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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
- 17
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Clark checked his appearance in his mirror for the fifth time that morning. He held up first one tie - gray and white striped - and then another - solid black - under his neck, comparing the way they looked against the rest of his suit. He frowned, held them both up at the same time, then went back to comparing them separately. He finally decided on the solid black. He hung up the rejected tie and deftly put on the one he'd chosen. He fiddled with it once it was on, making sure it was straight. He needed to look his best.
                A knock sounded at the door and he jogged through the living room and up the few steps to open it. Lois stood behind it, dressed in a crisp maroon pants suit. Clark smiled when he saw her.
                "Morning," he said, letting her into the apartment.
                "Morning," she said, leaning in to meet his kiss. "You look good. Are you ready to go?"
                "I think so," he said, squashing down his desire to fly as far from Metropolis as he could.
                "It'll be fine. You aren't even taking the stand today," she reminded him.
                He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. "I know. It's just...the whole thing, you know?"
                "Yeah," she said in a soft voice. "I think I do."
                "It was difficult enough, facing Alex as Superman. As Clark..." His voice trailed off as he shrugged.
                "Hey," Lois said, rubbing his arm. "Maybe...maybe you shouldn't think of it as facing him. Think of it as...showing him that he has no hold over you."
                "Or both," Clark said thoughtfully.
                He hated the idea of "showing off" in front of anyone. He always had. Even as Superman, it had always seemed strange to him to show off what he could do, though, over time, that notion had all but vanished. He was simply often too busy as Superman to even think about how the rest of the world saw him.
                Still, Lois had a point. People like Alex thrived on how much pain and suffering they could cause others. If Clark could act normal, as if Alex's presence meant nothing to him, he could deal a crushing blow to the other man's thrill. And maybe, coupled with his recent breakthrough in the area of intimacy, which he'd explored several times with Lois since that first successful encounter, showing Alex that he was unfazed by his presence would finally break those final holds the man had over Clark.
                "So...you think you'll be okay?" she asked after a few moments as he thought over what she'd said.
                "I guess we'll find out," he answered.
                He tugged on his coat over his suit and ushered Lois outside, locking the door behind him. He followed her out to the street and climbed into the passenger seat of her Jeep. Normally, he would have offered to drive them, but this morning he was far too distracted to worry about paying attention to the road and the other drivers on it. He wasn't even aware of how close Lois came to running a red light until she slammed on the brakes and his body was pitched forward. The seatbelt held him back, but the motion jarred him from his thoughts.
                They stopped only once to grab a quick breakfast at one of the local delis, before heading to the courthouse in midtown. When they arrived, Clark saw that the press had gathered early, each of them jockeying for the best positions to capture the images of each new arrival who was connected to the trial. Lois parked the car as far from the crowd as she could and, arm in arm, they made their way toward the building.
                Near the front, Clark glimpsed a familiar couple of faces. Denny and his older brother, Jack, were lingering across the street from the courthouse in a small, well kept park. They sat huddled into their bodies on one of the benches, shivering a little in the cold. Clark pointed them out to Lois and they cut diagonally across the street to where the two boys were biding their time, warily eying the television, radio, and newspaper reporters.
                "Stay away!" Jack ordered the two as they approached.
                Clark put his hands in front of him in a gesture of pacification. "We're not here to cause problems."
                "Good. If that's the case, you'll get lost," the older boy said, his face set hard into a scowl.
                "We want to help," Clark explained. "This is Lois Lane..."
                "Reporters," Jack said, spitting the word out like poison. "I know the name."
                "Yes," Clark agreed. "But it's not what you think. We're not here for a story. Like I said, this is Lois Lane. I'm Clark Kent. We're here for the same reason you are. To watch and to testify."
                He gestured to Lois at the word "watch" and to himself at "testify." Jack thought for a moment as the name registered.
                "Kent?" he repeated. Clark nodded. "You're the one who bought those clothes for my brother." It wasn't a question.
                Clark nodded. "Yes."
                "And the one who got you a job," Denny reminded his older brother.
                "I don't have it yet," Jack said grudgingly.
                "Soon enough," Clark said, grateful that Lois was allowing him to take the lead on this one. "Perry says as soon as the trial is over, we can get you settled in at the Planet."
                Denny stood and shook Clark's hand. "I wanted to thank you, for getting me something to wear...that night." He shuddered.
                Clark shrugged. "It was the least I could do, when I found out what had happened from Superman."
                "Still, not a lot of people would have been willing to go out of their way for someone like me. A street kid. A thief."
                "I'm not like most people," Clark assured him.
                "No, I guess not," Jack said, standing as well and offering his hand. "Thanks for looking out for my brother."
                "Like I said. It was the least I could do."
                "So...you said you're testifying?" Jack asked, sounding truly curious.
                "I am. We have that in common, you and I," he said, addressing Denny. "We've both suffered at Alex's hands."
                "So...what? You came over to introduce yourself?" Jack asked skeptically.
                "Not entirely. I thought maybe you'd like a little backup going past that double line of reporters," Clark said, giving the boys a smile and jerking his thumb in the direction of the courthouse.
                "I guess...I guess that would be okay," Jack said. He sounded as though he was not yet fully convinced of Clark's goodwill.
                "Great. Come on," Lois said, finally breaking her silence.
                The group turned to the marble building across the way and began to purposefully stride toward it. Puffs of steam rose from their mouths and nostrils as they moved. Clark could hear the nervous swallow of Denny as they neared the steps.
                "Don't say a word to them," Clark encouraged. "Ignore them."
                He vaguely gestured at the crowd, all with microphones, cameras, and notepads, ready with questions for them as they prepared to make their way through the gauntlet. He knew, of course, that he'd been one of that crowd on more occasions than he dared to call to mind. But now he was on the other side, a strange place for him to be. But, more than that, he was fiercely protective of young Denny, who'd been through more than he ever should have. Clark squared his shoulders and set a quick, determined pace as they set foot onto the sidewalk.
                The barrage of questions started immediately. Clark kept his mouth closed and his head held high. He flat out refused to be captured in a moment of perceived uncertainty or shame. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Denny's look of pure horror and fear. He dared to place a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. As the four marched past the slew of news men and women, his acute hearing picked up on many of the questions being flung his way, though he did not bother to answer them. He had nothing to say. He simply wanted the trial to begin so that it could come to a close all the sooner.
                As they reached the last few feet of the gauntlet, at the top of the steps and just before the massive double doors, he heard one of the reporters fling a particularly rough comment at Denny. Clark wheeled on the man who'd spoken - a loathsome man named Harvey Drammond from the National Dirt Digger.
                "Leave the kid alone," he said in a cold and warning voice. "Hasn't he been through enough, without crude comments like yours?"
                That was all he allowed himself to say. He refused to give the man anything further, and wondered briefly if even saying that much had been smart, though he'd deemed it a necessity. He shut his mouth firmly and ushered the group into the sanctuary of the courthouse.
                It was warm inside, a nice contrast to the frigid cold that had gripped the city for the last few days. Clark opened his coat as he and Lois led the two boys to the appropriate courtroom. The boys thanked him for his help, but went off to sit on their own. Already, the room was becoming packed, with the high publicity surrounding the case. Lois and Clark were forced to take a seat near the front of the room, with Clark taking the aisle, in case Superman should need a quick exit from the room. Lois clasped his hand in hers and he gave her a grateful smile.
                Half an hour later, there was no place left to sit in the room. The sides and back wall of the courtroom were lined with people and the court officers were forced to turn people away. Alex arrived not much later, clad in a drab, ash colored suit, instead of the bright orange jumpsuit that all of the jail's inmates wore. In the jumpsuit, numbers would have marked his ID number on his chest and back and identified him as being in the custody of the state's prison.
                Alex looked dispassionately at the crowd who'd gathered to watch his trial, though when he caught sight of Clark, he fixed him with a venomous stare. For his part, Clark summoned up his willpower and forced his face to remain completely neutral, as if he either hadn't seen the look Alex had shot him or, if he had, it didn't faze him. Whether or not the other man noticed though, Clark couldn't tell.
                Alex's parents sat right up front. Clark could only see the backs of their heads. He knew they hadn't seen him yet, as they'd been there before him and hadn't turned around once. He supposed he should have anticipated that they would be there, but the thought hadn't crossed his mind before. He held no fear of them, only a lingering distaste mixed with a shard of blame that they had treated him poorly and hadn't been aware of the abuse he'd suffered at their son's hands.
                He didn't have long to dwell in his thoughts. The onlookers all rose as Judge Grimes entered the room - an elderly black gentleman with wispy salt and pepper hair. Clark knew the man as a very thorough and fair judge, as he'd covered a number of trials the man had presided over. It made his heart glad to see him on this particular case.
                Both Mayson and Jeff Kingston, the defense attorney, made their opening statements. Bill Henderson was brought onto the stand and questioned about the events that had taken place the night of Alex's arrest, as were the other members of the police squad who'd been there with him. The questioning process, even for the lowliest member of the police was painfully slow. It seemed a lifetime before the court recessed for lunch.
                Lois and Clark went around the block to a small diner they often frequented while covering trials. The waitress, Suzie, knew them by sight and immediately seated them at a window booth near the middle of the restaurant. Already knowing what they wanted, they placed their order before she could even leave the table. Suzie rushed off to get their order in to the chef.
                "Not too bad so far," Clark commented in a low voice.
                "Good," Lois said, her relief that he was so far comfortable with sitting through the proceedings evident. "I'm glad to hear you think so."
                "I guess I built up the beginning of this to be more than it would," he admitted. "I'm not sure why. I've covered my fair share of trials before."
                "Yeah, but when it's something you're actively participating in...I can see how that might play on your mind," Lois said soothingly.
                He nodded. "I guess."
                "Clark Kent."
                Clark's head whipped up at the sound of his name. It had been half a question, half a statement of disgust. He felt his body go tense at the voice, even before he looked up at the person it belonged to. Arnold and Lillian Harwood stood before him, matching scowls on their faces.
                "Yes," he confirmed for them.
                "You remember us then?" Arnold asked.
                Clark could not quite believe how much older the man looked than he remembered. He seemed to have aged thirty years in the twelve since Clark had fled their home. Lillian, on the other hand, looked much the same, but Clark could see, even without his enhanced vision, that her preserved looks were the work of a skilled plastic surgeon and not at all natural. It didn't surprise him in the least. She'd always been very concerned with her looks.
                He nodded. "Of course."
                "And?" Arnold demanded.
                "And?" Clark repeated, not sure what game the older man was playing at.
                "Is that all you have to say for yourself?"
                "You came over to me," Clark reminded him.
                "Don't you think you owe us some kind of apology?" Lillian asked, speaking up for the first time.
                "And why would he owe you anything?" Lois asked acidly.
                The woman turned her eyes on Lois and gave her a murderous look.
                "Because," she said slowly, as though explaining her point of view to a toddler. "He put us through hell."
                Clark thought Lois' eyes were going to pop out of her head, and realized, belatedly, that he probably looked the same.
                "I put you through hell?" he repeated, incredulous.
                "Do you realize the trouble you gave us when you ran away? Legal and otherwise?" Arnold said in a crisp, cold voice.
                "I can't believe what I'm hearing," Lois complained.
                "Look, Arnold," Clark said, forcing himself to remain polite. "I left for a good reason."
                Arnold snorted his disgust. "Right. I knew we never should have taken you into our home. I knew you'd be more trouble than you were worth."
                "Worth? You mean the paychecks you cashed for fostering me," Clark said, sarcasm dripping as he lost some of his patience.
                "You ungrateful little shit," Arnold growled. "We fed you, housed you, clothed you."
                Clark held up a hand to quiet the man. "And utterly ignored what your son was doing right in your own home."
                "You little shit," Lillian repeated after her husband. "You really ought to be ashamed of yourself. For the trouble you caused then and the trouble you're causing now."
                "Why?" Clark asked, restraining himself from laughing in the woman's face. "I'm doing now what I should have done twelve years ago. Nothing more. Nothing less. Now, if you'll excuse me, I don't believe I or my fiancée have anything further to say to either of you."
                Lillian's mouth opened but no sound came out. It appeared his remarks had stung but she still intended to make a retort. Luckily, Suzie approached the table at that moment with Lois and Clark's lunch. She set two steaming burgers with fries before them along with two tall sodas.
                "Thanks, Suzie," Clark said, giving her a smile and deliberating ignoring the Harwoods.
                "Anything else I can get for you?"
                "Just the check when you can. I'm afraid we don't have a lot of time today," he said, reaching for the ketchup and squeezing a healthy dollop onto his burger.
                "Aww, no dessert?" the waitress mock-pouted.
                "Maybe next time," he replied.
                "Just who do you think you are, treating us like this?" Lillian demanded.
                "Someone with nothing else to say to you," he repeated, before taking a large bite of the bacon hamburger he'd ordered.
                He studiously avoided making even the slightest bit of contact with the Harwoods, and, after a few minutes, they left the table. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief as they moved across the diner to a table in the back.
                "Wow," Lois said in an exaggerated way, rolling her eyes in the direction the older couple had gone. "Did that really just happen?"
                Clark shook his head, still in a state of disbelief himself. "Lois Lane, meet the Harwoods," he said sarcastically.
                "They were always like this, huh?"
                "More or less," he admitted. "But never quite this bad. I never really thought that they'd pull something like this. Maybe I should have known better."
                "You know," Lois said, swallowing a bite of her own lunch, "you told me a little about these people before. But until now, I don't think I really fully appreciated how insane they are."
                Clark had to chuckle a little at Lois' words. It really was amazing, how wonderful she could make him feel, even in the worst of times, even when he was at his most upset. He took another bite of food.
                They ate quietly for most of their meal. And when they did talk, they spoke only of happy things. Some of their discussion centered around their wedding. By the end of lunch, they had decided only on one thing - that they wanted a May wedding. That would give them just enough time to make the preparations they would need, while not dragging the process out. Clark wanted to marry Lois as soon as he could. As it was, they were practically living together. He wanted to make things official as soon as possible. And Lois was afraid that too long of a gap until their wedding would only cause problems - that some of their enemies might attempt to interrupt their impending nuptials.
                After Clark paid their bill, they walked in silence, arm-in-arm, back to the courthouse. They settled back into the seats they'd had before the break, since they were early and most people had yet to return to the room. Clark put his arm around Lois' waist.
                "Thank you," he whispered to her.
                "For what?"
                "For being here with me. It makes it so much easier to go through this with you at my side."
                "I've told you before, nothing could keep me away from being here for you. How many times now have you been there for me when I've needed you? Besides, I love you. I'd never dream of leaving you to do this on your own."
                "You know," Clark said, letting a mischievous smile blossom on his lips. "We could skip this afternoon's part of the trial."
                "And play hooky?" she asked, laughing.
                "I was thinking more along the lines of going upstairs to the Justice of the Peace," Clark said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
                Lois laughed in earnest. "You know, I wouldn't mind that at all. Except, my mother would kill me if I eloped."
                Clark laughed as well. "Lucy too, no doubt."
                She nodded. "Yeah, her too."
                The rest of the afternoon passed as slowly as the morning had, as the final police officers were questioned. Then it was Clark's turn. The prosecutors called Superman to the stand. Clark feigned a call on his cell phone as an excuse to leave the courtroom. He noticed, however, the anxious look on Mayson's face as she hoped the Man of Steel would arrive, as well as the annoyed look on Alex's face as they waited to see if the hero would appear.
                He left the building only to reenter a minute later, clad now in the famous blue and red uniform. He strode confidently into the courtroom, his boot heels clicking lightly on the marble floor of the large room. He heard the murmurs of surprise from the gathered onlookers mingled with the frantic note-taking of the reporters who'd been allowed inside to cover the proceedings. Moving purposefully, he made his way to the stand.
                He was oddly calm. He'd have thought his heart would be hammering in his chest. But testifying as Superman would be easy. He'd done it numerous times before, since taking on the persona of the alien superhero. And, more importantly, he wouldn't be divulging any personal information while on the stand. His job, for the moment, was to repeat the sequence of events as he'd lived through them on Halloween night.
                His voice was calm and unwavering as he was sworn in. He answered the questions Mayson asked of him, giving her as many details about that night as he could, hoping it would seal the case against Alex. It was easier than he thought, recounting the events of Halloween night. He began with hearing about the prison riot and briefly touched on how long he'd been there, lending his aid. He spoke of the return trip to Metropolis, how he'd sensed something was amiss as he'd neared the cabin, and what he'd found inside. He talked of how he'd contacted Bill Henderson for the arrest and his trip to retrieve clothing for Denny.
                As he told his story, he felt oddly removed from the whole thing. It was like the events of that night had happened to someone else. He had the passing thought that the Superman avatar really had taken over in this case - that carefully crafted and maintained mask the hero always wore in public, so the world would never know just how human the alien truly was.
                Mayson's questions to him were straightforward enough, though he could sense the meticulously hidden distain the Assistant DA had for the hero. Her act was good though, and he doubted anyone else in the room, save for Lois, would detect her true feelings toward Superman. Then it was the defending attorney's turn. He did not bother to hide his mistrust of the caped hero, though Clark could tell it was more because it was his job to cast doubt on Superman's words than because of any personal feelings toward him.
                "So, you say you spent a lot of time searching for my client," he began.
                "Yes," Clark answered. "As soon as there was a positive ID on him."
                "Did Clark Kent ask you to keep a lookout for him? I mean, it's fairly common knowledge that you are close friends with him. Do you deny that?"
                "No," Clark said. "I don't deny it. Lois Lane and Clark Kent are friends of mine. I've known Clark for a long time now. And I knew that he was one of the people to ID Mr. Harwood, after the attempt on Ryan Mann. He didn't have to ask me for anything. I decided on my own to make it a priority to find Mr. Harwood."
                "Because of your friendship with Mr. Kent," the man accused.
                Clark shook his head. "No. Because of the attempt on a young boy. I take children's' welfare very seriously. Any threat to them takes precedence for me."
                "And what of your friendship with Inspector Henderson?"
                "What of it?"
                "Well, it seems to me, more often than not, that you run to him when you need someone arrested. An outsider might call it favoritism. I say you have a pact with him, that maybe he does whatever you need him to - including arresting innocent people."
                "Objection!" Mayson called out.
                "Overruled," Judge Grimes said. "Answer the question, Superman."
                He nodded at the judge. "I make it a point to be friendly with any and all law enforcement officials," he said in an even voice. "We're all on the same side, after all. I have no hidden agenda. I stand for truth as well as justice," he reminded the man. "As for contacting Inspector Henderson directly, I knew he was in charge of the investigation, and that he'd been pushing himself to the breaking point looking for Mr. Harwood. It seemed the natural thing to do, to contact him."
                "Odd that you would know his phone number," Jeff pointed out.
                "Not really," Clark countered. "Among my other abilities, I have a pretty good memory. All I need is to see something once - like a phone number - and I can recall it if need be."
                Clark could see Jeff getting frustrated that he had an innocuous explanation for every concern he'd raised.
                "You say you asked Clark Kent to pick up clothing for the boy, Denny."
                "Yes."
                "If you are so concerned with child welfare, as you claim, why not go yourself?"
                "I don't have any money," Clark said, shrugging a little, unfazed. "How would I? I don't charge for my services. Nor could I just walk into a store to shop, even if I did. I was too pressed for time to stop and talk to anyone in the store who might want to say hello. And I didn't want to blow them off either. It was just easier to have Clark go into the store for me. He has a much lower profile than I do." He chuckled lightly, just to show that he thought the idea of Superman's celebrity status as something completely ridiculous.
                More questions followed. Clark patiently answered them all, until Jeff seemed to either run out of things to ask or ways to try and trap him in a lie. Clark was excused from the stand. It was a relief for him to finally be allowed to step down. Though it had been easy enough to remove himself from the emotional toll of the trial while in the guise of Superman, he was still mentally exhausted from sitting through the trial itself. Luckily, his questioning had run so long that a halt was called for the day. Things would resume again in the morning. He left the courthouse, switched back into his Clark clothes, and leaned against a marble pillar as he waited for Lois and the rest of the onlookers to all file out of the building.
                It was already dark out, thanks to the early sunset of winter. Clark took Lois' arm as they made their way back to her Jeep. No one paid them any attention. Even the reporters seemed subdued by the long day of sitting in court. Clark was glad. He didn't want the fresh assault of questions he knew would have awaited him. All he wanted was to get home to his apartment, make dinner, and possibly make love to Lois.
                The cold air felt good on his skin. Even with the traces of pollution wafting on the slight breeze, it was fresh compared to the stuffy, hot, and close knit quarters of the courtroom. He breathed deeply, now that he was out in the night air. Even Lois seemed to appreciate the refreshing caress of the outdoor air.
                She slid in behind the wheel when they reached the Jeep. Clark slumped into the passenger seat. Lois started the vehicle, let it idle for a moment to warm up, then pulled out of the parking space and aimed the Jeep for Clark's place.
                "You did great today," she commented, throwing a cursory glance over to him.
                "Thanks. But today was the easy part."
                "Still, your part in testifying is half over."
                "I guess."
                "I can't believe the defense attorney tried to make you out to be a liar or a conspirator," she said, frowning as they halted at a stop sign.
                Clark shrugged, unconcerned. "It's his job to cast doubt on anyone who isn't his client."
                "Yeah, but still. Insinuating that Superman, of all people, has ulterior motives?"
                "Honestly, I expected more opposition from him," Clark confided. "I still do...when Clark Kent takes the stand."
                "Well, that probably won't be for a few days yet," Lois said, trying to comfort him. "Mayson said that they would move from the police testimonials to the bodies that the notebook helped uncover."
                "Yeah." He was completely aware of how unenthusiastic his voice sounded.
                "So..." Lois said, carefully initiating a change in topic. "Dinner?"
                "Definitely," Clark said, allowing himself to be whisked down the path of a new conversation. He had no desire to continue thinking about the trial for the rest of the night, if it could be helped.
                "What are you in the mood for?"
                "Actually, I was thinking of shrimp scampi over angel hair pasta," he said, giving her a smile. "A side of garlic bread too."
                "Oooh, that sounds good. Where'd you have in mind?"
                "Chez Clark's," he said, still grinning.
                "My guy can fly and cook," Lois mused. "I really have struck pay-dirt, haven't I?"
                "You better believe it," he tossed back playfully.
                "It's a good thing you decided journalism was a better career for you than, say, becoming a chef," Lois teased. "Otherwise, where would I be?"
                Clark had to laugh at that. Aside from the obvious joke Lois meant - of how else would she have ever have met him - he couldn't imagine himself in the white apron of a chef, standing before a flattop grill, flipping burgers for a living. He loved to cook, but writing and helping people had been his only true passions in life since he'd been a child. He was just grateful that his choice in careers had led him to his soul mate.
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Broken