Pheromone, More Likely: 5/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
Surprisingly, the thought of coffee sounded good. "Not too awful, considering that I must have been so bad off last night that I don't even remember drinking. What happened, Clark? How did I get here?"
He laid the sweats on the foot of the bed. "Why don't you get dressed and we'll talk about it. If you'd like to shower, the bathroom is yours. Take your time."
"Clark, what *happened*?"
He smiled, not looking up at her. "Not what you're obviously afraid of. I'll explain everything, but it's really too complicated to cover in a few minutes. Go ahead. I'll get you some breakfast. Something ... light."
**********
And now, Part 5:
A shower definitely made her feel better. Lois combed her hair and surveyed herself in the mirror. She didn't have any makeup, and she hoped Clark wouldn't mind. She slipped on the sweats, pulling the drawstring around her waist as tight as she could and pushed the sleeves up her arms. She felt as if she were swimming in the huge garments, but she didn't care. After last night, Clark's opinion of her couldn't possibly sink any lower, anyway. What must he think of her after the way she had acted? She would never have admitted it to him, but his opinion of her mattered a good deal, and now he'd probably never want to work with her again. Unless there was a really good, and highly unlikely explanation for this whole situation.
Unable to delay any longer, she made her way out of the bathroom and toward the living area. She could smell the scent of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls wafting from the cooking area, and her stomach growled. Clark had been as good as his word, but she hesitated, reluctant to face him.
"Lois?" he called. "Breakfast is ready. Will sweet rolls and fresh fruit be all right, or would you like something else?"
"Um ... " If she hadn't been desperate to know what had actually happened to cause this mess, her courage would have failed completely. Clark stepped around the partition that divided his kitchenette from the living area and smiled at her.
"How are you feeling?"
Appalled, she had to fight the lump that was trying to rise in her throat. He frowned and quickly closed the distance between them. "Are you all right, Lois? If the smells bother you, I can ..."
She shook her head carefully. "Actually, I feel a lot better," she said. "There's only a little bit of headache left. Thanks for the aspirin."
"Not a problem. Why don't you come on in and sit down. Getting something in your stomach should help."
"I don't think anything can help," she said, morosely. "What you must think of me ..."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "None of it was your fault."
"Getting drunk wasn't my fault? I don't even remember drinking!"
"That's because you didn't." He was ushering her into the kitchenette as he spoke. "Here, sit down. Coffee?"
She nodded, trying to work out what he was saying. "Are you telling me I wasn't drunk? Clark I've had a few hangovers in my time; not many, thank heavens, but I know one when I have one."
"Technically you weren't drunk -- at least, not on alcohol," he said. Was she imagining things, or was her partner blushing? It wouldn't be a bit surprising, considering what she remembered about the way she had been throwing herself at him.
"Then, what was I drunk on?" she demanded.
He didn't answer at once and she waited while he poured her a cup of coffee. Clark drank coffee with real cream and sugar, she knew, and was slightly surprised when he set a small container of sugar substitute on the table, and another filled with the powdered creamer that she used at the office. "Will these be okay?"
"They're fine," she answered, automatically. "Clark ..."
He placed a bowl of cut fruit in front of her, and a platter bearing cinnamon rolls. "Here you go."
"Clark," she said, "you're stalling."
He smiled fractionally. "I'm still trying to figure out how to explain it," he said. "Most of what I 'know' are guesses, really. Superman helped me find out a little more, but I still don't know all of it." He sat down across from her and picked up his coffee cup. "The first thing you need to know, is that you and I didn't ..." He let his voice trail off. "You seemed a little worried. Nothing too serious happened to anyone, fortunately, but it could have."
"What do you mean?"
"It started two days ago at the Planet," he said. "That woman who sprayed us with the 'Eau de Sweat Socks' ..."
"Two days ago?" She stared at him in disbelief. "But ..."
"The show was two days ago," he confirmed, appearing a little uncomfortable. "Lois, there was something in that so-called perfume that affected almost everyone in the newsroom, you included, and I don't think it was an accident. It made everyone who was dosed with it drunk."
"Drunk? Clark, what did it do?"
He took another swallow of coffee, appearing to gather his courage. "Everyone seemed to fall madly in love," he explained. "I have no idea why. Pete and Wally decided to fixate on you as the love of their lives. You didn't appreciate it."
"No kidding! I think I remember some of it, sort of like you remember something when you're half-asleep. Was that why Wally showed up here in the middle of the night?" The frames of his glasses were slightly different from his usual style, she saw, abruptly, and it triggered a sudden memory. "He broke your glasses, didn't he? I remember -- kind of."
"Yeah." Clark grimaced slightly. "He accused me of trying to lure you away from him with my wicked wiles."
Lois examined his face with the new glasses, aware of the odd impression that she was missing something. "Lure me away, huh? His fiancee would probably like to have a word with him about that," she said, dryly. "If he's lucky, she'll never hear about it. But what was I doing here instead of at my place?"
"Um ... "
"Clark, I hope I'm imagining things, but did I go after you?"
"Uh ..." He was looking down, and she was sure that she wasn't imagining the deep flush that was staining his cheeks. "Kind of."
She had to know. "Did I *really* do the Dance of the Seven Veils?"
At least he had the good sense not to try to hide the truth. "Yeah," he confirmed, reluctantly. "All seven."
She buried her face in her hands. "Aagh!"
"Lois, it wasn't your fault," he said, quickly. "It was the perfume, not you. Let's just forget about it, all right?"
"I'll never be able to live it down," she mumbled into her hands. "I'm surprised you even want to talk to me!"
"Well," he said slowly, "in a way it was kind of flattering, but I knew you'd be upset when the stuff wore off, so I wasn't happy about it. Lois, none of that stuff matters. We need to figure out why that woman picked the Planet to test her perfume, and what else she's got in mind. I don't think it was just a practical joke. One woman jumped off the Planet roof because the guy she thought she was in love with turned her down, and Jimmy nearly got himself hit by a truck. At least, that's what Superman said."
She lowered her hands, half-expecting him to be enjoying her humiliation, but, of course, he wasn't. "I'll never be able to show my face at the Planet again."
"I honestly don't think you need to worry too much," he said. "I think everyone else is going to be too embarrassed about their own behavior to think about yours, even if they noticed, and if Wally says anything, you have my word that I'll deny it ever happened." He ventured to reach across the table and rest a hand on one of her clenched fists. "Lois, it doesn't matter; I promise! I just need you to help me figure out what was behind it. I think we owe that woman something for what she did, don't you?"
Put that way, she had to agree. She should have realized that Clark, of all people, wouldn't blame her for something that she couldn't help, and gloating over her humiliation just wasn't in his nature. Her partner was a true gentleman, as hard as that was to believe. Claude, for all his Continental charm, had been a worse sleaze than ... than any other lowlife she could name, but the naive "hack from Nowheresville" was the kind of guy she hadn't believed existed anymore, and she found herself immensely grateful.
"You're right," she said. "We do owe her something."
The anxious expression on his face vanished and he smiled brilliantly. "It's good to have you back, partner," he said.
She found herself returning his smile. "I think I feel a lot better about it, now," she said. "Thanks, Clark."
He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but she wasn't fooled. Clark had been almost as upset by her embarrassment as she was.
"The first thing I need is something to wear," she said, leaving the rest unsaid.
He smiled at her in obvious relief. "Let's finish eating and go over to your place so you can change," he suggested. "I'll fill you in on everything that I've figured out, and we can go from there."
Lois nodded briskly, glad to shove those embarrassing memories into the background. "Good idea." She reached for one of the cinnamon rolls and took a huge bite, amazed to find that her appetite had suddenly returned. "Mmm!" She chewed and swallowed the mouthful, washing it down with a swig of Clark's excellent coffee. "Where did you get these? They're fantastic! How do you always know the places that have such great food? You always seem to, and I can never find them."
"Actually, I didn't, this time. My mom made them and brought them with her the last time she and Dad were in Metropolis. I just defrosted them for you."
"She actually *made* these?" Lois stared at the two remaining cinnamon rolls with real respect. "Your mother is *some* cook! Um -- would you mind if I wrapped one up and took it along for later? I'm suddenly starved."
"Take them both," he suggested. "I can always get more."
**********
Clark set the breakfast dishes in his sink. They could wait to be washed until later.
"Anyway," he concluded, "after I hunted over most of the city, I finally found her in an perfume advertisement. Her name is Miranda."
Lois's eyes widened. "'Miranda'? *The* Miranda of 'Miranda's Scents'?"
"That's the one." Clark handed the magazine in which he had found the woman's picture to his partner, along with the photo taken in the Planet. The image was slightly out of focus, but not so blurry that her identity was likely to be mistaken. "Check out the advertisement on page 31. It's her, all right. I looked her up. She runs a very exclusive little perfume shop in Old Town, over on Billing Street. Jimmy faxed me a bio on her this morning, while you were showering." He shook his head. "Superman said he thinks the close call that Jimmy had with the truck last night must have helped snap him out of the effects of the perfume. He sounded pretty much like his old self when I talked to him."
"Who was he in love with?" Lois asked, curiously.
"One of the models," Clark said. "I don't remember which one."
Lois was flipping through the magazine, looking for the advertisement. Clark was silent while she studied the picture, formulating what to say next. She was looking better, he thought, with relief. Her abject misery this morning had upset him more than he would have believed, and he had desperately wanted to reassure her that his respect and friendship for her remained solidly intact. At least, that seemed to have worked. He didn't particularly care for the strategy that he was now about to employ, but if he wanted her to even consider the possibility that there might be some kind of guilty connection between Miranda and Lex Luthor, the worst thing he could do was to suggest that Luthor might have any knowledge of the perfume's effects. He'd thought about it for hours last night after returning from Luthor's office. He'd found a contract drawn up but not yet signed, regarding a business partnership between them. It wasn't proof, but it pointed to some kind of connection and certainly suggested that there was a good deal more to this thing than met the eye. Subterfuge wasn't something he was comfortable with, especially with his partner, but for some reason, unfathomable to him, Lois had a large, blind spot with regard to the billionaire. As long as she thought that he, Clark, disliked Luthor without cause, she would discount any suggestions of unethical conduct that he made. The only possible solution was to lay all the relevant facts out in front of her and let her draw her own conclusions. It might be very difficult if not impossible to gather enough incriminating information, but maybe it didn't necessarily have to be incriminating. Maybe just knowledge of things he had said and ways he had acted in certain situations would throw enough doubt into Lois's mind that she might, just might, start to question his motives. In any case, it was worth a shot and this seemed like a good place to start.
He opened the folder he had been using to amass all his information on Miranda and removed a printout. "Miranda's a chemist. First in her class at MIT. Funding for her work comes from Luthor Industries."
"Why would Luthor Industries fund perfume research, or whatever it's called?" Lois asked.
"Maybe they're branching out into cosmetics," Clark said.
"I wonder what Lex would think of her latest invention," Lois said. "Perfume that makes people crazy. Maybe I ought to tell him about it."
"Maybe," Clark said. "You're having dinner with him this evening, aren't you?"
"How did you know that?" she asked, sharply.
"You told me, yesterday, after Luthor left," Clark said, careful to keep his voice neutral. "He dropped by the Planet, apparently to remind you about your dinner date, tonight."
"He did?" Lois frowned. "Did he say anything about what was going on?"
"Not to me," Clark said. "I passed him as he came in. By the time I got back, he was leaving. Do you remember if he said anything when he talked to you?"
"I ..." She scowled, trying to recall. "I kind of remember, now that you've mentioned it. I don't think he said a word about it. That's strange. From what you've told me, it must have been pretty obvious that something wasn't right in the newsroom."
"I'd think so," Clark said, carefully.
"Then, why would he just leave like that without doing anything to help -- or at least saying something?"
Clark set the folder down. "I don't know. Look, let's get over to your place so you can change. I have the address of 'Miranda's' here, too. Maybe we should pay her a visit."
"Good idea." Lois shoved the sleeves of his sweat suit back for the tenth time in five minutes. "If you don't mind, I'd like you to drive. My head still feels a little funny."
"Sure. Where are your keys?"
She looked blank. "I don't know. I must have had them, though. I drove over here."
"You didn't have them when you arrived, last night," Clark said. "At least, you weren't carrying your bag."
She stared at him, appalled. "You don't suppose I left them in the Jeep!"
"Maybe." Clark opened the door and they hurried out to the Cherokee, where it sat parked by the curb. One look through the window confirmed their suspicions. Her keys dangled conspicuously from the ignition.
"I'm surprised I didn't wreck it on the way over," she muttered, under her breath.
"It's lucky that no car thief spotted the keys," Clark said, cautiously. "At least that's one good thing." He opened the driver's door, retrieved them and walked around to the passenger side to unlock the door for Lois. His partner clambered into the Jeep without a word.
**********
Billing Street in Metropolis' Old Town was one of those narrow, picturesque little strips filled with tiny coffee shops, health stores, small exotic boutiques and art shops, catering largely to the tourist market. Clark found a parking spot and they walked past outdoor cafes, and displays of pottery and hand crafted jewelry and the occasional street performer. Miranda's was located halfway down the block. Chimes jingled as Clark opened the door for Lois and followed her inside.
It was a tiny but elegant establishment, with shelves displaying hundreds of antique perfume bottles, and cabinets full of incense, scented bath crystals and oils, soaps, and candles that nobody would dare actually burn, he thought. He saw a wax dragon fully three feet long, done in minute detail down to the crafting of each individual scale. Exotic scents filled the air.
Lois sniffed and Clark saw her wrinkle her nose. "Are you all right?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yeah. I guess my stomach isn't quite over last night. I'll be fine."
The sound of a bead curtain being pushed aside made Clark turn. The blond woman for whom he had been searching since the day before entered the room. He nudged Lois.
Miranda smiled at them. "Looking for something in particular?" she asked.
Lois glanced at her. "Uh, no. Not really."
"A gift?" the woman asked. "Something for a friend whose love has soured?" She picked up a small, crystal bottle. "Try my Jungle Passion. Pure, white petals picked from a flower grown only in Micronesia."
Clark regarded the bottle for an instant and shook his head. Miranda shrugged. "Oh well. I have a wide selection. A scent for every occasion."
Clark glanced sideways at an area of the shop that was obviously a small laboratory. "You make all your own perfumes?"
"Oh yes," she said. "I was trained as a chemist. Many perfumers are. In fact, the goal of a fine perfumer is to cause a little 'chemical reaction'." She regarded him closely. "Haven't we met before?"
Clark nodded. "I think we have. I'm Clark Kent. This is Lois Lane, from the Daily Planet."
"Oh yes," Miranda said. "I was there the other day, sampling the competition's new fragrance and trying out one of my new ones as well."
Behind Miranda, Clark saw Lois roll her eyes.
"Yours had an interesting odor," he said. "Animal based?"
She regarded him intently and he could hear her heart rate accelerate slightly. "You have a remarkable olfactory sense, Mr. Kent. Yes ... that particular perfume is ... quite rare."
"What do you call it?" he asked.
She shot him an enigmatic look. "I call it 'Revenge'."
"Can you tell us the ingredients?" Lois asked.
The chemist laughed softly. "Come now, Ms. Lane. Surely you don't expect me to give away all my secrets?"
Judging by Lois's heartbeat, his partner was genuinely angry; not a surprising circumstance, Clark thought. He wasn't too pleased with Miranda, himself. As Lois stepped forward to confront the other woman, he seized the opportunity to retreat into the background and lower his glasses slightly, looking around for the atomizer in the photograph of Miranda taken at the Planet.
"Look," Lois said. "Let's cut the niceties. Whatever witches brew you sprayed us with made most of the newsroom looney tunes in love! People were hurt by what you did! My friend Jimmy almost got killed, and one woman tried to kill herself! If not for Superman you'd have two deaths on your conscience -- assuming you have one at all!"
Miranda raised her eyebrows. "You're not suggesting *I* could have had anything to do with something like that, are you?"
Lois glared at her. "That's exactly what I'm suggesting!"
Clark kept a fragment of his attention on the conversation, mostly to be certain that neither woman was paying attention to him. There were several of the atomizers sitting in an alcove beside the tiny work area. Moving quickly, he appropriated one and tucked it safely into the pocket of his trench coat. As silently and quickly as he had made his short foray, he returned, to stand innocently behind Lois as she concluded her rant.
Miranda was regarding Lois with both her eyebrows raised. "You know, Ms. Lane, animals are ruled by their sense of smell. We humans think we've evolved beyond that, but I'm not so sure. Even so, I have no idea what you're talking about."
The woman's heartbeat said differently, Clark observed. He could hear her pulse thundering like drums. Miranda turned casually away from her unwelcome customers. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do in the back."
Clark followed his infuriated partner out of the shop.
"She's lying," Lois said, as the door swung shut behind them.
"Of course she is," Clark said. "But did you expect anything else? She's not about to admit to what she did. Spraying mind-altering chemicals on unsuspecting people can't possibly be legal."
"So, we know she did it. How can we prove it?" Lois said.
Clark flashed her a grin. "Let's get back to the Jeep. I think we need to visit Jimmy's friend at STAR Labs."
"Why?"
"I'll show you when we get in the Jeep."
Lois cast him a puzzled look but remained silent until they were safely in the Cherokee. Before she could repeat her question, Clark withdrew the atomizer from his pocket. "This is the bottle in the picture. Let's see what the people at STAR Labs think of the ingredients."
Lois stared at it and her face broke into a smile. "I've had a better effect on you than I thought, Kent! How did you get that? I didn't even see you move!"
"In that case," he said, "she didn't either." He handed her the atomizer and started the engine. "The sooner we get this stuff analyzed the better. Let's drop it off and go back to the Planet. I suspect we're going to have to do some explaining when we get there."
**********
As they passed through the newsroom toward Perry White's office, Lois glanced around at the masses of debris being carted away. Dozens of pink, red and white balloons, bundles of wilting flowers, heart shaped boxes that had contained chocolate candy -- gifts for light o' loves? she wondered. A huge banner proclaiming "Love Conquers All" was still looped across the newsroom, and a pair of workmen were adjusting a ladder preparatory to attempting to remove it. Yesterday's newspaper headline blared at her from a copy of the paper stuffed into a trashcan, and she reached down to retrieve it. "Perry let *this* go to press, yesterday?"
"Yep," Clark said. "He got sprayed, too, remember."
"Who did he ...?"
Clark shrugged. "You'll have to ask him," he said.
They passed the copy room, and faintly through the door, Lois heard the copy machine running fast and furiously. She stopped.
"What on Earth is going on in there? Whoever's running that thing is going to burn it out."
"Don't go in there," Clark said as she reached for the doorknob. Taking her elbow, he hustled her past.
Lois eyed him suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me, Clark Kent?"
He pushed open the door to the Editor's office without replying.
Perry was seated at his desk, his hands covering his face. At the sound of their entrance, he looked up, revealing a swollen, bandaged nose and two black eyes. Lois gasped.
"Chief, what happened?" Clark asked, looking genuinely appalled.
"Does it hurt?" Lois asked.
"Only when I laugh," Perry said. "Although there's very little danger of that happening in the near future." He thrust a sheaf of papers at them. Clark took them, holding them so Lois could see.
"Sexual harassment?" he said, obviously stunned.
"Rehalia?" Lois said. If her boss hadn't been so obviously miserable, she might have laughed, but the recollection of her own humiliation of this morning killed the impulse before it was fully developed.
"That's not the worst part," Perry said. "Alice kicked me out. Called me a no good hound dog. Now I'm down at the heartbreak hotel."
"Chief," Clark said, "I'm pretty sure you have a defense. A chemist sprayed us all with a perfume that had some kind of mind-altering substance in it. We're waiting for a call back from STAR Labs now. They said they should have the answers we need in a couple of hours."
Their editor looked hopeful. "I don't remember a lot," he admitted. "In my right mind, I'd never cheat on Alice. You let me know as soon as you get some answers, you hear? And I want the two of you on this until we dig up what really happened."
"Don't worry, Perry," Lois said. "I've got a personal stake in this one."
"I think most of the newsroom does," Clark said, unnecessarily.
"Well, get busy," Perry said. "My marriage depends on what you find out."
"On it, Chief," Clark said.
**********
"Poor Perry," Lois said, as the door to the Editor's office closed behind them. "I hope they get that report to us pretty quick."
"Me, too." Her partner was looking unhappy. "I wish I'd realized what was happening with Perry. I might have been able to do something."
"Clark, you had your hands full as it was," she said. "You couldn't take care of everybody. I'm just grateful that it wasn't worse."
"I guess I am, too," he said. "I just wish I'd figured out what was happening a little faster."
Clark's phone rang at that moment, and he hurried across the office to answer it.
"Kent." He listened. "Yes, Dr. Friedman." Again, he listened. "You *did*? What would the effects be?"
Lois waited, drumming her fingers on one arm as he listened again. Finally, he nodded. "Thanks, Doctor," he said. "Could you fax it to me, here at the Planet? That report's going to be very helpful."
"What?" Lois asked, as he put down the phone.
"They're faxing us the information," Clark said. "Basically, the only unusual substance in the perfume was a pheromone."
"A what?"
"Pheromone," Clark said. "'A chemical substance secreted by animals which produces specific responses in other individuals of the same species'. Specifically, involving sexual attraction and mating behavior."
"What did you do?" Lois asked. "Memorize a dictionary?"
"I'm a speed reader," Clark said. He crossed to the fax machine as it began to receive a fax. "Here's the report. We were sprayed with a pheromone."
"Let me see."
He handed her the first page, and collected three more as they dropped into the tray. "Here's the rest."
Lois was reading. "It apparently wears off within 48 hours. Good thing, too."
"That's what he told me over the phone," Clark said. "Depending on a person's metabolic rate."
"But, according to this, the stuff shouldn't work unless you're already physically attracted to the person," Lois said. "Then, it just overrides our normal restraints."
"I guess there has to be some animal magnetism there to begin with," Clark said.
"But that would mean ..." She bit off the words. The fact was, she *did* find Clark attractive and always had. Her libido apparently knew it all too well. A dismaying thought hit her. "Clark, you got sprayed. Why didn't you fall for me?"
Clark shrugged. "I'm not sure. I should have," he admitted. "I was behind you, Jimmy and Perry, and I held my breath. I must have only got a little of it -- not enough to do whatever it did to the rest of you. It's a good thing that one of us was sober. Superman and I had our hands full figuring out what happened and trying to keep people out of trouble."
"I guess we were lucky," Lois said, slowly. Clark's explanation sounded a little thin, but it seemed reasonable. There was no question in her mind that he was attracted to her, even if he hadn't essentially admitted it just now. Something else was bugging her about last night, too, although she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Something, some little memory that seemed to be just beyond her grasp, was tickling maddeningly at her. Another picture, fuzzy and distorted, flashed suddenly through her mind, distracting her from the other. "Clark, did I break into your apartment or something? I sort of remember picking your lock, and ..."
"Um ... yeah, the first night, you did."
"What did I ...no, I don't want to know."
He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. "Nothing happened."
But it probably would have, she thought, if Clark had gotten more of the spray. She was just fortunate that her partner was the honorable guy that he was. A lot of men wouldn't have questioned the good fortune of finding her in their bed. Clark had left. She remembered that, and the intense feeling of disappointment that accompanied it, but now she was grateful. The humiliating memories of her behavior seemed to be growing clearer as time went by, instead of fading. She hadn't paid much attention to her colleagues, though, so hopefully they hadn't paid much attention to her. She had been focussed almost entirely on Clark.
A thought crossed her mind, as it had a couple of times since breakfast. Why hadn't Lex said anything about what was going on in the newsroom? Judging by all the stuff they were hauling out of here, and some of the things that people must have been doing, he had to have seen that something was pretty weird. And why had he dropped by the Planet to remind her of their dinner date, anyway? Usually he called, or had Nigel call. Something wasn't right, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
"I'm going to show this report to Perry," Clark said. "I think he'll be relieved to see it."
"I'll say," Lois said. She glanced at the copy room door as a particularly loud clatter from the machine drew her attention. "*What* is going on in there?"
"Believe me," Clark said, seriously. "You *don't* want to know."
**********
(tbc)
