Chapter 9.
The first thing they had to do, Lois decided, was to get rid of this car. Not only was it extremely uncomfortable, but the missing driver's door would attract attention - and with an injured Superman in the passenger seat, attention was the last thing she wanted.
She glanced sideways. His brow was deeply furrowed with pain, and every time she hit a bump, he grimaced.
“Clark? Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? You could have internal injuries -”
He shook his head slightly. “I can't risk it.”
“You went when Diana Stride poisoned you,” she pointed out. She'd always remember the horror of finding out that he'd been rushed to the hospital, close to death. While she knew he wasn't, he'd always seemed indestructible. And if she and Clark hadn't been fighting at the time, she might have found him earlier. As it was, it had been a close run thing.
“Had to.” He looked over at her. “I was dying then. I'm not now.”
“Fine.” She gave up. He had that stubborn, set look on his face that she'd seen a few times before, and she knew that there was no way of changing his mind. She switched the subject.
“Where can we rent a car?”
“Bourg-en-Bresse. But what are we going -” he winced as the car hit another bump “to do with this one? It's evidence.”
“Oh.” She hadn't thought of that aspect. “Long term parking lot? If we keep driving this, we're going to be noticed.”
When he didn't reply, she looked over at him.
“Clark?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“It's all such a mess.” Clark replied. “Henri is dead, Luthor is dead, I'm injured ... and right now, I really wish I hadn't ripped that door off. Plus ... I'm supposed to be in Vienna.” He took as deep a breath as his injured ribs would allow. “I think we need to go to the police.” He paused, thinking rapidly. Walking into a police station dressed as Superman right now would invite more questions than he was comfortable with. Plus he didn't know the local force, had no idea if they could be trusted. “No, you're right” he said slowly. “We'll find a long term parking garage, one that's secure, and rent another car. But first I need a change of clothes ...”
He was taken by surprise as she suddenly veered off the road and into a roadside rest area. She brought the car to a stop while he was still trying not to groan from the pain the unexpected movement caused.
“What are you thinking, Clark?”
“Okay. The way I see it, we have to go to the police. We don't have a choice. I left Henri in the container yard in Paris, and he's probably been found by now. The Kryptonite is still there as well. We left Luthor dead halfway down a mountain, and we have the gun with Luthor's prints, the one that he used to kill Henri. But if we go into the local police station, I don't think they'll believe us. No one knows that Luthor escaped from Stryker's Island. I only knew because I called Henderson and asked him.”
“So what's the plan?”
“I need to call Henderson. He's in charge of the Luthor investigation, and I told him Luthor was in Paris. Plus ... he's the only cop I trust with the Kryptonite.”
“Henderson knows about Kryptonite?”
“Yeah.” The laconic detective had surprised Clark by searching him out the day after Lois' aborted wedding and asking him to contact Superman. At the arranged meeting later that night, Henderson had shocked Clark even more by disclosing that he'd disposed of the cage from Luthor's wine cellar and arranged for the Kryptonite power source to be stored in STAR Labs secure vault. Clark hadn't even regained his powers, and while Henderson had never outright mentioned that he knew of the crystal's effects, the knowing look he'd given Clark had spoken volumes.
“He got rid of Luthor's Kryptonite cage.” Clark explained.
“Oh.”
“So if Superman calls Henderson and tells him everything that happened -”
“Then we know it'll be investigated properly” she finished for him.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Then this really will all be over.”
His heart sank as he said it. Getting the story usually gave him a feeling of triumph, but not this time. While it was a relief to know that they'd never have to worry about Luthor again, once the story was written Lois would go back to Metropolis. Granted, he could fly to Metropolis as often as possible, but he didn't even know if that's what she wanted. If it was, how long would it last? Relationships were difficult enough with the added complications of his double life and living on two different continents. They had to talk about this ... but not now. Not while they were still trying to get back to Paris, while she was still recovering from being kidnapped ... while he was barely able to walk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lois broke the silence that had settled over the car since their conversation before Geneva, almost an hour before. She'd thought that Clark had fallen asleep, but when she checked on him he was staring out the window, apparently lost in thought.
“Clark?”
He turned and smiled at her, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.
“Yeah Lois?”
“We're coming into Bourg-en-Bresse. Where do we go?”
“The train station.”
He helped her translate the various road signs as they drove into the township, directing her to pull up at a small shopping complex before they got to the station. She gave him a questioning look.
“Why do I get the feeling you've been here before?”
“Earlier today. I turned in your rental car at the train station.”
He gave her his cash card and told her his PIN, the sign of trust leaving her unexpectedly touched.
She went into the small discount department store at the back of the complex, veering towards the men's section. It was a simple matter to find a pair of sweats that looked like they'd fit Clark, but she hesitated when it came to choosing a top. She reached for a sweater, then changed her mind. She'd injured her ribs herself a few years ago, and she vividly remembered how painful it was to try and raise her arms over her head. Instead of the basic sweater, she grabbed one that zipped up the front instead. Reaching the checkout, she quickly paid for the clothes. On the way back to the car, she detoured into the drug store she'd noticed on the way in. There, she added a small first aid kit and a roll of wide strapping tape to her purchases.
Back at the car, she kept a lookout while Clark struggled into the new clothing, cringing in sympathy with his muffled groans. When he was done, she gave him a hand to tuck his cape up so it wasn't obvious. Then, forcing a brightness into her tone that she didn't feel, she turned to him and asked. “So, which way to the train station?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was a simple matter to find the station, park the car in the long term lot in an inconspicuous space, then make their way into the terminal itself. Clark checked the departures board, looking for the high speed service to Paris.
“Okay, we've got a choice. We can rent a car and drive to Paris, which would take about 4 hours. Or we can take the train, but that doesn't leave for another two hours.”
Lois made a face. “Rent a car.”
“Okay.” He led the way towards the car rental companies, his injuries making his progress slow and painful.
Once there, Clark filled out the requisite paperwork, then he and Lois sat down to wait for the attendant to bring their car around.
He slipped his license and credit card back into his wallet before sitting down. “For someone that's supposed to be in Austria, I sure am making a lot of purchases in France,” he commented.
She grabbed his arm. “Clark, that's it! That's how we explain why you left Vienna!”
“You lost me.”
“When you came looking for me, you saw Joe Patterson right?”
“Superman did.”
“What'd Superman tell him?”
“That there'd been a threat against you. Why?”
“What if we tell Henderson that you were Superman's source? He could've brought you to Paris to help look for me ...”
“And when Luthor took off, I followed to try and get you back ...” Clark continued.
“Exactly.”
“Lois, you're brilliant! Do you think Henderson will buy it?”
“Why not? It explains everything, and Henri and Lex can't deny it. Plus, didn't you say you spoke to Henderson before you left Vienna?”
Clark nodded, slightly in awe of her plan. It was deceptively simple, but it might just work. “I told him Luthor was in Paris.”
“See? He can vouch for you.”
Clark grinned at her.
“What?”
“Nothing ... Just... I love you, Lois.”
“I love you too.”
The attendant cleared his throat to get their attention just then, breaking the tableau. Clark received the keys off the man, shooting him a quelling glance that wiped the knowing smile off the other man's face.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
North of Beaune, Lois found a gas station complex similar to the one she and Luthor had stopped at earlier in the day. She found a parking spot and killed the engine, pointing out the payphones next to the building itself.
While Lois bought snacks, Clark made his way to the phones. Using his credit card, he placed an international call, dialling Henderson's direct number from memory. He waited through several rings then disconnected, placing another call to the precinct's front desk.
“I'd like to speak to Inspector Henderson, please.”
The desk sergeant apologised. “He's in Paris at the moment.”
“I see. Do you have a number I can reach him on? It's urgent.”
He listened, memorising a number he recognised as a French cell phone number, repeating it back to the sergeant before disconnecting and dialling the number he'd just been given.
"Henderson"
“Bill? It's Superman.”
“Superman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I have a location for you - of Lex Luthor's body.”
“Body? He's dead? Where?”
“Off the side of a mountain pass.” Clark gave Henderson the exact location.
“Can you show me where?”
“Not for a few days,” Clark admitted ruefully.
“Another cage job?”
“Similar,” Clark allowed. “His car is at the train station at Bourg-en-Bresse. I'll be back in Paris later tonight, so I'll come give you my statement early tomorrow. Lois Lane and Clark Kent will too.”
“I should've known they'd be wrapped up in this” Henderson observed. “Oh, an interesting coincidence. A man was found dead this afternoon in a container yard. Nearby, the local force found a green rock wrapped in what looks like lead foil.”
“No coincidence, Bill. I'll explain it all in person.”
“I'm sure you will. Oh, and Superman? Tell Lane that the local force had a report today of someone being held against their will in a car near Dijon. Description matches her and Luthor.”
“Thanks Bill. I'll tell her.”
“Don't worry about the rock. I'll take care of it.”
With another murmured thanks, Clark broke the connection and went back to the car.
“Well? What did he say?” Lois demanded.
“They've found Henri. We've got to go in tomorrow and make a statement. Oh, and someone reported seeing you and Luthor near Dijon.”
Lois brushed that aside.
“What about the Kryptonite?”
“Henderson's taking care of it.”
…
As they drove, they discussed various aspects of the stories they had to write about the art theft investigation and now, the kidnapping. But as the miles passed, Clark began to shift around in his seat more frequently, like he couldn't get comfortable.
Finally, Lois asked “How are you feeling?”
“No worse.” He reached out and gently ran one finger down her bruised and puffy cheek. “I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.”
The tenderness and regret in his tone was her undoing.
“Oh Clark ... What about me? I didn't exactly do a good job of protecting you back in that shipping container. The whole time you were fighting Lex, I just stood there. I - I froze. Years of taekwondo training and I didn't help you when it really mattered.” She heard her voice rising with mounting hysteria but couldn't seem to stop herself. “Some brown belt I am.”
“Pull over” Clark ordered.
She obeyed without questioning, trying to quell the sob that was threatening to choke her.
Before she realised he'd left the car, her door opened and he reached for her, half lifting her out of the vehicle.
She clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder from the fear and anxiety of the past two days. He held her close, rubbing one hand up and down her back soothingly. When she was calmer and her trembling had eased, he loosened his grip.
“You can't blame yourself for Luthor's actions, Lois. None of this was your fault. The only person at fault was Luthor himself.” He smiled at her. “I could have stopped things from getting this far if I'd just x-rayed that shipping container instead of bursting in like a 500 pound gorilla.”
She gave a watery chuckle and wiped her eyes.
“Feel better?”
“A little.”
“Good. How bout I drive for a while?”
She agreed and they climbed back into the car. Before starting the engine and pulling back onto the highway, Clark reached over and took her hand.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Night had fallen by the time they made it back to Paris. Clark navigated through the darkened streets, occasionally glancing at Lois where she slept in the passenger seat. The fatigue and stress of the last two days had caught up with her not long after they'd changed drivers and she'd drifted off still holding his hand.
He smiled tenderly at her. Things had never gone easily for them. Instead of just being able to spend time together exploring the new depths of their relationship, she'd been kidnapped by a madman. She'd been so strong through the whole ordeal, more concerned about him than what she'd been through. Well, it was almost over now.
She shifted in her seat and opened her eyes, blinking to clear them.
“Where are we?” she asked drowsily.
“Paris. We're almost back at your hotel.”
She sat up straight.
“My hotel? No.”
Clark raised one eyebrow. “No?”
“No. Look, have you ever broken ribs before? Because I have. You're going to need help getting the Suit off -” he opened his mouth to comment and she shot him a look that was clearly visible even in the glow of the streetlights “- and you're going to need help strapping your ribs. You won't go to the hospital, so you're stuck with me doing it. Then I'll take a cab back to the hotel, but not before.”
It was hard to argue with her logic. At the next intersection, he turned back towards his apartment.
Finding a parking spot in front of his apartment building, he turned off the engine and slid awkwardly out of the driver's seat. The long drive had stiffened the abused muscles of his side, and the sudden movement changed the dull soreness of his ribs back into a grinding ache. The pain took him by surprise and he grabbed at the roof of the car.
Lois must have heard the exclamation he'd tried to muffle because suddenly she was at his side. Gratefully he leaned on her shoulder for the short walk up the stairs and into the elevator.
Once they'd made it into the apartment, Clark sank down on the end of the bed.
“Tired?” Lois asked.
“Yeah” he admitted.
She sat down beside him and patted him on the leg. “Come on. You'll feel better once your ribs are strapped, and then you can go to bed.”
Grumbling, he stood up and headed to the tiny bathroom. Unzipping the light sweater she'd bought for him, he dropped it on the floor and caught sight of himself in the mirror.
His hair was standing up every which way; one eye was puffy and red, and the other had a big dark circle underneath it. He snorted mentally at his reflection. Even if he'd gone without his glasses, there was no way anyone would connect him with Superman, looking like this.
Reaching around with his good arm, he tried to grab the tab on the end of the zipper that held the upper part of the Suit closed. All the muscles around his injured side protested and it felt like his ribs were being pulled apart. He let out his breath in a pain filled hiss, then tried again. This time was even worse; on top of the pain from his ribs, it felt like the skin over the Kryptonite burn separated. Admitting defeat, he called out for Lois.
She entered the bathroom, a questioning look on her face.
“I can't get the Suit off” he admitted softly.
“Okay. How -?”
“There's a zipper. In the back, under the cape.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
That horrible greyish pallor was back, Lois noted. Clark's attempt to get the Suit off must have hurt him more than he was admitting. Carefully, she gathered the long cape up and slung it over his good shoulder so she could get to the zipper. Someone, probably Martha, had put an extra long tab on the fastener to make it easier to grab. Funny, but in all of her fantasies about Superman in the beginning, it had never occurred to her to wonder exactly how he got the Suit on and off. She undid the zipper to its full length, exposing the firmly muscled planes of his back. She swallowed hard, stepping back and telling herself to maintain her composure. She was incredibly attracted to him, yes, but now was not the time.
“Can you get your arms out?” she asked, pleased that her voice remained steady. She watched his shoulders bunch as he pulled one arm out of the tight sleeve. He went to move the other arm, and winced.
“Not without it hurting, huh?”
She hadn't noticed the tear in the Spandex near his belt before this, but now that she'd spotted it she had an idea.
“Clark? This Suit is a write-off, isn't it?” Surely it was; Superman couldn't be seen in patched Spandex.
“Yeah, why?”
“Have you got a pair of scissors?”
“In the drawer in the kitchen.”
It only took a few moments to cross the apartment and find the scissors, then return to the bathroom. Carefully, she slid one blade of the scissors under the end of the zipper, freezing when he flinched.
“Did I cut you?”
“No ... the scissors are just cold.”
“Oh.” She snipped through the zipper, cutting the Spandex to just above his belt.
“Turn around.”
He stood up and faced her. As gently as she could, she pulled the Spandex down his arm and off his chest, pausing to carefully peel the torn area away from the wound low on his side, forcing herself to concentrate only on the job at hand and not on his muscular chest.
Once she'd exposed his injured side, all thoughts of attraction vanished and she gasped. One side of his chest was covered in a massive bruise that spread almost the entire length of his ribcage. Superimposed on the livid reds, purples and bluish-blacks was a bootprint, its details so deeply impressed on his flesh that she could see the pattern of the tread. Below the enormous bruise, there was an area of red and blistered skin that looked almost like -
She looked up at him, shocked.
“It's a burn. From the Kryptonite” he explained.
“It burns you?”
“Among other things.”
Shaking her head, Lois went back out into the main area of the apartment and retrieved the first aid supplies she'd bought before going back into the bathroom. She opened the kit and examined its contents. She wasn't entirely sure how to deal with the burn; covering it with one of the large gauze pads was going to have to do.
She snapped the tip off one of the small tubes of saline solution from the kit.
“This is going to hurt” she warned Clark before squeezing the liquid over the burned area.
He jerked, his muscles tensing as the fluid stung the wound.
“Oh Clark, I'm sorry, but I had to clean it.”
“S'ok,” he told her.
She ripped open one of the gauze dressings and taped it over the burn. Then she turned her attention to his chest. She cut long strips of the strapping tape and wrapped them around his side, helping to support his damaged ribs. Smoothing the last piece into place, she stepped back.
“There. How does that feel?”
He took an experimental breath. “Much better.” He caught her hand as she went to leave him in privacy. “Thank you, Lois.”
She smiled at him and left the room.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lois occupied herself by inspecting Clark's apartment more closely. The more she saw of it, the more she understood why he spent so much time away. Shaking her head, she examined the window. From the angle, she wasn't sure whether or not the apartment ever got direct sunlight.
The bathroom door clicked and she turned her head. Clark walked out, wearing nothing but the sweatpants she'd bought him.
“Does this place ever get sunlight?”
“Some. Early in the morning.” He started piling pillows up on one side of the bed, creating a prop, then gingerly settled himself against it. Lois came over and sat down beside him.
“How long until your powers come back?”
“After two exposures in two days?” He thought for a moment. “Maybe tomorrow. Probably the day after.” He shifted into a more comfortable position, then sighed. “Busy day tomorrow.”
Lois could see he was close to falling asleep. She stood up. “I should go,” she told him softly. Leaning over him, she kissed him lightly. “Goodnight Clark.”
He reached out and caught her hand.
“Stay.”
“Clark. You need to sleep.”
“I know, and I will. But I'll sleep better if I know you're safe.”
She wavered, torn between wanting to stay with him and wanting to make sure he got the rest he needed to heal.
“Please, Lois?”
The appeal in his voice got to her.
“Okay.”
The smile he gave her was full of relief. “There's sweats in the bottom drawer.”
She found a pair of pants with a drawstring she could cinch in to fit her narrow waist and a sweater, then ducked into the bathroom to change. When she came out, the apartment was dark except for the lamp on the nightstand and Clark was half asleep on top of the covers. She slid under the covers next to him and he turned out the light.
