Almost Lovers (Chapter Four)

Chapter Four 

"Voodoo?" Sawyer laughed. 

"Well, I don't mean voodoo exactly," Clark tried. "I just mean there seems to be some kind of supernatural edge to..." 

"Don't you mean magical?" Turpin snorted. 

Clark folded his arms and sat back. His passing on of what he heard Tiny and Rocco say hadn't delivered quite the punch he'd been hoping for. When he'd told Turpin, he'd chuckled and said "I think I'll let you tell Sawyer all about that." And now? They were laughing. But something told him not to laugh it off. 

"I don't mean voodoo literally," he tried again. "That's just what they said. But if they've been messing with the supernatural..." 

"Seriously, Kent," Sawyer cut in. "I've been looking in my crystal ball all day and saw nothing like... like..." she trailed off in giggles. "I can't even finish that." She guffawed, leaning on Turpin. "Can you believe this guy?" she gasped. 

Turpin just pounded his fist on the table, wheezing with laughter now. 

Sawyer swiped at her eyes. "Serves me right for bringing a reporter in. You people..." She laughed harder.

He didn't need this. He could be sleeping or doing his Christmas shopping. He'd slid on that and it was now Christmas Eve and the only shopping he'd done was a quick stop at The Salvation Army for a worn army coat he thought Clemp might favor, finally taking it to heart that people might look askance at the guy walking around with no jacket now that it had started snowing. Hell, he could be writing. He was doing a hell of that in his off hours. Any of those things would be a more productive than being laughed at just for doing his job by people who just plain didn't get it. 

He sat up, ignoring their chuckles. He wasn't giving up. Turpin and Sawyer didn't get it. But maybe he couldn't blame them for that. They hadn't seen the things he had or even what people close to him had. They weren't aliens or... Well, damn it! They had seen that! "You know, when someone first told me a guy was flying around saving people," he said loudly, "I might have laughed at them, too!" 

They quieted down just a little. 

"I'm only telling you what they said. Rocco said he'd rather be dead than let some witchdoctor touch him and Tiny shut him up pretty quick. Then he said he missed when things were normal, without crazy voodoo and Tiny shut him up again. I wouldn't have brought it to you if it didn't seem like something they want to keep under wraps." 

Turpin quieted down all the way, taking a breath as he sobered. "He might have something, Mags, kooky as it sounds. From what we know of Johnny Denetto, or Stitches as they call him... Well, we heard what Tobias Whale did to him. Nobody could have survived that without..." He pointed at Clark. "And I'm not going to say magic or voodoo. But..." He sighed. "Well, I've seen the guy, too, and he ain't natural. Also, there's Bobby Bigmouth. He was saying he felt in his gut that there was something spooky or creepy or whatever going on. And this is Bobby. I've seen the guy eat a two-day-old Met Sharks Dog out of a stadium trashcan. Takes a lot to turn his gut." 

Sawyer threw up her hands. "So... What? Are we gonna start looking into gang magic now?" 

"Well, we could have Bobby put his ear to the ground. Though he did seem pretty spooked," Turpin said thoughtfully, "So far, he hasn't given us anything that risked his neck. I don't know what we can give him outside of actual money that'll get him..." 

"Turkey," Clark cut in. "And ham." 

They both looked at him like he was crazy... again. 

"I can get him the best Christmas dinner he ever had. And I can guarantee him two plates of it." He looked down at the table. "But only if... you know... if I get off Christmas Day." 

Sawyer stared at him. "You seem awfully eager to always get off, Kent. Here, I thought you were volunteering your..." 

"Aw, Mags. It's Christmas. Besides, it's going around the club will be shut down for the day. The Metropolis Star got hold of some story that Mannheim's working his staff on Christmas and making his waitresses dress like strippers. Management is trying to control the damage." 

"The Star?" Clark couldn't hold back his sneer. He was still annoyed with them for writing about nothing but Superman's pecs... in a piece on his speech to schoolkids, no less! "How are they getting stories?" 

"Better than the Planet getting them," Sawyer said with a warning tone, "Or I'd wonder how and kick you right off this..." 

"Point taken," he mumbled. 

Turpin shrugged. "Someone must be flapping their gums. The bouncers have been told to check employees coming out for cell phone pictures. Apparently, Mannheim doesn't want any bad press, wants to attract the rich and powerful this time around." 

"But to what end?" Clark muttered. "That's the part I can't figure out. They can't honestly think this'll work." 

"There's enough rich and powerful people around here," Sawyer said darkly, "that are perfectly willing to rub shoulders with his type for their own ends. Hell, Lionel Luthor was the sleaziest man in three states for decades, but he ran the biggest empire." 

Clark chewed at his lip, still annoyed at the lack of progress there. It had only been a few days and he'd kept his ears open, but he'd heard nothing you wouldn't hear at a legitimate club preparing to open. "Maybe if Mannheim shows up, we'll hear some more." More about that box, what it contained, why it was lead. Clark had scanned the place as best he could without having access to the back offices, but found nothing he couldn't see through. Maybe Mannheim kept it on him.

"We might not have to wait long on that," Turpin cut in. "He's having Stitches handle everything before the opening. But he'll have to poke his head in close to the opening. He's not going to want Stitches to be the public face of Moxie's," he finished with a shudder. 

"He could be off-putting," Sawyer agreed. "I've seen the pictures. Fine," she sighed. "I'll tell Bobby to look into this voodoo nonsense. And you." She pointed at Clark. "If you're getting the day off, then you better deliver me a gastronomical feast for him." 

"If I can be at my mother's for Christmas, I can get Bobby all he wants." 

"This the same infirm mother that you desperately needed to help the very first day we..." 

"Come on, Mags. If the club's closed, Irving Clemp has nothing to do." 

"Well, I'm just saying, this guy seems pretty quick to make his sick mother scrape off two plates of..." 

"Listen, my mother can scare up two plates of the best meal you ever had while... running for city council," he finished, figuring it was true enough. He didn't confirm nor deny the stuff about Martha Kent being infirm, trying to keep mostly honest. 

"Fine. You check in when you got the stuff." She stood, shaking her head. "Voodoo. What next?" 

************************** 

"What now?" Bart whined. "I thought I was done." 

"Just one more box," Lois said absently, sifting through the boxes in front of her. "There was one particular box that I saw had a framed photo booth strip of us mugging like crazy. I want that for the first page." 

"Don't you have enough?" 

"Bart, this is for Linda." 

"But I already do a lot for Linda," he moaned. "Do you even know how many insane pregnant craving runs she's sent me on?" 

"Do you even know what she got you for Christmas?" 

"Is it an Ipod?" he gasped. 

"Better." 

"Is it... NO! Don't tell me." He nodded. "Okay, but you tell her I helped, right? Because I don't know if she's going to be too into my gift card." 

"You mean the sandwich punch card?" 

"What? It's still a gift. On my budget..." 

She prodded him to the door. "Less talking, more running. And I promise I will describe at least some part of your body as muscular the next time I write up a save." 

"It'll be my arms after this," he groaned as he opened it. "Unlike some people, I don't have super str... super strong, ripped arms," he finished, staring out into her hall. "Yeah. Gotta work out more. Hey, there." 

Lois peeked around him, found Lana standing in front of her door. "You're early." She glanced at Bart. She'd been hoping to get all the boxes and maybe most of the work done before Lana showed. No real offense to Lana, but Lois thought she'd be more of a distraction than a help. "Didn't have any trouble finding the place, I guess. I was kind of expecting a call with this street being nothing but brownstones." 

"Well, this is the only one with a huge oak in front," she said, glancing curiously at Bart. 

"I don't remember mentioning that." 

Lana glanced sharply back at her. "You know, I think Clark must have mentioned it." She laughed slightly and glanced at Bart again. "Don't I know you?" 

"Oh, sorry. Pardon my manners. This is my friend, Bart. He's just... he's delivering some boxes for me. Bart, this is..." 

"Lorna. I do know you," Lana squinted at him. "Didn't I go running with you and Clark?"

"Yeah, you did," he muttered. "But I remember you said I should call you Lana."

"I did, didn't I? Well... yeah. I guess you know Lois, too." 

"I'm her delivery boy, apparently," he mumbled. 

"At the Planet," Lois supplied quickly. "He makes a lot of deliveries at work. That's how Clark and I know him, so..." She pulled Lana in and pushed Bart out. "You know, you guys will have plenty of time get acquainted at Christmas. Why don't you make yourself comfortable? Bart's just going to get me one more thing from... his truck. Be right back." She pulled him down the hall. "Okay, so you guys go running with her?" 

"Just this one time. I was training Clark and she just showed up," he hissed, looking annoyed. 

"Yeah, she tends to do that," Lois whispered, glancing down the hall at her open door. 

"What did you mean about Christmas?" 

"She's coming to dinner. She actually asked to carpool with me, which I thought was kind of weird since she could hire a limo if she wanted." She shook her head. "Never mind. If you could just get me that one last box..." 

"But why? She doesn't know about all of us. And she doesn't know we know she knows about Clark. And now we're all going to have to hide our powers and make up stories about who we are..." 

"And that's good practice if you guys want to start saving in the open and still have a normal life."

"Well, yeah, but it's Christmas. You're supposed to get the day off," he grumbled. 

"Hey, talk to Clark. He invited her." 

"I will. If the guy even shows," Bart muttered. "Fine. Anyway, what's this box?" 

"Tell Martha it's the one marked front hall." She paused. "Wait. Look for the picture because it might have said living room. Anyway, it has lots of framed photos and..." 

He zipped off before she could finish. She groaned, looking back toward her open door, hoping Lana hadn't poked her head out and seen that. But she could hear some shuffling noises, so maybe Lana was getting started on those photos. She started as Bart appeared before her again.

"It was dining room," he panted, "picture's on top. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to think up awesome stories of who I am because that delivery boy thing you saddled me with is definitely a part time job." 

She watched him zip off and sighed, glancing at the dining room box. He'd found it, but she wished she'd known for sure, could truly see the house she'd lived in and know without fail where these pictures once hung. She knew she was trying to move on, but sometimes she wished she could do it the way normal people did, with memories intact. She moved back down the hall to her open door, wondering if looking at all these pictures would stir something. She wasn't sure if she should want that or not... but she sort of did. It wasn't as if she'd allow herself to get mired in the past again, but just to have some clear, warm memories... 

She stopped at her door, noticing that Lana had scattered the contents of one box and was rather determinedly rifling through another. "Looking for a particular shot?" 

Lana jumped just a little and turned. "You know, I was just trying to find this particular thing... my... my wedding invitation." She gave a small laugh. "But these are all just pictures. Maybe it got mixed in with your stuff from work. I don't know." She looked around. "Just can't find it." 

"None of these boxes have been here long enough to get mixed in with anything." Lois picked her way around the mess, keeping her eye on Lana as she looked for a place for her new box. "You seem kind of on edge." 

"Do I?" Lana sighed, studiously looking through the photos in her hand. "You know it's just some of those memories. Lex and all. If I come across that invite, I'll probably toss it in the fire." 

Lois relaxed slightly and sat on the floor next to her, placing her box down, thinking she might feel a bit spooked about giving her hand in marriage to Luthor, too, with what she now knew of him. "I guess there might be some less than pleasant things in here." She opened the album that had the awful picture of her from what seemed to be sixth grade. "Like this," she said, holding it out. "I've got half a mind to destroy it... except I won't." She ran a hand over the crooked pigtails and braces, thinking of how it reminded her she had a single dad who'd apparently doted on her enough to put this horror in an album. "I guess there's some good and bad all tangled up in the past." 

Lana sighed. "Maybe you're right. I mean, not everything associated with Lex is horrible. He did help me buy The Talon." 

Lois turned more fully to her. "Is that how that happened?" She laughed. "Not a lot of high school kids run a coffee shop." 

Lana smiled and lifted her chin. "That's true. I did do okay back then." 

"And you do that in Florida, too, right? And you said you didn't have any goals. So there you go. You're a barrista." 

"Not really. I thought that was what I'd do, but... I don't know. I only enjoyed it in Smallville. It wasn't so much a passion for coffee, more the place. Oh!" Lana turned quickly, hair flying just a little close to Lois' face and she found herself smelling a hint of rather plain shampoo. Why did that seem wrong? For some reason, in those moments she thought of Lana, it was with the idea of a cloying, overly sweet smell. She began to feel woozy at the thought of it and took several deep breaths, determined to stop fainting over this woman anymore. Lana handed her a dogeared photo of her, standing in front of the house she mostly knew from photos, with Lana. "That's from the day we were moving me into your house." 

Her mind cleared as she stared harder at it. They looked happy, if a bit sweaty. 

"Your dad kept joking around, calling me Lampshade Lana because I couldn't carry the heavier stuff. He was a lot of fun." 

"I know that top," Lois said, staring at the red top with the ruffled sleeves. "I saw it in another box." 

"You would hold onto that." Lana giggled. "That was your favorite. You wore it to pieces and still never got rid of it. You said it was lucky." 

"Maybe I didn't die a lot while wearing it." She turned fully to Lana, tucking her legs under her. "About my dad... What was he like? I mean, Clark told me some and Linda obviously told me a lot more, but... I guess I want more of an idea of him." 

Lana blinked at her. "You don't remember him?" 

"Just these patches. I used to get these excruciating headaches whenever I remembered something, no matter what it was." 

Lana's eyes widened. "I'm so sorry." 

Lois brushed her off. "Don't be. Not like it's your fault." 

"Well... yeah. But it's just... I don't think that whoever did that to you would have if... if they knew just how much they were taking away." 

"I can't really blame him. I did this to myself. Clark disagrees, but apparently I sent letters and thought it through and decided. Even if I could blame Grady, it does no good. Oh... He's this doctor that... Well, I don't know. Maybe Clark filled you in on him. Doesn't matter. I'm fine now. I ended up getting dosed with some chemical when Clark and I were working on our big story and... Well, there was kind of some reverse hypnosis. It's not like I remembered everything, but I could delve into those patchy things without feeling like my head was splitting open. That's how I started putting two and two... or Chloe and Lois... together." She held the picture back out. "I think we might have to focus on the ones with Linda... you know, that other Lois, in them." 

Lana took the picture back and stared at it for a long time before she spoke. "He was one of the nicest people I knew. Almost to a fault. When I first moved in, I was so grateful to be able to stay in town and graduate still a Crow, that I would try to do all this housework. And he'd always be grabbing brooms or dishes out of my hands, saying he had it covered. You told me to relax on that, too. He was always insanely proud of you, of your grades and you running the school paper. He said you were the most industrious kid he knew since you were little, that you got it from him. I guess you guys were a lot alike, as you both had this thing for puns and wordplay." Lana huffed out a laugh. "Mi casa, su casserole. I remember that one." 

Lois let out a horrified laugh. "Is that one of mine or his?" 

Lana grinned. "His. You were a little more polished, less corny, being a writer." 

Lois smiled, thinking of the pictures of him, imagining him tossing off that terrible phrase. "What else?" 

"He was very soft, too, when it came to you. I mean, you were always out past curfew, investigating, but he'd never yell at you, no matter much he paced and raged when you weren't back yet. He worried about you, but... I don't know. I think he also trusted you." She glanced up. "I was jealous sometimes. I mean, I had my Aunt Nell and she let me get away with just about anything, but I think it's because she just didn't care that much and she hated scenes. Otherwise, she might have insisted I go with her when she got married and moved away, no matter how much I didn't want to. Or she'd have been more in my life after that." 

"So that's how we ended up living together. I don't remember your aunt. Did I know her well?" 

"Not really. We didn't become close until after she left. Besides, I hardly remember her anymore." 

"You don't see her much?" 

"She helped with my... wedding. She helped with my death. Then I was kind of dead to her." Lana shook her head. "Maybe that's not fair. It's not like she doesn't love me. She just doesn't need me in the new life she started. Honestly, she never asked to raise a kid. With me being grown up, I guess her work is done. Smallville was always my parent, really. That town and it's memories and the fact that the Potters and Langs have always been there... that town's my family. It's what I need. I just... I don't know. I realized it too late." 

Lois patted her knee. "I wish I could tell you it wasn't. But rising from the dead is a tricky business. Trust me." 

Lana chuckled slightly. "You never know. You managed it with a name change and a dye job." 

Lois laughed as well. "True. And Clark seems to stay under the radar with glasses and a slightly different hairdo, which still boggles my mind." 

"I heard he had you fooled for a good long while." 

"Hey! You try reconciling that flying man with the spectacled hayseed Clark seems bent on presenting to the world." 

Lana chuckled and pulled a box to her. "Look, this one's cute." She held out a picture of Lois... or Chloe and Linda... or Lois, arms tossed around each other with microphones in their hands. "I think I took that," Lana said, "one of The Talon's karaoke nights." 

Lois laughed. "That is funny. We have such serious rock faces going." 

"Look at this!" They both giggled as Lana pulled out one of Linda force-feeding her cotton candy. "This was Smallville High's homecoming carnival, I think." 

They worked like that for a while, pulling out pictures, Lana telling her the whens and wheres. She couldn't help much with the early childhood pics as Chloe Sullivan had only moved to Smallville at thirteen, but Lana seemed to have an eye for which were most striking and insisted on one Lois had rejected of the two girls, very young, in stiff, frilly Easter dresses and bonnets, looking annoyed. "But we look miserable." 

"That's the point. Linda would probably have a very clear memory about that day if she hated it that much. You guys can have fun with her grousing about it." 

"Linda does enjoy complaining." She glanced at Lana, surprised. "You're kind of good at this memory lane stuff, putting the right ones together and all." 

Lana smiled sadly. "No one knows better than me how important it is to hold on to people while you have them." 

Lois sighed and have her arm a pat before getting up. Lana had a tendency to make happy moments a bit maudlin. Lois was endeavoring to see it as a charming quirk. "Is our pizza ever going to get here?" 

Lana stood as well, stretching. "I think we ordered it more than a half hour ago. Maybe it's free." 

"Not at this place. Bessolo's doesn't do deals, but the wait is worth it. Trust me." 

"You know I really should have paid," Lana said. "Can't believe I can't find my credit card." 

"Don't worry about it," Lois said, mildly irritated, remembering the production Lana had made of looking for it, even to the point of checking Lois' bedroom to see if she'd dropped it while going to use the bathroom. Lois had thought finding Lana looking under her bed was a bit much. "Anyway, you're helping me out," Lois said, gesturing to the stack of photos they'd put aside. "It's only fair I buy dinner." Her buzzer rang out. "Ah! Right on time." She pressed the button. "Be right down." She glanced at Lana as she opened the door. "Be right back." 

Lana was helping and there were moments when it was clear why they might have been friends. With Lana's maudlin tendencies, she was sure she must have had a way of cheering her up. As for Lana, she had such a clearly emotional side that might have sometimes tempered her then, and remaining, tendency to hide her feelings. They weren't very alike, but maybe there was something complementary about their personalities that drew them together then. She'd rather focus on that than Lana's rather strange... Well, she didn't exactly want call it sneakiness. 

But she was damned close to labeling it just that when she came back with the pizza to find Lana on her desktop computer. "Anything interesting?" 

"Oh... I was just... checking my email." Lana stood quickly, her face rather red. 

"Well, you won't have much luck on that one. I use my Planet laptop for internet. The desktop PCs a bit slow. I mostly use it as a storage dump so I don't crowd up the work computer." She placed the pizza down on her dining area's table. "I could get my laptop if you really need to..." 

"Oh, no. It's nothing that can't wait. I was just... bored waiting for that pizza. Smells great." 

She hadn't looked bored when Lois came in. She'd looked rather grim and focused. Lois made a note of taking a closer look at her computer when Lana left. Something in her gut told her to keep smiling for now. "Bessolo's is the Best-olos. At least that's what the box says." Maybe they could eat quick and this strange night could end just a little sooner. 

"I'm sure it is. You were always one to know the best places for takeout and delivery." 

She laughed it off, grabbing some paper plates. "Probably because I'm a terrible cook." 

"Or maybe you're just an expert consumer," Lana said, grinning as she took a seat. 

There it was again. Every time she made up her mind to give Lana a wider berth, Lana seemed to say something that had a certain ring of truth and was also just enough of a compliment to be disarming. She found herself smiling as they ate and talked and even laughed a little more. 

Still, she was glad to shoo a strangely reluctant Lana out an hour later. The night had it's share of ups, but the handful of downs had her tired of swinging back and forth. She was tired in general. It had been a long day anyway, with Perry cracking the whip to get a good story out for Christmas Eve and grousing that the Metropolis Star had a scathing review of Moxie's treatment of its employees. That had nagged at her, too. It was never a good feeling, having a rag like that get the scoop. 

She leaned against the door and glanced at her computer, beat down and wondering if she even felt like seeing if Lana had indeed been checking her email. She started to it, but tripped slightly over a box they hadn't ended up needing. The contents spilled out and she spied a cream colored card with gold lettering, the words Luthor and Lang. She huffed and picked it up, thinking she could still catch Lana if she wanted to set it aflame. 

She moved out the door and to the stairwell. She stopped on the street, spying Lana down the street a bit. She started to call out to her, but stopped herself as Lana sat down on a bus stop bench. She hadn't gone far enough to need to catch her breath. Lois found herself backing to a tree as Lana looked down the other end of the street and stood quickly, fishing in her purse. There was a bus coming, but Lana couldn't be... 

But she was. Lana backed away slightly as the bus pulled over and opened its doors. Then she got on. A bus. 

Lois sidled around the tree, hugging it as the bus moved past her, only moving out to look after it when it was further down her street. It was going downtown, in the opposite direction of The Grand uptown, where Lorna Leery was supposedly staying. 

She moved up her steps in a daze, trying to piece together all the things that didn't add up. Lana was supposedly loaded, but her clothes were frayed, she hardly spent a dime Christmas shopping, her credit card was supposedly missing, she obviously didn't have the tan sedan rental car with her little bus trip and the fact that she'd begged a ride with Lois for Christmas. And Lois seriously doubted she was staying at The Grand. 

Lois crumpled the wedding invite absently in her hand as she trudged back upstairs. She didn't want to suspect her. With all the inherent guilt in knowing that she'd done wrong by Lana in that other life, she'd tried very hard not to, but she just couldn't make that effort anymore. Especially not when her internet history showed Lana hadn't even been on the internet during that supposed email check. 

So what exactly had she been doing? 


PREVIOUS CHAPTER
CHAPTER FIVE