Hopeful Idiot

Chapter 23: Hope's an Idiot; BvS Begins

Sunday

"AHHH!" Hope screamed as she got out of bed.

It wasn't getting out of the bed that made her scream. It was the 35 pound dog she tripped over. First step was fine. Then her left big toe got wedged under the dog, she went forward, caught all her weight on her right knee, and fell flat on her face.

A crash as something shattered in another room and with a flash Clark was by her side. "Hope? Are you alright? Hope?" His hands came to her shoulders, feather light as they touched her.

She groaned in pain, just laying on the floor.

Winston began to nose her head and hair. He licked what he could reach of her cheek and forehead, whining in apology.

"Oooowwwwww," she moaned.

There was a pause. Clark gently turned her over and peered down at her, his eyes somewhere between concern and laughter. "I've scanned you. You'll have a nice blackberry toe and carpet burn on that one knee. Otherwise, you're fine."

Was that all? God, it felt like she'd twisted something! "Winston," she griped, "I love you, but please don't sleep right there."

Winston licked her cheek enthusiastically, agreeing.

+++HOPEFUL+IDIOT+++

Monday

"So that was my weekend," Hope finished narrating the story to Lois. "I spent the rest of Sunday being waited on by Winston amid his woeful looks, while Clark covertly laughed at me."

The pair were in the cafeteria for lunch, catching up. As Clark had predicted, once the two got around their preconceived notions, and as long as the subject wasn't controversial, they actually got along rather well. It greatly helped that they both knew his secret and could bond over it.

Lois grimaced in sympathy. "I have no idea why carpet burns hurt worse than actual cuts, but it's certainly true for me."

"Hell yes!" Hope nodded. "I had to put on two Band-Aids just so that my own jeans wouldn't have me moaning in pain with every step!"

"Not to mention, Clark has no basis of comparison. That's got to be annoying." Lois gestured, wincing. "Not much empathy there."

Hope almost growled. "Don't I know it! You know he doesn't get colds? Perfect health, always."

"Wait," Lois tilted her head, astonished. "He's never even had a cold? Everyone gets colds!"

Hope shook her head. "Not Clark. Closest he's come is asthma because he's severely allergic to this one thing…but that's it." It went unsaid that the one thing was kryptonite. "And even that didn't last long, once he got away from the source."

Lois blinked at her, unable to wrap her head around that. When Hope had come back after the earthquake, she'd been completely healed. Just a few lingering aches, but that was it. Even with that, Clark had been a total mother-hen! Yet now he was nonchalant? "Did he offer to…?" she let the question hang.

Hope shook her head. "No." She paused. "I would've refused even if he had. It's only a stupid bruise and carpet burn. Both small."

"Still…" Lois shook her head. "To not even offer?"

"Yeah…" Hope sighed. It was a bit out of character. Maybe she should call Martha?

The pair were quiet for awhile, each continuing their lunch.

Lois decided to change the subject. "Sooo…why didn't you take me to Wayne's party?"

Hope blinked at her in confusion. "Why would I?"

"I'm a reporter," Lois countered in a tone indicating 'duh' should be included after.

"Winston is better protection," Hope said, "and you're an investigative reporter. I didn't figure Wayne's party would be of any interest."

Lois snorted. "If you only knew how many things I go to that aren't of any interest, looking for things that are of interest, we'd be here ALL day." She was quiet for a second. Then, falsely casually, said, "I figured you didn't want any interference for your date."

Hope wondered if the other had timed it so that she was drinking when she suggested what she had suggested, because she did a spit-take. "What? It wasn't a date!"

Lois only raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" She started to hold up fingers to make her point. "Did you get dressed up?"

"Yes, it was a masquerade black-tie thing."

"Uh huh. Did you have food?" Another finger.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean—"

Third finger. "Did pay for anything significant?"

"Of course he did, it was his—"

Finger. "Did you talk about personal subjects?"

"Uhhh…"

Lois put down her hand and raised her eyebrows. "It was a date."

Hope blinked at her for a long moment, then let herself droop until her forehead was on the table. Where she proceeded to bang it in time with her words. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

"Personally, I thought Clark's self-restraint was quite admirable," said Lois.

"Fuck!"

"I wouldn't have been so calm and controlled," continued Lois.

"Fuck!"

"I mean, he only protested on grounds of what happened in California, didn't he?"

"FUCK!"

"Not on jealousy at all."

"FUCK!"

"Quite a boy scout."

"FUCK!"

Suddenly, Lois had had enough. She slid her hand between Hope's head and the table. Then winced at the impact. "Hope," she said quietly. Hope simply laid her head on Lois' hand and gave a great big sigh. "I know you care about him, and he cares about you. I even think that he knows you didn't view it as a date and were only trying to protect him…but that really hurt him." His reaction to tripping over Winston was evidence of that. And if that was Clark's version of petty revenge, he was practically a saint. "YOU were the IDIOT" she bit out the word harshly and Hope flinched, but then she gentled her tone; she'd made her point, "this time. I think you owe him a huge apology."

Hope nodded against her hand.

"Good." Lois smiled and changed the subject again. Now that she had made her main point of asking Hope out for lunch, they could go to less interesting subjects. "Did you hear about the breakout in Gotham Saturday night?"

Hope looked up at her in confusion, a red dot in the middle of her forehead. Saturday night had been the party. "No, what?"

Lois proceeded to outline what she knew. With each new detail, Hope's eyes got wider. Well, Ra's said he wouldn't be doing anything to anyone even I would count as a non-innocent. That certainly qualifies. But… "The Gotham Prison got so many escapees and Arkham only had the one." Lois nodded. That's not like Ra's… "Who was the one?"

Lois blinked, confused. "Uhh, not sure. Do you think they're related?"

"No, and that bothers me." Hope gestured. "Strictly off the record," she waited for Lois to nod her understanding (anything Clark related was automatically 'off the record' and it didn't need to be said), "I'm pretty sure I know who and why the prison escape went around. But the mental institution? Not his style. He'd either do a mass-breakout like he did with the prison, or he'd leave it alone completely. He's a very big-picture type. So this ONE guy who escaped Arkham? The guy I know didn't do it. I'd look at the asylum escapee."

Lois pondered it. "The prison escape is a bigger story for right now, but I can start digging into the mental patient." She tapped her chin as she thought. "An intern psychiatrist went missing at the same time. Officially she isn't missing until after 48 hours, but it happened at the same time, so it was logged as an M.I.A. or A.W.O.L."

Missing in Action or Away Without Leave, Hope translated. "She's presumed to either have left with him, or he took her, or he killed her."

Lois nodded.

"Why was he in Arkham?"

"Don't know yet, but I'll look into it. The prison story was bigger, didn't see the need at the time."

Hope nodded her own understanding and finished her sandwich.

"Sooo…" Lois gave a giant grin and sidled her chair just a bit closer. "What would it take for you to go ON the record about this guy?"

"Oh?" Hope's tone became aloof. "What guy?"

"What do you mean 'what guy'? The prison guy?"

"What prison guy?"

Lois glared. "The one that organized the prison escape!"

Hope sighed. She should've known that Lois wouldn't take a hint. "Lois, I'm going to tell you something with all the care I feel for you…" Lois sat up straighter, registering the change in tonality and purpose. The utter gravity and seriousness. "…do not look deeper into who that guy is. If he thinks you're a threat, he won't just destroy you. Do you understand? Leave him be."

Lois blinked several times. As a reporter, it was her job to go into dangerous situations. Hell, even Hope had been by her side for the last one! She was an investigative reporter. It was what she did. "Hope…?"

"Lois!" Hope's voice was sharp. Stone. Ice. "Do NOT look into him."

People turned to look at them, alerted. It WAS a newspaper cafeteria after all.

Hope sighed, going back to a more normal volume. "You know how you keep Superman's real secrets?" Lois nodded. "Well, I keep a lot of secrets. This guy is just one of many, but his secrets are the kind that won't just hurt you; he'll hurt you and everyone you've ever spoken to. He'd level this building if he thought he had to, with everyone in it." She took a deep stabilizing breath. "Lois, you're Clark's friend. You're my friend. Sorta. I don't want you to do this. This man will erase you. Just…don't. For my sake. For Clark's sake. Just don't. Please."

Lois blinked, shocked at the genuine concern she saw there. After several moments, she nodded. "Okay. I won't go looking deeper. Just as far as the evidence takes me."

"Thank you," Hope almost whispered, so deep was her emotion. "It would really hurt Clark if something happened to you."

Lois smirked, knowing that it wasn't just CLARK that would be hurt, but she let it go. "Oh, that reminds me!" She grinned wider. "Have you seen the new photographer? The young one?"

Hope snorted. "You mean the one that's almost always hanging around you with those big puppy eyes? Yes, I've seen him. Who is he?"

"Jimmy Olsen," Lois grinned. "He's been a part-time photographer with the paper for awhile, but apparently his piles of Superman photos have finally warranted him a full-time position."

Hope quirked her head to the side. "I thought photographers were paid by the photo?"

"Not by the way Olsen's been following me," Lois muttered.

Hope laughed. "Maybe he wants to ask you on a big news story!" Or a date.

"Yeah, maybe," Lois grumped. "I doubt it though."

"I do too," Hope grinned mischievously.

Lois got the implication and growled, "Oh, shut it!" and pushed Hope off her chair. The other redhead laughing all the way down to the floor.

"When do you fly out?" Hope asked.

"Tomorrow. Should be in Nairomi by Wednesday."

Hope was silent for awhile, then said quietly. "You're going into a war zone. You know he'll be paying attention. Take the emergency beacon." Another pause. "Be careful."

Lois smiled at her semi-friend and nodded. "As well as I can. Promise."

+++HOPEFUL+IDIOT+++

Tuesday

"You got a delivery," the day-time security guy said. He pushed a large vase of flowers towards her. His smile matched the size of the bouquet.

Hope quirked her eyebrow at him, then at the flower arrangement. Why would Clark give her flowers this way? He just saw her. Why not give her the flowers then? And why these flowers? Actually, why flowers at all? She didn't particularly like flowers. (Not that she was against flowers, she wasn't. More ambivalent.)

The bouquet had mostly roses, of many varieties of colors. There was one purple, right at the center. Then in circles of colors. The first circle was a dark pink surrounding the purple bloom. Then a circle of light pink with yellow. Finally a circle of orange and white.

Hope blinked at it, confounded. "What the hell?" she whispered. Then, louder, she asked, "Is there a card?"

The daytime guy (who changed so often she never got his name) and held out the accompanying card.

HOPE TO HAVE ANOTHER CONVERSATION WITH YOU SOON. LUNCH? ~ B.W.

"Son of a Bitch!" Hope shouted. She'd spent all night apologizing to Clark (starting with his favorite dinner and ending in the bedroom) for her screwup and now here was more evidence of how badly she'd been an idiot. Such an idiot!

+++HOPEFUL+IDIOT+++

Wednesday – Somewhere in Nairomi, Africa

"Are you a terrorist, general?"

"They didn't tell me that interviewer was a lady."

"I'm not a lady, I'm a journalist." Lois found herself sitting cross-legged in the dirt, trying to interview a really smug terrorist claiming to be a general.

As she spoke with the general, she could hear her photographer Heron—standing behind her—being frisked. The sound of Heron's protests and smashed plastic reached her ears, even as General Amajagh prattled on. "What I am is a man with nothing except a love of my people."

"Who pays for these security contractors, general?" Lois asked calmly. She certainly wasn't intimidated by her surroundings. Or well, she was, but she refused to show it. Instead, she mentally marked each difference in security personnel versus the 'freedom fighters'.

The general wasn't having any of it. "Who pays for the drones that pass over our heads at night?" he retorted. "One question begs another. Yes?"

"Say what you're saying, General Amajagh." She shook her head. "The United States has declared its neutrality in your country's civil war, both in policy and in principle."

"Oh, don't open—" Heron was so forlorn behind her. "You just exposed the film…It's ruined now." A crack and creak. Heron groaned in pain, as if he was the one being harmed instead of only his camera. "Please, don't…"

"These pious American fictions," General Amajagh continued as if he didn't hear or see what was going on behind Lois. Instead, he stared at Lois directly. His tone, when it came, was firm in his resolve. He fully believed what he said. "Men with power obey neither policy nor principle, Miss Lane. No one is different. No one is neutral."

As if taking a cue, or some cosmic fate, there was a loud crunch and a hush fell over the security behind her. She turned and saw as the security chief reached down and pulled out a slim blinking red tube. "C.I.A."

There was a loud scramble and voices raised in anger. Heron's eyes were wide in absolute astonishment as he was forced to his knees. "I didn't know! I swear I didn't know!"

The general growled, "You're C.I.A.!" at Lois.

"What? No. No! I have no idea how that got there. He's a photographer. I've worked with him for years. He's innocent. We don't know how—"

The general shoved her aside hard enough that she fell to the ground. As she picked herself back up, she watched as the man walked over to Heron, a gun in his hand. "Please! He's just a photographer! We aren't C.I.A!"

It was as if Heron broke. His posture changed, hanging in those holding him. "She doesn't know anything."

"What?" Lois was astonished. "Heron, what did you do?!"

He looked at her and his expression was forlorn. "They paid me. $50 thousand. Tina is going to start college in the fall. I just…" He looked back at the general. "Lois had nothing to do with this. It was just me. Please…don't hurt her."

General Amajagh's jaw tightened. It was all the expression he showed as he raised the gun and pulled the trigger. Lois cried out behind him, having seen the whole thing. "Take her inside," he gestured and the journalist was pulled into the nearest building.

Lois tried valiantly to not break down. She didn't have the time or luxury to do so right at that moment. Instead, she put her hand inside her pants leg and tapped the small trip beacon taped there. Small enough that it wouldn't be found during a routine frisk. As the general came into the building, she shook her head. "I…I didn't know."

He didn't glare. It was more a lack of expression that was most disturbing. "Ignorance…is not the same as innocence, Miss Lane."

Suddenly from outside came the sound of gunshots. A lot of them. Steady. Precise. Then counterfire. Rapid. Frantic.

The general grabbed Lois and spun her, making her face the entrance. She felt a gun barrel at her forehead. Her breathing became frantic as panic edged in.

"Quickly. He's coming!" a call from outside.

Tense.

Then…two explosions, one right after another. Right above their heads.

Lois let out an involuntary cry of shock and fear.

And then…there he was. Superman. Blasted down right through the ceiling, landing on bended knee, and then slowly straightening to stare without fear at the one who threatened her life.

The general didn't know. Didn't care. Or perhaps didn't understand. "Take one step, and you'll see the inside of her head!"

Superman's eyes were narrow. His face hard. Resolved. Unwavering. Calm. There was a darkness in those eyes.

Lois saw it. Saw him. Understood more. And slowly lowered her hands that had been clutching the general's arm that held her to his chest. She tried to calm her racing heart. Tried to be reassuring that this was the right thing to do. She gave a small nod to him. Tiny. Almost imperceptible to anyone not looking for it.

The next instant, before Lois had a chance to blink, Superman had taken General Amajagh through two walls behind Lois and was already far enough away she couldn't easily see them when she turned to look.

As the soldiers came through, they saw the bodies. The burned ones. The women and children, now free, coming to them on bended knee and praise for their new freedom.

Lois watched it all, mute. For now, she didn't know how she should feel about all this. For now, she would be happy to be alive.

And a small part of her, a very small part, thought that it was lucky that it was her to be held at gunpoint. If it had been Hope? God help them…for only He would know what Clark might've done….

+++++HOPEFUL+IDIOT+++++

Finished: 07.10.2021

The Aeslin mice come courtesy of the "InCryptid" series, from the mind of the singular Seanan McGuire.

The beginning of this chapter is brought to you by…last night. Only I had no Clark to pick me up… Nor do I have a super-intelligent dog to consent to never sleeping there again.

PPS – I like Jimmy Olsen too much. I couldn't kill him. Sorry, not sorry!

Please tell me what you think, but constructive criticism please. I know it's not perfect.