Superman Movieverse Forum

Title: Family Reunion
Author: Mr. Beeto
Rating: PG-13
Beta: htbthomas and Shado Librarian
Summary: AU Twist on Donner/Singer Movieverse: Tie the three films together into a cohesive whole, and provide a more credible and interesting reason for Superman to have returned to Krypton.

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Author’s Notes:
If you have an EMP powerful enough to disable systems on a shuttle that was almost certainly over a thousand miles away, what do you think would happen to electronics closer to the source?

Special thanks again to the beta team of htbthomas and Shado Librarian. I’m also grateful to Shado Librarian for her help with some of Perry’s dialogue at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 13 – A Long Day

Monday, September 25, 2006 1:30PM EDT
Superman soaked in the sun high about the Florida peninsula and concluded that seeing Lois on the plane had nearly been his undoing. She was so beautiful, he thought. He had wanted nothing more than to race down the aisle of the plane and take her into his arms and had just barely been able to restrain himself. Hopefully, the reporters on the plane wouldn’t read too much into his hesitation after talking to her. He realized that it would have been terribly inappropriate to embrace her. She now wore another man’s ring and had a child with him. I’ll always love her, but her life no longer includes me, he lamented. She has a family now. He recalled the family photo that he had seen on her desk a few hours earlier, and the crayon drawings pinned to the cubicle walls. She had apparently found happiness, and he wasn’t about to disrupt that.

I’ve got a family now, too, he reminded himself. Kara’s my flesh and blood. He shifted his vision across the country to Smallville, and found Kara out on the school playground for recess, smiling as she talked with Becky Hayden and a couple other kids. He couldn’t hear the conversation, given that the sound waves from Smallville would take 90 minutes to reach him. However, he could read lips, though he didn’t entirely understand what they were talking about. ‘We Bowling’? he wondered. What kind of grammar is that? Is it some new slang? I’m going to have to ask Sarah about that… He indulged in another moment of covert observation, smiling at the tableau, before turning his attention back to more important matters.

The Man of Steel swept his vision across the continent below, searching for the most obvious cause of an EMP, which unavoidably brought back visions of the nuclear holocaust he had folded space-time to avoid. I can’t let that history ever repeat itself, he reminded himself. Satisfied that there were no nuclear horrors requiring his attention, he again swept his vision across the land, this time searching for the effects of the EMP. He was surprised to discover that Metropolis was the hardest hit, and apparently the point of origin for the destructive pulse. But the shuttle was nearly twelve hundred miles away, he contemplated. What could have generated the power to cause such damage at that range?

He pushed the questions from his mind and extended his senses across Metropolis, revealing the full extent of the mess. There were now numerous injuries across the city, some of them serious, and given the current state of the city, the response from emergency services was slow, at best. Thousands of citizens were also trapped in disabled subways trains or in elevators, the city’s mass transit was crippled with inoperable busses and trains, and the main arteries through the city were clogged with disabled vehicles, many of which had now been abandoned by their owners. Clearing this mess will be tedious, he speculated. This is going to be a long day…



Ballpark security quickly mobilized after Superman’s departure, sprinting to the plane and intercepting the excited fans streaming onto the field. However, it was the Marlins' trainer, Larry Starr, who was first to reach Lois. She started coming around as he called to her, and he helped her to her feet and escorted her to the dugout. By the time Lois had cleared her head, emergency services had arrived and the fire department was evacuating the plane while the police pushed the throng of fans off the field. Few were interested in leaving the stadium, however, and they remained watching the scene from the stands. Eventually, someone in the control booth thought to send the GNN feed to the Jumbotron, and the crowd was treated to a replay of the Boeing 777’s dramatic rescue.

Though Lois was relieved that the authorities now seemed to have the situation under control, to her chagrin, the fire department wasn’t allowing anyone back on the plane. That meant that she couldn’t get her purse, laptop, or her phone, making it impossible to file the story. She was also thwarted when she tried to call from the stadium pay phones. All the Planet numbers were going straight to voice mail, and no calls were getting through to anyone’s cell phones: “All circuits were currently busy.” It seemed her only option for getting her story in was to get her laptop from the plane, but the police and ballpark security weren’t cooperating.

“Look, I just need to get my laptop and purse,” Lois complained. “It will only take me a minute.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the officer apologized. “Not until the fire department gives the all clear.”

“Then can someone go get it for me? I was sitting in 11D.”

The officer smiled sympathetically at her and told her, “I understand you’re anxious to recovery your property, ma’am, but the plane might not be safe. Let the firemen do their jobs.”

Lois fumed at the situation and looked briefly over at the wingless carcass of the plane before noticing the Jumbotron, which was now replaying her fall down the slide. Oh, just wonderful! Lois complained. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that the jerk made me faint on national TV, now I can’t even report the story! A quick look around the field verified that almost everyone from the plane was sitting on the grass, pecking away at their laptops with their cell phones balanced on one shoulder, no doubt filing their stories. Everyone, that is, except Pulitzer Prize winner, Lois Lane. The obvious puff piece covering the shuttle had morphed into the hottest story of the day, and she was stuck with no way to call in it.

This isn’t how I thought it would be when he came back, she told herself. It should have been something a little more private, without the eyes of the world watching our every move. The first time they’d met had also been on a disabled aircraft. She had been on her way to meet Air Force One for an exclusive interview with the President of the United States. This time, however, she was little more than a passenger, one of many on a strictly managed P.R. event for NASA, with the scope of discussion strictly limited. It was the latest in a long line of puff pieces forced upon her, undoubtedly due to her fiancé’s influence. Richard didn’t like the sometime necessary risks she’d take digging up the information on some of her investigations, and it never failed that when he felt she was taking too many risks, she’d have a mandatory puff piece thrown in her lap. She’d complain, but she rarely put up much of a fight. I guess I’ve been playing it safe in a world without Superman, where he wasn’t around to help if I got in over my head, she admitted.

She was still as good a reporter as ever, but with fewer exclusives or accolades than there once were, the Pulitzer Prize winning editorial notwithstanding. Her investigative reporting these days was relatively safe, avoiding the crime beat and instead targeting politicians and city programs. That wasn’t the Lois Lane that Superman once knew. He’s probably in for a disappointment when he realizes what’s become of me. I was supposed to have a Pulitzer for investigative reporting by now, not for some stupid editorial... which he’s probably not going to like, either… Well, too bad. Her thoughts turned to the past, and she recalled the weeks leading up to his disappearance six years earlier: The spike in his activities, and his absence from the Planet’s rooftop. What happened to take you away from me? she wondered. And what brought you back?

She shook the thoughts from her mind, turned back to the police officer and groused, “Do they even know I’m waiting for them?”

The officer sighed irritably. “Please try to be patient,” he advised her.

Lois rolled her eyes and looked longingly over at the mutilated plane that held her possessions captive. This is going to be a long day…



Perry leaned back in his chair and watched in mute astonishment as the incredible scene from Dolphin Stadium replayed on his office television. He’s back! Perry summarized. And Lois is right in the middle of it, just like the good old days. Oh, what this will do for circulation! …I hope she’s okay…

His joyful contemplation was interrupted by his nephew, Richard, knocking on the door. “Perry?” he called gently. “We’ve got a problem.”

Perry frowned, sitting upright as he turned his attention Richard. “What is it?” he asked gruffly.

“We lost the presses in this power snafu,” Richard explained. “Tim just sent up a runner, and he says that the circuit boards are fried. He only got about a quarter of the afternoon edition run when they blew.”

“What?” Perry bellowed. ”We’ve got the biggest story of the year going on right now, and you’re telling me I have no way to print it? When will we be back online?”

“They’re still trying to find a working phone to call service,” Richard explained, as another assistant editor, Sam Foswell, joined him in the doorway. “This power spike’s blown everything in the building.”

“It’s not just our building,” Sam added. “Jimmy just got back, and he says the entire district is out, and it’s not just the power grid. Cell phones are fried, too. There are also a lot of disabled cars and traffic lights, so its gridlock times a thousand out there right now. We don’t really have a handle on the scope of the problem with everything down.”

Richard pulled the cell phone from his belt, and quickly confirmed its inoperative state. “This is starting to sound more like an EMP, if it’s taking out cell phones and cars, too,” Richard muttered. “But I’ve only ever heard that scenario discussed in the context of a nuke.”

“We need to pull out our disaster plan,” Perry declared somberly. “Come hell or high water, we are getting a paper out tomorrow morning! We’ll call it no later than three o’clock. In the meantime, tell Tim to find a working phone, and get those presses fixed!”

“Everything’s still out,” Sam reminded him.

“Well, there’s got to be a working phone somewhere,” Perry insisted. “Send someone down to IT, or look for a pay phone. And when you find a working phone, call the Gazette - let them know that we might be printing our morning edition in Gotham.”

“We’ll do our best,” Richard promised.

“And get everyone out there pounding the pavement to get us some answers!” Perry continued. “They’re not going to find anything out sitting around here with everything down! Now, move!”

“Yes, sir,” Sam and Richard responded in unison as they retreated from the office to carry out the orders.

Perry sank back in his chair, and glanced through the glass wall into the bullpen, where Richard and Sam were ushering their teams to the elevators. Hell of a time for all these system failures, he thought. We could be in for a long day…




Monday, September 25, 2006 4:30PM EDT
Lois had finally recovered her belongings from the plane, and secured a Miami hotel room. Once inside the room, she stretched out on the couch, opened her laptop and reviewed her draft of the afternoon’s top story. She wasn’t happy with it. Most of it was old news, already reported by her fellow passengers. After her earlier reflection on her reporting in recent years, she was determined to recover her old glory, and that meant putting in a superior article, not just a reproduction of what everyone else was writing. She’d need to swallow her pride, and pull in sources that her peers didn’t have access to. She pulled out her phone, and dialed the number. “General Lane’s office,” a youthful man’s voice answered. A moment later, Lois began the uncomfortable conversation.

Though crotchety as ever, Sam Lane had broken with precedent and was marginally cooperative with his daughter. Lois was able to read between the lines: Her near-miss with death had scared him. It was still a frustrating conversation, given Sam’s reticence over sharing anything useful with her about the EMP. “Dad, I’m not asking you to leak anything classified about it,” Lois insisted irritably. “I just… I need something to distinguish my story from what everyone else is writing.”

“What exactly are you asking me for?” her father responded gruffly.

“I don’t know – a source, maybe,” she began irritably. She softened her tone, and admitted softly, “I’m just trying to pull myself out of a career rut, and to do that, I need details that nobody else has. Details that some of your tight-lipped friends might have.”

“Problems at the office?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Lois stammered. “I’ve just realized that I haven’t done a real meaty story in awhile, and not just because of certain over-protective personalities at the office. I’m off my game, and I need to fix that, somehow.”

There was silence on the line for a full two minutes before Sam Lane declared, “There may be some people who are authorized to discuss the matter. I’ll call you back with names and numbers… Is your cell phone working?”

“Yeah, Dad, the cell number should be fine. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sam replied dismissively. He softened his tone, and told her sincerely, “I’m glad you’re okay, Lois. Goodbye.” Her father hung up before she had a chance to respond to his statement.

It only took a moment for Lois to confirm that was still no answer from her contacts in Metropolis, where GNN had reported that the EMP damage was the worst. However, she was able to log into the Planet’s web portal, and she took the opportunity to check her email. The biggest surprise was the Corporate Notification, informing all employees that the paper’s disaster plan had been invoked, and summarizing the steps taken. That explains why nobody’s answering the phones there… Hey, they moved up deadline to eight o’clock? That won’t leave me much time to get this story together.

The next email was from Richard. He was flying Perry and the other AEs to Gotham on the seaplane, and taking Jason with him. Why couldn’t they have just left him with Lucy or Alice? Jason’s going to be bored out of his mind... He always does that, always thinks Jason’s better off with him… We’re going to need to have a long talk about that. Again.

Lois quickly scanned through her other unread emails. There were messages from her mother and sister, who had witnessed her fall on television and were understandably concerned, messages were from her sources on the city contracts scandal, and a message from NASA spokesperson, Bobbie-Faye Roberts, thanking her for her assistance on the plane earlier, and informing her of a press conference in Cape Canaveral at ten o’clock the following morning. She flagged the emails she’d need to respond to, and set the laptop aside as her thoughts returned to her professional situation.

Before Superman’s disappearance, her investigative reporting articles had garnered a dozen award nominations over a five year period, though half of them were jointly with her former partner, Clark Kent. She had been at the top of her game, the envy of her peers, and the worst nightmare of the targets of those investigations. However, in the six years since, only her infamous Superman editorial had caught the attention of any awards panels, and although that had won her a Pulitzer, she was dissatisfied. Though pleased with the quality of her writing, Lois didn’t believe that it deserved a Pulitzer, and suspected that its selection was due more to nostalgia for the days of Superman and the novelty of his once most-trusted press contact excoriating him so thoroughly. Lois held investigative reporting in much higher regard than editorials, but her stories in that area were undistinguished in recent years. She had been playing it safe and while her reporting remained solid, it was no longer the outstanding result she had once produced. Lois was determined to change that. I’m getting my game back, she told herself. No more puff pieces - just the real stories. Richard and Perry are simply going to have to accept that the old Lois is back…



Monday, September 25, 2006 6:15PM CDT
When Clark arrived at the farm house, Martha, Ben and Kara were seated at the dining room table playing Parcheesi. Martha looked up at the sound of the back door and smiled pleasantly as her son walked through the door. “We missed you at dinner,” she told him. “I’ll warm something up for you.”

“There’s no need to bother, Ma,” Clark protested. “I’m not that hungry.”

“Nonsense,” Martha insisted, rising from her seat and walking into the kitchen. “You still need to get some meat back on those bones, especially considering what a busy afternoon you’ve had.”

  “You heard about that?” Clark asked casually as he set his laptop on the dining room table and booted it up.

“Superman’s return is all over the news,” Ben informed him. “They also said that Metropolis was hit pretty hard by that EMP.”

“That’s an understatement,” Clark declared. “Every car that was on the road at the time was disabled – took me three hours to get the streets cleared, and I spent most of the time after that trying to help the police keep some semblance of control and to get enough interviews scraped together for my stories. The Planet’s declared a disaster, by the way. They’re printing the morning edition at the Gotham Gazette, and trucking the papers one hundred thirty miles to Metropolis.”

“That’s nice of them to help out,” Martha commented.

“Well, the Gazette is owned by the same corporate parent as the Planet,” Clark explained. “There had always been talk that the two papers could be each other’s disaster sites, but that was mostly lip service before nine eleven. Afterwards, they put their money where their mouths were, and beefed up the infrastructure for true redundancy. That investment’s paying off now, after what happened at the Planet this afternoon.”

“How bad was it?” Martha inquired.

“The electronics in the presses were fried by the EMP, along with the comm equipment fanning out to all the floors,” Clark explained. “Miraculously, the computer room was shielded well enough that we didn’t lose anything there, and the network link to Gotham is still up. They’ve set up an emergency computer café downstairs next to the computer room for filing stories locally. It’s a bit of a zoo down there right now, but the web portal is still up, so I can file my stories from here. Lucky for me that my laptop was powered off when the EMP hit, and didn’t get fried.”

“Quite an interesting first day back, wasn’t it?” Ben noted.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Clark muttered. He turned to Kara, and cheerfully asked her, “And how have you been today, Kara?”

“Okay,” she answered quietly. “We’re playing Parcheesi.”

“Well, it sounds like you had more fun than I did,” he told her, reaching over and affectionately putting an arm around her. He kissed the top of her head and said seriously, “We’ve got about a half hour before we have to go see that lady I told you about.” Kara nodded and returned her attention to the board game.



Monday, September 25, 2006 7:45PM EDT
The Gotham Gazette had transformed one of their conference rooms into an emergency command center for the visiting Planet editors, with a half dozen PCs set up on the table. Perry White scrambled to make the final changes before the paper went to press at eight o’clock, along with his three assistant editors, Sam Foswell, George Taylor and his nephew, Richard, who was currently in the men’s lavatory with his sick five year old. The poor tyke had a bad reaction to the food that was brought in earlier. Perry again reviewed the layout of the morning edition, displeased that the bulk of the issue was coming from the AP wire service. Unfortunately, they had little choice in the matter. Only a few of the reporters in the city had been able to track down sources, much less file a story, and most of the stories that were filed were lacking in detail.

A pop-up alert appeared on Perry’s screen, and he looked through the approval queue in the paper’s publishing system for the new story submission, a broad smile spreading across his face once he read it. “Halleluiah!” he exclaimed. “I knew she’d come through.”

“What’ve you got?” George asked curiously.

“Lois finally filed her story on Superman’s shuttle rescue - just in the nick of time,” Perry revealed. “We’ll pull the AP shuttle article off the front page, and use Lois’ version instead, above the fold. Keep the AP picture, front and center under the title ‘The Man of Steel Is Back’, and put Kent’s local impact story below the fold.”

“You sure you want to give Kent page one his first day back?” Sam inquired. “He was AWOL all afternoon, and we’ve got a half dozen other local impact stories that were submitted from our veterans.”

“Be grateful he was AWOL and went after the story,” Perry advised. “All of our other reporters’ stories combined don’t have the detail that Kent’s has, his is better written, and he submitted two other stories today that are just as good. I didn’t hire him back out of the goodness of my heart. I hired him back because he’s one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s a well-kept secret,” Sam commented.

“And don’t you dare reveal it,” Perry commanded. “That’s probably how Kent wants it, too. Everybody underestimates him, so he flies under the radar, and people who turn and run for the hills when they see Lois will open up to him.”

“I remember how he used to scoop her occasionally,” George stated, chuckling at the memory. “She’d get so mad at him that I’d worry she was literally going to kill him.”

“The claws didn’t come out unless someone else went after Kent, and then they weren’t directed at him,” Perry informed him. “He was her partner, and nobody else was allowed to take him on. I never imagined how well partnering those two up would turn out to be.”

“Why did you partner them together?” Sam asked.

Perry sighed, trying to find a way to explain what had happened so long ago, even though he knew he didn’t have the entire story. “I hired Kent on the strength of his portfolio and recommendations of his previous editors. But the man who came in and filled out the paperwork was an enigma. He didn’t match his writing style. So I assigned him to work with Lois. If he was a fraud, she would have rooted it out on their first story. But she didn’t. They complemented each other’s style, and they were even finishing each other’s sentences when they were deep into something big… They always got the story, and usually an exclusive at that. And even though he was practically tongue tied in the newsroom, he was one of the few people able to argue with her and hold his own.”
 
Perry leaned forward in his chair and briefly glanced over at the door as he whispered conspiratorially, “If Kent hadn’t taken off like he did, I bet Lois would be with him now, instead of Richard. They were good together.”

The group was quiet for a moment before Sam broke the silence. “I can pull him out of obits tomorrow, if you want me to,” he offered.

“Nah, let him sweat it another day,” Perry insisted. “He’s more productive when he’s nervous – having him work with Lois did wonders on that count, too… Now, let’s get this paper to bed, and call it a night.”
   
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