Wow. Long time no see. This chapter was tough to write. For a while I didn't have a speck of inspiration. Luckily, in the past few days I've been able to get out some words. I just want to give out a little disclaimer. I'm a student. I've never studied law or police behavior. I tried to research a little, but it's fairly obvious I fell short. Besides, with school starting up again, I don't want this fan fic to be work. I love writing it. So could we all suspend our disbelief a little? I'm just writing this for a good time, and because I love to write. I apologize if it's not up to complete 100 percent standards, but I hope you have a good time reading anyway. Thanks so much for the responses from last chapter.
From Part 11
Removing Lois’ hands off him with a disgusted sweep of his arm, Claude looked at her coldly. “Perhaps the charge isn’t rape. Did you think about what else it could be? Perhaps the charge was indecency with a child. Someone underage. Do you know the legal age of consent in Metropolis, Lois?”
A horrible suspicion was dawning on Lois as Claude spoke.
“You mean… you can’t be talking about me. I’m 23-years-old! Clark knows that!”
“Does he now? Well the authorities don’t, Lois. And I can’t imagine he’s happy to be dragged out of bed to be questioned. Do you honestly think he will ruin your cover? That man is an overgrown boy scout and he adores you.”
“No…”
“I talked to my source at the police office. Kent’s refused to be questioned until you come to the station. Word is they’re going to lock him up for good if you’re not there.”
“I…” All thoughts of her story and her tape recorder fled her mind. “I have to go.”
As Claude watched her sprint across the field, he grinned and held up his own pocketed recorded. “So do I, Lois. So do I.”
Part 12
At 4211 Gresham Place, Claude unlocked the door and sighed in relief. Home. Or well… the closest thing to it, anyway. The wealthy widower who actually owned the place was vacationing someplace sunny and he didn’t much care when she would return. They had a nice symbiotic relationship going—she provided a place up to his luxurious standards to call home and he served as flattering company for the few times she actually was in Metropolis—and he loved the tastefully done suites.
But as much as he loved to relish in the sheer elegance of his surroundings, he was racing against the clock. Somehow he had to transcribe the confession Lexy had unwittingly given on Claude’s own tape recorder, organize the notes he had photocopied at Lois Lane’s, and turn out one heck of a story.
All before said Lois Lane managed to wrangle Clark Kent out of the sticky situation at the police station and wrote up the story herself. Of course, Claude had the advantage of actually having the only non waterlogged recording of Lexy admitting her crimes. Anyway, despite his obvious advantages, he would not fail to underestimate the tenacity of Mad Dog Lane. He had taken to calling her that privately, especially after their one and only date. Claude booted up the state of the art computer located next to a framed picture of dear Mrs. Andrews, and mentally composed his opening lines.
Claude doggedly stayed up well into the night, revising and cross checking his notes. When at last, some hours later, he had a copy of the story, it was too late to make it into the morning papers. No matter, he was certain Lois Lane would not be able to match it for its sheer prose. He always had a certain way with words, finding it remarkably easy to bend them to his will. The words flew effortlessly from his fingertips as his long fingers pounded out the type. That part was never a problem. However, he found that he himself did not possess the eye for a scoop that he had noticed many of his fellow journalists did. There were too many times that he found himself bowing out of meetings and avoiding Perry White, simply because he had never been able to dig down deep enough into the story to scratch off the shiny veneer of cover up.
But Claude was remarkably good at turning out well written stories that requiring little editing quickly. Which was probably why, as much as it galled him to admit it, that Perry had kept him on this past year. But when Lois Lane had started sniffing around, he recognized his replacement well enough. And that was what made stealing her story so sweet. Poetic justice, as they called it in the literary world. And besides that, it was a great story if he did say so himself. His preliminary work combined with Lois’ paid off dividends in the end.
Satisfied, Claude hit the print button on his work. He quickly stripped off his jeans and T-shirt and crawled into bed with a sigh. A couple of hours of sleep would do him good. His thoughts were accompanied by a jaw cracking yawn and he slipped into sweet slumber the moment his head hit the pillow.
_________________
O’Brien gave Clark Kent a hard look as soon as he finished his story. He had dutifully recorded the conversation, but in his own opinion, the man was innocent. It was all a strange situation, really. He wasn’t sure of the protocol for such a thing. But if they could get that Lane woman in to collaborate with Kent’s story, the man should be off the hook. But it wasn’t his place to let Clark Kent know that.
“Your story can be checked out very quickly, you know,” O’Brien said. He had already told one of the junior staffers to bring up the files on both Lane and Kent. So far, everything checked out okay. Lane really was 23, but the question of whether Kent knew that at the time of the infraction was still up for debate. He leaned back in his chair. “Lois Lane will be in our databases and then we can tell for certain if you’re telling the truth that she’s 23.” He threw out that little tidbit to see if it would make him sweat a little.
Nope. Not at all.
“I’ve been telling you the whole time that she is! Do you think I could make a sordid story like this up myself?”
“Despite that, you succumbed to her advances rather quickly after finding out her age, did you not? There are still possibly implications in that statement.”
Clark’s face paled under his tan and he glanced at the floor. “Yes, I’m aware of that, sir. And I recognize how inappropriate it was. That’s why I’m resigning from my teaching job.”
That was wholly unexpected.
A flash of something Clark couldn’t place flashed in O’Brien’s blue eyes as he nodded for Clark to continue.
“I’m going to either go back to school for a new degree or I’ll try free lancing articles for a while to get me back on my feet.” The thought of leaving Metropolis and Lois knotted Clark’s stomach, but also served to strengthen his resolve. “Sir, I’ve answered all of your questions, and you can clearly see there is no case here. I’m not sure if there ever was, as Ms. Lane and I merely kissed. I was in on her true age at the time of the indiscretion and therefore…” Clark’s formal tone dropped as he heaved a sigh. “Please just let me go find Lois. I think something is terribly wrong. She would have been here by now.”
The man raised his eyebrow. “You’re sure she would have come?”
Clark nodded. Despite their fight, he had no doubts about the fact that she would have been there for him had she known he needed her.
“Go. I know where to find you if I need you.”
With a grateful look at his inquisitor, Clark straightened and left the station.
Now to find Lois Lane.
________________
Lois took the stairs to the police station two at a time, the heavy concrete slamming jolts through her bare feet. She hadn’t had any money for a cab, as her purse floating in Metropolis’ water supply—thank you Lexy Hartness— and she had to jog the seven blocks to the police station.
In bare feet and a stupid, still wet dress. However, despite her raw and aching feet, the trek over had allowed her to mull over the situation. Claude had never let slip why he had been peeking into water towers, and she had a sneaking suspicion that the root of her troubles lay with him. But she didn’t have time to focus on that right now. Clark needed her.
And she had finally arrived. And as she scrambled for the door knob, she let out a startled yelp as it shoved open before her hand could touch the handle. The heavy oak door swung outward, catching her outstretched foot.
Her leg jerked painfully beneath her as a hard male chest barreled into her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she prepared to slam into the concrete, but strong arms caught her and hauled her up to face him.
“Lois! You came! You’re okay!” Clark forgot his anger as he pulled her into a body crushing hug against his body.
Lois had barely registered that yes, she knew the man and no, she didn’t need to try her judo throws on him before she found herself pressed up intimately against him. Her nose preceded her other senses as she inhaled the unique scent she had come to recognize as his. This felt right. The throb in her ankle and the cold seeping through her dress lay as forgotten troubles behind her as her whole body thrived on the feel of him so close. She closed her eyes in bliss as her lips brushed his shoulder.
But no, something was wrong. Lois forced open her hazy eyes as Clark’s hands frantically skimmed his back, feverishly assuring himself that she was there. She pulled back, ignoring the pitiful part of herself that cried out at the loss of contact. Clark’s eyes looked frantic as he took in her appearance.
“What happened, Lois? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you? Why are you wet? Good God, where are your shoes?” The questioned tumbled out in a rush as he held her elbows in an iron grip.
“I’m okay! Clark, I’m okay!” Lois told him fiercely, willing him to stop looking so anxious. “How did you know I was in any kind of trouble?”
He didn’t release her elbow, but loosened his hold at her words. “I… I don’t know. You didn’t come. They couldn’t find you anywhere.” Clark threw his head back to look at the cloudy night sky. The moon was all but obscured by thick clouds that hung heavy and low in the sky. It looked like a slash of lightning might send forth torrents of water onto the city. “It’s almost three in the morning, Lois. Were you wandering around the city? Of course you could have gotten hurt or worse.” Clark’s eyes darkened a dangerous black at the thought. The light from the single bulb above the door barely shed enough to illuminate their faces in the night.
A sharp breeze sliced through the unnaturally still air. Clark tilted his head slightly at the sound. “It’s going to rain.”
The breeze chilled Lois to her core, plastering her wet dress even more firmly against her body. Her subconscious shivering caught Clark’s eye. He immediately shut his mouth, halting the stream of questions that he had begun to reiterate.
“We need to get you inside,” Clark said softly. “And then you need to tell me exactly what happened tonight.”
There was no anger or condemnation in his voice, but Lois caught the somber tone and stiffened. He was right. She needed to sort out the events of this night and talking would probably be the best route. She shied away from the other reason she knew they needed to talk.
Clark flagged down a cab and they climbed in, both silent. After a few minutes of driving, rain pattered down on the roof of the cab and streamed down the windows. Lois kept her eyes fixed on the blurred world outside the cool glass, her heart beating unnaturally loudly in the still car. The cabbie had talk radio on softly, but it barely registered in her conscious. The rain muffled the sounds outside, but the air between her and Clark hung just as thick. Finally they pulled up to Clark’s apartment and for the second time that night, Lois found herself climbing the stairs with a knot of dread in her stomach.
Clark paid the cab driver and returned to walk behind her. His presence loomed behind her, tall and muscular. She chanced a glance back and saw that the rain had drenched his hair, leaving rainbow crystals amid the dark strands. She paused at the doorway, painfully aware of every movement he made. The key slid into the lock with a click and he pushed the door open, silently holding it out for her. She slipped inside the dark apartment, her heart constricting in nervousness. It wasn’t fear, per say, but it had her just as hyper sensitive, just as ready to run screaming from the room.
The clock on the mantle read 3:30 a.m.
Clark shut and locked the door behind her, but he didn’t flip on the light. The silence unnerved her nearly as much as the dark. A flash of lightning illuminated his silhouette for a moment, shadowy and brooding.
When he finally spoke, his voice was a harsh rasp that sent Lois’ pulse skittering dangerously.
“Were you the one who phoned the police about me?”
The words drenched Lois’ insides much more effectively than the slicing wind and rain had managed. The words stuck in her throat for a moment as she stared at him in disbelief.
“You think I called the police on you? On myself?” She spat out the words, hurt and anger torching her heart. Clark still stood, unmoving, against the closed door. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark well enough to see him cross his arms across his chest.
“Didn’t you?” He accused, a bite in his voice that she had never heard from him before.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The words took sincere effort to yank from her stopped up throat. “You think I would do that?”
“At first, no, of course not. I was so worried for you. I just knew something bad had happened,” Clark whispered. His voice grew as his conviction strengthened. “But you didn’t come. You weren’t in trouble. You just didn’t care.”
Shaking with anger, Lois bit her lip furiously. She marched over to the door and slammed the light switch up with enough force to nearly snap it in half. Bright light flooded the room, throwing both of their heaving chests and angry faces into relief.
“You don’t know me at all, Clark Kent, if you think I would report you to the police for something that didn’t… even… happen.” The words ripped from her with agonizing slowness as she glared at him.
They kept at it for a moment, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills.
A sharp breath left Clark’s chest in a whoosh as the fire receded in his gaze. He blinked a few times, the angry stranger replaced by the man she knew.
The man she loved.
“I… Oh Lois. I’m sorry. I guess the stress… I don’t even know what half baked ideas I was going on about.” His voice was genuinely apologetic, even as it cracked in a yawn. “I’m just so tired. I didn’t mean to start accusing you of things you obviously didn’t do.”
Lois bit her lip again, conscious of the fact that she had nearly drawn blood the last time. Her lower lip was tender and still imprinted with the ridges of her upper teeth.
“Then why did you? You know I didn’t report you to the police. Why would I do that?” Her voice was genuinely curious and it wrenched at his heart.
“I just thought… I don’t know. I was so sure you were in trouble because you didn’t come.” Clark paused and his voice quieted as he repeated the sobering statement. “You didn’t come.”
Lois stared at him in disbelief for what had to have been the fourth or fifth time that night. Could they be any worse at communicating? Could he be any denser? Could she?
“You lunkhead, I was in trouble tonight. I nearly died,” she said, almost conversationally. A small smile flitted across her lips at the dumfounded expression that crossed his face. It had almost been worth the painful trip in the cab. Almost.
“You what?!”
“Didn’t you wonder why I was all wet? And my shoes?” She paused and thought for a moment. “On the other hand, you did notice, earlier. Then you started jumping to conclusions all over the place.”
Clark’s face was very pale. He gripped her hands and pulled her onto the couch to sit next to him. “What happened?” His voice brooked no time for jokes.
Lois recounted the story, not omitting any details. As she spoke, she watched shades of worry, anger and fear cross his face in varying degrees of each. When she finally finished, Clark’s eyes held no condemnation, just fear for her.
Without another word he pulled her into his arms, their position so similar to what had occurred just a few short hours earlier. It felt like a lifetime. Had she been the same person? Had she really wanted to sell out this vulnerable man? This incredible, sweet man?
Lois let his strong arms soothe her, but as her body relaxed, her heart beat faster and faster in her chest. She didn’t deserve him. Unwittingly, her muscles tensed. She hadn’t forgiven herself for what she had almost done. She wrenched herself away from him, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
“I’m really cold. Can I borrow a sweatshirt and take a shower?” She tried to sound natural, but her voice cracked and he couldn’t miss the crystal sparkle of the tears.
Clark caught her hand in a gentle tug as she stood.
“What’s wrong, Lois? We’re going to the police first thing in the morning. Lexy won’t go unpunished; I’ll make sure of it.” Clark’s voice was strong and reassuring, but unfortunately it just made the tears slip down her cheeks.
“Lois? Lois, why are you crying?” His heart tore at the sight of those treacherous tears. “Please tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”
Lois swallowed and shook her head. The aching look in his eyes just made her cry harder and when she tried to pull away, he held on tight.
“Please. Tell me what’s wrong, Lois.”
She struggled to get the words out, horribly embarrassed by her tears and yet unable to quench them. She was showing her vulnerable side and she hated that! She tried to turn away, but he stepped closer, suddenly encompassing all of her senses.
“I don’t…” She tried to get the words out, but finally the only words that she managed to utter were a strangled “I’m sorry.”
The well broke with those words and she threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly, breathing in his scent and knowing it was the last time she’d be able to do so.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, her nose pressed squarely against his sternum.
It took a minute, but his arms finally disentangled her iron grip from his waist.
“Lois?” He said softly.
Lois kept her eyes fixed on the cotton of his T-shirt.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
Her voice broke a little. “I’m not your sweetheart. And I heard what you told me earlier. You were prepared to move away, just for me. Well I’m telling you now, Clark Kent, I’m sick of being immature. I’m sick of focusing on myself and my career only. I’m going to leave Metropolis, Clark. And you are going to stay here and have the life you deserve. I’m just sorry I muddled it up so badly.”
Clark took a step back. “You’re leaving?”
Lois nodded.
“Like hell you are.”
His lips descended on hers before she could form another coherent thought.
