From Part 8:
No; she wouldn’t expose him. What she would do, however, was behave as she should have done long ago where he and his exploits were concerned. No more hero-worship. She would report him properly. Critically. Questioningly. The only thing which would escape her probing would be his secret identity; everything else about him would be subject to the same harsh scrutiny that she gave to anyone else she wrote about.
This was the new Lois Lane, she reminded herself grimly. One who cared about nothing and nobody but herself and her career. One who had learned from bitter experience that that was the only way to survive.
*********
Part 9
Three days.
Three days since she’d last seen him.
Three days... and three nights.
Lois rubbed at her eyes and tried again to focus on her computer screen. Sleep was a distant concept these days. Truth be told, since she’d thrown Kal out she hadn’t done much more than toss and turn, doze off and wake again, seethe and cry. She’d done her work on autopilot, barked to anyone who approached, and refused to talk to Perry when he’d summoned her into his office for a father-daughter chat. Even if she had wanted to talk to him, she couldn’t have explained what was on her mind, at least not without compromising Clark’s secret, and she’d already decided she wasn’t going to do that.
She briefly wondered how Superman was feeling... then promptly dismissed the thought of concern. She didn’t care how he felt. She’d told him she didn’t want to see him again, and she meant it. She was through with him.
Clark was no better than any of the men in her life; he’d betrayed her just like Paul, Claude and Lex. He’d trampled on her feelings. He didn’t deserve the tears she’d cried over him when she had thought him dead. He might as well be dead now. Clark Kent was dead... if he’d ever existed at all. All she was grieving for was the image of a sweet, caring and wonderful man that had probably never been real.
Superman’s haunted look as he’d flown her home that night came back to her, and she bit her lip, guilt assailing her. She was being unfair...
Determination made her quash remorse. She wasn’t going to let feelings cloud her judgment. It had all been part of an act. He’d have done anything to lure her into bed, and...
But then, how could he have orchestrated his death? And nothing had been planned. It couldn’t have been - how could he possibly have known that Capone and his gang would arrive? Or that Barrow would get trigger-happy? What else could he have done but play dead? He obviously didn’t want his secret revealed, and Clyde had shot him at point blank range, right in front of a crowd that couldn’t possibly have believed he’d survived.
A nagging image flicked into her mind, and she frowned. There had been no blood. How could she have missed that? How could anybody have missed that Clark hadn’t been covered in blood when Capone’s goons had dragged him away? She’d been too stricken with grief to notice at the time, but how could she have been so careless as to let something this important slip past her consciousness?
Movement on her side turned her attention away from her thoughts. Jimmy walked past her - or rather, rushed past her; the boy had obviously got the point after her rant to him the previous day. She couldn’t even remember what about him had pulled her chain, but she’d never seen him blanch so fast. She wasn’t going to feel guilty over it, though. She was over making amends to anyone.
The man behind Jimmy was strolling at a more leisurely pace, and she turned in her chair to watch him. He was tall, slender and muscular. His face was clean-shaven and framed by neatly cut blond hair. His blue eyes were obviously appraising the newsroom, and if she went by the small smile on his lips, he was enjoying the tour.
Lois frowned when Jimmy and his guest stopped by Clark’s desk. What the...
She watched, mouth agape, as the blond guy sat down in Clark’s chair and stroked the desktop in a possessive way. Her gaze met Jimmy’s, but her young colleague quickly bid the newcomer goodbye and practically ran out of sight.
She was going to give that fink a piece of her mind when she caught him. Him and Perry. Him and Perry and the guy sitting at Clark’s desk, who was now... watching her. Staring at her. Smiling at her.
“What are you looking at?” she barked. “Don’t you have work to do?”
Her unfriendliness wiped the smile off his face. Satisfied, Lois returned her attention to her computer screen and set about typing on her keyboard, until she realised that her hands were trembling.
She had to do something. She couldn’t sit here and watch a newbie take Clark’s place and...
... and what?
Clark was gone for good. It was only fair that Perry replaced him. It was none of her business. She didn’t care. Right? She really didn’t care.
Less than three minutes later, she was summoned into her boss’s office.
*********
“If you want to talk about Blondie,” she said before he’d even closed the door behind her, “I don’t care. There was a job opening after Clark died.” She sounded incredibly calm. Inside, she was boiling.
Perry frowned, obviously surprised by her reaction.
“I can’t spend my whole life crying over him,” she explained. “He was just my partner. Reporters die on duty pretty much everywhere in the world. Clark was just unlucky.”
“Lois?”
“I want to move on, Perry. I don’t want people to keep walking on eggshells around me and act as if I’d lost my best friend. Clark and I were colleagues. That was it.”
Even as she spoke, she could feel the memories of the nights she’d spent with Superman, the sweetness of the moments they’d shared, and her voice caught in her throat. She swallowed, hoping Perry hadn’t noticed.
“Sit down.”
She did as he asked.
“Lois, whatever happened between you and Clark - and this is really none of my business - he was a decent man who lost his life protecting you. You may not like what I’m saying,” he added when she winced, “but I’m saying it anyway. I know you’re upset and hurt, and I know it’s not just Clark’s... death. I hope you know that if you need you can always talk to me, and that whatever you tell me won’t get out of this room.”
“I...” Perry’s stern look cut off her protest. She sighed. “Thanks, Chief.”
“If that partner of yours was in front of me right now, I’d tan his hide for not thinking of what could happen when you two went in there without any of the appropriate protection.”
“Perry, that’s what we always did! We never thought something like that would happen.”
“If he’d just worn a bullet-proof vest, he’d still be here right now!” Perry’s eyes bore into hers. “He’d still be alive. Anyway,” he said before she could get a word in edgeways, “that’s not the reason why I wanted to see you. I need to know how your harbour investigation is going. I haven’t had any reports from you about that since your story about the guy Superman arrested.”
The rapist he’d caught the night he’d thought Lois had been killed... the night which would be engraved on her memory forever. The night she’d allowed herself to let down her guard completely. The night she’d fallen more in love than she’d ever been in her life before... only to find that she’d fallen in love with a man who didn’t exist. And in his place she’d discovered a liar.
That rapist had turned out to be a copycat. The DNA tests had shown no match at all with the man responsible for the other murders. And so Lois was supposed to be on the track of the story - how the other murderer was operating and why the police hadn’t caught him yet. She was, but she just hadn’t told Perry anything about what she was up to - she’d known that he wouldn’t be happy about her plans.
“You can’t afford to spend all your time working on that if nothing happens soon,” Perry continued. “Leave it to the op-ed people to write editorials about police effectiveness.”
“Don’t give me the management version, Perry. You and I both know that catching a serial killer is no piece of cake. The suits upstairs have been watching too many episodes of NYPD Blue. It might be time to remind them that we’re not living in a TV show.”
“Whatever I think is irrelevant, Lois. You know I agree with you. But we’ve had that argument before.”
“Well, I do have a lead,” she conceded reluctantly. “I don’t know if it’s serious yet, but one of my sources called earlier and said that Hartley’s Bar seems to be the key. It’s possible that the murderer might hang out there.”
“It’s a start,” Perry conceded.
“I’m going down there tonight.”
Perry frowned. “That sounds dangerous. Leave it to the police, Lois. You know the routine - give them the lead and be there to get the story.”
“What? And just get whatever crumbs the cops decide to give me? No way! I’m going there myself.”
Perry still wasn’t happy. He tapped his pencil on the desk a few times, but when he finally looked up she knew she’d won. “Take Rogers with you.”
“No.”
Perry’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “No?”
“I don’t want a partner, Chief. Let alone a useless one. I work alone.”
“Lois.” Perry’s growl was one rarely heard around the newsroom, but one which held the clear message that, if the recipient didn’t instantly obey the editor-in-chief’s instruction, he or she could expect to be walking through the newsroom doors for the very last time any second. “Either you take Rogers or you don’t go. That’s my final word.”
Still, Lois was sorely tempted to argue. She did not want to work with anyone else. Didn’t Perry know that? Didn’t he understand that, after Clark... after Kent’s betrayal, she never wanted to work with any other reporter ever again?
This was all his fault, she thought, furious again. He’d exposed her to this kind of thing by his stupid pretence! Once, Perry had had no problem with accepting that she worked alone. But then, along had come Mr Greenjeans from Smallville - or Mr Superliar from Krypton, more like - and suddenly, before she’d known what was happening, Lois had become half of a partnership. A team.
And now that Kent had done his disappearing act, she was easy prey. It was open season on Lois Lane. This week, it was work with Rogers. Next week it’d be Friaz. And then Blondie over there, sitting at his desk. Before she knew it, she’d be partnered with Ralph.
And all this time he hadn’t been dead. He’d been - what? Flying around laughing at her? Enjoying the spectacle of her grief over him?
She pushed those thoughts away. She’d vowed that she was finished with thinking about him!
But still, it was all his fault that she was being put under pressure to work with other people, something she absolutely hated. When he was alive all along, when he could simply walk back into the Planet at any moment and resume his rightful position as the only partner she’d ever wanted to work -
No! She did not want to work with him any more! He was a cheating, lying, deceiving, manipulative...
...the only reporter she’d ever been able to stand working with. Who understood her, complemented her style and brought out the best in her skills.
Damn the lying fink anyway! How hard was it for him to say, ‘Hey, guys, I didn’t die after all!’ and come back?
“Lois?” Perry’s voice was lower, quieter, and that was an even clearer warning sign.
She blinked. “Sorry, Chief. I was...” <thinking too much, again...>
“What?” he questioned impatiently.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” She sighed. “Okay. Rogers it is. Not that I’m happy about it, Chief.”
“I don’t pay you to be happy,” Perry retorted. “I pay you to get the stories. Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Returning to her desk, she still found herself brooding. It couldn’t be that hard. Could it? He was alive, the jerk. And he’d abandoned her to this. He couldn’t just admit...
No. She slumped into her chair, her breath leaving her in a whoosh. No, he couldn’t just admit.
He’d been shot. In plain sight. In full view of god knew how many people - at least thirty, maybe more. They’d all seen Barrow pull the gun. They’d all heard it go off. They’d all seen him stagger back. They’d all seen his head slump to the side. They’d all seen him dragged out. They’d all seen him be killed.
The fool! Lois buried her head in her hands. Why hadn’t he just pretended to be injured? Or that the bullet had missed him? Hadn’t he realised what he was doing by pretending to die?
<Maybe he hadn’t>
A painful breath caught in her throat, and Lois got to her feet and headed for the ladies’ room. She needed to splash her face with cold water. She needed to get her mind back on her job.
<Maybe he hadn’t...>
No! She wasn’t going to make excuses for him.
And yet, unbidden, a memory flashed into her mind. The first week she’d known Clark. The Prometheus investigation. Antoinette Baines and EPRAD. She’d taken Jimmy and sneaked into the complex to look for the shell of the Messenger - and been caught by Baines. Clark had come crashing through the door, looking for her, and had promptly been caught as well.
She’d asked what he’d thought he was doing barging in like some sort of macho idiot. And he’d been flustered, unable to answer.
With the benefit of her new knowledge, now she knew exactly what he’d done. He’d acted on impulse. Knowing his powers, knowing his invulnerability, he’d come rushing in to save her... without thinking about what he’d do if he got caught. Without working out how to save her and protect his secret.
Just as he’d done that night in the club.
Her face dripping, her hands shaking, Lois stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Clark hadn’t thought. Hadn’t considered what consequences his actions could have. Had only thought of her - her safety. He’d leaped in front of her to stop Dillinger pestering her, and then had wound up facing the business end of a revolver.
What choice had he had? To play dead, or expose his secret to the world.
Suddenly needing to lean against the counter for support, Lois fought against the tears which threatened anew. He’d had no choice. He’d had to die.
“You did have a choice about telling me the truth!” she wanted to scream, instead muttering it and then glancing around hurriedly to check that no-one else was around.
She swallowed. Nothing had changed. He’d still slept with her without telling her the truth. He’d listened to her declarations of love - to him as both of his guises - and had said nothing.
That was what she couldn’t forgive.
<Can’t you?> a traitorous little voice asked. <You love him. Doesn’t that mean you should forgive him?>
“He claimed to love me!” she muttered back to her inner traitor. “Didn’t that mean he should have told me?”
She closed her eyes as the burning tears began to fall, then regretted it as she was assailed once more with memories.
Clark moving in front of her at the club.
The crack of the bullet.
Clark falling... she grabbing at him... on her knees beside him.
Clark whispering that he loved her.
Ripping off Superman’s - Clark's - suit on her living-room floor.
Superman telling her that he didn’t want to lose another friend.
<Liar!> she protested angrily. It didn’t matter. The memories still flooded onwards.
Making love with Kal... no, Superman. Kent. Making love. Their bodies entwined. His fingers linked with hers. Their lips touching in sweet, drugging, loving kisses.
<I love you so much, Lois>
<How can I be in love with two of you>
<I love you>
Feeling ready to crumple, Lois managed to drag herself upright and, with shaking hands, repaired some of the damage to her appearance. Then she headed back to the newsroom and informed Perry that she was sick and was taking the rest of the day off.
He gave her a concerned look. “Lois, honey, you know I’m worried about you. If you need some time... You know I can get you some compassionate leave - ”
She shook her head immediately. “No. I just - just have a headache, okay? Tell Rogers I’ll see him at Hartley’s tonight at nine. He’d better not be late.” And she turned and walked out of the office.
*********
tbc...
