From Part 1....
For those who asked how Perry knew to call Martha, here's the scene. I took it out because every other scene is from Lois' or Clark's POV and I thought it jarred a bit.
Your thoughts re in/out are welcome.
Perry replaced the phone.
Smallville. He had contacts everywhere, but *Smallville*?
A vague memory stirred in his mind. A resume. From some no-name in... Smallville.
Perry shuffled through a pile of papers and at the bottom found the letter he’d never expected to look at again.
Clark Kent. Smallville.
He saw the name of his old friend, Professor Carlton.
One phone call later, he’d ascertained that the Kents were decent people.
Two phone calls later, a lovely sounding woman called Martha Kent had assured him Lois would be looked after.
You couldn’t beat country hospitality.
End of Part 1....
He drove them out of town towards the lake. Lois said nothing. Every man she knew would have made a crack about sharing his bed. And another about her burning him. Clark Kent hadn’t. He’d said nothing, either directly or indirectly, about their encounter when he, almost naked, had come into his room and caught her in skimpy pyjamas. He opened car doors for her. He’d found out information for her even after she’d said he wasn’t much of a reporter. He bought her coffee and willingly gave her his sugar.
Clark Kent was a relic from another time.
It wasn’t something she could stomach long term of course, but for now it wasn’t totally intolerable.
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WEEKEND IN SMALLVILLE
PART 2
The drive to Smallville Lake passed in a blur for Clark. He knew little about packing away the fishing gear or congratulating his father on four fine perch. He wasn’t too sure how they got to the farmhouse. The only thing he knew with certainty was the proximity of Lois Lane.
She’d hugged him. She’d lowered her guard. For an instant, she’d allowed her feelings to show on her face and in her actions. Not that what she was feeling was anything terribly earth shattering, but it was a memory he’d treasure.
He’d pleased her... and made her happy... it was intoxicating.
“Lois, I need to go into my room for a clean shirt. Is that ok?”
“Sure.”
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Later that afternoon, Clark took Lois to the office of the Smallville Press. He unlocked the door and she looked around the deserted newsroom. “Where is everyone?” she asked.
“It’s Saturday.”
“Oh,” she mouthed. “That explains everything.”
They shared a smile. “I guess it’s nothing like your newsroom,” Clark said.
“It smells the same. It’s just smaller and a lot quieter.”
He took her to his desk and logged on to his computer. “I’ve got some notes to write up,” he said. “Feel free to use the phone. Let me know if you need anything.” He sat down at a nearby desk. First she’d taken his bed, now his desk.
Jimmy had replied to her e-mail. He’d found probable home addresses for all the guests, including Buddy McGlynn who lived in Nebraska. She called the number listed for Buddy McGlynn.
“Hello.”
“This is Lois Lane, Daily Planet. Could I speak with Buddy McGlynn please?”
“Speaking.”
“Buddy, have you ever been to Smallville?”
“Where’s that?”
“Kansas.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Ok. Thank you.”
So Buddy McGlynn was probably Franklin Hodge. Which proved nothing, nor got her any closer to why he was in Smallville.
She noticed Jimmy had sent a later e-mail and opened it.
Hey Lois
Just discovered that two of the hotel guests, Max and Sheridan Sewell, worked for EPRAD until two years ago. The EPRAD archive describes them as ‘brilliant, cutting-edge scientists, pioneers in their chosen field of genetics.’
I can’t find any employment records for the past two years. Their photos have been removed from the EPRAD site.
This is the third consecutive year they have visited Smallville for the Sunflower Celebration, so it could be nothing.
Jimmy.
“Clark?”
He looked up from his work. “Yes?”
“Could you ring Jane and find out whatever you can about Max and Sheridan Sewell?”
“Sure.” He picked up the phone.
A few minutes later he was at her desk with notes. “Early forties, regular visitors for the last three years, they’re currently out, but Jane’s expecting them back any minute. They’re going to the Sunflower Celebration tonight.”
He wasn't completely inept at this. “Thanks, Clark.”
So the Sewells said they were going to the Sunflower Celebration. But was it merely a cover? A cover for what? And did it involve Hodge? If anything was going to happen, tonight would be the obvious time.
“Clark?”
“Uhm?”
“Are you going to the Sunflower Celebration tonight?”
“I had planned to, but I don’t mind missing it.”
“Do you have a girl waiting for you to pick her up?”
“No.”
“Do you have a girl?”
“No.”
She felt absurdly pleased at that, but smothered it quickly. “While you’re at the Celebration, could I borrow your car?”
“Sure. But I really don’t mind missing it.”
She was tempted. “Are you sure?”
“I’d rather be with you.”
She hurriedly turned away. “Ever been on a stakeout?” she chirped over her shoulder.
Clark’s phone rang on his desk and he came over to answer it. He listened, thanked whoever and put down the phone. “Lois, I need to do something. Will you be ok here?”
“Sure.”
As soon as he’d gone, Lois opened his Internet History. All guys had secrets and she meant to find his.
He visited the Daily Planet site every day. He’d opened every story she’d written. She glanced over the rest of the sites – many looked like research. They even followed logical paths – she could guess the gist of his story from the trail of sites. He also visited sports sites. Nothing unusual there.
He did visit an extraordinary number of local information sites in numerous foreign countries – restaurants, movie sessions, maps, events.
So he dreamed of travelling. If that was his biggest secret, she had him figured already.
She leant back on the chair and chewed her pencil. I’d rather be with you, he had said. What had he meant? He’d said it evenly, without emphasis on any individual word.
I’d *rather* be with you would mean the Celebration wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
I’d rather *be* with you would mean he was thinking there might be a chance for something other than work. But nothing she’d seen so far suggested he thought that way. He’s a *guy*, Lois. Ok, he probably thought that way but he wouldn’t say it.
I’d rather be *with* you would mean he didn’t trust her to stay out of trouble.
I’d rather be with *you* would mean he -
The truth, Lois, she told herself firmly, was he was a reporter who sniffed a story.
The door opened and she quickly closed his History as Clark came in. “The Sewells arrived back at the hotel,” he said. “I gave them free tickets to the Celebration, courtesy of the Smallville Press.”
“You met them?”
“Yep.”
“Would you recognise them again?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Lo-is.”
He wasn't inept at all.
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Clark parked a hundred feet before the hotel. They watched as couples, families, groups, left the hotel and turned away from them, heading to the Sunflower Celebration.
“It’s very quiet,” Lois said.
“Everyone’s at the Celebration.”
“Not quite everyone, I bet.”
“Lois?”
Her concentration didn’t shift from the hotel. “Yeah?”
“I’d be more useful if I knew what might happen here.”
She did glance to him then, but her attention was back on the hotel before she spoke. “I’m here because of the man who is calling himself Buddy McGlynn.”
“Do you have a link between him and the Sewells?”
“Not yet.”
“Who do we follow? Do we stay together? Or do we split?”
“Probably stay together.” She laughed softly. “I’ll get lost if I’m left alone.”
I would find you, Clark thought. “What do you think McGlynn will do?”
”I don’t know, but my gut instinct is he won’t go to the Sunflower Celebration.”
A couple emerged from the hotel. “That’s them,” Clark murmured. “The Sewells.”
“They’re coming this way.”
“They’ll recognise me!”
Lois had been craning forward trying to get a good look at the approaching couple. She turned with the swiftness of a tornado and the next thing he knew, her mouth was plying his, her body was pressing against him and her hands were thrusting through his hair.
Incapable of thought, he responded automatically, his hands, his mouth dancing with hers.
Time stopped.
Then Lois pulled away. “Have they passed?” she asked.
If he hadn’t had such good hearing, he wouldn’t have noticed the tiniest catch in her voice and would have thought she was totally unmoved.
He was definitely not unmoved. His heart was thundering. The sensation of her mouth lingered on his. He slid his tongue across his top lip. She tasted delectable. “They’re not going to the Celebration,” he said, stunned his voice actually obeyed him.
She shot him a 'told you' look.
“Should we follow them, or wait?” he asked.
“Wait. Unless their non-attendance at the Celebration has something to do with McGlynn, it’s probably not relevant.”
A man left the hotel a few minutes later and nonchalantly strolled in their direction. “That's McGlynn,” Lois said. “We can’t let him see me.” She twisted herself into Clark’s chest. He pulled his jacket around her, nestling her into his warmth and shielding her from view. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. He longed to drop a kiss onto her sweet-smelling hair.
McGlynn passed all too quickly. “Let’s go,” Lois said. She jumped out and had already moved away when Clark turned from locking the car. He floated after her, not high enough to spook her should she turn around, but off the ground. One set of footsteps would be less likely to be heard.
McGlynn left the road and drifted in and out of sight between the trees. He stopped in a small clearing. Lois gestured for Clark to stay. She continued. He followed. She went closer than he considered prudent and crouched down just a few yards from McGlynn.
Max and Sheridan Sewell appeared from the depths of the far trees.
“What do you want?” McGlynn asked.
“We have information regarding a matter of national security.”
“Go on.”
“Two years ago, we found a space ship buried in a field just out of town,” Sheridan said. “We took it to our lab and analysed it in minute detail. We have irrefutable evidence that an alien was in the capsule. We know he was very young, too young to have survived without assistance.”
Clark stopped breathing as cold horror carved through his stomach.
Max Sewell continued. “We have a hair sample and skin cells. We have mapped his DNA. We know he is male and in his mid to late twenties. We have a computer generated impression of what he looks like now.”
“Have you identified him?” McGlynn asked.
“The predictive picture leaves little room for doubt.”
Clark’s fear snaked around his imploding heart.
“What do you want?” McGlynn asked.
“A million dollars, government guaranteed untraceable, in our bank account.”
“What do you give?”
“The location of the capsule, the hair sample, the predictive picture, all our research notes and our silence – thereby averting widespread panic were the people to realise there is a dangerous alien in their midst.”
“You’ll hear from me.”
“Before noon tomorrow. Quick business is good business.”
McGlynn turned and was swallowed by the darkness.
Max and Sheridan Sewell waited in silence before also slipping away.
Lois remained still for another two minutes. As she straightened from her crouched position, Clark heard a sound from deeper in the trees. He put his hand on her shoulder to warn her to stay still.
A man appeared from the covering of the trees, walked through the clearing and towards Smallville. “Hi Lois,” he sniggered, without so much as a glance in their direction.
Clark heard Lois groan and his apprehension sky-rocketed. He lowered his glasses and scanned three hundred sixty degrees. They were alone now.
“Who was that?” he asked when they were safely in his car.
“Leo Nunk, The National Inquisitor.”
“The National Inquisitor?” he said with distaste.
Lois smiled at his tone. “Trashy publication. I can’t even call it a newspaper.”
“I’ve seen a few of their stories. Big on fiction, low on fact.”
“You got it.”
“So if Nunk heard what we heard... “
“He could morph it into anything.” Lois took her tape recorder from her pocket. “Clark, can you let me into your office? I need to write up this transcript and put together some notes.”
“You believe them? You really think they found a space ship and have analysed the DNA of an alien?”
“I don’t know. But I do know they are trying to blackmail the government.”
“Lois, I need to get back to my folks. Will you be all right alone at the office?”
She briefly touched his arm. “Of course, Clark. I’ve already taken too much of your time.”
He settled her at his computer and gave her his keys. “Drive yourself home when you’ve finished,” he said. “Mom and Dad are at the Celebration. I’ll get a lift with them.”
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Martha and Jonathan were enjoying the fireworks when Clark arrived. “Clark, you made it,” Martha greeted. “Come and sit down. Where’s Lois?”
Clark leant in close to them. “Mom, Dad I need to talk with you. Now.”
They followed him to a dark, deserted corner and he flew them home.
“What’s wrong Clark? You look awful.” Martha sat at the kitchen table. “Is Lois all right?”
“She’s fine.” Clark swallowed, staring at his tightly wound hands and trying to control his rampaging fear. He took a long, unsteady breath and looked at his parents, wishing he could spare them. “Two scientists are claiming they found a space ship buried in a local field. They have analysed it. They say there was an alien in it. They found a strand of hair and they have a computer generated picture of what...*he*... looks like now.”
The pain on his mother’s face gouged his heart. “Does the picture look like you?” she asked, fearful.
“I haven’t seen it.” He swallowed again. “But they’ve seen me.”
“What did they say?”
“Nothing. Yet.”
“How do you know this, son?” Jonathan asked.
“I was helping Lois with a story and we heard them say they wanted one million dollars for their information.”
“Lois knows?”
“She’s at the Press now, filing her story.”
“It’s going in the papers?” Martha shrieked.
“Lois is just doing her job, Mom. She has no idea this involves me.”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“How could I? Anything I said would lead to more questions. And anyway, she’s a reporter. I can’t ask her to choose between me and her work.”
“But we *know* Lois,” Martha reminded him.
Clark dropped his head into his hands. “It’s not just Lois. There’s another guy, Nunk, from The National Inquisitor. It’s not hard to imagine what they will do with this.”
Martha stood and cradled her son.
“We’ve always known this was a possibility,” Jonathan said quietly. “We’ve had a long time to prepare for it.”
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Lois finished her story and saved it, but didn’t send it to Perry. She didn’t think Nunk could get anything into tomorrow’s Inquisitor, but even if he did, she wasn’t going to run with an incomplete story.
It was after midnight. She should get back to the Kents’. She’d half-expected Clark would come back.
She decided to rest her head on his desk for a few moments. Then she’d feel more like driving home in an unfamiliar car on dark, unfamiliar roads.
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Clark stared wide-eyed into the darkness from his bed on the porch.
If he closed his eyes, all he could see was the anguish on his mother’s face.
When it became known he was the alien, how would Lois react? Would she be horrified? Disgusted? Would she look at him like he was a science experiment gone wrong? Would she feel sorry for him?
Lois. He would never forget kissing her in the car tonight. Every one of his senses had been tuned to her nearness, but no way had he been ready for that.
Then, as McGlynn walked by, Lois had nestled into him – her body fitting so perfectly with his. At the time, he’d thought he was in paradise. Now he knew it was a bitter-sweet prologue to something that could never be his.
If only...
For maybe the thousandth time he thought, if only... if only I was normal. I could take my chance, ask her out and never have to consider the implications nor how to guard the secrets.
He groaned as he remembered again his parents’ faces tonight. When they took him away, it was his Mom and Dad who would suffer the most.
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The phone rang and Lois woke with a start. Her neck and shoulders were cold and sore. She rubbed her eyes and picked it up. She tried to recall the name of Clark’s newspaper, but it wouldn’t come. "Hello," she said.
“It’s Jane here. Can I speak to Clark please?”
“He isn’t here.”
“Oh. Ok. Thank you.”
“Hold on! Jane! Clark and I are working together on a story. If you have information for him, it would be really helpful if you would tell me.”
Jane hesitated. “No. It’s nothing. Thank you.”
She hung up and Lois slowly replaced the phone. She checked the clock on the wall. It was just past five.
There was only one reason Jane would ring Clark at this time. Lois shuffled into her jacket, grabbed her tape recorder and headed out of the office. On the table near the door was a camera. She picked it up, checked it had film and put it in her bag.
Franklin Hodge was walking out of town in the half light of the otherwise empty street. Lois followed at a distance, careful to keep glancing behind in case either Nunk or the Sewells were on the move too.
Hodge left the road and headed into the wood.
Lois followed.
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Clark woke from his sleep – sleep disturbed by the image of him with the word ALIEN emblazoned across it. Sleep also disturbed by dreams of Lois, reeling away from him in revulsion.
It was nearly dawn. He leapt off the porch. His car wasn’t here. He looked through the walls and saw his empty bed.
Dread burned in his heart like acid. What had happened to her?
He dressed in a second and flew into Smallville.
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It was cold, crouched behind a shrub watching Franklin Hodge wait. After what seemed a long time, Sheridan and Max Sewell appeared. Lois turned on her recorder and removed the lens cover from the camera.
They were too far away for her to hear more than murmurs. She raised the camera and began shooting. She was concentrating so hard on making out distinct words and getting usable photos, she was caught completely off guard when first Max, then Sheridan silently collapsed. Four figures, dressed in black, materialised from the shadows of the trees.
Lois continued frenetically taking photos as the black figures scooped up Max and Sheridan, and took them away. It was over in a matter of seconds and gave Lois the distinct impression of ants clearing away the crumbs after a picnic.
She continued taking photos as Hodge turned in her direction and she got two clear shots of his face.
"Lois Lane."
She lowered the camera and was locked eyeball to eyeball with Hodge. She slipped the camera into her bag. "Franklin Hodge."
"What are you doing out so early?"
He didn’t sound angry or threatening, but she saw he held some sort of a gun. "Fishing?" she squeaked.
"Give me the camera."
Lois tightened her grip on her bag. "I know about the Sewells’ attempt to blackmail the government."
"Give me the camera."
"I know they are claiming they have a space ship and DNA evidence of an alien living on earth."
He stepped closer. "Lois, Lois - a life lesson for you. Knowledge isn’t power."
"I have evidence."
"Oh, Lois," he said in a patient tone he would use to address a cute, but extremely naive child. "What you know cannot hurt me or anyone I protect. Go ahead, write your story. But you will not have those photos as evidence."
His calm certainty inflamed her. "How are you going to stop me?"
"Another life lesson, Lois. There are three kinds of people. Those who have power – like me. Those who think they have power – like you. And those who don’t even know power is the only viable currency – like your friends the Kents."
"What have you done with the Sewells?"
"That is not your problem. Your problem is that I have one shot left in my tranquiliser gun. Either you give me the camera and you walk out of here to continue life as a highly decorated reporter. Or I use my last shot and Lois Lane ceases to exist."
"How do I know you won’t shoot me even if I give you the camera?"
"Because there will be no need." He stepped closer. "Now, give me the camera."
She was reaching into her bag, when someone appeared from nowhere and stood between her and Hodge. "Clark," she breathed.
"Stay behind me, Lois." Clark stepped closer to Hodge. "Give me the gun."
Hodge lifted the gun and aimed at Clark. "I *will* shoot," he threatened.
"No you won’t," Clark countered. "If you shoot me, you’ll have no shots left and Lois will still have the camera."
The two men confronted each other for a long moment.
"Lois," Clark said, his voice low and sure. "Turn around and walk out of here. Don’t be afraid."
Lois started to argue, wanted to argue, but something in Clark’s voice stopped her. Instead she forced her legs to carry her away from the refuge of his body. She heard a scuffle behind her and turned.
Hodge had lowered his gun. Clark hadn’t moved. "It’s all right, Lois," he said. "He missed."
"He shot at you?"
"Go back to my office," Clark said. "I’ll meet you there."
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Lois was shaking so violently, it took multiple attempts to unlock Clark’s office. Finally in, she sat on his chair and closed her eyes. She could see the black figures eradicating the two lifeless bodies. She shuddered.
The door opened and Clark came in. "Lois! Are you all right?"
She hurled herself into his arms. He held her snugly, his arm cocooning her while his hand rested her head against his shoulder. "You’re ok," he soothed. "You’re safe now."
His touch, slowly strumming her back, calmed her. After a few moments, she managed to control her shaking and he released her. “You’re ok?” she whimpered. “He really missed?”
Clark nodded.
She fell into his arms again, clinging to him, remembering how he’d stood between her and Hodge, how he hadn’t backed away, even when threatened. She was so, so inexpressibly grateful Hodge had missed.
Only when the length of time she’d been in his arms was starting to stretch into awkwardness, did she back away. He sat her on his chair and gave her an encouraging smile. “Feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded. She reached into her bag and took out the camera. She rewound the film, removed it and handed him the camera. "I borrowed this," she said. "I hope that’s ok."
He put the camera back where it belonged. "Do you feel like breakfast?"
"I’m starved," she admitted.
"What would you like? I can get anything you want."
"In Smallville?"
"You’d be surprised."
"I’d like coffee and anything with chocolate."
He grinned. "I’ll get it." He paused on his way out. "Lois, lock the door after me and stay here until I get back."
"Ok."
He was back within minutes with coffee and the most delicious chocolate croissant she had ever tasted.
The coffee warmed her and steadied her. So, if she was honest, did his presence. Clark, just by being there, calmed her.
He was staring into his coffee, deep in thought. He looked up. "Lois?"
"Uhm?"
"Do you trust me?"
She didn’t trust anyone. But to say so would seem churlish. And she was realising that if any one person on earth could be trusted, Clark Kent might be that person. "Why do you ask?"
He leant forward, elbows propped on his knees, his expression grim. "McGlynn is desperate. He wants that roll of film and you have it."
She couldn’t see what that had to do with trust. "So?"
"So you won’t be safe while you have the film."
"And?"
"And I’m going to keep you safe, but it’s difficult when I don’t know what is going on."
Lois looked past the glasses and into his brown eyes. Was this genuine concern? Or a creative way of getting her story? "You’re a reporter, Clark."
"It’s not your story I want."
"Then what do you want?"
"Your safety."
"Clark, no offense, but I don’t trust anyone."
"I gave you my word I wouldn’t take your story."
"But you’re a reporter, Clark."
"I’m a person first and a reporter second."
She didn’t want to trust him but, she realised with a jolt, it was less about the story and more about the inevitable disappointment when she discovered he was just like the rest. She started to speak, planning to brush him off, but somehow her words spilt out.
“McGlynn’s real name is Franklin Hodge. I have investigated him for a long time and never been able to nail him. He’s always there, but you only notice if you’re actually looking for him.
“Perry and I call him the Invisible Aide. He smooths the way for the President. Ties up loose ends. Cleans up messes. All with ruthless, understated efficiency.”
“He was sent here to deal with the Sewells’ blackmail threat?” Clark said.
“That’s my take.”
“So he dealt with it by killing them?”
“I don’t know if they’re dead.” Again, the black figures loomed in her imagination and tears welled in her eyes.
“Why did you go out there again?” he asked gently.
“When I finished my work, I was so tired I thought I’d rest a little bit. Then the phone rang and it was Jane. She wanted you but wouldn’t say why, so I figured either Hodge or the Sewells had left the hotel. I saw Hodge in the main street.”
“You followed him? Alone?”
She nodded, ignoring his disapproval. “The Sewells arrived, they talked but I couldn’t hear much. Then...” She faltered, wrestling tears which refused to back down.
He reached for her hand and enclosed it in his.
“Then Hodge shot them although there was no sound. They just dropped and four people completely in black carried them away.”
“Did they give him the picture of the alien?”
“They didn’t give him anything. I couldn’t hear what was said, but I taped it, so maybe Jimmy will be able to lift something useful off the tape.”
“What are you going to do with the film?”
“Get it to Jimmy to develop it.”
“Lois, I want to hold it for now.”
She sucked in a quick breath. Every instinct screamed in protest, but she dropped the film into his outstretched hand.
“Thank you,” he said and put it in his pocket.
“I need to write my notes.”
“Ok, I have to work on a story about the Celebration.” He walked to the neighbouring desk and sat down.
“Clark?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know I needed help?”
“I was worried when you didn’t come home.”
“So you came looking for me?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Why did you stand between Hodge and me?”
He looked uncomfortable, refusing to make eye contact with her. “Where else was I going to stand?” he said finally.
That settled it. He was definitely the nicest person she had ever met.
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Clark finished his story in less than two minutes. It was a fluff piece, for which he was grateful. His mind was full of things way removed from sunflowers.
He’d stopped in Metropolis on his way to get the coffee and croissant for Lois. He’d checked the Daily Planet and the National Inquisitor editions and to his overwhelming relief found no mention of space ships, aliens or blackmail by scientists.
He took a deep breath. Lois had the tapes and the film, but without the Sewells or the capsule or the strand of hair, their story wouldn’t hold up.
Except for the picture.
If he went to the hotel now, he could search the Sewells’ room.
If he found the picture, he would know whether it implicated him.
If it did, he could destroy it.
But that would mean leaving Lois alone.
He remembered the panic which had seared his mind when he’d realised she wasn’t in his bed. He touched the roll of film in his pocket, incredibly grateful she had agreed to let him hold it. Someone would come for it, of that he was sure. He had to stay with Lois until the film was delivered to Jimmy.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Package for the Editor,” a voice called.
Clark opened the door. The package was on the floor and whoever had delivered it was already gone.
It was unusual for anything to be delivered at this time on a Sunday morning. Clark looked through the box and saw a bomb.
In a blur, he undid the package and clasped the bomb to his abdomen. It exploded, lifting him momentarily off the floor.
“What was that?” Lois shrieked from behind him.
He dropped what was left of the bomb into the box and brushed off his shirt. “Somebody’s idea of a practical joke. It’s probably a left-over from the fireworks last night.”
He felt the warmth of her hand resting on his back. “Clark, are you hurt?”
He turned and saw her concern. “I’m fine. It was only small.”
She took his hands and examined them. “Shouldn’t you be burnt or something?”
He wanted to let her hold his hands forever, but her question was way too close to dangerous territory. “How’s your story going?” he asked, pulling away.
“I’m finished.”
“Let’s go home then.”
“I need to book the earliest flight to Metropolis. I have to get the film to Jimmy.”
There was no way he was letting her get on a plane with that film. “The airport doesn’t even open for another hour,” he said. “You can call from home.”
“Ok.”
As they walked to his car, Clark continuously x-rayed to check for any possible danger. He lightly rested his hand on the small of Lois’s back. Whatever happened, he had to protect her.
Lois was quiet as they drove home, which meant he could turn up his hearing, alert for anything suspicious. He continued to scan visually, unable to shake his disquiet. They turned the last corner before the farmhouse and a huge lorry loomed ahead, travelling so fast, a collision was inevitable.
Clark reached for the roof of the car and lurched himself up and sideways, taking the car with him. They landed on the grass verge with a thud and the truck passed in a haze of dust and small stones.
He checked Lois, there was no obvious injury. “Are you all right?” he breathed.
She nodded, pale and shaken.
He tenderly squeezed her shoulder. “Sure you’re ok?”
She tried a shaky smile. “Just a few bruises. Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“What the hell happened?”
He regretfully removed his hand. Touching her was becoming addictive. “I don’t know, it happened so fast.”
“I thought he was going to hit us for sure.”
“So did I.”
“How did we get off the road?”
“Must have hit a pothole.”
“Must have been a big pothole.”
He manufactured a smile and a light tone. “That’s country roads for you.” But he was worried, really worried. Hodge was desperate to destroy that film. “Lois, I don’t think this was a coincidence.”
“What do you mean?”
“We have the film. Someone tries to run through us.”
She blanched. “It wasn’t an accident?”
“He was on our side of the road and going way too fast.”
“But only Hodge knows we have the film.”
Clark raised his eyebrows, inviting her to join the dots.
She put her hand to her mouth, then laughed nervously. “You’re reading too much into this, Clark. The driver simply wasn’t concentrating. I’m flying back to Metropolis today. And I’m taking the film with me.”
“I think you should give it to Hodge.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Clark. That might work in Smallville, but the Daily Planet doesn’t just... fold. Neither do I.”
“Please, Lois.”
“Drive, Clark. I have bags to pack and a plane to catch.”
+-+-+-+
Lois packed her suitcase in Clark’s room. She’d left him on the porch. He’d said very little since they’d arrived at the farmhouse. She figured he was sulking because she wouldn’t give Hodge the film.
She heard the phone ring and a moment later, Martha knocked on the door. “Lois, it’s for you.”
“Thanks.”
Lois took the phone. “Lois Lane.”
“Leo Nunk.”
“What do you want, Nunk?”
“I have some very interesting information for you.”
“Why would I be interested in any information you had? And if, by some fluke, it was legit, why would you be telling me?”
“Because even if you print what I have,” he sneered, “I will go a *lot* further, so your story will look half-baked by comparison.” He laughed, heavy with scorn. “I love it when the Inquisitor scoops the Planet.”
Lois sighed. “Spill it, Nunk.”
+-+-+-+
Lois leant against the wall, her head reeling and her heart racing. It could not be true.
It could not be true.
It could not be true.
But Nunk had been so infuriatingly certain of the mind-blowing revelations he had casually dropped on her.
Her story was now complete. She had the audio tape and film as evidence. She could go back to Metropolis, check a couple of details and file the biggest story of her career.
But it would come at a price. A price so huge that for the first time ever, she wasn’t sure she was willing to pay.
She walked unsteadily to the farm gate. Nunk had said he would meet her there with proof – a low-quality copy of his ‘original’. She wanted to believe he wouldn’t come. She wanted to believe his evidence was fabrication. But the heavy nausea in her stomach told her she was hoping in vain.
Moments later she was holding a copy of the predictive computer-generated image of the alien. It was grainy and low-resolution, but one thing was undeniably clear.
It was Clark Kent.
