From part 2:
<<Clark *Kent*. They want me to kill Clark! *My* Clark!>> she thought with terror.
"No, no, no. There must be some mistake. This can't be right!" she said aloud. But she knew it was no mistake. These guys didn't make mistakes.
She had to kill Clark Kent, or end up dead herself.
And now, Part 3:
~The airfield, 20:00~
Lois was shaking. She hadn't been this afraid in a very long time. She was afraid of herself, which she hated even more. But she didn't know what else to do. She had to kill Clark Kent. Kill the one man who had treated her decently, who had made her feel *something*.
She felt hot tears streak her cheeks. She remembered a medicine man had once told her that if tears spilled hot, it meant they came from the very depths of one's soul. She knew, that if she killed Clark, that there would be no turning back. She'd become as evil as the rest of them. Her heart would turn to ice, and her soul would be lost forever.
"What choice do I have?" she asked herself, squeezed up against some large crates in the hangar. Clark's helicopter was already on the field. She had a long-range pistol. Lois tried and failed to load the gun twice.
Her hands were shaking like they hadn’t done in a long time.
She loaded the bullets.
Primed the barrel.
<<Breathe. Just breathe,>> she thought, steadying herself by not thinking of the final action, but just loading the gun one step at a time.
"Just do it, Lane. Do it to protect Lucy. Do it to protect Perry," she coached to herself, as she had done dozens of times over the last two years.
Tears welled in her eyes, making her vision blurry.
She swiped at her eyes, and more tears came to replace them.
God, she couldn’t do this anymore.
She had been one of the good guys once. When had she become a criminal, a murderer?
For one bleak second, she thought of aiming the weapon at herself. But no, she was a fighter, a survivor. She'd get through this. She'd somehow move on--
A movement on the airfield caught her eye. She could see Clark’s handsome form heading to the helicopter.
He moved with such easy grace, yet with power, purposefulness.
She had lost all sight of her purpose the day they had kidnapped her and forced her into this hellish life, doing something so contrary to her spirit, that she didn’t know who she was anymore.
She took a deep breath.
She steadied herself, her face wet with tears and sweat.
Lois stared down at her target--at Clark.
A man who had made love to her, who as a *good* man, she knew.
A man who had been foolish to get mixed up with her.
But he was good. Naive maybe.
But decent.
Kind.
Oh God, she couldn’t do this...
She wiped her eyes one last time, terrified of what would happen if she didn’t pull the trigger.
Terrified of what would happen if she did.
She squeezed her eyes, begging silently that she would be forgiven, that someday, she could return home, put this past her, move on---
She suddenly fired the weapon and her whole world stopped.
Clark glanced over his shoulder in puzzlement.
Lois sat still, in the dark, holding her breath. Had she killed him?
He shook his head, and gestured to the pilot that he was coming. She saw him lower his glasses and look right at her, though she was certain he couldn't see her in the dark, from that range. His shoulders sagged in defeat, and he climbed into the helicopter.
He wasn't dead! He wasn't *dead*! She had *missed*! Oh, thank God, that for *once*, she had missed!
She threw down the weapon in disgust, realizing what she had almost become. She had almost lost her soul in that one instant. If she had killed Clark, she knew there would be no hope for her ever again.
Suddenly, Lois was running to the helicopter. She didn't question why, she simply accepted the bit of grace that had saved her from killing a good man, dropped the gun, and ran towards Clark.
They were getting ready to take off, when Clark saw her. He jumped out of the helicopter and met her half way across the field.
"I'm *sorry*," she cried with a gasp, tears streaming down her face. Those hot tears, from the depth of her soul.
He held her, he didn't question her, he just held her.
"It's all right, Linda," he said soothingly.
She suddenly pulled away from him, but didn't let go of his hand. She tugged him back towards the helicopter. "Take me away with you, now. Please. Before I think about it, before I change my mind. Just, take me with you, Clark!"
He nodded and helped her into a seat. She watched as the ground became further away from her. As surreptitiously as she could, she pulled out the other gun that was tucked into her waistband, and the knife that was tucked into her shoe, and kicked them both out of the helicopter. She watched as they became specks on the ground; harmless specks now, that had almost destroyed her life.
She hoped to never to lay hands on weapons like those ever again.
*~*~*~*
Clark’s arm was around her, as she had fallen asleep shortly after takeoff, sobbing inconsolably in his arms. The tears were dried on her cheeks now, and she looked innocent and sweet sleeping by his side. He was torn and confused by her; from the moment he had met her, he had felt the desire to protect her. At first, he had thought she needed protection from the outside world, but now he wondered, if she needed protection from herself.
Clark took the bullet out of his pocket and rolled it around in his fingers, thinking. She had fired a gun at him. If he had been an ordinary man, he would have been seriously wounded if not killed outright by that shot. She had intended to kill him. Yet, she had regretted it instantly, he had seen from across the field.
So the question that remained was, why?
Why would she try to kill him? He didn’t believe for a second that it had been her choice. That would be too horrific to contemplate anyway, and though that thought had crossed his mind when he had first seen her with the pistol, it had been erased completely when she had come running to his arms.
She obviously hadn’t wanted to harm him. Had she believed he was someone else? And if that were the case, what had driven her or forced her to pick up a gun at all?
He realized that she had probably been through something terribly traumatic, something much more than the one bullet aimed at his head.
He sighed, knowing that taking her with him was probably unwise, but he felt irresistibly drawn to her. It was more than last night when they met, though that was partly the reason. He had thrown caution to the wind that night, something he never did, and had made love to her... his first time ever, with anyone. And it had been amazing.
Reckless.
Foolish.
But amazing... And he was certain that she had felt it too. But she was scared, that much was clear. At the hotel, he had thought she was scared of him. His ridiculous comment about them getting married would certainly have given her sufficient reason.
But now, with the bullet that she had shot at him in his hand, he thought it was probably much more complicated than a mixed-up heart after a one night stand.
So what had happened between the time she had left the hotel and when he had seen her on the airfield? What had led to her to try to kill him?
And why, did he still feel like there was something precious in her that he had to protect?
He needed answers, but he was content to wait until she could tell him. They had another half hour before they landed in Libreville to begin the long journey home to Metropolis.
Libreville.
Freedom Town.
He wondered if that name would have an important meaning to the woman sleeping at his side.
He sighed as he took the picture out one last time of Lois Lane. He wished he had good news to bring back to the Chief. He wondered if he should have asked Linda about her. Maybe she’d know something about a young reporter poking around in the Congo. He felt stupid for not having thought of it before, though honestly, they had barely spoken. He would ask her though, and if she did know anything, he could fly back under his own power and check it out.
But his first concern was to get Linda to speak to him.
He had to know what she had really been doing in the Congo.
And if Linda was even her real name.
Lois Lane would have to wait.
*~*~*~
The sound of the whirring helicopter was the first thing Lois heard when she awoke, though she realized that she had probably heard it in her sleep. She had fallen asleep after sobbing in Clark’s arms for what felt like hours, unable to explain to him why she felt like her soul had been taken away and then given back to her the moment he touched her. Unable to explain the hell she had been through that had brought her to this point.
Her eyes remained closed, feeling his solid shoulder under her chin, the comforting and undeserving arm around her shoulder. *Clark.* She had *shot* him... and missed. Thank God she had missed! Maybe he hadn’t heard the gunshot over the roar of the ‘chopper. She hoped so. She wouldn’t be able to face him, not if he knew that she had tried to kill him.
Tears slipped past her lids again, though she did everything she could to remain still, so he would think she was still asleep. Although she felt totally unworthy, she took comfort in his presence, the first safe haven she had known since being kidnapped by the gunrunners. There was something solid and reassuring about Clark; he had a quiet strength that cut through all of the pain and terror she had lived with for the past two years. She was too shattered to hope for too much from him, but it was there, a fragile thing shimmering through the tears that dampened his shoulder. The hope that he could be the one who could bring her out of the darkness of despair, loneliness, and fear that she had found herself mired in.
Her quiet tears simply would not stop, even though she hadn’t cried in over a year. She remembered the last time she had cried...
She wished she could forget...
“You are ready for your first target,” said Jon, tossing her a communicator. “It’s already uploaded. Just push the button on the side.”
She looked at the device, uncertain what to do with it. She had been in complete isolation from anything that might connect her to the outside world. And here, Jon had just tossed her a communicator. She felt her palms sweat as she turned it on.
“Don’t get too excited, Mad Dog. It’s just a one-way communicator,” he said, not even looking at her. “It’s to receive targets only. Your first one is already uploaded.”
“What?” she asked, thrown by his comment, and as always, thrown by him calling her Mad Dog. She hated when he called her that. It had been a nickname she had earned in college, for never letting go of stories. “Mad Dog. That’s a good name for an assassin,” he had told her, in an odd moment of camaraderie. He was her trainer, and rarely talked to her except to give her orders, but she had let that one thing slip about herself when they were sharing a sandwich once. She regretted it terribly. Because what had once been a mild source of pride, was now a deep wound. Because now it meant she was cold, heartless. A killer.
Lois switched on the device, feeling nauseous. They had forced her into training to be an assassin. She had enjoyed the physical part of it, imagining that she could one day use the moves they taught her on the men that had stolen her life away from her. It was her only comfort that someday she could escape... and somehow protect her family from the Boss coming after them. That’s what had always stopped her before. Fear of the Boss killing her family. As crazy and mixed up as they were, with her parents divorced and her sister changing boyfriends like socks, they still belonged to her, were hers to protect. Her family...
She looked down at her ‘target.’ Facts were given, like that he was Congolese, 5’ 8”, and a picture appeared. She tried not to wonder about the facts that weren’t shown on her little device. Like did he have a family? Did he have friends?
She swallowed hard. If she knew she was being forced to kill bad guys, maybe, just maybe, she could do this. But the guys she was working for *were* the bad guys. She knew that, more than anyone. She had researched everything she could about them before they had captured her. They definitely weren’t good guys, so who she was told to kill---
“I’ll go with you on the first one, Mad Dog,” he said. “You have 24 hours to do the job. We’ll leave at midnight.”
24 hours to kill a man. Everything in her spirit rebelled against the idea. Tears started forming in her eyes, and she searched Jon’s face, looking for an ounce of compassion in him.
“I can’t do this, Jon,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t shake.
“I am not going with you for moral support. I’m going with you to make sure the job is done,” he said coldly, loading some pistols in his vest. Then, she immediately understood. If she didn’t kill this guy, then Jon would kill her.
Bile rose in her throat.
She felt trapped.
Terrified.
*~*~*~*~
At midnight, Jon and Lois had left the compound and headed into the town. Lois tried not to think about what she was about to do. She didn’t know if she *could* do it. And if she didn’t, she’d be dead by the end of the night, and her loved ones soon after...
They found the target just outside his favorite bar. As she watched him, again, images of a family, a nice guy came to her. He was stumbling drunk, but that didn’t mean he deserved to---
“Do it, Mad Dog. Now’s your chance,” Jon said.
It took her two tries to load her gun, she was shaking so much. In the shooting range, when she wasn’t hurting anyone, she was actually a pretty good shot. But this was different. She was being told to kill.
She took a breath, trying to steady herself, to empty her mind and her heart. But she couldn’t—she was not a murderer!
“I—I can’t,” she whispered, the gun aimed at the target, though she thought her whole body was trembling.
“If you don’t I’ll have to kill you,” he said, raising the pistol to her temple, and leaning close to whisper in her ear. “ And the Boss won’t stop there. He’ll go after your family. He’ll go after your friends. Do you want all of those deaths on your head because you didn’t kill one guy?”
She shook her head, quavering. Tears were streaming down her face, and her arm was straining from the tension.
“Do it, Mad Dog. Or I’ll do it-- and more,” he said darkly.
Her finger was on the trigger. She closed her eyes, not to see, not to know. <<I don’t kill. I do not--->>
The gun went off. The man across the way crumpled to the ground.
“No!” she cried, utterly shaken, feeling something irrevocable shift inside her.
Lois dropped the gun, trembling and crying uncontrollably. She fell to her knees and wretched into a nearby bush.
<<What have I done?>>
She suddenly stood and turned to Jon. “I hate you! I hate this!” she shouted at him, powerless to do anything else.
“Good. Hate is good,” he said calmly.
She was ready.
*~*~*~*
Lois felt sick at the memory - and the feeling compounded at that and all the other horrible things she had been forced to do since that first time. She had killed seven other men since that moment, and every one of them hung around her neck, like the sea mariner’s albatross.
Yet, she had walked away. She had just done the impossible. She would have to protect her family when she got back to Metropolis, somehow, until she could figure out what else to do. She was too terrified to go to the authorities or even to Perry at the Planet. But she was trained to kill. Maybe she could use those skills to protect instead of kill.
Clark gently squeezed her shoulder, not to wake her, but she thought, to reassure her, even in sleep. The gesture almost brought tears to her eyes again. She wasn’t worth his kindness, his gentleness. She was afraid to let him know she was awake and look into those compassionate eyes again, to see his openness, his goodness. She had almost taken that away from him. Because she had been scared. Scared of the consequences if she didn’t shoot him...
And yet, she had done the unthinkable and left the Congo.
Now, she just needed to find a way to protect her family.
