It was only when she got to her car that she found herself wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She didn't even get the key in the ignition before her eyes flooded in earnest.
She hit the steering wheel, crying hoarsely.
She didn't want to feel this way. It was better before. Better when she's been seeing Grady, even. Memory was a strange thing. She could remember, less than six months ago, a session with Doctor Grady almost exactly...
"I just get so frustrated. I can remember interviews without recording them, facts I only read once. But when it comes to my life, my past... I'm so blank. I have the facts, but none of the details."
"We've talked about this. Aren't you happier when you focus on now? Dredging up the past can often just open old wounds."
"What wounds? I sometimes see things and feel sad. There's this necklace in my jewelry box. It has an M on it. I want to cry when I look at it, but I can't think why. And my cousin.... The one involved in the Luthor fiasco. I don't know. It doesn't seem like we were close, yet... I've been trying to find information on her. It feels so important to do it..."
"Why? You have the life you've always wanted. As sad as your cousin's death was, shouldn't you move on from it?
But it wasn't her cousin. It was herself. Maybe half the reason she'd been so content then was the sessions, the upkeep. He took a little more of her away each time. Every time. Except the last time she saw him. They didn't get around to it then.
"It's not a big deal. I just want to know why. I mean, do all your patients have this problem remembering who their third grade teacher was, the color of their mom's hair, the..."
Grady looked uncomfortable. "I... It's not uncommon, but my methods are just... different. When we go into deep hypnosis, we always..."
"But how do we go into deep hypnosis? I know there are periods of even these sessions that I don't see clearly and..."
"My methods may be unconventional, but... Don't you feel lighter when you leave me? Don't you feel like you're the kind of woman you could be without the baggage of moments that weigh you down?"
"I think that what you do could be helpful to many people, but... I'm a reporter. I'd just rather know. It's who I am."
"But it was you who..." He drew back and leaned against his desk. "I just want to be helpful."
"You have been," Lois assured him. "I'd be a fool if I ignored all the rave reviews from your patients. It's probably what drew me to you in the first place... Wasn't it?"
He sighed. "Let's just leave it at that."
"You are truly amazing," she said earnestly. "You're kind and competent and... I just want those same qualities to work for me in a way that's, well... more suited to my nature." She sat back. "If we could just reverse the things you've done. Tell my subconscious not to move on so..."
"I can't," he said tiredly.
"Sure you can." She smiled hesitantly. "Just put me under and..."
"I don't know how," he said, gazing at the floor. "Believe me, I sometimes wish I..." He shook his head and looked up. "This session's on me, Lois. Why don't we pick it up next week? I'm feeling a little tired."
"Oh, well..." She grabbed her purse from the coffee table. "Okay. I'll just..."
He strode to the door and opened it. "I'm sorry. I've had a rough week with... another patient."
He'd seemed so stressed then, right before he disappeared. And she didn't think it was just a fear of being caught. It seemed to be more. She thought of the chemicals Clark found on her shirt. The same ones found at the houses, but... different. She remembered that. But it was you who... what? Wanted it? Asked for it? If so, then why had she been exposed to the chemicals? What kind of creep was Kevin Grady?
She shook her head. She didn't think he was, really. She... felt for him. That was the hardest thing. She couldn't just put Kevin Grady in a villain box and leave him there. He had seemed truly concerned, truly caring.
At the same time, she couldn't just put her heroic friends in a hero box, as concerned and caring as they seemed. Yet they weren't villains either...
If everyone was so bent on keeping her in the dark, then what were they keeping and how bad was it? That sharp pain at the thought of the red-haired... no. Her father. He was her father. And she was grateful for at least that. Before this, she had no clear picture of a father. Just an idea, really. She had a face now, not only from the obituary, but a smile...
It was almost enough. Maybe she could hold that. Forget what hurt. Did she want to know? Was it so necessary?
She took deep breaths, stopping her tears.
Of course, she didn't even need to ask herself that. Not knowing was like not breathing. She couldn't back down now.
She had things to do.
But how much could she do on her own?
She sat up straighter in her seat and started the car. She couldn't go about this like some emotional wreck. She'd been flying from feeling to feeling with each new revelation and it had to stop. The whys didn't matter right now. It was the what. She needed facts. She'd gather, then sort, then analyze then form a coherent picture. It was just another story. It was the only way to go about it without going nuts. The scene with Linda had nearly thrown her off. Even the dream had been a distraction. It gave her nothing. The phone call... Well, she wasn't sure what that was. But her head was slightly clearer now. Maybe the nap hadn't been a waste of time. She could stop beating her head against the wall and realize she had something. She had what she'd learned from Kahn.
The girl suddenly has her own column while still in high school... we all knew that someone did some arm-twisting on that... a tendency to get in over her head. I can't help thinking Taylor's death was somehow connected... that girl might have been in on some shady things... Lionel Luthor's lover...
Kahn had shot that last down, but it gave her more directions than ever before. There was more to it. So much more than she even wanted to delve into. Shady things. Exactly what kind of person had she been? She wasn't sure if it was knowing or not knowing that would drive her crazy. Did it matter? She might lose her marbles either way.
She stiffened and drove on. Or she could keep her marbles, detach, remind herself that this was just a story.
"Just another story," she whispered. "And the story is all that matters."
******************************************
The story was never going to end. Not on her part, but Clark's. She was ready with her questions for the Kerns, De Leons, and Marcy Proud. He had the Halperts, Terrys, and Joanne and Morgan. But Clark was still thumbing through papers, scribbling and mumbling to himself.
What she wanted to do was leave him to it and go home, get back to work. But she realized that even this time couldn't be wasted.
She stared at him as his hair fell over his eyes. "No glasses?"
He looked up. "Huh?"
She pointed to her eyes with the pen she was twirling in her hand, trying to look casual. "No glasses?"
"They were bothering me," he said, looking down at his notes again, then staring at the pen as she clicked the top a few times. "Aren't we supposed to be working."
"Oh, I'm done."
He looked up then. "Done?"
"This isn't brain surgery, Clark. The questions are just a way to ease them in, make them comfortable, they really do all the work. You just get them to start opening up. Then you hit them with the rest, making sure you mix it up so they aren't overly clouded by emotion, and, more importantly, don't miss any crucial details."
"I can't figure out how to begin, to warm them up so I get everything and... Well, it's different for you. You've been doing this since... longer."
She squinted at him across the table, thinking that nearly every single person she knew might as well have LIAR tattooed across their forehead. He had something, too. Not that he was sharing. She'd confronted him weeks ago with how he knew her cousin. And all she got was some lame story. The pieces of her life were divided among these people and they weren't giving them to her. And she still had nothing concrete to confront them with. But she would. She was going to gather enough that some lame story wouldn't suffice.
If she could get little facts, little details, things they wouldn't even miss... From Linda, she knew that parents were off-limits, that Lucy was something, and that Linda didn't really like Clark... or that Linda didn't like the idea of her with Clark.
So what was it about Clark? And what had he been to her? And the truth this time.
She'd get it. She had a new resolve to get it all.
She knew a little something about research. And about how to interview.
"Did you always wear glasses?" she asked, starting with something inane. Just another interview, really. "I mean, you don't need them, so why?"
"No. I just... They're kind of recent."
"How recent? I still wonder why. I mean, if it's all about disguise, then why not wear a mask when you're in super mode."
"People can't trust a man in a mask. They can't see his eyes." He cleared his throat. "At least that's what my mother said."
"But glasses... Strangely, it works. But when did you even come up with glasses as the answer. I..."
"Halpert owned a bar, right?" he asked, not looking up. "At least I think that's right."
"Yes, he did." Okay. Wrong angle. He very obviously changed the subject. Start a new one... "I like your mom." It was true, but it also had a purpose. "She seems very down to earth for someone raising a boy from outer space."
"Yes." He looked up briefly.
"Must have been weird growing up," she went on. "Were you speeding around as a toddler and giving her heart attacks?" She waited.
"No," he finally answered. "My powers developed gradually. We just dealt with each as it came."
"Tough deal." She forced a chuckle. "Which came first?"
"Strength."
"Bet that was a shocker. How much furniture did you pulverize?"
He looked up, then gave a half-smile. "We had turnover. Let's just keep it at that."
She leaned forward. "What was next? Did Martha come home to find you floating near the ceiling fan and freak?"
"No. But she wouldn't freak, anyway. I was always pretty much invulnerable. I never got sick. I could fall and knock my head and she wouldn't even blink." He shrugged.
"But flying was a way off."
"Yeah. The speed came next. It was actually the handiest, with working on a farm. My dad was always glad for the..." He stopped.
"He passed away," Chloe said. She remembered him mentioning that. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I mean... It's not okay. I don't think it will ever be, but it's... it's been a few years now."
She found her hand sliding toward his, resting on the table. "I'm still sorry."
"He was..." Clark's hand inched towards hers, then grasped it. "He was great. I mean, I could have thrown him into another county, but I never thought I could. I always saw him as... stronger than me. He handled everything so well. He always helped me find control, even with it being something so out of this world for him, he tried and... I don't know. It was one thing to be found and adopted. It was another for them to always take it all in stride. To accept me so readily."
"They're good people."
"The best," Clark said looking down at their hands.
Lois did, too, watching his thumb rub lightly on the side of her hand. There was something about a boy so connected to his parents. He really was the sweetest... No. No, no, no, no, no. Get back to the story. She squeezed his hand, then pulled away, leaning back in her chair. "So was this a secret your whole family knew? Aunts, uncles..."
He leaned back as well. "We didn't have much extended family, not that we kept in touch with those we..."
"Oh, sure. But did you tell friends. I mean, it must have been tough, keeping something like this all to..."
"Why are you so chatty all of a sudden?"
*********************************
He stared at her. There was something about her tonight that was... off. It was hard to judge anymore, the way she'd been lately.
She shrugged and smiled. But there was a sort of glint in her eye. "This isn't sudden. I'm chatty by nature."
He was done walking on eggshells. He was done letting it go. "After you've treated me like dirt all week..."
"Bit of an exaggeration, Clark. We're coworkers. I'm not required to treat you any certain..."
He stood. "We're coworkers when it suits you. Then you're suddenly asking me personal questions..."
She stood as well. "Is that a problem? Me knowing something about you? Because you know an awful lot about... my cousin."
He froze. He had nothing to say to this. The problem wasn't telling her ab0ut himself. Once, she'd known more about him than any living person. "The problem is why you want to know. You're being... sneaky," he finished, finally putting his finger on it.
"You should write a book, Clark." She gestured to his notes. "Not that you'll ever finish it," she said, moving around the table. "But you really should have some kind of guide so people know how to act around you. Don't ask questions, definitely don't use the word fine. What else do we got..."
"Don't turn this around. All week, you've acted like..."
"Don't forget about not sleeping with you. That was about the biggest mistake of all."
He opened his mouth, not sure exactly what would come out, but she went on.
"No. It's fine, Clark. Hear that? Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine." She crossed her arms and sauntered up to him. "I get it now, Clark. Big cathartic day for me, we learned some new things about ourselves and each other. It's only natural I needed some release." She stilled and stared up at him, her eyes hard. "But what did you need?"
"I..."
"Don't say it was just some impulsive, spur-of-the-moment thing because you wanted to. That doesn't fly with me because I know you by now. You're about as impulsive as an old grandma."
He moved past her into the kitchen. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. "If you're done, I think we should email our questions to Perry separately."
She followed. "I was floundering in the knowledge that my partner was Superman and that my therapy sessions were some kind of conspiracy and that I'd lost part of my life. But why did you do it, then just..." She squeezed her eyes shut and just shook her head. "Why, Clark?"
He whirled on her. "Because you needed it," he snapped. "God knows why, Lois, but I've been bending over backwards to give you what you need! I give you space when you need it, I pull you from a car when you run off to Luthor because you won't let anything fucking go, and when you look up at me with sad eyes and ask me to touch you, I do it."
Her mouth dropped open. "So that's how it happened for you? It was a... pity fuck?"
He took a deep breath. "I'm not saying that. I... Don't!" It was as if it was in slow motion and he tried to move away, but he felt glued in the air around him. Her fist flew forward and hit his eye, the moment before she flew backward and hit the counter and cabinet behind her.
"Ow." Her hand moved to her hip, then she pulled it away with a hiss and shook the hand. "Ow."
He moved to her. "Are you okay?"
"I thought you lost your powers," she grumbled, rubbing her hip with her good hand, holding the other in front of her. She shook her head, then put her good hand to that. "Jesus!"
"Not completely. I still can't be hurt." He took her hand. "Is it bad?"
"I don't think it's broken, but it's kind of like punching a wall."
"I thought you'd learned from last time," he said rubbing her knuckles.
"I thought I could hit you for a change. You didn't tell me. Big surprise, there."
He put a hand to the back of her head. "I should get you some ice."
"No. I'm fine."
He sighed and rubbed her scalp lightly. "I really hate that word."
"I know." She leaned back against the counter slightly. "Clark, I don't want to fight."
"I don't want to fight, either."
She took her hand from his and gripped his shirt. "But it's not you. It's me. I can't stop lashing out. I'm just so..." She buried her head in his chest.
"What?" He lifted her chin up. "Lois..."
"I don't know how to feel. I... I don't even want to feel because I can't control anything I say or do and..." Tears seeped from her eyes. "God! Now I'm fucking crying."
He ran his hand over the back of her head and pulled her to his shoulder. "That's okay."
"I could give Linda a run for her money with the mood swings," she sniffled. "And I don't even have an excuse."
He didn't think Linda had an excuse either, other than being Linda. He didn't say that, though, not wanting to start another fight by insulting her cousin. "You've had a hard week."
"You don't know the half of it," she croaked, lifting her head.
"So tell me."
"I don't know if I can."
"You can tell me anything."
"Can I... ask you anything? Would you tell me the truth?" Wet, green eyes stared into his and he knew that he would tell her anything, even the truth, if she asked him.
He found himself nodding.
"What... kind of person am I?" she whispered. "Because I don't think I'm a good one."
"Why would you think that?" he asked, astounded. She stared up at him, silent, shaking slightly. He leaned down. "Lois, you are not a bad person by any stretch."
"Maybe not right now, but..." She let out a breath and he felt it wash over his face.
He really couldn't take it anymore, being this close. He had to get some space or... kiss her, apparently. Which was what he found himself doing. His lips were touching hers and it was absolutely the wrong thing to do. He knew it. It was why he'd kept his distance from her. But it didn't feel wrong. Times like this were when he could tell her the truth. Not with words, of course. But with touch. With closeness. They were close, even with a mountain of lies between them. It was a truth she knew as well, otherwise she wouldn't be kissing him back, drawing him even closer.
He slid his hand from her head to her back as hers wound around his neck. And it couldn't be wrong. As confusing as things were for him, for her, between them, this was the only thing that felt right and clear and so, so good. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and she moaned. He did, too, as her mouth opened under his.
Things got a little hazy after that, sensations blurring together. One of her hands in his hair, gripping. The other digging into his shoulder. Legs sliding up his hips as he pushed back, instinctively lifting her against the counter. There was a vague crash and he thought it might be the folding drain board giving in and dumping its contents into the sink, but he really could care less because he felt skin. He must have pulled her blouse from her pants because there it was, soft under his fingers, from ribs to waist to back. He moved lower, under her waistband and felt soft hips and...
There was a muffled word against his mouth. It sounded like "ow" and it pulled him from his haze. He pulled back and looked down, noticed his hand was gripping her sore hip.
"Oh, God. I'm sorry." He loosened his grip. "You're hurt and I wasn't even thinking..."
"No, s'fine," she said in a rush, pressing her mouth to his again.
And he was back. Moving his hand from her hip to cup her bottom. Her legs spread open as they pressed together through their clothes and his lips left hers to press against her neck and her mouth was open against his ear and...
"No!"
He found himself pulled back to earth as she pushed him away, her eyes wide.
"God, I'm doing it again," she whispered.
"No. I started it. I'm sorry. I..."
"No. I'm sorry. I keep doing this." She pushed him back further and his arms slid from her.
He stood, dazed, as she moved off the counter and to the side. He stopped himself from falling into the cabinet with a hand. "I was doing it," he mumbled.
She didn't seem to hear him, just moved to the table, closing her laptop and collecting her things. "I can't be within three feet of you without turning into some kind of nymphomaniac and..."
"That's okay," he said, staring at her.
"And I can't do that. I can't do this mixed up. I need things clear." She rushed to the couch and got her blazer and coat. "And you were right before. We should just email our questions separately. Perry can go over them and tomorrow."
"Lois..."
"We don't even have to meet. I mean, we'll be going to the couples individually and I can tell Jimmy if I need to tell you anything and... Yes. That's the way." She nodded, still not looking at him. "That's the only way. Please say you agree."
He stared at her until she finally looked at him. "Whatever you need," he said dully.
"I need it this way," she said, looking away quickly. "I need space."
"Okay," he breathed just before she rushed out, the door slamming behind her.
He stared at the door, knowing he had work to do and he should just move. Knowing none of that should have happened. He should know better.
With her so close, it was hard to know what he knew, if that made sense.
Maybe she was right. Maybe they needed some space.
******************************
Lois nearly squealed down the street in her car, trying to put as much distance between herself and Clark as possible. She had no objectivity with him. She couldn't dig, she could hardly ask, she could only end up touching and groping and...
She just had to stay away from Clark.
Who was she kidding? She did no better with Linda. She just hit walls and found herself taken over by... feelings.
All she seemed inclined to do lately was fight, cry, or fuck.
That last was, obviously, reserved for Clark.
She needed facts, not feelings. Gather and sort. Because she couldn't do this without objectivity. If she stopped to feel, even to see Chloe as herself, then she couldn't do this. Because Chloe Sullivan... She must have done something very bad. That same question kept creeping up. What kind of person was she if they were all so intent on hiding it from her?
Shady things.
"Shady things," she whispered again as she trudged down the hall to her apartment. what kind of shady things? And why had Chloe gone to Kevin Grady? If she were to look back, she'd been smack in the middle of sessions with Grady. She didn't exactly remember why. Except...
She hastily opened her door, finding an empty apartment. She was almost surprised, even though she'd made it happen with her words earlier. No Linda guffawing loudly at whatever she was watching. No Linda weeping at a dog food commercial.
She took a breath. This was a good thing. She needed to be alone. She needed perspective. And she needed to go through her saved emails.
There was one in particular she was looking for. It might be everything. It might be nothing. But it was just another to put in that folder in her mind. The one marked Grady, Kevin.
She quickly sent her questions to Perry, realizing she had to be done with work first. Being done, she could do what she wanted. And what she wanted right now was to find that last email. The very last communique from Kevin Grady before he dropped off the face of the earth.
It didn't take long. She wasn't one to save, more's the pity, these days.
Lois,
Perhaps this apology comes too late. But I have to try. You're smart. Your mind is one of the most complex I've ever dealt with. Perhaps that's why my methods don't work for you as well as they have for others. Then again, I've never dealt with your particular situation. I don't know how much you remember and how much I might have messed it all up. But please believe I was only doing as you asked. I was only trying to help.
As she asked. If she asked for it, then why the chemicals?
But I can't work with you anymore. I'm honestly starting to lose faith in all my work. Maybe I should stop focusing on making other people happy and start thinking of what happiness I can get before it's too late.
Happiness. had he found it, wherever he was? And where exactly was he?
I know your mind too well to believe you haven't already found out more about me than I'd like you to. But I'm begging you not to use it against me. I've only had the best intentions, even though they've exploded in my face. I'm leaving. I won't make use of my gifts again. Please don't try to find me.
Kevin
That was the problem with Grady. She truly believed it. That his intentions were good. Then again, they said the road to Hell was paved with good intentions, so where did that leave Grady? And what about her friends? Were they keeping this all from her with supposed good intentions? She was no clearer than before.
Linda, nearly suffocating with her love. And Clark... So sweet, really. He always seemed to have coffee for her, whether she asked for it or not. He even knew how she took it. Two creams, two... How did he know that? She pushed the keyboard away slightly and sat back. She didn't remember ever telling him, but he seemed to just know...
There was a loud ding from her computer and she focused on the screen again. New mail. And from Perry.
She rubbed her eyes. Maybe she wasn't done work just yet. She clicked to open it.
Lane,
Good enough. Very thorough. Wish I could say the same for Kent. I have a lot to fill in. Did you even look over his work?
"Why no, Perry, I didn't," she muttered. "I was too busy trying to have lots of sex with him. Why? I don't know?" Maybe he never fully disclosed his powers? Did one have an aphrodisiac quality?
Olsen will be there by eight to set up. Kid's eager, but tends to get blurry shots. Keep an eye on that.
"Poor Jimmy," she sighed. How could he get any experience when no one gave him the chance to get experience? And she felt even sorrier for Jimmy, considering he'd be bouncing between them like a ping pong ball tomorrow. But she had to stay away from Clark. He clouded everything. If she got too close to him, then... "Jimmy!"
She'd nearly forgotten, but she head it now, clear as if Kahn had just said it.
She was just gone again. This time, she faxed in a letter of resignation and I didn't hear of her again until there was an obit. I think Olsen wrote it... I think the two of them were an item. He took it pretty hard.
She was already on The Planet's server. Just another piece to find...
And there it was. A large picture. Underneath: November 8th, 1986-2007
Chloe Sullivan. A great reporter. A great human being. May her search for truth continue.
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