Banner by Summerstar882
PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Chapter 11
Somewhere, way deep in the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this. It was hard to think of why when she sighed against his lips and looped her arms tighter around his neck, bringing their bodies closer together. But there was a reason. Right now, he couldn’t be bothered with it.
He’d been angry when he’d come in, angry and saddened and more than a little defeated. But he wasn’t angry at her, not even over the notebook. Hell, it was written to her. He was angry at himself for all the ways he failed with her.
Even as they talked, he’d felt that hanging over every word. Sometimes, when he’d been writing, he’d thought she’d read it and see that he’d loved her and still did, that she’d loved him and she could love him again. Other times, after recounting other moments, he felt she’d despise him and maybe he deserved it.
That was how he felt before he pressed the notebook into her hand, images of Thomas, Thomas who she was “dating,” flashing through his mind. How the hell was he supposed to go back to work, watch that man with her, picking her up for dinner, dropping her off in the morning, maybe even in the same clothes he’d picked her up in? Was he supposed to stick around for that?
As much as The Planet felt like a sort of home to him now, the main draw had been, and still remained, her. Being close to her, protecting her, working with her as he always had. He didn’t need it, did he? It was always her that pushed him into reporting. It meant less without her. But how much worse would it be to see her every day, know that it was over – and for real.
But all that was before he touched her. That was when everything else went away, replaced by the feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her. He felt nearly drunk on her, greedy for her. She was his and he damned well wanted her to know it.
One hand slid to the small of her back, keeping her tight against him, while the other slipped over the silky fabric of her dress, feeling the dip of her waist, her hip, all the places that seemed forbidden because… He couldn’t think why now. Nothing was forbidden. She was his.
He took the kiss deeper, tasting the coffee she must have had not too long ago. She’d be up all night now. She might as well stay here and… What the hell was wrong with him?
He pulled away, looking around at the trashy room. This was no place for her.
But her hands fisted in his hair and she pulled. He went down, all the way down, falling to the bed with her.
*********************
Much like snooping, kissing Clark was not the plan. But planning was overrated. She was almost positive she’d always thought so. And as much as sliding her lips over his and her hands up his shirt and – God, yes! – feeling the shift of his muscles under his skin always seemed like a bad idea, it never seemed that way in the middle of it.
She tugged weakly at his dress shirt only to have him rise up over her, rip it off, and fling it across the room before bending to her again, lips finding her neck this time, sucking at the skin where her pulse thrummed until it was nearly pounding.
“Oh, Jesus,” she gasped.
She heard him chuckle against her skin. “Wrong name. Try again.” He bit lightly at her earlobe. “Say my name,” he breathed.
She almost wanted to roll her eyes, but she said it. “Clark.” It was almost a weak mewl as his hand trailed down the front of her dress, gathered the skirt, began sliding up her thigh. She shook as his fingers found her clit through her panties without hesitation. There was something about this that seemed too far, too fast. But there was something about him, too, something different, something hard to resist.
And what was the point of resisting him, resisting that strange pull always there between them? Why was she torturing herself? She wanted him. He wanted her. Why was she wasting time with another man when…
She stilled the shaking hand that had been blindly working on his belt. Earlier tonight, she’d been on a date, contemplating whether she’d end up in this very place with another man. And now… “I’m seeing someone,” she gasped, placing that same hand against his chest, pushing.
But he didn’t budge. “So stop,” he said.
“I can’t just…”
He took the hand against his chest, slid his lips over the sensitive skin between her fingers. “I don’t see a ring.”
“Well, no, but…”*
His mouth moved down. “Forget him.” His teeth grazed her wrist. “I don’t think that’ll be too hard. Do you?”
She weakly shook her head, barely aware she was doing it. But it was true, wasn’t it? Every touch, even kiss, she compared to Clark.
“So why don’t you just concentrate on me?” His lips moved down her arm, lingering in the bend of her elbow. She felt one hand under her, sliding her zipper down.
This wasn’t like him. He was usually so… not like this. Then again, what was she like tonight? Rolling around with him in a cheap motel, forgetting every reason they shouldn’t. If she could just think for a moment… “Wait.”
“I think we’ve waited long enough.”
“It’s almost three in the morning,” she tried.
“Exactly. You shouldn’t be out this time of night,” he breathed against her shoulder. “Just stay here.”
“You’re under cover,” she tried.
His lips slid to her collarbone. “So I don’t think I’ll tell Turpin and Sawyer about this.”
“But if someone sees me…”
He nudged the front of her dress down. “You’re with me. I’ll fly you home before anyone sees.”
“That sounds… fine.” Well, she’d tried. If there was no actual reason to leave, then why should she?
He chuckled against her skin.
“What?”
He drew back, exposing the wires probably embedded in her skin by now. “That’s some interesting underwear.”
“Oh.” She laughed as well. “I’m wired for sound.”
“I was wondering about you wearing that ugly old… Where did you get that?”
“Mitzi sent out Christmas…”
He was suddenly gone, pressed against the opposite wall.
“Clark? What…”
“Someone needs to confiscate that woman’s beads,” he said, running a shaky hand through his hair.
She sat up. “I know it’s not pretty,” she said, moving toward him, “but is it that much of a mood killer? I thought…”
“No. Lois. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have...”
“Don’t be sorry. You were right. Why are we doing this to ourselves when we…”
“It’s red kryptonite, Lois,” he said in a rush.
She stopped, startled, looking down at the pin. “Red kryptonite. You mean…” She stared at it. “So this is the one that... the drug or…”
“Yes. Basically. Could you take it off?”
She shook her head. “But Mitzi’s not from Smallville.”
“Maybe not, but those red beads are. So could you…”
“She said she got these from Ebay.”
“Yeah. Chances are from a seller in Smallville,” he panted.
Darned if they don't shine like rubies, Mitzi had said. They did. But she’d never thought they were more than some cheap rock. “Now I get it,” she breathed, sitting hard on the bed. “That potluck when you were…” She gestured to Clark. “Well, you were kind of like this. Then you suddenly went all crazy and threw out my pin and…”
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said, looking everywhere but at her. “But could you please take it off?” His eyes met hers then, dark and sort of hungry.
Suddenly, she didn’t want to take it off. She wanted to pull him back to the bed and over her and damn the consequences. Maybe this stuff worked on people, too. Or maybe that was just him.
Either way, she carefully pulled it off, disconnecting her microphone and moving to the door, she started to throw it as far away as she could when she stopped herself. She couldn’t just toss it. Still, she stood there a moment, letting the wintry air cool her overheated skin before she closed the door.
“You didn’t…”
“No,” she said softly, taking her purse from the dresser and dropping it in. “I don’t think we should leave this kind of stuff just lying around, do you?” She started to pull out her wires, aware of his eyes on her, before she stuffed them in her purse as well. “I’ll have a talk with Mitzi. Maybe tell her those red beads have some kind of radioactive properties. I don’t know. It’s not exactly a lie.” She sighed and zipped her purse closed before tossing it to the corner, hoping that was far enough away from him. She reached back to zip up her dress. “So what is it about this stuff, anyway?” she grunted, trying to get it up. “It just makes you just grab the nearest woman and...”
“No. Not always.” He was pulling a T-shirt on. “Did you want me to…”
“Yes. Fine.” She tried not to sound annoyed that all unclothed parts of this evening were over. She moved to his side of the room and turned her back to him. “So it’s like a drug?”
“The closest I can get to one,” he said, zipping her the rest of the way up. But he didn’t move away. “It makes me do things I normally would stop myself from, say things I usually wouldn’t.”
“So it’s like an alien aphrodisiac,” she said, still not turning around.
“No. It’s not just about sex.”
“But I read some of your book. With me, it seems…”
“Well, that's with you – almost only with you.”
She did turn, then, looking down at her watch before she met his eyes. “You know, it’s midnight in California.”
He looked down at her watch, too, moving closer if possible. “Yeah?”
“I mean, I didn’t even get to ring it in here,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to his lips.
“That was probably my fault with the…”
She gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down because she wasn’t about to wait forever for him to get the hint. “Happy new year,” she whispered against his lips.
“Happy…” He didn’t finish. To be fair, she wasn’t letting him.
She slid her hands to his cheeks, fitting her lips to his over and over. She didn’t care how this started. She didn’t care that it was late. She didn’t care where they were. None of those things really mattered, just tiny, insignificant details when compared to what she knew now.
She wanted him, then and now, whoever she was. There was no one she wanted more than him. There was no one he wanted more than her. It was pointless fighting it, pointless pretending the two of them could be nothing more than friends. It wouldn’t work. It never had. She hadn’t read all of that notebook, but she’d read enough to know that.
His hands moved to her waist and, for a moment, it seemed like he’d push her away. She moaned with deep satisfaction when he pulled her closer instead, gathering her against him until her toes barely brushed the floor. His mouth moved over hers almost greedily. She knew the feeling.
He’d said he couldn’t watch her be happy with anyone else and, damn it, the feeling was mutual. All that Grant woman had done was call him a stupid pet name and she’d been torn between a cat fight and running off in a snit.
It wasn’t like these feelings would just go away. They had been there from the start. That letter she’d found, that he’d made sure she found. She’d told herself it was meaningless, written by a silly girl with a hopeless crush. But that wasn’t all there was to it. That girl had reason to hope, hadn’t she? Maybe she wasn’t such a silly girl. Maybe she knew things that the woman she became could barely grasp, that there was something between them.
She ran her tongue lightly along his lower lip, reveling in his gasp and the way his hands tightened, pulling her up against him and walking them both to the bed.
Then he stopped – everything. “Clark…”
“I’m s…”
“Don’t you dare say sorry,” she breathed, unwanted frustration creeping into her haze. “I want this. I want you.”
His hands loosened. “I know, but it’s not right to…”
She held on tight. “It’s not right to stop this. Not now.”
“But…”
“No buts. No more waiting. You said…”
“I wasn’t thinking then. I am now.”
“Well, I wish you wouldn’t,” she groaned, giving up and letting her feet touch the floor. She couldn’t hold herself up indefinitely without his cooperation. And Clark was clearly not cooperating right now. He let her go and she pushed at his chest, anyway, needing the satisfaction of it. “Okay. Fine. Bad idea.”
“I didn’t say…”
”I mean, I read it all in black and white. I obviously got it wrong. I tend to do that. You and me is only something you do on some drug-induced bender or…”
“Is that what you think?”
“I don’t even know what to think,” she snapped, snatching up her purse and moving to the door. “I can’t think about this right…”
“But you need to think about this,” he said, appearing in a whoosh of air, blocking her path. “And I need you to know. If this is just some other time we fall into bed… We can’t just do that again, Lois. I need you to be sure of me the way…”
“But I am.”
“You’re not. You don’t know what you should yet.”
“I know we can’t just be friends. Isn’t that enough?”
“No. I…” He sighed and shook his head. “I need to say this right. See, I've had all this trouble lately, trouble knowing what to do, who I am, and I every time I feel like I’m getting there, there’s always one thing missing and that’s you.” His gaze was steady on hers. “It keep thinking ‘can I do this without you?’ And I probably can, could just get through it. Buts that's all it would be because it means less. I need you. I always have, Lois. Whatever your name happens to be, it’s always you. Without you, I’m never sure of myself. Without you, I have nothing to work for, to fight for. You were always there – to talk to, to fight with, to carry some of this burden. You mean…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “You mean so much more than you think you do. And I know this is a lot to put on you. You okay, there?”
She nodded, though she wasn’t quite sure. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I need you in my life.” He moved away, bent to pick up the notebook before he moved back to her. “I’m saying, if we do this, we do it right this time, not halfway. We don’t work that way.” He pressed the book into her free hand… and lingered. “The fact is, I want nothing more than to pick up where we left off,” his eyes met hers with a brief flash of red, “except this. You need to know everything.” He backed away. “And you need to go before…”
“Before what?” She waited for his eyes to meet hers.
“Before I decide that’s all bullsh*t and tear that pretty dress to ribbons,” he said, his eyes clearing and voice rather shaky as he backed further away.
She wasn’t feeling so steady herself. “Who’d want that?”
He sat on the bed, looking disoriented. “You should probably take that pin to Victor. He’ll know what to do.”
“Yes. Good. Good idea.” She put her purse on her shoulder because she was leaving, definitely leaving. She really did like this dress. Didn’t she?
“Lois?”
“I’m going.” To her credit, she did.
*************************
New years, new starts… It had always seemed like a load of bull. The big change was nothing more than taking out a fresh calendar and remembering to write different digits. But she felt it now. Twenty four hours ago, she’d been dating a politician and preparing to break a big story and now she had to let both go. It wasn’t something she could have predicted.
She stopped in front of Thomas’ building and stared up. She’d walked here as well as to meet with Perry this morning, with so many streets blocked off for the New Year’s parade route. It was an annoyance, but she’d been glad for the extra time to think.
She hadn’t read any more of the notebook. She’d mostly just stared at it. It seemed so big and scary, all that truth just sitting there, and she had to keep checking with herself, wondering if she was ready. Clark seemed to think reading it was some deciding factor in whether or not she wanted to be with him. The idea of that was big and scary, too.
Part of her had wanted to rush back to his trashy motel room and forget everything and let him tear her dress off. The other part was terrified. How was he so sure of her, of them, that this could work?
The only thing she’d been sure of was that she had to break it off with Tom. She hated the idea of it, brushing off a perfectly nice man this way, but it was the only thing to do.
She stared at the elevator panel, wondering if she should have waited until tomorrow. Hadn’t she had enough unpleasant tasks today? She’d had to lie to Perry this morning, claiming the sprinklers going off at Moxie’s ruined her recording device. They’d planned to go over the sound bites together, but that became impossible after some of them included Clark. Perry couldn’t know what was going on. She had to pretend to forget what she’d seen. It was more important the police got what they needed.Damn it!
She comforted herself with the idea that, once it was over, they’d have a story. It wasn’t much comfort, considering she wouldn’t be on the byline. But she supposed Perry would be happy then. And she supposed all she got was the satisfaction of a very unselfish start to the new year. Damn it again!
She didn’t know what to do with the recordings. Giving them to Victor meant him knowing about Clark’s investigation. She’d only handed over the pin early this morning, told him she suspected it was red meteor rock, but not why. She was still mulling that over herself, the change in Clark in its presence.
She’d read about it before he came in, read the story of two high school juniors, trying to forget what had happened between them one strange summer. That was strange enough, but there was more to the story. Many two-sided pages of cramped writing waiting in a marble composition book.
Was she ready to know it all?
The elevator dinged and opened on the fourteenth floor as if to remind her to focus on this, just on this, one thing at a time. She would think about her and Clark later, what to do to help him if she could later. She didn’t need to figure it all out this second. She needed to focus on Thomas.
It’s really not you. It’s me. Was that still an awful line when it was true? He was amazing. He was handsome, rich, kind, upwardly mobile. He was probably perfect. It was her that was the issue, with a strange past and a confusing man she just couldn’t let go of. Should she tell him there was someone else? She didn’t know if it would help or hurt? Then again, maybe he wouldn’t be hurt. It was only a few dates. It wasn’t like they were picking out the good china together.
She sighed and shifted her coffees to one hand before raising her hand to the door. One double shot peppermint latte for her and pumpkin latte for him. She thought pumpkin lattes were horrid, but he’d seemed to like them on their first lunch, complaining that they weren’t a year-round thing. It had actually turned into a kind of spirited debate as to whether peppermint or pumpkin was the Christmas coffee. It ended on him accusing her of coffee snobbery and her agreeing.
She smiled sadly as she knocked. That was when she’d first decided she might like this ken doll of a politician Pammie foisted off on her. She still did. Just not enough.
“Happy new…” She trailed off when he opened the door, holding out his coffee rather awkwardly. “Are you okay?”
“Lois, I… I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Maybe I should have called. Are you okay?” she repeated.
He took it, looking rather dazed. “I’m fine. I just… wasn’t expecting you.”
“You just said that.”
“Oh. Yeah. Well, I’m great. Probably never better.”
“You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I haven’t.” He sighed and opened the door fully. “I’m sorry. Come in. And it’s me who should have called you. I… I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
“About what?” She followed him in, looking around the place. It was a mess, not the pristine, organized place she’d seen the other night. There were scattered boxes. “Is this spring cleaning or…”
“I didn’t want to tell you, tell anyone just yet,” he broke in. “I didn’t want anyone to talk me out of it because… I have to go. Don’t you see?”
She opened her mouth several times. “I… Go where?”
“You were right before,” he said, pacing amid the mess. “I need to be in Gotham. I haven’t given up.”
“Well…”
“And I like you, Lois. Hell, I more than like you. But it’s not… It’s not enough for me to stay here. I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. She’d come over here to break it off, but this was so strange, so… “This is kind of sudden,” she finally said, feeling she had to say something.
”Maybe. But it’s the right thing to do. You live in Metropolis. This city is… it’s like Utopia compared to Gotham.” He stopped, his face rather red. “It’s a cesspool and no one knows that better than me. I had it all wrong. I thought it would be better, being somewhere like this. But what good does that do? Running away. That’s the easy way out. I need to fix things. I just have to figure out how.”
She shook her head. “I can’t argue with that, Tom. It’s just… you seem so…” It was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but something had happened.
“Different, right? Changed. I feel that way. Like this new year means I’m… brand new, I have a new purpose, a new mission,” he said, his eyes rather intense. “I mean it’s never too late, right?”
She wasn’t sure what to say, torn between being supportive and wary. “No. Of course not. Like a Nicodemus kind of thing.”
“Nicodemus?”
“Uh… I always have lots of weird information floating around in here.” She gestured weakly to her head. “It’s a biblical thing. This older, wealthy, learned man, a Pharisee they say, who listened to Jesus and struggled with the idea of being born again when you’re old. I don’t know. I’m not extremely religious, but it’s... Not that you’re old, either.” She was babbling.
"Born again, like walking through fire and coming out new," he said. "I like that."
“Well, that's not what he..." She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It’s good you feel so passionately about your city,” she finished, trying to fall on the supportive side.
“I do.” He nodded. “This is what I need to do.”
She nodded as well. There was no point breaking up with him when he’d done it for her. “I hope you can change things.” She moved to him, trying to figure out if she should shake his hand or kiss his cheek. In the end, she just handed him the coffee.
She felt kind of dazed, walking around the city, already crowded with the start of the parade. She supposed she should feel relieved that she hadn’t had to hurt him. She wasn’t hurt herself, just concerned at the change in him.
Maybe Gotham would be lucky to have him back. There weren’t a lot of honest politicians in the world. Still, she felt uneasy.
She shook it off and joined the crowds on the curb. She had a day off and a peppermint latte and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually stopped to watch a parade rather than grumble at the traffic hassles.
It wasn’t so bad. Met U’s band and color guard were in fine form. And it was almost unspeakably adorable when a group of John Byrne Elementary stranger-danger squad come through, all dressed as Superman. Clark might get a kick out of that. She’d tell him if she could find a safe way to without ruining his cover. That was another worry. How was she supposed to contact Clark now?
“I’m wondering the same thing,” a deep voice said in her ear.
She stiffened. She hadn’t said that out loud.
“Don’t be alarmed,” that same voice said calmly.
“It’s kind of hard not to be,” she said, staring as a tiny “Superman” with a mask and blonde pigtails “flew” nearer the crowd, “considering you just read my mind.”
“I didn’t mean to intrude. But I thought a display of power might be the quickest way to get your attention and assure you I’m someone to be trusted.”
She laughed. “That means less than nothing. There’s a whole asylum filled with people of the powered persuasion.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckled. “I need you to contact Superman for me.”
“Superman?”
“Yes. I have information that he needs and I am having trouble finding him.”
“What makes you think I can help you? Why don’t you just dangle from a window and scream for help?”
“I don’t play games. And the one they call The Flash has been less than cooperative in telling me his whereabouts.”
“Well, I’m sorry. But I don’t have a way of contacting Superman,” she said carefully. It was almost the truth.
“I don’t wish to invade your mind if I don’t have to. I’ve been away, but I don’t think things have changed that much, Miss… Lane. You have always been the best means of contacting Kal-El.”
“How do you know that?” she breathed. “How do you know me?”
“I don’t, really. We’ve never met. Not now or… before.”
She did turn, then. And she could swear she caught a glimpse of a tall, dark-skinned man before he disappeared – literally!
“I am trying not to intrude more than necessary,” she heard. That same voice again.
“This is not happening!”
Several people turned to her.
She laughed. “Can’t find my keys. Can you believe it?” She moved away from the crowd, not sure where to go, considering she was being stalked by an invisible presence that could read her mind. She’d be kind of jealous of that skill set if she wasn’t terrified.
“I’m not trying to scare you,” the voice said again.
“And yet you’re succeeding,” she muttered, “so good job there.”
That same voice sighed. “Very well. Bus stop enclosure. To your left.”
She looked over, saw a man standing there, a tall, black man with close-cropped hair and a leather coat. He met her eyes briefly before he looked off, just over the heads of the people crowded off the curb, as if watching the parade.
She approached cautiously, figuring she had no choice. He was a telepath who could turn himself invisible who seemed to know more about both her and Superman than he should. There was actually no escape.
“So why do you need my help?” she asked, moving to stand next to him, pretending to watch the parade as well, though she couldn’t see over heads as easily as he could. “Why can’t you find Superman yourself? You found me pretty easily.”
“I’ve been away. And Humans are easier to track.”
“You say that as if you aren’t one.”
“That shouldn’t be so surprising to you with all you’ve seen, even with what you don’t remember.”
“How do you know all this?” she hissed.
“I don’t want you to feel threatened. I observe. I have for years. I watch over Kal-El. I usually don’t interfere, but he needs my help now. I need you to arrange a meeting.”
“And how do I know you wouldn’t…”
“He knows who I am, Miss Lane. Just tell him John Jones requests a meeting at the top of Luthorcorp Plaza.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Well, we say goodbye to Thomas Hart/Nicodemus who will appear in the future and, sadly, not as a good guy.
It was rather hard, really, figuring out why a guy that burns people alive would call himself Nicodemus. There's no real connection. I think the Batman writers just thought it was a cool name. So I wanked up what kind of parallel I could and let our heroine continue her proud tradition of naming most of the heroes and villains.
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