TOC Lois and Clark were up and out of the hotel almost before the Kents were up. Lois had no idea when the Lanes left the night before – everyone was gone or in bed by the time she and Clark got back to the hotel. And although she wanted to reassure Martha that whatever they decided about the funeral was okay with her, Gary had heard about another bizarre murder from one of his sources in the MPD.
Martha Kent didn’t need Lois’s input on her son’s funeral. And sticking around a hotel suite waiting for something to happen wasn’t Lois Lane’s style – or Lane Alexander’s.
A few uniformed cops were keeping the onlookers out of the alley while Detective McCloskey studied the crime scene. Chalk marked the ground, outlining where the body fell. There were blood splatters on the ground and the alley walls.
Gary went over to McCloskey, gesturing to Lois and Clark waiting outside the yellow police tape. After a few moments McCloskey nodded and beckoned Lois and Clark to come closer, into the alley.
“Great way to start your morning,” McCloskey said. “Gary tells me you’re wannabe crime reporters.”
“Well, we had some friends who made it look like something we’d like to do,” Clark said. “What can you give us?”
With a glance to Gary, McCloskey flipped open his notebook. “Victim's name was Roger Stephens. He left Casey's Pub around eleven and when he walked by the alley he was hit with eighteen rounds from a Glock Automatic.”
“Any leads?” Lois asked.
McCloskey shook his head. “The weapon was left behind, just like with Sanborn. No prints, serial number filed off the piece.”
“Could it be the same shooter?” Clark asked.
“Could be,” McCloskey said. “We're checking our hot list for military vets. This guy knows his way around hardware.”
McCloskey spotted something and moved off, leaving Lois and Clark with Gary. Lois watched as Clark scanned the area. Then she spotted it as well – seed pods like those he found at the other crime scene.
“Detective,” Clark called. “We could have something here.”
McCloskey hurried back. “Yeah, we noticed those,” he told them. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about it.”
“Of course,” Lois agreed – gaining McCloskey’s trust was more important than getting a scoop right now. The Alexanders had no history, good or bad, with the MPD and they would need contacts like McCloskey if they wanted to do any reporting in Metropolis.
Gary ushered them back to the car. Scardino was waiting for them.
“You were checking out the Sanborn murder scene last night,” he said quietly.
“It’s not a crime,” Lois reminded him. “The crime scene unit was finished doing their thing, and there were no cops shooing us away.”
Scardino didn’t seem to hear her, focusing on Clark instead. “Interesting similarities, between this murder and the other one,” Scardino said. “Weapon left at the scene, no fingerprints, no apparent motive.”
“And why are you telling us this?” Lois asked. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Scardino’s motives but… she didn’t trust Scardino’s motives. Again she wondered what she had seen in him before.
“Henderson tells me you two have hidden talents,” Scardino said. “Talents that might be helpful in my investigation.”
“We’re not cops,” Clark told him. “And I’m pretty sure there are rules against recruiting civilians into your line of work.”
“Sometimes there isn’t much choice.” Scardino beckoned them away from the car. “We’ve traced the drugs Luthor used on Lois Lane to a Doctor Maxwell Deter at the Metropolis Neuroscience Center.”
“And?” Lois prompted.
“And… that’s were those seed pods are from,” Scardino said. “I need… we need… someone to go undercover over there. And with your histories… I figure Deter and Mendenhall won’t be able to resist getting their hands on Luthor’s daughter-in-law.”
Clark nearly choked.
“And why Luthor’s daughter-in-law?” Lois asked.
“Deter has a reputation of being a lady’s man among other things,” Scardino said, looking at Clark. “And there is a rumor you have memory issues – not remembering how the two of you got into those canisters, how you even got to Metropolis.”
“And why can’t you have one of your own people go undercover there?” Clark asked.
Scardino sighed. “Because we’re running out of time, and you’re our best bet to stop the next assassination being planned by whoever is in charge over there. Besides, we have reason to believe they know most of my people. They won’t suspect civilians with a good story.”
To Lois’s horror, Clark nodded. She could sense that he wanted to get more involved in Scardino’s investigation. His reporters’ instincts, and his need to help… it was all so Clark.
The government man spent the next hour briefing them but Lois wasn’t sure it was because Scardino thought they needed such an in depth briefing, or if he wanted more of a chance to ogle Alexa’s front.
Finally, Lois had Clark alone. “Are you out of your mind?” she asked.
“If it was before, if our positions were reverse, wouldn’t you do it?” he asked.
“Yes, but…”
“But what? You don’t think I can handle this?”
“Of course you can handle it,” Lois had to admit. “I just don’t like the way Scardino… I don’t like the way he looks at you. And I don’t think we’re his only choice for this mission. He has an ulterior motive.”
“Of course he has an ulterior motive,” Clark said. “No surprise there.”
“I just don’t like it,” Lois stated.
“It’ll be okay,” Clark promised, cupping her cheek in his hand. His hand seemed so small now. He seemed so small and fragile. Was that how she had seemed to him? Small and fragile, like a piece of delicate china or a tropical flower? Not that she had ever resembled a piece of china or a hot house flower. Lois Lane had never been a delicate thing that needed protection from the elements. But there were times she had thought that Clark thought that about her.
And now she found herself thinking it about him. She wasn’t sure if it was a hormone thing or not but when Scardino started looking at Clark it had been all she could do to keep from tearing out Scardino’s throat, or burning him to a cinder.
“It’ll be okay,” Clark repeated. “A couple days, maybe even not that long. At least it’ll give us an excuse to miss our own funeral.”
“It’ll give you an excuse, not me,” Lois retorted.
The Metropolis Neuroscience Center was situated in one of the more prosperous suburbs of the city and resembled an older resort hotel more than a hospital. White uniformed orderlies and patients in robes walking the grounds were some of the clues that it wasn’t a genteely aging resort hotel overlooking a river. Another clue was the ubiquitous surveillance cameras.
Lois wondered if the surveillance was to keep patients in or potential thieves out, or if there was something else entirely going on – Scardino was convinced the Center was involved in nefarious things. The high levels of surveillance on the grounds could be evidence of justifiable paranoia on the part of the Center staff.
Or of extreme caution concerning their more fragile patients.
Deter seemed affable and friendly, but as with Scardino, Lois found herself suspicious of his motives and had to fight to stay friendly with him as Clark – Alexa – was checked in as a patient. They had decided on the story that Alexa had experienced memory loss following her captivity in Luthor’s lair and that loss hadn’t cleared up.
If their story’d had any basis in fact, this was exactly where Lane Alexander would bring his wife for help.
“... and I've heard this is one of the best facilities in the country for treating memory loss,” Lois said.
Deter smiled. “We've had a lot of success, but you have to understand it's not an exact science. Mrs. Alexander’s memory could pop back in tomorrow, or it could be lost forever.”
“But there's a good chance that Alexa will fully recover, isn't there?” Lois asked, trying to sound like an anxious husband. It wasn't as hard to get into the role as she had feared.
“I'm hopeful, but there are no guarantees,” Deter said.
“Doctor, I'm counting on you. This is my wife, the woman I love,” Lois managed to say.
“I know, and it's important that you don't tell her that,” Deter said solemnly.
Lois stared at him.
“Revelations that are deeply emotional have unpredictable consequences. The shock could be too much for her to deal with,” Deter went on.
Lois was having a hard time accepting what Deter was saying. When Clark had amnesia before, the MPD’s Doctor McCorkle had advised that Clark be surrounded by familiar things, do familiar things. McCorkle had said nothing about Clark needing to be lied to about his personal relationships.
Clark stepped out of the clinic office and Deter plastered a smile on his face.
“All checked in,” Clark said. “Have I mentioned how much I hate hospitals?”
Lois suppressed a chuckle. “Uh, honey... this is Dr. Deter.”
Clark shrugged. “Sorry, I didn't mean anything…”
Deter’s smile grew even wider. “That's all right. We're happy that you're here. Mr. Alexander’s told me all about you.”
“Some of it good, I hope,” Clark said with a chuckle. “But then, you probably know more about me than I do.”
“We're going to work very hard to change all that,” Deter said. Lois wanted to deck him.
“Dr. Deter was just showing me around the Center,” she said instead. “I think you'll like it here.”
Clark didn’t look convinced.
“We want you to consider this your home, but there are a few rules,” Deter said smoothly – too smoothly for Lois’s taste. “Mr. Alexander will be permitted to visit every other day, but there will be no other visitors for the next two weeks. Also, you're not allowed to leave the grounds for the first month.
“Sounds a little severe,” Clark commented. “Granted, I don’t remember knowing anybody here, but still…”
“It's very important to control your exposure to outside stimuli,” Deter explained. There was a condescending note in his tone that Lois didn’t like and she knew that Clark didn’t like it either, although nothing showed in his expression.
A male nurse was pushing a patient in a wheelchair toward the one of the exits. An old woman with a stricken expression was walking beside them, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Lois noted that the woman had a facial tic.
“My God, it's Henry,” Deter murmured. “Agnes, what happened?”
“He just had a stroke,” Agnes said. “At breakfast he was fine and then…”
Lois watched as Clark crouched down in front of the man in the wheelchair. Henry didn’t seem to notice him, staring off into space, his lips moving but making no words, no sounds.
After a moment Clark stood up and moved out of the way so the nurse could wheel his patient out of the building.
“I'm so sorry,” Clark said.
“Agnes, this is Alexa Parker. She's a new patient,” Deter said, ignoring Lois.
“Welcome to the Center. I'm Agnes Moskowitz,” the old woman said, her worry over Henry at least temporarily forgotten.
“Agnes is a patient of Dr. Mendenhall,” Deter continued.
“The man's a life saver,” Agnes stated “Five months ago I was twitching so badly I could barely get out a full sentence. Now look at me. I'm almost cured.”
“Agnes, maybe you and I could have breakfast together tomorrow and then you could show me around...” Clark said with a smile. “Give me the 'inside tips' on this place.”
Agnes returned the smile. “I'd be happy to, dear.”
“You have quite a way with people,” Deter commented once Agnes was gone.
“She seems like a nice lady, reminds me of…” Clark’s voice trailed off in seeming confusion.
“Don’t worry about it,” Deter assured her smoothly. “I want to start your therapy as soon as possible. And I’m sure it will all come back to you in time.”
Again, alarms went off in the back of Lois’s mind but she wasn't sure it was jealousy or something else. Deter had introduced ‘Alexa’ by her supposed maiden name, even though all her identification, even how she was signed into the clinic, was as Alexa Alexander – a married woman.
- - -
Gary clucked his tongue disapprovingly at Lois as she climbed into the Suburban.
“What?” she demanded.
Gary sighed. “It’s not my place to say anything.”
“No, but you’re thinking it real loud,” Lois pointed out. “So out with it.”
“You’re not in law enforcement, you’re not trained for this sort of thing,” Gary said. “It could get ugly really fast.”
Lois wanted to tell him that this wasn’t the first time she and Clark had gone undercover for a story. But those people were dead now. And Gary was right. It could get ugly fast.
And Lois wasn’t sure how many of Alexa’s powers had kicked in. For herself, Lois figured she was probably near Superman’s levels, although she hadn’t had a chance to test her flight abilities. One of the downsides of having a protection service – they were always close and just disappearing on them didn’t seem to be a good option. It was essential that the ‘Alexanders’ appear to be newly wealthy couple just out of college. They needed to seem like average kids.
“Scardino seems to think she can handle it,” Lois said.
Gary snorted. “Scardino’s setting her out as a tethered goat. He wins no matter what.”
“You know him?”
“Not him specifically,” Gary admitted. “But his kind. Run roughshod over the local cops because he’s got a federal badge instead of a local one. Swoops in for the credit when it was the locals that did the work, took the risks.”
Lois wanted to protest that Scardino wasn't like that, but the protest died in her throat. She could see Scardino doing exactly that. Again she wondered what Lois Lane had seen in him.
“Alexa can handle herself,” Lois said.
I hope.
Forget Me Not was written by Grant Rosenberg
