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Here's the third story in a ::cough:: sort of series based on the movie Superman Returns. This one's got the same warnings as the other two (in other words, not many). Pretty much a G rating.
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.
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.
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