Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Trusting Me, Trusting You 3:Trail (11/?)

~~ Tuesday ~~

The next morning, Clark was ripped from sleep by a loud bang. He leapt from the bed as the sound continued, thundering through the quiet house.

He pulled his jeans over his sleep shorts and yanked a tee shirt over his head. He rushed onto the landing - and ran straight into Lois.

"Sorry," he muttered, as his hand reached to steady her. "You OK?"

"I'm fine," she said. "Just a bit startled."

"Police!" a harsh male voice shouted from below. "Open up."


Part 11

Clark looked at Lois, expecting all of his fear and panic to be reflected in her eyes. She calmly put her hand on his arm. "You stay out of sight until I -"

"Lois -"

"Let's see what they want before admitting to anything."

"Lo -"

"If they *have* come for us, it's better that they capture me."

"No!"

"You will be able to find me and rescue me much easier than I will be able to find you," she said. "Stay out of sight. Fly away if you need to."

"Lo -"

"If they *do* take me, you're my only hope."

With a final squeeze on his arm, she ran lightly down the stairs.

Clark stepped back - out of sight of the front door, berating himself that he hadn't swept Lois into his arms and flown away. He looked through the walls, saw Lois reach for the door, and readjusted his vision to look through it.

A large male police officer had lifted his hand to thump on the door again. Fear constricted Clark's chest. Then, as Lois opened the door, he noticed the second person - it was Rachel Harris, wearing the Sheriff's badge.

A glimmer of hope struggled to the surface through his alarm.

Lois opened the door. "Yes?" she said mildly.

The male deputy looked down at her as if a young woman in her pyjamas with a jacket slung over her shoulder was about the last thing in the world he had expected.

Rachel stepped forward. "This house belongs to the Kent family," she said. "What are you doing here?"

Lois pushed one arm into the sleeve of her jacket. "You're Rachel?" she said.

Rachel's right hand drifted to her weapon. Clark tensed.

"Rachel Harris?" Lois said as she continued donning the jacket. "Clark told me about you. He said you were a friend of his."

Rachel's carefully official composure melted away. "Clark?" she gulped, although she barely managed to make a sound. She swallowed roughly. "Clark Kent? You know Clark? You know Clark *now*?"

Lois nodded nonchalantly. "I know Clark."

"Who are you?" Rachel said.

"My name is Lois Lane." She reached into the pocket of her jacket and took out a card, which she offered to Rachel.

Rachel stared at Lois - her face, her hand, the card - before finally taking the card. She examined it and showed it to the male deputy. He gave her the slightest of nods. Clark hoped it meant that they had accepted whatever ID Lois had given them.

"Where's Clark?" Rachel asked urgently. "Is he safe? Where are his parents? Do they know you are here?"

Clark wondered if this was the right time to make an appearance. He hesitated, knowing beyond any doubt that Lois was better skilled at handling this situation than he was. And there was always the chance that with two of them, they might say something contradictory. They never had gotten around to finalising their story.

Perhaps Lois was thinking along similar lines because she said to Rachel, "Clark is upstairs sleeping. He brought me here last night."

"Clark's *here*?" Rachel said. Her shock was evident, but there was also hardly-daring-to-believe delight, and Clark felt the first stirrings of welcome.

Lois nodded. "He's still asleep. It would be better if we didn't have to wake him."

Rachel glanced to the male cop in silent consultation. "How can we be sure you're telling the truth about knowing Clark?" he asked gruffly.

Lois gestured to her card as she took it back. "I've been assigned to help Clark."

"Help him?" Rachel said. "Why does he need your help?"

Lois took a long moment to draw a deep breath. "This situation needs to be handled with the utmost care," she said in a lowered voice.

"What situation?" Rachel had also lowered her voice.

"I know there are going to be a lot of questions," Lois said. "I know that everyone who knew the Kent family seven years ago is going to be agog with curiosity about what happened to them. But my first priority is Clark."

"You don't want half of the town thumping down his door to see if it's true that he really has returned?" Rachel said.

"Exactly," Lois said, sounding relieved.

"What happened?" Rachel asked. "What happened to them?"

"It's a long and tragic story," Lois said. "And I hope you can understand that many parts are highly confidential. I don't know everything, and some of what I do know, I'm not free to reveal."

Both cops nodded. Clark began to breathe a little easier. "What *can* you tell us?" Rachel asked.

"That the Kent family was the unfortunate and totally innocent victims in a case of mistaken identity."

"They were kidnapped?"

"Yes," Lois said.

"By your agency?" Clark couldn't see Lois's silent response to the question, but he saw Rachel's slight grimace before trying to regain ground by answering her own question, "No. No, of course not. That's ridiculous."

"The Kent family was taken by representatives of a foreign agency whose information was hopelessly compromised," Lois said.

"But surely ... as soon as the mistake was realised ..."

"By then, the Kents had been removed from the United States." Lois pushed her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "My agency has been working to locate them and negotiate their return."

"It took *seven* years?"

"Very few rogue agencies are willing to admit to mistakes," Lois said grimly. "Even fewer are willing to make restitution."

"So you kidnapped him back?" the male cop asked incredulously.

"Not me personally," Lois said with a dour chuckle. "My assignment is to facilitate Clark's re-entry into society."

"Do you know what happened to his parents?" Rachel asked. "Do you know where they are?"

"Clark was separated from them soon after the kidnapping, and - as I'm sure you'd realise - procuring information is fraught with risk."

"Do you know *anything* about their fate?"

Lois paused. "You should ask Clark about this ... but ... we believe that Jonathan Kent has passed away."

Rachel put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, no," she uttered. "Poor Jonathan. Poor Martha."

"We are still working to bring Martha home," Lois said in a business-like fashion. "I'm sure you can understand that this is an extremely stressful time for Clark and that the best way to help him would be to give him the time and the space that he needs."

Rachel nodded.

"I realise that any hint of Clark's return will spread like wildfire through the Smallville community," Lois said.

"How much of what you told us can be repeated?" the male cop asked.

"As much as is needed in order that Clark's friends and acquaintances understand that this is going to take some time."

Rachel nodded. "I'll deal with it," she said. "I'll put the word out."

"Thank you."

"I assume that, eventually, Clark will come into town?"

"Our long-term goal is to fully reintegrate him into regular society."

"May I suggest that you bring him in tomorrow?" Rachel said. "That will be long enough for the rumour mill to have recovered from its initial paroxysm, but not so long that it has worked itself into a frenzied lather."

"I'll see how Clark is feeling."

Rachel paused. She looked at Lois. "Clark Kent was a friend of mine for a long time," the sheriff said.

Lois nodded.

"If you were me, would you just walk away without seeing for yourself that he is all right?"

"No, I wouldn't," Lois said.

"Do you expect me to?"

"If you did, I would have very little respect for you."

"Would you call Clark, please?" Rachel asked. "He won't know my colleague, but he shouldn't find me too daunting."

"Why you in particular?" Lois asked coolly.

Rachel smiled as if at a memory. "Well, he *was* my date to the senior prom."

Lois straightened her shoulders a little, and the two women stared at each other.

"I'm not leaving until I see Clark with my own eyes," Rachel said with cool resolve.

Lois slowly turned around and looked up the stairs. "Clark?" she called. "Are you awake?"

Clark silently sped into the bedroom and put on his glasses. He walked to the door, counted to ten, opened it, and then closed it with just a little more force than was necessary.

He peered around the corner and down the stairs, a little disconcerted at the frantic pace of his pounding heart. Two steps down, he stopped. "Rachel?" he said with what he hoped was an equal mix of surprise and pleasure.

Rachel's reaction was all pleasure. "Clark." She pushed past Lois and ran up the stairs, meeting him halfway and throwing her arms around his neck. When she backed away, she looked into his face. "My, my," she said. "It really *is* Clark Kent."

He nodded. "Yes, it is. How are you, Rachel?"

"I'm just fine." She reached up to his cheek and ran her hand down it. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again, Clark. When you and your family just disappeared ..."

Clark had to force himself not to flinch at her touch. He looked past Rachel, searching for Lois. "Ah ... you've met Lois Lane?" he said. "We arrived last night."

"Yes, we've met," Rachel said, sounding undecided as to whether that was a good thing.

"Is it just coincidence that you're here on our first morning?" Clark asked, trying to copy Lois's light tone.

"We received a call from Jack Wetherly first thing this morning. He was convinced he had seen a light in the window late last night."

"It was only a flashlight," Clark said. "We don't have power."

"I'll see to it for you," Rachel said. She finally seemed to remember that her hand was still fastened to his face, and she lowered it to rest it on the butt of her weapon. "Don't you worry about anything, Clark. If anyone gives you any trouble, they'll be answering to me."

"Thanks," he said, hoping it wasn't obvious how much he wanted this encounter to conclude quickly.

Not that he didn't like Rachel.

Or had liked her, once.

Rachel retreated down the stairs and out the front door. She turned and looked up at him. "See you soon, Clark," she said affectionately. "Perhaps we could have dinner together once you're settled."

Lois reached for the door handle but said nothing.

"I don't think I'll be ready to socialise much for a while," he said. "Lois says this is going to take some time."

Rachel took a moment to digest that. "Lois, huh?" she said.

Clark nodded firmly. "Lois."

Rachel's eyes swung from Clark to Lois, and then she turned away to walk to her car with the other officer.

Clark slumped against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart.

Meeting Rachel had stretched his latent social skills to their limit. How was he going to face the rest of the Smallville locals?

Footsteps approached him, and Clark opened his eyes. When Lois was level with him, she stopped.

She smiled, and the tension released its grip on his stomach.

"Good job," she said.

"I ..." Clark lifted his hands in bewilderment. "I hadn't realised it would be that difficult."

"The first time is always the hardest," she said. "And you had very little warning. You did great."

But Lois - she had been magnificent. She took another step, but Clark reached out and lightly clasped her elbow. She stopped and looked down at him.

"Rachel and me," he said. "It was the prom, two dinner dates, one movie, one kiss. That's all."

"Thanks for telling me." She took another step higher.

"And it will never be anything more," Clark said.

Lois turned. "I know."

"You do?"

Her mouth turned upwards into the suggestion of a smile. "I'm trained to read people," she said. "And sometimes, you're an open book."

She continued up the stairs and went into his bedroom.

Clark stared.

Her head appeared in the doorway, and he snapped his mouth shut.

"Any chance you could get us something to eat?" Lois said. "Not from Smallville. Somewhere further afield."

"Ah, yes. Of course," Clark said. "What would you like?"

"You choose." With that, she disappeared and shut the door.

||_||

By the time Clark arrived back at the farmhouse with breakfast, the power had been restored.

"Clearly, Rachel has some significant pull around here," Lois commented.

"I hope she can keep the hordes away," Clark said as he sat across from Lois at the old wooden table. "For a day or so at least."

"They're your friends, Clark," Lois reminded him gently as she unpacked the bagels and coffee he had bought in North Carolina.

"I know," he said with a sigh. "But ..."

"What do we need to do today?" Lois asked.

The balance of their relationship had subtly shifted. While they had been travelling - actually, before that, too - Lois had taken the lead. He'd looked to her to make the decisions for both of them.

Now, they were in his home. And although he was still floundering, he had to be the host. He had the knowledge. And the responsibility. "Someone has been working on the farm," Clark said.

"Wayne Irig. That's what Maisie told me last week."

"He owns the neighbouring farm."

"Do you think you'll go and see him?" Lois asked.

After feeling so inept when facing Rachel, Clark wasn't eager to repeat the experience with anyone else. But Wayne had always been a good friend to his parents. "I should," Clark said.

"Would you like me to come, too?" Lois asked. She lifted the lid from her coffee. "Or would you like to go alone?"

Clark wanted her to come. But realistically, he couldn't expect her to accompany him every time he had contact with other people. "I'd like you to come," he said. "But I need to start doing things by myself at some stage."

"See how you feel later," she said.

Clark spooned some strawberry jelly onto his bagel, trying to work up the courage to ask a question he dreaded. "What are you going to do?"

"Today?"

"Yeah." He couldn't imagine there was anything in Smallville, Kansas, that could hold lasting interest for someone as extensively travelled and sophisticated as Lois.

"I have a couple of ideas," Lois said.

That was two more than he had. "What?"

"Would you mind if I weeded and pruned the flower garden?"

Lois? Gardening? "Is that what you *want* to do?"

"Yeah," she said. "I had an assignment once where my cover was as an exchange horticultural student. I quite enjoyed it. I haven't ever had the opportunity to try out some of the skills I learned." Her smile was cloaked with understanding. "But it's your mom's garden, so I won't even touch it unless it's OK with you."

"I think ... I think she would be happy that someone was caring for it," Clark said. "She'd hate how it looks now."

"Great," Lois said enthusiastically. "I'll get started soon after breakfast."

"What was your other idea?"

She looked around the kitchen. "This place needs to be cleaned," she said. "I thought I could do that."

"Is that what you *want* to do?"

"Not really," she said. "But someone has to."

"Lois," Clark said. "I can have this entire house clean in less than five minutes. There is absolutely no need for you to do *anything* you don't want to do."

"But what about the farm? And no one has been looking after the house - there are probably roof leaks or blocked guttering. Stuff I don't know anything about. You'll be busy with that."

"Five minutes," he reiterated.

"You really can have it clean again in five minutes?"

He nodded. "If I slow down enough to ensure that I don't break any of Mom's vases and things like that."

Lois's smile died. "They took all of the personal things," she said. "They took the photos and letters and cards."

"I know. I looked around last night."

"I'm sorry," Lois said.

"It's OK," he said. "I can remember them without photos."

"Have you thought about how you're going to look for your mom?"

Clark took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start."

"You said that it was my heartbeat that alerted you when I was calling the nursing home," Lois said. "How did you know it was *my* heartbeat?"

He had no explanation. "I just did," he said.

"Do you remember your mom's heartbeat?"

"No."

"Could you hover in the sky and concentrate on her? Would that work?"

"I don't know," Clark said. "But I could try."

As they continued eating their breakfast, Clark's thoughts centred on his mom. The kitchen had been her domain - a place that had always been filled with the smells and tastes of her cooking and bursting with the warmth of her love.

He missed her so much - missed her, and worried about her, and felt such crushing responsibility for the pain she had endured.

His most vivid memories involved how she had made him feel. She had never accepted that 'different' meant 'inferior'. In that way, she was a lot like ... Clark's eyes shot to Lois as she stood and cleared away her plate and knife. "I'll be in the garden if you need me," she said.

"I ... I thought I'd look around the farm first."

"Good idea," she said with a bright smile. "If you want company, you know where to find me."

Clark stood from the chair. "Don't do anything you don't want to do," he said.

"OK."

He stepped closer to her. "I mean it, Lois," he said gently. "The past few days must have taken a huge toll on you. I want you to rest."

She smiled but didn't reach out to touch him. "I'll be fine. But if I feel tired, I might have a snooze later."

"The front porch gets the afternoon sun," he said. "Mom often read or painted there."

"Thanks."

Suddenly, Clark recalled one of their earliest conversations in the cell. "Leave the cooking to me," he said.

"You can cook?"

"Yeah," he said. "My mom taught me."

"That's good," Lois said. "I destroy even the simplest dishes."

"I'll get some supplies today. Not from Smallville."

Lois nodded her agreement. "I think we should go to Smallville together the first time."

Facing an individual had seemed daunting enough. Clark recoiled from the thought of facing an entire town of people eager to talk and ask questions. "Thanks," he said, hoping she would pick up the depth of his gratitude.

With another little smile, she walked from the kitchen.

Clark took a few seconds to clear away their breakfast. Then, he ventured out of the farmhouse. He hauled in a deep breath of rich, clean Kansas air and headed for the barn to begin the chores.

||_||

Lois had weeded about one quarter of Martha Kent's flower garden when she heard the noise of a vehicle approaching. She straightened, took off Martha's gloves, and walked slowly to greet the car. It skirted the maples and came to a stop about ten yards away. A boy - probably about seventeen - jumped from the driver's seat.

"Hi," he called with a cheery wave.

Lois looked across to the barn where Clark was standing in the doorway, watching them. "I can handle it," she muttered, knowing he would hear her.

He backed into the shadows of the barn, but Lois knew nothing would prevent him from watching and listening to everything that passed between her and the young visitor.

The tall, lanky boy had hauled an overflowing cardboard box from the trunk and was walking towards her. "Which way to the kitchen?" he asked.

Lois peeped into the box. It was loaded with groceries - fresh vegetables and fruit, flour, tea, sugar, and bread.

The visitor grinned at her - probably in response to her surprise. "Dave said you'd be needing this," he said.

"Dave?"

"My uncle. He runs the general store." He nodded towards the house. "Around the back for the kitchen?"

"Yes," Lois said, hurrying in front of him. She came to the back door and opened it. The young man slid the box onto the table. "Thank you," she said.

"'S'OK," he said. "I have a cooler with meat, milk, and butter, too. Hang on a minute."

With that, he was gone. Lois checked the contents of the box. Whoever had packed it had thought of everything. She sprinted up the stairs to get her purse.

She returned as the delivery boy came through the door. He pushed the cooler onto the table and began to unpack a few trays of meat. "Thank you," Lois said when he'd finished. "How much do we owe you?"

"Dave said not to worry now. He says to tell Clark to come in when he gets settled."

"Do ... *did* you know Clark?"

"Not really," the young man replied. "I was only a kid when he left for college and not much older when he left ... the next time. I remember that no one bullied the little kids when he was around. And he was the best point guard the Smallville Bears ever had."

Lois smiled. "What is your name?"

"Donny. But he won't remember me."

"You'd be surprised," Lois said. "Clark doesn't forget people easily."

Donny picked up the cooler. "Tell Clark, 'Welcome home,'" he said. "It's great to have him back."

"Thanks," Lois said. "And thanks for the supplies."

With a wave of farewell, he was gone. Lois put the meat, milk, and butter in the fridge, and half a minute later, Clark came through the door.

She looked up and smiled. "That was Donny," she said. "Dave's nephew."

"Yeah," Clark replied. "I recognised him. Although he's a lot taller than I remember." He moved toward the cupboards. Lois passed him the items; he put them away.

"How are things outside?" she asked.

"Better than I expected," he said. "I knew that Wayne would have done the best he could, but it's never easy running one farm, let alone two."

"He did a good job?"

"Yeah," Clark said. "The essentials are done. The extras - painting, non-urgent repairs, that sort of thing - they were a bit behind."

"Were?" Lois asked, pausing from her task to smile at him.

His smile flickered as he shrugged a little sheepishly.

Lois's gaze drifted down his body. His well-worn checked shirt had come untucked from his jeans in a couple of places - jeans that looked soft and supple, having moulded to his body over time. Sturdy black boots completed the farmer look to perfection.

Lois had never seen a more gorgeous farmer.

"You look the part," she said.

He looked down at his clothes. Lois figured he'd missed the compliment in her words. "Thanks."

"And you look like you enjoyed it," she added.

"Yeah," he said. "I did."

"Will you be in for lunch soon?"

"Half an hour?"

"Perfect."

"I'll get it," Clark said. "You rest. You've done a lot in the garden."

"I'm enjoying it, too," Lois said. "Fresh air, warm sunshine, and all the colours of fall."

Clark picked up the cardboard box. At the door, he turned and gave her an unbridled smile. "See you soon."

"Bye."

The door shut, and Lois hurried to the window so she could watch Clark walk away.

That smile.

That mouth.

He had admitted to kissing Rachel Harris.

Patience, Lois told herself.

In some ways, it was hard to believe that Clark was the same person she had seen the first time she had looked through her office window and into the cell. In other ways, he was Clark - steadfast, caring, strong - and that didn't change, whether he was a prisoner, a farmer, or a super-powered alien flying across the sky.

He was always Clark - and Lois loved him.

||_||

A car stopped. Clark heard the chain being unfastened and the gate swing open. He looked through the barn wall and saw a pickup moving slowly forward. He focussed on the driver and recognised Wayne Irig.

Clark watched the pickup approach with mixed feelings. Wayne coming here meant that Clark didn't have to leave the farm and risk running into other people. Wayne being here now took away Clark's chance to prepare.

He took a deep breath to settle the nervousness in his stomach and walked out of the barn, timing it so he arrived the same moment the pickup stopped.

Wayne leapt out and hurried forward, his face alight with welcome and his hand outstretched. "Clark," he said. "Clark, it is so good to see you again."

Clark shook the proffered hand and studied the face that had grown a little more creased over the past seven years. "Wayne. It's good to see you, too."

"I was so sorry to hear about your father," Wayne said. "Jonathan was the best of neighbours."

Clark nodded.

"I hope everything goes well with your mom."

"Thanks."

"I won't hold you up now with a lot of details," Wayne said. "I've been looking after the farm." He glanced over his shoulder with regret. "I didn't have time to do anything about the house."

"I appreciate everything you did."

Wayne looked a little relieved. "I waited awhile, hoping you'd all be back. Then, jobs needed doing, and I just fell into the habit of coming over here and doing them - not wanting it to be overrun when you came back."

"Thanks. The farm - it looks great."

"About six months after you left, I began to keep records - expenses, market prices, stock sold, calves born, all that sort of thing. I have it with me now." He took a couple of steps towards the pickup and reached in through the open window. "Look over it as you have time, and come to me if you have any questions."

He held out a large account book. Clark took it. "Thanks, Wayne." He'd said that a lot, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. And gratitude was welling inside him.

Wayne also held out a bankbook. "This is yours."

"Mine?"

"Proceeds from the farm. As I said, I took out all expenses. I replaced stock and equipment as needed. I also took a fair payment for my labour. There's almost five thousand dollars in the account now - and everything on your land is fully paid for."

"Wayne," Clark said. "I can't take that. You did -"

"It's your land. Yours and your mom's. I always knew that when you came home, you'd need it."

"Thanks. I ... Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Ah ... How's your family? Maggie? And Brett?"

"Maggie hasn't changed - still the same - never stops working, never stops talking." Wayne grinned. "Brett's getting married next month."

"Ah ... Congratulations. That's great."

"Yeah. Boy, was I glad to hear you'd come home. With Brett going off on his honeymoon, I didn't know how I was going to manage both farms. I even employed a guy who knocked on my door looking for work."

"Someone who knocked on your door?" Clark said, because it was easier to echo Wayne's words than to think of a new direction for their conversation.

"Yeah," Wayne said. "He's no good, though. He said he'd worked on dairy farms before, but I haven't seen any evidence that he knows one end of a cow from the other. He didn't know enough not to smoke in the barn. I figure with you being back home, I wouldn't need him anymore."

Clark made a small sound that he hoped was an appropriate response.

"I'll be going," Wayne said. "Come over whenever you'd like to - you're always welcome, and I know Maggie'd love to share a cup of tea with you."

"Thanks. And ..." Clark lifted the books. "... thanks for everything."

With a smile and wave, Wayne climbed into his pickup and drove away.

Clark opened the bankbook. Four thousand, eight hundred, seventy-two dollars and twenty-six cents.

It wasn't really his. It belonged to his parents. He flicked to the front of the book and saw that it had been opened seven months after his capture. Clark was sure that his parents also had a bank account. He would have to look for the paperwork. When he went into Smallville, he probably should visit the bank.

There was so much to do. So much to think about.

But for now, he just wanted to have lunch with Lois.