Chapter 37:
"Why is it that am I just hearing about Shockwave going live? From Luthor, of all people?"
Nigel's entrance had Clark gritting his teeth already. He tossed his pen down onto his desk with more force than he'd intended and winced. He picked up the pen again and ran his hand over the surface to make sure there were no chips or cracks in the smoky-colored glass, releasing a small sigh at the smooth feel. "So you're back. How was Austin?"
"Dallas," Nigel corrected smoothly, and Clark couldn't entirely mask his disappointment at not catching him out so easily. "Dull and hot. Surprisingly humid, actually."
Clark snorted and rounded his desk again, plopping into his chair and spinning casually. "That's Texas for you. Not the jewel of the south everyone pretends it is. San Antonio, maybe, but not Dallas."
"I whole-heartedly agree on that point."
Clark narrowed his eyes at the man and laced his fingers together behind his head. "And what don't you agree with me on?"
"What happened with Shockwave? It was all so intricately planned—"
"That was before you up and disappeared on me," Clark growled, shoulders tightening briefly.
"I had things perfectly in hand before I left."
Clark blinked at the man a couple of times before jumping to his feet and crossing his office space to go to the kitchen. "Well it wasn't my fault."
Nigel muttered something under his breath about nothing ever being his fault, and followed after him. Clark chose to ignore the comment as he padded across his glossy, dark, hardwood floors lightly, just barely touching the ground. Nigel's heavy, even footsteps egged him forward faster, though he knew it wasn't a competition. Clark took the corner almost too quickly and skidded to a stop in front of his stainless steel refrigerator.
"I just don't know how it could have gone wrong. I thought we needed Shockwave to be stopped. It's going to make shipments harder, it's going to make things harder for, you know..."
"I'm aware of why I wanted Shockwave gone, thank you." He leaned his head inside the fridge door in a show of looking for food, not finding much appealing anyways. Clark clenched his jaw tight at all that Nigel was insinuating. The worst part was he couldn't find much fault with the man's logic. He didn't know how to explain it in a way that wouldn't make it sound like he actually lost control of the situation. His eyes alighted on a carton of almost expired Chinese food in the back and he grabbed it hastily. "Lois caught wind of it a couple of days after you left. Found out about Harrington when she caught him meeting with his... impromptu dealer."
"Impromptu... why was he meeting with anyone? His supply should have come through days before."
Clark grabbed a pair of chopsticks out of the silverware drawer, and started picking at his snack in an effort to avoid eye contact. "Yeah, well, the shipment didn't come through right. Some of our guys at the docks got caught, and then they tried to cover it up with some low-grade cocaine they bought off the street... Point is, I dealt with it. And I sent Kyle to go take Roarke over to meet Harrington with something of a little more quality. Oh, which reminds me, I might need you to take care of Kyle for me. He knows who I am, but it's fine for now."
"What about Victor? Thick as thieves, those two."
"Victor’s been dealt with already."
Clark enjoyed the glimmer of surprise that slid across Nigel's face, and decided to let the man think he was responsible. Keep him on his toes. Nothing wrong with putting the fear of God into him every once in awhile.
"And Miss Lane somehow saw this."
"Yeah."
"And you let that kill the whole plan?"
Clark's eyes flashed darkly at the man standing across from him, leaning over the island countertop. "I didn't just let it happen. I got involved. I even stayed with her to help her stake it out, hoping to distract her enough. But you know how Lois is. She's like a dog with a bone."
Nigel was silent a beat before quietly interjecting, "You could have killed the story."
He snorted, shoveling some lo mein noodles to his mouth sloppily before replying. "Yeah. That would have gone over well. Not suspect at all."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but isn't that why you purchased the Daily Planet?"
Clark paused halfway through chewing, and evaluated the slight pinch to Nigel's face, the way his mouth turned down slightly at the corners, but the rest of his expression stayed neutral. He swallowed. "What are you getting at?"
Nigel picked at some imaginary lint on his sleeve and took his time collecting his thoughts. "Toni Taylor or Antoinette Baines never would have caused us so many problems. And don’t think I don’t know our friend in blue had a hand in all this as well."
Clark felt his jaw twitch. He set down the carton heavily on the countertop and smoothed a hand over the muscle. "Yeah, well, this is different."
"Lois Lane couldn't have changed the plan that much—"
"Lois changed everything."
The room fell silent. The seconds ticked by, and Clark didn't know how to rephrase the words. It was the truth, but he didn't have a good enough reason to justify it to Nigel. He kept his eyes lowered, not wanting to read his expression just yet, and face the scathing yet impassive judgement the man was sure to be exuding.
"And what about Luthor?"
The question took him off guard, and Clark glanced at him long enough to see the stoic mask was back in place. "Nothing's changed on that front, trust me. We've come too far. I've just been making some... minor adjustments."
Nigel nodded, and Clark felt his nerves ease a little bit at the acquiescence. "So, there's a boundary around Miss Lane, then."
"In a manner of speaking, sure."
"What about your alter ego?"
The mention of his alter-ego put his defenses back up. Clark hedged, picking up his chinese food once more. "What about him?"
"Sir, with all due respect, you're telling me things have changed. I understand that's your prerogative, but I need to know where the lines are drawn so I know whether or not to step in. And this character of yours is as much a new threshold as Lois Lane."
He stabbed at a shriveled looking zucchini and wrinkled his nose as he considered Nigel's point. "All true. How would Lex have you treat him?"
"To be perfectly frank, I think he'd have me gun you down out of the sky at this point."
Clark nearly choked on his laughter. "That's good. Let's go with that, or maybe one step less than that. You should know by now that I can protect myself."
Nigel's surprise was less masked this time, and Clark grinned at the way the older man's entire forehead creased with the jump of his eyebrows. He chucked the half-empty carton in the trash and clapped his hands finitely. "That was disgusting. I want some real food. How about some ribs?"
The immediate reaction of terrified disgust on Nigel's face made him laugh again. "No, thank you. I have work to do anyway, and I don't think I'll be eating any more barbecue for a while."
Clark's laugh boomed all the way through the halls as he lead Nigel through the outside hallway and to the elevator. "That's right. Texas. Try any good barbecue at least?"
Nigel wrinkled his nose. "Food wasn't exactly to my tastes. It was a lot of mustard and ranch dressing and what was left was slathered in barbecue sauce, and it was all too sweet in my opinion. Nothing to write home about."
Clark stilled with his hand over the elevator button, the little orange light toggling on a second behind his touch. Nigel's presence at his back remained relaxed, a little on edge, but mostly jovial. It was probably nothing. Nigel was British; he probably didn't care for anything sweet. The words meant nothing. He scrambled to find the smile that had evaporated and paste it back onto his face. "It's not for everyone. Maybe you had to grow up with it."
Nigel's answering words were lost to the pounding sound of his heartbeat in his ears, and he beat back the panic that crept in around him. The doors opened in front of him, and the old spy stepped around him and onto the lift, seemingly unaware of what he said.
He swallowed thickly, leaned a little too casually against the frame of the elevator. "You definitely wouldn't like the barbecue in Kansas then. Way sweeter. We usually stick to St. Louis style. Texas tends to be more dry rubs and spices. Smokier."
Clark flicked his eyes up to the older man's face and watched as something clicked behind his eyes. Clark smiled genuinely, pretending he didn't pick up on it. They stood there poised at the ready, each waiting for the other to call them on it.
"I'll be sure to remember that."
The elevator doors slid closed on Nigel's words and his grimace of a smile, and Clark shot back a taut grimace of his own. He was right; Nigel had been lying to him. How much of what he said was a lie? How exactly had he ended up in Kansas? He supposed it was possible that he hadn't actually been in Kansas; a lot of places cooked in that style. He could even have been in Texas... and just walked into the wrong restaurant every day he was there. Clark carded a hand through his hair, knowing there was only one reasonable answer.
They'd been in Kansas, or even Missouri. Which realistically meant they were in Smallville.
Did Luthor know too, then?
Clark wandered into his bedroom and looked around, barely registering the environment around him beyond the familiar elements— the stripe of red on the walls, the angle of his bed, the dark tones of his bedspread. He needed to get his mind off things. He walked into his closet space and headed to the back compartment where he kept his suits now— one Saturday of renovation and he had a whole new wardrobe.
He ran his fingers over the stretchy blue material, reverently stroking the crest in an effort to try to ground himself. Things weren't out of control just yet. Even if Nigel or Lex found out all his deepest darkest secrets, that wouldn't change the plan any. Just speed things up. Clark spun into the suit and blazed off his balcony looking for a distraction.
Either way, he was going to have to watch St. John more closely.
*****LnC*****
Lois ran her fingers along the tattered edge of the paper, well worn now after several nights spent repeating the same motion. She should really stop before it fell apart in her hands. What if they needed it for the investigation?
She kicked the blanket off her toes restlessly and brought her cigarette to her lips. The words were written hastily, frantically— she could practically see him writing it, half hunched over his desk, standing awkwardly, ready to go. The way his lines were short and cramped, slanted across the paper. Nothing like his usual, flowy style of long strokes and embellished language. The man was nothing if not melodramatic.
Lois-
No "my dear". No "love of my life" or "beautiful" or any of the nicknames or adjectives he liked to pepper her with. Just Lois.
All I can say is it's not what it looks like. We really need to do this in person, but you don't know what you walked into. He is deranged. He's a liar. He tried to kill me- he didn't, but he proved he could at any time he wanted. You missed it. You missed everything. But of course you did. That's how things are going for me right now.
And yes, fine. I tried to kill him too. But that was for investigative purposes. You should understand that.
Her blood boiled every time she read that sentence. Like hell she'd understand. She was a reporter, not a criminal. Minimizing what she did for a living like that, trying to get her to understand his behavior... She slapped the paper down on the coffee table and got up to go rummage through the fridge again, even though she knew there was really nothing in there.
After everything she'd worked so hard for. Graduating high school early so she could leave home earlier, four years of college that she'd accomplished in three and a half thanks to summer classes and zero social life. Clawing her way through the ranks at the Daily Planet, stealing Claude’s story and outting him as a scumbag who'd tried to use her— and Lex assumed she cheated her way through it all. Sure she broke some of the rules sometimes. She had to get the story first, and she didn't mind much how she went about getting it. But even she had a line.
You don't make news to write news.
It was a simple rule to follow, and pretty much the only one she had. Anything else was game. Go undercover, fine. Skirt around the law, perfect. Somebody else on the track of your same story, beat them to the punch by whatever means necessary. But you can't commit a murder for the purpose of a story, or do something completely irreparable. You don't become a story in pursuit of a story.
The cool air of the fridge did a lot of good for her temperament. Her eyes drifted shut as she breathed in the cold for a few seconds, and she closed the door again. She had to get some control back. Things were spinning well beyond her reach and she didn't like it.
She plopped back onto the couch with a sigh, staring at the two notes, side by side now. The note from yesterday was far shorter, and much more controlled. It was like looking at two versions of the same person— unmedicated Lex and on-the-lithium Lex. The way he rambled on in the first about "proving he was right" and that she should "watch out while he's gone" because he wouldn't be there to protect her... it set her shivering and enraged her at the same time. Because he still wasn't explaining anything, he was still leaving things out like he was hiding something.
"You'll see."
The ominous last words of his note, written with a heavier hand and underlined repeatedly. For the first time in the entirety of her relationship with the man, she felt like she actually would see the real Lex Luthor. She just wasn't sure if she wanted to see it.
The other note was such a 180 from the first that she wondered if he'd genuinely gone off his rocker. And those words. Those four, stupid little words that struck fear into her heart for no good reason.
They needed to talk. Problem was she didn't know what she could talk to him about. If Clark was right, and Lex was the Boss, then there wasn't much left on the table to discuss. Besides Clark. And Clark was off the table for reasons of her own.
She grabbed a notepad and pen. She could figure this out. And until then, she'd just avoid Lex.
