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Broken	By : MidnightBard Category: G through L > Lois & Clark Views: 2191 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
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                "Morning," Clark said, grinning and weaving his way through the bullpen. He dodged Jimmy as the man flew past him, a stack of photographs gripped in one hand.
                "Sorry," Jimmy threw over his shoulder, his voice almost lost in the dull roar of the newsroom.
                "Morning," Lois said, looking up from her computer.
                Clark set the bag of donuts down on her desk, then took a seat on the edge, as he often did. He opened the bag and handed Lois a double chocolate one, then pulled out his plain cake one.
                "Have fun last night with Lucy?" he asked before taking a bite of his breakfast.
                "Yeah. It was nice," Lois said, sipping from her coffee mug. She winced, realizing how cold it had gotten. "Ugh!"
                "Here," Clark said, giving her a conspiratorial smile. "Let me give you a hand."
                Clark threw a cautious glance around, then subtly slipped his glasses down. He gave the offending drink a couple of blasts of heat vision, until steam once again rose from it. Less than a second later, he pushed the frames back up, so they sat normally on his face again. Lois smiled at him.
                "You really are the best," she said.
                "Thanks," Clark said, grinning back. "So...your night was just...nice? I thought you've been looking forward to that concert for weeks now?"
                "I was," Lois said, running her finger idly around the rim of her mug.
                "So? What happened?"
                "The concert itself was great. But it started an hour late. Then, Lucy and I had about fifteen obnoxious teenagers sitting behind us. They didn't shut up for the entire show."
                "Yikes! That's annoying," Clark sympathized. "I've been to a couple of sports events and had that happen."
                Lois nodded. "Lucy insisted we go out for drinks after the show."
                "Well, that sounds nice," Clark offered, finishing his donut.
                "It would have been, had I not gotten hit on by three men who were older than my father."
                "Well, you are the most beautiful woman in the world," Clark said, stealing her coffee and taking a small sip to wash down his breakfast.
                "Flattery will get you everywhere, Farm Boy," Lois said with a giggle. "So, how was your night?"
                "Not bad," Clark said. "Jimmy kicked my butt in a game of basketball. And no, I didn't let him win. Afterward, we split a pizza and hit up a movie. It wasn't very good, unfortunately. At least, I didn't think so. Jimmy loved it. I went home about nine, then went on a patrol. It was pretty quiet until eleven. Then there was that bomb threat at JFK airport. Turned out to be a backpack some kid forgot, filled with nothing more insidious than a coloring book and a teddy bear."
                "That's good," Lois said. "Glad it wasn't anything more serious."
                "Me too. Anyway, that was about the extent of my night. I wound up going to bed around eleven fifteen. I missed you though."
                Ever since Halloween, when Clark had told Lois the final secret he'd been hiding from her, they had spent almost every night together, sharing a bed at one or the other's apartment. Nothing more than actual sleep had happened so far, but Clark had already become accustomed to holding Lois in his arms until he drifted off into his dreams. Her presence had even seemed to chase away some of the nightmares and memories that had plagued him since Alex had resurfaced into his life, weeks before.
                "I had some trouble falling asleep without you next to me," he admitted after a minute. "Guess I'm just so used to having you in my arms."
                "I missed you too, especially when I went to bed. At the very least, I wish you'd been able to come with us last night to the show. Even Lucy was sad to see you not there."
                "Next time," Clark vowed.
                "I'll hold you to that," Lois said.
                "Fine by me. So," he said, switching topics. "I heard from Henderson this morning."
                "Oh?" Sudden interest sparkled in Lois' eyes.
                Clark nodded. "Ten bodies have been discovered, from Alex's notebook. The rest are still tied up in red tape - getting warrants and the like. He's hopeful it won't be too much longer though."
                "But they are finding some they can to tie to Alex," Lois said gravely.
                "Yeah," he said, sighing.
                "You sound less than thrilled," she observed.
                "I know I should be happy about it," Clark conceded. "But, I guess a part of me hoped nothing would be found, because it would have meant that Alex hadn't taken so many lives. It would have meant that he'd lied about killing twenty kids."
                Lois nodded but said nothing. Perhaps she knew that there were no words that could ease his guilt and the ache in his heart.
                "In any case, I'm going to go to the DA's office after lunch."
                "You ready for that?"
                Clark shrugged. "I guess. I've been putting it off for a week and half now. I can't keep avoiding it, that's for certain."
                "I guess that's true."
                "I keep hoping that it will be somehow easier, now that I've related the events a couple of times - to you, to Henderson. I'm not convinced that it will be though."
                "Would it help if I came with you?" Lois asked, taking his hand in hers and rubbing her thumb over the back of it.
                Clark visibly brightened at the suggestion. "I'd like that."
                Lois raised Clark's hand in her own and brought it to her lips. She kissed it lightly. Warmth and gratitude flooded Clark's heart. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine what he would do without Lois. Nor could he fathom what he'd ever done to deserve such a perfect, patient, understanding, intelligent, and beautiful woman who loved him and accepted him - all of him - the human side, the super side, and the broken side.
                "Now, we'd better get to work on the charitable donations scandal. Eighty thousand dollars meant for homeless shelters across the eastern seaboard are missing. Those people need that money. And if we don't get on it right away, Perry will skin us alive, your invulnerability aside," she said, lowering her voice.
                Clark chuckled. "That's for sure. What do we have so far?"
                "Not much, unfortunately."
                "Well then, we'd better start digging," he said, giving her a smile. "Let's start with the charity the money was donated to. I know a guy who works for them. Barry Winkle. Maybe he can give us something to go on."
                "I swear, Kent, you know someone just about everywhere, don't you?" Lois teased him.
                Clark laughed. "I'm a reporter! Of course I have my sources! But Barry and I go way, way back. He took me in to one of the shelters in New York City, once I was eighteen and stopped being so mistrustful of anyone trying to help. He found me trying to get some rest on a bench in Central Park. He said he could offer me a safe place to spend the night, a hot meal, and a bed. At that point, I knew he couldn't send me back to the Harwoods, so I agreed to check the shelter out. I wound up staying at the place for about four, maybe four and a half months, before Barry helped me land the job with that furniture company. He became a good friend to me, while I was living at the shelter. I've kept in touch with him ever since."
                "What are we waiting for?" Lois asked, with that twinkle in her eyes she always got when about to dive into her work. "Let's give him a call."
                Clark stood and went to his own desk. Rifling through his rolodex, he double checked Barry's number, needing to make sure he was remembering the man's phone number correctly. It had been a while since he'd last phoned his old friend, their conversations having long since progressed to mostly emails sent roughly every other week as each had the time to sit down and write back. Once he checked the number, he picked up his phone and dialed, swiftly punching in the digits on the dial pad. Four rings later, the phone clicked as someone picked up.
                "Good morning," said a cheery voice on the other end of the line. "Safe Haven Shelters. This is Barry Winkle speaking. How may I serve you?"
                "Barry, hi," Clark said, picturing the man's ever-present, friendly smile. "It's Clark Kent. How are you?"
                "Clark? Hey! I was just thinking about you," the man replied. "I'm sitting here with my email open in front of me, about to reply to your last message."
                "Ha!" Clark said, laughing. "Seems like good timing."
                "You bet. So, how are you?"
                "I'm great. How are you and Stephanie?"
                "Couldn't be better."
                "Glad to hear it," Clark said, sincerely happy to hear that all was well with Barry and his daughter.
                "So, is this a social call?" Barry asked, his tone indicating that he suspected it wasn't.
                "Ah..now that you mention it, not quite," Clark confessed. "I wanted to talk about the missing donation money. See if you had anything I could use to try and track down what happened to it."
                On the other end of the line, Barry exhaled noisily. "You know I'm not the money guy," he finally said.
                "I know," Clark said simply.
                "Graham Pembroke is. He's not in this week at all. I could switch you to his voicemail, if you'd like."
                "Can you give me his direct number too?" Clark asked hopefully.
                Barry hesitated only for a second. "Okay. But only because I know you'll get a hold of it somehow anyway. Got a pen?"
                "All set. But, uh, is everything all right, Barry? You sound kind of nervous."
                "It's just...everyone's understandably on edge here. There's a lot of talk, whispers, rumors. We were really counting on that donation. There's a lot our shelters need. There's worries about if we'll have to cut down on our services - cold cut sandwiches to feed the homeless with instead of healthy, hot meals. Some of us think we might even have to close some of our facilities - trying to keep up with the rents and operating costs. This whole thing has been a real tragedy."
                "Well, I promise, I'll do the best I can to solve this thing," Clark vowed.
                "We'll all appreciate whatever you can do."
                A few minutes later, Clark hung up with his old friend and left a message for Graham Pembroke. He fingered the piece of paper with the number for the man thoughtfully. Then he taped it to the bottom left corner of his computer monitor, knowing it couldn't get lost in the day to day clutter that sometimes overtook his desk. Lois looked up from her desk, hearing his voice go silent. He wondered if she was as attuned to his presence, his voice, as he was to hers. Of course, he thought with an inner smile, he could hear her heart beating from blocks away, if he tried. He shook his head at her expectant look.
                The rest of the day seemed to both drag on forever and race by. Though he and Lois worked diligently, they barely got anywhere with their investigation of the eighty thousand dollars that had mysteriously vanished without a trace. To cover all their bases, they contacted every single one of their professional snitches, hoping that at least one of them would come across some lead they could use. It was a painfully slow process. Once the word was put out, they managed to fire off four articles they hadn't yet had time to write up, then covered a brutal hit-and-run accident that occurred right before their eyes as they left the Planet to interview a witness to another story they were working on. Clark ducked back toward the Planet, found the closest spot he could, and spun into his Superman uniform. Seconds later, he brought the vehicle involved to a halt, long enough for the police to arrive and make the arrest. Sadly, he and Lois later learned that the woman who'd been struck had died just minutes after arriving at the hospital. He wrote up the story with a heavy heart.
                The events kept him busy, and time finally started to feel like it was moving again, though at first it had been almost like rusty gears, stiff with disuse. But now the hours marched onward far too quickly. Even with Lois' promise to accompany him to the DA's office, he was still more than apprehensive to retell his story to yet another person, this one a complete and utter stranger. When they finally broke for a late lunch, he had knots in his stomach that felt as large as glaciers. He ordered a salad at lunch and poked it around with his fork like a condemned man.
                "Honey?" Lois asked, her brow wrinkled in concern. "Are you okay?"
                "Huh?" Clark instinctively said, snapping out of his thoughts and back to the present moment.
                "I said, are you okay? You've barely eaten anything. I mean, I know you don't have to eat," she added, lowering her voice as they sat in the still-crowded deli. "But I don't think I've ever seen you quite this distracted before."
                "Sorry," Clark said, forcing himself to spear a piece of fresh tomato on his fork and chewing on it methodically. "Better?"
                "No," Lois said, shaking her head. "It's not. I don't want you to force yourself to eat, just for my satisfaction. You want to tell me what's bugging you?"
                "Just...trying to figure out what to say when we go over to the DA's office," he said truthfully. "I mean, I'm going to have to go in depth about my experience. When I told you...even when I talked to Bill...I didn't have to...hold back anything. I'm more than a little worried about having to skirt around why exactly I was afraid to come forward when I was a teenager. What I tell the DA's office...that's what I'll have to say, under oath, when this case goes to trial."
                "Oh, Clark," Lois said, grabbing his hand and giving it a light squeeze. "That's what's bothering you?"
                "Well...yeah," he stammered, at a loss as to why Lois didn't see his dilemma.
                "Sweetie, trust me. When the questions come, you'll know exactly what to say. You've been doing this your whole life, haven't you? Giving people the truth, while protecting what's most important."
                "Sure, but..."
                "So? You'll do it again. Like it or not, it's ingrained in you. You can't allow yourself to over think it. That's when you get into trouble. Same with...well, you know." She gestured vaguely.
                Clark did, indeed, know what she meant. His intimacy fears.
                "I guess you're right," he conceded.
                He didn't feel like elaborating. Not out in public as they were. Lois wasn't of a mind to discuss it further either. She simply took the last bite of her chicken salad sandwich and chewed in an almost thoughtful silence. She swallowed it down, then drained the rest of her cream soda. Clark pushed his barely touched salad to one side, contemplated it, then scooped it up and threw it in the trashcan which stood nearby.
                "So..." he said, drawing the word out a little. "I guess...I guess we'd better go to the DA's office."
                "Come on," Lois said, taking his arm as they left the deli. "I'll be there the whole time. It won't be so bad. Besides, just think of what a great thing you'll be doing. You and that boy, Denny, are the only two victims who can still speak out against Alex. Your testimony will help him stay locked up for the rest of his life."
                Clark nodded. It was true. By testifying, he would help ensure that Alex never hurt anyone again. And, maybe, just maybe, it would help him heal some of his inner scars. At least, he hoped it would. He was sick and tired of being skittish when it came to matters of intimacy. He was tired of the nightmares which still occasionally visited him at night, in which his tortured mind would conjure up memories of what he'd once endured.
                The DA's office wasn't far, so they walked the distance. Clark tried to enjoy the brisk fall day and the golden shafts of sunlight that won the fight against the buildings to bathe the citizens of Metropolis in their waning warmth. It took virtually no time at all before they arrived at their destination. Clark took a deep breath and pulled open the door, allowing Lois to step inside first. Then he was in the building, taking in the sights and sounds of the waiting area.
                Not many people were there that afternoon, an odd thing to be sure. Clark wondered why that was, but the thought was there and gone in less than a second.
                "May I help you?"
                "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah," Clark stammered. "Inspector Henderson sent me. I'm supposed to give a statement to the DA regarding the Harwood case."
                "And your name?" the receptionist asked, giving him a quick once-over with her eyes.
                Beside Clark, Lois scowled at the woman.
                "Clark Kent."
                "Very good. Take a seat, Mr. Kent. I'll let them know you're here."
                "Thanks," Clark said, though he couldn't muster any kind of enthusiasm.
                He and Lois sat in adjacent, comfortable, though by no means plush, brown chairs. Clark took Lois' hand in his, his thumb absently gliding over the back of her hand over and over again. Lois squeezed gently, and Clark took a tiny flicker of comfort from that unspoken assurance.
                You can do this, he told himself. You can do this. Lois is right. It shouldn't be that difficult to relate your story. You've done it twice already, he reminded himself. And you cover for Superman every day.
                "Mr. Kent?"
                Clark snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. "Yes?"
                A tall, shapely blonde woman in a crisp red business suit and matching heels greeted him. She extended her hand and gave him a friendly smile. Clark found himself standing and taking the proffered hand. She gave him a firm handshake. Then she turned and did the same to Lois, who had risen from her seat along with Clark.
                "I'm Mayson Drake," the newcomer said, identifying herself.
                "Oh, right. Of course," Clark said, remembering. "Lois and I covered your promotion to Assistant DA last month."
                "Glad to know I made an impression," she said, her eyes raking over the two reporters, seeming to appraise them both. "I'll be handling this case. Mr. Kent, if you would follow me, please. We can talk in my office."
                "Okay. Lead the way," Clark said, trying to give the woman a smile, though he instinctively grabbed for Lois' hand again.
                Mayson saw the movement. "Ah, I'm afraid I need to speak with you alone, Mr. Kent."
                "Clark, please. And I'd prefer if Lois was with me for this, Ms. Drake."
                "Actually, it's Miss, but, well, we'll be working together closely for this case. So, please, call me Mayson."
                "Okay...Mayson," Clark said, hoping to appease the woman. "Lois already knows everything. Can't she just sit in with us?"
                "Yeah," Lois put in. "It's not like it can possibly hurt your proceedings."
                Mayson shot Lois a look. "Sorry, no press."
                "I'm not here as press!" Lois argued.
                "No." Mayson's voice was firm. "Look, I appreciate that sometimes people like to have a support system around when they tell their stories. But in my experience, having an extra pair of ears listening in is not worth the risk. You need to stay here, Miss Lane. I'll be as fast as I can with Clark. In the meanwhile, if there's anything you need, Amanda will help you." She gestured to the receptionist, who sat looking deep in thought at her computer.
                With that, Mayson was leading Clark down the hallway, helplessly towed along in the Assistant DA's wake. He shot Lois a look, one that was both apologetic and nervous. She gave a small nod.
                "You've got this," she whispered, so only his ears could pick up the words.
                I hope so, he thought in response, wishing he could say the words aloud to her.
                "The nerve of some people," he heard Lois huffing to herself as she took her seat again. There was a moment of angry ruffling as she picked up a magazine. "Looking at Clark like he's a piece of meat. 'Actually, it's Miss,'" she mocked. "She'd better keep her claws out of him."
                Clark couldn't help but crack a smile as he listened to Lois. It was oddly comforting, to hear her getting flustered over Mayson's behavior. It was funny, to him, that when they'd first met, Lois hadn't wanted to give him the time of day. But, as they'd worked together, teamed up by Perry, she had slowly warmed up to him, to the point where they'd become best friends. Now that they were dating, it never ceased to amuse and humble Clark whenever she became possessive and protective of him. He knew that it would make some men uncomfortable, but to him, it was wonderful, to know he was loved so fiercely. And, he admitted to himself, he felt just the same toward Lois.
                "Here we are," Mayson announced, stopping before a door. The gold letters on the frosted glass identified the owner of the office and her position.
                Clark quickly wiped the smile from his face. He didn't want to invite questions about what he found so entertaining.
                Mayson opened the door and allowed Clark over the threshold first. It was a neatly kept space, though a little sterile for Clark's taste. A number of degrees hung on the wall behind the mahogany desk. A few framed pictures adorned the tops of file cabinets - Mayson and what appeared to be her parents, and two others who shared her looks so strongly they could only be her brother and sister. A fern sat in the window, and Clark found himself comparing it to the plants that occasionally decorated Lois' work desk. Mayson's fern looked healthy and strong, the leaves deep green, whereas the poor African Violet Lois was currently torturing probably didn't have more than a week or two left, at best, despite Clark's fervent attempts to keep it alive.
                Again, he smiled to himself.
                "What?" Mayson asked, this time seeing his small smile.
                "Nothing. Just...well, that fern is nice. Lois turns almost homicidal on plants. I keep telling her that cold coffee isn't good for them."
                "Ah...I see," Mayson said, souring slightly at the mention of Lois. "Please, take a seat."
                Clark did as he was bid, choosing to sit in the center of the black leather couch standing against the far wall. As he'd anticipated, Mayson sat to one side, choosing a matching armchair to settle in. It was a little less formal than sitting opposite her with that imposing mahogany desk between them. It set him a little more at ease, though he would have liked a little more distance between Mayson and himself.
                Mayson took up a notepad and pen, then looked Clark in the eyes.
                "Clark, I know this probably isn't easy for you, recounting your story. I won't drag it out any longer than necessary to get the information I need."
                "Thank you," he replied.
"Did Henderson mention having a lie-detector test done?"
                "Yes," Clark answered. "I, uh, it's already been done."
                The truth was, he'd requested that Henderson run the test days before. The Inspector was the only one he trusted to do it. Clark knew his body didn't work quite the same as a normal human's did. He hadn't been sure how his vital signs would show up once he was hooked to the machines. But Henderson knew his secret. Clark hadn't feared the initial machine calibrations because he hadn't needed to hide from his friend. If his heart rate jumped too high to be even remotely considered within the parameters of human, he didn't need to panic over what the man would think.
                "Oh, well, great," Mayson said, clearly taken a little off balance at Clark's proactive approach to his role as a witness. But in the next breath she recovered her composure. "What I want to do today is just go over the facts with you again, just to be sure that I have everything in order once this goes to trial. As I said before, I'll be handling this case. I want to make sure that no surprises come up once we're before the judge."
                "Any idea when that will be?" Clark asked.
                Mayson shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing as she did so. "Not yet. With any luck, we'll have the rest of the locations from the notebook checked out soon. We're all hoping it won't be much later than just after Thanksgiving."
                Clark nodded. He'd figured as much. "Sounds good," was all he could muster. Then, "I'll admit, I thought Mr. Clemmons would be the one handling the case."
                Again, Mayson shook her head. "He's got his hands full with several other high priority cases. But don't worry. I may only be the Assistant DA for a month now, but I promise you, I won't stop until Alex Harwood gets what's coming to him."
                "Well, whatever I can do to help," Clark offered.
                "Thanks. I appreciate that. So...shall we cut to the chase?"
                "Absolutely," Clark said, sounding more confident than he felt.
                For an hour, perhaps a little longer, Clark recounted the things Alex had said and done, back when they were both teenagers. He carefully crafted his answers to Mayson's questions, but, at least Lois had been right. Though he'd agonized over how to keep his secret intact, it was easier than he'd anticipated. Though Mayson pried, looking at his story from the perspective of the defense attorney in order to prepare Clark to take the stand, he didn't have much difficulty in wording his answers so that he remained truthful, yet didn't expose all of his reasons for staying silent for so many years.
                Once, while an urgent phone call dragged Mayson out of her office for several minutes, Clark tuned his hearing in, finding Lois' steadily beating heart still in the waiting room. He took great comfort in having her close by, even if she wasn't right there beside him. It made him smile, and set his own heart more at ease.
                "Okay, well, I think we're done here," Mayson finally said. "Again, thank you for your cooperation in this, Clark." She rose from her seat and walked him to the door.
                "If it helps nail Alex, I'm happy to help," Clark responded, feeling awkward that this woman - all but a stranger to him - now knew of the terrible, embarrassing things Alex had done to him.
                Together, they walked back to the waiting area. Lois looked up as soon as Clark stepped into the room, giving him a hopeful smile that all was well. He returned it with a half smile of his own.
                "I guess you'll be needing to speak to Superman as well," he said, addressing Mayson.
                The Assistant DA immediately soured. "Yeah, I suppose I'll have to speak with him too."
                "You sound less than thrilled about that," Lois observed. "I know you're kind of new to Metropolis and all, but most people are honored to speak with Superman." Subtly, she moved to Clark's side and put an arm around his waist.
                "Yeah, well, I guess I'm not most people," Mayson said, more than a hint of distaste on her tongue. "Look, I know he's a friend of yours. Of you both. And even I can't deny that he's done some good deeds for the city."
                "Try the world," Lois corrected her.
                "Be that as it may," Mayson said, cutting Lois off and raising her voice just enough to overpower the reporter's, "I will never condone his actions. He's nothing more than a vigilante. A vigilante who flies around, thinking he's better than the rest of us, that he's above the law."
                "When has Superman ever said that?" Lois demanded, her face flushed as her anger exploded.
                "He doesn't think he's above the law," Clark said at the same moment. "Nor does he think he's better than the rest of us. Trust me, Mayson. The two of us are pretty close. I'd know if he felt that way."
                "Like I said, I know you three are close. But I won't lie to you either. It bothers me to see so many people turning to him for help instead of our brave men and women in uniform. Still, I guess there have been some circumstances where it hasn't been avoidable."
                "I'll say," Lois huffed indignantly.
                "Anyway," Mayson said, brushing Lois off, "it seems like you two are my best bet of getting a message to him. Would you mind letting him know I'll need to go over his statement with him?"
                "Sure thing. I'll let him know the next time I see him," Clark assured her.
                "Thanks. And if there's anything I can do in return..."
                "Thanks, but we're good," Lois cut in.
                Mayson shot Lois a withering look. Lois glared back. For his part, Clark drew his arm around Lois and gave her a subtle squeeze.
                "Thanks," he echoed Lois. "But the truth is, we're fine. And immensely busy," he added, glancing at his watch.
                He and Lois still had a stack of research to pick up at work and bring home for the evening, in an attempt to locate the donation money that had been stolen from the Safe Haven Shelters. He only hoped they would find something by the night's end. To think of those shelters on the verge of cutting their services to the people who truly depended on them broke Clark's heart.
                "Well, I can take a hint," Mayson said, none too subtly. "I look forward to working with you, Clark." She shook his hand, then turned to the receptionist. "Did the files on the Oxford case come in yet?"
                "Not yet," Amanda replied. "But the mail's late today. It may still come."
                "Buzz me as soon as it gets here?"
                "Absolutely."
                Lois and Clark were almost to the door when Amanda lowered her voice. If Clark hadn't possessed super hearing, he would not have heard the exchange.
                "So," the woman said to the Assistant DA. "He's cute."
                "Yeah," Mayson agreed, and Clark could feel her eyes on his retreating back. "He is."
                "You think he's with her? I mean, she seemed rather overprotective, don't you think?"
                "Could be," Mayson shrugged. "I'll find out though. That is, assuming he isn't too broken from his past experiences. I've dealt with more than one man in his situation before."
                "What?" Lois asked as they stepped out of the building and into the waning sunlight.
                Clark shook his head. "Nothing I want to get into," he said. "Just...I guess I better, uh, deliver Mayson's message."
                "Now?" Lois looked at him with surprise.
                Clark shrugged. "Might as well get it over with, right?"
                "I guess..."
                "I'll make it as fast as I can. I'll meet you back at your place, okay?"
                "You bringing dinner?"
                Clark chuckled. "Of course. What do you want to eat?"
                The light at the corner changed and they crossed the street. A taxi honked in annoyance as a sports car cut around them as soon as the light went green again.
                "I don't know. Not Chinese. Not Italian. I feel like I'm in a food rut."
                "French?" Clark suggested.
                Lois' face lit up. "Perfect!"
                Clark smiled at her. "French it is. I'll see you in a bit."
                They stopped in front of a small, family-owned flower shop. Clark gave Lois a quick kiss on the lips. She kissed him back, then watched him as he walked away. He strode away, looking for a place to spin into his other suit. He passed three alleyways before he finally found one that was completely devoid of life. A rusted green dumpster was in the very back of the alley. Clark ducked behind it and spun into his Superman suit, then took off faster than anyone could hope to follow with their eyes.
                He flew straight back to Mayson's office, then hovered for a minute, preparing himself for his second meeting with the woman. Talking to her as Clark had been difficult enough, and she had seemed to have a crush on him. But she was openly hostile toward Superman. Rarely had he come across someone who so unreservedly hated the Man of Steel, criminals aside. He took a deep, cleansing breath, then descended. With purposeful strides, he entered the building, and walked up to Mayson, who was still speaking with Amanda.
                "Ms. Drake?" he asked cautiously, as though unsure he had the right person.
                "Oh, Superman. You got my message already. That was pretty fast." She frowned. "I only just asked Clark to pass along word a few minutes ago."
                "I know," Clark said, dipping his head in a brief nod. "I actually haven't talked to Clark. I happened to be in the area and overheard you asking him to send along a message to me."
                "I see." Mayson's jaw was hard set, her eyes cold. "And do you always eavesdrop on other people's conversations?"
                Great, Clark thought with a mental eye-roll. Just great.
                "No," he said instead, defending himself. "But I do keep an ear out for trouble. It makes me a little more attuned to my name."
                "And that fact that I said your name without screaming the word 'help' before it...?"
                "Ms. Drake, what is it that I can do for you?" Clark asked, trying to steer her back on track.
                "Right," she conceded with a huff, allowing him to change the course of their discussion. "I needed to go over the Harwood case with you."
                "Of course," he replied. "I'm happy to share any knowledge that will ensure Mr. Harwood remains behind bars." He crossed his arms before his chest in the stance that had become synonymous with the Spandex-clad hero.
                "Come with me," Mayson commanded, turning sharply and leading him to her office.
                Clark obediently followed. A few passing police officers nodded to him as he passed them. He'd been in the DA's office plenty of times before. He was well known to the officers who worked within the building, as well as those who worked the streets. He smiled and nodded back to them.
                "Hey! S Man!" called out one young cop. Clark knew his name was Trevor Evans, a recent graduate from the police academy. "Good to see you, man!"
                "Good to see you too, Trevor," Clark replied, patting the man on the shoulder as they passed one another.
                In front of him, Mayson mumbled something that not even Clark's powerful hearing could make out. When they reached the Assistant DA's office, Clark chose to remain standing for the moment, looking around the place as if seeing it for the first time.
                "Impressive degrees," he complimented her, reading the framed pieces of paper on the wall.
                "Thank you," Mayson said, surprising Clark when she sounded sincere. "Please, have a seat."
                Clark hesitated only for a split second, then sat on the far end of the couch, turned partially in the seat so that he was facing Mayson. He folded his hands neatly in his lap and waited for the questions to come. He wanted to stand, truth be told, but he didn't want to cause further friction with Mayson. He waited expectantly while Mayson flipped to the notes she had on Superman's statement. Finding it, she cleared her throat and started with her questions.
                Clark felt much more at ease as he responded, because this time, there was nothing to hide. He knew he was coming off as much more confident than he had as Clark, but he was okay with that. Superman was a world renowned hero, with no stake in the outcome of the trial. Clark was a mild-mannered reporter, who had been abused by the defendant.
                Within half an hour, he was finished retelling the events that had occurred on Halloween night, beginning with the prison riot all the way through until he'd left the police station for the final time. Mayson looked over her notes again and nodded.
                "Looks like we're all in order here," she said. "Thanks for the information."
                "My pleasure. If there's anything else you need, let Lois or Clark know. Or," he couldn't resist adding, "just call for me. I'm always around."
                "Good to know," Mayson said, only the barest hint of an edge to her voice.
                "If you'll excuse me then, I have things to attend to," Clark said politely.
                Mayson nodded and ushered him back out into the main waiting area, where Clark waved to a few other passing police officers he knew. Then he let himself out of the building and flew off. He flew back to the Daily Planet first, hovering in a cloud and checking to see if Lois was still at the office. When she wasn't, he left just as quickly as he'd arrived, flew to Paris to one of his favorite restaurants, spun into his Clark clothes, and picked up dinner. Then he was off once more, to Lois' apartment, and the warmth of her love and laughter.oft
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