This is the final story following Wedding Consequences that I posted a couple of years ago -- The Wedding series was Wedding Day, Wedding Aftermath and Wedding Consequences, in that order, for anyone what wishes to refresh her memory. I figure on posting about once a week with luck.
Nan
Disclaimer: The familiar characters and settings in this story are not mine. They belong to DC Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions and whoever else may have any legal right to claim them, nor am I profiting by their use. This series is extrapolated from the Lois and Clark episodes Barbarians at the Planet and House of Luthor and any references to those episodes are hereby credited to the authors of the scripts. Any new characters, settings, and any changes in the story belong to me.
This story follows Wedding Consequences.
Wedding Rearrangement
By Nan Smith
***
The sky outside his office window was darkening. William Henderson glanced out at the rising moon, glowing mistily through the light haze above the city. It had been nearly a week, he thought, since his men had discovered the Kryptonite-coated cage in the basement of Lex Tower and there had still been no sign of Superman, in spite of the most intense search. No one had found a body, but the last shreds of hope were beginning to fade. It was entirely possible that Luthor, or his minions, had somehow disposed of the body in such a way that it was extremely unlikely that it would be found.
The thought that Superman might actually be dead produced an emotion that he hated: real, genuine grief.
Normally, he was able to place the deaths of victims in perspective. He and his men couldn't save everyone; all they could do was to be as diligent as possible in bringing the perpetrator to justice. They had limits, being only human, but Superman had been able to do things that his people couldn't. He'd been able to help many people in ways that were outside the resources of the police. He had accomplished seeming miracles. If Luthor had been able to destroy the man who had come to them nearly a year before and given hope to the entire city, there wasn't anything he and his men could do but damn the billionaire's soul. He would have quenched that hope forever. He would have destroyed Henderson's hope that things would be better. He would have killed Henderson's friend.
The Inspector deliberately pushed the morbid thoughts away. Nothing was certain yet. Superman might have some reason for failing to contact anyone, to reassure the public that he was still alive, but Henderson couldn't imagine what it might be.
The phone rang, jolting him out of his reflections. He snatched up the receiver in some relief. "Henderson."
"Inspector? This is Superman."
It might be a hoax, but somehow he knew it wasn't. There was something very familiar about the soft voice with the Midwestern accent. For an instant, he wasn't able to identify the emotion that surged through him. It was sheer joy, followed an instant later by anger at the unnecessary worry that he had been enduring for over a week. "Where the devil have you been?"
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to contact you before," the Kryptonian's voice said, sounding, he thought, genuinely regretful.
"What happened?" Henderson asked, more gently. "We found the cage in the basement of Lex Tower."
"That's why I was calling," Superman's voice said. "I wanted to ask you if you can dispose of it for me."
"I'll see what I can do," Henderson said. "But --"
"Luthor trapped me in that cage, Bill." Superman's voice was soft. "He nearly killed me. Until a little while ago, I wasn't sure I'd be able to come back at all." A hesitation. "I wasn't able to get in touch with you until now, and I sincerely apologize for making you think ... what you did. If you could let anyone who needs to know that I'm alive ... and will probably be able to come back in a week or two ... I'd appreciate it."
"A week or two?" Henderson said, quickly rearranging his thoughts. Apparently there had been some reason for him to worry after all.
"Probably," Superman said. "I'm getting better. I hope in a couple of weeks everything will be back to normal. Don't pass that along to anyone, please. I'd rather it wasn't general knowledge."
Henderson could understand that. "I don't see why anyone else should be interested," he said, not exactly truthfully. "In any case, it's nobody's business."
"Thank you," Superman said. "I appreciate it. I'll contact you when I'm ready to make my reappearance. Goodbye, Bill -- and thanks again."
"You're welcome," Henderson said.
Superman hung up, and the Inspector put down the phone, amazed at the sudden lift to his mood. It wasn't surprising, though, he rationalized. Superman was a great asset to the Metro PD. Ah hell, why not admit the truth for once? Henderson didn't have many real friends, and he counted Superman as one of them. He was genuinely glad that his friend was still alive.
After a moment's thought, he picked up the phone and dialed the number of the editor of the Daily Planet. If anyone deserved to hear the news ahead of everyone else, it was Perry White, and he doubted that Superman would mind. And, after that, he would return to his task of following the trail of the persons who had tapped Perry White's phone and arranged the accident that had nearly killed Luthor's widow. Somebody wanted Lois Lane dead, and Henderson had every intention of nailing "The Mrs." With a moniker like that, one of the first places to look was in Luthor's history. If the man had been married before, it might shed a lot of light on the mystery.
At the other end of the line, someone picked up the receiver. "Hello?" Perry White's voice said.
"Hello, Perry," Henderson said, "I have some news ..."
**********
"That makes me feel better," Clark said. "After Perry told me Henderson thought Superman was dead, I couldn't let that go on any longer."
"Yeah," Lois said. "Henderson can be a pain sometimes, but he's a good guy. Don't tell him I said that, though."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Clark said. "He was itching to arrest Luthor, you know -- he just didn't have enough evidence until Jimmy and Perry took the information we'd collected to him. Apparently once it was in his hands, he pulled a judge off the golf course to issue the warrant."
"Why couldn't he just get another judge?" Lois asked.
Clark lifted an eyebrow. "Why do you think? He wanted one he was sure of -- not some guy who was in Luthor's back pocket."
"Oh," Lois said. "Yeah. It's still a little hard to realize how far Lex's influence went. It shouldn't be a surprise. I guess a lot of people are ducking for cover right now."
"Well, Perry told me there's at least three judges, a couple of assistant DAs and a number of cops under investigation. Another judge has disappeared. According to his spokesman he's gone on a health retreat because of on-the-job stress."
"Should I wager anything on the odds that he'll ever come back?" Lois asked.
"Your guess is as good as mine. The heads of several companies that had dealings with LexCorp are under suspicion as well, and --" He broke off with a shrug. "I doubt you want to know the details. LexCorp is coming down like a house of cards."
"Yeah," she said. "I saw it starting before we left Metropolis. I only wish I could help, rather than hide from the press this way."
Clark nodded silently and put his arm around her. "Unfortunately, if we were in Metropolis, instead of writing the story, you'd *be* the story," he said. "Perry told me the Star is already trying to turn you into a gold digger who only married Luthor for his money. The Planet is defending you, and once you finish the legal stuff and the Superman Foundation takes control of the funds, it will make them look like fools."
"I can't say that makes me feel all that bad," Lois said, a little maliciously.
Clark chuckled softly. "Perry said the same thing. In fact, he sent Jack out to give them some choice quotes that they'll probably use as 'an anonymous source', and end up making them look worse than ever when the real story comes out. He said he normally wouldn't do something like that, but they were being so vicious that he decided to teach them a lesson. I guess they can't conceive of you actually giving away the money, so they think they can get away with it."
"Good for him," Lois said. "I'm going to enjoy watching them flounder. Perry told me he'll get hold of the Superman Foundation's legal representatives tomorrow and start getting the documents drawn up. He thought it was a great idea. I did tell him that I wanted everyone who lost his job because of Lex's bomb to be compensated for lost wages and given a bonus for all the emotional distress they went through. Maybe that will help make up for some of what Lex did to them. Money may not buy happiness, but it can make up for a lot of unhappiness -- especially mine. I hope Lex is spinning in his grave."
"I think," Clark said, "that Superman will give a very public speech thanking you for the money, which will be used to repair the damage that Luthor has done, as much as possible, and thank the Daily Planet for not jumping to conclusions, unlike 'certain other publications'. What do you think?"
Lois giggled. "I like it. Just don't lay it on too thick. When I go back, I'm going to be careful to give personal interviews to papers that didn't slander me, and snub the ones that did. There's no better way of getting even with a newspaper."
Martha Kent knocked on the wall before entering the room. "Lois's bed is all made up. You can have the couch, Clark -- unless...?" She looked hopefully at them. Lois and Clark looked at each other for a moment and simultaneously burst into laughter.
"We're not," Lois said between sputters, "unless you count huddling up to each other to keep warm at night in the mountains."
Martha laughed. "Oh well, six months isn't so long. You know where to find the blankets, Clark."
Clark could tell he was scarlet. "Mom, you're incorrigible!"
"Well, a mother can hope," Martha said, sending Lois into another fit of giggles.
"And I used to think you got your Midwestern values from your upbringing," she said, after Martha had departed.
"I did," Clark said. "What makes you think we Midwesterners are saints? Weren't you the one who talked about me giving a girl a hickey behind the Dairy Freeze?"
"*Did* you ever give a girl a hickey?"
He grinned. "No. It always seemed kind of mean to me -- sort of like a guy was trying to put his brand on a girl. Besides, Lana would have killed me, and Rachel would have done worse."
"I've never met Lana, but I can believe it about Rachel. Does she know we're here, do you know?"
"I have no idea. Probably not. I don't think anyone has had time to call her."
"We probably should. If any more 'journalists' -- to use the word loosely -- show up here, we're going to want her to know what's going on so she can be ready."
"I'll call her in the morning," Clark said. "She's probably already gone home for the day by now."
"Considering it's nearly ten, I believe it," Lois said. "Why don't you show me my room, Mr. Kent?"
"Anything you wish, Ms. Lane," Clark said.
**********
Rachel Harris entered the small office that belonged to the County Sheriff's Department in Smallville just as the phone on her desk rang. The day was definitely starting early, she thought. She shook her head and crossed to the desk to answer on the second ring. "Sheriff's office."
"Hi, Rachel!" The voice was familiar, and it took her a moment before she recognized Clark Kent.
"Clark?"
"That's right. I thought I'd better call you first thing, and let you know I'm in Smallville."
"You're here?"
"I'm at my parents' farm," Clark said. "I heard from Mom and Dad that there have been some reporters hanging around."
"If you want to call them that," Rachel said.
Clark's voice laughed dryly. "No comment."
Rachel also laughed. "I guess you're hiding out from them for now, huh?"
"Kind of," Clark agreed.
"What's the real story?" she couldn't help asking. "The rumors are flying about you and Mrs. Luthor."
"Lois Lane," Clark said, firmly. "She never took Luthor's name. Look, Rachel, I don't want to be seen in public for now. If you'd like to drop by when you have time, I can give you the whole story."
"I might do that," Rachel said. Another thought occurred to her. "Is Miss ... uh ... Lane there with you?"
Clark's voice hesitated for a long moment. "Yes," he said, finally. "You didn't hear that, by the way. Someone with his eye on Luthor's fortune apparently wants her dead -- and, of course, every news service in the country is after her. She has to stay out of sight until a month after Luthor's death, so no one will profit by managing to dispose of her."
Rachel could feel her eyebrows climbing at the statement. "You're sure of this?"
"Unfortunately, yes." Clark said. "Our pilot bailed out and left us to crash. If I didn't know how to land a plane, we'd be dead."
"Oh," Rachel said. That hadn't been in the news conference. There had been a report of an attempted assault on Mrs. Luthor, but it had been fairly vague and a strong implication by the media that the so-called incident had been simply an overreaction by Mrs. Luthor to an overly aggressive reporter. Evidently there was more to the story. A thought occurred to her. "And I suppose it's possible that whoever is after Miss Lane could show up in Smallville."
"Let's say it wouldn't be impossible," Clark's voice said, sounding a little grim. "They know Lois is hiding somewhere, and when they decide she isn't in Metropolis, the next place they're going to look is here."
"All right," Rachel said, after a moment, "I guess we'd better not do too much talking on the phone. I'll try to make time to come out there when I can. Um ... you'll be there, won't you?"
"We're not going anywhere for now," Clark said.
"All right," Rachel said. "Expect me when you see me."
Clark hung up and Rachel put down the receiver. The conversation with Clark had given her plenty to think about. The thought of big-time city crime and corruption coming to Smallville wasn't something that she liked but, if it did, it was up to her to root it out. It looked like a visit to the Kent farm to get the whole story was on her agenda this morning.
Greg, one of her deputies, who was just pulling into the little parking lot next to the Sheriff's Office, looked oddly at her as she headed for her squad car. "Going somewhere, Sheriff?"
"Yeah. If you need me, call my cell phone," Rachel said. "And if any more of those vultures show up looking for the Kents, send them out by way of Potter's Slough, would you?"
Greg snorted. "Actually, I was thinking of Whittaker's Bog," he said. "That should keep them busy for a few hours. Especially if they take the long way around the lake and past the power station."
"Sounds even better," Rachel said, recalling the maze of rutted, dirt and gravel roads that the unfortunate members of the media would have to traverse. "Do that. Might let Dan, at the service station, know if you do, so the truck can be out of service when they call. I'll be back in a couple of hours."
Greg nodded matter-of-factly and proceeded on into the Sheriff's Office.
**********
The Kent farm looked peaceful and serene in the morning sunlight. The four milk cows that the Kents maintained were grazing placidly in a nearby field, and not far away, in a smaller field adjoining the one with the cows, Espresso, their new coal-black stud bull was lying in the shade of a tree. Rachel pulled her squad car into the bare area in front of the house and cut the engine. A pair of chickens wandered aimlessly by, pecking at the ground, as she got out and slammed the door. The terrier mix, that had been around for the past year, wandered out to greet her and followed her toward the house, sniffing at the backs of her legs. She noted that Jonathan Kent had finally surrendered to the inevitable, as the dog now wore a collar and a brand new license tag.
As she climbed the steps to the big front porch, the door opened and Clark Kent said, "Come on in, Rachel."
She stepped into the homey living room. A dark-haired woman in a pair of loose jeans, pulled tightly around her waist by a wide, leather belt, and a shirt that looked like one of Jonathan Kent's, was sitting on the sofa, and Rachel recognized Lex Luthor's widow, Lois Lane.
"I guess you know Lois," Clark said. "Can I get you some coffee?"
"Sure." The sheriff glanced around. "Are your parents here?"
Clark shook his head. "Dad's out working in the barn, I think. I told him I'd talk to you. Mom went into town to get Lois some clothes. Have a seat. I'll get the coffee."
Rachel took the rocking chair, regarding the heiress curiously. Somehow, she had expected the woman to have changed from the hard-driven reporter that she had met months previously, and in that, she had been correct, but the changes were not the ones she might have expected. Gone was the abrasive, almost arrogant female journalist. In her place was a pale-faced woman in too-large clothing, with a faintly grim set to her mouth and chin. She didn't look like a woman who had come suddenly into a fortune.
"I guess the story the media is telling isn't the whole one," Rachel said, after an uncomfortable pause.
Lois Lane shook her head. "Not exactly."
"Want to tell me what happened?" Rachel asked.
"We intend to." Clark re-entered the room, a cup and saucer in his hands. "You take two sugars, if I remember right."
"That's right." Rachel took the coffee cup, inhaling the aroma. Martha Kent's coffee was so far above the stuff brewed in her office that the concoctions might have been two different beverages entirely.
Clark handed a second cup and saucer to Lois Lane and disappeared momentarily, reappearing almost at once with a third cup. He took a seat on the sofa, facing Rachel. "We thought you should know what happened, in case anybody who shouldn't comes snooping around. They could."
"So I gathered from what you said on the phone."
"All right, then," Clark said. He glanced at Lois Lane. "Do you want to tell it, or shall I?"
Lois sipped her coffee. "Go ahead."
"All right." He regarded the woman beside him in a way that made Rachel faintly uneasy. There was almost an intimacy to the look. Then, he turned to Rachel. "I'm sure you heard what happened to Luthor. Perry White, Jimmy Olsen, Jack Brown and I worked together to prove that he was behind the bombing of the Planet. When the police showed up to arrest him, he chose to dive out the window of the Lexor rather than be arrested. Lois hid out at my place for several days, and then we decided that the best thing we could do was to get out of town ..."
Rachel listened in silence as Clark told the story of the plane trip, the vanishing pilot, the hike through the mountains, their encounter with the "search team" from LexCorp, the attempt on Lois Lane's life at the ranger station, and finally their escape from the media and their arrival at the Kent farm. When he finished, she looked at the two reporters for a long moment in silence.
"Wow," she said at last. "That's quite a story. So now what?"
"We decided," Lois Lane said, "that I should stay out of sight until a month has passed since Lex's death. After that, by the laws of the state of New Troy, my death won't help whoever is after Lex's money. In the meantime, our editor and my lawyers are preparing for me to donate his fortune to the Superman Foundation. That will get it out of my life. But until then whoever tried to kill me is going to be hunting for me and one of the obvious places for them to look is Smallville. They could easily show up pretending to be another team of reporters."
Rachel had already thought of that. She nodded briskly. "We'll do our best to keep the mob away," she said, "and I'll alert my men to keep an eye on them -- without telling them you're here, of course. The fewer who know it, the better it will be for everybody, I think. The story will be that there have been some anonymous threats against the Kents. There are always a few nutballs who send threats to anyone in the news, you know -- usually people looking for vicarious thrills. We've actually had a couple about your parents, as a matter of fact."
"You have?" Clark looked alarmed.
"Yeah. One was from a high schooler over at Smallville High. He apologized to Martha and Jonathan after we caught him. He was just trying to cause some excitement. He did, too. We charged him with malicious mischief and Judge Tibbets ordered him to perform two hundred hours of community service. His dad wasn't satisfied, though. He's got him cleaning out barns, for free, all over the county, and I'd say his summer vacation is pretty much shot. The other one was from a guy in his fifties who makes a regular habit of it. We recognized the style right away and he's got a court date next week."
"Oh. Norville Greene," Clark said, obviously relaxing. "I should have figured."
"How'd you know that?" Rachel asked, in surprise.
"I used to live around here, remember," Clark pointed out, dryly. "And I was the editor of the Smallville Press."
"Yeah, I guess you were," Rachel admitted. "It's just that you're a big city reporter now. I didn't think you'd remember."
Clark raised an eyebrow. "I'm still from Smallville. I never forget that."
Rachel smiled, conceding the fact. Clark might be an ace reporter for the Daily Planet now, but she still remembered the sweet, awkward boy who had played with her as a child, and later become the handsome captain of the football team in high school. He'd dated Lana Lang in their senior year, but he'd ended up taking Rachel to the prom because of Lana's mysterious case of poison ivy that appeared two days before the prom.
Rachel had a fairly good idea how that case of poison ivy had come about although she'd never told Clark, since she didn't know for sure. Besides, gossiping about Lana wouldn't have improved Clark's opinion of her. Rachel's cousin, Vern Whipple, had been flirting with Lana for weeks, and he had coincidentally turned up with a poison ivy rash at the very same time, one that covered him from head to toe according to his mother, who had told Rachel's mother within Rachel's hearing. Tuttle Park, coincidentally a favorite location and Lover's Lane for high school kids (or the Passion Pit, as her father had referred to it) was also well known for its poison ivy. Every year there was an effort to clear it out, and every spring it came back as thick as ever. But Lana's poison ivy rash had covered her shoulders and arms, and, Rachel had heard from other female friends, a number of other places that it ought not to have contacted at all. Lana had been confined to her house for over a week, leaving Clark without a date for the prom. And so he'd asked Rachel, who had been more than willing to take up the slack.
But now, Lois Lane was Clark's partner at the Daily Planet. Rachel had seen the way they interacted on their previous visit to Smallville, when those crazy government agents had been looking for a rock that they thought would kill Superman, and their leader had tried to shoot Clark in the back. When she'd heard that Lois Lane was the intended of Lex Luthor, Metropolis's most prominent citizen, she'd hoped that maybe Clark would come back to Smallville for a time. He had come back, all right -- but with Mrs. Luthor in tow. Still, the situation wasn't exactly romantic. Maybe she could manage to get Clark alone while he was here and casually inquire into their situation.
In any case, she had a job to do. Lois Luthor -- or Lane, she amended, since Clark had stressed that his partner had never taken Luthor's name -- was quite probably in danger. Men and women had been murdered over fifty dollars, much less the ten or so billion that she had apparently inherited from her husband of less than an hour. If a quarter of the things that the papers were feverishly reporting about the world's third richest man were true, he'd undoubtedly had associates that wouldn't balk for an instant over the idea of murdering his widow in order to remove her as his main heir; or was that heiress? Some of the reporting teams already in Smallville might very well be agents of whoever it was that wanted Lois Lane dead. Since she and Clark had successfully evaded the assassin at the ranger station, as well as the various representatives of the media, the hunt for her was probably in high gear by now.
She set down her empty coffee cup. "I'd better get back and put things in motion," she said. "We'll do our best to keep the wolves away from the farm but do me a big favor and stay out of sight, both of you. If the word gets out that you're here, Superman himself couldn't keep the media away."
Clark glanced at Lois Lane and Rachel saw her smile faintly. "We'll do our best," Clark said, getting to his feet. "Thanks, Rach. I knew we could count on you."
**********
After the Sheriff had gone, Lois looked after the trail of dust that her car had made in the driveway. Rachel was a very pretty girl, in a corn-fed kind of way, and she sure seemed to have an eye for Clark. "You took her to the prom?"
"Uh huh," Clark said. "Why?"
"Was she a serious girlfriend?"
"Huh?" Clark seemed genuinely surprised. "No, not really. We dated a few times in high school but in my senior year Lana Lang was my steady."
"Really? Then why did you take Rachel to the prom?"
Clark’s mind seemed to be somewhere else. "Oh, that. Lana came down with poison ivy at the last minute, Rachel didn’t have a date and I didn’t either, so I called her. We went and had a good time. That was all there was to it."
"Oh," Lois said.
Clark seemed to pull his attention back to her. "Sorry. I was checking out my telescopic vision. Don’t tell me you’re worrying about Rachel?"
"No -- not really," Lois said.
"Good, because you shouldn’t. You’re the one that I lie awake at night thinking about; not Rachel."
"Really?" she said, gratified.
"Yep."
"Oh," Lois said. She cleared her throat. "How’s your telescopic vision coming along?"
"It’s better. Still not back to where it was before the cage."
"Have any of your other powers come back?"
"Hearing -- some, anyway. I want to go out into the barn and see if I can lift some of Dad’s farm machinery where no passersby can see me. That should tell me where I am, physically." He glanced around. "The pickup's gone. Dad said something earlier about going into town to get a part for the tractor. I guess he did."
"How about flying?" she asked.
He closed his eyes and she held her breath. He opened his eyes and shook his head. "Not yet."
"Well, give it a little more time," she said. "It will come back."
"I think you're probably right," he said. "I sure hope you are."
"I am. Give it time." She slipped her hand into his. "You keep telling me to have patience and stay out of the investigation in Metropolis, and I'm telling you the same thing about your powers. It's not easy for either of us but it's important. Superman will be back -- and so will Mad Dog Lane. Eventually."
**********
tbc
