Clark waited until they got her in Linda's SUV, Victor belting her in before turning to Clark. "You really should get out there. It's after nine."
"Yeah. I know." He craned his neck and glanced in.
"Clark, we got it for now. I'll make sure she and Linda get there okay. Murray's on the tapes. Bart's out with Linda's hangover list, and AC is updating Diana."
"Someone should tell Ollie," Clark said, still feeling the weight of it all.
"I'll call him on the way."
"No. I'll do it." Clark glanced at Linda, who was gesturing for Victor to get in. "I need to talk to him, anyway." And it was definitely not for Linda's ears. He wasn't going to tell him exactly why, but he thought someone needed to tell Ollie how badly he was needed here by certain parties. Certain parties who needed to calm the hell down.
His mother drew up beside him as Victor got in. "I should probably get on that drive home."
"Yeah. Thanks, Mom," he said dully. "For everything."
"I'd believe that a lot more if you didn't look like such a sourpuss."
"I'm going on patrol already."
"A lot of good you'll be with your mind miles away. Just... try to focus. Remember. One thing..."
"One thing at a time. I know. Mom... I'll try."
"All I can do then." She waved as Linda started the car.
Linda unrolled the window. "You better get your sleep, Martha. Salon Rouge is the best, but they aren't miracle workers."
"Well... I thought with everything going on, we could just put that off until..."
"What? We have to go. Those appointments aren't easy to come by and I already got Victor on first shift.
"Again with the shifts," Clark muttered.
"Plus, I got you a photographer for Tuesday and we're going to have to do something about those bags before then."
Martha's hand went to her eyes. "Bags?"
"Picking you up at nine," Linda said, turning to Victor. "Is it just me or do I have to think of everything?"
Victor, wisely, didn't answer that. "We should go."
Linda glanced at Clark, lifting her chin, then nodded coldly. "Clark."
He glared as they drove off.
"Is it just me," his mother said from next to him, "or is she a worse control freak than ever?"
"Oh, it's probably just hormones," Clark said, remembering his mother's words with relish. "She has all these feeling and impulses and..."
"Oh, be quiet." She ran her fingers under her eyes. "Maybe I should get more sleep."
"I could take you home if..."
"No, thank you. I didn't have much dinner and I don't want to lose what I did eat."
"Why is everyone harping on my speeding?"
"It's fine for what it is. It's just... not as smooth as flying."
"Thanks for reminding me..."
"Hey." She turned him to face her. "You know, one thing at a time applies to your powers, too. I know you'll recover them all, Clark. It just takes time. You know that." She patted his arm. "But, for now, I'll just drive myself home."
He nodded. "I have things to do, anyway. And don't stress about the bags."
She gasped. "You can see them, too?"
"No," he said quickly. "They're hardly noticeable."
"Then they are noticeable?"
"No. I mean... Mom, I gotta patrol." He sped off, suddenly very eager to patrol.
But not before he went home. With all he'd done today, he felt a little gross, having traveled in conditions from snow to desert. He'd put on a fresh suit. That was his one thing of the moment.
Clark stared at his hole of an apartment. He hadn't straightened up in a while. He'd been planning to come back before the meeting and clean up, powers-free. It would inject that much more normal into his day. But now... He was dealing with the fact that his not-girlfriend was practically married to him by Kryptonian standards, he was struggling with telling her that and about the tiny matter of the previous decade or so, when she had an entirely different name and life. He still had to patrol the city in spandex because Superman couldn't take a break just because Clark Kent's life sucked. And now... his ex girlfriend was in town. Screw normal, he decided, speeding into his room and peeling off his layers, changing into a fresh suit. As crazy as things were before, now they couldn't be any farther from normal.
But he could... try to deal with one thing at a time. Tonight, Superman would patrol. After that, he'd just check in with Lois. Linda didn't even need to know he was there. One quick scan of her apartment wasn't a violation now. Not now that they knew what she'd been doing with her time. It was only to make sure she was safe and... He shook himself. He had to be careful with that train of thought. If he kept going, he'd be no better than Linda. Whatever Lois was going through, she shouldn't be treated like a child. He'd just... swing by. Just knock, see if anyone was awake.
The temptation to do so now was so great, he made himself stand and moved out of his apartment, glancing down the hall and locking the door before speeding down the hall to the front. He sped through town... twice around, ears at the ready. He didn't even mind the dodging. It just served to keep him on task. Because his mind had to be here, not on afterward or on tomorrow...
In the morning, Clark Kent would go to work, always on the alert in case Superman needed to... He groaned and slowed down, trying to hear around him. It wasn't that he was hoping for a crime to occur, so he could stop it. But it would certainly help. Being on task wasn't exactly easy. As much as he respected the many things his mother had done in her life, one thing at a time didn't exactly cut it for him. He was always Clark and he was always Superman -- and they were interchangeable at a moment's notice. It's not like his mom had to stop being a baker and suddenly switch to mom mode when...
Actually, she probably had. So maybe she did know what he was going through, though on a different level.
But that level changed everything. It was always life and death. Even his ex-girlfriend coming to town was on that level. If she made a wrong move, she could be in danger and...
It all came crashing down again as he skidded to a stop in front of his own building, having made another circuit, stopping only two muggings and what looked like a car theft, but turned out to be a man trying to get into his own car with a hanger. He hadn't been much help there, unless he wanted to smash the man's window to get his keys out of the ignition. In the end, he'd just stood on the other side, trying to help him guide the hanger to questions like "So... what's wit the tights? Are your folks like circus people or sumthin?" To his credit, he hardly blushed. He'd gotten used to the suit now.
He quickly climbed up the fire escape to his roof and sat on an overturned bucket, still craving the height he couldn't get from flying.
How could he deal with one thing at a time when it was all happening at once?
Still... he'd spent over an hour out there, hardly thinking of anything but the task at hand. Surely, he could take a moment to think of other things. He pulled his cell from the back of his belt. He really should have a pocket or something. It would be nice to have his wallet on him, too. Leaving his clothes in random places meant leaving his wallet with them and, the scare of wallet theft aside, he didn't like the idea of people coming upon his clothes and knowing that one Clark Kent tended to strip in alleyways and on rooftops and supply closets and...
It was ringing.
And ringing.
And going to voicemail.
"Be that way," he muttered at an absent Linda as he hung up. It had only been an hour and a half, so he was positive she wasn't sleeping. Despite her protests, he couldn't help feeling he was being shut out. He'd thought they'd finally come to an understanding at that stupid restaurant, but she was doing it again, treating him like some interloper and taking all the control. He knew it wasn't all about him, but it didn't change the result. He knew most of it was so she wouldn't have to deal with...
"Ollie," he gasped dialing again. Someone had to tell Ollie and he'd told Victor he would.
It only rang twice. At least some people knew how to pick up a phone.
"Hello? Who's this?" Ollie's voice was slightly lower. Clark suspected he wasn't talking to Ollie so much as the Green Arrow.
"It's... Superman." He rolled his eyes, feeling lame just for saying it. But if Ollie was going so far to keep his voice disguised when in Arrow guise, then he could try not to identify himself as Clark when in the suit. There were some grunts on the other end. "Uh... Green Arrow? You okay?"
"Me? Fine. Finally gave in and got a bluetooth. Can you hear me oka... Ow!"
He stood quickly. "Ol... Damn it!" He had to watch that. "What's going on?"
"I'm good. I'm good. Just fighting this... son of a..." More grunting.
He found himself at the edge of the roof. "Sounds like you're losing. Did you want..."
"Me? No. I'm great. So what going on with... Ooof!" There was silence. "Hey, Boyscout?"
Clark tensed. "Yeah?"
"Would you mind coming over this way? Grell Museum at the intersection of Alicia and Baker, you know near the wharf and..." There was a loud grunt. "And maybe hurry?"
Clark didn't answer, only sped to Star City. When he got to the museum, he found the large front window in pieces on the pavement. He sped through the halls as alarms rang around him. He found Ollie on the floor next to a shattered display case, trying unsuccessfully to pull himself up.
He caught him under the arms and hefted him up. "You okay?"
"No. Count Vertigo got the jewels."
"Count... Who?"
Ollie brushed himself off, wincing. "I know. Stupid name. But that's what he calls himself. I finally figured out exactly what he was after, so that's progress... except for how he got away with what he wanted and all."
"Well, which way did he go? I can..."
"Lost cause." Ollie grunted and held his shoulder. "I think I might need your help myself, just to get out of here. Not all of us enjoy your popularity. Any sightings of Green Arrow here and this'll be pinned on me."
"Uh... Okay." He put a hand on Ollie's arm and bent to lift him under the knees.
Ollie jumped away. "Hey! Watch the shoulder!"
"Well, how am I supposed to..."
"Just find some way not to put me in any more agonizing pain," Ollie growled, picking up his quiver and bow. Sirens sounded outside. "Yeah. You know what? Your call. Just get me out of here."
Clark carefully put a hand at Ollie's back and another under his knees, straightening and speeding off before he could complain.
He sped to Star City's underground headquarters. "Okay. Put me down," Ollie grunted. "I feel enough like a girl without being carried over the threshold." Clark decided in favor of putting him down over dropping him.
Downstairs, he waited until Ollie had taken his hood and goggles off before speaking. "Are you planning on telling me what's going on?"
Ollie unzipped his vest and pulled it off, grunting with the effort. "Well, I'm taking off my gear, then I'm going to...
"I meant with this..."
"Yeah, I know. I'm just... not in the best mood this week."
Clark understood the feeling. He waited while Ollie lowered himself to the couch.
"It's just this guy," he breathed. "I've been trying to get a handle on him all week and I can't. I chased him away from the museum twice, but... I thought I was seriously off my game... that or coming down with some inner ear thing because I kept freaking falling over whenever I tried to fight him. But he's got some kind of ability. I don't know. I'm not used to this."
"You've dealt with metahumans before."
"You're thinking of you. Me, not so much. My main adversaries are the burly guards of corrupt businessmen. I didn't grow up surrounded by meteor mutants and I had minimal contact with them when I was out your way. I'm used to a fairer fight." He clenched his fists as he stood up.
Clark moved nearer. "Are you in a lot of pain?"
"Just when I move or breathe or anything. Probably a dislocated shoulder. Hurts like hell. Bruised a rib or two last night, too, so that's probably not helping." He moved into the bathroom and Clark followed.
"Why didn't you call for help?"
"Everyone's needed back there. You're not a hundred percent and nothing's resolved back there yet and..."
"Any one of us would have taken some time to help you out."
"Well, I wanted to handle it on my own."
"There's no shame in asking us for help."
He heard a bark of laughter. "This from the guy who never asks for help."
"I'm... trying to start. You know that."
"Yeah, well... I... I needed to be here." He started to take off his tank, then grasped his arm, groaning.
Clark rushed forward. "We should get you to a hospital."
"No. The mayor doesn't check in to the hospital looking like he just got in a bar fight. People will talk." He laughed weakly. "But you could help me out with one thing, here." He turned to the side. "Pop this shoulder back in the socket for me?"
"Uh... I can't do that."
"Sure you can. Just count to three and pop it in."
Clark swallowed and nodded, putting one hand on Ollie's neck and gripping his arm before... backing away completely. "Maybe we should call Ramirez or..."
"She's in Denver until after Christmas." He hissed in a breath. "Come on, Clark."
"Well... I've recovered a lot and I don't know if..."
"Hey, I'm not thrilled at the idea, either. It could end up on the other side of my body, but I'm trusting you to go at minimum strength, here."
Clark took a deep breath and put his hands in position again.
"Wait!" Ollie grabbed a towel off the rack and placed part of it in his mouth. "Mmmfff-mmm."
Clark took that to mean it was time. He looked past Ollie's skin and flesh and saw bone, trying to think of it as the stegosaurus skeleton model he put together when he was little, all sockets and joints. If he used that kind of pressure, then maybe...
"MMMMMMMMMFFFFFFFFFFFFF!"
He jumped back. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't know what I did. I thought..."
Ollie spit out the towel. "No. You got it. It still hurt like a bitch." He rolled his shoulder, wincing slightly, then opened the medicine cabinet. "At least Ramirez left me some muscle relaxers when she abandoned me. I feel stiff everywhere." He grimaced as he swallowed a pill dry.
"Maybe you should take a few days off from chasing this guy."
"You mean now that I failed to stop him from stealing the jewels and he won?"
"Sometimes you have to take a break from being a hero."
"There are no breaks. You know that."
"There are when it's important. Like when you have to be... a mayor." Or a husband. A father. How could he ask him to come back without...
"I suppose you want me to come back to Metropolis."
Or he wouldn't have to ask at all. "Well, yeah."
Ollie leaned hard against the sink. "I'm sorry I missed the meeting. It's just... This guy isn't just some thief. He seriously injured several guards and..."
"I understand," Clark cut in. "You're needed in your city. But I think, if you could spare some time... you're kind of needed in mine right now."
Ollie frowned into the sink. "That's what Ramirez said."
"Well, she has a point." Clark paused before going on, not sure how to tempt him back without giving it all away. "Not to pile too much on you, but... You should know that Lois has been... We've had a new development."
Ollie sighed. "Clark, I'm fading, here. You're gonna have to give me the short version until tomorrow." Ollie took a seat on the toilet, pulling off his boots.
"She knows."
Ollie froze and looked up. "She knows... what?"
"About Chloe. She doesn't exactly have the right idea, but..."
"I thought we'd been so careful." He squinted up at Clark. "How does she know?"
"She's... her. I don't know exactly how she did it, but she did."
"She would," Ollie sighed. "That girl just has to know everything." He pursed his lips. "How's she taking it?"
"She's sleeping off massive amounts of alcohol." What he was afraid of was how she'd react later. If alcohol didn't cushion the blow, then how would she deal with this sober? "So... not well." But the truth had to be better than what she'd been thinking. If they could just sit her down and gently...
"Hopefully not too massive an amount," Ollie was saying. "That girl could never handle her drink." He smiled slightly. "She must've missed that gene. Linda can knock em back like..." He finished with his boots and stood. "I wouldn't be able to be gone more than a week. Have to get back next Sunday for the ceremonial tree lighting in Adams Park... with my wife." He closed his eyes. "If I still have one."
"If you still..." Clark stared at him, thrown off track.
"Isn't that what you're here to tell me?" Ollie shouted suddenly. "I hear the way she is with me. Want to know one of the main reasons I've stayed away? I'm in no hurry to go back there and hear her say it."
Did Ollie suspect? Was Linda right to be afraid that he would greet this baby with less than... "Say what, exactly?" he gritted, feeling a curl of anger in his gut.
Ollie turned away and wet a washcloth. "You've never exactly been married, Clark, so let me clue you in. When your wife starts avoiding you like the plague, then calls when you're away and says 'we need to talk,' it's usually not good news." He paused with the cloth a few inches from his face. "I thought she could use some space. She tends to make these snap decisions and... I mean, if she'd just think about it a little, then... Then she wouldn't ask me for one."
His anger dissipated, replaced by confusion again. "One what?" One baby? Because, if that was the case, it was a little late for asking.
"A divorce, okay?" He whirled sharply on Clark, then put a hand to his head. "Because she's not getting one. There are no grounds, unless... Unless she plans to expose my extra-curricular activities as grounds and I'd never thought she would, but..."
"Ollie," Clark broke in on a sigh. "Just... come back. Talk to her. It's..." He couldn't say what. "It's not what you're thinking."
"How do you know?"
That he couldn't say. It wasn't his place. He could only say what he knew to be true. "Because she couldn't need you this much and not... still love you.
Ollie stared at him for a long moment. "You know, Clark... If I come back to papers being served..."
"Then I will personally give you a kryptonite bat to bash me over the head with. I swear. It's... there's no way it's that."
Ollie smiled slightly. "You know, it might be the muscle relaxant kicking in, but I'm going to choose to believe you." He shook himself. "I have city business in the morning, but I could take the jet first thing after."
"Then do that."
"I might want to grab a shower before I fall into a dead sleep."
Clark smiled. "Well, I was going to hint at that, too."
Ollie grabbed the edge of his shirt. "Were you planning on letting me do that alone or..."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry." Clark started out, then stopped at the door as Ollie's slightly torn shirt fell at his feet. "Ollie?"
"Yeah?"
"You know I'll help you anytime. With all you've done for me, you know that..."
"Clark, I'm a little tired to reenact a scene from Stand By Me. I... Thanks. I'll endeavor to ask for help the next time a specially-abled villain comes my way."
"You better. We want you safe." She needs you safe. They... will need you safe.
He left it at that and sped off, hoping Ollie would understand soon enough.
Somewhere in Utah, he stopped to congratulate himself. He'd spent twenty minutes out of an hour focused on problems that weren't his own. He didn't know if it was the suit or what... But sometimes, when he was Superman, he was able to see that big picture. Even without flying over it.
So what if he couldn't fly? It didn't put him above everything, except physically?
The world doesn't stop because you have a problem. So, yes. You patrol, you work, and you train. And, in between, you do what you can.
Oliver threw himself into his work as The Green Arrow. Though it was noble, some of it was an escape, just like flying. Oliver Queen's problems didn't exist when The Green Arrow had work to do... except for they did. They were still waiting for him after. They were Linda, who was doing some escaping of her own.
You have a team of friends that want nothing more than to help you with all this.
They were all part of the same team. He wasn't alone. Oliver wasn't alone. If they were going to get through this... they had to be a team. And that meant him as well. Not stewing over his own problems, but putting in time on the team.
"I get it, Mom," he whispered.
He didn't congratulate himself too long, though. He wasn't done for the night.
He had one place to be. And it wasn't for him and only him. It wasn't even for Lois, not altogether, though he found himself at her apartment door.
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Chapter Twenty-Nine
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