Lois scrubbed roughly at the sides of the tub, not so much cleaning as punishing it for needing a wash in the first place. She'd never been so into cleaning that she knew. Of course, what she knew about herself, really knew, could fill a post-it. So maybe she was an avid cleaner. Here it was, six in the morning and she was scrubbing Martha Kent's bathroom.
Last night, she'd been in the kitchen for what must have been hours. She'd come out, thought of going to bed, but when she'd seen Martha wasn't on the couch anymore, she gone in search of the vacuum cleaner. She found it in the laundry room along with various cleaning supplies. So she'd gone nuts. She woke on the couch with a duster in her hand as evidence of her bender.
It was like cleaning rock bottom. But it didn't stop her. She hadn't even touched upstairs.
She was on it now. It was the least she could do for Martha. She had to do this. For Martha. Not for such selfish reasons as avoiding thinking of what Clark had said. She renewed her efforts as the name entered her mind.
"Scrub any harder and you'll get to China."
She turned. Martha was standing in the doorway, yawning and rubbing her arms. "I'm sorry. Was I being loud or..."
"Not at all. I told you. I'm up with the cows whether there are cows or not." She yawned again. "What's all this about?"
"Just getting a little cleaning in." Lois turned back to the tub and turned it on, rinsing it out. "Looking good, too. I never knew I had such cleaning power. I did the dishes from last night, then I figured I'd get the rest of the kitchen while I was at it, then the living and dining room looked like they needed a little..."
"I see. But I've told you you're a guest." Martha moved forward and sat on the edge of the tub. "You don't really have to..."
"Of course I do. It makes me feel significantly less guilty of taking advantage of your hosp..."
"Guest," Martha said more firmly. "There's no guilt in being a guest. I hope I haven't made you feel guilty in any..."
"Of course not. I just wanted to..." Not think. At all "I wanted to do something nice for you." At least it had started out that way.
"You know what would be really nice? If my guest didn't spend her last day here scrubbing my grout." She grabbed the sponge, which Lois surrendered reluctantly. "Now I'm going to go make us some breakfast. Why don't you have a shower before you call Linda?"
"Call Linda? There's plenty of time to..."
"You and I both know you should have done that last night, even before the meeting. Don't you think you should?"
Lois pursed her lips. She sounded like Clark. "I think I'll have a shower first," she said defiantly.
"Whatever you like," Martha said, unaffected.
"I will do whatever I like," Lois muttered, standing. She stared at the tub. "But I just cleaned it."
Martha rubbed her shoulder. "I know. It's a never-ending cycle. Things get dirty again." She squeezed lightly. "Pancakes or waffles?" she asked, moving to the door. "Your choice."
Lois turned and stared at the sponge in her hand forlornly. "Pancakes," she said dully, wishing she could have it back. She vaguely felt like her toys were being taken and a bribe was being offered. "Maybe with the smiling bacon and egg eyes," she added, figuring it might as well be a good bribe.
"Whatever you want." Martha shivered. "I should turn up the heat a little. It's freezing."
"Really?" Lois swiped her forehead. "I'm hot."
"So I see." Martha glanced down at her T-shirt. "You might want to let me wash that before you go," she said as she closed the door.
Lois stared down at the shirt, then pulled it off. It smelled like various sauces and sweat. "Ugh." Now that she noticed it, she stunk. Yet she felt vaguely cheered by it. At least she had something else to clean.
***************
Clark got the call at seven, telling him to be at the police station ASAP. He nearly dragged himself there. He'd had a restless night, filled with thoughts of the future. It was a bleak one. One where he was a reporter by day and Superman by night and... not much else.
He'd never realized before how much thoughts of Lois filled all the in-between moments. Even before, with Chloe, how much of his social life consisted of... just her. Cocoa by the fire, coffee at The Talon, leftovers at his mom's kitchen table while studying. Years later, it was still her he saw as being there in those in-between hours. Her he thought of as his partner in pizza and take-out, maybe mu-shu pork with those spicy pepper things that...
He was just hungry. He could accept the lonely hero's life much better after breakfast. He slowed down near A's tacos and got a breakfast burrito to go. Bart had turned him on to these burritos. Bart was his friend. He had friends. His social life wasn't completely bereft without her. He could accept this.
He just didn't want to.
And he didn't want to scarf down his burrito, then wait in a bare room for Dan Turpin on what should be a day off. He'd kind of thought this wasn't starting until Monday. He told Turpin that as he sat down.
"We start Monday, but that doesn't mean we're just jumping in with no preparation."
"We?"
"You and me."
"But I thought Sawyer..."
"Sawyer's running the op, but I'm the one getting in there with you. She's a little too known for deep cover."
"I figured that." He also figured he'd be working alone. Maybe reporting to Sawyer, but... He shook his head. "I thought Sawyer was going to get me an in working for them, then I'd periodically check in and..."
"Yeah. No offense, Kent," Turpin drawled. "You're a reporter. If the shit hits the fan, you're going to need someone to protect you."
Protect him? "I'm not exactly helpless."
"No. You're a big guy. Must have come in real handy on that farm you grew up on, but this is the heart of Suicide Slums, not some arm wrestling match at a barn raising or..."
"I live in Suicide Slums," Clark muttered.
"Not this part," Turpin said gravely. "You and me are going to be staying in a seedy motel near the river."
"Staying... But I thought..."
"We're going into deep cover. That means we have to live and breath Jack Drake and Irving Clemp, two ruffians from Edge City, just arrived in Metropolis. Can't get much work on account of our criminal records. But we're going to work at Moxie's."
"Moxie's? I never heard of..."
"You wouldn't have. It's been shut down since Moxie Mannheim's death," Turpin finished, quoting with his fingers.
"Why do you mean by..." Clark quoted with his fingers as well.
"I mean that these guys have a way of popping back up." Turpin shrugged. "He could be dead, he could be laying low in the Bahamas. Point is his son inherited the place and it's suddenly up and running."
"His son being Bruno Mannheim?"
"Nothing gets past you." Turpin leaned back. "Point is that Moxie's was nothing. Just an eyesore, even in Suicide Slums. Even Moxie himself could give a shit about the place. It was more of a way to explain his income, I think. Suddenly, this place is getting a make-over. Supposed to be a real swanky place now, jazz band, lounge singers and everything. Mannheim took out a full page ad in The Daily Star about the grand opening. Guess he couldn't afford The Planet."
"We wouldn't have him." Clark shook his head. "But why would he open some supposed swanky place in Suicide Slums? Not exactly a good place for business."
"That's what we're going to find out, along with whatever it is he allegedly stole from Lionel Luthor's vault. We're as good as hired as low-level bouncers. It's not much, but it's a way in, vouched for by Robert Ranier, known at the PD as 'Bobby Big Mouth.'" Turpin leaned in. "You better be careful not to expose us and, by extension, him. We need him in. He's got a rough past, a good heart, and he'll do anything for a sandwich. So you need to remember at all times that you aren't Clark Kent, Reporter from Hicksville and..."
"Smallville," Clark supplied, getting a little offended. "And I have worked in deep cover." And not just for a story. For life, really.
"As a yuppie couple in a gated community," Turpin scoffed. "This is different. Listen..." He leaned across the table. "I'm not trying to insult your investigative skills, here. Sawyer must be impressed or she wouldn't have had you in."
Clark found himself sitting straighter. "Really? Because she seems so..."
"Between that and you knowing the Luthors, I get that you might be an asset on knowing what to look for. But you're also a civilian and you need someone to watch your back if things get ugly."
Or you might, Clark thought, thinking it might be good he was around to protect Turpin, but wishing he didn't have to worry about anyone else. "Okay. Glad you'll be there," he lied.
Turpin nodded. "Just follow my lead on this. I may be a beat cop. I might not have advanced as far as Mags, but I know how she works and how she likes things run. We're going to be fine."
Clark nodded. "Do I get to be Jack Drake?"
Turpin stood. "No, you don't, Irving. Now come on..."
******************************
Lois pushed the plate away. "I'm stuffed. Lunch was enough. Why did you make cookies?"
"You didn't have to eat them," Martha said, sipping her coffee.
"Well, they were there." She toyed with the edge of a snickerdoodle. "I'm mostly packed. I should probably finish."
"Probably," Martha said, putting her cup down. "Or..."
Lois perked up slightly. "Or?"
"We could have one last movie day? I mean, there's no hurry."
"I don't really want to watch a movie."
Martha nodded and stood. "You're right. I've kept you long enough. I'll warm up the truck and..."
"No." Lois stood as well. "I mean, I..." I don't want to waste our last hours together staring at a TV. I don't even want to leave. I just want to stay with you forever and feel safe and mothered and... "I want to play gin," she finally said.
Martha blinked at her. "Gin? But I thought you hated..."
"I hated losing all my hard earned money. I'm going to love winning it back."
Martha smiled widely. "Like you could."
"You'll see."
Martha moved to her junk drawer, pulling out the deck. "I'm kind of relieved you want to stay a little longer actually."
"Oh. Well... I have time."
"So do I," Martha said, moving to the table as she shuffled. "I have nothing but time, hours on hours of it."
"Really? You always seem so busy."
"I do. Don't I?" Martha mused. "I have the occasional catering job, but that's just mad money. I have the election, but I'm not even sure that's going anywhere, so..."
"You're going to win."
Martha sat down again, shaking her head. "I've never exactly won an election. I just inherited a seat. It's not the same. I..."
"No. I'm positive. There's something about you that sets everyone around you at ease, yet draws them to you. As an objective journalist, I see the winner in you." Lois leaned in. "You are very charismatic, Martha Kent."
"Oh, please. You..."
"I'm serious. Even my best normal friend wants to hang with you. I'd be very jealous, except I get it."
"Your best normal..."
"Pammie. She wants to go shopping. I was supposed to write that message down. I must've..."
"Oh, Pammie. She's nice."
"She is when she's not trying to set you up on a date," Lois muttered.
"A date?" Martha's eyes went wide. "Oh... Well... That's nice."
"She keeps going on about some guy in her husband's office, about how polite and..." Lois suddenly felt awkward. Here she was in the presence of the mother of the man she kind of... maybe... once... What the hell had they been? She didn't know. If Martha knew, she didn't want to know. She just wanted to change the subject. "The point is, you're going to win in a landslide. I'm positive."
"Even if I did," Martha said, dealing out the cards. She seemed happy with the change of subject, too. "It's just a job. It doesn't suddenly fill this house with..." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm dealing too much," she said, sounding rather choked. "I'll start over."
Lois put a hand over hers. "Martha?"
"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just... I know you have a life to get back to. I'm just sad to see you go."
"I don't want to go," Lois found herself blurting out.
"You don't?"
"No. I want to stay here forever and eat cookies and drink hot cocoa."
"I wish you could," Martha said, grasping her hand back. "But we both know you can't."
"It's my life," Lois said, suddenly inspired. "I could freelance and help more with the house and... Doesn't this town have a paper?"
"You'd be miserable." Martha sniffled and laughed. "Sweetie, you've been dreaming of The Daily Planet since the day I met you."
"Have I?"
Martha nodded. "Since even before then, from what I gather. You don't belong in Smallville. You were always too big for this town."
"But you're here."
"And I always will be." Martha patted her hand, then pulled away, dealing again. "But you need to get back to your life."
Lois glared at her cards. "I guess so."
"You do. I don't want you to stay here just to keep me company. It's just..." She sighed. "It was just nice to have some company."
Lois stared at Martha, thought of the way she ran around prepping for the party, sort of frantic, but excited. "If you want more company..." She trailed off as a chopping sound sliced the air. "I think more company is coming now," she finished. It hadn't been what she'd intended to say, but it was true.
She glanced out the window as something red and white blocked the fields. It had barely touched down before a figure hopped out, barreling towards the door.
"You might want to open that," Lois said weakly, nodding at the kitchen door.
Martha had barely stood before it flew open.
"Hi, Linda," Lois mumbled, staring at her cards.
"Hi, Linda," Martha repeated. "Could I make you some tea or..."
"No, thanks, Martha. I'm fine. I... Are those snickerdoodles?"
"Yes. Would you like..."
"Maybe just a few. And maybe that tea. Tea sounds good. I flew straight here. Have to fly while I can. Probably going to be grounded soon." A chair scraped back and Lois chanced a glance up.
She shouldn't have. Linda was giving her a glare that threatened to burn her to smithereens.
"Hi, Linda," Linda sneered. "Is that all you have to say to me?"
"Um... How was your flight?"
"A little bumpy over Kansas city, thanks for asking." Linda took a seat. "By the way, I got your text message," she sneered.
Martha turned from the stove. "A text message, Lois? Really!"
"I know." Lois buried her face in her hands. "I just didn't want to talk on the phone for hours. I know you have city business and..."
"And I can't take a few hours out of my day when my baby cousin is having a full-on identity crisis?"
"I'm not having an identity crisis. And you didn't need to fly out here."
"Well, all your message said was stopping lessons permanently to have a life. Don't freak out. Will talk later. I needed a little more than..."
"Then why didn't you absorb the part about not freaking out and talking later?"
"Because I didn't want to talk later. I wanted to talk now, but you turned off your phone and no one else is taking my calls and Martha's has been ringing and ringing with no..."
"I didn't hear the phone," Martha cut in.
"Probably because I turned the ringers off before breakfast," Lois said sheepishly.
"Lois!"
She stood. "I'm sorry, but I didn't want to spend my last day of vacation on the phone hashing out something I've made my mind up on." She whirled on Linda. "And I thought you might, for once, exercise a bit of patience and actually wait. Apparently, I..."
"Oh, come on! Any idiot knows that the surest way to get someone to freak out is to tell them not to freak out."
"Yes, if they're you. This is why I don't want to tell you things. You fly off the handle and..."
"Oh, that's nice. I have been protecting the crap out of you for, like, ten years or... something. Tell her, Martha. I came to this town to save her ass and I've been saving it ever since."
Lois folded her arms. "That doesn't line up with what I've been told. Your ass has needed..."
"You've hardly been told anything, which is exactly why you need to keep..."
"This is not up for discussion."
"Then why'd you even say we'd talk later?"
"So you wouldn't fly out here. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life memorizing someone else's life."
"Someone else's life? It's your..."
"GIRLS!" Lois and Linda both turned to Martha. "Maybe I could just put a stop to this now and tell you that you both have a point. Lois, you cannot keep hiding away from everyone, especially not your family. Leaving the past behind you doesn't mean leaving people behind. And you could have saved us all this argument by calling instead of sending some cryptic text."
"Exactly," Linda said. "And I hate text messages. Doctor Melcher says they're just another way to avoid true communication and I, for one..."
"And Linda," Martha cut in. "You could use a little patience. You knew this was her last day off."
"It was," Lois pointed out. "Besides, you do have city business. You can't fly out here every time I..."
"Am I not supposed to care?" Linda's lower lip trembled. "How much family do you think I have?"
"Plenty. You have a husband and a baby on the way. You're the one that has an actual life." Lois felt her own chin shaking. "All I have is a job."
"But it's your dream job," Linda said on a sniffle.
"It doesn't mean it's enough. I'm going to have hardly any free time when I get back to work and if I spend every second studying Chloe, it's... it's too much pressure."
"I'm not trying to pressure you. If you just said that, I would have understood."
"How? You never let me talk."
"Me? You always..."
"Girl's, please stop fighting."
"We're not fighting," Lois said, swiping at her eyes.
"We're making up," Linda sobbed.
"Looks about the same," Martha sighed. "I'll fix the tea." She chuckled and moved back to the stove as the two sort of fell into each other.
"I'm such a bitch," Linda said against her hair.
"No, you're not," Lois mumbled into her shoulder.
"Yes, I am. I'm always so moody and..."
"You're allowed to be moody. You're pregnant. I'm the one who doesn't call you."
"Exactly." Linda pulled back. "This is why I get avoided. Because I yell at everybody and..."
"I don't avoid you," she said. Linda gave her a look that begged to differ. "I mean... Not fully. It's not all about that. I just didn't want you to worry and leave your life."
"Coming to you isn't leaving my life. You're a part of my life. A big part."
"I don't want you constantly worrying about me when you're about to have an even bigger part."
Linda suddenly smiled. "You noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
"That I'm showing."
Lois tilted her head. "Showing what?"
Linda put her hands to her stomach. "I thought it was obvious. The ba..." Her face fell. "You didn't notice."
"Yes, I did," Lois said quickly, catching on. Actually, she didn't, as Linda had only been gone a week. But it seemed so important that she did. "I just didn't want to say anything in case it hurt your feelings. You're so... big."
Linda beamed at that, strangely enough. "I know. Ollie says we're going to have to announce it soon before the press starts reporting my bump." She giggled. "I almost want them to break it first. They've probably already figured it out with me being all over town lately."
Lois doubted it. If anything, Linda looked like she had a big lunch. "Speaking of that, I really didn't want you to leave. Doesn't someone have to light Star City's tree?"
Linda waved her hand and sat down."That's not for hours. I can grab Ollie at the Tower and go by five. With the time difference, we'll have time to get a bite before sundown and..."
"Ollie's here?"
"Well, he'd only let me come if he could fly us to Metropolis so I could get my bearings."
"This was you with your bearings?"
"Don't start," Linda kicked her lightly under the table. "Anyway, while I'm here, I can save Martha that long drive and take you back to your place myself. We should get your things."
Martha put the mugs down a little hard. "So soon?"
Lois sat down hard. "I thought you said you had hours."
"Well, not limitless hours. I mean, we need to be in the air by five-thirty at least and it's nearly one now and... Damn it!" She stood and moved to the door. "I need to take my pills. Be right back."
Lois stared at Martha as the door stuttered against the hinges. "It does make sense."
"Yes. It's a long drive." Martha took a chair, looking about as happy as Lois did. "I guess it just feels so sudden." Martha glanced over. "I think I might have hinted at it before, but... Just to be clear, I'm going to miss you."
"See, but... You don't have to." Lois grasped her hand. "Miss me, I mean. And I don't have to miss you." She smiled sadly. "Which I will, by the way. I was thinking before. I have Christmas day off. I can come down early and catch a matinee in the living room -- maybe even something you want to watch."
Martha smiled. "And you'll still have weekends."
"Exactly. Like you said, I don't have to leave people behind. And I don't want to. We could hang out. We could hang out so much you'll get sick of me. You, me, Pammie, Linda when she's in town and..."
"I'd really like that," Martha said with a watery sniffle. "Oh, come here." Martha grabbed her by the arms and pulled her in.
Lois' chair teetered drunkenly as she fell into her, but she really didn't care. "See? This isn't an ending. It's a start." Lois groaned against Martha's shoulder. "Of course, now that Linda's taking me back, we have less time to get my stuff." She pulled back miserably. "I only have this one tiny box packed from the barn and I need to get the rest all..."
"Do you need to?" Martha asked, tucking Lois' hair behind her ears. "I mean, I have no problem with you leaving it here."
"I don't want to leave you with all that clutter."
"It's not clutter," Martha said, pulling her in again. "It's something you can always come back to."
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