Chapter 57:
Focus. He couldn't focus. His eyes glazed over slightly. He didn't have time to process that new piece of information before the gun fired. In his peripheral, he saw Lois fall backwards, and in a moment of sheer terror, he thought she'd taken the bullet.
He turned to look at her, white as a sheet, only to find her resting on her haunches, trying to find her balance again after the kickback, dropping the offending weapon and cradling her left hand to herself once again.
Lois wasn't shot; she was the shooter.
He turned back with his mouth agape and saw Nigel slumped against the wall and sliding to the ground, blood pooling around him and pouring from his chest. His heart started racing.
Nigel St. John was dead.
And something about that thought finally clicked, and if Lex knew one thing for sure, it was that he couldn't do this again. He refused. He wasn't going to stick around while another Kent tried to kill him, frame him, made him testify... He snapped shut the metal case he'd been holding, clutched it in tight against his chest. He had to get out of there.
And so without so much as a word, Lex Luthor ran.
*****LnC*****
The blood thrumming in his ears was the only measurement of time that he had right now. There wasn't a sound, hardly a movement. It felt like the world stopped turning, waiting with bated breath to see how this all unfurled.
A sharp snap sounded, and some of the immediate pain ebbed away. Clark darted his eyes over to Luthor, and the slack-jawed expression of horror. He tensed. He could still try something, come after him, call the police—
The crunch of gravel underfoot echoed throughout the room as he turned tail and ran.
A knot loosened in his chest, and the space returned to silence.
Silent as the grave.
He fell to his hands and knees on a groan, weakness overcoming him. There was still one piece of Kryptonite left, but at this point he was content to just sit there and let the tingling sensation of pain wash over him with the rest of the day's events.
He rested his forehead on the ground, ignoring the dirt and junk and rubble, instead squeezing his eyes shut. Lex knew his identity now. He couldn't believe it. The man was a hair's breadth away from putting all the pieces together, if he hadn't already. Nigel had actually come out and said it.
Nigel.
Clark sat up, breathing deeply. He glanced over his shoulder at the man he'd once depended on. He was gone already, eyes glazed over and unseeing, blood pooling out around him. A prick of some unknown emotion pulled at his conscience. They'd been friends, once upon a time. More than that. Nigel St. John had been his one and only confidant.
The moment passed as Clark blinked. They'd parted as enemies. Besides, he'd always known it'd end this way.
He turned then to the most important person in the room.
Lois sat as motionless as if she was the corpse. Staring in a daze at the old man's body, she didn't emote anything other than shock and a rather icy disinterest. A sour taste filled the back of his mouth, and a memory— one he tried to keep buried deep in the back of his mind at all times, even through his plots for revenge— surfaced. His stomach lurched and suddenly he was back there, poring over his body curiously, watching the red tint the bathroom sink as he washed the blood off his hands, mesmerized, numb. A stripe of blood smudged across his cheek in his reflection. The echoes of his father's yelling resounded in his memory, cold and distant.
Goosebumps erupted over his arms, and the sensation moved Clark to his feet and into action. He was at Lois' side in a heartbeat, and he spoke in hushed, calming tones. "Lois... hey, Lois... you need to come back to me. Okay? You need to wake up, Lois." Gently, so carefully he was barely touching her, he ran a hand down her arm, smoothing her skin consolingly. "I understand, I really do. I know what you're feeling— I get it. But right now, we don't have a lot of time. Okay? We only have a few minutes to decide what you want to do here."
Her eyes remained fixed on the body, unwavering even as she scoffed at his words. "You think you know."
"Lois—"
"You don't know. You have no idea—" she shook her head vehemently, whole body shaking now in response. She scrunched her eyes shut tight. "You can't possibly understand—"
He gripped her chin gently to stop her from nodding and guided her eyes to meet his. "Lois, stop." Her eyes fluttered open softly, shiny and bright with unshed tears, and empathy coursed through him the likes of which he'd never felt before. "Trust me. I. Know."
She scrunched her face in confusion before it dawned on her what he meant, and her eyebrows jumped. He swallowed thickly but did not shrink back from her examination. She needed to know what he was saying was true. She needed to know that he'd do anything to keep her safe, keep her by his side. Even if it meant telling her everything.
A flicker of understanding passed across her features, and she bit her lip. He left his hand on her chin comfortingly, trying to keep her attention from straying so her mind didn't wander down a path too dark. "I don't..." she spoke in an undertone, like a confession, "I don't know what to do. Oh my God, what did I do?"
She started shrinking before his very eyes, and he tugged her attention back once more, shushing her soothingly. "Hey, hey. Don't panic. It was self defense. The man kidnapped you, for Christ's sake. We can call Henderson, and—"
"Nobody even knows I'm here! Cops aren't here— Lex isn't here— any verification is gone— there's no excuse—"
Clark sucked his teeth, thinking. She wasn't wrong. Lex would be a problem. And though he'd be a problem that Clark would ultimately take care of, they were running out of time. The cops did know she was missing. But they didn't know who, or why, or any of the details. A setup would take time. He let his hand drop into his lap.
He knew what to do, but he wasn't sure Lois would go for it. "There is another option."
She looked up at him with tear-soaked, doe eyes, hope dubiously shining up at him. The expression almost broke him.
"You leave. Run away, far away from here as you can get. Get to a payphone. You call Henderson, tell him you were kidnapped by Nigel St John and that you just escaped, but you don't know where you were being held or where Nigel is now."
She wrung her hands until her knuckles were white. "No, I can't. What about Ni— what about the body? What about Lex? What about you?"
Clark shook his head firmly. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of the rest."
"Clark, no—"
"I'm serious. Just beg off trauma, or confusion, or being drugged. Lex won't dare come forward with anything."
"What... what if they find him?" Her voice had dwindled down to a whisper, horror filling her expression once again as she glanced over at the man in question.
Clark breathed in deeply, ignoring the sharp pain and residual tingle as he did so. "They won't. I'll take care of it. And besides, this is Suicide Slums. No one will think twice about looking down here."
"I-I can't ask you to do that. Not for me."
"Lois," he sighed, cupping her face in his hands. "You're the only person on the planet that's worth it." She shuddered, lips falling open slightly. Temptation bit him fiercely and he ran his thumb over her lower lip. He dragged his gaze back up to her eyes, making one last plea. "Please. Let me take care of you."
Lois searched his eyes meaningfully, her brown orbs scanning back and forth between his a little frantically, and he almost gave up hope. She wouldn't possibly agree to this. She couldn't possibly accept him still after this. He was just trying to help, trying to save her, and it wasn't fair for her to reject him in this moment when all he wanted was--
She sealed her lips against his, catching him off guard. His eyebrows jumped to his hairline before he surrendered to her passion with a shudder. Clark clutched her to him tight, taking over the kiss, swiping his tongue across the seam of her lips and demanding entry. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging forcefully, and he hissed into her mouth at the unexpectedly delightful pull of pain, adding a little more pressure to his onslaught of kisses in response.
She pulled away suddenly, breath hot against his, sharing their air for a few more lingering seconds. He'd happily keep kissing her until the Kryptonite killed him, but he knew they had other things to attend to.
Her fingers ruffled his dark locks affectionately, as though soothing the hurt she'd unintentionally caused. "Are you alright, Clark?"
He let his eyes shut finally, tipping his forehead to rest against hers. "I will be. Would you take the Kryptonite with you when you go? It's just the one piece."
"Kryptonite?"
Her question made him chuckle. That's right. He was the only one with a name for it. "It's what I call it. Radioactive chunks of meteorite from my homeworld."
A small gasp fell from her lips. "I'll get rid of it, I promise. I'll never let you near it again."
"No," he shook his head slowly, opened his eyes again to make eye contact with her once again. "If you do that, we'll just run the risk of it cropping back up again, in some other villain's hands. It's safer if you find somewhere to hide it— anything covered in lead will block the effects of radiation. Once that's done, I can take care of it."
She nodded, understanding, and finally pulled away. She put a hand on his shoulder and stood up slowly, joints cracking as she went. He tracked her movements as she bent over and picked up the glowing green stone, examining it with that reporter's eye, then turned back to examine him. A tingle ran down his spine at the sight of her standing above him wielding Kryptonite, a weird feeling settling in his gut. He brushed it away and smiled at her placidly.
"Last call," she muttered, fear still carving out vacancy in her eyes, glancing back at Nigel's body.
He reached out and landed a possessive hand on the side of her thigh. She looked down the length of her body at him with heat replacing the emptiness in her eyes. And while he liked the road her mind was heading down, he knew they had to move fast.
"Go."
