Blind

[Lady Gwenevere Smith]

Blind

Writers Block

Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings. Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest. The blessing is in the seed.
— Muriel Rukeyser, American poet

Lois Lane’s long fingers hovered over her computer keyboard, restless and unsure. What more could she say about Superman that she hadn’t already said a thousand times over? He was heroic, selfless and charming beyond compare. His feats never ceased to astonish and captivate the cynical public, and even she, as cold hearted and indifferent as she was, had to admit that he left her in awe at almost every turn. That was why she had fallen in love with him. He was so unreachable, so perfect, so otherworldly and so handsome, that he surely couldn’t have been real.

Yet he was. And he wanted her. They had been so in love, and apparently made love at least once—Jason was proof of that. Then, suddenly, Superman was gone. Planes fell out of the sky, and fires raged. He didn’t come, and people started to panic. Was this the apocalypse? Her hurt and confusion, her anger and sense of abandonment had fueled her to write that article, “Why the World Doesn’t Need Superman.” Lois bowed her head slightly at the thought. She had been so wounded at the time that she was blinded to all the good that he stood for, and that maybe, just maybe, he needed to think about himself for once and go on his five year trip to the remains of Krypton.

However, when he had returned in typically dramatic fashion and rescued her from the nearly disastrous shuttle launch, all those old feelings had come rushing back as fast as the 777 had plummeted towards earth. Lois tried desperately to remain calm and level headed, and she even tried to convince him, and more importantly herself, that she didn’t need a savior. In reality, she was glad he was back. She was more than glad; she was ecstatic, not that she’d ever admit it. But things were so complicated now. There was Jason, and she was engaged and soon to be married to Richard White, a super-man in his own right. She loved Richard, she really did. After all, he had been a father to Jason despite not being the child’s biological father. Richard had cleaned Jason’s diapers, and seen his first steps. Richard was irreplaceable, and no matter how much she still loved Superman, Richard would always be Jason’s dad. But…he couldn’t leap building in a single bound or haul continents into outer space.

Lois sighed, and plucked her reading glasses off her delicate nose. With one fluid motion, she whirled around in her chair and stalked off towards the elevator’s in the Daily Planet. She needed some fresh air. As soon as she stepped onto the roof of her beloved newspaper, she looked over to the side of the building out of habit. He wasn’t there, and why should he be? Lois snorted. No doubt he was off saving some poor fool who fell out of a window, or saving an old lady’s cat that had climbed the tree and was too scared to come down. No, he wouldn’t be there, standing in all his magnificently caped glory, waiting for her. He didn’t do that anymore, not after she had told him that she didn’t want to see him anymore, not on a personal level, and rarely on a professional level. She had made her decision. And though she often thought of what life would be like to be Mrs. Superman, she knew that was a little fantasy of long ago. Richard and Jason were her life now. And she would have to come to peace with that one day.

A slight breeze ruffled Lois’s dark, unkempt hair. Her head snapped around to see…nothing.

He’s not standing on the ledge of the Daily Planet, Lois. You know that, she chided herself.

With a snort of indignation, Lois rummaged around in her purse and pulled out her pack of sugar-free cinnamon chewing gum. She had decided to give up smoking, not for her own health or because Superman told her it was bad for her, like she was stupid and didn’t already know, but because she didn’t want to be a bad influence on Jason. He was still a little fragile, piano tossing skills aside. In fact, it seemed that besides no longer needing his inhaler, he was basically the same child he had always been. Lois spent many a night staying up, worrying about her son and the possibility of him being Superboy. And what scared her more than the idea that her beloved child might one day grow up to be like his biological father and don a spandex suit and whiz off to save the world was the idea that someone, namely Lex Luthor, who was still at large a year after he had tried to destroy the world, would try and kidnap Jason and do Lord knows what to him. What if the government, like in so many movies, decided to take Jason and experiment on him? Lois couldn’t bear the thought. She’d die to protect him.

Once back inside the bullpen, Lois sat down to type her article, and still nothing came to her. She lazily typed a few lackluster sentences, but quickly deleted them. The cursor blinked monotonously at her, as though it were waiting disinterestedly to transfer her ideas to the screen. Lois glanced down to her right, where her notes were….except they weren’t there.

Where the hell did my notes go? Lois thought exasperatedly as she rummaged around her desk to find them.

“Having trouble?” Richard asked pleasantly from where he was standing behind her.

He smiled broadly, his light blue eyes twinkling merrily, as usual, and he bent down to give her a kiss on the top of her head, but she moved out of the way to rifle through her filing cabinet.

“I can’t find my notes anywhere. I put them right there, next to my mouse, and now they’re not there,” Lois explained with obvious annoyance.

“You mean these notes here?” Richard asked as he leaned over Lois and picked up the yellow legal pad that was lying innocently next to her mouse.

“Huh? Oh, thanks Richard. Where did you find them?” she asked as she greedily snatched the notebook away, giving him a rather nasty paper cut in the process.

“Ow!” he exclaimed as he shook his hand in pain.

“What?!” she snapped in surprise.

“You gave me a paper cut!” he replied in fake indignation.

Lois rolled her eyes, and pulled out her top left desk drawer. After fumbling around, she managed to find the last of the Cookie Monster band-aids that she kept for Jason.

“Here, use this,” she said brusquely as she shoved the bent and slightly dirty band-aid package into his hand.

“Ah! Cookie Monster, my favorite. Will you kiss my boo-boo and make it better?” Richard asked with a mischievous grin.

Lois harrumphed and quickly leaned over to peck Richard’s “injured” thumb.

“Now go away and let me get to work!” she reprimanded him playfully.

“Yes ma’am!” he laughed.

Mockingly he saluted her, and then sauntered over to Clark Kent’s desk where Jason was busily chattering with the mild-mannered reporter.

“Hey big guy! Are you ready to go home?” Richard asked kindly as he swept his son up into a big hug.

“Yeah,” Jason said quietly.

“Hey thanks, Clark, for watching him .You won’t have to do this much longer, because Jason is going to start having art lessons after school with Miss Sara, isn’t that right, Jason?”

The child shook his shaggy head in affirmation, and flashed a small smile very reminiscent of one Big Blue Boy Scout, and waved goodbye to Clark.

“Bye Mr. Clark,” he said sadly.

“Goodbye, Jason,” Clark replied nonchalantly, though his heart ached privately at the thought of no more afternoons spent coloring and doing homework with his son.

Richard carried Jason out the bullpen and to the elevator, where he waited for the bell to ding and the doors to open, allowing father and son to descend to the street level and make their way home. Richard stepped in, and as the doors slid shut and he and Jason descended to the lobby; Clark watched them leave with his x-ray vision. A small smile played on his shapely lips as his sapphire eyes connected with those of his baby boy. The boy smiled back slightly at his biological father, a knowing look in his eyes. He could see Mr. Clark too. A few moments later, the golden doors slid open to reveal an unusually empty elevator.

Jason may have only been six years old, but he was a very perceptive boy. He knew that Clark and Superman were one and the same, and he’d heard his Mommy saying something about Superman being his father to his Daddy. Jason didn’t quite understand what that meant, but he trusted his Mommy when she said that he would understand in time. He just enjoyed the times he got to play with Superman when he came to visit on the weekends and sometimes during the week if he had time. Superman would take him flying and ask him about school and other things, but most of the time, they just spent time together, enjoying the connection that their special heritage afforded them. Superman told him stories about the planet he was from, Krypton. The quite child was very sad that the planet no longer existed; he liked learning about other planets, and wanted to go see them all one day.

Jason knew that when Superman wore his cape he was Superman, but when he wore his glasses he was Mr. Clark. Jason wasn’t quite sure why he needed glasses, but he didn’t ask. Maybe Mr. Clark just thought he looked cool with them on, though Mommy certainly didn’t think so. Jason had heard her laughing at Mr. Clark once when he pushed up his glasses, and she had asked why Mr. Clark didn’t just get contacts. Mr. Clark had said that he didn’t like putting things in his eyes. Jason agreed. Who would want to stick themselves in the eye on purpose?

[Lady Gwenevere Smith]

Jason remembered that Mr. Clark had told him not to tell anyone that he was Superman; it was a secret and he needed Jason to keep it for him. He wasn’t sure why the fact that Mr. Clark was Superman was a secret, to him it was blatantly obvious they were the same person, but he gladly kept the knowledge to himself. He was proud to keep a secret for Mr. Clark.

Clark watched Jason and Richard avidly all the way to the street until they got in Richard’s blue sedan, and then he listened to them as they drove home. Clark smiled, and let out an involuntary sigh. He loved the sound of Jason’s little voice, the way it percolated and ebbed and flowed; Clark knew that he was biased, but he thought his son was the most well-spoken, most intelligent, and most talented six year old alive.

When the mild mannered reporter was sure Jason and Richard were safe at their Riverside home, he resumed typing his article on the recent decline in gas prices. He typed quickly, his long, strong fingers dancing nimbly across the keys.

“You know I really hate you Smallville,” Lois said playfully from her desk across the aisle.

“E-excuse me?” he gulped as he looked up from his flat screen monitor.

“You’re typing up a storm, and here I am, a Pulitzer Prize winner, and I can’t even think of a topic sentence for my latest Superman ass-kissing article. I hate you and your lack of writers block,” she complained.

“Oh. Well, have you tried using a thesaurus?” he asked in an attempt to be helpful.

“Why, thank you Captain Obvious! I never thought of that!” she retorted.

“Oh. Um. Sorry, I should have known you would have thought of that already, Lois. You are the Pulitzer Prize winner, after all,” Clark said ashamedly.

“Yeah, I am, and you aren’t. Listen, I gotta go. Tell Perry I’ll email him my story tonight. See you later, Smallville.”

“Goodbye, Lois.”

And with that, she stomped out of the bullpen and to the elevators. Clark also watched her leave, just like he did Jason and Richard. The softly glowing lights of the elevator basked Lois in a heavenly glow, and seemed to personify Clark’s belief that she was an angel.

Suddenly, a sharp cry for help reached his ears. With a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was watching, Superman super sped out of the bullpen and into the elevator shaft, where he changed in the blink of an eye, and zoomed off to avert whatever impending crime or crisis that required his help.

***

WHHHOOOOMP!

He landed with a thump on the starboard side of the sinking Grecian yacht, and immediately scanned it for trapped victims. There were two little girls struggling to break free from the mattress that had pinned them against the wall.

ZZZOOTTTT!

Superman blasted another hole in the vessel to allow the water to drain away from the girls and into the galley as he began to carefully peel back the steel siding, avoiding the electrical wiring so that he wouldn’t electrocute the girls. In a matter of seconds, he ripped apart the hull, swooped in and freed the girls, and gently coddled them in his strong arms as he flew away from the wreckage. They shivered and clung to him tightly, the older one looking up at him with large, tearful hazel eyes that seemed to both fear and adore him. He flew over to an orange, inflatable raft where members of the Coast Guard were rushing to the site of the wreck. One of the men spotted the flying alien, and shouted in his native language to the driver of the boat to stop.

Superman floated gracefully to the edge of the raft, and handed the girls off to their mother, who was sobbing and wailing with joy. She didn’t even look up at him or say thank you, but simply hugged and kissed her daughters, thankful that they were alive. Superman smiled ruefully at the scene, thinking of how he would like to be able to shower affection on his child so freely. With a small smile to the Coast Guard officer who saw him first and ordered the boat to stop as a result, the Man of Steel flew away, back to the Daily Planet where he would try to grab a few hours of sleep in the broom closet before he went back to work.

***

[Lady Gwenevere Smith]

“Ok everybody, listen up. Our subscription numbers have just come in, and they’re higher than ever. It seems the public has an insatiable appetite for all things Superman. Well then, let’s give them what they want. Lane, get me an interview with that old woman he saved last night as she nearly ran everybody over in the farmers market. Olsen, I want pictures. Good ones. Kent you’ve been reassigned to Lifestyles since Jack Ryder’s* been missing ever since he went on assignment in Gotham; write me one of those feel-good articles you’re so good at, something about Superman and being inspirational and all that stuff. Grey, I want an article on how to become more like Superman; you know, one of those self-help things. Work with Kent, and I don’t care if you’ve never worked together before, you are now. Everyone else, I want a Superman related article in your fields. Get moving!” Perry White instructed at the weekly staff meeting.

Clark looked up from where he was taking notes on his old fashioned pen and paper pad, surprise clearly written all over his face. Sara Grey was the editor of the Lifestyles section, a part of the newspaper that he never contributed to before.

“Um, Chief?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes, Kent? Oh, and stop calling me chief,” Perry answered shortly.

“Um, I’m an investigative reporter. I–uh, I’ve never worked in the Lifestyles section before, and I, um, I’m not sure I know how—” Clark muttered, before the editor in chief interrupted him.

“Kent, you’re a reporter, right?” he stated more than asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“That means you go where the story leads you, and you adapt when necessary, right?” Perry demanded.

“Y-yes.”

“Then what are you complaining about? Grey’s the editor of the Lifestyles section and a damn good reporter. She’ll teach you everything you need to know. Now get a move on! I want that article in my inbox by the time I get here in the morning. Is that understood?” Perry barked as he motioned for the younger man to leave.

“Y-yes Chief, I-I mean Mr. White,” he stuttered.

Clark stood up and stuffed his notepad in his suit jacket, and nearly ran into the door as Jimmy raced back in the conference room to pick up his camera that he’d left on the long oak table.

“Oh! Mr. Clark, er, Mr. Kent! I’m so sorry, I was in a hurry and I wasn’t watching where I was going! Are you alright?” Jimmy stammered.

“I’m fine, Jimmy. Say, do you know where Sara Grey’s desk is? I’m supposed to work with her on my next story, and I know she’s editor of the Lifestyles section, but I’ve never met her. Could you tell me where to find her?” Clark asked the red headed, bow tie wearing photographer.

“Oh, yeah, sure thing Mr. Clark. Her office is next to Richard’s, on the left. She’s really nice, not that Lois isn’t, but you know, she can be a bit, uh, you know, intense,” the photographer stammered, when he saw the look of slight annoyance on Clark’s face when Jimmy described Lois as intense.

“Thanks, Jimmy.”

Clark walked out of the conference room and into the bull pen; his cerulean eyes immediately sought out Lois amidst the hustle and bustle of the room. She had her phone cradled against her shoulder, and she was rapidly flipping through the yellow pages. It amazed him that she could look so captivatingly beautiful doing something so mundane. He was so engrossed in his rapture of Lois that he didn’t notice the small cough of a woman standing next to him.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of being properly introduced. I’m Sara Grey, and you must be the illustrious Clark Kent. It’s nice to be finally working with you, after all the good things I’ve heard,” said the woman in a deep, almost lazy sounding voice.

Clark turned around with a start to face her, and his eye widened slightly in surprise. Sara Grey was a tall and curvaceous red head, and not the short, dumpy, middle aged woman he had imagined her to be.

“I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?” she asked kindly.

“Oh, no, I was just, um…thinking. I, um, it’s nice to meet you as well, Ms. Grey,” he said politely as he stuck out his right hand to shake hers.

“Likewise. And please, call me Sara. Shall we go to my office?”

“Uh, sure, that sounds alright,” Clark faltered.

Sara smiled impishly, and then motioned for him to follow her into her office. Clark wondered why he’d never noticed the place before, after all, just like Jimmy said, it was next to Richard’s office, and Clark had been there numerous times to see Jason and to just talk with his friend. Yes, Richard was his friend; how could he not be? Clark owed him his life. And it was clear that Richard was a good, loving father to Jason and fiancé to Lois. He was everything for them that Clark could want.

The ruby haired woman took a seat behind a large, ornately carved cherry wood desk and gestured for Clark to take a seat across from here in one of the burgundy leather, high-backed chairs in front of her desk. He slowly lowered himself into the seat, his intelligent eyes glancing about the room to take in its surprisingly sophisticated elegance.

“I know you usually work in the more investigative part of the paper, but let me assure you, the Lifestyles section is more than just fluff. It takes a talented and creative writer to hook the reader’s interest in such a variety of subjects, ranging from home improvement to critiquing a new restaurant, to details about exotic places to travel. As a matter of fact, if you haven’t already, you need to update your passport, because in this line of work you will travel frequently. Do you think you’re up to it?” Sara inquired professionally.

“I, um, I think so. I mean, I’m pretty good at using a thesaurus,” Clark answered lamely.

Sara quirked a thin eyebrow expressively, as though she found his response rather silly, but simply said; “Ah. Ok then, your first assignment is, as Perry told you, to write a piece about how Superman is inspirational to people, and tie it into my article, a sort of ten step program, if you will, on how to become a better person, using the Man-of-Steel as an example. What ideas do you have for your article?”

“Well, I, uh, was thinking, that, um, I could write something about him being more of a guide to show the way for people to act, instead of being such a savior all the time,” Clark suggested.

“Oh? That sounds interesting. What do you mean by guide? Should people start running around in spandex and a cape?” Sara asked playfully.

“Actually the suit is not spandex, but a very similar Kryptonian fabric. The design was actually what his people wore as formal wear,” he explained.

“I was making a joke, Clark, but thanks for that tidbit of information. I could use that as a step urging people to get in touch with their family history. What I meant was, should people use his selfless actions as a model for their own lives, and be a hero to others around them?”

“I, um, yeah, that’s what I meant. I’m sorry for not being clearer,” he apologized.

“Eh. I knew what you meant,” she replied carelessly with a wave of a long fingered hand.

“Oh, um, ok,” Clark stammered.

“Why don’t you interview a few people, and see what they find inspirational about Superman, and then report back here around four? That should give us enough time to correlate our stories, and for me to introduce you to everyone on the Lifestyles staff, and get everything to Perry before the deadline. Does that sound good to you?” Sara suggested as she stood up to open the door for Clark to leave.

“That sounds swell!”

***


The song for this chapter is “Simple Kind of Life” by No Doubt.

*Jack Ryder is a character from the Batman comics known as the Creeper. For more info, go here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creeper_%28comics%29

Yes, this is my long delayed Superman fic. It's my first Superman story that will be of novel length once its finished, but as I'm still debating about several plot points, please expect some delays between chapters, starting after chapter nine. And let me get this out of the way before anything else: Lois and Clark will NOT be pared together. As I'm sure some of you know, I don't care for that pairing, and therefore I choose not to write it at this time. However, this doesn't mean that Lois won't be a well rounded, 3D character, on the contrary, I plan to make her very human and interesting, as I also plan to do with my OC, Sara. Don't let her seemingly perfect-ness fool you. There's more to her than meets the eye, and all I ask is that she be given a chance. I hope you all enjoy the story, and I can't wait to hear from you!

[Thietje]

I like it. I wonder what advice Clark will be able to give people who want to be more like his alter-ego. I think I'll also like your OC Sara.

[Lady Gwenevere Smith]

Originally Posted by Thietje

I like it. I wonder what advice Clark will be able to give people who want to be more like his alter-ego. I think I'll also like your OC Sara.

Yay!! First review of the story!

Yes, it'll be very interesting to see what Clark thinks others should learn from him, and coincidentally, will tie into one of the main themes of the story; which side of him is the real him? At this point, he doesn't know, and so this is his journey. And I'm so VERY happy to hear that you think you might like Sara. Let's just say she's VERY full of surprises.

Oh, and if you want to know how I envision her to look, think of Kate Walsh, only a tad bit younger and with a slightly softer jaw line.

[kloklo]

I had an alert from ff.net for this story. Glad I didn't skip it

Good start my Lady.

-Kloklo

[Jord-El]

I love where this story is going =]
Can't wait to read more!

[Lauraleye]

Ooooh, it's gone LIVE, finally

[CyniKal]

I was wondering when you were going to start posting this. Yay!! *claps* Will read later!

[Lady Gwenevere Smith]

Originally Posted by Jord-El

I love where this story is going =]
Can't wait to read more!

Thanks! I'll do my best to make it really interesting!

Originally Posted by Lauraleye

Ooooh, it's gone LIVE, finally

I KNOW, right! Took long enough, didn't it? Now, when is yours gonna be posted, eh, missy?

Originally Posted by CyniKal

I was wondering when you were going to start posting this. Yay!! *claps* Will read later!

Ok!

[Lauraleye]

Originally Posted by Lady Gwenevere Smith

I KNOW, right! Took long enough, didn't it? Now, when is yours gonna be posted, eh, missy?

Eh! I'm fairly sure the answer to such question has got to be NEVER!

It's not a simple brick wall, it's a dead end!

[Lady Gwenevere Smith]

Aw, that's too bad! Can I help, any?

[Lauraleye]

Yeah, pull my head outta the toilet!

Got you PM, btw, I'll be answering when I'm fully awake

[Lady Gwenevere Smith]

Ok!

[Butterfly]

Hey, I just read the beginning of your new story and I really like it! I like the Lois and Clark pairings, but also like to see new people come into his life and I think I'm going to like Sara. Thanks for the picture of how you envision her. The picture I had in my head as I read was close and I really love it when authors post pictures to compliment their stories.
I am looking forward to the next installment.