Chapter Text
Two more shady police reports, another mysterious LexCorp clinic supposedly wiped from existence, and no sign of Clark in the office. The last few days had made Iris increasingly frustrated.
She had planned to talk to Clark the next day at work but he hadn't shown up. Iris asked around, trying not to seem too eager to know about the whereabouts of her coworker. Lois was the first person she asked, but to her dismay, there was no news of the tall glasses-wearing reporter; only the rush to cover the latest Superman story. The superhero had saved several people from three different bank robberies in one night. Definitely front-page material.
Jimmy had no clue either, despite him being quite good friends with Clark. All that Jimmy knew was that there was no word of Clark being out sick or with family matters.
‘Look, Iris, he probably just took a few days off for some relaxation, god knows it can get hectic around here.’
Iris looked at Jimmy, trying to conceal the worry working its way into her expression. ‘Yeah, you're probably right. Thanks Jimmy.’
He nodded towards her, spinning in his chair to wheel away back to his own desk where he was trying to put a picture of himself with three very attractive women clinging to him into a frame.
Iris rolled her eyes, turning in her own chair and facing her computer. She was met with her own reflection staring back at her through the black screen. She brought her hands up to her face, pressing her palms into her eyes, blocking out the sight of her tired self.
What if she had messed things up with Clark for good? A million thoughts rushed through her head. This investigation was surely taking years off of her life. The last few nights had been spent doing research deep dives.
She had scoured police report logs, used her press privileges to get security footage from nearby the clinics, hoping to see something - anything - that would give her a decent lead. But Lex was too good at concealing his tracks.
And of course, she had been contemplating sending a long paragraph of text to Clark to explain and apologise for her minor outburst. Iris typed drafts of the text over and over again, but never sent them. Nothing sounded right. Either she could tell him about the situation with her mother and why it had made her so testy that day, or she could just say sorry without any reasoning.
She sat like that for a good ten minutes, thoughts swirling in her head, worst scenarios playing out behind her eyes, until a familiar voice popped into her field of hearing.
‘Uh- Lois, Superman actually did manage to get to that last bank before the robbers fired any shots. He didn't endanger anyone.’ The deep tone of his voice carried through the bullpen and was music to Iris’ ears.
She peeked her eyes open, adjusting to the light now being let in. Her vision was still somewhat blurry from the amount of pressure she had been putting on her eyes, but she could clearly see the person who had been running through her mind for days.
Clark stood behind Lois, reading the article over her shoulder. He was in his usual outfit, dark grey suit and matching pants. His hair was curled perfectly, as usual, and his glasses were slightly askew on his nose.
He seemed to sense her looking at him and turned to meet her eyes. The two of them exchanged small smiles, Clark's seeming genuine, while Iris’ was concealing embarrassment and worry.
Iris looked away, finally running her hands messily over the keyboard to wake up her computer. There were still several tabs open from yesterday. A few article drafts sat there, as did a security footage tape that was paused at the three-hour mark, where Iris had given up on watching it.
Her email app sat open too, she clicked on it to see an empty message box in a draft letter. The email was addressed to Clark Kent and the subject line read: I’m Sorry.
Iris immediately deleted the draft email and exited the tab, returning to her article documents.
She sat up straighter to peek at Clark's desk where he was now sitting. Iris stared at Clark’s desk for a few more seconds, nerves pinching at her stomach. He looked focused, typing something on his laptop, but not so absorbed in the work that she couldn’t interrupt. Her palms were clammy. She wiped them on her skirt and stood up before she could talk herself out of it.
‘Hey,’ she said, standing beside his desk.
Clark looked up, briefly at first, still typing something, but then he did a double take, his eyes softening when they landed on her.
‘Hey,’ he echoed, voice gentler than she expected. ‘You alright?’
She nodded quickly, trying to brave herself, then shook her head just as fast. ‘No. I mean- yeah, I'm alright. I mean... Can we talk? Please?’
He blinked, giving her a subtle once-over like he was checking for her lying about being alright, maybe he was noticing the dark circles under her eyes. Then he stood. ‘Of course. Hallway?’
She nodded, grateful to be offered a more private spot to chat, away from the ears of the office gossips, and anyone else who she didn't want to witness her vulnerability. Once they were out of the bullpen, Iris folded her arms tightly. Clark leaned against the edge of a stationary cart, giving her some space.
‘I, uh…’ she began, then stopped.
Clark didn’t push her. He just waited.
‘I was awful to you the other day. And I’ve been meaning to say something, but I didn’t know how to even start. I feel really bad about it, I promise that I didn't mean to snap at you, or ignore your coffee.’
He tilted his head slightly. ‘You were upset. I get it.’
‘You shouldn’t have to ‘get it.’ You brought me coffee, and I bit your head off when you have been nothing but nice to me.’ She exhaled sharply, her arms dropping. Then she paused, choosing her next words.
In the moment of silence Clark spoke up. ‘Just nice? I thought last time I was freakishly nice.’ His tone held no malice but instead brought back the air of teasing banter that felt so natural between them.
Iris let herself laugh at that, exhaling out of her nose sharply. She then composed herself to continue. ‘It wasn’t about you. It was about my mom. And everything just boiled over. You didn’t deserve that. I really am sorry.’
Clark’s expression shifted. He was still calm, but something more open flickered behind his eyes. ‘You don’t have to explain everything, Iris. But I’m here if you want to.’
Her breath caught, shoulders relaxing for the first time in days. ‘So… we’re okay?’
He smiled, soft and a little crooked. ‘We’re okay.’
She smiled back, finally releasing the tension and worry that had been building inside of her. ‘Thank god. I was one more day of you not coming into work away from texting you a three-paragraph essay at 2 a.m.’
Clark chuckled. ‘I would’ve read every word.’
Iris rolled her eyes. ‘You’re too nice.’
He shrugged. There was a moment of silence, something warm but tentative settling between them.
Then Iris straightened, remembering the other ordeal that she had been staying up over. ‘Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Something I found. Another lead on the LexCorp stuff.’
Clark’s brows rose. ‘Tell me everything.’
The next hour was spent back at Iris’ desk, the two sitting next to each other, reading through the files that Iris had pulled from every source she could find.
Clark leaned over her desk, eyes scanning the same grainy image of some security footage that had been haunting Iris for days. His shoulder brushed against hers lightly as he pointed at the corner of the photo.
‘See that?’ he asked, voice low.
Iris glanced at where he gestured, but her attention halted for a second longer than it should have. His hand had grazed hers. Just briefly. But enough that the warmth lingered there, sending tingling shooting through her nerves.
They both stilled. Iris wasn't uncomfortable by the touch per-say, but she was frightened by it. The feeling of not hating being this close to someone- someone like Clark who was so friendly and, admittedly, very attractive- scared her. She hadn't let herself get close to anyone in a long time.
She pulled her hand away subtly, tucking it under the desk, suddenly very interested in the computer screen.
Clark did the same, clearing his throat and pretending he hadn’t noticed the jolt of awkwardness now sparking between them like electricity.
‘Uh, right,’ she said, voice a notch too high and speaking too fast. ‘You were saying?’
He nodded, eyes flicking back to the image. ‘This sign in the reflection.’ He leaned in again, this time more carefully in order to not brush up against her again. ‘That corner shop, it's called Mel’s. It shut down over a year ago. But if the timestamp on this footage is two months old, and Mel’s neon sign is still lit… then this footage wasn’t taken when it says it was, it's not adding up to the supposed narrative here.’
Iris blinked, following his train of thought. ‘You’re saying someone doctored the timestamp?’
‘Or the footage itself. Which means someone wanted to make it look like the woman went missing two months ago. When maybe it was more recent. Or not at all.’
She straightened slowly. ‘And whoever sent it to me either didn’t know that… or wanted me to find this. This is why I hate not knowing my sources.’
Clark looked at her. ‘Either way, they didn't hide it well enough, and it's suspicious. You should look into it more. I think you've got a good lead here.’
Iris didn’t answer right away. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, then slowly dropped down to her lap. ‘That clinic, I know the area pretty well.’ she started, but her voice trailed off. She pressed her lips together before trying again. ‘It’s in my old neighborhood. I don't know why I didn't realise the sign thing earlier, I saw it almost every day for years.’
She paused, drawing in a breath, her mind far away. ‘My mom still lives nearby. I haven’t, I don't, I can't go back there. I moved away for a reason.’
Clark turned his head, watching her. She didn’t meet his eyes, just kept looking at the image on the screen.
Then Clark spoke, gentle but sure. ‘Then I’m coming with you.’
She blinked and looked up at him, meeting his eyes. ‘Clark, you really don’t have to-’
‘I do,’ he interrupted softly. ‘If this really is something shady, then you’re not going alone. And I’d like to be able to support you. It's what any good friend would do.’
Her heart twisted in her chest, anxiety already building at the thought of reliving her childhood neighbourhood.
‘Okay,’ she said at last, voice quiet but certain. ‘You can come. Thank you Clark.’
He nodded surely, like a wave of relief had washed over him. He really did care about Iris no matter what, for some reason unbeknownst to her.
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Iris arrived at the meeting spot early. She was overly nervous about this whole ordeal, even though she had done many investigations of this nature before. Maybe it was the idea of being accompanied by Clark that made her so nervous. He did have that effect on her, more than any of her other friends did. God, why hadn't she just asked Lois instead?
She fidgeted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. The doorbell chimed as someone else walked in. Clark. He was early too, they weren't meant to meet for another ten minutes.
Clark's eyes scanned around the room until his gaze landed on Iris sitting alone in a corner. He was about to walk up to the counter to order a drink when Iris waved her hand in the air, motioning to the steaming cup of coffee already sitting in the spot opposite her.
He walked over and raised an eyebrow towards Iris. ‘You got me coffee?’
She shrugged, pushing her blue scarf up into her face. ‘I owed you, didn't I?’
‘Yeah, I guess we did agree on that. Thank you.’ He smiled with the warmth of a thousand yellow suns and it almost made Iris lose her composure. She wasn't used to people being so kind when receiving things from her.
They talked lightly as they drank, but Iris kept checking the time, feeling the weight of what they were about to do, how it was all shrouded in coverups and deceit. Eventually, Clark set his empty cup down and said, ‘Ready?’
She nodded. ‘Ready.’
They both stood, Iris pulling her scarf tighter around her neck as if it could shield her from the knot of nerves in her stomach.
They left the shop together, stepping out into the crisp air. The street was busy enough, but every sound felt muffled under the weight of what they were heading toward. Clark hailed a taxi, and the two slid into the backseat.
It was a small cab, the kind where even trying to avoid touching meant your knees still brushed with every little bump in the road and turn around a tight corner. At first, Iris kept her gaze fixed out the window, watching familiar streets blur past. But her focus kept drifting to the quiet warmth of Clark beside her. To the solid muscle of his thigh pressing lightly against hers, the occasional rustle of his coat sleeve when he shifted, and the scent of his cologne filling the space.
‘You’ve gone quiet,’ he said softly, seeming almost worried for her.
‘I’m thinking,’ she replied.
‘About?’
‘Whether this is going to be worth it or not.’ She glanced at him. ‘The clinic. The leads. All of it.’
He studied her face for a moment, the city lights flashing in his glasses, reflecting neon blues and reds. ‘You wouldn’t be doing this if it didn’t matter.’
The conviction in his voice made her heart jump. She turned back to the window, pretending to be distracted by the passing scenery. But she didn’t move her leg away from his. The warmth and stability of knowing he was right there with her was comforting.
The rest of the ride was filled with the low hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio up front. Every so often, Clark would look out his window and then back at her, as if checking she was still okay. She hated the feeling of possible scrutiny at her nerves, but it was tolerable since it was Clark, one of the only people she trusted.
When the taxi slowed, the neighborhood outside had changed. It was grittier, quieter, and the air was thick with an unease that made her shoulders tense. The driver shot a look at them in the mirror as they pulled up to the curb, like he was silently questioning why anyone would willingly stop here.
Clark paid the taxi driver before Iris could even reach for her wallet. They then stepped out into the street, quickly being abandoned by the cab.
She took a moment to take in her surroundings, it was all so familiar, and so much worse than she had remembered it to be. She had fought for her whole life growing up to escape this place, yet here she was back in her worst nightmare.
Her gaze drifted to a small corner store she used to walk past every morning on her way to school. She remembered the smell of stale bread and cigarettes that would spill out when the door opened. She’d never had money for the candy in the glass jars by the register, but she could still picture the way the wrappers caught the light, tempting her. She swallowed, feeling the ache of those small, impossible childhood moments.
Clark glanced at her from the other side of her, his voice low. ‘You okay?’
She nodded too quickly, eyes still fixed out into the distance. ‘Just… remembering stuff. I spent most of my life here, haven't been back in a while.’
They passed the brick building that had once been her elementary school. The playground equipment was gone now, replaced by bare dirt and a chain-link fence that looked like it had been repaired one too many times.
She saw herself as a kid, coat two sizes too big, hands jammed into her pockets to keep from fidgeting, pages of writing projects spilling out around her. That had been before her mother’s bad days had turned into bad months. Before Iris learned that sometimes the people who were supposed to care for you could cut the deepest.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, sharp and dismissive, telling her she was “too soft for this world” and “a disappointment, just like your father.” Iris blinked hard, willing the sound away, but the neighborhood always made it harder to drown it out.
She turned from the window, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. ‘Didn’t think I’d be back here so soon,’ she muttered, half to herself, half to Clark who was still a steady presence beside her.
Clark didn’t press, but she could feel his attention on her like a steady, quiet presence. It wasn’t prying, instead it felt protective and caring, how he always seemed to be.
Iris took stride and started to walk the route to the clinic that she had memorised off of a map. She caught a glimpse of her old apartment building at the end of the block. A crumbling, beige facade with rusting pipes creating a maze down the sides. She thought back to nights when the heat didn’t work. Meals that were more excuses to fill the silence than to fill their stomachs.
She looked away fast.
Clark leaned forward slightly, his tone gentle but firm. ‘If this is too much, we don’t have to-’
‘I’m fine,’ she interrupted, a little too sharply. Then, softer, ‘We came all this way.’
Clark nodded, not pushing anymore.
The clinic sat halfway down the block, its faded green sign flickering with a dying light, casting jagged shadows against the brick wall. The wall that was too pristine to fit in with its dilapidated surroundings.
It was quieter than Iris remembered. Even when she’d walked past here as a teenager, there had been noise. Whether it was distant shouting, music leaking from cracked apartment windows, or the constant rattle of the elevated train, it was always so busy and loud.
Now, there was only the faint hum of a streetlight and the slow creak of a swinging chain-link gate nearby.
Iris wrapped her scarf tighter, but the chill wasn’t just from the wind. Something about the street felt… hollow. Her nerves only grew, despite Clark stepping closer as they walked.
Clark came to stand right beside her, his gaze sweeping the building from the crooked awning to the darkened second-floor windows, he squinted his eyes slightly, looking at something Iris couldn't see. He stared as if he could see right through the walls. ‘This place doesn’t exactly scream ‘cutting-edge healthcare,’’ he murmured.
She tried to laugh, but it came out thin. ‘That’s the thing. They’re supposed to have new funding. State-of-the-art equipment. The press releases make it sound like a miracle clinic.’
‘Looks more like a place you go in and don’t come back out of, it reminds me of something off of the X-Files.’ he said softly.
‘The X-Files? You like the X-Files?’ Iris asked in disbelief, smirking up at him.
‘It's a great show! Scully is one of the best characters ever.’ His tone made her nerves shrink away somewhat, the banter returning.
‘Alright, alright, no need to get so defensive.’ She laughed at him. ‘However, Mulder is ultimately much cooler, he’s the one who believes.’
Clark looked down and met her eyes, a faint smile ghosting his lips, drawing Iris’ gaze to them. ‘I never knew you were a nerd too. You keep it very well hidden, Scully.’
Iris’ mouth parted in a smile at the nickname and she flicked her gaze away from the smile still resting on Clark’s lips. She quickly resumed her composure, standing up straighter and pulling on her scarf. ‘Well, Mulder. We have a clinic to explore if you're done nerding out now.’
They crossed the sidewalk together, both still smiling to themselves, and walking closer together now.
The closer they got, the more Iris noticed. The advertising peeling off of the windows like sunburned skin, the faint chemical smell leaking from a vent, the security camera above the door that clicked and whirred with a little flashing red light to follow their movements.
She reached for the door, hesitating when she saw her reflection in the grimy glass. For a moment, she was sixteen again, standing outside the grocery store her mother sent her to with a five-dollar bill that wouldn’t stretch far enough. Always hesitating before going inside. Always bracing for what would follow when she got home.
Clark’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘You ready?’
She forced herself to nod. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s see what’s inside.’
The door gave a reluctant groan as she pushed it open.