Previously on Seed of Doubt...
Ten minutes later, the man reappeared as he escorted Miranda into the room. Without a word, he slipped back out, unnoticed by either party. Miranda slithered her way over to Lex's desk, where he still sat, less than thrilled to be meeting with the woman before him.
"Miranda," he said flatly. "How nice to see you."
"Lex, you haven't been returning my calls," she purred in a dangerous tone.
"Yes, well, I've been rather busy. In fact, I'm extremely busy today, so if you don't mind, I'd like to cut to the chase. What is it that I can do for you?"
"More like, what can I do for you," she said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small atomizer spray bottle.
"Perfume?" Lex asked dryly. "You come to me with perfume?"
"Oh, it's more than just perfume," she promised him. "One spritz of this and..." With a dramatic flair, she sprayed Lex right in the face.
"Ugh!" the man cried out, his eyes watering. "What is that foul stench?" He furiously waved at the air before him, trying to dissipate the offending odor.
"Pheromones," Miranda said as a simple explanation. "You see, once a person inhales my perfume, the pheromones go to work breaking down their restraint, allowing them to act on their baser, animalistic impulses. Once they spy someone they are attracted to..." she shrugged. "They are powerless to resist the urge to mate."
Lex arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Really?"
Miranda nodded.
"And why might I be even remotely interested in this...concoction of yours?"
Miranda shrugged. "Strip people of their sensibilities and you can control them better," she offered, speaking as if it was the only answer that made any sense.
"I think not. Take away people's abilities of rationalization and overall clear-headedness, and you strip away the very things that make dominating them so satisfying. Take away the challenge and make the victory devoid of any meaning."
"But, Lex? Surely you have to admit that the idea does have some merit?" Miranda asked, blatantly fishing for a compliment.
"Go pedal your witch's brew at one of those sappy love retreats. I'm not interested in it," Lex said firmly.
"And what about me?"
"What about you?"
"What about what we once meant to each other?"
Lex had to stifle a laugh. The woman was crazy!
"There was never an us, Miranda. You meant nothing. You were an itch and you've been scratched."
The woman's face fell, but, to her credit, she quickly recomposed herself. She cleared her throat and looked Lex in his eyes. "But..."
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an important meeting to get to," Lex said, standing for the first time.
"Don't you dare dismiss me," Miranda said, a threatening tone creeping into her voice.
"On the contrary," Lex countered. "Don't you dare threaten me. Because, believe me, it will not end well for you. Is that understood?"
"We'll see about that," Miranda said.
"Get out of my office. Now."
"You'll regret this," Miranda vowed. "You and everyone else in this pathetic city."
"I highly doubt that," Lex said, boredom in his voice. Truth be told, he'd ceased to pay much attention to the woman.
"I'll prove to you just how useful I can be," Miranda muttered under her breath as she walked out of Lex's office. "Just you wait and see."
***
"Sir?" Nigel asked, poking his head into Lex Luthor's private study.
Lex looked up from the book he was reading. As deeply engrossed in the subject matter as he was, the older man's voice had almost startled him. "Yes?'
"There is a Miss Lane to see you."
"Yes, of course. Let her in. Is dinner prepared?"
Nigel nodded. "Pierre is ready when you are, sir."
"Very good. Tell him to bring the first course up in fifteen minutes."
"As you wish," Nigel said, inclining his head in respect.
"Oh! Nigel," Lex called as the other man turned and began to leave. Nigel stopped immediately and turned on his heel.
"Sir?"
Lex stood and held aloft two ties. He'd changed from the suit he'd been wearing earlier to something that he felt was more appropriate for a dinner date and interview. Although, if he were being honest, he wasn't really thinking of the meeting as an interview. It was definitely more of a date in his mind.
"The black or the gray?" he asked, lifting each tie slightly in turn. "Black for formality? Or gray to soften the look?"
Nigel eyed each of the cloth strips in question. "The gray, I think," he finally said.
Lex held the tie up under his chin as he looked in the full length mirror before him. "I think you're right," he finally said. Swiftly, he deftly began to tie it around his neck, then straightened the knot.
"Shall I let Miss Lane in now?"
Lex checked his appearance one final time and finger-brushed down a single stray hair. Perfection was everything in his world.
"Yes, thank you."
Nigel nodded and wordlessly left the room. Moments later, Lois appeared in the doorway.
"Ah! Good to see you again, Miss Lane!" he said warmly.
"And you, Lex," she replied, but with less enthusiasm.
"Something wrong?" Lex asked.
Lois flushed. "Oh, no. It's just been a long day, that's all."
"Well, you can forget about all of that now. Let tonight be a night of luxury and pampering. Some wine, perhaps?" He swept his hand toward the door. "This way, please."
He led her through his home, to the plush, intimate dining space he'd had set up in his living room. The hearth was ablaze with a large fire, which threw merrily dancing light to the otherwise dimly lit space. A small table, set for two, had been set before the fireplace, helping to ward off the chill of the late February night. Pristine white linens cloaked the table and sat neatly tented next to their plates, while expensive white and silver china waited alongside the silverware. Two full wine glasses stood at the ready, the dark red, nearly black liquid seeming deeper in the firelight. Chilled green salads, topped with grated parmesan cheese and Caesar dressing had already been placed before each chair, as well as a martini glass filled with cocktail sauce and ringed with the biggest prawns Lex wagered Lois had ever seen.
"Please, have a seat," he offered, pulling her chair out for her.
"Thank you," she said politely. "Wow, this is just...more than I anticipated," she added, motioning to the spread before them.
"This? It's nothing," Lex said dismissively.
"For you, perhaps," she said with a smile. "The rest of us only splurge like this on special occasions."
"This is a special occasion," Lex said, returning the smile, pleased that he'd cracked her typically stony demeanor. "It's not every day that I get to be interviewed by a world famous reporter."
Lois shyly tucked an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. "It's not every day you allow anyone to interview you at all," she pointed out.
Again, Lex smiled. He liked the way she played the game. She would be a challenge for him. "True," he conceded. "But, can you blame me? Just look at what the media typically does to people like me. That's why I've chosen to speak to you. I know you'll do me justice."
"Well, that's up to you. I'm just a reporter. I state the facts as I gather them."
"No, not just a reporter," Lex argued softly. "A Da Vinci amongst wordsmiths. And beautiful at that."
"I...uh..." Lois stammered, at a loss.
What was happening? Lex's brain screamed to himself. He knew he was charming and charismatic, but he usually reserved his flattery for when he felt it would be the most useful to him. He rarely wasted it on the media, unless he was in the midst of another corporate takeover. But this lowly reporter? All she was doing was a human interest piece on him.
"Lex, if we can just...move on, with the interview?"
Lex speared one of his shrimp with his fork and dipped it into the cocktail sauce. "Please."
"Well, let's start at the beginning, shall we? You took over your first company at the age of twenty-one."
"Actually," he corrected her, "my birthday hadn't yet passed. I turned twenty-one six days after the deal closed. A trivial thing, to be sure, but I like the sound of 'CEO at twenty' much better."
Lois nodded and scribbled a note on the small, pocket-sized notebook she'd taken out of her purse. "There were reports of coercion."
"I'm aware of the rumors," Lex said dismissively, with a wave of his hand. "Nothing was ever proven."
"Oh, I know," Lois said. "I've done the research. I'd like to hear about the takeover in your own words though."
"There's not much to tell, to be honest," he lied with a smile.
Lois said nothing, her way of inviting him to divulge more of the story.
"My God," Lex found himself saying instead.
"What?"
"Your eyes!"
"What's wrong with them?" Lois asked, confused and suddenly nervous sounding.
"The way they catch the firelight. Like two polished gems, flashing in the sun. Gorgeous."
Lois shifted uneasily in her seat. "Lex..."
"And your hands. So delicate. So feminine. So soft. I've never seen hands so exquisite before."
Mentally, he frowned. Things were definitely getting stranger. He felt like he was slipping away, losing himself to the sole desire to have Lois for his own. He felt instantly obsessed with her, consumed by thoughts of her, unable to focus on anything that wasn't her. All thoughts not connected to Lois grew fuzzy and unimportant to him.
Whatever else was she was asking him faded into the background. He stumbled through answers, feeling like he was completely losing his normally very firm grip on his control over the situation. He tried switching from the heady wine on the table to the icy cold water, but to no avail. By the time the dinner course was served and eaten, it was all he could do not to launch himself over the table to kiss her.
"That was a lovely dinner, Lex," Lois complimented, gingerly dabbing at her mouth.
Lex made an indifferent shrug. After all, it had only been Kobe beef and Maine lobster tails. It hadn't exactly been the most expensive or rare meal that Pierre could have served them. Still, he deemed the meal a success, in that it had been cooked to perfection, and hadn't been too exotic for Lois' more pedestrian tastes.
"Yes, well, the company certainly helped," he responded. "Dessert should be served shortly."
"Oh, I never eat dessert," she said politely.
"Even chocolate mousse?" he asked. "Pierre makes the finest mousse I've ever tasted."
As much as she'd done her research on him, he'd had his own staff find out what made her tick, including any favorite foods or allergies. It simply would not bode well for him if the first reporter to ever interview him for a profile of sorts had her throat close up from an unknown and unanticipated reaction to shellfish.
"It's tempting," she said, a half smile on her face, "but no, thanks. That wonderful dinner is about all I can handle." She set the napkin down on the table. "I think I have just about all the information I need from you," she added, scanning her notes. "Is there anything else you'd like to add? Anything at all? Something that maybe I didn't touch upon? Some message or information about yourself that you'd like the world to know?"
Lex stood, thinking. He crossed the room to the couches, beckoning Lois to follow him, which she did. She sat across from him and looked at him expectantly.
"Do you feel like I've left anything out?" he asked.
Lois smiled coyly. "I asked you first."
"Touché." He thought for another long moment, but his thoughts were muddled to everything except Lois, and the overwhelming desire to take her into his bed. "I can't think of anything," he finally said with a shrug. "It seems you've covered it all."
Lois nodded and shut her notebook. "Great, well, I'd better be going so I can get started on this article. The Chief wants it for the Sunday edition. He said he'd have someone contact you about setting up a photo shoot for the spread."
"It's early still," Lex said, getting more comfortable in his seat. "Perhaps we can discuss other matters, not related to the interview?"
"I really should be going..." she protested.
The door to the room opened a crack and one of the wait staff slipped inside with two plates. Another woman followed the first, setting down two cups of coffee. Lex didn't even throw a glance at the two. He could smell the coffee - strong and hot - and had personally overseen Pierre's mousse presentations that afternoon - choosing the pyramid shape with edible gold leaf on each side in the shape of a highly stylized "L" - their shared initial. He did not speak until the staff had silently left the room again.
"My dear Lois, you must learn to relax once in a while," he pressed. "Come. Let's have some coffee, shall we?"
"I really can't, Lex. I'm sorry."
She stood to leave, putting the notebook in her purse. Lex stood as well, though he hadn't meant to. He felt almost as if his body was working independently from his brain. It was terrifying, but at the same moment, oddly freeing. He grabbed Lois' wrist.
"Lex? What are you...?"
He silenced her question with a crushing kiss. He couldn't help it. It felt almost like he would die if he didn't do it. His hands went into motion. He felt Lois resisting, but that only fanned the flames of his ardor. He pinned her arms to her sides, but lost his balance in the process. Together, they toppled into the couch where Lois had just been sitting a minute before.
"Lex, no," she protested as he broke his kiss to take a breath. "Stop it. Let me go."
He heard the fear in her voice, the firmness of her demand for him to stop. But her wishes no longer mattered. He wanted her. Needed her. As much as he hated to admit being subservient to anything, he found that he was a slave to his baser desires. He would make love to Lois, whether she wanted him to or not. Then she would see that they were meant to be together.
"Lex, I'm warning you," she threatened as she tried to squirm away.
But he was on top of her already. She could not move her legs. Her torso was mostly pinned to the leather couch. Though he'd let go of her arms and she was now hitting his chest in an effort to free herself, it felt like no more than the light buffering of butterfly wings in his heightened state of arousal. He reached for his belt and undid it with one hand.
Lois never stilled her attempts to break free of him, not while he hiked up her dress, not while he took her for his pleasure. Somehow, while Lex enjoyed the blissful feelings that only reaching his peak could bring, Lois finally managed to squirm far enough to get her fingertips around the base of a lamp on the side table. Once she had it firmly in hand, she crashed the heavy silver metal into Lex's head.
Pain was the last thing he was aware of before he went limp and the world went black.
***
Clark turned on the television, belated realizing that the Knicks/Heat game had already started. He hadn't even changed out of his Superman suit yet. He'd only just gotten home from a grease fire that had gotten way out of control and had burned down an entire restaurant in Maryland. He flipped through the channels, looking for the game, chugging down the last of his soda, quenching the thirst battling the blaze had caused.
"There we go!" he announced to his empty apartment as he finally found the game. "Oh, come on, guys!" he groaned.
The Knicks were down by six and the Heat had possession of the ball. Clark sighed and took the last swallow of his drink. He brought the bottle into the kitchen, tossed it into the recycling can, then continued on to his bathroom. A quick, three minute scrubbing in the hottest water his shower could offer got him feeling clean and smelling fresh again, as opposed to the stench that had clung to him like a second skin from the fire. He stepped back out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and spent the next few minutes washing his uniform, scrubbing it until he was satisfied that the stains were out and that the smell was imperceptible to a normal, human nose. He dried it with his heat vision, then stuffed it into the hamper to give it a proper wash the next time he did laundry.
Moving into his bedroom, he grabbed a fresh pair of socks, underwear, and sweatpants, dressing swiftly in his desire to get back to the game. He was just about to look for a shirt when frantic knocking pounded at his door. He grabbed the first thing before him and to jogged to his front door, stopping only to put on his glasses. He dropped the shirt on the arm of the couch, checking the score as he did so. The Knicks had managed to even the score, much to his delight. He mounted the steps to the landing two at a time, unbolted the locks, and threw open the door.
"Lois?" he said, immediately knowing that something was wrong.
Tears were in her eyes and had destroyed the careful work she always put into her makeup. Dark mascara rings shadowed her eyes and continued down, leaving muddy trails on her cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot - further evidence that she had been crying hard. She had her arms wrapped protectively around her chest, as though by hugging herself, she could keep herself from falling apart.
"What's wrong?" he asked, before she could even speak.
"Can I come in?"
"You never have to ask that," Clark said, hoping to lighten the mood and get her to smile.
He failed. Lois merely cast her eyes down to the floor. "Thanks."
She stepped into the apartment, and Clark shut the frigid night air out. Lois distractedly gave him her coat, now that she was in the inviting warmth of his home. Clark hung it up on a peg, then ushered her down the steps and into the heart of his living room.
"Lois, what's going on?" he asked as he shrugged into his shirt. "Why are you so upset?"
"The dinner..." Lois said vaguely, as though in a trance, as a fresh tear escaped her eye and trickled down her cheek.
Clark instinctively reached out to brush the tear away, and panic shot through him as she reflexively shied away as contact was made.
"Lois?" he asked, not bothering to hide his concern. "What happened? What about the dinner?"
"He...he..."
"Lex?"
Lois nodded.
"What about Lex?"
"I've...he's never been...oh, Clark!" she managed to get out, before a sob bubbled up in her chest. She pitched herself forward, into Clark's arms.
"It's okay," he assured her as he enveloped her shaking body. "You can tell me anything, you know that."
"I didn't want it. I told him no," she cried into the soft, navy blue sweatshirt he was wearing.
"Told him no?" Clark repeated, every hair on his body standing at fearful attention.
Please, be wrong, he pleaded with himself. Please don't be what you think it is.
"Everything started off so...so...normal," Lois said, gathering herself a bit. "He answered my interview questions, we had a really nice dinner. And then...he wouldn't let me leave. It was like he was possessed or something. It was terrifying. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was when he...he..." She stopped and buried her head further into his chest, allowing the material to soak up the water that was gushing from her eyes.
"Did he...force...you to do something that you didn't want to do?" Clark guessed.
Lois nodded her head against his body as dread washed over him, leaving him feel icy cold. "Yes," she said, her voice muffled by the thick sweatshirt he wore. "Clark, I'm so sorry."
"This isn't your fault," Clark said with gentle conviction.
"I should have...I don't know. Seen the signs. Something," she moaned, her face still deeply buried into his shirt. "I mean, he was a little off at points but I never suspected..."
"Lois..."
"I've always been so careful," she continued, as though Clark hadn't spoken. She finally pulled her face out of his chest, but she didn't meet his eyes. "Sure, I've gotten into trouble a time or twelve with criminals. But no one's ever ra...forced themselves on me. Shoved me into barrels and sent me into the river, yes. Pointed guns at my head, sure. But not this. Never this."
"It isn't your fault," Clark asserted once more. "It's Luthor's. He's the one who did this."
I wish I could fly over there right now and wring his neck.
"Fly over there?" Lois asked. "Wring his neck? Clark, no offense, but you aren't Superman."
"I know," he said, embarrassed. He was so angry with Luthor that he hadn't realized he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "It's just a figure of speech. The flying part, at least. I really do wish I could go over there and...do something...to make Luthor pay for what he's done." His hands reflexively balled into fists and he had to remind himself to relax them again. He fell silent a moment as he processed what Lois had told him. Then, "We need to call the police and report this."
He thought for sure that Lois would fight him, but she nodded. "Okay." Her eyes, however, spoke volumes of fear to him.
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised her, in response to her unvoiced question. "Okay? I'll be here for as long as you need me to be."
"Okay. Thanks."
Clark nodded, turned the television off, and picked up the phone. He spoke quickly to the police officer who had answered, his hands shaking badly from his pent up rage toward Luthor. The officer politely assured him that he would send a couple of female officers to his apartment, along with a female EMT to perform the necessary medical tests, once Lois made it clear that she absolutely refused to go to the hospital to have it done.
"Great. Thank you," Clark said as he finished up the call. As he placed the hand set down on the phone base, he told Lois, "They should be here soon."
"I'm scared," she admitted, inching closer to him.
"I know," he said with a nod, almost afraid to touch her. He knew from several investigations that he covered, that assault victims usually feared the touch of others, especially just after the event had occurred. "But I'm here now. And I won't let anything else happen to you. I swear it."
"You always have been," she mused. "My very own, personal hero." She turned partially toward him and hugged him, snuggling into his side, her body shaking slightly, even now.
"I'm here," he said again. "I'm here."
It didn't take long for the police to arrive. The open floor plan of his apartment left little to no privacy for the EMT to conduct the rape kit, so Clark threw on his coat and stood outside. The night had turned overcast and a gentle snow was falling. It was freezing out, and Clark was thankful he didn't feel the cold the way normal people did. He was sure to be shivering in the frosty air, despite the heavy, sheep's wool-lined coat if he did. He watched his hot breath mist in the snowy night and leaned his back against the wall, just to the side of the door so as not to be in the way.
It seemed to take forever before he was allowed back inside. By then, his hair was a sodden mess from melting snowflakes and the heat of his apartment seemed higher than he remembered it being, though he knew it was just a trick played by the cold. Lois was still giving her statement, so Clark hung back by the door, leaning against the wall after hanging up his now wet coat and toeing his shoes off. When Lois was finally finished, he saw the officers out, thanking them for coming as quickly as they did, then he closed the door behind them.
"Are you okay?" he immediately asked Lois, who still sat on his couch, seemingly trance-like.
"Huh? Oh. I'll be fine. Eventually."
"Look, Lois..."
"Can I stay for a while?" she asked, cutting him off.
"I was just going to say, you can stay as long as you like. And, if you decide you want to go back to your apartment, I'll go with you, if that will make you feel better."
She tried to smile, but her lower lip trembled, a sure sign that she was on the verge of renewed tears. "I'm afraid to go back to my apartment at all. Lex...if any of your theories about him are true...I'm scared, Clark."
She threw her arms around him as her tears finally spilled. Clark cautiously put his arms around her. When she didn't spook, he tightened his embrace, silently letting her know that he would be her rock that night and always.
"You can stay here," he told her again. "For as long as you like. Tonight, tomorrow, all month if you want. I'm always glad to have you. You know that, right?"
She nodded against him. "Mmm," was all she answered.
"I still have some of your stuff here from those all-nighters we pulled last week. Everything's washed and ready for you. I just haven't had the chance to give them back to you yet."
"Can I use your shower?" she asked, pulling back, meeting his eyes for the first time. "I feel filthy, thanks to him."
"Anything you want or need is yours," Clark assured her. "Just wait here for a second."
He got up and gathered fresh towels for her - the fluffiest ones he owned - then laid her overnight bag on his bed, where she would be sure to see it. Once he was done, he returned to the living room.
"My home is yours," he announced.
"Thanks," she said as she stood.
She walked toward him and lightly put her hand on his cheek. Clark was elated by that simple gesture. Too often, victims withdrew from physical contact with others. But Lois had touched his cheek. She'd hugged him. And, what was more, she'd allowed him to hug her in return, and had seemed to genuinely take some comfort from it. That was more than enough to tell him that Lois Lane would heal from her trauma. And he would be by her side, helping her, every step of the way, if she allowed him to be.
While Lois disappeared into the bathroom, Clark kept himself busy. He cleaned the dishes in the sink, straightened up the living room, put the few scattered books back on the shelves where they belonged, and started the coffee maker. He checked his fridge and closets, looking for snacks that he knew Lois liked, and found a reserve of Double Crunch Fudge Bars that he'd nearly forgotten about, hidden in the back of one cabinet. Once he was reasonably sure that Lois was finished showering, he fixed her coffee exactly the way she liked it, and brought the drinks and snacks to the living room.
She emerged not long after, clad in red flannel pajama pants and an old gray Daily Planet sweatshirt, her hair done up in a loose and messy ponytail. As she sat on the couch, Clark handed her the mug of coffee he'd prepared for her.
"Thanks," she said distractedly. Her red eyes gave away that she'd been crying again.
"I figured you might like something comforting. I have some Double Fudge Crunch Bars too, if you'd like."
Lois shook her head. "You don't, by any chance, have some chocolate ice cream, do you?"
It was Clark's turn to shake his head. "I'm afraid not. I can run to the twenty-four hour store, if you'd like some though."
"No, that's okay. I don't really want to be alone right now."
Clark slid a little closer to her and put his free arm around her. "I won't go anywhere," he promised. "I'll be right here, on this couch, all night."
"Oh, no, I don't want to put you out. I'm sleeping on the couch," she argued.
"No way," Clark said with a grin and a shake of his head, trying with all his might to make Lois feel as though this was just a normal night. "I was raised better than that. The lady always gets the bed." He was glad to see his light tone elicit a smile from her. Then, more seriously, "Besides, the couch is closer to the door. I'd rather be between you and the door, just in case of anything. I don't trust Luthor at all."
"Where's Superman when you need him?" Lois mused.
"I'm sure he's got his eyes peeled," Clark said, attempting to reassure her.
"Why? He doesn't even know what's happened?" Lois said, giving him a strange look.
Oops. Watch it, Clark.
"I just meant, it seems like he's always around when you or I need him, that's all," he said with as casual a shrug as he could muster. "It kind of feels like he inherently just kind of watches out for us. Know what I mean?"
"Actually, yeah, I do," Lois said as she took another sip of her coffee. "From the day he first flew onto the scene, it's like...well, like you said. Like he watches over the two of us. I'm not sure why that is, but I am glad for it. Especially given some of the situations we've been in."
"Yeah," Clark agreed with a nod.
It's because I'm in love with you, Lois.
"Clark?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you, for...everything tonight. I hate imposing on you."
"It's never an imposition, having you here," he said truthfully. "I like having you here. Granted, I wish tonight's circumstances were better, but..." He let his voice trail off. "I'm just glad to help in any way that I can."
"I know," she replied with a soft smile. She briefly and affectionately cupped his cheek.
"Luthor won't get away with this. I promise you. I'll make sure that he pays."
"We will," Lois corrected him, steely determination in her voice. It made Clark's heart skip a beat in gladness to hear her sounding like her old self again. "Lane and Kent, right?"
"Lane and Kent," Clark affirmed with a grim nod.
To Be Continued...
