She'd been quiet. She'd been quiet all day. Last night, she'd stayed in her room. He'd tried to tell her he was going at one point. Her reply through her door had been "Whatever." She hadn't eaten. He'd actually cooked, too. It was only meatloaf, but it was something. He'd left her a plate. She hadn't touched it. Now she sat silently at the dining table, folding square pieces of paper into shapes he couldn't make out. He typed away on his laptop.
"What is that supposed to be?" he asked, trying for conversation.
"Origami," she replied tersely. "It's Crafty Devils night."
"Okay." She was still mad about his origami slip. Was that it? "Um... I watched the Sharks game with Bob. He invited me over last night. He wasn't much for talking, though. Not with the game on."
"What a shame," she drawled. "Some people are pretty close-lipped. Aren't they?"
"Uh... Yeah. Well, I've been checking on the fertility doctors," he tried. "The Terrys and the Halperts had the same one."
"Hmm. Isn't it a small world, still? Like with your friend Bart knowing Oliver Queen. Crazy, huh?"
He laughed, hoping it sounded bemused and not nervous. "Definitely. I'd like to check other patients' records," he said, hoping to keep her mind on the story. "See if someone outside of Met Vista disappeared."
"You do that," she said, shoving all of her wads of paper into a shoe box. She stood and moved past him to the sink. He watched her place the box in and take out the sprayer. She gave the box a soaking, then closed it and shook it up.
"What are you..."
"It's my own version of the dog eating my homework. See, our hot water heater leaked," she said, giving him a brief, but phony smile. "It's a shame it ruined all of my best creations." She opened the box. "The girls will be so disappointed."
"What if they ask you to do one on demand?"
She opened the fridge and took out the champagne. "Maybe this will distract them." She placed it on the counter and shut the door a little hard.
"Lois, I am sorry about that origami thing."
"Yeah. I know."
"So... I guess you're not a meatloaf fan. I could order take-out."
"Do whatever you want," she said, giving him that same tight smile. "I have a date with at least six ladies."
He watched her walk out. Yesterday morning, she'd been fine, even about the kiss. Now... He was distracted by a small window popping up. RedH0tLady24.
Still behaving?
He rolled his eyes and typed. Hi, Linda. Since when do you IM me?
?????
What does ????? mean?
That I IMed you yesterday, Dummy. Do you have the memory retention of a gnat?
He stared at the screen. I never got an im from you yesterday, he typed.
Are you senile? You so did. I think I'd remember because of all the stupid questions you asked.
He felt mildly shaky. Questions like what?
Like why we need to keep Lois away from Smallville and Lex, like it's not obvious...
His heart beat faster. Was this blind panic? Linda, I never got an IM from you yesterday. In fact, I was hardly on my computer before Lois borrowed it.
There were no words from RedH0tLady24. Just a blinking cursor.
Logging off, he typed. Calling you.
He shut off his email and picked up his cell phone from the table. His fingers were unsteady as he dialed. What had Linda said?
************************
Lois sipped the chardonnay Mitzi had provided. It was a shame Mitzi was the biggest wino in the complex. She was already the biggest gossip and Lois would really like to know what the other ladies had to say. She sidled up to Dodie. "This is just lovely, Dodie. I adore your macrame."
"Aren't you sweet? Well, I only... Ooh! More Devils arriving," she sang, handing Lois a tray of crab puffs. Lois glanced down. She'd not eaten much these last two days. And Chardonnay on an empty stomach was not the best idea if she wanted her wits about her. She stuffed two in her mouth surreptitiously and looked hopefully toward the door. Two women had just come in. Both looked to be in their mid-fifties. One was a pale, thin, woman. Probably had a name like Myrtle. The other was a dark-skinned lady in a smart pant suit. Dodie brought them over.
"Lanie, I'd like you to meet Marcy Proud and Elizabeth Albright."
"Call me Lizzie," the dark-skinned woman said, adjusting her glasses. "I've already heard about you from Mitzi of course. She said your husband is..." She shook her head and laughed. "Well, maybe you've already heard that enough."
She smiled tightly. She'd actually heard more than enough about how hunky, studly, gorgeous, delicious, and even beefy "Kent" was from all the ladies. They even asked her what her secret was, as if she wasn't good enough to get a man like him. She looked down at the ruffled blouse and skirt she'd picked up at a thrift shop. Maybe it was her wardrobe and her lightly curled hair. It wasn't a look she liked. She felt positively mousy. "Thanks... Lizzy," she added and turned to the woman with her. Marcy. It was actually pretty close to Myrtle. "Pleased to meet you, too, Mrs. Proud."
"Oh, we're not formal here. Can I call you Lanie?"
"That's my name," she said, wishing it wasn't. She suddenly felt Dodie's hand on her arm.
"Lanie, you haven't met Pammie Sharp yet. I just can't let that happen." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Her husband's a congressman. But her on the other hand..."
In the middle of the tedium of this world where every woman had a y or an ie on the end of their name, she felt a ray of hope. There was something to mixing with the rich and suburban. She could get more stories out of this that she wouldn't even share the byline on. "Bye," she said, turning to Lizzie and Marcy before she let Dodie lead her away.
"Marcy and Lizzie spend a lot of time together," Dodie whispered. "Both have empty nests now. Widows. I personally think they're a little like Joanne and Morgan."
"Joanne and Morgan?" she asked. The names were familiar.
"Joanne Moody and Morgan Hunter. They lived in Cressida Circle. They were more than roomies, if you get me. Marcy would actually knit for them. She does lovely work, but bestows it one the wrong types, if you get me. Way too sympathetic to that type, if you get me."
"I do," she said, hoping she didn't sound as judgmental as she felt. Small-minded harpy, she thought to herself. If this place was losing tenants, she was sure it was more than just foul play. Joanne and Morgan were the second to last couple to disappear. She wondered how these Stepford wives would react to knowing they were trying to have a baby together. Probably with the same snickering whispers.
"Pammie," Dodie sang out shrilly. "Have you lost weight?"
Pammie Sharp turned, putting a hand to her ample chest. It matched the ample rest of her. She looked to be in her forties. "Dodie, you're the first person to say so, you love. I've lost three pounds with this new system where you combine foods a certain way and..."
"Oh, I nearly forgot," Dodie said, smiling falsely and patting her flat stomach. Lois suspected she hadn't really been trying to compliment the woman. "This is Lanie Cameron. She's a bank manager and her husband, Kent, is an accountant."
"So nice to meet you," Pammie said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Your husband must be a high profile accountant to afford living here. Isn't this place expensive? I didn't think my Mikey and I could swing it. We already have two little ones in parochial school and that was hard enough. But I do play the market a little and it turns out I hit it big with an investment in..."
"Oh, Pammie," Dodie cut in. "Have you done something to your hair?"
Pammie's hand went to her head. "Well, no. I... I haven't changed a thing."
"Silly me," Dodie giggled. "It just looked lighter in some spots."
Pammie threw her head back and laughed. "You mean at the roots? Here come those grays, right?" She winked at Lois. "You don't have to worry about that yet. Not like us, Dodie. Am I right?"
Dodie smiled tightly. "I should get the cheese tray," she said. "Care to help me, Lanie?"
Lois smiled into her wine. Why did this feel like high school? "Great meeting you, Pammie," she said, giving her first genuine smile of the night before Dodie dragged her to the kitchen.
"You, too, Honey," she heard as she entered the kitchen on Dodie's arm.
"Honestly," Dodie said, closing the door. "I don't know how that woman snagged a congressman. She's so common, talking about money and diets..." She smirked and patted her flat hips. "As if I need her advice."
"Well, she seemed sweet."
"Oh, I'm sure she does. But don't let that fool you." Dodie started cutting into a wheel of brie. "I once told her her older children would be better off at a boarding school. My Jane and Maxwell are away at Rawlings. And she laughed and said that was a rip-off. And that she couldn't bear to have them away." She narrowed her eyes. "As if that makes me a bad mother. Rawlings children are almost always Ivy League in the end. Her brood will probably end up at a state school. You know she has four more besides the ones in school. At her age? It's just ridiculous."
This was definitely high school. And she was the new girl, coming in on this set social dynamic. Dodie was obviously staking her claim. But Lois actually preferred Pammie. She liked the way the woman refused to be insulted, no matter what Dodie said. She'd just bet Dodie was a WASP. "Dodie," she said carefully. "I notice a very pleasant accent on you. Where are you from? It's been killing me."
"Oh," Dodie said, smiling. "I'm from Boston. How sweet of you. Though, I really think I've got rid of most traces of the accent. Not like Mitzie, holding on to all those honey and molasses expressions."
A WASP in every way, Lois thought, allowing herself a smug smile. She almost wanted to tell Dodie's best friend what she really thought of her. Mitzi was a bit annoying, but she seemed to mean well. "I should get out there," Lanie said. "I had no idea this club was so big. So many women to meet. You must be very popular."
Dodie straightened her shoulders. "Well, I think the guests are more plentiful when it's at my house. Mitzi's potluck should be a crush, though. But that's only because she's allowing children." She jerked her head toward the door. "Pammie will most likely bring the whole brood." She rolled her eyes.
"Well... What can you do?" she said, making her exit. She suddenly realized why she loved living downtown. At least there the back-stabbing was done by criminals. She could probably get a human interest piece out of the snide gossip alone.
But out of the contents of the meeting? Nothing. Boring. Everyone clucked sympathetically at her ruined origami. Then they made her promise to make some more by next week. Could a person buy pre-made paper birds? She'd look into it.
All the ladies showed their wares and, though Marcy's blankets and booties were well-done, everything else was a sea of ugly macrame wall hangings, papier mache toilet paper covers, and other juvenile crafts. The gossip that went around after wasn't much better. It all involved people that still lived at Met Vista, some of whom they were probably "friendly" with. The only ones who noticeably didn't join were Pammie and Marcy, who sat knitting something in a soft yellow.
"What is it?" Lois asked, coming to sit near her on the loveseat. The other ladies were gathered around different parts of the large living and dining room. This model was significantly bigger than the one she and Clark occupied. She suspected they lived on the middle class side of the proverbial tracks.
"Just a baby blanket," she said, patting it. "I started it for someone, but they moved."
"Oh? For who?" She hoped she didn't sound too eager. But she was finally getting somewhere. Joanne and Morgan. Sweet girls, no matter what they say." She nodded to the room in general. "I'm a little more understanding of that. My own daughter's of a same sex persuasion. Unfortunately, she's not the type to settle down and give me grandbabies." She sighed. "Sadly, she's my only child. My late husband and I only ever had one, not for lack of trying." She giggled saucily. So she and Lizzie weren't involved as Dodie had seemed to imply. "I wish she'd get going. I love knitting baby things." She held her ball of yarn to Lois. "The yarn's always the softest."
Lois gave it a feel. "Very soft," she agreed. She had to keep Marcy on track. "So Joanna and Morgan? They succeeded?"
She shook her head. "Sperm donors didn't work. Turns out Joanne wasn't too fertile and Morgan had her tubes tied long ago due to ovarian cysts. Poor thing. Joanne said they were going to try in vitro, but... They just moved away. Not even a note. It's funny, really..."
"What's funny?"
"Well... I have a bit of an in with couples with babies, young children, even expecting couples. And this place is full of them, considering it promotes a family atmosphere so close to the city." She shrugged. "They were always coming round with casseroles and cakes." She laughed. "They all wanted to score my knits. I know the game. I've won three Kansas state fairs."
"Congratulations," Lois said quickly. "But what's so strange about couples wanting you to knit for their babies?"
"That so many are just... moving away. This is, despite the snider element, a safe place to raise children. Why would anyone leave?"
"Hmm," Lois hummed noncommittally.
"Makes you wonder, that's all..." She trailed off, her eyes lighting up. "I heard you and Kent are trying." She leaned closer. "Ida Weinstein's been eying this blanket for her new grandson, but I'd be happy to give it to you if you two conceive."
"I'd love to have it," Lois whispered. "But we're having trouble," she said, forcing a wistful note into her voice.
"Oh, no," Marcy sighed. "Is it him or is it you?"
"Uh... We don't know yet," she settled on. Which would catch the right kind of attention... or the wrong kind, depending on how you look at it. Maybe she should stop ignoring Clark and help him with his research on the medical side. "We're looking into it," she said.
"Well, tell me how you do." She nodded to Mitzi. "She and Bob never quite got it. I suspect it's because Bob won't own up."
"To what?"
"Lazy swimmers," she whispered. "They'd benefit from in vitro, but tell him that..."
She took a sip of her chardonnay, then quickly put it down. Two glasses were her limit. She knew that now. And, to be honest, she really didn't want to be there any longer. She wasn't big on large groups of women talking about nothing important. "I think I'll make my goodbyes," she said, standing.
"You do that, Honey. Maybe you and that man of yours can put in some effort tonight. Heard he's something else."
"Yeah," she laughed. "He certainly is." She moved aside as Lizzie came forward.
"You heading off?" She asked.
"Yeah. Little tired."
"Mind if I take that seat? Those dining chairs are hard." She leaned in to Marcy. "As well as ugly. What is Dodie thinking?"
Marcy giggled. "Dodie thinks?"
Lizzie sat and sighed. "You're right."
"I'll make the rounds," Lois said, smiling at them. She saw them lean in as she left. Probably talking about her or her "dreamy" husband. Even the nice ones gossiped.
By the time she started for the house, she was sick of gossip. Out front, she saw the dining room light was on. She saw Clark's profile through the window. She was sick of people saying one thing and thinking another. She studied the lines of his neck and jaw in the dim light. He was, as the girls said, great-looking. She noticed it more every day. But she didn't want that to get in the way of their story. She wanted to be his friend. How could she do that when he was lying? How could she do that when she was also not truthful?
She didn't want lies, not between partners and not between potential friends. She wanted the truth. And, to get it, maybe she'd have to come clean about knowing his lies. She squared her shoulders. It was time to do just that.
*************************************
"You should have signed out of your email, Dumbass!"
"We've been over this. You should have known it wasn't me," he shot back wearily. He leaned back in his chair. This was tiring. They were getting nowhere. The entire conversation had been blame and cheap shots. Linda wasn't much for resourceful plotting. He knew who was. Considering they were plotting against and for that very person, they were in trouble. He wondered what she might know already. "I mean she asked why she should be kept away from Lex, Linda. How obvious..."
"Like I should know. You've always been about as sharp as a bowling ball. I expect stupid questions from you."
He pursed his lips and breathed hard through his nose. It was getting very hard to keep his temper. "This is pointless," he sighed. "I deal with her on a daily basis. I'll figure out what to say if she..."
"You? You'll probably tell her she was Chloe and she was wildly in love with you. I know your game."
"I won't," he said sharply. Not even when it was completely true... once. "I can tell her about Chloe without all the... truth," he finished, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "I'll figure it out. Oliver's had most traces erased. There's not much for her to find and..."
A key turned in the lock. He hadn't been paying attention. He'd meant to keep an ear out.
"Clark, if she..."
"I gotta go," he said hurriedly as the door opened. "But thank you very much, Dr. Takamoto."
"What?" Linda squealed. "Oh! Is she..."
"Definitely," he said loudly, hoping to cover Linda's loud shrieking. "I'll keep you updated on any further developments," he said slowly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as she closed the door. He hung up and turned to her. "Hey! Good party?"
She kicked off her sensible loafers and padded toward the kitchen. "Sure. If you like finger food and backstabbing."
He forced a laugh and leaned back in his chair. "That bad? Um... I ordered Chinese."
She glanced at him, then away, before she opened the fridge. "Thanks."
She came to the table with two white cartons and chopsticks, her face still expressionless and he found himself leaning back. She put them down and came around to his side. He flinched when she leaned down, a hand coming toward his glasses. "Lois, what..."
He felt a slight pressure on his nose and she pulled away. "They were crooked," she said, half-smiling. "And I can't have a serious talk with a guy with crooked glasses."
He nodded, trying not to betray any more fear.
"And I want to have a serious talk, Clark. I need to." She sat across from him and took his laptop and turned it to her.
"What..."
"I want you to listen to me first," she said. He heard typing and clicking before she turned it to him again. There was a mass of pictures with captions and a few paragraphs. A yearbook scan. The words "Me at fifteen! Hee!" were scrawled over the paragraphs and an arrow pointed at a chubby girl holding a trophy. His eyes flew to a picture near it, to a face he knew as well as his own. "This was the only photo I could find of my cousin, Chloe Sullivan. It's a scan from The Smallville High Yearbook." He watched her carefully open the box and dip her chopsticks in. "Some former chess club girl has turned scrapbooking into an internet thing. She wrote over the paragraphs. Before, I just looked at the picture. Who wants to read that peppy yearbook crap, anyway. But, when I found it again, there was something that caught my eye. Could you read aloud, please?"
"Well, I can't..."
"Just try your best," she said, still concentrating on her food.
He cleared his throat. "Um... Activities rule... with an exclamation point."
"Go on."
"Okay... Crows aren't just about athletics. Their intellectual endeavors are the talk of the town... Um... another exclamation point." She looked up and opened her eyes wide. He was stalling and she knew it. He took a deep breath and read on. "While Dawn Murphy took the county chess tournament... Oh, is that the girl in the picture. I..."
"Clark..."
"I might know her is all. I..."
"Just read," she said, her expression darkening.
He nodded and looked down. "While Dawn Murphy took the county chess tournament, the Mathletes took state. And don't forget The Smallville Torch. Chloe Sullivan... It says above in parentheses..." He trailed off, staring at her picture. She leaned on a desk in The Torch's office... alone, looking wistful yet strangely defiant. He looked across at her.
"Yeah," she said, smiling sadly. "Striking resemblance." She stared in his direction, but he felt she wasn't really looking at him. "I hardly remember her, really. I'm sure we didn't always look alike. I remember her with long, sandy hair and a kind of brattiness that..." She shook her head and looked down. "Finish reading, Clark."
He sighed and turned his attention to the monitor. "Chloe Sullivan has been the editor of our school's beacon of truth since her freshman year with the help of Pete Ross and Clark Kent... Not pictured," he finished sadly. He remembered that day. It was junior year and she had been all over him and Pete to show up for the yearbook picture after school. "The non-jock pursuits get no attention and I need you two there to show the torch does have staff." But they'd been goofing off playing basketball. He'd been showing off his abilities with Pete, too. They'd abandoned her as usual. He still felt the guilt of those years. It made it harder to lie to her now.
"Clark?"
He shut the laptop and looked up, meeting her eyes.
"I'm waiting."
"For what?" he asked, though he knew exactly what she was waiting for.
"I'm waiting for why you never told me your connection to my family. As far as I knew, you were some guy who dinged Linda's rental car once. Then I find out you knew Lex Luthor."
"I only delivered..."
"Produce," she cut in. "Yeah. Somehow, that doesn't fit. In fact..." She pushed her food away and leaned back. "I want to level with you, Clark. I did something that I'm not exactly proud of." She looked down. "But let me finish before you get angry about it." She looked up and he nodded. "The other day I was sending Jimmy those pictures from your email when an IM popped up. Normally, I would just tell you you have an IM, but the words and the screen name caught my eye." She leaned forward. "It was my cousin, Linda, Clark. I was curious. Why were you getting messages from my cousin? We hardly know you. Then she mentioned me and... whether or not you were keeping your hands off me." She stared at the table. "She also mentioned your friend, Bart and how he'd told her our sleeping arrangement. So... Curious again, I asked why. Then she said something odd. She said you 'jerked Chloe around.' It was interesting. You'd never mentioned that you knew her. You've never mentioned a lot."
"Lois, I..."
"I'm not done," she cut in sharply. She stood and paced toward the kitchen. She took a deep breath and leaned against the counter, staring at the fridge. "Linda then went on to say that she wanted me away from Lex and Smallville. I'd never told Linda about the Smallville story or the Lex angle. She gets... intense about certain things, Lex Luthor being one of them. It led me to one conclusion: that you had told Linda. Furthermore, that you and Linda were talking about me, conspiring to keep me away from Lex and Smallville. You were even talking about my headaches. And Clark... I never told you about those. I also never told you about another thing. Kevin Grady." She looked toward him now, hurt in her eyes. "She said you had to find him. It's not common knowledge that I see a therapist. It's also not common knowledge that he's disappeared. I didn't even tell Linda that. Information is apparently flying between you and my cousin and most of it about me. So..." She looked away and he heard her breath catch. "Feel free to start clarifying this any time."
He sighed. He hated to see her in pain. He hated even more that he was causing it. "Lois, I don't know where to start." He didn't, really. Could he tell her everything? And what would that do to her? There was no way of knowing.
She strode toward the table and towered over him. "Start with Bart Allen. I suppose his visit wasn't the happy surprise you pretended it was."
There, he could tell the truth. "He works with Oliver Queen. Linda wanted him to make sure that things were okay here."
"And why didn't she just call you since you two are such great cohorts?"
"She... She doesn't like me very much," he answered, also truthfully.
"Then why does she IM you?"
"Because... I work with you. She... wants to make sure you're okay. She told me you were seeing a therapist." He winced slightly. Linda would kill him for placing that blame at her door when it was Grady himself that had told him. But what other way could he explain it? The lies started to eclipse what truth he could give her. It was tapdance time. "Linda found out Grady was a fraud and she wanted me to investigate him. She suspected he was doing something to you that caused the headaches."
She stared hard at him and sat hard in the chair nearest him. "But why would she ask you? Why wouldn't she just talk to me?"
"She's worried and she didn't want you to know. I work with you, so..."
"Is that why you're always looking at me?" she asked, her brows drawing together.
"No. That's..." He wanted to smack himself hard. Why hadn't he just taken that out. "That's something else," he finished, staring at his hands, folded on the table.
"Let's back up," she said, breathing heavily. "Why does she want me away from Lex? I mean, I know she doesn't like him, but..."
"Linda has good reason to believe that events involving the death of..." He swallowed hard. "That the death of Chloe Sullivan didn't go down as Lex said."
She leaned forward. "What reasons?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"Just... gut feeling," he lied.
Her breath left her in a soft whoosh. "I hadn't thought about that... But Smallville... It's just a little town. What does it have to do with my headaches?"
His brows drew together. Linda hadn't mentioned that as she'd been all over the place on the phone. She didn't have Lois' mind... or what her mind had been, really. "What's that?" he asked suddenly.
"She said 'What about the headaches? What if she saw too much?' What does that mean? What could Smallville..."
"Lois, you need to trust me on one thing. No one is conspiring against you. There are things you don't remember, things that are causing these headaches when they come back to you."
"Things like Chloe?"
He looked away. "What about her?"
"When I think of her, it's... like a knife."
"Chloe's death... affected you deeply."
"But I hardly knew her..."
Truth. It was dangerous for her to have. But there was some things she had to know. "You and Chloe were as close as two people could be... uh... I mean, Linda said so. She says you've forgotten things since seeing Grady and she wants you to have those things back." So do I, he thought, but didn't say. That would be giving away too much. She put her hands to her temples and he leaned forward. "Lois..."
"Just be quiet," she hissed, breathing deeply, then letting it out. "Why can't Linda just tell me what I've forgotten?"
"She doesn't want to make the headaches worse. She doesn't want you to be hurt. She's afraid that, if you go to Smallville, you'll remember things that will hurt you." He could very well substitute I for she in all this. "She loves you."
Her eyes were damp. "And what about Chloe? Why can't I see her? Why is it so hard to even say her name? I just..."
Because she's you. "Because her death caused this memory loss," he answered honestly. It started things, at least.
She sniffled, then laughed. "All this time, after my therapy sessions," she sneered. "I kept thinking I was truly going crazy. I mean, I couldn't remember things. It was like shock or post-traumatic stress, but Grady... He never even mentioned Chloe. Most therapists have you dig. He said to forget. And I just did." She shook her head. "So... you think he caused this." She laughed bitterly. "I just thought he was a lousy therapist at first, but I started to think..." She looked down and he watched a tear fall into her lap. "I am nearly blank sometimes. I say these things that I just... Where do they even come from? I can't remember my mother's face or my father's eyes or..."
He couldn't take it. He stood and pulled her up to him. "Shh!" He stroked her back as she leaned her head on his sweatshirt. He felt wetness seep through.
"So... what?" she sobbed into his chest. "Am I crazy? Did I snap? Because Linda acts so weird, like I'm made of glass and I'll just shatter and maybe she's right... Maybe I'm nuts."
"Don't say that." He grasped her shoulders and pulled her back to face him. "We'll find Grady and we'll get to the bottom of this."
"Don't hurt him," she said suddenly, her eyes wild. "I don't want him to be hurt. I... I don't know why. I just..."
"I just want to find him," Clark said steadily. "I just want to make you whole again."
"Why? You don't know me that well. Is it just because I..." She shrugged his hands off and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "It's because of her. Isn't it?"
He stared at her.
"It's fine, Clark. I get it. I mean, it's obvious the two of you were... involved. Obviously, I look like her." She suddenly turned away and strode toward the kitchen, but stopped. Staring at the blank space in the middle. "It explains a lot," she said, her back stiff. She turned back to him and smiled sadly. "That's why you kissed me. Isn't it? Because I look like her."
"Lois, I..."
"It's fine," she said, looking over his shoulder. "I understand. It's even kind of sweet in that weird way that you..." She suddenly narrowed her eyes and caught his. "Why didn't you ever tell me you were involved with my cousin?"
"I didn't... I... I wasn't sure if I should," he finally landed on. "Things ended badly between us and... You already weren't too fond of me when I started at The Planet."
"And that's why Linda got so mad at you?"
"It was my fault," he said, taking his chair again. He needed it. Between the lies and the truth, he felt like he felt drained. "Chloe loved me and I... I never appreciated her until it was too late." He met her eyes. "I took her for granted. I hurt her."
"Did you love her?" she asked softly.
"More than anything," he answered, almost wishing she could see that he meant it for her.
"Oh... Well, that explains a lot."
It was killing him, seeing the false bravado. He wanted to take her then, tell her she was the one, but there'd been enough truth already. "So... now you know."
"But..." She stared at him, her face contorted. "Is this why you worked at The Planet? All because of you and Linda and..."
"I love my job," he said honestly. "I love working with you. There's nowhere I'd rather be."
She ran a hand over her face. "Clark, I... I'm not a child. I can't sit back and let you and Linda talk about me, make decisions for me. I'll tell her the same... tomorrow. I just... I'm tired and my head aches and..." She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. "And we have a story. I want to find those couples and clear this up. Lives could be at stake." She nodded to herself. "But after... This isn't over. I'm in this business and that includes Smallville, Luthor, Grady... It's up to me what to do. I refuse to be a bystander in my own life. What I do about all of it will be my decision."
He swallowed and nodded.
"I'm going to bed. Tomorrow, I want us to get what we can on the medical records of all the missing couples. Between us, I think we can, even if we have to skate above the law."
He nodded again. "I'm fine with that."
"So..." She stepped up to him and put out her hand. "We're agreed. No more lies?"
He took her hand in one of his and shook lightly. "I will endeavor to be truthful from now on," he said, crossing his fingers behind his back. He'd be as truthful as he could, at least. Maybe it was about time he and Linda stopped treating Lois like a child. Maybe a mind like hers was the only thing that could unravel... a mind like hers.
She dropped his hand. "But for now, we focus on what's behind Stepford 2.0. Word about our trouble conceiving should be all over, the way gossip flies here. And I did get some good info tonight about couple five. That's why I need to get my hands on all the files. There's something there..." She got that far-off look, the one that said she was on to something.
He nearly smiled. Was it nuts that he was glad Lois was on her own case as well as this one? He suddenly felt everything would be okay. "I trust your instincts," he said warmly. "If you think that's our next move, then I'm in."
Her lips quirked upwards. "Good to see you trust me on some things, Kent." She turned and he watched her walk away. "Nancy Drew and the lone Hardy boy are on the job," she threw over her shoulder. "Look out Metropolis."
He did smile, but it faded when she closed her door. He was tired. But this night wasn't over. Not for him. He sped into the nursery and took his sweatsuit off. He'd been dressed underneath. It was hard to tell when Metropolis would need him. But Metropolis was quiet tonight. He had other places to be.
His mind cleared as he flew above the clouds. He was bound for Star City. It was time to tell Linda their new story. It had to be in person this time. He just hoped he'd survive.
Previous Chapter
Chapter Four
No comments:
Post a Comment