Almost Partners (Chapter Fourteen)

"See, the headaches are more suggestion than reality," Murray went on, pacing back and forth. "Something repressed comes to the surface and a sort of panic button is activated inside, bringing on pain to stop the mind from bringing up something it is, for lack of a better term, forbidden to." He glanced at Clark before turning to Lois. "I don't know the extent of your treatment. I don't know the extent of your loss, but I can tell you this: these headaches can be managed."

Lois leaned forward slightly. "How do you know?"

"Because you are having the same spikes in sleep, or at least from what I observed of your sleep pattern. In a relaxed state, in a dream state, these thoughts can come, but physical pain is blocked by your physical state. Your mind, not fully conscious, does not have full control over itself."

"But even when I remember, there are just pieces. I've tried breathing through the pain and putting it together, but... there are these gaps."

Clark stared at her, an idea forming in his mind. When Kevin Grady took a life of memory from him years ago, he'd got it back. It had been given back, from what he understood, when he took back the day. He had no memory of that day. Later, Chloe had filled him in. But Grady's regift of his memories had been accidental. He didn't think Kevin had any handle on that side of his power. But it had to exist somehow. He'd been restored. She could be, too.

"As I said, I don't know the full extent of what he took from you, but... There is a difference between that and what was done to Lex Luthor."

Lois glanced at Clark, her gaze nearly accusing. He did know things he wasn't telling, but who was he to tell her? Even as her mind rebelled against the wipe, it was a choice she'd made. If he were to just tell her... Her mind could convince her there was something worse than a headache in store. She could do something worse than faint.

"Lex Luthor lost years," Murray went on, "from what I'm told. You... you didn't come out of this with full years missing. Blanks, but not of years." He scratched his head. "I mean, that's it, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Sometimes it seems like years, but... It's incomplete. Imperfect. I have flashes, but they aren't full. He... either he made a mistake or his intent was just this... making me think I'm crazy."

Clark felt a hot flash of anger and he felt his body stiffen. Anger that this all happened in the first place. As angry as he felt with her, there was more than her to be angry with. There was Grady and whoever was behind him. Had she truly chose this or had Grady drawn her in, convinced her of it, convinced her she wanted it on behalf of whoever he was working for?

I did what you said. Just leave me alone. I'm finished with both of them.

He looked back at her. She was sitting back in her chair, her eyes closed. "I just don't... I can't take this in. As much as I think that something went wrong with my therapy... I just can't think that Doctor Grady would do that to me."

"Maybe he didn't have a choice," Clark said, almost to himself. From what Dan had said, Grady was becoming distressed, drinking in the end. What did it all mean?

"What does that mean?" Lois asked, echoing his thought.

"Maybe whoever it was threatened to expose him as a fraud, expose his practices." He held her gaze. "You yourself know he's a fraud."

She looked away. "You yourself know a little too much," she said in a tone that told him clearly she was not done questioning him. She could ask all she wanted, but he was not about to hand her answers she needed to find for herself. She'd always figured it out on her own. This was no different.

He watched her stand and move toward the spot where she'd tossed the shirt. She picked it up, shook it out, a sad look on her face. "So... you two think I was put under this... cocktail." She looked up. "I've read enough evidence of meteor-enhanced abilities to think that it's too possible that Grady had some kind of... ability. But this..." Her voice shook slightly. "This is the same as in the houses?"

Murray nodded. "Except for the rohypnol, yes." He moved toward her and touched her arm, rubbing lightly. "There, now, Miss Lane. Things aren't so hopeless. From what I hear, you are some kind of investigator. The fact that your mind can sift through what happened to it speaks volumes about your intelligence."

Her face crumpled and Clark looked on helplessly as her head dropped to his shoulder. Murray patted awkwardly. "My mind is a mess," she sobbed.

"Oh, of course it's not." Murray pulled back, holding her by the arms. "Now that we know the headaches are all in your mind, you can control them that much easier." He smiled. "Isn't that encouraging?"

She sniffled and nodded. Clark felt momentarily jealous. He wanted to hold her when she cried, make her feel better. Murray was a stranger to her and she trusted him more than Clark. She'd said so herself. He wanted her trust back. But how was he ever to get it if she couldn't be whole again?

She pulled away from Murray. "Enough. I... I just want to go home and sleep." She moved to the table where Clark had placed her purse and her phone. He watched her hands shake as she picked them up.

He stood. "Lois, you can't..."

"I'm going home, Clark." She placed her purse on her shoulder. "Not to your precious town."

"But you won't be able..."

She opened her cell. "Clark, just let me ..."

"You physically can't," he cut in gently.

"I feel fine. I'm only a little tired and..."

"We're in Chicago."

She closed her cell and sighed. "Could've used that info at some other point."

"I... didn't want to freak you out."

She laughed hoarsely. "Little late for that."

"I can take you home. It won't take long."

"Fine." She shoved her phone in her purse and turned to Murray. "Thank you for your help. I'm happy to get answers where I can." She glanced at Clark and opened the door, her heels clicked down the hall as it fell shut behind her.

He followed, turning back once to Murray. "I'll call."

Murray looked back soberly. "Please do. I think I'm going to need some of the information you seem to be intent on keeping from Miss Lane, Clark, if I'm to be of any help."

Clark nodded, swallowing hard. "I'll think about it." Murray had kept his secret close. He trusted him, but... the idea of having more people that weren't Lois know things she rightfully should... It felt so wrong. He caught up with her quick strides. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere," she said, her voice tired. "I just want some air. This place has plenty of flourescent lighting, but I have yet to see a damn window." Her skin seemed tight somehow and it was killing him.

"Down this hall," he said softly, pointing to the left.

"Great," she muttered, starting off. "Maybe I can fucking breathe soon."

He fell into step beside her. "I'm sorry," he said.

"For which thing?" she growled, still staring ahead. "Because I'm compiling a list."

"This day," he said. "I'm sorry it's been so hard... weird."

"Yeah. Well... My weird-o-meter went off the charts the moment I realized Clark Kent could fly."

"Shh!" He walked closer. There were people in some of the labs. The last thing he needed were the words Clark Kent thrown around when he was not dressed for it. "Don't say that so loud. People might... put it together."

She shook her head. "Glasses. I just can't believe I didn't put it together."

"You're not alone. People just... discount Clark Kent. He's nothing remarkable. It's not just the glasses."

She stopped and finally looked up at him. "When this is all over, remind me to find you a legitimate therapist. You should get that self esteem worked on." She strode ahead of him. "Maybe take care of the split personality first."

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

It wasn't like the first time they flew. She wasn't beside him. He'd insisted on carrying her as if she were a baby. It bugged her. Everything was bugging her today. Somehow, knowing Clark was Superman didn't let him off the hook in her mind. It put him more firmly on it. Sure, the Halloween party made more sense now. Scattered, distracted Clark made more sense in general. But sweet, noble Superman seemed... sneaky to her now.

They touched ground in the side yard, speeding down so fast, she felt she could lose her lunch... if she'd had any. She felt a small growl inside. Now she was hungry, tired, and annoyed.

"Sorry," Clark said... again. "I mean, for the rough landing. I'm just trying to be careful no one sees me hanging around when I'm... not Clark."

He wasn't Superman, either, at the moment. Had Superman always apologized this much? He'd been sorry about the fog that wet her, a bird that, while narrowly missing her face, had managed to land a splat on her jacket. Maybe next he'd apologize for her growling stomach.

"You can put me down now," she said shortly.

"Oh. Sorry."

She groaned at yet another apology as he put her down and she felt her legs adjust to standing, but not well. It was hard to rip into him like she truly wanted to when he was so damned... contrite. Contrition was supposed to come after she ripped him a new one, as if she could.

She moved to the kitchen door, still shaky.

"Maybe you should lay down."

"Maybe you should..." She had no idea how to finish that one. She really wished he'd say something rude right now, give her a reason. "I'm fine," she said, opening the door. "I'm hungry."

"I could get you some..."

"You could stay where you are," she said, cutting him off and moving past him to close the door he'd been ready to fly right out of. "We aren't done talking."

He stiffened and left the kitchen. "I can't do this right now."

She followed to see him disappear into his room. "When can you, then?" She found herself yelling. He came out in seconds, a suit on. "I get it, Clark. You're a busy man with two lives, but you can pencil in five minutes to tell me what the hell is going on with mine. You know something."

"I'll be back later," he said, his voice hard as he moved to the front door.

"Back from where?"

"Just... I need some time. Okay?" He reached for the doorknob.

"Oh, good. Run away, Clark! It's what you do best!" He stopped, his hand hovering over the knob, and turned back to her. His face was shocked, grieved... She stepped backward, her face probably a mirror of his own. "What did I just..."

"It's okay," he said, coming forward.

"But those words... It's happened to me before. I... didn't tell myself to say that."

"Lois, calm down..."

"I'm going crazy," she sobbed. "I thought it was hereditary, but maybe it's what he did to me. Does that even matter? I'm losing my mind."

He grasped her shoulders. "Don't say that."

"Why not? It's obviously true. Grady's treatment wouldn't have made this happen if there wasn't already a diseased mind."

She felt his hands on her cheeks, wiping the tears that were now flowing freely. "Your mind is not diseased. It's the most beautiful thing about you."

Her breath hitched, but she could already feel her tears drying. She could place it now, the way Clark looked at her. It was this look, a look that matched these words. Almost reverent, a little fearful, strangely possessive and warm. Whatever questions she had, that look made them suddenly cease to matter. "You really think that?" It wasn't a question. Not really. She didn't need an answer. She just needed to feel from him what she saw. It made things clearer. She leaned up, pressing her lips to his once... then again.

He pulled back. "No. You don't need this. Not now."

"This is exactly what I need now." She pulled him back down. With his strength, he could resist harder. The fact that he wasn't resisting told her he wanted this, too. She tried to catch his lips again.

He didn't let her, resting his forehead against hers instead. "It's been a hard day... week. You're confused."

"I'm not confused," she said evenly. It was true. That was the thing about what kisses they'd shared. In those moments, all she felt was sensation and need. It was so pure and clear. She kissed his throat, letting taste, touch, smell, pure sensation drive the doubts from her mind.

She loosened his tie, undid a button and Kevin Grady fell away. She touched the patch of skin she exposed and Lex Luthor fell away. She bent her lips to it, feeling the edge of his suit against her lower lip. He breathed her name and she felt him move away again.

"Don't," she whispered, gripping his shirt. She looked up, drinking in the want and confusion in his eyes. She didn't see why he was confused. It was all so clear to her. "Touch me, Clark."

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