Chapter 2This door was going to be the death of him, he just knew it. Or...more likely, the fiery tornado who would open the door as soon as he had the courage to knock. Last night, standing in this very spot and being kissed very enthusiastically and thoroughly by said tornado—even after they’d agreed to say goodnight, the kissing went on for ten more minutes—Clark should have every reassurance that Lois was as far from angry with him as she could get.
Yet, as he stood there, coffees and pastry bag in hand, staring at the 5 and the 0 and the 1 of her apartment number at almost 7 o’clock in the morning, Clark’s mind was full of hesitations, uncertainties, and the lingering possibility that he had just had a really, really great dream last night.
But he’d been standing here for two whole minutes already, and he’d only served to work himself up more. He just needed to knock, and then she’d answer the door and...
That was the problem. With Lois, he had no idea whether to expect a good morning kiss or the cold shoulder. And while her unpredictability was one of the things he loved about her, it might also be the thing that would be ultimately responsible for his demise here on her doorstep.
Finally, he called on his nerves of steel and raised his hand to knock. Then he held his breath. After a moment, he heard all the locks disengage and then she called to him through the door. “It’s open! I’ll be just another minute.”
Okay, being greeted with a kiss was off the table, he thought as he opened the door and let himself in, closing it behind him and finally letting out the breath he’d been holding. That was okay. Fine, really. He’d gotten far more kisses than he’d ever dreamed of last night, so really, he shouldn’t be so overeager.
The fact that she was now yelling to him from the bedroom, even though she should maybe have realized she didn’t need to, made him smile. “I already called Jimmy and he’s started compiling a list of Mayson’s case load for the past two years, including the backgrounds of the defendants. Then we can cross check that list with those who are familiar with explosives or know people who are. I figure that’s good to start, but we really need to get down to the DA’s office first and see what we can see.”
“Sounds good, partner!” he hollered back as he set the coffee and the bag down on her kitchen table. He’d gotten “firing on all cylinders first thing in the morning” Lois, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit energized himself. Watching her dive into a story with all her verve and passion was...intoxicating.
When she emerged from her bedroom, his heart and his thoughts skittered wildly at the sight of her. Her suit was burgundy—it’d been less than two days since they’d had that conversation, that he’d always imagined her in burgundy. He shook himself mentally; he was being ridiculous. This certainly wasn’t a new suit, so it wasn’t like she’d worn it just for him—the perfect color, tastefully short skirt, and low-cut blouse under the closely tailored suit coat.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked softly, interrupting his thoughts, and he could almost tell from the sound of her voice and the blush in her cheeks that he’d been staring.
“Uh, yeah, though I wasn’t sure if you wanted to eat here or in the car,” he said, gesturing to the items he’d left on her table. “I brought coffee, as promised, and some chocolate croissants.”
Her eyes lit up, and she snatched the bag from the table to open it and look inside. “Ooh, those ones from Nadine’s Bakery that taste so close to authentic?”
“No, I...uh...they’re from a patisserie in Paris...”
Lois looked up from the bag, her mouth agape. “You...you went to Paris to get me
pain au chocolat?”
“Yeah.” He smiled wide, feeling pretty pleased with himself as if he hadn’t spent ten minutes debating whether or not to...show off. “The coffee’s just...it’s from Joe’s. But it’s your favorite—non-fat caramel macchiato, just how you like it.”
She set the bag back down on the table and walked slowly toward him until there was hardly any space between them. His heart started hammering as she neared, a hint of citrus from her recently washed hair hitting his senses. And then she tipped her head up and leaned in to plant a slow, gentle kiss on his lips, her fingers coming up to linger on his jaw line.
“Thank you,” she said as she pulled away, her voice just slightly higher pitched and a bit breathy.
Yes, this woman was going to be the death of him. At least it would be an enjoyable death. “Y-you’re welcome.”
<...units near Bessolo and Broadway, 211 in progress...suspect is armed...Wayman’s Jewelers...>Not now...
<...en route, ETA 2 minutes...>“You need to go...don’t you?” Lois asked quietly, and when he focused back on her face, he saw her mind working, probably remembering all the times he’d had to leave her.
“I...” He paused, then shook his head. “It’s a robbery and the police are nearly there.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes held a bit of worry. “Does the robber have a gun? Are there people there?”
He worked to focus his super hearing on the jewelry store and listened. Two men...one fearful, the other agitated...Clark’s gut clenched with dread. “I—I...should go. I’m sorry, Lois, I—”
Her fingers on his lips cut him off. “It’s okay. Go. You can catch up with me later.” She looked at him with a level of compassion and understanding that he hadn’t fully expected. Then urgently, “
Go!”
He pressed a kiss to her fingers and nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he stepped away and sped out of her apartment, changing into the suit as he went.
***
Forty-three minutes later, as he was walking into the District Attorney’s office to find Lois, Clark could hear her heartbeat...she was mad. He fussed at the knot of his tie even though he’d just fixed it. She’d urged him to go—odds are she wasn’t mad at
him.
She knew now...it was supposed to be easier, right?
His heart fell just a bit as he realized that it had been harder to leave her now that she knew, not easier. Maybe that was because they were still on the precipice of something new. Everything was different now, and they hadn’t had a chance to talk yet.
Clark followed her heartbeat, a bit disconcerted that she seemed to be in the direction of Mayson’s office when he’d assumed Mayson would have taken the day off given last night’s attempt on her life. As he neared Mayson’s office, he felt his shoulders tense up a bit at the sound of their arguing, their heated words filtering through with his enhanced hearing—or maybe it was just their loudness echoing off the walls and down the hallway. He sighed and braced himself.
“I should charge you with first-degree trespass!”“That’s not even a thing.”
“Who’s the lawyer, Lois?”
“Well, it doesn’t even matter because the door was unlocked!”“This is the District Attorney’s office—you can’t just go where you please!”“Apparently, I can sinc—”
“Good morning, Mayson!” Clark interrupted cheerfully as he took a few steps into the office, hoping he seemed far more oblivious to their argument than he was. He nodded to Lois. “‘Morning, partner.”
Mayson’s gaze shot to him from where she stood behind her desk, and Lois’ body shifted toward him slightly as she turned to look at him. The flickering glimmer of heated argument still in her eyes set his heart racing, but before he could wonder why it seemed to be affecting him more intensely, Mayson cleared her throat.
Clark swallowed once, and then again when Mayson eyed him carefully, as if she was assessing him for wounds even though she’d been the one nearly blown up.
Tossing her hair just a bit before she looked directly at him, she raised her eyebrows. “Clark. Coming to give me your statement about Lucky Leon twelve hours late? Or...did you come to see if—maybe you heard what happened last night?”
The question ended with an almost plaintive twist of hope in her voice that made his heart sink like a rock in the pit of his stomach when he realized how this must look to her. Mayson had never seen Clark last night, only Superman.
He faltered, his panicked thoughts stumbling right into every single excuse he could think of, none of them good enough to explain why he wouldn’t have at least called to check on her. His lips parted, but no words would come, her stare and the awkward tension silencing him.
“I talked to him last night after...everything.” Lois started. “He couldn’t get through—the police had the whole block shut down. I—I might have...led him to believe it wasn’t that big of a deal...”
He watched Mayson’s eyes go wide, and he knew his own mirrored hers. “What...wasn’t that big of a deal, Lois?” he asked carefully, thankful that his wariness in tone served a dual purpose.
Mayson’s eyes were now narrowing at Lois, and her jaw hung slack, clearly stuck for words.
Lois’ eyes danced nervously, but he could see her mind working overtime. She took a breath and gestured at Clark. “Clark, you worry too much. I didn’t want you to worry. No one was hurt. It was fine.”
“Was it fine?” he asked, looking between Lois and Mayson.
Mayson finally found her voice. “Someone planted a bomb in my car, and I almost died last night. But yeah, Lois, it was fine. No one was hurt.”
“Thanks to Superman,” Lois cut in.
“Yeah,” Mayson said, her tone softening. “Superman saved me. I was...incredibly lucky he was nearby.”
The fuse that had been running short on the tension in the room fizzled out, the harsh reality of last night sobering them all.
“I’m really glad he made it in time, Mayson,” Clark said hoarsely, his heart heavy at the thought that he almost hadn’t.
Mayson’s brow creased, and he realized his choice of words had sounded odd, but she said nothing.
“I’m sorry, Mayson,” Lois said, looking at Mayson and ducking her head a little for a lie that wasn’t hers. “I didn’t want Clark to feel guilty for not being there. Sometimes he’s really too hard on himself.”
His heart lifted and soared with some kind of feeling he’d never known before, almost painful in its relief and...something else he couldn’t put a name to. And when she looked over at him and their eyes met, his breath caught—it was there, in her eyes...a fierce protectiveness and...acceptance.
A loud cough startled him, Lois too, and they both turned to Mayson. “I...uh, suppose you’re here to talk about—to investigate the attempt on my life?” she asked, her voice a bit hoarse and low as she took a seat in the leather office chair behind her desk.
They both nodded mutely.
Mayson sighed quietly, pulling herself close to her desk and covering a thick file folder with her hand. “Fine. I want the people caught more than you do, I assure you, and I can’t deny you’re good at your jobs.”
“People?” Lois asked, leaning in closer but then settling in one of the two chairs opposite Mayson. “As in, you know there’s more than one person involved?”
He could tell by the way Lois was sitting, her heart rate slightly elevated, that she knew something she was holding back, and he had to suppress a grin as he adjusted his tie and seated himself in the other chair.
Nodding, Mayson picked up the folder and passed it across the desk within Lois’ reach. “Yeah, I was...” She paused, glancing sidelong at Clark just long enough for him to see the flash of regret tinged with humiliation in her eyes. She cleared her throat. “I was planning on sharing this with you last night if you’d have bothered to show up on time...or at all.”
Lois grabbed the folder and started leafing through it, while Clark sat silent, wondering how he’d apparently managed to hurt Mayson so grievously.
Mayson continued, “Diego Martinez, age 29, died in prison three weeks ago of natural causes. Sean Mallory, 28, died in prison two weeks ago, also of natural causes.”
“What does ‘resurrection’ have to do with this?” Lois asked, and Clark suddenly tried to calculate exactly how much time Lois might have had alone in Mayson’s office.
Mayson gave Lois an irritated glare before answering. “It’s been reported that Martinez and Mallory are indeed alive. I got a call last week from a prisoner wanting to cut a deal in exchange for information. Until last night, I wasn’t sure the information was any good.” Biting her lip, she hesitated for a moment before reaching over to the corner of her desk to grab her purse. “This morning, I got a disturbingly early home visit from some DEA agent.”
“The DEA?” Lois asked.
“Yeah, apparently.” Mayson sighed as she dug around in her purse, finally pulling out a business card and handing it to Lois. “This guy, Scardino,” she said his name with a sneer, “he comes pounding on my door at 6 a.m. and tries to warn me that—“
“—your car might have a bomb,” Lois finished for her.
Clark’s eyes went wide, wondering what else this Scardino guy might know, or…if he might have even been the one responsible, stopping by to finish the job Superman had so narrowly prevented last night.
“What else did he say?” Clark asked, trying to keep the edge of fear from his voice. Maybe he would need to keep close watch on Mayson until this was all over. “You didn’t let him in, did you?”
“I’m smarter than I look, Clark,” Mayson deadpanned.
“I didn’t mea—”
She held a hand up. “It’s fine. I did let him in, actually, figuring anyone trying to kill me wouldn’t make so much noise, waking half my neighbors up. His badge was real, and...”
“And?” Lois prompted impatiently.
“He said ‘resurrection.’”
Dead prisoners. Bombs. The DEA. Resurrection. Clark shifted uncomfortably in his chair. But then the sound of Lois’ heart racing fast again filtered in, and it managed to calm him just slightly.
“What does all this mean, Mayson?” Lois asked, all but sitting on the edge of her seat.
“According to Scardino, the Resurrection pill was something the FDA flagged as highly dangerous in addition to denying approval. So when it was found that the lead scientist for the drug, Stanley Gables, was still purchasing the chemical compounds used to make the drug, they called in the DEA.”
“So this drug...does what, exactly?” Clark asked, finally finding his voice.
Mayson swallowed. “It’s a form of synthetic barbiturate. Taken in large enough doses, it could produce a temporary state of suspended animation. And given that Martinez and Mallory had funerals, burials...”
“The cemetery has to be in on this!” Lois exclaimed.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Mayson agreed. “I had my friend at the ME’s office do some...ah, inquiring—”
“Snooping?” Lois smirked.
Mayson narrowed her eyes and almost begrudgingly gave her a small smile in return. “If you insist. Yeah, he did some snooping and found out that the funeral expenses were tied to someone named Albie Swinson.”
“So, if you have all this information, where do we come in?” Clark asked. “What can we do to help?”
For the first time since she’d given him that long, regretful stare, Mayson looked him in the eyes. But she averted her gaze quickly, as if it were somehow painful to look at him. She took a deep breath before continuing. “The evidence linking Gables to the use of the Resurrection pill to break criminals out of prison is circumstantial—if we can find a connection between Gables and Swinson, that would help. Not to mention, there’s the question of
why Gables is doing this. He’s obviously up to something grander, and I fear, even more dangerous than orchestrating prison breaks.”
Clark nodded, noting that the tension in his shoulders had returned, along with a strong sense of foreboding sitting squarely in his gut. Gables was dangerous; they just didn’t know
how dangerous.
Lois, for her part, seemed to be invigorated, exhilarated by the possibility of putting a madman like Gables away. She stood abruptly and gathered up the file folder against her chest. “I assume we can borrow this?” Lois asked with a doggedness that made Clark think that making a run for the door with the file wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for her.
A thrill of arousal and awe ran through him, making for an unexpected collision with the unease he was feeling about the potential for danger in this investigation. God, this felt strangely enjoyable.
Mayson’s voice cut into his wandering thoughts. “That’s your copy; I had it made up for you yesterday.”
“Thanks, Mayson,” Lois said, and he could tell Lois was doing her best to contain her enthusiasm in front of Mayson.
“Don’t thank me. Just get me what I need on Gables, and I’ll get warrants issued for the lot of them. Just don’t let Superman interfere with the arrests—I don’t want anything to jeopardize the case I’ll have against these criminals!”
Clark flinched but could sense Lois about to launch, so he quickly stepped over to her, putting a hand on her lower back and ushering her out of the office, barely throwing a “Thanks, we’ll be in touch” over his shoulder as he closed the door behind them.
“Can you
believe that woman? Clark!” Lois seethed, even as he continued walking them down the hall toward the exit. “You
saved her life last night, and then she just turns around and—and—how can you stand it? How can you—”
She halted mid-rant when she turned and saw his face, whatever expression he must have been wearing stopped her in her tracks as they hit the top of the steps in front of the DA’s office. That feeling, the one from earlier, the indescribable emotion, filled his heart and overflowed, and he couldn’t do anything but rush in and kiss her, capturing her lips as his hands came up to cup her face, his fingers threading through her silky hair. God, he loved this woman.
Even as he leaned to deepen this kiss, she seemed to melt into him, a quiet whimper escaping her as they parted—just a hair’s breadth—before he tilted his head and recaptured her lips again. Slender fingers made trails of fire along his shoulders and up to the nape of his neck, and another whimper only fueled him more as he tasted, caressed, loved. He let one hand slip down, falling to her hip, where he flexed his fingers, needing just that extra touch. It all seemed like almost too much but not enough all at once, but then he was feeling the unusual need to come up for air, so he slowed his kisses, reminding himself that he was now allowed to come back for more.
“Wow.” She trembled slightly as he pulled away, trying to catch both his breath and his equilibrium. “What was that for?”
He let his thumb trace lightly over the flushed skin of her cheek. “For being you,” he said, his voice a husky murmur.
She inhaled sharply and he saw her eyes start to shine with the threat of tears, and he promised himself right then and there that he would let her know more often...
so often...he’d remind her that she was smart and deeply passionate and she blazed with brilliance, inspiring him every day with her determination and resolve to make the world a better place.
“I love you,” she said suddenly, so softly he almost wasn't sure he was meant to hear it, but the look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.
“I love you too,” he breathed. He drew her back toward him as he leaned in to place a tender kiss on her forehead. “God, I love you too.”
The End
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