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Part 11/11
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Logically I know it's only been a few minutes since the firemen went into the building. It feels like forever. My heart knows it's simply been too long. They should have returned by now. They can't find him. Or they did find him but there's no reason to hurry back out of the building if he's dead.
I draw in a shuddery breath at the thought. I'm actually beyond tears now, stuck in a morass of sorrow and guilt. This is worse than the time I thought he'd been shot by Clyde. This time I have the knowledge that I might have saved him if I had just been faster. If I had kept him away from the wall better or moved him out of the room sooner. If I'd moved out of that window quicker or gone over the fence more rapidly I could have… saved him.
Henderson is still keeping a tight grip on my arm. He knows damn well I'm a flight risk. And then I see them, coming around from the back of the building. One of the firefighters has Clark slung over his shoulder.
"Clark!"
Henderson releases my wrist and I run over, catching up to the firefighter as he lowers Clark onto a stretcher. Clark's covered in soot and Kryptonite. His clothes are soaking wet. His eyes are closed and he looks pale beneath all the black and green streaks on his skin. I touch his hand but there's no reaction. The EMT firmly moves me aside and puts an oxygen mask over Clark's face. He pulls Clark's glasses off and hands them to me. I'm about to protest but I realize that between the mask over his face and the grime covering him, he's not going to be recognized.
"Is he going to be okay?" I ask.
"Sorry lady, I'm not a doctor." Another EMT throws a blanket over Clark and then straps him down on the stretcher.
"Can I ride with him?"
The first EMT looks at me and his eyes widen in surprise at my disheveled appearance. "Yeah, we better get you checked out too."
The short ride to the hospital is the longest of my life. Clark doesn't move the entire time. His oxygen mask is foggy so he must be breathing but he doesn't respond to anything I say. I hold his hand between mine and pray to whomever might be listening that Clark's okay and that I'll get another chance to tell him how much I need him in my life.
Once we reach the hospital they take him into another room but don't allow me to follow. A kind-looking nurse with tired eyes shepherds me into an exam room. "Let's just check you out first, what's your name?"
"Lois, Lois Lane."
"Let's check you out first, Lois, and then we'll go see about your friend. I promise he's in good hands."
The nurse hands me a hospital gown. "Why don't you put this on? Then we'll take a look at you." She leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
Almost numb with grief, I comply. I slip on the gown and look at the pile of ragged clothes I've left on the bed. The shirt I was wearing is shredded as well as spattered with paint and blood. The knees of my pants are both torn. I look at my hands and, for the first time, realize that they're nicked and cut. And covered with Kryptonite paint. Smooth going, Lois, I chide myself. I held his hand all the way here and I'm wondering why he wasn't moving? Talk about killing him with kindness.
I go to the sink in the room and scrub my hands and arms until I'm certain there's no Kryptonite left on them. The soap stings my cuts and I could really do without the handcuffs clanking every time I move. I check my hair in the mirror and see green paint streaks. I tip my head into the sink and use the hand soap to wash my hair. I'm left with a tangled mess but it looks like all the green is gone.
There's a knock on the door and I call out, "Come in." The same nurse has returned and she gives me a smile. "I checked on your friend… Clark, is it?"
"Yes, Clark! Is he okay?"
"He's doing fine. They're probably going to take him off the oxygen if he continues to improve. He's been asking about you."
"Can I just go…"
"Let's get you checked out first."
I sit down on the bed, relieved to hear that Clark is lucid enough to be asking about me. The nurse cleans my cuts, putting Steri-Strips on the deeper ones. My hands, back and knees throb everywhere she applies antiseptic cleanser.
A doctor comes in and checks my ankle. He prods and manipulates it before telling me it's only sprained. He leaves without answering any of my questions about how Clark is doing. I assure the nurse that I don't want my ankle wrapped, it's feeling better already. It's not, but it's going to waste too much time if I have to stay in here.
Before I have a chance to wheedle her into telling me where Clark is, Inspector Henderson opens the door and pokes his head in.
"Lois? Alright if I come in?"
"Have you seen Clark?"
"Yes."
"Come in! Where is he?"
"They're still cleaning him up. Apparently he has an allergy to the paint that's all over him."
I gasp out something that's half-sob, half-laugh. "Yes, he's always been allergic to paint. Something in the fumes, maybe…"
"I just want to run down a few details with you, Lois. Then maybe we can go check on your partner."
I sit down on the bed, shivering. I've been operating on nothing but adrenaline until now and I'm paying the price for it. "Did you find Skousen?"
"No, not yet. I got a call from Skousen just before one o'clock. He told me he'd already met with you two and that you were off to follow up a lead. He said it looked like Delaney really was alive and had assumed Larry Cole's identity. Cole was the guy who worked with him at the pawn shop."
"Larry tried to call us yesterday too."
"Exactly. It was about twenty minutes after I talked with Skousen that I found that message in a pile of other messages on my desk."
"And you wondered why Delaney would call you as Larry if he was trying to hide?"
"You got it. And that started me thinking - why didn't Skousen want me to come down the Schafer Building? He's been moody and evasive for months. The guy's going through a divorce, he's got money problems… So I asked around and found out that he's been obsessed with finding Delaney's millions. And then I started thinking about how Marco Canfora and Delaney were business partners. It seemed awfully coincidental that Marco died the same morning that Delaney came back from the dead to blow up two reporters. Especially since the only proof we had that Delaney created that bomb was Skousen's opinion."
"We were at Marco's restaurant the night before. I think Skousen saw us talking to Marco and thought he'd tipped us off. He must have thought we were about to write a story about the money. That's why he took all our notes and computers. He checked our mattresses just to be thorough."
"So what happened at the building before I got there?"
"We showed up to look in the mattress in the back room where. And it turns out I was right - the money has been there all along. Then Skousen showed up and forced us down to the basement before he set fire to the building."
Henderson lifts the free end of the handcuffs I'm still wearing. "Have you become attached to these or would you like them off?"
"I never want to see them again."
Henderson takes off the cuffs and puts them in his pocket. "Did I tell you what else we found in that back room?"
"What?" I ask, rubbing my wrist. Now I have matching bruises on both wrists.
"The remnants of the mattress caught my eye since the stains looked like blood. I looked through them and found a 9 mm round embedded in the floor. We've sent it to the lab but what do you want to bet that it matches Skousen's gun?"
"So Skousen killed Delaney for the money, never realizing that he was literally right on top of it?"
"You have to love the irony." Henderson smirks. "I'll go see if I can find something else for you to wear and then we'll take you to see Clark."
True to his word he comes back in less than five minutes and hands me a comb, a pair of scrubs and a pair of socks.
I'm still thanking him as he shuts the door. I change quickly, rolling the ankles on the scrub bottoms so that I don't trip myself. I work the comb through my hair, wincing as it pulls through the tangles. I've never looked worse but I don't think Clark is going to care. I open the door and Clark is standing there, dressed in scrubs, with his hand raised to knock on the door.
I take in a surprised gasp and throw my arms around his neck. His arms encircle me and he presses his cheek to my ear. His hair is wet and he still smells like a campfire. "Thank you," he whispers.
I lean back and cradle his face in my hands. "I was so scared," I confess.
"No. You were so brave." He takes my hands in his, grimacing at the cuts and scrapes he sees there. He lifts my right hand and gently kisses my palm. "You are the bravest, most resourceful person I know."
I rest my forehead against his chest, savoring the fact that he's okay, that we came through this and we have each other. He wraps his arms around me again, rocking me slightly and stroking my hair. I slide my arms around his neck again and hug him tightly.
"Alright lovebirds, knock it off." Henderson has come back. "They say they're going to release you both and I figured you might want a ride."
We pull apart. I reach over and pick up his glasses from the pile of my ruined clothes. He gives me a smile as he slips them back on.
"Thanks, Inspector," Clark says. "I think we'll take you up on that one."
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Henderson chatters to us all the way to Clark's apartment, filling Clark in on the same things he told me. Clark and I sit in the back seat, our hands clasped. I watch him, caressing his face with my eyes. It's hard to believe that only three days have passed since my life was turned upside down. I remember the dread I felt as Clark faltered towards revealing his secret to me. I had thought that it would change everything. And yes, everything has changed but not in any way I could ever have predicted.
I still have Clark, plain old Clark, the person I thought I had lost. It was Clark I saved today, not Superman. I've saved Superman before, but it was never this personal. Today I saved the man I love. My best friend.
Henderson pulls up in front of Clark's apartment and Clark gets out, holding the door open for me.
"Should I come up?" I ask him in a low voice.
"I guess that's up to you," he says. "But I'd like it very much if you did."
I thank Henderson and slide out of the car. After Henderson drives away Clark lightly rests his hand at the small of my back to guide me up the stairs. It's hard to believe I was ever irritated with him for such a kind gesture.
"So, uh, do you have your powers back now?"
"I think so."
"Do they always come back quickly?"
"It depends on the exposure. When I was first exposed to Kryptonite it took a lot longer to recover. Maybe I'm building an immunity to the stuff."
We go up a flight of stairs without saying anything. My mind is racing as I try to decide whether to ask him to go back to my apartment and get me something besides these scrubs to wear. "Clark? Would you do me a favor?"
"Of course."
"It's just these scrubs. They're comfortable and everything but I'd rather wear something else. Would you mind flying past my apartment and getting me something of mine?"
He stops as we reach the last landing before his door. "Why? I have a closet full of shirts. You can wear any one of them you want."
"Ha."
"I'm serious. In fact, that was the question I wanted to ask you earlier."
"What was?"
"If I could trade the expensive dinner you owe me for something else."
"Like what?"
"You, in my shirt. Nothing funny, not tonight. I just want to see you in one of my shirts again."
I can feel the blush creeping across my cheeks as I nod. Then it occurs to me - where are we going to sleep? "But… your mattress… it's destroyed."
"Who says Superman needs a mattress?"
"Oh," I say. He continues up the stairs but I stop in my tracks as it hits me what he meant. "Oh boy."
The End
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Thanks again to Sara for all her suggestions, nitpicks and impure snarky comments. She caught my mistakes and my repetitions. She was cheerfully willing to do last minute betas as I polished and pruned. Her eye for detail and ability to quibble over even a single word were invaluable. This story would be nothing without her help. Trust me when I tell you that I have never laughed so hard at so many consecutive betas. Tears, Sara - I was sobbing with laughter.
Thanks also to everyone who commented on the boards, y'all made the time spent well worth it. I've already said this but it bears repeating, FoLCs are the classiest, most generous and supportive group of people I have ever come across. I thank you all for making me feel so welcome.
Did the POV work for you? Were the characters true to the show? Should I have left all attempts at plot in the river with Lois? If I made mistakes (or succeeded) please drop me a line and let me know. Be kind and/or constructive - this is my first attempt, after all. Feedback will be dressed in one of Clark's shirts and tucked into bed at sister_suze@yahoo.com
