Almost Friends (Chapter Three)

Clark stopped near the docks and moved toward the warehouse, but sort of reluctantly. He hoped this wouldn't go on past two hours. They were meeting at Metropolis Lanes at seven and he wanted to at least grab a shower before the...

No. It's not a date. And he had to stop thinking of it as a date and stop wondering if he should wear cologne or just go natural. And whether he should wear a button down or a sweater or a sweatshirt. Which of them said "I like you, but am not expecting anything," but also "I encourage you to think of me as boyfriend material" while also adding "I do, however, respect you enough to dress nicely for you"? But not too nicely. What if she showed up in sweats, but he was wearing...

"Oh, for God's sake," he hissed. They were going bowling. Jeans. T-shirt. Comfortable, but casual. There.

He slid open the large door.

But maybe a sweater just in case. He didn't want her to think she wasn't worth the effort of at least a pullover. And he could ditch it once he saw what she was...

"Oh, God. I am a girl."

"Nice to hear you admit it."

He glanced up, realizing he'd said that aloud. "Oh, shut it." That went for himself and Victor. Now wasn't the time to be Clark Kent, nervous suitor. Now was the time to train. Maybe then he'd have added power to stop whatever Intergang might be... and it wasn't the time for Superman's worries, either. This was somewhere in between the two. Just how many people did he have to be in a day?

"So... what are we doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Victor said, tossing a box up and catching it. There were a few others sort of stacked behind him.

"We're building a fort?"

"We're testing your breath. You said that was next." He put the box he was holding on top of the others, then grabbed another.

Clark moved forward. "Well, there are actually two varieties of breath. But the first was..."

"A strong wind. Got it. Ramirez got me up to speed. These are empty." He placed another box, forming a pyramid. "I figure that's enough to start with."

"Well, yeah." Clark stood back. "I guess I can give it a..."

"No. You don't get to stand that close. Get back," Victor said.

Clark backed up.

"No. Further."

Clark sighed and backed up again, watching Victor carefully place a few feathers on top of the last box.

"Well, I can probably blow those off."

"From that far away, so could I. Get back."

Clark kept backing up as Victor waved him further. He stopped when he hit the opposite wall. "Really can't get any further."

"Still looks too easy," Victor said, frowning. He shrugged. "Oh, well." He gestured to Clark. "Give it a try."

Clark focused on the boxes, taking a deep breath, then... nothing. Not even a feather.

"Come on. That's not Superman quality breath. You couldn't get a birthday candle at close range with that."

"Okay..." He huffed and puffed and... nothing. Though he swore a bit of floating dust moved three feet in front of him. "Couldn't we just try one closer?"

"No. then we won't know whether it's human or superhuman. Linda said you nearly killed her with a barn door once."

"It wasn't on purpose."

"Not the way she tells it. Now blow!"

"I'm trying!"

"Not hard enough."

Clark took in another breath, this time holding it for so long, he started to actually feel nearly woozy. He tried to blow it out, but ended with a sad choking gasp.

"Okay, okay." Victor out up his hands. "You might be trying too hard, as in thinking too hard. Ramirez said you deal better with any form of misdirection. Let's have a talk."

"How can I talk and blow at the same time?"

"I meant that I'd talk. You listen and... Just, keep trying without sucking all the air out of the room."

Clark nodded and took a breath.

"I heard you took a trip to the bank today."

Clark blew out weakly, then turned to him. "Did you read my story? I was going to tell you, but I wasn't sure if you guys wanted to get involved in city business as this isn't your..."

"No. Keep it up. And no offense, but I don't need the news to get the news. I keep my eye on all digital correspondence out of Metropolis PD, just in case a certain memory thief of a doctor blips on their radar."

Clark glanced at him, surprised.

"Yes. I'm more than a pretty face. Keep going."

Clark took another breath and...

"You only got one of the robbers."

"I know," he said on a breath. "I don't know what was wrong with..."

"Stop talking. I told you. I'm talking. You're listening." Victor paced between him and the boxes. "I know that you've gained a lot back, but I think you've gotten sloppy."

Clark breathed in again, not disagreeing... at all.

"You're out of practice. You're still retraining out of a weakened state. Even though you gained some powers, you can't rest on your laurels. And crime stopping is no way to keep yourself warmed up. That's the main event. So I think you need a daily workout in addition to training. Just to get yourself back to full power."

Clark nearly pitched forward with his next breath. "In addition..." He shook his head. "Victor, I have a full time job and so does Superman. Even today, I haven't..."

"I get it, Clark. I really do. But if you want your powers back, then you're going to have to suffer the loss of some sleep... which, I hear, you hardly need."

"Well, yeah, but I'm sharper when I've had a full night. Even my mom says it's important to..."

"Oh, stop being a baby and blow!" Victor suddenly snorted. "Sorry. But that sounded pretty sick." He started laughing. "I've been trying not to break all this time. There's just no easy way to talk about blowing without..." He laughed harder.

Clark stared, horrified. He'd hardly heard Victor chuckle, let alone devolve into adolescent giggles. "Could you be serious?"

"I'm sorry. I know. I just..." He sighed and wiped his eyes. "You know, it could be worse. Bart nearly took this one." Victor cleared his throat. "And speaking of Bart, you're meeting him tomorrow morning before you go to work."

Clark groaned. "Bart?" If he had to deal with someone when he first woke up, why did it have to be Bart?

"Yes. Bart. He's the fastest out of all of us. Faster than you. You need someone to keep up with. Because speed is, obviously a problem, otherwise those other two wouldn't have escaped you today."

Clark nodded sadly.

"Oh, no." Victor pointed at him. "Don't start that. I'm just saying this because I know that you could have done better, not for you to start on the guilty bullshit. Clark, I know you could have tackled all three no problem at full power. So this is just evidence that you can't just say you got your powers and be done. You need to keep them sharp."

Clark glanced at him and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay, then." Victor clapped his hands together. "Tomorrow, you get drilled on speed, strength, x-ray, and heat... maybe even breath, if you can move a damn feather." Victor shrugged. "Fun time's over."

"When exactly was fun time?" Clark chuckled and shook his head. "I must have missed fun time."

"Stop complaining and blow it..." Victor stopped, turning sort of purple, then finally bursting. "Okay. Sorry. Last time."

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

She decided in favor of waiting outside. She'd become very outdoorsy lately, always stepping out, waiting for that snap of reality when she could focus on cold hands or numb toes, that nearly harsh breath in that comes with air that was just on the verge of filling with snow. These were things that made her feel present, not half in one life and half in the other. Tonight would have enough of that feeling.

One on level, she was meeting her partner and potential friend to roll heavy balls into wooden pins in funny shoes.

On another, she was meeting a best friend she barely remembered to find out exactly who she was.

She leaned against the wall outside Metropolis Lanes, watching a group of smokers nearer to the door laugh around a standing ashtray. She even breathed in the smoky air, glad for just another little bit of in-body experience before Clark showed up. She hoped she could handle everything.

So far, she congratulated herself that she wasn't laying in bed, staring ahead like a vegetable with all she was taking in.

Ex meteor freak? Got it. Apparently an expert hacker? Okay. Wrote an underground publication? Makes sense. Worked as a stripper to pay my way through college...

Actually, that last had been from Bart and she took it with an enormous grain of salt even before AC slapped him. Still, she was handling it. But tonight had her on edge.

"Just... ask him about your mother," Linda had said. "He was actually there."

Linda had told her about her father and about Luthor's part in his death. That had been hard enough to wrap her mind around. But this felt harder. She could hardly try to formulate an idea of her mother without this frisson of fear. All she had was the records she'd found of her stay in Belle Reve, information she'd gained using a few helpful tips from Victor this morning, who seemed slightly frustrated that she didn't already know these things. her mother had spent years there, somewhere Chloe Sullivan also had a short stay. She almost didn't want to know. According to the records, she was in a catatonic state... something brought on by a hereditary illness.

But Linda had said to ask Clark. She wasn't sure what light he could shed. And a part of her wanted no light at all. No knowledge of this illness because it felt like knowing would make it somehow take hold of her and...

She had to stop being afraid. She'd faced so much this far and she had to hold on to that. She had to believe she was strong enough. She was in this and she'd see it through.

For now, she'd just enjoy the cold. An icy breeze blew through and the smokers gave it up, complaining as they moved inside. Maybe she shouldn't enjoy it too much. She zipped her sweatjacket higher, remembering that Linda had said she sounded stuffy. Though she said no to the list of potions Linda seemed prepared to offer her, she could at least try to keep her chest covered outside. Still it was nice to feel the cold and... a sudden sort of warmth crept up her arm. Her left arm. She pulled her sleeve up slightly and glared at the bracelet. The skin just under it seemed to sort of... throb at times. It wasn't exactly painful, just annoying. She'd been formulating theories from allergic reaction to circulatory problems to ancient curse. The latter went a bit further to explain why she couldn't get it off. It didn't even look like that should be so. When she'd slipped it on, it just slid right on. She didn't even have to squeeze much. Now she couldn't get it past her palm. She wondered if she was retaining water or...

"Lois?"

She glanced up. Clark was coming toward her, frowning. "Hi."

"What are you doing out here? It's freezing."

Hi to you, too, Lois. She supposed they were skipping the pleasantries and going straight to the concern. It wasn't surprising anymore, his nearly constant concern for her, considering what she knew now. "Freezing? And you would know that how?" she asked as he stopped in front of her.

"Well... I hear it is."

"If it's supposed to be so cold, why aren't you wearing a coat?" She remembered telling him this before. He needed a proper coat. A guy walking around without one in winter looked pretty odd.

"I... have a sweater on."

"Oh, yes. You'd blend in perfectly three months ago." But it was a nice sweater, a sort of light blue that brought out his eyes. Eye that crinkled slightly with a smile as he shook his head at her.

"Come on, Lois. You know it's cold."

She shrugged. "I guess it is. But... I don't know. I kinda like it." She hugged her arms, shivering as another chilled breeze blew through.

"Yeah. You're just loving it."

"I am. Thank you." She heard him mutter something that sounded like "stubborn." Strangely, it didn't bother her. Months ago, it would have. But now, knowing what he'd been to her, she felt... oddly touched. "But not so much that I don't want to go in. You ready?"

"Sure." He nodded and gestured for her to go first. She put her hand on the door, but he stepped forward. "Let me."

She smiled slightly and stepped back as he opened it for her. Always so polite. It was one of the reasons it was impossible to be angry with Clark, Superman aside. She suspected she should be, even knowing he was her "best friend," at the misdirection and silence and outright lies all this time. Linda seemed convinced she would be, but refused to say anything more on the subject. But she wasn't sure she could hold a grudge against a polite, well-intentioned farmboy who saved lives daily.

"I'm paying," he said as she passed him.

"What?" She stopped as the door closed, letting in one last gust of cold air. "No. Ollie's given me a phone. Linda's been showering me with beauty products and vitamin supplements, and Bart keeps bringing me food. I'm at least paying for my own..."

"I'm the one who wanted to go bowling. I should..."

"No. It was my idea."

"You said ice skating."

"Then you told me I hated ice skating, so I suggested bowling, so..."

"Two, please." He put a twenty on the counter. A bored girl with spiky, black hair took his money.

She narrowed her eyes. She hadn't even seem him touch his wallet. Cheater. "Clark, I just told you..."

He took two tickets from the girl. "You can pay next time."

She sighed. "Is that a promise?"

"Oh, there's the shoe rental," he said, gesturing to the counter that was right in front of them.

"That didn't sound like a promise."

"I know." He grinned and stepped into line. She decided to let it go for now and stepped into line next to him. She'd just be sure to meet him with a twenty already in her hand on their next... friend date. Then there wouldn't be time for his wallet quick-draw.

They soon padded over to a lane in their stocking feet, him carrying two balls and her with two pairs of shoes, hers the heinous combination of purple and orange, and his blue and red. It just figured. The alley would carry, against all odds, nearly normal shoes for his giant feet -- and in Superman's colors, no less. But for her definitely average seven-and-a-halfs, they only had the shoes that Halloween threw up on.

She glanced around her at the many people in monogrammed shirts intent on the game. At least nobody would be looking at her shoes. "These are some serious bowlers."

Clark put the balls in the... thing she didn't know the name of. She doubted that was a memory issue. Who knew what... that was called, anyway? "They seem pretty into it."

"I don't get bowling shirts." She tilted her head to the side, watching one older lady in a pink one retrieve her ball from the... thingamajig. "I mean, I could see it if there was some kind of team competition like on Laverne and Shirley, but why wear them on your average Tuesday?" She gestured to her sweats. "Sweats. T-shirt. Why not be casual? Comfortable?" She dropped the shoes and sat in one of the concave chairs. It reminded her of the furniture at the Jetson House -- and was just as comfortable. Maybe this wasn't a place of comfort. She felt a slight breeze and looked up. Clark was standing there in a gray T-shirt.

"Guess that's why you're not a champion bowler." He took the chair next to her. "Not dedicated enough to have your own shirt."

"Guess not." She wanted to ask him why he took off the sweater. It looked so nice on him. But this was okay, too. It was pretty fitted and she liked the way it stretched over... She quickly stopped ogling Clark and bent to her shoes. While "getting some happy," as Pammie said was tempting, it wouldn't be worth upsetting the balance. She was trying for a friendship, here. Sex would only further muddle her feelings for a guy that had them blurry enough.

Besides all that, he hadn't responded too well the last hundred or so times she'd thrown herself at him.

Giving you what you need. He'd said it several times now. Having sex with him would be like taking advantage. She'd already pegged him as a people-pleaser. He was concerned for her, he'd been watching over her, he seemed unable to say no to... anyone in need. The only thing that brought her to the top of the masses was this history between them, maybe even some measure of guilt over whatever the hell it was Linda thought she'd be so mad about. Maybe she should get some answers on that first.

But she didn't want to be mad. Not just because he was Superman and who would want to be mad at Superman? But because... It was a silly thing, but she didn't want to spoil this night with someone who knew her. And he seemed to know her better than anyone.

"I guess we should get started," she said, bracing herself.

Clark glanced at her, then stood. "Oh, yeah. Uh... Did I have the green ball or did you?"

"That, too, but... I'd like to think we could talk and bowl."

"Yeah. That, too," he said quietly.

She stood, trying a smile. "And I'd also like to think that you won't cheat."

"I told you. Anything you ask me..."

"The game, Clark. Considering you can walk around without leaving holes in the ground, I'm sure you can play fair."

He smiled as well. "Just for you."

Her smile faded slightly. Disease to please. "I think the green ball's yours. You can go first."

"No. It's always ladies f..."

"Clark," she groaned. "Just go."

She stood behind as he picked up his ball and moved to the lane.

"So... word is I'm a meteor freak."

He abruptly dropped the ball on his foot. It rolled off, crawling along the lane, as he turned to her.

"Clark," she hissed, moving up to him. "Oh, my God!" she said overly loudly. "Are you okay?" She nudged his ribs. "Some people saw that," she whispered.

"Uh... Ow!" he burst out. He limped toward the chairs.

"Other foot," she hissed, pretending to support him.

Clark sat. "Guess you're further along than I thought."

"Yes, but I'd kind of like to know how it started." She sat next to him and glanced at the ball sitting in the middle of the lane. "And that counts as your turn."

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