Table of contents is here .

LAST TIME ON EMII:

Until tonight, it had never crossed his mind to wonder if there had been other players in the tragedy. He'd been so consumed by his own guilt, it had never crossed his mind that others might also have had a role to play in the events leading up to Elyse's death.

Now though... He felt cleansed by the conversation. By sharing their feelings of guilt with one another, Lois and CJ had somehow managed to expunge them. Now he was finally at peace and ready to move on.

With Lois, if she would have him.

NOW READ ON...


CHAPTER NINE


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Friday 2 May, 1997
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Lois twiddled her pencil between her fingers, managing only with great difficulty to restrain herself from tapping it against the table top. They were half an hour into the Friday morning staff meeting and Lois just couldn't focus her attention on what was going on around her. Instead, she found her thoughts returning again and again to the previous night, to the kisses she and CJ had shared, to the things that they talked about, to the fact that she was falling in love with—

Love... she thought. Where had that thought come from? This was, after all, CJ Kent she was thinking about – the same CJ Kent who had tried to chat her up at Elyse's memorial service, and how tacky was that!

No more tacky, she supposed, than the fact that she'd wanted to respond to him. Of course, she hadn't. She'd snapped at him instead. Since then she'd kept him at arms length, both by the use of her body language and the articles she'd written.

Now, though... Fate had cast them together and given her the time to get to know CJ better. She was seeing beyond the face he presented to the world (although, she admitted to herself, it was a very handsome face) to the person behind it. She'd known about his intelligence, but the self-confidence she'd always attributed to him was belied by a diffident shyness. That, along with his good humour and unfailing honesty... Those were new territory. Terra incognita, she thought, which she wanted to explore.

But love! Wasn't it still too early to be thinking about love? And weren't there more important things to be worrying about at the moment? Things like Luthor and Monique Kahn and...

Besides, loving someone shouldn't be as simple as CJ seemed to be making it for her!

Lois had always imagined that falling in love would require a lot of hard work on her part. She would have to make allowances and compromises, to squeeze herself into a mould that would be acceptable to an erstwhile partner. She'd often supposed that the reason she hadn't managed to sustain a relationship in the past was because she wasn't prepared to make those kinds of compromises. Having been belittled by her father throughout her childhood, then let down several times by boyfriends as an adult, it had never before crossed her mind that someone might like her as she was, for who she was.

CJ seemed to like her, though.

It felt as if loving CJ was meant to be.

She shivered, remembering the first evening she'd spent with CJ. She'd vowed then that she would only become involved with CJ through choice, and not because fate demanded it of her. Did that mean that she should now be fighting the ease with which she was slipping into her new relationship, or should she embrace it? She wanted to do the latter, but she couldn't help feeling uneasy.

But now, she decided, was neither the time nor the place to think about it. She determinedly pushed the issue aside, knowing that she'd come back to it another time.

For a couple of seconds she managed to tune back into the discussions going on around her but quickly tuned out again when she saw who Perry had got to: Douglas "Doug" Pearson, one of the Planet's business correspondents.

Lois began doodling on her notepad. Lois tried – not very hard – to smother a yawn, and wished that Pearson's voice wasn't quite so loud and penetrating. Why couldn't his voice match his writing? she wondered. Why couldn't it also be soporific and instantly forgettable?

She'd always found Pearson to be fearfully dull, both as a person and as a reporter. His articles were usually heavy on detail but extremely light on interest; his current story – something to do with lots of share movements in ExTel and MaxiComm stock – didn't look as though it would be an exception.

"Any idea who's behind it?" asked Perry, sounding almost interested.

Pearson shook his head. "No. Seems to be lots of little buyers. Nothing corporate. No pension funds. But the companies haven't been doing well recently, so there's no reason why anyone should want to invest in them. The only possible reason for all this activity would be if someone wanted to make a take-over bid, in which case whoever is behind it is going to a lot of trouble to hide their tracks. Plus, you'd expect the share price to be going up, if there was a take-over in the offing. If anything, though, the price is going down."

"Okay," said Perry. "Stick with it for a little while longer."

She was suddenly aware that Perry's eyes were on her. He was radiating disapproval as he let his gaze slide between her face and her hands and she realised that her impatience and inattention must have been more obvious than she had realised. She sucked on her lips, pretended she didn't feel her face burning with embarrassment and, with exaggerated care, she laid the pencil silently down on the table. Then she pulled her eyes away from his, glancing down and to the left. Then, without really realising what she was doing, she pulled at a strand of her hair and began to twine it absentmindedly around her index finger.

Jimmy, panting heavily, burst noisily into the conference room.

Perry turned his head towards him and said balefully, "Nice of you to join us, Olsen."

Jimmy's arrival had diverted Perry's attention away from her and Lois felt a tension she hadn't been aware of ease from her shoulders.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Chief, but there's been another one," said Jimmy, as though that explained everything.

"There's been another what, Jimmy?" asked Perry. Lois noticed that his tone had been rendered more forgiving by the curiosity Jimmy's statement had aroused.

"Another unexplained rescue. Last night, a woman – Tessa Michigan – was attacked by three men down by the docks. It looks as though our mysterious rescuer saved her. And this time he left some clues."

That grabbed Lois's attention in a way that Perry's previous announcements and discussions had so spectacularly failed to. What, she wondered, her heart climbing into her throat, had CJ done wrong? She disentangled her fingers from her hair, lowered her hand and looked towards Jimmy. "Clues?" asked Lois, feigning a dispassionate curiosity.

"Yeah. Don't know how he did it—"

"Oh, so he's a he now, is he?" Perry asked.

Jimmy nodded happily. "That's one of the clues. He spoke to the woman he rescued. Didn't say much, apparently, other than to check she was okay, but she said that it was definitely a man's voice."

Lois nodded and pursed her lips. "You said 'clues'. Plural. So what else did he do?"

"Apparently, one of the men had a knife. The police found the weapon. Get this: our 'ghost' had managed to melt it."

"Melt it how?" demanded Perry.

Lois glanced down at the table and began playing with her pencil again, determined to keep her guesses to herself.

"No-one knows." Jimmy shrugged. "Freaky, huh?"

"Do we have a description of this 'ghost'?" asked Perry.

Jimmy shook his head. "No. Tessa said that it was pretty dark and he kept to the shadows."

"Okay, Jimmy. I want you to keep on this story. Sounds like our good Samaritan is going to slip up sooner or later, and I want you there when it happens. Capiche?"

"Capiche," grinned Jimmy.

Lois's stomach twisted, an odd sensation not just because it felt peculiar but also because of its cause. Her relationship with CJ caste her in the role of the hunted, if only by association. As an investigative journalist, she was used to – relished even – the role of the hunter. Now, though, she thought she could see what her prey felt like, and she found she didn't like the feeling one little bit. All her protective instincts came into play and she knew that, at the very least, she needed to warn CJ that people were after him. If only she could think of some way to help him...

"Lois?"

She jumped as she realised that Perry was talking to her and she snapped out of her reverie in an instant. Apologising automatically, she said, "Sorry, Chief."

He shook his head slowly, focusing concerned eyes on her. "Something on your mind?"

"No..." she said. Then feigning more conviction, she said determinedly, "No! Everything's fine. Really."

"You barely listened to a word anyone said all through the meeting. And you didn't even notice when it ended."

Lois, all set to protest, opened her mouth. Then she snapped it closed again as she realised that she and Perry were alone in the conference room. When had all the others left? How could she not have noticed? Now it was her turn to shake her head. She hadn't noticed because she was caught up in her worries about CJ, worries that, if she used them carefully, might get Perry off her back.

"I'm sorry, Perry," she said, actually managing to sound genuinely contrite. "There's nothing really the matter. I'm just... It's, well, it's..." She found herself blushing. Embarrassing as the realisation was, she knew that it would lend force to the half-truth she was about to tell her boss. "There's this man... I think we might be, you know, dating, and..." She trailed into silence.

She could see that Perry's expression had softened. He knew her well enough to realise how unusual it was for her to allow herself to get involved with anyone who might have a romantic agenda. At the same time, though, she knew he believed such a relationship would be good for her. She could see concern and approval warring for ascendancy upon his face.

Approval won. "Well, good for you, Lois. This one had just better treat you right, that's all. If he doesn't..." His expression darkened into something dangerously protective. That he cared so much about her welfare made Lois feel guilty. CJ, she decided, was a bad influence on her; twice in three days she'd hidden the absolute truth from Perry on his account. Still...

Lois forced her lips into a watery smile. "I'm pretty certain he will, Perry," she said softly. "I'm almost sure. It's all just so... unexpected."

Perry raised his eyebrows. "Anyone I know?"

"Not really. And you wouldn't believe me even if I were to tell you."

"So, you're not going to tell me who it is?"

Lois shook her head. "Not yet, no. Just... I want some time to get used to the idea myself before I tell anyone else." That, at least, was the truth. "You don't mind, do you?"

Perry shook his head. "Nah. I just hope he's worth it."

Then, with more confidence than she had mustered at any point thus far in the conversation, she said with a grin, "Oh, he is, Perry. He is."

*****

By the time Lois got down to the courthouse, the Allen trial was over. From what she could gather from the excited chatter of her media colleagues as they left in almost unseemly haste, Diggs had called the defence and the prosecution into her chambers first thing. That, and the front page of the Daily Planet, had alerted the spectators to the fact that something major was about to happen.

Ten minutes later, Diggs, Kent and Tierney had re-emerged, Diggs looking serious and resolute, CJ Kent looking as though he was trying very hard not to whoop with joy, and Tierney looking shell-shocked.

Diggs' announcement was brief; due to new information calling into question the impartiality of the jury, she had no choice other than to declare a mistrial.

Lois found herself grinning, and she discreetly punched the air, hissing a heartfelt, "Yes!" under her breath. She knew, given the evidence she had assembled, that there hadn't been much doubt about this outcome, but it was still remarkably satisfying.

She looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of CJ, but her gaze alighted upon Roberts instead. He was standing on the courthouse steps, speaking into his microphone, his camera-man standing close by, recording. Lois edged nearer, in time to catch the end of the report he was filing.

"... Allen has been remanded in custody. A new trial date will be announced in due course. This is Robby Roberts, for LNN, at the Metropolis Courthouse."

"Hi, Lois," a voice whispered in her ear, startling her. She spun around, but instead of being irritated by the intrusion, she found herself welcoming it. Her grin widened. "Hi, CJ." Then, remembering why she'd been looking for him in the first place, she sobered. "I was hoping I'd run into you. We need to talk."

"Sure, Lois. How about we go for a coffee. For some reason, I have an unexpected gap in my diary because of a mistrial." He winked. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Lois chuckled by way of an answer. She tucked her arm in his, and together they made their way over to the same café that they'd visited – had it really been only two days before?

"You said we needed to talk," prompted CJ five minutes later, after their coffees had been brought out to them. "What about?"

"Two things, really," said Lois. "The first is, can I get a few quotes from you, so that I can write up the mistrial up for my editor? The second is... I need to warn you."

"Warn me? What about?"

How could a frown look so adorable? wondered Lois, even as she answered his questions. "Your exploits are news, CJ. And Perry has assigned a reporter – Jimmy Olsen – to track you down." She told him about the staff meeting, and everything that she'd learned from Jimmy.

She'd expected CJ to be alarmed by her news. Instead, to her surprise, he showed no reaction beyond a kind of weary resignation. She frowned at him, and there was an irritated bite to her words as she said, "What's wrong with you? I thought you wanted to keep... everything... a secret, but you don't seem to care!"

"Of course I care!" snapped CJ, who calmed immediately afterwards. He sighed. "I don't want to be caught. You know that. But I'm not sure whether I'll be able to prevent it. The rescues are more important than my anonymity, and if I end up in a position where I'm forced to make a choice..." He shrugged.

Lois's frustration slipped away as she realised that CJ's lack of apparent reaction had nothing to do with apathy and everything to do with the pressure he was under. Too many things had happened to him in a very short space of time – the visit to the other world, the powers... Even making peace with her must have been stressful. Plus, he'd been, apparently, on the verge of a breakdown before it had all begun.

Under similar circumstances, her response would have been to scream and shout, possibly even to throw things, but, she was beginning to see, that wasn't his style at all. His way of coping was far more restrained; he simply rolled with each new punch. When she thought about it, she realised that he was actually coping surprisingly well. Softly she said, her voice rich with concern, "Just ... try to be careful, okay? Then maybe you'll stay lucky, and you won't have to choose."
He nodded in tentative agreement. Lois smiled at him, and sipped her drink. Then she put the cup down, routed around in her purse for her tape recorder, and said, "Now, about those quotes..."

*****

Although CJ had been telling the truth when he'd said that he now had an unexpected gap in his diary, his time wasn't entirely his own, at least not yet. First he needed to call in at his office and file some paperwork, reporting on what had happened in court. Only when he'd done that, checked his email, answerphone messages and post, and had had a quiet word with a couple of people about the Myerson case, could he knock off for the day, or, given that it was a Friday, the weekend.

As CJ jogged up the front steps of the office building and across the foyer, a thought crossed his mind. He had vacation time due – a lot of vacation time, as it happened, because it had been so long since he'd taken any time off. Friends, colleagues and superiors regularly told him that he needed a break; maybe it was time he took their advice. The notion coalesced rapidly into a concrete intention.

He was lucky for once: an elevator was waiting for him. As he punched the button for his floor, he smiled to himself as he tried to picture their probable reactions when he announced his intention to take a break from work. They would almost certainly run the gamut from surprise to consternation and on to disbelief.

Of course, he wouldn't tell them what, precisely, he intended to do with his impromptu vacation.

As the elevator climbed, he mentally reviewed his "to do" list. Dr Fabian Leek, he remembered, now topped his list of people to investigate. CJ's preliminary research had turned up nothing about the man, helpful or otherwise. If Leek had come to Metropolis, he had not lived at the same address as his other-worldly counterpart. Any current telephone numbers were unlisted.

CJ decided that, if Leek's most recent address was yielding nothing useful, then he was going to have to search further back. Lois and Clark's biographical notes indicated that Leek had worked in Oregon before Luthor had enticed him away, so it was to Oregon that CJ would have to go.

The elevator came to a halt. There was a loud ping as the doors slid open, alerting CJ to the fact that he had reached his floor. He stepped out into the corridor.

"Kent! What are you doing here? I thought you were in court this morning."

CJ turned towards Mayson. "I was. Diggs declared a mistrial."

"A mistrial," Mayson repeated, her eyes narrowing. "Why?"

CJ couldn't help it. He raised his eyebrows and smiled faintly as he said, "I take it that you aren't a Daily Planet reader, then."

Mayson shook her head. "Only the Sunday edition; great supplements. During the week, though, I'm more of a Metropolis Star person, myself. But what's that got to do with anything?"

"It's all over the front page." Well, all except Judith Myerson's story, CJ amended silently. "Turns out that the jurors were being bribed to return a guilty verdict."

Mayson stared at him for a couple of seconds, her mouth forming a small "o" of shock. Then she appeared to swallow her surprise and asked, "Did the defence know anything about this?"

CJ considered how best to reply. He knew the answer, but if he said a simple yes, Mayson would want to know why he was so sure. His information would be based solely upon an overheard conversation, which was, he realised, less that compelling evidence. Tierney was Mayson's friend; would she accept his word against her friend's integrity? Then again, if Mayson was on Luthor's payroll, maybe she already knew the answer, herself, and was simply fishing to find out how much he knew.

"If they knew," he said finally, picking his words carefully, "they're not admitting it."

"I see." Mayson's expression was unreadable as she abruptly turned on her heel and stalked off down the corridor towards her office.

"Nice talking to you, too," muttered CJ under his breath. However, he was in too good a mood to be upset by her almost-rude departure. In actual fact, he found it almost funny.

He followed after her at a rather more sedate pace than the one she'd set. By the time he walked past her office, she had already picked up the phone and dialled. She was now waiting for someone to answer.

Then he heard her say, "Can you put me through to Rosemary Tierney's office?"

CJ felt bad about eavesdropping, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. He went into his own office, closed the door behind him so that nobody would suspect him of trying to listen in. Then he reached out with his senses until he could hear both sides of the conversation.

Tierney's extension rang three times before she took the call, answering with the sort of curt "Yes?" that would have sent any public relations officer into paroxysms of horror.

"Rosie? It's Mayson."

"Mayson. Look, now really isn't a good time. Can I call you back later?"

"No. Wait." Rather than the sympathy CJ had expected Mayson to show, there was a sombre urgency to her words that took him by surprise. He turned to face the wall, nudged his glasses down his nose and concentrated. The layers of paint, plaster and brick peeled away before him, allowing him to watch as Mayson held up her free hand, palm outward, in an imploring gesture that the other woman couldn't see. "I heard about the mistrial."

"I guessed as much."

"Look, Rosie... I hate to ask you this, but I have to know. Just how deep in are you?"

"I don't know what you mean." The words were a blatant lie. That much was obvious to both CJ and, he could see, Mayson.

Mayson stood up. She picked up the base of the phone and began pacing around her office as far as the cord would allow. "Don't give me that, Rosie. We've known each other too long; you know exactly what I'm talking about." Mayson then took a deep breath, forced her voice into some semblance of calm, and said, "Look. I'm your friend, and I'm worried about you. So, I'll ask again. How deep in are you?"

Tierney didn't answer, but she didn't hang up either. CJ could hear her laboured breathing through the connection.

Mayson tried again. "Did you know about the jury?"

"I had nothing to do with that." Tierney's reply was abrupt, immediate and defensive.

Mayson snorted faintly. "That doesn't answer my question. I didn't ask whether you were responsible, just whether you knew anything about it."

There was a pause and more laboured breathing. From the way Mayson chose to return to her chair and slump into it, her shoulders sagging in defeat, CJ knew she had taken Tierney's silence as an affirmative. Tierney, however, wasn't ready to admit culpability out loud. Instead she said, "Do you really expect me to answer that?"

Sadly Mayson replied, "It wouldn't be hard to answer, if you could honestly say no."

Rosemary sighed. "That's true, I suppose."

"Can you say it?"

This time the pause was longer than before. Finally, Mayson, unable to stand the tension any longer, broke the silence. "Rosie... I'm afraid I can't make the gym tonight." CJ could sense the disappointment Mayson was feeling; her sense of betrayal was almost palpable, and CJ found, to his surprise, that he felt sorry for her.

There was an air of finality about Mayson's "Good-bye". She replaced the handset and buried her face in her hands. Although they were muffled by her palms, CJ could hear her muttered words. "Rosie, how could you?" Her breath hitched on a sob.

He had, he thought, seen enough, enough to convince himself of Mayson's own innocence and of her need for privacy.

He also thought, perhaps for the first time, that he and Mayson might actually be fighting on the same side.

He switched off his supersenses and got down to work.


TBC