Chapter Text
The wind felt exquisite on Charlene’s skin, calming her racing heart. It wasn’t every day where her life flashed before her — she had been left under a pillar near LexCorps, then saved by an angel named Superman. Her eyes, shut tightly and pressing away tears, helped her forget exactly why she couldn’t go back to Metropolis. It had been a week, and, yet, here she was. She was hiding. She wasn’t proud of it. She was hiding from someone too important to her.
Charlene was hiding from shaking buildings, crumbling roads, screams, glowing rocks, and a reporter who kept disappearing every time that Superman kept showing up.
She was done with the lying and the rejection.
She didn’t plan on jumping from the rail where she was standing. She didn’t want to hurt herself. She just wanted to see something else.
Something different.
So, in search of new scenery, of something alien to her, Charlene went to the most dangerous part of Metropolis.
Albeit, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but it was something that at least distracted her. Central City was just too far to drive, and Gotham was the worst idea ever — even if it was the sister city of her home.
In the nastiest, deadliest part of Metropolis, she could just forget about this man who had worried her sick, she could just relax and listen to the cars run and the flags flap and smell the sulfur and petroleum and the flowers in the box on the building beneath her. Way up on this rooftop, she let her surroundings melt away her fears.
Char sat on the ledge of the roof, setting her fingers under the concrete lip.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” a deep voice said, startling her.
She flinched hard.
The stranger set a kind, open hand on her shoulder to secure her. “People jump all the time,” he continued. He sounded both kind and concerned. “I hope you’re not looking for an escape that way.”
“Um,” Char started, trying to find her voice, “I wasn’t going to jump. I was just trying to get over someone.” She cleared her throat and dusted her clothes off. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Not that it’s important… but he’s kind of important in my life. I had to… to be somewhere he wasn’t.”
There was a hum from the man who was behind her. Char looked up, seeing a small smile, a square jaw, and dark hair. There was a familiarity to him — not that she knew him, but that she had seen him somewhere before. Uh, not because he was a superhero, but maybe his face in the daylight.
Charlene felt… well, not safe, but there was something comforting about him.
As she looked closer, she noticed a large S in a red diamond weaved into the fabric on his breast.
Superman.
“How important can he be? He’s not Lex Luthor, is he?” the hero asked. He sat down next to Char, setting his cape underneath his legs so it flowed beneath him. His lips twitched upwards, but not quite.
“He’s one of the biggest writers for the Daily Planet newspaper,” she said, laughing sadly. She felt like an idiot. Why was she spilling her guts out to this stranger? “Clark Kent, such a dork, but he’s always in the building. I work with him. I’m a newscaster —”
“Charlene Park,” he filled in. He turned to look at her, bright blue eyes gazing into her own with an edge of… something. Surprise? Recognition? Worry for her?
Charlene blushed. She wasn’t surprised. This was the Superman. He was the hero of the city. Who knew how much he knew about anyone at the Daily Planet?
Rumor was, Superman had insider people who worked there, so of course, he might have known something about her.
Stupidly, Charlene squeaked, “You know my name. Creepy.”
He gave a slight nod as if agreeing with her. “Yeah… but you said it yourself. You’re a newscaster. I make it my job to watch the news.”
“Superman watches the news,” she breathed.
“Yes,” he said, patient and friendly. “I actually watch the Gotham City News too — since Batman lives there. I have to know if I ever need to interfere. If he was ever mind-controlled or killed or seriously injured, I need to be able to step in and save the world. The other members of the Justice League aren’t always there or capable.” Each word that came from his mouth didn’t seem arrogant or rude at all. It seemed almost… informative and dorky.
“So… you’re rescuing all by yourself?” she asked. She felt so awkward.
“I have my colleagues. They’re trained pretty well,” he replied. He turned his gaze out to Metropolis. He had a firm stare, unwavering and determined. Her heart dipped, impressed by him, and so… so weirded out, too.
Charlene looked out at the city, too. “I don’t have kids. I don’t have anybody. My parents died when I was young, I was never adopted, and I don’t have siblings.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Clark was my friend back in Smallville. It’s just been so odd, recently. He hasn’t been around as much, he’s been tailing Lois Lane, and I’ve been breaking my own heart over and over. He doesn’t mean to, but he keeps stringing me along.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong — Clark’s a great guy! But…”
“But that’s why it’s hard to get over him,” Superman supplied. He bowed his head and clasped his hands in front of him. An understanding was hidden beneath layers of quiet. “I don’t know what it’s like to be in love with some kind of Clark Kent, but I know what loneliness is, Miss Park.”
“Charlene.”
“Charlene,” he corrected himself.
She cleared her throat, unsure of what to say. “How do you still feel lonely? With your super-ness?”
He shook his head a little. “There are times I feel lonely, but I’ve been blessed with good friends and family. Your blessings will come, too, Charlene.” He turned to look at her. “I know that it doesn’t fix anything, but… I hope that helps.”
“It does,” she said, smiling. “What makes you so sure I’ll have blessings? I mean, you coming to talk to me seems heaven-sent, but that’s not a guarantee.” Charlene twisted her hands together, now restless.
Superman took his time to collect his answer. “You’re a woman in her mid-twenties who still pines over her high school sweetheart,” he started, and then his face went taut. “Uh, from what it sounds like. You had one good thing, and it… either ended or you grew apart. You built others up instead of yourself. You’ve waited patiently for what you want — but not for everything. You let some things go to others. You fought for everything and you’ve sacrificed it all. The foster homes were nothing, and yet it was the worst thing to live through. A kid with no one made herself into a someone, even if it was half of a someone.” Superman leaned back, resting on his hands. “You’re too scared to let people go, but you’ve accepted people letting go of you or setting you aside. Charlene, you’ve got to have something coming to you. I can feel it.”
Charlene was stunned. How did he know all these things? Was she that obvious? Was she an open book? Or was that the hero of Metropolis using his powers on her? Oh, she couldn’t tell! Her skin prickled from what he said and the chilling night air.
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Wow. You got all that just by listening to me for a few seconds?”
“And from knowing the type.” He unclipped his cape, standing up. He wrapped it around her shoulders as she still sat. Superman stood close, but not too close, like he was trying to be careful with how insane this was for her. Being honest, this was all too surreal — Charlene didn’t know how to feel.
This stranger was becoming less and less of a stranger.
She knew he couldn’t want to be too close, and it was foolish to think that they would be close. This was just a weird talk about Clark Kent on a Sunday night, on the ledge of a rooftop.
Being in love with Clark Kent was the least of her worries, anyway.
“Can I ask you something?” she whispered.
“Of course,” Superman said patiently. He stepped a pace or two back and folded his arms. His expression flickered again, almost like he was trying to stay… something. It was on the tip of her tongue.
She waited about thirty seconds before saying anything. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Her throat didn’t want to cooperate.
How to phrase this?
He gestured with two fingers, signalling for her to continue.
“If I wanted to talk to you again, how would I be able to… do that?” she whispered. “I feel like you’ve understood me more in ten minutes than my shrink has in years.”
“That’s a little complicated,” he said, not unkindly. He looked down at her with a glint in his eyes. “Just go back home. You’re needed there. My job is to make people feel safe. But… I can’t quite…”
Charlene stopped. Of course. Right. She put her palm to her forehead. “You’re right.” She barked a laugh and shook her head. “You’re a hero. Sorry.” Then, under her breath and meant for herself, she grumbled, “I’ll have to just face Clark like normal.”
Like he couldn’t even pretend not to hear her, he said, “I know. I’m… sorry.”
Char stood up. “You might want this back, won’t you?” She flapped the cape around her shoulders. She felt silly. She didn’t know this man. She knew nothing about him, and she was talking to him like she was talking to Clark. She wasn’t a writer; she wasn’t an interviewer; she was a reciter.
Talking to superheroes? That was all new to her.
The hero uncrossed his arms and pressed his lips into a tight line. “I’ll walk you down off the building — you can return it then.”
In the dark, his face seemed stupidly familiar.
Charlene felt her heart throb painfully.
“Okay,” she allowed, because she couldn’t think of what else to do.