If you need to refresh your memory on what happen in
Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark the TOC can be found
HerePart 218*****************
Seeing in the Dark
*****************Lois eyed the hard wooden boards of the press bleachers at Fort Truman with disdain. “A billion dollars on some new weapon and they couldn’t spend a little of that bringing their grandstand into the twentieth century?”
“Tell me about it,” Jimbo said, rubbing his backside. “I just got a splinter in a very embarrassing spot.”
Clark smiled with sympathy, as if
he had ever gotten a splinter before. “Actually, it was closer to a million and a half,” he corrected Lois, glancing down at the information sheet that they had been given when they had signed in.
“Teacher’s pet, weren’t you?” Lois griped, sitting down. She hated it when Clark was an insufferable know-it-all.
“Actually,” he started to say, but she interrupted him by raising her hand.
“Don’t tell me, Chuck. I don’t want to know.”
In fact, even if Clark had told her she wouldn’t have heard him. That familiar chill of foreboding dripped down her back. She grabbed his arm as she looked around the grounds. Something was wrong or soon would be.
“Lois? Is everything all right?” he asked.
“My stomach doesn’t feel well. Go get me a soda, will you?”
Clark held out his hand towards General Ralph Marshall standing near the podium. “Can it wait? The demonstration is about to begin.”
Lois caught Clark’s eye. “No, it
can’t wait, Clark. I saw some soda machines over behind the grandstand.”
“Are you sure? I might not make it back in time,” he said. His expression told her that he understood that they weren’t talking about the soda.
“I’m sure,” Lois said. “No one’s faster than you.”
Clark stood up and kissed Lois’s cheek as he passed down the aisle.
“Superman is,” Jimbo corrected.
“I meant no human,” Lois amended.
“Keep an eye on her,” Clark said, as he went past Jimbo.
When Clark was moving down the stairs, Lois leaned towards Jimbo. “Don’t listen to him, Jimmy. Why don’t you get some shots of the crowd while we’re waiting for this show to begin?”
He nodded and did as she suggested.
She shaded her eyes from the bright sun that had turned this late October day into an Indian summer and looked around, wondering if she would spot exactly what it was that had unnerved her. She saw a tall man just off the far side of the bleachers who looked vaguely familiar.
“Get a shot of that man,” Lois suggested, indicating in that man’s direction.
“Can’t. He’s standing directly under the sun,” Jimbo replied.
Lois glared at Jimbo.
“Due east, then. All I’d get is sunspots. Anyway, this shindig’s about to start.” He glanced down towards where they had entered. “I guess CK’s not as fast as you thought.”
“He probably didn’t have any change,” she said, covering for her partner.
“Were you trying to lose him so you’d get the scoop on this story?” he asked.
“He’s my partner. I can’t scoop him,” Lois said with some annoyance.
“That wouldn’t have stopped you last year,” Jimbo mumbled.
She shrugged. “That was last year.” Before she knew that Clark had a knack for heroism.
“You mean before you two were serious,” he teased back.
Lois rolled her eyes.
That too.General Marshall stepped up to the podium and gave a brief introduction. “What you’re about to witness is a demonstration of the ‘ATAS’. The first step towards taking the United States military into the twenty-first century,” he said, before issuing a command into a remote.
A robotic weapon of some sort rolled out onto the test field.
“Check it out. A killer robot!” Jimbo said, snapping photos as the ATAS started shooting at targets.
Lois stopped herself from groaning. “Actually, ATAS is an ‘all-terrain automated solider’.”
“Same diff.” Jimbo continued to take photos. “CK’s missing everything,” he called out to her between explosions.
“Please, Jimmy,” Lois replied. “It doesn’t take two reporters to watch a robot blow stuff up.”
He lowered his camera slightly as if offended.
“I mean it only takes one reporter
and a photographer.”
That seemed to appease him and he returned to taking photos.
“Clark’s probably getting the human interest angle. Talking to servicemen and women who’ve been testing the ATAS,” she went on. “That sort of thing. It’s what he’s good at.”
General Marshall gave a new command to the ATAS and it turned its guns on the crowd. Clearly, that wasn’t what was supposed to happen. She grabbed Jimbo’s jacket and shoved him to the ground, diving on top of him.
“Hey!” he yelled, rolling to knock her off. “I can’t see.”
Bullets passed over their heads.
“That’s okay. I don’t need to see,” Jimbo amended.
After those first few bullets, the shots sounded muffled. Lois doubted it was from the din of footsteps of her fellow reporters running to the exit as they screamed in panic. She lifted her head and saw Superman standing in front of the ATAS, blocking the bullets with his chest.
My hero. She jumped to her feet and pulled Jimbo to his. “Get this!”
He was already ahead of her. “I haven’t stopped.”
Lois ran forward down the seats towards the podium just as Superman bent the ATAS’s main gun out of commission. She knew the exact moment Superman saw her as he turned around, because his lips pressed into an even flatter line.
“You should have waited until I gave the all clear,” he stated.
Before Lois could retort, Jimbo gasped from above her, “The General’s been shot!”
Superman scooped up the groaning man and blasted into the air.
Lois turned to Jimbo. “Keep shooting!”
A Colonel Fane stepped up to the podium, and said, “Thank you all for coming. That ends our little demonstration.”
“Obviously,” Lois mumbled under her breath before raising her voice. “Colonel Fane, what happened?”
“We’ll be issuing a statement after our investigation. Thank you,” the man said, grabbing what was left of the papers off the podium and darting from the stage.
“I guess he was in a hurry,” Jimbo said wryly.
“Yes, to get away from us.”
“That happens to you a lot, doesn’t it?”
Lois glared at her photographer before shrugging. “It only means I’m doing my job.” She looked around. They were the only reporters left. “Where did everyone go?”
Clark came around the corner. “Hey, what happened?”
“ATAS went haywire. Where’s my soda?” she asked, nudging his arm when she got close enough.
“It was knocked from my hand by the stampede. How’s your gut?” he asked.
“Telling me we’ve got a hot story here,” Lois said, looping her arm around his. “Let’s go find someone who’ll talk to us.” She looked back over her shoulder at Jimbo. “I want those shots on my desk by the time we get back!”
“Yes, Chief!”
Lois grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
“His sarcasm?” Clark replied.
“Oh, shut up!” she grumbled.
***
“And don’t kiss me at press conferences,” Lois continued as Clark pushed open the stairwell door to the newsroom, allowing her to breeze past him.
“No,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her against his chest. “Everyone knows that we’re dating. They can just deal with it if it makes them uncomfortable.”
“They’re reporters, Chuck. They don’t ‘deal’ with things. They’re the worst of the worst of gossips. It’s like slop to the pig.”
He grinned. “Nice farm reference.” He kissed her cheek and then loosened his hold. “Anyway,
we’re not newsworthy.”
“It’s unprofessional,” she continued. “And maybe you’re not newsworthy, buster, but I was just shot at!”
“Must be Tuesday,” Clark murmured under his breath.
“Very funny,” she said with an elbow to his ribs. “What if I said it’s distracting?”
“Being shot or kissed?”
Lois stopped and crossed her arms at the top of the ramp by the elevators. “What do you think?”
“I’m thinking I need to kiss you more because you were just shot at.” Quickly, he brushed his lips against hers, whispering, “And I like that it distracts you.”
“Being shot at doesn’t distract me.”
“I know. It focuses you into a laser pointer. If criminals knew that, I’m betting they would stop doing it,” Clark said, nudging her to continue walking.
“It’s not going to work.”
“I wasn’t planning on starting the rumor,” he said.
“I mean using flattery to win,” she said, pointing at him.
Clark’s eyes widened with his smile. “I’m winning?”
“No! Did you miss all that ‘it’s not going to work’ part?”
“I must have been blinded by your beauty,” he replied, shooting her a sly grin.
“Good save, CK!” Jimbo said, dropping a shot sheet on Lois’s desk.
Lois pulled a crayon pencil out of her Superman mug and started circling photos as she sat down. She lowered the sheet, pointing at one photo, “Is that my chest?”
Clark glanced over her shoulder and spoke at the same time as Jimmy, “Yes.”
“You tackled me!” Jimbo exclaimed, and then gazed over at Clark. “It is?” He tried to pull the sheet from Lois’s hand, but she slapped him away.
“Nice underside of the bleachers,” Lois went on.
“I had my finger stuck on the shutter. I got lots of nothing shots.”
“Tell me about it,” she grumbled, crossing off photos with her crayon. “No. No. No… okay, blow up these circled shots and we’ll see if there’s anything on them for our investigation.”
Jimbo saluted her and grabbed the shot sheet out of her hand. “Awww. You crossed it out!” He bolted towards the dark room before Lois could reach him.
“Maybe you should’ve let me see them,” Clark said softly enough that they couldn’t be overheard.
“Why?” she scoffed. “You weren’t even there.”
Clark pushed his glasses up his nose to remind her of his wonderful vision.
“Anyway, you don’t need a photo to know what my chest looks like apparently,” Lois replied under her breath. “Thanks for letting Jimmy know that, too.”
He could feel the warmth rise in his cheeks as he bashfully grinned. Okay. He’d admit to that faux pas. “Lois, we’ve been steady for months and this is the 1990’s,” he countered. “If I didn’t recognize your chest, he’d think something was up.”
A crooked smile crept up the side of her mouth. “Oh? Going steady, are we? Do I get to wear your lettermen’s jacket or class ring, Chuck?”
“I left them back home.”
Lois clicked her mouth in fake pity. “I’ll let you wear mine.”
Enough flirting. “You should’ve let me take a look at the shots. I may have noticed something that you didn’t.”
“Like the origin of my unsettled stomach?” she retorted. “I know exactly what felt off. I recognized his face, even without the help of enhanced eyewear. Thank you very much.”
Clark’s brow furrowed. “Who’s face?”
“Ryan Wiley. He dated my best friend in college,” she said, pulling her address book out of her briefcase.
“Linda King?”
“No, Sherlock. Linda stopped being my best friend when she slept with my boyfriend… and stole my article. Not necessarily in that order. I mean Molly Flynn. I told her Ryan was bad news, and now, here he is, showing up at the scene of a crime. Coincidence? I don’t think so.” She picked up the receiver of her telephone and tucked it under her jaw. “Don’t you have phone calls to make?”
“What’s so ‘bad news’ about Ryan?” he asked.
“Besides being a jerk, he’s also a genius at computer programming. The ATAS killer robot didn’t do what it was supposed to; therefore, it must have been a programming error. Five dollars says he was somehow involved.” She dialed Molly’s number.
“It’s not a ‘killer robot’, Lois. The General was still alive when Superman dropped him off at the hospital.”
Lois shooed him away. “Shouldn’t you be verifying that assumption with corroborating quote from the military or the hospital?” She hung up the phone. “That’s strange. Disconnected,” she murmured more to herself than to him.
As Clark backed towards his desk, he watched Lois do a database search on Molly Flynn.
Some best friends from college they were.
***
“There it is,” Clark said, pointing to Molly’s Greenhouse Bookstore across the street.
“This
can’t be right,” Lois disagreed as she glanced back down at the address she had gotten from her computer search. Clark being right didn’t mean that it made any more sense. “Molly’s a computer engineer. What’s she doing running a flaky place like this?”
He shrugged as they crossed the street to the store. “She’s
your supposed best friend. Shouldn’t you know?”
“So, we drifted apart a little.” She glared at him and started to push open the door to the bookstore only to catch sight of the book highlighted by the front window display. “‘Technology is Killing Us’ by Molly Flynn?” she read with disbelief. “When did she start writing this junk?”
“Probably shortly before opening this bookstore.”
“Don’t be a smart alack,” Lois retorted, pushing the door open. The usual chime of bells greeted them, as well as what sounded like East Indian music and what smelled like incense, or many a college dorm room. She looked around the store. It appeared to be as any other bookstore Lois had gone to, only with the addition of hanging crystals and charms, candles, busts of Buddha, and drawings of what appeared to be a toga’d elephant doing yoga. “This is probably a different Molly Flynn,” she said to Clark who followed her inside. “So let me do the talking.”
He pretended to lock his lips, but his teasing grin was still there.
Lois spotted Molly immediately. She didn’t look anything like the computer genius she remembered going on late night coffee runs with in college. Firstly, Molly casually wore what looked to be a skintight exercise pantsuit covered by an Asian robe of some sort. Dangling from her neck was some long chain with a rock on the end. She had piled her hair haphazardly on top of her head. Rings covered her fingers and bracelets her forearms. What happened to the Oxford-and-jeans-wearing-professional whose French twist could’ve rivaled in severity Lois’s sharp bob? Well, back when Lois still had her bob. It had only been two years since Lois had seen Molly, hadn’t it? Perhaps it was closer to three.
Molly was holding up some sort of crystal on a chain for a couple of elderly customers to examine. “You hang this in the corners of your room and they act like a spiritual air cleaner.”
“Does that mean they mess up security cameras and bugs?” Lois murmured under her breath to Clark. “Because if they do, I could’ve used some of those earlier this year.”
He chuckled in response but wisely didn’t comment.
Molly excused herself from the customers and turned toward them. “How may I…
Lois!” She enveloped her in a hug. “I was wondering when you’d finally stop by.” She stepped out of the embrace to look Lois over. “You look terrific.” Despite the complimentary words, Molly’s tone seemed more surprised that Lois looked good.
“Thanks,” Lois replied just as hesitantly. “You look…” She strained to find something honest to say as she once more took in her old friend’s appearance. “Different.”
“Yeah,” Molly said with a smile. “I feel wonderful!”
“She looks happy to me,” Clark butted in from behind Lois.
Molly smiled at him. “Thank you. I am.”
“Oh, sorry,” Lois said, stepping to the side to reveal all of Clark. “Molly, this is my partner Clark Kent. Clark, this is Molly Flynn.” She shook her head as they shook hands. “We had been tied for most driven woman award in our class. What happened?”
“I gave up that Type-A personality because it wasn’t working for me.”
“Burned out?” Lois hypothesized with a nod. “I hear that happens to some people.”
“No,” Molly returned sharply. “After Ryan died last year, I realized that I had given up all my human connections for computers. Computers can’t replace human interactions, so I gave them up.”
“Cold turkey, apparently,” Lois said before Molly’s words sunk in and her jaw dropped. “Wait! Ryan’s not dead!”
“Well, that explains why you didn’t stop by his memorial service to gloat.”
“I wouldn’t have gloated!” Lois insisted, putting her hands on her hips.
Checked to make sure he was actually dead, yes. Gloated, no.“I’m sorry for your loss,” Clark said, saying the words Lois probably should have said instead. He wrapped an arm around Lois’s shoulders apparently to remind her that antagonizing an interview subject was less likely to get the results they wanted. “What happened?”
“There was an accident on the Hawkeye project we were working on at Fort Truman and he was vaporized,” Molly said. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “It’s taken quite a while for me to be able to say those words without breaking down.”
I bet… in laughter, Lois thought, pressing her lips together.
Vaporized? Yeah, right.“I heard something about that. A year ago August, wasn’t it?” Clark asked.
Lois turned sharply to her partner and glared. “How come you know about that and I don’t?”
“It happened in those few days right after Luthor shot you,” he replied as if that were a worthy excuse. “I would’ve mentioned it to you, but I didn’t realize that you knew him. Friaz covered the story.”
Molly held up her hands. “Hold it! Hold everything!” She pointed at Lois. “You were going to marry a man who not only is the biggest criminal mastermind in Metropolis history, but who also
shot you? And you have the nerve
not to come here to apologize for calling Ryan a lousy boyfriend?”
Clark gave Lois an ‘I have to agree with Molly’ shrug. The jerk.
“I was
never going to marry Luthor,” Lois corrected for the six-billionth time, her voice rising. “I was undercover. And, anyway, I’m dating Clark.” She backhandedly slapped the yokel in the chest.
“Congratulations,” Molly said flatly to Clark as if Lois had won first prize in an ugly contest.
Lois pointed back at Molly. “At least, Clark doesn’t fake his death only to rise again…”
Inside her head, Lois heard the crack of gunfire and saw Clark collapse dead to the ground in front of her. Her heart must have burst because her chest filled with pain. She gasped for air, but it didn’t work. The brightness of Molly’s shop dimmed and swirled as Lois fell into the darkness.
***
“Lois? Lois?” she could hear Clark’s voice echoing inside her head. “Do you have a glass of water?” She felt him brush her cheek. “Lois?”
“Clark?” Lois murmured.
“I’m right here,
minha.”
“You’re going to die.”
“It’s okay, Lois. You just fainted.”
”Someone is going to shoot you and you’re going to die,” she repeated.
“That’s not going to happen,” Clark’s soothing voice reassured her as he brushed her cheek once more. “Thanks,” he said to someone else. “How about a sip of water, Lois?” Her lips suddenly felt damp, as he must’ve raised a cup to her lips.
Lois opened her eyes and sat up, pushing the cup away. “No, Clark. You don’t understand. You’re going to be shot, pointblank in the chest in a
crowded room.
You are going to die!”
He stared at her with the most dumbfounded expression on his face. “I… I…” He cleared his throat but his voice was still hoarse when he whispered, “We’ll discuss this later.”
From behind Clark, she saw Molly hovering nervously, wringing her hands. Lois nodded.
Right. Later.“Are you okay, Lois?” Molly asked. “Because you freaked out my customers.”
“I’m fine,” Lois insisted, putting her feet on the floor and trying to stand.
Clark warily took hold of her arm.
“I’m
fine!” Lois repeated just as her knees gave out. Thankfully, Clark hadn’t let go.
“We probably should’ve had lunch before coming here,” Clark said, glancing over his shoulder to Molly. “Low blood sugar.”
Molly nodded. “Oh, please, Lois, reassure me that you aren’t still crash dieting. That’s
so bad for you.”
Clark gazed back at Lois with an inquiring raised eyebrow.
“I just forgot to eat lunch,” Lois explained, not wanting to get into her visions with this new age guru or her eating habits with Mr. Organic-Health-Nut Kent. “We saw Ryan this morning at Fort Truman and we were wondering if you knew where we could reach him.”
Molly quickly shook her head and backed up until she hit the wall of her little behind-the-shop apartment. “Ryan’s dead.”
“No, Ryan lied to you,” Lois returned. “And I’ve got photographic proof.”
Molly’s face went pale. “Photographic…? He was vaporized at Fort Truman, Lois. You must’ve seen his ghost,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Right. Ryan’s a ghost and appeared somewhere where
I might see him? In broad daylight? Ha! We both know how doubtful either of those possibilities is.”
“We should go leave and get you some lunch,” Clark said, leading Lois through the beaded curtain separating Molly’s apartment from her shop.
“I couldn’t agree more!” Molly said, pointing to the exit. “When you’re ready to issue a real apology, Lois, I’ll be here.”
“Don’t hold your breath!” Lois snapped.
“Thank you,” Clark said, calling back over his shoulder with probably one of his charming smiles.
***
Clark lifted his head from the article in front of him and saw Lois tapping her pencil, at her desk, lost in thought.
“I pulled up Friaz’s story,” he called over to her. “Apparently, a spokesperson for the Army said that Ryan Wiley was installing the trigger system on the Hawkeye satellite when it exploded. The blast was so big…”
“It vaporized him?” Lois scoffed.
“There weren’t any remains,” he finished.
She threw her pencil onto her desk and turned her full attention on her partner. “There are always remains, Clark, even when someone is cremated.”
He nodded. “Good point.”
“So, why did the Army lie?” Lois went on.
He shrugged. “Another good question.”
Joe passed by Lois’s desk and dropped off a couple of pink phone messages.
“Who from the Army was quoted?” she asked, flipping through the messages.
Clark glanced down at the story again. “A Colonel Fane.”
“I know that name!” Lois announced. “That’s the colonel from the end of the ATAS demonstration.” She scowled. “If he didn’t return my calls and faxes about that, he’s certainly not going to return my inquiries about Ryan’s death, especially since Ryan didn’t die. I need to get onto Fort Truman and talk to Fane face to face.”
“If he isn’t returning your phone calls how are you going to schedule an interview, let alone be allowed on the base?” he returned.
“Where’s your ‘can-do’ attitude?” she said, standing up and picking up her briefcase.
“I’ll visit you in the brig.”
“Stockade,” she corrected. “The brig is for the Navy, and I’m not going to be caught.”
He shook his head, returning to his research on Ryan Wiley and the Hawkeye satellite. “Just call me if you need any help.”
“Don’t put octopus soup on the menu just yet, Chuck,” Lois said smugly and held up one of her messages. “Anyway, I just may be eating out with Molly. You know, girls night out, ragging on the foibles of our boyfriends and ex-boyfriends over drinks, that sort of thing.”
“Good for you, Lois. You need a girls' night out,” he replied, leaning back with a smile. Lois needed more friends. He hadn’t been holding his breath for Molly to call Lois after their goodbye from that afternoon. When he recalled what else happened at the bookshop, he rushed to meet Lois at the elevators. “I’m not going to die,” he reassured her softly, taking her elbow.
Lois led him into the stairwell and then glanced around to make sure that they were alone. “Superman might not, no,” she said, resting her hands on his chest. “But how would
Clark Kent survive if a roomful of witnesses see you get shot in the chest?” Her gentle caress turned into an index finger poke. “I’ve put too much effort into this relationship to lose you now.”
He ran his hand over her head. “Even if Clark Kent dies, you won’t lose me.”
“I know that!” she snapped. “But I don’t want a covert relationship with a dead guy.” She took hold of his lapels. “So, don’t get shot!”
“I don’t actively ask guys to shoot me, you know,” he said.
“You… Clark, you could wear a bulletproof vest for a while,” she suggested.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
Lois shook her head with her winning smile.
“I wouldn’t be able to compress it when I needed to change.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then stash it somewhere and come back for it later.”
“Lois, you’re being ridiculous. You don’t even know when or
if this event will ever happen. We can’t live in fear of the unknown.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Truer words have never been spoken.”
Clark didn’t feel as if they were speaking about her vision anymore. “But I
won’t die if I get shot,” he hissed for her ears only. “
You still could.”
“Fine, if you won’t wear a bulletproof vest to protect the man
I love, then if someone aims a gun at you,
I’ll dive between you so you won’t die.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he growled, stretching to his full height.
Her gaze narrowed. “Just watch me.” She was dead serious.
Clark threw his hands up in defeat.
Lois grinned and kissed his cheek before heading down the stairs with a wave of her fingers.
“You’ll never let me win, will you?” he called down after her.
“Not when you’re always wrong!”
***End of Part 218*** Part 219 Comments
