A second trip to the hospital in just twenty-four hours, Clark groused to himself. At least he was conscious for this trip and his mom was with him. That was at least one bit of comfort although he did feel vaguely unsettled that Lois hadn't come with him. But then, Lois was probably as weirded out by the whole gender switch as he was and wasn't sure what was and was not appropriate behavior for her.
The EMT fussed over him, taking his blood pressure and checking his vital signs, while Martha looked on from the front seat of the ambulance.
Yesterday everything had seemed so clear – rescue Lois from a madman and get on with their lives together. Now nothing was clear or straight forward and Lola, poor child-like Lola, was dead. He hadn't been able to save her. Of all the people he had failed to save, including Mayson Drake, Lola's death was actually the most painful. She had run out to protect him and her rival Lois, and had died for it.
Superman is dead and Lola paid the price for it too.
The EMTs explained Clark's condition and turned him over to the ER staff. Apparently it was a quiet evening in Metropolis – there was no waiting to get treatment.
"With Superman dead, the MPD has beefed up their patrols," one of the nurses explained. "So, tonight's been quiet. Plus I guess we keep hoping that the reports on Superman's death were wrong. I mean, he was Superman, right?"
"Yeah, he was," Clark said. "But even a superman can die." It was heartening to know that his work had been appreciated in Metropolis and that Superman would be missed.
Shortly, the nurse left and Clark was alone with his mother for the first time since all of this happened.
"Mo…" He caught himself – no one could know about Alexa's real relationship with the Kents. "Mrs. Kent, why would anyone want Lola dead?"
"How about 'Aunt Martha'?" she suggested with a smile.
Clark nodded, returning the smile. "Aunt Martha."
"What makes you think she was the target?" she asked.
"Morris had plenty of time to get me before she ran out," Clark said. "I don't think he cared if he killed me, but I don't think I was the target."
"Assuming you're right, then I would guess that someone was afraid she knew something about something and didn't want whatever it was to get out," Martha said. "Luthor had coached her to access the safe deposit box at the bank. Maybe she knew how to access more than just that safe deposit box."
"That makes sense," Clark agreed. "Luthor wouldn't have left himself with just one cache. He might have even put the other instructions as a post-hypnotic suggestion, so she couldn't tell anyone that she knew."
"She may not have known that she knew," Martha suggested.
The curtain to the cubicle was pushed aside and the ER doctor walked in. "Well, your X-rays came up clear, so I see no reason why you can't just go home," he said. "But have your personal physician check on the wound in a few days and don't hesitate to come back if the pain gets worse, or if there's any sign of infection."
"I'll make sure she does that," Martha assured the doctor.
Detective Reed and Wilkerson were waiting for them as they left the ER.
"This time, someone really is assigned close protection duty for you," Reed explained. "Plus, we never did get to take your statement." Reed gave Clark a pointed look as she opened the car door for him.
"Sorry about that," Clark said. "I just have a really serious aversion to doctors and hospitals. And after what's happened the last couple days…" He let his voice trail off, hoping Reed would take the hint that he didn't want to talk about it. Besides, he had no idea what Lois had told them about that happened.
"So," Reed began as Wilkerson started the car. "What were you doing in Luthor's bunker?"
"I honestly have no idea," Clark said. He didn't want to lie to Reed but he doubted she would believe the truth – that he had gone there as Superman to rescue Lois. "The first thing I remember is waking up in that canister and seeing Superman and Lois Lane dead on the floor."
"How do you know they were dead?" Reed asked.
"Their chests had large holes in them," Clark said. "Very large holes."
"Was there anyone else there?"
"Um… Martin was in a canister like mine and Luthor was standing over the bodies with some sort of weapon. Then the police came, ordered Luthor to drop his weapon, he didn't and he was shot."
"When did you first meet Mister Luthor?" Reed asked.
"I never did," Clark said. "The first I'd ever even seen him in the flesh was in the bunker."
"But wasn't he your father-in-law?"
"I'm told that the police found documents to that effect," Clark said. "But I had no knowledge of Luthor's relationship to Martin prior to this morning. And I don't think Martin did either, not really." It was weird referring to Lois as 'Martin'. The name didn't fit the person he knew but it was the name he was stuck using thanks to Luthor.
"How did you meet Mrs. Kent here?"
"Through Clark Kent," Clark answered. "Martin had some crazy idea that we could help him find his fiancée."
"And what gave him that idea?" Reed asked.
Clark just shook his head. He had no idea what Lois had told the police.
"So, you've been married, what… a week?"
Clark nodded.
"Detective, why are you asking so many questions about Martin and Alexa?" Martha interrupted. "She's told you what she knows about that happened in the bunker."
"I don't like unfinished puzzles," Reed said. "And the Alexanders are definitely an unfinished puzzle. I checked. Despite the documents we found – and they appear to be utterly authentic – Martin and Alexa Alexander didn't exist until just this week. They have no cell phones, no credit card charges, and the clothes in their suitcases had never been worn. So, either they've just been processed by the Feds for witness protection – in which case somebody fell down on the job in briefing them on their new lives – or someone else, probably Luthor, arranged all new identities for them. And if it was Luthor, well that begs the question of why, since neither of you show up in any of our databases, including federal ones, as persons of interest. So, what gives?"
"You won't believe me," Clark warned.
"Honey, don't," Martha said. She placed a hand on his arm.
"What won't I believe?" Reed prompted.
"You know that Luthor was behind Mamba's cloning of the President, right?" Clark asked.
"That's what Mamba told us before the case was handed to the feds," Reed said.
"Luthor also commissioned Mamba to create two other bodies," Clark said, "designed to his specifications. He had some bizarre idea that he could transfer his consciousness into one of the bodies and so escape justice. Needless to say, it didn't work."
"You're trying to tell us that you were manufactured like the president's double?" Wilkerson finally spoke up.
"Al Capone, John Dillinger and Bonnie and Clyde went on a bank robbery and murder spree only fifteen months ago," Clark reminded him. "Is it such a stretch to think that Luthor manufactured his own heir?"
Reed snorted. "You're right. I don't believe you. I've met Mamba's other creations and you're not one of them. Which leads me right back to the feds, and I know they won't admit to diddly squat, or some shenanigan of Luthor's and you're too scared to talk about it."
Wilkerson stopped the car in front of the Imperial. Clark had attended meetings in the grand old dame of Metropolis hotels. It wasn't as brightly modern as the Lexor but it had its own charm and a recent remodeling had given it all the modern amenities. Clark wondered a little at who had chosen for them to stay at the Imperial rather than the Lexor – Lois or Henderson?
Reed got out of the car with Clark and Martha. "My orders are to get you to your suite in one piece," Reed explained.
"Do you think your boss will mind if we make a couple stops on the way?" Martha asked, eyeing Clark's clothes.
Suddenly Clark felt self-conscious. He was still wearing the scrubs he'd 'liberated' from the hospital that morning, only now they had blood on them and the blouse had a tear where the bullet had torn through.
Reed looked Clark up and down and nodded.
"Just don't tell my wife about this, okay?" Wilkerson said when told of the change in plans. "She'll make me go shopping with her. And I hate shopping."
"Well, you can wait by the door," Reed told him.
To Clark's horror, their first stop was the Victoria's Secret which opened just off the hotel lobby. Martha grabbed a sales clerk. "My niece's luggage was stolen so we need to replace everything," she explained.
"And what sizes are you?" the clerk asked Clark.
Clark gave his mother a horrified look.
Martha chuckled. "She needs to be measured."
At least Reed didn't laugh when the clerk brought out the tape measure and the experience wasn't as horrific as Clark had feared. The woman was able to do the actual measuring over his clothes.
"You know, you have the same measurements as Marilyn Monroe," the clerk observed. "Do you have a preferred style for the bras?"
Clark shook his head.
"Underwire, padded, uplift, convertible, lacey, barely there…?" the clerk went on.
Martha answered. "Cotton, simple, two underwire, one black, one nude, a couple suitable for sports and one convertible in nude."
"And panties?"
"Half a dozen cotton hip-huggers in nude," Martha told the clerk. She turned to Clark. "You can always get something more daring later." She pointed to the clothing. "Go pick out some sleep bottoms and tops, a robe and some leggings and exercise tops."
"There're some really cute sundresses over there, too," Reed chimed in. Clark gave her a horrified look before going to choose the simplest fabric patterns he could find for pajamas and exercise clothes.
Reed found a brightly colored sundress and held it to herself. "Heck, I should pick some things up here."
The pile on the counter was getting larger as Martha picked out some shirts and several pairs of loose pants for him.
Clark picked out a long halter-top dress in black. It would have looked good on Lois.
"Honey, go with the navy," Reed instructed. "The black is just too much for your coloring."
Clark put the black one back and pulled out the navy one. He had no idea what Reed meant by black being too much for his new coloring, but it wasn't worth arguing about.
"That blue tie-dyed number would look great on you, too," Reed added. Clark added it the pile.
"The green one would be a good color on you," Martha told Reed.
"Yeah," Reed agreed. "I really have to come back here and do some shopping."
The clerk brought over the bras Martha had specified. "The dressing room's over there," she told them.
"Do I have to?" Clark complained.
"Yes," Martha told him. "We have to make sure they fit right and give enough support."
"But…"
"Honey," Martha lowered her voice to a near whisper, "that madman didn't do you any favors by giving you so much up front. Breast tissue is delicate and breaks down. You don't want 'em down at your waist now, do you?"
Clark opened his mouth then shut it again. He hadn't realized until now exactly how complicated his life was becoming. Lois had never talked about bras or breast tissue breaking down and Lois hadn't been exactly small breasted.
Clark grabbed two different styles and went into the dressing room. To his horror, Martha walked in behind him.
"I can do this myself," he protested.
"Honey, the closest thing to a bra you've ever worn was a sports cup," Martha told him. "And there's nothing you've got that I haven't seen… in a mirror."
"Mo… Aunt Martha!" Clark hissed at her. His cheeks felt warm and he was sure he was blushing.
She simply laughed and handed him the underwire.
A/N: Marilyn Monroe (according to the studios) was 5' 5 1/2", 115-120 lbs, 37-23-36.
-o-o-o-
As Henderson had promised, Donal O'Brien had been waiting in the lobby of the Imperial when Lois and Jonathan walked in. Lois recognized him from her previous interview with him. He hadn't changed much – he was still a fit older man with close-cropped hair and a well tailored suit, although he was grayer than he'd been the last time they'd met.
Lois had to remind herself that Martin Alexander had never met Donal O'Brien.
"Bill apprised me of the situation," O'Brien said once the introductions were made and they were away from prying eyes and ears. "You're Luthor's previously unknown heir. He had a lot of enemies, you've just come into what may be what's left of his fortune, and someone has already made an attempt on your wife's life."
"We're not sure she was the target," Lois added.
"But she did end up in the ER," O'Brien said meaningfully.
Lois had to concede the point.
"Real bodyguards, or close protection officers, aren't like what you see in the movies or on TV," O'Brien explained. "It's not a single Rambo type, it's a professionally trained team – more like a scaled down version of the team that protects the president or visiting dignitaries. Our job is not to take the bullet for you but to make sure you don't walk into a situation where there is a bullet."
He went on to explain about armored Rovers and Suburbans, how the driver stayed with the car while someone accompanied the principals. That person checked out the area and kept away overly inquisitive members of the media – or anyone else who wanted to get too close without permission.
O'Brien mapped out his suggestions for security and gave her the price tag. It was less than she had expected – not that money was an issue for the moment. Lois agreed to hire O'Brien's team, at least until she and Clark had a better handle on the situation.
A car, driver and CPO would be there in the morning to pick her and Clark up so they could run whatever errands they needed to take care of.
The price tag reminded Lois that she and Clark needed to sit down and talk about Luthor's millions. Did they even want to keep it? Lois knew it was money Luthor had gotten illegally, even if it couldn't be proven. And Clark was such a boy scout he would no doubt want to be rid of it.
On the other side was the fact that Martin and Alexa Alexander were unemployed and unemployable. As far as she knew they had no employment record and no documentable education. And no one was going to take the risk of hiring the son and daughter-in-law of Superman's murderer.
"Lois…" Jonathan began after O'Brien left.
"We should probably get used to using the other names," Lois said. "But 'Martin' is just so…"
"Jokey, considering who chose it?" Jonathan filled in for her.
"Yeah."
"How about the middle name, Joseph? Joey?" Jonathan suggested.
Lois thought about it a moment, rolling the variations through her mind. Joseph Alexander… Joey Alexander… Joe Alexander… Louis Alexander… Lane Alexander…
"Lane." Lois announced. "Lane Alexander. At least I won't forget to answer to it."
"Okay, 'Lane' it is," Jonathan agreed with a smile. "Lane, one of the things you and 'Alexa' really need to do tomorrow is find a good investment counselor. I know all that money looks like a huge pile now, but you two need to figure out your priorities and put the money to work for you. Otherwise you'll end up making foolish choices and frittering it away."
"You think Clark and I can't handle it?" she asked.
Jonathan shook his head. "It's not that. It's just that, well, you've read the stories about lottery winners."
"Yeah. They think those free millions will solve all their problems," Lois said. "Then they blow through it and are left with nothing but the taxes. So, no private jets at private airstrips?"
"No private jets at private airstrips."
There was a knock at the door. Jonathan gestured for Lois to stay seated as he went to the answer it. Lois could hear the conversation on the other side – Martha, Clark, and Detective Reed were speaking to the man O'Brien had left in the hallway. Lois was surprised she could hear them so clearly – the last time she'd been able to do that was when she was… Ultrawoman.
Was it possible that Luthor's specifications for his new body had included some 'super' modifications? Had Mamba gotten his hands on some cells from Superman without anyone realizing it? Was that why Mamba was now in the hands of the Feds? So many questions and so few answers.
Lois checked her forearms. She had hit Morris hard enough to break his arm and hadn't even gotten bruised. She wondered what other surprises they were going to find as time went on. And how was Clark going feel about what Luthor had planned?
Jonathan opened the door.
Martha hurried into the suite's living area. Her arms were filled with bags from Eddie Bauer. Clark's bags were labeled Victoria's Secret. Lois recalled that both stores were on the main floor of the building.
Clark – 'Alexa' – was finally out of the scrubs. He – she – was wearing ballet flats, white leggings, and a loose off-the-shoulder tunic in pale blue.
To Lois's surprise, she felt her male body responding to the sight of Clark's female body. "Uh, wow," she managed to say.
"Um, I think 'Aunt Martha' never outgrew dressing up Barbie," Clark said, looking down at himself.
Reed laughed, bid them all a good evening and shut the door behind her.
"Do I want to know how much this set us back?" Jonathan asked his wife.
"I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I got my ID from the police tomorrow," Clark said. He looked over at Lois. "I never realized how complicated being female was in this society. Have you any idea how much a decent bra costs?"
Lois laughed. "Why do you think I have a drawer full of old ones I couldn't bear to throw out?" Then her expression grew somber as she realized what she'd just said. "I used to have a drawer full. I guess Lucy will be getting all my clothes, or one of the charities. I don't dare let my folks know what happened."
"You still have us," Martha said, giving her a hug. Lois carefully hugged her back. She didn't know if or when any other powers might kick in.
"So, what gives with the guy at the door?" Clark asked.
"Henderson arranged for us to hire the O'Brien Agency to provide security, at least until we get everything figured out," Lois explained. "Maybe if we'd thought of it earlier, maybe Lola wouldn't be dead."
Clark sighed. "I can't help feeling that I failed her," he said. "That I should have been able to stop it."
"Honey, we've been through this," Martha said. "Even Superman couldn't save everyone."
"And speaking of Superman," Lois said, "we need to talk to Klein and Hamilton tomorrow. I think Luthor still had some of Superman's DNA and gave it to Mamba."
"What makes you think that?" Clark asked.
Lois shrugged. "Little things," she said, "like I broke Morris's arm without trying."
"Anything else?"
Lois tugged on her ear to indicate hearing.
"I had hoped that Leek's creation had destroyed all of Luthor's samples," Clark said. "Obviously at least one viable sample survived." Clark ran a hand through his hair, a sure sign of frustration.
"Have you shown any signs of…?" Lois asked.
Clark shook his head. "Luthor would have wanted to keep all the power for himself. He would never have run the risk of allowing anyone else the ability to stop him."
"I'm hoping Klein will be able to tell us how this consciousness transfer happened so we can have our genders switched back to something we're a little more used to," Lois said. "Besides, I've done the super hero bit and I don't think I was ever so happy as when I handed it back to you."
"Don't sell yourself short. You did a great job," Clark assured her.
"Not as good as you did."
"I just had more practice."
"Yeah, maybe."
Jonathan and Martha ordered room service for the four of them while Lois and Clark put Clark's new clothes away.
The undergarments had all the earmarks of Martha's practicality. Even the pajamas were practical – a small pastel geometric print bottom and white knit top. The sundresses were the only real surprise – Lois hadn't expected that Clark would be willing to wear a dress, much less a tie-died halter-top ankle length dress with bead trim.
The gender change had to be especially hard on him – he'd been Superman, for God's sake. How much more masculine could someone get?
For herself, except for a spate of ultra-femininity in high school, Lois had always been a tomboy. She had preferred trucks over Barbie dolls, jeans rather than skirts, and hanging out with the athletes who were her father's patients rather than the girls from school. Her career at the Planet had included going undercover as guys – she was lucky she was slender enough to pull it off and most people didn't look beyond the external. Women didn't have moustaches so even a fake one was enough to fool most people into thinking she was a guy. The rest was body language and attitude.
It was just hard sometimes to remember not to do the 'feminine' things she was used to, like curling up on the sofa, but she'd discovered that she could read Jonathan's reaction to when she acted out of character well enough to catch herself. In a few days she would no doubt have it down pat.
Besides, there was something very 'efficient' about being able to stand up while going pee.
But it would be nice to get back into a female body, if only so she could wear something other than trousers or jeans.
Clark had finished putting his new clothes in the dresser and sat down on the bed. The suite had two bedrooms – both with king beds and full baths – and Jonathan and Martha had already claimed one of them. That left Lois and Clark with the other bedroom and just one bed. And even though there was a marriage license, Lois didn't feel very married. At least Clark had gone through the wedding ceremony, even if it had been with the wrong Lois Lane.
Lois flopped down next to Clark. "Just one bed," she said unnecessarily.
"It's a big bed," Clark said. He reached over and took her hand. It was a simple gesture, but she could feel the love coming from him.
"Are you okay?" she asked gently.
"I don't know," Clark admitted. "I've spent the last almost thirty years of my life as a guy. Now I'm a twenty-something female with Marilyn Monroe's measurements. It's a big change. I have to learn how to act the part. My balance is off, and I have no idea how women actually walk in high heels. Just getting dressed is a whole new adventure. How about you?"
"It's a little weird, like not knowing my own strength," she said. "But it's more than just the physical change. People look at me differently. As Lois, I had to push harder to get people to respect me as a person, as a journalist. I know it sounds petty, but there were times I wished I was a guy just so people would listen to my questions instead of concentrating on my boobs."
Clark managed a smile. "You did have very nice boobs."
"Not as nice as yours," Lois quipped.
There was a knock on the door. "Dinner's here," Martha called.
Over their meal Lois explained the security arrangements and Clark filled them in on the information Reed had passed on concerning the lack of information about Martin and Alexa Alexander.
"She seems pretty convinced that we're innocents that Luthor planned on using in one of his insane schemes," Clark finished.
"It helps that she's right," Lois said. "Just not in the way she thinks she is."
"Any word on the autopsies?" Martha asked.
Lois shook her head. "Not that Henderson or the ME is obligated to tell us anything. We're not members of the press. I hadn't realized exactly how much that meant to me. I miss being in the know."
"Maybe you can talk to Perry," Martha suggested. "Explain things to him so he'll give you jobs."
"Even if we had credentials and portfolios, which we don't, Perry would never hire Lex Luthor's son and daughter-in-law," Lois said.
"We could do free-lance work under assumed names," Clark suggested. "That would give us new portfolios."
"We could become private investigators," Lois said with a grin. "It's not like we don't know how."
"We'd have to hire Jimmy away from the Planet," Clark said. "I don't know anybody who's better with computers."
"You could talk to Mister Stern about buying into the paper," Jonathan said. "I hear tell there are a couple people on staff who wouldn't be there except that their parents are on the board."
"That would mean keeping the money," Clark said.
"Is that so bad?" Martha asked. "I mean, considering what he did to you, is it so bad to get compensated in some way?"
"That's money he got by being a criminal, by hurting innocent people," Clark said.
"But that doesn't mean that you two can't help people by using it well," Jonathan said. "Even Luthor supported charities and the arts."
"So everyone would feel grateful to him," Clark reminded them. "I don't think the man did anything without an ulterior motive."
"We're just saying you shouldn't make any snap judgments about keeping the money or taking control of the estate," Martha said. "Yes, Luthor did a lot of evil to get it, but that doesn't mean you can't do a lot of good by using it to help people."
"Luthor told me once in an interview that he didn't pursue money or power," Lois said thoughtfully. "He pursued pleasure and the easiest way to do that was through money and power."
"But I think he got a lot of his pleasure from exercising his power over people," Clark said. "Using his power to hurt people."
"So use his ill-gotten gains to help the people he hurt," Jonathan said.
"You think we should keep the money," Clark said with a sigh. "Despite its source."
"I think your… I think Jonathan's right," Lois said. "I think we have an enormous opportunity here, obligation even, to turn whatever Luthor's plan was on its head by taking that money and putting into places where it can do good, like bio-medical research, new clean power sources, education."
"A 'super' Superman Foundation?" Clark suggested.
"Yeah."
They talked longer, or at least until Martha announced it was time for bed. She'd been a Kansas farmer far too long to ignore the need to get up early. And that meant getting into bed at a reasonable time.
Lois decided to follow their example. A good night's sleep sounded good and she knew that tomorrow would come too soon. She could only hope that what looked so daunting under moonlight would look more manageable once the sun came up.
At least Clark wasn't dead set against taking control of Luthor's fortune. That might be one silver-lining in the dark cloud they were dealing with. If handled right, they could undo a lot of the damage Luthor had done to the people of Metropolis.
