There was nothing like a long, boring drive. Her neck was stiff, her legs were tired for no good reason, no good stations came in until you got closer to Metropolis. All she could do was think and yet... It was only three hours of driving, but it gave her a new perspective on the last twenty-four hours.
The first lesson was that she'd been an idiot. She had a story. She'd been on it for nearly two weeks. And she'd been pursuing things that had nothing to do with anything except her own, selfish interests. What possible reason was there to get close to Lex Luthor now? He'd unsettled her from the first. Now? He was downright frightening. Something in her had warned her away from him just as, as he'd said, something in him had made him seek her out. She usually trusted her instincts.
Her instincts had told her, from the start, that Luthor was dangerous. And hadn't today just proved it? Lex had mentioned a formula meant to help retrieve lost memories. She had the sneaking suspicion it was injected. She also had the feeling it wasn't working quite the way it was supposed to. She'd kept up with him for her own selfish reasons, wondering what this formula could do for her. Could it give her back the childhood she seemed to have misplaced? Could it make the dreams stop, the headaches... No.
Now she wanted no part of it. It had done something to Luthor. He'd been erratic, nearly frightening, in the caves. At the time, the revelation that was the caves had nearly overshadowed it. But he'd... grabbed her. And hard. That, more than anything, had disturbed her and she wasn't quite sure why. It was as if his touch had set off alarm bells in her mind. She needed to stay away from him. Yet she did pity him. He'd mentioned his head. She knew that well. Whatever her therapist had done to her, he'd done it to Luthor, too. And worse, it seemed. Or was that the cure?
And that wasn't all that made Luthor dangerous. The things he'd said in the cave about Superman, about Clark... Should she tell Clark? There was a conundrum. She was sure he knew about the caves. They were in his town. It seemed impossible that he didn't. He hadn't said a word to her about them. Then again, what reason could he have to do it? They were just coworkers. She sighed. Despite the fact that she knew what he did in his off-time, despite the fact that they'd slept together, despite his growing involvement in all things concerning her, they were still just coworkers. She wasn't even sure if they were friends. They'd seemed to jump from working together to sleeping together without finding out much about each other in between. She didn't even know if he preferred mayo or mustard, burgers or dogs... She rubbed her stomach with her free hand. God, she was hungry. She had to stop forgetting to eat.
No. She wouldn't tell him. Telling Clark Lex Luthor had said those things meant telling Clark she'd seen Luthor again. Maybe she could just tell him to watch out for Luthor. She nearly laughed. Clark had been telling her to watch out for Luthor for months. She probably didn't need to tell him anything. Except maybe that they needed to keep their physical distance. They were stuck, only treading water in this investigation. Adding in the events of Saturday onward, on a personal level, she was still reeling. They needed to stop arguing, stop... other distracting activities and step back, be objective.
As far as her personal problems, she did want to find out what exactly was going on with her, and why Clark seemed so involved, why Lois had also been in on it, why Clark seemed to think it was tied to Met Vista... Yet the same instincts that warned her away from Luthor pulled her toward Clark. She hardly knew him and yet she trusted him. She hadn't, not at first. She'd been resentful at first, as if he was some stranger butting into her world in too many ways. But she trusted him now. She knew what he was. Not just Superman, but... something more.
She shook her head. It was nearly silly. She hardly knew him. As far as what Clark knew about her... She laughed slightly. She was an investigative journalist with a memory problem. She had enough on her plate without jumping into anything intimate. So, there it was. Settled. No hanky-panky. Not even a little, not even if he walked around without his shirt on and she just wanted to... She pulled off at her exit, sitting straighter in her seat. She could stay away. Her libido was not uncontrollable. She'd been working with Clark or near Clark for months without touching him. She could go back to it.
She twisted her neck to the side, almost satisfied by the series of small pops. She felt better already. They could jump back into this together and on the same page. After all, they'd got more done together than apart. Now for getting Clark on her page... She spotted a sign for a burger joint as she neared her exit. She quickly turned. There was no better way to make peace and get someone on your page than with burgers, fries and shakes.
As she walked up the lane toward the house, however, she reflected that it was really Clark who should be bringing home the burgers. He'd started the fight. She sighed and continued toward the door. She could be the bigger man, so to speak. And they could eat burgers and compare notes and go to sleep, having not had sex. A perfect evening.
When she got to the house, trying to balance everything, her hands were too full to reach for her key. She groaned, then tried to knock with her elbow. "Hey! Can you get the door? I brought dinner." No answer. Either he was sulking or he wasn't home. Either was possible. "Fine, then." She put the milkshakes on the doormat and moved the food to one hand with her purse, leaning slightly against the door. She nearly fell down flat when it swung open. She righted herself, holding onto the frame. "Great, Clark. Leave the damned door almost open and leave." She stumbled in the dark, feeling for the dining table, dropping the bags there. An insistent beeping was coming from the kitchen and she turned toward it, nearly stumbling over the... red boot on the kitchen floor. It was dark, but light enough for her to see that it wasn't lying there empty. "Clark?"
She dropped to her knees. He was half on his side, the phone lying next to his hand, beeping. She clicked it off and shook him. "Clark, what happened?" She heard another noise, a ringing this time and from his side. She saw his cell there. She dimly wondered where he kept it when he wore the suit, but that seemed unimportant in light of the fact that she couldn't hear if he was even breathing! "Shut up," she hissed, grasping it at the sides, glad to hear it quiet down. She dropped it, then, leaning down to him. She let out a shaky laugh. "Oh, thank God!" He was breathing. It wasn't the heartiest kind of breathing, but it was there.
She shook him harder. "Clark! Damn it, you're breathing, so start moving!" She shook him harder still. He still laid there. She was suddenly angry, as if he was toying with her, as if he could move, but wouldn't because of the stupid fight. "Move! Come on! You can't do this to me!" She drew her hand back, closed her eyes, and slapped his face hard. "Move!"
"Ow!"
She opened her eyes. "Thank God." She nearly fell on him with relief.
"You hit me," she heard him say faintly.
She drew back, rubbing the spot she hit lightly. "Well, you weren't moving and..." She looked closely at his face. There was a red mark. And, come to think of it, her hand wasn't throbbing the way it had that other time she'd tried to hit him. "You're hurt? That hurt you?"
He laid his head back on the floor and closed his eyes. "I don't know. I guess so, but everything hurts."
"What happened to you?"
"I think I'm... sick." He coughed the last word out slightly.
She pulled at his arms, helping him to sit, patting him on the back as he coughed again. "I thought you didn't get sick."
"Well, it's happened before. I just..." His phone began ringing again.
"Damn that thing," Lois muttered. "I'll turn it off."
"No," Clark said quickly. "Give it to me."
She reached for the phone and handed it to him. He looked at the screen, then turned it on. "Mom, hi... I know. I'm sorry. I forgot. I just went right to sleep." Lois stared hard at him, but he shook his head. "What can I say? You're right. I need to rest up more... Well, I'll get right back to it... I'm fine, Mom. I promise... Okay. I'll call you in the morning." He pushed a button, then promptly dropped it in his lap, breathing heavily.
Lois sat back on her heels and crossed her arms. "Did I just witness you lying to your mother?"
"Don't want her to worry," Clark said, closing his eyes again. "I'll be fine."
"Clark, you just had a hard nap on the kitchen floor. That doesn't spell fine to me."
"Guess not," he sighed. He put a hand above him and pulled himself up using the counter. "Should have gone for the couch."
"Oh, no." Lois moved to the front door and pulled the milkshakes off the mat, closing it quickly. She moved back to him, ducking her head and placing his arm around her neck. "Don't act like this is funny. When I come home and find my... coworker sprawled on the floor, I would like him to be as grave as the situation."
"I'll be fine. I just need to..." He wobbled slightly as they moved up the hall steps.
"To tell me what the hell's going on," Lois finished for him.
"I would if I knew. First Dodie's putting us on notice about your fluid spotting, then I can't find you and..." He stopped and she propped him against the wall. He may be weak, but he was still heavy. "What did you do? Take a cab?"
"Yeah, got a ride," she lied quickly. She pulled forward and stopped at her doorway. The blinds were open. She leaned him on one side of the doorway. "Stay here." That mention of Dodie was fortunate, she thought, closing each blind. It wouldn't do for people to be out walking their schnausers and spy Superman in her room. "So why does Dodie have us on notice again?"
"Oh, just the puddle of brake fluid in front of the house." He suddenly stood straight. "Lois, it didn't happen at Luthor's."
"I know that," she said, rushing forward to catch him when he fell forward slightly. And she could guess that he'd found that other piece. It was lucky, that. Even apart, they'd somehow managed to work together. It was a good omen. Him, falling on her and babbling, however, was not. "Come on, you're going to my bed."
"Sounds fun," he said blearily. "But I don't know if I'm up for much fun."
"Oh, shut it. I just want you to lay down on something softer than linoleum." She pulled him to the bed and sat him down. She pulled at the neck of his suit. "How do you get this thing off?"
"Mmm, you smell nice." She felt his nose in her hair. "Like burgers."
She smiled, rolling her eyes slightly, crouching in front of him. "That's because I got us some burgers. If you're a good boy and help me figure out your rotten suit, I might just let you have one before bed."
He laughed, his eyes half-closed. "I'm not nine, you know. I can get my suit off."
She patted his knee. "Prove it." She stood and moved to the door. "I'll get our dinner. Have you even eaten today?"
"No time," she heard as she moved to the darkened living area, grabbing the bags and the drinks carrier.
"Is that something that affects you?"
"Not really. I don't... Damn, stupid zipper..."
She almost laughed when she looked in the doorway. His cape was to the front and he was straining his hands behind him. "Do you always have this much trouble and I just can't see it because you're quick?"
He groaned and laid back, his cape billowing before settling over his stomach. "I just can't focus." He swallowed hard. "Can't do anything. I hate this."
She dropped her smile, also dropping the food at the foot of the bed. "I'll help." She moved behind him and pushed him up, seeing the zipper. She pulled at it, watching the blue fabric part, revealing slightly damp skin. "You said this happened before. What happened then?"
"I picked up a virus or something from the Phantom Zone," he breathed.
"The what now?"
"It's just somewhere I was sent. It's like a prison. It's hard to explain again."
"Again?"
He sighed. "Never mind. It's just a place with others like me. Gallactic outsiders, I guess. But most of them are criminals, killers..."
"So not a vacation spot, then." She moved around the bed to his front, peeling the suit down. "Why were you sent there?"
"Oh, the usual. Kryptonian evil man took over the body of my former friend and whatnot." He laughed slightly. "It's kind of nuts when you say it out loud."
"Of course not," she said quickly. Except how it totally was. Maybe this was more babbling. Was he hallucinating retro-actively? Then again, she was peeling spandex off a sick alien with superpowers. What was and wasn't nuts was just a bit subjective. "Lift," she commanded, patting one hip.
He obeyed, though he still seemed strained. "Anyway, I got better," he grunted. "It was just a virus."
She peeled the suit further, down his legs. Though the situation wasn't ideal, she was sort of enjoying undressing him. She was a sick woman, apparently. "And that was it?" She stopped at his boots and gave one a tug, bracing herself against the bed frame. She fell backward slightly. Clark didn't notice. He'd fallen backward himself. "You never got sick again?" she asked as she worked on the other boot.
"Not since. Except around Kryptonite, but that feels different. This isn't the same. It's like... like..."
"Okay, okay. No more questions." She grunted as she peeled the rest of his suit down. Sneaking a peek up, she saw boxers. Darn. She'd been so sure it was nothing. Then again, the few times she'd seen him strip the thing, he stripped every bit and too fast for her to tell. "We want that brain to get some rest."
She pushed at him and he moved sideways, settling back against the pillows. "I like your bed," he murmured. "I always think I'll pop mine."
She nodded and propped him up. "Well, I can take it. I don't often pop high-grade plastic."
"You don't have to, you know." He leaned his head back and stared at her. She started slightly as his fingers grazed her collarbone. "You can..."
"None of that," she cautioned, putting his hand on his stomach. "As senior partner, I'm pulling rank and setting new house rules in place. First, no hanky-panky. Second, we are no longer pursuing separate angles. One of us, apparently, gets hurt when we try." She perched a hip on the edge of the bed and leaned over him. "So you'll keep watch on my car and I'll keep my eyes out for little green rocks..."
"I told you," he yawned. "This is not like that. It's different. It feels almost like that time..."
"And I told you to rest the brain." She poked his forehead lightly and he closed his eyes. "But not too much." She leaned back and grabbed the bag. "In fact, no one sleeps until every bite of this cold and/or melty food is gone." She poked him in the ribs and his eyes shot open. "That's house rule number three for you. We are eating. And every day. Maybe even twice."
He smiled and nodded. "You sure like to take charge these days."
"These days?" She shook her head and unwrapped his burger. "When haven't I?"
He laughed hoarsely. "Guess that's true. You always did boss me around. Pete, too..." His eyes were closing again.
All she needed was a half-starving man falling asleep on her and spouting more nonsense. Except Pete... Pete... It was nearly... "Clark!"
He shot up slightly. "Huh?" His eyes looked unfocused.
She softened her voice. "Just eat a little. For me?"
He shook his head, blinking, then took the burger from her hand. "Anything for you."
She handed him the fries, too, trying to damp down that stupid, giddy feeling in her stomach. Just hunger, she decided.
They ate silently, watching each other sometimes. She was still full of questions, but she'd made some resolutions in the car. She would focus. Of course, Clark's sudden illness, of course, put a bit of a wrench in everything. But they could get past this. Maybe he'd be better in the morning. Maybe... She heard a loud snore and glanced at the source. He was fast asleep, a french fry dangling from his mouth. She grabbed it along with the milkshake nearly toppling from his hand. She gathered all the trash and, suddenly tired herself, dropped it on the other side of the bed. She let her shoes and jacket join it. She'd nearly snuggled in next to him when she remembered her resolution. "Air mat," she muttered.
"No," she heard him say softly. She glanced up. His eyes were soft and tired and resting on her. "Don't leave me."
She glanced away, taking a deep breath. "Clark, we need more distance and..." Her very rational monologue was interrupted by another loud snore. She smiled slightly. "Damn you, Clark Kent," she whispered as she burrowed under the covers and into his side. "I was not going to sleep with you tonight."
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