I'm back! And I decided, since I missed my computer and my baby (fuzzy kitty!) and you guys, I'll go ahead and post the next part.
Unfortunately I don't have part five finished. Heck, I haven't even started it yet. But, when you have four niece and nephews to play with...
As always, thanks to my WonderBetas, LaraMoon and Saskia, and to Cape Fetish.
**
Part Four
“Lois, good to see you up and about,” Henderson said as Lois took a seat next to him.
“Well, it’s good to be up. And alive,” she replied.
Bill took a moment to mull over his small notepad, which held a bunch of chicken scratch that only he could decipher. He hated to cut right to the chase, but Lois seemed to be the only person who could ID the perpetrator that seemed to have been wreaking havoc on the good citizens of Metropolis. “You know why I’m here, right?”
“Could it have anything to do with my brush with the Batman wannabe?” she asked archly.
“Yeah. See, up until now, there hasn’t been any clear description of this guy. He was more of a myth than anything.” He flipped to a blank page in his notepad and licked the tip of his pen. More a habit that he picked up from his old man. than any need to ready the ink, but a habit that had stayed with him nonetheless.
“Sorry to break it to you, Henderson, but it looks like you’re gonna walk out of here without that description. I only really saw his silhouette.”
Henderson sighed. “You know the drill, Lane. Even a height would give us somewhere to start.”
“All I can tell you is that he was several inches taller than me. And that he had a pretty damn good grip.” Lois rubbed at her upper arms, and Henderson could see the fading fingerprint bruises. “So what is it that you think this guy did?”
He gave her a look. “Now, Lane, you know I can’t-”
“Did I keep my last name?” she cut in curiously.
The sudden question derailed the inspector’s train of thought. “Yes. Professionally, at least.”
“Huh. And he was okay with this? Kent, I mean?”
Henderson snorted. “If you asked him to stop a bullet with his bare hands, that man would come home with Swiss cheese palms.”
Lois didn’t reply, merely settled back in the chair to mull over this piece of information.
“Now, you know I can’t give you the specifics,” he said once again.
“Yeah, but I was the one who was attacked. Can’t you at least let me know what it was that I apparently narrowly escaped?”
He could; with frightening details that nearly gave him nightmares. “Let’s just say that this guy makes Freddy Kreuger look like the Easter Bunny.” Henderson sighed as he rubbed his eyes with a weary hand. “The last guy who ran into this… unknown assailant will be spending the next year in a body cast. And he’s one of the lucky ones.”
Lois sighed. “All I know is that he was several inches taller than me. And that he had dark hair. And that he was fast.”
“Fast?” Henderson asked as he looked up. “How do you mean?”
“Well, one second he seemed to be halfway down the alley, and then the next he had me pinned against the wall,” she stated.
“Huh,” Bill replied. That sounded… eerily familiar. “Do you know what he was wearing?”
“Black.” At his look, she rolled her eyes. “It was a smooth black material. A bit on the snug side. And when I say ‘a bit,’ I mean that if it had been light outside, I would have been able to read his credit card number through his pocket. And there was something on his chest, a different sort of material.”
“Anything else? Anything at all?” Lois shook her head, annoyed. Henderson backed off. “Sorry. I know this isn’t a lot, but it's sure a heck of a lot more than we had to go on before.”
“Can’t you tell me anything about him?” Lois inquired.
“Always the reporter, Lane,” Henderson noted, with a soft hint of affection under his wry voice. “I can tell you that there’s been an influx of murders lately, ever since the disappearance of Superman. At first we thought that it was the criminals having a field day, but then we noticed that the victims were the criminals. Whoever’s trying to take over the role of the city’s protector, he’s failing quite miserably.”
Lois’ eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Metropolis sure became dependant on him, didn’t they?”
He snorted softly at that. “You may not remember it, but that’s a serious case of the pot and the kettle you got going on there, Lane.”
He had nothing else to say after that, not about the case, anyway. It was a little unsettling to be in the same room as the reporter, especially since he hadn’t really spoken with either her or her husband since Kent came in to ID the body or when he found her. Although, if he thought about it, it made sense that he would be assigned her case. He had known her well when she was at the stage in her life that she had reverted to. “So, how’ve you been?”
“Good,” she replied automatically. Then, pausing, she seemed to rethink her answer. “Well, pretty good, anyway. Dr. Patterson suggested I move back to the house.”
“You sound less than thrilled at that prospect.”
“It’s just a house! I’ve never lived there before, and I miss my apartment. But going there instead of staying here would be better, I guess.” She sighed before picking a piece of fuzz off the chair’s threadbare cushion.
Henderson nodded before he began to gather his things. “We’ve also been looking into the body they mistook for you,” he started slowly, not sure if mentioning the mistaken corpse would be a good idea or not. “I have a friend at the morgue who is trying to speed up the tests.”
“Thanks.”
When it was obvious that she wasn’t going to say anything else, the inspector stood up. “It has been good seeing you again, even if you are a pain in the ass.”
Lois laughed, and he saw the mischievous glint that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing from her until now. “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”
“That you do indeed.” They shook hands briefly, and he nodded his goodbye. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a business card with his new number. “If you can recall anything else, even if it's something small, give me a ring.”
“A business card? How corporate of you,” she teased.
“Hey, business cards are apparently the new black. Or something like that. You take it easy.”
“Henderson?” Lois called out as he was reaching for the doorknob. When he turned around, he saw that she was trying to piece something together. “In the alley, when he grabbed me, I think he was wearing some sort of band on his left ring finger.”
-
For the first time he could remember in awhile, Clark stood on the porch of his parent’s farmhouse. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and nature in general seemed to mock him with its good mood.
His mother, who had gotten home the night before, had been surprised to see him outside his room. She had tried to cover it by forcing a ridiculously large breakfast on him, but he had only managed a couple of bites before he made his escape when her back was turned.
Now, sitting on an aged porch swing, he fought against the agoraphobia that threatened to overwhelm him. There was too much space outside, and it all seemed to be closing in on him. Squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could, Clark drew in several long breaths as he tried to get the irrational fear under control.
Since waking up from the nightmare a couple of days ago, and finding the dried mud on his clothes and sheets, Clark had started to feel more and more confined in his small childhood room. If he hadn't been concentrating so hard on not thinking at all, he would have found his simultaneous agoraphobia and claustrophobia an interesting conundrum. As it was, he had since been finding things to be out of place. His ring kept reappearing, even when he took pains to hide it from himself at the bottom of his sock drawer. He had woken up only to find debris from the outside world clinging to his clothes. He had even woken up once to find that his window had been left open when he was certain that it had been closed.
The sound of a truck driving up the long driveway turned his attention back to reality, and his eyes popped open when he saw the Donnersons’ old Chevy pull into the driveway. Tommy Donnerson, the newspaper delivery boy for the outlying country homes, hopped out of the truck and waved. The boy pulled a bag of newspapers from the bed of the truck and trotted over to the porch.
“Hey, Mr. Kent! Haven’t seen you around in a while!” The boy grinned broadly before pulling out two newspapers from his satchel. He handed them both over to Clark before pausing nervously. “Is it ‘congratulations’ you’re supposed to say at a time like this?”
Before Clark could guess what the young boy meant, Susan Donnerson called for her son from the driver’s seat. With another grin, the boy waved goodbye and trotted back to the truck. As the vehicle pulled away from the house, Clark heard the sound of the phone ring. Martha picked it up a short time later.
“Hello dear, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon!” he heard her say through the open window. Vaguely, he wished that he still had his enhanced hearing. “No, I haven’t told him yet.”
He tried to turn his attention away from his mother, feeling like an eavesdropper. He removed one of the newspapers from its bag and flipped it open. His parents had been subscribing to The Daily Planet since the moment he had been hired on, and it seemed as though they were still loyal followers of the large newspaper.
“Honey, calm down. I know you’re nervous, but he has to know.”
Clark froze at the unexpected picture he saw on the front page. There, looking at him with an impish grin, was a promotional picture which The Planet had gotten done the year before to help promote the Lane and Kent duo. He remembered standing behind the photographer, trying to distract Lois as a form of payback for the stunt that she had pulled when it had been his turn for the solo shots. He clearly remembered thinking that doing that with her tongue had to have been illegal in some states.
“I think going back to your house is a good idea. Maybe the familiar surroundings will bring something back.”
Daily Planet Ace Reporter Back from the Dead!
Clark couldn’t read the article beneath that; could only stare at the headline and the picture.
“Lois, everything will be fine, trust me.”
His head shot up as he glared through the window.
Lois, his wife, was alive. And his mother knew.
His feet were on the weathered floor of the porch in a flash as he stumbled out of the porch swing. Regaining his footing, he slammed the front door open and ran inside. He ignored his mother’s startled exclamation, throwing the newspaper down on the dining room table as way of an answer on his way up the stairs.
One good thing about wallowing in the pits of depression: you usually don’t take the time to unpack your suitcase.
-
The brownstone house, sitting in the middle of Hyperion Avenue, seemed to tower above Lois. Coming here felt as though she were intruding on someone’s life, even if that life was her very own. Taking a deep breath, she readjusted the box of files she had picked up from The Planet and trudged up the steps, pausing for a moment to fiddle with the keys.
She was actually surprised when the key worked. A part of her had expected the door to remain locked, to have everyone be wrong about the whole thing. However, when the tumblers began to turn, she felt a sense of reality about the whole thing that she hadn’t felt before. Dejectedly, she pushed the large door open and plopped the box on the bench in the small foyer.
Another key later, and she pushed her way into a rather cozy looking townhouse. Trails of dust glittered in the streams of afternoon sun that came pouring through the window. Searching for the light for a moment, she flicked the switch to find a light layer of dust on every available surface.
“Someone forgot to call the maid,” she muttered as she retrieved the box. The light on the answering machine blinked at her from across the room, but she chose to ignore it. There were probably somewhere close to a hundred phone messages by now.
She dropped the box onto the coffee table before pulling out several folders and notepads, all containing the information that she could find in her pile of possessions at work about Biomedic Industries.
Picking up a fresh notebook and a pen, she fell back onto the comfortable looking couch only to be engulfed in a cloud of dust. Thousands of the little particles filled her nose and mouth, and after an involuntary inhalation, she began to cough and hack in a rather unattractive way.
And, of course, the phone chose that moment to ring. She thought about letting it ring, after all this technically wasn’t her house, but then she realized that it could be someone from the paper. So, still coughing and cursing about the lack of dust covers, she got up and navigated through an unfamiliar room to where the phone was.
“Hello?” she answered as another coughing fit consumed her.
There was silence on the other end, save for the sound of ragged breathing.
“Hello?” she asked again, irritated that in a span of five years people still found prank calling an amusing sport. And the heavy breathing? Amateurish at best. She could have done better in the ninth grade. “Look, as hot as the sound of your breathing is, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. Apparently, I’m married, so…”
She trailed off at the sound of a strained bark of nervous laughter. “So I’ve heard.”
Lois knew that voice. “Kent? Um… Clark?” Great. How were you supposed to address the man who was apparently your husband when you didn’t have any firsthand knowledge of the fact?
“Yeah,” came his strained answer. “How… are… are you okay?”
At that moment, a rogue particle of dust chose to attack the back of her throat, causing a fit of coughing that caused spots of lights to flash before her eyes.
“Lois?” his voice sounded almost panicked over the phone. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Mom didn’t say-”
“Relax Kent, I’m fine,” she interrupted as her lungs cleared. “It’s just a bit dusty in here.”
“I’m sorry,” his voice came through the receiver in a strained whisper.
“Hey, its okay, it’s not like you were staying here,” she assured him, though she suspected that the dust wasn’t the only thing he was apologizing for. There was a moment of awkward silence before she cleared her throat. “So I take it you spoke to Mrs. Ke – to Martha?”
“Yeah.”
“And did she also tell you about…” she trailed off, not really sure how to break it to her husband that she was a few years short.
“Yeah, she told me.” He sighed softly before continuing in an urgent voice. “And it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay okay, but it's not something that can’t be worked through. Together, or not, it’s up to you really, but I’m here, or I can be here, if you need me. Just – I want to – please?”
The desperation she heard over the phone made her want to both run away from him and pull him closely to her. But she didn’t know what it was that he was asking. “Clark?”
“I just want to come home.” The plaintive tone nearly broke her heart, and startled her.
“Of course,” she stammered. “I mean, it’s your home too.” There was a click on the other line, followed quickly by the dial tone. “Clark?”
Lois pulled the phone away from her ear and studied it for a moment before replacing it on the cradle. Obviously, after all these years, her partner was still the odd one.
There was a sudden knock at the door. She cautiously crept up to the front of the house and peeked through the peephole. Confused, she opened the door to find the anxious face of the man she had just been talking to. “What did you do, fly here?” For some reason, she didn’t put that past his abilities.
He smiled ruefully. “No, I was across the street. My flight came in last night.”
Nodding, she stood to one side and awkwardly ushered to him with a wave of the hand. “Well, come in. I’d give you a tour, but I’ve only seen the living room.”
Clark looked past the threshold, his eyes wide and unsure before he took a tentative step forward. When he was far enough into the house, Lois closed the door behind him, the sound causing him to jump slightly. After that, seconds seemed to stretch into forever, and Lois suspected that if she took a closer look she would find roots growing from the soles of his shoes.
Lois rolled her eyes. She was not equipped to handle this lost puppy of a husband, but she knew how to treat her Mr. Green-jeans partner. Walking past him, she swatted him on the chest. “Let’s get going, Kent. I need your help in making sense of my notes.”
Before she could move away, her hand was caught in his. Well, maybe caught was too strong of a word. His grasp was loose; almost as though he were afraid he would snap the small limb in two if he held on too hard. And, for some reason when she looked at him, she got the nagging sensation that it was in his power to do so. Also, she instinctually knew that he never would never hurt her.
She hated this, not knowing who this man in front of her was. It was obvious that he was no longer the naïve little boy that Perry had hired. But who was he? Whoever he was, he knew her better than she knew herself, having lived with her for the past couple years. And who was it that he had fallen in love with? That woman that she couldn’t remember? Or the one that she had suddenly become again?
Clark was the key, she knew, to what it was that she had lost. Through him, she would undoubtedly remember who it was that she wasn’t, and maybe just by being near him she would remember. Without realizing it, she moved into his arms, wrapping hers around his waist and resting her cheek on his shoulder. He was tense for a moment, and then she was enveloped in a hug that brought an instinctual feeling of security, of well-being, but no flashes of memories.
Maybe you’ll never get them back. Maybe you’re doomed to stay in this limbo, never knowing what it was that brought you here, to this house, to this man. How does that make you feel? The small voice in her head whispered venomously into her subconscious, and she felt herself shiver as she burrowed further into the security and safety of her partner. “I’m afraid.”
She didn’t realize that she had spoken until she felt his arms tighten around her slightly, followed by a soft whisper. “So am I.”
-end Part Four
