Almost Lovers (Chapter 12)

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Well, here it is. Sorry it took so long to post. I've been all bogged down in real life and writing's just had a back seat.

Now for more intrigue...

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Chapter 12

John Jones. The mysterious disappearing and reappearing John Jones wanted to meet Clark at midnight tomorrow. And Lois had to figure out how to tell him. He was kind of bossy for a telepathic invisible presence. But something told her he was to be trusted, so here she was, downtown and staring at Moxie’s from a bus stop bench, trying to figure it all out. 

She didn’t want to take the chance of showing up at his motel again. She couldn’t just waltz into Moxie’s. Calling for Irving Clemp might draw attention to him. Almost any move she made could blow his cover or get him in trouble with the police. And she wasn’t even sure if he was there yet.

But someone else was. She quickly held up her copy of The Planet as Dan Turpin walked past her. Nothing to see here. Just a woman having some lunch and reading up on the disaster that ruined opening night at Moxie’s. It was a rather sad front page story, but it was the best she could cobble together. She noticed The Star was reporting on the same thing, but with spin that sounded like it came right from management with their generous offer to cover all drycleaning expenses for their elite guests.

Something about those guests still bothered her. That might be worth looking into. She slid her glance carefully over as Turpin stopped some feet away from her, handing a homeless man a coffee. Nice guy. that Turpin. But not so nice he wouldn’t tear Clark a new one if he found her hanging around.

She waited for him to leave… then waited some more. Turpin and the man seemed to be having quite the in-depth conversation. Then she looked closer at the man with his “all foods accepted” sign. He was a bit scruffy, but he looked reasonably clean. She didn’t dare move closer, but she could swear she saw the man hand Turpin something. What’s that about?

She waited until Turpin crossed the street and went into Moxie’s before she stood, grabbing her food and her paper and moving closer to the man. She leaned against the wall next to him, very slowly folding her paper. “Cold day,” she said, tossing the man a glance. Just hanging out, folding a paper, nothing to see.

“No duh. It’s January,” he grunted. 

So not a small-talker? Then what were he and Turpin going on about? Then again, Turpin had given the guy a coffee. Was he an informant? He was certainly well-placed to be. She dug in her purse. “I’m just saying. Maybe that coffee’s not enough to warm you up.”

“I don’t accept cash.” He waved her hand away, then looked down. “I bet you got something that could warm me up real good.”

She drew back clutching her coat’s collar. “Excuse me?”

“What’s in the bag?”

She looked down at her lunch. “Huh?”

“Is it soup? I could go for some soup.”

“It’s a meatball sandwich,” she said dully. She didn’t often go outside midtown for lunch, but Bart had been going on and on about a hole in the wall called Mama Carasella’s and the best meatball sandwich he’d ever had. And he should know.

The man shrugged. “I could go for that, too.”

“Okay. Who are you?”

“I don’t know. I’m too delirious from hunger to communicate and all that.”

Was this man trying to make her bribe him to talk? With a sandwich? Part of her wanted to walk away. She’d actually really been looking forward to this sandwich. But if he seemed to think talking to him was worth her sandwich, then maybe it was. It wasn’t like she couldn’t buy another.

She moved closer and held out the bag. He snatched it up eagerly.

“What’s your name?” she asked for a start.

“People call me Bobby. Some rude individuals add on Bigmouth. I don’t need to ask your name.”

“Oh, really?”

He shrugged and unwrapped her sandwich – which smelled amazing. Damn him. “You’re Lois Lane. Word is you sneeze and Superman flies up to say ‘gesundheit.’”

First Jones, now this guy. She threw up her hands. “Why does everyone…” She took a deep breath. “I only wrote a few articles about the guy,” she said more calmly. Did everyone just think she and Superman were some kind of a thing?

“What can I say? I hear things.”

“What kind of things?” She moved closer. “And what did you hear from Dan Turpin just now?”

Bobby looked up, eyes narrowed. “You must be seeing things wrong. That guy’s name is Jack Drake.”

“My mistake. Don’t know where I got that name,” she said as casually as possible. “Must have been from Irving Clemp.”

“What do you know?” he grunted.

“What do you know?” she countered.

He looked down again. “I see you got another bag there.”

“It’s a caesar salad.”

“I could use some ruffage.”

“Too bad. Unless I get some answers.”

He sighed heavily and leaned in. “Look, I’m not giving out stories about certain things. I’m not that hungry.”

“I’m not looking for a story.”

He scoffed loudly.

“Well, I’m not. I’m looking for a messenger. You hungry enough for that?”

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

“We’re not being paid enough for this,” Cat groaned, brushing plaster dust off her jeans. “This is slave labor.”

“Would you keep it down?” Clark hissed. “You don’t want to get fired, especially now.”

She leaned in. “Now? Why? So I have to put up with this sh*t for even more delayed gratification?”

“Kandy…”

“Well, it was one thing when I had the satisfaction of leaking. Right now, there could be a piece on Mannheim exploiting his employees without holiday pay on New Year’s Day and…”

“And we’re after bigger things than that. Just keep working.”

Cat scoffed. “Well, I will, but not without complaining. A lot.” 

“Fair enough.” She’d been loud about this stuff before, he supposed it would look more suspicious if she stopped complaining.

She tossed down her rag. “But I thought this meant something. Like I had a real job to do here. Now I’m just supposed to keep my ears open and do nothing and they don’t tell us anything… All of you are pussyfooting around here.”

Clark shrugged. “We’re here to observe and we’re barely tolerated. They’re the police, okay?”

“I don’t care if they’re Superman. I want to come out of this with a story.” 

Clark stilled in the middle of sanding. Sawyer and Turpin had Lois’ recordings, but they wouldn’t say anything to him or Cat about them. Just told them to keep their ears open and their heads down. Still, it didn’t bother him the way it did Cat. Or maybe he was just used to Turpin and Sawyer by now. Maybe if Superman stopped by the PD, he’d get a little more cooperation. The idea of hunkering down in some police media room in his uniform seemed silly, but if he had to…

“What are you so happy about, anyway?”

“Huh?” 

“You’re smiling. You’ve been doing it all day and it’s really annoying.”

“I have?” He shrugged, trying to wipe the smile off his face. “Sorry.” He wasn’t aware he’d been smiling. Maybe it was because Ugly Mannheim and company were upset and he couldn’t help thinking he must have done something right last night. Maybe it was because he’d spent the better part of an hour in bed with Lois. Maybe it was some new year’s new hope kind of thing. She had the notebook. Soon, she’d know everything and…

Damn it. Why was he smiling? Lois having the info didn’t mean she’d be jumping into his arms. Hell, her knowing the truth could make things between them even more strained. Also, he was still in deep cover. What if, by the time he came out of this operation, she'd stewed and brooded and decided she wanted nothing to do with him? Then she could jump into that pretty boy’s arms.

And Bruno’s fits of temper could make him even more dangerous. He had a lead room, after all. It was about thirty feet away from Clark right now and he was sitting here sanding water damage spots off a bar. There was nothing to smile about.

“Nothing gets done if you sit around and wait,” Cat said. “You should know that. I’ve read your work. You and… what’s-her-face. You two pretty much jumped in and…”

Clark sighed. “Listen, at the end of this, you’ll have a story you can take to any paper you want or… you know… mine. But the trick is staying alive to write it. These are dangerous men.” And that was true for more than her. He glanced through the office wall again, through to the one he couldn’t see through. 

He hadn’t told anyone about the secret room. It wasn’t like “I couldn’t see through the wall” was a good explanation of how he knew it was there. He hadn’t figured out what to do about it. The fact that it was made of lead meant there could be anything in there. Sometimes, he thought of tearing through it. He couldn’t see through lead, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t rip it apart. But then what?

“We should be doing something more than this,” Cat whispered before walking away as Tiny and Rocco moved through the room.

“I say we stop waiting and make a move,” Tiny was saying lowly enough that only Clark could hear, as if agreeing with Cat. “We don’t need the outside help. We just lure him somewhere. And it’s red. Red for blood. It makes sense.”

“Hey, I’m not arguing. But let’s see you try telling the boss that,” Rocco hissed back. “And for the last time, it’s black. Black like death. That makes the most sense.”

“Well, whatever we do, we should get rid of the green.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I don’t know. It’s like Popeye and spinach, I bet.”

Rocco shrugged. “You might have it there. But what about blue?”

Clark kept his head down, something was coming together. A few days back, he’d heard this red and black argument, but green… They knew. They knew he had a weakness, but not exactly what it was. That was why they seemed so confident about Superman staying away. They had kryptonite in that room. Maybe every kind that he knew of. The only questions were just how much and what he could do about it.

“Hey, what are you doing there?” Rocco yelled.

Clark looked up, but Rocco wasn’t talking to him. He was yelling at a raggedy man in the doorway. And not just anyone – Bobby Big Mouth.

Bobby straightened his ratty jacket. “Pardon the interruption. But I hear you fellas had a little…”

“Aw, get out of here, Big Mouth. We don’t do hand-outs.”

Bobby lifted his chin. “I’m not here for that. I hear you got some work to go around and I might be open to a culinary trade of some kind.”

“Well, we ain’t. This is a top establishment and we don’t allow vagrants in our doors. You’re lucky we let you stay on our block.”

“I have been a staple of the downtown community for decades and I happen to give the place character.” He huffed. “But fine.” He turned to Clark, raising an eyebrow. “Just have your big dumb goon, here, toss me out.”

Rocco started for him. “I’ll toss you out my damned…”

Clark straightened. “I’ll take out this… trash,” Clark finished, coming around the bar. “Call me dumb,” he muttered, gripping Bobby by the coat. “Sorry about this,” he said in a lower voice as he hustled him through the storage room. “But what are you doing?”

“You weren’t coming out for a break and I have an urgent communication.”

“Then why don’t you tell Turpin?” Clark set him down in the side alley. “I’m surprised he let you come in here. These guys could mess you up.”

“Pfft! Tiny and Rocco? They’re idiots. Everyone knows that. Anyhow, this one’s for your ears only.”

“For me?”

“Apparently someone named John Jones wants to see you tomorrow at midnight on top of Luthorcorp Tower.”

Clark drew back. “What?” Despite its commonplace sound, it wasn’t a name he heard every day. Could it be a trap?

“I don’t suppose you have any…”

“I don’t have any food,” he said impatiently. “Who told you this?”

“Eh, never mind. Your girlfriend took care of lunch, anyway.”

“My girlf…”

“Or is that Superman’s girlfriend? You work with her. What’s the story there?”

“You mean Lois?” he hissed.

“We’re working out a standing arrangement.” Bobby shrugged. “Anyway, that’s what she said.”

“John Jones.”

“Yeah. Luthorcorp Tower. Midnight. Oh. She also said she’s not into political types, whatever that means.” Bobby stared at him. “What are you smiling about?”

“Am I smiling?” If he was, he couldn’t wipe it off for anything right now. “Maybe you can give her a message for me…”

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

“And I just can’t apologize enough.” 

Lois sighed and patted Pammie’s arm. “Pammie, it’s fine.” Pammie had called to ask her to meet for lunch near Mikey’s offices. Lois had accepted as she’d been spending her morning covering City Hall, anyway. It wasn’t her usual beat and had actually been Ron Troupe’s territory since he’d started. She could see why he so easily surrendered this fresh new year’s coverage to her. It was dry and boring. But she wasn’t looking for excitement. She was looking for confirmation. And she may have found it.

“But I should apologize. I went and introduced you to the lout,” Pammie said, bringing Lois’ attention back to her as she elbowed her out of the way and insisted on paying for her tuna wrap.

“He’s not a lout and I really am okay.” Pammie had been apologizing up and down for introducing her to Thomas Hart after his abrupt departure from Metropolis. He’d resigned his internship that morning. “It was just a couple dates, really.”

“But I thought it could be more. He seemed so steady. I had no idea he was really so flaky.” 

“He’s not flaky,” Lois assured her as they moved away from the lunch cart. “I don’t know. It’s his home town and he seems to want to clean it up. Maybe New Year’s has that effect on some people. Long put-off resolutions and all that.” She was still working on a resolution to clean her apartment, if she could just stop reading Dear Lois for two seconds. She pushed it from her mind. The day was for work. 

“Still, for him to just up and quit at with all the work to do wrapping up the old year and dump you in the…”

“I don’t feel dumped,” Lois insisted. “It was amicable.”

“Really? He seemed very angry to Mikey.”

Lois stilled. She’d thought so, too. But she’d also assumed she didn’t know him well enough to say so. “How so?”

Pammie turned back. “Well, I wasn’t there, but Mikey said he didn’t seem like himself. Just angrier, moodier.”

“That seems to be going around this year.” She’d been looking into that herself, besides recording all those budget meetings on her dinky old tape recorder, she’d been observing and confirming a little theory about new year hissyfits plaguing Metropolis’ best and brightest, though not for a story. She knew well enough not to get in the way of Maggie Sawyer. This was for Clark, for some insight into what had gone on inside that club before he drenched the joint.

She’d tried to see Anita Fleming, the mayor’s top assistant and been rejected, though with a hefty side of gossip about what a prize ***** she was being from several of the interns. It was also “not like her.” The same could be said of the assistant DA and the head of Galaxy Communications. They, along with Tom, all had one thing in common: New Year’s Eve at Moxie’s. Extended case of holiday doldrums? She rather doubted it.

She wasn’t sure what to do with this information, except bring it to Clark. Was this important enough for her to make use of her hungry messenger? Or was she just looking for an excuse to see him? Still, she could also ask him about the mysterious disappearing and reappearing John Jones he would be meeting with tonight. That might make it important enough.

“Anyway, rest assured,” Pammie was saying, “the next time I set you up, he will be fully vetted and…”

“Why don’t you hold off on that just now? I’m not exactly looking for…”

“I knew it,” Pammie cut in miserably. “I knew it for a fact. He did crush your heart.”

“No, Pammie, I swear. Thomas did not crush my anything. I just…” She took a deep breath, then decided, if she could talk to anyone safely, it was Pammie. “Maybe I was kind of relieved. Maybe I was on my way to explaining to Tom that it couldn’t work out. I mean, I’m… I’m not sure I felt for him as much as… maybe… someone else,” she finished lamely. 

Pammie gasped. “You mean Kent? Oh, wait, it’s Clark… but it’s still Kent, isn’t it? I mean, even if it’s not Kent Cameron anymore. Clark Kent.” Pammie nodded to herself. “Anyway, I knew it.”

“You did not,” Lois scoffed as they took a bench. 

“I did so.”

“You just said you knew for a fact my heart was broken.”

“Well… I did so know this. In fact, some time ago, I was telling you that partner of yours were definitely more than coworkers.”

“Yeah. Well, I know that, too. I just can’t figure just how much more.” Reading that Dear Lois notebook, it was all so overwhelming. Sometimes, she had to take a mental step away just to keep reading, see Chloe Sullivan as some other person. His feelings for her were so intense, it seemed, and she hardly knew what she felt for him.

“Well, maybe you could take him for a test drive,” Pammie said. “Why overthink it?”

Lois let out a hoarse laugh. “Not overthinking is not exactly a strong suit for me.” Hell, she couldn’t turn it off long enough to get past Chloe Sullivan’s summer away in Maine. “And I don’t know if Clark is the test drive type. It seems like it’s all or nothing. And there’s history between us, not all of which I fully understand. Then again, he just seems so sure of us. Sometimes, I think I should just go along for the ride with him. Just forget the past.”

“Well, popular thinking would say that’s the way to go,” Pammie said unwrapping her lunch. “Drop the baggage.”

“And what do you say?”

Pammie shrugged. “Considering you’re talking to an ex druggie and thief, I’d usually agree. But I also wouldn’t want to see you hurt. I can’t tell you what to do.”

Lois shook her head and chuckled. “Then what good are you?”

Pammie shrugged again. “Free lunch? By the way, does it still count as healthy if I asked for extra mayo. I mean, I did ask for extra lettuce, too. You heard me.”

Lois laughed, wondering what Martha Kent would say. “I don’t think lettuce has enough nutritional value to counteract the…” She trailed off, something catching her eye across the street. A woman waiting for the bus. And not just any woman. “Just a second.” She fumbled in her purse for the digital camera Jimmy lent her… or more begged her to take so she didn’t drag him to boring meetings at City Hall. It had a telephoto lens that allowed her to get a good shot even if she got stuck at the back. She hadn’t cared much for it when trying to get an okay shot while tottering on a chair during Councilman Weller’s meeting on monorail plans. But she was glad to have it right now.

Because that was Lana Lang, clutching a coffee at a crowded bus stop. She sidled up to a tree and snapped a picture, not even sure why she was doing it. Then she took another and another before the bus obscured her view. “No,” she hissed, moving around, trying to get another look. She saw Lana again, her coat falling open as she stepped onto the bus in… it almost looked like she was wearing pajamas. Baby pink pants with a mint green top. She snapped a few more and made sure she got the bus. It was the 87. Where did that go? And why was Lana boarding it wearing what Lois was sure were medical scrubs?

Pammie appeared next to her. “What was that about?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.”

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

Clark wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he wasn’t finding it. “Play it again,” he said… or Superman said. “And try to isolate the whine from the voice.”

“What whine?” the technician asked, peering at him, “um… I mean, what whine, Mr. Superman… Sir?”

Clark pursed his lips. He’d told the man several times not to waste time standing on ceremony. It wasn’t like he was anyone’s boss. He’d actually been surprised Sawyer was letting him have a listen to the recordings. He leaned forward, pointing at the squiggly lines on the monitor. “See that? There’s a low whine underneath Mannheim’s speech. It starts shortly after the sound of a door closing.”

“You hear that?”

“I hear everything.”

“That is so flipping cool!”

Clark kind of wanted to tell the guy to stop with the wonderment, as that was kind of a waste of time as well, but he just gestured to the screen. Sawyer and company were working on leads from what was overheard at the bar, matching thugs with politicians and businessmen, who was in bed with who, what was enough to bring someone in.

The reporter in him found it all interesting, but since they hadn’t shared anything with Clark Kent as Irving Clemp, he’d decided to ignore it all and focus on what was most interesting to Superman. Mannheim’s speech, as far as they all knew, was just a speech. They’d dismissed it when they found it was no more than posturing. But Clark saw something more in it -- distraction. 

He was slowly putting a timeline together from what he saw and what he now heard. That whine started soon after Johnny “Stitches” Denetto shut himself in the lead room.

“I hear it now,” the tech said. “Yeah. It’s like a low, electrical hum.”

Maybe to him, but to Clark it sounded painfully loud. “Turn it off, please,” he said trying not to sound pained. 

The tech did, then turned to him. “So what does that mean? They have a generator or…”

“No.” Clark shook himself. “I don’t know.” All he knew for sure was that something had been happening and he wasn’t sure what. But he wanted to have some idea before he met with John Jones. He knew the deal with John Jones, even having seen him a few times. Jones had some agreement with Jor-El. Jones watched over him. But he only stepped in when there was real danger. He wasn’t sure what to think of this meeting, either. He only knew that he wanted to come prepared. 

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

Lois was more than ready to go home by six, but not just because her day had been a miserable mass of City Hall reports. It was because she had answers waiting there… maybe.

Yet she felt almost guilty. 

It wasn’t as if she hated the woman. It wasn’t as if she was actively going after Lana… except for how she kind of was. Anyway, all she did was snap a few pictures. Then she plugged in and uploaded and emailed them to herself before she deleted them. Then she also looked up the 87 bus route and found its major stops were City Hall and Belle Reve. And now she was going home to finally dig up that program Victor wrote for her and see what Lana had done on her computer.

And it was her computer. It wasn’t like it meant she was gunning for Lana in looking up a few things on her own personal PC. 

Either way, as she moved through the DP’s lobby, stopping to grab a latte, she felt conflicted. Maybe Lana had just fallen on hard times. Maybe she made a few bad investments. Maybe she was making ends meet working at Belle Reve and just didn’t want anyone to know how hard up she was. 

Yet something in her told her to look closer. And she would. Just as soon as she got home… which would be much easier if Bobby Big Mouth wasn’t leaning against her car.

“Finally,” he groaned, pushing off her door. “Thought you’d be in there forever. Don’t you get out at five?”

“Not if my articles aren’t in bed,” she answered, peering closely at him. “How do you know when I get out? And how do you know that’s my car?”

He shrugged. “I know lots of things. What can I say? Anyway, one Irving Clemp happens to…”

“Did you give him my message?”

“Course I did!” Bobby looked affronted. “And I got a message back if you let me give it. Been trying to give it all day. Why the hell were you at City Hall? That’s Troupe’s new beat.”

She didn’t even bother asking how he knew that. “What’s the message?”

“He wonders if you’ll be home about one in the a.m.”

She drew back. She’d wanted to meet with him. But for Clark to ask… “Why?”

“I dunno. Maybe he’s sweet on you.”

She found herself blushing. “Well, that’s just…”

“Listen, if this is some kinda dating game with you two, I ain’t playing. That was the message and you got it,” he said abruptly. But he didn’t leave.

She glanced down at her cup. “Do I get to keep my coffee?”

He plucked it out of her hand. “Afraid not.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Thanks to AV for the beta work, picking up on all my little booboos.