Previously - Chapter 12 ***
Chapter 13***
Clark walked down the crowded, construction-laden 9th street toward the university. Like any major city in the U.S., construction was a constant feature. The sounds of construction did little to drown out his self-deprecating thoughts as he ducked under a covered path and continued down the sidewalk. He was hoping that maybe he’d find Lana and they could talk. He needed her, not just to tell him more about what he was saying in his sleep, but to help him feel … less like himself.
Less worthless.
This day was going horribly. He should have known it would be this way after the long night he’d had. Walking slowly with his head down, he thought about everything that was going wrong. He hadn’t slept. He forgot to eat breakfast. He was ten minutes late to the city council meeting. He didn’t get any information at the meeting. And Zartaga knew it. He was a complete failure.
And he didn’t know where Lana was.
The furious dinging of a bicycle bell caught his attention just then but before he had time to register where it was coming from, the handle bar that must have belonged to that bell caught his left arm as it swung forward with his step. The fabric of his shirt sleeve wrapped around it and he felt himself pulled off balance.
A muffled scream and a crash followed. He found himself tangled in a pile of bicycle, people, and a chair.
“Geez,” he heard from someone underneath him. “You gotta pay attention man,” a kid who looked like he was in college yelled at him.
Dazed, Clark took in the scene around him. A table had been pushed back against three occupied chairs with a fourth chair, a bicycle, and two people wedged underneath. He was stretched on top of the biker and bike with his own legs sprawled out on the sidewalk.
“Is everyone okay?” he asked as he looked around what appeared to be a sidewalk cafe.
He received shocked nods from the three at the table. But the biker underneath shoved hard to dislodge himself and yelled, “Get off me!”
Clark attempted to apologize as he quickly got up and reached to help up the biker. That was when he realized the bike was completely bent out of shape and the wrought iron chair was deformed. Clark wiped his hand across his face in frustration only to realize he was bleeding on his cheek. The biker didn’t appear to be physical hurt, but there was no questioning his anger.
“Are you always such a moron or is today special?” the biker asked with a sneer.
Moron. Add that to the list of Clark’s shortcomings.
“I’m sorry,” Clark quickly apologized. “I’ll replace the bike,” he added, realizing it just wasn’t enough.
***
She slowly turned back to the archbishop and let the words he was speaking to her sink in. “And do you Lois take this man to be your wedded husband from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”
“I…” she started. Thinking then about her missing friends… and Clark, she found she couldn’t speak. “I …” she tried again.
Lex turned to look at her, fear and confusion on his face. “Lois?” he asked.
She turned to look at him, an apology on her face. “I can’t.”
The doors at the back of the room opened and a familiar voice called to her. “Lois!”
Turning to see Perry striding down the aisle with Jimmy close behind him, she breathed a sigh of relief as she threw her veil back over her head. “Lex,” she happily exclaimed, planting a kiss on his lips. “They came!”
“Stop the wedding,” he instructed. “You can’t marry this man.”
“What, is there an echo in here? I just said that.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Lex asked, confused.
“The meaning of this is Luthor you’re through,” Perry said with a stern look on his face, coming to a stop in front of Lex. It was then Lois noticed the large number of police and Detective Henderson who had followed him in. “We have all the evidence against you we need.”
“Evidence? Evidence for what?”
“This is a warrant for you arrest,” Henderson explained, holding up papers. She looked to Lex to see confusion written on his face as Henderson continued, “for arson and other crimes too numerous to mention.”
“You’re out of your minds, both of you.” Lex’s expression changed to one of disbelief, but all Lois could do was watch in confusion.
“You have the right to remain silent.” Henderson began the Miranda warning, “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be supplied –”
“Will you shut up?” Lex interrupted. “I can afford a thousand attorneys. I’ll have your badge. I’ll have your head for this. Get me the governor on the phone. Get me the president. Get him on the phone!”
Lois stared at him, mouth agape. She’d never seen Lex behave in any way other than as a gentleman and it was disconcerting to think about what might have happened had Perry and Jimmy not burst in when they did.
A commotion at the back of the room drew everyone’s attention. Mrs. Cox was being led in handcuffs, a smirk on her face.
“Et tu, Mrs. Cox?” Lex asked.
Still processing what was happening, she stood motionless as he said, “Lois, I’m sorry.” She felt her hand drawn upwards as Lex kissed it. “We’ll take a raincheck,” he continued. “Something’s come up.”
She let her hand drop, stunned by what was happening.
“Let’s go pal,” Henderson said, clasping his hand on Lex’s arm.
“You let go of me!” Lex yelled as he shoved Henderson to the ground. Lois watched in shock as he rushed away from the scene, expertly taking down three cops that attempted to stop his exit before running through a door at the side of the room.
Unable to move, she stood transfixed in the nightmare. Evidence? Were the things Clark eluded to actually true? Had she really been so blind? Clark was right: she was an investigative reporter, but she’d never investigated Lex, not really. She felt duped. Foolish. A laughing stock.
Her mother was suddenly, thankfully, at Lois side. “Oh honey,” she said soothingly, handing her a handkerchief. “I know things haven’t worked out the way you planned, but-”
“Why?” Lois interrupted as she dabbed at her eyes. “Isn’t this the way every girl dreams her wedding’s gonna be?”
###Lois shook her head, to clear it. It was getting easier to cope with the memories as they came, the warning signs giving her just a few seconds to ready herself. She was also able to recover more quickly now than last night at the hotel. Conveniently, Lex was called away to take care of some business, giving her more time alone to consider everything without having to worry that she would let on that she’d remembered anything or would be overcome with a sour stomach. Now, the nausea seemed to only assault her every time she thought of the circumstances she was in or was in a position to be intimate with Lex. The only benefit of that was how it helped her cover seem so believable.
This time, she was already seated at the dining room table and needed only to set down the mug of coffee she’d been taking a sip of. After Lex had left, memories continued to resurface, brought on as she walked through her house, seeing pictures and objects that sparked them. It was becoming difficult to keep track of them as there were so many. And they were so contradictory. The investigative reporter in her knew that writing them down would be the first step to making sense of them. So here she sat at the dining room table, a pad covered in scribbles in front of her, tapping a pencil with one hand, her head resting on the other. She wrote snippets, sipping coffee, sorting everything that came to mind.
She had nearly two years’ worth of memories as a TV reporter but it couldn’t have really been that long. Following the anniversary party, Lois had taken the next week off from work in anticipation of spending quality time with her husband. How peculiar it felt to think about
work. Crafting words into profound statements was still a necessary part of the job but standing in front of a camera and saying those words was something she’d never considered for herself. Now, her time off would be spent much differently, trying to piece together reality.
It was becoming a painful process as the differences between what she thought was real and what was actually real became more apparent. This last one of the ending to her ill-fated wedding to Lex reminded her just how senseless she’d behaved. Never questioning Lex, accepting his lies.
She’d remembered what he’d done to the Daily Planet. She’d remembered the lengths he went to so that she felt like she had nowhere to turn but to him. He’d choreographed it all.
And now it was happening all over again.
Except now she had no idea how it had even happened.
Her heart ached for Clark. She missed him, needed him… had hurt him. What did he know? What sort of life had Lex forced him into? The only thing she knew about that was that it must have been miserable even though Scott said he was alive and well.
That was another thing. She hadn’t seen Scott today and what little conversation they did have last night didn’t shed much light on what had happened or how or when. She understood why - he had to keep up appearances, prevent Lex from questioning his behavior.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slowly releasing it and as much tension as she could.
As far as she could tell from piecing together the memories she had, she’d been living this lie for two months. Memories from the moment Clark had appeared in her life were the first ones she could recognize as changed, every one involving him riddled with lies. In some cases, only minute details were altered, but others were drastically transformed. Memories of things that had never happened were mixed together with events that had been previously completely inaccessible.
Scribbling as quickly as she could manage, she wrote everything down that came across her mind. Starting with Clark’s arrival, making columns to separate those events she knew were real, the ones she knew were not real and memories she wasn’t sure of.
What she was sure of was that the last two months of memories, though they began with lies, were authentic and her awareness of this had been and was still making her physically ill. That was the hard part.
Knowing she’d been living with Lex as his wife.
Happily married.Her stomach churned. The only thing keeping her from sinking into a pit of despair too deep to climb out of was the fact that as reprehensible as it was, it was not something done by choice. Even if she had seemed willing afterward, Lex had done this to her. And she couldn’t even begin to imagine how he’d done it or what he’d done.
Her head was beginning to hurt thinking about all of this. Pushing her chair back from the table, she stood and made her way back to the living room, taking her pad of notes with her.
How had this happened? How much time passed after Superman “left” before this lie began?
Taking a seat on the couch, she glanced around the room only to catch sight of the baby booties Lex had given her just before lunch sitting on the end table. She picked them up gently and examined them more closely without him present to watch. The solid white leather booties showed the smallest amount of wear. The laces were tied in a simple bow, one end of the lace longer than the other.
The man who gave her these booties obviously cared for her, but how could he be the same person she had been gradually remembering more about all afternoon? She felt like she knew two Lex Luthors now – the corrupt businessman who wanted to destroy Superman and rule Metropolis, and this thoughtful and caring one that wanted only her happiness. How could they be the same person? Had something happened to Lex as well?
She shook her head to stop the mess of thoughts running through it and set the booties back on the table. This could not be the same Lex that Lois had remembered. The one who had lied, cheated, stolen… killed.
She needed a break from all of this, but reminders were everywhere and there were so many questions yet to be answered. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she slammed the notebook closed in frustration.
A nap is a good idea, she thought as she shoved the notebook under the couch. She was overwhelmed and exhausted. She went in search of a bed that was not theirs and hoped that sleep would bring some much-needed relief … if only temporarily.
***
“It’s just a face,” Imogene explained. The dark-haired older woman sat with impeccable posture complete with her hands neatly folded in her lap. “A nice enough looking one, but that’s it.”
Jimmy perched on the edge of a flowered loveseat in the small living room of Imogene Hubert, her husband, Hal, who relaxed in the chair across from him. “Is it always the same face?” he asked, jotting a few notes down.
“Oh, yes.” She nodded, not bothered by this at all. “Sometimes, I feel like we’re in a big, white room and sometimes I can’t tell where we are, but it’s always the same face.”
According to Hal, Imogene had gone to the health care facility to have a mole removed. She came home without the it, but they argued over it. A bandage covered the site where it had been, but Imogene insisted that it was merely covering a scratch she’d received while weeding near her rose bushes in the garden that morning. Now, the only evidence that a mole had ever existed was the hard copy health records Hal had kept.
When Jimmy first arrived, they showed him Imogene’s old health records clearly indicating the mole, its location, and suggested treatment. Then they showed him the copy of the digital records which showed no such diagnosis but rather described nearly flawless skin. After discussing what had happened, Imogene mentioned that it was around the time she started having this strange dream. And that’s what she was trying to explain now.
“It’s the same dream the other two we’ve met with kept mentioning,” Hal explained. Hal had talked with some of the other claimants to see what could be done, and it was at one of their meetings that they discovered several of the patients had been having the same strange dream of a face.
“And this dream started the same time this procedure supposedly happened?”
“Yes,” Hal cut in. “She told me about it. I think it scared her at first, but now it’s like they’re old friends. She’s named him Jacob.” Hal shook his head.
Jimmy smiled and nodded, trying not to chuckle. “You said she’s forgotten some other things?”
“Yeah,” Hal answered. “We had lunch that day. Ran into some friends from our home town. But she doesn’t remember any of that. She thinks she spent the whole afternoon shopping. But didn’t come home with any bags.”
“I see.” Jimmy took notes as the talked, trying to think of relevant questions to ask, pondering possible explanations. Was the face a real person? Perhaps if it were, that person knew something that would help them understand what had really happened. “Mr. Hubert, would you mind taking your wife down to the police station? I have an idea.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“I’d like Imogene to describe the face in her dream to a sketch artist down at the police station.” Jimmy scribbled down a name on a scrap of paper and handed to Hal. “Detective Henderson can hook you up with him.” Jimmy stood up to leave, satisfied with the information he’d received.
Hal and Imogene stood as well, Hal extending his hand. “Sure, no problem.”
“Today if possible,” Jimmy added, shaking Hal’s hand.
***
She knows, Lex realized as he eyed the object in his hand.
Lex had suspected something was amiss. This morning, when she commented about her friends not being at the wedding. That memory had been altered. At first, he thought maybe she was just tired, as her condition would warrant.
And then he stumbled across this notebook. One of Lois’s. Stuffed under the couch.
He’d been thinking about her earlier comment much of the day and sat down to polish his knife collection as he usually did when he needed time to focus and center himself. If he hadn’t dropped the lid to the cleaner only to have it roll under the couch, he never would have found it. But when he reached his fingers under the edge, they brushed across something unexpected instead.
A notebook.
Small, with a leather cover. One of the ones he’d given her several weeks ago just because he loved her and enjoyed giving her gifts.
He’d pulled it out and flipped through the pages. It looked like notes for story at first, but as he flipped further, the writing looked more hurried, frantic even. Columns of notes scribbled in haste.
He paused on one page as a single, elegantly written word leaped from the paper.
Clark.
The blood drained from his head leaving him woozy. As he looked more closely at the words on the page, reading bits and pieces, he realized that there was no mistaking what was going on.
Somehow, she knew.
She remembered.
As he flipped through the notebook more slowly, he saw a jumble of the events and descriptions he’d given her mixed with the real memories he’d covered up. Snippets, it appeared. Pieces. She hadn’t remembered everything, it seemed… or she hadn’t had a chance to write it all down. From the looks of it, she was trying to sort out the real from the rest of it.
Lex closed his eyes and mentally ran through the last several days, searching for some evidence of when this had happened. Then he would be able to consider how it had happened.
Hightower had insisted that the process was irreversible. That it wouldn’t wear off with time. That it worked. Immediate regret filled him and quickly turned to anger.
He tried to relax, breathing deeply. He spotted the baby booties he’d brought to her. Her reaction brought a smile to his face. She hadn’t been expecting the gesture and he could tell by the look on her face that it had exactly the effect on her that he was hoping for. She was enchanted.
He had diligently spent the last two months making amends for the way in which he’d interrupted her life. He had painstakingly displayed his affection for Lois and all the world to see just how much he truly loved her. How he would do whatever was necessary for her happiness. He knew what was best for her and would take care of her.
Lois.
He couldn’t lose
his Lois. His heart ached at the thought of losing her … and their unborn child.
Suddenly it hit him. That must be it. The pregnancy must have done something, changed something. Hormones were notorious for wreaking havoc in all sorts of ways in pregnant women. And they probably hadn’t tested that aspect. Questions bombarded him. Had it been the pregnancy? Did Hightower make a mistake or lie? Would it be safe to alter her memories again? If it weren’t safe, could he endure several months of her hatred before having the opportunity to repeat the procedure?
Lex shook his head, his face turning stern. She couldn’t hate him. Could she? She’d so easily stepped into her role as his wife, and he
knew those affections couldn’t be faked. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, even if she did remember everything. Maybe she would come to realize that she preferred him over Clark.
He should have killed Clark when he had the chance.
Yet knowing he was so miserable gave Lex such great satisfaction. Lex had carefully crafted a miserable existence for the deceiving alien: years of memories of being made to leave his job for something that never happened, countless failures, disappointment from his friends and family, low self-esteem, a fear of intimacy. And he’d made sure to leave just enough of the shell of the old Clark to make sure he wouldn’t give up on life altogether.
According to his last report, the Lang girl had just left him. A smile spread across his face at the thought. He wondered just what had happened to bring about that added despair.
Lex shook his head. He couldn’t think about that now. He needed first to get Lois somewhere secluded, protected. He knew just the place.
And then he would have Hightower make sure the procedure wouldn’t hurt his future heir. That was the last thing he wanted.
***
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