Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found
Here Part 42 Part 43Lois sat at her desk drumming her fingers on her keyboard. She wasn’t typing anything; she had run out of ideas. So far, she had come up with bupkis, nada, zippo. Actually, that wasn’t true.
She had learned that there was a Clark Kent living in San Francisco. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and a tattoo of a dolphin on his left ankle. He had been arrested for drunk driving last spring after a Mardi Gras parade. It was his first offense.
There was another Clark Kent who was sixty-seven, retired army chaplain, residing in Bethesda. He only had one leg.
There was a Clark Kent, brother to Kendra and Kimberly Kent who were all born on January 1, 1990. Their father’s name had been Charles Kent, and he had died in 1991 in a car accident. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and olive complexion. He had been a whopping five foot six inches tall, and weighed two hundred pounds. The weight he could have lost, but the gain of more than half a foot and leaving three children to be raised by a widowed mom? No, she couldn’t see her Clark able to do either of those things.
Lois rubbed her eyes. She had worked on this for several hours after Lex had dropped her off, and then another one since finding her partner being extra friendly with the Metro boss lady who had friggin’
sold her to the billionaire, without even discussing it with her in advance. Not like Lois would’ve ever said ‘yes’. If she wanted to do a prostitution sting, she would do it with her eyes wide open, thank you very much.
The elevator dinged, and the clip clop of high heeled flip-flops emerged. Just what Lois needed to make her perfect night complete.
“Hi, Lois, working late?” Cat asked.
“What’s
that supposed to mean?” Lois snapped.
Cat stopped and raised her hands. “Whoa, there, Lois.” She looked Lois over and grinned, before pointing at her. “You’re working undercover at the Metro Club, aren’t you?”
Lois scowled, rising to her feet. “You knew?! You knew! I can’t believe you knew and didn’t warn me. What am I saying? Of course, I can believe it.”
Cat bent over with laughter. “Well,
that explains the outfit. How much did you go for?”
Lois harrumphed and sat back down, her arms crossed.
“Well, who are we going to find floating in Hob’s Bay come morning then? Who’s the unlucky fellow?” Cat asked, and then she froze, her laughter dying a quick death. She took a quick glance around the newsroom, before hissing, “Lois? Where’s Clark?”
Lois glared at her. “Entertaining.”
“
Entertaining?” Cat echoed, confused.
“He has a dinner date.”
Cat glanced down at her watch and raised an eyebrow. “But you’re here?”
Lois merely glared at her.
“Clark doesn’t date other women, Lois. He doesn’t want anyone but you,” Cat reminded her.
“He does tonight,” Lois retorted, her teeth grinding together.
Cat dumped her stuff on her desk and sat down on the corner of Lois’s desk. “Lois, who does Clark have a date with?”
“His boss.”
The gossip queen scratched her head. “You’re being snippy because Clark is with Perry?”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Our boss from the Metro Club: Toni Taylor.”
Cat jumped to her feet and pointed towards the elevators. “You left Clark
alone with Toni Taylor? The new boss of the Metros? The person in charge of the prostitution ring that
sold the woman
he loves to another man?”
“He seemed to be enjoying himself,” Lois responded dryly.
“Was she tied to a chair with her hair on fire?”
“She was making him lasagna.”
Cat’s face contorted in confusion. “Huh?” She marched to her desk. “I’m going to call him.”
“No!” Lois was on her feet. “He’s undercover. He wouldn’t let his personal feelings for me risk our investigation.”
“So, it isn’t Clark who is having dinner with Toni Taylor; it’s whomever his undercover persona is?” Cat said.
“Yes.”
Cat rested her head on her fingertips. “I’m lost. Why are you mad at Clark again? Because it sounds like to me, he’s doing his job.”
“His job?” To Lois it looked like he was planning on doing Toni Taylor.
“Investigating the Metro Gang to see if they have any connection to the West River fires,” Cat clarified in a tone of voice that said Lois was an idiot. “To help stop the fires destroying a section of the city.”
Lois’s jaw dropped. “How do you know what we’re investigating?”
“Hello? Lois, I sit at the next desk. The rest of us don’t go deaf when you and Clark march across the newsroom arguing about your safety during an assignment.”
“Right,” Lois conceded.
“So? Why are you mad at Clark?”
Because they were supposed to be together tonight, and instead he was off with some other woman. “Sometimes I get this strange feeling like I don’t know who he is,” Lois grumbled. “Like he’s lying to me, and hiding the truth about who he really is.”
Cat stared at Lois in disbelief. Finally, she blinked and shook her head. “Let me tell you a secret, Lois.” She glanced around the newsroom, before leaning forward and whispering, “No matter who Clark is, or who he’s pretending to be, it doesn’t stop him from being head over heels in love with you. That’s the only truth you really need to know.”
Lois leaned back in her chair and stared at her co-worker. “Why, Cat,” she crowed. “
You’re a hopeless romantic.”
“Hey, Lois,” Cat retorted in a snide voice, returning to her desk. “You’re blind as a bat.”
Lois stuck her tongue out at Cat while the gossip queen’s back was turned. Then she turned off her computer, grabbed her keys, and her emergency twenty dollar bill.
Cat was right; not that Lois would ever admit to that fact out loud. Clark’s feelings for her were real, even if the rest of him was a lie. It wasn’t him Lois should be investigating. According to Lex, the person she should be investigating was Toni Taylor. If Lois was going to find out what was going on with the head of the Metro’s, she needed to get herself into some less conspicuous clothes.
*************
Give and Take*************
“Hi,” said Clark, coming up behind Lois in the newsroom and resting his hands on her shoulders.
Superman had spent all morning putting out the fires all over West River district caused by the Toasters, who weren’t that difficult to catch, once he had found them.
“Where have you been?” she asked, filing some paperwork and slamming the drawer shut.
Clark winced and dropped his hands. Yep, she was still mad. “I could say the same about you. I spent all night looking for you.”
“Is that where you were when I stopped by this morning?” She shrugged. “I trailed Toni from your apartment to a burnt down warehouse in the West River district, where she was held captive by the Toasters all night. They had teamed up to get rid of her brother until the Toasters double-crossed her. I’ve just put the finishing touches on the story.”
There was a time when Lois used to call him before going off on her own; back when Superman had asked her to. “Well, save room for a sidebar on Toni Taylor. Superman found her still tied up in the warehouse,” he said. “I talked to her down at the station.”
“A touching farewell, I suppose,” she replied, heavy with the sarcasm, as she walked back to her desk.
“She wasn’t all bad,” he said, trying to dig himself out of the hole Toni made for him by stopping by. “Toni wanted to take the Metros legit.”
Lois looked at him as if she couldn’t believe the words he was speaking. “I have a fifteen hundred dollar price tag that says otherwise.”
Right. Okay, so Lois knew. “Do you want head downtown to press charges against her and Luthor?” he asked hopefully; they had Luthor dead to rights for buying a prostitute. A victory, even if a minor one.
“I don’t really want to be the laughing stock of the press corps, thank you,” she replied. “Anyway, Lex wasn’t looking for a date, Clark. He was trying to protect me. I don’t know where this neon light, flashing above my head, is. You can see it; does it read, ‘I’m a china doll. Protect me from harm’? But I’m not going to punish that kind of behavior by pressing charges.”
“Don’t compare what Luthor did to you, to what I do,” Clark insisted, folding his arms across his chest. Then he added as an afterthought, “Or what Superman does.”
“Well, nobody is all bad, Clark. Or all good,” Lois explained as if he were naïve. “Well, Superman might be, but not Lex, and certainly not you, Chuck. Did you know what singing at the Club meant?”
“Of course not. Do you think I would have…?” He realized he was going in the wrong direction. “Do you think I would have kept you in the dark?”
“I don’t know, Clark. Would you have told me?” she said, accusation tingeing every word.
“How can you even think that?” He shouldn’t have to say this. “I didn’t invite her over, Lois. Nothing happened. What was I supposed to say? You can’t come in; I’m expecting my girlfriend?”
She glowered at him.
Clark got a sinking feeling in his gut that she no longer considered herself that, if she ever had. “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” he said softly.
Lois sighed, staring at him as if she was searching for something. She set her hand on his chest. “I know, but when I saw you with Toni last night, I realized how fast we’ve been moving. I think we need to slow down.”
Clark blinked. Slow down? Any slower and he’d be out of her life again. He took her hand and led her into the conference room, shutting the door behind them. The last time she had dumped him, she had done so in front of everyone in the bullpen. He didn’t need a repeat performance, because this time it would be for real. “How slow?”
“I don’t know you, Clark,” she said.
“Sure you do,” he replied. Her hair still wasn’t quite long enough to tuck behind her ear. Instead he just ran his hand over her head. He had been more open with her than anyone in his life, save Lana.
“No, I don’t, Clark. I know how you feel about me, but you hold everything else so close to your chest. It took me getting shot before you told me you lost your parents when you were young.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Lois.”
“Tell me who you are.”
She knew who he was. “
I’m Clark Kent.”
Lois closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if that were the wrong answer. “A part of me wants to love you, Clark.”
That was good, wasn’t it?
“But I can’t allow myself to love a man who doesn’t trust me,” she said.
“I trust you, Lois,” he said.
“You once told me you were keeping things from me. Is that still true?” Lois asked, her hands on her hips.
“Um…” Clark smiled sheepishly.
Yes.Lois threw up her hands, her case made, and marched out of the conference room.
Good going there, Kent, Clark berated himself.
***
“Superman told the Daily Planet that Metropolis is his home now. ‘After traveling the world, I have decided that the place I can do the most good is Metropolis. While there may be more dangerous places in the world, Metropolis affords me the one thing I cannot live without, my friends. I will once again help out as I am able, but be assured I am no replacement to the hard working men and women of Metropolis’s fire, police, and emergency workers. I will coordinate my assistance as best to serve them.’” Martha finished reading and set down the newspaper, looking at Jonathan.
“So, he’s back for good? No more just helping out on the random natural and manmade disasters?” he asked.
“It seems so,” Martha replied. “I wonder what it was that made him cut back before those tornados brought him out to Kansas.”
Jonathan shrugged and then winked. “We’ll have to ask him should he stop back by.”
Martha sighed. “I wish he would talk to us and let us know what’s wrong.”
He put an arm around her shoulders. “Why would he do that, Martha? He doesn’t know us. We must have spooked him after the last time, like the elves in the shoemaker story once the old shoemaker and his wife thanked them.”
“Who are you calling ‘old’?” she asked.
Jonathan laughed. “
Me!”
Martha patted his knee, and he wished he could feel it when she did things like that. “Well, if I’m going to harvest the wheat I better get started,” she said. “Wash up?”
He grinned. “How about
I harvest and
you wash up?”
She stood up and kissed his cheek. “Sounds like a plan. We’ll have to retrofit the combine for you first.”
He scowled playfully, so she wouldn’t see how much he hated that she was doing all the hard work now. “Fine.
I’ll wash up.”
Martha put on her big straw hat and opened the back door. She paused. “Jonathan.”
“Did you forget your kiss?” he asked, backing up from the table and rolling over to her.
“No,” Martha said, pointing at the basket on the back porch. “That wasn’t there when I came back from milking LouBelle.”
“Well, go on,” he said with a swat to her bottom. “Go see what your secret admirer left you this time.”
She lifted the blue checkered napkin covering the top of the basket. “Peaches.”
“Mmmmm. Peach pie does sound good,” Jonathan said as Martha handed him the basket.
“Jonathan,” Martha said again in that weird way. “There’s more than one pie’s worth here.”
Jonathan, with the peach basket on his lap, rolled onto the porch. There was a box of peaches, two boxes of tomatoes, a bag of onions, and a garland of garlic.
“Hey, Mrs. Kent,” a voice called from the yard.
“Hi, Thomas,” Martha said, with a wave back.
“I harvested Dad’s corn yesterday, so he sent me over here today,” Thomas said. “Hope you don’t mind, I moved your peaches from your truck to your porch, so they wouldn’t get too much sun. You going to do some canning?”
Martha glanced at Jonathan. He knew she hadn’t even thought about doing any major canning this year. It had always meant something special to her to be able to put something away for the winter. She had done a few batches of beans when they had ripened from her personal garden, but that was about it. She took her glasses off to wipe her eyes.
“I guess so,” she mumbled.
“I’ll go grab the bag of sugar,” Thomas said, heading back around the corner of the house.
“Can I adopt him?” Martha said, taking hold of her husband’s hand.
“Sure, but Wayne might protest,” Jonathan replied with a chuckle. Martha swatted his arm.
“Hey, Jerome,” they heard Thomas call from the front yard. “Can you give me a hand?”
Martha and Jonathan exchanged a look before she bolted down the steps, jogging towards the front of the house. Jonathan set down the basket of peaches on the porch and then followed, wishing he could run as fast, but the zigzag of the gradual ramp slowed him down.
As he came around the corner of the house, he saw Martha talking to Thomas who was in the back of their truck with a tall man with dark hair and eyes. The man looked shy, almost as if he were avoiding looking at both him and Martha. With that t-shirt, jeans, glasses, and Monarchs baseball hat, he could have been anyone. Despite the hunched shoulders and the eyes appearing almost like a horse ready to bolt, Jonathan recognized him as the man from the newspaper: Superman.
“Look who I found clearing out the drainage ditch,” Thomas said, completely unaware of who the man standing next to him really was.
Jerome tipped his hat. “Mr. Kent. Mrs. Kent,” he said, backing up until he bumped into the cab of the truck.
“Jerome?” Martha was saying as Jonathan rolled up. The young man nodded.
“Thomas has been telling us that you’re our secret Santa,” Jonathan said, glancing at the two boxes of apples still in the back of the truck.
Jerome shrugged. “I do what I can.”
Jonathan could tell he was feeling uncomfortable talking with them. Did he know that they knew who he really was? “We appreciate it, son. Thank you,” he said. “If there is anything you ever need…”
Jerome shook his head. “You’ve already done more for me than you’ll ever know,” he murmured.
Jonathan glanced at Martha. Did this have to do with the baby they had found all those years ago? Or was it something else?
“We better get this stuff out of the sun,” Martha suggested. She set her hand on Jerome’s arm, causing the man to withdraw. “Can you boys help me get it down in the cellar?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Thomas answered, lifting the bag of sugar into his arms and heading for the back porch.
After he was out of sight, Jerome said quietly, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kent. Of course, I’ll help. I never meant to intrude. It’s just…” He cleared his throat, picked up both boxes of apples, like they didn’t weigh a thing, and hopped down from the truck.
“Jonathan, why don’t you get those boys some lemonade after you show them the way to the cellar? I’m going to get the tractor ready for the fields before it gets any hotter,” Martha suggested as if nothing was wrong.
“We have a door from both the outside…” Jonathan said, pointing to the trapdoor. “— and inside just off the kitchen door.”
“I remember,” murmured Jerome. “Thanks.”
Jonathan realized that he hadn’t cleaned up the breakfast dishes yet. They didn’t need Superman coming in for lemonade and see a table full of dirty dishes. That wasn’t the kind of first impression to make with the Man of Steel. He wasn’t sure what to say to this man who had picked them for his personal act of charity. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done to help out around the farm in these last few months. This transition has been hard on Martha. I wish…” His voice faded. No point on wishing where no hope existed.
Jerome nodded. “Me, too. At least, you’re alive. My folks never had that chance.”
Jonathan’s gaze jerked up to him, but couldn’t see his expression as Jerome took the stairs to the porch and he had to take the ramp.
***
Lois wasn’t sure what to do about Clark. He was bound and determined to be obtuse. He kept insisting he was Clark Kent even though she still hadn’t found any Clark Kents, Charles Kents, or even any Kent Clarks that fit his description or who were missing. It was possible he was telling the truth and Lois just hadn’t found the evidence to prove his identity.
There were possibilities for this scenario she had come up with. U.S. Marshals could have put him through witness relocation and Clark Kent was his new name, or he lost his memory and Clark Kent was the name he came up with for himself, or after dealing with years of foster care, he had reinvented himself at some point and Clark Kent was this new identity. She doubted the middle choice, because he had shared so many stories of his travels around the world. The witness relocation idea was tempting because he didn’t like to talk about his personal past, but he clearly had identification to get himself a job, bank accounts, and a passport.
She knew that Clark was a good and decent person, normally averse to lying. She knew he cared for her and, most scary of all, she knew she didn’t want to scare him off or lose him. He had filled this hole in her life that she hadn’t known was there until she had met him. Unfortunately, she also knew almost no facts about his life, and he wasn’t being forthcoming. Lois was beginning to think she needed to approach Clark in a different manner. He seemed to expect her head-on attack; what she needed to do was sneak in under his radar.
Lois looked down on her coffee dregs in her mug. Ugh. Pouring it out on her stick of a plant, she was reminded of how Clark had kept her coffee hot and fresh when she was first recovering from being shot. At one point she had been bound and determined to do everything on her own and she had told Clark flat-out that she could fill and refill her own coffee mug, thank you very much. Sometimes she could be a stubborn, pig-headed idiot.
She glanced over at Clark, working at his own desk, and smiled. He lifted his eyes and caught her, returning the smile with one of his own. Lois’s heart skipped a beat. It was difficult not to think about kissing him when he looked at her like that.
Retreating, she picked up her mug and headed over to the snack area. As she started refilling her coffee, someone walked up beside her.
“Hi, Clark,” she said, knowing who it was before she glanced up. He looked strange for him, not his typical weird, but almost nervous. She wondered what was up.
“Hi, Lois,” he said, and took a deep breath. “I would like to ask you out to dinner this weekend.”
Does he now? This invitation seemed a bit formal. They ate dinner together all the time. “Okay, ask away,” she replied, putting in a packet of sugar substitute.
“On a date,” Clark clarified.
“Oh,” she said, raising her eyes to his again. That explained the nerves. “You mean like a
date date? One where I fix my hair just so, and try to guess which dress best complements my figure? Where I dabble a bit of perfume behind my ear and my knee, even though I’m not sure why? That kind of date?” she asked, watching as his jaw fell open. “And you, of course, would go out and get a haircut, and try to figure out if I would find you more handsome in the black or charcoal suit? You’d even rush out and buy a new tie…”
That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts. “Yeah. That kind of date. Sunday night.”
“Sunday?” That was weird; unusual as first dates went. Not a Friday or a Saturday, or possibly a Wednesday, but a Sunday?
“Eight o’clock. Someplace nice,” Clark said, stating the obvious. It was nice to know he wasn’t thinking hotdogs at the corner vendor.
They did work off hours, so maybe Sunday wasn’t odd after all. “I’ll think about it,” she replied.
“I mean, I’d understand if you have previous…” he started to say simultaneously, before catching her words. “Oh. Thanks.” Clark nodded and head back to his desk.
Previous plans? Did Clark think she was dating someone else? Was
that what he thought she meant about taking it slow, after their major make-out session at the Metro Club? That she had meant for them to go backwards with their relationship? Or did he think she hadn’t forgiven him for letting Toni Taylor make advances towards him? And had decided to move on? Frankly, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.
Lois decided to try a different tactic as she watched him. She would have to be subtle, which wasn’t her strong suit. She followed him to his desk, stirring her coffee. He glanced up and she could see the hope in his eyes.
“Clark, a while back you said to Perry that you used to play football. What position did you play?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
He stared at her in confusion and the light in his eyes faded. “Defensive back.”
Lois glanced over at Jimmy, who had been standing nearby. She waited until they were alone, before saying anything else. “Okay. Eight o’clock, Sunday. It’s a date,” she replied, returning to her desk before Clark could figure out what she was doing.
“Huh?” he stammered in shock. She’d have to work on her changes in topic so they weren’t so rough. Then Clark grinned as her words sunk in. “Great!”
That’s right, big boy. Give me information about yourself, and I’ll reward you. It would be a slow process, but she’d probably get better results than the damn computer, which kept giving her nothing. If she hit another brick wall investigation-wise, she’d call in the big guns, but for now, she would see what she could glean on the subtle, yet direct approach. The more information she had, the more places she would have to look. Later, she would ask him about his college career.
***
Clark waited until Lois went on an interview before approaching Cat’s desk. “I need your help.”
Cat raised her eyes. “What now? Some woman having your love child?”
He glared at her. “No. I need you to tell me what’s wrong with my ties.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, honey, there isn’t anything right about those ties.”
Clark glanced down. He was wearing a solid navy blue one today. It looked okay to him. “Go on.”
“A tie to a man is a like a handbag to a woman,” Cat explained.
He waited for the explanation to come.
She rolled her eyes. “It tells everyone who you are.”
“And my ties say?” he asked.
“That you lack personality, you want to fade into the woodwork, and as cheaply as possible,” Cat said.
Clark looked up to the ceiling and shook his head. He wished he could be surprised, but since Lana had picked out his ties, he wasn’t. That was exactly what she had thought of him. She hadn’t wanted him to wear anything that would draw attention to himself. “What do you recommend?”
Cat stood up and grabbed her large, wildly colorful handbag. “Shopping trip.”
He sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.
Twenty minutes later the two of them stood in a men’s suit shop he had never visited before. The prices were more than twice he had ever paid for a suit. “Okay, explain this to me again. What should I be looking for?”
“Something you like,” she replied simply.
“That’s it?” he asked. That
couldn’t be it.
“Yep. Let me guess, this tie…” She flipped up his navy tie. “— was a gift?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“The same woman who made your suit?” Cat asked casually, approaching a table of ties.
“No,” he said, not wanting to think of
that Lois.
“Hmmm. Does she not like you?” Cat asked. “This woman who gave you the tie?”
“Not much, apparently,” he grumbled.
“Oh, don’t blame her. Some women don’t know how to choose ties as gifts,” Cat said, being more generous to her sex than he had ever heard before. “Was it Lois?”
Clark crossed his arms. “No.”
Cat’s eyes flashed up into his. “
No?” She turned and set a hand on his crossed arms. “Who was she?”
He deepened his scowl.
Damn! It had been another trap. She was sneaky, that woman. “Someone I knew before I came here,
before I met Lois,” he replied vaguely. End of discussion.
She raised an eyebrow. “Was she the one who tamed this wild beast?”
What? Then figuring the speaker, the meaning of her statement hit him between the eyes. Two could play this game. “No.” He grinned.
Her eyes widened. “Really? More than one, Clarkie?” She spanked his behind and waved a finger in his face. “You naughty, naughty boy. You’ve been keeping secrets from Cat. Details! Details! What’s her name?”
Clark stepped away from her. “None of your business.”
She grinned. “You
will tell me!”
“No, I won’t,” he said, and moved off to another display.
Cat followed, but didn’t say anything. Her lips were pressed into a line.
Clark’s eyes blurred at the sea of ties. “What am I looking for again?”
“Something you like. Something that tells people who you are,” she said, and then laughed, running off to another table.
He rolled his eyes and followed.
Cat had picked up two ties and turned to face him. “Perfect!” Both had Superman’s crest on them.
Clark pushed down her hands. “Are you
nuts?” he gasped.
“Relax, honey, I’m just joking,” she said, dropping the ties. “Besides wearing those won’t score you any points with Lois.”
“That’s for sure,” he grumbled in agreement. At one point, he and Lois had talked only of Superman. Recently, though, since that day Superman had flown her to the mountains and told her about the bugs, Clark and Lois hardly ever spoke of him, except when Superman’s name came up for a story.
He saw another display and approached it in disgust. Lex Luthor’s Apparel for Men. Did he also have a line of clothing for women, Clark wondered. The sign had a photo of Luthor, looking his debonair, charming self, and Clark wanted to scorch the eyes out, so it more resembled the man he knew. “What do Luthor’s ties say about him?” he asked, when Cat walked up.
“I’m rich, confident, suave,” Cat explained. “They don’t suit you.”
“Thanks,” he replied. “But I’d rather stick with my ties than wear one of his.”
“Goes without saying,” she said, leading him over to another table. “These are middle of the line ties. Not as extravagant as Luthor’s, not as convenience store as yours.”
Clark looked down at his tie again. Was it really
that bad? His father had been a farmer, and only wore ties on Sunday to church, on special occasions, and holidays. Jonathan Kent had never been known for his sense of fashion. Plus, it had been the early ‘70s, and the ties had been hideous. “What do you recommend?”
Cat stepped back and looked him over from bottom to top to bottom again. “That you pick out a suit first and then find a tie to go with it.”
Clark groaned. He knew asking for Cat’s advice a second time was a mistake.
***End of Part 43*** Part 44 Comments ?
