PREVIOUSLY...
Finally, she collapsed into a chair, feeling emotionally numb. Perry had fired her. Okay, so he’d called it a suspension, but she knew what that meant. He’d said he had no choice. Her source was dead. She could no longer prove the truth of her story about Viologic. And the Daily Planet lawyers were breathing down Perry’s neck.
Still... how could Perry have done that to her? Didn’t he know that the Daily Planet was all she had? Without it, who was she?
A knock on the door to her apartment brought her head up. Maybe all was not lost. Maybe one of her sources had come by with some good news.
She rushed for the door, throwing it open only to stare in shock at the man standing on the other side.
“Kent,” she whispered, suddenly lost in a pair of soft brown eyes.**
AND NOW...
* * * * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Two
* * * * * * * * *
**What was he doing here? Had he heard? Of course he’d heard. Every reporter in the city was undoubtedly talking about it. So what was he doing here? Wanting to take advantage of her vulnerable situation no doubt.
“I’m not going to sleep with you,” she said. Had she thought it through, she might not have said it. But he hadn’t given her time to prepare.
He looked dumbfound. “Uhh... Okay.” He blinked. “Well, I’m glad we got that sorted out.”
She stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Suddenly the absurdity of what she’d said hit her and one corner of her mouth twitched. She quickly turned her back to him, hoping to fight off the giggle that threatened to erupt.
“Lane, are you all right?” he asked from behind.
She wrapped her hands around her middle as her whole body shook with silent laughter. It wasn’t that funny. It really wasn’t. But she was so dreadfully tired and frustrated. Add to that the stress of the day and her own guilt over getting Stuart Hofferman killed.
“I’m so sorry,” Kent said, stepping closer.
She laughed harder and a noise, something like a sob, escaped from the back of her throat.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’ll just... go now. And... I’m sorry.”
“No,” Lois managed to get out, turning around to face him as she struggled to get the laughter under control.
“I... Wait a minute! Are you laughing?”
Lois burst out laughing again when she saw the incredulity on his face. The laughter soon turned to hiccoughs and then... tears well up in her eyes. The following sob took her by surprise.
Kent was suddenly pulling her into his arms. The feel of the soft flannel shirt he was wearing felt good under her cheek. His arms holding her close felt comforting. A first sob was followed by a second and his arms tightened around her. He smelled so good, so familiar. It felt so right to be in his arms.
“I’m still not going to sleep with you,” she mumbled against his chest.
She could feel him smile.
“Glad for the clarification,” he said into her hair.
They stood that way for a moment more before Lois finally pulled back. She couldn’t quite look him in the eye. How could she have done that? Shown vulnerability to the enemy. She cleared her throat and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “So I take it you heard about my suspension,” she said, trying not to sound as embarrassed as she felt about her breakdown.
“Yes. I just wanted to know if there was anything I can do to help.”
She snorted. “Right.”
She looked up, startled when he took her by the arms, forcing her to look at him. “You are the best reporter in Metropolis. Your work is important to the people of this city. You’re a brilliant, passionate journalist with a great head on your shoulders. Adversity’s never stopped you before. Don’t let it start now.”
Tears welled up in Lois’ eyes.
“So... what can I do?”
Very slowly, Lois’ hand came up to Kent’s chest. She could feel the light beating of his heart beneath the flannel. Her eyes rested on her hand for a moment, before she looked up into his eyes. “I think you just did it,” she whispered.
His expression softened. “Lane...”
Lois immediately pulled back when she heard the longing in his voice. She cleared her throat, dispelling the intimate atmosphere that had descended around them. “Look, Kent... I do appreciate you coming by. I do. It meant...” She paused, making sure she had eye contact before continuing. “...a lot to me. But this is a problem I think I’ve got to work through for myself.”
Kent let out a breath, before nodding. He opened his mouth as if he would say more and then seemed to change his mind.
She was grateful. He’d obviously realized that the last thing she needed right now was any more sympathy - or worse, for him to use this moment to remind her of the strange connection between them. Just one more thing she couldn’t deal with right now.
She was vulnerable. And right now, it wouldn’t take much for him to convince her to go to bed with him - proving the irony of her words to him. Surely he knew that.
Still, he walked to the door. Once he had it opened, he turned back to her. “If you think of anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
She nodded, even as she knew that she would never take him up on that offer. Still, when the door closed behind him, she found herself wishing that she could. For some reason she couldn’t explain, the walls she’d always kept around her heart didn’t seem to exist when he was around. He could step through her defenses as if they were made of paper. He made her both vulnerable and powerful all in the same moment.
She was grateful to him that he hadn’t tried to parlay her vulnerability into... something. It wouldn’t have taken much, after all.
And yet... How was that possible, given what she knew about the man, given the havoc his actions had already inflicted in her life? No. No, she was not going to think about that now. She didn’t have time. Right now, she had work to do.
Straightening her shoulders, she turned and walked into the kitchen. Time to quit thinking like a victim and start thinking like a reporter.**
“I want to thank you for that,” Lois said. “It was just the boost I needed. Once I’d got over feeling sorry for myself, I realized that I’d been duped. My source wasn’t dead. He just wanted me to believe he was dead.”
“And...” Clark pointed at the headline on the screen. “You obviously got the story.”
She smiled.
“Anyway, I can remember,” Clark continued, “when I walked home that night, I felt as if I was walking on air. You’d forgiven me. I mean, you hadn’t said it. But...” He shrugged.
“Yeah. I guess I had. Not that I was prepared to risk my heart - or take on Perry for something that could never be. In spite of your... honorable behavior in not taking advantage of... the situation, I wasn’t sure I could trust you not to break my heart. But as far as the whole Perry debacle... I guess you bringing me the final piece of evidence we needed to clear Perry made the difference.
“Besides, I realized after listening to that tape that I’d been duped, too. Lex used me just as much... or maybe even more than he’d used you.”
“But I don’t get it,” Clark said. “If you forgave me, then why aren’t we together in this reality? Why have my parents never heard of you?”
Lois let out a breath. “Maybe it will make sense later. So what’s next?”
They both turned their attention back to their computers.
“The Prankster,” Lois said a moment later.
Clark looked over from his computer. “I suppose it makes sense that you got that story. After all, he was somewhat obsessed with you.”
“Somewhat?” Lois shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Anyway, I doubt there’s anything there. So why don’t we just...”
“Lois, what is it? You’re remembering something, aren’t you?”
“Nothing important, Clark. So why don’t we just see...”
“Lo-is.”
Lois let out a breath.
“Come on, Lois. Talk to me.”
“Okay. Okay,” Lois finally conceded. “It’s just... Well, looking back I feel a little foolish.”
“Foolish?”
Lois raised her eyebrows and then, taking a deep breath began her story.
**The cocktail party was in full force. Modern paintings hung on the wall and modern sculptures littered the room. Tuxedo clad men and women wearing stunning gowns wandered around, sipping the champagne which was being served on silver trays, commenting on the various pieces of art.
Lois stopped in front of a large sculpture which appeared to be made of old car parts. The plaque adorning the front said: ‘Mother and Daughter.’
“I know this is supposed to be art,” Jimmy said after examining it for a moment. “But to me, it just looks like a big car wreck.”
Lois looked over at him, disgusted.
“I don’t see a mother or a daughter,” Jack commented.
“You guys don’t get it,” Lois said. “You have to open your mind to the artist’s inner feelings.”
Perry, who had been carefully examining the sculpture from every possible angle finally spoke. “Hey! Wait a minute!” he exclaimed excitedly. “You know, if you tilt your head to the right and squint your eyes a little bit, you can just about make out Elvis’ profile.”
Having expected some great insight from her boss, Lois rolled her eyes, even as Jimmy and Jack attempted to see what Perry was seeing.
“I don’t see it, Chief,” Jack said.
“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Perry continued. “Look... between these two hubcaps here and that upside down speedometer.”
Jack and Jimmy moved over, looking carefully.
“Oh, yeah,” Jimmy said. “Maybe the fat Elvis.”
“Why do I even try,” Lois said, watching her companions. “Art to you guys is prints of those poker playing dogs.”
“Oh, I love those,” Perry responded. “Did you ever see the one with the two dogs in the bar throwing darts?”
Lois shook her head, amused. These guys really were a hopeless cause.
Just then, a man came up behind Lois, carrying a large wrapped box.
“Lois Lane?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“This is for you.” He handed her the box and walked away.
“Who’s it from?” Jimmy asked.
“I have no idea,” Lois said, carrying the box over to a nearby table. Removing the card from the top, she opened it, reading silently. ‘Dear Lois, Please forgive me but my feelings for you run deep...’ She quickly closed the card when it suddenly occurred to her who had sent the gift. “Look, maybe I’d best open this in private.”
Jack instantly snatched the card out of her hand.
Lois froze as Jack danced away from her and began reading the card. If it was from who she thought, she was going to have a lot of explaining to do.
“Dear Lois,” Jack said. “Please forgive me, but my feelings for you run deep and I’m too shy to tell you in person. But I want the world to know that whenever I think of you my heart sings.” Jack gave a dramatic sigh, placing his hand over his heart as if truly moved.
“Who’s it from?” Perry asked.
Lois held her breath as she waited for the name that she knew was coming. Kent.**
“Wait a minute! You thought that stupid Pavarotti Jack-in-the-box was from me?” Clark asked in disbelief.
“Told you it was foolish,” Lois said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Anyway, when Jack said it was from a secret admirer, I was relieved. I still thought it was from you, but at least you had the good sense to keep our business... our business.”
“So what did you think when the singing Jack-in-the-box malfunctioned, practically bursting eardrums? Still, think it was from me?”
She shrugged slightly, avoiding looking at him.
“What about the diamond ring? Did you think that was from me, too?”
Again she shrugged.
“I’m surprised you ended up getting the story,” Clark said.
“I almost didn’t. I mean, Perry kept pushing me to investigate. I told him I didn’t think my secret admirer was story material.”
“So what changed your mind?”
Lois looked at him for a moment before speaking again.
**Lois looked around nervously before knocking on the door. She’d been rehearsing what she was going to say all the way over. It had to stop. And she was going to make sure it did.
A moment later, the door opened and Kent stood in the doorway.
“Lane?” he asked. “What brings you by?” He looked excited to see her. Obviously he was hoping that the gifts had finally brought her around.
“As if you don’t know,” she said, walking into his apartment. With one final glance backwards to be sure no one had seen her arrive, she closed the door.
“Okay, I give. What exactly am I’m supposed to know?”
“The gifts, Kent. You’ve got to stop sending gifts to me at work. Do you have any idea how many problems you could cause me?” She began to pace. “Look, I know you think you’ve got feelings for me. But you just have to give it up. It’s never going to work. You should know that better than anyone. I’m sure if you try, you can find some nice girl. You’re an... okay looking guy. There must be someone desperate enough to...”
“Gee, thanks, Lane.”
She let out a breath. “I just want the gifts to stop.”
“I don’t know what gifts you’re talking about. I haven’t sent you any gifts.”
“Don’t play games with me, Kent. It’s not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be funny. I didn’t send you any gifts.”
Lois opened her mouth before closing it again. Could she have been wrong? Oh, god, what if she was wrong? And suddenly, she knew she was. She could see it in his eyes. He had no idea what she was talking about.
“Okay, then,” Lois said turning around and dashing out the door.
She heard him call her name but she didn’t stop. How could she have made such a fool of herself? But if he wasn’t her secret admirer, who was?**
“So that’s when I started working on the story. Or, well, I guess it was what happened after I left your place that got me working on the story. I had a car accident.”
“You had a car accident?”
“I came around the corner and hit a strip of road that was slicked up with some sort of chemical.”
“And because I wasn’t with you, you couldn’t get the car stopped.”
She studied him for a moment. “You really did drag your foot along the street to stop the car, didn’t you?”
He nodded.
She let out a breath. “You know, it still amazes me that I didn’t make the connection between you and Superman sooner. I mean, there were just so many clues.” She gave her head a shake.
“Wait a minute. In our reality, when you were afraid of the Prankster, you ended up spending the night at my place. But I have no recollection of it in this reality. So... what happened?”
“That’s because I stayed with Perry,” Lois said. “Coming to you... Well, there were all sorts of reasons I couldn’t do that. I mean, I guess I knew that you would keep me safe. But between the fact that I was desperately trying not to have feelings for you and the fact that I had just completely humiliated myself in front of you...” She shrugged. “Anyway, like I said, I don’t think there’s anything more to this story that will help us sort out this mess. What about you? Did you find anything?”
“Maybe...” Clark gestured to his computer. “It seems I got the story about Baby Rage.”
Lois glanced back at her computer, scrolling through it quickly. “I got a similar story. But... no mention of Intergang. Although there is an indication that someone might be behind the vandalism.”
“Yeah. That’s pretty much how my story goes, too. But then, we didn’t nail Intergang with this story in our reality, either.”
“True. But how did you get on to the Baby Rage story? I mean, I know I did because I was down at Uncle Mike’s restaurant when Baby Rage tried to burn it down. Wait a minute! Superman stopped Baby Rage. So... what happened this time?”
“Well, I can remember being down on the Southside, trying to figure out why there had been a sudden decline in property prices,” Clark said before beginning his story.
**Clark looked in disbelief at the number of storefronts that had been boarded up. He’d been on this street only a couple of months before. Shops and restaurants had been popping up all over the place and excitement was in the air - a belief that they were about to become one of the newest ‘hot spots’ in Metropolis.
This was quite a change. Spotting a quaint little bistro on the other side of the street, Clark walked towards it. Opening the door, he stepped inside and then did a double-take. Maybe he’d missed the closed sign. After all, it was the middle of the day and there was no one there.
“Hello?” he called.
A moment later, a man appeared. “Yes?”
“Are you open?”
The man looked shocked. “Oh, sorry. I’ve been working on a new creation in the back. Chocolate torte in raspberry sauce. And... well, you’re the first customer I’ve had today. Please, let me show you to a table.”
“Oh... uh... Okay,” He had just eaten lunch, but... “I’m the first customer you’ve had today?”
“Yes, but please. I’m sure it’s not a reflection of the food. Or... at least I hope not. I’ll make you a deal. If it’s no good, I won’t even charge you.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. Uh... you mentioned something about a chocolate torte in raspberry sauce?”
The man smiled. “Oh, good choice.” He gestured around the restaurant. “I’ll let you find a seat and be right back. Do you want anything to drink with that?”
“A glass of milk, please.”
“One chocolate torte and one glass of milk coming up.”
By the time Clark was settled in a booth, the man had returned. “Tell me, sir...”
“Mike,” Mike corrected. “Sorry, but I’m a former Marine and... well, I was a sergeant. Being called ‘sir’ sort of sticks in my craw.”
“Mike, I’m Clark. So tell me... I was down here a couple months ago and the neighborhood was really taking off. And yet now...”
“The neighborhood is going through some sort of... transition. Getting more... eclectic. Kinda like Saigon without the jets.”
Clark raised his eyebrows.
“Anyway, try the torte. I want to know what you think of it.”
Clark took a bite, his eyes widening. “This is good. I mean, this is really good.”
Mike smiled. “Glad you like it.”
Clark gestured Mike to a chair. “So what do you mean by when you say that the neighborhood is going through a transition.”
Twenty minutes later, Clark had learned a lot - about offers to sell, gang violence and what appeared to be organized vandalism. From there, Clark and Mike had found themselves talking about other subjects. Mike brought out two more pieces of torte and they were both laughing and eating when...
“Uncle Mike?”
Clark looked towards the door when he heard the woman calling to Mike. His mouth dropped open and he had to remind himself to close it. She had not yet spotted him, her eyes being focused on the man she’d called ‘Uncle Mike.’
“Lois,” Mike said, joining Lane just inside the door. His arm around Lane, he directed her back to where Clark was seated. “This is my niece,” Mike said, “Lois Lane. And, Lois, this is...”
“You,” Lane said in disbelief.
“Hi, Lane.”
“You two know each other?” Mike asked.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Lois asked.
“Lois!” Mike said. “He’s the first customer I’ve had all day. Don’t scare him off.”
Lane looked torn. “Sorry, Uncle Mike.”
“So you’re her uncle? Her real uncle?”
“As if you didn’t know,” Lane said. In spite of the harsh words, her tone said that they were a question rather than an accusation.
“I didn’t,” Clark said, holding his hands out in a gesture of openness.
“Clark was just asking me about the number of businesses that have closed their doors around here,” Mike said. “And, of course, enjoying a piece of chocolate torte.”
Lane’s eyes narrowed as she glanced towards the window onto the decapitated street. “He was, was he?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Yeah.”
“Uncle Mike, could I have a piece of torte?” Lane suddenly asked.
“Certainly,” Mike said, taking the hint and going to the kitchen immediately.
Lane watched until he was gone, before turning back to Clark, dropping onto the chair across from him.
“Honestly, I didn’t know he was your uncle.”
She waved off his comment. “It’s just... If anyone saw you here...”
“They’d what? Think you and I were involved?” He rolled his eyes. “You know something, Lane. You really know how to boost a guy’s ego.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean? Sounds to me as if the mere thought of someone thinking we are involved makes you ashamed.”
“No, it’s just...”
“Here’s your torte,” Mike said, setting another piece in front of Lane.
Lane suddenly looked frustrated, as if she really had wanted to explain to him why she was so paranoid about people getting the impression they were together.
“So what exactly were you telling Kent here - about the decline of the street?” Lois asked her uncle.
Mike shrugged, joining the two of them at the table. “I’ve been approached with an offer to sell. From what I’ve heard a lot of others have, too. Most of them have already sold out. But I like this spot. I’m not going anywhere.”
Clark raised his fork to take another bite of torte when a blob of raspberry sauce dribbled off and hit his tie. Quickly, he picked up a napkin, attempting to remove it. Great. Just the impression he was hoping to make on Lane - as a man who didn’t know how to feed himself.
“Better get some water on that,” Lane said. Then, realizing what she’d said, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just meant...”
“No, you’re right,” Clark responded, rising to his feet. “I’ll just...” He gestured towards the bathrooms before walking in that direction.
“Remember,” Lane called after him, “dab, don’t wipe.”
He turned back around and meeting her eyes, gave her an amused smile. She shrugged in return.
He felt like whistling as he turned back to the bathrooms. He sort of liked it when she fussed over him. It almost made him think she cared. Probably an illusion, because half the time she seemed ashamed at the mere thought that anyone might think they even knew each other.
Suddenly, his superhearing kicked in as Mike said...
“I like him. I think he likes you.”
“Uncle Mike, don’t,” Lane pleaded.
“Why not? How long has it been since you dated anyone? And those showcase dates you used to go on with Luthor don’t count.”
“I’m not looking for a relationship. I’ve got to get settled in my job, first.”
“And how many Kerths do you have to win before you feel... settled? Lois, you need a good man in your life. And not for the reasons you’re thinking, so don’t give me that look. I’m not trying to get you married off so that you’ll settle down and stay in the kitchen. Although...” He glanced back towards his kitchen. “...I’m still not sure why you have such an aversion to the kitchen. But I know it’s not your thing. And I know you’d never give up your job. But something tells me that a man like Clark wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Uncle Mike,” Lane begged.
“I know,” Mike said. “None of my business. But you’re my niece, I worry about you. There’s more to life than work. Spend some time in a war zone, and you’ll know what I mean. Besides, I guess I figure that with Sam and Ellen the way they are... I just hate to see you all alone.”
Lane reached a hand across the table to lay it on her uncle’s arm. “I’ve got you. And Lucy.” At her uncle’s look, she continued. “I know you worry, but I’m fine. And Kent...” She glanced towards the doors to the bathroom. “I shouldn’t like him, but I sort of do. It’s just... complicated.”
A slow smile spread across Clark’s face. Had she really just told her uncle that she liked him - or, well, sort of liked him? His smile faded slightly. Then why did she always act as if she was ashamed to be seen with him, as if she didn’t want him around, didn’t want him sending gifts... Of course, given everything that had happened... Really. She shouldn’t like him at all. Before he had time to dwell on the paradox, something in the corner of his eye caught Clark’s attention. A young man, in gang colors and wearing a black toque was setting a box in the doorway. Suddenly, the box burst into flame while the young man stood there, a satisfied grin on his face.
Clark darted outside and the kid ran. Clark looked around, making sure he was alone, before kicking the box out into the street where it could continue to burn harmlessly and then, using a discreet burst of superspeed, caught the kid just before Lane and her uncle appeared in the doorway.
“He was trying to burn your place down,” Clark said, holding onto the still squirming kid.**
“I remember what happened next,” Lois said, taking over the story from Clark.
**Lois glanced nervously at Kent as the two of them, together with Uncle Mike, walked up the steps to the police station. Although she didn’t come to the police station on the southside very often, and hadn’t for months now, it was entirely possible that someone here might recognize her and word of her being with Kent might get back to someone at the Planet.
She couldn’t afford that. Since returning to work, Perry’s position on fraternizing with Star employees had not slackened. If anything, it had gotten worse as time had gone on. The fact that Carpenter was still running the Star was obviously an irritant. So, Lois knew, was the fact that Kent still worked there. And given everything that had happened, Perry would certainly demand an explanation. She’d really rather not get into it. It would be... difficult.
Not that she was terribly worried about getting fired. If there was one thing she knew about Perry, he tended to be more bark than bite. Still, it was a fight she didn’t need.
So as they stepped into the station, Lois hung back, trying to blend into the woodwork. Surely, Kent and her uncle could handle giving the information to the police.
She realized that Kent had noticed her attempt to be invisible and sent what she hoped was an apologetic smile his way. But still she continued to hang back, looking around the station from her discrete location, trying to see if she knew anyone in the vicinity.
Her eyebrows crinkled together as she took in the sight around her. What was this? A police station or a donut convention? No wonder it had taken so long for the police to show up and take the young man Kent had caught into custody. After all, they had to finish up the final takes for their donut commercial first.
A young blonde woman approached, looking very professional. Not a cop, obviously. A lawyer then? Lois expected the woman to move on past, and was surprised when she stopped directly in front of Uncle Mike.
“Which one of you is Mike Lane?” the woman asked. When Mike stepped forward, the woman held out her hand. “Mayson Drake, Deputy D.A.”**
TO BE CONTINUED...
