This chapter is dedicated to Pepper on bluetights.net, who has been one of my greatest supports and friends on the ‘net since this story started out. Thank you, Pepper! Good luck with everything going on right now!

Thank you everyone for your reviews! More detailed responses can be found on the FDK.

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Enjoy!

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Chapter 34: Greatest Criminal Mastermind of All Time

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Clark decided to walk home. In truth, he wanted nothing more than to fly, but even if that wasn’t possible, the thought of being stuck in a tiny, smelly cab was not tempting in the slightest, especially in his current mood.

It seemed appropriate to walk alone, in the dark, unnoticed by those that passed him as the first icy drops of black crystal rain began to fall from the grey skies.

So he stepped slowly forward, his head down, his hearing as closed as he could keep it without physically covering his ears.

Even though you’ve been raised as a human being, you’re not one of them.

Clark had never felt the truthfulness of that statement so strongly.

He had never felt so alone.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to come back to Metropolis early. Perhaps it would have been better if he had just stayed in Smallville—at home—for a few more days.

He was tired. Fear had drained him, and instead of spending the evening with Lois—even an angry, focused, intense Lois—he was walking in the dark, a solitary man amidst humanity, but not a part of them.

Alienated. The word had never been more appropriate.

He shuddered, then turned that into a sound shake. He shouldn’t be thinking so down. He lifted his head slightly, and a drop of rain fell onto his cheek. He brushed it away.

He’d go home, order a pizza, and watch a mindless and light-hearted movie—preferably the most foolish and pointless one he could find. Maybe he’d even call Jimmy and see if he wanted to join him…

“Help, Superman!”

Clark’s hand flew up to his tie and he had taken a quick step towards the next shadowed alley before he stopped himself dead in his tracks. No. Superman wasn’t back. He was still grounded...

He didn’t care.

In a fraction of a second the wide-eyed, helpless expression evaporated from Clark’s face. His jaw tightened, and something flashed in his eyes behind his glasses.

He didn’t care.

Another moment, and the space where Clark Kent had stood was empty except for a sudden and seemingly unexplained gust of wind.

“Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhe—”

Clark ran. He ran like he hadn’t run in years, following the sound of the cry. Wind whipped at him, tearing at his work suit as he flashed beneath the dull glow of lamp posts and past sleeping shadows that blurred together into the night like a strobe light.

“—eeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllllllll—“

He knew his city, but even so it took him longer than he would have liked—precious seconds had passed that would not have been necessary, if he could have flown.

“—lllllllllllllp…!”

The woman was in the middle of her second desperate scream when Clark burst into the dark and narrow alleyway. A grimy man was perched, all but frozen in Clark’s sight with a knife at the pale throat of a middle-aged woman.

Clark didn’t take time to pause, to notice the scattered groceries that had been dropped in a too-brief struggle. His heart burned. How dare he? How DARE he?

Fury overtook him. To the would-be-mugger and maybe worse, it seemed like the knife in his hand simply disappeared in a gust of wind—and a terrible pain like he had punched a brick wall rang up his arm.

The man howled.

Even the howl was cut short, though. Before the woman had a chance to think of reacting, there was a second gust of wind and the grizzled man collapsed at her feet unexplainably, unconscious.

The woman stared in shock at the man sprawled in the damp alleyway, but after a short moment she came alive and immediately reached for her cell phone to call the police. Clark waited—a dark shadow peering from the top of the building that sided the alley—until the police came and he was sure the woman would be okay. The thief, however, almost certainly had a concussion from whatever had caused the strange and rapidly growing bruise across his forehead, and possibly had a couple broken fingers on top of that.

Clark crouched in the darkness. He realized he should have been worried about that. He usually kept from striking anyone in the slightest—the smallest miscalculation of force at that speed and he could accidentally kill a man from a tap to the head like that—but he hadn’t thought about it.

His own arm ached in memory of not-so-distant pain, and he held it close to himself as if feeling the broken bones himself.

He had hurt someone. He had made them feel pain, and he could have avoided it. He took a deep breath, his remaining anger at seeing the attack and the ability to help keeping the guilt at bay. Still, he needed to be more careful. He would be more careful. His father had taught him better.

But the woman was safe. One more life saved, one more bit of darkness avoided. There was a little less pain and hurt in the world that would have been, if not for him. His own heart lifted with it as he turned away. “It was a miracle!” the woman cried. “Just…this wind…and then…the knife, and then the man just…It was a miracle!”

Clark let her voice fade into the babble of Metropolis as he burst out running again, sending old papers and garbage floating into the air as he passed.

He ran through drops of rain held suspended in the air, breaking them into shattered mists, and his face and clothes were soon soaked. His leg ached slightly from the strain, but he didn’t care.

He smiled.

“Help! Superman!”

Clark didn’t hesitate this time. He was ready.

With a burst of speed that put even his previous sprint to shame, Clark disappeared into the night, a light in his eyes that hadn’t been seen there for many days past.

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Lois rushed to get ready. She made a new record for a shower, threw on one of her few dresses that was acceptable for a Lex-level date, and quickly did her hair and makeup before grabbing a pair of stilettos and hopping on one foot ungracefully as she pulled one on. She picked up the second one, but then paused, going strangely still as she fingered the shoe. It wasn’t the pair of stilettos she had worn in the White Room, but they were enough to remind her of it anyway.

So many things did. Simple things—little nothings. The soup kitchen on the corner not far from Lois’s apartment. A man wearing a jacket just a bit too red. Dark eyes, because they were like his, but not. She would never be able to find anyone else with those innocent, hurt, burdened, selfless dark eyes.

When she walked outside and saw that the day was cloudy, she worried that he wasn’t getting enough sunlight. She drank coffee and thought about him, with his overdose of sugar and cream. She tried to drown herself in chocolate and she thought about him. Coffee. Cream. Sugar. Chocolate. Raspberries. Red. White. Black.

He was everywhere.

Grass. Sky. Pain. Content. Boredom. Fear. The sun. Darkness. A child crying. Someone laughing. Clark Kent . . .

Her thoughts pulled to a sudden stop.

Clark Kent?

Lois’s lips turned downward in a frown as her partner’s face popped into her mind. What was that about?

She hadn’t even had time to really think about Clark Kent. Of course he reminded her of Superman—she’d been over this before. He and Superman had been friends, so somehow her mind made that connection and the slightest hint of Clark Kent warned that Superman was close behind.

Lois shook herself. Clark Kent was another matter, entirely apart from Superman.

She looked down and turned the heel over in her hand. A shoe. It had been her only defense. Her only weapon, against who knows how many men. Against who knows how many possible horrors.

It was only luck that had gotten them out of there at all. If one thing had changed even the slightest…

She could be dead. Superman could be dead.

Things could be so much worse.

Fate. Such a strange thing, Lois thought. One moment a friend, the next the worst of enemies.

She had to be ready for anything. Right now things were looking a bit better…but who knew what the future held?

Lois bit her lip and decided that she trusted fate, more or less. When it came down to the luck of the draw, when everything seemed at a loss, she seemed to have pretty good odds. She would never bet against herself, certainly, with her record. She might have bad luck getting into trouble, but she always managed to get out of it, no matter how dire the circumstances.

The problem wasn’t fate, necessarily. It was people. Someone had targeted her, and targeted Superman. Someone who was still out there.

Someone who could put Lois Lane on fate’s bad side again.

There was a knock at the door.

Lois started out of her thoughts, and realized she had been standing there for some minutes, just staring at a shoe. She shook her head at herself and put it on before glancing in the mirror one last time and grabbing her purse. She tripped as she hurried towards the door, and paused to compose herself.

She was tired. Her head hurt from everything McPheron had told her only a few hours before, and she just needed time to sit down and think. She was afraid. What if McPheron was lying to her all along? What if he was working with Bureau 39, and what he had told her was not entirely true? What if he was watching her, even now…waiting…

There was another knock, and Lois rubbed her forehead, still staring at the door. She wondered for half a moment if she could beg off this date, but then shook her head and braced herself.

Lex stood there in the growing shadows of the evening, holding a large bouquet of deep red roses.

A little bit too dark red, Lois thought.

“Lois, my dear. You look stunning this evening,” Lex intoned, presenting her with the flowers.

Lois took them. Their scent wafted up towards her. They smelled like new rain and clean ocean—like the air above Metropolis, when she flew with Him. Lois managed a smile, though she felt it was completely superficial. She was so tired. “Oh! Thanks, Lex.” She glanced down at them, then quickly pulled her eyes away from the dark color as memories began to rise up again. “Come on in. Let me get a vase.”

Lex stepped in, looking to the last detail the perfect, aristocratic businessman that he was. He stood there, not moving from his spot by the door, but looking around at her apartment as Lois searched for a vase. She finally managed to find one under her sink and put the roses on it on the table, though she thought the large bouquet drew far too much attention to itself, just like the bouquet from earlier that week.

“They’re nice,” she said anyway. They really were quite pretty. But the color…

She had tried to keep the last bouquet around, but the color had made her twitchy, and after a couple hours of having her eyes drawn to them she had finally just thrown them out.

“Only the best for the best, my dear,” Lex said. He paused, glancing around the room again as if looking for something.

Lois noticed something first, instead. Lex looked exhausted, despite his professional air. His skin hung almost loosely from him, as if it was too tired to hold on firm, and dark shadows showed out starkly against his pale face, which was framed by his thick, dark curls.

“Lex, are you feeling okay?”

Lex blinked as if surprised from his thoughts, and looked at her. He ran a hand through his hair, and Lois remembered Superman making the same action. Lex’s hair didn’t really change, though, while Kal-El’s had sometimes stuck up in the strangest ways after running his hand through it again and again. “I am sorry, my dear. I have been a bit ill, the past few days. I hope you will forgive me.” He sounded, of course, quite grudging towards the illness that dared claim his health, even momentarily. Lex Luthor hated all sign of weakness pertaining to himself. “I really am well.” He continued looking around, and at last seemed to find something to say.

“You moved your couch.”

Lois grimaced, allowing the change of subject if Lex so wished it. She still hadn’t moved that uncomfortable thing from its place by the window, where it had been when Superman had been sitting in the sunlight, his eyes gentle as he watched her…

She actually intended to get rid of the couch completely and get something more comfortable, but she had been too busy, and she was strangely reluctant to give the awful piece of furniture up.

“I just…was reading and wanted to see the sun yesterday, that’s all.”

Lex nodded as if that was a perfectly normal thing to do, and opened the door for her to head out of her apartment.

Lois turned off the light they stepped out, then Lex had to wait for Lois to lock all of her locks. When she was finally done with that, Lex offered her his arm, and Lois hesitated, but after a moment took it and they walked to the elevator.

“Aren’t all those locks a bit overdramatic?”

Lois gave a humorless smile. “Not for me, Lex.”

Lex Luthor actually chuckled slightly. “I suppose not,” he responded in a low amused tone.

They were silent for the rest of the elevator ride, as well as the short walk to the road where a limousine waited. Lois felt slightly uncomfortable, and the night air was colder than she would have thought, making her wish she had brought something a little heavier than the thin sweater she wore over her dress. She was glad when they both got into the limousine and drove off, despite the close air.

After the day of being locked up—whether the Primaries were on their side or not—Lois didn’t like feeling so closed in.

Lex actually was silent for a time even in the car, and Lois looked out the shaded windows to the darkening streets of Metropolis. She was tense and sore, and enjoyed just sitting back and allowing herself to relax.

She was so tired. Fear from the happenings of that day had drained her, and now she was content just to sit, and let Lex do the work of starting a conversation, if he wanted.

A hand reached over to touch her knee and Lois started, flinching away automatically. She flushed at the reaction and prepared to excuse herself, but Lex just withdrew his hand casually and continued as if nothing had happened. “So how is the story going, my dear? Your series on Bureau 39 has been astounding. Horrifying, really, if they were not all talk and really do have with Superman’s disappearance. It maybe too much, perhaps, for even you to handle.”

Lois felt a jolt of annoyance at that, and had to keep herself from retorting sharply to defend both Superman and herself. Instead, she took a deep breath. She was on a date. There were rules for this kind of thing.

“I’ve dealt with big stories before,” Lois said calmly. Lex still watched her, as if waiting for more, and she continued, “besides, I do have a partner.”

Lex sat back, wearing a slight frown of disapproval. “Ah, yes. Clark Kent.”

Lois didn’t like his tone of voice. “Yes, Clark Kent,” she affirmed.

“Considering your elite status among reporters, I am still astounded that Mr. White would put you with someone so inexperienced.”

“Clark isn’t that bad,” Lois said, almost defensively. “He may be experienced, but we all had to start somewhere. He has a good heart, and he’s one of the better writers I’ve come across.”

She didn’t know why she was defending him. After all, he had been quite useless throughout their whole dealings with the Primaries earlier that day. But still . . . that was between her and Clark, and it certainly wasn’t Lex’s business to know or his place to criticize her partner.

Lex didn’t look that impressed, but he did nod. Lois didn’t feel satisfied.

“And trust me when I say that as far as partners go, he’s not that bad. He’s honest, if a bit naïve, and Perry trusts him to watch me enough that he’s not always looking over our shoulders, which is nice. Besides, Clark’s as mixed up in this as I am. He got caught by Bureau 39 too. The story is as much his as it is mine.”

Maybe not as much, but Lex didn't know that.

But why had Clark been so afraid…?

“Yes, I . . . read about that,” Lex said, his lips turning downward just the slightest bit. He looked out the window, and Lois immediately felt awkward again.

The ride was relatively quiet for the rest of the time, filling the air with empty conversations about little things in Lois’s articles, or of pointless happenings at work, on the news, or elsewhere. When they drove up to the mansion Lex helped Lois out of the car and they walked up the stairs to where Nigel opened the door wide for them to pass with a respectful bow.

Lois took Lex’s offered arm again, and they walked forward into his expansive mansion. The large halls echoed emptily with their steps, but as they entered a dining room soft classical music filled the silence with sound. They were soon seated at a table set for two, with no sign of propriety neglected. Soft classical music drifted from the corners of the room as they began to eat.

“So, how is business going with you?” Lois asked to try and start the conversation back up again. She may be tired, but Lex looked even more exhausted than she did, though he was nobly trying to hide it. Still, it seemed to take extra effort on her part to keep the words going between them tonight. Usually the rich philanthropist seemed so much more in control, and right now he seemed quite distracted.

Lex smiled at her. He had hardly touched his food, while Lois, contrarily, had downed the first and second courses in almost astonishing speed, even while she had made a special effort not to eat like a starving woman. She realized that once again she had hardly eaten anything during her work day. Things had just gotten too busy, once again. It was a habit she needed to change.

“Things are going well in all arenas,” he said. “I would hate to bore you with the details, however.”

“Actually, I’d love to hear it,” Lois said. It wasn’t like they were really talking about anything else, anyway. She was starting to wish she had tried a little harder to get out of this date.

Even if the food was divine.

Lex sat back. “You’re not trying to interview me, are you, Miss Lane?” he said, picking up his glass and smiling at her, but still sounding half-serious in his question.

“Of course not,” Lois said. “Work and personal things stay in their own place in my life.”

“You are a very disciplined woman. Of course I would not expect anything else,” Luthor replied to that. He took a sip of his wine, then leaned back and was silent for a moment.

“As I said, business is going well,” Lex said. “Stocks are up ten percent from last quarter, and research and sales are as good as they have ever been. We’ve been working on expanding—LexCorp just opened a branch in both New York and Gotham, and things are looking all in order there.” He took a small bite from his plate. “Oh, yes. LexLabs just signed the deed official—we will be incorporating Metro Physics into our facilities. Our science branch will increase by 30% initially, and soon, my dear, we will no doubt have resources like none other on the eastern coast for the betterment of science and medicine.”

Lois felt her heart choke briefly within her, but outwardly she casually lifted her fork and lifted a bite of dessert—the most heavenly, rich chocolate mousse cake she had tasted in her lifetime—to her mouth. She took her time as if savoring it, but in truth she barely tasted it.

“Metro Physics?” she asked, acting as if she were trying to remember. “Didn’t a co-owner just pass away a couple months ago?”

“An extremely unfortunate and regretful loss for science everywhere,” Lex intoned. “However, it was not unexpected. The good doctor had heart problems, and he was not in the peak of his youth, either.”

“But fortunate for you, certainly,” Lois continued, casually cutting another piece of the cake, even while her heart was beginning to shout warnings around the same volume as a police siren right in her ear. “An excellent development for LexLabs, like you said.”

Lex smiled. “Indeed. As the tide of the sea changes with the passing of the moon, so is the rise of empires.”

“It really is amazing what LexCorps has been able to do, in so short a time.”

Amazing. Impossible, really. At least, over the table, it should have been impossible.

“Whatever happened to your space station idea?” Lois continued leaning forward and taking a sip of her wine. At Lex’s frown, she continued as if she took his expression as confusion. “You remember, the space station that you planned to put up alongside Prometheus, those months ago at your ball where we first met?”

“Once Prometheus was put back into the air, we decided the money was better used elsewhere,” Lex said after a moment. “We did donate a large charity to Prometheus itself, and LexCorp is a proud sponsor of the research that goes on there.”

Lois didn’t need to pretend to appear interested. Right now, she had no doubt that such a donation had indeed been made. But the fact that Lex’s plan to build his own space station had been cut once the first had succeeded rang in minor key to Lois. “That’s very nice of you, Lex.”

Prometheus Project.

C.O. MP murdered.

Clark had written those down in his suspicion sheet for Lex Luthor. Lois remembered, having chuckled over the old thing more than once over the past couple weeks. Now, though, she couldn’t help but wonder.

What if…

What if Clark Kent was right after all?

After demanding herself to be foolproof, could Lex Luthor have been hiding just under her nose the whole time? Or was she just getting too paranoid?

No. Right now she couldn’t be too careful.

Or maybe, possibly, it was just a coincidence.

Maybe.

But that didn’t explain why her reporter’s sense was suddenly going haywire.

She didn’t know how she could find any more information that might point towards Lex’s involvement in any robberies or illegal research, as Clark claimed . . . and especially not that nonsense about aiding terrorists in Iraq. Besides, why would Lex worry sabotaging tsunami warning buoys in New Zealand? So even if Clark was right about some things, he certainly couldn’t be right about everything.

Could he?

No. Of course not. It was ridiculous.

There was a knock on the door and a moment later a sort of servant-man stepped in and moved quickly to whisper something into Lex’s ear. Lex gave Lois an apologetic smile, and stood.

“My dear, some urgent business is waiting on the phone. I should only be a few minutes.”

“That’s fine, Lex. I understand,” Lois said, then worried that perhaps she had spoken a bit too eagerly. Luthor, however, didn’t seem to notice.

“Charles, if you could show Miss Lane around. Perhaps the gallery?”

“Yes, Mr. Luthor.”

Lois had finished her dessert, and so she lifted her purse and followed the man out through a massive door and into a wide hall. She listened with half an ear, her eyes drifting over the dark and impressive paintings that Lex had harbored in his massive home. The lighting was dim, but for careful lighting upon each of the antique and no doubt expensive pieces, and Lois felt foreboding growing around her.

Had she walked right into the serpent’s lair unknowingly?

A picture of a scene from Dante’s Inferno brought Lois up short. It was a gruesome scene, depicting certain levels of the descent into Hell—from men standing in boiling blood or lying on burning sand to those sinners lying disemboweled or infirm, yet eternally alive in their anguish.

Lois’s eyes drifted down the terrible scene, until her gaze stilled upon the furious apparition of the three-headed devil, the red flames of eternity reflecting off his bare and hairless heads as he stood, tall, terrible, and triumphant amidst his horrible kingdom.

Lex Luthor was created in Hell, and is commonly known among his peers as the oldest son of Satan, also known as Lucifer…

She had thought it jokingly, some time ago. But it didn’t seem so funny, right now.

C.O. MP Murdered.

Illegal experimentation.

B. 39.

Experimentation…

Bureau 39…

Her guide had seen Lois stop, and was now droning on about the history of the painting before her. Lois didn’t hear him. The walls were closing tight around her, despite the high, shadowed ceiling, and her hands shook as she pulled her sweater closer around herself.

Bureau 39.

Lois swore mentally, panic creeping up her back. What if Clark was right about that too? What if she had walked right into another trap?

No.

Experimentation. Kal-El. Bureau 39. Lex. Superman. Luthor. Clark Kent…

Lois had to reach out quickly to catch the wall as she wavered on her feet by the onslaught of information.

Lex had come to her house. He had looked around, as if searching for something. He had noticed the couch by the window. He had called her the day she had gotten back to work, and seemed oddly cheery despite Lois’s temporary rejection of his date.

Who else would have enough money to pay off a government operation? Who else would be so completely unsuspected, but the city’s most charitable person, Lex Luthor?

He had been watching her. He had known who she was, and that she had hid Superman.

This was worse than fearing she might be caught by the Primaries earlier that day. She had been ready then. Now, her throat had closed in on itself and she felt like she was suffocating.

Lex knew. He had seen everything.

She needed to get out of here. Now.

Superman…

No! She couldn’t call him. She couldn’t call him. She couldn’t .

Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands painfully.

No. No! She could do this. She had to do this.

She was grateful for the dim lighting of the hall. It hid her pallor and rising fear long enough for her to grab it and stuff it into a chest of iron and steel, clamping a lid on it so tightly that she was left feeling suddenly numb and drifting. Her gaze slowly returned from white panic to the dark glint of the painting before her, the devil laughing in the torment of his kingdom. Lois felt ill, but she gritted her teeth and waited for the man’s monologue to drain out into nothing.

“Are you ready to move on, Miss Lane?”

Lois nodded unsteadily, and turned away from the painting to the dim hall.

She needed to get out of here. She needed to think.

But no. She couldn’t just leave like this. If Lex Luthor was the Boss they were looking for, she needed to stay close to him. She needed to find out what he was hiding, and expose him for it.

And most importantly, she couldn’t let him know she suspected.

She didn’t know why he was waiting. She didn’t know why he hadn’t just snatched her and Superman back up as soon as they had returned to Metropolis, but she wasn’t going to do anything to tip the balance and force him to action.

A few minutes Luthor joined them, looking even more distracted, though he smiled as he saw Lois. Lois felt faint, but steeled herself to smile back.

It was like smiling at Logram. It was like dating Logram, only worse. Luthor might not have pressed burning kryptonite to Superman’s pale skin—he might not have stood with inhuman eyes in the White Room, his lips curled in a pleased smile—but he had been there nonetheless. He had caused it. He had planned it all in cold blood.

After dismissing Charles, Lex led her back to the dining room and poured a glass of wine for Lois and himself. Lois took it with a hand that shook only slightly, but only took a small sip to try and calm her frazzled nerves as she looked out the impressive window that showed the glory of Metropolis’s skyline, but then just held the glass. She couldn’t afford to have even the slightest damper on her senses. She needed to be ready for anything.

Lex offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Lois felt sick about touching him. But she couldn’t show that. She kept her face turned away, as if distracted by a large portrait of a triumphant conqueror that was hung over the magnificent mantelpiece. It hid her reaction enough, in the combinations of the shadows.

They went out onto the balcony, and Lois immediately felt better at the sight of the stars reaching down around them. It didn’t last long, though, because she knew how it felt to truly fly amongst the stars, and there was only one man on Earth that deserved that sort of power.

Had Lex always tried to put himself at Superman’s level? He had raised himself so high, and brought Superman so low…

Where was he?

Lois shivered, and Lex put his arm around her in a gentlemanly move to keep her warm. Lois couldn’t act well enough for that. The arm was stifling, and she stepped out of his reach as casually as she could.

She had to play calm. She couldn’t give even a single hint that she knew.

“It’s…beautiful,” she said simply, stepping to the balcony edge and away from Lex. The tightness in her chest eased slightly, even though Lex followed behind her.

“Isn’t it, though? The most beautiful city in the world, and here we are, on top of it all.” Yet despite of his words, Lex sounded strangely melancholy, and he finished with a sigh as he ran his hand through his thick curly hair.

As he drew his hand away, however, thick, dark strands stuck to his fingers like webs. He stared at them for a moment, and his fingers rubbed the hair together as if he were checking to make sure it was real.

Lois stared as well—shocked, and at this point so distant that she felt as if she were watching herself and Lex from a dream. She realized the silence had grown awkward, and she struggled for speech.

“L-lex…” Lois spoke, not exactly sure what to say. How sick was the man?

Lex turned away from her and took a sip of his wine, outwardly calm as a serene lake. After a moment he spoke. “I trust I can expect you to keep what I tell you out of the papers, Lois,” he said softly.

“Of course,” Lois said, her voice still strangely detached, and she meant it. She didn’t mean to drag Luthor’s name through the gossip columns. No. The created character of Lex Luthor was going to die an infamous death, and the devil that hid behind his façade was going to rot in jail, no matter how sick he was.

Serves him right, her inner voice snarled. She found she didn’t want to quiet it, this time.

Curse him. Curse him to death. May he die in jail, defamed and fallen, never to rise again. Lois swore it would be so.

It was far too good of a fate for him. Let him be locked up in a white room. Let him rot away in lonely white terror and black dreams.

He had hurt Superman. He had filled his eyes with shadows, and Lois’s dreams with nightmares. He had watched it all, caused it all, and now he was hiding and waiting behind a smile…Waiting to strike again…Daring to call himself good, as beneath his white face he hid darkness, and blood, and screams.

Let him rot with the devils that call him kin.

Lex turned to look at her, letting the passing wind lift the hair from his hand and carry it away into the night.

“Lois,” he said, his voice soft but dark. “I have a condition that is extremely rare, and hardly studied. Commonly speaking, the closest you may have heard of it would be…cancer.” Pure loathing seethed through his words. Disgust.

His tone mirrored Lois’s feelings. How could she have let herself be fooled by him? Fury rose up in her, but she forced herself to quell it.

“I—I’m sorry, Lex,” Lois said, and she hoped the tightness of her throat was mistaken of sympathetic grief rather than the choking hatred that it was. “How bad is it?”

Lex downed the rest of his wine and set down the glass carefully on the balcony railing. “They’re not sure,” he replied, emotionlessly. “My condition was not good. Until two days ago I was bedridden, and we thought the worst.” He paused, looking over at her. His eyes lingered on her like a touch, and he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “All is not lost, however. With research my doctors have discovered a type of radiation treatment, and with a slightly altered version of the usual attack against such illness, we have good hope for full recovery.”

“I’m…glad to hear that.” She hoped it hurt him. She hoped it hurt him as bad as kryptonite.

Lex reached forward and put a hand on Lois’s shoulder like a light caress, and she hoped he would mistake the shudder as a shiver in the cold. “But let us not dwell such things. Dark thoughts do nothing for us.”

Lois didn’t listen to his council. For the rest of the night, darkness pressed upon her mind, and beyond that drifted white walls of waiting fear. She walked through them all, her soul quivering for fear, weeping for her loneliness and uncertainty in the hands of this madman, but she showed nothing of it, but for a slight paleness that drifted over her cheek, but Lex didn’t seem to notice it.

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They talked for a little bit longer, but Lois had begged a headache for her to head home at eleven, and Lex had not argued long in his insistence for her to stay. He had tried to hold her hand during the ride back, but Lois hadn’t been able to hide her trembling from her rolling emotions enough to dare let him hold it even for a moment.

He waited for her to open the door to her apartment, but then took her hand. “Lois. Thank you for your company. I do apologize for myself—I am afraid I haven’t been my usual self, with this illness.” His dark eyes watched her, and Lois’s heart beat a wild rhythm that made the lightheadedness that had been floating around her throughout the night descend like a white fog.

Did he think that she was hiding Superman away in her apartment? Did he think that was why she was begging off the date early? Was he watching her—waiting for her to bring the superhero to him again?

Did he even care about her at all, or was it just all about Superman from the beginning?

The thought that he was actually interested in her made Lois’s stomach turn sickly.

“I-it’s all right, Lex,” Lois said, pulling her hand from his. Her fingers—which hand held Superman’s hand so tenderly—felt sullied from the touch of his white hand. “I think we’re both tired.”

An awkward pause. Lois put her hand on the doorknob. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Lois stepped inside her house and turned on the light, then turned and casually—not too quickly—made sure each one of her locks was secure. She paused, listening as if possibly she could hear Lex Luthor stepping away from her door and walking away down the hall.

A long moment passed and slowly she reached down to take off her stiletto heels. She set them aside and went into her bathroom to take some of the confounded bobbypins out of her hair.

She looked at herself. She looked surprisingly calm, though a bit grim and tired. Inside, her heart was tight enough that she felt it was about to squeeze itself into a black hole.

She wasn’t sure—she certainly didn’t have all the facts—but impossibly, incredibly . . . Lois couldn’t help but realize that Clark was right. Clark had been right all along.

Her newbie, inexperienced, naïve partner had been right. She had been wrong.

How could she have been so blind to Lex Luthor’s true character?

How could she have missed the signs?

Lois felt as cold as ice, and vulnerable. She went back to the main room and grabbed her high heels as she went into her room. She turned on the light and looked around, shaking as she looked around.

Lex had asked so casually about Superman, but he had already seen it all. He had the tapes. He knew everything.

Lois’s breath hitched and she sat down on the edge of her bed, her knees feeling suddenly weak as a wave rose up over her mind.

She had faced fear and desperation every day since Bureau 39 came into her life. She had fought it, held it at bay, and even used it to push herself forward. But too much had happened that day. She had almost been caught again; she had almost been lost. And then, Lex…

Her warmly-painted room felt cold as white. The soft light of her bedside lamp was normally soothing, but now Lois only felt detached. Separated.

Alone.

Superman had almost died. He had left her.

Her parents…

Bureau 39…

Lex…

Clark…

Superman…

Fear. Hope. Pain. Comfort. Hate. Love. Agony. Terror. Laughter. Screams.

Alone…

Without warning, the floodgates opened, and tears that she had been fighting furiously for what seemed like a lifetime poured out in great sobs.

Lois collapsed on her bed, her body shaking as she found herself helpless against the unexplainable tears. She curled in on herself, feeling cold, furious, so afraid, so alone . . .

“Superman,” Lois choked between her tears, hugging herself as she shut her eyes against the world. “K-kal-El. Superman. I really, really need you right now. Please. Please. P-please. S-superman...”

Silence, but for her own shuddering breaths around her tears as rain began to patter against the darkened window.

So alone.

It felt as if a cloud of darkness had fallen over her soul, and it seemed like eternity had passed before Lois managed to find a conscious thought and drag herself from the gloom. Feeling weak, shaky, and more pitiful and miserable than ever, Lois dragged herself from her bed and tossed the now-wrinkled dress on the floor with her purse and her shoes.

She was drained. She was exhausted. She was beaten, for now. She just wanted to rest.

It was all too much.

Lex…

He would pay. He would pay for everything he had done. Clark might not have been able to collect enough proof on his own, but together Lois knew they could get him.

She would get him. And then she, and Superman, and even Clark, would be safe again.

Tears rose up in her heart again, and Lois barely managed to press it down.

It hurt too much. It hurt too much to feel, after everything.

Oh how it hurt, to be so alone.

Lois bit her lip, wiping her eyes again and searching for that anger, but finding that it was strangely dissipated. She had found him--Lex--the Boss. After that first puzzle piece had fallen into place, the rest had slipped in, and Lois now had no doubt.

She took a deep breath, drawing up what little strength she could around her. In the dim, artificial light of her apartment, Lois stood as a pillar.

Hurt, but strong. Still strong, after everything.

She was so tired.

Lois got ready for bed, carefully directing her thoughts to the paths of what she was going to do the next day, and away from the broken inkbottle of her running emotions. They would be keeping Jimmy busy, that’s for sure, and she and Clark might have to run around a few places…

Clark…

Once Lex Luthor was in jail, maybe Clark would go back to how he was before this Bureau 39 fiasco. He hadn’t been that bad before. Just a bit naïve. Now, though, his awkwardness was more than a little annoying.

And he had seen through Lex Luthor, even when she hadn’t.

She turned off all the lights in the house, but left a lamp on by her bed as she crawled under the covers. She reached over and drew a bundled length of bright red cloth from under the covers on the other side of the bed and cuddled it close to her chest. She buried her still tear-flushed face in the soft fabric, as if searching for the scent of the man that had worn it, not too long ago.

Superman.

She had tried to get the stains out of the cape. She had tried to mend the holes. But the stains had stayed, and the color had faded where she had scrubbed at the awful dark spots, but in vain. The holes were just hopeless. Lois doubted even Superman would ever be able to fix it up again.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he was asking for it back, Lois thought as she spread it out and wrapped it around her shoulders.

In it, she felt protected. Safe.

Not quite so alone.

But she hadn’t turned off the lamp yet. She glared at it for a moment, as if demanding it to turn itself off so she wouldn’t have to move from her only comfortable embrace, but the lamp dared to ignore her. She sat up reluctantly and reached over to the light, but then paused, Superman’s cape still draped around her shoulders as her eyes lighted on the phone next to her bed. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached over and lifted it off the base and dialed a familiar number.

The phone rang. Lois listened to it, wondering what exactly she was doing. But if Clark really had known about Lex, no doubt he was worried sick. He had certainly looked terrified when she had told him she was going out with Lex, and even though Lois had blamed him for just being jealous, Clark just wasn’t that sort of guy.

Why was she always so blind when it came to dealing with men that were close to her?

It was something she needed to fix. She would figure Lex Luthor out better than his own mother—better than himself, even—and then go from there.

“Hello. This is Clark Kent. I’m not at home right now, so if you could just leave a message I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

Despite the still-lingering cloud of tears, Lois couldn’t help but smiled slightly at the open, honest tone of Clark’s voice, but was surprised to get an answering machine this late at night. It was past midnight. Why in the world would Clark Kent be gone from his apartment in the middle of the night? She refused to accept any more dark possibilities this night. The man was probably just a heavy sleeper, and hadn’t gotten up to get the phone.

Lois cleared her throat, not wanting to let her partner know she’d been crying. She spoke in a firm, clear voice.

“Hi, Clark. This is Lois. I just…” She just what? Now she just felt foolish, and even more pitiful than before. She was glad her partner couldn’t see the mess she was right now. “I—I know you were worried about me going with Lex. Well, I’m back, and I’m fine. So no more need to worry, okay?” She paused, then sighed. “Sleep well, Smallville.” She ended with a soft tone that surprised herself as she hung up the phone. She frowned at herself.

She really was pitiful. But she didn’t need anyone. She certainly wasn’t reaching out to Clark Kent, of all people. She was just being nice. After all, she figured she owed the guy an apology or two, after the grief she’d given him about Luthor.

Lois reached to turn off the light next to the bed and settled deeper back into her bed for what she wished more than hoped would be a long, peaceful night of sleep.

TBC…