Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mayson Drake rode up the elevator, light as air. She was so happy she felt she could fly. Clark Kent was her happy thought. The moment she met Clark, she knew he was it for her. He was chivalrous and smart, a rare combination in a modern man. Insanely gorgeous and not arrogant about it. He had a quiet, unassuming strength that only made her love him more. 

Love. The revelation turned her knees to jello. She braced herself against the wall, watching with bated breath as the glowing floor numbers popped overheard, bringing her closer to her love. She had never felt this strongly about any man before. Most men proved to be a disappointment. Knots formed in her belly. It was still early, the other foot could drop any day. 

The elevator dinged open. She glided toward his desk, imagining how his face would light up when he saw her. The knots in her belly became excruciatingly tight. His desk was empty. 

Well, surely there was a reasonable explanation for his absence. Maybe he misunderstood her and thought they were meeting at his apartment. 

Mayson frowned as she studied his desk. Boxes of old Chinese takeout littered his desk, a dirty napkin strewn across his keyboard. 

Well, no man is perfect. She knew she’d find a chink in his armor eventually. Slobbiness was an endearing quirk. She was a neat freak enough for both of them. How could she have misjudged him so royally? He seemed like such a gentleman and well-composed. She didn’t peg him as being a slob.  

Mayson figured he was following a lead and running late. He was such a busy bee. She tidied up his desk while she waited, wiping the grease off his keyboard and dumping the Chinese takeout in the trash. 

She was about to organize his contacts for him alphabetically when she saw the fortune cookie under his death. Someone had trampled over it, leaving the pastry a shattered mess. She carefully scooped it from under his desk. She noticed the fortune was in Chinese and her breath caught. That was odd. 

She surveyed the takeout closer and groaned. Superman probably brought Clark lunch from China. That was entirely unethical and irresponsible! What if he unknowingly brought contaminated food to the States or heaven forbid, contracted a deadly virus? There were procedures in place for a reason. Superman wasn’t above the law. Or shouldn’t be. Yet, he walked right over humanity with no regard for others. His actions have consequences, something so rudimentary Superman never learned. 

Mayson stormed away from the desk, suddenly feeling ill. How could she love someone who was friends with a vigilante? True, Superman wasn’t as bad as the nut in Gotham. He never hurt anyone . . . at least not on purpose. But the paperwork left behind from his reckless behavior gave her a headache. At least Batman worked with the police—some days. 

She wandered around the corner and came face to face with Mr. White and one of the interns. “That Mayson Drake . . . I mean she is gorgeous!” The teen jeered. 

“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy . . .” the older man scolded. 

Mayson's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Umm . . hi,” she said tentatively. The men jumped apart and looked at her with matching expressions of bemusement. “Is Clark around?”     

“We thought he was with . . .” Jimmy gaped at her in a way that turned Mayson’s cheeks crimson. 

“No, he’s not around, Mayson,” Perry said, sounding concerned. He shot a worried glance at Clark’s empty desk. 

“Hmm, maybe I misunderstood when I was supposed to pick him up,” she said, trying to sound confident and failing. Clark was as bad as the rest of the men on the planet. 

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” 

“Oh,” Perry looks quizically at Jimmy. “No, I don’t think I do. I don’t know when he’d be back.” 

“You’re trying to be nice. You’re trying not to tell me I’ve been stood up,” she said, voice wobbling. She turned on her heels and marched away before they could see her traitorous tears. 

Why did she always fall for jerks? First, it was Eddie, who turned out to be a psychopath moonlighting as a cop. Then there was Harvey . . . Gotham’s Golden Knight. Her throat tightened. She was stupid! She prided herself in being a good judge of character. But if anything . . . past experience would suggest she had a blind spot for smart dorks with a dark secret. 

“Oh, God,” Mayson wiped at her eyes. What if Clark was like them? She couldn’t bear it if Clark Kent turned out to be a serial killer. 

She moved away from Gotham, hoping to get a fresh start in Metropolis. Had she fallen back into bad habits? New city and new faces, but same story. She refused to believe Clark was bad. He had given her no reason to doubt him. 

Till now. 

It could just be in her head. Surely he had good reason for leaving her in the cold? He seemed genuinely interested in her. Had she misread the signals? There was only one way to find out, go to the source. She scanned her watch, it was past work hours. He should be home by now. She hailed a taxi and headed toward Suicide Slums. 

The ride was too short for her liking. Her nerves were shot and a queasy fear bubbled in her belly. It was fifty-fifty. Clark could be as two-faced as Harvey or this could just be one big misunderstanding.

 Yea. Right. 

She ducked her head and rushed past the questionable figures lounging on the steps of Noctura Court. She kept her head high and ignored the men when they leered at her. 

She made a beeline upstairs, cursing the out-of-order elevator. Honestly, what did Clark see in this dump? It was located in one of the worst neighborhoods in Metropolis. He could get hurt. 

Unless of course, Clark was part of a gang and the one hurting people. His chivalrous nature could be an act. She took a steadying breath and knocked on his door. There was no answer. She knocked again, harder. Nothing. She pried her cell out and dialed his number. It went straight to voice message. Okay, not a big deal. You know Clark tended to let his phone die. She tried his apartment telephone and heard the dull ring through the door. The jerk refused to pick up. 

“He’s not home,” an old woman propped the door open across the hall. She had a kind, round face and snuggled a cat inside her bathrobe. “Haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.” 

     She was oddly informative. Mayson gave the old woman a courtesy glance. “You see him, tell him Mayson Drake is looking for him,” Mayson said, tone icy. 

“Ah,” the old woman said. “You’re that girl.” 

“Excuse me?” she clenched her fists at her side. 

“Don’t fret,” she said. “He has said nothing but good things,” she beamed. Mayson’s cheeks flared. “Bless your heart, you’re blushing.” 

Mayson smoothed invisible creases on her suit. “He’s mentioned me?” 

The woman’s face reddens sheepishly. “Only in passing,” she said. “I’m a nosy old crone . . . I live through you young things.” 

“Do you know where Clark is?” Mayson asked. 

“No, sorry, honey,” She said. “But he was supposed to come over last night and fix the television. I’m worried.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Mayson said. She didn’t think Clark was the type to leave her high and dry. But how well did she really know Clark Kent? She owed him the benefit of the doubt. A man who volunteered to fix his neighbor’s TV couldn’t be bad. She said her goodbyes to the nosy lady and hailed another taxi. 

She gave the driver directions to her apartment. The sun was setting by the time she reached Hatcher Castle. She kicked off her high heels and made herself some tea. The warm liquid soothed her aching heart. There were three options. 

One: Clark could be as twisted as the men in Gotham.

Two: Clark had no backbone and didn’t have the stomach to tell her ‘I’m just not that into you,’ to her face. 

Three: Clark was in serious trouble and incapable of communicating. 

Either way, it spelled trouble no matter which way you looked at it. She didn’t want him to be hurt, bleeding out in some dark alley, or tied up by some nefarious villain. But that was the best-case scenario. It meant her heart was safe, even if he wasn’t. Did that make her a bad person? 

She sipped her tea and hunkered down on the couch to watch Netflix. Things were simpler in the world of Gilmore Girls. She wished she had their problems. She would trade her life to have one more day with her parents. She wondered if Mom would have liked Clark. He shared all of Daddy’s best qualities, and had none of his faults. Not once had she seen Clark drink alcohol. But things could be different behind closed doors. 

Suddenly her cell rang. She frowned as she noticed the caller's I.D. read: Lois Lane. She regretted adding the nosy reporter to her contacts, but it had been unavoidable. 

“Lois,” Mayson answered. “This better be good.” 

“I need your help,” Clark answered, sounding frantic. “I know I’m not your favorite person . . .” 

“You’ve got that right,” Mayson cut him off. “You humiliated me in front of all the Daily Planet!” She screamed. “Let me believe you liked me . . .” 

“Ms. Drake,” Clark said in a way too formal voice. “This is Superman.” 

Mayson cursed and dropped the phone. She hurriedly brought it back to her ear, face crimson with mortification. 

“. . . Clark wants to explain. I know you don’t trust me, but I trust you. I wouldn’t have called unless it was a matter of life and death.”

“Alright, I’m listening, what do you need, Superman?” She asked all business, her earlier blunder forgotten. Though deep down, she was disappointed Clark wasn’t on the other end of the phone. Superman sounded indistinguishable from Clark. 

“Lois has been kidnapped,” He said tersely, the strain in his voice leaking through the receiver. 

Mayson smiled tightly. She failed to see how that was her problem. Hell, why wasn’t the hero out searching for her instead of wasting his time with her. Mayson was the last person she expected Superman to ask for help. 

“And what do you want me to do?” Mayson said, irritation leaking into her tone, despite her best efforts.

 Mayson was still miffed Lois stole her work phone to get ahead on a story. Whatever trouble she was in it was her own fault. A microscopic voice told her this was a golden opportunity to get rid of Lois so she could have Clark to herself. She hated herself for thinking like that.    

“Could you come to Lois’ apartment? I’ll explain everything once you’re here. Please.” 

It was the pleading ‘please’ that sold her. He showed surprisingly good manners for an alien. Mayson inwardly groaned but agreed nonetheless. Superman gave her Lois’ address and Mayson nearly had a heart attack. 

“Fuck,” she said out loud and then chided herself for being so immature. 

Superman could hear her. After all, he was just a few floors above her. Unreal. Lois and she didn’t only share similar tastes in men. They both lived in the same apartment complex. 

Lois was the most infuriating, egotistical, self-righteous woman on the planet. 

Yet, Clark loved her.

 It was obvious to anyone with eyes. He had loved Lois in secret for years. As much as she didn’t want to believe it, Mayson was the other woman. He had already built a life with Lois. Mayson was just the consolation prize. The woman he’d settle for because the woman he loved saw him as a brother. 

Oh, God, she hoped she was wrong and reading into something that wasn’t there. She dragged her feet to the elevator wishing a blackhole would open up and swallow her. In this town, it was a high possibility. She stopped before apartment 501 and swallowed hard. 

“I can’t Ma, I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life! WHERE IS SHE?” 

Mayson froze, hand raised to knock. That voice couldn’t be Superman. She had dreamed about Clark’s unshakable timbre – listened to his voice message when lonely, just to remind herself there were still good men in the world. That was Clark, pure and simple. 

“You just called her ten minutes ago son.”  

Mayson knocked before she lost her nerve. 

“FINALLY” 

She heard muffled screaming and shuffling on the other side. She hoped Clark would answer the door. She’d love to hear his explanation . . .

The door flew open and a broad-shouldered man wearing flannel greeted her with a warm, but strained smile. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Superman. 

“MAYSON?” 

She shuddered at Superman’s frantic tone. If she didn’t know better she would have said he was panicking. She searched the apartment for the familiar bespecled reporter and her stomach twisted with disappointment. It was just the alien. 

“Yes?” Mayson said, sounding more like a question. She tentatively stepped into the apartment and tried to hide her shock. Superman stood stoically near the entryway by a short woman with his arms crossed. The short woman grasped Superman’s arm protectively and was whispering words of comfort in his ear. Mayson frowned. She looked too old to be his girlfriend.    

 Superman stared blankly at something behind Mayson’s head. “Uh . . .” he paused for a moment, eyes pinwheeling erratically. The woman whispered in his ear and gently nudged him in Mayson’s direction. “Thank you for coming. I know this is awkward for .  . .” The woman gave his arm a warning squeeze and his words filtered off.     

“I’m Jonathan Kent,” the man greeted, shaking her hand. “This is my wife Martha?” 

“Kent?” Mayson’s eyes widened. As in Clark? 

“I believe you know our son, Clark.” Her blue eyes twinkled knowingly. Mayson turned crimson. This was not how she imagined meeting her future boyfriend’s parents.   

“What’s going on here?” Mayson asked, mind reeling with a thousand questions. 

 Where was Clark? Why was Superman in Lois’ apartment? Why were these farmers from Smallville so familiar with Superman? Superman kept tilting his head as if straining to hear and twisting his thumbs nervously. She had never seen the superhero so nervous and restless. Then she remembered what he said. 

“And if Lois has been kidnapped, why aren’t you out looking for her?” She directed her next question to the alien. 

“I can’t . . .” 

“Oh, please, Ms. Drake,” Martha shushed Superman with a calculated squeeze on his arm. “I’ll get you some tea.” 

“There’s no time for tea!” Superman protested. “Lois could be already dead!” 

“Son . . . Kal,” Jonathan said. “You don’t give her enough credit. Lois Lane is a strong capable woman. She was fending for herself long before you came to Metropolis.” 

Mayson was stunned at their boldness. She hadn’t expected practical strangers to give Superman lip. She waited for him to scream at them or throw a galactic tantrum. He merely nodded his head in submission. 

“I know you’re worried, honey” Martha massaged his arm affectionately, noticed Mayson watching and quickly let go. “We all are.” 

“But you can’t run in there blind.” 

“Jonathan!” Martha’s voice was like a whip. 

“Too soon?” Jonathan made a face at his wife. 

“How can you joke at a time like this!” She screeched. “He might never get his sight back!” 

Mayson took a double-take, ears pinkening as she realized what a jerk she was for giving the alien the third degree. How did this happen? She didn’t think it was possible. He had x-ray vision! Surely it was an act. His hand twitched, searching blindly for the little woman’s hand, but she had stomped toward Jonathan and was screaming at her husband. 

In the dim light of the apartment with his haunted gaze bathed in shadow Superman looked like a Caravaggio painting come to life. In that moment she didn’t see a dangerous alien. She saw a human. A human, who desperately needed her help. Wordlessly she looped an arm through his, surprised at how soft and human he felt. She had thought he’d be as hard as steel. 

She coaxed him onto the sofa and hovered awkwardly at his side. “Probably best you stay away,” he said in a self-deprecating voice. “I’ve already broken two lamps and a window.” 

Mayson wished she were Lois Lane. Lois would have known what to say to comfort the superhero. Heck, she would have had no qualms about climbing into Superman’s lap and distracting him from his blindness. Mayson was out of her element here. Lois wouldn’t have been scared. 

Mayson was terrified. This man could raze entire cities in a blink. She had nightmares about the alien getting tired of being a hero and becoming an unstoppable tyrant. It could still happen. 

“You don’t have to be scared,” Superman said, his gaze pinwheeling to find her. “I won’t hurt you, at least not on purpose.” He winced. 

“I’m not scared,” Mayson retorted. 

“I’m blind, not deaf,” Superman said. That was a curious thing to say. She hadn’t said anything to alert him of her discomfort. He pointed at his ear, expression chargained. “Hard to shut you out.” 

“Oh,” Mayson said, trying to calm her racing heart. “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to hear six billion people all at once. She would go insane. 

“Me too,” he said sadly, managing to lock on her face. “You’re a good person.” The longing in his voice confused her. Had Superman harbored feelings for her? It was unthinkable. She could never fall for someone so arrogant and alien.  

  Martha Kent resurfaced with a mug of oolong tea for Superman and coffee for Mayson. Mayson sighed in relief –thrilled to no longer be alone with the alien – and then mentally kicked herself. She was hurting Superman without even trying. 

 “I trust, he’s been a good boy?” Martha asked, massaging Superman’s tense shoulders. Superman blushed, looking as if he wanted to scream, the image of an embarrassed son. 

“A perfect gentleman,” Mayson said, the seed of an idea planting. 

There was a family resemblance between Superman and Clark. Superman was taller than Clark and had shorter hair, but they both shared the same midnight black hair. Superman’s eyes were brighter, whereas Clark’s were silvery-blue like the River Thames. They could be brothers. 

But then that would mean Clark was an alien too? She was giving herself a headache. Was Clark adopted? She hadn’t thought to ask him. It seemed like too personal a question. Not something you blurt out, surely not on a first date.   

“Mayson, I was hoping you’ll tell me about Dr. Faraday,” Superman said. 

“We think he has something to do with Lois being kidnapped,” Jonathan supplied. 

“But he’s dead,” Mayson said. “He couldn’t . . .” 

Superman leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. “But his partner isn’t,” he said. “Lois and I... Lois and Clark were following up on Faraday’s murder. The guys who did this to me,” he pointed aimlessly at his eyes. “We think they’re the ones that kidnapped Lois,” Superman explained. “They were here yesterday, searching the apartment.” 

“How do you know it was them?” Mayson challenged. 

“Lois recognized them,” Superman said. “Afraid I can’t tell you much. There are two blokes, one heavyset with a thick neck and the other short with glasses . . . I felt them.” he said. “Please. Anything you can tell me about Faraday’s case might help save Lois’ life.” 

“I can’t just give away classified information on an ongoing homicide case,” Mayson explained. “I could be disbarred.” 

“Couldn’t you make an exception this once?” Martha asked. “Lois is a good friend of Clark’s.” 

“Ma . . Martha,” Superman’s tone was short and brusque. He shot the older woman a harsh look, which was rather comical since he misjudged her whereabouts and glared at a broken lamp.  “Please, Mayson, a life is in danger. You don’t want Lois Lane’s death on your conscience.”  

“Even if I did tell you, what are you going to do about it?” She hated to point out the obvious. “You’re blind. In your current condition, you pose a danger to everyone around you.” 

“She makes a valid point,” Jonathan concedes. “You can’t go in there guns blazing.” 

“I can’t just sit here doing nothing,” Superman laments. “Lois makes life worth living. Without her, I don’t know how to exist. Please Mayson, if it were Clark, you’ll do anything to save him.” 

“Kal-El!” Martha wagged her finger. “That’s a cheap shot and you know it. It’s unfair to play with this young woman’s feelings like that.”

At least it confirmed what she had feared all along. Superman was best buds with Clark Kent. They talked about everything. It also meant there was a chance for her and Clark. Clark didn’t stand a chance with Lois if Superman was in love with her. Lois Lane will always choose the Man of Steel over the mild-mannered reporter. 

“No, it’s okay,” Mayson said. “He’s right. If Clark were in Lois’ shoes I would have had no qualms about bending the law.” 

“Then you’ll help me?” Superman’s face brightened. It was the first real smile she had seen since she entered the apartment. 

“Clark and I will rescue Lois,” Mayson decided. “You’re in no shape to go after her.” 

“Clark isn’t here,” Superman said candidly. “I am.” 

“His best friend is blind and Clark is not here to help you?” Mayson asked. “That does not sound like the Clark I know.” 

“We’re wasting time arguing,” Superman abruptly stood. 

“Where do you think you're going, young man?” Martha followed at his heels. Superman felt blindly before him. He almost ran into a glass cabinet, but Martha steered him away. 

“Out. I told you calling the D.A. was a mistake.”  He stopped by the balcony and pointed at the wall. “This is the broken window right?” 

“No, honey, that’s the wall,” Martha said, coaxing him back to the den. She gave Mayson a wane smile, silently pleading with her eyes. 

“Alright,” Mayson said, resigned. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

Chapter Text

“Dr. Faraday was a genius,” Mayson said. “His experiments were funded by a wealthy eye doctor, named Harold P. Leit.” 

“What were they working on?” Jonathan asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Mayson briefly met Superman’s eyes. He was holding it together by a thread, centimeters from shattering. If only Clark cared for Mayson as much as Superman did for Lois.  

“Dr. Faraday developed a device, that can carry knowledge on a beam of light through the eye directly to the brain,” she continued, trying to ignore the knots forming in her belly. She was crossing a line, even if it was for a good cause. 

“Oh, my!” Martha explained. “A terrible thing in the wrong hands.”  

“I’m positive we can assume Dr. Leit’s hands are definitely the wrong hands,” she said, the knots slowly untangling in her belly. She might not like Lois – couldn’t stand her on a good day – but she didn’t want her to die. 

“This device,” Superman piped up timidly, sounding almost like Clark. “What does it look like?” 

“It looks like a silver ballpoint pen.” He grimaced, his blue eyes darkening. “You know where it is, don’t you?” Mayson realized. 

“Yes,” Superman admitted begrudgingly. Groggily he jumped to his feet. Martha tried to pull him back but the little woman was no match for the Man of Steel. 

“Good, let’s call the police,” Mayson said, sliding before Superman. She swallowed her fears and rested a hand on his chest. “You can’t do this alone.” 

“They’ve probably made Lois tell them where it is,” Superman said. He was surprisingly familiar with the apartment. He sidestepped a plant by the TV and briefly leaned against a fish tank. He felt his way to the window. 

“Is this the bad window?” 

“Get back here this instant, Kal-El!” Martha thundered, sounding every bit like a mother scolding her child. 

“You’re incapacitated!” Mayson said in the same breath. She rushed to his side and grabbed his arm. “You jump and you’ll hurt innocents below. I know you don’t want to do that.” 

His shoulders sagged. “I don’t plan on landing . . .” 

“Terrific,” Mayson said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You plan on bulldozing your way through Metropolis. I don’t think so,” she said. “I’m driving.” 

“A car is too slow.”

“Actually, it’s a lot faster than a blind man,” Jonathan quipped. “We don’t want you getting lost again.” Superman glared in Jonathan’s general direction. “You’re too grown up to be pouting. You’ve got a beautiful, smart lady here willing to help you. Swallow your pride and say, thank you.” 

“Thank you,” Superman said dutifully. An amused smile teased at Mayson’s mouth. It was impressive how this old couple had control over the most powerful man on the planet. 

Mayson looped a trembling arm through Superman’s. He looked pleadingly to his left where he thought the Kents were. He jumped as Martha gave him a side hug from the other side. Mayson guided him to the door. 

“You two kids have fun,” Martha waved goodbye. 

“Don’t do anything I won’t do!” Jonathan said. 

“I’ll have pie ready when you get home.” She fussed over Superman’s wrinkled cape. “Be careful.” She cupped his face affectionately, but Mayson saw it in her eyes – she was dying to hug him.  

The trek to the garage was awkward and clumsy. A couple of neighbors poked their heads out of their doors to ogle the alien. They didn’t seem surprised to see Superman on this floor but were baffled by the company he kept. More than once she heard them whisper Lois’ name. She was relieved when they were finally secure in her car and out of sight.  

“I’m sorry,” Superman said. “I know this is uncomfortable for you.” 

She didn’t bother denying it this time. He could hear the truth in her racing heart. “It’s safer for everyone this way.” She pulled out of the parking lot. She never thought in a million years she’d have Superman in the passenger seat of her Mercedes. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt. 

“So, where are we going, Superman?” 

“Daily Planet,” Superman said.  

“Figures,” Mayson grumbled. The Daily Planet was the epicenter of the storm. Always. She was hoping not to have to go back any time soon. The pain was still too raw. What if Clark was pulling an all-nighter? He chose the Daily Planet over a weekend with her. It sickened her. She had this weekend planned down to each second. And maybe that was the problem? 

Clark was a go-where-the-wind-takes-you type of guy. Her need to control every part of her life was a turn-off. She scared him away before he even got a chance to know the real Mayson Drake. 

“You don’t have to go in with me,” Superman said. “I know The Daily Planet better than my own apartment.” 

Mayson whirled on him, disbelief etched across her face. “You have an apartment?” She had so many questions. Superman flinched, seeming to realize his blunder too late. “How do you pay for it?” She imagined being a hero didn’t provide much of an income. Or did it? “Did you steal the money?” 

Superman bites his lower lip and shakes his head, hurt flashing in his pearly blues. “You’re just like Lois,” he said. That did not sound like a compliment. “She thinks the worst of humanity, you think the worst of aliens.” 

“You're an undocumented immigrant,” Mayson said. “A very powerful immigrant who could destroy us if you wanted to. Can you blame me for asking questions?”

“I’m not asking you to not ask questions,” Superman replied, his voice low. “I’m asking you to believe I’m not the enemy just because I’m different.”

Mayson tightened her grip on the wheel, her eyes fixed ahead. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t live in fear of someone like you.”

“I live in fear because I’m someone like me,” he said, gently but firmly. “Every time I save someone, I risk holding them too tight. Every time I speak, I have to remind myself to stay calm lest I inadvertently scare somebody. Do you think the cape protects me? It doesn’t. It makes me a target.”

Mayson exhaled through her nose. “Then why wear it?”

“Same reason you’re the D.A. I want to help people and leave the world in better shape than it was before,” he said. “The suit isn’t for my protection,” he brushed a hand over the odd ‘S.’ 

“It protects those closest to me,” he answered, almost to himself. “And allows me to have some privacy, a semblance of a normal life.” 

Mayson mulled his words over. It protects those closest to me . 

When she thought of Superman, she imagined him soaring above the rest of humanity, isolated and judging us little guys from his high pulpit. He was unattached and with no family to speak of. She thought back to the Kents and how familiar they seemed with Superman.

Could she be so drastically wrong? She never imagined he’d live in an apartment or have some semblance of friends and family. A brother, who hid in plain sight and used his pen to serve justice. The implication scared her. There was only one way they could be related . . . If both Clark and Superman were from the same planet. 

 An apartment suggested a steady income. A steady income suggested a day job. Who was Superman when he wasn’t wearing the cape? Superman certainly couldn’t be seen shopping at the grocery store. It was laughable.  His having a day job seemed even more laughable than a dorky twin brother. 

What had Lois said in her article? Superman was the first natural birth on Krypton in centuries. What did that make Clark? 

A long silence followed. Mayson merged onto the freeway, the gilded gold city flying past. The lights turned Superman’s eyes green. It highlighted his alienness. No human could ever have such vibrant eyes. Eyes that were now rendered useless. 

She felt a twang of sympathy for the alien. If he weren’t an alien they might have been friends. She might have found him attractive. 

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” she said quietly. “About stealing. That was below the belt.”

“I know,” he said, not unkindly. He looked forward, unseeing but seeing everything. “It’s okay, you don’t trust me.”

Mayson nodded. “You’re right. I don’t.” She glanced at him. “Yet, you trust me, why?”

“I’m a good judge of character,” he said. “You’re a good person and any problems you have with me, you’ll set aside to help save an innocent life.” 

She almost didn’t. She wanted to let Lois die and rid herself of the competition. Though, Superman was right. She couldn’t live with herself if she knew someone was in danger and she could have helped. 

“So, you and Lois? That’s a strange pair.” 

He visibly tensed. “Why? Because I’m an alien?” 

Mayson shrugged in agreement and then remembered he couldn’t see her. “You’re not human. She is.” 

“I don’t think Lois has fully realized that yet,” he said, sounding dejected. “When she does . . . she’d leave. Everybody always leaves.” 

It suddenly hit her, like a slap to the gut. He was the last of his people. The last of an extinct race. When he died – heaven forbid–there would be no one to remember Krypton.

 Strangely, she understood. Mayson and her brother were the last of the Drakes. But at least they still had each other — and Jack had a baby on the way. There was still hope for the Drakes. Even if it didn’t work out with Superman and Lois, the chance of him having descendants was slim to none. 

“You’re wrong,” Mayson said. “Lois loves you.” Just like Mayson loved Clark. 

“I just hope I’m not too late,” he said. “She’s... she’s everything,” he whispered. “If they hurt her—”

“They won’t,” Mayson said quickly, more out of hope than certainty. “We won’t let them.”

He nodded. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” she said. “I’m doing it for Clark. He would never forgive me if I let his best friend die.”

The color drained from his face, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “You’re a great friend to Clark,” Superman said. “He appreciates you and holds you in the highest regard.” 

Mayson’s throat grew raw with grief. “But he doesn’t like me?” She dared ask. “That’s why he stood me up.” 

“I know if Clark could be here with you, he would. He’s not the type to hurt a beautiful woman.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Mayson protested. “Feed me lies to make me feel better.” 

“I’m not lying,” Superman said. “You’re beautiful inside and out,” he said sincerely, trying and failing to meet her eyes. “But there are things about Clark that you will never understand. Things that will make you hate him,” he said. Superman had never been this vocal with her before. It was almost as if his blindness gave him the strength to say the next words. “Clark has already dated someone who hated him. He can’t go through that again.” 

“I don’t hate Clark,” Mayson said. “I love him with all my heart.” 

She wanted to marry him. He was the first thing she thought of when she woke and the last thing on her mind before she closed her eyes. Why had she admitted that to Superman? He was easy to talk to, maybe there was some Kryptonian chemical hormones that sucked the truth out of her.  

“You think you do,” Superman said in a reserved, quiet tone. “Trust me, you don’t really know him,” Superman said. “You’re better off without Clark in your life.” 

“How can you say that?” Mayson snapped. “He’s your best friend! You make him sound like a crazed supervillain.” 

“I’m only looking out for you . . . for both of you,” Superman said. “This will only end in heartbreak.”

“I don’t want to hurt Clark,” Mayson protested, grip on the steering wheel tightening. 

“And Clark doesn’t want to hurt you,” Superman said. “You’re both better off as just friends.” 

“I can’t accept that,” Mayson said. “Whatever he’s hiding we can figure it out together. I can handle the truth.” 

“Could you ever love me?” 

“That’s beside the point,” Mayson said. “Clark is not you.” 

“Humor me,” Superman said. 

“No,” Mayson said honestly. “I’m sorry, Superman, I could never love you.” 

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat as if in physical pain. “Thank you for your honesty.” 

Mayson felt like she had half a step in the grave. She owed him an apology but any words would be empty. She didn’t think Superman was a bad person . . . alien . . . he was just misguided and delusional. She didn’t agree with his methods. 

They drove the rest of the way in uncomfortable silence. She wondered how much of their conversation he would share with his brother . . . If that even was true. The more she thought about it the more stupid it seemed. Somebody would have noticed two Kryptonians flying around. Unless Clark didn’t have any powers. Clark would never stand on the sidelines if somebody needed help.  

She was relieved when finally she cruised to a stop by the Daily Planet. The building was pitch black, save for the gentle glow of the globe, which cast ominous shadows on the sidewalk. 

“Thank you for the ride,” Superman said, offering her a wad of cash. 

Mayson sputtered in shock. “What are you doing?” 

“I thought it was obvious,” he said. “It’s the same I would have given the taxi driver.” 

Mayson stared at the crumpled bills in his shaking hand like they were radioactive. Did he think so little of her? 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she said. “I’m not a cabby driver.”

“I wanted to pay you for your trouble,” he said tightly. “I didn’t want to assume . . .” 

“Friends help each other out,” Mayson said. 

“We’re friends now?” 

Slowly getting there. He was somewhere between acquaintance and colleague. Someday they could be friends, but nothing more. “Yes,” Mayson said, forcing her voice to stay strong. “Save your money for coffee, you look like you need it.” 

He pocketed the money inside a hidden pocket. “Thank you Ms. Drake for the ride . . . and your honesty,” he said, faltering slightly. “If you ever need me you know how to find me.” 

“I’ll wait in the car for you,” Mayson promised. 

“There’s no need,” Superman said. “I’ll figure something out with Lois.” 

She doesn’t mind my company , hung unspoken between them. 

Mayson looked at him again, really looked. His face was etched with something far deeper than frustration—something like grief. He was looking at her like his best friend had died and all hope had died with them. 

“All the same, I’ll wait,” Mayson reiterated. “I don’t want to leave a blind man stranded with no way home,” she said. “Besides, I need Faraday’s device for evidence.”  

“Alright,” Superman agreed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”   

Before she could say another word, a breeze pushed back her hair and Superman vanished. She held her breath, waiting for the building to collapse. But nothing. He must have been telling the truth when he said he knew the Daily Planet better than his own apartment. 

She couldn’t wrap her head around Superman living like a human. Lois mentioned in one of her articles, Superman had a place up North. Could that be what he meant? What had she called it? The Fortress of Solitude. That must be the apartment he spoke of. Superman was a large guy, there was no place in Metropolis big enough for him. 

Clark was also a tall man, but he was calmer and more levelheaded than Superman. She silently swore. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t go five minutes without Clark gracing her thoughts. The conversation with Superman haunted her. Surely the secret keeping them apart wasn’t as bad as Superman suggested. Clark was a gentleman through and through. He was the type to open doors for ladies and surprise you with impromptu flowers. Had she put the man on a pedestal? It won’t be the first time.   

What did Clark see in Lois? She was about as subtle as a bomb and had a voice like shattered glass. Lois Lane was as lawless as the criminals she put away. She treated Clark like an intern, not an equal. Lois had no kind words for Clark, only ultimatums and criticism. He didn’t need that kind of negativity in his life. Mayson was the superior choice in every sense of the word. Why couldn’t he see that? 

‘Clark doesn’t want to hurt you.’  

She was slowly drowning with no chance of breaking the surface. Each time Clark glanced at Lois it was glaciers to her heart. She couldn’t breathe when around them. 

He said he didn’t want to hurt her — but every time he smiled at Lois, it cut deeper. And Lois didn’t even notice. Or worse, maybe she did and just didn’t care. Maybe that was the cruelest part.

Mayson gripped the steering wheel tighter. She told herself she was being rational. Clark needed someone steady. Someone who believed in the system, not someone who ran off chasing danger in high heels and a press badge. He needed safety. Stability. Not fireworks and fallout.

But there was no stability in the way he looked at Lois.

She was losing him. Or maybe she never had him. That was the unbearable truth that pressed against her chest — that all her kindness, her patience, her loyalty — none of it mattered. Not when he looked at Lois like that.

And what did Lois even do to earn that kind of devotion? Roll her eyes at him? Constantly challenge him? Act like he was beneath her until she needed something?

It wasn’t fair.

The sound of distant sirens pulled her out of her spiral. She blinked, realizing she’d been gripping the wheel so hard her fingers ached. She released it slowly, her breaths coming shallow.

Maybe it was time she stopped waiting in the wings. Time to stop being the safe option, the afterthought.

Because if Lois was willing to throw herself headfirst into chaos, maybe Mayson needed to do the same — not to impress anyone, but to matter.

Her gaze drifted up to the Daily Planet, looming like a question mark over her life. She reached for the door handle.

Whatever happened next, she was done watching from the sidelines.

Chapter Text

  The bullpen was pitch black except for dim light leaking through the high windows. She saw the outline of desks and computers. Mayson navigated through the cubicles, half-blind. She stubbed her toe on the leg of a table and silently cursed herself. She gained a newfound respect for Superman and others in the same predicament.  Memory guided her feet toward Clark’s desk. Her feet knew this pathway so well she could do it blindfold. 

The air was thick with smoke and scorched metal. A hazy silhouette of a short, stout man lumbered near the desk. He bumped into the edge and lost his equilibrium. “I can’t see!” Dr. Leit screeched. “My eyes, he did something to my eyes . . .”  There was a clatter as he dropped his weapon. 

“Yeah, I think I’m blind too,” the other man said, slamming into a cubicle wall. Pencils tumbled to the ground.  

“I’m sorry . . .” Superman stuttered in the darkness. “I was aiming for the device.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Lois’ voice was a whip in the darkness. “That’s what I call karma, bitch!” There was a sharp THWANK as Lois' fists connected with flesh. Dr. Leit groaned and swore colorfully. “And this is for hurting my friend!” Legs went flying and then there was a deafening thump. 

“Lois,” Clark said. “You’re beating up a blind man.” 

Mayson’s heart soared. She had heard that amused scolding tone enough times to recognize him, even when she couldn’t see him. The moment of euphoria crashed as it dawned on her, once again Clark Kent had chosen Lois over her. He’d been with her all weekend. 

“No, I’m serving justice with a side of black eye,” she said crispily. “Something you ought to know about.” 

“You know how I feel about unnecessary violence,” he said. She could imagine Clark raising a judgmental eyebrow at Lois. 

Mayson’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. She saw the hint of red boots near Clark’s desk. The rough outline of two bodies underneath her needle-sharp heel. Lois perched on the edge comfortably, looking as regal as a lioness. Clark stood behind her, swathed in shadow. 

What was she thinking barging in? Mayson Drake was not the type to storm castles. It was a mistake coming. She’d only be an intrusion. What had she hoped to accomplish? She wasn’t a fighter. Superman didn’t need her. 

“And you know how I feel about bullies,” Lois said. “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

What? Mayson frowned. This didn’t make any sense. Lois was acting as if Clark was the one with vision problems.

“One finger,” Clark replied, a note of rebuke in his tone. “Seriously, Mrs.  Lane?”

Lois jumped off the desk and glided toward Clark, resting her hands on his chest. The moonlight danced across her worried-stricken face. “Are you sure, you’re okay, Kal? Be honest with me.” 

Who the heck was Kal? Was that Clark’s middle name?  

“I can see like a normal person!” he said, elated. 

“Define normal.” 

“Lois,” Clark draped his coat over her shoulders. “Everything is okay. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m Superman, remember?”

Mayson stifled a gasp. That wasn’t a coat draped on Lois. It was Superman’s cape. That would make it the second time she mistook Superman for Clark. She was such a lovesick idiot. 

“I like worrying about you, Kal,” 

Mayson felt stupid for not bothering to ask Superman’s name. It was no wonder Superman loved Lois. She treated him like a human being, an equal, not a freak. Mayson in contrast, had vilified him at every turn. Even now, she questioned the morality of Superman’s choices. He could have handled Dr. Leit in a hundred different ways that didn’t end with him blinded. She had to admit it was irony at its finest, but it was still wrong. 

“I like you worrying about me.” 

It had to be in her head. Clark wasn’t in the room with her. Superman was.  She was projecting her yearning for Clark onto Superman. That’s why they sounded so similar in the dark. It was a demented way of telling herself to move on. This obsession with Clark had to stop. But she couldn’t live without him. 

Mayson inched away from the happy couple, squeaking as she bumped into a vase. It toppled over and shattered, the lukewarm liquid drenching her stockings. “Who’s there?” Lois screamed. “I warn you, I’m a black belt.” She shone a flashlight in Mayson’s general direction. Mayson flinched out of the light. “You? What the hell is she doing here?” She shot a glare at Superman. 

“I’m here on business,” Mayson lied smoothly. “Dr. Leit is under arrest.” 

“It’s the middle of the night,” Lois said skeptically. “We haven’t called the cops. So I repeat what is The Head of the Superman Hate Club doing here?” 

“She was my ride,” Superman said. He faced Mayson wearing a timid smile that achingly reminded her of Clark. Part hopeful and half embarrassed. 

“I heard screaming,” Mayson fumbled for the right words. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had followed him indoors. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

“He’s swell,” Lois answered for him. 

“I was just trying to help . . .” 

“Help him into a casket, you mean?” Lois challenged. “He doesn’t need your kind of help. You can leave now.” 

The air shifted, growing excruciatingly heavy. Lois’ glare burned into Mayson through the darkness. She knew the reporter didn’t like her, but this animosity went deeper than she thought. Lois stood like a lioness ready to pounce at the slightest sign of trouble – an angry lioness protecting her cub. 

“Lois, Mayson is my friend,” Superman said. “She doesn’t deserve to be treated so rudely . . .” 

“It’s all an act. You can’t trust her. You and Clark are both thinking with your dick and not your brain! She’s trouble.”  

Mayson had heard enough. She turned on her high heels and fled for the stairway. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She would never be good enough for Clark, not so long as that siren was poisoning him against her. It was no wonder he stood her up when he thought she was the enemy. 

 A gust of wind whipped through her. She toppled backward and fell into Superman’s arms. He twisted her around and held her in his arms like a lead from a black-and-white movie. Under different circumstances, she might have enjoyed being in his embrace. A deep sadness leaked out of his inhumanely blue eyes that shone even in the darkness. He carefully wiped a stray tear from her face and righted her.

 Her breath came out ragged and hard. Superman had never held her this close before . . . it wasn’t unpleasant. It also made her skin crawl and not in a good way. She closed her eyes trying to picture Clark on the microscopic step with her. All she saw was the bare thread holding her aloft. She gripped his arms, achingly aware that if he weren’t there she would have fallen to her death.   

“I’m sorry,” Superman said, maneuvering her around so she was standing once more on solid ground. He moved to hover beyond the railing. “I felt like I owed you an explanation . . .” 

“Who you choose to spend your time with, Kal, is your business,” Mayson tried out his name. It felt foreign and wrong on her tongue. “It’s frankly humbling to know that not even Superman can control his girlfriend.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Superman said. 

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Mayson said. “Not that I care. I just thought Superman would have higher standards.” 

Mayson decided Lois Lane must be a witch. There was no other explanation for such an unpleasant woman to have two guys eating out of the palm of her hand. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone, and allow Mayson to be with Clark? Lois already had Superman! What more could she want with Clark? 

“You don’t know Lois like I do . . .” 

“I don’t care to know her,” Mayson said heatedly. “And I’m sure the feeling is mutual.” 

“If you’ll just give Lois a chance to get to know you . . . she’ll give up this crazy notion that you’re a member of Intergang.” 

“Excuse me?” Mayson sputtered angrily. “I’m not the bad guy here. I helped you while you were blinded when all my instincts told me to call S.T.A.R Labs. Does that look like the actions of an Intergang member?” 

“I don’t think you are a member of Intergang,” Superman quickly said. “And Lois will see that too if you give her the chance. Under other circumstances, the two of you would be good friends.” 

“Not likely,” Mayson said, turning and stomping the rest of the way downstairs. Superman’s shadow hovered through the corner of her eye. 

Once outside she released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She braced her head on the steering wheel. “What a night,” she grumbled as she slid into the Mercedes.  

 The city lights danced across the dashboard like miniature fireflies. All she wanted was to see Clark and put her mind at ease. Superman was wrong about Clark. . . wrong about them. She wouldn’t hurt him. There was hope for them still. Lois had clearly moved on with an exotic spaceman. Soon he would realize there was no chance for Lois and Clark. How could a mild-mannered reporter compete with Superman? A microscopic voice reminded her of the similarities between Clark and Superman she witnessed. It was all in her head, wasn’t it? 

Out of habit she took the back roads and headed to Suicide Slums. She drove by Noctura Court, hating herself for still loving Clark . . . after everything. He stood her up and yet here she was on the street where he lived, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.  She parked the car underneath a shadowed tree that overlooked the back of Noctura Court. She had a perfect view of the fire escape that led to Clark’s open window. 

These were the actions of a crazed lunatic who couldn’t take a hint. She told herself she was only making sure he was alive. It was unlike Clark to go three days without telling his friends where he was. She knew Clark liked to sleep with the light on in the living room – he said the light prolonged the day a smidge more. The apartment was pitch black, seeming empty. Then where had he been all weekend? She debated calling him, but it was past two in the morning. If he wasn’t home nothing good would come of her calling him. Any other man she would have guessed was bar hopping at this hour. 

She flicked the radio on and headed back home. ‘It is just past 2 a.m. here in Metropolis and while the city sleeps, Superman’s still wide awake.’ 

Mayson hired the volume, alert and on edge.  

‘Listeners have called in sightings of the Man of Steel across three boroughs tonight. One eyewitness claims he intercepted a runaway train near the wharf. Mrs. Dolittle owes her life to Superman, who stopped a robbery in her home.’ 

‘Another caller reported Superman pulling a stranded motorist from rising floodwaters off Old River Road. And just ten minutes ago, Superman was sighted putting out fires at the Metro Club.’ 

The Metro Club was only five blocks from her apartment. The club was believed to be an Intergang front. He could be walking into a trap. He’s Superman. He can handle anything thrown his way. It’s way past her bedtime. She’d only get in the way.  He had Lois for comfort. 

That was it! 

She’ll let Lois know about the Metro Gang. It was the responsible thing to do. She turned the radio off and rang up Lois. It was late, but after the night they had Mayson doubted either of them would sleep.

 “What?” Lois answered after the first beat. 

“I’m sorry about the late hour,” Mayson started. “But I thought you’d want to know your boyfriend might be heading into a trap.” 

“My what?” 

Mayson’s grip on the Blackberry tightened. “You and Superman?” 

“We’re just friends,” Lois said, voice raw with exhaustion. She yawned loudly. “Did you say something about a trap – who is this?” 

“It’s Mayson Drake,” she answered. She felt  Lois tense through the phone. “He’s putting out a fire at the Metro Club.” 

“That’s what Superman does.” 

“I have no proof yet, but I think the club could be a front for Intergang.” 

“You could be lying.” 

“I don’t know what more I can do to show you I can be trusted,” Mayson said. “I’m not the bad guy.” 

“That’s exactly what a crook would say,” Lois snapped. “You could be luring me into a trap.” 

“I’m not,” Mayson reiterated. “Believe me, don’t believe me, it makes no difference,” she said. “I just . . . well, if someone was hurting Clark, I would’ve wanted to know.” 

“Superman was just blinded,” Lois thought out loud. “The lunkhead isn’t that stupid!” Mayson bit back a smile. Lois’ insults almost made Superman sound human.  

“You know Superman better than I,” Mayson said. “What do you think?” 

“I’m going to ram kryptonite up his ungrateful, lying ass.”  

Mayson had no idea what kryptonite was, but it sounded unpleasant. “Don’t be too hard on him,” Mayson surprised herself. “He’s been cooped up for three days.” 

Lois gave a snort of laughter. “He’s going to wish he’s still blind when I’m through with him!” 

Lois hung up. Mayson stared at her phone, baffled. That woman was certifiable. Lois had no reason to be angry with Superman! He had done nothing wrong! He was being a selfless hero, putting others before his well-being. And maybe that was the problem. Lois hated that he didn’t care about himself. Even so, Lois was overreacting. Mayson sensed she was missing a crucial part of the night’s events. Kal, Superman whatever his name is . . . must have done something unforgivable to warrant such anger from his number one fan. 

The remainder of the night was a blur of tossing and turning. She hardly remembered making it home. One thought consumed her mind. 

Clark Kent. 

Clark with his broad muscular shoulders. Those ill-fitting suits did nothing to hide the Adoni beneath. She wanted to run her hands through those silky black locks. Taste the fire on his tongue. Rip those baggy suits off and caress the bulging muscles, every delicious inch of him. She hugged her pillow, imagining it was Clark’s arm. 

“Careful,” his hot lips brushed against her bare back. She sprang into his waiting arms and drew him on top of her. His long fingers, built for hard labor on the farm, slid over her body. 

“I’m dangerous. I might hurt you,” he whispered against her mouth. 

“I don’t care,” Mayson rolled on top of him and kissed him hard. He kissed her back with a passion that rivaled that of Heathcliff. They were siamese twins - the two of them, bound at the hips since birth. She brushed her lips against the crook of his neck, drinking in the scent of ink and parchment. She felt him loosen beneath her. 

He undressed her with inhumane speed, the cold night giving her goosebumps. Her bare feet kicked through empty air.  She blinked. She was no longer in bed. The world spread out at her feet, twinking like a thousand fireflies trapped in a vast globe of blue. The stars twinkled and seemed to laugh at her.  

“I told you I was dangerous,” Clark said, eyes turning crimson. He dropped her. 

“No!” Mayson screamed as she plummeted to earth. “I love Clark not you!” 

Mayson woke with a startled gasp, her lips still burning where Superman . . . no Clark had kissed her. That was new. Usually, she woke after Clark undressed her. Even in dreams, her mind didn’t permit her to cross that threshold. Did this mean she was harboring feelings for Superman? She shook the covers off and crawled out of bed. 

Her phone rang just as she sat down to eat breakfast. She dropped the cinnamon toast and answered. “Mayson Drake speaking,” she greeted, wiping her greasy hands on a napkin.

“Drake, it’s Turpin. I’ve got two civvies in the tank claiming Superman blinded ’em with heat vision. One of ’em’s that nutjob Leit,” he explained. “He’s the main suspect in the Faraday homicide. Thought you’d want to weigh in before this turns into a circus.”

Mayson tightened her grip on the phone. “Superman acted to neutralize an immediate threat.” She bit her lower lip, contemplating revealing Superman’s condition the last three days, and decided to leave that up to the Kryptonian. 

“He responded proportionally—and in defense of others,” she stated. 

“You witnessed Superman blinding Dr. Leit and Frank Munch?”

“I’m an eyewitness,” she attested. “And a sworn officer of the court. If Leit is claiming victimhood, it’s a false narrative. Superman didn’t attack him—he stopped a dangerous device from doing further harm.”

There was a beat of silence before Turpin muttered, “Well, he’s already down here. He turned himself in this morning. Sitting in the box like a damn choirboy. Said he didn’t want this hanging over him.”

The lunkhead! Mayson stood, already grabbing her coat. “I’m on my way. Do not question him further until I arrive. I’ll be filing a formal statement.”

“Better bring coffee,” Turpin said. “Superman looks like he could use some.” 

The precinct was already a flurry of activity when Mayson pushed through the glass doors, her heels clicking sharply against the linoleum floor. She spotted Turpin standing outside Interrogation Room B, arms folded and a scowl firmly in place as he held a throng of eager, young officers at bay, who wanted a peek at the Kryptonian. 

“You bring the coffee?” he asked, one brow raised.

She handed Turpin the cardboard tray with a deadpan look. “Two sugars. Extra cream.” She hoped Superman would take his coffee the same way Clark did. She didn’t know what else to order him.  

“Excelente,” Turpin nodded in thanks and headed into the interrogation room. 

Mayson turned toward the two-way mirror. Superman sat hunched at the table, his arms crossed over his chest. How dare he have the nerve to look so bored! This was serious! He could be facing charges of Aggravated Assault! 

Turpin gently nudged the alien’s shoulder. Superman’s arm dropped to his lap, head tipping forward. Mayson suppressed an eye roll. The lunkhead was asleep. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She shouldn’t be as surprised as she was, but she thought Kryptonians didn’t need to sleep. Granted, it had been a draining last few days. 

Turpin set the coffee on the table and retreated from the interrogation room, locking the door behind him. He faced Mayson, gaze troubled. “He’s out cold,” Turpin said grimly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not getting any answers out of him any time soon.” 

“Has he said anything?” Mayson asked. 

 “Not much, admitted to blinding Leit and Munch and then crashed,” he shook his head. “Thought it was some sort of Kryptonian meditation or whatever— turns out he’s just beat.” 

“I’m not surprised,” Mayson said. “He hasn’t slept in three days,” she said, biting her lip contemplatively. “He didn’t say anything about where he’s been the last few days or his condition?” 

“Condition?” Turpin frowned. “He was sick?”   

She rolled her shoulders back and took a fortifying breath. By now Superman would have told Turpin the truth if he wanted to. She didn’t see a way around it, and couldn’t understand why the Kryptonian wanted to keep things close to the chest. 

Mayson's gaze drifted over the cops gathered,  who were hanging on every word.  “Not here,” she tilted her head toward his office. 

Turpin followed at her heels and locked the door behind them. Mayson drew the blinds down over the window. Turpin leaned against his desk, looking at her expectantly. She was too on edge to sit so she paced. What she was about to disclose was breach in privacy, but she didn’t see any other way to get him out of jail. She might not agree with his methods, but he didn’t deserve to be locked up. 

“Dr. Leit created a device that fried Superman’s optic nerves. He was flying blind till early this morning.” 

“Jesus Christ. This changes everything,” Turpin swore. Turpin let out a low whistle. “That’s not in Superman’s statement at all. Hell, he barely gave one. Just said he was there, used heat vision on the device, and that Leit was standing too close.”

“He downplayed it?” she asked, voice low.

Turpin nodded. “Didn’t want to look like he was blaming anyone.”

“I want the record to reflect that Dr. Leit deployed an unauthorized, experimental neural weapon that incapacitated Superman and endangered everyone in the area. Never mind that he’s our number one suspect in Faraday’s murder.”  

“You planning to put that in writing?”

“I’ll draft an affidavit now, detailing the events of the last few days,” she said, pulling a legal pad from her briefcase. “And once he’s awake, I’ll have Superman sign a supplementary statement. If Leit wants to press charges, let him. We’ll bury him in the evidence.”

Turpin raised an eyebrow. “Superman is not going to sign that.”

“Why ever not?” Mayson asked. “It will help prove he’s innocent.”

“In our eyes, he is,” Turpin said. “He’d blame himself for their blindness.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mayson snapped. “If anyone is at blame, it’s Dr. Leit, not Superman. It’s their own fault they’re in that predicament.”

“He’s not going to see it that way,” Turpin said. “Trust me, I know him.” 

It made Mayson wonder who else had gotten away with hurting Superman. All because the alien was too ashamed to come forward. Why did he insist on protecting humans who didn’t deserve to be protected?   

“Then we’ll get another witness to sign the statement,” she said firmly. “Lois Lane was present when Superman was blinded.”

A sudden commotion erupted outside — shouting, slamming doors, a rising tide of voices.Mayson and Turpin exchanged a glance of alarm and rushed out of the office.

Superman stood rigid in the center of the precinct, his eyes wide with barely contained panic. Several officers had grabbed hold of him, trying to restrain him. He didn’t resist — he just looked lost. 

“What the blazes do you think you’re doing?” Turpin barked, roughly pulling one of the officers off him.

“He’s trying to escape!” the officer protested.

“Please,” Superman said, voice ragged. “There’s an alarm going off — possibly a robbery in progress. I’ve got to go…”

Turpin held up a hand to quiet him and gave him a measured look. “Can you tell where it’s coming from?”

Superman’s jaw tensed. His pupils flicked toward the ceiling, unfocused. A sheen of moisture gathered in his eyes — not quite tears, but close enough to be worriesome.

Finally, he shook his head, shoulders sagging. “I usually can. But not now.”

“Then go back into the interrogation room,” Turpin said brusquely. 

“Superman is . . . I mean I’m needed,” Superman stuttered, sounding less like an invulnerable alien and more like a weary human. 

“What you need is a real good slap in the patootie!” Turpin screamed. “You’re running on empty, Kal-El,” Turpin said. Superman looked up in shock at the sound of his name. “I should charge you with public endangerment — not to the public, to yourself . You’re one more faceplant away from turning Metropolis General into a crater. NOW GO SIT DOWN!” 

Superman looked like he wanted to argue, but he merely turned on his heel and marched back into the interrogation room. Turpin indicated for Mayson to follow so she did. 

Superman sunk into the hard chair like a puppet with its strings cut. He stared forward, pointedly avoiding Mayson’s eyes, which she was fine with. Her palms grew clammy with sweat as she recalled his feverish mouth against her neck.  ‘ Clark, not Superman’ , she repeated in her head. She prayed telepathy wasn’t one of his secret talents.  

The coffee she brought earlier was tipped over on the desk. Mayson righted the cup and wiped up the the liquid with tissues – mostly to give her nervous hands something to do.  Superman leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. His hands were clasped so tight she saw the start of bruising. Superman’s cape pooled awkwardly at his feet, the hem torn and scorched beyond recognition. 

“You are not going to be arrested,” Turpin said, taking the seat opposite Superman. “But we do have some followup questions.” 

“I already told you everything I know,” Superman said. “Either arrest me or let me go. People need me.” 

“You failed to mention that Dr. Leit blinded you using illegal experiments,” Turpin said. Superman flinched at the word ‘experiment’ and glanced her way with a kicked puppy look. 

“Is that true, Kal-El?” Turpin continued. Superman clamped his hands together, and refused to speak. “Are you calling Mayson a liar?” 

“No, sir,” Superman said quickly.  At least he was being honest. 

“Was  Lois Lane present when you lost your vision?” Turpin asked.
Another crisp nod. 

Mayson clicked her pen once, twice. She didn’t need to take notes—she remembered everything. But she wrote anyway, her neat cursive anchoring her to the moment.

“Did Dr. Leit warn you before activating the device?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Superman shook his head once. “He had a gun on Lois,” he said. “I caught the bullet and then there was a bright violet light. You know the rest,” he met Mayson’s eyes. 

“This was three days ago,” Turpin relayed. Superman nodded. “Was the device used to blind you, the same device Faraday was killed for?” 

“No,” Superman said. “I destroyed Faraday’s device.” 

“So Dr. Leit manufactured a weapon to hurt you specifically?” Mayson asked.  

“Won’t be the first or last time, that happened,” he said. Turpin and Superman shared a charged glance, leaving Mayson wondering what criminals had done to him in the past that was brushed under the rug. 

Mayson opened her briefcase and pulled out a legal pad and pen. “Would you be willing to sign a statement? It’s protocol. With Leit already facing a murder charge, your affidavit could lock this down.”

Superman hesitated, visibly torn. “And if I sign . . . will my condition be public knowledge?”

Mayson lowered her pen. “Not unless you want it to be. Your health status can be redacted from the affidavit. We can state that Dr. Leit used an illegal weapon on you, that incapicitated you the last three days.”

“If word gets out I’m compromised, it could cause panic,” he said. “Worse — criminals might exploit it.”

“We get that,” Turpin said. “This stays in-house. Leit’s weapon is the story, not your medical file. Anything you want the public to know you can tell the press. You can trust Lois and Clark to tell the truth.”

“You’re not on trial,” Mayson added. “But we need your account if we’re going to make Leit answer for what he’s done. You signing it helps us protect others from him.”

“Alright,” Superman agreed reluctantly. “I’m a fast typist, can I type it?” 

“Of course,” Turpin said. “I’ll get the computer.” 

Mayson took advantage of Turpin’s absence and leaned forward, reaching across the table to gently cover Superman’s clenched hand with hers. It felt strangely right to do so. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I know this is difficult for you.”

His fingers twitched beneath hers, but he didn’t pull away. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction.

“I know it’s the right thing to do,” he said. “But it still feels icky.”

“You’re telling the truth and putting a bad guy behind bars,” Mayson said. “Because of you Leit can’t hurt anyone else.” 

“I know,” Superman said. “It’s just– Well,” he floundered for words. “I’m not human. The same rights you have don’t apply to me. This statement might not hold up in court.” 

Mayson’s brow furrowed, her hand still resting lightly on his. She was to blame for this feeling of alienation. “You’re wrong,” she said. “ He gave her a skeptical look, more tired than hurt. “I don’t always agree with your methods,” Mayson said. “You might not be human, but you’re still a person. Metropolis is your home. And that means you have rights. You have a voice.”

Before he could respond, the door opened again and Turpin entered with a laptop in one hand and bag of takeout in his other hand. He shot a questioning glance at their interlocked hands. Mayson quickly drew her hand back.  

“Okay, fingers of steel,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” Superman gave Mayson a brief, grateful look before turning to the keyboard. Mayson marveled at how natural he looked typing up a storm. It nagged at her brain. She was almost positive she had seen Superman behind a computer before.  

 “I hope you like donuts . . .” 

“Done,” Superman announced. 

“Already?” Turpin blanched, looking over Superman’s shoulder, squinting at the screen. He whistled appreciatively. “I’ll be damned. You weren’t kidding when you said you were a fast typist.” 

Superman gave a sheepish shrug. “There are some benefits to being me,” he said. “Am I free to go?” 

Turpin gave him a hard look. “You’re to go home straight away and do nothing but relax,” he ordered. “If I see a hint of a red cape, I’m arresting you for reckless endangerment.” 

An amused smile graced Superman’s features. “You know I could always wear a disguise,” he teased. 

“You know, I could always call our mutual friend in Gotham,” Turpin answered, the spark of amusement in his eyes cheapening the serious tone. 

“Thank you, detective,” Superman shook Turpin’s hand. “Mayson,” he nodded to her cordially and was gone in the blink of an eye. 

 “He’s not going to listen,” Mayson said. 

“That’s why I’m calling his girlfriend,” Turpin said. “He’d listen to Lois.” 

“I thought they were just friends,” Mayson said. 

Turpin threw his head back and gave a deep, guffaw. “And I’m the Tooth Fairy.”