Part 5~
Black. Blue. Yellow. Purple. White. A sequence of colors greeted Lois as she opened her eyes, only to quickly close them again. Her eyes weren't prepared for the bright lamplight that met her. Lamplight…?
Bracing herself, Lois opened her eyes and sat up slowly, trying desperately to figure out where she was.
<Where am I? The last thing I remember was… was that I was at home with… Clark, where is Clark?>
"Clark?" She tested her voice, but the word came out scratchy and hoarse, not at all like her normal voice. From her soft bed, she looked around but didn't see him anywhere. She recognized the room; it was her bedroom. How she got there, she couldn't quite remember.
"Lois?" Clark opened the door, sticking his head in. He walked over to the side of the bed to inspect her. "How are you?"
"I've been better," she said groggily. "What happened? Why am I here? And why does my head hurt so much?"
Clark sat down beside her. He put his hand to her forehead, checking for something.
"Well, Lois," he said, "You were shot at."
"I was shot? Oh, please don't tell me I was shot. I got shot once when I was still an intern at the Planet. It was in my arm so it didn't hurt that much after a while, but Perry wouldn't let me do *anything.* He'd make me sit around and do paper work instead of going out to find the stories that I want. He treated me like some injured greenhorn, I hated it!"
"Lois, you were an intern. Generally speaking, interns are allowed to be treated like novices," Clark commented, smiling.
"Well, I was a lot more experienced than some people where when they first came to the Planet." She glared at him and then winced. Her head throbbed whenever she made any facial expression. Actually, it throbbed even if she didn't, but it hurt worse when she tried to glare.
"Are you okay?" Clark asked, looking her over again. "And anyway, you weren't shot. I said that somebody shot *at* you. I jumped in front of you and--"
"You weren't shot, were you? Oh God, Clark, you were already shot once and I couldn't handle it. But if you were shot, you wouldn't be here. So that must mean you're dead. We're both dead. Oh, God. I didn't know being dead hurts so much…"
"Lois," Clark interrupted. "We are not dead. I did not get shot. You did not get shot. I jumped in front of you and pulled us both to the floor. The reason your head hurts is because you banged it pretty hard against the coffee table. You were unconscious, so I brought you in here. You've only been out for like 10 minutes. So how are you feeling?" he asked again.
"Like I want to get up and figure out what's going on." Lois made an unsuccessful attempt to rise. Dizziness overtook her. Before she could fall, Clark scooped her up, setting her down on the soft mattress.
"You will do no such thing. You are going to lie here and sleep, and if you don't feel better by tonight, you're going to the hospital." Clark insisted.
"But Clark, what about--"
"I already told Perry you weren't going to be in to work today, don't worry about it. I'll go in later and see if there's anything we should be covering. You just rest," Clark soothed.
Realizing that arguing was futile, Lois settled back into the sheets. Might as well get comfy.
She'd get up when Clark left.
***
"Kent!"
Clark had barely walked in the door of the newspaper room when the Chief hollered for him. He passed Jimmy's wide-eyed look of warning, and walked directly into Perry's office.
<Must be something big,> Clark thought. <and by the tone of his voice, it doesn't sound like something good.>
He stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him. Perry was hunched over a stack of papers, and didn't even look up.
Clark stood in silence for a minute. "What's up, Chief?" he finally asked.
Perry's head shot up. He dropped the paperwork on his desk. "Oh, Clark, right. I had a couple of things I needed to talk to you about. First one: how's Lois?"
"She seems to be doing okay. No memory loss or anything like that, thank God."
"That's good. When we heard she'd been shot at, me an' Jimmy got pretty worried. Do you think she got too close to a story?" Perry peered at him over his glasses, and Clark's pulse sped up.
He knew Lois hadn't exactly told their boss that they were investigating Lucy's disappearance. Lois would kill him if he told the Chief now. She figured that if Perry knew that Lucy had disappeared, he would force her to take time off, not let her work. Or, at least, that's how she had explained it to Clark. He thought she just didn't want anybody to see her as vulnerable.
"Yeah, she's working on a story… Uh, something with Intergang, I think." Clark shrugged.
"*She* is? Does that mean that you're not working together on it?"
"Uh…"
"Good. Son, did you hear about the killings that were happening over on the east side?" Perry asked.
"The ones that the cops think were done by a fetishist? Yeah, I heard about them," Clark responded. It had been all over the news for several days. Bodies had been turning up all over Metropolis' East Side, missing snips of hair, or the occasional fingernail. The pictures had been gruesome, and Clark was thankful that he had a stomach of steel.
"Well, we don't have anybody covering them as of now. Ralph wanted to do it, but I told him that I already had Lane and Kent on it."
"So you're saying that you want us to cover the murders?" Clark thought about it for a minute.
<Maybe it'll take Lois' mind off Lucy.>
<Or maybe she'll jump to some wild conclusion like she always does when she's worried or afraid.> Clark smiled. That was his Lois.
"Yes, son, I guess I am."
"I think it would be best, Chief, if I did this alone and left Lois out of it. Her, uh, Intergang story is giving her a lot of trouble."
"Okay, Clark. Well, what are you waiting for? Get on it!"
Clark exited the office and walked back to his desk. If he was going to do this story like he had promised, he was going to need to do some more research.
Being a reporter and working closely with police officers, Clark knew a little about fetishists. They were fueled by desire, a desire that is aroused by a nonsexual object or part of the body. Like hair, or fingernails. This fetish usually stemmed from an event or occurrence that happened in childhood. It would start small, cutting hair from the heads of dolls, collecting fingernail clippings, and would escalate to something more devious, in this case, homicide.
This man, whoever he was, obviously had no respect for women. He spent his time defacing them, getting off on their dead bodies. It was sick, Clark though, but sick people were part of the world and he had to deal with it.
As hard as it all was to understand, there was something that puzzled Clark more than the death fetishist. Why hadn't he heard the women's cries for help? He thought back to the last couple of days. Things had been fairly quiet for Superman, which was unusual around the holidays. Normally, he was trying to prevent a fair number of suicides, but not this year. As much as he wanted to believe that people were happier this Christmas, something felt off about it. There was a connection there, somehow; he was sure of it. The trouble would be figuring out what that connection was.
"Hey, CK!" Jimmy slapped him on the back, interrupting his thoughts.
"Hi, Jimmy."
"How's Lois?" He was obviously concerned and Clark smiled. It was comforting to know that both he and Lois had such good friends.
"She's doing better. A little shaken, but nothing serious." Clark thought back to the phone message he had found at Lucy's apartment.
"That's good."
"Hey Jimmy? Did you call Lois' sister, Lucy, a couple of days ago?"
"Yeah. She never called me back, though," he said resignedly. On an afterthought, he added bitterly, "I bet that guy never even gave her my message."
"Guy?" Clark's interest peaked, "What guy?"
"This guy answered the phone when I called her. Said he'd give her my message. Why?" Jimmy looked at him suspiciously.
"No reason. Did you ask who he was?"
"Yeah. Bill somebody," Jimmy said nonchalantly, still keeping a watchful eye on Clark, as if waiting for him to slip up and say something about their latest story.
"Bill Church?" Clark asked, flabbergasted.
"Yeah, that was it," Jimmy responded. "Well, I'm glad Lois is alright, CK, but I gotta go. The chief has me photographing some stuff for the sports page."
And with that, he left.
Clark sat back in his chair and picked up a pencil, twirling it in his fingers. Bill Church was head of Intergang. But what did Intergang have to do with Lucy? It was worth checking out, he thought.
Picking up the phone, he dialed Lois' number. He'd let her know where he was going, and keep her informed on Lucy's case. Plus, it was a good excuse to check up on her.
She answered after two rings, "Lois Lane."
"Hi Lois, it's me," Clark smiled at her voice. She sounded much more alive, more aware of her surroundings. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Clark. Stop worrying so much. I actually was on my way out the door right now."
"Lois, I told you to…"
"Yeah, I know, but I got up, took some Ibuprofen and I feel much better. Besides, Lucy doesn't have time for me to be hurt. We don't know how much longer she has, or if she's even still alive."
"That's why I'm calling," Clark said, right to the point, "Jimmy said that when he called your sister that Bill Church answered."
"Bill Church? Like the head of Intergang? That Bill Church?"
"Yeah, Lois. How many other Bill Church's do you know?" Clark sighed and continued, "Anyway, I'm going down to his place to check it out. You can reach me on my cell phone, but don't call unless it's an emergency. I'll stop by your place after I leave."
"Why bother calling? I'm going with you," she declared.
"No, Lois, you're not. You need to rest. Lie in bed for a couple of hours, watch a movie, whatever, just *don't* follow me. Please?" he implored her. The last thing he needed was for her to be in more danger than she already was.
He heard her sigh. "Are you sure I can't come, Clark?"
"Yeah, Lois."
"Okay then. See you soon. And can you bring me a couple of chocolate bars when you come over?"
He laughed, "Okay, Lois. Bye."
He hung up, a smile still lingering on his face.
***
Half an hour later and after a trip to the grocery store to pick up Lois' chocolate, Clark found himself in front of the gates to Bill Church's mansion.
Standing face to face with Lois.
"Hi, Clark," she said casually, as though there was not a thing wrong with her presence. "What took you so long?"
"I stopped to buy your candy bars. Lois, what are you doing here?!" He was verging on mad, but Clark honestly wasn't surprised.
"Investigating. So how are we going to get in here? Security looks pretty tight."
"Lo-is!"
"Look, Clark, you can't expect me to sit in bed all day when my sister has been kidnapped. You know me better than that." She had a point.
"Okay, fine. As for how we're going to get in, I thought I'd..." he made a flying motion with his hand and Lois nodded, enthralled.
"Well, go ahead then." She stepped into his arms expectantly, waiting for him to fly them over the fence.
Clark pulled her close, relishing the feeling of her body against his. It felt so natural, so right. He knew that, if she let him, he could hold her like that for all eternity and never want to let go.
She held on to him tightly as they soared over the tall rod-iron fence. Clark only prayed that the security cameras hadn't caught him. Before arriving, he had debated whether to come as Superman or as Clark. He had decided that, if he was caught, it couldn't be as Superman, since he was a hero who was looked up to by many. If the cops caught Superman breaking and entering, it would destroy everything that he stood for. If they caught Clark, however, they would see just some nosy reporter, and throw him in jail for a while.
Of course, he hadn't counted on Lois being there. Oh, he supposed some part of him knew she wouldn't stay put for long, but another part of him had hoped that she would listen to the voice of reason and get some rest.
Still, she was there and there was nothing he could do about it. The fact of her presence, though, meant that he'd have to be more careful in his investigating. While he was invulnerable, Lois was not.
They landed softly on the dead grass. Lois disentangled herself from his embrace and slid behind the trunk of a large maple tree. Clark followed her, noting that it was hard to be inconspicuous with no greenery to hide behind.
Now, in the dead of winter, the only cover they had was the cloak of darkness and their own stealth. Clark sighed inwardly. They didn't have much, that was for sure.
He followed Lois behind the gigantic house and into the backyard where Clark hoped they'd find a decent hiding place.
"I bet you anything we can get through the back door and then look around. I mean, who locks their doors anymore?" Lois whispered, "And even if it was locked, there's no reason we shouldn't get in anyway. I've been picking locks for years. Oh, and you're Superman so I won't even need to demonstrate my skill. You can just…"
"Lois, shh!" Clark lowered his glasses and looked into the foyer of the house. Nobody was there. He grabbed the doorknob and removed it with a sharp twist. Maybe Bill Church wouldn’t notice the missing knob. He pulled the door open slowly, cringing as the hinges squealed loudly.
Lois tiptoed in behind him. Her teeth were chattering from the cold. He wasn't sure if it was his superhearing picking it up, or if it really was loud, but he knew that he had to get the noise to stop. He knew Lois was doing her best to keep her teeth chill, and it was probably frustrating her terribly that it wasn't working.
The way he saw it, Clark had two options. Grabbing her jaw and *making* it quit moving, or kissing her and having her mouth become involved in other, slightly less noisy activities. He didn't like the first option, and the second he liked *too* much.
Regardless of how much he wanted to kiss Lois, now was not the time. He didn't know how she felt about him, or if there would ever be a time for kissing her. She was thinking about it and that was all he could ask.
"Uh, earth to Clark," Lois hissed into his ear. "Come on, we've got to find this office, or a den or something." She walked slowly down the hallways, careful not to tread to heavily on the hardwood floor.
"Wait, Lois." Clark x-rayed the walls, searching for the room they were seeking. "This way," he said, crossing through the high tech kitchen into an immense living room. Beyond the living room was a cozy den, elegantly decorated with browns and golds, making the room feel much warmer than the rest of the house that was painted a cold white.
They walked into the room, Lois crossing in front of him and heading straight for the large oak desk sitting in the middle of the room. Clark followed her, anxious to see what kind of dirty secrets Church's desk would hold. The adrenaline pumped through his veins and he was reminded once again of why he chose to become a reporter. It was the rush of the investigation, the thrill of the hunt that kept him coming back for more. Working with Lois didn't hurt much either.
Curious, he opened the top drawer. Immediately, he regretted it. An alarm rang shrilly, echoing across the house. Lois looked at him, shocked. Neither had time to hide, as Bill Church ran into the room, handgun extended.
I thought I heard something," he said, approaching his desk and punching the stapler. The alarms ceased.
"Mr. Kent, Ms. Lane, what a pleasant surprise. How nice of you to drop by," He checked his watch, "at 12:02. Do you always visit your friends after midnight?" His smile was coy, one of triumph. Clark wanted to wipe the smugness off of his face. He wondered briefly if throwing him across the room would do the trick, but dismissed the idea.
"No, not our friends," Lois said sweetly, "but our enemies have often seen us at this hour." She smiled an obviously faux smile and turned to Clark. "Well, we had better get going. Places to go, people to see."
Clark followed her out of the den, praying Church would let them go. He heard a loud click and knew Church had loaded the gun.
"Ah, not so fast, Ms. Lane." They both turned around. "How do I know you haven't got something of mine? Empty your pockets."
Clark glanced at Lois who grinned at their captor, always in a game of one-up-manship. "I don't have any."
"Well, your partner does. What's in there, Kent?'
Clark reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather squashed chocolate bar.
"Chocolate?"
"It's for Lois," Clark explained, trying to ignore the fact that Lois was staring at him as though she hadn't expected him to seriously buy her anything.
"How do I now that? Maybe there's a tape recorder inside it, recording my every word." He held up the candy bar, studying it intently.
"No, really," Clark insisted, "I bought it for Lois."
"Yeah, I have this… disease, where if I don't eat a lot of chocolate, I die. I need a chocolate bar every hour or else I keel over and have a heart attack. But it has to be Hershey's chocolate, or Hershey's kisses or else I'll still die. It's a new and uh, very complicated disease." Lois blabbed nervously.
"Well, in that case," Church stopped inspecting the chocolate, took aim, and threw it in the garbage can. "Two points."
The doorbell rang and Church excused himself to answer it, informing them that he had cameras all over the place so they shouldn't try to leave.
"Oh Clark," Lois murmured, "What are we going to do? How are we going to get out of here?"
"We'll find a way, I promise."
"Can't you just…" she wriggled her hand in what he assumed to be a flying motion, "…us out of here?"
"Lois, don't you think it would look pretty suspicious if Superman got seen flying you away from the scene of the crime where you were the criminal? And where would Clark Kent have gone to? Superpowers aren't the answer to everything, Lois," he explained gently, yearning for her to understand on more levels than one.
"But, Clark…"
She was interrupted as two police officers entered the room, conversing casually with each other. They stopped when they reached Lois and Clark.
"Lois Lane and Clark Kent, you're going to have to come with me," said the first one, a boy no more than Jimmy's age.
"You're under arrest."
