here you go folks. FDK as always is more then welcome!
“How could I have lost it…it was in my pocket…I…I made sure. I was absolutely sure” out in the street Jason was on his hands and knees scouring the gutters for his lost treasure. This was Steele’s fault—it had to be. There was no way he’d ever lose something as valuable as his lighter.
His hands delved into a small crevice dividing the street and the sewage tunnels, and from its murky depths he produced a handful of raw waste. Needles, glass, metal, mud, and other ambiguous items spilled over his cupped hands. Searching the fistful of trash in his hand, Jason let out a strangled groan and slamed his hands onto the street. Blood issued forth from the various lacerations on his palms fingers, oozing and mixing with the various items from the drainage ditch. Slamming his fists onto the pavement again he dug deeper into the gutter.
(This is all your fault Jason. I knew I should never have trusted you with my lighter.) Jason’s eyes grew bright and his head snapped upright. Beneath the street light stood a short stocky man with short red hair, and beady green eyes. In his hand he held a leather shaving strap, and in his right was a half full beer glass. He wore baggy work overhauls, and a torn flannel shirt, that looked in need of a good scrubbing.
(You’re just like your mother, useless) the man spat taking a deep draft from his glass, and smacking his lips as the liquid slithered down his throat.
“Don’t...don’t say that. Your not here…you can’t be here….go away.” Jason spoke in a harsh whisper, darting his eyes to and fro. He had to find that lighter.
(I’m not here am I?) The man said chuckling. He took another sip and ambled menacingly toward Jason, slapping the thick strap on his leg at every step.
“Don’t step any closer…I’m warning you”
THAWK (you’re warning me? That’s rich, what did you think you were going to accomplish here Jason? Do you really think you’re good enough to go up against the likes of Remington Steele. He’s ten times the man you are, and that’s on his bad days.)
“GO AWAY...GO AWAY. YOU’RE NOT HERE, YOU CAN’T BE HERE--I KILLED YOU. LEAVE ME ALONE YOU OLD BASTARD!!!”
Jason’s loss of control only served to amuse the figure further. By now he was standing right above Jason’s huddled form smiling at him.
(That’s right Jas you did kill me, and what a ‘brave’ thing that was indeed. What kind of a man has to drug his own father in order to kill him? A sick demented man, that’s what kind.) Leaning against the wall he took another mouthful from his glass. Jason glanced at the figure again and recoiled in shock, a large, deep crimson pool had aspirated upon the man’s chest. Smiling even brighter, the he did a full three-sixty turn on one leg, and exposed an equally large wound upon his back.
(What’s the matter Jason? Were you such a lousy shot you had to have an immobile target to shoot in the bloody back?)
“NO. NO. NO—SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP,” Jason slammed his battered hands on the pavement with each shouted declaration.
(Yes, yes, yes) his father mimicked laughing in his cold high pitched voice, and taking another swig from his ever-present glass.
Redoubling his efforts Jason began tearing open garbage bags, and turning over waste baskets. He had to find it, if he didn’t the figure wouldn’t’ leave him alone.
(I knew I should have drowned you as soon as you were born, but your mother, sentimental old bag that she was, wouldn’t let me. You were always ungrateful, and you never could take a good beating. Cried like a girl you did. Tell me—how’s a man supposed to sleep when he’s got two blubbering old women wailing like they was banshees at all hours of the night and day.)
“You shut up! You deserved to die, you deserved to be strangled in your sleep. YOU KILLED MY MA!” Jason yelled stepping into the apparitions face. “You got exactly what was coming to you!”
(No, Jason my lad. Your mother got what was coming to her. Imagine the nerve of that woman—thinking she can spirit away with ye in the night. Ha!)
“I hate you…why won’t you leave me alone…I have to find that lighter…then you’ll go away.” Jason continued to rummage through the piles of trash he’d strewn about the street and sidewalk.
He tried thinking back to earlier that day.
After leaving LA with Nigel he’d gotten in touch with Cretini. As he’d expected Cretini was no closer to finding the man who’d made off with “The Bosses “stones, but he did have one lead. Supposedly there would be an information exchange at the Black and White ball; the traitor would be meeting with interested overseas buyers.
After filling Nigel in, he’d received instructions to watch the Lexor Hotel, and await Mrs. Cox’s arrival. When she approached the desk she’d handed the receptionist an envelope, no doubt Steele’s ticket to the Black and White Ball, and told them the room number it was for. She’d left as abruptly as she’d come, and much to Jason’s disgust she’d given him one of her uppity self-satisfied smiles. If there was one thing he hated, it was a woman who didn’t know her place.
Nigel had called him explaining the revision of the plan.
Travanien would call the Steele’s and explain that something big was going down at the Black and White ball. They would be instructed to observe the guests and watch for anyone who looked out of place.
After getting off the phone with the, long winded and often pompous Englishman, Jason had waited in the lobby a bit longer just to get a look at Steele and his woman.
It was then he’d had another cigarette. And he remembered distinctly putting his lighter back into his coat pocket. He remembered going back to his flea bag room at the Apollo Hotel, and putting on his rented tuxedo, he remembered putting his smokes and his lighter in the pocket. Nothing significant had happened in route to the convention center, and the first time he’d had contact with a person was when he’d bumped into Steele.
The only logical explanation was that Steele had it. He muttered this thought aloud, causing his father to laugh heartily.
(It figures. Not only did you lose the lighter, you could very well have given you identity up to your enemy. I don’t care what your mother may have claimed; you’re no son of mine.) He took yet another swill, and sneered at Jason’s cowering form in disgust.
“Please don’t say that Da…I’ll do whatever ya say, please…just leave me alone. For the love of god leave me in peace.” Sniveling Jason backed himself against the alley wall. Pulling his knees against his chest he began to rock back and forth, banging his head against the red bricks. Over and over he pleaded with his father to leave him, and with each plea he would bang his head even harder against the unyielding wall.
(calm down you woman. I’ll help ya…didn’t your da always help ya when you were in trouble?) He said in a semi-soothing voice. He knelt eye level to Jason, and placed his hand on his shoulder.
(Look at me Jason…son…look at me)
Sniffling softly Jason raised his head. Suddenly the harsh and judgmental face of his father faded, and in its place was the soft and loving visage of his mother. Her curly brown hair hung down her back, and her soulful blue eyes studied the weak and shattered form of her son.
“Ma…I don’t …I don’t know what to do. I have to find me lighter…you know he won’t leave me alone unless I find it.”
(Hush now my son…I’ll tell you what to do) she cooed pulling him into her embrace. (Just leave everything to mum)
****
Forty-three minutes. That’s how long Clark had been “putting money in the meter”.
Lois considered herself a patient woman (although others would disagree), but this was ridiculous. First of all they hadn’t even driven her Jeep, and second forty-three minutes was more then enough time to put money in a meter, and get back to the table. Something else was going down.
Maybe he’d gotten a hot lead on a new story, and hadn’t felt like sharing. Lois bristled at the thought; he was probably laughing at her behind her back right now. Nah—that wasn’t Clark’s style, and ever since their reconciliation he’d been going out of his way to be the best partner, and friend, humanly possible. She remembered going to the vending machines for a snack and returning to find a fresh cup of coffee, made just as she liked it, sitting at her desk. That in itself wasn’t surprising as Clark did things like that on a daily basis, but what was startling was the fact, that the coffee was a rich Columbian roast that was defiantly too expensive to be bullpen coffee.
Taking a long slow sip, to savor the taste, she’d looked up to find her partner leaning against her desk—a pleading look on his face, as if he was waiting for conformation that she was enjoying his gift. He was just so cute, she’d thought, as she favored him with a smile. This caused him to blush slightly, and shuffle in place
She sighed, and picked at the glazed baby carrots on her plate
Her dinner companions had spoken little aside from polite conversation. Lifting her wine glass to her lips she sipped—it was a good merlot robust, and smooth. It slid down her throat, and landed as a pleasant warmth in her belly.
She glanced over at her partners’ rapidly cooling food. Where are you Clark? She wondered for the fourth time that evening.
“Do you think your partner will be rejoining us this evening?” Ruggles asked cautiously, not whishing to upset Lois any further.
“Doesn’t look like it—I wonder if they have doggie bags in this place” Lois lifted her hand to signal a waiter, in hopes of salvaging Clarks congealed duck, but at that precise moment a loud crashed rang out in the hall.
“We had an agreement…You promised me I would be protected!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about I’ve never seen you before in my life”
“What? How can you say that? I met with you five times in as many months; your receptionist can verify those meetings.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about…Asabi, would you please show the gentleman the door?
“Of course Mr. Luthour.” Taking the elder gentleman by the elbow, Lex’s manservant lead him toward the exit as quickly as possible; however his prisoner refused to give up without a fight.
Around the dinning room people sat in stunned silence, mouths agape contemplating the identity of the mysterious man, who had the gall to speak to Lex Luthour in such a manner.
“You won’t get away with this Luthour…I’ll take this to the press if I have to!”
Lois’s reporter’s instinct sat at attention directly. What could this guy have on Lex?
She quickly excused herself to the other two bodies at the table, and moved determinedly toward the exit. If what this guy had to say was news worth, then she defiantly had to hear it.
“Lois, I didn’t see you there. Would you care for a dance?”—Lex, of all the times for him to be a gentleman. <Maybe he’s trying to stall you>. Maybe so, but Lois figured if she couldn’t get answers from the mystery man, then perhaps she could squeeze some from Lex.
“Why not?” she said, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor; on stage, was a thirty piece band along with a soulful songstress. Notes of “As Time Goes By” swam through the air and thirty or so couples swayed to the music.
Taking her hand in his and placing his other palm firmly on her waist, Lex slowly began to sway Lois in time to the song.
“I was very disappointed when my secretary told me about your cancellation of our date.” Lex chided gently.
“Well Lex, I’m writing a story for the Planet, and for that I need my partner.”
Lex’s eyes gleamed “Isn’t that interesting, and here I was thinking that Lois Lane didn’t NEED anyone.”
Deciding it was probably best to dispense with the pleasantries Lois went straight into attack mode “Who was that man you just had escorted out of here Lex?” she asked, making an effort to keep her tone neutral.
“Is this an interview Ms. Lane?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Just a question Lex”
“To be perfectly honest my dear I’ve never met the man before in my life.”
“Well he seemed to know you” she challenged, looking deeply into his eyes.
“This may seem a bit cold, but a lot of people know me. That doesn’t necessarily mean I know them.”
Lois wasn’t buying it. Lex was obviously hiding something—the question was what?
From behind Lois heard a soft noise—it was someone clearing their throat. Turning she saw that the intruder was none other then her wayward partner.
“Do you mind if I cut in?” Clark asked, his tone relaying that he really didn’t care if Lex minded or not.
“Of course not Mr. Kent, please excuse me Lois.” He said, kissing her cheek softly he left the two reporters.
“So, where have you been?” Lois asked casually, taking Clarks offered hands. He stiffened at her inquiry, and quickly took on the “deer in the headlights” look.
“I…was well…I…” he fumbled for an adequate excuse, but something told nothing short of the truth (which he defiantly wasn’t going to tell her) would satisfy Lois Lane’s inquiring mind. Maybe he should tell her the truth he mused; maybe he should tell her that he’d just spent the better part of an hour negotiating the safe return of a hostage in a armed robbery downtown. Maybe he would tell her that immediately after that he’d had to take a woman in labor to the hospital. Maybe he’d confess the whole hog—and maybe frogs would start falling from the ceiling.
“Save it Clark; you’re under no obligation to tell ME your partner every little move you make. It’s not as if we didn’t have a date. It’s not as if you didn’t leave me feeling like a fool in front of total strangers. It’s not like I put this stupid dress on JUST to impress YOU…”
Lois mentally gulped, if that was possible. She averted her eyes partially in embarrassment, and partially in anger. They continued to dance, only semi-conscious that the song had changed.
Clark was stunned. Did she just say they were on a date? Did she just say she’d dressed up all for him? He opened his mouth intent on saying something…anything intelligent, but the only thing that came out was “Lois I’m sorry”
Naturally, she received that as well as she would an ice cube down her back.
“No need to apologize Clark.” She said, letting the subject fall where it was. The song that was currently playing ended and the crowd applauded. Bowing the singer approached the microphone.
“Thank you ladies and gentlemen. This next song is a request by an anonymous man to an anonymous woman. The only thing written on the request card was ‘You’re still top banana’ ” She bowed again, and the band began to play.
From the first strikes upon the piano Lois knew what song it was, and who the anonymous man and woman were. Once again Clark had surprised her, and once again she’d jumped to conclusions. Clark shuffled, his hands in his pockets. Lois sighed, and a small smile tugged at her lips. Leave it to Clark to request her favorite song—heck, leave it to Clark to remember her favorite song. Most men wouldn’t have even tried.
“So, you were putting money in the meter huh?” she said, moving back into his arms. “I should have known. You couldn’t have been dumb enough to forget we took a cab.”
Clark laughed nervously “Yeah that would have been pretty dumb…”
“So this is why you were gone so long. What happened? Did the manager give you trouble? Did you have to sneak past security to get backstage?” Lois asked.
“Something like that” Clark muttered, sweet relief washing over him, Saved by the song request. Truthfully one of the security personnel was an old buddy of his from Smallville (small world), and had taken his request by hand to the band.
Lois sighed in his arms, and moved in closer. She started humming along in that deep sultry voice that’d melted Clark not so long ago at the Metro club.
I look in your eyes and I can see; you love so dangerously,
and you not trusting your heart to anyone.
You tell me you’re gonna play it smart.
We’re through before we start, but I believe we’ve only just begun.
When it’s this good there’s no saying no.
I need you so, I’m ready to go.
Through the fire, to the limit to the wall.
For a chance to be with you I’d gladly risk it all.
Through fire to whatever come what may.
For a chance at loving you; I’d take it all away
Right down to the wire even through the fire.
Clark held her closer to his body. Every nerve cell in his body was screaming *kiss her*, and he was begging to bow to peer pressure. Just like the song proclaimed, For Lois he would gladly risk everything, but he was afraid to trust his heart to anyone. Not just because this level of commitment, and love for another human being was foreign to him, but also from the time he was a teenager he’d never let anyone get too close to him, fearing they might learn his secret, and turn from him in disgust.
But right now with the love of his life warm and soft in his arms, he was having a hard time convincing himself to keep those walls around his heart.
Lois looked up at Clark, his eyes were full of warmth, and hesitance. And she was more then sure her own eyes mirrored those exact emotions. For the last few minutes every cell in her body had been screaming <kiss him>, but the permanent battalion of Marines guarding her Heart wouldn’t let her. What if she was reading his intentions wrong? What if he didn’t want to kiss her? She peered up at Clark again, and swallowed a huge lump in her throat. The desire she saw was enough to scorch even Superman’s impenetrable flesh.
Would he let her kiss him?
Would she let him kiss her?
Simultaneously their mouths moved toward each other, and met in the most gossamer of kisses. They pulled apart slowly, both unsure as to what should happen next. Their eyes met, and by unanimous decision they began to move toward one another again.
At last their mouths came together, and kissed the way, it seemed, they’d been meant to do all their lives. As clichéd as it was Lois felt like she was coming home. The contours and crevices of Clark’s mouth were both new, and familiar. She recognized the taste of him, just as much as it was a new experience for her. True they’d kissed before, but was just…wow!
Clark’s hand cupped her cheek, and gently he encouraged Lois to deepen the kiss, and she eagerly complied.
In the background the song had wound down to the last few lines of the chorus, but Lois and Clark could have cared less. They had walked through the fire, and had found it to be less frightening then originally anticipated.
As the song ended Lois and Clark moved apart from each other slowly. Clark grinned shyly at Lois’s flushed face, and she grinned right back. Hand in hand the walked back to the table.
Unbeknownst to them however, they were being watched, and the hatred seething from their observers eyes was murderous. Lex Luthour glowered.
Nobody made a fool of him. Especially a two bit hack reporter; Lois Lane would be his, no matter what. Smiling icily he picked up his phone and hit the speed dial.
“Yes sir” Nigel answered on the first ring.
“Nigel, there’s going to be a change in plan. Find Jason, and get to Clark Kent’s apartment now.”
He hung up quickly and glanced at his adversary. Clark Kent was a dead man; he just didn’t know it yet.
