The shadows on Metropolis’s sidewalks were lengthening and a chilly breeze was whipping up the leaves into swirling green and brown eddies when Lois and Clark emerged from the police station. The worsening weather matched Lois’s mood perfectly as she stormed down the street, ignoring the throbbing headache which had started up half-way through their meeting with the most inept police detective she’d ever had the displeasure to deal with.
“He does have a point,” said Clark as he hurried along beside her. “Whatever they do has to stand up in court-“
“And it would have done,” snapped Lois. “He just wasn’t interested. No headline-grabbing murders in it, I suppose.”
“Maybe there’s a specialist team to deal with this kind of crime,” suggested Clark. “Maybe we should have asked to speak to them.”
Damn. She halted suddenly, realising what they should have done instead of wasting time with the police. “No,” she replied. “What we are going to do is take this to the people who gave us the list of suspects in the first place – the DA’s office. We’ll talk to your friend. Mayson Duck, was it?”
“Drake,” corrected Clark.
“Drake, then,” she continued, heading briskly along the sidewalk. “What’s her job there? Is she senior enough to get the search warrant organised, or will she need to speak to someone else?”
He didn’t answer immediately, so she swivelled her head to prompt him again, only to discover he was no longer beside her. Confused, she stopped and turned to look for him.
He was standing a few paces back with a pensive expression on his face. “Is there a problem?” she asked.
“You want us to go to the DA’s office,” he stated.
“Yes,” she replied, wondering why he suddenly felt the need to state the blindingly obvious. “Come on, we need to get there before they close.”
“They won’t close for a few hours yet,” he said. “Lois...”
“What?” she asked impatiently.
“Before we head there, you should probably know something,” he said.
“What?” She glanced at her watch – time was frittering away, and every minute they wasted here was a minute longer for Pirelli to run to ground.
“Mayson isn’t just a friend,” he said. “She’s my ex-girlfriend.”
“Another one?” she exclaimed. “How many do you have?”
At his pained expression, she bit her lip. Of course! When he’d been mainlining on red kryptonite on a daily basis, he’d worked his way through a string of one-night stands – and now regretted it bitterly. “Sorry,” she said. “But will it really be that awkward? I mean, if it was just a...a brief...encounter...no feelings attached...”
He walked the few paces to her side. “She was...a lot more than just a one-night stand, Lois,” he said quietly. “It’s all over now, but at the time, she and I were pretty close.”
“Oh.” She filed that piece of information away for later. “Does this mean you don’t want to go to the DA’s office?”
“No, I’ll go, but I just thought you should know,” he said. “In case there’s any...awkwardness.”
“Fine!” she said, briskly. “Let’s go, then.”
She began hurrying down the street again, and after a few moments, he jogged up alongside her and together they headed to Mayson Drake’s office.
***********
Another blonde. Lois eyed Mayson – all long slender legs and masses of curly blonde hair, wrapped up in a package which included a sharp business suit and high heels – and concluded that Clark must have made a terrible mistake when he’d decided the woman he really wanted was Lois Lane. Or maybe he was secretly hoping she’d dye her hair blonde and grow it long.
The atmosphere was definitely frosty in Mayson’s office. Not nearly as hostile as at Lana’s place, but Clark and Mayson were certainly tip-toeing around each other: instead of insults flying through the air, here there was excruciating politeness.
She and Clark were currently sitting on two visitors’ chairs while Mayson sat at her desk and examined the documentation they’d brought. Clark was tapping a finger on the arm of his chair and a tell-tale muscle was jumping along his jaw. On impulse, Lois reached out a hand and laid it over his. When he responded with a glance across at her, she gave him a reassuring smile. He relaxed a bit and smiled weakly back.
Mayson looked up from the paperwork, her eyes fixing momentarily on Lois and Clark’s hands. Lois shifted her hand to clasp Clark’s firmly. Mayson’s gaze moved away to Clark’s face. “Remind me again how you acquired these documents?”
Clark shrugged. “Does that matter?”
“Of course it matters,” she exclaimed. “You know that as well as I do.”
“Oh, come on, Mayson,” said Clark. “Do you want to nail Pirelli or not?”
“Of course I want to nail him,” she retorted. “Which is why I need any case I build against him to be watertight. I don’t want him wriggling out on a technicality.”
“This can’t be the first time you’ve acted on information obtained...creatively,” pointed out Lois. “If it makes you feel any better, you could always prosecute us for breaking and entering.”
“Lois!”
“It’s okay, Clark,” Lois soothed. “She won’t do anything like that, will you, Mayson?”
Mayson frowned at Lois and then pursed her lips. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Where can I contact you if I need to?”
“The Planet,” replied Lois. “Or Clark’s apartment. I...ah...guess you have his number there?”
“I probably have it in my files somewhere,” said Mayson, shrugging just a little too casually. “Unless you’ve moved?” she asked Clark.
He shook his head. “No, still in the same place.” He stood up, and Lois followed suit. “Thanks, Mayson.”
“No problem,” she replied, also rising. “And...are you keeping well?”
“I’m fine,” he said, leading them to the door. “You?”
“I’m fine, too.” She opened the door and seemed to hesitate. Her hand came forward as if to shake Clark’s and then withdrew. Clark leant jerkily towards her then paused and straightened up. The two of them stood like statues for a moment, and then Mayson said stiffly, “I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks,” interjected Lois into the general awkwardness.
Mayson nodded briefly at her and then suddenly turned to Clark, reached up her arms to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself,” she murmured, releasing him again. “You seem a little tired.”
Lois slid her arm around Clark’s waist and squeezed herself to him. “I’m making sure he looks after himself,” she declared possessively. “Thanks again for your help.”
“I’ll call you when I have news.”
Lois nodded and led them both out of Mayson’s office.
***************
The Planet’s newsroom was quieter now that the working day was almost over. Only a few journalists still pecked diligently away at their keyboards, the administrative and research staff having mostly left for home. The noise-levels, thankfully, were therefore fairly headache-friendly.
Nevertheless, Lois was having a hard time concentrating on the draft piece she’d started for the Arts editor. This was supposed to be her ticket to a permanent job back at the Planet, but despite the importance of her work, she found it hard to look at the screen for too long and even harder to string logical sentences together.
Instead, she found her thoughts drifting to Clark and his ex-girlfriends. Lana had been much as she’d been led to expect by Perry, but still, to witness such hostility and selfishness in the flesh had been quite a shock. She had no doubt that Clark would have been utterly miserable if he’d married Lana, and she still had difficulty understanding what he’d ever seen in her. All she could conclude was that he’d been a different person in those days; less sure of his abilities, perhaps.
And then Mayson. Her very existence confused the heck out of Lois. Her understanding was that Clark had turned to drugs and one-night stands after he’d been unable to locate the woman he believed he really loved. George had weaned him off the drugs and fast women, but he’d never entirely lost his yearning for his dream love, ie Lois herself. So if he’d only ever wanted a romantic relationship with Lois Lane, where did Mayson Drake fit in?
Lois glanced over to Clark, trying to read the answers from the hunched figure before her. He was intent on his screen, his hands flying over his keyboard as he worked to produce copy for the editor who believed he didn’t pull his weight in the newsroom. After they’d left Mayson’s office, he’d been subdued, only managing to rouse himself to brief answers and wan smiles whenever Lois had prompted him into conversation.
At first she’d been worried that his stomach was bothering him again, but a swift tug upwards of his t-shirt when he was least expecting it had revealed gradually fading bruises. It had also provoked an indignant yelp of protest, his most lively response to anything she’d said or done since leaving the DA’s office. Her conclusion, therefore, was that he was brooding on his meeting with his ex-girlfriend.
Had Mayson Drake been an experiment? A test to see if he could fall in love with someone other than Lois herself? Or was his fixation not as strong as he claimed it was, and he’d still be in a relationship with Mayson even now if she hadn’t dumped him?
No, the second theory didn’t seem right. Clearly, the assistant DA still harboured feelings for Clark. Lois had noticed that and hadn’t much liked it, making sure that Mayson got clear signals that Clark was already spoken for. So it didn’t seem likely that Mayson had dumped Clark; rather the other way around – which supported the first theory. He’d tried to love someone other than Lois and failed.
Wow.
Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. Wow?
Lois examined that word, that gut reaction to the realisation that Clark was incapable of loving anyone else but her. She ought to be scared. Not so long ago she had been scared. Terrified, even. But as she swirled the word around in her head and prodded at the feelings which coursed through her, all she could detect was excitement. Flattery, even, that a guy as attractive and wonderful as Clark Kent should want her.
She snatched another look at the man who loved her and realised something else: she was falling in love with him.
**************
“And is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Lois turned away from watching rain drops cascade down Francine’s window. She’d only come here out of a sense of duty today, the day after their visits with Lana and Mayson, but somehow had ended up talking a lot more than she’d planned. Francine still possessed an uncanny knack for drawing her out of herself– and it probably helped that the door-slamming event she’d felt a bit guilty about had been quickly forgiven.
“I’m not sure,” she confessed.
“Lois, are you even sure this is love?” asked Francine. “Clark’s been like your personal superhero these past few months – are you sure that what you’re feeling towards him isn’t just simple gratitude?”
“No, it’s not,” she answered immediately. “I mean, at first, it was. I looked up to him, practically idolised him, in fact. I was so grateful that someone as important and famous as Superman was willing to take the time to help little old me.” She crossed the carpet and sank down into her chair again. “But all of that’s changed now. I know the real Clark Kent now. I know he’s just an ordinary man performing extraordinary work, and I know he has fears and problems just like the rest of us.”
She regarded Francine ruefully. “So why do I know I’m falling in love with him? Easy. Because most of my waking thoughts are filled with him. Because I hurt when he hurts. Because I get jealous when his ex kisses him. Because I want to defend him against the people who want to destroy him. Because I care about him so much I have nightmares about it. Because...”
She dropped her gaze, drawing back from admitting something she’d only just realised. Something very private and personal, that really didn’t make sense after everything she’d been through.
There was no denying the feelings she was experiencing, though, and Francine, despite her sensible tweed and brown lace-up shoes, was at least a woman - someone who might just understand how she felt.
She drew in a deep breath and spoke softly. “Because I’m attracted to him.”
There. She’d said it. She glanced up at Francine, anxious for...what? Approval? Permission to experience these feelings?
Francine merely nodded placidly. “Physically?” she asked.
Lois nodded.
“Do you think you’re ready for that kind of relationship?”
“No!” exclaimed Lois. “That’s the problem – I don’t think I’m ready for any kind of relationship, least of all a physically intimate one.”
“Why not?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” said Lois. “I’m a flake – a mental health freak. Who’d want me?”
Francine raised an eyebrow. “Clark Kent, apparently.”
“Argh!” moaned Lois in frustration. “I know that, but how can I give him the kind of relationship he wants?”
“Have you asked him what he wants?”
“No, of course I haven’t.”
“Maybe you should.”
“But that would give him all the wrong signals,” protested Lois. “He’d think I was interested in a relationship if I actually asked him.”
Francine laughed. “Lois, I think you have to decide what you want here and then just go for it. Sure, you’re scared – after the type of abuse you’ve suffered, that’s understandable. But Clark’s a good man and he understands very well what you’ve been through. If you’re going to enter into any kind of romantic relationship, then you couldn’t do better than to choose him.”
Lois regarded Francine suspiciously. “I thought you disapproved of him.”
“I was concerned for a while that he was beginning to hinder rather than help your healing process,” admitted Francine. “I was particularly concerned when you seemed to be assuming responsibility for Clark’s problems as well as your own. I gather, however, that George straightened you out on that one,” she observed with a touch of acerbity.
Lois winced. “Sorry. I know I’m supposed to consult with you on everything, but Clark got really upset when he found out I was blaming myself and kind of took things into his own hands.”
Francine shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t mind how you get well, even if it is a little...unorthodox.”
“George likes to break the rules from time to time,” agreed Lois.
“He certainly does,” said Francine. “Anyway, Lois, what are you going to do? Find out what Clark expects from a relationship and measure yourself against that, or continue as you are? Or put it another way – could you bear not to enter into a relationship with him knowing that you love him?”
“Well, when you put it like that...I guess I have some research to do,” said Lois. “Although how I find out without actually coming right out and asking him, I have no idea.”
Francine chuckled. “You’ll figure it out. Now, I need to discuss with you your status here at the clinic. You’ve been in the studio apartment for, what, a couple of weeks?”
Lois nodded. “I’m guessing you’re going to tell me I have to move out soon.”
“Well, we don’t generally allow patients to remain there for more than a couple of months,” said Francine. “It’s a very popular facility and there’s a long waiting list...”
Francine went on to explain that, in hers and George’s opinion, Lois was now well able to live independently of the clinic’s support. A report would soon have to be made to the Planet’s health insurance company, at which point they would most likely withdraw funding for Lois’s treatment. Francine said she’d hold off sending the report as long as she could, but realistically, Lois needed to start looking for an alternative means of support – and accommodation - as soon as possible.
*************
Straight after her session with Francine, Lois hurried to the nearest phone and called Clark at the Planet. “Any news?” she demanded as soon as he answered.
The wait was killing her. She’d imagined things would move fairly quickly after they’d left the DA’s office, but that was yesterday evening and it was now ten thirty the following morning and nothing had apparently happened. How long did it take to get a search warrant, for heaven’s sake?
“Yes,” he responded, to her great surprise. “The police are raiding Pirelli’s house as we speak.”
“Yes!” she cried jubilantly. “I knew we were right! That’s great news - did she say whether they’ll take him into custody?”
“No, but I imagine they will, if he’s there,” he replied. “For questioning, at the very least.”
“What a result!” she exclaimed. “And this is going to make a great story. We’ll show that idiot editor of yours what real journalism is all about, won’t we?”
“Yeah.”
She frowned. “You don’t sound exactly overjoyed,” she said. “Don’t you want to nail this story?”
“Yes, I do, it’s just...” He sighed. “They’re raiding her house, Lois,” he said softly. “Can you imagine what that’s like?”
“Oh, Clark,” she said. “You knew this was likely to happen. And you did try to warn her.”
“It’s going to kill her,” he said, his anguish palpable. “Lana hates scandals and publicity, and now she’s going to be right at the heart of the biggest news story since...well, since I became Superman.”
Lois increased her grip on the receiver as if it were a part of him; as if somehow she could comfort him through the medium of unyielding plastic. “There’s nothing you can do,” she insisted quietly. “You’ve already done everything you could for her.”
“I keep thinking maybe I should go over there...maybe just fly overhead and make sure she’s okay...”
“No, don’t,” she urged. “You can’t help her and you’ll only make yourself feel worse. Stay right there and get writing.”
“I’m not sure if I should,” he murmured. “If I can.”
Lois swallowed hard. “You have to, Clark. It’s far better for her if you write the story than if you let some hack tear her to pieces on the front page.” In fact, the journalist in her had just realised that they’d get a better story if they did actually bag an eye-witness account of the house-raid. “Look, I’ve changed my mind,” she said quickly. “Pick me up here and we’ll fly to the house together, okay?”
“Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Because I think it’ll help the story,” she confessed.
“Lois-“
“Clark, you’re a journalist,” she told him. “This is what we do, remember?”
He sighed. “Okay, go to the front of the clinic and I’ll pick you up in one minute.”
*****************
Lois clutched tightly onto Clark’s shoulders as they hovered high in the sky above Lana’s house. Peering downwards, she tried to see at least part of what Clark was seeing, but the clouds below them were too thick. What she wouldn’t give for a temporary loan of Clark’s incredible visual talents...
“What’s happening?” she demanded.
“The police are taking down all the pictures and packing them into a van,” he reported. “Someone’s going through a desk in the study.”
“Where’s Lana?” she asked. “What’s she doing?”
He sighed heavily. “She’s in the living room with a policewoman.”
“Is she saying anything?”
“No. She’s trying to look indignant, but she’s not really pulling it off. I think she’s frightened.”
“So her husband’s not there?”
“No, but I think they’ve picked him up at the insurance company’s offices,” he said. “I heard one of the detectives talking on his radio.”
“What else can you hear?”
“Mostly they’re just talking about what to confiscate,” he reported, then grimaced. “Plus a few... personal comments about Lana.”
“Can she hear those?”
“I don’t think so. I hope not, anyway.” He paused. “It looks like she and Pirelli have separate bedrooms.”
“Oh.”
Clark shook his head. “That’s so ironic, you know? She took so much pleasure in telling me how much she was looking forward to starting a family, and how that was yet another way in which I failed to match up to perfect Steve.”
“Um...sorry? I don’t understand,” she said.
He sighed. “I’m an alien, Lois. It’s doubtful whether I’ll be able to father children.”
“Oh.” She pulled her gaze away from the clouds to study his face as he continued to watch the proceedings below them. “I never even thought about that...does it bother you?”
“Mostly I just don’t think about it,” he said, keeping his gaze on the house below.
“But if you found the right woman?” she pressed. “Wouldn’t you want kids?”
She felt his shoulders tense up. “Not now, okay?” he said. “Let’s just concentrate on what’s happening to Lana.”
So it did bother him. On impulse, she reached up and kissed his cheek.
His gaze shot around to meet hers. “What was that for?”
She shrugged. “You just seemed to need a kiss, so I gave you one.”
His surprise softened into a smile. “Why, thank you. They’re taking Lana outside, by the way.”
“Well, keep watching!” she exclaimed. “Boy, you are so easily distracted, you know that?”
He grinned and returned his attention to the house. Suddenly, he sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s crying. I’m going down.”
“Clark, no!” protested Lois, but she was powerless to stop him. Less than a minute later, she was hurrying to catch up with him as he strode up to the house and the small gaggle of police vehicles and onlookers gathered outside.
Lana was being escorted to a waiting police car. Her head was held high and her face was defiant, but silent tears still ran down her cheeks. She seemed strangely diminished from the bitchy, spiteful woman they’d met only yesterday.
Lois tried to pull Clark back as he pushed to the front of the crowd of nosey neighbours, but she might as well have been trying to stop a herd of stampeding cattle. He even flashed his press pass at the policemen shielding the proceedings from the crowd and got right up to the car Lana was being led towards.
“Lana, I’m sorry,” he called to her. “If there’s anything I can do...”
Lana spotted him and pulled away from the policewoman holding her elbow. Marched right up to him and turned her tearful face up to his. “Come to gloat, have you?”
“No,” he said. “I want to help...”
“Done enough already, haven’t you?” she spat. “This is all your doing, isn’t it? You and your drug addict friend.”
“Lana-“
“Bastard!” Her hand swung up to slap his face, but Clark’s reactions were too quick. He caught her wrist, her palm mere millimetres from his cheek.
“You’d only have hurt yourself,” he murmured apologetically.
She snatched her wrist out of his grasp. “Let me go, you filthy alien!”
There was a collective gasp from the small crowd, and Clark himself suddenly seemed to turn to stone. The policewoman pulled a tearful Lana away to the car, leaving Clark on his own, his back to the crowd.
Lois pushed past the few people in front of her and hurried to his side. Slipping an arm around his back, she murmured, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
His stricken face stared straight ahead, watching as Lana was bundled into the police car. Lois tried to tug him away, but he continued to watch as the driver got behind the wheel, all the doors were closed, and eventually, the car sped off down the street.
“Come on,” she murmured again. “It’s all over now.”
He turned stony eyes on her. “Do you think that’s how she always felt about me?”
She shook her head. “I think she was just lashing out any way she could. Don’t read anything into it.”
“No-one’s ever come right out and said it to my face before,” he muttered, staring blindly ahead again. “Just sideways looks and innuendo. Trust Lana to-”
“Don’t listen to her, Mr Kent.”
The voice came from behind them, a woman’s voice. Lois turned, to find that more than half the onlookers had melted away, leaving a small knot of men and women still watching the police pack up. One woman, a forty-something type with red curly hair, stepped forward. “Tell him that’s not how I and my family think of him,” she said. “He’s just a man doing his best to make a difference.”
Lois smiled. “Yes, he is. And thank you.”
The woman nodded and walked away down the street. The remaining onlookers dispersed slowly, some retreating back behind their front doors; some continuing their journey along the sidewalk.
Lois turned back to Clark. “See? No-one else thinks like Lana. Let’s head back to the Planet and write this up.”
He shook his head woodenly. “We should interview the detective in charge, if he’s still here.”
He had a point. They needed to find out what had happened to Pirelli, and what the police planned to do next. “Okay. Are you going to be all right?”
He let out a long, windy sigh. “Yeah, it was just a shock, I guess.” He switched on a weak smile. “Come on, let’s go bag a headline.”
She grinned. “Now you’re talking!”
*******************
