Almost Partners (Chapter Four)

"Just get it straight," he snapped.

"But why do you get to decide what the truth is?" Linda demanded. "Your version makes it sound like I've been keeping things from her and enlisting a virtual stranger's help."

"You have," Clark sighed. "As far as she knows, I am nearly a stranger. And we both know that's best."

"I hate this," she groaned. "She's going to call me up and yell at me for keeping things from her and I'll be the bad guy while you're just some nearly innocent stranger to her and..."

"Linda," Oliver groaned, putting his head on his desk. "It's two in the morning. It's pointless arguing. What's done is done."

"She's getting closer," Clark hissed. "I had to do something. I'm the one that's around. If there's a story to keep up, most of it falls to me."

"And what if she decides to investigate Smallville?"

Clark paced to the window. "Let's hope I can find Grady first." He turned back to Linda, who stared at the floor. "Can we just..."

"Fine," she growled. She lifted her chin and stared blankly ahead of her. "I... first noticed something was strange when Lois started seeing Dr. Grady," she recited. "She didn't seem to remember..."

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

"Clark!" Lois came out of her room, adjusting her earring, and kicked the air mattress. He hardly moved. Strange, considering he'd mumbled ten minutes ago that he was up. "Hello, Clark." He mumbled something and rolled over. She leaned down and snorted a laugh. His glasses were askew again. She reached over to adjust them. Her finger had only touched the edge when the world turned upside down. "What the..."

She was on the floor. Not only that, there was a man on top of her. Clark was holding her wrist in a near vise-grip between them. "Clark!"

His eyes opened wide behind the still cockeyed glasses. "Lois, what..."

"Is wrestling your usual morning ritual? Ow!"

He let go of her wrist, but didn't get up. "I'm sorry. I must have just..."

"Attacked me," she finished, pulling her wrist from between them and shaking it. "I was only trying to fix your stupid glasses. Why do you wear them to bed, anyway?" She snuck a look down between them. She hadn't noticed with the blankets, but Clark wasn't wearing more than boxers. She'd take a moment to reflect that he had the kind of abs that made her fingers itch to do some tracing, but she refused. She was still miffed at him.

"I just..." He leaned up on one arm and adjusted them himself. "I must have been having a dream."

"Which kind?" she asked,looking down pointedly. Boxers weren't much of a buffer, after all. And Clark, like most guys, had a morning... condition.

"Oh, my God!" Clark hurriedly scrambled backward and stood.

"I was wondering when you'd finally get off me," she sighed, sitting up. She was not disappointed. Not at all.

"I'm so sorry," he groaned, pulling the pillow from the bed and holding it in front of him.

She nearly laughed, except for how she was still angry at him. His face was beet red. "Clark, it's fine," she assured him. "I'm aware you're a guy." She stood and shook her wrist again. "Hell of a grip you have, though."

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

She sighed. "Stop apologizing and get dressed. We have an appointment."

"For what?" he asked in an unnaturally high voice. She stifled a laugh. He was almost cute, holding a white pillow in front of his red self.

Only almost? She shook her head. They were here for the story. "I got us an eleven o'clock appointment with Doctor Manning. Treated two of the couples. We have to make it quick, though. At noon, we have Doctor Stein. I couldn't get us in with Doctor Foley, though. I say we just show up and see what happens."

"When did you do all this?" He backed toward the steps.

"I started at eight. The first time I tried to wake you," she said tightly. "No wonder you're always late for everything." She folded her arms. "Well? You going to stand there or get moving?"

"Oh, okay. I'll just..." He backed up the steps and gestured to the hallway. The pillow started to slip and he grabbed it. "I'll get a shower." He smiled nervously and shut himself in the bathroom.

"Wear a suit," she yelled towards the door before turning to the kitchen. "Stupid guys and their stupid pecs," she muttered. She'd woke up angry. There was this dream. Clark told her he couldn't give her what he needed and then just... walked away. It clung to her. It made her mad. It made her head ache.

She clenched her fists and took a deep breath. The pain was all in her mind. There was no reason for it. It didn't even exist. She had to keep telling herself that. And she had to stay mad, too. It cleared her mind.

A door opened and she peeked around. Clark was coming out of the bathroom, a towel around his hips. He was also heading for her room. "Can I help you?" she asked, pasting on a smile.

"Uh... Do you have any toothpaste? I'm out."

"Well, you just help yourself, Big Guy."

"Yeah... Thanks?" He looked off-balance. Good. She'd keep him that way.

"Have fun with that," she called before turning to the coffee maker. "Damn towel was slipping," she mumbled. "Stupid thighs." She wished he was fat and short and not so... It just made it harder to stay mad when he was so... cute. It was in a dopey, harmless, corn-fed way, of course. Clark may have seemed a wee bit dangerous that first night, but it was clearly a fluke. She'd get what she needed out of him soon enough.

Last night, she'd felt weak and helpless and afraid of... What? Knowing the truth? The truth was her reason for living. The truth was all that mattered. What had happened to these couples? She wanted the truth. What had happened to her? She wanted the truth there, too. No more sitting back. She'd take care of Met Vista, then she'd take care of herself.

Besides calling for doctor's appointments, she'd done some research on the computer while Clark snored away. This time, she didn't go for Clark Kent or Chloe Sullivan or Lex Luthor. This time, she searched Smallville. And she didn't go the orthodox route, either. Even though The Inquisitor had shut down, its archives could still be found by someone resourceful. And she was nothing if not resourceful.

It turned out there was more to this town than previously thought. For such a tiny place, it was a hotbed of crime and unexplained events. If Clark thought she wouldn't go there, he had another think coming.

She finally felt in control. They would iron out Met Vista, then she, and only she, would decide what to do after. Things were clicking into place. It was the way she liked it. The headaches and Grady were connected. Grady and Smallville were connected. Smallville and Clark were connected. Clark and Linda were... She suddenly turned toward the phone that hung on the wall. She dialed quickly from memory.

"Yeah?" a groggy voice said.

"Linda? Lois," she said, taking a deep breath.

"Oh... Uh... It all started when you started seeing... Um..."

"I love you," she said, not wanting Linda's groggy mutterings to throw her off-track. She had a speech prepared. "And I know you love me. But that doesn't mean you have any right to make decisions for me or talk about me behind my back."

"But I only..."

"I know that you think you have my best interests at heart, but I think I should know what my best interests are."

"Lois, I..."

"You're right about Grady, however. There's something fishy with him and I will figure it out."

"But Lois..."

"And I understand that you have your suspicions about Luthor. I'll tread carefully, but I will come to my own conclusions."

"Uh..."

"I appreciate your efforts. I even appreciate Clark's. But the both of you really need to back off and let me decide where my life is going. So... Love you. Bye."

"Wait!"

Her thumb hovered over the off button. "Yes?"

"Um... I... Are you mad at me?"

"Um... Yes."

"But I'm not the one who..."

"What? Was having my coworker spy on me? Was lying to me?"

"Lois, I..." Linda sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, though it sounded a little grudging. "I didn't mean to keep things from you." It was monotone, as if she was reciting it.

"That's funny, because that is exactly what you did."

"What was I supposed to do? Just..."

"Be open with me. When you noticed I was a little... forgetful... Well, couldn't you have just filled me in?"

"I... It's complicated. I only wanted to make sure you were okay and..."

"I wasn't. Linda, I thought I was going nuts. I started seeing a therapist."

"But Lois, you started bef..." Linda inhaled sharply and trailed off.

"What?" Lois demanded.

"Nothing."

"Linda," she sighed. "I just don't understand where you think you get off. Having Clark as... I mean, talking about me with someone who's almost a stranger."

"But..."

"You're family and I love you, but... I've said what I need to and I just... I can't talk to you right now." She hung up before Linda could say another word.

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

Clark hung up the bedroom extension and crept out and into the nursery. He was sure he'd hear from Linda sooner or later. He felt awful. Now Lois was blaming it all on Linda. The one to blame was really... Lois. They were dancing around her memory loss, trying to walk the line between what she could and couldn't know. And she was angry. Yet she chose this. He pulled a suit from the closet.

He felt the plastic hanger break in his hand and he took a deep breath. He felt impotent and angry, himself. It was her actions that forced them to live this way. Her acceptance of Grady's... treatment. He wanted to grab her, shake her, force her to see the truth. What would it do to her if he were to tell her right now that her entire life was a lie? She thought she had headaches now. She'd have a mother of a headache if... He dropped the towel and heard a dull thunk. He bent down. It was Lois' pin from Mitzi. It must have got caught on his towel in her room. He tossed it to the dresser and moved back to the closet.

He pulled his get-up out and sped into it before starting on the suit.

What was his problem? He wouldn't do anything rash. He couldn't tell her. He had no way of knowing what it would do to her. He knew better than to even think of it. Her mother had turned catatonic at the knowledge of what she could do. Would Lois go the same way at the truth?

He couldn't risk it. Still... It was nearly tempting. The idea of forcing the truth on her only became more alluring in the car as she kept poking at him. He started to remember why he'd been mad.

"So... Doctor Manning. I wonder if you two know each other."

"What?" he asked, though he clearly heard her.

"Nothing, just... Well, you're just such a man about town. Aren't you? Hobnobbing with Lex Luthor, Oliver Queen, my cousin..."

"Just because I happen to know some..."

"So you admit it? Ha!"

"What?" Now he really didn't know what she was talking about.

"I only threw Oliver in as a red herring. But there you go." She turned toward him from the driver's seat. "Anything else? Were your mom and my mom on the same bowling team?"

"Why don't you stop snapping at me for three seconds and concentrate on the road?"

"I'm a born multi-tasker," she said, switching lanes. "So... How do you know Oliver?"

"He spent some time in Metropolis," he answered. It was truthful. He could give her that much. Though he didn't particularly want to right now.

"And in Smallville, I bet. Why is it that everything seems to revolve around your little town?" She suddenly laughed. "No. Don't answer that now. I'll find out for myself."

"Fine," he snapped.

"Good," she said a little too brightly. "Because, once this is over, I'm paying Smallville a visit."

"I hope you do," he lied. "Try the creamed corn. They're famous for it."

"And the meteor rocks? That another claim to fame?"

His mind shut down. "Uh..."

"I'm not always one to go for tales of little green rocks from outer space, but... If a story's told enough, it has to have some credibility."

"That's ridiculous. Where are you reading this stuff?"

"The Inq..." She suddenly pulled in front of a meter with jerky movements. "None of your business," she mumbled. "And here we are. The medical plaza." She turned to him with a phony smile. "Looks like someone's off the hook."

"For what?"

"For lying to me."

He undid his seat belt and watched her cut the engine. She started to open the door, but he grabbed her arm. "You've never asked me about my town," he ground out. "As a matter of fact, you only mention it to ridicule it." And it hurt. It hurt to have her poke fun at his town, her town. "Don't pretend that I've been lying to you about it."

She jerked her arm away. "You never said anything about it, though. You never mentioned..."

"When would I?" he cut in. "When would I get a chance to mention anything to you? When you were treating me like a threat? Or how about when you treating me like an inferior life form? Or maybe when you treated me like a lackey? Or when you were snapping at me over..."

"Enough," she said sharply. He sat back, staring through the windshield, listening to her deep breaths. It was all true. Since this morning, he'd been strangely resentful. He'd thought it had passed, but here it still was.

"Okay, Clark," she finally sighed. "Maybe I have been a grade-A asshole to you. And maybe I have made too many jibes, but... I... I find it hard to get past it. You just... There you were in my territory and I didn't like it. I must have some deep-seated issues." He turned to her and she faced him. "But I want it to change. I want us to be friends while we're partnered. I don't want to be mad at you, but I'm still so..."

"Lois, I..."

"Well, we can't work together if we're not... working together. And I want to solve this, Clark. So... shake on it?" She held out her hand.

He looked at it. "Didn't we do this last night?"

"Yeah, but..." She shrugged. "I mean it this time. I'll rip you a new one when we've saved Stepford."

He took her hand warily. "Okay?"

"Don't get me wrong. I do plan to rip you a new one -- and Linda, too."

He winced. Because Linda would rip him four new ones after that.

"But it can wait," she finished.

He shook her hand and let it go. He wondered if Linda would ever forgive him for making her conspirator number one? He got out of the car and fed the meter. "Probably not," he mumbled.

He followed as Lois strode into the lobby and to the elevators and pushed a button. "So Doctors Manning and Foley are here, Stein's across town. We have to make this quick. We use our appointment with Manning to get at the files. For Foley, we're just Lane and Kent and all about the interview. We run across town for Stein, play the infertile couple again..." The door opened with a ding and she stepped in.

"Wait a sec." Clark stepped into the elevator behind her. "How the hell are we supposed to play the infertile couple? What if they..."

She turned to him as the doors closed in front of them. "Yes?"

He wasn't sure exactly how to put this. "I mean... Won't they want to test our... substances?"

She laughed and he looked away quickly.

"It's not funny," he mumbled. And it really wasn't. On the one hand, there was the idea that he'd have to... procure his substance. The other, scarier bit was what they'd find if they tested it.

"Clark, it's just a consultation. We won't even get that far."

He looked back to her. "You sure?"

She giggled. "What did you think? It's not like they'll give you a cup and send you off to... Well, you know..." She quieted down, slightly red. She leaned against the wall opposite him and smiled lightly. "Anyway, we're just in there to scope out and, hopefully, get a look at those files."

"Yeah, but what if..."

"Oh, stop worrying. Come on, big boy," she suddenly said. "It's for the cause of truth and justice now push me up against the..." Her hand flew to her mouth. "What did I..."

"Yes," he said quickly. "I really want a look at those files."

Her eyes were wide and a little scared. "But did I just... Did you hear..."

"Besides," he cut in. "I doubt this will take long." He could feel his heart racing. She'd just said it, nearly word for word, something Chloe had said. And it scared him as much as it scared her. But what could he do? Neither of them were ready to deal with this at the moment.

She shook her head and squared her shoulders. "Yeah. Shouldn't take long," she mumbled. He let out a sigh of relief as the doors opened again with a ding, straight into Manning's offices.

It was him. He knew it. This entire story had been a bad idea. Throwing her in this close with him was bound to force things to the surface. Words had slipped out before, but that was just too specific. And what could the repercussions be of letting that go on? Then again, he'd just ignored it, glossed over it. What if she started to think she was going insane?

He followed her to a counter in the back of the waiting room. Her legs seemed unsteady and he stepped closer, a hand on her arm. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Clark. Just a stupid headache."

"Maybe we should reschedule for another..."

"Clark, I'm fine," she snapped, then let out a nervous laugh.

The woman behind the counter smiled sympathetically. "First time?"

"Yes," Lois said quickly. "We're a little on edge. Baby stuff."

The woman handed them two clipboards. "Well, we understand. That's why we're here. And Doctor Manning is the best there is."

"Oh, we've heard," Clark said, putting an arm around Lois' stiff shoulders. "Two of our friends recommended him."

"Her," the receptionist cut in, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yes," he breathed. "Her."

"Well, just fill those out and bring them up when you're ready."

"Will do," Lois said, shrugging Clark's arm off and flouncing away to the chairs.

He took a deep breath and followed, sitting next to her and pulling his pen from the top.

"Him?" Lois hissed. "Are you trying to blow our cover?"

"Hunter Manning," he hissed back. "I assumed it was a guy."

"I don't suppose you bothered to check her website. Remind me not to assume you've done your homework."

"Lois, I..."

"Never mind. Just fill out the form." He started to write his alias and she reached over. "Are you nuts?"

"What? I thought..."

"Kent and Lanie Cameron don't exist. They don't even have IDs or medical insurance or..."

"Damn it," he muttered.

"What?"

"I don't have medical, Lois."

"Are you kidding? Who in the world goes around without medical? Our job even provides it and..."

"Well, I opted out. I've never been sick, really, and..."

"Just... just..." She grabbed his form and jotted a bunch of numbers on the line. "There. Maybe they won't check." She tossed it back to him and started scribbling on hers "Of course, I'm sure they will. You don't get even a check-up without insurance nowadays and I'm sure there was no way you could have told me this before and..."

"Lois, calm down."

She turned sharply to him. "Oh, you calm down. And keep your voice down," she growled.

"We're the only ones in here," he pointed out.

"But my head. It's..." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to snap at you. I'm just... I'm tired and just so..." She squeezed her eyes shut and he felt himself almost shaking with frustration. Was he supposed to just watch while she went through all this? He'd never felt so powerless. Pursuing her memories seemed wrong and ignoring them didn't seem any less so. There was nothing he could do... except...

He leaned toward her. "Lois, why don't you go to the restroom?"

"But I don't have to..."

"Just splash some water on your face and see if it helps."

She handed him her clipboard and sighed. "Maybe you're right. I'll be back."

He waited for her to walk away before he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He moved to the far end of the room near the elevators and pretended to examine a painting as he dialed the number on the card at the top of his clipbaord.

"Doctor Manning's office," a chipper voice answered, both in his ear and from far behind him.

"Yeah," he rasped into the phone, keeping his voice low. "I'm downstairs. I got a package here."

"Excuse me? I can't hear you."

"Uh... Bad connection," he rasped as loudly as her dared. "But I got a package here for Doctor Manning."

"We weren't expecting anything. Who's it from?"

"Star Pharmaceuticals," he lied.

"But we weren't expecting any..."

"Promotional samples, Ma'am."

"Oh, well... Sure. Bring them up. I can sign for them."

"No can do. I couldn't get a spot and they'll tow my van unless I keep it in sight."

"This damned street," she muttered. "Fine. I'll be right down for it."

"Take your time." Clark heard the click on the line and behind him. As her footsteps approached, he nearly put the phone away, but they stopped right behind him. "Sell," he said quickly. "That... stock is like... an albatross on... my back..." He winced. As good as he thought he was getting at lying, there were always kinks to work out. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned, pulling the phone away.

"Sir, I'll be right back. If you and your wife would just finish filling those out..."

"Of course," he said quickly. "Almost done... Uh..." He put the phone to his ear again and gave her an apologetic look.

"Oh, yes. Sorry."

He watched her stride to the elevator. "While you're at it, sell that other stock. I don't like it. It's..." He let out a sigh as the doors closed behind her. Why couldn't he have pretended to have a conversation about something he knew about?

He didn't waste time. He sped to the counter and jumped it quickly, nearly skidding to a stop in front of the file cabinets. The Terrys and the Halperts had both been to Manning. He quickly searched through the drawers and pulled both files and... stopped. What now? He was pretty sure stealing these files was less then legal and...

"Excuse me, what are you doing?" He turned, his entire body tense and... "Lois," he breathed.

"Clark, what are you..."

"I got the files."

She suddenly smiled. "Then let's get out of here."

"But we can't just steal..."

"Clark, these people are missing and, possibly, worse. There's no time to be a boyscout. Come on!" He smiled and handed them to her, jumping the counter again. Leave it to her to put things in perspective. She strode to the chairs and stuffed the files in her briefcase. She tore the top sheets from their clipboards and stuffed them in with it, giggling. "I can't believe you just jumped a counter and stole files. You bad ass."

He felt a little giddy as well. It felt like old times. He grabbed her hand and ran to the left. "We'll take the stairs. We don't want to meet that receptionist on the elevator."

"What did you do?"

"Lied, stole, you know me..."

He heard her giggle behind him. "Apparently, I don't."

He grinned widely. All the tension seemed to melt away. They were on the job. They were getting it done. They were running down an echoing stairwell as if the devil was on their heels. This is so cool.

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

Lois collapsed in the driver's seat, a hand on her heart. She saw Clark approaching the passenger side and quickly unlocked it. "Slowpoke," she said as he got in.

"Drive," he said, strapping himself in.

She started the car, still laughing as she pulled into traffic. "You should have seen your face."

"Thanks a lot," Clark groaned. "Why couldn't you have been the decoy at Stein's?"

"I told you. The receptionist wouldn't leave to get the package. She kept insisting I bring it up. Then she hung up. You were there with her."

"Don't remind me."

"Just be glad I decided to step in and get the files before it was too late. That lady was looking at you like you were a sundae and she was on a diet."

"She wasn't on a diet," Clark muttered. "That much is true. And she was almost my mom's age. And she kept touching me." He shuddered next to her.

"Yeah," Lois laughed. She adopted a high-pitched voice. "Ooh, Mr. Kent--Can I call you Clark?--How do you get time to work out? Being a reporter must keep you sooo busy."

"Shut up. She was practically making out with me."

"Well, good. You were a great distraction while I got Joanne and Morgan's file. You... big piece of man meat."

"Ha-ha."

"Oh, we better hurry. We have to get you to that emergency vet appointment."

"Are you done yet?"

"I'll let you know." She sighed happily. "At least we have them all now." She stopped at a red light and turned to him. "I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Let's get some hoagies."

He stared at her and finally cracked a tiny smile. "At least you're in a good mood."

"And you're not?" She started forward again. "Clark, we committed... medical larceny and we lied and I watched you get sexually harassed." She giggled. "How cool is that?"

"Very cool," he agreed softly.

She glanced at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just... remembering something."

She dug in her purse and tossed her cell in his lap. "Well, remember the number of Nero's. We need sandwiches. Big ones. I doubt we'll get anything good at Mitzi's glorious pot luck tonight."

"That's tonight?" he groaned.

"That's important," she said. "We have to get the word out. Polycystic Ovary Syndrome," she recited. "It seems to be the common denominator here." She pulled the file from her bag and tossed that on his lap as well. "Give me my cell," she said. "You read. I'll call for hoagies." She dialed at the next light and listened to him turn the pages. She ordered two Italians with everything as he pored over the file next to her. "That good a read?" she asked, hanging up.

"Joanne didn't have PCOS. She had Hypothyroidism."

"But the others all had... Wait a sec..." She stared at the car ahead of her, dug inside, waited for something to click. It was coming... "Morgan," she burst out.

"Who?"

"Joanne's lover. She'd had her tubes tied due to ovarian cysts. Marcy Proud said so at Crafty Devils night."

"But if she had her tubes tied..."

"That can be reversed. It's a hard operation, I think, but..." She bit her lower lip. "Looks like we have our common ailment. I'll spread the word around with the ladies. Gossip flies fast around here."

"And what about me? Maybe I should just stay home and..."

"Not a chance. If I have to endure this potluck, you do, too." She smiled. "Besides, Stein's receptionist isn't the only lady who lusts after you. You have plenty of middle-aged fans at Met Vista. Mitzi thinks you're a hunk."

"Oh, great."

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Chapter Five