-1IN THE DARK

Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright is intended and I do not profit from this story.

Chapter one

"To look at a thing is not the same as seeing a thing. And you never see any thing until you see its beauty." Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband

I know what you're thinking. No, really I do. You're thinking, "Why are you being such a bitch to him? I mean, isn't it like kicking a puppy-dog, being mean to Clark Kent?" And you're totally right. You're absolutely, 100 correct. Being mean to Clark makes you feel like you've just told a bus-load of blind orphans that there's no Santa Clause. Makes you feel like you've talked Tinkerbell into getting herself a studio apartment in Shadyside and giving up on fairies.

So why do I do it?

Well, I could tell you a fairytale about how I don't notice myself doing it, about how Mad Dog Lane and her nose for a story never even noticed Kansas State (all 6" 4' of him) unless she had to tell him off or move his ass. And most people would believe that. But it wouldn't be the truth. And all us reporters are supposed to care about is the truth. Doesn't matter if it breaks up your marriage. Doesn't matter if it nearly gets the guardian of Metropolis killed. The truth will set you free.

Yeah, sure. Would you like fries with that?

No, the truth is that I did notice him. It's damn hard not to. 'Specially when he does stuff like remember your birthday, or buy you a candy bar because he knows you're havin' a lousy day and you'd never, EVER ask for one yourself. It's damn hard not to notice that he uses words like "golly," and "swell."

It's damn hard not to notice that he seems to break a little when he sees other people in pain. When he sees you in pain.

I was insulted when the Chief teamed us. Thought it was because I was a woman, and he wanted to cut me down to size. That assumption is one of the few things I feel truly ashamed of, even after all the stunts I've pulled, all the malarkey I've caused to people and property over the years. He has that knack, kinda like Superman in fact, for making you feel bad about the stuff you do. I've got so much guilt stored up over the pair of them I might just turn Catholic in my sleep. But after a little while I began to realise what the chief saw in him. He might not be the person you want saving you from a burning building, but Clark is the type of man you'd want waiting for you at home once the paramedics were done with you. He's just that type of guy. Super in a very different sense. And, ok, so maybe a bit flighty but there's nothing he wouldn't do for me. And yeah, I know I took advantage of it sometimes, but I tried to pay him back, watch out for him.

Maybe the problem isn't that I'm mad at him. Maybe the problem is that I'm mad at me. Figures.

But I haven't answered your question. (Problem with being a reporter, you get used to asking questions and never having to answer them). And I wanna answer that one, since you asked it. It's time I answered that one. Why am I so mean to Clark Kent since he came back? Why am I being so goddamn dismissive?

Because when someone hurts you the way Clark hurt me, it's the only thing you can do. It's the only way you can stay sane. Pretend to be something you're not, to feel nothing when you feel everything, and hope the whole thing just blows over. Self-preservation can be a bitch. I'm just trying to keep up with her.

No, I can tell you're not buying that either.

Fine, you wanna know? You really wanna know?

It started before he left, before he disappeared into the great blue yonder to "find himself." It started with a Saint Christopher medal, and a ribbon covered in strawberries.

It started with a girl.