Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Trusting Me, Trusting You 3:Trail (27/29)

Lois picked up the paper again. "Take this into the barn and burn it," she said. "We don't want anyone from around here seeing it."

"Don't you want to read it first?"

Lois snorted. "No," she said. "I have better things to do with my time."

"It says I wanted to rule the world. To conquer this planet and kill its people. It says I'm inhuman, and vicious, and -"

She ran her hand down his chest. "The reporter is just parroting Moyne," she said. "And he parroted Trask. I love you, and I *know* they are wrong."

Clark took the newspaper from her. "I'll get rid of this," he said.

He walked out of the door, and Lois watched him, wishing that destroying the impact of the story could be as easy as burning the newspaper


Part 27

Eric Menzies stared at the front page of the Daily Planet.

Overall, he was satisfied.

The alien was dead. The threat was past. The public would speculate, but they wouldn't panic.

Rhodes hadn't revealed her original source - she hadn't mentioned Neville's name in any context. She'd portrayed the agency as being reasonably competent in difficult circumstances. She hadn't even raised awkward questions demanding justification for the imprisonment.

The story hinted at bigger revelations to come - which Eric figured explained her compliance.

He shrugged.

It mattered little now.

If there was an edition of the Daily Planet in two days, the existence or otherwise of an alien being was not going to be on the front page.

Eric picked up the photo taken on Malcolm's fifth birthday and gazed at the little boy. The world had seemed so bright then, so full of promise. How could it end like this?

||_||

Clark was quiet throughout the afternoon and into the evening. Lois felt as if he had slipped away, beyond the reach of her love and support.

She'd smiled often.

His answering efforts had been hollow.

She'd talked to him. She'd insisted that the Daily Planet story would have a short lifespan. By tomorrow, something else would have taken over the headlines, and the possibility that an alien had lived and died among them would slide into folklore history.

But nothing she'd said had been able to disperse the dark sense of foreboding that had enveloped Clark since he'd seen the headline.

Recalling what he'd said about enjoying her touch, Lois had instigated physical contact at every opportunity. She had left her floundering novel and wandered into the barn - for the sole purpose of putting her hand on Clark's arm and asking how he was doing. She'd hovered in the kitchen, probably getting in the way, and managed to brush past him - casually placing her hand on his back or shoulder or chest - so many times, he must have felt as if he were cooking in a crowded restaurant instead of a farmhouse kitchen in Kansas.

Nothing had worked.

Alien.

That one word had such power. The power to isolate. The power to ostracise. The power to stir up hatred and fear.

Lois's thoughts kept leaping forward to when they would retire to the bedroom for the night. What would happen then? Would that be her chance to connect with him? Or would Clark be unreachable? Would he be unwilling to answer questions? Perhaps the back massages would work again.

Although, what he really needed ...

What *she* really needed was far more than a back massage.

Lois gave up on her novel - it was impossible to write a ticked-off heroine when the hero kept morphing into Clark and all Lois wanted to do was give him a hug. She turned off the computer and smiled to Clark, who was - ostensibly- reading a book. "I'm going to bed," she said, hoping that was a clear enough invitation.

"Goodnight," he said.

Lois sat on the couch next to him. She put her hand on his thigh - just above his knee. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. But he didn't sound all right. His detachment took her back to their first night after they'd left the cell.

"All they know is that there was an alien," she said. "They think he's dead. You're alive. There is absolutely no reason to link that story with you."

"Menzies has to realise that I'm not dead," Clark said desolately. "He has to. Even if Moyne didn't tell him directly, he has to know that Moyne was chasing me when he came to Smallville. That implicates you. By extension, it implicates Clark Kent. And that could mean trouble for my mother."

"Clark, at this stage, if it means *trouble* for your mom, it means someone knows where she is and that she has a connection with you. That could give us a hint as to her whereabouts."

Clark nodded slowly, but he didn't look at all encouraged. "I'll be up soon," he said. "I just want to sit and think for a while."

"You've been sitting and thinking all evening," Lois said, hoping he would smile at her tone.

"I'll be up soon," he said as if her words hadn't even registered.

Lois squeezed his hand. Then she left him alone and walked up the stairs to the bathroom.

||_||

He's evil.

You can see it in his eyes.

Look at him. He's a monster. He could do anything.

He's not even human. He looks like a wild animal.

I'm glad he's dead. We could never be safe if he were still alive.

The words he had heard at the newsstand hacked through Clark's mind.

He was different. He didn't belong here. They didn't want him. They were scared of him. They were sure he had come to dominate and destroy.

Trask was right. Moyne was right. There was no place for him on this planet.

Clark closed the book; he hadn't read one word. He checked that the doors were locked and trudged up the stairs. Lois was still in the bathroom. He went into his childhood bedroom and closed the door. He slumped onto the bed and looked around at all the familiar things he had once thought he would never see again.

Many nights during his childhood, he had lain on this bed and tormented himself with fears that he could never be a regular guy. But not even the worst of his imaginings had prepared him to wake up one summer morning and by nightfall have experienced excruciating pain, been brutally captured, and be overwrought with worry about what may have befallen his parents.

Then had come the nightmare of abuse, pain, guilt, and abject hopelessness. They had tried to break him. Many times, Clark had been sure they had succeeded. Then there would be the rare day when no one came into his prison. Or a day when he'd been exposed to the rods, but not bashed.

And he would recover enough to find ways to cling to his sanity.

He'd figured out quickly that Trask was paranoid. Delusional. His hatred came from fear. His compulsion came from the desire to protect his people. He did what he felt he had to do.

But Moyne. Moyne had been sick. Evil. Deranged. Clark had never been convinced that Moyne had believed Trask's assertions of the coming alien invasion. But that hadn't inhibited Moyne. He had savoured his work and taken delight in concocting new ways to inflict suffering.

Clark clenched his hands and sank his forehead onto them as the memories assailed him.

A knock sounded on the door. He leapt from the bed. He reached for the doorknob with a hand that shook. He opened the door.

"The bathroom's free," Lois said.

"O...OK. Thanks." He hoped she'd leave him alone.

She didn't. She stepped forward. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah."

Her hand cupped his upper arm, and she eyed him with heartfelt compassion. "What can I do to help?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"You are not fine, Clark," Lois said.

"You didn't hear them."

"Have you considered that if you didn't have super-hearing, you might not have heard them?"

"They were right there," he said tightly. "They were looking at the photograph of the ogre and -"

"They don't know you."

"They know I'm different. That's enough for them to be scared of me."

"Clark," Lois said. "Come to bed. We'll talk. I can rub your back."

Clark shook his head. "No, Lois," he said vehemently. "Not tonight. I can't do it tonight."

"Why not?"

"Because ... because ..."

"After what happened today, I think you need our time together more than ever."

"No."

"Why not, Clark?" Lois said as her voice began to rise. "Why are you letting them win?"

"I'm not *letting* them win," he said, matching her tone and volume. "They've already won."

"They *haven't* won," Lois said. "And they can't win - not unless we let them."

"They've taken my mother," he cried. "They killed my father. They took seven years of my life. They changed me. They polluted me."

"I can't speak about who you used to be, but I don't think you've changed all that much," Lois said. "They couldn't change you. Not the important things. That's why they didn't win. That's why we aren't going to let them win."

"How can you say that?" he flared. "How can you think that? After what's been happening the past few days?"

Lois looked confused. "I don't understand," she said more quietly. "If anything, the past few days have shown me how remarkably whole you are. I was hurting - and you were there for me. You showed me more empathy than any supposedly normal person could have done."

"I'm not talking about that," he said.

"Then what are you talking about?"

"The nights. The 'bedroom therapy'."

Her confusion deepened. "I thought you were enjoying that," she said.

"It's not about enjoying it. It's about the fact that we even have to do it."

"You *don't* want to do it?"

"Lois, you've been incredibly patient and understanding, but nothing changes the fact that you are a beautiful and sexy woman, and I am in love with you, and the thought of doing anything more than massaging your back terrifies me."

"But that's why we're taking it slowly," she said. "That's why we're getting used to each other."

"But you are assuming it will progress, aren't you? You think that we'll work towards full intimacy. That's what you're hoping for."

"Eventually," she admitted. "But I already told you I am willing to wait as long as it takes."

"It's never going to happen," Clark said. "You should accept that."

"Why?" Lois said.

"Because I can't forget."

"You've been out of the cell for just over a week," Lois said. "Give yourself some time."

"Time won't make any difference. Nothing is going to change this."

Lois put her other hand on his arm, surrounding him. "Tell me why," she said. "Tell me what they did to you."

"No."

"Tell me, Clark. Whatever it is -"

"No."

"Clark, you'll never heal if you lock it away."

"I will never heal."

"You will. You just need some time to -"

"You think I should go for counselling?" Clark said bitterly. "Do you know a counsellor who specialises in alien mental health?"

"That's why I'm trying to help you," she said. "That's why we're doing this together."

"I don't want to do it anymore."

"I agree."

Shock rocketed through Clark. Had she given up on him? Wasn't that what he wanted? Wasn't it? "Then we're agreed," he said. "I'll sleep in here from now on."

"No," Lois said. "No. That wasn't what I meant. I think we should skip the therapy, and -"

"No."

"Why not? You said you're in love with me. You know that I love you."

"No, Lois."

"Why not?"

"No."

Lois turned towards his parents' room and pointed. "We go in there. We brush aside all of the trash that Moyne inflicted on you, and we -"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I can't."

"Can't?" she challenged. "Or don't want to?"

Clark couldn't believe she had asked that. "Don't want to?" he uttered. "How can you even think that? How can -"

"Then kiss me. And kiss me again. And just let it happen. By tomorrow morning, it won't matter what they say. It won't -"

"It will always matter," he shouted.

"Did Moyne rape you?"

"No!"

"Then what did he do?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We've gone too far, Clark," Lois said ominously. "We've gone way too far. If I leave now and go into that room, and you stay in here, neither of us is going to sleep. We'll both -"

"There is no alternative. I can't keep sleeping in the same bed as you."

"Why?"

"Because ..."

"Why? Is it because you think about what you'd like us to do?"

He wanted to lie. He wanted to deny the part of him that yearned to be normal.

"It is, isn't it?" Lois demanded. "That's why this is so difficult for you. I'm serious about this, Clark. I'm not going to pull away from it. I'm ready to -"

"Your friend was raped."

"So?" she said. "That has nothing to do with us. Nothing at all. That was evil and cruel domination. This is love and acceptance."

"How can you brush that aside?"

"How can you make something like that relevant here?"

"I can't separate them," he said. "I've tried. I can't."

"This isn't about Linda," Lois said. "This is about what happened in the cell."

"Leave it, Lois."

"You think I should leave you?" Her vehemence rose again. "You think I should just walk out of this room and go to the other bed and ... and what then? Fall asleep? Just like that? Knowing that you'll be in here, torturing yourself with memories and reliving the lies that Moyne told you."

"I want to be alone."

"Tell me what he did."

"I *can't* tell you what he did."

"Because you think I'll be disgusted?" she said. "You think I'll see you differently?"

"You will. Of course you will."

"Whatever Moyne did, *he* did it. You didn't."

"Lois," he begged. "Please ... please leave this."

"And what happens tomorrow? What happens tomorrow night? We are going to stay together; that means we will get back to this point - perhaps over and over again - so why not just deal with it tonight?"

"I can't."

"You can. If you trust me, you can do it."

"Don't make this about trust."

"Clark, don't let him rob you of one more minute. Don't let him take away more than he already has."

"I can't be who you want me to be."

"You are exactly who I want you to be."

"I can never be a real man. Not in the bedroom."

The torrent of words stopped abruptly. Lois sighed. She looked down at the floor. She took her hands from his arms. "Tell me what he did," she said quietly. "And let us deal with it together."

Her quiet tone jarred against his self-loathing. There was no way out; he was hopelessly cornered, and Lois was never going to let him get away. "He called me an animal," Clark said with wretched surrender. "Every night, he called me an animal. He said that if I had ever been with a woman, that would be an abomination. He told me - in sickening detail - what he'd done with women, all the while telling me that I could never have that because I was an animal. He brought in photographs and forced me to look at them." Clark shuddered. "Horrible photos."

Lois's hands reached for him. The softness of her touch rested along his neck. "He was wrong," she said with hushed conviction. "He was so wrong."

"Everything he talked about ... the fact that *he* was talking about it ... that makes it dirty. Dishonourable. Wrong."

"With Moyne, it *was* wrong," Lois said as her fingers brushed his neck. "But with you and me, it's different. It's right. And beautiful."

"Not if I'm an animal."

"Moyne said you were an animal. Moyne. And perhaps Trask. I don't think that. Scardino doesn't think that. The people of Smallville don't -"

"The people of Smallville don't know me - not really."

"Yes, they do. They've watched you for over twenty years. And now you've come home, they're welcoming you. They know -"

"They don't know the truth."

"You're from another planet," Lois said. "That doesn't make you an animal. It doesn't make you less than human."

"I was less than human for seven years. Nothing can change that."

"We can change how it affects us now."

"I can't, Lois," Clark said with a sigh of defeat. "I'm so sorry, but I can't."

He saw the moment that Lois finally believed him. Her hands dropped, and tears filled her eyes. "You are the man I love," she said, her voice quivering with rising tears. "You are the man I will love for the rest of my life."

She spun around and walked into the other bedroom, but she didn't shut the door. Clark heard her climb into bed. He heard her shivering. He heard her gulp with the strain of holding back her tears.

Clark shut the door of his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed.

His tears rose, hot and bitter and contaminated with hopelessness.

He let them come. He let them sear his mind and lacerate his heart. He let them rattle his body.

Because it was better than listening to the anguish he had caused Lois.

||_||

After Eric's evening visit to Phoebe, he returned to his office. He needed whisky, and Phoebe had never liked alcohol in the house.

He needed to think.

He needed to be alone.

Alone where he didn't have to pretend that everything was normal. That life would continue as it always had.

Stephen Daitch - an acquaintance from college who had become EPRAD's Chief Scientist - had called another three times today. They had kept in touch over the years - not often, never close enough to be considered a friendship, but both men had been astute enough to know that the other could be trusted and sometimes had information that could be shared to mutual benefit.

The three calls today hadn't changed anything - merely reported on a situation gradually and unequivocally sliding towards the coming cataclysm.

The monstrous asteroid was heading towards Earth with unfailing precision. They had been tracking it for days, checking and re-checking their calculations, always hoping for a miracle.

But it wasn't going to happen.

They were lined up on paths that would collide - the estimate being sixteen minutes past eleven on Wednesday morning.

Daitch had said that government officials had decided on a public announcement tomorrow evening. In one sense, the timing was crucial. In another, it didn't matter.

Nothing did.

Human effort was not enough.

Eric downed the remainder of his whisky and refilled his glass.

The planet was hurtling through space - towards an unavoidable destiny of destruction.

This was the end.

Even if some people survived the actual contact, Daitch was convinced that the delicate balance needed to sustain life would be shattered.

Eric realised he had been staring into the depths of his whisky for a long time. He blinked, and his eyes fell on the Daily Planet - and the photograph of the alien.

Did his people have advanced technology?

Did they have ways to detour an asteroid?

Even if they did - it was to no avail.

The alien was dead.

Eric opened the paper and re-read the story. Ms Rhodes hadn't even alluded to Moyne. Eric didn't think Phoebe read the papers much, but even if she heard about this, she shouldn't be upset by it.

Neville had told Rhodes that he'd gone to hunt down the alien. It was strange that he hadn't even considered the other possibility - that the conclusion of the operation had been due to the alien's death.

But if his target had been the alien, how had he ended up in the same place as Lois Lane? In Kansas? That was too much of a coincidence.

Unless the alien had escaped, and *she* had been chasing him, too.

No. Scardino had brought in the ashes from the cremation of the alien's body.

Neville - his mind doused with the drugs - had gotten it wrong.

Eric took a gulp from his whisky. As it burned down his throat, he closed the newspaper. It would be a mistake to make assumptions based on Neville's actions.

He stood from his chair and rinsed his glass. As he locked his office, he couldn't help reviewing his life. Phoebe. Malcolm. His job. His years out in the field.

All meaningless.

All would be snuffed out.

In just a few short hours.

||_||

~~ Tuesday ~~

Eric Menzies was thumping his large fist into Daniel Scardino's door before the sun rose the next morning. He waited, his natural impatience escalated by a sleepless night and a mind that had constantly churned over the impending disaster.

Eric lifted his hand and banged again.

"Hold on," came an irritated voice from the other side of the door. It opened, and Scardino stood there, dressed only in a pair of jeans. "Uh, Mr Menzies," he said. "I ... I wasn't expecting it to be you."

"Clearly," Eric said as he marched into Scardino's house without waiting for an invitation.

Scardino scurried behind him. "I'll ... ah, just get a shirt."

Eric didn't comment, waiting with limited patience for Scardino to return.

He did, still buttoning up a wrinkly shirt.

"Is the alien still alive?" Eric barked.

Scardino's hands fell from his shirt, although the two top buttons still hung loose. "No," he said.

Eric scrutinised his face. Scardino wouldn't dare lie to him. Scardino wouldn't dare disobey a directive. He wouldn't. "Why did Moyne tell Rhodes that the alien had escaped and he was going to recapture him?"

"Moyne had already left the operation," Scardino said. "He shouldn't have known about the death of the alien."

Eric discerned the hint of accusation in Scardino's tone - as if he were suggesting that Eric had used the family connection to pass on agency information. Eric glared - partly to see if Scardino would melt and partly to give himself time to assess the surprising possibility that the younger agent might have - finally - developed a backbone.

If he *had*, it was possible he had disobeyed the order to kill the alien.

And if he had disobeyed, he was lying now.

And if he were lying now, the world had a chance.

A slim chance. But a chance.

"Would you care to offer a hypothesis about how Moyne just happened to run across Lane's path in his quest to find the alien?"

Scardino didn't falter. "Moyne should have been at his new assignment," he said. "He wasn't; therefore, it's possible he returned to Metropolis, looking for Ms Lane."

"Moyne has been shifted from operations before. Why go after Lane in particular?"

"There was an incident prior to Moyne leaving. Ms Lane said he tried to push her into the cell without a rod. Moyne said she had wanted to enter the cell, and he was trying to stop her."

Ms Lane's side of that incident was news to him. "What happened?" Eric asked.

"Moyne was knocked out."

"I know *that*. He went to the hospital. Did they go into the cell?"

"Yes."

Neville had said that he'd been knocked out when he'd tripped in the scuffle *before* entering the cell. "What did the alien do? Did he knock out Moyne?"

"Not in the way you're thinking."

"How else could he do it?" Eric asked, exasperation increasing the volume of his voice.

"Moyne charged him and knocked himself out."

That was surprising. Not that Neville had lied, but from everything Eric had heard about the alien, he would have expected Neville to have been torn to shreds. In the context of the current situation, it was positive news. Extremely positive news.

"I think Moyne returned to Metropolis looking for Ms Lane," Scardino said. "He went to the compound and found it was gone. He decided that the alien and Ms Lane had escaped together and set out to hunt them down."

That was close enough to Menzies' assumption. "But why *Kansas*?"

"Moyne was an agent - and a skilled one. If he wanted to find someone, he probably could. And Ms Lane was on vacation. I doubt she was making much effort to hide her tracks."

It all sounded reasonable. Which left two possibilities. Either Neville had gotten it wrong and the alien was dead, or Scardino's development of a backbone had also fostered a sense of loyalty and the ability to lie convincingly.

Eric decided that there was little point in trying to outmanoeuvre Scardino. He took a step forward and towered over the smaller man. "I don't have the time to have this out with you," he said.

Scardino looked up, and Eric sensed relief in his expression.

"So I'm going to tell you what is really happening in the world. Our planet is on course to collide with a massive asteroid. It will happen at sixteen minutes past eleven tomorrow morning. The force of the collision will kill millions. It could possibly push us closer to the sun. In short, those people who aren't crushed will be cooked."

All colour had bleached from Scardino's face.

Eric pressed home his advantage. "Every notable scientist has been frantically working on this since they first became aware of the danger. EPRAD has fired three missiles at the asteroid. Two were completely ineffectual, and the other one missed. They are planning two more, but the overwhelming belief is that there is nothing we can do."

Scardino's mouth had dropped open.

"I figure the alien is our only chance," Eric said. "Perhaps he has knowledge of advanced technology. Perhaps he knows of something we can do to avert this collision."

Scardino stepped back, pulling his hand through his hair. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" he said, in what was a virtual admission.

"It has been decided to inform the public at five o'clock this afternoon. Obviously, EPRAD has been hoping such an announcement would be unnecessary. But the people deserve to know - deserve a chance to spend their final night with their loved ones."

"That still doesn't prove what you claim."

Eric stepped closer, wanting to intimidate. "If you want, I can take to you EPRAD. You can see for yourself. You can talk to Daitch, the head scientist."

Scardino stepped back with a whoosh of breath. "How do you know this?"

"Daitch and I went to college together. The relationship has been ... advantageous ... to both of us over the years."

Scardino nodded, his face lined with shock and confusion.

"Meet me in my office in an hour," Eric ordered. "And if you want to see tomorrow's sunset, I suggest you come armed with the truth about the alien and a workable plan to contact him."

||_||

Daniel stared at the door Menzies had slammed.

An asteroid. It felt like a scene from a horror movie.

Daniel turned from the door, went to his safe, dialled the code, and the door swung open. He took out the video tape - the one from the compound. The one on which was recorded the encounter between Lois, Moyne ... and Mr Kent.

Daniel pushed it into his VCR and rewound it for a few seconds. He pressed play and watched as the scene rolled out on his television. He winced as Moyne - on top of Lois - pinned down her legs, took the gun from her ankle holster, bounded to his feet, and aimed directly at her.

There was a blur of movement, and Mr Kent was standing over Lois. Then there was a pause, followed by Moyne charging Mr Kent.

Daniel rewound the tape and played it in slow motion.

Twice.

Three times.

Four times.

By then, he was sure.

Moyne had fired the weapon at Lois.

From close range.

But Lois hadn't been hurt.

And the only possible explanation was that Mr Kent had caught the bullet.

Scardino had heard of the alien's frightening speed and incredible strength. They had been a major part of the rationale behind the need for him to remain in prison. Scardino remembered his initial interview with Lois; he'd spouted all the beliefs, not really caring whether they were true or not.

But it mattered now.

Could it be possible that Mr Kent could save the planet? Not with advanced knowledge, but with his phenomenal strength?

Daniel watched the tape again.

There was no doubt. Mr Kent had saved Lois's life.

But catching a fired bullet was a different matter from pushing an asteroid off course.

Could he do it? Even if he could, was it possible to prepare him in the short time they had?

And even if he could ... the biggest question of all remained.

Would he?

Would he be willing to save the planet that had treated him so abominably?

||_||

Eric was parking his car at Phoebe's care facility when his cell rang. "Menzies."

"It's Scardino. What can I offer him in return?"

Him? The alien? "Anything."

"*Anything*?"

"Anything."

"You don't have the authority to offer him anything."

Scardino *had* grown a backbone. "The President has offered Daitch and his team of scientists anything if they can save the earth."

"Will that offer extend to an alien?"

Eric heard the slight emphasis on the word 'alien' and felt shame burn through his conscience. "Of course it will," he snapped.

"I have your word? Whatever I promise, you, the government, the President, will deliver?"

"You have my word."

"I won't be meeting you," Scardino said. "I'm going to Kansas. Get me a private flight leaving from the Metropolis Air Base in half an hour."