Almost Whole (Chapter Nine)

"Ollie's in Star City," Victor said, clicking his mouse. "Mayor stuff. I'm sure he'll be back by tomorr..."

"But the window," Clark cut in.

"Don't even worry about it," Victor said, eyes intent on his monitor. "We've all done worse. One broken window isn't..."

"Victor, you're missing the point. I broke the window with my hand and look." Clark moved around the desk and thrust his hand under Victor's nose. "Nothing." Clark glanced at the monitor as Victor tore his eyes away. "You're playing Doom?"

Victor shrugged. "It's a classic." He held Clark's hand up, eyes narrowing on it. "Okay. You've caught my attention. So you think your powers are coming back or..."

"No. I tried after, thinking maybe... I don't know. That they were sort of creeping back in, but I couldn't speed, definitely couldn't fly and I couldn't even make a mark in the asphalt." He took his hand back. "Luckily for me, I can't be hurt. I tried repeatedly." Clark sighed. "The problem is that I don't think this is new. I haven't had any reason to test my skin. I could have been invulnerable all along and just not known it."

"But you did punch a hole in the window."

"Anyone could do that with the right incentive." Say the thought of the woman he loved writhing over another man, body slightly slick with sweat and...

"Whoa there."

Clark looked down, he was holding a chunk of dust. And the desk was missing a corner.

"Now that Ollie might take exception to. Thing's an antique."

Clark shook the dust off his hand. "Sorry."

"Tell Ollie that." Victor stood and came around the desk, eyeing Clark shrewdly. "Clark, not everyone can punch a window or turn wood to dust. Maybe you or me. But no. Not everybody."

"Well, I'm obviously not that strong if I can't do it when I'm concentrating or..."

"Maybe you're trying too hard. These powers are a part of your make-up, right?"

"They're... who I am." You nearly said yourself. Is that what you think. That your powers are, in a sense, who you are? Murray had said the words earlier, but he'd brushed him off. But his powers were who he was. Without that, he was nothing more than some fairly unremarkable guy who'd done some fairly shitty things for no good reason. And getting them back was nearly everything to him.

"So they're there," Victor said. "They can't just go away all of a sudden..."

"They have before. And the crystal..."

"The crystal seemed to take more from Bryce. And that crystal still had some juice left in it. You do, too. I feel it. You've just buried it somehow."

Clark shook his head. "That's ridiculous. Why would I want to do that? Why would I want to exist like this?"

"I'm not saying you want to. I just..." Victor took a deep breath. "I think you may just want it back too much because you can't deal with yourself without it."

"So... I have to stop wanting my powers for them to come back? That's ridiculous." Clark moved to the door.

"Murray told me he spoke to you. Said he thought he and Doctor Ramirez could help. But you refused him."

He stopped in the doorway. "This is beyond what they can do."

"Might not be beyond you, though."

Clark turned. "Meaning?"

"I'm not saying I have any great insight, but... Look, we all have issues. Maybe more than the average person because we can do more than the average person. There's no shame in getting what you need to adjust. I even..." Victor broke off.

"What?"

"Oliver kind of... made me go into therapy early on. It was good for me. I didn't talk about my abilities, just about... other things. I had a lot to let go of and..."

"Thanks for the thought but I'm kind of off therapists at the moment."

"Clark, I'm not saying..."

"Or did you forget what therapy did to her? And Grady seemed trust-worthy. I go to someone and, ten to one, I slip up and there's front page news sold to every..."

"So you're perfectly fine with this? Just give in and say that this is your life?" Victor raised his eyebrows and Clark sagged against the wall. "I'm not saying you have to see a stranger, but... maybe talk to someone. God knows you don't do that enough or you would have picked up a phone the minute you got in over your head. It doesn't have to be me or Ollie or any of us. Just... stop acting like you can do it all alone."

Clark paced his apartment later, wishing he could just do it all alone. That was the point of having all this power. No bomb squads or hostage negotiators or swat teams when someone like him could swoop in and save the day. He stared out the window. It faced north. "That was the point wasn't it, Father? I was supposed to save them, shelter them. Why am I here if I can't?"

There was no answer, of course. Not from thousands of miles away and not from a fortress that was as powerless as he was now. Is that what you think? That your powers are, in a sense, who you are?

Without them, who was he? He didn't know. There were few people who really knew him. Even his friends were fairly new. The only one who really knew this guy, the guy who got up and went to work and brushed his teeth and ate what was on his plate because there were starving children in Ethiopia...

He gave up and picked up the phone.

"Mom?"

******************************

Lois laid back against the pillows. "Linda, just go," she insisted.

"But you're tired and I think it's my fault. Ollie always says I move around too much in bed and I should have taken the couch or..."

"Yeah. I saw the couch in daylight now, so I doubt..."

"I'll call a steam cleaner as soon as possible. It was just that the movie was really creepy and when that guy just popped out of the closet, my grape juice just..."

"I'm nice and comfy and it's fine about the couch. Just... go to the store and replenish my empty fridge." While you're at it, call your damned husband and tell him the truth. But she couldn't say that. Not when she felt that every word out of her mouth was bald hypocrisy. She stared at Linda as she perched on the edge of the bed.

"I always had every intention of replacing the ice cream," Linda said solemnly.

"Why did you want to stay with me, anyway?" Lois tilted her head. If she was so bad of a person before, why was everyone jumping through hoops now. "It's not just about Oliver." Linda could stay with him and avoid him easily, probably go home and take up her own wing in the mansion rather than crowding Lois.

"You're my family," Linda said, pulling the covers over Lois' shoulders. "I just... I feel like I haven't been with you in so long. I can't even remember the last time we had more than a few days together."

"I... I can't either." Except for the few times she'd seen her in the last few months, she could hardly remember her. Just this sort of wall she couldn't peek over. Could she have chosen to forget her? She knew who she was, but when she tried to put it in any kind of context...

"Anyway, Ollie and I need a break and this is my version of going home to Mother," Linda said, nodding to herself. "Except I... can't exactly go to my mother."

"She died," Lois found herself saying blankly. "How?"

"She... died when I was young. I hardly remember her." Linda stared off.

"And your father?"

"He..." She laughed suddenly. "God, what a morbid subject for such a sunny day."

"It's not sunny," Lois pointed out, peering at her. "It's nearly freezing outside."

"Well, it's... bright, anyway." Linda stood. "I really should get to the store. I'm gonna just... go."

Lois stared at the door as she left, almost wishing, for the first time this week, that Linda wouldn't go. She needed to know what they were hiding. The lying was so obvious now. But she knew it wasn't malicious. But she wasn't sure what it was. And she couldn't be sure until she knew what they were hiding. Once she knew, she could prove that she could handle it... That is, if she could handle it.

The only thing she was sure of was that she couldn't stand not knowing any longer.

She threw the covers off and got up, crept to the bedroom door to be sure she was alone. She moved into the living room and to her desk, getting up to lock the front door as it powered up. She found herself breathing fast and shallow as she sifted through her email, looking for memos. Once she got to the one with the password, she hesitated, copying G4B9TDP. She pasted it into the box at the staff section, staring at the line of asterisks it made. This might change everything.

But change was good. Right?

She hit enter.

She wasn't as alert an hour later, when she found that the archives weren't exactly user friendly. They were about as good as microfiche, only grouped by date and scanned. She felt as if her eyes were burning, trying to stay open through scan after scan and...

"This is ridiculous." Okay. This was still workable. It would just take time. She'd just go back a few years and work upward. It was unreasonable to think that she could read through every front page article, classified ad, and lifestyles story about people that looked like their pets. But she could just scan through and...

"Sullivan," she said excitedly, nearly shaking as she saw the name. She deflated a bit when she saw it was a blurb about a Margaret Sullivan who'd given birth to sextuplets in South Haven in 2001. Maybe she should skip ahead and...

"Chloe Sullivan."

This time it was the right one. How many Chloe Sullivans could there be in the state of Kansas. if that didn't clue her in, the picture would have. And the article wasn't just featuring her name. It was written by her. A column. "Sullivan's Travels," she read aloud. She checked the date. 2004? She had to have been in high school... Not she. Me. I... She squeezed her eyes shut. It was just so hard to wrap her mind around, but there it was. It felt strange even reading this, like eavesdropping. Perhaps that was why she couldn't tell anybody. It felt like she shouldn't somehow. But she had to. She thought of what Pammie said. She'd have to relearn herself. If she was indeed Chloe Sullivan, than what better way then reading the words of Chloe Sullivan.

She closed her eyes and breathed deep again before maximizing the scan.

Greetings, Planeteer...

She rolled her eyes slightly.

Chloe Sullivan, by way of Smallville, Kansas. It's a pleasure to be read. I'll try to return the favor. I'm no stranger to columnar communiques...

She looked away from the screen again, squealing a bit. That was her? Using alliteration, no less. If she saw a pun, she might run screaming from the room. It was a bit like watching a video of your own high school play. Embarrassing to believe you were ever that young. It was even worse now, as she'd only just begun to accept that this person was her.

She read on, trying to do so with an objective eye as she moved through the columns.

As a kid in metropolis, I loved to look at the passengers on the Metro and guess where they were going. I walked down the street and imagined what was happening behind each apartment window. I'd stare down alleyways and wonder who was sitting in the shadows. Mysteries hooked me and drove me to journalism to find the answers... Ever since I was a kid, the tougher questions grabbed my attention. That curious little girl got me where I am today. And the worst sin of age is to forget the trials of our youth.

Not bad. A way with words, but nothing much of substance to say. Where was the story? And how the hell did a sixteen-year-old land a column at The Daily Planet? An internship fetching coffee, maybe, but...

She picked up the phone and dialed Perry directly.

"Yeah?"

Nice greeting. But she held that response back. With that trans fat news, she expected Perry was still on-edge. "Perry? Lois."

"You done already? It's not even noon. I don't want you two just rattling off questions about their favorite movies or..."

"Not about Met Vista, Perry. I'm actually working on a side project and..."

"What the heck are you thinking with a side project? Lane, we have a..."

"No. Nothing distracting, really." Except for how she couldn't live without the answer. "I just had a few questions about... my cousin."

"Huh?"

"Chloe Sullivan. I just wondered if you knew..."

"Oh, her. Nice kid. Met her once. Shame what happened."

"Perry, she had a column at The Daily Planet when she was sixteen and I found it in the archives and I just... I need to know."

"Listen, I know she's a relative, but we have a story to run and..."

"Do you honestly think anything will keep me from getting the story done?"

There was a moment of silence. "No. But I need you to stay focused and keep Kent on task. Guy seems a little soft around the edges. Can't even yell at him properly."

She straightened, preening slightly. Perry could yell at her anytime. She could handle it, after all. "Perry, we will have our questions to you by six, I just... I have this on my mind and I... I can't let it go until I know everything," she said truthfully.

"Yeah." Perry sighed. "I get that way sometimes, too." There was silence. "Listen, I can't tell you much about Chloe Sullivan. To be honest, I knew she was there some of the time I was, but I never really saw her around. I was a busy guy. Besides, she worked under Taylor then and... Well, we can't exactly speak to him."

"Why not? If he works somewhere else..."

"He's dead, Lane. Died young, too."

"Oh." She sat back in her chair, feeling oddly sad. She couldn't think why.

"But I guess Kahn could help."

"Kahn?" She knew the name. Somehow she knew.

"Pauline Kahn. She worked as an assistant editor for years, then had my job. From what I know, she hired Sullivan back. Later, she moved onto LNN as a producer, but didn't like the management there." Perry grunted slightly. "No surprise. The Luthor-owned bastards there wouldn't know impartial journalism if it crawled up their..."

"Where is she now?"

"Went back to print. Think she's at The Washington Post now."

After many assurances to Perry about the story, she finally got Kahn's number. She felt sort of nervous as the line rang, as if she were about to be tested in some way. She wondered how Chloe... how she must have felt about Kahn. Did she like her? Was she nice? Scratch that. She was an editor, after all. Was she easy to speak to? No. Scratch that. If she was anything like Perry...

"Kahn, here," a gruff sort of female voice said.

"Ms. Kahn," she said quickly, trying to power through this. "Lois Lane. Daily Planet. I was wondering if you could spare a few moments to..."

"I know who you are. Quite the scoop, getting Superman's exclusive right out of the gate. And now, apparently, you and this partner of yours are exposing a genetic experimentation ring." There was a pause. "What I don't know is why you'd be calling me. If you're looking for a change of city... Well, I'm listening."

"Well... Thank you." She felt oddly pleased, but didn't dwell on it. She didn't have much of a window. Who knew how long Linda would be gone? "I'm actually calling about your time as Editor in Chief at The Daily Planet."

"Is this an interview? Who the heck would be interested in..."

"This isn't an interview," Lois cut in quickly. "It's actually... very personal."

There was silence. "Have we spoken before?"

Lois blanched and straightened in her seat, as if Kahn could see. "No. I don't believe we have. Listen... I'm trying to find some information on Chloe Sullivan. I believe she worked under you at The Planet and..."

"Yes. I remember her and I'm not sure what a story about her would gain you. Besides all that, whatever truth she held seemed to have died with her."

She felt her mouth go suddenly dry. "Could you... clarify?" she croaked.

"Well, she's a bit of an odd story. I was only a reporter when I first met her. But she'd interned with us twice. Then, lo and behold, the girl suddenly has her own column while still in high school. There were quite a few of us angling for space, so we really didn't get why some kid was taking up a quarter page with her juvenile ramblings about Smalltown or wherever. Taylor seemed to like her and he was a good egg, so we kept quiet. But we all knew that someone did some arm-twisting on that. She seemed like a good kid, but she hadn't earned it and none of us were too surprised when she was suddenly gone."

"Suddenly gone meaning..." She hadn't read all the columns, but had they gone on up until the time of her death? My death?

"Nobody knows. Suddenly, she was packing up her desk and running back to the high school paper where she belonged. Then Max... Well, his name was technically George Taylor was dead. I... I never told anyone this, but I think... well, I think the girl had potential, but a tendency to get in over her head. I can't help thinking Taylor's death was somehow connected. I think that need to know is what made me see her again a few years later."

"So... she came back?" Lois hadn't gotten too far, but now she knew to look. "Did she have a column or..."

"God, no. I was running things by then and I was not about to give some kid preferential treatment. She was in college by then, but still a bit raw. The strange thing is, she seemed... honest. She even acknowledged that she didn't deserve that column she'd had and asked me for another chance. I wasn't about to just take her on. Told her to bring me a story. I was curious if she would. But the next week, she did. It was... engrossing stuff. Not something I could print. I mean, even if every word of it was true... Vampires." She laughed slightly. "We'd be laughed off the stands. But she was quite the little investigator. I let her start in the basement." There was silence again. "She did pretty well while here. Ran the tip lines, obits, stayed late. Seemed to be really intent on working her way up. Even had a few bylines." Kahn laughed suddenly. "Though she did have this penchant for the weird and wacky. Had to tone down a few things. But I... Well, I had hopes for her. It's a shame, really, what happened."

"What happened?" Lois found herself asking with bated breath.

"She was just gone again. This time, she faxed in a letter of resignation and I didn't hear of her again until there was an obit. I think Olsen wrote it."

Lois' eyes grew wide. "Olsen? Jimmy Olsen?"

"Yeah. Nice kid. I think the two of them were an item. He took it pretty hard."

Lois' breathing grew quicker. "But he's..."

"Sorry, what?"

He's my friend. He's got nothing to do with the rest of them. He wouldn't lie to me. He wouldn't... "Oh, nothing. I... I read that she died of a gunshot wound to the face."

"Yes. Not too pretty. Apparently, Lionel Luthor did it and... See, this is my problem..."

"What?"

"Around the time all this Ruby Ridge stuff came out, I was working for LNN and I just... There was something about Lex Luthor's version of events that didn't sit well with me. Listen, that girl might have been in on some shady things, but if she was Lionel Luthor's lover, then I'm the queen of England. Anyway, it's the middle of the workday, here. I should get back to actual work. Just out of curiosity, what has you digging all this up? I can assure you, I no longer concern myself with Metropolis. I leave that headache to Perry."

Lois chose her words carefully. "Like I said, it's personal. Not a story, really. And I... thank you for your help."

When she hung up, she took several deep breaths. It didn't hurt anymore, but it felt like it should. "All too much," she muttered. "All too much."

She breathed deep again and tried to focus. now was not the time to give up. She was so close now. She moved to click on October 2004's archives and shot short of it, found herself in 2007. She was ready to go back, get where she had been, when she saw Sullivan.

Gabriel Sullivan, father of Chloe Sullivan, died September 27th in an accidental vehicle fire...

It wasn't so much the words as the picture. It was black and white, but she knew the hair would be red. A light red in the sunlight as he stared toward the house.

"What's wrong with Lucy? She didn't even say hi, just ran upstairs."

"Go check on her," she heard herself say to... someone. She felt her hand touch someone, but her head turned to the man instead. A light smattering of freckles dotted his cheeks. "It's just the heat, Dad. My air conditioner's on the fritz."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. Just the button's stuck." Her view turned from him to the house and she almost wanted it back to him, so hungry just to see him. "Dad, I'm gonna go hurry up the girls."

He was staring at her car. "I'll just take a look at this."

"Knock yourself out."

"Better get my tools," she heard him mutter as she went in, making her way right to the stairs. Near the top, she heard... Nothing. It was gone. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to get it back, like trying to pick up a dream where she left off. It didn't come back, just... the smell of fire that filled her nostrils.

She stumbled to the kitchen sink before she began heaving. Sour coffee passed her lips. Nothing more solid. She vaguely thought she should have eaten today as she stumbled back, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

She felt faint as she moved back to the living room, aiming for her computer. She was so close to everything. If she could just... She stopped, nearly tripping over her couch. Instead of stepping around it, she found herself falling into it, still slightly damp from Linda... Linda... She had to go check on Lucy... The baby... If it's a girl, she'll name her Lucy...

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