First up THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who has left reviews and comments about this story - I really REALLY appreciate it and that you've taken the time to read the chapters ;) We have two more today but then am gonna drop to one a day for a few days to try and give me a chance to get the story finished so there's not a long gap between updates... THANKS AGAIN xx
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX.
Gotham City – Wayne Mansion:
She was alone in the room. Sat at an ornate antique desk with several large books laid out in front of her, her face lit by the screen of a small laptop, her head bowed. She looked engrossed, comfortable in her surroundings; completely oblivious to what was happening outside her small corner of the world. And for a second, while he hovered in the air outside the window, Clark envied her that sense of peace.
Gliding in through the open French windows, he silently settled the soles of his dark red boots on the deep carpet of an oriental rug. A whisper of displaced air lifted a tendril of hair against her cheek; catching her attention, lifting her chin. And the smile on her face was bright and immediate in welcome. After all, he hadn't been there since the last time harsh words had been spoken in the same room – for a moment she probably believed he was there to build bridges…
"Well it's about time – I'm glad…" The words died in her throat as she looked at him properly. And it must have shown in his face.
In the end there had been no way to avoid breaking the news to her, not when he'd spent two days solid searching everywhere for Lois. He'd filtered out sound after sound, x-rayed everything from buildings to subways to caves to mountains to oceans – everything above and below. And he felt empty inside. Not just from the lack of success; it was as if the clone had taken a part of him with Lois and he was weakened by it in a way he'd honestly never experienced before – not even the time Lana had been forced into a waking nightmare by his old adversary Brainiac. The pain might not have been as debilitating as Kryptonite but he was weakened nevertheless and helpless in a way that made him angry beyond belief; the criminals in Metropolis at the receiving end of that anger possibly a little too much since she'd gone.
But he'd failed the one person who helped make sense of everything else. And he didn't know if he would ever recover if she was lost to him…
The heavy weight in his chest crushed downwards into the pit of his stomach as he forced himself to look at Chloe as the color drained from her cheeks. He still couldn't think of her as Vicki. She was Chloe to him and always would be, just the way she was to Lois. And he was about to make her hurt the way he was hurting, or a pretty damn close approximation of it.
"Lois…"
She managed one word. And Clark felt the anger imploding inside him again. He wanted to go out and hurl large objects into space until every muscle in his body screamed with the effort. He'd failed her. He hadn't been able to protect her. If he couldn't protect the people he loved then how could he continue to do what he did? It was the same problem he'd always had. But how could he not continue now he'd finally begun? He was trapped in the persona he'd created.
The answer to Chloe's question refused to rise past the thickening in his throat so he nodded; his jaw set and his hands in fists at his sides.
"When?"
"Two days." And four hours and seventeen minutes and twelve seconds… thirteen… fourteen… fifteen…
Anger flashed in Chloe's eyes; "And you waited till now to tell me?"
Bruce strode into the room, reading an open file, "I'm sorry Vicki, I still don't see how linking the system here to one in a possible off-world base of operations can-" He glanced upwards. Then, looking from one of them to the other he closed the file, "Problem?"
Clark began pacing. It already felt like he'd been there for too long. He could hear the clock ticking – and it wasn't any of the numerous ones echoing from the dozens of rooms in the mansion, the various tones of their heavy ticking gathering together into a conglomeration of sound that was almost deafening to him.
"Lois is missing."
The words drew Bruce to Chloe's side, "When?"
"Two days."
"How?" He directed the question at Clark.
Who stopped pacing long enough to look him in the eye and answer him with the same directness he'd formed his line of questioning in to get to the bottom of things, "Clone."
"Which one?" Chloe asked, "Or do you want to wait another couple of days and email us the details?"
Bruce quietly raised a brow at her sharp tone, "I'm sure he's been exhausting every possible avenue to find your cousin. If he hadn't he wouldn't be here. Not after the last visit…"
Under normal circumstances Bruce's defense would have caught Clark off-guard. It wasn't that they had a close working relationship after all. In fact, if anything the 'friendship' they had was tentative; they certainly weren't the kind of work mates who went out after 'work' for a beer or to watch a game. And the doubts Clark held about the fine line Bruce skirted between keeping the peace within the realms of the law and taking a life for the first time to justify his cause had always been a wall between them.
But Clark couldn't feel surprise. He suddenly felt numb. Until something happened…
It was such a simple thing. Bruce poured a glass of water and wordlessly handed it to the pale, almost fragile looking woman at his side. The touch of his fingers on hers was a seemingly insignificant thing too. But it had an immediate reaction. Chloe lifted her chin and looked up into his eyes; a small smile briefly touching her lips and an invisible hint of something passing between them.
Such small intimacies. But they spoke of sharing and understanding and support; of a closeness that ran deep - a world full of the kind of possibilities that had been stolen from Clark in less than a heartbeat when Lois closed her eyes and disappeared into green mist while he could do nothing to stop it. He'd been helpless.
He'd failed her.
The sharp agony that watching the interaction between Bruce and Chloe brought to his chest forced Clark to turn away, his cloak swinging as he walked to the open doors at the balcony. Automatically he closed his eyes and sorted through the varying noises of Gotham; searching… waiting to hear the one sound he needed to hear the most…
She wasn't there.
"I'm sorry," Said the low voice beside him, a small hand squeezing his forearm through the material of the suit to make him look down at her, "I know you've been searching for her. I just wish you'd come to us sooner. We all could have been looking. Sometimes you have to allow yourself to ask for help Clark. I remember a time when you wouldn't have hesitated."
He remembered those days too. But he'd been too heavily reliant on the small circle of friends he'd had back then. Had probably used them as a crutch for a little too long. It had taken drastic times to make him see clearly. And yes, maybe he had taken things a little too far in the opposite direction of late but it was a moot point. Only one thing mattered now.
"A clone of Alicia took her."
The flat matter-of-fact tone made Chloe pause for a moment as Clark closed his eyes and listened again. And somehow she intuitively knew; "In front of you. She teleported Lois away in front of you, didn't she?"
"Yes." With his eyes closed he could still see it happening. Over and over again.
"I'm sorry."
It was what Lois had said. But she'd had nothing to be sorry for. He wanted to be able to tell her that.
He opened his eyes; "I've been searching ever since. Told Perry we're following a lead…" The use of the word 'we' made him pause briefly to fight for control, "But I can't find her heartbeat. Every time I think I can hear it – by the time I get there – it's gone…"
"You can hear her heartbeat? Out of every one on the entire planet?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I don't know," The answer was low. He'd never questioned it before. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. He'd never been able to single anyone else out that way before, had he? But it didn't matter why; "I just can."
When he made the mistake of looking at Chloe the understanding mixed with anguish felt like an imagined knife to his heart. He had to get back out. He'd stayed too long.
"If you heard it then it means she's alive. We'll find her. And remember it's not her he wants Clark; it's me. She's a pawn. I'm the end-game. All I'd have to do is step away from being Vicki Vale and-"
"That won't be necessary," Bruce's tone dripped with determination.
Chloe frowned across the room at him, "She's my cousin. I'll do what needs to be done to get her back; I've said that from the beginning. I'm sick of playing this game. And Lois would do the same for me. She did - countless times. If it wasn't for her I wouldn't be here."
"And from what you've told me I can imagine how delighted she'd be with that particular solution…" A muscle jumped in his jaw, "There's no winner in a trade-off – there never is. I know that better than most."
There was a moment of silence and then Chloe said; "I'm not Rachel. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
While Clark briefly wondered why Bruce's expression darkened so dangerously – transforming him into a hint of the person Clark feared he might one day become - Chloe looked his way again; realization lighting her eyes, "He might be moving Lois around from place to place. Would explain why you thought you could hear her and she wasn't there when you got there..."
The thought had occurred to him, "Why? There's no way he could know Superman can find her that way."
"It might not have anything to do with you."
Lex liked to play. They all knew that.
Clark felt the anger roll in on him twice as large as before. He had to leave. If he had to turn over every grain of sand on the planet one by one then he would. He had to.
"I have to go."
"Show us the locations on a map first. Where you thought you could hear her. We'll see if there's any kind of a pattern." She frowned as she turned away from him, "This is where an off-world station would be useful. I'm convinced the League is right about that…"
Unknown Location No.1:
Little Miss Personality dumped her in the middle of nowhere.
And Lois soon wished she'd worn a heavier sweater. She'd barely had time to open her eyes before her escort magicked herself off into the night; leaving Lois in the woods. Somewhere cold. And getting colder.
When calling Superman didn't get her anywhere she started walking because it was something to do and Lois Lane was a do-er not a sit-and-wait kinda gal.
While she walked, and tripped over roots in the dark and tucked her hands into her light sleeves in an effort to keep any of the heat still left in her body she rehearsed out loud what she'd say when she saw the Spawn of Satan face-to-face again. It involved a lot of swearing but it focused her mind.
She was bruised and her muscles ached and her teeth were chattering by the time the sun started to break the horizon. But the very fact it did gave her a direction to aim for. Every cloud…
She'd tripped over her last root at the edge of the woods and had spotted a highway when her new friend reappeared…
"Terrific."
Unknown Location No.2:
With her light top tied around her head turban style and sweat glistening on her arms and the half circles of skin at the front and back of her vest top Lois trudged along the side of another highway while the sun beat relentlessly down on her. She'd called Superman again but had hit a point where she'd even stopped rehearsing out loud what she was going to say to Lucifer Luthor.
Thanks to remembered Army survival training she'd already sacrificed a few desert plants to the cause of not dying of dehydration but it wasn't anywhere near enough to stop her throat from aching and there wasn't enough shade for her to lay down and rest to conserve her energy. Besides, it would be dark again soon judging by the position of the sun. And when the sun went down it was gonna get cold again. Yippee. Still. At last in the sun she was topping up her tan…
Heat shimmered off the highway. For a moment she thought she saw a truck in the distance. But nope. And she'd just made the mistake of starting to allow her thoughts to wander into hidden corners of her mind she'd normally have ignored when her new bestest buddy came back.
She smirked and croaked; "Miss me already?"
Unknown Location No.8:
Oh she knew what he was doing. Mind tricks. Wear her down. Have her in a weakened state before he finally made his appearance. It was almost amusing to her. Pathetically predictable for a 'genius'. But it yanked her chain big time.
It took a while for her to forbid herself to waste precious energy getting mad. She wasn't giving him that. She had to stay detached from her current predicament. So instead she searched for something else to occupy her mind. And started thinking about Clark somewhere between the grassy canyon location and a deserted beach drop-off. In fairness, the beach hadn't been all that bad; she'd even managed to go for a swim to wash off some of the accumulated grime and general ickiness. But then her mind went searching for that something else to focus on…
He was gonna be blaming himself wasn't he?
Her heart tried to make itself half its normal size at the thought of that. But he would. She knew him. He'd think he should have been able to see ten seconds into the future so he could do something to stop it happening. The dork. Until Clark Kent she'd never known anyone who took on the responsibility for others as if it was as necessary as the act of breathing in and out. And she'd had no idea why he did it at the beginning. Hadn't trusted it. Had thought he was naive. Had been cynical. Hell, she was still cynical – but men like him and like Superman made her believe all wasn't lost quite yet. There were still people who cared. Guys who didn't think blowing up things was the solution for all perceived evils. Guys to trust and believe in… to lean on in times of crisis…
She should introduce them sometime. They had a lot in common.
Ridiculously she found herself smiling at the idea of them stood side-by-side trying to strike up a conversation. The image just wasn't working for her; as if she saw them as two people living in different universes - or more likely because she'd mentally drawn a line between them. Was that why she could care so much for them both at the same time?
Nowhere in her checkered romantic history had that ever happened before. She'd always considered her standards pretty high in that respect. Her standards in the men she got involved with might have been questionable on the odd occasion but she'd never been torn between two potential -
Two potential what?
She had to stop and think about that for a second or two; sitting down on a sand bank and slipping a gym shoe off one swollen foot to give her blisters a break while she considered the problem from varying angles. Typical. Way to go Lane. Not only was she ridiculously fascinated by two completely different guys but both of them were potential 'relationships' that could go pretty much nowhere without there being a very unhappy ending.
She'd officially hit rock bottom in the relationship department. Again. She should just have a relationship with Beelzebub and get it over with…
"And think of the devil…" When the sun was blocked she shaded her eyes with one hand and smirked at the figure standing over her, "Lemme guess – Alaska this time? Don't suppose we could stop near an Ihop at some point? No? You surprise me."
She pushed her aching blisters back into their torture chamber and held out a hand in invitation, "At some stage we really need to work on your conversational skills…"
International Space Station Project:
The earth was a bauble of green and blue with white swirls of cloud whispering over it's surface; the eerie unearthly silence surrounding the planet drowned out by static and someone singing 'My Way' in Russian. Gleaming white with letters on the side that identified it as a NASA Shuttle a Russian Cosmonaught was outside in his space suit, repairing a radio antenna. And singing. Loudly.
Inside the shuttle the rest of the crew; two men and a woman in gym shorts and red T-shirts were floating to their stations – the Captain teasing his space walker,
"I think the Russian Idol auditions were last week. So you can spare us the serenade, Comrade Sinatra. You're not at home now."
The crew chuckled at the familiar banter.
In a heavy Russian accent the Cosmonaught replied; "At home my kids tell me to save my singing for outer space…"
From out of nowhere a piece of debris, most likely a discarded chunk of a failed satellite, appeared in view. It took only a sliver of debris to cause harm at the best of times. So when the crew spotted it their thoughts immediately turned to the most exposed member of their team - the one in most danger.
He saw it too, tried to react as fast as his suit and the weightlessness of space would allow him - moving first right then left. But it was pointless. The debris hit the open bay doors, bending them and ricocheting the Cosmonaught into deeper space while his horrified crew watched helplessly. But they already had problems of their own. The shuttle began to tumble out of orbit, head over heels out of control. Inside they tried desperately to react while being tossed about like clothes in a spin dryer.
The spinning suddenly stopped.
The ship moved slowly, upright and in control, gliding through space as it had before. Below it, his face filled with resolve was Superman, with the same steady strength and calm in the heat of crisis that the world was coming to expect from him – no-one knowing that inside he was still hollow and hurting at the same time; desperate to be done with anything that distracted him from the one thing he needed to be doing the most…
As if his very survival depended on it.
When the ship was stable he turned and saw the lost Cosmonaught moving further and further away. Dropping forwards he flew towards him as the man slowly began to lose consciousness.
When he felt himself stop the man opened his eyes and stared through his visor with wide eyes as Superman carried him back to the Shuttle. Maneuvering into the open bay, he eased him through the airlock and then repaired the damaged doors before speaking to him in pitch perfect Russian;
"I think you'll be safer in here Sir."
Inside the crew strained to look outside and watch as he slid by the window, waving their hands in thanks as he nodded in return and dove back towards Earth.
Bright light came with a new dawn from the east as he shot over the horizon; the warm sunlight highlighting recognizable landmasses. Africa rolled slowly by as he tuned in and listened for her heartbeat, then he floated across Europe, then over the Atlantic; the ocean sparkling and twinkling in millions of shades of blue reflected from the sky - then the continental states of the USA appeared below him as precisely detailed as every map in every school room in America.
He hovered for a moment, thinking he'd heard something – checking again – diving downwards to scan the empty beach... No, she wasn't there. But for a moment, like so many moments before, he thought he could hear the whisper of her voice on the breeze like a ghostly echo…
Hours later the Metropolis skyline sparkled against a cloudless sky, a full moon hanging over the jagged urban spires. For the most part the city was silent, the occasional noise or voice drifting upwards but nothing out of the ordinary. The city he thought of as his to protect was at sleep, peaceful, untroubled. Small consolation, but one less thing to worry about – even if he did wonder why Metallo had been keeping a remarkably low profile of late.
But so long as the city was peaceful…
The sound of a hose splashing down into water caught his attention and when he looked down he saw a tanker truck backing up to the waters edge through a lake front playground. Armed guards stood in the shadows keeping a watchful eye as through the moonlit branches there was a hint of movement – a blur in the night sky that they would have seen accelerate had they bothered to look twice.
Two darkly clad men at the back of the truck quickly and quietly tightened the hose to a spigot, preparing to pump when a trickle of the trucks contents leaked onto a gloved hand. There was an acidic hiss and the man stripped off the glove with a sharp expletive, dropping it to the ground as it was consumed by the corrosive liquid.
The sounds carried over the dark waters of the lake and filtered into the forest on the far shore. A whoosh of air folded the tops of the trees, there was a burst of speed, the moon flashed briefly on a blur of color.
But the men had already turned the tanker spigot and noxious waste started pumping into the lake; dead fish immediately rising to the surface and a dark oily half-circle spreading out from the shoreline.
The blur blasted through the trees, skimmed across the surface of the lake, arcing upwards and causing the water to lap at the shore like an incoming tide at the feet of the men. And this time they heard the rush of wind - the armed guards immediately on alert - the dumpers nervously turning the spigot to increase the flow of waste. The branches in the trees around them rattled, leaves rustled and then – out of nowhere – a dark figure descended from the sky; slamming feet into the ground and causing a tremor like a miniature earthquake before it began striding purposefully towards the dumpers.
One of the men jumped onto the foot-well of the truck and rapped on the glass; "Hit the lights!"
The trucks twin beams pierced the darkness and immediately caught Superman in the glare… walking towards them with grim determination on his face…
The armed guards opened fire while the driver slammed the tanker into gear and accelerated away; leaving his colleagues to their fate. He knew the barrage of bullets was pointless – hell, they all did – the trees behind Superman were taking more of a beating than he was. The guards popped off grenades one after another after another but nothing could stop the angry looking man in the red sheet. If anything, as he walked through the flames he was more determined than before – he even snapped out his arms and caught two of the grenades as they came his way; tossing them back at the people who had thrown them at a close enough range to make them run for cover or recklessly dive for the water's edge.
No matter what they did. Superman kept coming.
The tanker barreled onto a deserted road and headed for mid-town Metropolis, the driver anxiously checking his mirrors – the sky – either side of him - while the speedometer hit the one hundred mark. He raced over a rise and found Superman standing in the center lane, as still as a statue… waiting, unmoving while the headlights grew brighter and brighter on his features. He didn't care that the truck was bearing down on him like a freight train – he almost looked like he was willing it to keep coming, his hands in taut fists by his sides.
Reaching a hand down the driver yanked on a red handle and detached the cab of the truck from the body. It carried on the same path for a brief second then tumbled onto its side, skidding, sparking, screeching across the concrete and knocking out the guard rail before it headed into the opposing lane…
Superman streaked across the road, grabbed the massive tank and dug in his heels – bringing the container to a stop yards from where a wide-eyed driver had been changing a flat tire. He glanced briefly at the man then turned; his focus on the disappearing truck.
The driver believed he was home free. But just as he smiled with satisfaction the cab of the truck was suddenly peeled away, leaving him completely exposed over the spinning wheels and roaring engine as Superman climbed into the passenger seat;
"That really wasn't very nice what you did back there…"
When a .45 was produced and fired at him at point blank range he pursed his mouth briefly with impatience, "We like games do we? Well in that case I have one for you."
He directed his gaze at the steering wheel and welded it into place with his heat vision and then did the same to the gas pedal; this time welding it flat to the floor. The driver's eyes widened in horror as he realized what he'd done, and that there was a cement wall coming their way - fast.
"Who hired you?" Superman asked as he stared at the approaching wall.
"They'll kill me!"
Superman shifted the truck up a gear and broke the lever in half, still staring at the wall, "Take as much time as you need."
"You can't threaten me, Superman!" He glanced at the speedometer as it hit one fifteen, his bravado forced through fear, "You'd never kill anyone!"
"You're right, I wouldn't," When the driver fumbled for his seat belt Superman reached over, "Here – let me…"
He 'accidentally' pulled the belt from it's mounting, smiling a small smile that didn't make it into his eyes, "Got air bags?"
The truck crashed through a Construction Zone sign and bounced over the debris before a steel rod punctured the gas tank, setting off a spark that became a plume of flame that spewed out behind them. Like a falling comet the open cab roared down the road; wheels spinning, the wall approaching, the driver yelling…
"You don't do this!"
Superman stared at him with a deadpan expression, "Taking lives is something I find offensive. But roughing up biological terrorists a bit doesn't faze me at all at this point in time. Who sent you?"
"We work for a division of Luthorcorps!"
With a scream he found himself dragged upwards from the truck at the last minute; watching from above as it smashed headlong into the wall and flames rolled upwards into the night sky. Then he looked at his captor; his grim faced, iron jawed captor -the superhuman being who set him on his feet and eyed him with open disgust as police cars approached to a symphony of sirens and a kaleidoscope of flashing lights.
As a born-into-the-career criminal the man had never been happier to see a police officer in his entire life.
The heavy skies above them opened and rain poured downwards as Superman began clearing up…
Unknown Location No: 15:
Maybe it was because he'd become such a mystery to her?
She'd already worked her way through the obvious. Like having cared about him as a friend first and the fact she'd missed him when he was gone and that he had, despite his long absence, always been there when she'd needed a shoulder… But even combined they didn't seem to be enough of a reason to explain why she was feeling the way she did. Out of nowhere. All of a sudden. Now. When she was old enough and wise enough to know she couldn't even blame it on getting emotionally attached to him in a time of crisis the way people sometimes did…
Naturally the more exhausted she became the weaker her defenses and her usual ability to hide from the truth when it came to emotions. So she began to allow herself to face up to exactly how she felt - something she would never in a billion years have given herself the time to do under normal circumstances. But there was no avoiding personal honesty when stranded in the middle of who-knew-where; hungry and aching down to her very bones and quite possibly coming down with a cold she'd blame on Smallville if she ever saw him again…
When had become an 'if'? That was more than a little depressing.
The thought of seeing his face again made her chest cramp harshly. Damn it. He'd snuck up on her. That's what he'd done. And when she looked back on their weird history she would probably have to face up to the fact that he'd been doing it for a long, long time. Maybe from the very beginning. But facing up to that was a step too far, even for a Lois Lane tempted to curl up under the nearest tree and allow herself to slip into the oblivion of sleep. There was just no way in the burning flames of hell she could allow herself to admit that she'd been even microscopically attached to him that way during the farm-boy years!
Over her dead body!
The heavy skies above her opened up and a deluge of rain blurred her vision and soaked her through to the skin in a matter of milliseconds. Her legs were heavy. Her teeth were chattering despite the ache in her jaw from clenching them together. Over her dead body was looking like a distinct possibility. Maybe that was why she was looking back over more of a decade of her life and coming up with such a ridiculous idea? People were supposed to over-analyze their lives at moments like that weren't they?
Swallowing down the lump in her throat she closed her eyes and let the rain fall. She could practically see the teasing glint of amusement in his eyes if he heard her thoughts. And pathetically she wanted to see that glint. She wanted him with her in the rain. They could debate something dumb while they waited to be transported to the next location. She could reach for his hand while they disappeared into the mist. Another jump closer to Luthor and she could even step into the solid warmth of his large body for just a moment to draw the strength she needed from him.
She wouldn't be alone. With him there she never felt alone.
She was so very tired of being alone. And whether he was irritating the crap out of her or talking sense when she didn't want to hear it or smiling his dorkiest smile at her or looking so very easy on the eyes the way he did in his more mature wardrobe he was just simply; there. And she loved him for that. Had done for a long time. How had she not known that when she'd once told him to his face how much it hurt to always be the one left behind? It was the real reason she'd hated him for leaving wasn't it? Because the one person who was always there for her no matter what was going on in his own life had left her behind like everyone else. She'd loved him then – as a friend – in a way she'd never let herself love a friend. Hell, even Chloe – the one miracle in her life – had been an attachment she'd made before she'd learned her lessons the hard way. An army brat learned fast. Close friendships were pointless. Long distance friendships faded. Eventually the one would become the other. And after a while she'd simply stopped trying to make anything other than a casual friendship with anyone. She'd learned to be tough, to guard herself against the pain of the frequent separations brought on by transferring from base to base as per the General's orders.
Then along came Clark Kent. Somehow, without her realizing it, he'd broken through - and she'd let herself care. Deeply. And then he left her behind without a backward glance. That was why she'd hated him so much.
And now…?
All those years she'd wasted with guys who fit the list of things she thought she wanted and the whole time the kind of guy she really needed in her life had been right under her nose?! Someone, somewhere really had it in for her, didn't they? Maybe she'd been a really awful person in a former life and it was left over Karma.
A burst of wry laughter bubbled up from her tight chest, past the choking lump in her throat to escape her lips and drown in the falling rain. Great – she was losing it…
And that's when her new buddy arrived to stand in front of her, her blank expression oblivious to the rain or the person in front of her. Only this time Lois stepped forwards and threw all of her frustration into shoving her back a step,
"Just do it already!"
As the rain soaked her blond hair to her cheeks she looked at Lois with empty, emotionless eyes. So Lois shoved again, "Go on!"
The step back she'd been forced to take was calmly corrected with a step forwards. And again she stood there. Staring. Silent.
So Lois yelled at her, "You can't even think for yourself can you? You're nothing! A shell! You do what you're told to like all good soldiers do! Well go on then – get it over with why don't you?"
Stepping in she got in her face and practically spat the words; "Take. Me. To. Him. You soul-less zombie piece of -"
Two hands gripped Lois' upper arms in a vice-like grip and immediately her surroundings changed. The rain was gone. She was indoors. It was dimly lit. Figures stepped out of the shadows as the grip on her arms loosened and the woman stepped back to make room for them.
Lois looked at the faces of the two people as they stepped into the arcs of light from bare bulbs suspended on chains from a high ceiling. Then she felt lightheaded and realized she was being lifted off the ground – so she kicked out, flailing her legs and arms. And then a young boy stepped closer and angled his head as he studied her.
"Report G-19."
She knew the voice before he stepped out of the shadows, her body stilling as she ground her teeth together and watched him approach, "You won't get anything you sick son-of-a-"
"Charming as always Miss Lane," He let his cold gaze travel over her body from head to toe and back up again, making her skin crawl, "It's so good to hear your dulcet tones again."
"I don't know where she is you sycophant so do your worst. You lose.""
The boy angled his head to his other shoulder, "She saw her. A man flew through the clouds with her to a place she had never been before."
Lois felt the bones in her neck crack when she whipped her head round to stare at the boy with wide eyes, "What are you doing?"
"Continue G-19…" Lex began to walk a circle around her, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Long way. Close your eyes Lois. Fly fast. How fast? Through open windows to where she waited. Large room. Large house. Tears. Laughter. Talking. No location given."
Lois began to struggle again, forcing herself to fill her mind with the most random of random thoughts. Her Social Security number. The General's army number. Nursery Rhymes. But she could almost feel the invisible fingers inside her head…
"What did she see in the room?"
"Stop it!" Lois fought harder.
"Bookcases. Tables. Tall windows with small panes of glass…"
Nothing. He had nothing! She felt laughter growing in her chest, "And a partridge in a pear tree!"
"Deeper G-19."
She stopped fighting and beckoned the boy closer with an index finger, "Come on over. Dig all you want. I know squat."
He stopped just out of kicking distance, but Lois doubted she could have brought herself to do much damage to a teenage droid. He looked so guileless. So damn innocent. He didn't know what he was, did he?
"Is that a real Renoir over there?"
The words sent a shiver down her spine. No.
"Probably."
Lex stopped at her side and waited until she looked at him, "An added advantage to being a journalist is a memory for the finer detail. Continue G-19."
"I swear Luthor, if it's with my dying breath-"
The corners of his narrow mouth twitched with amusement as he leaned a tempting couple of inches closer, "Fortunately for you, you have yet to outlive your usefulness," His voice lowered in a false attempt at intimacy, "But when you do you may regret making such a memorable offer."
"Coat of arms. Three golden hands. Red shield. Inverted 'V'."
Lex lifted his chin and considered a point in the air above Lois' left ear. Then he smiled a wider, self-satisfied smile, "I believe we have what we need for now. Thank you Miss Lane for your…co-operation…"
The boy hadn't finished, "Clark Kent."
Fighting off the wave of terror that she may have given him enough information to track down Chloe before she could warn her, Lois frowned at the mention of Clark's name, "What the hell does he have to do with-"
"Clark Kent." The boy repeated with a flicker of something vaguely resembling light in his dull eyes, "Smallville."
"Clark has nothing to do with this. He doesn't know where she is any more than I do!"
Lex nodded, "I don't doubt that. Naturally I knew he'd returned from his time abroad. I'd ask you to pass on my regards to an old friend but…"
"Clark Kent." The boy repeated for the third time.
"Assignment complete G-19," Lex dismissed him as he turned on his heel and stepped back towards the shadows and issued a final command, "One step back G-24."
The skies above Metropolis – Pre-Dawn:
He was so sure he'd heard her again. Close by. But again – nothing. And with the truck driver he'd come so very close to the darkness that he felt Bruce circled every time he donned the mask. Maybe he'd been wrong about Bruce. Maybe the very fact he'd stayed out of the darkness for so long made him a stronger ally than Clark had given him credit for…
But until he found Lois, Clark knew he would have to work harder to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't let the anger he felt effect what he did, couldn't let it cloud his judgment. And he had to believe he would find her – there wasn't any other option he could live with.
Another bolt of lightening slashed through the dim sky; the rain noticeably heavier. And close by he could see an airliner fighting its way through the pounding storm; most likely heading for the safety of Metropolis airport. While he watched a bolt of lightening cracked into the wing and flames shot up as the outboard engine on the Pilot's side caught fire. The plane started to lose altitude.
Clark couldn't remember the last time he'd been so busy. It was as if the whole world was conspiring against him to keep him from his goal. And where exactly was Metallo? His very noticeable lack of visibility was starting to bother Clark…
When he brought the nose up, the astonished Pilot and Co-Pilot looked out the window; eyes widening as Superman grabbed hold of the wing and extinguished the flames with a single breath before taking the place of the engine in evening out the plane. He turned his head, forced himself to smile and then allowed them to guide the plane to the airport where emergency equipment was standing by with lights flashing.
By then the sun was rising and he was tired; in mind, body and spirit. And he still had to pay a visit to Luthorcorps to ask Lana about the illegal dumping before he could check in at the Planet with the stories of Superman's latest exploits and to cover for Lois' absence. Then he could continue to search…
He missed her. He missed everything about her. And it was even worse in the office after he discovered Lana was out of town on business because no matter how many times he tried to tell himself not to do it; he kept glancing across the desks at Lois' empty chair. The Daily Planet wasn't The Daily Planet without Lois Lane but it was so much more than that to Clark. He wanted her sat there cocking a brow at him and challenging him the way only Lois could. He wanted the look of concentration on her face when she was so completely focused on a story that he might as well have been invisible.
With another glance at her empty chair he frowned and looked around the room to make sure no-one was looking as he super-sped his way through the last of his copy, signed the byline as Lane and Kent and sent it to the printer.
But when he left the office and stepped into the crisp, clear air the storm had blown into the city he walked towards his apartment, not even aware he'd done it until he was making the final turn onto his block. Maybe subconsciously he'd just needed a moment to gather his thoughts. Maybe he needed a few minutes to re-think how he was searching and what else he could do. Maybe he needed to deal with how he felt without her before he could don the suit again…
What he needed was her.
He took a deep breath, loosened his tie and glanced upwards at the cloudless sky between the buildings. What was he doing wasting time? And then he lowered his chin and forgot to breathe again.
It couldn't be.
For a split second he thought he was imagining what he was seeing. He told himself he wanted her to be there so badly that his heart must have somehow convinced his brain to tell his eyes she was there. His heart twisted, he took a shaky breath and sent up a silent prayer. But would his imagination have conjured up an image of her looking so weary? Would he have seen smudges of dirt on her clothes and the slight hint of red to her nose that suggested she'd been in the sun for too long?
"Lois…" Her name left his lips at the same time as she broke into a run. And if he'd conjured up the image of her then he didn't care; his arms were already reaching out.
She flung herself at him and the grip of her arms around his neck, the slight weight of her body and the sobbed breath against his ear was all he needed to believe that somehow his silent prayer had been answered; his arms circling her and lifting her off the ground to hold her close and safe.
"You scared me," He exhaled the rough words into her hair and felt his heart kick against his ribs when she made a sound that was half laughter/half sob against his neck.
"I'm sorry."
He kept hold of her and closed his eyes as relief washed over him, "You said that last time too. You have nothing to be sorry about."
She turned her face so that her nose was pressed against his neck, her words muffled; "I saw your face. When I called you and you couldn't stop it I saw your face. It wasn't your fault."
After she'd been through lord-knew-what her first thought was to ease his conscience and make him feel better? He tightened his arms, taking care not to crush her. Didn't she know being where she was, was all he needed?
The words got stuck in his throat.
Despite the fact he was holding her so tight, her feet suspended off the ground; she still seemed to feel the need to try and get closer. She wriggled against him, tightened her arms around his neck and held on. And when she spoke her face was so close he could feel her lips moving against his skin; "Another minute, okay?"
Clark leaned his cheek against her head and breathed deep, catching hints of the ocean and pine trees and rain from her loose hair, "Who said I was letting go?"
He felt her shoulders shake in silent laughter before she took a shaky breath and sighed; her warm breath whispering down inside the collar of his shirt. And as much as it cost him – he had to know, "What happened?"
"Sshh… I want my minute." She mumbled.
"You can have whatever you want," And he meant it. Everything else could wait. All that mattered was she was there and she was fine and he had her in his arms.
But the husky words brought her out of hiding, her head lifting and face turning so that when he looked at her the end of her nose was almost touching his and he could see deep into her eyes. There was a flash of uncertainty and then a hint of silent question and it made him look even deeper; his gaze searching each of her eyes in turn as his brows wavered in a silent question of his own. She had about ten seconds to say something and then he wasn't sure he could be held accountable for what he'd do. What he'd wanted to do for a long time.
When her eyes clouded to the softest shades of mossy green and warm brown it was virtually impossible for him to think of anything else.
She continued to stare at him, long lashes flickering as she searched his eyes the same way he had hers. Then she did the one thing guaranteed to make him cross a line she might not even have known they'd been treading so close to; she damped her lips.
Eyes still open he angled his head the fraction it took to lean in. He watched her eyelids grow heavy, felt her take a shallow breath and then he pressed his lips to hers. She made a low sound in the base of her throat as her eyes closed, but she didn't resist, she didn't pull away – and it was all the invitation he needed. Leaving one arm around her waist he lifted a hand to cradle the back of her head; his fingers threading into her hair as he deepened the kiss. And it was only when he felt her respond that he allowed his eyes to fully close- as if he was afraid if he couldn't see her she'd be gone again.
It felt like every time he kissed her he learned something new. But then never before had he had the freedom to explore like he did in that moment. There wasn't anything to use as an explanation for kissing her; no deception, no inhibition releasing red Kryptonite, no cover ups. So it felt like their first kiss to him. They were just a man and a woman kissing because they wanted to. It was… amazing…
She was amazing. But then he'd known that for a long time.
The heartbeat he'd been searching the world for skipped an irregular beat and then she slid one arm free and almost tentatively touched the very tips of her fingers to his cheek. He felt the slight tremor to her touch, the uncertainty so at odds with the confident woman he knew that it felt as if she'd wrapped those same fingers around his heart and held it in the palm of her hand. For most of his life he'd felt like there was something missing in his life – he'd struggled and fought to find it piece by tiny piece; each part of the puzzle hard won but never quite enough to fill the void. And for a long time he'd feared he was destined to live his life alone. But despite how far he'd come and how much he'd learned along the way he realized there and then that he'd never once felt whole the way he did giving and receiving on equal terms the way they were.
It suddenly made sense of everything he'd felt without her; before and after. Like before he'd opened his eyes and seen her properly for the first time he'd been filling in time or had needed to discover who he really was on his own before he 'grew into her'. And after, when he'd finally found her and then lost her - the dreadful all-consuming emptiness he'd experienced had been what it felt like to find the one person he was meant to be with only to have to face up to living the rest of his life without her. What he felt for her was exactly what he'd always believed it was supposed to feel like.
Maybe somewhere along the way he'd lost faith in that, but she'd just given it back to him in the same way she'd told him Superman had helped her to hope again…
When it was the right one you know people said. He'd been told it on many occasions by the one's who'd got it right. And he'd thought he understood, but he hadn't. Not until he fell in love with Lois.
The second he finally made the silent confession Lois' fingers flattened and she laid her palm flat against his cheek; the tip of her thumb resting on the corner of his mouth as she dragged her lips from his and brushed her cheek over his on the way back to the hollow between his neck and his shoulder. Once she had her nose pressed to his skin again she moved her hand back from his cheek – her fingers tangling through his hair until they were toying with the short strands at the nape of his neck. So Clark smoothed her hair with his palm and then wrapped his arm back round her waist and began walking; her feet swinging against his calves.
The mumbled voice asked; "Where are we going?"
"Off the sidewalk," He stepped onto the first step, his voice still husky with emotion.
Her head lifted, "I can walk."
"I know." When she didn't say anything he looked at her face and smiled at her pursed lips, "I have something for you."
She frowned at his shoulder and his smile grew.
"I don't think-"
"It's not what you think it is," He grinned when she glared sideways at him, "Yes – I do know you well enough to know what you're thinking right now."
The glare was replaced with an arched brow and a little attitude.
Releasing one arm he searched his pocket for his door key, "It's something I should have given you long before this."
A sideways glance as he fitted the key to the lock revealed a sparkle of undisguised amusement in her eyes that made him shake his head as he opened the door. Wrapping her back in two arms again, he stepped inside and closed the door with the sole of his shoe, "And you're about to be disappointed if you're still thinking the way I think you're thinking."
It earned him a small snort of laughter which he rewarded with another smile as he got to the sofa and moved his hands to either side of her waist; allowing her to slide slowly to the ground. She wavered on her feet for a second and his smile faded as he looked down at her feet and saw the state of her gym shoes. Looking back up he opened his mouth to ask the question – only to have her grimace and sit down,
"Long story."
"Which you're going to tell me," He leaned over and opened the drawer under his coffee table, producing a bracelet before he sat down on the wooden surface and reached for her hand.
Lois bowed her head and looked at it as he snapped it into place, "O-okay. And why am I getting jewelry?"
He was still frowning when she withdrew her wrist to examine it and announced; "I take it back. It's not jewelry. And if it was sold to you as jewelry you need a refund 'cos this is probably the heaviest thing I've ever had on my wrist outside of a set of handcuffs…"
"I'm not sure I want to know the story behind that," He took a breath and pushed his glasses into place, "Its lead. And you have to promise me you won't take it off."
She didn't get a chance to ask before he confessed the one thing that had caused him to beat himself up the most after she was taken, "I should have thought of it before. I'm sorry I didn't," He looked her straight in the eye and didn't try to hide how he felt that he hadn't, "You have no idea how sorry Lois. Because you're wrong – I could have stopped it happening this time if I'd just remembered earlier…"
Her expression told him she still didn't understand and there was no reason she would remember when he hadn't so he clarified it for her; "A clone of Alicia has to have the same basic traits as Alicia. And that means she can't transport you while you're wearing that. At least I'm pretty sure she can't. Lead is her weakness. When Alicia was younger her parents used to lock her in a lead lined room and when she was hospitalized they made her wear a lead bracelet."
Surprise registered in her eyes and she dropped her chin to study the bracelet with renewed interest; twisting it round her wrist with the thumb and forefinger of her other hand as she spoke, "So as long as I wear this thing she can't come get me and drop me in the middle of nowhere."
"Is that what she did?"
"Yes," She looked at him from beneath her lashes and smiled wryly, "Several middle of nowheres actually. I counted fifteen. Forests, beaches, valleys, empty highways, the odd desert… It was very scenic all things considered."
Clark's frown grew, "Why?"
It certainly made sense of why he'd thought he'd found her so many times. And why she looked like she'd been out in the sun. And why her hair had smelled of pine and salt sea air and rain. He glanced down at her feet again and something else made sense, "You tried to walk your way out of it every single time didn't you?"
"I did." She nodded, finally letting some of her exhaustion show as she leaned back into the deep cushions of his sofa, "Thank you General for all the survival training weekends with the marines…"
He was already lifting one of her feet, propping it in his lap as he gently removed the gym shoe and clenched his jaw at the varying spots of dried blood on her socks. Dropping the shoe on the floor he used both hands to gently peel the material off.
"Ow." She said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
"Sorry," The peeling off of the material reopened some of the wounds so he reached for a smaller cushion and propped her foot on it, "I'm gonna get something we can clean these up with before we bandage them."
Lois lifted her chin to watch as he pushed to his feet, "I could really go a hot bath about now. And food. But you can play Doctor after that if you like."
And in that one sentence he pretty much had the full picture, so he sat back down and looked at the blank expression on her face, "And sleep, right?"
Her mouth curled into a tired smile, "That too."
"Mind games," It was a statement rather than a question.
One she confirmed, "Mind games."
"And then what? She just brought you back? That was it?"
She shrugged her shoulders and forced another smile; one he was sure was for his benefit, "It's a new one – granted. But I'd guess the plan is to try and wear me down again before he puts in an appearance," She lifted her hand, "But thanks to my new present he'll have to find a new way to come get me, won't he?"
Clark couldn't keep the edge from his voice, "Don't do that."
In a surprisingly fluid movement for a girl who had to be aching from head to toe she dropped her foot and slid to the edge of the sofa, staring into his eyes, "Quit it. I mean it. We're not doing this. I'm here and I'm fine – he got nothing – Chloe is still safe – we still have time. Neither of us is going to spend every day looking over our shoulders, you hear me?"
We. Us. Those tiny words filled with even more meaning than ever before. And his hands immediately lifted to brush the strands of hair off her face, his voice softening, "I hear you."
She smiled, "You're learning."
"You're amazing. Have I ever told you that?"
"Not recently," Her smile slipped a little and she avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the collar of his shirt as she lifted her shoulders and dropped them, "But I already knew."
When she glanced up and her eyes shone he smiled back at her, "Bath. Food. Feet. Sleep. In that order. I'll even let you borrow yet another shirt."
He stood up and held out his palms so she could lean on him as she pushed onto her torn feet and grumbled, "Just so long as we remember bossy only works on me when I'm this tired."
"I'm aware."
She lifted her chin and looked up at him with a quizzical expression. Then she rolled her eyes, shook her head, and released his hands to walk gingerly towards his bathroom, "And I'm planning on using all your hot water."
"Just so long as we remember that kind of attitude only gets to slide without the usual complaint when you're this tired." He shadowed her to the door.
Grimacing as she turned she cocked a brow in challenge, "Planning on nurse-maiding me through my bath? I don't think so Kent."
He dead-panned his expression as she placed a hand on the edge of the door and slowly closed it in his face while peeking around the edge and waggling the fingers of her other hand, "Bye-bye now."
When the door closed and the bolt slid into place he couldn't resist leaning his shoulder against it; crossing his feet at the ankle as he spoke to the wood, "Let me know if you need your back scrubbed…"
There was a brief moment of silence, then; "We already have more than enough history with bathrooms."
"Yes, we do." He smiled.
When he was just about to push away from the door she asked in a lower voice; "Just so I'm clear in my current exhaustive state – this is our version of flirting is it?"
"It is."
"Hmmm. Thought so."
Clark lifted his chin while he considered her flat response; his eyes narrowing in thought, "Don't wimp out on me now Lane."
Because if she thought she was putting a life-changing kiss like that one down to her temporarily weakened state then there was a discussion coming her way. He couldn't go back to pretending he didn't feel how he felt. But he could be patient and fight to make it work between them if he could get her to work with him for the same thing. He knew her well enough to know she wasn't unaffected by him; yes. No; he couldn't expect her to feel what he felt just because he felt it, he knew that too – as agonizing as it was to admit…
What he would do if she never felt the same way as him he didn't know but-
"And now he's challenging me. You really like living dangerously, don't you?"
Instinctively, and without stepping back to x-ray the door, Clark knew she was leaning on the other side of it the same way he was on his side. And if the barrier made it easier to talk about it he was okay with that,
"So it seems." He turned his face towards the door and lowered his voice, "I missed this while you were gone."
Her heart made the same small erratic beat it had when they'd been kissing, her voice even lower than his, "Me too."
"Am I supposed to forget you said that in the morning?"
The smile came through in her voice, "You sucked at it last time."
"And I'll suck at it this time too." He folded his arms and smiled back, "What do you want to eat?"
"Food."
"I can do food." With a gentle push he nudged off the door and turned back down the hall, tossing the words back over his shoulder in a louder voice, "Yell if you change your mind about having your back scrubbed."
"Don't get cocky on me now Smallville. They say denial builds character," She yelled back, "And for the record - I'm gonna be denying you for a loooonng time…"
Unknown Location – Middle America:
He glanced over the screens lining the wall before focusing his attention on the laptop screen on the desk in front of him.
Mercy rapped quietly on the frame of his open doorway "The damage report you requested Mister Luthor."
Her professional tone was a result of the dressing down he'd given her over the incident with Corbin but Lex merely nodded in silence.
So she walked into the room, reading from a clip-board, "As you're aware, Metallo destroyed the majority of the Communication nerve center. We lost contact with seventy-two percent of our operation for a period of thirty-eight hours."
"Remind me again why he wasn't shut down Miss Graves."
She glanced up, twin spots of color rising on the pale skin of her cheeks, "He managed to destroy enough hardware including our links to Sats eight, six, fifty-one, forty-seven, five, fifteen and ninety-one and the-"
"Satellite that monitors his activity in Metropolis… Layman's translation; he broke his leash." He calmly scrolled down through the pictures on his screen, "I sincerely hope you're here to tell me it's back online now."
"There's a space shuttle preparing for launch from a site in Corto Maltese to re-grid a satellite signal to one of the operating stations we were using. They should be ready in twenty-four hours. NASA has been trying to block it as an unauthorized launch."
"And this shuttle belongs to?"
"On paper it's a private communications consortium."
"And in reality?"
"A Project Starhawk Satellite launch."
One of the pictures caught his interest, "Call the necessary contacts and make sure we have the use of that Satellite before it leaves the ground."
"Yes Mister Luthor." She turned to leave.
"And Mercy?"
The use of her christian name swiftly turned her around, her eyes bright with the hope of a modicum of forgiveness. But instead she got; "Contact Metallo once the Satellite is operational and tell him he has permission to proceed."
The hope died in her eyes, "Yes Mister Luthor."
"Three golden hands. Red shield. Inverted 'V'," The enlarged picture filled his screen, "An interesting choice of bedfellow you have my dear Chloe…"