Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Undercover Reporter: Resurrection (13/17)

Still following the footprints, she came to the corner of her row of crates when her eye caught something.

The label on the side of this crate read ‘Fertilixer.’

Her muscles tensed.

This was what she’d been looking for!

Please let it be here! She begged the universe.

If she could rid the world of just one piece of kryptonite, she might be able to make up for some of the pain she’d caused him over the Lex debacle. If she could just find one piece, Clark would be that much safer. She remembered what it had been like during those desolate months after she thought he’d been shot. Her whole world had become unbearably bleak.

And back then they’d only been friends. Plus, she’d still have had Superman to rely on. She wouldn’t have that kind of fallback now, if anything really happened to him. And now that they were so much more…

No, she couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Clark now.

When this was over, they really needed to have a talk about the rest of their lives. Over the last few months, it had become more than apparent to her that he was hurting and not healing from the loss of his non-super life. Her initial flicker of desire that they needed to do something about his frozen emotional recovery had built to a near-inferno that was now threatening to escape and light them both on fire, invulnerable or not. She vowed that she was going to do whatever it took to stop Clark Kent from letting his life pass him by.

But first, she thought, with renewed determination, she was going to destroy this kryptonite.

*****
A few moments earlier.

A rustle of wind preceded his arrival by a millisecond, and he had time to scan the newsroom before a nearby voice stuttered his name.

“Sup– Superman!”

“Hi, Jimmy,” he said reflexively, wondering where Lois was. He gently expanded his hearing outward from the bullpen, searching for the single heartbeat that he knew best in the world.

“I– I, uh, finished the search Lois had me running,” Jimmy reported.

Right, he remembered. Lois had been trying to track the funding for all the thugs and bribes through Chow’s and Wayne’s multitudinous bank accounts. That had been her half of the job tonight. Jimmy was clearly still running down the information for her.

He blinked, pausing in his hunt for her heartbeat just after discovering that she wasn’t in Perry’s office. Reining in the impulse to ask where Lois was, he instead replied to the eager young man’s pronouncement.

“Did you find anything?” he asked, absently extending his hearing down to the newspaper morgue, half his mind still on Lois.

“I cracked the Cayman account!” the young hacker said with pride.

Clark felt his own reporter’s instinct come rapidly online, and he zeroed in on the computer in front of his friend. He crossed toward Jimmy with alacrity, and leaned over to see his monitor, one hand on the back of his chair. In spite of the billowing cape that was just settling around him, it was an accustomed tableaux that was no longer his daily custom. He reminded himself to ignore the resulting pang. Superman did not work in a newsroom.

“Here,” Jimmy said, drawing his attention back by hovering his cursor over an amount, a string of transaction numbers beside it. “This $5000 withdrawal was wired out of the account on the day before Lois said the last bribe was given at the port in Suriname.” He scrolled down and hovered his cursor over another similar line item. “And this $5000 withdrawal was wired out on the day before the bribe at the Luanda port.”

This was good! It might be circumstantial, but it was a trail! And paired with what he’d overheard tonight, it might be even more than that. “Are there any more of these?”

“Yeah,” the gopher scrolled down again, nodding, “they’re pretty regular. There’s even a kind of a pattern.” Jimmy quirked his eyebrows, reading down the screen.

“Call the Port of Metropolis and see if you can get a hold of the itinerary for this ship,” he said, grabbing a pen off Jimmy’s desk and jotting the name on the pad there. “The Arianna. See if the rest of Chow’s withdrawals line up with her stops. And see if they can give you the name of the carrier or the consigner. Now that we know it’s linked back to Chow, his name has got to be there somewhere.”

“You got it,” Jimmy said, and Clark found himself unexpectedly disappointed not to hear the affectionate ‘CK’ at the end of his friend’s sentence.

The light twinge near his heart made him immediately yearn for Lois, and the comfort he’d come to associate with her. It was then that he realized that he hadn’t seen her since he’d arrived back at the Planet. He extended his hearing quickly down to the lobby before swinging up to the roof in a last bid to find her.

She wasn’t there.

“Did you say The Arianna?” Jimmy interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes. Why?”

“I’ve seen that name recently,” Jimmy said, his brow furrowing in thought. “But it wasn’t connected to Chow.”

“What was it connected to?” More than just a ruffling of his reporter’s instincts, his whole nervous system was now on edge.

“Uh…” Jimmy stared at the paper Clark had written on as if it would hold the answer he was looking for. Then all at once the confusion cleared. “I remember! Here.” The gopher clicked into a new window on his computer and Clark leaned over to look at the screen again. It was an inventory list. And it looked familiar. The company logo at the bottom was unmistakable.

Cold gathered in the pit of his stomach.

“Jimmy…” he regulated his voice carefully, using the superhero tenor to mask his immediate worry, “where’s Lois?”

“Oh, she ran out a while ago.”

He felt his heart stutter as he stood to move in front of Jimmy. Lois was only moving at a run these days if something big was happening – and that something usually had to do with an awakening Hydra head of Lex Corp.

“Ran out?” he prodded.

“Uh, yeah,” Jimmy said, putting his hand to the back of his neck and leaning back in his chair, “She was looking for something of Luthor’s.”

Luthor.

Again.

A chill raced down his spine.

There were suddenly too many Luthor-related coincidences popping up at every turn of this investigation. He had to go after her. Right away.

“Where?” he asked, ineffectually pushing down the fear that was now surrounding his heart. She’d gotten a head start on him while he’d been watching Chow. By now, anything could be happening!

“Is something wrong?”

“Where, Jimmy?” he repeated urgently, no longer bothering to mask his fear in his haste.

Jimmy leaned forward again and clicked his mouse in rapid succession. “4815 Baxter Avenue,” he read off the screen.

Clark was in the air before Jimmy finished his sentence, racing south, barely hearing his own sonic boom as it reverberated in his wake, shaking the windows of the Planet and the buildings he left behind.

He’d had an increasingly uneasy feeling since he’d left Lois over an hour ago. He’d even thought that he’d heard her calling for him, whispering his name – though he’d shaken that off, attributing it to his overactive and, as she described it, overprotective imagination.

…But what if that had really been her calling for him?

What if she’d needed him, but couldn’t scream?

What if he hadn't come when she'd called?

He poured on the speed, cursing his synapses for moving as fast as the rest of his body, since as he flew, they were throwing up panicked images in his mind’s eye of Lois in danger – falling from a building, ducking as an assailant reached menacingly toward her, stumbling down a dark alley, clutching a too-wet wound in her middle, her unmoving form lying still in a fire-ravaged jungle.

He’d left the Planet only a second ago, and Baxter Avenue was already coming into view ahead of him now. Instead of using his vision to hunt for the address, he put all of his focus into listening for her heartbeat.

There weren’t many signs of life nearby. The rundown warehouse district he was speeding over was nearly empty tonight.

The first he picked up wasn’t hers. It was weaker, and he could hear a cough rattling through the lungs adjacent to it.

The second pulse was so fast that it was easy to identify as a cat, and he moved on.

The third was too heavy, with a smaller echo, as if the arteries were clogged.

And then…

An achingly familiar rhythm.

Lois.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned slightly left and began to descend in her direction.

But the sigh caught in his throat.

Her heartbeat was faster than usual.

Too fast.

She was nervous.

No, he corrected, listening more intently.

She was afraid.

His own fear cemented, hardening into a cold lump in his stomach. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her. Lois had been a crucial part of his life even before his world had severely narrowed in scope. Now, she’d become so important to him that he wasn’t entirely sure he could survive without her.

He didn’t want to try.

He was racing whatever she was hiding from, he knew.

As he sped toward the warehouse, he sent up a silent prayer that he’d won this race.

…It was then that his hearing picked up the second heartbeat.

His x-ray vision tore through the walls between them, seeking her out.

With a shock of brutal recognition, he caught a glimpse of the scene below and pulled himself sharply out of his near-wild descent, calculating the odds against what he was seeing.

Sickly stunned, he felt his impenetrable heart break in unstoppable anguish.

He couldn’t...

He couldn’t save her.

Lois!

*****

In the midst of the shadowy, silent warehouse, Lois crept over toward the other side of the ‘fertilixer’ crate, intent on her search for kryptonite.

Suddenly, something brushed against her ankle and she twisted around, hands coming up to fight whatever minotaur had finally come upon her. The cobweb tickled her ankle as she looked at it, and she bit back a gasp before shaking it away carefully. She swallowed down the need to exhale a deep breath as she felt it drop away, and continued on her quiet path. Finally arriving at the corner of the crate, she reached for the latch.

There was no lock.

Looking down around her, she saw the padlock lying on the cement floor inches from her feet.

Someone had beaten her here!

She cursed under her breath, but didn’t move away.

She had to be sure.

Pulling the latch back, Lois slid the lid off the crate, moving the heavy, rough-hewn rectangle as quietly as she could. Pen light in hand, she clicked it on and stepped up onto its thick wooden baseboard, leaning over to see inside.

It was empty, like the other two ‘antiques’ locations.

Her heart dropped in disappointment.

She’d let Clark down again.

This meant that the danger was still out there.

“Looking for this, my dear?”

There was so much scorn in the voice, it sent a fissure of fear through her heart.

Startled, she slipped from her perch and looked up, eyes racing to meet the silhouette of a tall man in the shadows, his hair askew, with the outline of a long, flowing trench coat. His hand was outstretched – and emanating from it was a wicked green light.

Her mind blanked in fear as she had the impossible thought that she really had been chasing ghosts.

She knew it was entirely irrational but, “Lex?”

The patronizing chuckle that followed could have been his.

Almost.

“Unfortunately, not,” the voice said, tugging at her memory. “I’m afraid you really did send Mr. Luthor to an early grave.” The accent was cultured.

She blanched, pushing down the otherworldly panic, and tipped her penlight up toward his face.

“Nigel,” she concluded, surprised.

“I wish I could say it was nice to see you again, Ms. Lane.” His face took on a hard look. “But you’ve been a thorn in my side for too long to afford you such niceties.”

“A thorn in your side?” she asked, stunned.

“That’s right. You were insufferable enough as Mr. Luthor’s fickle paramour. But no matter how you got in the way then, I was still paid. Now when you get in the way, it’s a threat to my livelihood.”

What had she stumbled into? Was Nigel selling kryptonite?

“Your livelihood? What are you talking about? I haven’t come near you.”

“Haven’t you? Then it must have been someone else who stole my courier’s shipping manifest. And someone else that had half my transport team arrested at the warehouse two days ago. And someone else that undermined my business partner’s confidence with her hapless little interview earlier this week.”

The penny dropped.

“No, no, Ms. Lane. You’ve been a thorn in my side all summer long.”

Nigel was her gunrunner.

“But…. you?” She spluttered. “It couldn’t have been you.”

“You never were as clever as you thought you were.”

“But…” No. The pieces didn’t add up. “But the boats changed their path. Lex never had the contacts in Suriname.”

“Contacts can be made. Or eliminated,” he added with light menace.

Her mind spun against the impossibility that, in spite of everything she’d done…

The House of Luthor had crumbled.

But it had not fallen.

On top of that, someone else had moved into the ruin.

She realized the ground had fallen out from under her instead.

“But you couldn’t have afforded to keep this all running,” she accused wildly.

“Millionaires are all much the same,” Nigel replied sedately. “I find that catering to one is much like catering to another. It was not difficult to change company from Mr. Luthor to Mr. Chow.”

“Chow!” She’d been right! “You’re working for Arthur Chow?”

“During the Luthor Corp buyout, Mr. Chow let it be known that he was interested in unique opportunities to increase his holdings, especially those that were less than …traditional. He was more than happy to offer a generous compensation package to someone who already knew the internal workings of this operation." His smile was smug. "As I said before, new contacts can be made.”

Now that she’d uncovered the mystery, her brain was starting to assess her own situation – and the question skittered across her mind whether her own curiosity really would be what killed her, as the adage went. The fact that Nigel had both a grievance against her and a lot to lose by letting her go made that gun in his hand much more dangerous. Lucky as she often was, she was no match for a competent MI6 agent. Her little defense classes wouldn’t stand up to his professional combat training. She had to think quickly, buy herself some time. He’d said that she was insufferable. Maybe she could irritate him – angry men made mistakes.

She put on her most unimpressed voice. “So you keep Luthor’s operation afloat by getting into bed with Chow. Does he think of you as a servant, too?”

“He thinks of me as a vital component in a lucrative operation.”

Nigel seemed a little too unaffected. So she pushed it.

“Just another cog in the wheel,” she dismissed, taunting him. “Just like with Luthor. You should have heard what he said about you when you weren’t around.”

That scored a hit – she saw a tick near his temple.

“You should hear what he said about you when you weren’t around,” he responded. She didn't want to know, and her stomach turned at the thought. Nigel gave as good as he got.

“Now, then. Call for Superman.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Call for Superman.”

Her eyes flicked down to the fatal green rock still bathing him in an ugly, ethereal light. Did Nigel know what he was holding? He had been Lex’s right hand man, but Lex saved his trump cards for himself. Regardless, she wouldn’t call for Clark with that awful green crystal in the room. But she couldn’t risk letting Nigel know that. Maybe she could bluff them both out of this.

“Why on earth would you want Superman to come here and catch you raiding Luthor’s old junk? Why are you even here?”

“I expect for the same reason you are. Because we’re both heading into the endgame of our little chess match.” His hand tensed and the green glow shifted across his features.

“You see, tonight your big blue wonder is following Mr. Chow’s private jet to a meeting that he wasn’t invited to. It would be better if he didn’t attend. So while Mr. Chow continued on to his appointment, I came here to acquire an antique. …or should I say ‘fertilizer?’” Nigel grinned. “Mr. Luthor had always hoped to sprinkle the dust of this particular Kryptonian antiquity over Superman’s grave.” Nigel turned thoughtful. “Perhaps Mr. Chow will now let me do the honors. After all, he was ever so grateful that I had a method of insurance to offer him.”

A spike of ice pierced her.

She truly had found a monster at the center of the labyrinth.

Nigel knew exactly what kryptonite was. And he knew what it was used for. Of course he did. Luthor had trusted Nigel far more than he’d trusted her. Bluffing wouldn’t help her here. Her faith in talking her way out of this one receded.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist on redirecting Superman tonight. Call him,” he said, bringing his other arm into focus. The pistol gleamed in the sickly green light.

It was a terrible standoff.

Kryptonite versus a gun.

Her life held up against Clark’s.

She knew which one she’d pick every time.

Her eyes met Nigel’s.

“You’ll have to live with the disappointment,” she spat acidly.

Behind her back, she crossed her fingers that she’d live through this.

“You always were a fickle woman. It’s a shame you never offered Mr. Luthor this loyalty,” Nigel said lightly.

“It’s a shame Lex was a lying, sociopathic, murdering crime lord,” she said without remorse.

She heard the safety click.

“This is your last opportunity to see your beloved superhero again before you die. And make no mistake, you both will die.”

She held his eyes, cast in the feral green light, an sealed her fate.

“I won’t do it,” she said firmly, her heart in her throat.

“Very well,” he said, seemingly unbothered. “I would have preferred you to be a part of the alien’s downfall. There’s a certain poetry to that ending that Mr. Luthor would have appreciated. But if you’re not willing to play your part, so be it.” He tsk’ed. “Unfortunately, that does mean that you have no further use.”

He leveled his gun at her heart.

She instinctively opened her mouth to scream, and saw Nigel’s eyes light at her impulse.

She clamped it shut.

She wouldn’t call for him.

She wouldn’t.

Even to save herself.

She wouldn’t endanger him.

She wouldn’t lose their bet this week.

But she wouldn’t bring him back to his old life now, either.

And she wouldn’t share his new one.

They’d never work together again.

They’d never visit Milan, never write the Congo story for page 8, never get married, never do any of the other hundred things she’d silently promised herself they would.

They’d never grow old together.

I’m so sorry, Clark, was her last thought as she watched Nigel’s knuckles whiten to squeeze the trigger. I love you.

The bullet exploded from the chamber.