I is for Illusions
part 2
(Table of Contents) by Pam Jernigan
Lois left the meeting room, only slightly shaken. Okay, so knowing intellectually that gangsters were dangerous wasn't quite the same thing as seeing Johnny Taylor aim and fire a gun at his sister Toni. Lois took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down a little. Really, it was exactly what she'd expected, and she could still handle it. Johnny hadn't killed his sister, after all -- Toni hadn't appeared the least bit worried that he would -- he'd just sneered at her and fired a few bullets past her into a wall.
Lois crossed the largely deserted main room of the club. She wanted to find out what was on the other side of that bullet-riddled wall, if she could. It might be useful. Of course, now she was on the opposite side of the club... but she could take the back hallways. She'd be less conspicuous this way, anyway.
She dropped the tray off at the corner of the L-shaped bar, and headed for the curtained opening beside it. As she passed the bar stools, one of the patrons caught her eye. She dismissed him as irrelevant, walked past... then turned back to take a second look, as something tickled her instinct ... it couldn't be. No, what was she thinking, of course it could.
With a sense of resignation, Lois waited until the bartender turned away, then reached out to grab Clark by his thick coat and drag him into the hallway with her.
Once they were both past the curtained opening, she turned around angrily. "What on Earth do you think you're doing here, dressed like that?" Lois hissed. "This is supposedly a high-class club!"
"Hey, Lois, nice to see you, too," he replied, grinning. He quickly glanced down to see her dancing costume, and his grin widened slightly. Lois wanted to be annoyed, but that was drowned out by the part of her that was glad of his admiring attention. Still, for form's sake, she crossed her arms and lifted a sardonic eyebrow.
He blushed, once his eyes returned to her face. "So, ah... you don't like my disguise?"
Grateful to switch attention to his outfit, Lois scornfully surveyed his attire. "Well, let's see ... you've got a fake beard, a heavy coat, a knit cap, and -- the crowning touch -- even dorkier glasses than the ones you normally wear, which is quite a feat, by the way. Oh yeah, Clark, it's an *excellent* disguise."
He looked injured. "I'm dressed like an out of work sailor, Lois. The best disguises are the simplest. I'm going to see if I can get a job."
"Doing what, taking out the garbage?"
Clark rolled his eyes. "I'll find something, don't worry."
"Why should I worry?" Lois grumbled, but she had to admit -- very privately -- that it was reassuring to know he was near. She would feel better with someone nearby that she could trust. "Well... keep me posted. And just remember, this is *my* story."
"Absolutely, partner." Clark grinned at her. "I'm only back-up, remember?"
"You're darned right. Now get back out there!" She pushed him back out into the club, and turned away, trying to remember what she'd been doing before this distraction. And as she walked away, she couldn't help feeling warmed by his determination to be there for her. She almost felt ... cherished.
****
Lois's first stint as a dancer came to a rather abrupt halt when four men wearing loose silvery suits burst into the club. They shouted something she couldn't quite make out, and then began spraying fire around the room. Lois ducked and ran for it, along with the rest of the dancers. She changed into her own clothes as fast as humanly possible -- she was willing to wear the stupid chicken outfit onstage, if that's what it took, but offstage, and with the fire department en route? No way.
By the time she got changed and ran back towards the main room of the club, however, the flames were out and the excitement was dying down. Most of the patrons had disappeared, too, but nonetheless Lois looked around to see if she could find Clark.
He'd spent most of the evening, from what she could tell, trying to be inconspicuous. At least he wasn't too out of place, once he took that horrible knit cap off. It was almost enough to let him blend in with the other patrons. Well, at least at first glance... and maybe some low lighting... If no one paid too much attention.
Ah! That must be him, at the far corner of the room, moving away from her toward a door that lead back to the club offices. And slightly in front of him was... a woman? Lois surprised herself with the flash of anger that went through her at the sight. She hurried across the room, in time to see that the blond woman was Toni Taylor.
Abruptly, she felt a flash of doubt. Was he trying to steal her story, after all? Lois debated the idea of following them, but the guard at the door looked as if he might not appreciate that. And she did have a cover to maintain. As deeply frustrating as it was, she was going to have to wait.
Reluctantly, she headed back for the dressing room, to gather up her few other belongings. None of it was stuff she wasn't prepared to have stolen, but still. The other dancers were excitedly discussing the fires, but Lois paid little attention.
There were two possibilities. First, that Clark was going off for an illicit ... *thing* with Toni Taylor. Lois's rational side considered that unlikely. Clark just didn't do one-night stands. Which didn't even begin to explain why he'd made an exception in her case, but she was *not* going to go there. And besides, he knew she'd kill him if he so much as looked at another woman.
So the other option was that he was just doing his job and investigating. That was better, but still worrisome. This was her story, and he was only here as back-up, which she didn't even need to have. If he scooped her, his career was *over,* she'd make sure of that.
She was outside the club waiting for a cab before she decided where to go next. The Daily Planet was a possibility, but most late-night stories were phoned in. This one would only be a few sentences in the City section, if that much, but those few belonged to her. No, the logical place for Clark to go (assuming he wasn't still ensconced with Toni) was his own apartment. She tied her trench coat tightly closed, and hailed a taxi.
****
Clark had just ripped off his fake beard and changed glasses when the doorbell rang. He groaned. It had been a long day, and he wasn't looking forward to company. A quick peek over the top of his glasses changed his mind, though. He was smiling as he crossed the room and barely remembered to look surprised when he opened the door. "Lois!" He let himself smile again.
She looked surprised to see him. "Oh, so you're here, are you?" She marched into the apartment.
"Come on in, Lois," Clark invited, closing the door behind her. She was tightly tied up in her coat again. Maybe now he could finally find out what was up with that. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I'll just bet you weren't," Lois replied with an overtone of hostility.
Clark sighed. She hadn't been this prickly for almost two weeks now. She'd been annoyed at him, or irritated by everything in the mornings, or on a rant against the world, but he'd hoped they'd got past the stage where she yelled accusations at him.
Now was probably not the best time for him to ask about her coat.
"Can I get you anything to drink, Lois?"
She halted near one of his sofas, scanning the room as if she were looking for something. "No, but you can tell me what you were doing with Toni Taylor."
"Oh, you saw that, huh?" He chuckled, earning himself another baleful look. "Why am I not surprised? Well, she hired me, and wanted me to sign a few papers. But I still haven't learned anything useful. Maybe tomorrow."
Lois still looked suspicious. "So you didn't call anything in to the Planet?"
"What? No, of course not, Lois." He frowned at her in dismay. "You seriously thought I'd try to cut you out?"
"Well, not exactly," she admitted, ducking her head so he couldn't read her expression. She sounded embarrassed. But then she got over it, apparently, because when she looked up again she was wearing her professional face again.
"Lois..." Clark wanted to reassure her that she could trust him, but he'd been saying that for weeks and it hadn't yet sunk in. She seemed determined to do things the hard way. He abandoned the attempt. "Well, what's next? If you need my phone to call something in, feel free."
"Um, yeah, that would be good," she admitted. "About that earlier, Clark, well..." she didn't finish the sentence, but her tone was apologetic.
Clark figured that was the best he was going to get. "Hey, don't worry about it. I should have touched base with you before I left, anyway."
"Well, whatever. Let's get to work -- I've got a paragraph written up for the city news section." She produced a folded piece of paper, and thrust it at him. "I wrote it in a hurry, though, so look it over for me."
Clark took the paper, smiling at her. This was an unexpected gesture -- she must be trying to make amends. He glanced over the hastily-written page, squinting at times to decipher her handwriting.
She must have noticed. "I wrote it in the cab on the way over," she admitted, but now with a welcome note of good humor.
"Well, this looks good to me. Why don't you call it in, and then we can compare notes on the rest of the investigation."
"Sounds good." She repossessed her paper, and moved over toward his phone. It took only a moment for her to connect with the night editor and read off her short report of the night's excitement.
Clark used the time to brew up a pot of herbal tea. It was a calming blend, or so the label claimed. It seemed apropos. He heard Lois hang up the phone before he was quite done pouring the tea, so he called over his shoulder, "I've got my notes right over there on the coffee table -- not that I've learned much yet."
He turned to find that Lois had taken a seat on the couch, studying his scattered notes and laying her own notebook out in the open. Whether she'd meant to or not, she'd seated herself smack in the center of the couch. Clark considered his options. He could use one of the chairs at the end of the table... but if they were going to be reviewing each other's notes, it would make more sense to view them from the same angle, wouldn't it? But if he sat down next to her, he'd be close enough to touch her, her thigh rubbing against his, his elbow in danger of invading some very personal territory...
Just as he'd decided that one of the chairs was safer, Lois looked up at him quizzically. "Aren't you coming?"
Clark closed his eyes briefly, hoping for the strength to behave appropriately. "Um, yeah..." When he opened his eyes again, he saw her expression suddenly change from bemused impatience to embarrassment. She scooted sideways on the couch, leaving him plenty of room.
Darn, now if he took a chair, she'd think he didn't want to be anywhere near her. He handed her a teacup, then sat on the opposite end of the couch -- not too far away, but not too close, either ... this was ridiculous. It wasn't a first date, after all. They were here to work. Resolutely, he reached for his notes. "Well, I had an uneventful evening, just trying not to get thrown out. The bartender didn't seem to think there were any jobs available."
"So then, how did you get hired?"
"You saw the Toasters come in and try to toast everyone. I managed to help Toni out when she was trapped by the fire, and she told me I was hired." Clark glossed by all the details; the less Lois knew of his heroics the better, he figured. "She also told me to clean myself up, or else," he grinned, and Lois returned the smile. "But I'll start tending bar tomorrow afternoon."
"Bartending?" Lois looked him over with poorly disguised curiosity. "Do you have any idea how to do that?"
"Not much," he admitted. "I used to mix drinks in college, though." Drinking hadn't affected him, and he'd been bored enough at one party that he'd struck up a conversation with the girl tending the bar. She'd taught him a few tricks. "I'll read up on it in the morning."
"I guess that's about my level of experience with dancing on stage," Lois laughed, really relaxing now.
"I kinda guessed that," Clark dared to say. "But you did great anyway."
"You really think so?" She looked at him, almost shyly.
"Yeah," Clark replied quietly, not realizing until he spoke how husky his voice would sound. "Um, not as good a dancer as you are a reporter, of course. But still good."
She laughed at that, looking pleased. "Thanks. Well, I'm not gonna give up my day job or anything," she teased him.
"Drat!" he replied, grinning. "There goes my only hope of being the Planet's best reporter."
"Darned right!" She grinned back. "But if you play your cards right, you might eventually be the second best."
"I'll have to take what I can get, I guess." Before he could let himself get carried away, Clark dragged the conversation back to business. "So, partner -- what have *you* learned today?"
He'd expected her to hesitate, or make him work for it. Instead, she slid her notebook toward him. "Not a whole lot -- but I'm convinced the Metros are connected to the Toasters *somehow*. Well, that guy tonight seemed to want to kill Johnny, anyway. So there's got to be a link somewhere."
"Yeah, I agree. And there's something else..." Clark paused, unsure how to explain the vague idea that had plagued him. "I'm speculating here," he warned her, "but you know this morning, Lex Luthor had a press conference?"
"Yeah, I remember -- I skipped it to get into the Metro Club," she said, blithely ignoring the fact that Perry had assigned her to cover it.
"Well, I covered it for you," Clark told her. It had been a nice change from fighting fires. "He was announcing all these plans for redevelopment in the West River area."
Lois's gaze sharpened. "That's interesting."
Clark nodded. "I thought so. Maybe he's been planning it for months and the fires these last few days are a coincidence. Or maybe he's just taking advantage of the fact that the old buildings are being destroyed and property values are falling." Or maybe, he's behind the arson, somehow, but Clark didn't feel sure enough of his ground to mention that possibility out loud.
"Yeah, maybe," Lois said, some doubt creeping into her voice. "But it is awfully convenient for him, all the same."
"Well, I thought it might not hurt to look into it. Just a little." Lois was looking at him thoughtfully, and Clark had no idea what she was thinking. "Because, you know, some people out there might think that, well, it's a little bit too coincidental," he explained nervously. "And if we've already investigated that idea and disproved it, it won't go anywhere."
Lois sat up, frowning at him. "But what if he *is* involved, Clark? You can't go around assuming anything in this business!"
Clark gaped at her. "But, but ... I thought..."
"You thought I was dating him, so I wouldn't hear a word against the man?" Lois shook her head. "No, he's asked me out -- okay, we've been to dinner a few times," she added, "but I'm a *reporter* first and foremost, and he's a newsmaker. That's all there is to it."
Clark tried not to show the depths of his relief. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind. And we'll start looking into his redevelopment plans tomorrow morning."
Lois nodded, sinking back into the sofa cushions once more. "Jimmy can come up with the most amazing amounts of background information. If there's anything there to find, we'll find it."
"Good." Clark watched his partner, feeling very content with his world. Even if Lois never ended up loving and marrying him, it was incredible just to be near her, and to be her friend. It was more than a lot of other people had.
She turned, then, and caught him looking at her. Unaccountably, she blushed, and smiled softly. Clark felt his heart rate quicken at the look of invitation in her eyes, as the desire to kiss her warred with the shrill warnings from the back of his mind to *not* screw everything up. He compromised by smiling back, and reaching a hand towards hers. She let him engulf her smaller hand in his. "So, then," Clark began, then realized his voice had gone all husky again. He cleared his throat and sat a little straighter. "What's the plan for tomorrow?"
There was a flash of... something... in Lois's eyes before she gathered her composure and reclaimed her hand. "Well, we're just going to have to wait and see what develops. I'll bet they're going to have another meeting in the morning, to talk about the damage to the club, at the very least. I'm supposed to get there at 11 a.m. for the lunch crowd. Liquid lunches, that is. Maybe I'll get to serve drinks in there again."
"Yeah, maybe. Well, Toni's not expecting me 'til 3 p.m., so I'd probably better not be there any earlier." There probably wouldn't be anything she couldn't handle, but all the same, barring emergencies, he was planning to be somewhere nearby, just in case.
"I get a break at 2," Lois told him, standing and gathering her things. "Maybe I'll meet you at the Planet -- assuming there's anything fit to print in the evening edition."
"Okay, then," Clark smiled as he walked her to the door. "It's a date."
****
tbc...
