Almost Lovers (Chapter Twenty)

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PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Now for a fight. It might get a little meta at times, it also might call back to other parts of this series.

Just getting that way as we rush to conclusion.

Thanks so much to Silversnikle/AV for her beta services! When I get over-excited, I tend to write so quickly, I forget entire words, so it’s really appreciated.

Chapter Twenty

“You punched me!”

“Had to get it while it hurt.” Lois stood, jerking her robe closed. “Probably should have woke you up earlier, got in a few then. Bad planning. I’ll work up something better for next time you nearly get yourself killed.”

“I said I was…”

“Yes. Sorry. You say it a lot. I think I get it.” She opened the curtains and stared at her hand, shaking it out.

“Let me see your…”

“Last I checked, you weren’t a nurse.” She stalked out of the room and toward the kitchen. “I’ll get some ice. It’s fine.” And the last thing she wanted was Clark nursing her wounds. She shut the freezer.

And there he was!

She jumped, dropping her ice tray in the sink. “Don’t do that!”

He tucked her sheet in around his waist. “You’re mad at me.”

“That’s some real observation there.” She scooped a few ice cubes out, rubbing them over her knuckles. “You should be a reporter.”

“If you’re so mad, then why did we just…”

“Because I was sick of waiting!” she burst out, tossing her ice to the sink. “I was sick of you acting like us having sex, which we’ve done before this, by the way, was hinging on this condition that this,” she gestured wildly between them, “is perfect and forever or whatever the hell it is you want. We’re dating Clark. That,” she jabbed a finger at the bedroom, “is a part of it. So is going on dates and water cooler talk. But all we have are long, thinky talks about destiny because you have to make everything so complicated!”

His lips thinned. “Maybe we need those talks.”

“No, we don’t. Not if they’re getting in the way of actually living,” she said tiredly. “Oh, forget it. I need a shower.” She pushed past him, making her way to the bedroom, not even kidding herself that he wasn’t going to follow.

“Lois, we need to talk about…”

“Clark, save it.” She moved into the bathroom and turned on her shower. “I have things to do today and so do you. Obviously, I don’t have to worry we have nothing for the Sunday edition. Thanks to you.”

He leaned on her sink. “If that’s about Moxie’s, I told you on new year’s…”

“It’s not!” Or maybe it was. Just a little. “Great job. Kudos! Could you move?” He did and she muttered as she put toothpaste on her brush. “At least someone’s getting stories. Mine haven’t exactly panned out, wasting time with--” she stopped herself. “Bad leads,” she finished. She wasn’t talking to Clark about Lana or Lex. That was a whole other fight and not one she wanted to have today.

She brushed her teeth… or tried to, knowing he was staring at her with big, sad eyes. She groaned and spat. “Fine. Go on. Say what you want.” Might as well let him get his stupid speeches out of the way while her mouth was tied up.

He took a deep breath, as if he’d been saving up a speech. Knew it. “We weren’t ready yet. We should have talked about what it meant…”

“Oh, please.” She spat again, grabbing her mouthwash. “What it meant.” She was not about to floss with an audience. “It meant we’re young, healthy, and attracted to each other. Hell, if you think about it, we were more ready than we’ve ever been.” She gargled quickly, hoping he didn’t have time to start up again, as she actually wasn’t in the mood for a speech.

“But there’s more between us than what’s going on now and…”

“Were we ready when we were on assignment? Or in a dirty cave before I knew any of the things I know now? That was the time to check your libido. Not now.” 

He sighed. “I shouldn’t have touched you, then. I knew, deep down, it was the wrong…”

“No!” She put a hand up. “No. Do not turn this into another deep thought. The point is that I was sick of you putting me off. It’s like the only way to get you into bed is to get you to stop talking for two seconds.” She winced. “God! Now I feel like a jerk.” She shook her head. “Stop making me feel like a jerk.” She pulled back the curtain to check the water. Barely warm. “Stupid, old buildings. I just had to have pre-world-war-two…”

“You know what? Maybe you should feel like a jerk,” he said, sounding a little petulant to her. “You said you read everything and that’s obviously not true.”

“Oh, that was true. I read every last moody, navel-gazing word,” she hissed, turning back to him. “How the hell did you become a journalist, anyway?”

“Mostly because of you,” he said tightly. 

“Well, apparently, I forgot to school you on not constantly derailing the action to self-explore. You needed massive edits.”

“Well, it wasn’t supposed to…” He shook his head. “Don’t change the subject! You misled me on purpose to… get me into bed..”

“How the hell do you figure that?”

“You said you didn’t care what happened in the past.”

“I don’t! I seriously don’t. But you do. In fact, that seems to be all you care about. Ugh!” She shrugged off her robe and stepped in the shower, jerking the curtain closed. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

And he opened it. “I told you you’d resent me.”

“And I told you I might get mad. Turns out I am. Now, either close that or get in. It’s winter, for God’s sake!”

He dropped her sheet and stepped over the tub. “I’m only getting in to wash my hair.”

“Fine.”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

She snorted as she squirted out some shampoo. “I wasn’t offering.” She shoved the bottle at his chest.

“Good.”

She turned away. “But don’t act like you wouldn’t.”

“Right now, I definitely…”

“Please! You’re at half-mast,” she sneered. “That’s right. I looked.”

“Of course you did. I’m only good for one thing. Everything else about me…”

“Don’t even…” She huffed and turned around. “Maybe I pushed the sex because I had to remind myself I’m attracted to you. It was pretty easy to forget after reading your little tome, with you mea-culpa-ing all over the place.”

“It was not…”

“Well, there was that entire two page break where you dissected all the ways my memory loss was definitely a nefarious plan. Then right back to self-flagellation starring me as your guilty little project.”

“What?”

“It means whipping, Clark.”

“I know what it means! I was talking about...”

“I’m not your responsibility. I make my own decisions. Okay? Even mistakes. I get to make them. I made a mistake using Grady's methods, but it was mine to make! I have the right!”

“I never said you didn't!”

“The worst part is that I didn’t want to know! But this is what you wanted! So, congratulations!”

“What the hell do you mean by guilty…”

“Project? Yeah. I kind of suspected it before, but you had to go and confirm it.”

“How the hell…” He shook his head. “Where the hell are you getting this?”

“From your own damned words. It’s all about me! Everything you do is to make it all up to me, just like Lana!” Damn it! She was trying not to mention Lana. “It’s a pattern,” she said, trying to get this back on another track. She was not going to let him derail her investigation. “You spent six years obsessed with Lana, everything was about her and what she needed, just desperate to make up for the fact that you coming into this world resulted in her parents leaving it and now there’s me! I’m the new project you spend all your stupid time on!”

“That’s not… That can’t… It’s not…”

“Don’t even try to deny it, Clark,” she went on, ignoring his sputtering. “But you dropped Lana pretty quick after she made it clear she didn’t blame you.”

He opened his mouth.

She put up her hand. “No. Fine. Maybe it wasn’t that simple, but that is the gist of it. Move. I need to rinse.”

He growled and sidled past her. “So what is it? You think that we’re just like me and Lana.”

She didn’t. But she shrugged as she rinsed. “Maybe I should just stay mad at you. Maybe that’s what keeps you into me.” Of course, she couldn’t lie. Anger was kind of a turn-on. There was something about a naked, wet alien covered in suds, glaring at her that was definitely doing it for her. Not that she was going to do anything about it… at the present.

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” he gritted, “I’m not feeling guilty just now.”

“What?” She gasped as loudly as she could. “How are you even functioning without your precious guilt? Maybe this’ll help.” She reached to his side and snatched up her conditioner. “You’re manipulative and controlling and that stops! No one is pulling my strings anymore. Not you. Not your friends. Not…”

“Pulling your…”

“I mean, I knew, Clark. But you really laid it out for me – you and your buddies and your secret emergency meetings, all about poor Lois and what do we do about her and her swiss cheese brain. Even Linda, even my own family…”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“Oh, yes, it was. It even continues to this day! Victor and Bart and Diana just kidnapping me like that’s just something you do…”

“What? When?”

Damn it! “I don’t want to talk about it!” She was naked and wet and so was he and, consequently, she wasn’t thinking straight. 

“Well, you’re the one who keeps talking.”

“Well, it stops now. Just… The point is… Stop acting like I seduced you under false pretenses! I have things to do today.” She rinsed her conditioner quickly, forgetting the requisite three minutes. She didn’t have that kind of time. She got out in a hurry. “Just FYI,” she said as she rather aggressively toweled off, “any situation that ends with you beaten and bloody, I should know more about!” She moved into her room.

He followed. Of course. “I told you before that it was dangerous enough without…”

“Me horning in?” She sifted through her drawers. Did she have any clothes that weren’t pajamas or power suits anymore? 

“I didn’t say that.”

“Just so you know, I actually understand why I couldn’t be involved. I know that hero-only situations exist.” She roughly pulled on some sweats. It wasn’t like Victor was going to care. “I also know that your blowzy little strawberry was trouble enough. But I should have had a heads up on your potential demise considering I’m your stupid soul-mate or whatever!”

“So now that’s suddenly not something to hyperventilate over?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” She pulled on a T-shirt. “And I’ll have you know that any normal person would have that reaction. But you…” She jabbed a finger at him. “If you’re so crazy in love with me, then you should at least respect me enough to let me in. But fine. Whatever.” She stuffed her feet into sneakers, then moved to the living room, quickly snatching up her purse and keys. “Lock up when you leave.” 

“Where are you going?”

“I have errands,” she said, refusing to look at him while he was so… naked. “Believe it or not, I actually have a whole life outside of you.”

“But we’re not done!”

“I’m done talking about this.” She pulled open the door. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tonight?” 

“Fourth date, you ass!" With that, she slammed the door.

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

Fourth date. Maybe there shouldn’t even be a fourth date. Okay. Who am I kidding? Of course there would be. But maybe it shouldn’t be tonight. There was so much to think about, like the idea that he only pursues women out of guilt or…

“Would you stop that?”

He shifted on the plastic chair, turning to Cat. “What?”

“Fidgeting. It’s really distracting. I’m trying to get my final interview notes together.”

“Cat, we’re not interviewing the police,” he said tiredly. “It’s the other way around.”

“Says you. I’m not leaving without something on the record.” She smiled and straightened up as a particularly beefy cop strolled slowly by… for the fourth time in an hour. It might have something to do with the length of Cat’s skirt… or lack thereof. Clark had kind of thought the makeup and the low-cut… everything was just for the job at Moxie’s. But no. That was, apparently, just Cat being Cat.

They hadn’t thought they’d be back here, but Inspector Henderson had insisted on one more interview. Clark suspected that had to do with his being poker buddies with Perry White. If he knew Perry, he’d already been hounding Henderson about the investigation, now that he knew it existed and Clark was a part of it. Clark suspected Turpin and Sawyer wanted some kind of say in what exactly would be printed.

“And, you know,” Cat went on, pulling out a compact, “someone else will be there. I was so out of it by the end of that night I didn’t get a good look at him. Same for him… at me. I didn’t even have a face on by then.” She put on more lipstick, which Clark thought unnecessary, but… Cat was Cat. “I want him to get a good look at me now.”

Clark sighed. “What are you talking about?”

“Superman, Dummy!” She nudged him, giggling. “He didn’t even get to thank me properly. I mean, I did save his life.”

Clark rolled his eyes. He’d had a feeling this was coming. Cat seemed determined to come on to him in all his possible forms. “I kind of heard it was the other heroes rushing in that saved his life,” he said carefully.

“Well… I started it. I mean, I might have thought he was you for about two seconds, but it still counts. Anyway, I can’t wait. Think he’s already in there?”

“What? Oh, God!” He was supposed to be there. Superman was supposed to be here right now! 

“What’s the matter with you?” Cat slid her hand over his shoulder. “Nervous about meeting him?”

“Something like that,” he nearly squeaked. He’d been so distracted with all that happened this morning, he’d forgot that Superman was supposed to have met with the police a half hour ago!

“Poor Clarkie,” she cooed. “Do you need a back rub?”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he said, standing abruptly. It was stupid, but it was all he could think of at the moment. He turned back to her. “Tell them to… start without me.”

He was such an idiot. Here he’d been congratulating himself on how easy his life would be with just two identities and here he was! Messing both up! He had to get it together. He had to stop thinking about this morning. He had to stop thinking about Lois…

You spent six years obsessed with Lana, everything was about her and what she needed, just desperate to make up for the fact that you coming into this world resulted in her parents leaving it and now there’s me! I’m the new project you spend all your stupid time on!

Dear God! Was she right? 

Hell, whether she was or not, he needed to focus on now. Now included finding that suit he’d hidden on the roof of The Metropolis Natural History Museum and hurriedly putting it on. He’d have to collect the one under the roof slats of the motel and the one on the roof of The Daily Planet. But that was for later. Now also included gathering up Clark Kent’s clothes and leaving them on the PD’s roof. He was going to have to concentrate. This would be tricky.

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

“This is just too confusing.” Lois rubbed her eyes and pushing away from Victor’s monitors. “How much footage do you have here?”

“Couple months.” Victor leaned on the table. “What are you whining about? You said you wanted to see it.”

“Well, there’s a saying about getting what you want.” She couldn’t remember what it was now. Her head was spinning. Between Victor’s footage and Clark’s notebook, she was no closer to an answer than she had been before. Neither of them answered a thing about Lana. They only told her way more than she wanted to know about the two men tied up in her life. “I’ve got a forest-for-the-trees situation here.” She closed her eyes and leaned back. “And the worst headache.”

“Dude,” she heard AC say. “Dude!”

She sat up and swiveled her chair, realizing he meant her. AC had just got back in town after so long, she’d nearly forgotten his quirks. It was necessary to pay attention to inflection to see just who was “dude” at any given moment. “Insights?”

“Well, I agree with Bart.”

“Nothing new there,” Victor snorted.

“Dude’s batshit,” AC said, waving him off. “But, for the headache,” he said gravely, “do not take Advil, Tylenol, Aleve, or their generic counterparts. Every one of them is habit-forming and do not scratch the surface of…” 

“This again?” Victor sighed. 

“Well, it’s true. Look closely at your diet and think to yourself…”

“Not helping.” Victor started hustling him out.

“What? It’s helping. Listen, just meditate. Close your eyes and picture a cool, clear pool of water and a shining waterfall…”

“Bye now!” Victor closed the door, with AC on the other side of it. “So… You were saying?”

Lois groaned and leaned back in the chair. “Maybe he’s right about one thing. Maybe I need to just… close my eyes and sort this out.”

“Meditation, huh?” Victor chuckled and turned off the lights. “I’ll get you an aspirin.”

“Please,” she sighed as he closed the door. She closed her eyes, then, trying for that cool, clear pool of water with its shining waterfall. But it didn’t come. There was just Lana. Maybe the shiny, shampoo commercial hair was like a waterfall. It didn’t calm her, though. It made her anxious. Why was that?

What was it about Lana that bothered her so?

She concentrated on that, trying to leave Clark and Lex out of it, trying to leave Doctor Carson and “Doctor” Grady out of it. What was it that made her so suspicious in the first place?

Tan sedan. But Lana had explained that... not to her satisfaction, but leaving that out of it for now…

Lana hadn’t explained much else. Lana wasn’t staying at The Grand. She was staying at The Port Inn, renting by the week. It was a far cry from the Grand, even a far cry from Jerry’s Motor Lodge, the dump Clark had been staying at under his false name. The name might sound fancier, but that was misleading. It was the worst motel in the city. It was also the cheapest.

Something told her to follow that lead because it led to better questions… it also led to other moments, like the moment that took her from accepting Lana to suspecting her. She’d been ready to put it all away, to attempt a relationship, then that strange night happened...

It wasn’t just the pizza dance, with Lana claiming she had the money when she didn't. It wasn’t even seeing Lana waiting for a bus with her own eyes. It was that ride the next morning. Lana side-stepped every attempt Lois had made to feel out her money situation. At the time, Lois had felt sorry for her, not wanting to admit she’d hit hard times. Martha was sympathetic to the Lana cause. She’d have certainly let her stay there until she got on her feet. Hell, Lana had been planning things. Martha has thought it a little presumptuous, with her being dead and all. But Lana seemed pretty keen on staying involved with Smallville's little…

Then it hit her. Lana had been planning things. With Martha. Lana had been talking about lavish fundraising events that Martha felt were unrealistic. Lana had been making plans all this time, right under their noses.

And Lois suddenly knew why.

“Okay.” Victor opened the door, holding a cup and something else in his other hand. “We actually didn’t have aspirin, but I have Advil and Tylenol. Just don’t tell AC and…”

Lois stood. “Why wouldn’t Lana admit to being poor?”

“Uh…”

“Because she knew she wouldn’t be. Not for long.” She pulled up the footage of Lana and Doctor Carson. “If Lex Luthor's away, Lana Lang can live again... with a fortune.”

“What are you…”

“It all makes sense. First, she uses Grady. She makes sure she’s safe, then she’s on her way. But then she runs out of money, security. What’s she supposed to do then?”

“Lois? You okay?”

“Stop looking at me like I’m nuts! This makes sense!” She stood and rushed to him. “Victor, she would not admit that she had money troubles.”

“Well, people have pride and…”

“Add that to the fact that she’s worked with, not one, but two of his doctors! One secured her for a time, but the other can set her for life. Lex gets put in the nuthatch and guess what? His ex wife’s alive! And guess who gets his money once that comes out?”

Victor dropped the water and the pills. “Lana Luthor.”

“Considering he’s declared incompetent, she also gets control of his company.”

“That’s… Wow. I might have to put some stock in this meditation bullsh…”

“But that’s not everything,” Lois cut in, pacing now. “It can't be. There has to be more to it, with all Lana’s sidestepping and half-truths… Maybe Lex wasn’t the only thing she’s sneaking around about.”

“He’s enough. This could be the answer to…”

“No, no,” she grunted, still pacing. “There’s more. I just need to figure it out.”

“Why? I mean, this is right. Everything you said makes perfect sense.”

“But we don’t know everything,” she insisted. “Lana’s like… She’s got this way about her. She deflects everything. It’s like there’s no way to get anything more than half-truths out of her.” She stilled.

Victor stared at her. “So… how do we get someone who’s almost never told the truth to come clean?”

Diana threw open the door. “I'm back!”

“Not now,” Lois grunted. “We’re thinking.”

“Been a hell of a week in DC.” She tossed herself into a chair. “I actually had this politician who was conspiring with human traffickers. Messy stuff, but I had my trusty lariat and he had no choice but to…”

“Damn it, Di!” Victor pulled her up. “We’re trying to concentrate in here! You’re making us lose our train of thought.”

“Okay, okay! Pardon me.” Diana shrugged him off and moved out. "Someone needs an oil change."

Lois turned to Victor. “So how do we get the truth out of her?”

“Shit if I know.” Victor shrugged and sat down. “But I’ve gotta say… I don't actually have much of a problem with Lana getting Lex put away. And it’s not just because I have about no sympathy for the bastard, but... I mean, he probably should be.”

“But it doesn’t feel right! I just know there’s more to…”

“Yeah. More to it. You keep saying that.”

“Well, I can’t help feeling it!”

Victor sighed and looked up. “Think we should bring this to Clark?”

Lois shook her head, thinking of the notebook. Clark seemed to have no problem with Lana framing Lex for her nonexistent murder. That passage stood out, upon reading. Clark, for better or worse, seemed permanently inclined to give Lana the benefit of the doubt.

“Okay. At the risk of sounding biased, I’m cool with this!”

“Yes. You keep saying that,” Lois said, mirroring his tone with her.

“Well, it’s true! You know how things started with me and Lex. If Lana gets him put away for good, then I’m throwing a party!”

Lois stilled and stared at him. “A party?”

“Don’t look at me like that! You saw the footage! He’s insane, anyway, running around in his pajamas…”

"A party,” she repeated. She rushed to her purse, scrambling to pull out her phone. “I need to call Linda. And Martha."

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

“A green man?” Maggie Sawyer repeated.

“Green and slimy. And he attacked me.” Cat shrugged. “But I held my own.”

Clark resisted scoffing from his corner. It wouldn’t be very… Supermanly. John didn’t attack her at all, also she only held her own if she defined that by screaming incessantly. But he’d let her have that. Not many people could take seeing a Martian in stride. “Miss Grant, you certainly worked well under pressure. But are you sure you saw what you say you did?” He wasn’t about to let John swipe any minds, especially when they needed Cat’s eye witness testimony, but he could at least try to sow some doubts about certain aspects of the night.

“Well… everything did get a little green in there for a while. I mean, glowing green. Just everywhere! So maybe… Oh, I don’t know. Once the gravity dropped, it was like an acid trip,” she cleared her throat and straightened in her chair, staring at Sawyer and Turpin, “or what I imagine one would be like.”

Turpin shook his head. “The gravity dropped?”

“Like it was never there. Also a hole opened up, like in the air.”

“You mean the wall was torn down.” Sawyer checked her notes. “That was the work of one of yours.” She nodded at Superman. “A DC area hero, they call her Wonder Woman.”

“No, no, no,” Cat leaned on the table. “She came later. I noticed because… I mean, it’s kind of kick-ass outfit.” She turned to Superman, recrossing her legs. “You know, you could show a little more skin. I don’t think anyone would mind.”

Clark wondered if rolling his eyes was also in the realm of un-Supermanly behavior. No one seemed to make him feel more like a piece of meat than Cat Grant. He consoled himself with the fact that she’d been almost as flirty with Turpin, even throwing a little Sawyer’s way. But it needed to stop. “Miss Grant, I’m very flattered, but please stick to the subject at hand.”

She pouted, but she did sit up straighter. “Fine. Listen… There was a hole. I might have been thrown for a loop when the floor and ceiling switched places, but when I came to, there was this… it was like a tunnel in the air! And those two, the ones that came in with Bruno and Rocco, the old lady and the guy with the… I don’t know. He looked like a metal burrito. They ran down it! I think that’s how they escaped.” She turned back to Clark. “And then you guys were going to go after him, but BAM!” She sat back and shrugged. “No more hole. Well, I mean, some other stuff happened, but… That's most of it.”

Not accurate by half, but he supposed that's how it might have looked.

“Yeah,” Sawyer drawled, “I’m going to have to ask you not to print any of that.”

“But…”

“Miss Grant,” Sawyer cut in, “even if every word is true, this is not something to put out there.” She sighed. “I’ve seen some crazy things this last decade. Usually, they’re rooted in Smallville, but…”

“Speaking of that place…” Turpin sat up, crumpling his coffee cup. “Where is Kent, anyway?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Cat said dismissively. “But what about the green man and the…”

“You yourself said everything looked a little green," Sawyer went on, "and this loud boom… even I heard it. You were right near it. You might have been disoriented.”

“But the other heroes…”

“Feel free,” Turpin cut in. “We want it out there that there’s a whole gang waiting for slime like Mannheim to make a move. But if you write about aliens and tunnels to nowhere, then we get government agencies breathing down our necks and maybe even taking away the best thing that ever happened to this town.”

Clark had to stop and think what he meant. He also shared a certain fear of the government, but…

Cat winked at him. “Think they like you.”

Clark blinked, wondering what to say to that.

Sawyer leaned across the table to Cat. “Listen, Grant. I’ll give you front row every time I’m holding a press conference for the next year. I will give you two questions every…”

“Three,” Cat said quickly.

Sawyer gritted her teeth. “Fine. Three. But I’m going to ask you to leave some of this off the record. I’ve got three thugs to nail, one of whom is still confessing…”

Turpin snorted. “Most of which we can’t touch as it was more than twenty years ago.”

“I’ve got enough to handle without the press getting wind of every detail of an ongoing investigation. And then there’s Superman.” She gestured to Clark. “They tried and they failed. That they failed is the most important part the people need to know. Because we don’t want every thug out there thinking they can take Superman out.”

Clark tried not to smile. It was kind of nice, having allies outside the gang.

Cat took a deep breath. “But…”

Clark stepped forward. “Miss Grant, I really do appreciate your initial help in stopping the attack on me. But I have to agree. There are some secrets best kept.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but she let out a breath. “Maybe just for you, Boyscout.”

He blinked at Cat’s use of his nickname.

“That’s what they call you, right? I heard one of them say it. I think it’s cute.” She grinned. “I know I’m kind of young, but you can help me cross the street any time you…”

“Okay, enough of that.” Sawyer sighed. “You wait outside. We’ll have something drawn up. And send Kent in if he’s out there.” She turned to Turpin as the door closed. “Seriously, is Kent ever joining us?”

“I’ll text him,” Turpin grunted.

Damn it! Maybe he should have called John in for this.

Clark sighed as heavily as he could. “I’m very sorry. But I just can’t continue waiting for him to show up,” he said, knowing he was throwing his own self under the bus. “I didn’t want to say in front of the press.” He nodded at the door. “But I’m still weakened from the attacks last night and need more time to recuperate. I hope you understand,” he added deeply.

Sawyer groaned. “Damned Kent. He’s been late this whole time. Why should today be any different? And it’s fine. You can go. It was really Grant that we needed to lock down.”

“Calling Kent now.” Turpin dialed as Sawyer unlocked the barred window. “Not like Kent saw anything,” he scoffed, “being knocked out the whole time.”

So were you, Clark wanted to add, but didn’t. “Well, I want to thank you. I wouldn’t be standing here without all of you,” he said before flying out. Short and sweet. And just in time. 

He rushed to his pile of clothing and hit talk on his phone. “Hell… Hello?” he corrected, making his voice just a little higher. It wouldn’t do for them to hear him just after… hearing him. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I… went to get coffee.” He held the phone away as Sawyer chimed in… loudly. “So sorry. I just thought we had more time before… Yes. Absolutely. Be right there.”

**********

“I’ll be right there!” 

“What? No! Just…”

“Give me two, maybe three hours. I’m still clear to fly and…”

“Linda, I don’t mean for you to rush out today,” Lois tried to clarify. “I just want to make sure you’re coming in tomorrow.”

“Well, duh. Wait… Should I stop saying ‘duh’ now that I’m going to be a mother? It feels undignified. I meant… No. ‘Duh’ still works. Anyway, of course I’ll be there. Martha needs the troops in line. I sent someone out and they saw naked telephone poles in Smallville and that just won’t do. But yeah,” she went on, as if she was capable of stopping. “I can totally get there in three. Two hours if the airways are clear and Oliver lets me fly. He’s like a little old lady up there. And The Bell has a max speed of…”

“Linda! Will you listen to me?”

“Um… If you don’t yell.”

“Well, you won’t…” Lois took a deep breath. You weren’t supposed to yell at mothers-to-be, were you? “I just want to make sure, when you come tomorrow that you and me and Martha have a little… meeting about the results party Monday.”

Linda snorted. “I think you mean the victory party. But sure… except for if you two want to change the food.. Italian-French fusion is very in out here in California. Kansas needs to get with the times. Also, I already found a caterer that Bart swears…”

“You are in complete control of the food,” Lois cut in.

“Oh, good,” Linda sighed. “I thought Martha might fight me on it.”

“I think Martha knows by now that Bart’s seal of approval is pretty much gold.” Also not to argue with a pregnant woman about what’s for dinner. “This is about something else.”

“Is it the decorations? Did they deliver them to the house?" Linda groaned loudly. "I told them to quietly load them in the barn and not bother…”

“You’re going to need to call Martha on that. Just…” Lois took a deep breath. “I don’t want to say anything else over the phone. I just want the three of us to have a calm, quiet talk. Is that okay?”

“About what?”

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Well, just tell me a little bit.”

“No. Not yet. It’s too much to go into.”

“Well, just the basic gist. Is this an intervention? Is it about Bart? I know. He just drops in at all hours. We really have to…”

“Linda, I love you,” Lois cut in. “You’re the best. I’ve missed you like crazy. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. So don’t be mad at me for this.”

“For what?”

Lois hung up. It was the only way. She had another call to make. She dialed quickly. It went to voicemail. That was probably best.

“Eight o’clock,” was all she said before ending the call.

The message must have been received because, come seven-fifty-five, there he was. 

She pulled Clark through the doorway. “We’re not going out. We’re not talking.” She unbuttoned his coat. “We are not fighting or working through things or playing chess. We are having sex.” She worked on his shirt. “The only words I want to hear tonight are more, harder, faster, yes, or variations on the same. Is that okay?” She backed toward the bedroom.

He kicked the door shut, opening his mouth, then stopping and letting out a long breath as she tossed off her shirt. “Yes.”

They didn’t even make it to the bedroom.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE