Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Accused (4/15)

From Part 3 ...

Clark stood, utterly torn.

Without his help, people would die.

But while he was helping them, the case against Clark would gather momentum.

And Lana would ... He really wasn't sure what Lana would do. But he couldn't risk her hurting Lois. "Give me the gun," he demanded in Superman's voice of steel.

It took her a moment to recover from her surprise. "You think I'd give you anything?" she sneered. "Even if I had a gun?"

The cries rose from the tunnel, urgent and congested with terror. Superman! Please help us, Superman!

He had to go.

He had to answer their call.

Clark x-rayed through the leather jacket and saw a revolver loaded with three bullets tucked into the jeans near Lana's hip. With a movement that was superfast and supremely deft, he reached into the jacket and took the gun. He turned away and sprinted towards the alley.

Lana's snicker of contempt chased him. "I always knew that under that thin layer of perfection lurked a pathetic coward."

Clark kept running. He was Superman. And people needed him.


Part 4

The tinny music of a cell phone loosened the chains of sleep. The follow-up shrill of the home phone shattered the remaining vestiges of slumber and dragged Lois to full wakefulness. She rubbed her eyes as she checked the time. It was just after twelve-thirty.

It had better be Perry.

Or Clark.

No one else would dare call her on both phones at this hour.

Unless it was her mother's rehab centre. She lunged to pick up her cell phone. "Lois Lane."

"Lois. Are you home?"

Perry's voice brought relief. It was just a story. Nothing that directly involved her. Lois pushed back the covers of her bed and sat up. "Yes, Chief. What's happened?"

"A section of the subway tunnel has collapsed. Between Northwood station and Upper Triholm. The rescue teams are congregating at Northwood."

"Is Superman there?" Lois asked as she tucked her phone between her chin and her shoulder and began dragging indiscriminate clothes from her closet.

"Yes."

"Have you called Clark?"

"I'll do that next. Where should I tell him to meet you?"

"His apartment's on the way. Tell him to wait there and we'll go together."

"OK." Perry paused. "Oh, and Lois, welcome home. It's good to have you back."

"Thanks, Chief."

Lois tossed her phone onto the bed and hastily stripped off her pyjamas, replacing them with multiple layers of warm clothes. She splashed water on her face, patted it dry, applied the barest essentials of makeup, and ran a comb through her hair, grateful she had decided to wash it last night.

Her cell phone rang again as she opened her apartment door. She dug it out of her bag. "Perry?" she said. "I'm leaving now."

"I haven't been able to contact Clark," he said. "His phone is busy."

"Perhaps he is trying to call you," Lois said, impatient to finish the call and begin the business of getting the story.

"I tried his cell phone, too, but it's turned off. You can go straight to Northwood if you want to. Clark might be there already."

"No," Lois said. "I called him last night and couldn't get through. Perhaps there's a problem with his line. His apartment is on the way. I'll wake him, and we'll cover it together."

"OK," Perry said. "Keep in touch."

__|~|__

A small crowd of people had congregated outside Clark's apartment.

As Lois drew closer, she saw a police officer in their midst.

"Have you found the murderer?" an older man asked. "If he's still at large, shouldn't you be doing something to protect the citizens?"

"That is why I have suggested you return to your homes," the officer said in a tone that indicated his supply of patience was running critically low.

"So it's true?" a young woman from the fringes of the crowd squeaked. "Someone was killed here?"

Lois's eyes darted from the crowd to the window next to Clark's door. A light was on in his apartment. He must have been awakened by the commotion following the murder or whatever had brought these people from their homes in the middle of the night.

She took her cell phone from her bag, intending to call Perry and alert him to the possibility of another story. As she bypassed the crowd on the way to Clark's door, the police officer stopped her. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said. "You can't go in there."

"But my friend lives here," she said, pausing from punching in Perry's number.

"No one can go in there. It's a crime scene."

Clark's apartment? A crime scene? The murder had happened *here*?

Icy dread froze the blood in her veins.

Clark would be OK. He *had* to be OK.

"Who ... who was the victim?" Lois asked.

"I'm not allowed to discuss the case with members of the public."

"I'm not the public," Lois said, seizing her press badge from her bag. "Lois Lane, Daily Planet." She heard a collective indrawn breath from crowd, but ignored it.

"The details will be released later today," the officer said. "There will be a press conference."

She eyed the police officer speculatively and decided he was probably young enough and agile enough that a sudden dash to Clark's door wasn't going to be successful.

But there was no way she was leaving without knowing Clark was all right. And she figured her best chance was to play the cool reporter chasing a story.

"Who's in there?" Lois said with a nod into Clark's apartment.

"I said there will be a press conference later," the officer replied.

"Inspector Henderson?" Lois asked, grasping his name in the desperate hope it would give her some needed credibility. "Could you tell him Lois Lane is here and would like to speak with him? Please?"

With a sigh, the officer opened the door and slipped inside, closing it before Lois could manage to snatch a glimpse of what was happening in there.

The little group was staring at her. Lois turned away from them.

Fear had seized her heart, squeezing and constricting.

Clark. She couldn't imagine her life without him. He was her best friend. He was ...

He was Clark.

The door opened, and Henderson stood in the doorway. His face was taut, moulded to the mask of detached professionalism he had developed over many years of dealing with awful situations.

"Cl-" Lois whimpered.

The police officer came through the door, and Henderson gestured for Lois to follow him inside.

Lois stepped into Clark's apartment, her eyes darting around, searching for his face, needing his familiar, comforting presence in this storm of uncertainty.

She saw only men she didn't recognise - probably the forensic team - writing notes, making measurements, taking photographs, collecting fingerprints, collating evidence.

Evidence for what?

Lois stretched onto her tiptoes, trying to see past Henderson. He shuffled sideways, blocking her view.

"What happened?" Lois said. "Is Clark -"

The mask slipped to reveal a more human version of the crusty old cop. "Lois," he said.

Her anxiety whipped through her scant supplies of patience, and she grabbed fistfuls of the lapels of his jacket. "Is it Clark?"

Henderson calmly took hold of her arms. "No," he said. "It's not Clark."

Her hands dropped, but relief was short-lived. "His parents?" she gasped. "Are they here?"

"No," Henderson said. "It's Mayson Drake."

Mayson? "She's ... she's ... dead?" Lois leaned to her side and saw the lifeless body crumpled at the foot of the stairs.

Henderson moved, blocking her view. "I assume you knew her?"

"Only in her capacity as the deputy DA," Lois said as the sharp edges of her fear began to recede slightly, allowing the flow of her thoughts to begin again. "We weren't really friends." She looked around, half expecting Clark to appear. "Why was she here? Was Clark working on a story?"

"Do you know Clark's whereabouts?" Henderson asked.

"No. Perry's been trying to contact him. We're going to cover the subway collapse."

"When was the last time you had any contact with Clark?"

"I've been away for a week," Lois said. "I had to deal with some family business."

"You haven't had any contact with Clark today? No phone calls? Nothing?"

"No," Lois said, wondering why Henderson was belabouring this point.

"And you don't know where he is now?"

"No," Lois said. "I came to get him. But as he's not here, I expect he heard about the collapse and has gone already." She turned away. "I have to go. I'm really sorry about Mayson, but I need to get to Northwood."

Henderson stopped her with a hand to her elbow. "Lois," he said. "I don't think you understand. Clark is missing."

"He can't be missing," Lois said. "Perry didn't say anything about him missing. Clark must have been at the Planet today."

"He's been missing since Mayson was killed."

Comprehension splattered debris through her brain. "Clark?" she gasped. "You think ... you think *he* did this? He's a suspect?"

Henderson's eyes dropped to the floor, but he nodded his admission. "Detective Wolfe is running this investigation. He wants to talk to Clark."

"Clark didn't do it," Lois stated.

"Lois ..." Henderson stalled. "You know I wouldn't ... not without evidence. But the case looks pretty straightforward."

"Not if you think Clark did it," Lois said. "You're missing something."

"He was the only one here, Lois. Two people. One is shot dead."

"He didn't do it."

"We've already established it wasn't suicide. Someone else was involved."

"OK," Lois conceded. "But it wasn't Clark."

Henderson's eyebrows dipped together. "How can you be sure? What do you know? If you know anything -"

"I told you I haven't seen him for almost a week," Lois said. "But I know Clark." She shot Henderson an accusing look. "I thought you knew him, too."

"Lois." He released a gush of breath. "Lois, I've been on this job long enough that nothing surprises me anymore. People you think you know ..."

Her shock erupted into indignation. "I don't *think* I know Clark," she said, her voice rising. "I *know* him. I know he wasn't here. If he had been here, he would have called an ambulance. He would have stayed with Mayson until they arrived. Even if he hadn't been able to do anything to help her, he would have still been here when the police arrived. And now, he would be helping you find whoever did this."

"Shock can make people do things they wouldn't normally do."

Perhaps that was true, because right now, Lois was battling the compulsion to take Henderson's thin shoulders and shake some sense into him. "He was probably out for the evening - playing poker with Jimmy or something like that," she said as she took out her phone and dialled Clark's cell number. "We'll have this sorted in less than a minute."

"He doesn't have -" Henderson's words were chopped off by the sound of a phone, coming from a few yards behind him. "Clark's cell phone is here," he said. "We found it a couple of minutes ago and turned it on."

Lois flung her phone into her bag. "There's no law that says you have to carry your phone with you," she said.

"Wolfe has put out Clark's description to the patrol cars," Henderson said. "I've been able to keep it quiet so far - being the middle of the night - but if we haven't found him by daylight, Wolfe is going to insist that he be officially listed as a wanted person."

That news, combined with Henderson's sombre manner, bubbled up to mount a challenge to her convictions about Clark. Lois ferociously quashed it. Clark hadn't hurt Mayson, and he hadn't run away. Short of an admission from Clark himself, she would never believe that of him.

"What do you have?" she asked coldly.

"A witness. A witness saying she saw Clark run away a few minutes after she heard the shot."

"Mistaken identity," Lois said, shrugging. "Or someone trying to frame Clark."

"The witness is also willing to testify she heard an argument between Mayson and Clark."

"I've had arguments with Clark," Lois retorted. "Lots of them. But he's never shot me."

Henderson inched closer. "I didn't want to believe it either, Lois," he said in a lowered voice. "But the evidence is compelling. And his disappearance isn't helping his cause."

"Then I'll find him," Lois said, infusing her declaration with a lofty air of certainty. "I'll find him and bring him to the station so he can clear his name and you can stop wasting your time and begin looking for the real murderer."

Henderson's hand clasped her arm again. "We haven't found the weapon."

Lois wrenched her arm away. "Now you think Clark would hurt *me*?" she cried.

"I'm just telling you to be careful."

Lois shook her head, beyond speechless.

"The best thing you can do for Clark is to convince him to go to the police station," Henderson said.

Lois turned away, opened the door, and strode outside into the cold night air. Once she was out of earshot of the group still pestering the cop, she pulled out her cell phone and dialled Perry's desk.

"Perry White."

"Perry, it's Lois."

"What's happening? Has Superman reached them yet? Have they managed to shore up the tunnel? Any further movement? Do we have a death toll?"

"What?"

"The tunnel collapse. What do you and Clark have?"

"Oh. That." Lois looked around her, and finding no one nearby, she paused next to the looming wall of an apartment block. "Have you heard about Mayson Drake?"

"Mayson? What does she have to do with this?"

"She was killed."

"She was in the train?" Perry exclaimed.

"No. No. She was shot. Murdered."

She heard Perry haul in a long breath. "Mayson was killed?" he asked. "Mayson Drake? The deputy DA?"

"Yes."

"Do they know who did it? How was she killed? Is it linked with one of her cases?"

"Perry," Lois said, losing all patience with the extraneous detail. "She was at Clark's apartment. The police think he did it."

The silence pulsated with shock. "Clark?" Perry muttered. "What does he say about it?"

"He isn't here. They're looking for him."

"What evidence do they have? Did you speak to Henderson? Or Wolfe? Or some rookie who wouldn't know a victim from a perpetrator?"

"I spoke to Henderson. They have a witness who places Clark in his apartment at the time the shot was fired and running away a few minutes later."

"But Clark wouldn't run away."

"That's exactly what I told Henderson," Lois said. "And he wouldn't shoot anyone, either. I'm going to find him, Chief. We need to get this sorted out before someone from the Star gets a whiff of it."

"What about the story?"

"The story?" Her mind shuffled back. "Oh, the subway collapse. Send Ralph."

"Ralph?" Perry fired back in disgust.

"Or that new guy. Or Jimmy."

"I've already called Jimmy. Lois, this is going to be huge."

"Probably," Lois said. "But I'm not writing a single word about anything until I have proved that Clark did not kill anyone."

"Lois," Perry said sternly. "When you find Clark, you need to take him to the police station. Don't go running off by yourselves, trying to find the murderer."

"Perhaps he's out there now, trying to find Mayson's killer. Perhaps the witness looked away and didn't see the killer leave. Or perhaps Clark doesn't know she's dead. Perhaps he wasn't home. Perhaps -" Lois stopped abruptly. She was starting to sound as if she were desperate for excuses.

She didn't need an array of excuses.

There was a logical explanation for this.

And she would find it. "You'll call me if Clark comes to the Planet?" she said.

"Yes. Of course."

"Thank you."

"Be careful, Lois," Perry said. "The DA's department is going to want justice for one of their own."

"I want justice, too," Lois said. "For both Mayson and Clark."

__|~|__

Lois's impatient banging on Jimmy's door echoed through the silent apartment building. "Jimmy!" she called. "Are you there?"

When there was no response, she took out her kit and picked the lock. When it surrendered, she closed the door behind her and switched on the light.

It was a mess.

And the air was rank with something that should have been put in the trash a week ago.

"Jimmy? Are you here? It's Lois." There was no sound or movement. She hurried into his bedroom. The bed was an empty swirl of blankets and sheets. "Jimmy?"

Lois quickly checked every room in the small apartment. No one was here. Then she retraced her steps, searching for any sign that Clark had been here - his watch, or a tie she recognised, or anything she knew that belonged to him.

There was nothing.

She switched out the lights, locked the door, and went onto the street, hailing the first cab that went by.

Ten minutes later, she was back at her own apartment. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, she sprinted up the steps and arrived, puffing, at her floor. She swung into the corridor.

Clark wasn't there.

Lois knew he wouldn't break into her apartment, but she unlocked the door and checked anyway. Everything was exactly as she had left it. She searched the floor near the entrance, just in case he'd pushed a note under the door.

Nothing.

Where was Clark?

Where would he go?

Lois scribbled a note on a scrap piece of paper. Call me, it's important, Lois. She folded the paper in half and wrote 'Clark' on the front. She slipped it under her door, making sure a portion of the corner of the paper was visible from the corridor. After locking her door, she jogged back to the stairwell.

Her body felt coiled and eager to rush into action, but her mind was providing no direction.

Where was Clark?

Did he know about Mayson?

Had he been there when she had been shot?

Or had he been sleeping somewhere, oblivious to the events that had led to the bizarre conclusion being bandied around by Henderson and Wolfe?

Why had Mayson been at Clark's apartment?

What had they been arguing about?

Lois stepped out of her apartment building and automatically gestured to a passing cab.

It stopped. She got in.

Had Mayson spent a lot of time with Clark recently? Lois had sensed that Mayson had been interested in Clark from the first moment the new deputy DA had come to the Planet and introduced herself. Giving him her home number was hardly a subtle gesture.

Had Clark fallen in love with Mayson?

Had he run away because of his grief at her passing?

Because of his remorse for having been unable to protect the woman he loved?

"Where to?"

Lois jumped at the question from the driver. "Ah ... Centennial Park."

He turned around, and the cab lurched forward.

Where would Clark go? If he were shocked and hurting, where would he go?

They had agreed they were friends. Best friends. But Clark hadn't confided in her about his feelings for another woman.

Who were his other friends?

Shame rose like a pointed finger as Lois realised how little she knew of Clark's life outside of their work at the Daily Planet. She'd had a glimpse of his past when he'd taken her to Smallville last year. She knew he was the only child of wonderfully supportive parents, but really, she knew very little else about the circumstances of his life.

Had he tried to contact his parents? Did they know a woman had been murdered in their son's apartment?

It was nearly half past one - far too late to call Martha and Jonathan. But if their son were in trouble, Lois knew they would want to know.

She didn't know their number. She'd never needed to know it.

The cab stopped. Lois paid and got out.

Centennial Park.

Why had she directed the cab driver to bring her here?

Because this was a place she strongly associated with Clark.

It was here he had told her he was in love with her.

Here she had told him she loved him - but only as a friend.

Here she had witnessed the depths of pain her rejection had caused him.

Oh, he had scrambled to cover it, but not before his anguish had been etched into her mind forever.

Lois wandered over to the park bench and sat down with a long sigh.

Weeks later, he had said he had been lying. He'd said it was merely a desperate attempt to stop her from marrying Luthor.

But his confession had lacked the heartfelt sincerity of his declaration of love.

Perhaps his feelings had changed by then. Perhaps he had felt it would be easier for her if he said he'd never been in love with her, rather than admit to having fallen out of love with her.

If that had been the case, who could blame him?

After spurning Clark, she had agreed to marry Luthor.

Luthor.

A lying, coldblooded, manipulative criminal who had never been one tenth of the person Clark was.

Clark must have realised that if she could love Luthor, she could never love him.

The two men were so vastly different.

One self-centred. One selfless.

One arrogant. One humble.

One frightening in his ruthlessness. One frustrating in his unwillingness to bend the rules.

But, as much as Lois had disparaged the Clark Kent Moral Compass, she had come to accept it. Appreciate it, even.

Not that she'd ever told him that.

It made sense that Clark had responded to Mayson's obvious attraction. Why wouldn't he?

And, being Clark, he hadn't wanted to flaunt his new relationship in front of his partner.

Now Mayson was dead.

"Oh, Clark," Lois mumbled. If he knew, he must be hurting so much. Perhaps they had had a date planned. Perhaps their details had gotten confused. Perhaps he'd waited for her at a restaurant, but she'd come to his apartment. Perhaps, right now, he was combing the city, desperately looking for her.

But whatever had happened between Mayson and Clark, whatever had led to Mayson lying dead on Clark's stairs, Lois knew one thing.

Clark had not killed her.

Whatever Mayson had done, she could not have hurt Clark as much as Lois had on this park bench.

She could not have aggravated him as much as Lois's stubborn insistence that everything be done her way.

She could not have insulted him as much as Lois had in the early days when she had dismissed him as a country hack.

Lois knew from experience - when you hurt Clark Kent, he didn't hurt back. Oh, he might prod a little, he might retaliate with a little line in self-defence, but he never resorted to nastiness.

When she had put their friendship to its greatest test - getting to the top of the aisle to make marriage vows to Luthor - Clark hadn't faltered.

Afterwards, she'd needed a friend - and her best friend had been right there for her, offering comfort. His unconditional support.

And ...

Love.

He'd still loved her then. As she walked down the aisle to marry Lex Luthor, Clark Kent had loved her.

She'd been too blind to see it.

No. Not blind.

Scared.

She'd opened the door to peek at what love would be like with Clark Kent.

And it had petrified her.

It had been so pure.

So intense.

So eternal.

Instead of being brave enough to fling the door wide open, she'd slammed it shut and run away to the supposed safety of a life with Luthor.

Whom she hadn't loved.

And - even if his secrets hadn't come out - could never have loved.

But, he'd been safe.

He couldn't hurt her.

Discovering his true character hadn't brought a sense of betrayal - only acute embarrassment at her own stupidity.

But, Clark ...

Clark could hurt her.

Clark could destroy her.

Because she loved him.

Lois jumped up from the seat.

Clark had been there for her more times than she could count. Now, it was her turn to be there for him.

And for that, she needed to know the details of the case against him.

So she could dismantle and disprove it. Piece by piece.

Until everyone knew rationally what she had known instinctively.

That Clark Kent was not a killer.