Clark walked slowly down the stairs. Despite his attempts to reassure Lois, he knew it was likely that whatever was about to unfold was the consequence of Moyne's presence in Smallville.

Halfway down the stairs, he lowered his glasses and tried to look through the door, but it refused to peel back.

It was probably Rachel, he surmised. Rachel and her entire team of deputies - come to capture the vicious and destructive alien, as described by Moyne.

Alarm should have been hurtling through him. But inside, he felt a strange calmness. He and Lois were meant to be together. Somehow, they would find a way.

Taking a deep breath, Clark opened the door.

Daniel Scardino stared back.


Part 16

Daniel had been expecting Lois to answer the door.

Instead, there was a man - a man who was younger, taller, and more toned than Scardino. A man who looked as if he, too, had been expecting someone else.

"Ah, hi," Daniel said, offering his hand to shake. "I'm Daniel Scardino."

The man took his hand in a firm grip and nodded. "Mr Scardino," he said. "I'm Clark Kent."

Daniel's jaw plunged. *This* was the alien? The prisoner? Former prisoner? He looked ... looked ... human. "Ah, Mr ... ah, Kent," Daniel stammered, realising that he shouldn't be surprised that the alien had answered his knock. But he had not been expecting *this*. "Mr ... ah ... Kent. Ah ... Lois. Lois Lane. Is she here?"

"She's upstairs resting," Mr Kent replied. "She had a traumatic experience last night."

"Yes. Ah ... may I see her? Please?"

"I'll check to see if she feels up to company," he said. "Come in."

Daniel stepped into the farmhouse, and Mr Kent shut the door.

"If you'll just wait here," he said cordially. "I'll only be a moment."

"Thank you." Daniel couldn't help staring as Mr Kent climbed the stairs. Casually dressed, clean-shaven with neatly cut hair - he *looked* civilised. Human. There was nothing about him reminiscent of the scruffy half-human-half-beast that Daniel had seen in the cell.

His appearance was shockingly normal, but it was more than that. His manner was polite ... gracious.

And, as they both knew, Daniel had done nothing to deserve any courtesy from Trask's prisoner.

He appeared at the top of the stairs and descended towards Daniel. "Ms Lane is willing to see you," he said. "But she is very tired and still quite distressed."

"Thank you," Daniel said. "I won't need to stay long." He walked up the stairs, followed by his host. At the top, Mr Kent pushed open the door to his right and gestured for Daniel to enter.

Lois was sitting up in the double bed. A large bandage covered the area below her throat, and she was ghostly pale.

Scardino felt the scorching heat of contrition. In effect, *he* had done this to Lois. He was the one who hadn't followed up after the incident at the compound. He had thought that dispatching Moyne to a faraway assignment would be enough.

It hadn't been.

And the evidence was right before him.

Daniel stepped closer to the bed. "I'm so sorry, Lois," he said. "This shouldn't have happened."

She nodded mutely.

He didn't know what else to say, and Lois didn't look capable of speech. Mr Kent cleared his throat. "Where is Moyne now?" he asked.

Daniel's head jerked from Lois to Mr Kent. "You haven't heard?"

"We haven't heard anything since the sheriff and her deputy took Moyne last night," Mr Kent said.

"Moyne is dead," Daniel said, feeling a strange sense of elation that really shouldn't accompany such an announcement.

He expected some sort of reaction from the two other people present. However, neither said a word. Daniel looked to Mr Kent - he was staring at Lois, his face lined with concern so genuine, Daniel felt a lump rise into his throat.

"How did he die?" Lois asked vacantly.

"He rushed the sheriff in a threatening manner and was shot dead by both of her deputies."

Lois's deadpan expression didn't change. "Is Menzies going to be a problem?" she asked.

"No," Scardino said. "I have informed him, and he asked me to accompany the body back to Metropolis."

"Is the sheriff all right?" Mr Kent asked.

The sincere concern - coming from an individual Daniel had been led to believe wasn't capable of human reactions - was disconcerting. "She wasn't hurt," he answered. "Her deputies protected her."

"Will they face prosecution?" Lois asked.

"There will be an inquiry," Scardino said. "But it was an armed attack, and I think it will be accepted that Moyne had a history of violence." He couldn't help glancing to Mr Kent - who knew Moyne's penchant for brutality better than anyone did.

There was nothing in Mr Kent's face to indicate he was thinking along similar lines. "Will Lois be questioned?" he asked.

"Not by anyone from the local sheriff's office," Daniel replied. "The original incident is no longer their jurisdiction." He took a hesitant step towards Lois. "Do you need anything?"

She shook her head. It was obvious that she wanted to be left alone. Or perhaps left alone with Mr Kent. Daniel paused. Lois was his agent. His actions - or lack thereof - had directly contributed to her ordeal. "Lois," he said gently. "Sheriff Harris told me that you refused to go to the hospital last night. You should be checked by a doctor. And ... and I think you should also consider counselling."

"I'm not going to the hospital," she said decisively. "And I'm not having counselling."

Again, Daniel paused, torn between his responsibility to ensure that his agent received whatever care she needed and a growing empathy for Mr Kent. "Do you want to come back to Metropolis with me?" he asked.

Scardino saw the reaction from Mr Kent. Saw how his jaw tightened.

But he said nothing.

It would be Lois's decision.

Both men looked at her.

She didn't speak for a long time.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I would like to come back to Metropolis with you."

||_||

Clark couldn't breathe.

He couldn't believe what he had heard.

He couldn't believe what Lois had said.

She wanted to leave him.

She had promised she would stay with him. She had assured him. Not once had she wavered.

Lois wasn't looking at him; she was looking at Scardino. Suddenly, she was sitting straighter in the bed. She looked stronger. More decisive. More like the Lois he knew. "What did Moyne tell them?" she asked.

"Obviously, I couldn't ask for too many details without the risk of divulging sensitive information," Scardino said. "But it seems that anything Moyne did say could easily be dismissed as the ravings of a very unbalanced man."

Clark couldn't feel any relief. Lois wanted to leave him.

"What did you do with the rods?" she asked.

"I cremated them," Scardino said flippantly. "With the body I found in the cell."

"You *cremated* them?" Lois gasped. "With Jonas?"

Scardino shrugged, his face straight, although Clark had the definite impression that he had enjoyed Lois's shocked response. Was he telling the truth? It seemed to Clark that he was. The rods were gone - forever.

"It seemed appropriate," Scardino said.

"Moyne brought more of the stuff with him," Lois said, throwing off her surprise like an unwanted cloak. "You need to take it, and you should also find his car and search it for any more."

Clark stared at Lois, unable to fathom her sudden businesslike manner. She had seamlessly slipped from the traumatised woman to the consummate agent, efficiently and impersonally dealing with every detail. The transition shocked him. But it didn't begin to explain the only question that mattered - why she wanted to leave him.

Scardino nodded.

"Go down the stairs and turn left," Lois continued. "Go through the living room and into the kitchen. There's a tea towel tied around the pipe under the sink. The Achilles is rolled up in there."

Scardino nodded again. Clark wondered fleetingly if Lois had rendered him speechless.

Lois threw back the bedcovers and stood with more energy than Clark would have thought possible. She made a beeline for Scardino and faced him squarely. "You take all of the Achilles and destroy it," she said in a manner few would have felt comfortable challenging. "We cannot guarantee that there are no more imbeciles like Trask and Moyne just waiting to indulge their vicious and perverted bigotry. Hiding it isn't good enough. It has to be destroyed."

Scardino's throat jumped as he nodded.

But Lois hadn't finished. "I'm trusting you," she said. "Don't mess with me."

"I agree with you," Scardino said, sounding eager to concur. "The only fitting outcome is that all of the Achilles be destroyed."

Lois stared at him for a long time. Clark figured she was either trying to decide if she could trust him, or she was driving home her threat that he would regret crossing her.

"Go and do it now," Lois said. "Be back here in a couple of hours to collect me."

As Clark's world collapsed, his determination rose. Lois still wanted to leave him. But he had two hours to try to change her mind.

"Look after yourself, Lois," Scardino said. "I'll be back soon."

"Don't bring the poison back here," Lois said grimly.

"Of course not," Scardino said. He walked past Clark and exited the bedroom. Clark paused long enough to look at Lois. She was leaning over the bed, pulling the covers into place. He got the feeling she was only doing it to avoid a discussion with him.

Clark backed out of the room and followed Scardino. At the bottom of the stairs, they shook hands again.

"Nice meeting you, Mr Kent," Scardino said as if their association really did stretch back only ten minutes.

"You, too, Mr Scardino," Clark replied, although even as he said the words, he was unsure of how much truth they held.

"Thank you for looking after Lois."

"I will *always* look after Lois," Clark said firmly.

"I know," Scardino said, sounding genuine. "Is the kitchen through his door?"

"Yes."

"Is there a back door? So I won't have to come back this way?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Mr Kent." Scardino turned and walked across the living room.

Clark took a couple of steps up the stairs and leant against the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. Lois wanted to leave him.

What had changed her mind?

It couldn't be that she was angry with him for not being there when Moyne had barged into the bedroom.

Clark deeply regretted that he hadn't been able to protect Lois. But it just wasn't in her nature to hold that against him.

So, why?

What had he done?

Clark couldn't find any answers.

There was movement in the bedroom - Lois was packing. He had to decide what he was going to do. And he had to decide now.

||_||

After feeling numb and detached since she had released Moyne from the death grip, Lois was now galvanised into purposeful intent.

She knew what she had to do.

Have a shower.

Dress.

Pack her very few clothes.

Tell Clark ... tell him what? Tell him *anything* that he would accept. Lie, if necessary. Last night, she had come within a heartbeat of killing a man. A few lies were not going to dent her conscience over much.

But lying to Clark ...

He - of all people - didn't deserve that.

But even more, he didn't deserve to be saddled with someone who could, at any time, transform into a raging killer.

So, she would lie to him. Tell him he had been right all along. This wasn't what she wanted.

He would be OK.

Moyne had gone. Soon, the poison would be gone.

Clark could reclaim his life in Smallville.

She'd seen enough from the local people to know that they would embrace him again. They would be the network that he needed.

She would lie to him. Then she would fly back to Metropolis with Scardino.

By tonight, this tragic, incredible, wonderful, extraordinary, distressing, implausible phase of her life would be over.

||_||

Lois put the last of her things into the suitcase and snapped it shut, relieved that she was going to be able to get into the bathroom without having to confront Clark. She gathered up the bundle of clothes that she had put aside and headed for the door.

She stopped abruptly.

Clark was there, standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, his face impassive.

"Excuse me," Lois said, deliberately keeping her eyes lower than his face.

His chest didn't move.

"Excuse me," she repeated to the folded arms.

He still didn't move.

She couldn't push past him without making significant contact, and right now, she didn't want his touch. Nothing was going to prevent her leaving, but she wasn't willing to risk touching Clark. Her determination was strong, but she wasn't sure it was that strong.

With a sinking feeling, Lois realised that they were going to have this out now. She didn't feel ready, but she doubted she would ever feel ready, so now was as good a time as any.

"You were right," she said in a low voice.

"Right about what?" Clark said.

His tone surprised her - it was devoid of the pain and desperation she had expected. Perhaps this *was* what he really wanted. "Right about me not wanting this," Lois said, studiously brushing a piece of fluff from her clothing. She had to be careful - no one could read her as flawlessly as Clark could.

"When did this become clear to you?" he asked.

"Last night. This morning. I've been thinking about it since we arrived in Smallville."

"You didn't seem to be thinking about it yesterday when you told me you were seriously attracted to me."

She had hoped that what had happened with Moyne would be enough to inhibit Clark from mentioning *that* particular discussion. "Later," she said hurriedly. "I realised later."

"When Moyne came?"

"This has nothing to do with him," she snapped.

Clark adjusted his arms a little and then settled them back on his chest. "Really?" he said sceptically.

"Really," Lois insisted. She sensed that his eyes had dropped and chanced a quick look up. Clark was looking at the floor, but there was nothing defeated in his stance.

His head rose, and their eyes clashed. "You told me a lot of things," he said quietly. "You didn't say them once, or twice, but many times. Every time I questioned you, you insisted that you knew exactly what you wanted."

"I was wrong."

"I don't believe you."

His statement, coolly delivered, felt like a smack against her face. "I can't help what you believe," Lois said, hardening her tone because she could feel her conviction was in danger of dissolving away to nothing.

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can," Clark said. "You know you can. You've been trying to influence what I believe since the moment you first walked into the cell."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice beginning to rise with frustration. "I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"You weren't wrong."

His conviction - so calm, so unexpected - felt like a condemning finger pointed directly at her soul. "You can't tell me what is right for me," she said, not caring that she sounded so perilously close to losing control.

"You've been doing that for me," he said.

There was no accusation in his tone. In fact, it sounded more like gratitude. But Lois was in no frame of mind to accept either. "I - "

"You knew what was best for both of us," Clark said. With a smooth movement, he unfolded his arms, slid from the doorjamb, and took a step towards her. "And you fought for it."

There was very little to be gained from telling him again that she had been wrong, so Lois just waited.

"You fought with such magnificent purpose, such inspiring passion that I couldn't help but begin to believe." His hands moved in harmony with his words, driving home his point.

"I'm sorry," Lois said. Her tears were very close. She needed to get out of the bedroom and into the haven of the bathroom where she could cry out her pain away from Clark.

"You showed me two things," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "You convinced me that we are meant to be together, and you taught me that when you want something that is right, you never, ever give up on it. When obstacles get in the way, you just keep on fighting."

Lois had nothing to say. There was a chance that she could out-argue Clark, but she couldn't out-argue the double whammy of Clark using her own logic against her.

He took another step forward. Lois snuck a look around him, trying to ascertain if it were going to be possible to make a dash past him. Except ... by now, Scardino had probably left with the piece of poison. And Clark was the man who could cross America in under ten seconds. Even if he'd only partially recovered, it was going to be a non-contest.

"So why don't you tell me what is really going on here?" Clark said.

She couldn't tell him. Clark would *never* understand how anyone could fall low enough to kill. To *want* to kill. "I can't," she said, dreading his response.

"OK," he said with such calmness that it shocked her more than his anger would have done. "Then I'm asking for two days."

"Two days?"

"You stay here for two days. On Friday, if you still want to leave, I'll fly you to Metropolis."

Lois had begun shaking her head as Clark had spoken the first sentence. "No," she breathed. "I need to go today."

"Why?" Clark said, his voice rising just a few degrees. "Why is it so important that you leave now?"

Because she was scared that if she didn't leave him now, she would never leave him. "Because I don't want to be here anymore."

"You don't want to be here? In Smallville?" he said. "Or you don't want to be with me?"

She had decided that she could lie to Clark, but she had never imagined that he would be like this. Never imagined that he wouldn't accept her decision. "I just want to leave."

"No, you don't, Lois," Clark said. "You *don't* want to leave. But you're scared of something, and I can't work out what it is."

Clark would probably deduce that he was the cause of her fear. Lois wasn't sure if that was good or bad. To allow a gentle and good man like Clark to believe that she feared him was reprehensible - but it was the truth. She feared that he would lavish his kindness on her - and she was so undeserving.

"It would make sense if you'd been scared of me from the start," Clark said. His voice had quieted again, but it now carried a raw intensity - as if he were pulling apart the hub of his emotions and exposing them to her scrutiny. "But you were *never* scared of me - even before you knew me."

"I'm ... I'm not scared of you," Lois said. "Not in the way you're thinking."

She could see him trying to decipher what other ways she could be scared of him. He gave up after a few silent moments. "Will you stay?" he said beseechingly. "Will you give me two days?"

"Two days for what?" she exclaimed.

"Two days to fight for us," Clark said. "Just like you fought for us."

"No, Clark," she breathed. "Please don't ask me to stay."

"It's my turn now," he said, full of hushed resolve. "You showed me that we are meant to be together. You showed me how important it is. You showed me how to fight, how to never give in, how to find solutions to every barrier."

"I ..."

"That's what you did," he insisted. "There was no possible way I could get out of the cell, but you did it. There was no possible way to get the poison out of my body, but you did it. There was no possible way for me to ever feel even slightly comfortable in this world that had condemned me for being an alien, but you did it. There was no possible way that you could ever convince me that a woman like you could want to be with someone like me, but you did it."

"Clark ..."

"I owe it to you to fight for this," he said in a voice fortified with steel. "Anything less would be an insult to the battle you have been so courageously fighting since you were first assigned to guard the alien brute."

Lois felt crushed into a corner. There was no way out. "Clark," she said, feeling her hysteria seep into her words. "You don't understand. I *wanted* to kill Moyne."

She'd expected Clark to recoil in horror. Or at least to brace himself against the awful truth of her outburst. "So did I," he said.

"No, you didn't," she shouted. "Despite everything he'd done to you, you still argued for his life. You didn't fall to his level. You didn't want him dead."

"Yes, I did," Clark said.

"No, you didn't," she fired back, hardly able to believe that Clark was denying what they both knew to be the truth.

"You didn't hear me, Lois," he said. "My reasons were not about Moyne - they were about you."

What had he said? Exactly? She couldn't remember.

"I said that you didn't deserve to kill," Clark said.

With a flash of illumination, she understood. Clark knew what it was like to be labelled a killer. He had suffered immeasurably, knowing everyone believed he was capable of taking life.

He hadn't wanted that for her.

But he was too late.

He had saved her from killing. But he couldn't save her from the knowledge of how much she had wanted Moyne to die.

Lois had no doubt that if Clark had kept silent, she would have watched Moyne die under her hands.

And felt no conscience at all.

"But if it had been you - if you had had the chance to kill him - you wouldn't have done it, would you?" she shot at him.

He couldn't hide the truth. He would never kill.

And that's where they were different.

"I want to leave with Scardino," Lois said coldly. She stepped towards the door.

Clark mirrored her movement and barred the way. "No," he said. "There's more. There's something else. Either tell me the truth or give me two days to change your mind."

"I'm not staying two days," she said flatly.

"Then tell me the truth."

The constrictive tourniquet around her emotions snapped. "All right," she screamed. "I've done it before. I've nearly killed. I've wanted to kill. I wanted to kill after what happened to Linda. I fell into a blind rage and almost killed the guard. It was just like last night. Something within me changed. Something within me worked loose and tricked me into believing that I had the right to end a life."

Her clothes tumbled to the floor, and her words stopped, replaced by gushing, uncontrollable tears.

Clark stepped up to her and surrounded her.

With his arms, with his chest, with his love, with his security.

Lois wept huge body-quaking sobs.

His hand cradled her head.

His voice provided a soothing bass to the shrieking soprano of her anguish.

It took a long time for her tears to slow enough that coherent speech was possible. Lois threw herself away from his chest and fired her final shot. "I am *not* who you think I am, Clark," she said. "I have something inside me. Something evil. Something uncontrollable. Inside, I am like Moyne and Trask. I am not like you."

His hands were on her shoulders. She jolted in a pathetic effort to break away. His grip tightened.

"I don't believe that," Clark said solemnly. "Not for one moment."

"How can you know what it feels like to be me?" she demanded.

"I can't," he admitted. "But I know that you haven't given yourself time to recover from the trauma of Linda's death. I know that you threw yourself into another emotionally charged situation way before you were ready to deal with anything. I know that you were forced into escaping from the cell before either of us had had the time to prepare. I know that you managed to hold everything together while trying to help a sometimes-difficult alien see that he could have a place in your world. And I know that, whatever you think about yourself, I will always love you."

Lois stared at him through raw and tear-filled eyes. "Clark," she said - softly now that her protest had lost all momentum. "Clark ... I am not the person you think you know."

His eyebrow lifted the tiniest amount. "Ms Lane," he said. "Are you trying to tell me that you're not sure you can be what I need?"

"Yes," she said, relieved that he'd finally understood.

His eyebrow lifted further, taking one side of his mouth with it. "That's *my* line," he said. "Remember?"

"You ... you are *exactly* what I need."

"What Moyne did to you was horrible," Clark said. For the first time, there was a tremor in his voice and a ripple of pain through his jaw. "You were hurting so much. You still are. At first, I wasn't sure that anything I could do would help. But last night, you called me. I went into the room, and although you were half-asleep, you clung to my hand, and immediately, you weren't afraid anymore. Maybe ... maybe that was because of me."

It had been. In the darkness and the confusion of sleep, Clark had been the light that she could trust.

"You were right about so much," Clark said. "What I did was important, but in the middle of the night, you didn't need anyone to *do* anything. You just needed me." His hand lifted from her shoulder, and his thumb skimmed across her cheek, wiping away her tears. "Just like I need you."

"You ... I can't ..."

"Two days," Clark said. "I promise I will fly you to Metropolis on Friday if you ask me to."

"I ... I feel so empty," Lois said. "I feel as if there's nothing there. I have nothing to give you."

"Two days," Clark said. "No pressure. No decisions. Just time for you ... me ... us ... to begin to heal."

"Can I have a shower now?" Lois asked.

"Do you agree to our deal?"

What choice did she have? If she left Clark now, she would break both of their hearts. She couldn't see how a future could work for them, couldn't see how she could ever be whole again, but she was too drained to fight anymore. "OK," she said. "Two days."

Clark's mouth didn't move, but his eyes smiled. "Good," he said, taking his hands from her. "I'll get the water."

"Excuse me?"

"The water," he said, with an innocent look as if she really should understand his meaning.

"What water?" Lois asked.

"The wound on your head has been seeping," he said. "Your hair needs washing. I'll get the water."

"You're going to wash my hair?" she gasped.

He winked, shattering his nonchalant manner. "It works brilliantly," he said. "I should know - I was taught by the very best."