Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Broken	By : MidnightBard Category: G through L > Lois & Clark Views: 2191 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own, nor make, anything. See full disclaimer.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Clark yawned and rubbed the back of his neck as the doors of the elevator slid open, admitting him to the bullpen of the Daily Planet. He made a beeline straight for the coffeemaker, hoping it would perk him up a little. He'd barely slept the night before, his mind replaying the scene in Lois' apartment over and over again. And when he had slept, his dreams had been dark, fearful nightmares. He'd awoken several times to find himself floating three feet above his bed, entangled in his sheets, soaked in sweat.
                Around five am, he'd finally given up altogether on attempting to sleep. He'd showered, changed the sheets on his bed, and slipped into his Superman suit. He'd patrolled the city, but found it quiet for once. Unsure what to do, he'd flown to his old refuge, that space between the Earth and the rest of the universe, and merely gazed at the silent stars. It was normally comforting to drift there, suspended above the world, but not that night. Instead, he'd only felt more alone than he had in a long, long time.
                By seven, he'd eaten a light breakfast and arrived at the courthouse, sporting a tan work suit instead of the flashy blue and red of his alter-ego. He wasn't the first one to arrive. Several other newspapers and TV crews had beaten him to the scene. He chatted easily with a few of the ones he was friendly with, though his thoughts strayed ever back to Lois. At eight, almost right on the dot, Martin Sanderson was marched into the courtroom, shackled and chained, flanked by guards. The man's face was grim, as it had been throughout the entire trial. Never once had Clark seen any trace of guilt, nor shred of remorse for what he'd done. Now, the man's dead stare sent chills down Clark's very spine. This was a man of pure evil, a man who'd managed to make himself something wholly inhuman.
                It didn't take long for the verdict to be delivered. Martin Sanderson was found guilty on six counts of murder in the first degree, and one count of manslaughter. Clark couldn't believe it. He could have sworn the charge of murder would have stuck on every aspect of the trial. The judge passed the sentence as murmurs buzzed in the once silent room. Clark was at least satisfied with that. Triple life sentence, no chance of parole.
                Sighing to himself, Clark poured himself a cup of the piping hot liquid, silently hoping William, from the city desk, had brewed it this morning. Will always threw in an extra scoop of grinds, making a strong pot of coffee indeed. But as Clark dumped in three spoonfuls of sugar, he discreetly used his super nose to inhale the scent of his drink. Frowning, he realized Will hadn't made the coffee that morning. Another inhale told him it was probably Ralph's doing today, meaning a weaker brew, for the man never failed to shortchange the machine of coffee grinds. Clark dumped in a fourth spoonful of sugar, a precautionary measure against the weak taste he was sure to encounter.
                He sipped it experimentally, and, finding it passable, moved toward the thick of the bullpen, meaning to head to his desk. As he walked, he glanced down at the paper cup in his hand. He wished caffeine affected him like it did the rest of the human race. He wished the absurd amount of sugar in the drink would give him an energy boost. He knew, however, that only sleep and sunlight could give him the charge he needed, and frowned as he recalled how thick and heavy the cloud coverage was that day.
                He looked around the bullpen, taking in the normal bustle of activity the newsroom boasted, especially on a Monday morning. But something was off. Something was...missing. Lois. She wasn't there. Frowning, Clark finally reached his desk. Looking over at Lois' desk, he knew instantly that she hadn't yet arrived at work. Her computer was still off. Her stack of files was untouched. Checking his watch, he saw it was just barely ten in the morning.
                Sighing, he sat down and turned his computer on, drumming his fingers restlessly as he waited for it to boot up. He was exhausted, but he knew Perry would be looking for his article any time now. He tried to fight off a yawn and failed, and instead contented himself to hiding it behind one hand. He blinked rapidly, trying to force the weariness from them.
                "Hey, CK," Jimmy said, passing by his desk. "Bagel?"
                "No, thanks, I'm good for now," he replied, giving his friend a smile.
                "Wow, you look beat," Jimmy observed.
                "Yeah, I didn't sleep too well last night," Clark answered truthfully.
                "Anything wrong?"
                Clark shook his head, though there was something wrong. "I just had a lot on my mind." Then, changing the subject, "Has Lois called in yet?"
                Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, just about twenty minutes ago. She said something about checking in with Bobby Bigmouth. I guess he called her this morning. She said she'll be in as soon as she can."
                Clark bobbed his head in a nod. "Thanks."
                "Anytime."
                With that, Jimmy moved on, offering a bagel to Frannie as the woman breezed by. Clark settled into his chair, leaning back to gather his thoughts. Then, pulling up his word processing program, he began to write his article, detailing the outcome of the Sanderson trial. It took him far longer than he'd anticipated. Every few moments, he looked toward Lois' desk or the elevators, wishing she was there. He needed to know just how angry she was over his rejection the night before. He needed to know just where he stood with her.
                But bit by bit, his article took shape. Once he was done, he read it over, frowning. It wasn't up to his usual high standards. He scraped the entire article and started from scratch. Reading the second version, he nodded to himself, knowing it was much better. He made a few minor changes, editing a few unnecessary words and swapping out a few others with much stronger choices. Finally satisfied, he sent the article off to Perry, hoping the man would be pleased with his work. He really didn't want to have to write the article a third time.
                At eleven, Lois finally entered the bullpen, sipping from a Styrofoam cup. Clark's breath caught in his throat. She looked so beautiful in a crisp light yellow skirt and jacket, with matching modest pumps. She smiled as she locked eyes with him, and the barest flicker of hope fluttered into Clark's heart. Maybe she was going to go easy on him.
                Reaching his desk, she nodded toward the empty conference room. "Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes?"
                "Sure," Clark replied uneasily as that same hope faltered.
                He followed in silence as they crossed the newsroom. Lois shut the door behind him as they entered.
                "Lois, look, I want to apologize for last night," he started.
                But Lois waved her hand at him to stop him from speaking. "No, Clark."
                "No?"
                "I'm the one who should be apologizing to you," Lois said, leaning a hip against the long table in the center of the room. "I made you uncomfortable last night. And then I had the nerve to get angry when you gently turned me down. You tried to be the perfect gentleman...no, you were a perfect gentleman about it. You were right. I did have more to drink last night than I should have. I mean, I was still in perfect control of what I was saying and doing, but it made me a little...bolder...than I probably would have been. So, I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten angry at you. I shouldn't have tried to push you when you said no. I don't want you to think of me as some...some...horrible, cheap woman."
                "I don't think that at all, Lois," Clark said, taking her into his arms and kissing the top of her head, relief flooding him at the same moment.
                "But, I threw myself at you like a drunken prom date," she said as she hugged him back. "I am just so embarrassed."
                "Don't be. Lois, believe me, you are one of the classiest women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. As well as the sexiest."
                "I mean, I do want to be with you, Clark. And I'll wait, if that's what you want. I'm sure you probably have some traditional values your parents instilled in you. Some small town values, perhaps. Maybe you're waiting for marriage. Maybe you were just tired last night. The point is, I crossed a line last night by trying to force you into my bed."
                "You didn't try to force anything," Clark argued.
                "Yes, I did."
                "Lois, I want you to know...I love you. You could never do anything to change that. And, like I said last night, I promise that we'll talk more about this."
                "Just not here," Lois said with a grin.
                "I don't think that would go over well with Perry," Clark agreed, mustering a smile for her. "I'm just so relieved you aren't mad at me. I've been worried sick ever since I left your place last night that you'd hate me for turning you down."
                Lois shook her head, amused. "Yeah, like I'd really be able to stay mad at the world's most perfect guy."
                "I'm far from perfect," Clark said, trying his hardest to mask the hint of sadness those words took on as they left his lips.
                "Of course you are." She flashed him another blinding smile. Then, to switch topics, "So, how did the Sanderson verdict go?"
                Clark shook his head. "Not as well as we'd hoped."
                "What? Surely they had to have convicted him!"
                "Oh, they did," Clark said, his frown reappearing. "Six counts of murder one."
                "Six? What about the other one?"
                "The Ramos death was ruled to be manslaughter."
                "Oh come on!" Lois erupted, angered by the news. "It was so obvious that was a premeditated act of murder."
                "Not to the jury," Clark replied, his shoulders slumping.
                "What about the sentence?"
                "Well, that's where the good news comes in. He'll never see the light of day ever again."
                "The prosecution was pushing for the death penalty," Lois recalled.
                Clark shook his head. "Life...actually, triple life...with no possibility of parole."
                "At least he's unable to hurt anyone else," Lois said, shrugging.
                "Yeah, but I still feel like justice wasn't done for the Ramos family. To go through what they did...to lose their father and husband like that...and then have it ruled as manslaughter..." He shook his head again. "It just doesn't seem right."
                "How was the reaction to the verdict and sentencing?" Lois asked, rubbing his arm affectionately.
                "Mostly relief. Some shock and anger over the manslaughter charge, as expected. The Ramos family all said they are just happy he's off the streets now, but, you don't have to be an expert to see how disappointed they really are."
                Lois nodded silently, appearing to contemplate the top of the conference table. When she failed to speak after a whole minute, Clark tried to switch the topic again.
                "So?" he asked, mimicking Lois and leaning his hip against the table. "What did Bobby have to say?"
                "What?" Lois asked, as if coming out of deep thoughts. "Oh. Not much. There's a new sushi restaurant opening in town, and he wanted to give me a rundown of all the things he likes."
                That caused Clark to chuckle. Leave it to Bobby Bigmouth to call Lois away just to inform her on what culinary delights he would find acceptable, in repayment for his leads.
                "Lucky you," he commented, as he opened the door to the conference room.
                "Yeah, lucky me," Lois repeated, rolling her eyes as she stepped through the door before Clark.
                The rest of the day felt like a waste to Clark. He and Lois got next to nowhere with their current investigations. They stepped out for lunch just after noon, but by then it was raining heavily, dampening their spirits further. Clark, in particular, grumbled about the downpour, wishing he could catch just a few moments of sunlight. He thought about taking a fifteen minute break to soar above the clouds to recharge, but felt too tired to be bothered.
                Still, it lightened him to know that Lois wasn't angry with him. In fact, she was completely normal around him, as if the prior night hadn't happened at all. For that, he was more than grateful. He'd been anticipating walking on eggshells around Lois for the foreseeable future. To not have to do that simply amazed him, and he wondered again how it was that he was so lucky to have such an incredible woman in his life.
                Around three, Clark finally excused himself from the newsroom, found a safe place to spin into his Superman suit, and shot up into the sky. Punching a quick hole in the dark clouds, he went up into the void of space and simply hung, suspended, soaking up the precious sunlight. He dared not spend more than ten minutes in the healing, rejuvenating rays of light, then he was racing back to that same deserted alley. And yet, the ten minutes had done wonders for him. He was still a bit tired, that much was true, but he didn't quite feel like he was dragging himself around anymore. That was enough for him.
                Just before five, he ducked out of the office again, this time to put a stop to an armed bank robbery, down near Suicide Slum. It was a relatively routine rescue for Superman. One of the three robbers emptied his entire clip at Clark, the bullets bouncing harmlessly off his chest. With a burst of speed, Clark wrested the guns from all three men, then neatly crushed the weapons into wadded up balls of metal, complete with indentations from his fingers. Then, while the would-be thieves were still processing what had happened, Clark gathered them together and bound them with the ropes usually reserved for marking the lines where patrons would wait for their turn at the teller's desk. The police arrived moments later to make the arrest, while Clark flew the bank manager to the hospital, the man complaining of chest pains.
                By five-thirty, Clark was back at his desk, typing up the story. It wasn't much, but he knew it would be just enough to make Perry happy. The Chief was always thrilled to have a Superman story to include in the paper. Clark easily fired off the article, then sent it Perry. Feeling good about himself, he took a moment to lean back in his chair and gaze in Lois' direction.
                She was on the phone, looking more than agitated. For the most part, she was silent, though, from time to time, she attempted to get a word in. Clark frowned. "Attempted" seemed like an all too appropriate word. Not more than two or three syllables made it out of her throat at any given time. Resisting the urge to eavesdrop with his super hearing, he busied himself with one final call to a source for another one of his stories, leaving a message on the machine when no one picked up the other end.
                After a while, Lois resignedly hung up the phone and slunk over to Clark's desk. He peeked up from the file he was reading, and instead read the tale of misery her body posture was conveying. He grew instantly concerned.
                "Lois? What's the matter?"
                "Can we go home?" Lois asked wearily.
                "Of course. Let me just check with Perry about the article I just sent him a couple of minutes ago."
                Lois nodded. "Sure, go ahead."
                It took less than three minutes to get Perry's approval to leave for the night. He helped Lois into her jacket before slipping into his own. Together, they headed out of the newsroom.
                "Honey, what's bothering you?" he asked, once they were in the sanctuary of the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind them.
                "Cindy's not getting married after all," she replied with a sigh.
                "And that suddenly makes you unhappy? I thought you were against it? I seem to remember something along the lines of Cindy never taking the time to get to know a guy before marrying them. And something else about how this one probably wouldn't last for the duration of the reception. What changed your mind?"
                "Nothing changed my mind, for your information," Lois said.
                The elevator dinged softly and the doors opened, spilling them out into the lobby. Beyond the windows, Clark could see that the storm had lost most of its rage. The pounding rain was nothing more than a gentle drizzle now. Street lights reflected in the glossy, wet surface of the road as cars drove by.
                "Okay, so then why do you look so upset?" he asked, draping one arm about her waist as they exited the building.
                "Because that louse...Mark...hit on Lucy last night. At his engagement party."
                "Ouch," Clark said, wincing. "Really?"
                Lois nodded. "Really. Lucy slapped him across the face."
                "See?" Clark said, unable to stop himself. "I told you I liked your sister." He grinned at her.
                Lois chuckled a little. "Yeah. She's a real Lane girl all right. Anyway, she told Cindy right away."
                "Hence the explosion we saw last night," Clark supplied.
                "Yeah. At least Cindy believed her. She told Mark she never wants to see him again and cancelled everything as far as the wedding is concerned." Lois sighed. "I just wish she could find a nice guy for once. Like you."
                "Well, I, for one, am not available," he teased her.
                Lois laughed and swatted his chest with her free hand. "I didn't say I want her to date you. Just someone nice like you. And while we're at it, Lucy could use a good guy too. Did you know she's dating a biker with an arrest record now?"
                Clark gave her a sideways glance. "And your mom gave you a hard time about dating me?"
                "Oh, she got on Lucy's case too. Of course, my sister never listens."
                "Neither do you," Clark pointed out, grinning. "I notice you haven't broken up with me yet."
                She gave him a wide grin. "You're right, of course. I never listen to bad advice."
                "So, where to?" Clark asked, as they neared the corner, then dashed across to beat the light. "Dinner?"
                "How about your place? We'll order in a pizza, maybe watch a movie."
                "Sounds great."
                Clark hailed a passing taxi with one sharp whistle and a quick wave of his hand. He opened the door for Lois, allowed her to get in, then shut the door, only to jog around to the other side to get in himself. He gave the driver his address, then leaned back into the sagging faux leather bench seat, still slightly weary from his lack of sleep. He must have dozed off during the short ride, for the next thing he was aware of was the car coming to a stop outside of his apartment building. Reaching into his wallet, he paid the driver, adding on a couple of dollars in a tip.
                "Feeling a little better?" Lois asked, as they rounded the corner toward Clark's door.
                "A bit," he said, nodding.
                "You look a little better for nodding off in the cab," Lois agreed.
                Clark was about to make a reply when something caught his attention. A police cruiser was parked at the end of the block, a few uniformed officers leaning against it. Instantly, he was flooded with worry. Instead of heading for his door, he continued past it, down to where the policemen stood.
                "Oh no," he groaned, mostly to himself as he scanned the area.
                "What? What's going on?"
                "I'm not sure yet, but it looks like the police are at the Mann's place."
                The Mann's were friends of his. Though they were not his immediate neighbors, they had crossed paths several times. A chance conversation in the supermarket one evening had turned the strangers into friends. Clark had even helped Eddie find work with Metropolis Light and Power when he'd been unexpectedly laid off at the beginning of the year. He was even friendly with the couple's eleven year old son, Ryan, and had, on occasion, acted as a stand-in umpire for the boy's Little League team, the Metropolis Blue Devils.
                Clark broke into a jog, as the door opened and Inspector Bill Henderson appeared in the doorway. The man was nodding and tucking a notepad into the breast pocket of his jacket. Another man, who Clark recognized as Iggy Zanzor, a police sketch artist, was standing just beyond Henderson, his sketch pad clutched to his chest.
                "We'll be in touch," Henderson was saying as Clark reached them. Slipping a card out from his pocket, he gave it to Tiffany. "If you think of anything else, please, don't hesitate to call me."
                "Tiff? Eddie?" Clark called out.
                "Clark," Eddie said, his voice grave.
                "Is everything all right?" It was the question everyone expected to hear, Clark knew that. But it sounded stupid to his ears.
                Eddie shook his head. "No. Come in, would you? You and Miss Lane both. You don't mind, do you, Inspector?"
                "Not at all," Henderson replied.
                "Maybe they can help us," Tiffany mused, chewing her lower lip worriedly.
                "What's going on?" Clark asked as he stepped into their living room, closely followed by Lois. "Where's Ryan? Is he okay?"
                "He's in his room, resting," Tiffany replied, gesturing vaguely.
                Clark let out a controlled breath. For a horrifying moment, he'd feared that the boy had gone missing.
                "He...uh...he was attacked this afternoon," Eddie said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "He was walking home from a friend's house. They have this project to work on for history class. You know how it is. We thought he'd be safe. Jefferson only lives three blocks over from here. Anyway, you know that abandoned lot on Lawton?"
                Clark nodded. "Of course."
                "Well," Eddie continued. "Ryan was walking by it when a man called out to him. When Ryan stopped, the guy grabbed him and dragged him down into the back of the alley that runs between the two buildings next to the lot. He...he...he tried...oh, God." The big, muscular man's frame shook as he fought back a sob.
                "Ryan says the man held him against the wall with one hand. With the other, he opened his fly and exposed himself. He apparently muttered all sorts of explicit things...things he was going to do to our son. Ryan says the man got his jeans open and...and..." Tiffany stopped for a moment, trying hard to keep her quickly fading composure.
                "He tried to force himself on the boy," Henderson finished for the tortured parents.
                Clark closed his eyes for a brief moment as the words struck his brain. "Oh, God," he whispered.
                "Clark," Eddie said, looking him in the eyes, pleading with him. "Ryan fought the man off. He kneed him in the groin. But, we have no idea who did this. Maybe...maybe you could write an article, getting the word out so this pervert can be found? Something that...doesn't identify us? We want to protect Ryan as best we can. You understand, right?"
                "I do," Clark said, nodding. "I promise you, I'll do whatever I can to help."
                "Maybe you can give the information to your friend in blue?" Henderson asked, a knowing gleam in his eyes.
                "Of course," Clark replied. "I'm sure he'll be glad to lend his aid. Do we have any idea what this guy looks like?" He threw a quick glance at the sketch artist.
                Zanzor nodded and opened his book to the very first page and held it out so that Clark could take it. Clark reached over and accepted it, then peered at the drawing, done in rough, but deft pencil strokes, splashed across the white page, in different colors. Ryan had given a detailed description of the man, it seemed. Blue eyes looked back from the page, beneath a wide forehead. A smattering of freckles graced the drawing's cheeks. There was a small, C-shaped scar above the man's right eye. A closely shaved crop of brown hair adorned the top of his head, though a patch of bright green ran from his temples on both sides. From beneath a skewed collar, a tattoo could just barely be seen. Clark looked again at the design. A black and red dragon's head. And paired with that oddly chipped front right tooth...
                Clark felt his stomach roil and bile creep up the back of his throat. The sketch pad slipped from his nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor. His feet, independent from his brain, moved backwards and his fingers fumbled blindly for the doorknob. Finally finding it, he worked it open, then turned and fled. He didn't make it more than ten steps before his knees buckled and he crumpled to the sidewalk. In the next second, his chest was heaving.
                For the first time in his life, Clark threw up.
                Tears stung his eyes as his stomach emptied itself, seemingly of everything he'd ever eaten in his entire life. Each time he thought he was finished, his body somehow found more to rid itself of. How was it even possible to vomit this much?
                "Clark?" Lois called out, rushing to his side, her heels clicking on the wet sidewalk. "Clark?"
                Clark wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. "I'll be okay."
                Lois reached him, putting a hand on his shoulder. She rubbed it a little, through his jacket. A moment later, he stood, albeit shakily.
                "I'm sorry," he said, looking toward the Manns and the officers.
                "Kent, are you all right? You look like you just saw a ghost," Henderson said, as Clark made his way back into the house. "Do you know who this guy is?" He pointed to the drawing in Zanzor's hand.
                For a second, the words caught in Clark's throat, and all he could do was nod. He swallowed hard, trying to loosen the lump which stuck in his throat.
                "Yes," he finally said. "Yes, I do."
                "Well?" Lois prodded, on the Inspector's behalf.
                Again, Clark swallowed, readying himself to say the next words. He closed his eyes, finding his courage. For a long moment, he was silent, as if saying the next words would inflict some actual harm to him and to the people around him.
                "That's Alex Harwood. My...foster brother."
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Broken