Almost Friends (Chapter Fifteen)

"Come on." Lois snorted. "How does he not know it's her?"

"I guess with the accent and the fancy hairdo, it's throwing him off. Plus the guy pretending to be her uncle is vouching for her."

"Yeah, but... I don't know." Lois took another handful of popcorn, trying to eat it like a lady, But it was hard. Martha had this way of tossing it so there was butter in every bite and just the smallest hint of salt. It would kick movie theater popcorn's ass easily and she had to check the urge to stuff it into her mouth. "It's like he should just know."

"He obviously suspects or he wouldn't keep staring at her," Martha said, popping a few kernels in her mouth. Dishes crashed onscreen and Henry Fonda's suit got ruined. "And tripping over things."

Lois rolled her eyes. "Seriously, even his valet knows. How can this guy be so easily fooled by an accent and a fancy get-up?"

Martha turned to her. "This from the girl fooled by a pair of glasses?"

"Point taken," Lois said, chewing with a glare at the screen. "And ouch. You'd think I could live that down when the whole city is fooled."

Martha chuckled. "The whole city's not here being such a critic and making this movie no fun."

"I should be a critic. This movie is silly."

"Don't blame me. It was from your things."

"You mean Chloe's things."

Martha sighed. "I know you don't want to talk, but..."

"You're right. I don't want to talk."

Martha sighed again. "Anyway, I like this movie. It's cute."

The doorbell rang and Lois groaned. "Again?"

"I'll go." Martha stood and brushed the crumbs off her lap.

"You'd think they'd get the message. Maybe I should go this time and..."

Martha put a hand on her shoulder as she moved around the couch. "No. Just let me. I know how to deal with them."

Lois paused The Lady Eve, looking back at the front door as Martha went into her speech... again.

"...really very tired and can't see anyone today."

"We have so much to..."

"I understand that you feel that way. However, Lois doesn't and would really appreciate some privacy."

"But..."

"No buts, Dear. And I really don't like repeating myself. She'll be in touch later."

"But..."

"Bye, now." Martha closed the door and moved quickly back to the couch. "What did I miss?"

"Not much. Fake uncle seems to be giving Fonda some story with the works." She unpaused. "Did Victor take the message?" Martha had given the message to Diana and AC so far and it didn't seem to stick.

"I told you to let me handle this. They listen to me. Kind, firm, and quick. That's the way you do it."

"But they keep coming back."

"But have any of them come in?"

"Well... no. Guess I have to give you that." Diana had nearly talked her into using Yoga to work through her reluctance to work through things before Martha stepped in.

"Probably doesn't hurt, having age on my side." Martha giggled at the movie. "Identical half-sisters?"

"I know," Lois said, giving her attention to the movie again. "Thank you. Who'd swallow that?"

"Fonda, I guess." Martha crossed her legs under her. "He's just a lovable dope here. But I can see why he doesn't want to think Eve is Jean. He misses Jean. I think he doesn't want to admit how much he really loved Jean, even with the conning. And she doesn't want to admit that the reason she's going after him is because she's crazy about him."

"She was crazy about him. Now she wants revenge. And I see why, she thinks he set out to make a fool out of her."

"But he didn't. He just said all that to keep his pride."

"She doesn't know that. From her point of view, he humiliated her on some rich boy kick. It's probably even worse that he's such a dork with his snake studying. Who'd wanna fall for a guy like that? That whole wide-eyed nice guy routine, when underneath, he's a snake himself. A lying snake and he can save a busload of nuns, but it doesn't make him less of a..."

"Are we still talking about Fonda?"

"Yes," she lied, shoving more popcorn in her mouth, forgetting about being a lady.

"Mm-hmm. Anyway, Jean is obviously still crazy about him," Martha went on. "She wouldn't be so mad if she didn't care."

"Maybe she doesn't care. Maybe she just wants to get a little piece of mind and if that means avoiding hi... illegally marrying him, then she has every right."

"Lois..."

"Let's just watch the movie."

Martha sighed heavily again. Lois may have bowed to her long speech about vacations and why they existed and relaxing and smelling the roses and all that other gunk. She was even, mostly, doing it. But she was not about to talk about Clark and all the sex they apparently had for years, especially not to his mother.

There were some things she could not, would not, do.

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

Clark knew what he was going to do.

He took a deep breath and exited the elevator onto the fourth floor that housed Special Crimes, home of Maggie Sawyer and a whole other kind of bullpen. He straightened his tie and made his way to her cubicle.

He had the story straight. He and Superman had, in a sense, gone over it last night. Superman sought him out because he'd once been a family friend of the Luthors. Superman wanted to know if he had any idea what Lionel Luthor had that was so important that someone might have attempted two and succeeded at one bank robbery to get it. But Superman wouldn't tell him anything more.

Clark, having his curiosity piqued, just had to see Maggie Sawyer.

That was his story.

Of course, Seeing Maggie Sawyer didn't tell him anything he didn't know as Superman, but it could help Clark Kent, someone so seemingly unconnected to Superman, get an in and a good reason to investigate. And if Clark was in, then he could uncover everything Superman couldn't and...

And this double life was giving him a headache. Maybe more of a figurative one than a real one, but the constant ringing of his cell wasn't helping.

"Victor, now is not the..."

"No. You need to hear this," Victor cut in. "It's for real this time. I mean, I went this time. Me! And your mom was still..."

"Still saying that Lois needed a break," Clark cut in. "And she's not wrong. Just let her be."

"But she only has a few days left of her vacation."

"And if she wants to spend it actually vacationing, then that's her right. Now..."

"What's gotten into you?" Victor barked. "You were the one that was all gung-ho about filling in her blanks and getting her back on track and safe and..."

"Yes. I was. But we don't have the right to harangue her into it." Not anymore. He actually never had the right. And he was going to remember that starting now.

This stops, she'd said. And, for a change, he'd take her at her word. He wasn't going to hover as if she didn't know her own mind this time. She had enough of the pieces of her to know what she wanted and didn't want.

His mother had seen this coming. He wondered that he hadn't listened as she had a long record of always being right.

"There's something else, here," Victor prodded. "Something you aren't telling me."

And some things I never will. By that I mean years of me using her while drugged up on Red K. That was something he'd never tell the rest of them. Not just because of him, but because of her. Linda seemed to know, on a level, and had no inclination to tell them for the same reason he wouldn't. He wouldn't want her humiliated in that way. She didn't even know the whole story and maybe that was for the best. She now knew what bad news he was and she'd keep her distance. And, if she kept her distance, he could keep his. And they'd both be better off in the end.

That was a lie. Maybe she would be. He wouldn't. And it was no more than he deserved.

"If Lois wants to rest, then she has that right," he said, hoping that would end this.

"I'm not saying she doesn't, but this is very sudden and you seem awful..."

"Victor, I have to go," he said, and truthfully. Maggie Sawyer had just stood up and he wasn't about to waste what was left of his lunch hour. And it was his lunch hour.

Perry seemed to think the police were a dead end from what Clark could glean among rumblings about Henderson and shut-outs and threats about what would happen next time he came up short on poker night. "Thinks he's getting a loan off me? No, sir. Not Perry white. Cheap bastard can put his cheap watch in the pot and... Kent, what did you want, again?"

Clark thought it best not to ask for a long lunch to spend some time in that cheap bastard's lair. So here he was, with only forty minutes left to somehow get Sawyer to tell him all, or at least most, of what he already knew as Superman without revealing that he knew everything Superman knew.

He rushed forward just a bit, trying not to appear too eager. He was just a reporter who happened to be contacted by Superman and was just the tiniest bit curious as to what was going on. That was all.

"Detective Sawy..."

"I'm on this, Turpin" she was saying to a man in a cubicle across from hers. Or yelling. He stopped in his tracks.

"I'm just trying to help."

"Like hell you are. If you think you're gonna move in on my case to move up the ranks, then..."

"Mags..." The man put up his hands. "Relax. This is me." He stood as well. "If I offer to help you, it's because you need a fucking break."

"I don't have time for a fucking break."

"You also don't have time to go through all those phone records alone. Now just gimme that and I'll..."

"You'll what? Get Henderson to give you my..."

"I was thinking I'd ask Henderson to be assigned under you," He yelled, then quieted. "You know what? If you don't want my help, then fine." The man, Turpin, sat down and turned his chair back to his own desk.

Sawyer seemed to deflate. "Turpin..."

"No. Screw you. I've had your back since we were on patrol. I don't have to take this shit."

"Dan..." She moved into his cubicle and put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't mean to take it out on you. I just... I'm not letting this slime ball slip through my fingers."

Clark could see the man un-tense before she finished speaking. He took the hand on his shoulder. "Then you'd think you'd welcome some fresh eyes when yours have been up all night."

"I would." She moved to her desk and grabbed a stack of folded printouts. "Particularly on any calls made between Saturday and Tuesday."

He looked up at her and Clark knew the look. It was the look of a man crazy about a woman he'd never have. Lesbian, amnesiac former best friend. It was all the same. He found himself giving Dan Turpin a sad smile... which Turpin seemed to catch.

"I'll take care of it." He nodded to Clark. "You take care of your guest."

Sawyer whirled on him.

"Detective Sawyer, I'm Cla..."

She was suddenly in front of him and gripping his collar. "What did you hear?"

"Me? Uh..." He couldn't say nothing. "Calls made between Saturday and Tuesday."

"Calls about what?" She tightened her grip and he tried to sound choked.

"Didn't hear that part." But he had an idea and wondered if Superman would have to drop by and get some more info. He'd definitely have to if Clark wasn't successful and then Superman would be tied to this and... Clark had no choice. He had to make this work. "Detective Sawyer, I'm Cl..."

"I know who you are." She released him and strode away and he followed at a safe distance. "You're Clark Kent who got himself kidnapped by an evil scientist because you and your girlfriend were too stupid to call us."

"To be fair, I couldn't exactly help getting kidnapped and she isn't my girlf..."

"Spare me the explanations. I really don't care. That case is closed as far as we're concerned." Clark kind of wished he could say the same. She stopped at a table littered with empty cups and half-eaten donuts. "I have bigger things on my plate and don't have time to deal with reporters."

"I think you're going to have to make time for this one."

She turned, her coffee cup suspended in front of her lips. "Excuse me?"

"I said I think..."

"No. I heard you. Just marveling that you said it."

"Listen, I have some idea of what's on your plate. I've been covering these robberies and the bomb threat on my end."

"The phony bomb threat," she corrected. "And the bank robberies?" She gave him a bland sort of smile. "I don't see why you think special crimes would be dealing with a series of unconnected..."

"You can't say it and I can't print it, but they're not unconnected and I think we both know..."

"I don't know what you think you know, but I'm not giving out quotes today." She moved away.

"Detective, I think I can help."

"Really? This from the guy that got himself kidnapped? Don't make me..."

"Superman seemed to think so." She stopped, but didn't turn. "Or else he wouldn't have come to me."

She did turn, then, nodding her head to a door at her side. "You have five minutes."

He followed her in. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Thank Superman." She frowned and took a chair, putting her coffee down on the bare metal table. "He's the one running around telling reporters all the details of an ongoing investigation."

"He didn't tell me anything." That much was true.

"Then how would you know to connect these events?"

He took the other chair.. "So they are..."

"I'm not saying that. I'm not saying anything. You're doing the talking. And this entire conversation is off the record."

Clark nodded. "Fair enough. Superman didn't have to tell me. I've been covering all three since the first attempted robbery. With this bomb threat happening the same time the bank was successfully robbed after two other attempts, it's hard not to see them as connected."

"Fine. I'll buy that." She leaned back in her chair. "So why would Superman come to you?"

"I suppose because I'm from Smallville and, considering I've been reporting on this, wondered if I could shed any light on Lionel Luthor. My family knew the Luthors."

"How?"

"You might say we provided organic produce for them."

She smirked. "And what might you say?"

Clark considered carefully. "I'd say there was more to it than that. Lex Luthor befriended me when he first moved to town. My mother worked for Lionel for a time. My father ran against Lex for state senate. Lex once saved our farm from auction. Lionel assisted my mother in her political career. Lex was married to my high school girlfriend..."

"Got it," she said stopping him. "More to it. Get to the point."

"For better or worse, I've been connected to the Luthors for years. I know how they work." She stared hard at him, but was silent. "If you let me in, I think I could help."

"And get a juicy story for yourself."

"If all I wanted was a juicy story, I could report on the fact that Superman came to a reporter because the police are at loose ends," he bluffed, "therefore making you all look incompetent."

She stood. "Just you try..."

"But I didn't," he said over her. "I came to you because I want to cooperate. I want to help."

She sat down slowly, eyeing him shrewdly. "I know you from somewhere."

Clark swallowed hard and tried not to adjust his glasses. "I thought we established I was the guy that got himself kidnapped by an evil sci..."

"Not that. I know your name. I was just off patrol and you... Didn't I nab you for being underage at a strip club?"

He nearly sighed in relief. "Uh... That was a long time ago."

"You had a tendency to get in over your head even then. You claimed to be investigating. You and these girls... Nancy Drew," she said thoughtfully. "Lois Lane and... Chloe Sullivan."

His eyes widened and he wondered if she was putting together which was which... or which wasn't.

But her face grew sad. "I remember the name. I saw it again a few years after." She met his eyes. "Lionel Luthor killed your friend."

He wanted to correct her, say that Lionel Luthor didn't kill the person identified as Chloe Sullivan, but as far the police knew, he did. Lex had seen to that before Grady had had his way with him. There was no way to fix that.

Plus she had a look in her eyes, the same as when she spoke to Superman in the elevator. "Listen, I understand you needing some kind of closure or... posthumous revenge, but there's more to this case than you know..."

"You mean Mannheim? And Intergang?" He knew he was pushing it, but he had to.

"How do you..." She sat back. "Sorry. Almost forgot who your boss is. Perry White. Guess he sent you here. I hope he's not stupid enough to start printing..."

"You know he isn't. And he doesn't know I'm here. I'm here because I want to help. I know more about Lionel Luthor than most. I'd know what to look for." And what to destroy, if it came to that.

"And what about a story?"

"There might be one, in the end. But I'd be willing to keep my role in the investigation out of it."

"Your role in the investigation? Getting ahead of yourself. You may know a little more than you should, but we're not in the habit of letting reporters do our job."

He sighed and stood. "Okay, then. Guess my five minutes are up. Good luck." He turned to the door. Please. please... He turned the knob. Come on...

"Sit down, Kent. We're going to have to set a few ground rules."

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

She stretched on the couch, smiling as she turned to Martha. "That was so..."

Martha wouldn't know, apparently, how wondrous His Girl Friday was for her. She was sleeping in the lounge chair, her legs curled up under her. Lois shook her head and grabbed a blanket, laying it over her.

It was funny, watching these movies. They were new yet so old. As if she heard echoes of them in her mind, but it was unclear. She was starting to understand the nature of Grady's treatment a little better. He seemed to work by association. From what she understood, he took things that were painful to her, triggers. She could see why this movie might be a trigger. Hildy had left behind who she was to become someone else, something she'd done with her own... death. But Hildy went back. Something Lois couldn't do. She kind of wished she could have kept this movie instead of sometimes getting songs from Grease stuck in her head. Would it have killed Grady to take that?

The phone rang shrilly and she shushed it, glancing at Martha napping, before she remembered that wouldn't do any good.

She rushed to the kitchen and picked it up... then realized that it might be one of them, trying to make her go back to school. "Hello?" she said, deepening her voice.

There was silence, then "I'm sorry. I must have the wrong number."

It was a woman, but it didn't sound like Diana. She dropped the voice. Might be for Martha. "You might not. What number were you trying to call?"

"555-2168. You know, I'm sure I dialed wrong. I'll just..."

She knew the voice. "Pammie?"

"Yes?"

"It's Lois."

"Lois? Where have you been?"

"I've been here. But how did you know..."

"I didn't. I was just calling Martha."

"Martha?" But... Pammie was her normal friend.

"I had some thoughts on her campaign. She said she wasn't into the tailored suits and I'd suggested a sweater set would be more approachable for the small town voter and there's a sale at the outlet in Shelbyville. We were talking yesterday and I thought she might want to come with me and..."

"She's sleeping right now," Lois cut in, feeling strangely hurt. "I'll tell her you called. I've gotta..."

"Wait, Lois."

"Yes?" she said brusquely.

"How are you? I've been leaving messages since Tuesday."

"Really?" she asked, feeling slightly mollified. "I haven't checked them. I've just been... hanging out here."

"Oh, so you're staying there."

"I'm..." Here it was tricky. How much could she tell Pammie and still have her keep "normal" status. As of now, she was just a victim of a not-so-normal psychiatrist. Maybe she'd better keep it that way. "You know, I'm just... getting away from the city."

"Martha did say she lived on a farm. That must be so relaxing. Mikey and I have been thinking of settling down somewhere like that. Martha says there's really nothing like it for raising children. And she does seem very together. Her son's a nice..."

"Yes," Lois said quickly, cutting off any input on that son. "She does." She supposed she could allow her normal friend to be a little crazy about Martha Kent. Maybe it was too good to be true, having her own kind of... mom. She realized, with some surprise, that that might be what she was trying to make Pammie into. And it wasn't fair to her.

"You don't meet women like her on Crafty Devils night... Oh! Dodi tossed me out. You know she's still going on about having you speak at a formal luncheon and open everyone's wounds? I told her she probably wasn't well-connected enough to land you. She didn't like that."

"Well, you didn't have to say... Land me? it's not like I'm..."

"It's true. You're a very successful journalist and I'm proud to know you."

Lois toyed with the phone cord, blushing just a little. "Still, I'm sorry you got kicked out."

"I'm not. I only joined because... Well, it's hard to meet nice women at my age. If I was younger, like you, I'd go to clubs and... Oh, there's another thing. Do you ever go out, Lois? Martha pretty much confirmed that you're a workaholic and that's just not healthy."

"Well, I'm not a total workaholic. I'm... vacationing on a farm right now."

"That's fine for now. But you're such a pretty girl. You need to get out more."

"I went bowling a few nights ago," she said defensively.

"Oh, middle aged ladies go bowling," Pammie groaned. "You're young. You should go dancing. Try exotic foods. If you're not going to snap up that partner of yours..."

"No, thank you," Lois cut in. "And please don't go there. At all."

"Well, if you won't, then you need to meet a nice guy while there's time."

"I thought you said I was young," she grumbled.

"You won't be young forever. Now, Mikey has a new intern. Do you like blondes? He's got a political science degree and he's a real up-and-comer..."

She leaned hard against the wall. Did she say she wanted the mom treatment?

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

Clark rushed through the doors with possibly two minutes to spare. Some kid was texting while driving and nearly got himself killed. He wondered when his state would get around to banning that. Everyone else had. At any rate, he ended up weaving through traffic like a server, holding the car over his head until he could put it down safely. But he thought he'd done pretty well. His reflexes were extra sharp. He didn't seem tired out by it at all. Maybe he was getting back into shape.

Not that he had time to rest on that laurel. He had to talk to Perry. He wasn't sure what Sawyer had planned yet, but he'd signed quite a few waivers and was told to get some time cleared next week. He comforted himself with the idea that Perry would thank him later. Still, he was nervous to bring up the idea of time off. But if Lois got two weeks after Met Vista, then he could ask for one. He was "the guy that got himself kidnapped," after all, something Sawyer didn't seem likely to forget. Maybe Perry would be more open to it, with Lois coming back. That was another reason to stay clear for now. Because he wasn't sure he could give Lois space unless there was actual distance between them. There was this stupid part of him that hoped with him gone and her getting that space, she might not want it. They'd pretty much lived together. Maybe she was missing him just a...

He had to stop this. Had to stop this passive aggressive hopefulness. It was what he was doing. He secretly hoped that he'd keep his distance and she'd come calling for him and this space was supposed to be for her piece of mind, not some absence to make her heart grow fonder. He had to stop thinking of himself.

And he had to look where he was going. He nearly knocked over a woman at the base of the stairs, seconds after praising his improved reflexes. "Sorry, Ma'am," he said, putting her right before moving up the steps again. Maybe he should wait to talk to Perry. Call him on Sunday, say something came up and...

"Clark?"

He turned back. The woman whipped away a pair of giant sunglasses. "Lan... Uh... Lorna," he quickly corrected.

She smiled. "Hi, there. I was just stopping by to..."

"You shouldn't be running around so much." He grabbed her by the elbow and moved to a corner.

"I was just hoping to get some lunch, if you weren't busy..."

"I am busy," he snapped. "Insanely busy. I can't even have lunch on my own time, let alone yours."

She flinched slightly and he immediately felt like an ass. "I'm sorry. I was only..."

"No. I'm sorry," he sighed. "I just have a lot going on right now and it's not your fault."

"I can't help thinking some of it is," she said, looking down. "I mean, things were so strange last night and I hated leaving it like that. How is she?"

"She's..." He shook his head. "I have no idea how to answer that. She... wants me to give her some space. So I am."

Lana stared at him. "Guess that's not easy for you. You always were... close."

He stared back, wondering just how much she suspected about it. "Listen..."

"Well, I could look in on her for you," she said brightly. "I was thinking of going into Smallville. Just for the afternoon, visit the old haunts."

"Lana, I don't think that's a good idea. It's one thing to be out in a big city, but Smallville. Someone's bound to recognize the late Lana Luthor."

"Could you not call me that?" she hissed.

"I'm sorry. Lorna..."

"It's not the Lana. It's the Luthor. I kind of want to drop all that. It was... when it started," she said, sort of absently. She suddenly smiled. "Anyway, I'll be careful. These sunglasses pretty much swallow my face. I could even get a blonde wig or..."

"Blonde?" Clark cut in, peering at her. "Might look a little unnatural."

"Well, a nice, big hat, then. It's not like I'm going to run around in a pink cardigan. I have several nice suits."

"That must be your favorite, then." He nodded at the tailored black jacket and slacks.

"What?"

"Well, you wore it the other day. And the first time I saw you..."

She cut him off with a laugh. "It's not the same one. I just have a few like it. It's a good cut for me and... I'm sorry. Here I am babbling about suits and I've hardly even asked you about yourself."

"There's not much to tell. I'm just..."

"Busy. So you said. If we're going to be friends, then I need more. Friends talk about their days." She took his arm and moved to the stairs. "I'll even walk you back to your desk. So... What did you do with your day?"

He wasn't sure what he could or couldn't tell her. "I went running, then I worked."

"Oh, with your friend. You're still doing that? That's nice of you."

"Not like I have a choice," he muttered. "He shows up at my place, six sharp every day, whether I want him to or not."

"I thought you were doing it as a favor."

Damn it. he really had to keep straight what Lana could and couldn't know. "I am. He's just... pushy. And bossy," he added with a grumble. "Wait..." He stopped short of his desk and turned to her. "Don't change the subject on me. Why do you need to run around Smallville? It's one thing to come to the farm for Christmas, but you're risking getting recognized. That can't be good for you."

"Oh, Clark," Lana sighed. "You're acting as if things can get worse. Trust me. They can't," she said before turning, moving out of the bullpen.

"Wait..." He started after her, but was blocked by Perry.

"You're late, Kent. I..."

"Did you hear, Mr. White?" he cut in quickly. "Apparently, Superman lifted a car and carried it out of a possible accident like a waiter. Think it would make a nice blurb in the 'About Town' section. Nothing too big, but it was a funny sight according to some..."

"Fine, fine," Perry muttered, pulling an antacid out of a package. "Write it up. But what I want to know is if you have something on... that other thing."

"I'm... not sure where that's going," he said truthfully. He hated leaving out the fact that he would be in on it, wherever it was going. But he couldn't. He was legally bound not to jeopardize on ongoing investigation, according to one of the many forms he'd signed.

Perry chewed on his tablet thoughtfully. "I knew you might be a little green for this."

"Maybe I am," Clark said, grasping onto the opening. "I'm just... a little overwhelmed and out of my league," he went on. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about that..."

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