Chapter 16:
When the Messenger exploded on live television the next morning, Lois felt a strange yet familiar mix of horror and pride. It happened to her a lot— sometimes, Lois hated being right all the time, particularly about the bad things. But she was a realist. The world was a bad place. If you didn't expect the worst out of people, you would just be disappointed all the time.
And you'd never have a shot at happiness if you didn't always expect to be let down.
But when Perry called her into his office and put her on the case, she pretty much felt completely terrible. She hurried out of his office, scrambling to find Samuel Platt as soon as she possibly could. She needed him to make sense of his notes, to be a source for her story, and mostly to make sure he was okay.
She had a terrible gnawing in her gut that he wouldn't be.
Lois scrounged through her purse as she rushed down that street, the sound of her heels striking the pavement chasing her. It would be just her luck if she couldn't find her pager. Not that it wasn't already a bang-up day to begin with. She groaned. She didn't remember having it at the office, and she sure as heck wasn't about to try and call Lex to see if she'd left it there last night. Not after the fight they'd had. Again.
Suddenly she found herself having a head on collision with a hard body and it knocked her back a few steps. Dazed and confused, she looked up to find herself face to face with her nemesis. She scowled. "What are you doing here? You stalking me now?"
Clark Kent's brow arched in scathing disbelief. "Um, Lois? You ran into me. And if you didn't notice," he held up a steaming large cup of coffee and tapped the side pointedly.
Lois glanced between the cup and the coffee vendor he was standing in front of, who was shooting her a dirty look for holding up his line. "Oh," she huffed out, visibly deflating. "Sorry. Um, can I have a small latte?"
"You can if you get in line, lady."
Lois opened her mouth to retort but was cut off by a firm "She's with me, Mike" coming from Clark Kent. She scowled at him, but seeing as it got the grumpy coffee vendor to prepare her coffee, she decided she'd let it slide this time. "Thanks," she mumbled in his general direction, hoping he wouldn't read into it.
"Don't mention it. Besides, take it as my apology."
"What do you have to apologize for," she stated blandly as the man handed over her coffee and she watched as Kent reached across with a hundred dollar bill.
"Keep the change, Mike."
"Yes sir, Mr. Kent."
He finally turned to face her full on and she realized his eyes looked stormy, like something was eating at him from the inside. "I was the one who told you not to investigate the story with Platt. I thought he was just a whack job and made it up so he could get to you. I thought he was dangerous... I never stopped to think he was right."
Lois didn't know what to say. She was floored. "Uh... thank you?"
He laughed briefly and started walking away from her. She tried to catch up with his long strides, having to take double the steps to match his pace. "Hey, Kansas, wait up!"
Clark sighed and slowed. "I'm not a fan of the nickname."
"So I gathered. Where are you going, Kansas?"
His eyes rolled. "I was going to head to the Daily Planet to give this information to you— as a sort of penance— but since you're here already, might as well do it now. I found Platt's place."
Lois felt her eyebrows rocket skyward. "You did?"
"Yeah. Lives in some seedy little apartment off 23rd and Monroe. I figured we could go check it out together."
Lois choked slightly on her coffee at that qualifier. "Together? What makes you think I would be okay with that?"
"First of all, it's my intel. I have a lot of sources and connections. Secondly, it could be dangerous. And thirdly, it will kind of help with my guilt. I hope anyways."
She eyed him suspiciously over her paper cup, watching him take a sip of his own steaming drink. He did seem genuine, and he had valid reasons... "Fine. You can tag along. But this is my story—"
His hands flew up defensively. "I know, I won't get in the way, promise."
Lois rolled her eyes and walked ahead of him. She stopped short a few paces ahead of him and caught his eyes lingering on her bottom half a little more than she liked. She put a hand on her hip and glared at him. "You coming or not, Kansas?"
His eyes snapped up to meet hers, no remorse in them. "Yep. This way."
*****LnC*****
"Well you were right about one thing: this place is definitely seedy."
Clark couldn't help but agree. This was definitely a part of Metropolis he didn't venture into often. And considering he ran half the crime in the city as it was, that was saying something. Nigel had to work hard to find this crackpot. Maybe he'd pay him a little extra for this job.
He hadn't accounted for Dr. Baines to be seen planting explosives. Even Dr. Baines hadn't expected it. All she had been told was that she'd be rewarded handsomely if she did this one last job for the Boss. Nigel as usual was his mouthpiece. Clark rarely did his own business face to face, and he wasn't about to jeopardize that now, when things were finally coming together. Nigel was his best bet— the British butler being known as a member of Lex's personal staff only helped his case.
Samuel Platt threw a major wrench into the situation. He was a crazed scientist, unwilling to believe that his calculations would have caused a malfunction to begin with, and therefore easily latched on to the idea of sabotage. It was unfortunate that he was to be another casualty of this situation, but there was little left to do. Now he could at least be a tool for them to use.
They approached the right apartment, and he gestured for Lois to knock. She wanted to lead after all. He could have spared her all this drama, but she had been so determined to get this story. He had wanted her on the sabotage story, but not in this way.
Lois knocked and the door swung open slightly. She glanced back at him, somewhat nervous. "Doctor Platt? Doctor Platt, are you in there?" She pressed her palm flat against the door and carefully pushed in, explorative.
"Lois," he hissed. "I don't think we should—"
"Oh hush. Something's obviously wrong. Samuel Platt? Oh," her hand flew to cover her nose as a putrid smell welcomed them in. Clark had to fight his gag reflex— enhanced smelling ability was not usually a gift he was thankful for. Today was no different.
"Doctor—" Lois stopped abruptly as they rounded a corner and found him sitting in a chair facing away from them. His head was tilted at an unnatural angle and his feet rested in a pan of spilt water. But the most concerning aspect was the crackling of electricity in the air as he gripped a severed electrical cables in his hand. Lois covered her mouth and slowly made her way around the man in the chair.
"Lois, maybe we shouldn't—" Clark reached out a hand towards her to pull her back when she gasped in horror. He looked over to see her staring into the lifeless, open eyes of Dr. Samuel Platt. "My God, Lois."
She seemed to snap out of it then, and spun around to bury her face into his chest. Clark's arms came up around her automatically as he cradled her to him. And even as his heart hurt for her pain, it simultaneously soared at the chance to hold her like this.
A third, uncomfortable wave of emotion crested in his chest. He stared into the man's glazed over eyes, and anger swelled up inside him. This was not what he'd told Nigel to do. He'd said to find the doctor, shake him down. Scare him into telling the right story. Killing him had not been the request.
Not yet, anyway.
He squared his jaw and closed his eyes as he felt them beginning to heat up. He was definitely going to have to have a talk with Nigel later on. Right now, he had to focus on the woman at hand.
"We should get out of here, Lois," he spoke in a low voice.
She turned red-rimmed eyes up at him, incredulous. "We can't just leave him here!"
Her outburst surprised him, and he held up his hands defensively, ignoring the pang in his chest at the sight of her glassy eyes. "I meant out of this room. We can call the police from outside just as easily as we could in here."
Slightly mollified, Lois sagged against his chest and nodded. Clark rubbed a gentle circle against her back, guiding her ahead of him out of the room. His hand tingled where it made contact with her coat, as though he'd never felt anything so wonderful in all his life. He knew the woman inside the coat was responsible for that feeling, but it was slightly overwhelming still. Being this close to her was intoxicating. He had to fight to keep his head clear.
Once they were out on the curb, Clark pulled his cellular phone out of his breast pocket, dialing 911 speedily. He kept his hand on Lois' back, reassuring, as it rang.
"Clark?"
His eyes drifted over to hers in surprise at hearing her use his first name and he found her broken and staring back at him through those dark brown pools. She seemed to struggle with what she was trying to say for a moment before looking back at the ground in shame. "Am I responsible for all this?"
Clark felt his heart go out to her, but just as he opened his mouth to respond the line clicked on his phone.
"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"
He shot her an apologetic look and turned his attention back to the receiver. "Uh, yes. This is Clark Kent, and I'm at 1375 Monroe Avenue in downtown, and we've found a dead body—"
"Clark Kent. The billionaire. Really?"
The operator's voice dripped with sarcasm. Clark grew irate. "Yes, that Clark Kent. And I would appreciate if you took this call more seriously. I'm reporting a homicide."
"You do realize that wasting police resources is a violation of federal law, even if this is a prank call—"
"Gimme the phone," Lois griped, practically stealing the device from him before he even had a chance to fight her off. "Hi, listen. This is Lois Lane, the reporter. I'm here with Clark Kent— and yes, he is the real Clark Kent— and I can assure you that we did find a body, so if you could send a squad car out here, that'd be much appreciated. You can feel free to be skeptical all you want, but if so I want you to personally tell Inspector Bill Henderson that he knows what will happen if he crosses Lois Lane, and that he can expect a scathing article on the incompetencies of this city's emergency services if it takes longer than ten minutes for someone to get over here. Got it?"
Clark stood in awe of her as she swiftly chopped the disbelieving operator down to size. He could have done something like that himself, but watching Lois do it was as much a treat as it was intriguing. She certainly took the bull by the horns. It was a good quality for an investigative reporter, but would be even better for a partner.
His thoughts came to a screeching halt so fast that he could almost smell the rubber burning. Partner? Where had that thought come from? What kind of partner was he thinking here? Relationship? Business? He tried to rationalize that he simply meant a romantic partner, but for the first time, Clark wondered how she would work into his other business. This was the first display he'd seen of hers that made him think she'd do well as a part of his organization.
Perhaps as The Boss.
His eyes carefully tracked her movements as Lois hung up and handed the phone back to him, a smug grin pulling at the corners of her lips. "Here. They know better than to ignore a phone call from Lois Lane."
Clark grinned himself as he pocketed the device once more. "Call in a lot of dead bodies, do you?"
She shrugged. "I pull my fair share. If it's not a body, then it's trouble of some kind. How many people do you know that are on their local precinct's permanent witness list?"
"Not many," he agreed, thinking again of how useful Lois could turn out to be if used right. He shook his head to clear it a bit. No, not used. She was too valuable to simply be used.
"Let's just say that Henderson owes me several times over."
He smiled, then recalled what she'd asked him earlier and sobered. "Lois, you know this isn't your fault, right? Just like the Messenger exploding wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known any of this was going to happen."
Her shoulders slumped slightly again, and her air of self-confidence once again disappeared. "I know that, logically. But I can't help feeling that if I had only listened to him sooner, or suspected more, we wouldn't be in this situation."
"If you wanna blame someone, Lois, blame me," Clark stated honestly.
She elbowed him in the ribcage. "Try some of your own medicine, Kansas. You're no more to blame than I am."
If only you knew, Clark thought, wrapping an arm around her once again. "Thanks."
"Besides, who's really to blame is the son of a gun who caused all this."
Clark carefully schooled his features in case she turned to look up at him, keeping watch on her out of the corner of his eye. "If someone went to all this trouble to get rid of Dr. Platt, that only makes me believe him more."
"So it was sabotaged then," Lois agreed, wheels in her head obviously turning. "But who on earth would want to sabotage this expedition? It was supposed to be a scientific experiment. Nothing but altruistic purposes."
"Maybe someone had some less than altruistic reasoning."
"Someone who wanted more credit perhaps?" Lois suggested. "Or maybe it was all just to target one particular person. No, that doesn't explain why Platt would have to be killed."
"Perhaps he was jealous," Clark stated.
"Maybe," Lois conceded, internalizing all the different avenues that presented themselves. "But who would have that sort of motivation?"
Clark remained silent on that one. It was too early to present her with that theory. Maybe she'd come to her own conclusions. If not, he'd just carefully lead her to the correct answer.
Sirens wailed in the distance, closing in on them, and Clark nudged her gently. "Sounds like they're almost here. You okay to go back in there?"
Lois heaved a sigh and nodded, smiling up at him. "Yeah. Thanks, Kansas."
"You're welcome, Metropolis." She wrinkled her nose at him and Clark couldn't help but laugh. "What? It works for you but not for me?"
"It just doesn't sound right. Kansas has a nice ring to it."
Clark sighed melodramatically, prompting another laugh from Lois. "I'll get you to come around on this."
She smiled broadly at him, and he felt his heartbeat stutter for one involuntary moment. She leaned in close, licked her lips, and in a low tone of voice finally replied. "Not likely, Kansas."
As she walked past him towards the flashing red and blue lights, Clark groaned. Damn that woman. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. And as he watched her hips sway in the distance as she called out to get a detective's attention, Clark found himself only more fascinated with the enigma that was Lois Lane.
He paid Nigel to scare Dr. Platt, but not to kill him? Yet, he is dead. His blood is on Clark’s hands. Clark doesn’t seem to be overly upset about this development. And, he is more than willing to use this to get closer to Lois. Oily, disgusting, slithering, and sickening at the same time. 
You warned us. No happy endings....