A/N: A big thank you to Patrick, Mary, Ann and Pam for your comments. You charge my imagination with each episode.
Mellie: thank you, thank you, thank you. You profuse praise has lifted my spirits enormously over the last few months. Bless you. I couldn't hope for a better beta.
Lois’s thoughts are italicised and enclosed by angle brackets (<>)
Asterisks enclose emphasis (**)
TOC Part ThirteenAs soon as the elevator doors closed on Luthor, Lois turned to Clark in confusion. “Why do you want to wait until next
*weekend* to visit your parents? Prometheus launches tomorrow night, remember?” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You have to be
*ready* by then.”
“And I will be,” Clark answered. “Do you feel up to coming with me tonight?”
“Of course I do,” Lois protested. “But why the weekend, too? Or did you just
*lie*...”
“Absolutely not,” Clark defended himself. “You know how I feel about lying.”
“Then why...?”
“We want to get married again as soon as possible, right?”
“Yes, of course we do...”
“But if we tried to get married in Metropolis, there would be a several month waiting period. Smallville, on the other hand...”
“Are you sure they’d let you book so soon?”
“Honey, it’s a small country town. The church always keeps a spot open for, ahem, shotgun weddings.” Lois couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’d love to.”
***
Martha parked her car, frowning at the house. Those lights hadn’t been on in the kitchen when she’d left for the store. Jonathan was over at Wayne’s -- he didn’t usually come home this early. He might have, of course...
Still, better safe than sorry. She walked very quietly toward the door, peering in through the screen. Two people were sitting at her kitchen table, deep in conversation. One of them was Clark, but the woman with him was a total stranger. A total stranger who looked like she’d been the victim of a very recent beating.
They hadn’t seen her yet, so she decided to keep watching. There seemed to be something subtly different about Clark. Was he sitting up straighter? The last time she’d seen him, he’d been hopeful about his future, but unsure. Now, well...it was as if he’d not only found his niche, but also gotten totally comfortable with it.
What
*wasn’t* subtle was that he was utterly, happily in love. She’d wondered, from time to time, whether she’d ever see Clark with that look on his face. She couldn’t help smiling.
But what about the woman he was in love with? Martha studied the stranger in her kitchen. Would this woman be worthy of her son’s attention? She seemed very...intense. Every inch a professional city girl. Yet...when she looked at Clark...it all seemed to soften, just a bit. She also seemed vaguely familiar, although Martha couldn’t think why. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
A fragment of conversation drifted out to her. “We need to do something about those frozen Nazis,” the woman said, pointing at a page of the scrapbook that was lying on the table between them.
Then again, maybe it would.
Clark was nodding, and then he made a note. “But what? They haven’t done anything yet.”
“Hmm... Well, we can’t get the police.” She frowned, and then looked up. “But if we write about them...”
“...Yeah, I bet the glare of publicity would disrupt their plans pretty thoroughly.”
“I’m thinking front page.”
“Sounds good from here.” He leaned across the table to plant a soft kiss on her lips. As he was settling back into his chair, he glanced around and finally noticed the eavesdropper at the door. “Mum!”
He came over to open the door for her, and gave her a hug. “Where’ve you been?”
The dark-haired woman at the table glanced up, smiled, and said, “Hi, Martha.”
“Shopping,” Martha answered. “And what--”
“Tempus!” the woman at the table exclaimed. Mother and son both turned to look at her. “Clark, we need to get that diary.”
Martha blinked. Whoever this woman was, she was nuts.
Clark nodded. “We’ll just have to hope Jason hasn’t read too far ahead in it.”
“Well, even if he has it probably didn’t make any sense--”
Martha knew that feeling.
“--with no Superman around yet.”
“Clark,” Martha tried again.
The woman at the table stood, holding her hand to her mouth. For half a second. “Oh, Martha, I interrupted you. I’m sorry, it’s just that when I saw you it reminded me of Jason Mazic, and we
*definitely* do not want to go through that again.”
She walked around the table, and Clark casually slid his arm around the crazy woman’s shoulders. “Sorry we broke in, Mum, but Lois was hungry, so I fixed us a snack.”
“Lois?” The only woman Martha knew of by that name was the last one she’d expect to see snuggled up to Clark.
Clark glanced apologetically at Martha, and then smiled at Lois. “Mum, meet Lois Lane.”
They shook hands. “Call me Martha,” she said automatically.
“I’ll have to introduce you to Dad a little later,” Clark continued, with a note of teasing in his voice. “But right over there...” he pointed to the living room, “is the fax machine.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Gosh, thanks. But seriously Clark, we have to explain this before Martha thinks we’re certifiable.”
Too late. They gestured for her to join them at the table, and she sat, studying them both. Lois certainly didn’t match the word picture Clark had drawn of her. That one barely gave Clark the time of day.
This one was smiling as he reached out to take her hand. “Mum, this is going to sound crazy, but...please hear us out. We’re, um...not exactly ourselves. I mean, physically we are, but mentally...”
“It’s like Chutes & Ladders,” Lois added. “He and I have done this before. We met, and slowly became partners, and friends, and went through a
*lot* before we finally got married, so it was like in the game, moving up one box at a time. But then one day...”
“Everything changed.” Clark shrugged helplessly. “And suddenly we were back here.”
“We hit a really long chute,” Lois explained. As if that actually made sense. “And we slid way back down the board. So, even though it seems we only met four days ago...”
“It’s really been four years.”
Martha just stared at them. Finally, she managed to say, “It might take me four years to figure that out.”
Lois smiled. “You’ll manage just fine, Martha. I mean, any woman who could adopt a baby out of a spaceship -- Oh!” She turned. “Clark, we can get your spaceship!”
Normally, a sentence like that would have been alarming.
Clark’s eyes widened. “Lois, you are the best. Bessolo Boulevard, here we come.” He looked back at Martha. “Sorry, Mum, we’re just brainstorming how to do things better, this time around...”
“Oh, good. Well, don’t let me slow you down, just go ahead, and brainstorm. It sounds important.” Also crazy, but this was Clark, so...she stood up and wandered into the other room, still overhearing parts of their resumed conversation.
“We need to go over Mr. Irig’s field with a fine tooth-combed comb -- and when I say ‘we’ Clark, I mean ‘me’.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” Clark exclaimed. His voice became a fierce whisper that Martha couldn't make out.
“Okay, you’re right,” Lois muttered, clearly unhappy that he was. “I know. Your
*parents* can go dig in the dirt.”
“Meanwhile, I’m thinking there’s a power plant leak that needs some attention drawn to it.”
“Yeah, we seriously need to work on Luthor. Think we can tie him to that?”
“Never know til we try.” He seemed to be looking forward to it.
“But maybe we should use him to head off that tsunami, first.”
“Well...maybe. If we have to.” His voice warmed. “It’d be a shame to miss the stakeout, though.”
“You just have a thing for maids barging in.”
Clark laughed. “Along those lines... What about Miranda?”
“We don’t need any stinking pheromones.” There was a short silence. “We do need an apartment, though.”
“Hey, do you think our brownstone could possibly be available?”
“Well, even if it isn’t, we could arrest that
*woman* who did that youth experiment on you.”
“Relax, honey. She hasn’t done it yet.”
“Let’s arrest her, anyway.”
“What? Before she’s done anything?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I guess that way we can have our house back.”
“Everybody will think we’re nuts,” Lois objected, but without any conviction. There was another short pause.
“Speaking of which, I really want to do something about Deter.”
Lois groaned. “Seriously.” Her voice perked up as she added, “Think I can punch him again? He got off too light last time. Oh, and amnesia-wise? Think we can do Nightfall a little better this time?”
“Yes, honey. At least you won’t lie about that ‘like a brother’ stuff again.”
“I wasn’t lying,” Lois said with dignity. There was a pause, and then she continued. “I was just deluded.”
Martha let the nonsense wash over her, focusing on the happiness in her boy’s voice. That was the important thing. Even if she couldn’t understand a thing they were saying, even if they were both nuts, her mother’s heart rejoiced at the loving banter between them. A thought occurred, and she smiled. Just wait until Jonathan got home.
***
“Your friend, Lois Lane, was here,” Antoinette said over the phone without preamble. “I think it’s time we eliminated her.”
“Kill off the Daily Planet’s star reporter? I’m surprised at the suggestion, Antoinette,” Lex responded as he entered his office, throwing his jacket down for Nigel St. John to collect.
“She suspects
*me*, Lex,” she answered, as if that justified her reasoning. “You said I wouldn’t be implicated.”
“She lacks evidence.
*Evidence*,” Lex stressed, switching to the speakerphone. “Evidence is sometimes all that separates the criminal from the successful businessman...or woman. I told you
*I’d* take care of her.”
“But she
*has* evidence, Lex,” she protested angrily.
“What evidence?” he asked sharply. “Surely an intelligent woman like you wouldn’t leave such a thing lying around?”
“I’m not a fool,” Antoinette said defensively. “Things have been hectic at EPRAD lately and I was busy all weekend. I was forced to leave the hangar in the hands of others. Saturday night, they decided a brawl in a bar was more important than the security of the Messenger. Lois Lane, Clark Kent, and a photographer broke in, took extensive photos of the Messenger, and ransacked my office.”
“Did they take anything incriminating? Besides the photos?” he asked coldly.
“Only those letters you sent me,” she answered. “The box I kept them in has been broken into.”
“You
*kept* them?” This woman’s incompetence was outstanding. He no longer felt any pity about her fate.
“I did this for
*you*, Lex,” she answered. Such sweet sentiment.
“And you’ve been paid very well,” Lex said, not wanting such sentiment from Antoinette. “In fact, your final instalment is waiting for you in the helicopter. Proceed as planned. I promise there will be no loose ends.” Lex cut the end off his cigar as he ended the phone call.
He pressed the button to turn on the TV screen. On the screen, he saw the top of the aeroplane hangar. He sat back in his chair and took a puff of his cigar as he watched the helicopter crest the building. Lex pressed the special red button and the helicopter exploded.
“Good night, Antoinette,” he said. “Sweet dreams.” One loose end down. Three more to go.
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