Authours Note: wow...it's been forever. i fully intended on finishing this a week ago, but i had something very pressing come up, and then it was easter, but now i've got it all done. Thanks to anyone and everyone who read the story and to anyone who is still reading. Feedback will be hugged and fed milk and cookies.
on a more serious note, this next chapter contains a serious WHAM. I've posted the warning in the WHAM thread, but I'll put it here if you missed it.
Don't worry though, I've always fixed my toys in the past.
Feedback can be sent to Thehenry78@yaoo.com, or Mi6patch@aol.com
enjoy!!
Men of Steele 13
Alley behind Metropolis Convention Center
“Laura, how long have we known each other?”
“A little over ten years, why?”
“Oh—no reason, I’m just counting the number of times we’ve hunkered down in sewers, dark tunnels, abandon alleys, and so forth.”
“Three-hundred and forty-seven give or take a few. That averages out to thirty-four point seven times per year, but who’s counting?”
“Ah, the advantages of the university education.” Remington said, a twinkle of amusement shimmering behind his blue eyes. “Of course the benefits of, shall we say, alternative education aren’t so bad either.”
“And what benefits would you be referring to?” She said, turning her attention toward him.
His voice softened “Well Laura, had it not been for my former professions, I would never have met you.”
“And if you hadn’t met Daniel, and then subsequently met me, what would you be doing now?” she asked, quickly turning her eyes to the street lamp by the stage door. From their position behind two dumpsters they had the advantage of total cover.
“I’d probably be dead—either that or an alcoholic longshoreman with twenty kids and a nagging wife.”
“Would that really be so bad?” Laura asked, feeling slightly uneasy.
“Looking at it from my current perspective it would be hell, but hypothetically, we’ve never met and I have no idea what I’m missing— so it would still be hell, but it would be the only life I know.”
Laura stiffened “Which part would make it hell? The nagging wife or the children?”
“Neither” Remington replied with a smirk, s “The prospect of doing back-breaking physical labor for the rest of my life is enough to have me counting my blessings daily.”
Laura smiled her heart swelling with relief “How do you always know the right things to say?”
“Well Laura” Steele said in his usual joking manner “I was a con man—speaking of criminals what’s happening with our party crasher?”
Laura searched the darkness for the mysterious man from the ball. After he’d been dumped-- like rotten fish-- into the alley he’d produced a cell phone from his jacket pocket. Punching a few digits the dial tone sounded, followed ringing. Eventually someone picked up, and the PI’s listened in to one end of the conversation.
“This is Felix” a pause, presumably caused by dialogue on the other end, and then “I know it’s risky for me to be calling—look, Luthour wouldn’t play ball—I know but—of course I thought of that, but Haas wasn’t stupid—do you still have the documents?—good, I want you to move them—no not there, that’s not a secure location.--What do you mean how do I know it’s not safe? Half the damn government is breathing down my neck, and the other half is screaming for my blood. Not to mention Luthour is probably in that ballroom right now planning my “accidental death” I think I have a fairly good grasp on where safety is and where it is not—well I’m sorry if I seem snappy, but I’m under a lot of pressure in case you hadn’t noticed.—look if Luthour won’t budge then we’ll have to try our other buyer—of course I know he’s an international terrorist!—If you’re having second thoughts…I didn’t think so--get over here now.”
*Click* and just like that the conversation was over. If Laura had thought there was more going on then originally divulged to her before, she was certain of it now. As far as she could figure it, Haas’s business partner had sold him out; now he was planning on selling government property to some faceless character, probably Dimitri Nowitski, with the help of an anonymous accomplice. And somehow one of the world’s wealthiest men was caught up in the middle of this whole debacle.
Lex Luthour’s involvement in this whole business unsettled Laura a great deal. If it turned out that the world’s most generous philanthropist was nothing more then a thief, the backlash would be incalculable. They would have to tread carefully—correction—Remington would have to train carefully. After all subtlety wasn’t exactly his middle name.
A dark colored sedan finally pulled up to the curb, and Burmeister hurried to get in. with a screeching of tires the vehicle elighted from the alley escaping down the street.
“Didn’t waste any time did they?” Steele said, dusting remnants of, god knew what, from his trousers.
“Well it was time enough for me to snag the license number”
“That’s what I love about you Laura, your attention to detail”
Laura smirked “Is that all you love about me?”
“Well that, and…” Leaning in, Remington whispered the rest into her ear—to his amusement she blushed.
“Of course, how could I forget that?” she said with an embarrassed chuckle. Remington desperately wished they could be in more amorous surroundings, so he could properly enumerate the reasons for his love-- but alas they were standing in an alley riddled with unidentifiable pieces of debris…for now anyway.
“Shall we head back to the hotel now Mrs. Steele?” Remington waggled his eyebrows suggestively relaying his intent.
Laura ran her hands down the front of his tuxedo jacket, stopping just above the buttons. Carefully she released the polished ebony fastenings from their holes. Remington’s breath hitched as she came in contact with the lean muscles of his abdomen. Warmth started to spread through his whole body, and it felt like her hands were searing a path across his skin through the silk dress shirt he wore. They needed to get back to the hotel—now.
“Laura love, as much as I want to continue this…” he said, frantically waving his hands between there two bodies “ I think we should move this back to the suite eh?”
“Mmmhmm you know what surveillance does to me Mr. Steele” Laura purred, pulling him in for a kiss. All thoughts of changing location were swept away when he felt her gently nudging his lips for accesses. Gleefully he granted it, and reciprocated in kind. One of his hands undid the clasp holding her hair in a tight formal bun, allowing the honey colored tresses to spill down her back. The other hand caressed the small of her back, and from there it moved up stopping at the base of her neck, and dove into her newly freed locks.
When at last the need for air overtook them, they pulled apart. Remington took this opportunity to lavish attention upon her slender neck. He pressed hungry kisses across her collar bone, and stopped to nip at the base of her neck. Her pulse jumped under his mouth, and she groaned in appreciation.
Their bodies melded together, and Laura thought fleetingly that an abandon alley behind a convention center wasn’t the best place for what she had in mind. But her hunger was just too great. It had been almost four days since she and Remington had made love—which, for them, was a long time, and the way her husband’s body had responded to their impromptu make out session left little to the imagination as to how he felt about the situation.
Remington once again found her mouth and all thoughts ceased. His hands danced across her savagely blazing trail of desire throughout her body.
At some point they’d ended up directly beneath the very same light Burmeister abandoned moments earlier. As their passion mounted, and their ministrations became more fervent they didn’t notice the sound of heavy footfalls approaching them, and they didn’t notice the swish of a six inch blade being released from its sheath. What they did notice however, was the feeling of strong arms pulling them apart.
Caught off guard, Remington wasn’t prepared for the first blow to his face. All he could register was the pain shooting through his temple. The next blow was a sharp left to the kidneys, and then a right to his jaw. In the background he could here a loud screaming, but he could determine who it was coming from. The only thing running through his mind was *don’t hurt Laura. Please don’t hurt Laura.* another blow came hard across his mouth, spitting his lip. Still another connected with his stomach. Consciously Remington was aware of a sharp pinch in his side. It felt more like a cramp then a punch.
He fell to the side walk clutching at the source of the pain, and was horrified when he found his hands smeared with blood. “Laura…I… don’t hurt…please don’t hurt her”
“I didn’t pay you to kill him…look at all that blood”
“You got what you came for didn’t you?”
“True.”
“So why look a gift horse in the mouth?”
“I suppose you gents are right”
“Well, what do you want us to do with the skirt?” with blurry eyes Remington looked up to see a man restraining Laura. His dirt stained fingers were clutching at her with malicious intent, and there was a predatory gleam on his face. “Laura…no don’t hurt Laura.” His voice was little more than a whisper to his own ears, and he had no doubt his assailants hadn’t heard him.
Laura looked like a rag doll in the man’s arms. She was obviously unconscious, and a nasty looking welt was forming on her brow. Steele struggled to move his limbs, but they were limp—dead weight. Laura, he had to save Laura—if only he could rest first. It was so cold, and he was so tired…just a few minutes of rest—no he had to help her…he had to. His head lolled to the side. His entire body felt like it’d been dipped in ice water. A deep racking cough erupted from his chest; blood dripped from his lips, his nose, his side, and everything became opaque.
His traitorous body compelled him to sleep, but his mind was screaming for him to get up. An internal war waged between the two major parts of his being, but in the end the former won out
“I’m sorry Laura…I’m so…sorry love.” The shroud of darkness pulling at the corners of his mind began to pull him from the corporeal world. It was over all over. The only thing he could do was pray Laura would be waiting for him in the afterlife.
He closed his eyes the stale metallic scent of his own blood obscuring his nostrils, his breathing came in short congested pulls. His magnificent cobalt blue eyes were red with tears of pain, frustration, and sadness; the lids felt like iron weights, and, to relive the pressure, he closed them once…twice…three times…
The last thing he saw, before falling into nothingness, was a familiar pair of emerald green eyes, and the man they belonged to lighting a cigarette beneath the street light.
***
Clark Kent’s apartment
He had to admire the myriad of different classical pieces adorning the shelves in Kent’s apartment. Polished mahogany fertility statues from Africa, Aboriginal weaponry from Australia, Several ceremonial masks from an unknown South American tribe, and various other obscures souvenirs stood gurad in the sitting room.
Old, but well kept, furnishings gave the space a comfortable homey feeling, and coupled with the many pictures of his parents, and his old high school and college football trophies the humble abode of Clark Kent gave the effect of small town security. Always one to know his enemy Nigel began rummaging through several cupboards. The ones in the kitchen held various food stuffs, some of which weren’t even fit for the consumption of a child. Honestly what kind of grown man ate Ho-Ho’s and Ding Dongs?
In the living room drawer were pens and pencils and miscellaneous office supplies. It was the contents of his bedroom drawers that interested Nigel. Neatly concealed beneath several dress shirts was a small strip of pale blue silk. It wasn’t a scarf, and it defiantly wasn’t any sort of clothing item. It smelled slightly of Elizabeth Arden perfume—coincidently the same perfume he knew was Lois Lane’s favorite. Apparently Lane and Kent were much more then partners at work.
He chuckled merrily to himself. So that’s what this whole excursion was about. Mr. Luthour had obviously discovered the nature of their relationship, and now he wanted Kent out of the way. How pathetic—what kind of man would jeopardize possible world domination for a woman. Amusing, that for all his posturing and self assurance, Lex Luthour was just as weak as the next man; What in the world was so attractive about that Lane woman anyway? She was short, ill tempered, not very well endowed, and she could never keep her place.
A woman like that wasn’t worth all this trouble, and she defenitly wasn’t worth killing over. Oh well, as long as he was properly compensated who was he to make judgments? Luthour could pine over any woman he wanted--so long as the checks cleared.
Clapping his hands together he set about his job. Opening the case of ‘goodies’ he’d brought along Nigel began preparing the trap. Ever since his stint as an MI-5 agent, he’d had a particular fondness for motion sensitive incendiary devices. And thankfully his association with Luthour had given him ample chances to indulge in this particular past time.
Humming, he started its assembly. Mercifully, he would never even feel it—one turn of a knob and Clark Kent be nothing more then a pile of ash.
*****
Centennial Park, two blocks from Clark Kent’s apartment.
“Favorite color?”
“I’d have to say blue”
“Really? I don’t remember ever seeing you in a blue suite before Clark.”
Clark cleared his throat “I only wear it on special occasions”
Lois smiled, squeezing his hand “Maybe you’ll show it to me one day farm boy”
“Yeah...” Clark responded wistfully “someday”. The last couple of hours had gone by in what seemed like a whirl wind. They’d gone from bickering at the convention center, to dancing, to the most mind blowing kiss Clark had ever experienced. Secretly he hoped it was the same for Lois. He loved her; it was a simple as that, and he knew she was feeling more then just sibling affection toward him. Hopefully with time she would come to feel as much for him as he did for her, but for now he was content—actually he was beyond content, he was euphoric. It had been a major struggle for him to keep his feet on the ground, literally, since she’d first brushed her lips against his—soft and smooth, she’d tasted like earthy red wine, and cherries, and something that was simply Lois.
“Your turn Clark” Lois said, jarring him from sweet remembrance back into reality.
“Favorite song growing up?”
“Hmm...’I’m Not in Love’ by 10cc.Don’t look so surprised Smallville I was only eight.”
“I didn’t say anything” Clark said in mock defense, “I just thought it would have been something more…”
“Mad dog Laneish.” Lois finished with a smirk “Believe or not Clark I haven’t always been this much of a realist”
“I can see that.” He said seriously “Believe it or not I wasn’t’ always this charming…”
“Really” Lois replied with a chuckle “enlighten me”
“Well for one thing I was kind of skinny as a kid. My clothes were always one size too short, because I kept getting taller, and I had huge glasses with thick frames…”
Lois burst into uncontrollable giggles at the mental image he’d just conjured. Somehow she’d always thought Clark would look like one of those farm kids you see in magazines; overhauls and converse sneakers with the deep farmer’s tan that testified to their hard work. But what he’d described sounded more like one of the many guys in her computer science classes in high school.
“But then I sorta grew into my body, and one day I just started playing football. The next thing you know…”
“So how long did your Bill Gates look last?”
“Uh…at least ninth grade--I was in choir all during middle school…”
Lois couldn’t help but smile again “let me guess you were a soprano”
“No...I was a soprano two.” Clark blushed, and Lois decided that he was especially cute when he did.
“So you were in choir continue”
“Well one day Billy Jackson pushed me on the ground, and made fun of me for being the only boy in the choir.”
“Did you push him back?”
“Well…no I mean I’d never been in a fight my whole life, so I didn’t really know what to do. Anyway Pete Ross, my best friend, told me that if I was on the football team jerks like Billy wouldn’t be able to push me around anymore.”
“So…”
“So I had a huge fight with my dad. He didn’t want me to play football just because someone made me feel inferior. He said that I should make my own decisions—that I shouldn’t try to please everyone, because in the end I’d never please anyone.”
“What about your mom?”
“She felt the same way, but she said if it made me happy then she’d support me.”
“And did it…make you happy?”
“Yeah…not at first though because everyone kept knocking me down, but as I got older I got better and eventually I was good enough to play in college.”
“I love stories with happy endings” Lois sighed, as she hooked her arm around Clark’s.
“Yeah…me too.”
They continued walking in companionable silence for a few minutes until the reached Clark’s front door. Clark hesitated for a moment and then asked “Would you like to come in?”
Lois lowered her head slightly “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea Clark…”
“I don’t mean like that…just for some coffee, or tea, or…” he sighed “I just don’t want tonight to end Lois. For the first time in a long time I feel completely relaxed—comfortable.”
“I could go for some tea” she conceded giving him a quick reassuring peck on the cheek.
“Alright—let me just get the door”
***
Laura awoke, the feeling of cotton balls stuffed in her ears was overpowering. Lifting her head from the pavement, she winced at the pain on her right temple. Gingerly she grazed the wound that resided there and observed the blood that stained her fingers when she’d pulled them back.
“Remington?” she croaked, her voice sounding foreign in her ringing ears. She cleared her throat and tried again “Remington…Mr. Steele?” Still nothing. Her heart began to race as panic set in. Where was he? What had happened? The last thing she could clearly recall was being hoisted off her feet, and being clubbed painfully about the head. She stood and shook the cobwebs from her head looking around for any clues as to her husband’s whereabouts. As it turned out she hadn’t needed to look far.
The street light hanging above the back entrance of the Convention Center cast a spotlight on the street about four feet in diameter. On the outskirts of the left side she caught sight of a Montebello Italian shoe, custom made for Remington Steele by a grateful client. In the shadows she could just make out a pant leg, and motionless body.
Quicker then she thought possible she was at his side. She rolled him into the light, and chocked back tears as she felt for a pulse—there was none. She ran her hands over him frantically, and noted that he was still warm to touch…that was a good thing wasn’t it?
She had to get him to a hospital, but she couldn’t leave him long enough to call a cab, and the likelihood that a car would stop in a dark alley to pick up bleeding strangers was slim to none. For the first time since she was a child Laura Holt-Steele felt completely helpless.
There was nothing left to do so she opened her mouth and yelled at the top of her voice, “HELP!”
***
“HELP!”
Not tonight, please not tonight, Clark begged midway through digging for his keys. Perhaps he was hallucinating “HELP!”—nope, someone was in desperate need of help, and loath as he was to lie to Lois, once again, he needed to go. He hoped she would forgive him someday.
“You know what Lois…I just realized that I don’t have any…cream…”
“That’s okay Clark; I don’t put cream in my tea.”
“Umm… well…I need sugar, and lemon, and you know what I don’t have any tea either so I’ll just run off and get some…here” he said handing her the keys “make yourself at home I’ll be right back”
“Clark!” she yelled at his rapidly retreating form, but it was too late he’d already broken into a full sprint, and was out of sight. There he goes again running off, and leaving at the drop of a dime. The evening had been going well, better then well, and now he runs off to buy tea. Didn’t he know she didn’t care if he had tea or sugar or cream or heck even a bottle of water? All she wanted was to spend time with him, maybe get to know him better or…other things.
She sighed, Clark would probably never change, new dynamic to their relationship or not. He would always run off unexpectedly with lame excuses, and come back hours later with offering no explanations for his lateness.
She decided then and there that they would have to have a serious discussion regarding his habit of running off when he got back. Ruffling her hair she pulled his coat more securely around herself and flipped through his key ring. Now which one opened his front door again? She remembered seeing it a couple of times, but now she couldn’t identify it to save her life. It was bronze she knew that, and was kind of old…two of the keys on the ring fit the description. Well she’d have to try them both it seemed. Taking the first one in hand she inserted it into the keyhole and turned…nothing. Well it wasn’t that one leaving only one.
She held the final key between her fingers and pushed it into the lock. A perfect fit smiling in victory she turned the key …click, click, click BOOM.
***
TBC
