~~~Part 17~~~
Elle Daly sat in the airport lobby, barely paying attention to the open magazine in her hands. Lane had already passed by over forty-eight hours ago; there wasn't too much point in her still being here. But there was always the chance Lane could skip town again, and she hadn't been told to abandon her post yet.
She knew her days were limited. Johnson had spotted Lane, too. The boss knew. He knew she'd failed in her one and only mission. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he hadn't realized it yet. He was just biding his time, keeping her on edge until he eliminated her.
The magazine started shaking. Elle took a deep, steadying breath and threw the magazine aside. She needed to get a grip. Come up with a plan. Think of somewhere she could hide where he couldn't find her even though he was impossible to escape. Three days. Three days, and she still hadn't come up with a plan. Time was running out. She needed to...
"Elle Daly?"
Elle jumped, startled, and turned to find a tall, muscular man behind her. He towered over her, and his gruff, unshaven appearance worried her. And the accent... that had to be a bad sign, didn't it? Sounded Italian. Those guys were mafia, right? Oh, God. This was it. He'd sent a hit man already. She stared at him for a moment, caught like a deer in the headlights. Should she feign ignorance? Pretend she wasn't the woman marked for certain death? Or maybe it'd just be best to be honest. Get it over with.
"Yes," she said cautiously.
"I'm Pete Romero. I need your help."
Elle tried to swallow, but found that her throat was suddenly dry. "Excuse me?" she squeaked.
"I need your help." He gave the lobby a quick survey with the practice of a trained military man.
Who was this guy?
"And we shouldn't stay here any longer. Come with me." He turned in the direction of the doors, indicating she should follow him.
Elle just stared incredulously. Did he really just expect her to follow on command, one that was enigmatic at best? For all she knew, he *was* a hit man hired by the boss. It's not like he could kill her in front of so many witnesses. He'd have to take her somewhere deserted.
He let out an exasperated sigh. And as if he'd read her mind, he told her, "I'm not going to kill you. Now, come on, he's having you watched."
Elle edged further into the chair, hoping he'd get the hint from her body language that she wasn't going with him. But something poked her in her back. She twitched, one of those startled jumps that one hoped nobody else noticed. Her gun. She’d been so frantic she’d forgotten about her gun… Tucked in the back of her jeans. All this time.
Well, that changed everything.
Elle made a show of making a worried gaze around the airport lobby before she turned back to him and said, "Okay... Fine. Let's go. Quickly."
She gave another cautious survey of the room as she stood, then she let him take her by the hand and lead her in the direction of the elevators for the parking garage.
Once inside the elevator, Pete jabbed the button for the lower level, not saying a word the entire ride down. Three floors and not a word. If he was trying to save her, he wasn't doing a very good job; the nerves would kill her soon enough if he kept this up.
Finally, they reached their destination: the poorly-lit lower-level of the Metropolis International Airport parking garage. So... he was going to drive her somewhere and *then* kill her? Or maybe he'd finish her off right here?
That was original. She supposed he was going to just chuck her body in the trunk when he'd done his job and drive off to dump her in Hobbs Bay. He was certainly checking off quite a few items on the movie villain cliche list. Honestly, this guy had a lot to learn. And she was going to give him lesson one right now.
In one swift movement, Elle grabbed the gun from under her shirt and maneuvered so that Pete's arm was now twisted at an odd angle behind his back. The barrel of her gun went to his temple.
"Tell me who sent you," she demanded.
In an instant, Elle found herself flat on her back with her gun in her face, not quite certain how she'd gotten there. Dammit.
"I sent me," he replied calmly, as if he hadn't just knocked the wind out of her and stolen her gun. He tucked the gun behind his back, and then offered her a hand and an impish grin.
She glared at him.
"Suit yourself." He pulled his hand away and shrugged as he took a few steps away from her, apparently secure in the knowledge that she wouldn't try anything else.
That arrogant son of a -
"Ms. Daly, as I said before, my name is Pete Romero. I'm a special agent acting undercover for the ATF - Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms - Department of Justice."
Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms? What was he doing talking to her? And why did he need *her* help? She had to stay on the offensive, though. She couldn't afford to lose the upper hand again.... not that she'd gotten it back. But she would.
Elle did her best to stand up and brush herself off gracefully while still maintaining her glare. "If you're undercover, why are you telling me? And where's your ID?" Hah. Let him try to get out of that one.
"Because it's obvious I need to give you a reason to trust me if I expect you to help me. And here." He pulled out an official-looking badge and ID card.
Well, they looked real enough, but those could be easily forged. She had to stay on the offensive.
"Help you with what?" she snapped.
"You're full of questions, aren't you?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Can you blame me?" she asked sardonically.
"Guess not," he shrugged. "Listen, I know what your assignment was, and I know what you did."
He was bluffing, trying to throw her off balance. Figuratively this time. He couldn't know.
Pete had the gall to roll his eyes at her. "I know all about the operation in Point Noire, Lane's capture and escape, her unexpected return, and how you lied to your superior about having seen her."
Her jaw dropped against her will. Did the ATF teach their agents to read minds?
Amazingly, his self-satisfied grin wasn't as smug as she'd expected. In fact, she even thought she saw a trace of sympathy in his eyes. She didn't say a word.
"Look, I'm on your side, and I could really use your help. Time is running short."
Elle eyed him cautiously and thought for a long moment. She supposed there wasn't any harm in hearing him out. No one said she had to actually do what he wanted her to.
"Okay, what do you need me to do?"
***
Lois found her mind wandering as she and Clark walked back to the Apollo. They'd seen no sense in flying back when they could just as easily talk as they walked, though conversation hadn't really gotten them anywhere but four blocks closer to the motel. And to tell the truth, Lois wasn't too eager to be back in the close quarters of the motel room after what'd happened. She still wasn't sure what to make of it.
She was more than confused. Bewildered was more like it. Disoriented. Clark kept taking her breath away just when she least expected it. And she was having a hard time reconciling those feelings of love and tenderness with the lingering doubts she had. As much as she'd love to forget it all and simply dive into the emotions assailing her, she couldn't shake the feeling that he was keeping something big from her. Some reason why his emotions seemed so contradictory at times. The reason why he'd come to the point of being damaged, broken. Why he couldn't be the Superman she'd read about. Why he'd cried on her shoulder. Why he hadn't told her more about the woman in the picture she'd found in his bedroom.
She was jealous of her counterpart. When Clark had been telling her what the other Lois had said about Luthor, she'd gotten the impression that he trusted this woman implicitly. How did two days of time spent together warrant that? Was it because she'd created him, in a sense? Introduced him to a part of himself he hadn't realized was in him before? Did he idolize her for that? L... love her?
And if he did, how would she ever compete with that?
What worried her most was that she *wanted* to compete, wanted to win his trust and devotion as she was sure her counterpart had. But why? How on Earth, in just a few day's time, had she managed to come back from the dead, only to find herself falling in love with a man she hardly knew?
Was it really love? She'd been drowning in a flood of emotions since she’d met him. Maybe she wouldn’t know real love. Maybe she just wanted this to be love. She'd wished for it all her life - to find someone who completed her like no other, looked at her like he would die for her, sweep her off her feet and tell her profoundly romantic things.
And Clark had done all of that and more.
But dreams come true didn't happen. Maybe she was finding in Clark more than there really was because she wanted so desperately to believe it was true.
He'd said he was in love with her.
Until tonight, she'd never thought she'd hear those words. Ever. And now that she had, she wanted nothing more than to believe they were true.
But what if everything she was feeling was just some false manifestation of love because she wanted so badly for it to be true?
She wished she had someone to talk to. About everything. But the only person she knew aside from Clark... was Perry. And she was reluctant to share anything else with Clark, not before he offered her something in return. Granted, he had opened up some, but that niggling feeling of hers was still there. Clark still hadn't been completely honest with her, and she wasn't going to make herself any more vulnerable than she already had.
She sighed. "I'd give anything to talk to Perry right now. I wish he were back from wherever he's gone."
Lois was a step and a half ahead before she realized Clark had stopped walking. She turned back to face him.
"God, I'm such an idiot," he spat out. He looked horrified.
"Why?" Her brow furrowed in confusion.
He was looking helplessly up at the sky before he brought his head back down and gave her a pained stare. "All this time... He could have helped. Done something. And... you've probably been desperate to talk to someone you know..."
She stared, slack-jawed. She wasn't sure exactly what he was talking about, but somewhere in there, he'd managed to read her mind.
"What are you trying to say, Clark?"
"Lois, Perry is in Florida. I can fly you there."
"Oh. I... you can?"
"Of course. I feel awful that I didn't think of it before now. I'm sorry."
"No, don't be! I hadn't thought of it either. Though... I hadn't realized you knew Perry. Well, I mean, I did... but didn't think you knew him that well. To know where he went on vacation or anything. It is vacation, isn't it? I guess it could be a business trip. Mayors need to travel a lot, I'm sure and..."
Lois trailed off when she realized Clark was staring at her. Adoringly. With an amused grin on his face, all of his early chagrin gone.
"What?"
"I love it when you babble." He smiled warmly at her.
"I don't babb..." She cut herself off and smiled at him. "I do, don't I?"
Clark nodded, his smile unwavering. He spun into his costume on the spot, and held open his arms like he was ready to scoop her up. "Shall we?"
She kept grinning at him, and then moved towards him.
He lifted her effortlessly into his arms and rose up off the ground.
"Superman Express, non-stop service to Palm Beach, Florida."
TBC...
