than earned his position in the Metropolis PD, snatched up the file and thumbed through it quickly, eyes scanning to pick out the details. “Well, isn't this interesting?” he smirked darkly, his eyes narrowing as he landed on the preliminary report of the fingerprints analysis from the Vanderworth estate.
“That's what I said. Looks like Luthor had quite a crew. Except for the woman Lane identified as Katherine Kowalski, who we connected to another prisoner at New Troy State Pen, they've all got pretty hefty criminal records and are all linked, in one way or another, to her,” she said, stabbing the page with an index finger.
Henderson let out a low whistle as he glanced over the top edge of the file to see the name highlighted on the page. “Well, we knew Luthor was connected, but this! This is definitely more than we bargained for.”
Chief Simms looked up at the Inspector from his seat, dark eyes narrowed. “Better get surveillance put back on her. Check out all her recent contacts. Take a detail off of Suicide Slum if you have to, but find out how the hell that woman is connected to Luthor. 'Cuz if this means what I think it means, then not only are we gonna have trouble keeping the Feds out of it, but we have to accept the possibility that Intergang is back in business,” he spat out the name in disgust. “And that means getting Interpol involved again. Christ.” Finished, he slapped the folder shut, pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, and sighed heavily.
“It gets worse,” Sawyer added. “The Vanderworths got a court order giving them their estate back early this morning, so now it's only a matter of time before the Feds swoop in.”
With suddenly widened eyes, Simms slammed the folder back down on Henderson's desk. “Damn.”
The Commissioner shook his head gravely and crossed his arms over his chest. “See if you can't file an injunction to keep the family from getting too close to that house, Sawyer, and in the mean time, get Lane back in to ID Luthor's thugs and put them on the Most Wanted list.”
“Right.”
With his lips pressed tightly together, Simms stood. “All right, then. Let's get to work. I've got a feeling this is gonna be a long day.”
* * * * *
“Where have you been, Clark!?” Lois demanded, stalking across the aisle as her partner finally shrugged off his coat at his desk. “Perry held up this morning's staff meeting for forty-five minutes for you! I swore to him that you'd be here, but it became clear you weren't planning on showing up!” Her eyes flashed with fury as she waited, hands on hips, for his explanation. “Well?”
Clark, already mad enough at himself for being late, could only shrink back from her sudden verbal assault, trying his best to give a meek apology, “I'm sorry, Lois. It's a really long story. You... wouldn't believe it if I told you.” She'd never believe it, for certain.
“You're two hours late and all you can tell me is 'it's a long story'? You're going to have to do better than that. Perry's out for blood this morning.” Shoving a notepad into his hand, she glared up at him, “Here. These are the notes from the staff meeting. You'd better get yourself up to speed pretty quickly; a lot's happened since yesterday. Oh, and steer clear of Perry.” With the unspoken addition that he'd better steer clear of her, as well, she turned and strode back to her desk, leaving Clark to look over the notes she'd left with him.
He gave them a quick glance, reading off the bulleted points to himself, Possible mining mission... Space shuttle Atlantis... International response to the 'distress signal' story... Presidential invitation for the G8 to come to Washington!? Possible presentation to the UN Security and Economic Councils!? What the hell?
Clark sat down, hard. A lot had happened, and none of it was good. Forgoing reading the rest of Lois's notes, he crossed the bullpen quickly to question her. “Lois, what exactly happened in the last twelve hours?”
Lois looked up from her computer. “What do you think I gave you those notes for!?” Sighing, she knew that was a pointless question. “Clark, as soon as this morning's Planet hit the news-stands everyone went berserk, as if New Krypton's distress call is gonna bring down an alien invasion or something. The president's called for an emergency meeting of the G8 in Washington, along with Chinese President Hu, to discuss the possibilities for mining, and then destroying, New Krypton. He wants to get the survey mission started with the next shuttle launch.”
“But, what about the Virgin Galactic flight? Hasn't that set back NASA's launch schedule?”
Lois shook her head. “No such luck. That was a privately-funded venture with only minimal NASA support. God, didn't you bother to read the press packet I almost died to bring back with me!?” Her eyes were flashing again; clearly that particular day was a sore point with her. Honestly, it was already a bittersweet memory for Clark, too.
“Um, of course I did. I, uh...” he stammered in response.
“The point is, the next launch is still on schedule for next week. If the government can get the okay from the international community, it'll be the first phase of a joint effort between the U.S., Russia, and China. They're looking to try to get their hands on some of the crystals for 'purely technological and economic' purposes,” Lois explained, miming air quotes and rolling her eyes with her usual heavy sarcasm that said she knew better. “On the flip side, the president also wants the G8 to back him up in an address to the UN Security Council so he can get proper approval to load up on kryptonite and possibly destroy New Krypton when they're done with it if the mining mission goes forward. Looks like we were all right, after all.”
Clark stared at Lois unintentionally for a moment, his eyes wide.
“Clark?” She snapped her fingers at him a few times. “Hey. You in there?”
He shook his head and blinked a few times. “Sorry, I, uh... did Perry give us a specific assignment?”
“Yeah. You get to go back to the Luthor story. Latest word is he'll be brought up on charges in at least fifty countries for creating New Krypton, on top of the UN's planned tribunal, and more countries will probably jump on that band wagon if that signal attracts anything extraterrestrial. I, on the other hand, managed to nail down an interview with the current head of the UN Security Council, Kenzo Oshima, for one o'clock this afternoon. You wouldn't believe the line of press I managed to jump over for it.” Stopping abruptly, Lois shook her head and turned back to her computer, ignoring his continued presence.
He knew then, by the set of her shoulders and the tension in her jaw, that she'd gotten them separate stories on purpose. Feeling his heart sink, Clark returned to his desk without a reply. Now she's mad at both sides of me. Great. Though... after everything last night, how could I blame her?
And now he was back on the Luthor story, alone. He glanced back at Lois, hoping it was only temporary, and felt his gut trying to crawl up into his throat, his chest constricting with the weight of newfound guilt for managing to mess things up, again. Why can't I just get things between us to go back to some semblance of normal? he complained to himself, twirling a pen in his fingers as he pried his attention away from Lois and back to the notes she'd given him. But his common sense got the better of him at the ridiculous thought. What the heck am I even thinking!? There is no normal for me. And there is no 'us'. There's just this horrible mess that is all. My. Fault!
CRACK!!
The pen in his fingers snapped, startling him out of his thoughts, and all he could do was stare at it a moment, as if it was some physical proof that everything was going straight to hell. After a moment, he managed to collect himself, and tossed the splintered pen in the trash. He knew he'd have to be more careful, not get so worked up. As if cracking the photo on Lois's desk hadn't been his first indication that his control wasn't as tightly honed as it should have been. Too many things were happening at once, too many things he just wasn't prepared for.
Sitting back in his chair, Clark closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shutting out the noise of the newsroom and trying to concentrate only on the situation at hand. He needed to look at this objectively, logically. Everything was tied up in the crystals, and Luthor had them. If he could get to Luthor, he could get to the crystals. Then maybe he could find out more about the distress signal and hopefully more about the other ship. And afterward... afterward they could deal with the government diving head first into something they knew nothing about, something they couldn't possibly be prepared for.
Flipping back through Lois's notes, he located the information the Vanderworths had supplied to the police in hopes of finding Luthor. After making a quick phone call, he gathered up his coat before heading back out of the bullpen.
Across the aisle, Lois watched Clark rush out as quickly as he'd entered. She'd seen him snap the pen in half and then guiltily stow it in the garbage, and for a moment she felt a twinge of regret for being so rude to him. Ego like an eggshell - easily cracked, she thought. Maybe I'll apologize later.
Maybe.
* * * * *