Table of Contents
From Part 17:Luthor ran a hand through his immaculately-groomed hair, dishevelling it. “I just wanted him found. Lois clearly wasn’t up to the job, and I didn’t have a lot of faith in Kent or in the competence of the police. So I set someone onto the task of finding the man. He was supposed to bring him to me.”
“Bring him to you? Not take the information to the police? So that we could find out what Lois was poisoned with and cure her?”
“Well, of course that was my aim! I was going to get LexLabs to come up with an antidote once the old man told me what he used.”
So that Luthor himself would get the credit for saving Lois’s life. Typical. “You hired a hitman. What did you think he was going to do?”
“The speciality I hired was the ability to piece together clues and come up with a name. An individual. And then to find that individual and bring him to me.”
“And so you caused his death. And probably made sure of Lois’s.” Clark looked at Luthor again, a hard stare of utter contempt, before turning towards the balcony in response to the sound he’d just heard. “Heard enough, Inspector?”
The lean figure of Inspector Henderson strolled in from the balcony. “Yes, I have. Lex Luthor, I’m arresting you for procuring a murder and attempting to conceal a crime.”
**********
Now read on...Clark was taking a long time. He’d said he wouldn’t be long. Had he told her what he was doing? Lois frowned. Maybe... she couldn’t seem to remember it, though.
“Here you go, Lois.”
She raised her head from where she’d been resting it on her desk. Just resting. After all, there wasn’t anything else for her to do right now. Except wait - wait for Clark, wait for Dr Sutton.
Wait for someone to save her from dying.
‘S funny. Usually, she’d be saving herself. Didn’t need anyone else to save her.
Well, except Superman.
That was what she usually did. Wasn’t it? “Help, Superman.”
“What? Lois, are you...? Should I call someone for you?”
That wasn’t Superman. Or Clark. SuperClark. She blinked and tried to focus through bleary eyes. “Perry. Sorry. Did I... I must have dozed off.”
His weathered face was full of concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? Well, I mean as okay as you can be in the circumstances... is there anything I can do?”
“No.” She shook her head slightly and regretted it immediately. Dizziness was not fun. “I’m okay. I just... god, I just want it all to be over! You know?”
“I know.” His hand pressed on her shoulder for a moment. “Here. I sent someone out for camomile tea - didn’t think coffee would be all that good for you right now...”
Oh, that was sweet. And he was right - despite the anti-nausea drugs, even the mention of coffee made her stomach roil. “Thanks, Perry.”
It was even in a takeout container with a sippy-cup top. Probably just as well. If he’d given her a standard mug she’d probably have slopped it all over the place.
As she reached for the drink, her phone rang. “Oh.” Diverting her hand from its original task took some thought. But she made it to the receiver and even managed to grip the phone, only to drop it before bringing it to her ear.
“Let me.” Perry had picked up the phone. “Perry White, Daily Planet.” A pause. “She’s not able to come to the phone right now. Can I take a... Oh, I see.” He halted abruptly and looked at her. “Lois, it’s Dr Sutton.”
Everything around her seemed to go still. This was it. He was calling to tell her that he knew what was wrong with her. That they finally knew what was inside her, killing her. That all she had to do was come in to the hospital and they could cure her.
Finally.
Clark. Where was Clark? She needed Clark. He should be here...
“Clark...”
She didn’t realise that she’d murmured his name until Perry patted her shoulder again. “He’ll be back soon. Superman said so, didn’t he?” He squeezed her arm gently, then said, “You up to talking to Sutton?”
“Yes.” Of course she was.
“Here, then.” Perry was holding the receiver for her.
“Lois Lane. Dr Sutton, you’ve got news?”
“I do.” The by-now familiar voice of the ER doctor came on the line. “I’m sorry, Ms Lane. It’s not the news you were hoping for.”
What? But... It had to be. Her life was depending on it... “Dr Sutton, the vial...”
“I’m sorry, Ms Lane, but I’m afraid the vial revealed no more than we already knew. Mr Griffin seems to have developed - or had someone else develop - an antibody designed to attack the myelin in the nervous system and thus mimic the symptoms of Guillain-Barré syndrome. I have to say that our pathologists are fascinated - ”
“Can you get to the point, please, Doctor?” She could feel herself shaking once more. Trembling. They’d failed. Again. The vial hadn’t given them any answers at all.
“We’re no further forward. There were no traces of any other substance in that vial, so we don’t know what else was used. We’re no closer to identifying what you were poisoned with.”
“Damn!” The expletive slipped out. She just didn’t seem to have any control over her emotions at all. Either she was flying into rages, or she was weeping uncontrollably. Or falling asleep, of course.
She felt Perry’s hand on hers. Trying to give her any comfort he could. Glancing in his direction, she saw his worried expression.
“Please try to remember, Ms Lane. Are you sure that there was only one injection?”
She took a couple of steadying breaths before answering. “I only remember one jab. I... I don’t think I was so far out of it that I’d have missed a second.”
“All right.” Sutton apparently did have a bedside manner after all. His tone was calm, soothing. “Is there any possibility that something could have been administered orally?”
“Huh?” She should have been able to follow what he’d said, but the words just seemed to flow above her head as if they were in a foreign language. What the hell was happening to her brain?
“Is it possible that he could have made you swallow something?”
“No.” Now, that she was sure of. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to focus.
“Okay. So at least we know we’re not leaving lines of enquiry unaddressed.” She heard Sutton draw breath heavily. “Well, all we can do for now is wait for the mercury test to come back and hope that that’s positive.”
“And if it’s not...?” Cold dread filled her at the thought of the answer she’d get.
“If it’s not...” He paused for a moment. “Then we think again. But I have to be honest with you, Ms Lane... it won’t be looking good at that stage.”
Okay, so much for the bedside manner. But it was only what she’d expected to hear, after all. “Then we’d better hope that it is mercury.”
Hope. That was all she had. Yet something in her gut was already telling her that this wasn’t going to be the answer either.
“Yes. It’s just a pity the police haven’t been able to find the hypodermic he used. That would answer all our questions.”
The hypodermic. Yeah. Hadn’t Henderson said they’d been looking for it? Why couldn’t she remember...
“Anyway, I just wanted to update you. I’ll get in touch again as soon as we know about the mercury test. Goodbye for now.”
And she was left with the dial tone buzzing in her ear.
“No... no...” All that hope - dashed once more. She was still dying.
Something made a clattering sound, and she looked down. It was the phone. It must have slipped from her hand.
“Lois?” A warm hand squeezed her shoulder. “Sorry I was so long.”
Clark. Back. And now she had to tell him...
Slowly, she turned. He was smiling at her, a warm, caring,
loving smile. “You’ll enjoy this. Henderson just arrested...” He trailed off. “What’s wrong?”
“She just had a call from the doc.” Perry was still there. She hadn’t realised... “Wasn’t good news, Clark.”
“What?” His face paled again. He came to perch on the edge of her desk and took her shoulders gently in his. “What happened, Lois?”
“I’ll leave you two to it. Call me if you need me.” Perry moved away.
In a voice as dead as she was feeling inside, Lois repeated as much as she could remember of the phone conversation. He seemed unable to shift his gaze from her. And when she’d finished, he was silent.
For a long moment, he just sat and looked at her. And then, with an inarticulate sound, he gathered her up and held her cradled against him, her head pressed to his chest. She subsided into his warm, welcoming embrace, and he buried his face in her hair, his arms tightly around her.
Safe. Protected. Cherished.
Yet even Clark’s embrace couldn’t keep the harsh truth away. She was still dying, with even less hope of survival than before. Not much more than five hours to go, and hope was so thin on the ground.
Someone was shaking. Her? Or him?
He drew back, and there was damp on her cheeks and against her hair. Her tears... and his. Silvery streaks were visible on his face.
With a shaky hand, she reached out to brush them away. He caught her fingers and brought them to his lips, kissing them before wrapping his own fingers around them.
“Lois... god, Lois, I really thought we’d found it!”
“Me too.” Her voice trembled, and she stopped to take a steadying breath. “He said... if only the police had found the hypodermic...”
“The hypodermic - ” He broke off, an arrested look on his face. “I didn’t look... once we found the vial, I thought...” He took his arms from around her. Suddenly, it was very cold.
“Look.” He stood. “I’m going to go back to the warehouse. I know Henderson’s men are going over it with a fine-toothed comb. But still, I might be able to find something... if not the hypodermic, then
some clue. Okay?”
It was a good idea. But at the same time...
“You said you wouldn’t leave me...”
He caught her hands, holding them between his. “I know, Lois. But if there’s a chance that I could find something... It won’t take me long. And then I’ll be back.” He hesitated, then added, “I’d take you, but I don’t think you’re well enough to hang around there. It’s cold and you’d only be sitting waiting for me to finish.”
He was right. That didn’t make it any better.
It wasn’t even as if Clark could do anything by being with her, except
be with her. And he was right. With all his powers, he might be able to find something at the warehouse. It made perfect sense for him to go.
But time was ticking away. Faster and faster all the time. She had so little time left, and she wanted to spend it with him. Even if all she could do was curl up in his arms and let him hold her.
Lie in his arms until she slipped away. That sounded so tempting... If she had no choice but to die, that was how she wanted to go.
She freed her hands from his and gave him a little wave. “Go. Come back soon.”
“I will.” He hesitated, then leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers. Then, as he began to walk away, he turned back and added, “I seem to be doing that a lot today.”
She touched her fingers to her lips. “I don’t mind.” And she didn’t. Not at all. Quite the opposite.
She craved it - his touch, his embrace, his kiss. Needed it - all of it. Clark, all the ways he touched her, was the only thing holding her together today.
And the kissing... Too late to discover how he could make her feel, how much she wanted to explore him, all of him, learn how much more exciting his kisses could be. Far too late.
“I’ll be back soon.” And he was gone.
And she was alone again with the reality of impending death. Everything she was going to lose, far sooner than she was ready. And her own impotence in the face of it.
How useless was she? What was the point of her being around at all? Clark couldn’t take her with him because he’d have to concentrate on making sure she was all right instead of doing the searching he needed to do. At the hospital, lab testers were busy trying to find out whether she’d been poisoned with mercury. Henderson had forensic people searching the warehouse for clues. All those people, working hard, long after their normal workday should have ended, trying to help her.
Meanwhile, she could do nothing to help herself.
Mercury. The last chance. Obviously Dr Sutton thought her symptoms, or some of them anyway, matched mercury poisoning. She pulled her keyboard over and called up an internet window on her computer.
Effects of mercury poisoning. Amazing how easy it was to find that sort of information online. And she was always so impressed when Jimmy came up with stuff? If only she’d known.
Well, that looked familiar. Nausea. Abdominal pain. But those other symptoms - burning pain, things she didn’t really want to think about - weren’t.
The more she read, the less likely it looked.
But, if it wasn’t mercury, then what was it? And was there any hope at all of finding out before time ran out?
***********
He wasn’t even managing to hold it together in front of Lois any more.
Strange to be grateful for a task which took him away from her, especially at this late stage, when the time they had left was so short and when he didn’t want to lose one precious moment with her. But if he’d stayed one second longer he’d have been weeping like a baby.
There’d be plenty of time to cry... after.
For now, there was work to do. And then Lois to comfort.
The warehouse. The hypodermic. Why hadn’t he searched it more thoroughly earlier? They’d found the vial and, foolishly, he’d assumed that was it. That they’d found the missing clue. The vital piece of evidence as to what Lois had been given.
He’d felt so proud of himself, too. So proud of
them. And proud, too, of what he’d achieved with Luthor.
So much for hubris.
Henderson had been delighted with the Luthor coup. Turned out the detective had been quietly working away on associating Lex Luthor with numerous crimes for quite some time. He had enough for an indictment on various counts of money laundering, conspiracy, illegal arms dealing and so on, but this one, complicity in murder and actually admitted to by the man himself, had been too good to resist.
Luthor was now in a police cell, awaiting full charges and a lawyer, neither of which would be delivered until the morning. That, at least, felt good.
One minor success in a day full of failures.
Luthor in jail; Lois dying. Put that way... No, it didn’t feel so good.
The forensic team paid little attention to him as he returned. They had a job to do and he’d been there earlier anyway. So he was able to walk around, pause, scan, move, scan again uninterrupted. The trash can that had been next to where they’d found the vial was gone; one officer confirmed that it had been taken to the lab for analysis. That made sense. In fact, on thinking about it, it was very likely that Griffin had been burning the evidence there. The hypodermic. His gloves. That would explain the plastic smell.
Another dead end.
He nodded to one of the team. “I think he disposed of what he used in the trash can that was here. We found a vial next to it.”
The man nodded. “Okay. We can dust down the countertop here in case anything got spilt.”
Spilt... Clark focused on the countertop, and then the floor. Nothing on the top. No smells, no spilt liquid, no indication that anything had been mopped up. Just one or two flakes of something metallic. On the floor, more of the flakes. No doubt shavings from one of the models lying around the place.
Nothing that would help Lois. Yet another dead end.
With a heavy heart, he returned to the Planet.
*********
Lois ran her fingertips over the surface of her desk and tried to ignore the shaking. Her desk. The same desk she’d worked at for the past five years.
In the beginning, it had been in a cluster of desks, where the interns and gofers sat. Then, as she’d graduated to more serious work and even her own byline, the other desks had moved further away until, after her second Kerth, she was left in her own little private island. The nameplate had appeared after the first Kerth.
Now, of course, she was more of a peninsula of sorts; since Clark had been partnered up with her, they’d brought his desk closer. It wasn’t quite touching hers, but if she left a folder overlapping the edge of her desk the gap would be bridged.
Slowly, carefully, she nudged a manila folder backwards, away from her, until it was part-off her desk.
Who would sit at this desk in the future? Where would they put her nameplate? Or would it go in a box, along with the other accumulated detritus of five years of reporting, and get passed along to her parents one of these days? Would Clark go through it first, taking out anything he might think was special?
Would she be missed?
Who would write her obituary? Perry? Or would he assign it to one of the regular staff writers?
At least now they’d be able to name her killer.
If she had the energy, she’d do that herself. She had tried, once she’d shut down the mercury website. She’d got as far as typing the first sentence.
Ewdin Grifin, scientst and fahter of gunrunner Kyle Griffin, was last night named as the killr of Lois Lane, award-winning invstigatve journaliat at the Dailp Plwnet.Even the most experienced of sub-editors would consider that a nightmare to edit. And it had taken her almost ten minutes to type it. Someone else would have to write the final story of her life. It would be nice if it were Clark, but she suspected it probably wouldn’t be. He’d find it too hard to write. Just as she would if it were him... yet she’d want to do it anyway.
It was dark outside - when had it got dark? Her watch told her that it was just after ten. Barely more than five hours left. Where was Clark? Whether he’d found anything or not, she wanted him back. There was so little time now, and all she wanted was to be with him. He’d promised to be there, with her, right up until the end.
So that was it, then. The end of the road.
And then he was there, slipping through the door from the stairwell, striding across the newsroom towards her.
“Take me away from here, Clark.”
He crouched beside her chair and caught her hands. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere. Just... away from here. And not the hospital.”
“Okay.” A muscle ticked in his jaw as he spoke. That, and the fact that he didn’t argue that there were other things they could try, other avenues to pursue, told her louder than words that he knew it was hopeless, too. They’d done all they could, and it was time to accept the inevitable.
He stood, tugging her up with him, and immediately slid his arm around her waist. “I’ll take you home, okay?”
Her apartment was still a crime scene. “No. Your place.”
If she’d said she wanted to go to the moon, he’d have found a way to take her there. Right now, of that she had no doubt.
He took her to the stairwell, scooping her into his arms once the door closed behind them and they were alone. Silently, she bade farewell to the newsroom. Maybe she should have said goodbye to Perry, too. And Jimmy. They were both still around, and they’d seen Clark lead her away. They probably both knew they wouldn’t see her again.
No. Goodbyes were just too... final.
“You should call your parents.” Up on the roof, Clark broke the silence. His voice was barely recognisable, and in the glow of the city lights his face looked thin. Lined. And grey.
He was right. She’d promised - in fact, it was more than an hour beyond the time she’d set as a cut-off. Yet still she hesitated.
Her parents. They’d come rushing in, all concern and fuss and wounded anger that she hadn’t told them sooner. And they’d take over.
She wouldn’t get these last hours with Clark. There’d be no chance to snuggle together with him on his couch, talking about all the things they’d done together, all their successes, the narrow escapes. No chance to ask him all the things she’d wondered about since he’d confessed to being Superman. No chance to lose herself in his kisses.
And there’d be worse. Oh yes, far worse.
Her parents weren’t like his. Clark’s experience of family life was Jonathan and Martha Kent. Of course he’d imagine their reactions. How they would feel. What they would want. The comfort they would offer.
He barely knew Sam Lane. Had never met Ellen Lane.
“Clark.”
He lowered his head to her. “Yes, Lois?”
“I... need you to promise me something.”
He swallowed. “Anything.” His voice broke on the word, and the lump was back in her throat.
“My parents... they’ll take over.” Now she had to swallow. “When they know... At the hospital. They’ll want... Promise me you won’t let them do anything... I don’t want to be a vegetable, Clark!” Tears were flowing freely now, but she made no attempt to stop them. “No machines. No tubes. No ven... ventilator. Just... let me go cleanly, okay? Please!”
“God, Lois!” His arms tightened around her, and he buried his face in her hair again. And he was shaking. She clung to him, dampening his shirt with her tears just as he soaked her with his.
Finally, he raised his head. He was all fuzzy... but then, she was looking through blurry, stinging eyes. “Lois, I... I’ll do what I can, but...” He broke off and took a shuddering breath. “But if you’re not capable of making decisions then it’s your parents who have the right as... as your next of kin.”
Of course. He was right. Her next of kin... and yet she’d just been assuming that Clark would be able to do whatever she wanted on her behalf. That was just plain
wrong. Clark
should have that right. He knew her best, had been with her all today, knew what she wanted...
There had to be a way to make sure that...
Yes! Of course there was!
“Can you fly me to Vegas?”
He blinked. “Las Vegas?” His grip on her almost slacked. “Lois, I know I said... but it’s not a way of getting out of talking to your parents, is it?”
“No!” She caught his gaze, those dark brown eyes which were almost liquid as they stared at her. “No, it’s... how I want to deal with them. Clark... will you marry me?”
**********
...tbc
