Chapter Six
It had been a long night and Clark couldn't sleep.
He'd let himself get distracted and look what had nearly happened?
Clark knew Lois would likely ditch him after work that evening, for one of her frequent after dark fact-finding missions. She usually dragged Jimmy along on such jaunts, accusing Clark of jeopardising her, potentially, good stories because of his reluctance to take risks.
He'd followed her to Suicide Slum, maintaining a safe enough distance so that Lois wouldn't see or hear him. He'd been doing it for a while now, making sure she stayed out of trouble, and being close enough to react if she needed an intervention. But he'd heard a cry for help several blocks away and reacted as he was becoming accustomed to these days: rushing to help.
A gang of thugs had surrounded a man of about thirty years of age and they were beating at him with a combination of their fists and feet. A few of the thugs carried heavy looking iron chains. Clark had set amongst them like a whirlwind, knocking them aside, grabbing the beaten man and speeding him to the safety of a police patrol car a few blocks away.
He'd given neither the police nor the man he'd saved from a beating, the chance to get a good look at him, he hoped. Returning to check on Lois, he'd felt all kinds of smug and proud of himself for helping that guy, but within moments he's little act of heroism meant nothing to him when he picked up on Lois' scream of pain.
So, he'd spent the last few hours pacing anxiously around her apartment, his jumbled thoughts scattered between his own unfocused guilt and his concern for Lois.
Her new apartment--a sparsely furnished, one bedroom, third floor, studio in Metropolis--was much smaller than the one she'd shared with Chloe, in Smallville.
After Chloe's abrupt departure from their lives, Lois had begun devoting more and more of her time to her work in Metropolis at the Daily Planet. So within weeks she'd begun looking at affordable apartments; close enough to the DP for a quick commute to work, but far enough away to give her the illusion of living apart from the hustle and glitz of the city's bustling New Troy area.
When Clark and Jimmy Olsen had helped Lois move in, all she'd brought with her from Smallville was her two-seater couch, crockery, her bed, some framed photos and other knick-knacks. The rest she'd either put in storage (Clark's loft) or sold during a garage sale she'd held just before leaving the Talon apartment for good.
She'd spent a little money on a second-hand writing desk, which was basically an old dining table, versatile enough to be used as a base station for her laptop, and as a place to stack her rough notes and writing pads, as well as for eating her frequent take-out dinners.
Clark tried to comfort himself with the thought that at least she still had take-out dinners in her future.
When she'd slumped so heavily against him, after the attack in Suicide Slum, he'd experienced a moment of panic, for a split second fearing the worst, as he'd tried to quickly assess the extent of her injuries.
He'd speeded her to the emergency room of Metropolis General, as fast as he dared to travel, not wanting to do further damage to what he suspected was a dislocated right shoulder.
The emergency room staff had confirmed his assessment later, popping the shoulder back into place, before sending Lois home, her right arm in a sling, and arming her with a small crate of painkillers and medication to reduce the inflammation of the affected joint and surrounding tissue.
The police had arrived to take her statement, shortly after she'd been examined, as was hospital procedure under the circumstances. But as Lois had no real clue who'd she'd gone to meet that night, nor could she or Clark provide an accurate description of her assailant, the two officers didn't offer much in the way of a hopeful investigation, instead cautioning her against repeating such actions in the future.
Lois had shot them a irritated and sarcastic, "Sure. Thanks," as her first round of painkillers took effect.
She'd put up a fight, a usual, when he'd offered to spend the night, after seeing her home from the hospital.
"I'll be fine, Clark. I can just pop a few happy pills," she said, through gritted teeth. "Thanks for seeing me home and … and back there," she hesitated, while Clark had begun to brew cups of tea for them both. "You don't have to stay."
He could see her every movement was causing her pain. There was no way he was leaving her alone tonight. He corrected himself immediately, there was no way he was leaving her alone for the next few days; however long it was going to take for her to physically recover.
"Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time, Lois?" he couldn't help demanding.
Her pig-headedness was beginning to grate on him in the worst way. He knew that if their positions were reversed she'd be first in line (with his mother) to help in any way that she could.
"I can see that you're in pain, and I want to help you. Lois, just let me help you, please, okay?"
"Fine," she'd agreed reluctantly. "You can sleep on the couch."
She'd had the good grace to look a little embarrassed by Clark's pleading tone, and he sighed in relief, glad not to have to force her to accept that he wasn't going to leave her anytime soon.
Sleep had eventually claimed him some time later, though he would hardly call it comfortable, having to fit his large frame onto Lois' small two-seater couch.
When he'd awoken the next morning, to his cell phone alarm blaring somewhere near his head, grabbing at it blindly he shut it off, and opened his tired eyes to the sight of Lois staring down at him.
She was dressed in blue, teddy bear patterned pyjamas the hospital issued sling housing her right arm, and she wore the most curious of expressions.
"Lois, what do you need, I'll go get it," his sleep addled brain forced out. He stretched his long legs out across the couch, so that they hung off the end of the chair, ran a hand through his mussed hair and yawned.
"A new couch," she answered, a small smirk beginning to appear at the corner of her mouth.
"Huh?"
"You broke my couch, Smallville."
It was taking a while for Lois' non-sequiturs to penetrate his sleepy brain.
Then it hit him.
Clark sat up abruptly, the thin sheet covering him falling across his lap. At some point, during his brief sleep, he managed to kick the end off of Lois' small couch. The remnants of the couch's arm lay hanging by a few stitches against the laminated wood floor.
"Want to tell me how you did that?" Lois asked, her tone, surprisingly teasing, considering the circumstances.
"Oh … Umm."
He didn't suppose a story about a gust of wind was going to work this time.
On the bright side, he could tell her the truth; never have to lie to her again, and that thought warmed him and frightened him.
What if she couldn't handle his other-worldliness?
Sure, in that other reality he'd briefly experienced, Lois had taken his abilities and strangeness in her stride, even appearing to like it a little, but what if his Lois thought him a freak, looked at him differently? What if his Lois decided that she didn't want to be around him or that…?
Interrupting his panicked thoughts, Lois declared, "You can tell me over breakfast."
She was sitting at the table now, rubbing lightly at her injured arm.
"Pancakes. Flour's in the cupboard above the sink, and there's milk and eggs in the fridge," she instructed.
How did she do that? He wondered; putting him at ease, teasing him, infuriating him, all with just a look, or a smirk or a snarky comment.
Clark couldn't help smiling a little as he swung his bare legs over the side of the ruined couch. Typical Lois, he decided. Taking it all in her stride.
"Pancakes," he agreed.
-8-
Later that morning, across town, Tess Carmichael smiled with satisfaction as she read through the discreet report, Thompson, her head of security, had prepared for her.
The operation was proceeding as planned, and last night's actions had delivered its desired effect.
There was a long way to go, but she was already committed to the long haul, and she could be patient.
Lex would be pleased.
-8-
… to be continued …