Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Accused (5/15)

But, Clark ...

Clark could hurt her.

Clark could destroy her.

Because she loved him.

Lois jumped up from the seat.

Clark had been there for her more times than she could count. Now, it was her turn to be there for him.

And for that, she needed to know the details of the case against him.

So she could dismantle and disprove it. Piece by piece.

Until everyone knew rationally what she had known instinctively.

That Clark Kent was not a killer.


Part 5

The police officer was still guarding Clark's door, but the crowd had dwindled to a couple of middle-aged women, standing off to the side and sipping from steaming cups.

Lois approached the cop with purposeful strides. "I need to see Inspector Henderson."

"He left."

The light was still on in Clark's apartment. "Who's in there?"

The cop's heaved-out breath crackled with annoyance, but he said, "The forensic team is still working."

"Henderson told me it was a clear-cut case," Lois said casually. "Wonder what's taking them so long."

"Every crime scene has to be processed with scrupulous care," he said, sounding as if he were quoting from a manual.

"I figure you'll be glad when they finally finish," Lois said, hoping her comment sounded enough like sympathy to conceal that her true motive was a quest for more information. "You must be tired of standing out here in the cold."

"I will be here -" He stopped abruptly as if remembering that he shouldn't be chatting to anyone. However, that truncated sentence was enough to confirm Lois's assumption that Clark's apartment would be guarded all night in case he should return home.

Unfortunately, unless the cop was open to a bribe, getting access to the crime scene was going to be difficult.

"Has Henderson gone back to the police station?" Lois asked, keeping up the conversation while she mentally rummaged around Clark's apartment for another way in. There was the balcony, but unless you were Superman or skilled in abseiling, that wasn't a viable entrance or exit.

"I think he went home," the cop said, perhaps deciding it was permissible to alleviate his boredom if the information didn't relate directly to the case.

"Any idea when the forensic guys are expected to finish?"

"Another hour at least," he said.

"You're going to be frozen by then," Lois noted.

He shot her a look that clearly said she wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know.

"Do you get backup?" Lois said. "Surely they can't expect you to stay here alone all night."

"Our resources are stretched to breaking point," he said. "Everyone available is at the tunnel collapse."

"Is that still happening?" Lois asked, reflecting on how long it had been since a big story had unfolded in Metropolis without her being right in the thick of it.

"Yeah."

"I thought Superman was there."

"He is. But even he can't save hundreds at once. He could crash his way in, but if he did that, when he got to the front of the train, he'd only be rescuing bodies."

"People are still alive? And trapped?"

"Yeah. Lots of them. It's going to be a long night for everyone."

A long night when the team of Lane and Kent should be there, getting the story. Working together. "Bye," Lois said, turning away from the cop and wondering if, after a couple more hours of cold monotony, he might be willing to swap a cup of hot coffee for ten minutes in Clark's apartment.

She caught a cab to the police station.

It was uncharacteristically quiet, even considering the late hour.

Lois marched up to the counter. "Lois Lane, Daily Planet. Could I speak with Inspector Henderson, please?" she asked the young woman.

"I'm sorry. Inspector Henderson is off-duty."

"He wasn't off-duty an hour ago. I was talking to him then. I have further information about a case he's working on."

The woman paused for a moment. "I'll see if he's still here," she said, implicitly admitting that he was. A few moments later, she returned the phone and said to Lois, "The inspector will see you in Interview Room 18. It's along the -"

"I know where it is," Lois said. "Thank you very much."

Her eagerness for answers swept her to Room 18, but when she got there, it was empty. She sat in the chair and crumpled onto the table, letting out a long breath as the torrents of exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her.

Clark was out there somewhere, and each passing minute made her more inclined to believe he was unaware of what had happened to Mayson.

The news was going to shock him. And, being Clark, he was going to feel some responsibility because it had happened in his apartment.

The room was pleasantly warm. Soothingly quiet. Lois closed her eyes.

During the week spent with her mother, she'd yearned for her normal routine.

Working at the Planet. The thrill of chasing stories. The satisfaction of bringing home exclusives. The fulfilment of front-page headlines carrying her by-line.

And Clark.

She loved him.

She had probably loved him that day in Centennial Park, but she - the brave and intrepid reporter - had taken the safe route. The cowardly route.

But now ...

Now, she just needed to find him.

Where was he?

What did he know?

What had happened between him and Mayson?

What ...

__|~|__

The sound of the door closing startled Lois from her thoughts, and she jolted upright as Henderson slid into the chair on the other side of the table. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," he said. "It's been one of those nights."

He looked weary. His face was drawn and his eyes rimmed with red. "Thanks for seeing me," Lois said.

He gave her a ghost of a smile. "You have ten minutes," he said dryly. "And I'm only giving you that because I can sit down."

A glance to the wall clock told her over half an hour had passed since she'd come into the room. She must have dozed off.

"You said you have information for me," Henderson continued.

"I lied," Lois said, figuring neither of them had the time or the patience for quibbling. "But I need to know exactly what evidence you have against Clark."

Henderson didn't look particularly surprised by her admission. "I can't give the details of the case to a member of the press."

"I'm not here as a member of the press," she said. "I'm here as Clark's friend."

"I figured that," Henderson said. "Otherwise, I'd be in a cab now and on my way home."

"But you believe he did it?" Lois had tried to make her question sound like an accusation, but it came out sounding pathetically hopeful that there had been some new development.

"The forensic team is almost finished," Henderson said, "but they've found nothing that changes our assessment of the case."

"That Clark shot Mayson?"

Henderson nodded grimly.

Her protest leapt to her lips, but Lois swallowed it down. There was nothing to be gained from declaring Clark's innocence again. "What do you have?"

"A witness. And several eyewitness statements that support the main witness."

"Who's the witness?"

Henderson paused. "Do I need to remind you this is off the record?"

"No," Lois scoffed. "I'm here to protect Clark, not to get a story. I'll be doing everything I can to keep this *out* of the papers."

"The witness is Mrs McCreadie, Clark's neighbour."

"What did she see?"

"It seems Mrs McCreadie's life centres around her cat and watching over her neighbourhood."

"Go on."

"Her cat was sick. Therefore, she was up late. The cat was in a basket near the window. Mrs McCreadie saw it all."

"Saw what?" Lois asked, aghast. "Is she saying she actually *saw* Clark shoot Mayson?"

"No. She -"

"Then it's circumstantial."

Henderson reached behind him for two clean coffee cups and two sachets of sugar. He positioned the coffee cups on the table. "This is Clark's apartment," he said. He pointed to the handle of the cup. "And this is his front door."

Lois nodded.

"This is Mrs McCreadie's apartment." He positioned the handle of second cup perpendicular to the first. "This is her second floor window. It overlooks Clark's door."

Lois had never noticed the proximity of the window or that it provided such a perfect opportunity to monitor the comings and goings of Clark's apartment.

"We checked out the sick-cat story with the vet," Henderson said. "He confirms that Mrs McCreadie left his surgery about nine o'clock. She met Clark at his front door just before ten."

It was strangely comforting to know Clark's whereabouts less than four and a half hours ago. A lot had happened since then, but it seemed like the first real connection they had shared for a week. "Was Clark leaving?" she asked. "Or coming home?"

"Coming home. He said he'd worked late. Mrs McCreadie had noticed a blonde woman visiting him regularly, so she made a light comment about him possibly expecting company."

"Mayson?" Lois said, trying to keep the tumult of her emotions from encroaching into her question.

"Yes. We showed Mrs McCreadie a photo of Mayson, and she positively identified her as the woman who has been visiting Clark."

"What did Clark say about expecting company?" Lois asked.

"Mrs McCreadie said he was noncommittal. He didn't say he was expecting her."

"Perhaps he wasn't too happy to discover she had been spying on him."

"Maybe. They talked for a short time - mostly about her sick cat. Then they parted ways - Mrs McCreadie to her apartment, Clark to his." Henderson put one of the sugar sachets in the cup representing Clark's apartment.

"When did Mayson arrive?"

"About ten minutes later."

"She went into Clark's apartment?"

"Yes." The second sachet went into the cup. "But the door was left open."

"Open?"

"From her vantage point, the witness couldn't see into the apartment, but she could see the splash of light outside, indicating the door was open."

Lois nodded, not sure how that was relevant.

"It was probably because of the open door that she was able to hear some of the interaction between Mayson and Clark," Henderson said.

"Interaction?"

"She heard screaming. A woman screaming."

"Screaming in fear? Anger?"

"Anger, she thought."

"Did she hear anyone respond?"

"No."

"Did she hear anything specific? Words?"

Henderson fidgeted with the sugar sachets. "She only heard one line clearly."

"And that was?"

"She heard Mayson scream, 'You cheated on me, Clark.'"

Lois shook her head. "Clark wouldn't do that."

"We don't know that he did," Henderson said. "But the fact that Mayson accused him of it gives us a possible motive."

"What motive?"

Henderson sighed. "I know Clark, too," he said. "I know he always seemed to be an honest, straight-up guy."

"Now you think he's a cheat and a murderer," Lois said.

"All I'm saying is that this wouldn't be the first time someone who lives very honourably has panicked when faced with the possibility of a tarnished reputation."

Lois snorted. "Does that *really* sound like Clark Kent to you?"

"No," Henderson admitted. "But I have to keep coming back to the concrete evidence." His gaze settled on the cup. "Two people in one room. One is shot, the other runs away."

"What else did the witness say?"

"Five or six minutes after she arrived, Mayson left Clark's apartment." Henderson took one sachet from the cup and held it a couple of inches away. "She was moving quickly and appeared upset. Clark followed her, caught up to her, and they had a quick conversation. Clark reached out for her, but she swung at his hand and then ran away. He walked back to his apartment and shut the door." The sachet demonstration copied his words - one back in the cup, one tucked into Henderson's hand.

"So we know Mayson was with Clark, and she was alive when she left?" Lois said.

"That time, yes."

"She came back?"

"A bit over half an hour later, Mayson returned."

"Why would she come back?"

"There was a baking pan on the stairs. Mayson's sister has already identified it as being a Christmas present from their grandmother. Our best guess is that Mayson realised it was over with Clark, so she went back to get the pan."

"Did she go into his apartment?" Lois asked.

"Yes. She strode up to Clark's door, the door opened, and she went in." Henderson put the second sachet in the cup. "Within a couple of minutes, a shot was fired. Mrs McCreadie said it was about ten-fifty, and the early forensic investigations don't disagree." Henderson stared at the cup and muttered, "Two people. One shot." He angrily flung both sachets across the table. "It's such a mess."

Lois agreed, but she had too many questions to dwell on that now. "How can the witness be sure Clark didn't leave his apartment in that half an hour between Mayson's visits?"

Henderson looked up from glaring at the cups. "After hearing the shot, Mrs McCreadie watched the area below, not moving from the window," he said listlessly. "Less than five minutes later, Clark emerged from the door. Initially, Mrs McCreadie believed someone - probably the blonde woman - had fired at Clark and he was making an escape. She called 911, and she swears she didn't take her eyes from the doorway until the police arrived."

"She didn't see anyone else leave?"

"No. She is positive that no one did. She was very worried about the safety of the police as they entered the apartment." Henderson met Lois's eyes. "I was with Wolfe. There was no one in that apartment. Only Mayson."

"She was already dead?"

"Yeah. Single shot to the back of the head."

"She was on the stairs," Lois said, remembering her glimpse of the body.

"Yes. From the way she fell, it seems most likely she was heading for the door."

Lois said nothing as she reviewed Henderson's story. Given the facts as presented, it wasn't difficult to see how he - and Wolfe - had concluded that Clark had to be guilty.

But she couldn't accept it.

Clark wouldn't shoot anyone.

"You said you have other statements?" Lois asked.

"Yeah. The shot caused a few people to look out of their windows. Three others say they saw a figure running away from the apartment."

"A figure?" Lois said quickly. "Did anyone identify Clark?"

"Mrs McCreadie did. She is sure it was him."

"And the others?"

"One wouldn't attempt any identification. When pressed, one said it could have been Clark. The other one thought it was him. She didn't know his name, but she said it was the man who lives in the apartment at the end."

"Mayson died just before eleven o'clock?"

"Yes."

"So it was dark. It could have been someone else -"

"That area is quite well lit at night."

"The witness is absolutely sure it was Clark?" Lois said.

"Yes. She is."

"He wouldn't run away. It wasn't him."

"Then do you have an explanation for how Clark got out of the apartment? He was there earlier. He was seen going into his apartment after the confrontation with Mayson. He wasn't there when I arrived with Wolfe."

"Has the forensic team finished?" Lois asked.

"Yes. Fifteen minutes ago."

"And Mayson ... Mayson has been taken away?"

"Yes."

But the cop would still be on guard in case Clark returned to his home. "I want to go into Clark's apartment," Lois said. "I've been there many times before. I might notice something the forensic team didn't know was significant."

"You can't -"

"OK."

"Lo-is." Henderson's tone said he hadn't been fooled by her quick compliance. "Please leave it for tonight. If you go there by yourself and you do find something the forensic guys missed, you won't have any way of proving you didn't tamper with evidence to try to shift the suspicion from Clark."

"I will if you come with me."

Henderson didn't seem surprised by her suggestion. "I will," he said. "But not tonight."

"Bill!" Lois cried. "The entire Metropolis PD has decided that Clark Kent is a killer. He's out there somewhere, and -"

"Lois, it's late. I've been on duty since seven o'clock this morning. I start again in just over four hours. Part of our city collapsed on top of hundreds of our citizens, and someone from the DA's department has been found dead in the apartment of a prominent reporter. Tomorrow -"

"By then, Clark will probably have been charged, convicted, and sentenced."

"I'll meet you at Clark's apartment at six-thirty, tomorrow morning," Henderson said. "We'll look through it together. Then, if you find anything, I can verify it."

"But you don't think we'll find anything, do you?"

Henderson dejectedly shook his head. "I don't know what happened between Clark and Mayson, but I can't see any alternative to Clark having shot her. I wish I could."

"No," Lois said. "Clark wouldn't do that. He wouldn't. I'm sure of it."

"We can never be sure of how someone else will react under pressure, Lois," Henderson said. "If this job has taught me only one thing, it's that."

"Well, I haven't learned that lesson yet," Lois said. "And I'm going to prove that Clark didn't kill Mayson."

Henderson slowly rose to his feet, exhaustion and despair shrouding him like a heavy cloak. "Promise me you won't go to Clark's apartment," he said.

"Is the cop going to be there all night?"

"Yes. And I've already told him that if he lets anyone in - particularly you - he won't get even a sniff of a promotion for ten years."

Lois was smart enough to know when she'd been outmanoeuvred. "Six-thirty?" she said.

"Yes. I'll be there."

"And if anything happens before then, you'll call me?"

"Yes."

Lois stood, too. "He didn't do it, Bill," she said. "Clark couldn't hurt anyone."

"Do you have *any* idea where he might be?" Henderson said. "Because the longer he is missing, the worse it's going to be for him."

"I looked for him," Lois said, "but I couldn't find him."

"He didn't come to you? Your apartment?"

"No. I went back and checked." A sudden thought exploded in her mind. "He's not at Northwood, is he? Doing his job?"

"No," Henderson said. "Every cop there is looking out for him." He opened the door of the interview room, and they walked out together. "Want to share a cab home?"

"Are you worried I'll try to get into Clark's apartment without you?"

"Yes," he said. "And that is only going to make things worse for Clark."

Henderson had been more candid that she had any right to expect. And although he believed Clark had fired the shot that had killed Mayson, he was trying to get the best outcome for Clark. Lois nodded. "I won't try to get into Clark's apartment until tomorrow morning," she promised.

"I'll be there."

They walked out of the police station and waited for a cab in the cold night air.

__|~|__

Lois paced up and down her living room.

Everything within her protested about being here. Her city was embroiled in a life and death battle, victims were trapped, Superman was heading up a massive rescue effort.

Every reporter in the city of Metropolis would be there.

Except for her.

She was at home.

But Clark was in trouble. And missing.

She swung around abruptly to avoid crashing into the wall and tried - for the thousandth time - to find a hole in the case Henderson had outlined.

Lois had to admit that it seemed clear-cut. And with anyone other than Clark, she would have been swayed to accept the obvious.

Perry had a saying about ducks ...

And this looked unambiguous. The police case established opportunity. Motive. And they had a damning witness statement.

But Clark ...

Clark didn't shoot people. And he didn't run away from his mistakes.

The only possible reason for his continuing absence was that he didn't know what had happened to Mayson.

He had to be somewhere else.

But where?

The one place he regularly visited was Smallville, but if he'd been planning to go home to see his folks, he would have told Perry.

Lois forced herself to sit on the sofa. She hauled in a humungous breath and slowed the commotion buzzing through her mind.

She closed her eyes.

Imagined the cups and sugar sachets.

And carefully reviewed every detail Henderson had given her.

Clark arriving home ...

Mayson arriving ...

The argument ...

Mayson's angry words -

Lois's eyes shot open.

Mayson had accused Clark of cheating.

Lois's reaction had been to jump to his defence. But in doing that, she had missed the real significance.

There was a third person in this.

The other woman.

Clark - probably upset by the confrontation with Mayson - had slipped out of his apartment, unseen by the witness, and gone to the other woman, seeking support and comfort.

He was probably with her now.

As a theory, it was patchy. It didn't explain who had killed Mayson or how the killer had entered Clark's apartment unseen or how Clark's neighbour had identified Clark as the person leaving after the shot had been fired.

But it did explain Clark's disappearance.

He'd gone to his lover. They were probably tucked up in bed together, oblivious to collapsed tunnels and shattering reputations.

Lois waited for the roll of relief. Clark was probably safe.

But it wasn't relief that swept through her.

It was jealousy.

The thought of Clark in bed - in love - with someone else felt like splinters of glass piercing her heart.

She had no right to feel jealous.

Clark had offered her his love. She had told him she would only ever love him as a friend.

So he had quietly found someone else.

So quietly, Mayson hadn't known. Mayson had convinced herself that she had something with Clark, only to find out that his heart lay elsewhere.

She'd been blind - but not as blind as Lois had been.

And she certainly hadn't deserved to die.

Who had killed her?

The most likely scenario was someone seeking revenge for something related to her work in the DA's department.

The killer had followed her to Clark's apartment, killed her, and run off. Perhaps he had donned some of Clark's clothes, trying to swing the glare of suspicion to Clark.

Perhaps Mrs McCreadie had looked away and missed the moment when the real killer had arrived at Clark's apartment. Perhaps she had only *thought* the person running away was Clark. It had been dark. And she could have been shaken by the sound of gunfire.

It didn't answer all of the accusations levelled at Clark, but it was more plausible than believing he had killed a friend and then run away.

So ...

If Clark didn't know about Mayson's death, when he found out, he was going to be upset, but he wouldn't be devastated.

He could give the police the details of his alibi, and then they, Clark and Lois, would investigate together and solve Mayson's murder.

Lois would work alongside her partner, knowing that when their day was over, he would return to the woman he loved.

Lois's tears erupted.

She had exactly what she'd said she wanted from Clark.

For them to be friends. Partners.

His voice cannoned through the corridors of her mind.

I have been in love with you for a long time. You must have known.

Had she known?

Had she known that Clark Kent was in love with her?

Yes, she'd known.

But she'd run away.

Into the arms of a criminal.

And now, it was too late.

Her tears of loss surged and spilled, pounding her until her throat felt parched and her heart felt bruised.

She shakily rose from the sofa and turned on the television.

The news channel was covering the rescue live.

The reporters and interviewees were gushing in their praise of Superman. The death toll stood at fourteen. Estimates were that it would have been fifty times that without the help of the superhero.

It had taken nearly four hours, but all of the survivors had been freed from the tunnel and transported to the hospital. Without Superman's help, it would have taken days to reach the front of the train where it had ploughed into the collapsed debris, bringing another section down on itself. The reporter said it was believed that Superman was now recovering the bodies of the victims.

The coverage jumped to an interview with a city engineer. He warned commuters that the entire subway system would be closed down until all tunnels had been checked. When pushed by the reporter to give an estimated timeframe, he said that Superman's involvement would hasten the process, but the priority was safety, not convenience.

Lois knew she should be there.

It was going to be a big story. Now that all the survivors had been rescued, there would be questions asked about public safety, about negligence by the rail authorities. Current maintenance practices would be scrutinised. There would be follow-up stories as the survivors battled their injuries. The death toll would be carefully monitored. Loved ones would be reunited. There would be tributes to those who had died. There would be stories of lucky escapes and stories of the tragedy of being caught in the wrong place.

This event would be current for at least a week.

And the Daily Planet was relying on Ralph.

She should go.

Perhaps she would be able to get a few words with Superman. Perhaps she would be able to glean some small insight that would allow her to write a story to make a contribution to the Planet's coverage.

She was a reporter. She had a job to do.

Perhaps, when Clark heard about the disaster, he would come to Northwood. Or perhaps he would call her cell phone.

Perhaps, she would have the chance to break the news about Mayson and warn him that the police wanted to speak with him. Perhaps they could go to the station together.

Lois hauled herself from her sofa, turned off the television, picked up her bag, and left her apartment.