"The principal said Superman found a phony bomb. Apparently, Superman didn't elaborate further." Clark almost wished he had for the story's sake. But he knew that info needed to get to the police. "The most I got from them is the insistence that the girl in question arrived at school with the bear and did not, as far as anyone knows, receive it from a stranger on school grounds and the kids have been told about accepting things from strangers."
"And?" Perry prodded.
"And Superman is, apparently, going to give a speech on the subject next Monday." Clark mentally noted that he'd have a "dentist's appointment" that morning. Not that he should say that right this second.
"And?"
"I sent you everything I got."
"You and I both know what's really going on here," Perry said, blowing cigar smoke out the window, then glancing fearfully back at his office door.
Clark folded his hands. "Do we?"
"I have some intel. Nothing I can print. That's why I need you to get me something solid on Bruno Mannheim."
The hardest part was that he knew Perry was right. "We go to press in an hour. The best I can do is note that it seems suspicious that Superman was tied up with a phony bomb while the First National was getting robbed successfully for a change." And it still angered him. Not just that he'd been duped, but with children as bait. It didn't make it much better that the bomb was a fake. He'd do it again, too. Because, with some of the stunts pulled by Intergang in Morgan Edge's day, even with his assistance one dark summer, he'd never know if, that time, it was real.
"Damn it! I want to get this guy."
"So do I," Clark said. More than you know.
"What about Superman? I know the police aren't talking, but he's not bound by any oaths. If we could get something from him..."
"I don't think he'd talk to me," Clark said quickly. That was sort of the truth, barring schizophrenia. It wouldn't be wise for Superman to be tied too closely to Clark Kent. But it wasn't just that. No matter how he wanted a better story, he wasn't about to cheat to get it. "Besides, if this is part of an ongoing investigation and the police don't think it wise to talk, then I doubt Superman would, either. He seems to cooperate with them."
"Just my luck," Perry groaned. "A noble vigilante, Eh, you're right." Perry stubbed his cigar on the ledge. "I'll give you one thing, Kent. You were right about the robberies. You have a nose on you. Now get it out there and get me something on Mannheim. And that damned box."
He moved out, thinking on the box. He had something on it. Not as Clark Kent. But Superman got an earful from Maggie Sawyer, including that the box stolen from Lionel Luthor's safe deposit box was specially commissioned and made of lead. Nothing on the contents, though some staff members said it was heavy. But lead...
That was no coincidence.
There was only one reason Lionel would have made that box out of lead. To protect him from its contents or to hide them from him. With Lionel, he'd never know which.
His cell vibrated and he slapped his pocket. Victor had been texting him like crazy when he wasn't calling. He finished packing his briefcase up and flipped open his cell, dialing Victor back.
"I'm coming."
****************************
Clark glared at the stupid boxes. "I hate this."
"Keep whining. It's very productive."
"I only came to tell you what was happening, not to train. I can't do this tonight. I..."
"I don't give a shit what you came here for," Victor barked. "You think you get a free pass because you had a bad day?"
"There are things going on that..."
"All the more reason to get yourself in shape. You want to go up against slime like this only half-ready?"
He reigned in the heat that was itching at the back of his eyes. "No," he admitted. "I just hate this. I was duped and I don't like it. And using a school full of kids... Of all the sick and depraved..."
"Can you save it for the training? I think I've gathered by now that you do your best work when you get out of that head and into that gut. Anyway, today was obviously calculated to use your Dudley Do-Right nature against you."
Clark turned on him. "You tell me you would have done different if you..."
"I'm not saying I would've have taken the chance, either. I'm agreeing with you. It is sick and it is depraved. They knew enough about you to know that you wouldn't let it happen. Now let's focus on what they don't know about you." Victor paced to his other side. "They don't know that you aren't just some hero. They don't know that you're an investigative reporter. They don't know you have a team at your disposal. And they don't know how badly they're gonna get fucked up."
"They will," Clark said, turning back to the boxes. "They just better..."
"Dial it down!" Victor moved to pat at a box that started to smoke. "Don't just go off, here. You focus."
Clark rubbed his eyes. "Okay. You're right. I can do this."
"We're gonna give it to the bastards, Clark. We're gonna huff and puff and blow their entire organization down."
"We will." Clark breathed deep and blew. He swore on of the boxes teetered. His eyes widened. "Did you see? I think I..."
"Don't think. Stop fucking thinking," Victor yelled right into his ear. "You think slime like Mannheim stops to think? He doesn't. He just fucks with your mind and laughs at you."
He took another breath, remembering the laughter. "Oh, Supey, my boy. You really are something. Now what kinda monster would blow up a bunch of kids with a teddy bear? You got a sick mind, there, buddy!" He released, knowing it was either that or set the whole place on fire. "He's the sick one," Clark seethed.
"Damn right he is," Victor growled. "You want someone like that getting his hands on whatever it was Lionel Luthor was hiding?"
"Or protecting," Clark pointed out, thinking on that. He still wasn't sure what to make of...
"You stop that right now."
He halted, mid-breath.
"Not that. I can almost hear you thinking. So stop it!"
"I can't!" He stared at the ground. "You don't get it. There are more things going on than..."
"You mean your girl fainting? Yeah. I got the memo from your mom."
"Then you know that..."
"That has nothing to do with this."
"You're wrong there." He took another breath. "She's always tied in. If she was better, we could..."
"What? Sit around fainting and not flying?"
Clark actually felt himself deflate, air leaving him slowly.
"Okay. Sorry. Got a little crazy with the Officer and a Gentleman act." He felt Victor's hand on his back. "Clark, we're all worried. That's why we're going to make sure she gets all the information, so she doesn't have these random fits anymore. Okay?"
"It wasn't random." He turned to Victor. "It was when she saw Lana."
Victor squinted at him. "I'm sorry. I think I must have just taken a time machine back a few years. I thought you said..."
"Lana," Clark said. "Lana Lang. Lois saw her and just..."
"You mean she saw a picture or..."
"Victor, there are a few things I haven't told anyone." He sighed, rubbing his temples again. "Mostly because I thought those things were not a concern to anyone anymore, but I guess I should tell you now..." He sighed and moved to the bench. "Lana Lang is alive. Not only that, she's Lorna Leery. And she's in town."
Clark braced himself for another short version.
************************
"So... Lois saw her and just..."
"It wasn't even about Lana. I think it was about... me. I don't think she knew why, but seeing Lana had to bring up some ancient wounds and... I know it was my fault, her doing this in the first place. I know what I put her through. I also know that it went on for years before that and mostly because of Lana... No! Not because of Lana," he said firmly. "Because of me. I kept her at arm's length. Lana was just... the weapon. And... Jesus!" He buried his head in his hands. "How am I ever going to make this right by either of them?"
"Either of them?" Victor snorted. "You mean the woman that saved your ass countless times and the woman that married your enemy? Seems to me, only one is owed..."
"You don't get it," Clark cut in. "I always knew. Deep down, I always knew I was lying to myself about Lana, about us having a future. And I kept doing it. It seemed... easier somehow to have this fantasy of her than to accept reality and what was there for me all along." Always Chloe. Always Lois. Even now, she was in his mind, pushing him to be all that he'd been so afraid to be before. "I led Lana on. I owe her some kind of closure. I owe her, at the least, a Christmas dinner with what were once her... her friends."
Victor pursed his lips. "You are aware that Linda will be back for Christmas dinner?"
"Oh, God!" Clark buried his head in his hands again. "I bet she's flying back right now to tell me how this is all my fault."
"Actually, I talked to Linda today. She asked how you and Lois were getting along."
Clark's head shot up. "And what did you say?"
"Nothing. Your mother was pretty specific about not telling Linda or Ollie about the swoon and I kind of agree. The good mayor and his wife have enough trees to light and orphanages to visit right now. I figure we should keep them, and especially Linda, on a need to know basis. But she's actually been pretty nice about you lately, so why don't you lay off?"
Clark was surprised at the tone Victor was giving him. "Of Linda? The one that steals your equipment and calls you a glorified toaster oven?"
"No. The one that's about to have our friend's baby and has, in her own twisted way, been there for all of us. You forget that I work for Oliver. Despite some... minor friction, I know Linda's a good egg. A sightly crazy egg, but one of the better ones."
He groaned again. Why did Victor always have to be right? "I know. She is. I just... It's not even about Linda. I just feel so guilty and so angry and so..."
"And now you're feeling. As if thinking wasn't bad enough." Victor stood. "Let's just cut this off, Clark. Go home. You aren't the only one who's tired."
Clark frowned and stood as well. "I'm sorry if I ruined..."
"Hey, I need to plug in anyway. I got a whole night ahead of me. Murray and I have kinks to work out on our artificial hand, in Oliver's absence, I have to lecture Bart on respecting other people's food before AC has a fit, then Diana and I have to plan out your girl's schedule."
"You mean Lois? But she needs to rest and..."
"Who says she can't rest? Between sessions, she can get all the rest she needs. All the meals, too, if I know your mom. But we only have four days to get her back in the know so we don't have any more... episodes. You aren't the only one invested in this, you know."
Clark nodded. He didn't want her fainting again. It was best she got all the info. And that meant all the info. He had a call to make. He turned to Victor. "Before I go home..."
************************
Clark didn't go home... not exactly. He did go home, but to his childhood home, thinking he might talk to her, prepare her first. He burst through the door, prepared to do all that... preparing when he found her curled up on the couch.
"Shhh!"
He jumped slightly, feeling his mother's hand on his arm. He turned to see her in the doorway with a large mug.
"Don't wake her."
"She's sleeping?" he hissed. "It's seven o'clock." He'd wanted her to get some rest, but for her to be sleeping at this hour seemed... wrong somehow. “That’s not like her.”
"I'm as surprised as you are," his mother whispered, ushering him to the stairs. "But she dropped right off in the middle of Columbo."
"Columbo?" He shook his head and descended the stairs. "She doesn't even like that show. They reveal the murderer right away and she thought it was annoying how he always played so dumb and..."
"Hey, I'm still watching." His mother curled up in the easy chair. "And I happen to love Columbo."
He perched on the ottoman and watched as a muted Peter Falk pretended to dither.
"Just so you know, she agreed to stay," Martha whispered.
He turned to his mother.
"Emphasis on agreed," she said, sipping her tea. "Though it would have been better if she was actually asked, rather than just dropped here with no choice."
He frowned at the screen as Columbo pulled out a grocery list and apologized profusely. "I didn't mean to just..." Except he did mean to to. He wanted her here because he knew she had no way to get away. And he knew that, despite his mother's reservations about consent, she couldn't resist the pull of caring for someone who so badly needed it. "I'm glad she's staying," he said firmly, staring at her sleeping form. "Mom, I'm not trying to overwork you, but..."
"Oh, hush up. You know this isn't work for me."
He did. And he loved her for it. "I know you can help her stay strong. You helped me through everything. And she has so much to get through in these next few days. So much to learn..."
"Clark, I've been meaning to talk to you all about that." She hit mute on the remote and put her cup down. "I think what she really needs is..."
"The truth," he said, sighing. "She can't be kept in the dark anymore. Not about any of it."
Martha tilted her head. "Well, that I agree with, but..."
"I think Lois Lane needs to meet Lorna Leery."
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