It was a genuine question - driven by the damage wreaked by years of abuse. Lois started the engine. "You're tall. You're dark. You're handsome," she stated offhandedly. "Three out of three - people are going to look at you."
As she backed out of the parking spot, she glanced surreptitiously at Clark and turned away to hide her smile.
His face writhed in shock.
Lois said nothing. Let him stew on that for a while.
Part 4
You're tall. You're dark. You're handsome.
Lois's words reverberated around Clark's mind.
You're an animal - a dirty inhuman animal.
Trask's condemnation circled slowly, eyeing the newcomer, unwilling to give ground easily.
You're tall. You're an animal. You're dark. You're dirty. You're handsome. You're inhuman.
He was distracted from the conflict when Lois pulled into a rather dilapidated service station and stopped next to a gas pump. "Could you fill the tank, please?" she asked.
Clark hesitated. "Ah, OK."
Lois smiled. "Thanks." She handed him the keys, lifted her bag from the back seat, climbed out of the Buick, and walked away.
As Clark filled the tank, the gas fumes abraded his nostrils. When the tank was full, he returned the nozzle and paused, unsure what to do next. He busied himself with washing the windshield.
A minute later, Lois appeared from the ramshackle building, carrying her bag. Her posture seemed upbeat - as if something had pleased her.
"Did you pay?" Clark asked.
"Yup," she said, sounding chirpy.
Clark got into the passenger seat and looked at her. "Is everything all right?"
She smiled. "Everything's fine."
Five miles out of the town, Lois turned onto a smaller road, and a minute later she stopped the Buick. She reached into her bag and withdrew an Indiana license plate.
Clark's mouth fell open.
"I'm hoping that Scardino will look for my car first," Lois said. "But my dad is listed as my next of kin, so Scardino could find this registration number. If he were to get local cops involved in looking for us, it's going to be a lot harder to stay hidden." She opened the door and got out of the car.
Clark got out, too. "This is your dad's car?"
Lois lifted the trunk and took a small screwdriver from the metal toolbox. "Yeah, this is Dad's. I asked him if I could borrow it." She crouched down and lifted the screwdriver to the licence plate.
"Would you like me to do it?" Clark asked.
She handed him the screwdriver. "Sure."
He removed the original plate, and Lois put it in the trunk. When Clark had affixed the new plate, he stood, and the original plate was nowhere in sight.
A minute later, they were driving again.
"How did you get the new licence plate?" Clark asked.
"While we were eating lunch, I noticed a pawnbroker," Lois replied. "Even if they are running a totally legitimate business, they usually know where things can be ... acquired." She grinned.
"Acquired?" Clark asked. He could feel a smile nudging his mouth.
She nodded. "He told me that the filling station on the edge of town possibly ran a side business that could prove useful. Easy."
"Easy," Clark echoed.
||_||
Scardino dragged the blanket from the skeleton and bent low to examine the feet. The bones were strung together with wire.
So, this *wasn't* the body of the alien after having undergone a bizarre post-death purging. Who knew what was typical for beings from other planets?
And - more importantly - it didn't need to be reported as a possible murder.
Scardino stood, replaced the blanket, and went into the staffroom. He hunched against the table and folded his arms across his chest.
Shadbolt was at the coffee machine. "Coffee?"
Scardino shook his head. "Do you think she's gone with him?"
"I don't know anything. I wasn't here."
"I didn't ask what you *knew*," Scardino barked. "I asked what you thought."
Shadbolt opened the fridge and took out the milk. "What are you going to do?"
"Will you stop asking -" Sudden insight stalled Scardino's outburst. Shadbolt wasn't asking for his conclusion, he was asking for his intentions. "I'm going to protect my agent," Scardino declared. "And I am *trying* to determine whether she needs protection from the alien."
"OK," Shadbolt said as he returned the milk. He shut the fridge door and picked up his cup. "I think it is most likely that she has gone with him."
Scardino wasn't sure if that were good news or bad. "Willingly?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because she doesn't believe that he killed Deller and Bortolotto."
"How would she know? She wasn't here then."
"Trask's logic was flawed," Shadbolt said. "His notes had inconsistencies."
"What inconsistencies?"
"There is an entry in Trask's log about the surgery he performed on the prisoner." Shadbolt frowned. "Actually, according to his records, I did it."
"Did you?"
"No."
"That isn't proof that the prisoner didn't kill Deller and Bortolotto."
"The sheer brutality of the murders made it easy to believe that they were the work of a depraved alien," Shadbolt said. "But I'd seen how he collapsed in pain immediately a rod was introduced into the cell. Therefore, the logical conclusion - I thought - was that he was faking the effect of the rods."
"Meaning he *could* kill, even in the presence of the rods?"
"Exactly," Shadbolt said. "But then I learnt about the surgery - an Achilles implant that would activate if he left the cell. If the prisoner was feigning his reaction to the rods, he had no reason not to escape when the door was open during the incident with Moyne and Lois."
Scardino rubbed across the day-old bristles on his chin. "Who told you what the surgery entailed?"
"Lois."
"How did she know?"
"She said she'd seen the lump in his shoulder." Shadbolt took a slow swig from his coffee.
"It's an enormous leap from seeing a lump in his shoulder to being certain that the implant could kill him."
Shadbolt said nothing ... and suddenly, Scardino knew. Lois had communicated with the prisoner. She'd been *into* the cell. More than the one time with Moyne.
And she had come out - unhurt.
"But Trask noted that the alien was exposed for a long time before the surgery was possible," Scardino said. "So perhaps the effects weren't immediate."
"I think the long exposure was needed to enable penetration of his skin," Shadbolt said. "But that's not really important - the major inconsistency surrounds Bortolotto's death."
"Go on," Scardino prompted, wondering what he'd missed in Trask's notes.
"In December of 1991, Trask reintroduced the discipline sessions. At first, I thought he was starting to believe - as I did - that the mere presence of the rods was ineffectual, so he'd decided to use them as weapons to inflict physical damage."
Scardino nodded. "I remember reading about that."
"I remember it being a barrage that went on for months," Shadbolt said dourly.
"And Bortolotto died in February, 1992," Scardino said as grim realisation wormed into his heart. "So the prisoner - injured by the constant beatings and weakened by the rods - could not have killed Bortolotto?"
"No," Shadbolt said bleakly. "But either we didn't care or we were too indoctrinated with Trask's insanity to see it." He snorted with disgust. "And I'm supposed to be an agent."
Scardino dreaded the answer to his next question, but he had to ask. "So who did kill them?"
"All I know is that it wasn't me."
"And it couldn't have been Longford - he came after Bortolotto's death."
Which left Trask and Moyne. Trask was dead - he'd caused a mountain of trouble, but he couldn't cause any more. Moyne, on the other hand ...
The photos of the butchered bodies carved a repugnant and alarming chasm through Scardino's mind.
"I don't understand why she felt she had to run away with him," Shadbolt said. "Surely she could have done something less drastic."
Scardino knew why - Menzies had demanded the prisoner's death. "What makes you so sure that Lois went willingly?"
"Her office is full of stuff that suggests she has had contact with him. And the swimming cap wig ... the skeleton ... This was planned."
Scardino heaved in a shaky breath. If only Lois was safe ... Nothing else mattered.
But he still had to decide what to do.
Menzies had ordered that the operation be terminated. Lois had terminated it. Unless ... "Do you think he's a threat?" Scardino asked. "To anyone? To world safety?"
Shadbolt stared at his coffee for a prolonged moment. "Trask was so sure they were coming," he said sombrely. "But Trask was also sure about other things ... things that have proven to be incorrect."
"Do you think he's a threat?" Scardino persisted.
"Lois was willing to risk her life on him not being a threat," Shadbolt noted. "How much confidence do you have in her judgement?"
Scardino considered that. Lois Lane was a brilliant operative. Her achievements were many, and she had an uncanny knack of jumping the right way. She didn't trust easily. Her one error - by her own admission - was the decision that had led to Linda King's death. Scardino had read the counsellor's report - and her opinion had been that although Lois accepted responsibility, there was good reason to believe it had been Linda's decision to trust the local man.
Lois Lane - grieving and full of self-recriminations - would be *less* likely to trust following the tragedy of her previous assignment.
So, if she trusted the alien ...
"I have a lot of confidence in her judgement," Scardino said as, in his mind, the path opened up before him and the way ahead crystallised. He stared levelly at Shadbolt. "Do you wish to leave now? Or do you wish to help me bring this to an end?"
"If you're going to cover for Lois, I'll stay and help you," Shadbolt said without hesitation.
His staunch support came as a shock to Scardino, and unsettling questions rose in his mind. "Can I ask you something?"
"OK," Shadbolt agreed.
"What did Lois do? She was only here for two weeks, but you were willing to put your job on the line to give her some time."
Shadbolt swirled his coffee. "She has the ability to look beyond the surface, she doesn't accept the most-obvious scenario without investigating it for herself, and she always treated me as if I was more than an embittered old grouch."
Shadbolt's words felt like a torrent of condemnation. Lois had cared. Conversely, he, Scardino, hadn't given a damn.
"I figure it isn't too much of a stretch to think that she did the same with the prisoner," Shadbolt added.
The way ahead shone with almost blinding clarity. It was the only possible course of action. It was the *right* thing to do. "What do you know about the process of someone assuming a new identity?" Scardino asked.
"Very little. That isn't my field of expertise."
"The most watertight new identities start with a record of death."
Shadbolt nodded. "Falsify the death of the former identity."
"Yeah." Scardino pulled his cell phone from his pocket as the heavy burden of this operation magically lifted. Very soon, it would be over. "I'll spare you the details, but by this evening, I'll be able to report to Menzies that the alien is dead and the body has been disposed of."
"Menzies?" Shadbolt exclaimed. "Did he order that the alien be killed?"
Scardino nodded. "Didn't Lois tell you?"
"No," Shadbolt said. "But it explains why she felt she had no choice but to run."
"Yeah."
"Are you going to use the skeleton?"
Scardino considered. "Makes sense," he said. "We really don't need the demolition guys finding bones in the rubble."
"What are you going to do with the rods?"
That was the only decision remaining. If he disposed of the rods, the world would be defenceless should the alien - or any of his kind - choose to attack. If he didn't, he had to decide where to keep them. He had to ensure that no one could ever access them.
Menzies hadn't included any directives about the rods. Did that mean he didn't consider an alien invasion to be a likely occurrence?
Or did it mean that his orders had been given without much thought?
It was one thing to trust Lois's judgement with regard to her own safety. The protection of humankind was another thing entirely. But ... Scardino could not believe that Lois would have released the prisoner if she had any doubts about him being a future threat.
But to leave the entire world vulnerable ...
"I think they should be destroyed," Shadbolt said quietly.
"Why?"
"Call it compensation."
Compensation? That raised another dilemma in the midst of this tangle that had been started by paranoia and sustained by abject apathy and bigotry. If the prisoner had never been dangerous, what had happened here was obscene.
But compensation?
Scardino had a responsibility to protect the organisation.
If the building was demolished and every record wiped - as Menzies had ordered - the prisoner would be free to continue whatever life he'd had before his capture. Lois would be free to continue her career when she returned from leave. And if the prisoner should ever decide to go public or pursue legal action, there would be minimal evidence to support his claim.
It wouldn't right the wrongs, but it would allow for the possibility of a fresh start. The cost of Trask's delusion would be seven years - not a lifetime.
Menzies had said that *every* trace of this operation was to be destroyed.
"We'll put the rods and the skeleton in a casket and take it to the crematorium," Scardino said decisively. "We'll do it now - before Menzies decides to check on the progress of his orders."
"I assume we have a crematorium we use when there isn't a body?" Shadbolt asked with a small grin.
Scardino nodded. He punched some numbers into his cell phone.
In a short time, this would be over.
Scardino eyed Shadbolt solemnly. "If anyone ever asks, we found a body in the cell."
Shadbolt nodded. "We did," he said.
The two men shook hands.
And a secret was forged.
||_||
The road took Lois and Clark through tiny towns, but most of the time, they weaved through fields containing either animals or crops.
They reminded Clark of his childhood.
And his parents.
And although the memories hurt, the rural ambience brought a sense of peace. Familiarity. And that familiarity birthed the realisation that he yearned to return home.
It wasn't going to be possible, but had it been his choice, Clark knew he would go home. He would look for his mom, find her, and take her back to the farm in Smallville.
It wouldn't restore everything they had lost, but it was infinitely better than anything he had dared to dream in such a long time.
And Lois?
Where did Lois fit into that scenario?
It left her free to return to her life. If she knew that he was happy and settled on the farm with his mom, she could return to something like her former life.
That thought stabbed at him.
But he'd always known that Lois was temporary in his life.
Eventually, she would walk away from him, and he would be left with a heart that was irreparably broken and a mind that perhaps one day would be able to take comfort in a shoal of memories.
||_||
"Is it imperative that you leave now?"
Eric Menzies looked down at the very young nurse. "I have a job to do," he snapped. "I can't spend hour after hour sitting next to a hospital bed."
"This is your wife we're talking about."
"She doesn't seem to notice whether I'm there or not."
"She will notice if you leave her."
Menzies sighed. Could he trust Scardino to oversee the first stage of the termination of the alien operation?
He had no choice.
He couldn't leave Phoebe.
"I'll stay," he said gruffly to the nurse. "But I have to make a call first."
She smiled, and Eric got the feeling he had just been outmanoeuvred by someone close to half his height and one third of his age. He paced the length of the corridor while he waited for Scardino to answer his call.
"Daniel Scardino."
"Scardino. It's Menzies. I have been unavoidably detained. What's happening with the operation?"
"The first part has been accomplished. I'm returning to my office to -"
"Accomplished? What *exactly* do you mean by accomplished?"
"I disposed of the consequence of your orders," Scardino said as if his meaning should have been obvious.
"Disposed of?"
"By the customary means. The building will be demolished tomorrow."
Menzies stopped pacing. "Everything went ... well?"
"Everything went as planned," Scardino said. "Will you arrange for the disposal of the written records?"
"Yes."
"I will come to your office on Monday to report the successful conclusion of the operation."
Scardino sounded remarkably competent. Too competent. Something wasn't right.
"Mr Menzies!"
Eric turned at the sound of his name.
The young nurse glided towards him. "Your wife is asking for you," she said with a told-you-so smile.
"I have to go," he said into the cell. "Be at my office at two o'clock sharp on Monday."
He disconnected the call without waiting for a reply and tailed the nurse into Phoebe's room.
||_||
Scardino walked into his office feeling better than he had in weeks.
He'd followed orders. *And* he'd done the right thing.
Far too often in this job, it wasn't possible to do both.
In an hour, he would return to the crematorium for the ashes. He would sort through them for any pieces of wire that had survived the furnace - and take the remains to Menzies on Monday.
His task now was to find a demolition company that was willing to raze the building tomorrow. It shouldn't be too difficult - he had a list of companies who had worked for the agency before. Companies who would come at short notice, complete the job competently, and ask no questions.
His second task was more challenging. Somehow, he had to find a way to inform Lois that the prisoner was free to resume his former identity.
He took Lois's file from the cabinet and sat at his desk.
Her details were on the first page. Scardino marvelled again at her age. Twenty-seven. She was still so young. Yet with such poise. Such conviction. When she believed in something, she acted on it.
As her higher-up, that was a little disconcerting. She could do - had done - something unimaginable. But as a fellow agent, he felt nothing but respect.
Just below her date of birth were the contact details for her next of kin - Dr Samuel Lane.
Doctor.
That explained the skeleton.
And probably how she had been able to remove the implant from the prisoner. Her first aid training would definitely not have included field surgery.
But it seemed very little stopped Lois Lane when she had decided to do something.
And it seemed she had decided to free the prisoner.
Scardino shook his head again. She was incredible.
As he and Shadbolt had waited for the hearse to arrive with a cremation box, they had gone into Lois's office. The picture it had painted had been unequivocal - she had planned the escape. Scardino's only lingering worry was that the alien had tricked her into trusting him and, now free, had turned on her.
He would rest a lot easier if he knew she were all right.
She wasn't going to answer her cell phone. She probably wouldn't even turn it on. She was an experienced agent with every reason to want to stay hidden. Finding her wouldn't be easy.
And if she heard that anyone was chasing her, she was going to assume the agenda was a whole lot more than inquiring after her safety.
Scardino picked up his phone and punched in the number for Samuel Lane.
There was no reply.
Lois had said that her father was unwell. Scardino speed-dialled the home number of his PA. It was late on Saturday afternoon, but she understood that her job had flexible hours.
"Hi, Mr Scardino."
"Tracey," he said. "Sorry to disrupt your weekend, but I need some research."
"What do you need to know?"
"I need to know the whereabouts of Dr Samuel Lane. Try the hospitals first."
"Do you know his area of specialisation?"
"He's been unwell. You should look at patient admissions before trying to locate him professionally."
"How do you want the information? Cell? Desk phone? Email?"
"Cell," Scardino replied. "I want to know as soon as possible."
"OK," Tracey agreed easily. "I'll call you as soon as I know something."
"Thanks."
Scardino hung up his phone. He had to find a way to let Lois know that she could enjoy her vacation with ... whoever the prisoner had been before Trask had invaded his life.
And ... Scardino swallowed as apprehension reared into his throat. And he should warn her of the possibility that Moyne was not safely dispatched to a faraway assignment.
||_||
"Lois?"
"Uhhmm?"
"I think we should stop for a while."
Stop? Lois turned to her right and gave Clark a smile. "OK," she said. "Any reason?"
"You've been driving for a long time. You must be getting tired. I think you need a break."
Lois nodded - and managed to keep her surging spirits from breaking into an effervescent grin. This was sounding more like Clark. "That would be nice."
"I saw a sign indicating there is a small town ahead."
"Great."
"And ... Lois?"
"Yeah?"
"Could we talk?"
Talk? About what? She soothed her heart from its compulsion to shoot into a chaotic rhythm. Whatever Clark wanted to say, it would be an improvement on his detached silence. "Sure, we could."
"I'd like to know what you're planning."
Lois smiled at him again. "I've been waiting for you to ask."
"Thanks."
Half a mile into the town, Lois saw a small, vacant roadside stop. She parked and got out of the car, stretching her back and shoulders.
"Are you OK?" Clark asked as he rounded the hood of the Buick.
"Yeah," Lois said. "I just need to start moving."
He hesitated long enough to dip his glasses down his nose and slowly scan the nearby shrubs and trees. Apparently satisfied, he began walking.
"What would you like to know?" Lois asked as she fell into step beside him.
"We can't keep driving forever," he said desperately.
"No, we can't."
"What are we going to do?"
"Initially, our priority was to gain distance from Metropolis. We're in Ohio now, so we've achieved that to some degree. Then, we needed to disguise the Buick."
"OK. What now?" Their progress didn't seem to bring him much reassurance.
"I think we should continue driving until sometime tomorrow. Then we could start looking for somewhere to stay - perhaps for a few days, perhaps longer."
"And look for work?"
"Yeah," Lois said. "Scardino offered me three months leave with pay, but we can't rely on that continuing. And we'll have to be careful about accessing it."
"If we stop in a farming area, I think I could find work easily enough," Clark said.
"We need new identities first."
He looked down at her, his face full of questions.
"Don't worry about it," she assured him with a smile. "It won't be the first time I've had to forge documents."
Clark didn't look convinced. "But Lois," he persisted. "This isn't sustainable. Not long term. You've changed the licence plate on the Buick, but what happens when the new registration is due? Your apartment or wherever you lived in Metropolis - what happens with that? How are you going to pay the rent? You couldn't have had the time to arrange anything - not even your belongings being put into storage."
"I knew that some things were going to be lost," Lois said impassively. "Once my rent becomes overdue, the owner will try to contact me, and failing that, he will take my stuff and re-let the apartment."
"You'll lose everything," Clark said.
"I've never been settled long enough to accumulate much," Lois said. "There is nothing there that means anything to me. Most of it I never bothered to unpack."
"But -"
"I paid a security deposit - the owner won't be out of pocket."
Clark shook his head. "You're throwing away *everything* - your name, your job, your apartment, your family, your friends ... everything. It will be as if Lois Lane has ceased to exist."
"Clark, I'm not sure how this will work, but I'm still hoping there is a chance to convince the higher-ups that you're not going to hurt anyone."
His head spun towards her. "So you're not really OK with losing everything?"
"I don't *want* to," Lois admitted. "But if that's what we have to do ..."
"I can't see any way that we would ever risk contacting the authorities," Clark said darkly.
"Not now," Lois agreed. "Not for a long time. But one day, maybe. I haven't completely given up on that."
"Why didn't you talk to them while I was still in the prison?"
"If I had, they would have removed me from the operation. Then, just getting into the cell to be with you would have been difficult."
"I don't think you've thought this through."
"In some ways, I haven't," Lois admitted. "I don't have all of the answers. But I'm confident that we can work it out together."
"Lois ..." His sigh lifted his shoulders. "Lois, I just can't see how there can be any viable future in this."
She stopped walking and turned to him. He stopped, too, and she smiled up at him. "I'm not asking you to see the future," she said. "I'm asking you to believe in the present. You must have done it in the cell - you must have taken it day by day - sometimes hour by hour."
"But in the prison, it was different."
"How?"
"Because, in the prison, I had nothing to lose."
Lois lifted her hand and tentatively placed it on Clark's upper arm. His muscle tightened under her touch, but he didn't recoil. "We are not going to lose anything without a fight," she vowed.
"I lost everything once. There was nothing I could do to prevent it happening. I was powerless to protect my parents. And now you're ... you've given up so much ..."
His trepidation was etched on his face. "Last time, Trask had the advantage of surprise," Lois said. "This time, you're older, and you're more aware of what can happen." She smiled, hoping he would respond. "And you've got me."
"That just makes it worse," Clark said. His face filled with sudden dismay. "I mean ... I didn't mean that like it sounded."
Lois let her thumb caress the hard bicep under her hand. "How did you mean it?" she asked.
"With you here, the stakes are higher. This isn't just about me. If they catch me, you will pay the price."
"That's why we have to work together."
"But the thought of you being hurt ..." Clark looked away, his jaw rippling with tension. "... It kills me to think of what they would do to you if they catch you."
Lois took a breath, forcing herself to take the time to consider her next words before they were out and could not be recalled. After one breath, she could hold back no longer. "Clark," she said, her tone gentle but firm as she looked deeply into his eyes. "Clark, our only chance is if we work together. But I feel as if you don't want to work with me. You won't let me help you. It's completely understandable that you're not sure about anything, but I believe that by shutting me out, you're harming our chances of staying free."
He looked as if she'd slapped him. Then, slowly, his expression changed from shock to shame. He looked down at his feet. When his head rose, he said, "I'm sorry, Lois. I know this has been traumatic for you, and I know I've done nothing to help you."
She gave him a soft smile. "Instead of feeling guilty about what is past, you could try to give me what I need most now," she suggested.
He released a long breath. "I probably should be able to work out what you need most - and whether that was a general comment or not ..." A shadow of his smile sprinkled joy through Lois's heart. "... but you're going to have to be specific, Lois. I'm horribly out of practice at this."
Lois chuckled as admiration and love welled inside her all over again. "I'd like you to hug me," she told him. "That's what I need."
She saw his surprise, but it was followed closely by a tiny, hesitant smile. His arms lifted, and she stepped into them.
Lois curled her arms around his neck and sank into the wide expanse of his chest. She felt his embrace tighten around her, encircling her. She felt his strength flow into her - strength she was sure he couldn't feel.
They stood for a long time, silent and unmoving, but taking vital steps forward in their journey.
