Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Darkest Dreams 33/?

Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I replied to most of them in the last chapter's FDK, so if you want to, you can check back on that.

Oh, and before you read on...could you guys give me a little help, here? When I started writing this fic I had it rated T for violence, but someone reviewed and mentioned that the violence was enough to tip it into the M category. However, I think that means that I've highly restricted my range of readers, if only because they don't see it without specifying that they see all ratings. So seeing as there's no swearing or other bad stuff, do you guys think this fic should stay in the M group, or can I drop it down into T again with extra warnings on the worst chapters?

Any input would be greatly appreciated, even if it's only one three words: "T is good..." "M is necessary" or whatever.

So this is a super-long chapter. Meaning, bordering on 8k, which is about twice as long as a “good-lengthed” chapter for me. So if this pleases you, please review. If it doesn’t please you, please review to please me, even if it doesn’t please you to do so.

Are you beginning to get the theme here?

PLEASE REVIEW!!! I’m missing a couple of my normal reviewers out there, and unless you want me to track you down with a special trained hound dog, come out of lurking. And same to you anonymous lurkers. Please review!

Please?

Thank you beforehand!

Enjoy,

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Chapter 33: To Be Or Not To Be?

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“There’s something we found of Superman’s that I think he might want.”

Clark didn’t need time to wonder what McPheron was talking about. He knew exactly what the general had. He had been searching for it for months, ever since he had first seen it in Bureau 39’s warehouse.

McPheron led them to the roof, without guards this time, though that didn’t necessarily make Clark feel any better despite the show of trust.

Or confidence. The man could just as easily be showing his supposed power over them, or his assumption that he has taken down the reporters’ guard.

This could all be an elaborate trap. It could just be a set up to bring Superman down from the skies, expecting to meet friends only to be turned on and caught again.

Clark wasn’t innocent anymore. His naivety that Lois seemed to scorn in him had taken on a darker shade. He was scarred.

He needed to be ready for anything. He couldn’t allow himself to get overconfident again.

The canvas-covered mound just a few steps from the door to the roof was not inconspicuous. Lois watched it through narrowed eyes as the general stood and pulled the canvas from the vessel. It didn’t matter one way or another for Clark—he had been staring right through the tarp since he had walked outside into the cloud-filtered sunlight.

There sat his spaceship—small, harmless, and untouched, if a bit dusty.

His spaceship. It was one thing to have his globe, but this was different. This was big. This had been his home for who knows how many days, weeks, months, or years that it had carried him from Krypton.

He wanted to reach forward and touch it—to run his hands over it and feel the warmth that he had felt so briefly in his first encounter with it. To touch something that he had seen his parents touch, in the globe’s recording.

“This landed in Kansas some years ago,” McPheron said, looking at the small craft with a thoughtful gaze. “Bureau 39 has had their hands on it, but now that they’re gone, I think Superman might want to have it back.”

Lois looked at it for a long moment, then turned to glare at McPheron. “So you want me to tell him to come in and get this from you? And how am I to know that there’s not kryptonite hidden nearby? I mean, you could have ground it into a dust, and we might not be able to see it. But why should I risk him coming here?”

It was a good point, Clark thought, and had to stop himself from taking an automatic step back at the thought. The notion that the kryptonite could be hidden so easily hadn’t entered into his mind, and now it gave him a chill. But he didn’t feel anything, so he braced himself and took a cautious step towards the ship. Lois shot him a perturbed look at his action.

“Besides,” Lois continued. “This isn’t even his ship. It’s a probe that was sent to see if Superman could live here. He told me so.”

Clark had to cover a wince at that.

McPheron looked at her closely. “He told you that, Miss Lane?”

Lois faltered at the stare, then quickly bristled again. “Yes,” she said boldly.

Clark was watching the general closely, now grateful that his presence was all but ignored. What did the man know? What did he suspect?

“We’re leaving it here,” McPheron said, pulling the tarp back over it. “There is no kryptonite, Miss Lane—no plans for traps. I’m sure you know well enough that if our intentions were to draw him here, you would be bait enough.” He pulled out a card and held it out to her. “If you could give this to Superman as well. It’s a number, if he ever needs anything. Including medical.”

Lois and Clark both looked at him sharply. Clark felt ash in his mouth.

“M-medical?” Lois repeated.

“We didn’t find a good deal of what was at that compound, Lane, but what we found…” The general shook his head, looking grim. “I think we both know he isn’t invulnerable as we liked to think.” He hesitated, the hard exterior slipping the slightest bit. “Can you…just tell me if he is getting better?”

Lois chewed on her lip, staring at him through narrowed eyes. At last she shook her head. “I don’t know, general,” she said, her voice still cold.

McPheron sighed. “Think about it, Miss Lane. I understand you both being hesitant to trust again, but I hope you will let us try to fix what has been done.”

No chance of that, Lois thought. Some things just couldn’t be fixed, and many things that could be were shattered to a point that anything any outsider might try to do would only make it worse.

Clark took another slow step forward, and another, until he reached down and brushed his fingers across the dusty red S.

Did it hold his second guide, somehow? Did it carry another message for him? Did it carry the answers to his questions?

There was no answer—not even a faintest tingle at his fingertips. But what had he expected? The ship hadn’t come alive last time he had touched it, and he certainly didn’t want it to happen now, in front of Lois and this man of questionable trustworthiness. That thought made him bring back his hand quickly, and he looked up to find both Lois and McPheron watching him.

“It’s…uh…warm,” Clark tried to explain his actions.

“Really?” Lois stepped forward quickly and reached down to touch it for herself. Her fingers traced the S almost reverently, and Clark looked away, feeling as if he were intruding on something that was not his right to see.

Lois brushed away the dust, then stood slowly, as if hesitant to distance herself from any connection to Superman at all. She looked back to McPheron.

“With Bureau 39 gone, I want the full story. Every detail, McPheron. If you want me to trust you, you had better start with the basics.”

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A little over an hour later McPheron let them out of his office, where he had taken them again to talk. They had given them their things back—even the taser, though McPheron had handed that back with a noticeably wary look in his eyes. As they had sat down and taken their things, Clark had noticed something was missing.

“Now,” Lois said, taking out a notebook and pen from one of the purses she held and perching over it. “Talk.”

Clark swallowed the question and settled to listen, for now, but the thought that it might have been lost made the empty and raw hole in his heart ache.

McPheron had talked. He had gone over things they already knew—of the basic history of Bureau 39 and its official disbandment, and of Trask’s madness. After Trask’s death it had been supposed that the Bureau would die along with him, but that was when the Boss seemed to have stepped in, or at least more visibly. McPheron wasn’t sure how long Bureau 39 had been controlled by this crime lord.

“Trask was a leader, but he’s been half-mad for years. Logram wasn’t a leader at all—only a doctor to do the dirty work. He lacked the sense of organization and structure, let alone the brains or true intent necessary to lead something like this.”

The Primaries had found both the compound and another warehouse in Gotham where Bureau 39 must have tried to sweep all of the spaceships after their first disappearance from Metropolis. A week ago they had officially locked away or destroyed the last of the evidence, and as many men as had been involved in any criminal way had been put away.

It really was a closed deal, except for the missing Boss…and Superman.

Now that Bureau 39 was gone, the Primaries’ only goal was to find Superman and the Boss. They had agents spread throughout all of the underground and upper levels of society, even all around the world, so much as their resources permitted—searching for even the slightest rumor of a miracle that might point to the missing hero.

Of course, there had been no luck so far.

With pages full of notes and a card for herself to contact McPheron if need be, Lois stood and let the general open the door to let them out. Clark, however, hesitated.

“Do you…there wasn’t a knife with my things, were there? A pocketknife?”

McPheron frowned and sorted around the few papers on his desk.

“I don’t see it here. Are you sure you had it with you?”

“Yes,” Clark adjusted his glasses. He didn’t want to lose this…but even with the willingness for McPheron to talk and his supposed trustworthiness, Clark wanted nothing more than to just get out of there, after all of this time of being kept in this small room. He had stayed mostly silent except for a couple questions throughout the questioning—keeping notes mentally in and staying alert in case of any possible danger.

The lead paint that blocked his vision of the outside had long since grown nearly intolerable, even with his superhearing to loosen the groundings that held him.

And Lois…he had noticed something as they had been sitting there listening to McPheron. She was buzzing faintly, right over her heart. He hadn’t x-rayed to check, of course, but he realized that she had some sort of recording device under her shirt.

Was this part of her brilliant backup plan?

If nothing else, she had one heck of a brilliant interview, Clark thought, along with the makings of yet another page one article with it.

“Goodness, Clark, I’ll just buy you a new one,” Lois interrupted his thoughts. “Why are you carrying a pocketknife around anyway? This is Metropolis, not the Wild West.”

Clark ducked his head. “My dad gave it to me, Lois.”

Lois cringed at that. “Oh.” She looked down for a moment, then looked up again. “And you’re sure you had it?” she asked, but her voice was softer.

“Yes,” Clark said, feeling like a young grade-schooler being questioned by two teachers.

Lois straightened and stared at McPheron. “Well, then. It’s had better be around here someplace, right? Where are the guys who took this stuff in the first place?”

“Gone,” McPheron said. “It draws too much attention to keep many people around here. We’ve been keeping just one or two, to keep watch on the ship, and brought more down just when we hoped you were coming.”

“Well, find out who they are,” Lois snapped. “I’m going to be calling you, McPheron, and if you want me to even consider trying to get Superman to trust you, then you had better be able to convince me your elite men are more than petty thieves!”

McPheron frowned at that, but then nodded. He looked at Clark doubtfully. “A pocketknife? Any better description?” It was clear from his voice that he certainly thought the effort put into any search of this was a waste, but Lois’s level stare at him kept out most of the depreciating tones.

Clark shrugged. “It…it has a wooden carved handle, but…it’s worn down a bit.”

McPheron grunted softly.

Clark decided that even if these guys were on his side, he didn’t like them very much.

“I’ll be following up on that, McPheron,” Lois said coldly, putting a hand on Clark’s shoulder that was warm in sharp contrast to her tone. She applied pressure, gently steering him to the door. “That is one thing that you can be sure about, at least, so don’t go dropping off the face of the map again.”

McPheron’s expression went completely neutral and he stood. “As long as you remain a friend of Superman’s, Miss Lane, you are a friend of ours.” His eyes flickered briefly to Clark, but his neutral mask hardly slipped, but for the slightest shadow of disapproval in his eyes

Clark caught his eye for a short moment before looking away quickly.

“When can I expect to hear from you?” McPheron asked.

Lois glared at him. “When I feel like it,” she said, then turned away. “Come on, Clark, let’s go.”

McPheron didn’t try to stop them. Clark led the way out, his back watched carefully by a wary Lois Lane, who once again had her hand in her purse—likely on her taser.

They went out the front door, and as soon as Clark stepped into the thin sunlight of the cloudy afternoon, he stopped, feeling lightheaded from relief.

He didn’t pause in his steps, however, even as Lois’s hand left his back and she turned, her steps faltering as she stopped and looked back and up. Clark knew what she was looking towards—his ship, even if she couldn’t see it. He himself wanted to run back, jump up there, and make off with it. He didn’t want it to be snatched out of his grip again. If it did have information about him, he didn’t want it in the hands of possible enemies. Instead, he turned and put a hand on the small of Lois’s back to keep her moving.

“ Clark—”

“It’s not safe, Lois,” Clark said firmly. “Come on. Let’s find a phone and call a cab.”

“But I want to stay and see—”

“There was a camera above the front door, Lois,” Clark said. “Didn’t you see it? He’s probably still watching us. Come on.”

“A camera?” Lois repeated. She made to look back again, but Clark kept her steered forward. Of course she wouldn’t be able to see it unless she looked very closely. It was quite small, and expertly hidden. Even he had almost missed it. “ Clark…”

“They let us go, Lois,” Clark said, his voice still firm but soft now. “I—I am not going to give them a chance to change their minds.”

Lois was surprised both by his tone and his words. Clark was always the one that defended the general goodness of mankind. She was supposed to be the one warning him, and he was supposed to be the one trying to convince her to give these men a chance.

There was a phone booth just a couple blocks away. They walked in silence at first, until Clark spoke at last, glancing at her almost hesitantly.

“So…what was your plan?”

Lois looked at him sharply, then took a sharp breath and brushed her hair from her face in an agitated motion. “Plan?”

“You said for me to . . . to trust you. You sounded like . . . like you had a plan, or something.”

Lois bit her lip. “Well, I did . . . sort of.”

Clark waited.

He still looked a bit shaken. His hair was slightly puffed upwards from him running his hand through it in that nervous gesture of his, and his face still hadn’t regained all of its color.

But they hadn’t been caught. They were walking away, unharmed.

Lois was free again. Back on the streets and her normal, mad-dog self. Nothing would ever scare her again.

Clark just watched her, not sure if he wanted to think too close upon how weak her "brilliant" plan might have been, according to his predictions.

Lois glared at him, pulling away from his hand which still rested lightly on her back. “I did!” She glanced backwards again, then stepped forward at a quicker pace. “Not now, Clark. I’ll tell you…once we get back to the Planet.”

They reached the phone and called up a taxi, then stood back to wait. The sun was beginning to shine more fully from behind the clouds, and Clark stood there in the fullness of it, his shadow casting a dark shadow against its light. Lois squinted against it, then went to sit down in Clark’s shadow on the curb. It wasn’t fully summer yet, but spring was giving way to warmer weather, and she just felt like sitting down for a few minutes—and preferably out of the sun or near any more alleys, for today at least.

So she did, lowering both of her purses and the odd high heel to the side of her. She pulled out a tattered notebook that was stuffed with post-its and notes, and paged through it grimly. A few minutes passed in silence, but then Lois’s personalized sunshade moved. She looked up, annoyed, as Clark came to sit beside her. He shifted slightly, a bit uncomfortable with his longer legs as he sat on the curb beside her.

“So Bureau 39 is gone,” Clark said. “That’s a page one story for sure, especially with all the rumors with Superman’s . . . disappearance.”

Lois snapped the notebook closed and faced him, armed and ready for battle. “Don’t even ask, Kent. I let you stay with me for your safety. But there are some things I just can’t tell you.”

“About Superman?” Clark asked, his voice soft as he scrapped one foot along the gravelly road.

Lois glared at him. “I’m not going to talk, Clark. If Superman wants to tell you, then he can. You were the last one to see him, after all.”

Clark winced, and reached up to adjust his glasses with a shaking hand. “Uh…Lois?” his voice was still soft. “I…I…There’s something…” He took a deep breath. “Lois, about Bureau 39…I…”

A faint buzzing filled Clark’s ears, and he froze. Lois. She had that bug or whatever on her. He might be strong enough to try and tell Lois at last, but to think of it recorded…

…just like everything that had happened in that compound…

“What is it, Clark?”

Clark blinked at her, stuttering for an answer. “Uh…”

A taxi pulled up in front of them, and Clark’s mouth snapped shut. Lois frowned at him, taking in his further paled face, but he shook his head quickly and mouthed a shaky later. After that, he avoided her eyes as they stood and made their ways forward. Clark opened the door for her and she climbed in, and he followed after a short but noticeable hesitation.

“The Daily Planet,” Lois told the driver.

They were silent as they drove. Clark was busy pressed up against the window, his eyes closed as the sunlight brushed his face, and Lois watched him absently.

Clark had been so scared when the guards had caught them in the alley. He had been terrified. And he had been about to tell her something about Bureau 39 that seemed to frighten him almost just as badly.

Was it possible that he was hiding something too? But the man hadn’t seemed hurt when he had gotten out of their hands—just so terribly nervous that Lois had felt tempted to strangle him, if it weren’t for his father’s condition and following death.

You can’t let people push you around. You bend when you have to, but then snap right back up to hit them in the behind as soon as you can. Clark, though, seemed to have snapped right in half.

He had grabbed her like a terrified kid to a safety blanket. Whatever in the world had he been thinking?

Had he been thinking at all?

Lois’s gaze had turned into a fiery glare, and she yanked her eyes away from him and began sorting through the purse that had been taken from her by Bureau 39, only a few weeks ago, but a lifetime nonetheless.

She didn’t remember exactly what her purse had contained. It was still packed with an assortment of papers, receipts, and pens, and she was surprised to find a spare house key on the bottom that she had been searching for for some months even before she was captured, along with some dried and crumbled sticks of gum, and some brown gunk that looked like it might have once been a part of a double-crunch chocolate bar.

Lois grimaced. So maybe she wasn’t the neatest person, but still...even she realized that this purse was long overdue for a cleaning check.

She pulled out her wallet intent on carefully checking to make sure every card was still there—from her driver’s license to her library card—but as soon as the wallet fell open she went still.

There, in the first little photo protector of the wallet, was Superman.

It was an early picture—one of his very first public pictures, if Lois remembered correctly. His expression was the well-known and familiar one that had come to define the superhero to the world. His eyes were light, his lips together in a way that could only be described as “determined,” though the smallest smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. His arms were crossed beneath his S-shield, and behind him waved an American flag.

The flag hadn’t been there originally, of course, but someone had Photoshopped it in, and Lois had agreed with most of the population that it fit perfectly. Now, though, a sad smile floated over her lips as she ran a finger over his face.

It was very likely that he disapproved of the artistic license. And even besides the changed background, the actual picture of the man himself seemed so much more real now.

The light in his eyes was almost laughter, though it was carefully masked beneath what might be mistaken for grimness. He must have had a good day of rescues, or something. It wasn’t something she had seen much during their time with Bureau 39 or afterwards, but she could recognize it. Or maybe he was just amused at the cameras focused on him. That shadow of a smile did seem a bit self-conscious—even embarrassed.

She missed him so much.

Her musings were cut off as the taxi pulled up to the Planet. She didn’t really pay attention as Clark paid the fee, but absently got out of the cab and slipped her wallet safely back into her purse.

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Lois was strangely silent as they walked into the Daily Planet building. Even though there were many people about, she didn’t even keep up her usual mutter under her breath. She seemed distracted, and leaned against the wall of the elevator as they rose up to the press floor.

They stepped off the elevator and Lois started towards her desk, and Clark followed.

“Uh…Lois?”

“Yes, Clark?”

She wasn’t listening. Not really. Her mind was so far away that it was a miracle she didn’t walk into a desk without noticing. She set her purses and the stiletto heel on her desk with unusual care.

“Can I…talk to you?”

Lois frowned slightly and blinked up towards him, clearly coming back to herself. She sat down on the edge of her seat and shook her head as if to clear it. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Can you get me a coffee first, though?”

Clark nodded. There were stress lines around her eyes, and as he turned away he glanced back to see her rubbing her forehead as if in pain.

A minute later he was back with a cup for himself and his partner. Lois was now completely slumped in her chair, her feet pushed out before her and her head hanging forward with her hair framing her pale face. Her eyes were closed tightly.

Clark set her coffee on the desk before her carefully. “Lois?”

She started and sat up quickly, clearing her throat as she saw him. “Oh. Clark. T-thanks.”

She picked up her cup, then paused at the container of pills beside it. “What’s this?” she asked suspiciously.

Clark shrugged, not looking at her directly in fear of her reaction. “Painkillers.” At Lois’s blank look, he expounded. “For your headache?”

Lois’s brow furrowed, and Clark waited for the impending storm to crash down on him. He was surprised when Lois didn’t say anything, but just opened the bottle, shook two pills into her palm, and downed them with a sip of too-hot coffee.

Her hands had been shaking the whole time.

Clark’s heart ached, and he looked away. Lois was so strong. So strong, even now, but it was his fault that she was scarred. His fault she was scared.

“Thanks, Clark,” she muttered, sitting back in her chair again—but not quite slumping this time. She rubbed her forehead again before reaching into the neck of her shirt to pull out a small electronic device that Clark had been hearing. She looked at it closely for a moment, then took a pen from her desk drawer and carefully used the small nib to slide a tiny switch over, before setting it gently yet firmly on the desk. It was silent now, even to Clark’s ears.

How Clark hated to play along, especially now. He hated himself for it. But after all that had happened, it all felt so cowardly—so selfish. But he was still broken. How could he force a broken man—a broken alien—upon Lois when he knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep from protecting him?

Once she knew, would she even want to know? She might feel obligated to take care of him, and he didn’t want to burden Lois with that.

He didn't want to burden Lois with Clark Kent, who at times she barely seemed to be able to tolerate.

He was so weak. He had already shown her how helpless he was to truly protect her. How could she trust him, after all that, and all those lies?

But she deserved to know. After what had happened, she deserved to be able to make that choice, at least.

If she wanted him to, he’d leave and never bother her again.

He’d be alone. More alone than ever, but he would let her make that choice.

He prayed that that would never happen. That he'd never have to leave her. Ever.

He let out a slow breath.

He couldn’t tell her right now. So he played along, though his heart wasn’t in it.

“You were bugged.” It was not a question.

Lois looked somewhat surprised at the somewhat blank tone and expression from her partner.

“Yes, I was,” she said with a frowning glance at him. “I got it from an old…associate of my father’s. Now usually I don’t want anything to do with my father, but this man…” Lois actually smiled a bit. “I think you’d like him, Clark. My father hates him. Dr. Emil Hamilton is his name. He’s a scientist…”

“At Metro Physics,” Clark finished, nodding. He didn’t need to fake his growing interest. He had met Dr. Hamilton a couple of times as Superman, when the superhero had needed some tests done on various chemicals or technology that he came across now and again in his work. He didn’t know the man well, but he had been recommended by Bobby Bigmouth after having salvaged a bullet from an attempted assassination, and the sniper had refused to speak, so they had traced the highly-specialized bullet to the source. Dr. Hamilton was a brilliant scientist, and an honest one at that. Clark appreciated that, even if he had seemed to be a bit absent-minded. But once his attention was caught, his enthusiasm was nearly overwhelming. The man was certainly passionate about his work.

“Right,” Lois said, turning to her computer and logging on. “The whole thing is right here on my computer.”

Clark frowned slightly. “So…how was that supposed to help us if we were…you know?”

Lois glared at him. “Really, Smallville,” she said. “This was set to be emailed to Perry at ten o’clock tonight, so if we went missing he would then be given a very thorough account of what exactly was happening, and hopefully where to find us.”

Clark didn’t look very comforted. He sat back. “I’m…glad I just decided to trust you rather than asking for the details,” he said with a weak grin. Lois just stared at him flatly, and his grin faltered. “Well, you know, Lois…they could just have shot us, and then all Perry would have was a…you know…sound recording of…well, you know.”

“And proof,” Lois said, her eyes flashing as she grabbed the recorder and slipped it into her desk drawer. “Proof, Clark. If they had tried to shoot us I’m sure we could have pulled out a confession before they did the deed. Villains are just like that.”

Clark took a shaky breath and spoke carefully. “Lois, no story is worth you dying over.”

Lois’s eyes narrowed further and she turned away sharply to open a sound player and a word document. “That’s where you’re wrong, Kent,” Lois said coldly. “Some things are bigger than you, bigger than me. They’re worth any sacrifice that we can give.”

Superman.

What he felt was not jealousy for his counterpart. No, this was something much, much different. It made him want to cry—but of course, that wouldn’t improve his already shaken image in Lois Lane’s eyes, either of Superman or of Clark Kent. So he blinked rapidly, taking a deep breath and adjusting his glasses to hide his reaction.

“Even he isn’t worth dying for, Lois,” Clark said, his voice barely a whisper. “He wouldn’t want that.”

Lois had been typing furiously, but at that soft statement she turned on him like a raging inferno.

“Don’t even start, Kent. You are just as bad as anyone out there. How in the world would you know what he wanted and not? Even to you he’s just an icon—some sort of invulnerable angel or something that can’t be hurt, that can’t feel. He’s a person too, Clark, but even more than that.”

“I…I know Lois—”

“No you don’t. Just shut up, Clark.”

Clark sat back, stung, as Lois put her whole mind towards the article type-up, checking her notebook now and again for quotes and details. She had actually seemed to have warmed up to him for a minute there—even accepting the painkillers that Clark had brought her, though he had expected an explosion then. The painkillers must be working, then, since Lois was going back to the hard-hitting reporter that she loved to pretend to be.

It wasn’t her fault, Clark told himself guiltily. He knew Lois. She was dealing with her problems as well as she knew how. She had done the same thing to Superman, at the compound. She’d even told him to shut up once or twice, if he remembered correctly.

“What are you smiling about, Kent?”

Clark was surprised that he was, indeed, smiling. And not only was he smiling, but he was smiling at memories from the time with Bureau 39. At that thought, a thousand horrific memories poured in through the floodgates and he almost choked at the sudden onslaught.

“N-nothing,” he said, all trace of pleasant memories washed clean from his face. He pushed his glasses further up on his nose. Lois frowned and got back to typing. Clark waited a moment, fidgeting slightly with a string in one of his suit pockets, then spoke.

“Lois?”

“What, Clark?”

Clark swallowed. “You…uh…you misspelled conspiracy.”

Lois started and frowned at the screen. Even with word check, she had missed the red underlined word in her haste to write as quick as she could. She fixed the mistake, then went back to where she had been and kept writing.

Clark tugged on the string in his pocket, twisting it around one of his fingers. He stretched it between two of his fingers and easily cut it in two.

“L-Lois?”

“What?”

Once again, she didn’t look at him.

One of the sentences Lois had written was rough at best, and ambiguous and just plain sloppy at worst. Lois fixed it when Clark pointed it out, then moved a paragraph and added another paragraph earlier on at Clark’s recommendation with a nod of recognition and even a murmured, “Good idea, Clark” that made Clark grin slightly before it slipped from his face again. They fell silent once more.

The thread in Clark’s pocket was now just a tangle of frayed knots and ends, and was damp from his fingertips.

He cleared his throat.

“Found something else?” Lois asked, and looked at him.

“A-actually, Lois,” Clark said, pushing his glasses up with his index finger. “C-can I talk to you? In the conference room?”

Lois frowned at him, then turned to save the article before standing and waving at him to do the same. He stood, wondering if he looked as shaky as he felt, and at Lois’s gesture lead the way forward.

The conference room was empty, for which Clark was very glad. He closed the door behind Lois and carefully checked all of the blinds, ignoring Lois’s gaze that was growing more curious and even suspicious by the moment.

As he finished, he turned to her, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, now that this place is about as secure as an underground bunker, what were you going to tell me?”

Clark hands were shaking, so he stuck them in his pockets. This was it. Heaven help him not look as terrified as he felt.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again when he found his voice had failed him. He clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering and balled his hands into fists in his pocket as he sat down in one of the conference chairs and forced himself to take a breath that he hoped would be calming.

It didn’t work.

Lois came forward, her expression concerned, but also wary in an almost dangerous way.

It was a strange combination to see.

“What is it, Clark?”

“Lois,” Clark said, forcing his voice to be firm. He pulled his eyes upwards towards hers, and as he found her face he realized he had never been so terrified in his whole life.

Ever. And that was certainly saying something.

Bureau 39 could have killed him, but Lois could do something far worse. She could break his heart. She could crush him.

She held all power to break him—to completely destroy what had been left over since Bureau 39. Once she knew, she would hold his soul in her hand.

“Clark, did something else happen with Bureau 39?” Lois asked. “Something you didn’t tell anyone else?”

Clark blinked. “Yes, Lois, but…”

“I thought so,” Lois said, looking at him closely. “You’re panic attack with the Primaries earlier just wasn’t quite the right reaction, even for you, Smallville.”

“Lois…”

“Did they hurt you?”

Clark’s throat plugged at that, and he found for a moment that he couldn’t speak.

Lois came forward, looking him over as if using x-ray vision herself to assess any injuries. She looked slightly confused. “But…you weren't hurt, were you? I mean, you didn't look the greatest, but you weren't hurt. I didn’t hear that you went to the hospital, or anything.”

Clark swallowed, struggling around that lump in his throat. He had to tell her, now. “I’m fine, Lois, it’s just—”

“Scared?” Lois’s expression was unreadable at that, though whether that was because she was trying to hide mockery, embarrassment, or empathy, Clark wasn’t sure.

He looked away. He couldn’t deny it.

“I…” Lois's gaze was steady on him. Clark's voice came out as a whisper. "Yes, Lois," he admitted, not looking at her. "I...I'm terrified."

"Oh," Lois said. Her previous tension seemed to evaporate, and she didn't looking like she knew exactly what to say to that.

Clark couldn't meet her eyes. "Lois..."

“Lane! Line one!”

Lois sighed and rolled her eyes. “One second, Clark,” she said apologetically, reaching for the phone.

Clark sat back, placing his hands on his knees to try and stop their shaking. Was fate just trying to make this harder? It was bad enough as it was.

Lois, I’m Superman.

It was easy. How could it be so hard?

Lois, it's me. I'm Superman.

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet.”

Clark wasn’t tempted to eavesdrop to hear the other person on the line, but Lois’s next words drew his full attention over to her side of the conversation, at least.

“Oh, Lex.” Lois grimaced, glancing at her wristwatch with a frown. It was almost five forty-five. “I’m sorry. Today has been so busy. No, no. I didn’t forget, I just got caught up. Pick me up? 6:30? Okay? Okay. Yes. Okay. Thanks, Lex. Yes, I’ll see you then. Bye.”

She hung up and turned to Clark. “Sorry, Clark. I completely forgot about this. Could you, you know, finish up the article? We’ll go over it together tomorrow morning.” She went to the conference door and opened it.

Clark’s heart sunk. He followed at her heels. “W-what was that about?”

Lois sighed. “I have a date with Lex,” she said. She walked up to her desk and grabbed her purse.

Clark felt cold rush from his neck down to his toes. He pushed his glasses up with a shaking hand.

“Lois…I…can’t you cancel, or something?”

Lois looked at him, suddenly looking annoyed at him once again. “Why?”

“Well, uh…you know, Lois, I just…you know, I…”

Lois rolled her eyes. “Actually, I do know, Kent. You’re afraid he’s going to kidnap me and hand me over to Bureau 39, or something.”

Clark paled slightly, but covered it by pushing up his glasses again and giving a nervous chuckle. “Well, Lois—”

“Drop the act, Clark,” Lois said impatiently with a wave of her hand as she turned to her desk and began pushing around the mass of scattered papers there, apparently looking for something. “You left some of your notes on Luthor the Crime Lord with your notes on Bureau 39. It’s just that—” She interrupted herself with a sharp curse.

“What is it?” Clark asked, immediately tensing.

“I must have left it at my apartment.”

“Oh.” Clark relaxed. “Well, that’s all right, Lois—”

“Yes, I suppose you have it photocopied,” Lois replied dryly. She grabbed a few papers seemingly at random from the mess, then looked at him one last time, and her voice was surprisingly sympathetic. “Listen, Clark,” she said, her voice soft. “I know how it is…you know—to be…scared. I…well, I went through the same kind of thing you did, didn’t I?” She gave a noble attempt at a smile. “We’ll go to lunch tomorrow and talk about it. No interruptions, all right?”

Clark nodded, though his answering smile was a bit shaky and weak. He felt as if his heart was melting into a pool of black tar. He was relieved, and hated himself for that. He wanted to grab her and tell her now, but he was too afraid—especially if she was going to see Luthor tonight. She might be so shaken by the news that she couldn’t help but let something slip.

So he was justified on putting it off yet again. He was further relieved at that, and so his shame grew. Not only was he not human, he was pitiful; he was broken; he was a coward. “O-okay, Lois,” he said, not looking her in the eye.

Lois actually paused and put a hand on his arm. “Really, Clark, it’ll be okay.” She squeezed his arm gently and turned to go.

Clark looked after her, speechless.

Being around Lois Lane was like being around a bipolar wet cat. You never knew if she was going to purr or attack, and she could change from cold and furious to warm and gentle with just a few seconds in between.

Clark shook himself, then sat back down at the computer and stared at the screen. After a moment, he put aside Lois’s notebook and started writing, recalling quotes and details from memory.

It was enough.

It didn’t take long for Clark to finish most of it up, and he saved it and logged out. Perry was expecting another follow up on Bureau 39 for Sunday morning’s edition, so they had time to finish it up tomorrow.

Clark stood, feeling a bit sore after the long day out of the sunlight. His arm was aching from the typing, and his leg was tight as he stretched.

He wasn’t better. Not yet.

He glanced out the window, where the sun was beginning to set behind thick clouds, and felt his heart sink. He wasn’t looking forward to the long, dark night ahead of him

He had been hoping maybe to work late, and then maybe eat a casual dinner with Lois, maybe even take-out in the office, like they had with their first story as partners. And maybe he could have shared a taxi with her on the way home, and made sure she made it home all right.

Instead, she was spending the night in the hands of a madman.

Clark stomach twisted uneasily. Luthor wouldn’t try anything. He could have called Lois out weeks ago, and sick as it made Clark feel, Luthor was attracted to Lois Lane enough that he didn’t want to destroy his image…yet.

But if Luthor was behind Bureau 39 he would know everything. He would have seen everything. He would know their fear, their pain—would have seen their vulnerabilities and probably gloated over them.

He could just see Luthor sitting in his darkened lair, his dark eyes glimmering as he listened to his archenemy's screams…

Clark shook his head, feeling sick, and his train of thought was not helping any. For the sake of something to do, he gathered the insane mass of papers from Lois’s desk and took his time going through it, carefully ordering it.

He did it in only a little faster than normal speed. He wasn’t looking forward to going home to an empty, darkened apartment.

Clark was halfway through the stack and carefully keeping his mind away from what could be happening to Lois at that moment when Jimmy walked up with a box of donuts and plopped down next to him.

“Wanna donut, CK?” he asked. The bruise from Lois’s unintentional attack the week before was still colorful, but was beginning to fade, and the young man looked cheerful.

Clark started and looked at him. “Uh…Sure, Jimmy. Thanks.”

He sat down and took the offered donut.

“Where’d Lois go?” Jimmy asked around a mouthful.

“A date,” Clark said, taking a bite and trying for a lighter air. The donut tasted good—very good. Too good for how he was feeling right now, that was sure. He hadn’t realized it, but besides a cup of coffee this morning and the second one he had shared with Lois, he hadn’t eaten anything all day. His mother would probably drag him right home again if she found out.

“Ah, sorry,” Jimmy said. “I heard about that. Mr. Luthor sent her flowers earlier this week, you know that?

Clark grimaced. “No, I didn’t.”

Jimmy swallowed a large piece of donut with difficulty. “It doesn’t matter, though. I don’t think Lois really wanted to go anyway. She threw the flowers away.”

Clark was interested at that. “Really?”

Jimmy shrugged again. “What about you, CK? How are you holding up?”

Clark shrugged back. “Okay, I guess, Jimmy.”

Jimmy looked sympathetic. “Well, you know, I was thinking of going to a new movie that’s coming out tomorrow night. You have plans?”

Clark gave a small embarrassed grin. “I’d have to ask Lois, Jimmy.”

“Invite her along,” Jimmy said, pulling another donut out of the box and setting it on a napkin that he pushed towards Clark before he stood. “She could use a break too, you know.”

Clark finished cleaning up Lois’s desk and set the carefully ordered papers in the center of her desk, where they were least likely to be knocked over by a careless passerby or even Lois herself. His work done, he looked around the emptying newsroom.

Having nothing else to do, he headed for the elevator. He stepped inside and the doors closed behind him. The elevator was empty except for him, and as he reached for the button to take him to the ground floor, he hesitated. Instead, he moved his hand and pressed the button to the roof.

He stepped out of the elevator and took the short flight of stairs to the open air of the rooftop of The Daily Planet. The night air was surprising cool for the warmer day, and there was a bite of rain on the cold breeze.

Clark walked towards the edge, feeling the humid hair close on his skin as he gazed upon the oh-so-familiar night skyline of Metropolis. He shivered in his coat and stepped to the edge, taking hold of the railing as the wind buffeted his hair around his face.

He looked straight down, counting the floors of the Planet and seeing the individual people down there as if he were right among them. He looked down, and urged himself to fly. To take off—to go and do something.

To be helpless no longer. To be able to leap up into the sky and be free. To be able to regain the freedom that Bureau 39 had stripped from him weeks ago and left fear in its place…

Nothing.

He wondered briefly what would happen if he just threw himself over the edge, but uncertainty stopped him. He didn’t know how invulnerable he was yet—and worse, if he were to fall he could hurt someone walking below.

He shut his eyes, feeling so very close to the edge…and if he stepped off he wouldn’t be going anywhere but down.

His eyes in darkness, he heard them. He had been hearing them for most of the day—screaming, calling, pleading for him. He had tried to block them out, especially in the presence of his own fear and helpless situation, but now he let them wash over him, clamoring in his ears, grasping at his arms, tearing at his heart.

Somewhere not far, there was a terrible collision of two cars. He opened his eyes almost unwillingly, watching as the accident unfolded. A mother staggered from the front of one of the cars, blood dripping down her brow like scarlet tears as she pulled open the side door to get to her two young children in the back seat.

He could hear her screams, her sobs. He didn’t want to see, but he could, and did. He could fear her pain, her desperation as the paramedics pulled her away from one of the struggling children.

Clark listened and watched, there with them. He could almost smell the gasoline, the blood—he could taste the fear. He watched desperately, as if by just watching he might be able to help—even the slightest bit.

He heard the smallest child take his last breath. He heard the small heart beat its last beat. He saw the broken body go limp.

He tore himself away, shutting his eyes and pulling his hearing away—searching, searching for relief. It was breaking him, tearing at him, shredding him into nothing.

All humanity screamed for him.

He covered his ears, desperate for relief. He couldn’t do anything. He was helpless, helpless as he had been with his father. It ripped at him as bad as any kryptonite.

Worse.

Help!

Oh, please help!

Superman! Please! Anybody!

It was driving him mad.

Heedless of the single, horrified tear that ran from one of his dark eyes and spilled beneath the mask of his glasses, Clark blocked them all out—shutting his eyes, blocking his ears.

Silence. Darkness. Peace.

No—never that. Never peace, so long as he was helpless.

His heart colder than the bitter wind that brushed against his unfeeling skin, he took off his glasses and wiped that single tear--that single drop of despair, of cowardice, of failure--away. It seemed to freeze on his fingers as he put the thick frames back on.

Helpless.

There was no greater curse than being able to hear everything, to see everything, and to know personally that terror and loss…and not to be able to do anything about it.

He hunched his shoulders and started taking the stairs back down, preparing himself for yet another sleepless night.

TBC…