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Broken	By : MidnightBard Category: G through L > Lois & Clark Views: 2191 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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"What?" Lois said, the shock evident on her face. "Are you sure that it's the same guy?"
                Henderson shot Lois an exasperated look. "Lane, no offense, but I'll ask the questions." Then, to Clark, "Are you sure, Kent?"
                Clark nodded. "Absolutely sure. His hair is shorter now, and this scar here is new," he said, sweeping his finger a scant inch above the pencil drawing. "But this tattoo on his neck, coupled with this broken tooth? Yeah, that's absolutely him. I remember when he got that tattoo. It took his parents a full month to notice it."
                "Sounds like observant people," Lois said dryly.
                "You have no idea," Clark said, shaking his head. "Bill, could you fax me a copy of that sketch? I'll make sure it gets into the paper, along with a written description. Maybe someone has seen him."
                Seeing Alex's face had stirred up long buried feelings in Clark's heart. Resentment. Anger. Even fear. He squashed them all down now, focusing, instead, all his energy into the task at hand. Alex had to be found. He had to be brought to justice. He had to pay for what he'd tried to do to Ryan. And, Clark admitted to himself, it was far easier trying to maintain the part of the dedicated reporter than facing the emotions circulating through his body with every beat of his heart. It was far easier to keep himself busy than to try dwell on the vice that had clamped shut around his chest, squeezing tightly.
                "You got it," Henderson said with a nod. "Clark, when was the last time you saw Alex Harwood?"
                "I was sixteen," Clark replied.
                "No contact at all since then?"
                "Not at all. Alex wasn't exactly a person I wanted to keep in touch with at all."
                "So no idea where he might be now?"
                Clark shook his head. "Not a clue. I had no idea he was even in the city. I just as soon imagined he was still out in California."
                "Okay," Henderson said, nodding. "But if you think of anything, you call me. Got it?"
                "Got it," Clark agreed. "Thanks, Bill. I'll keep you posted if I hear anything."
                "I'll do the same, so you can pass it along to Superman. Okay, let's get back to the station," Henderson said, motioning to the other officers with him. "I want to get to work on this right away."
                With that, the taciturn Inspector turned and walked briskly toward the police cruiser. In another moment, he climbed into the front passenger seat and the car took off with a slight squeal of tires on the wet asphalt. Clark watched them go in silence, though his mind was racing. Then he turned to his friends.
                "I'm so sorry you guys are going through this," he offered, not knowing what else to say.
                "Thanks," Eddie said, sighing and leaning against the wall.
                "I know this is a difficult time for you," Lois said gently. "But, would you mind going through the information again, with Clark and me? We need to know more so we can get the word out about the..." she faltered for a moment, looking for the right word.
                "Attempt?" Tiffany supplied.
                Lois nodded.
                Tiffany sighed. "All right."
                "Would it be all right if we spoke to Ryan as well?" Lois asked.
                "That's fine," said a new voice.
                "Hey, Ryan," Clark said softly, greeting the newcomer. "We heard what happened. We want to help."
                Ryan nodded as he moved into the living room and sat on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest. The boy, though still very young, was a tall and lanky youth. Competitive in almost every sport the neighborhood had to offer, he was well muscled for his age. A mop of blonde hair stuck out in every direction, as though he'd just awoken from sleep. His green eyes were troubled.
                "What do you want to know?" he asked in a small voice.
                "Whatever you can tell us," Clark said gently. "Whatever you are comfortable with telling us."
                "And you won't let anyone know it's me?" the boy asked, clearly ashamed of what had taken place.
                Clark shook his head. "No. Lois and I will do everything we can to protect you. In fact, once we are done here, I'm going to find Superman and ask him to keep an eye out for the man who did this."
                "Really?" Ryan asked, impressed. "You can do that?"
                Clark gave him a smile. "Well, as it happens, Superman is a good friend of mine. He's a friend to Lois too. I'm sure we won't have any problem contacting him. Sound good?"
                Ryan nodded. "Thanks."
                "My pleasure," Clark said.
                Encouraged by the thought of the superhero helping their investigation, the boy launched into a detailed description of what had happened earlier in the day. It was obvious the police had gone over and over the information with him, as Ryan gave them a much fuller account of the attack than they had expected to get. Clark did notice, however, that though the boy seemed eerily calm as he recounted the event, that there was a deadness to his voice, a hollowness that hadn't been there before. His heart bled for the kid.
                Once they had gotten the information they needed, Lois and Clark excused themselves and left the family in peace. The Manns thanked them again for their willingness to help as they departed. Clark was quiet as they made their way back to his apartment, the only sound the jingling of his keys as he unlocked the door.
                "Hey, are you okay?" Lois asked him again, as he shut the door behind them, closing out the deepening twilight.
                "I'm not really sure," he admitted, leaning against the wood and glass of the door. "I had hoped, when I left California, that I'd never see him again."
                "You really don't like Alex, do you?"
                "That's an understatement."
                "Just what happened between you two? I mean, I've rarely ever seen you dislike someone so openly."
                "That's not entirely true," Clark protested. "There are plenty of people I dislike. Like all those criminals Superman catches."
                "That's different," Lois argued back. "Those are criminals."
                "And so is Alex," Clark said firmly, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he fought the surge of emotions rushing through him. "Look, Lois, Alex has been a mean-spirited guy since the day I met him. He teased me. No...he tormented me the entire time I lived with the Harwoods. I really don't want to go into detail about it. Please, can we just leave it at that for now? We have bigger things to focus on here than my past history with Alex."
                "Okay," Lois agreed, surprising Clark. He'd expected more prodding on her part.
                "Let me fly you home," Clark said, pushing himself away from the door. "If it's all the same to you, I'll take a rain-check on dinner. I want to go scan the city, see if I can pick up Alex's trail. Is that okay?"
                "Sure," Lois said, nodding. "I figured you'd want to do that."
                "I'm sorry."
                "Don't be," she said, giving him a sincere smile. "This is more important than a silly pizza dinner date. You have a job to do."
                "Thank you," Clark replied, grateful for her understanding.
                "I'll grab a cab home."
                "No, I'll fly you."
                "Clark, you have more important things to focus on here."
                "It's not a big deal, Lois. A couple of minutes to take you home isn't going to make or break my search. Besides, I love flying with you."
                "And I love flying with you. But, for this one time, I'd prefer if you just go and do your thing and leave me to get home on my own."
                Clark hesitated for a moment before relenting. Lois had that look on her face - the one that told him he would not win this argument.
                "Okay. Just, be careful, okay?"
                "I'm always careful," Lois retorted.
                Clark raised a skeptical eyebrow. He could easily rattle off two dozen moments where Lois hadn't been careful and had gotten into a sticky situation in just the last two months alone.
                "Don't give me that look," Lois warned him, smiling. "I'll be fine. Go. Do your thing."
                "Okay," he said again, then took her into his arms as she came nearer. "I love you."
                "I love you too. And...if you want to talk, Clark, you know you can call me, even if it's the middle of the night. Hell, I've done that to you numerous times myself."
                "I know," he said. "And I appreciate it. But I'll probably just make a patrol and head to bed. I'm exhausted."
                "Right," Lois said, bobbing her head in a nod. "Don't overdo it, okay?"
                "I'll try not to," he promised.
                His kissed her deeply, though he kept it brief, and felt her respond immediately. Then she was out the door. Clark watched for a moment before shutting the door. He spun into his Superman suit, stepped out onto his terrace, and took off like a shot into the now dark sky. For a moment, he hovered a good mile above his apartment, trying to figure out his strategy. Metropolis was a big city, filled with millions of people. Trying to find just one would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. If it was Lois, he wouldn't have a problem locating her. He felt attuned to her, her heartbeat so uniquely distinct to his super hearing, he could find her by that alone.
                "Okay, Alex," Clark muttered to himself. "Where are you?"
                Deciding it was probably best to start at the scene of the encounter between Alex and Ryan, Clark flew to the abandoned lot. There in less than a second, he landed, and began his search, checking the area as thoroughly as possible. He found nothing, though he did scare a stray dog, which ran off whimpering. Turning in a circle, he swept the area a second time with his powerful vision. Again, he came up with nothing of note. His super nose picked up nothing as well, except for the smell of pot roast cooking from one of the nearby apartments. He did not bother to employ his sensitive hearing, knowing there was far too much going on in his immediate surroundings. Even without it, he could hear music blasting from a car stereo, the steady thump of the bass like an assault to his ears.
                He took to the sky again, though he was not discouraged. Alex hadn't even left a footprint behind, the entire lot paved with cracked concrete. He looked at the lack of clues as a challenge, a puzzle to be solved. And, he had to admit, he was pretty decent at solving puzzles. He did it every day for the Daily Planet. He flew on, searching as methodically as he could, his super vision telescoping in on a crowd here, x-raying a building there.
                Finally, around eleven that night, he felt his eyes growing too tired to continue. He headed back home, reluctantly leaving the trail for the night. Back in through the door leading from his terrace he flew, stifling a yawn. Methodically, he stripped out of suit and hung it in the secret closet hidden behind his wine rack. Then he showered at a pace that fell somewhere between normal, human speed, and super speed. As soon as he threw on a clean pair of briefs, he crawled beneath the blankets on his bed and slept.
                His sleep was deep, though plagued by nightmares. Evil images appeared in his mind, the remnants of long buried memories. In each one, Alex Harwood was the central figure, eternally nineteen, while Clark felt himself fluctuating between being a frightened sixteen year old boy and his current twenty-eight year old self.
                Clark awoke just after six am, feeling rested in body, but not in mind. He turned over in bed, pulling the comforter over his head to shut out the sunlight, wholly unwelcome at that early hour, and tried to get back to sleep. After fifteen minutes, he knew it was a battle he would never win, so he slipped out of bed and dressed for work. It was far earlier than he needed to be at the Planet, but he desperately needed something to do. Moping around his apartment would accomplish nothing, and he felt a scan of the city would be futile at that early hour. What he needed was something, anything, that would clue him in on where Alex might have gone.
                By six-thirty, he was sitting at his work desk, tapping away at his keyboard. Henderson had made good on his promise to fax over a copy of the sketch, and it now sat on Clark's desk, staring back at him as he drafted the article for the afternoon edition of the paper. It was quiet in the newsroom, only a handful of staff members milling about. Most were the overnight shift, preparing to leave for the day. One or two of the day shift reporters were there, chatting by the coffee maker, discussing some television show which Clark didn't watch. Not even Perry was in the building yet, which surprised Clark. It had felt like no matter how early or late Clark was in the bullpen, so too was the Chief.
                He had anticipated that writing the article about the attack would prove difficult. Yet it wound up being deceptively simple to write. Focusing on keeping the story to just the facts, and ensuring that the identity of the Mann Family stayed anonymous, it was almost easy to pretend that Clark didn't know the boy who'd nearly become a victim and that he didn't the assailant, hadn't lived under the same roof as the guy. With a sigh, Clark sent the article to Lois' email account, intending for her to look it over, needing a second pair of eyes to read it and ensure that the article read the way he wanted it to.
                He glanced at his watch. Five after seven. Early, but not too early. He picked up the phone and dialed the police station, punching in the extension for Bill Henderson. Three rings later, the Inspector's voice sounded on the other end of the line.
                "Inspector Bill Henderson," he announced, sounding grumpy.
                "Hey, Bill, it's Clark."
                "Oh, hi," the man replied, perking up a little. "What's up?"
                Clark shook his head, though the Inspector obviously could not see the motion. "Just wanted to check in with you. I spoke with Superman," he said. Though Henderson was in on Clark's secret, and though the Daily Planet was all but deserted, Clark was ever cautious when speaking about his alter-ego.
                "Yeah?"
                "He took a look at the scene of the attack last night. He couldn't find anything of use. And a patrol over the city likewise turned up nothing. I was wondering if you'd had the chance to run a background check on Alex Harwood yet."
                "I did. I'll fax it over."
                "Great."
                "He's got a couple of priors," Henderson said, slipping a bit more into his usual police jargon.
                "Really," Clark said, though it was not quite a question. A rap sheet hardly surprised him. "What for?"
                "Well, it's all detailed on what I'm sending you, but, let's see. Armed robbery in '89, when he and a girl knocked over a liquor store in Tennessee. Served a year and got off on good behavior. A public urination charge in '87. He got off with a fine. That was in...Milwaukee."
                "Anything remotely like what happened yesterday?" Clark asked.
                "No. Mostly petty theft. One count of aggravated assault against an off-duty cop. A couple of misdemeanors. Nothing like our current case." Clark could hear the frown in the man's voice.
                "Okay," Clark said, frowning himself. "Thanks, Bill. I'll keep you posted if I find anything. Or if Superman does."
                "Thanks, Kent. Oh, and one more thing."
                "Yeah?" Clark asked, cautiously hopeful.
                "We recovered a hair sample yesterday. The kid had a strand of brown hair on his shirt...short, like he described to Zanzor. The lab's running some DNA tests to see if we can find a match on Interpol."
                "That's great," Clark said. "How come this wasn't mentioned yesterday?"
                "We took Ryan's clothes as evidence, in case we could find something on them. One of the techs just discovered the hair about an hour ago."
                "How long before we know for certain?"
                "Not sure. But we've moved it up as top priority, just under the bodies we recovered from that arson the other day. With the budget cuts, we're struggling to keep up with the workload."
                "I understand," Clark said, sympathizing with the man. "Would Alex even be in the DNA database?"
                "Should be," Henderson said, and Clark could imagine the man nodding just the tiniest bit. "One of his priors is an attack on an elderly woman back when he was...let me see here...twenty-one. A mugging gone wrong. The old lady had a pocket knife. Apparently that's where that scar is from, the one over his eye. DNA matched him to the crime after he fled."
                "That's great," Clark repeated. "So if that strand of hair is from him, we've got him."
                "Assuming we find him."
                "Well, I'm sure Superman has moved this up to the top of his list of priorities too."
                "Glad to hear it."
                "Thanks again, Bill."
                Clark hung up his phone, less than thrilled with the fact that they had yet to find anything that even remotely resembled a lead. Still, if that hair sample could definitively be matched to Alex Harwood, they really did have him. If only they could find him. Preferably before he struck again. Clark had no illusions that Alex would not choose a new target. He had to find the man before that happened. He could not allow another innocent child to be harmed.
                "Kent? What in the name of Elvis are you doing here at this hour?"
                Lost in his own thoughts, Clark jumped at the voice as it addressed him with a soft Southern drawl. He hadn't been aware of Perry's presence at all.
                "Chief," Clark said, laughing a little at his own jumpiness.
                Perry laughed too. "Didn't mean to scare you, son." He lightly patted Clark's shoulder.
                "Nah, it's fine. I was just sort of lost in my own thoughts for a minute there."
                "So, what are you doing here this early?" Perry repeated, noting with a glance the article on Clark's computer screen.
                "Working on a story," Clark replied, gesturing vaguely at his computer. "I kind of stumbled onto something big last night on my way home."
                "How big are we talking?"
                "My neighbors' kid was nearly...victimized...by a pedophile yesterday afternoon. I was just finishing up the preliminary story. I thought it would be good if we could get the word out, warn other families about what happened, and get the assailant's description out."
                The grizzled old editor nodded. "We have an ID on this joker?"
                "Kind of," Clark hedged.
                "Kind of? We either do or we don't."
                "We have a pretty good idea of who it might be. I just got off the phone with Henderson. The police found a hair sample that they're processing. I'm hoping for a positive ID soon."
                Perry grunted an approval. "Okay then. Send it on over as soon as you're finished with it."
                "Will do, Chief. I'm just waiting on Lois. She was with me when we interviewed the Manns."
                Again Perry nodded, laughing. "You know, son, pairing you and Lois was the best decision I ever made for this paper."
                Clark grinned. "It's worked out pretty well, hasn't it?"
                Perry's face split into a broad smile. "We've got the hottest reporting team in the country."
                "And I found the woman I love," Clark mused. Then he hesitated. "Chief..."
                Perry noted the change in Clark's attitude as it shifted from jovial to deadly serious. "What's wrong?"
                "I feel like I should warn you..."
                "Oh no, did you and Lois have some sort of falling out?"
                Clark shook his head. "Not even close. I, uh, I want you to know that I'm completely capable of remaining professional about this story. But...the thing is...I am a little close to it. Actually, I'm very close to this story. The suspect...I know him. Personally."
                "How personally are we talking here?"
                "Well, you know about my past - how I was raised for a short time in a foster home. He's the couple's son."

                Perry blew out a breath, looking and sounding like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut. "That is close."
                "I know," Clark said quickly. "But I assure you, I can be completely professional about it. Plus, sharing the byline with Lois..."
                "All right," Perry cut in. "I'll let you run with it. But if I think you're showing any bias in the articles, I'll pull you off the story, got it?"
                "I completely understand," Clark said, nodding, glad that Perry was allowing him to devote some time to the case. "And I agree. The paper has a reputation to uphold."
                "Good man," Perry said, again patting Clark's shoulder.
                Turning, the editor left Clark's desk, heading to his own office. Clark watched in silence for a moment, his mind utterly devoid of thoughts. After a moment, his eyes naturally wandered to Lois' empty desk, and he wondered when she would arrive at work. Sighing, he closed out the story on his computer screen, and turned his attention to one of the others he was working on. Reaching to the neat stack of files on the left-most side of his desk, he took the top one and began to read through it, employing a small fraction of his speed to breeze through the notes, though not nearly fast enough to arouse any suspicion. Taking a yellow highlighter, Clark marked a few lines here, a paragraph there, of information he wanted to revisit.
                A peaceful hour passed in this fashion, until his powerful hearing picked up Lois' voice in the lobby as she chatted with Jimmy. Deciding it was as good a time as any for a coffee break, Clark stood and stretched. Rubbing the back of his neck in thought, he strode through the bullpen, which was slowly becoming more populated. He reached the coffee machine and poured two cups, fixing one to his taste and the other to Lois'. Taking one mug in each hand, he carried them both to their desks, placing Lois' down while he sipped at his, bringing it with him as he checked the fax machine.
                As promised, Inspector Henderson had sent him over the information on Alex Harwood's prior arrest record. Clark read it as he wandered back to his desk, shaking his head at the information he was seeing. Alex's record didn't surprise him in the least. Even back so many years ago, Clark had always suspected that Alex would have multiple run-ins with the law. He'd been a wild teen, and particularly cruel toward Clark. Not to mention the guys Alex used to hang out with. Jesse, the oldest of them, was currently serving a twenty year prison term for drug related crimes. Daryl, who Alex had perhaps been closest with, had died three years back in a drug and alcohol fueled car accident, when he'd gotten on the highway going the wrong way. His car had smashed into three others, killing seven people, before being hit by an oncoming tractor trailer. He hadn't stood a chance. Most of Alex's other companions were also in jail, or had been at one point in their life or another.
                Clark sat, blindly finding his seat, never taking his eyes off the rap sheet in his hand. He never looked up as the elevator dinged and Lois stepped out. He never stopped to watch as she came down the steps into the heart of the newsroom, though he was dimly aware of her presence. He was far too involved in reading and rereading the paper he held, looking for something - anything - which would help him figure out where he might find Alex.
                "Morning," Lois said, dropping her purse at her desk and grabbing the coffee he'd left for her.
                "Huh?" Clark asked, finally breaking from his thoughts. "Oh, sorry. Morning, Lois."
                "That must be some interesting reading," she remarked, pointing at the fax. "And thanks for the coffee."
                "No problem. And it's Alex's list of priors. Bill sent it over."
                "Anything of note?"
                Clark hesitated and shook his head. "Nothing yet. Everything looks sort of...I don't know. Random? There doesn't seem to be any discernible pattern here."
                "Mind if I take a look?" Lois asked, sipping her drink and taking the paper from Clark's hand.
                "Be my guest. And I wrote up the article," Clark offered. "I emailed it to you."
                "Thanks, I'll take a look now so we can get it over to Perry."
                "Great," Clark replied, nodding.
                "What time did you get here?" Lois asked, suddenly realizing how early Clark must have gotten into the office.
                "Six-thirtyish. I had a hard time sleeping. This whole case really bothers me."
                Lois nodded. "Me too. I kept thinking about that poor kid all night."
                "Yeah."
                "I'm guessing Superman didn't find anything." Her voice lowered to a whisper.
                "Nothing. And he was out until he could barely see straight. But Henderson is analyzing a hair sample that might give us a positive identification."
                "Oh," Lois said, perking up a little. "That's good."
                "It is. But we still need to find Alex. And neither Superman nor I have any idea where to even begin looking for him. He might not even be in the city anymore."
                "Could be," Lois conceded. "Except, he's already doomed."
                "How's that?" Clark asked, noticing the mischievous gleam in her eyes.
                "Well, it's just that he has no idea who is after him."
                "You mean, Superman," Clark said, his voice a mere whisper, as he absently made their flying gesture.
                "No," Lois said, shaking her head and giving him a smile.
                "No?"
                "No. I mean he has no idea that Lane and Kent are on to him. The best two reporters in the country."
                Clark had to grin a little at her words. "Isn't that a bit overconfident?"
                Again she shook her head. "Nope. It's the truth."
                "I hope you're right."
                "Of course I am."
                "Okay then. If we're going to catch him, we'd better get to work," Clark said, smiling up again at the woman he loved. "I doubt he's just going to wander in here and give himself up."
                "So," Lois said, leaning a hip against his desk. "Can I cash in my rain-check for last night's dinner for tonight?"
                "If it's all the same, I'm probably going to head straight out from the office tonight and see what I can find, if anything. Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to spend the night with you, have a nice little dinner, maybe a movie. But until Alex is found, I can't allow myself to stop looking."
                "He could be anywhere," Lois argued.
                "I know. But I need to be involved in the search. I can't allow Alex to destroy any more lives." His voice, once strong, ended on a forlorn note.
                "I know," Lois whispered. "I just don't want you to overdo it. I don't want you to obsess over this. Because if we can't find him..."
                "We will," Clark said firmly. "We have to."
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