Almost Lois (Chapter Thirty-Two)

She'd avoided calling Clark over the weekend. She'd thought of doing it once or twice, just to clear things up. But she just couldn't. It was Monday now. She'd have to see him. She tried not to feel guilty for not calling, for leaving things so awkwardly. But he hadn't called her, either. He was probably embarrassed.

She had every possible scenario rehearsed. If Clark brought up the kiss, she'd either pretend not to remember or to hardly remember. She was trying to figure out which was more sensitive. She knew he had a little thing for her. But he was just so... not Superman. That was the problem. Clark was a scatterbrain who ditched her at parties and disappeared from work on flimsy excuses. Superman was the guy that was there for everyone.

She'd just have to clear things up with him. It had seemed his ardor had worn off, but then the kiss... Well, he is a nice kisser. But between a kiss from him and a short talk with Superman... Well, one made her strangely nervous, while the other was burned indelibly in her brain. She'd seriously bonded with Superman. It was so... cool. She smiled and leaned back in her chair. Now she sounded like some silly girl with a hopeless crush. But it wasn't entirely hopeless. Did Superman sit on everyone's front stoop near midnight, just hanging out? No.

And Clark would get over it. It wasn't like he really knew her. He just looked at her a bit much. He probably didn't get out enough. That was all. Maybe she'd introduce him to... who? It wasn't as if she knew anyone. The only single women she knew were Doris and Rachel. Doris was probably his mother's age and Rachel... Well, she was all wrong for Clark. She'd have to think on this one. Did she even have to help him in the romance department? And who was she to help anyone in the romance department? She wasn't exactly swimming in men.

Come to think of it, what could Superman possibly see in her? Her hand moved to her purse and she quickly pulled out her compact. Was she even close to Superman material? Sometimes she felt so average, so...

"It's hardly noticeable," a voice said behind her.

She twisted around and looked up at Rachel. "What's hardly noticeable?"

"You just never mind, Lois." Rachel patted her head, then moved around to her desk. "I'm sure you're very appealing in your own little way."

Lois glared at her, but scanned herself in the compact mirror. There was nothing out of the ordinary. She moved the mirror slightly and caught sight of Perry. She snapped it shut and stood. "Hey, Perry! Did you get my email? About Bitty Green?"

He turned, looking harried. "What... Oh. Yes. Good stuff, Lois. Great for page two."

"Oh, page two. That's nice," she sighed, moving behind him. "But I could get a longer interview out of her."

"Tell me about it later. I've got something brewing with Clark's Metropolis Vista piece, here." He turned to Doris. "Can you look up Jamison Wheeler? I need to speak to him and..."

"Where is Clark?" Lois cut in. It was after ten. He was sometimes late, but never this late.

"Oh, he's on his story. He should be in sometime today." He looked back at Lois. "In fact, tell him to see me when he gets in." He turned back to his office and shut himself in.

"Sure thing, Perry," she said dejectedly to his door.

*************************

"Interesting," Murray said, contemplating the lab results from the carpet sample.

"What?" Clark was nearly hovering over his shoulder. He couldn't read whatever was on the print-out. He was no scientist.

"Well, there's traces of Kolokol-1. It's an incapacitating agent, a derivative of fentanyl. It's not exactly humane and a little hard to get. But its gas can work in under three seconds, rendering its victims unconscious for two to six hours." He turned to Clark. "Where did you find this?"

"In one of the units at Metropolis Vista. There were areas where the smell was stronger than others, so I cut some fibers..."

"And the other units?"

"I can't get in. They've been rented and there was an older woman who spotted me nosing around."

Murray sat down and bit his thumb nail. "Definitely foul play. Most definitely. But how do you find out why or how without another couple disappearing?" His other fingertips were bandaged and he suspected Murray had tortured those as well. It made him think of her. She was nowhere near as bad as Murray, but she'd never get her nails beyond short and ragged.

Thoughts of her spurred him to bring up his earlier question. "What about Grady?"

Murray shrugged. "I only have what you've told me. I'd need to examine him, possibly. Can't you..."

"I've searched for two days. I can't find a trace of him. I did manage to track down the man he... lived with. He wasn't very cooperative, even with Superman. He said he didn't care where the freak was. I... I don't know. Maybe he found out and Grady finally realized that he was doing more harm than good." Clark ran a hand over his face. "Isn't there any way to get around Grady's treatment? Undo it?"

"I don't have any knowledge of a serum that can bring memories back. I'd heard of something once, but it was very under-handed in the making and only lasted twenty-four hours. What was that project? Shady stuff. Formula 405? No. That's a cleaning product..."

"Project 33.1?"

Murray glanced up, surprised. "You know of it? I've only heard the barest whispers in the scientific community. Mostly because any scientist involved with it seems to end up dead."

"I'm more aware of Lex Luthor's pet projects than you know."

"Lex Luthor? Was he the..." Murray stood and strode to his desk, typing away furiously. "I'll see what I can do about the substance. Mind you, I don't like fraternizing with the kind of rogue scientists involved with these projects..."

"I'd appreciate anything you can do, Murray."

"Oh, wait a sec..." Murray stood and moved to a large metal cabinet. "I almost forgot the entire reason I wanted you here." He pulled out a pair of off-white boots. "Ta-dah!"

"Um... You shouldn't have?"

"Well, I didn't color them to match. I'm sure your mother can take care of that. Wonderful woman. Tell her how much I enjoyed the shortbread. Just perfect. Most people use a lemon extract when making shortbread, but I just..."

Clark let him babble on as he examined the boots. "What did you do to them?" It was nearly like getting a new toy and waiting to see what tricks it had up its sleeve.

Murray squeezed the boots and they seemed to absorb his handprint. "Oh, nothing too special. I got the idea from those tempur-pedic mattresses. They seem to be molded and manipulated by pressure and heat." He squeezed the entire leg in his hand and it stayed squished together before popping out again. The outside is a nice, pliable leather substitute. Mostly a coating, but..."

"So they pull on easier?"

"Oh, not just that. They can be worn underneath your existing shoes. The pressure will keep them down until they're released and..."

"Cool," Clark breathed. Now all he had to worry about was what to do with his outer clothing, unless Murray had a way to make that vanish into thin air and reappear when he wanted it.

"Oh, you might want to get some of those support socks," Murray said quickly.

"Like old men wear?"

"Oh, thanks..."

He laughed. "Sorry, Murray."

"They happen to be good for circulation," Murray sniffed. "Besides, the pressure will keep your boots down under your street clothes."

Clark smiled. "Thanks for everything."

"Well, I'll look into that serum. But you should still track down Grady."

"I'll try."

"And this planned community bothers me. People that would use such an inhumane chemical can't be up to any good." He suddenly shook his head. "Well, it's never boring when you stop by."

"I'm sorry to heap all this on you, but I don't know who else to go to."

"Oh, it's fine by me. I finished my latest prosthethis weeks ago. It's best if I at least look busy."

***********************

"I'm a little busy, Clark," Jimmy hissed.

"You're on lunch."

"I'm on lunch with Nancy." Jimmy grinned and waved at the redhead at the corner table.

"I'll let you get right back to it. This is important." He pulled Jimmy further towards the payphones near the bathrooms at The Met Stop. "Do you ever get headaches?"

"That? That is more important than my future wife?"

"Seriously, Jimmy..."

"Oh, I don't know. Who doesn't? I keep switching contacts, but I do get these prickling..."

"You wear contacts?"

Jimmy shrugged. "The glasses don't work for all of us, C.K. I have a sort of image to keep up." He waggled his eyebrows. "I told Nancy I'm going for my motorcycle license."

"You don't have a motorcycle."

"I will." He shrugged. "Someday... When they slash the price by eighty percent. Maybe."

He wasn't getting anything more out of Jimmy. "I should get back to The Planet."

"You think? Perry's been asking for you every fifteen minutes. Do you ever turn your cell phone on?"

He patted his pocket. "Must have left it at home." He was scattered lately. Between being Clark, being Superman, Lois, Lex, Grady, and Met Vista, he was a little squeezed for things like cell phones and keys.

As he walked the few blocks to The Planet, he tried to figure out where his head should be. He had to pick one thing for now, just one thing to tackle. As he entered the building, it became clear which.

"Clark, where were you?" Perry snapped. "I talked to Wheeler and it's all nearly set and... Can't you even call?"

"Sorry, Mr. White. But I had a sample from one of the homes and I was talking to Dr. Takamoto at STAR Labs and..."

"Takamoto? I thought you said he went back to Chicago."

"Oh, not yet," Clark lied smoothly.

"Well, get in here." He let Perry pull him into the office. He passed Lois, who looked up, then quickly away. He'd nearly forgotten. She hadn't seen Clark since the kiss. Well, she had, but she didn't know that. "What did Takaomoto say?" Perry asked when he closed the door.

"The carpet fibers had traces of Kolokol-1 along with some other incapacitating agents."

"That's heavy stuff," Perry breathed.

"You know what it is?"

"A KGB-developed psycho-chemical gas. I was freelancing in Moscow in 2002. Some Chechen rebels took hostages in a crowded theater and Ministry officials reportedly used this Kolokol-1 to subdue them. Papers later said it could have been any substance, but the stuff took effect in seconds. Apparently, so it would give them no time to harm the hostages. Stupid move. Over a hundred hostages died in the hospital." He paced the small space between the monstrous desk and window. "If the people involved are using something so unstable, they're either stupid or just monsters."

"Should we call the police?"

"With what? Illegally obtained carpet fibers? Or the flimsy connection? These people weren't even using the same fertility doctors. Besides, I talked to Maggie Sawyer at Special Crimes. She has her hands full investigating whether Intergang is forming again. And she says people have every right to move if they want to. Apparently, they paid the remainder of their lease."

"Yes. But where are they?"

"That's what we're going to find out." He sat at his desk. "I called Jamison Wheeler. He's head of the Home Owner's Association there. They're a little freaked out by this, too. But they don't want publicity... at least not the bad kind." He smiled a little. "And they won't get it if they play ball with us."

"Meaning?"

"I've got you one of the units. Lark Lane. It belonged to the first couple. They've turned it into a model unit, but they can make it livable for you and your partner."

"Partner?"

"Sorry, Clark. You're doing good, but you can't handle something this big alone. I'm calling in the big gun." He stood and opened his door. "Lane! Get in here! Now!"

************************

Lois looked up, surprised. Perry was yelling at her. He hadn't yelled at her in weeks. She smiled wide. "Right there, Perry."

She knew Perry's yells. There were the ones that signaled he was hungry, thirsty, jonesing for one of his many vices... He was like a baby that way. But this yell. This one was special. This meant he had something for her. He needed her. She straightened her jacket and strolled toward the office. She was a little disappointed to see Clark was still in there.

"Lois?" Clark said, staring at Perry.

"I told you. We need the big gun, here."

"Yes, but Lois..."

"What can I do for you, Perry?" She was torn between wanting to smack Clark on the back of the head and wanting to give Perry a great big kiss. The big gun.

"We've hit a roadblock on Clark's Met Vista story. There's only so much we can do from the outside. We need someone in there."

"Mr. White, I can..."

"Clark, there is no way a single man can get what we need. We need a couple. One who's having trouble having a baby." He touched Clark's shoulder. "I know this is your piece, but even I knew this had to happen." He gestured to Lois. "We need her on this."

"But look at what happened to the other couples. It's dangerous. Isn't there anyone else..."

"Lois is my best man... Well best man that happens to be a woman."

"I won't let Lois..."

"Lois can speak for herself," she cut in. They both turned to her. She'd been hungry for this. She'd wanted in on it since Clark had started. But she liked to work alone. She didn't know why. It just felt safer that way. Still, half of a great story was better than all of nothing. "I'm in," she said, lifting her chin.

Clark stood, staring at her. "It's dangerous. You don't know all the details."

"So you'll fill me in."

"But the other couples..."

"Didn't know what they were getting into," Perry cut in. "You two will. You just move in, make friendly, spread the word that you want to conceive and see who's a little too interested."

"But Mr. White..."

Doris' voice came through on the intercom. "Perry, I got Wheeler on line one."

"I'll take it." He pushed the two of them toward the door. "You two work this out somewhere else. I'll tell you when the arrangements are made."

Clark looked like he wanted to protest, but she pulled him out. "Come on." She moved toward the copy room, his sleeve in her hand.

"Lois, this isn't a good..."

"Clark," Lois snapped, shutting the copy room door. "Just listen."

*************************

Clark waited as she stood in front of him, tapping her foot.

Clark, I... Having nothing else going on, I have been keeping up with your story. I know some of the details and... Don't you want this to stop?"

That wasn't the point. Of course he wanted it to stop. But could he promise she'd be safe? "Yes, but..."

"And can you honestly tell me that another woman in this building is more capable of helping that happen than I am?"

He sighed. She was right. He couldn't see Rachel or Leona in obits dedicatedly jumping into this with him. Well, maybe Rachel. But it wouldn't be the story she was after. "No. But I just... I don't want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger for my story."

"Seems necessary to me," she said, her arms folded. "Besides, it'll be our story. If I'm in, I'm second on the byline. Is that a problem? I mean, is that why you're so..."

"No." Though this tiny, selfish part of him hated giving up sole ownership of his lead. Superman got plenty of glory. But he could never benefit from it. He did like having something of his own. "This isn't about the credit."

She shrugged. "Then you're a bigger man than me. Still... We know what we're getting into. And I'm capable and you're... Well, you've grown a lot. I think we can do this."

He took a deep breath. "I want to think we can."

"Confidence, Kent." She shook her head. "That's your biggest problem. You should believe in yourself a little more. Look at me. I mean, I'm not the big gun because I'm shy." She smiled.

He smiled back. "I bet you just love that nickname."

"A little." She grabbed his arms. "We're gonna get this one. Okay?"

He nodded slightly. He felt like he was in a high school locker room before the big game all of a sudden.

"Besides, I talked to Superman the other night. He..." She smiled. "He kind of followed me home after you told him to. We talked and... Well, he seems kind of invested in my safety. I doubt he'd let anything happen to me... and you, too. I mean, I'm not getting cocky, but..."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Getting cocky?"

"Watch it, Kent." Her smile fell away and she stepped back. "We're okay. Right?"

"Uh... How do you mean?"

"Well, you kind of planted one on me Friday and... I just want to make sure you're not getting ideas. We'll be living in the same unit and I don't want things to be awkward." She lightly punched his arm. "Pal."

"Oh... Uh... No. That's fine. I wasn't getting ideas." How could he just suddenly get ideas? The ideas were there and completely immovable.

"You know, any girl would be lucky to have you. I'm just very invested in my career. I mean, there are plenty of fish..."

"Yeah. Definitely." Somehow, he thought Superman wouldn't get this speech. Was it sane to be jealous of yourself?

"And that kiss... Well, it was nice."

"Nice?"

"Well, you know. It was very sweet."

"Sweet?" He suddenly wanted to give her a kiss that was not so nice and sweet. But that was off-limits. She was off-limits. He'd best keep reminding himself that.

"No. Sweet is a good thing. A lot of guys would have tried to get further with all the wine I'd had. You were very gallant. I mean..."

"Thank you," he finally said, wanting to end the pitying speech. "And I'm fine. I haven't really thought about the kiss. No ideas. None," he lied.

"Oh... Good." She smiled. "Great. So..." She punched his shoulder again. "Looking forward to partnering you." She leaned in and took his arm, starting out of the copy room. "And this will be good for both of us. I mean, deep cover. How exciting is that?"

"Very exciting." Too exciting. The prospect of living with her... again. He'd have to keep himself in check. "Does Perry know if the unit has two bedrooms?"

****************************

"Well, I have to hand it to you, Clark," Martha said, leaning against the dryer. "You've nearly grown up."

"Great," he groaned, adding his new boots to the laundry sink full of red dye . "When do I pass nearly for you?"

"When you start doing your laundry away from home?" She paired two socks together.

He shrugged and stirred the boots around. "I can't afford one of those stacker units for the apartment yet. And how would it look if I was washing Superman's stuff at a laundromat? They'd either guess the truth or think I was his laundry boy... or worse, his..." Clark shuddered. "There's an awful image."

Martha laughed. "It's not that you do your laundry here, it's that I always end up doing most of it for you."

"You could just not do it, Mom."

She shrugged. "Well... It's there. How can I stop myself?"

He grinned. "You can't. You miss me."

She giggled. "Not that much."

"Uh-huh. You miss me so much, you even miss cleaning up after me."

She hit him with a sock. "That's an outright lie. Go wash your mouth out."

He laughed. "You can't order me around anymore."

She pursed her lips. "That's not true... Well, it is, but I call my orders advice now."

"Out with it," he said. "You've had something to say all night."

She tossed the socks in the laundry bag on the floor. "Are you sure you can handle this, Clark?"

He smiled. "You mean laundry? Obviously not, you see how I..."

"Be serious, Clark. You know what I mean."

He sighed and stared into the hopelessly pink sink. It had now dyed three pairs of boots. It would never be white again. "Mom, I... I've lived with her before. And I resisted her for quite some time before... Well, before she invited me to stop. She can hardly stand me, anyway. She's nuts for that other me, but Clark..." He sighed. "Boring, safe, smalltown Clark is not her type. Believe me, Mom. I can keep my hands off. I've been pretty good so far."

"It's not just that, Clark." She took his face in her hands. "I know this eats at you. Keeping close while simultaneously keeping your distance. I respect your decision, but I don't like seeing you hurt. It's going to be even harder with her so close. Can you handle that?"

He shrugged her off and moved to the kitchen. "I'll just have to try it and see. I mean... Maybe our dynamic has changed. Maybe my feelings have changed. I loved Chloe. But part of the reason I loved Chloe was her completely unwavering love for me. But Lois... There's this part of me that resents her. How can she love Superman? She doesn't even know him. She only knows what he can do."

"But she does know him, Clark. To her, he's the piece of you that always helps, is always there when he's needed. That's the part of you that Chloe always respected, even when your personal decisions were so... messed up."

He sat at the table. "I don't know what I feel anymore. I'm split. I don't know where things are going and how she'll feel if she comes back. I don't even know how I'll feel. Maybe too much has passed for us to ever be together."

She took the chair next to him and leaned her head on her hand, staring at him. "I thought you'd sworn off that idea. Being with her."

"I don't know." He rubbed his eyes. "I mean, I could get her back now. Even as just Clark. Sometimes it's tempting even if it's wrong. I want to be together and make her happy, but not based on a lie. It seemed simpler before. I can't say that I'm not still drawn to her. But is it for good? Is what we might have enough to get through all that could happen? There's about a million roads with a million forks and... I guess I just want her to be whole again. Then we'll know what's right."

"Clark... I don't know what the right answer is. But I do want her back. After that... Well, it's in her hands." She smiled sadly. "I know I'm tough on you, but... You do know that I'd like you to be happy. I just... I also want you to be right. To do the right thing.

He nodded. "I know, Mom. I'll take care of the second and... I don't know. Maybe someday I'll end up with the first."

"How about that?" She wiped her eyes, but smiled.

"What?"

"You are grown up."

Previous Chapter

Continued in... ALMOST PARTNERS.