Clark's Dead. Not Dead. Dead.

By Alicia U. <>

Rated: G

Submitted: July 2004

Summary: After Clark is shot by Clyde Barrow, did he die? Is he alive? Or is he really dead? Only Lois can tell in this ToGoM ("That Old Gang of Mine") spoof.

This story was written for Yvonne Connell's 'The Great Non-Dying ToGoM Challenge';f=3;t=00 0260

I'll admit that this story is really weird. I've always hated ToGoM, and I've always thought I'd never write a ToGoM fic. Read at your own risk. This is inspired by a lot of cold medicine and written in about 20 minutes with a little more for revision and time to include some ideas I got from Wendy and Anna BtG's comments from the lcficmbs.


"CLARK! NOOOOOOO!" Lois took a step away from her partner's body. It was crumbled. In a pile. On the floor.

Clark was dead. Clark. Was. Dead. The words wouldn't even come together in her mind. She couldn't believe it.

He had been shot. At point blank range. By Clyde Barrow. Clyde Barrow. The gangster! The dead gangster! The gangster clone!

"Oh God! Clark!" Her eyes fixed on his lifeless form. "What I am going to do?" She took a step towards the body and wiped away a tear that was starting to fall down her cheek.

"Clark!" she exclaimed again. What? Did she expect him to hear her? Her partner was dead. What did she expect him to do? Did she expect him to say something?

Barrow, Capone, and Dillenger charged towards Clark's lifeless form. They were going to take him away! No! No! No! She had to stop them. They couldn't take Clark away from her.

He was dead. They had shot him.

Her heart burned with rage. She glared at Clyde and growled, "I'll, I'll …" Her voice trailed off, knowing her threat was futile.

"You," she whispered forcefully. "You killed him!" She wanted to shoot them. Kill them. Hurt them. Just like they had hurt Clark. Killed Clark.

Capone leaned down, as if to survey his prey. What an animal. An absolute animal.

He put his hands on Clark's shoulders, and Clark …

Clark stood up to face him?

He stood up! Clark stood up! "What?" she muttered incoherently. "Clark!"

No, no, he was supposed to be dead. Yet he had just stood up at Capone's touch. He hadn't even gone to the sitting stage.

First he was crumpled in a heap on the ground, and now he was standing up straight as a board. Impossible.

What was he? A zombie? The living undead? Could he be a vampire about to suck Capone's tainted clone blood?

"Lois!" the now alive Clark exclaimed.

The sound of his voice made Capone drop his hand from Clark's shoulder and take a few steps back, gaping at the dead man who now seemed to be entirely … alive.

Lois took a few running steps towards the commotion and put her hands around Clark's neck. The shock was unbearable, yet she had to admit she was happy. "Clark! You're alive! But how? I mean, I don't care how it happened, I'm just glad you're alive! But …" Her heart pounded uncontrollably. Her body couldn't handle all this stress. She had been driven through the emotional ringer in a matter of a few moments.

To further complicate the situation, it didn't seem possible. Her mind raced, trying to work out all the details. She had seen Clyde shoot Clark. She had seen her partner fall to the ground. Clark had died. Yet now he was alive. Very alive. And looking right at her.

She wasn't sure what to do. Nothing made sense any more. "Clark?" she said softly.

The gangsters had run away from Clark, obviously not believing he had seemingly risen from the dead. And where had they gone? It didn't matter.

"Clark," she repeated. She threw her arms around his shoulders and muttered, "You're not … you're not …"

"Dead?" He looked into her eyes and smiled. "No, Lois. I'm fine. The bullets didn't hit me."

Lois took a step back and shook her head incredulously. He was staring at her like, like she was the crazy one, like she was hallucinating. "Are you kidding, Clark? I saw them hit you." She took a shuddering deep breath. "He shot you from a few feet away. He had to have hit you." She did a double take and grabbed his jacket. "But you're not bleeding."

"I guess Dillinger's a bad shot." He shrugged and flashed a toothy, good-natured smile at her.

He was treating this like it wasn't a big deal. Like it was something that happened every day.

Maybe in Crazy Clark world. But not in the world of the normal people.

Clark Kent had a lot of explaining to do.

Lois shook her head. Even with everything going on, he still got it wrong. "Dillinger didn't shoot you, Clark. It was Clyde."

Clark blinked his eyes once and took a deep breath. As if it was his destiny, he said, "Okay, Lois, it's time I told you the truth about myself."

Lois wasn't sure what to say. Nothing made sense. Absolutely nothing. It just kept getting crazier. And crazier. And crazier. "The truth about yourself? What else could there be that I don't already know." She grinned. "You're easier to read than an open book."

He shrugged. "Don't be so sure, Lois. I'm more like a book written in Swahili."

"I can still read it." She nodded absolutely. She knew everything about Clark Jerome Kent. She'd met his parents; she'd seen his baby pictures; she knew about his childhood, his adulthood; in fact, she'd even seen him in only a towel. Yes, she knew everything about Clark Kent. He couldn't have any secrets from her; that was for sure.

"Lois, don't tell me you know Swahili," he said in an exasperated tone.

She shook her head. "I don't. But I know about you. I know everything about you. I even know that you probably *do* know Swahili."

He chuckled, but then took on a more somber tone. "Believe me, Lois. You don't know what I have to tell you. No one knows. I've never told anyone." He took a deep breath. "I got shot, but the bullets didn't hurt me."

Obviously. That didn't answer any of her burning questions. So Clark had gotten shot and it didn't hurt him. "Why?" Was he trying to string her along? What was he trying to pull? This had better be a doozy of a secret he had to tell her. Even though she was sure it didn't actually exist.

He put his hands on her shoulders, tilted his head to look into her eyes and said in a soft, soulful voice. "Lois, I'm Superman."

It was like the rest of the room went blank around her. The gangsters were nowhere to be seen, the casino had turned into a clear black box. It was cold, barren, lonely. And Clark said he was Superman.


"No, Clark, be serious. If you're Superman, than I'm the president of the United States. Come on. Tell me what happened?" She took a step back from him. There had to be something more convincing than his being Superman. She'd be even more likely to believe he was a vampire.

"I'm Superman." He sighed deeply. "Lois. I. Am. Superman."

She blinked her eyes and then burst out laughing. It was all so absurd. "Clark, don't lie to me. We both know you should be lying there on the ground dead."

Clark shook his head and dropped his hands from her shoulders. He turned around and finally said, "Okay, um, if you're not going to believe the truth …"

"Clark! Don't play games with me." She was desperate.

"Okay. Fine. The gun wasn't real."

"Not real?" It was just crazy talk. What was Clark trying to prove. He was as much Superman as she was Wonderwoman. She'd be much more likely to believe the gun wasn't real.

"Well, come on. Think about it for a second, Lois."

"What?" She'd done more than enough thinking in the last five minutes. Her mind was still racing.

He shrugged dramatically. "Clones?" His voice took on a desperate tone. "Bonnie and Clyde, Al Capone, John Dillanger? They've all been dead for years!"

"Right." Of course they'd been dead for years.

"So why on earth would adult mobster clones be terrorizing Metropolis? The idea is as crazy as …"

"… The idea of your being Superman," she finished with a grin.

"Exactly." He motioned with his hand, trying to outline his point.

Lois grinned. "Bonnie and Clyde and the rest of them can't be real. That's not how clones work."

"Exactly. How are they adult, perfectly matched clones of gangsters than died so many years ago?"

Lois looked Clark up and down again. "Are you saying I'm crazy?"

"You? Crazy? Never."

She looked daggers at he partner. "You'd better not think I'm crazy."

"Of course not, Lois. I'm just saying …"

"… No, Clark, I know exactly what you're saying." She laughed loudly. "Ob-vi-ous-ly, this is a dream."

"A dream?"

She shrugged. "It has to be a dream. How absurd can it get," she stated matter-of-factly.

"You're right, Lois. You're always right. But I *am* Superman."

"Of course I'm always right." She looked at Clark and shook her head. "Since this is a dream … Fine, Clark. You're Superman. Right."

A diabolical grin crossed Clark's face. "If this is a dream …" He inched closer to Lois and pressed his lips to hers.

"Clark!" She took a large step back. "This is my dream, not yours!"

"Oh, right. Sorry." He laughed slightly. "It was worth trying, wasn't it?"

"Okay, it's a dream. I guess you can kiss me. All I know is that we are *not* going to any place run by anyone named Georgie Hairdo when we're awake."





"You said that already." He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in the softest, most loving, most passionate dream- kiss Lois had ever felt.

When he finally pulled away, she said, "You're dead, Kent. I'm going to kill you."