Table of Contents Previously, on Part 12:
Lois went to bed that night with a slight smile on her face. It was a piece of cake getting ‘Mr. Smalltime-Reporter’ to agree to putting her name on the story--‘with special assistance from Lois Lane.’ And she actually enjoyed brainstorming with him. They had talked about the story; she had given him a little bit of insight and he had walked away with some direction on where to begin an investigation of this magnitude. And after a little bit of chitchat, he had promised to keep her apprised on how the story was progressing.
All in all, it turned into a pretty good day.
It helped that ‘The Libido’ hadn’t mentioned his idea of shacking up to save a few bucks over the holidays. She was still on edge over that one, even though she had decided to set her feelings aside for the sake of professionalism.
She had actually enjoyed being with him this evening, so maybe when she finally cured him of his hormone-driven ways they could become something akin to friends. But of course, there really was no cure for that kind of thing. He could be eighty years old and still chasing around ladies with walkers and curlers in their hair.
But working together tonight had been a good time.
And now, for Sheila to further torture herself, here's Part 13:
_______________
The smell of nutmeg and pumpkin filled the house, married to the sound of the big football game which crept out of the den. It was this smell of food and this feeling of comfort that Clark had always associated with home. The contentment and security of the farm, coupled with Clark’s ability to relax was something he looked forward to all week long, every week. There was a happily-ever-after here that he hoped to duplicate for his own home and his own children. Which, of course, left Clark wistfully thinking about Lois again.
For Clark’s entire adult life he had looked forward to his weekends at home, lingering as long as he could before bedtime on Sunday. He postponed his travels back to Metropolis for the last minute. He enjoyed his job at the Daily Planet, but the grind of the nine to five just couldn’t compare to the aura of home in Smallville.
Yet, for the first time, Clark found himself a man divided between two homes. The home in Kansas was as secure as it had ever been. Yet Lois was near the home in New Troy, and the promise of what the future might hold there was calling him back.
With a thank you for Mom’s latest baked-good addition to his care pack and a promise to return in time for brunch and Sunday services, Clark found himself returning to Metropolis a day earlier than he normally would have.
~*~
Lois bundled her coat tighter around her. She had been walking for nearly five hours now, checking on her budding group of informants—building trust and establishing her network. She was a long way away from being on the inside, but at least she had her foot in the door. However, in the time it had taken Lois to go into the city and return, the temperature had dropped noticeably, with gusts of wind that went right through Lois’s fashionable but thin coat. At least she was near campus now, with a warm bed only a few minutes away.
The clouds hid the bright moon as Lois wearily hiked past the last of the sororities and frat houses. Though the local bars would be closing soon, the loud music advertised that the beer was still flowing on this side of town. The party overflowed the dive owned by the local Phi Kappa Beta Alpha Epsilon Gamma… Whatever house.
“Hey, sweetheart…” The voice didn’t slur, but the smell of sweat and beer slipped the secret of the man’s inebriated state. “…would you like to come inside? I would love to show a fine lady like you a good time.”
The choice words Lois responded with would never make it into print in a newspaper like the Planet, but they told the drunkard exactly what she thought of his invitation. His comrades whooped and hollered in reply, showing they had imbibed to excess as well. Muttering under her breath, Lois hurried past the disgusting display.
She paused in front of the large windows of the library to glance behind her. Sure enough, Lois noticed that the brute from the party had decided to follow her down the sidewalk.
That was fine with her; she was prepared for anything he had to dish out. She quickened her pace, feeling the burn across the backs of her already tired calves. Another cloud flitted past the moon, further darkening the already shadowed path. She headed toward the light of the science building, following the sidewalk that was the best lit—leading from the educational college to the school of the arts. But the light-bulbs couldn’t keep the drunken Greek from catching up with her.
At the pressure of his hand on her shoulder, Lois swung into action. She hadn’t practiced her pumsae all those years for nothing. With the ease of practice, Lois pivoted, planting her right foot at the base of his instep and swung with her left. He blocked her; but he expected her to strike with her arm and totally missed her leg as it swung up and hit him in the cheek. He grunted as he collapsed in pain.
She ran past him, hoping to find safety near the more frequently trafficked section of sidewalks ahead which led to the dorms. But far from the cacophony of the Saturday night parties, it became apparent that the footsteps echoing off the buildings around her weren’t just her own. She pushed to her top speed, grateful that she was unencumbered by her usual books and purse. A slightly uneven section of sidewalk set her off-balance. She stumbled, struggling successfully to stay on her feet and managing to regain her stride. But the trip had slowed her down enough for the footsteps to close in on her.
A hand grabbed her shoulder. She twisted, hoping to break the grasp, but it soon became clear that the gorilla from Greekland had brought all of his friends. They all spoke at once, taunting and cursing, but Lois had heard it all before. She struggled to focus her attention on breaking free; but where one attacker left off, the next seemed to fill in.
She focused her attention on her surroundings, ignoring the taunts and curses that seemed to envelope their portion of the campus. She bit, she lunged, she kicked and punched. Each defense seemed inadequate to the task, but Lois was no quitter. She kicked again, but this time a shift in weight pushed her down to the ground.
All at once the weight on top of her lifted. Lois took advantage of the opportunity with a flurry of punches aimed at the face of the nearest thug. She struggled to right herself as she got her feet beneath her.
“Lois! Lois!” the goon called. “Stop! It’s me. Clark.”
Her arms still held in a defensive position, her feet ready to strike again, Lois regained her composure.
“Clark?”
She looked around to see five, six, seven men passed out around her.
“It’s all right. I took care of them. Are you okay?” Clark’s voice couldn’t hide his fear as they both assessed her condition.
“I’m fine,” she lied. She could see the tatters that remained of her good jeans and could feel the wind whip through holes in her coat—one of them must have had a knife. She could feel the pain edging past the adrenaline. Her palms and knee stung from where the sidewalk had burned them. A tickle on her cheek may have been blood. “I’ll be okay.”
“You’re bleeding,” Clark worried.
“Just a scratch,” Lois reassured both of them.
She shuddered as she looked at the men on the ground around her. The original drunk didn’t number among them, so that must have made eight in all. She hadn’t thought she’d hit him that hard, so he must have had more than just a few beers.
She ambled back down the sidewalk toward her dorm. Clark paused to gather a few things and then joined her. She struggled to hide a limp with the accompanying pain.
“What are you doing here?” His words sounded more like an accusation than a question.
“I had some work to do,” Lois told him, knowing full well that she owed him no explanation.
“Lois, it’s two o’clock in the morning. What kind of work was so pressing on your day off?”
“And just what are you doing here?” Lois swung around to face him, stabbing her finger into his chest.
“I… I’m here to… I came to…” Clark’s anger softened into confusion. He opened his mouth to explain again and then closed it wordlessly. Finally he reached out, chagrined, to hand her a brown paper box.
It was battered and dirty, but instantly recognizable.
Lois accepted the box. She nodded silently as if it all made sense. She resumed her walk, only to stop three steps later and accuse him.
“You’re the stalker,” she stated.
“I didn’t stalk you. I sent you care packs.” Clark’s voice was annoyed as he corrected her.
“Whatever.”
Lois reached up a hand to wipe away the blood that trickled down her cheek. It felt tender, like the bruise was going to be pretty bad, but the blood truly was from just a scratch.
“You’re bleeding,” Clark repeated, this time taking her hand in his to examine it more closely. Through the dirt and cinders, it was crisscrossed with blood. She flinched at his touch. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” Lois retorted, pulling her hand out of his grasp. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Come on. Let’s call the police, and then I’m taking you to the doctor.”
“No police. No doctors. I’m fine,” Lois decided.
“But Lois, if we don’t call the police these guys will just do it again.”
“Even if we do call the police these guys will do it again. I’m not going through the humiliation.”
“At least let me take you to the doctor.”
“I told you, Kent. No doctors. Going to the doctor is like being raped all over again. Forget it.”
“They didn’t… I mean, you’re okay, right? Never mind, I’m taking you to the doctor.”
Clark’s face looked kind of pale.
Lois sighed and resumed walking. It was pointless talking to him when he was like this. And she just wanted to get back to her room. She wanted to take a shower and put on decent clothing.
Besides, if the man had half a brain he could figure out that she hadn’t been violated in that way tonight just by looking at where her jeans were and weren’t torn up.
“Come on, Lois. Don’t be like this.”
“Hah!” She snorted without pausing in her journey. In her peripheral vision she could see him following.
“You never know how these things are going to turn out, Lois. Come on.”
“You are so naïve, Kent. In all my years of traveling and war, I’ve seen things you can’t even imagine. You don’t think this is my first time getting a bit roughed up.”
“Oh, Lois! Are you okay?”
It was cruel, but Lois had had it with ‘Mr. High-and-Mighty-Come-to-the-Rescue’. He waltzed in, bringing gifts, and expected to have a say-so in her life. Well, it wasn’t going to happen.
She quickened her pace, ignoring the pain that shot through her ankle.
“You mean, after all this time of asking me out, it bothers you that I’ve been raped by better men than you before?”
“That’s not true!”
Clark seized her shoulder to keep her from walking. She winced but said nothing. He no longer looked ashen. On the contrary, his face was turning rather red.
“I would think I would know my own history, Kent.”
“That’s not what I mean, Lois. What I mean to say is… Ever since I met you, you’ve been saying things like that. That better men than me rape, and all men have an angle. But I’ve never been like that to you…” Clark sighed. “Never mind, it’s the wrong time.”
He walked with her, his head hanging down. “Let’s at least get your cuts cleaned out.”
~*~
Clark had not only walked her back to her dorm, but into her room, lingering in her doorway like he wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Good night, Kent,” she ordered curtly.
“Good night, Lois,” he answered. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Do you need my number, or do you have a phone book?”
“Good night.”
Clark sighed, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Good night, Lois.” He sounded defeated. He paused for a moment, then slowly closed the door.
Lois crossed over and locked it tightly. She was glad that her roommate had left for the weekend. This was one evening she needed privacy.
She crossed over to her drawers and pulled out a pair of loose-fitting sweats and a t-shirt. With a groan of agony, she pulled off her ruined pants and threw them in the trash. The jacket would have to go, as well. But it was too chilly to throw it out before she bought a replacement. The blouse was salvageable, although it would need to be laundered before the stains set in.
She was stiff, and her ankle was swollen; but otherwise, she would be okay. Her cheek would heal in just a few days—no problem. And her knees and palms would be okay, too—provided she cleaned the cinders and road-grime out before the wounds got infected. She pulled the sweatpants and t-shirt on and gathered her bathing supplies.
It was then that she realized that she had never actually heard Clark leave. She tentatively called out, “Good night, Clark.”
“Good night,” he replied.
“I mean it, Kent. Get lost!” she ordered.
What was he expecting to do? Stand guard all night?
To Lois’s relief, there was no sign of Clark Kent when she opened the door to walk down to the bathrooms. She would kill for a private bathroom with a real tub, the kind with massaging jets that fluffed up a bubble bath fit for Hollywood. But she was stuck with a barely contained shower that was probably painted black to cover up the mildew stains.
She bit her lip to keep from screaming as the water hit her body. Why was it that there was never any water pressure when she wanted it, but tonight, on the night she couldn’t handle it, there was enough water pressure for the whole Met Net cheerleading squad? She finished her shower with as much speed and efficiency as she could manage.
She had another nasty surprise waiting for her when she returned to her room.
“Kent, what are you doing here?”
“I brought you some things,” he answered, sheepishly. “Do you mind if we, um…” He gestured toward her room.
“Fine. Whatever. It beats you spending the night out here.”
She unlocked the door and let him in. He looked around awkwardly.
“Nice place you got here. I like the study area you have set up. And is that a Spanish book I see there? What are you doing studying Spanish?”
“Kent, did you come here to check out my bedroom or check out my class schedule? Because it’s almost three thirty in the morning, and I’d rather just send you my report card.”
“Yeah, okay, um… Where do you want me to put all this?”
Clark opened a plain paper sack and started unloading it onto her desk top. He set aside some gauze and medical tape, and then continued to unpack.
“First thing, this is arnica. It’s a homeopathic remedy for shock and bruising. You’ll want to take five or six of these little pellets and let them sit under your tongue. I hope we haven’t waited too long, since you need to take it as soon as possible to get the full benefit.”
He continued to unpack. “Next, after you’ve cleaned those wounds with antibacterial soap and water, you’re going to want to use this salve. I’m not sure what’s in it; it’s the kind my mom always uses. She’s the real herbalist.”
The next mess he pulled out looked vile and exotic. “Then you’re going to want to put on these poultices. This is Echinacea, garlic, aloe, plantain and comfrey. I recommend you put it on for four hours or so today—leave the paper towel in place, you don’t want a mess. And then I’ll make another fresh one for you tomorrow. And then we’ll reassess. Okay?”
Lois wasn’t sure exactly how to respond.
“What is all this stuff, Kent?”
“You said you didn’t want to go to a doctor. And you don’t want this to get infected. That would be nasty. And remember, I’m on the same medical plan as you are, and I don’t want you to be raising the costs for everybody.”
“You’re a strange one, Kent. But it works for you. Okay, now get out of here. I’ve got to get some sleep.”
Clark grinned and made his way to the door.
“Oh and, by the way. I did call the police, but I didn’t give them your name. They probably already came by to lock them up.”
“Actually, the police probably found nothing. Guys don’t stay unconscious for hours on end, unless they’re really injured. And I doubt you have it in you.”
Authors Note:
While I do use homeopathy and herbal remedies in my own home, I rarely use the kind of poultices that I wanted Martha Kent to specialize in. Therefore, I have borrowed heavily (stolen info) from the following site
No Greater Joy--When the Rubber Missed the Road Since the url uses much of the same code that ubb does, you'll have to search for the article by name. It's worth the read, even though I don't support 100% of what's on the rest of the site.
