Chapters:
1. and he never lies"...And he never lies."
It hadn't seemed important at the time, when he was distracted by Kryptonite and watching Clark trip over his chair. Richard had missed out on the Superman phenomenon the first time around; you didn't become leading international editor of the Daily Planet by staying in one place, and despite Superman's powers, there were a lot of places in the world where he was nothing more than a legend. Still, the guy was cool. Seeing through anything? Best power ever.
Later, though, Lois' words floated back into his brain. He never lies. Really? Was that a strength, or a weakness, Richard wondered. There would be no dancing around the issue with Superman, no half-truths designed to soothe everyone's feelings. You could ask anything, straight out, and get an honest answer. "Did you sleep with Lois?" "Are you still in love with her?" "Are you the reason she won't marry me?" "Is Jason really my son?"
Richard winced even as the last question formed in his mind. He could ask the questions, and Superman would have to tell the truth, because he never lied. But it was Richard who would have to hear the answers.
So he bit his tongue, because there were some things he just wasn't ready to hear.
Sometimes he actually had to kick himself to keep the words from popping out. When Clark suggested 'Superman' as the password for Lois' computer, "How stupid do you think I am?" was on the tip of his tongue, and he couldn't quite hide the grimace as his shin connected with the desk.
Other times, he couldn't force the words out no matter how much he wanted. "Is this what you came back for?" reverberated in his skull from the moment they fished Superman out of the water until the second he stepped out of the plane, but Richard couldn't say a word.
But sitting in traffic gave a person a lot of time to think. Especially standstill traffic surrounding the thousands of people who were surrounding the hospital that Lois and Jason had walked away from him for. Richard told himself not to be so melodramatic -- they weren't leaving him, they were just going for a visit. They'd be back.
And in the silence of a car surrounded by noise, but somehow separate from it, there was one more question Richard didn't ask. Not out loud, not even as a fully formed thought in his own consciousness. That part of his brain was full of other questions -- How was he going to get the car out of this mess? Would they reschedule the Pulitzer ceremony for Lois? Did they need to pick up another inhaler refill for Jason?
But deep in his subconscious, there was a sense of time running out. Yes, Lois and Jason would be back. This time. But for how long?
**********************************************
It had taken Richard less than an hour to guess, and less than a day to be completely sure. At times it seemed like the guy wasn't even trying to hide it. Broken glass in the picture frame? Knowing Lois' password? Looking exactly the same? First came surprise, then irritation. And then, somehow, it became a kind of game; a "who else knows?" game. After all, there were top-notch investigative reporters all around him; surely someone else had noticed something.
Jimmy totally knew. If Richard had to guess, he'd say something Superman had done while rescuing Metropolis from the shock wave must have clued the photographer in. Because before that, Jimmy wouldn't shut up about the guy, and after it, Jimmy clammed up and looked guilty whenever the S-word was mentioned. So either Jimmy and Superman were having an illicit gay affair, or Jimmy knew.
Richard was pretty sure Perry knew too. Because seriously, did Clark ever actually do any work? He might have super-speed, but there was a limit to how fast any computer program could accept input, not to mention the wear and tear on the hardware components. In the time they spent "collaborating" on the blackout article, Clark had mostly seemed to wander around, getting coffee and tripping on things. Richard thought he was laying it on a little thick, but maybe that was for Lois' benefit.
Richard still didn't know how Lois had missed it all those years. In truth, he still wasn't sure if she was really as clueless as she acted about the whole thing, or if she was willfully denying the facts in front of her. The second seemed more likely, given Lois' personality, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.
**********************
He was sitting at the bar, drinking... something. He hadn't really paid attention to what the bartender handed him; it was in a bottle, which he vaguely remembered being his stated preference before he left. Before he was gone for five years, and forgot how to be human. Out of all the places he remembered from five years ago, this was the only one that didn't make him feel like an alien. That didn't make him feel like he was trying to fit into a skin that didn't fit right anymore, and maybe never had.
It had shaken him, to see his mother cry. To hear her say she'd thought he was never coming back. Even after that, he'd thought he could do it. Slip back into his old life -- bumble around at he Planet, save the world in his downtime. Five years it hadn't seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, not compared to what he'd seen out there in the galaxies.
But somewhere out there, out in the vast depths of the space between stars, he'd lost something. Oddly, it was the plane that really bothered him the most. His first official act as Superman after a five year hiatus, and in a ballpark full of people cheering his name, he'd felt like a fraud. He'd torn the wing off, for goodness sake. What kind of idiot tried to stop a plane in free fall by grabbing the wing? And then he'd set the plane down in a baseball field. And left it there. He'd been so flustered by... all of it, that he'd just flown off and left the plane sitting there in the middle of the diamond.
Clark groaned, and put his head down on his arms. Why had he come back? Why had he thought he could do this? Why did he keep living, even after he had prepared himself to die?
It had seemed so clear, when he realized what Lex Luthor was doing, and what would need to be done to stop it. He'd thought about it before, of course -- how to almost exponentially increase his power for a theoretical sort of 'final strike.' Never expected to actually do it. Never expected to live through it if he did.
But he'd torn the wing off of the plane. His brain refused to stay focused anything deeper, and stubbornly returned to his pathetic bumbling of the plane rescue. He'd torn the wing off, and then left it in a ballpark. Perry's question returned to him -- how were they going to get it out of there? He supposed he'd better offer his services, since it was his fault it was there in the first place.
Also, why couldn't he find an apartment? It's not like he had high standards. He didn't even need to sleep, which was the only reason storing his stuff in a closet at the Planet and super-speeding into a change of clothes every once in a while had worked so far. But it wasn't a permanent solution. And since he had, inexplicably, survived, he needed to find a place to live. He would admit only to himself that what he really needed was a reason to live. A reason to try.
He didn't remember it being this hard.
***************************
It was a victory, of sorts. In the days following Superman's recovery, when Clark's own life felt like it was falling apart, Superman asked for the case of Metropolis v. Lex Luthor to be reopened. This time it was Luthor who didn't show. His parole was revoked.
He was also tried, in absentia, for theft, weapons smuggling, reckless endangerment, kidnapping, falsifying a will, and assault. Even in Metropolis, there still weren't any laws covering things like 'tried to create a new landmass using alien crystal technology.' Likewise for 'climate disruption,' 'damage to oceanic ecosystems caused by introducing alien materials,' or 'being a jerk.' Lois Lane fought hard to see polluting and illegal dumping charges added to the list, but the city's lawyers had decided to stick with a sure thing.
Superman normally didn't get involved with the courts. It wasn't like another life sentence or two would stop Lex Luthor from trying to carry out whatever nefarious plan he came up with next. But it was a counter-move in the complex chess match they played with each other. A sort of 'anything you can do, I can do better,' move.
Superman even got himself a lawyer, and did all the paperwork required to keep any other criminals from escaping through what they were already calling the 'Luthor Loophole.' It felt... good. Petty revenge was a human emotion, right?
*******************************
He'd been prepared to like Clark. Jimmy mentioned him at least three times a day, and everyone at the Planet seemed to share the impression that Clark Kent was friendly, likeable, and an all-around good guy. Even Lois spoke about him like some kind of dorky little brother, which for her was high praise.
What he hadn't been prepared for was liking Superman. After all, Richard wasn't stupid. He'd known back when he first met Lois that anyone trying to win her heart would be competing with the "Man of Steel." He'd tried anyway, and won. Mostly.
But now Superman was back. He'd saved all their lives, Richard and Lois and Jason, without a hint of jealousy in his eyes. And Richard had checked. He had saved them, and then they'd gone back to save him, and then he left anyway, proving he really was the hero that everyone called him.
When it was all over, Richard was left feeling... guilty. He'd poached Superman's girlfriend. The guy saved the world every other day, never asked for anything in return, then goes away for a couple years and comes back to find some other guy has stolen his girlfriend.
It wouldn't have seemed so bad if Superman had been a jerk about it. But no, he had to be all heroic, and have a great sense of humor, and seem genuinely concerned about all three of them.
Plus, Superman was stalking his son. Richard wasn't stupid about that either. He lived in Metropolis, city of danger, with Lois Lane, the number one target of every psychotic criminal in the state. Obviously, they had security cameras. Every night, Superman would hover around outside Jason's window. Sometimes he came inside, and Jason always pretended to be asleep.
**************************
Lois was sick and tired of all the men in her life ignoring her. Richard spent all his time watching Clark, and Clark spent all his time watching Jason, who was spending his days at the Planet while his school was closed for repairs. Perry was hounding her to get another exclusive from Superman, who seemed to want to talk to everyone except her. Even Jimmy, who normally could be counted on to have all the latest gossip, had been avoiding her lately.
She really wanted a cigarette. Why couldn't Superman have stayed away? She'd moved on; things were fine. She had Richard, and Jason, and a normal life. It was what she'd always wanted, right?
She managed to keep herself convinced for a week. Then Jason went back to school, and Clark disappeared -- someone told her he was working on some fluff piece about animal shelters, not that she really cared. Richard went back to his office, and the worldwide furor over Superman's return dropped to a dull roar.
Everything was back to normal, but it still felt wrong. Five years ago, she'd mourned the loss of Superman, but gained something wonderful in return. She'd loved Superman before, she loved Richard now -- secretly, she'd been glad she never had to choose. Now Superman was back, but seemed further out of reach than ever, and the happy family she'd thought was finally within her grasp felt like it was slipping through her fingers.
**********************************
When Richard finally did the math, he was shocked. It took him a while to work through all the time zone differences, and he didn't know exactly how fast Superman could fly, but still -- did he ever sleep? Eat? Watch a movie? Some surreptitious checking showed that Superman hadn't been nearly as active before he'd gone on his five year break. Maybe he was making up for lost time?
Or maybe, Richard thought, he just didn't have any reason to stop.
Turnabout seemed to be fair play -- Clark stalked Jason, so Richard stalked Clark. What could he say, he'd always had a thing for glasses. Plus, for a superhero with a secret identity? Pretty predictable. There were two times of day when he could be fairly sure of catching a glimpse of his quarry. One was Superman's nightly visit to Jason. The other was Clark's nightly visit to the journalist's bar next to the Planet.
Of course, there was always the traditional 'stand somewhere precarious and scream for help' technique as well. Richard thought Lois was doing a fine job handling that aspect, though, so he went with the second option. He didn't want Clark to be able to fly away from this conversation.
Because Richard was finally ready. He had a list of questions, and Superman never lied.
*******************************
"Hey Clark."
iPods, Clark thought, were the best invention he'd missed while he'd been away. Not only did they play music, they provided an excellent excuse for ignoring people that you didn't want to talk to. See, Clark Kent was polite, that's what everyone said. He'd never ignore someone who was trying to get his attention. But when he was listening to his iPod... well, Kent had always been a little absentminded, right? Probably just had it turned up too loud and didn't hear you.
"You here to take Kent home?" It was the gruff voice of the bartender. Probably talking to Richard.
Clark ignored them. He didn't want to talk to Richard. Wasn't it enough that he had Lois and Jason? Clark wasn't interfering; he was leaving them alone, to be a happy family, live the American dream. Okay, he was still checking in on Jason, but only when the boy was asleep, and he was going to stop, really, any day now. He'd been avoiding Lois like the plague -- neither one of them seemed willing to play the game anymore, and it was easier to not have to pretend.
"Why, is he giving you trouble?" Richard again, sounding disbelieving.
Clark resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He still wasn't sure why Richard hadn't confronted him before this, either to interrogate or to gloat. He really hoped it wasn't the gloating -- as much as Clark wanted to hate the man, he seemed nice. Lois was lucky to have him.
"Nah, not me," the bartender responded. "But he's depressing the other customers."
The bar was almost deserted. It was hard to tell if the few customers remaining were seated far from Clark by choice or coincidence. It was almost closing time, after all.
"Hey Clark."
Much closer this time, and Richard sat down on the stool to his left. Too close to ignore. Clark pulled the headphones down from his ears.
"Oh!" he said. "Uh, hi Richard -- what are you doing here? Where's Lois?"
"Lois is at home, with Jason. Can I give you a lift anywhere?"
"No -- no, I'm good. I'll just walk... you know, clear my head a little."
Richard's eyes were full of knowledge when he spoke again. "Come on, how many ties have you gone through this week? How many pairs of shoes? You can't have an endless supply in those suitcases of yours. Which are already in my car, by the way."
Clark just stared at him. What?
"Look, you haven't found a place to stay yet. We have lots of extra room. Come stay at the house for a couple days." Richard actually sounded sincere. He even reached over to tug on Clark's arm. "The invitation is from all of us," he said firmly. "It'll be great, I promise."
It must be the interrogation, then. Of course Richard wouldn't want to do that where other people could hear; it made perfect sense. Although paying Clark's tab wasn't typically a part of the scenario. The car ride was an uncomfortable silence, at least on Clark's end. He kept waiting for the questions to start.
But Richard didn't ask. Didn't say a word, except to tell Clark his bags were in the trunk, and show him a room. He pointed out where the towels were, and wished Clark a good night.
And for the first time since arriving back on Earth, Clark slept.
**************************************
Richard didn't generally consider himself to be a very introspective person. He was a doer, not a thinker, and he was happy not to waste a lot of time comtemplating potential ramifications. It just seemed weird, sometimes, that they never talked about it.
****************************************
Perry thought it was great. Between the three of them, he usually got about a day and a half's worth of work, but that was a hell of a lot more than he'd been getting before Clark came back. Lois and Jason both attracted trouble like magnets, and between Richard, Clark, and Superman, they managed a tag-team that averted the worst of the crises. Plus, there was just something totally cool about having a superhero on the payroll.
*****************************************
Clark slid into his seat at the meeting five minutes late. He'd meant to be on time, but there had been a traffic pileup, and a warehouse fire, and... well, five minutes late didn't seem too bad, considering.
From his right, he heard Lois whisper, "Glasses." Oops. He kept forgetting -- after five years, not wearing them seemed more natural than having them on. Clark's mind raced to come up with a solution. He'd used the spare pair in his desk on Tuesday, after the bomb threat, and the ones in the car on Wednesday when that bank had been robbed. He could fly home, but Perry was expecting him to have an article finished soon, and it was his day to pick Jason up at school.
There was a nudge from his left, and Richard passed him something under the table. Clark's hand closed around a familiar shape, and he ducked his head to hide a smile. He slipped on the glasses, and went back to pretending to take notes on whatever Perry was saying.
"Thanks."
"So, the hair thing. How does that work?"
It was a question Richard could only have asked in the dark. He and Clark were sitting on the back porch, looking out over the water. Lois was working late, and Jason was asleep, or at least supposed to be.
"What hair thing?"
Richard tried not to pester Clark about his powers. It was just one of those things they didn't talk about. But he'd tried to figure this one out on his own, and now it was eating his brain and he just had to ask.
Still, he blushed as he explained. "You know," he said awkwardly, gesturing towards his own forehead even as he kept his eyes glued firmly to the water. "The curl thing. How do you get it to do that?"
"Oh... uh, well... It's kind of... complicated."
Richard glanced sideways, and then back to the ocean. It had never been formally acknowledged who knew what, but around the house, Clark never pulled the bumbling klutz act. The earnestness, though, seemed authentic, as did his discomfort whenever the conversation focused on him.
Richard counted nineteen boats before Clark spoke again. "I don't know, exactly. It sort of... does it on its own, when I think about... you know. I just... expect it to be that way, and it is. Like the suit."
Now, the suit was a whole different set of questions, so Richard was going to let that comment go. Because... "Are you saying you have thought-controlled hair?"
"Uh -- yes? Sort of?" Clark was practically squirming in his seat by that point.
Richard leaned back against the porch swing, setting it into motion. "That is so cool."
***************************
It was hours later when Lois finally arrived home. Richard was asleep, sprawled out on the swing. Clark had moved to the porch steps, but he stood up when Lois poked her head through the back door.
"Hi Lois."
"Don't you 'hi Lois' me," she snapped. Richard, who had opened his eyes at the sound of the door opening, hastily closed them again. There was something weird going on between those two, something more than what he'd been able to figure out. Maybe this was his chance -- and either way, he did not want to get involved.
"Lois..."
"No. I'm sick of this. You do not get to just waltz back into my life -- into all our lives -- without a little more than an 'I'm sorry.'"
There was an abortive sound from Clark's direction, but Lois cut him off. "Because I've done this before, haven't I? But this time it's not just me, Clark. It's Jason, and Richard. What's going to happen to us when we get too close, when you decide you can't handle it anymore? What are you going to do then? Are you going to kiss all of us?"
Whoa, hold on there. Kissing? Not that Clark wasn't cute, but what the hell was Lois talking about?
Clark's voice was soft, and Richard had to strain to hear the words. "It wasn't -- I didn't -- I was trying to keep you safe."
"That's bullshit, and you know it. Newsflash, Clark, I was getting myself into -- and out of -- trouble, long before I met you. You didn't make me forget to keep me safe, you did it to keep you safe. You never trusted me to keep your secrets."
"That's not it." Richard wished Clark would speak up. "I'm just..."
"Not used to thinking about other people's feelings? Not able to believe someone else might have a different perspective on things? It was my life too, Clark, and I deserved to have a say in it. If you can't realize that -- if you can't stop making decisions for me, instead of with me, you will not be welcome in this house."
There was silence. And then...
"... Okay."
*************************************
Jason frowned as his mom handed him more vitamins. He didn't like vitamins. They tasted gross, and once he'd almost choked when he'd tried to swallow all of them at the same time. To distract himself, he looked at Clark.
"Why do you wear glasses?"
"Well, Jason -- people wear glasses because it helps them to see better," Clark said slowly. Jason nodded. Like his mom -- she always put on her glasses when she was reading stuff.
Clark's smile faded at Jason's next statement. "But you already see the best. You don't need to see better."
Jason drank some of his juice while the grown-ups looked at each other. He wondered if they could talk to each other without opening their mouths. That would make it a lot harder to listen in on what they were saying.
Clark didn't say anything for a long time. Jason fidgeted in his chair.
"I don't know." Jason frowned again. That wasn't a very good answer.
"It's a -- well, it's like -- Superman has a special outfit, right?"
Jason nodded. "Yeah."
"Yes," his mom corrected.
"Yes," Jason repeated, and his mom smiled at him.
"And it's important that Superman wears his special outfit, right? So people know who he is?"
That made sense, so Jason nodded again. If someone didn't recognize Superman, how would they know it was okay to let him rescue them?
"Well, my glasses are part of my special Clark outfit. So people recognize me as Clark Kent."
Jason tilted his head to the side, and Clark seemed to guess what his next question was going to be. He took his glasses off.
"You look different." Clark was smiling, but he looked sad. Jason didn't want him to be sad. "But I still recognize you," he added quickly.
Clark didn't say anything, but his smile looked more happy. And then his mom was carrying his juice glass to the sink, and his dad was ruffling his hair, and he had to run and get his backpack from his room so he could go to school.
*************************************
Objectively speaking, Richard had known that eventually, one of them was going to run into trouble. Things had been relatively quiet since Superman had left the hospital, like even the villains were giving him a chance to recover, but he knew it couldn't last forever. Sooner or later, one of them was going to wind up in a situation they couldn't get themselves out of on their own. He just hadn't thought it would be him.
From a statistical point of view, it should have been Lois. She was the one who seemed drawn to trouble like a magnet. She was even spending the day investigating a group of businessmen that she suspected were selling illegal weapons components. That sounded dangerous, right?
Or Jason -- he was supposed to be in school, which was supposed to be safe -- but more and more Richard was realizing that "supposed to be" rarely applied when it came to Jason.
If there was one person who shouldn't have been in danger that day, it was Richard. All he had to do was cover the opening of the newest Gotham International Bank, and then interview the manager about how they planned to use micro-loans and flexible pay schedules to finance entrepreneurship in developing countries. See? Boring. Safe.
And apparently attended by a group of international terrorists. Richard didn't know how they'd gotten into the bank; he'd had to show three forms of I.D. and his press pass just to get past the first wave of security. But they'd done it, and now he was locked in a vault with the richest man in Gotham.
Bruce Wayne was a pacer, which was annoying, but at least he was doing it on the other side of the vault. Wayne's dislike of the press was well known, and Richard was trying to keep a low profile. If they'd been in any normal city, like Metropolis, the terrorists would have been listing their demands, or planting explosives, or at least have some kind of vaguely logical plan. But no -- this was Gotham, the city where all criminals seemed to be afflicted with some form of mental illness.
They were probably singing. Richard couldn't hear anything through the walls of the vault, but that's what they had been doing when they closed the door. Most of them, anyway. One had taken the time to tell Richard that he really should be honored, because he'd been chosen as a symbol of the corrupt press, and that his being imprisoned with the symbol of corporate greed in an institution of destructive capitalism was the first step in awakening people to the new reality.
Richard wasn't feeling very awakened. He was feeling hungry, and getting a lot more worried about what the second step was going to be. Honestly, this seemed like the perfect moment for Superman to swoop in and save the day. Surely the hostages that had been released had spread the word about what was happening, right?
Maybe it was different in Gotham than Metropolis. Wasn't Gotham Batman's city? Richard thought Batman only worked at night, which would mean a long wait, but maybe there was some kind of superhero etiquette.
Just then there was the sound of wrenching metal, and Superman stood where the door had just been, hands on his hips. "Is everyone all right?"
Richard nodded, and then watched in disbelief as Superman's smile turned into what could only be called a smirk when he turned towards Bruce Wayne.
Wayne scowled. "Was that really necessary?" he asked. "We're going to have to replace the whole door now."
"It was on a timer," Superman said, all innocence. "You know how those are."
Richard couldn't believe it. Was Superman engaging in witty banter? With Bruce Wayne?
"Yeah, well, I was working on it."
"I keep telling you, never underestimate the importance of a healthy breakfast," Superman said, in his best 'public service announcement' voice.
Wayne actually laughed. "You sound like Alfred." Then he nodded in Richard's direction. "This is White, right? I like him."
Richard's eyebrows rose involuntarily. What? All he'd done was sit in the corner -- they hadn't even spoken. But Superman nodded, and smiled again.
"Me too."
******************************
"He's involved in almost every major charity in Gotham." Jimmy nodded to emphasize his words. "A lot of the minor ones, too."
Where did Jimmy come up with information like that? Richard had always maintained that photographers must have a lot of extra time on their hands, if the amount of gossip Jimmy had access to was anything to go by. He'd come into Richard's office to run some photos by him for the bank hostage article, but had stayed to impart a seemingly endless barrage of facts about Bruce Wayne.
"Did you know that Wayne Industries actually designed the security system at that bank?"
Richard mumbled a vague sort of neutral response -- once Jimmy got on a roll, he didn't really need any encouragement. Richard was only half listening anyway, but the conversation gave him an excuse to not be working. If he leaned just to the left of Jimmy, he had a perfect view of both Clark's and Lois' desks.
Clark kept staring at Lois. Lois knew it, and was pretending to ignore it. Every few minutes, she would 'accidentally' make eye contact, and ask for some random office supply, which -- of course -- he handed right over. Staplers, pens, post-it notes -- at the rate they were going, Clark's desk would be completely empty by the end of the day.
"Actually, it's sort of surprising that he was there for the opening; he usually tries to avoid stuff like that."
"Really?" Richard shifted in his chair so he could look around Jimmy on the other side. Clark had just gone for coffee -- and there he was, predictably carrying an extra mug as he walked back towards Lois' desk. Richard rolled his eyes. They were like two grade schoolers with a crush on each other.
"Boy, I bet he was pissed to be locked inside that vault."
It was Jimmy's emphasis on Wayne being upset that had Richard finally turning to look at him. "What?"
"Did he say anything to you? It must have been weird to have Superman rescue you -- talk about awkward."
Out in the newsroom, Clark walked into a filing cabinet. Not for the first time, Richard wondered just how many conversations the 'Man of Steel' could pay attention to at once. He thought about the odd exchange in the bank, thought about how in the world Clark Kent would know Bruce Wayne. Or how Superman would know... Oh. Really? Wayne? It would certainly explain his dislike of the press.
"I dunno, Jimmy," Richard said calmly. "It seemed like pretty much the standard Superman save and run to me." He noticed that Clark had managed to save both mugs of coffee. "Why would it be awkward?"
"Oh -- well, you know -- no reason, really." As expected, Jimmy started backpedaling as soon as he was questioned. "Hey, did you ever get some lunch? 'Cause you looked pretty hungry when you came in."
Richard stood up. "Food sounds great, Jimmy. You thinking Chinese? I could definitely go for some egg rolls right now."
*****************************
Five minutes later, they had take-out orders from half the newsroom. On his way past Lois' desk, Richard snitched Clark's pen and put it in his pocket. He grinned all the way to the elevators.
Looking back, Richard's only excuse was that everyone had been going a little crazy right then. Two of his writers went on maternity leave at the same time -- why did it always seem to happen like that? -- and he ended up covering most of their work loads. Lois' corrupt businessmen turned out to be a lot more corrupt than anyone suspected, and she was in her element -- when she wasn't at the Planet, she was holed up in her office at home, phoning and typing long into the night. Even Jason was extra-busy; his school was putting on a play, and every spare minute was given over to reciting lines and discussing costumes.
In the midst of all this, Clark's announcement that he was taking a couple days off to visit his mom seemed unremarkable. "I'm going to take a couple days off this week," he'd said, "Go see my mom."
"Is everything all right?" Lois had asked immediately. "She's doing well?" Richard was reminded once again that Lois and Clark had known each other long before he'd met either of them, and wondered what that must have been like.
"Everything's fine," Clark said.
It hadn't seemed like too big of a leap to assume that "everything's fine" meant that everything was, in fact, fine, and that Clark was merely taking a few days off to go visit with his mother. He heard from Perry that Clark had already turned in a week's worth of articles, and Clark had even made arrangements with another parent at Jason's school for the days when Clark usually picked him up.
So when Clark didn't show up for breakfast the next day, everyone knew that he had gone home to Smallville, and would be back soon.
*******************************
Three days later, Richard's cell phone rang. The lack of caller I.D. information was unusual, but not unheard of. "Hello?"
"Is this Richard White?"
The voice didn't sound familiar, and Richard's brain suddenly kicked into overdrive. Potential scenarios cascaded through his mind. Something had happened to Jason, and the school was calling. It was an anonymous source with a breaking news tip. It was a psychotic stalker with a personal vendetta against him for his articles. That kind of thing usually only happened to Lois, but maybe it was contagious or something.
"This is White," he said, wary. "Who is this?"
"This is Bruce Wayne," the voice said.
"Oh -- hello, Mr. Wayne. What can I do for you today?" Richard hastily tried to recover, but the sigh on the other end of the line told him he hadn't quite succeeded.
"I just thought you should know that Kent isn't in Smallville."
What?
Richard's brain was frantically trying to catch up with the information it was being presented with: Bruce Wayne was on the phone, and wanted to tell him something about Clark. There must be an appropriate response, but his brain was stuck on 'What?'
"He's not?" Richard managed finally, standing up to close his office door.
"No. He's at Wayne Manor. Possibly having a nervous breakdown." The voice sounded completely serious, and Richard frowned in confusion.
"Are you sure?" He wasn't sure which part he was asking for confirmation about -- they both seemed almost completely unbelievable.
"Trust me; I have some experience with this," Wayne said in a wry voice. "Look, I have to go; I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn't worry."
Wayne hung up. Richard stared at the phone. That was so he wouldn't worry?
********************************
Clark had always lived alone, at least since moving to Metropolis. It was a relief to be able to drop all of the disguises, and just be... himself. Not Superman, but not really Clark Kent either. They were like polar opposites, and all he wanted was a chance to find the middle ground. Alone in his apartment, he could at least super-speed through doing the dishes.
But he'd given up his old apartment when he decided to look for Krypton, and now the whole building had been turned into a high-rise office complex. Besides, ever since he'd gotten back... well, it was weird, because it hadn't really bothered him when he'd first gotten back. Popping up into space from time to time had seemed familiar, even comforting.
Then he'd woken up in that hospital, utterly convinced -- and terrified -- that somehow he'd lost another five years. He still couldn't quite shake the feeling that if he went away -- if he was alone -- he'd come back and everything would be different. Again.
Staying with Lois and Richard and Jason had seemed like the perfect solution. Between the three of them, he never felt alone. Plus, they all knew he was Superman, and never made a big deal about it. They all seemed content to just act like everything was normal, and he was fine with that. Wasn't being normal what he had always wished for?
He should have known it couldn't last. He felt like he was losing himself, piece by piece; a little more every day. The Clark Kent that Lois knew had always been an act, and most people didn't look far enough past the suit to make him feel like even a real person as 'Superman.' He thought Richard might have seen him -- the real him -- once, when their eyes met over Lois' unconscious body, and they were all soaking wet, and the sea was raging, and the possibility of death was on everyone's minds. But there were too many unresolved issues between them, and the silence that had started out feeling like acceptance had turned stifling, and he couldn't take it any more. He had to get away, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.
So here he was. Couldn't be alone, couldn't handle being around anyone else. He and Bruce had never really been friends, but no one -- even people who didn't know any of his secrets -- would call Bruce Wayne normal. And he had enough issues of his own that he was willing to offer refuge without trying to help, which Clark appreciated.
He didn't fly back to check on them, but he did listen in, every night, as Jason practiced his lines.
*********************************
It took Richard more than 24 hours to come up with a phone number that he was reasonably sure would ring at Wayne Manor. It was certainly ringing somewhere. A lot.
He leaned back in his chair as far as it would go and swiveled slightly back and forth. The best part about listening to the phone ring was that it looked like you were busy, so people were less likely to interrupt you.
It was Friday afternoon; Clark had been gone since Tuesday morning. Richard wanted to know what was going on. He had tried Clark's cell phone first, and second, and repeatedly ever since, but it was either turned off or the battery was drained. Lois insisted that disappearances like this were normal, but there was worry in her eyes.
He watched her out in the newsroom, coloring with Jason. They were beautiful together; the two people he would move heaven and earth for to keep safe and happy. He wasn't sure if his determination about this whole Clark issue was because of the man's impact on Lois and Jason, or --
"Wayne Manor," a breathless voice suddenly spoke into his ear. "May I ask who's calling?"
Richard blinked in surprise. That voice definitely didn't belong to Bruce Wayne, or Clark, and it sounded too young to be the infamous butler that usually acted as Wayne's gatekeeper.
"This is Richard White," he said, hoping he wasn't about to get into a lot of trouble.
His name was repeated back to him, slowly, like it was being written down somewhere. "Richard... White... okay -- wait, are you the guy from the vault? From the Daily Planet?"
With the last question, the tone shifted suddenly to accusatory. Richard guessed that reporters were generally not considered welcome callers at Wayne Manor. "Yes," he admitted. "But this isn't official. I'm looking for Clark Kent."
There was a long pause. Richard hoped more writing was going on. "Kent, huh? Well, I'll make sure he gets the message."
And then there was nothing. Richard was convinced that whoever it was he'd just spoken to, they had learned all their phone skills from Bruce Wayne, because he was once again left staring at the phone, wondering what the hell had just happened.
********************************
If Clark had ever thought about it, and he hadn't, he would have assumed that dinner at a place like Wayne Manor was a formal event -- there was a butler! -- possibly with some stilted conversation exchanged over a huge table.
Except for the butler part, he would have been completely wrong.
The table was kind of big for just four people, but it seemed a lot smaller once the holographic display was turned on, creating an odd sort of "centerpiece." Clark squinted, but couldn't make the wavy blue lines resolve into anything coherent.
Alfred sighed. "Must we do this at the dinner table?" he asked.
"Come on, Alfred, please? It's for my senior project." Clark had just met Dick Grayson that afternoon, but he seemed nice. He took good phone messages, at least.
Alfred sighed again, but he pushed a large bowl of salad towards the edge of the table.
"More like your super-senior project," Bruce muttered, moving his glass out of the display.
Oh. It was a... building?
"Hey, at least I'm going to graduate," Dick said with a laugh. "Unlike some people I could mention."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
Dick ignored Bruce, and looked at Clark. "I totally would have finished last semester -- made it all the way to finals week, no Robin stuff, I'm coming home on the train to get some studying done, and the train gets hijacked."
Out of the corner of his eye, Clark could see Bruce rolling his eyes. "I got away pretty quickly," Dick said, gesturing with a fork, "but I had to leave my backpack, and then when we got back, I swear, they were burning my textbooks."
"Obviously, the 'Grim Reader' didn't appreciate the value of a good education," Al said dryly.
"Yeah, and what was up with that name? The 'Grim Reader'? That's just embarassing."
'Stupid villain names' morphed easily into 'stupid excuses to go do something heroic.' Clark had pretty much given up on making excuses, but he was impressed by the creativity required to maintain a secret identity and pass college classes. Apparently Dick had convinced most of his professors that he was plagued by terrible allergies, and, in his own words, "I have a wide variety of fictional and illness-prone relatives."
By the end of the meal, Clark still didn't know what the display was supposed to be, but he decided it didn't matter.
**************************
It was night, and Clark wondered if he should be looking for meaning in the fact that he'd been having so many conversations under the cover of darkness recently. "Thanks for dinner."
"Alfred always goes a little overboard when Dick comes home."
"He's a great cook." What he wanted to say was 'You have a great family'.
"I know."
"It's quiet tonight."
"I guess everyone needs a little time off every once in a while."
"Yeah."
There was a long moment of silence.
"Look, I'm not very good at this."
The helping thing? The family thing? Being nice?
"And you know you're welcome to stay. But there's a difference between taking time off and "
More silence.
"You should go home."
"I know."
**********************************
Richard wasn't sure what woke him up early on Saturday morning. The house was quiet. Lois always slept in on Saturdays, and Jason had slept through the night again -- he hadn't had a nightmare all week.
It wasn't until Richard reached the top of the staircase that he could hear the low hum of the television. As he made his way down, he wasn't entirely surprised to see Jason's sleep-ruffled hair sticking up over the sofa cushions, or the bright colors of some Saturday morning cartoon flashing by on the tv screen.
He was surprised to see the much taller head of ruffled hair sticking up over the opposite corner of the sofa, but it made him smile just the same.
Clark was back.