part 8
***Metropolis2
“You never answered the original question, you know?” Lois murmured as she and Superman walked through the halls of Star Labs.
“The original question being?” Superman inclined his head politely to the white-coated technicians who were pretending not to be watching him.
“Why do you still have all my things?” she questioned in a low voice.
“You sound like Lane,” he sighed deeply. “What was I supposed to do, Lois, throw them out?” Superman raised a hand in greeting to one of Dr. Klein’s assistants. He couldn’t keep them all straight.
“Yes,” she answered simply, moving to examine the selection of outdated and mind-boggling magazines in the small waiting area, which was so obviously an afterthought.
“Oh,” Superman said, moving a polite distance away from her.
“I can see that’s a new idea,” she remarked from behind the magazine she wasn’t reading.
“It felt…disloyal,” he admitted softly from where he stood.
“You could never be disloyal to me. The only thing I would consider a betrayal is if you didn’t let yourself be happy.”
“Spoken like the pot to the kettle,” he hissed quietly, again nodding a greeting, this time to the after hours security guard.
“Dr Klein can see you now,” one of the lab techs informed Superman diffidently.
“Thank you,” he returned evenly. And then, “Ms. Lane,” he turned and looked directly at her for the first time since they’d entered the building, injecting the right amount of formality into his tone, “If you want that story, you can come along.” His back to passers-by, he gave her a wink.
“Thank you, Superman,” she replied cordially. And then muttered, “Do you do this a lot? Does Lane come along to Star Labs and…get the scoop?”
Oh, believe me,” he replied fervently. “She insists on it.”
“The more I hear about her, the more I like her.” Lois grinned.
“Superman!” Dr Klein hailed him from behind a sea of beakers and vials. “Glad you didn’t mind waiting.”
“No problem, Bernie,” Clark said, the formality leaving his voice and his posture as soon as the door was closed behind them.
Since Bernard Klein had never met the Kent half of the Lane-Kent team, Clark never felt the need to do the Superman thing in front of him, instead genuinely appreciating the somewhat quirky friendship that had grown between them. Bernard Klein was in an exclusive club. He was one of a small handful of people who knew Superman, and was neither flustered nor cowed by him. In his case, it was more a matter of…fascination.
“Please,” Bernie pleaded as he scraped his chair back from his desk. “Tell me you’re here for more tests. We’ve done strength, stamina, exposure to extreme temperatures…”
Dr. Klein took a moment to consult the index card he kept handy for just such an occasion. Clark took the same moment to note the rising of Lois’ eyebrows.
“Yes,” Bernie continued. “That’s it thus far. Now, I’ve been thinking...oxygen deprivation.” He pronounced this with a gleeful smile, all but rubbing his hands together. “How long can you really, really hold your breath, Superman? I know you’ve estimated twenty minutes or so. But how far do you think we can…stretch that?”
“What!” Lois exploded incredulously.
“Oh,” Bernie spared her a glance for the first time. Clark noticed the moment the significance of her presence registered on him. “Hello, Ms. Lane,” he said politely if somewhat gloomily. “Nice to see you again.”
There was no mistaking the acute disappointment in his voice. If Lois was present, it could only be for a story. There wouldn’t be any defying the laws of nature or physics today.
“So, this is for a story, I take it.” He smiled gamely, touching Clark with his quick recovery. “Well, any way I can help?”
“It is quite a story, Bernie.” Clark laid a consoling hand on the man’s shoulder. “But not one you’ll ever see printed. You and I…we still have a deal, right?”
“Superman.” Dr. Klein was all business. “I’m your doctor. Whatever you tell me, or show me,” he added somewhat hopefully, “never leaves this room.”
“In that case you might want to sit down,” Superman informed him.
“I have to sit for this?” He looked to Lois for confirmation, his eyes gone wide. “Oh…goody!” he couldn’t seem to help adding.
***Metropolis
A week passed with no progress in the search for Tempus. Though his sketch ran prominently in each morning addition, there had yet to be any calls. Despite that, Clark was glad he and Lane had decided to continue working, to continue the pretense that everything was normal. After a shaky start Clark found it comforting to stay in a routine.
He had done so the first time Lois had disappeared. Even though he hadn’t written anything for months, he had gone and sat, day after day, at his desk for some period of time. Waiting, he guessed, for her to step off the elevator. Clinging to the space she had filled with such life. And trying to keep hold of his only ties to her- her desk, her computer, and her coat which had hung on the back of her chair for months. Lois had left it at work the night she was taken, and no one had dared move it. He hadn’t let them.
For now, he spent his nights looking for Tempus, and his days like he always had.
And there was comfort, too, in doing the routine things with Lane. The only other person who knew what was really going on, and who was proving brilliant at being this world’s Lois Lane, reporter. She was so good at it, she raised absolutely no suspicions. Strange how an indispensable person, an unforgettable person, an unmistakable person could be….replaced. If not for him, if not for his knowing where she’d come from, Lane could be this world’s Lois Lane.
It bothered him, if he was honest. And it galled him, though it wasn’t fair. Day after day he found himself looking to Perry, to Jimmy, at his most fanciful even to Ralph, for a sign, a spark, a glimmer of…doubt, of suspicion, of…something. It was never there.
So much like his life as Superman. He spent his days, barring the occasional midday disaster, working among this staff of people. He knew them and they knew him. And yet, he lived an entire life none of them had any idea about. Now Lane was doing the same thing.
Maybe you never really, really knew a person? Or maybe you really did just see what was in front of you, took it at face value, and went about your own more consuming business? Or maybe, after plenty of practice, Lane was just that good.
She was the very picture of confidence, of competence. And what she didn’t know, she faked. And when he could, he helped. All in all, the whole living with a different woman and pretending she’s the same one and working closely with her thing? Pretty darn easy. A little too easy, if he let himself admit. Really, it shouldn’t be so easy.
The angry tapping of high heels on the hard floor called Clark from the same uncomfortable thoughts he’d had for days now. Idly curious, and not altogether focused on the work before him, he looked up in time to see
the woman he hoped was his future mother-in-law, fresh out of the “spa” or whatever Ellen was calling rehab these days. And she was bearing down on “Lois.”
How badly had he just tempted the fates, he wondered in the part of his brain that was still working. All the ruminating on how easy this was. It was almost like he had conjured her himself.
Clark moved to intercept her, cursing his forgetfulness. Lois’ parents and Lucy- they were so obviously huge factors in the game they were playing. So why hadn’t he, before this very moment, even considered them?
He spotted Lane at the exact moment Ellen did. She was moving with Jimmy from the conference room, completely engrossed in conversation. Her head bent over a photo Jimmy was showing her.
“Lois!” Clark and Ellen called simultaneously.
<And here’s where it all goes to hell,> Clark thought bitterly. <Stupid, Kent. Stupid…>
Lane, on hearing her name, sent Clark an inquiring look, one eyebrow raised quizzically. A frown clouded her face as she took in the expression he wasn’t even trying to conceal. Then, she glanced in the direction his eyes were pointing towards.
Clark felt everything slow down. Ellen bearing down on Lois, the look of a stern lecture in her very walk. Lane without a clue as to what was about to hit her. And Jimmy, right in the way, as always. He moved to stop whatever was going to happen from happening, with the wistful thought that sometimes even being Superman wasn’t enough.
“Mom!” he heard Lane’s startled cry. “Mom!”
She was across the bullpen and holding Ellen before he had figured out his strategy.
“Oh, Mom. Mom,” Lane was repeating, “What are you doing here?”
Ellen, for her part, was doing a valiant job covering her surprise at a reception she’d never had from her daughter, ever. She took a moment to set her handbag and scowl back where they’d been.
“I’ve been sitting and waiting in that infernal deli that you love so much for the past two hours,” she grumbled, struggling to remain disapproving under the beam of Lane’s rapt and joyous attention. “We were meeting for lunch, or have you forgotten you have a mother?”
“I have a mother!” Lane exclaimed, absolutely missing the bitterness in the older woman’s voice. “Oh, Clark!” She called him loudly, though it was unnecessary. He was right behind her, trying to formulate a graceful exit for all players involved. “This is my mom,” she announced tremulously through tear-filled eyes. And then once more she threw herself into Ellen’s stiff embrace.
“Is this a joke?” Ellen sniffed.
Clark plastered on the most convincing smile he could manage. “I think that Lois,” he emphasized the name a bit loudly, “is just really glad to have you back. Now that you’re home…from…the spa,” he finished weakly.
He placed a hand on Lane’s shoulder and squeezed, trying to convey, in just the right amount of pressure from his five fingers: you’re not Lois, this is not your mom, she has never been greeted so happily before…ever, everybody’s watching, you’re making a scene, she’s a bitter pill of a woman…
“Right,” Lois piped up after a bit, evidently being fluent in the hidden language of squeezed shoulders. “Of course you and Clark know each other.” She laughed nervously and edged closer to him, relaxing against him as he wound his arm around her waist. “I mean, he’s the man I’m going to marry…um…someday. So, of course you know each other.”
At this Ellen’s mouth opened and tried to work, but thankfully it didn’t.
“And he’s right,” Lane rushed on. “I’m just really…really…happy to see you…Mom.” She had tried, but her face and her voice crumpled on the last word.
It occurred to Clark, only then, what he was watching. Lane with Lois’ mom. Only Lane was seeing her own mom, obviously for the first time in a long while. Suddenly, no matter how foolish it was, no matter how they might pay for it later, he wanted this for her. If fate was going to be so unkind to them all, maybe they could make some good wherever they were able.
“Ellen,” he spoke up. “Since Lois and I ended up working unexpectedly through lunch, how about dinner? You could come over. I’ll cook?”
Lane tossed him a grateful smile, nodding vigorously.
Ellen wasn’t so easy. “Tonight is my Girl’s Night Out,” she rejoined. “You remember Lois. It’s the same night every week. The girls and I play some cards, have a few…um…nonalcoholic beverages, and discuss alimony.”
“I’m your girl,” Lane offered quietly. “Aren’t I?”
Ellen was taken aback, but only for so long. “I had two hours to give you today, so don’t pretend you’re the one who’s disappointed. I am the disappointed one. Always, Lois.”
“Please,” Clark tried again, not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t stand the heartache in Lane’s face, the fast, frantic thumping of her heart. He pulled her closer still, trying to impart some comfort. Trying not to shake Ellen Lane’s comfortable look of martyrdom from her face.
“Ok,” Lane said. “I…I’m sorry about today. I didn’t know, Mom. I…forgot, I guess.”
“Fine. Well. I’m going on now. I have a salon appointment I can’t be late for.” Ellen patted Lane awkwardly on the arm.
“Will you call me again?” Lane tried one more time. “Next week, maybe?”
“If you think you might free yourself from work long enough to see me, then yes,” Ellen inclined her head regally. “Clark.” She included him in her gaze. “Goodbye.”
Clark had Lane in the stairwell before Ellen made it onto the elevator. He hustled her along, her feet not quite touching the ground, at a speed only slightly above the average human. She gave way immediately.
“It’s ok,” he murmured against her hair, pulling his glasses down and checking for witnesses. He floated her silently up the stairwell and out onto the roof. “Let it out, Lane. It’s ok.”
She clung to him, trembling and sobbing, a storm of words expelled on her every exhale. He followed it all as best he could. A mom who was Ellen Lane, but thankfully nothing like the one she’d just met. Taken from her, along with her dad, in an accident when she seventeen. A lonely life with a sister who couldn’t wait to get away, who had left as soon as she was able.
Clark held her close, rocking her and whispering his complete understanding of her sentiments. He had a mom exactly like she’d described. He’d take her to meet her if she’d like. He couldn’t imagine how it would be to lose her, especially so young.
Lane’s sobs grew less frequent and less violent. His murmurs turned to small kisses, just on the top of her head, her forehead, her cheeks where the tears still fell. He understood loneliness. Nobody understood it like he did. And he understood her pain. He wanted to take it from her. To be as strong for her as she’d been for him this last week. He wanted to help her. And he loved the feel of her, in his arms, under his lips, against his body.
Lane had gone still. Her cries had stopped. Her breathing had changed from deep shuddering breaths to something shallower. “Clark?” she questioned with a note of caution in her voice. But he was gone. Lost. His mouth found hers. His hands went to her hair, to her body, inside her jacket. He was starving for her. Starving and unaware that anything or anyone else existed.
Lane’s arms came up around his neck, hesitantly at first, but then she arched against him, touching every aching part of his body with an answering part of her own.
For what had to be the first time in his young life, Clark would think later, Jimmy was late.
***
A noisily cleared throat sounded behind them. Clark and Lane leapt apart immediately.
“Whoa, hey, sorry,” Jimmy greeted cheerfully. “The Chief thought you came this way. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Um…you just…surprised us, Jim,” Clark answered, moving further from Lane and into the bracing wind that had sprung up at some point. “Need something?” he added as an afterthought.
“Just that source you’ve been looking for? That Tempus guy? Somebody called in, recognized the sketch. Chief thought you’d want to know…”
Clark let out a long, shuddering breath. “We’ll be right down.”
Lane echoed, “Thanks, Jimmy.”
“Can I just say something?” Jimmy began, a broad smile lighting up his features. “You two don’t have to be so embarrassed. I mean, you guys live together, so it’s no secret that you-“
“Ok, Jim,” Clark overrode him quickly.
“No, really, CK. It’s actually kind of nice. To catch you like that. Especially after the last few months, everyone was sort of wondering if there was something…not right?” Jimmy’s voice trailed off uncertainly. “But from what I just saw…”
“Ok, Jim!” Clark tried again, this time using Superman’s voice. It did the trick. He’d never figured out why exactly, but in this case he was entirely grateful that it did.
“Right,” Jimmy said. “Ok. Meet you downstairs. After you’ve finished…talking.”
Lane ducked her head and moved towards the stairs.
“Lane,” he spoke in a low voice.
She stopped but she didn’t turn.
“I’ll meet you in a little while. I’m just going to…”
“Go ahead,” she answered kindly. “I would if I could, too.”
The door clanged shut behind her and Superman took off into the skies.
***
Two flat tires, a stranded cat in a tree, and one downed power line were the sum of Superman’s activities that afternoon in Metropolis. Clark went about his patrol with only one conscious thought.
<Stop thinking.>
He didn’t want to. Didn’t need to. He wasn’t ready.
Why had he kissed her like that? Whatever had possessed him? And he had truly felt possessed. He had known she wasn’t Lois, but for that instant it hadn’t mattered. If there had been some confusion or even some forgetfulness on his part when he was trying to comfort her, or if the kiss had been like a muscle memory, an automatic response to Lois Lane in pain…if it had been any of those things, he would feel better. But he had known who he was kissing, had known exactly who she was, and who she wasn’t. And he had kissed her anyway.
Was this how it had been for Lois when she had first been with his counterpart? This strange echo of familiar feelings, so much the same, and yet so different? Or, worse than that, is that how it was for Lois and that Clark now? Reunited, were the two of them finding themselves growing ever more intimate? Like he was finding himself with Lane?
Was he testing that idea? Trying to see how far things would go between the two of them, just to better understand how things had progressed with Lois and the other Clark? Like some horrible, twisted experiment?
<If I hold her and she feels like Lois, if I kiss her and she kisses like Lois, then…is she Lois enough for me? Maybe it’s just Lois Lane who I need, who I love. Maybe it could be any Lois Lane…?>
Superman stopped in mid-flight, shaking his head to clear it. He knew that his thinking wasn’t right. That he didn’t truly believe that he and Lois were interchangeable, one just the same as another. But he was allowing himself to voice what he’d been most afraid of since that first morning in the elevator with Lane. His deepest fear. About himself and about his Lois. That there wasn’t something fundamental to them that held them together. That they weren’t individuals in love in their own unique way. That they were just two cosmic pawns with the right names.
<Stop thinking> he ordered himself again. < Just stop. Maybe those questions don’t have answers. Maybe those questions should never be asked.>
But he was asking, he knew. Try as he might not to, he was finally asking what he’d only recently realized he needed to know. And he was getting the answers, like it or not.
***
When he stepped off the elevator, Lane was at Lois’ desk engaged in a lively conversation on the phone. He hadn’t wanted to come back, but if the Tempus sighting was real, there was work to do. And he owed her an explanation, even if it was just to tell her that he didn’t really have one. He pulled a chair up beside her desk and waited.
She pointed rapidly at the notes she was scribbling in her notebook. He risked leaning in closer to read over her shoulder. ‘Tempus seen twice. Get surveillance tapes?’
“We’ve got him,” she mouthed, a huge smile lighting up her face.
Their hunch had been right. Tempus was in Metropolis, perhaps trapped in their dimension. Once they found him, and Superman wasn’t going to sleep again until he did, then maybe they could shake some answers from him. If he’d lost or broken the window device as they suspected, he still might know enough about how it worked. Still might have enough knowledge, which if imparted to Bernard Klein, might get them somewhere. Or, at the very least, if HG Wells and his peacekeepers tracked Tempus here, then maybe the portal to the alternate Metropolis could be opened for them.
<Don’t get too far ahead of yourself> he cautioned himself. <Just get Tempus first.>
Lane had hung up the phone and was studying him quietly.
“Ready?” she questioned, barely banking the excitement in her eyes.
“Go,” he answered.
“A pawn shop and a hotel. Our call was from the pawn shop. Guy said he recognized his picture, and couldn’t forget the flashy, gold mystery object he pawned last week. So, from there I called the banks. Nothing. He hasn’t deposited anything.
“That would be too easy,” Clark said. “We could just go and wait there.”
“Right, so I tried the hotels. He has to stay somewhere. Pawn-shop guy said the pawned item was pricey, wouldn’t tell me how much he gave him for it, but I figure if Tempus is here, if he has the means, that means…”
“The Lexor,” he filled-in, ready to leap from his chair.
She stopped him with one hand on his shoulder. “The Lexor says he checked out a couple of days ago. Said it was a short and…interesting stay, but until I asked them to look at the sketch in the paper, no one had realizes it was the same guy.”
He let himself drop back into his seat.
“But he’s here, Clark,” she said softly. “He’s here…in Metropolis.”
“You were right, Lane.” He reached for her hand before he could think better of it, and squeezed tightly. “You were right all along.”
He saw her glance at their joined hands, and drew away from her. “Can I…talk to you?” he ventured. “In the conference room?”
She looked pointedly at her notes. “Doesn’t Superman have some looking to do?” she asked in a low voice.
“Definitely. But this first, ok, Lane?”
“We don’t have to, Clark,” she began.
“Yes, we really do, especially if we’re getting closer to…a resolution,” he answered firmly. “Come on.”
tbc...
