Hi all,
I'd really hoped to get this story finished by the end of 2008, but too many things got in the way - the holidays, visits from friends and, sadly, a death in the family. Not a close member, but an uncle I remember very fondly from growing up.
Anyway, I'm posting a part tonight, and my New Year's resolution is to write as often as I can and finish it very soon.
Thanks to all those who have stuck with this monster, even if my schedule has been somewhat erratic at times.
Yours Jenni
*****
Previously on My Wife The Boss:
Clark and Matt said their goodbyes and as the door closed behind them, Clark turned to his son. “You want a lift home, or can you make it on your own?”
A cheeky grin twitched at the corners of Matt's lips. “I'm not that wiped out, Dad. I could give you a lift home, and you can have someone pick up the car tomorrow.”
Clark shook his head. “I'm not going home. I have work to do at The Planet,” he said, opening the car and sliding into the driver's seat. “I just can't rid myself of the feeling that this guy is planning something big, and that we're running out of time to stop him. Tell your mom I'll meet up with her at work.” Clark started the engine, but before he drove off, he called out to his son. “See you don't make any detours on the way home. You've helped out enough for one night ... and good luck with those exams.”
With that the Kents parted -- one driving down the street, the other taking to his grandparents' bushes and from there straight up into the sky.
*****
continued ...
The newsroom was quieter than normal, with just a few members of staff on duty in the hours between the late shift ending and the day shift beginning, yet Clark Kent sat at his desk, staring intently at his monitor.
He flexed his back and shoulders, untangling the kinks in his muscles, while he shifted his glasses aside to rub his tired eyes. In fact, his whole body felt achy and exhausted, which, he supposed, wasn't too surprising since he'd gone almost twenty-four hours without sleep. He'd often managed a lot more than that in his Superman days, but that fact no longer appeared to be true.
Thinking back over the last few days, he acknowledged he'd been using his recovering powers more often, and he was afraid the effort had drained him. Even his hands felt painful, and as he peeled off the two remaining dressings, he noticed the new skin looked slightly angrier than before.
Was this how it was going to be from now on?
Use a few minor superpowers over a short period of time and feel drained and lethargic afterward? Sara suggested he tapped into the powers when danger threatened; if that was true, he hoped that his family stayed safe until he recovered. Right at this moment, he doubted he'd be able to save himself, let alone anyone else.
But there was one consolation; his deep background check on Thomas Timmons was coming together, albeit slowly, thanks to Jim's refresher course on how to hack into computers.
Across the newsroom, the elevator doors opened with a quiet swish, but Clark was so engrossed in his research he didn't notice the new arrival. He continued scanning the screen, reading with some relief and a lot of satisfaction, before clicking on the print key.
If Peterson's bosses were demanding proof, then he was going to make sure they got it. With a little luck and perseverance he would soon have information linking Timmons to all the targets, and he couldn't suppress an uncharacteristic desire to say 'I told you so!'
Clark heard the printer begin churning out his copies and he pushed his chair back to go fetch them, almost mowing down the person standing close behind him.
There was a squeal and Clark whirled quickly, but unfortunately not fast enough to save the person from falling to the floor.
“Lois! What are you doing here so early?” Clark asked, concern sharpening his voice, as he helped her to her feet. “Did you speak to Matt?”
Rubbing her right wrist, which had taken her weight as she fell, she allowed Clark to press her into the seat he had seconds ago vacated. “Yes, I spoke to Matt, which is why I'm here.”
Clark took hold of Lois' arm and began massaging her wrist. He tried x-raying it to see if she'd broken any bones, but his supposition that his powers were missing was obviously right.
His hope that his family remain safe was already in tatters, and he'd been the one to hurt Lois.
“Honey,” he whispered, a deep frown on his face as he continued to try to look at his wife's bones. “I'd love to be able to check your wrist, but I don't have any of my powers, at the moment. Maybe we should take you to the ER to see if you have broken your wrist.”
Lois had her eyes closed, as she enjoyed the feel of Clark's warm fingers easing her pain, but at her husband's words, her eyes flashed open. “Clark, I'm fine ... well, I'm not exactly fine, but I don't think I've broken any bones.” She pulled her wrist from his grasp and held it aloft, waggling her fingers. “See, I can move all my fingers, and the pain isn't too bad. I'm sure a cold compress will do just as well ... unless you still have a little blast of your freezing breath.” The last part of her statement was barely audible
A dejected air descended on Clark like a cloak. “Sorry, I doubt I could manage the tiniest puff, and even if I could, I wouldn't trust myself to be able to control it. Everything has gone, and to tell the truth, I feel like I'm sleepwalking.”
“That bad, eh?” Lois commiserated, giving him a gentle smile and taking hold of his hand. “You have been pretty busy over the last few days, so don't be too despondent. I'm sure you'll be fine with a little rest.”
“I can't rest, honey. Not now. Not when I know this guy is still out there. Oh, and I'm really sorry about Matt. I know you told me to get him home at a reasonable hour, but he wanted to go to the rescue and I decided not to stop him, even if I could have.”
“I know,” Lois said with a tiny shrug. “He's very determined. I would have forbidden him from going to Jilin, if he'd waited for permission ... and look how that turned out.” She stood up and wrapped her arms around Clark, resting her head on his chest. “You'll never know how grateful I am to have such a disobedient son.”
“Very true,” Clark said, smiling, until his wife occupied his mouth with an entirely different, and more pleasant, exercise. When the kiss finally ended, he leaned back and asked, “You're not angry at me?”
Lois planted another kiss on Clark's lips. “No. Unless you're apologizing for Matt inheriting your stubborn streak ...”
Clark's brows rose. “My stubborn streak?” he asked in shock, but his eyes were twinkling.
“I suppose he might have got a little of that from me,” she acknowledged, her fingers running down the front of his shirt. “But never be sorry he inherited your powers, or your caring heart. I never will be. Besides, when I left, he was fast asleep, and he'll be fine in a couple of hours.”
“Did he tell you how upset he was about the woman who died?”
“Yes, and he told me how you gave him a pep-talk.” She tightened her arms around him again. “Thank you for that. You understand how he feels better than anyone, though I do try to help him when he feels depressed about a rescue that hasn't gone quite the way he hoped.”
Clark cupped Lois' face with his hand and ran his thumb softly over her cheek. “Don't say that, Lois. You have more insight in dealing with broken-hearted superheroes than you'll ever know, and, believe me, I'm speaking from experience here. There were times when I felt I couldn't go on, yet you always gave me the strength to go back out there.”
Lois smiled into his face, though tears clouded her eyes. “Then why don't we agree that Matt is twice blessed.”
This time it was Clark who initiated the kiss, and though a fleeting memory of Perry warning them not to 'make out' in the bullpen flashed through Lois' mind, she dismissed the warning entirely. After all, she was the boss, and if she wanted to kiss her husband, then she would. Besides, there were hardly any staff around.
But she'd come to The Planet for a purpose, and Clark must have read her mind, because he broke the kiss again.
“Honey, much as I enjoy kissing you, why are you here at this hour?” His gaze lifted to the big wall clock. “I know you like to be the 'early bird', but you're not usually here quite as early in the morning.”
Lois ducked her head, blushing a little. “I got the impression from Matt that you might like a little help. You know, a temporary return to Lane and Kent ... not that I think you can't do this on your own, but I hoped another perspective ... might help.” Her last words faded to an almost inaudible whisper, but Lois was ever one to speak her mind, and she continued strongly, though staring directly at the middle of Clark's chest. “Of course, if you want to do this on your own, I understand ... after all, I haven't really been an investigative reporter in quite a long time.”
Clark's fingers slid beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to lock with his. “Honey, you will always be the best investigative journalist this newspaper, or any other, will ever have.” His gaze deepened until it seemed they were communicating soul to soul. “No one has your instincts, and I'd actually be honored to accept your help. I have no idea why, but my instincts are telling me Timmons is building up to something big, and though I might have convinced Jed, I've got to find proof that he's the man the police should be looking for before he strikes again.”
Lois needed no further encouragement as she pulled up her chair. “OK, what have you got so far?”
“I checked the DMV data-base, but I didn't find a match, not at first ... not until I checked their archive.” Clark retrieved a number of documents from the printer, which he handed to Lois. “Timmons let his license lapse. I have no idea why, but he did apply back in the late eighties, and that's not the only thing I discovered,” Clark said, with just the tiniest amount of smugness. “I found out he worked as a driver ...”
“For Speedy Deliveries?” Lois jumped in quickly.
Clark pulled up a chair and sat down next his wife. “Correct! Only that wasn't their name back then. Same company though, but they were called Handy Andy Deliveries, after the owner, Harold Andrews.”
A grin flashed across Lois' face. “I can see why he might have wanted to change that name.” Lois scanned the documents. “What made you think Timmons might have worked for them?”
“Just a hunch, I guess.” Clark pulled his keyboard in front of him and brought up his research on Hyperion Vistas. “Lois, I think Thomas had a privileged upbringing; his aunt was rich, but for some reason he ran away from home. Ina Bowen-Timmons used to live in Hyperion House and she appears to have been quite an influential person in the neighborhood, yet there is no mention of her having a family. But according to the aide who looks after the aunt, Ina admitted to having a nephew called Thomas Timmons, who sent her the chocolates which allegedly contained the bomb; hopefully forensics will confirm that later. I think Timmons is trying to take revenge on people who might have let him down in the past.”
“What did 'Handy Andy' do to Timmons?” she asked, and again Clark was reminded of how street-smart and intuitive his wife was.
“He fired him,” Clark replied shortly, before settling in to explain. “As soon as I realized Timmons might be getting back at certain people, I took a chance and called Speedy Deliveries; fortunately, the boss is very conscientious, and he was already at work ...”
“Like someone else I know,” Lois interrupted teasingly.
Clark smiled back. “You know what they say ... it takes one to know one.” But, he was distracted only momentarily and very quickly resumed his story. “Because it was such a long time ago, Andrews had pretty much forgotten about Timmons, so when the police asked him if he knew of anyone who held a grudge against him he said no. Mentioning Timmons by name jogged his memory and it all came back to him ...”
“And?” Excitement was bubbling through Lois' veins; unearthing the truth was exactly the thing she missed most now that she was an editor.
“He remembered Thomas, and not favorably. He said the guy was a sloppy worker who hardly ever showed up on time for work, and who continually delivered his packages to the wrong people. But more than that, he remembered Thomas as a moody guy; a loner with a chip on his shoulder, and who was pretty disgruntled when he got laid off. Wallace waited for Timmons to commit some act of petty vandalism against his business, but as time past and nothing happened, he forgot all about him. He changed the company name, moved premises as his business grew, and Timmons faded completely from his mind.”
“Until you reminded him,” Lois said with a lot of satisfaction. “So what's next? Are you trying to tie Timmons in with all the other places that were bombed?”
“That's the plan,” Clark replied, a crease wrinkling his brow. “I just hope that his connections aren't all so far back in time as this one.” He tapped the paper in her hand. “Timmons seems to drop from the radar pretty frequently. I hope my computer hacking skills are up to scratch.”
A matching frown appeared on Lois' face. “Banking systems are pretty difficult to hack into ... far more secure than the DMV. It might have slipped your mind, but they tightened everything after the financial crash of 2008, even their online security. Only the regulators have access to their data.”
“Maybe Jim could help me out there?”
“Sorry, honey, I've already sent Jim to do the follow-up story on last night's explosion.” Lois stood, placing her hand on Clark's shoulder. “Not the investigation, that's your baby, but the story on the victims, the woman who died, and the ones who were injured. Then I asked him to chase down Jor-El for a quote ... after exam time, of course.”
Clark's brow furrowed again. “I'm not sure that's a good idea. Matt,” Clark mouthed his son's name and continued in a whisper, “Is pretty traumatized about last night ...”
“Not so much now, thanks to you,” Lois replied, squeezing Clark's shoulder. She glanced around her as the elevators spilled a few more staff members into the newsroom, but no one was within hearing distance. “He told me about your talk, and how you made him see that he couldn't blame himself; that the paramedics and the doctors probably couldn't have saved the woman no matter what choice of action he'd taken. He's also beginning to realize that the people in the emergency services face these types of decisions on a pretty regular basis: now he thinks that if they can do it, and you kept on doing it for all those years, that he just might make it too.” She bent down to place a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for taking care of our son.”
“I want to help him,” Clark said fervently, before sighing deeply. “I just wish I could do more ...”
Lois' head snapped back, her eyes flashing fiercely, nailing him to the spot. “Clark Kent, do I have to remind you, too, that what you can do is enough?” She leaned closer to him, whispering in his ear. “That applies whether you're flying around in tights or not! You got that?”
Clark couldn't suppress a tiny smile. Lois in Mad Dog Lane mode was still pretty impressive. “Yes, Chief!”
“Good!” Then, regardless of the audience, Lois sat on Clark's lap and kissed him ... hard. When she felt she'd made her point, she stood again. “OK, so what's next?”
“Huh?”
Clearly, she could still render her husband speechless. Lois' smile was dazzling. “Come on, Clark, keep up with the program. What's next with the investigation?”
Her husband blushed sheepishly. “Right, the investigation,” he said, quickly resuming his professional manner. “The school was the next target, and as Timmons lived in the Hyperion area, I'm thinking he might have been a pupil. It's still a little early, but I plan on calling Mrs Perez. Last time I checked, the school records went back only as far as the nineties, and Thomas probably attended elementary school during the seventies. Maybe she can point me in the direction of someone who can help me out.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She started walking toward her office, but paused half way. “Oh, and if you need a hand, you know where to find me ... and remember,” she said, holding out her hands, typing on a virtual keyboard, “Jim taught me how to hack too.”
Clark rose quickly. “Actually, Lois, there's something you can do for me. Do you still have that friend over at City Hall?”
“Amy Collins?”
“She still works in records ... right?” When Lois nodded, Clark continued. “Can you see if she can find a marriage certificate for Timmons? According to what I can find, this guy has been in and out of jobs all of his life ... mostly out, except for a period around 2006 when he went to work for Lemco. He managed to stay with them for almost three years, until they got rid of him, as well.”
“Any idea why?”
“Not yet, though I plan on finding out ... but I thought maybe he had a steadying influence for a while.”
“Like a good wife?” Lois' cocked her head sassily. “It's amazing what the right woman can do for a man, or I should say partner, since we have no idea what this guy's sexual preferences are, but I suppose that raises the question of what happened to drive him off the rails again. Leave it with me. Your good woman,” she said, gesturing quotes in the air around those words, “won't let you down.” Then, with a flick of her hair, she turned and headed for her office.
For some seconds, Clark watched as his wife disappeared inside, a dreamy, yet very satisfied expression on his face. Some time in his life he had to have done something really good, to deserve to find such a wonderful wife ... twice!
*****
to be continued ...
