Incognito

[phoenixnz]

Nice character/relationship interaction and building. I like the clarifications' on the past. Was I mistaken or did they agree to share a room at Lex's mausoleum, I mean mansion? Martha and the pie story 藍藍 I have always liked O'Toole's portrayal of Martha as classy and gentle with a steel core and a bit of a firecracker when pushed. Thanks for brightening my Monday ☺ As always, more please.

I wanted it to be a bit of a slow burn when it came to Clark and Lois' relationship. I had to laugh as I was writing the story about the pie. It's just the kind of thing I think Martha would do if she was pushed enough.

And yes, Clark and Lois will share a room, and a bed, but that doesn't mean more. New chapter coming up.

[phoenixnz]

a/n: There was no Veritas Society and no retcon with the mansion either. In this version, Lionel never set foot in the mansion until Lex moved there.

Chapter Fifteen

The Luthor mansion reminded her of a castle. She could even see what looked like some kind of turret as the truck approached the main gate.

Clark had picked her up in a red F-150. While the truck looked almost pristine, she guessed that it was a few years old. Her companion had smiled and explained that Lex had given him the truck as a gift when they’d first met. He’d already told her that he’d saved his friend’s life when Lex had lost control of his Porsche and crashed through a barrier on Loeb Bridge.

Clark’s parents had made him give the truck back, but the bald billionaire had kept it. Ostensibly out of some kind of sentimentality. He’d given it back to Clark on his first day working for LexCorp.

“Don’t the people in Smallville think it’s weird that there’s a castle in the middle of the countryside? I mean, I’m expecting to see a moat or something. Where did Lex …?” She gestured with her hand.

Clark smiled. “Yeah, I know. It’s a bit pretentious. Even Lex agreed with that when I first met him. I remember I said something about how great the place was and he said, ‘yeah, if you’re in the market for something to haunt’. Or something like that. Anyway, Lex’s dad bought it in Scotland. It was supposed to be the Luthor ancestral home but I don’t think that was ever proved.”

“I thought Lionel grew up in Suicide Slums?” she asked. “I saw the news articles when he was convicted for killing his parents.”

“Yeah, he was, but I think Lachlan, Lex’s grandfather, was born in Scotland. Anyway, when I was a kid, Lionel had the mansion shipped over and rebuilt here.”

She frowned, looking through the passenger side window at the grounds as Clark was waved on through the gate and drove down the long driveway. The estate was probably about two acres, give or take. She had to admit the gardens were beautiful, bordered by woods which gave the estate complete privacy. What appeared to be a man-made lake was on one part of the grounds.

“Did you ever spend time on that lake?” she asked.

“No. Well, maybe a couple of days here and there. After my dad died and Lex and I repaired our friendship.”

She frowned again at him. He’d mentioned a rift before but hadn’t explained what had caused it. She didn’t want to appear too nosy, but wondered why they’d stopped being friends for a while.

“What happened between you two? When you stopped being friends.”

Clark shrugged. “I don’t know. Just things sort of came between us, I guess. Sometimes Lex can be kind of, I guess arrogant. And sometimes he doesn’t really think about how his actions can hurt someone.”

She caught a note in his voice and wondered if he’d experienced the same thing. She decided not to ask him about it, knowing if he wanted to share it, he would. It wasn’t relevant to what she was doing.

It had begun to bother her that she was involving him in this. He seemed to be a good guy, which was odd because he was working for a crook, and possibly a murderer. She just couldn’t reconcile the man she was beginning to have strong feelings for with the man she’d thought he was. How could Clark not know what Lex was doing? Or maybe he did know and he was just looking the other way. Then again, that didn’t match up with what she had seen with her own eyes.

It was driving her crazy. One part of her told her that there was every possibility that Clark was acting but another part argued that he was just not that good an actor. He didn’t seem to be comfortable with lying. She had caught him out a couple of times with a lie, but wondered if it was not so much a lie as in an untruth but an omission. More than a few times she had had the strangest feeling that there was something he wanted to tell her, but was still keeping from her.

Then again, they’d only known each other a few weeks. It wasn’t possible for them to know everything about each other after just those few weeks of dating.

Clark pulled up outside a huge garage and got out of the truck as a man in a formal uniform of black trousers and crisp white shirt approached. They spoke for a few seconds before Clark came around the other side and opened the door for her. She let him help her out of her seat, grabbing her purse.

“What about my overnight bag?” she asked.

“Miguel will get it,” he told her. “He’ll take it upstairs to the room.”

“Oh. Great.”

Clark took her hand and led her up the path to the main door which was already being held open by an older man in a similar uniform.

“Raines, this is Joanne.”

“Very good, sir. Mr Luthor is in the study.”

“Great. Thanks.”

She walked quickly to keep up with Clark, her heels clicking on the parquet floor. The spike heels were only about two and a half inches, but her partner had long strides and it was difficult keeping up with him without worrying about twisting her ankle.

He led the way along a hallway. She noted the walls were wood panels. Some artworks were mounted on the panels at various intervals and were clearly original works. No such thing as prints, she thought.

Clark stopped at a set of double doors and thrust them inward, entering the room. She saw to her surprise a small boy standing beside a glass desk.

“But I want to …”

“Alexander, how many times do I have to tell you, you are not staying for the party. You are to stay in the nursery and that is final!”

She narrowed her eyes at the bald man scolding the child. The little boy had dark red hair and a slightly chubby face. He was wearing what appeared to be the uniform of a prep school in Metropolis. The same prep school she had learned Lex had attended.

“Lex,” Clark said. “I didn’t know Alex was going to be here this weekend.”

Lex looked up. “Yeah. The school informed me yesterday that the children had to be sent home so they could treat the entire campus for termites.” He scowled to express his displeasure. She quickly saw the little boy’s face crinkle up as if he was going to cry. Poor kid, she thought. He probably wanted to spend time with his dad and Lex wasn’t having it.

The bald man smiled and approached them, turning his back on the boy.

“So, Joanne, isn’t it?” He held out his hand.

“We met at Atlantis a few weeks ago,” she said, taking his hand in a firm grip, fighting the urge to pull away and wipe her hand against her skirt.

“So we did.” He looked at Clark. “Well, your taste in women is certainly improving.”

What was that supposed to mean, she thought, suppressing her anger. As he went on, it was clear he was subtly insulting her cousin. Maybe she and Chloe hadn’t been that close in a very long time, but she didn’t think her cousin deserved to be insulted.

“What do they say? Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy?” Lex was laughing. “Then again, considering who she’s been seen with, I’d say they’re welcome to each other! Don’t you, Clark?”

She glanced at her companion and realised he too was just barely suppressing anger. Did he still have feelings for Chloe?

“Forgive me, Lex, but you are talking about my ex-girlfriend. No matter how bad things got between us, I don’t think she deserved that.”

The bald man narrowed his eyes, clearly not impressed that Clark was talking back to him in such a way, even though the brunet’s words were reasonable and even polite.

“You’re right, of course. I apologise. Why don’t you show Joanne around the grounds? I’m sure she’s curious about this place.”

Clark nodded and turned back to her with a smile. “Would you like a tour?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said with a nod.

They strolled out to the gardens. “What was that all about?” she asked. “I got the feeling you were upset about what he said about … your ex.” She had just barely managed to stop herself from saying her cousin’s name.

“He and Chloe didn’t really get along. She never really liked him. Truth is, they both had a lot in common. In the beginning, anyway.”

“In what way?”

“Well, Chloe was the editor of our high school paper. She always had this nose for things. Lex is sort of the same. He’s never liked mysteries. He tends to take things apart, analyse them right down to their tiniest molecule, until he’s satisfied he knows everything there is to know. He gets mad when he doesn’t get answers.”

“Did Chloe?” she asked.

Clark studied her for a moment. “Yes and no. We had our arguments over stuff like that. She would get herself in trouble and I would have to help her get out of it and we’d often fight about it but make up the next day. We cared about each other too much not to make up.”

She nodded, sensing a deep loyalty to Chloe. He obviously didn’t want to say anything bad about her cousin, which she liked, but wondered if he still had romantic feelings for her.

“Do you still love her?” She hated asking that question, especially since it caused an odd feeling in her stomach. Almost as if she was jealous that Clark held such deep feelings for another woman. Never mind that that woman was her cousin.

“Yeah, I do. But not in the romantic sense. We both realised a long time ago that we’d be better off friends.”

She bit her lip. “I see.”

He looked at her, placing a hand on her knee. “I don’t think you do,” he said. “Maybe it seems weird to still care about her, but I do. But, it’s as I said. Not as a couple. Not the way I … I care about you.”

She gazed at him searchingly, wondering if he was actually telling the truth. He gazed back at her, never wavering. She licked suddenly dry lips, mentally begging him to kiss her. He leaned toward her, their mouths connecting in a gentle kiss that slowly became more heated. She wrapped her arms around him as she opened up to him, losing herself in his kiss.

[phoenixnz]

Chapter Sixteen

Clark had been furious at Lex’s insinuations about Chloe but hadn’t wanted to spoil things with Jo and had tamped down on his anger. He knew as they talked that she had sensed he was upset but appeared to have misinterpreted his feelings. He hadn’t lied to her about how he felt about his ex-girlfriend but he guessed she probably felt a little jealous.

He walked with her through the grounds, showing her various spots of interest. Lex had had different sculptures installed in the gardens, which was typical of his own pretentiousness. As much as he’d tried to make out in the beginning that he hated the mansion, he had done a good job of showing off himself.

Lex had somehow managed to get a sculpture of Alexander the Great. Jo frowned at it.

“It’s Alexander the Great,” Clark told her. “He’s pretty much Lex’s idol.”

She looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. He saw her lips quirk in a half-grin.

“Really?”

“He used to tell me he was named after the king. I could see that, actually. Lionel was always a bit of a snob.”

“Hence the castle,” she pointed out.

“Oh, true. Anyway, Lex was forever telling me stories about the great kings of the past and using them as allegories, trying to relate them to whatever teenage angst I was going through at the time.” He rolled his eyes.

He might have been an alien, but since he was raised human, around other humans, he was subject to the same sort of teenage issues his friends were. He often looked back at those years and wondered why he’d acted so stupid sometimes, but guessed it had everything to do with his age and his influences. Even Chloe had often called him on his whining, telling him he needed to shut up and get with the program.

“I was such a dork as a teenager. I was taller than most of the kids in my freshman class and I guess I tripped over my own feet a lot.”

Jo looked down at his feet and laughed. “Well, they are big feet.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead. Make fun of the dork. I’m sure you never had any dorky moments.”

“Are you kidding? When I was thirteen, I had to wear braces for a year and then a retainer for two years. Imagine getting your first boyfriend at fourteen and him not wanting to kiss you because your mouth is full of metal!”

“I can still beat that. I used to have a crush on this girl and every time I got within five feet of her I’d trip up and fall flat on my face.”

“You think that’s embarrassing? Imagine getting your period for the first time at twelve and your teacher won’t even let you out of class so you can go see the school nurse! Then having to face your dad and getting this really awkward birds and the bees speech. Of course, then I had to give my sister the same speech and all I could tell her was, don’t kiss a boy or you’re gonna get pregnant.”

“You know it takes a lot more than that,” he replied with a smirk.

“I was twelve. What the hell did I know about sex education? My mom wasn’t around so I was it.”

“It must have been hard,” he said sympathetically.

She shrugged. “We made the best of it.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” he prompted.

“We had some problems a few years ago and we don’t talk much. I guess it’s because after my mom died I had to become like big sister and mom at the same time. Our dad wasn’t around much.”

“Why not?” he asked, remembering she had mentioned her mother passing away when she was young.

“Because of his job. I guess when Mom died he buried himself in his work.” She looked at him. “What was it like for you when your dad died?”

“Well, I wasn’t a kid then, so maybe that made it easier. There was just my mom and me.”

“You don’t have any siblings?”

He shook his head. His mother had been told she would never be able to have children but a few years ago something had happened which had allowed her to get pregnant. They’d been convinced it was something to do with his lifepod. She’d been almost five months along when a program within the ship had activated, telling him he had to leave Smallville. He had blown up the ship, using Kryptonite, but the resulting concussion from the explosion had caused his parents’ truck to overturn and his mother had lost the baby. Clark had never really forgiven himself for that.

By the time he’d shown her up to the room they’d be sharing, other guests had started to arrive. Jo stood by the bed, looking around. The room wasn’t the nicest in the mansion. Lex usually reserved those for whichever business owner he was trying to ‘seduce’. Still, it was nice enough with a queen size bed and a small adjoining bathroom. The only artwork adorning the walls was a large painting by an artist Clark had never heard of, although he was hardly an expert in art anyway.

“What about my bag?” she asked.

He went to the closet. Unlike the bigger guest rooms, this room had a fairly small, one-door closet, but it was adequate for their needs. He opened the door and showed her their clothes had already been put away.

“Wow. Efficient,” she said.

“Yeah, the staff are very efficient. Lex kind of runs this place like a tyrant.”

She looked at him as if she was trying to figure out what he had meant by that. The servants in the mansion had never been paid very much from the beginning. Barely above minimum wage. The exception had been Mrs Palmer, the housekeeper who had looked after the mansion when Lex had first moved to Smallville. She had been working for the Luthors for many years.

After her son had attacked Lex, Mrs Palmer had been sent back to Metropolis. Clark had heard she had been fired by Lionel but Lex, still wanting to do the right thing in those days, had secured her a well-paying post elsewhere.

Since then, he’d had a slew of different people working for him. He didn’t trust his servants and made sure they understood that any problems would result in immediate dismissal. He didn’t care what they were. Most of the servants were now contracted by an agency and only worked at the mansion when Lex was in Smallville, which was usually once a month, if that. He did have a caretaker whose full-time job it was to keep the grounds maintained and the mansion clean at all times.

He’d used another agency until a few months ago. One of the maids contracted to work one weekend had been having problems with an ex-boyfriend who used to beat her. The ex had come to the mansion, despite her having a restraining order, and threatened to kill her and anyone else she talked to. Instead of showing sympathy for her plight, Lex had fired her on the spot and cancelled the contract with the agency. Clark had tracked her down and got Bruce to help her start a new life away from the abusive ex. He had later been arrested on assault charges.

They went downstairs to join the party. Jo appeared animated and friendly with most of the guests. Yet every time she talked to Lex it was as if someone had turned off a light switch. She was cool in all her exchanges with him, even as the bald man tried to flirt with her. It was clear she wasn’t having it.

Clark circulated the party, watching as Lex approached the man from Gotham. He listened into the conversation, realising that his earlier thoughts were right. His boss was trying to convince the man to do business with LexCorp, giving Lex a foothold in the city. Sal Moroni was not going to like that at all.

It was late by the time some of the guests left and they went to bed. Jo came out of the bathroom wearing a dark blue nightgown. It was fairly modest, although the gown ended mid-thigh, exposing long, tanned legs. She smoothed the satin, looking a little uncertain.

“Too much?” she asked.

He shook his head. He’d already changed into his own nightwear. From the look on her face, she seemed to be relieved he had opted for the safety of pyjama pants and a t-shirt. While they had agreed to sleep in the same bed, they hadn’t planned anything more intimate than that.

The maid had already been in to turn down the bed. Clark hesitantly indicated the right side of the bed.

“Uh, I wasn’t sure which side you like sleeping on, so …”

“I’m easy,” she replied, then bit her lip. “I mean, I don’t mind.”

He knew what she’d meant, but it was a relief to know she was feeling just as nervous as he was. He got in one side while she moved around the bed and got in the other, pulling up the blankets. She turned on her side to face him.

“Well, goodnight,” she said.

He leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” she quipped. He snickered, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when something woke him. Frowning, he felt the bed beside him. Jo wasn’t there. He looked around but the bathroom light wasn’t on. Wondering where she had gone, he tuned in his super-hearing. A slight creak of a floorboard told him she was creeping downstairs.

He decided to follow her, still using his super-hearing. Jo was wandering around downstairs but he couldn’t tell what she was doing exactly.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I was looking for the kitchen. I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d heat up some milk.”

“It’s right this way, miss.”

Clark continued to listen as she chattered to the maid while heating up the milk in the microwave.

“So, Clark said you actually work for an agency?”

“Yes, miss. The agency contracts us to work at the mansion whenever Mr Luthor is in town.”

“Which one? I have a friend who is looking for some staff. She didn’t want to hire anyone permanent.”

“It’s called Metropolis Maid Services, miss. They have a Facebook page.”

“Oh, that’s great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Sleep well, ma’am.”

Clark frowned. While it sounded completely innocent, he just had a gut feeling there was more to what she was asking than she was saying. From what she had told him, he didn’t think she had any friends who would require a maid service. It seemed odd.

He listened again but there was no further conversation. He heard the sound of her coming back up the stairs and went back to bed.

[phoenixnz]

Chapter Seventeen

She walked quickly along the street, not even acknowledging the stares of people she passed; a woman on a mission. It was late in the afternoon and the temperature was dropping but there were still a lot of people out shopping in the main street.

She made her way to the intersection and stood among the crowd of people waiting for the light to change. Most of them ignored her but she had an uneasy feeling. Almost as if she was being watched. She tried to appear nonchalant as she looked around but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

The light changed and she mixed with the others, crossing the street. Again she felt that odd sensation of being watched but didn’t look around, continuing on, dodging this way and that to get out of the path of other pedestrians.

She walked the length of the next block and crossed the next intersection before turning down that street and walking another half-block. She stopped beside a building with two huge stone columns. It was at least one hundred years old, or maybe a little more. Roughly turn-of-the-century, she thought. Unlike the others surrounding it, there was no such thing as modern conveniences. The local heritage group had fought to preserve the building as it was, even though it didn’t meet city ordinance requirements, like being wheelchair accessible. It had at least had an elevator, although even that was ancient and prone to breaking down.

The building housed various offices. Most of them were tiny and cramped and not exactly highly sought after, despite the inexpensive rents.

She ascended the small flight of steps to the lobby and went through a door to the stairwell, ignoring the elevator, and went up one flight of stairs. She paused at the slight squeak of the hinge from the main door below, frowning. She wasn’t being paranoid. Someone was following her.

She quickly climbed the stairs to the third floor and entered through the door, hearing a slight bang as the door shut, walking quickly down the dimly-lit corridor and ducking into an alcove. She waited calmly, deliberately keeping her breathing quiet and even so she could listen for any sounds. Sure enough, less than a minute after she’d entered, the door opened again. She heard steps along the old linoleum floor and slight creaks of loose boards taking weight.

The visitor drew level with the alcove and she held her breath. There was just enough light for her to see that the person who had been following her was a man. He was probably in his 50s with close-cropped silver hair and a wizened face. He walked with an upright bearing, like a military man. While not skinny in build, it was clear he kept his body in tip-top shape.

He hesitated for just a second before continuing on down the corridor.

She moved in for the attack, her movements swift and forceful. The man turned, clearly having heard her, raising his arms to block off the attack. She found herself punching air before he grabbed her fist and forced her back against the wall.

“Nice try,” he said. “But you’re still telegraphing your moves.”

“Screw you,” she said. “I made you all the way over on seventh.”

He shook his head and tsked. “I’ve been following you since you left the El train on Baltimore. How you’ve managed to stay ahead of the game this long, I don’t know.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know, Flag, it’s no wonder you’re reduced to contract work. You have such a sparkling personality!”

He smirked. “All part of my charm.” He looked up, past her shoulder. “Emil.”

“All clear, boss.”

Rick Flag gestured toward an office at the end of the corridor. She followed him, taking out a set of keys before opening the door.

“Age before beauty,” she quipped.

Flag said nothing, entering the office ahead of her. She stepped inside. Flag’s off-sider, Emil LaSalle, followed her.

She had met Flag when she had been investigating a story about a government organisation framing a group of so-called vigilantes from about thirty years earlier. One of her sources in the military had told her the organisation, called Checkmate, had a team which it used for various covert operations, most of them fairly dangerous. Hence it was called the Suicide Squad. Most of the members had been imprisoned for the odd crime. Floyd Lawton, aka Deadshot, hired himself out as an assassin.

Flag had served with the US Army for close on thirty years but after an incident in Afghanistan when he’d fired on civilians, against orders, he’d been court-martialed and dishonourably discharged.

She remembered her father saying something about the incident, grumbling about soldiers taking matters into their own hands. When she had met Flag and asked him about it, he’d told her that as far as he was concerned, no one had been innocent. He’d claimed the whole thing had been a whitewash and the army had refused to believe that the civilians were in fact suicide bombers, despite there being no proof either way.

After his discharge, the assistant director of Checkmate, Amanda Waller, had approached him, offering him a chance to lead the Suicide Squad.

Waller had since been fired from her position after another agency had exposed her plot to draw the old Justice Society out of hiding by sending a member of the Suicide Squad to murder its former members. Flag had no idea who was behind the other agency but had distanced himself from the whole thing.

She had approached Flag to help her with her own mission to expose Luthor after she’d learned that one of the team had been captured by LexCorp and kept in one of the research labs for study. As far as the leader knew, Bette Sans Souci was still a prisoner.

She looked at him. He stood facing her with his arms crossed over his chest. While she had already known a little martial arts, having learned some of it as a child, Flag had taught her how to fight dirty. He’d spent hours with her lecturing her about the enemy and how they would never observe the rules of combat.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well, what?” he replied.

She rolled her eyes again. “You’re a dick, Flag.”

“Thank you. I try.” He smirked. “So, how’s the boyfriend?”

“That’s none of your business!” she snapped. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss Clark with the likes of Rick Flag.

“You know, he ain’t what he seems.”

She glared at the older man. Just because he worked for her, it didn’t give him the right to lecture her or tell her what to do. Or how to feel about Clark. Sure, she had moments where she wondered if she should just back off and find another way to expose Luthor, but had dismissed those feelings, telling herself that Clark was still working for Lex and that justified what she was doing.

Never mind the fact that it felt like she was almost prostituting herself by dating him. Or that she was beginning to have feelings for him.

Yet at times she thought that Clark wasn’t telling her everything. It was obvious that he and Lex were no longer friends but that appeared to have less to do with the fact that Lex was his boss and more to do with the fact that the man she had been dating really didn’t like the bald billionaire and trusted him even less.

She had watched him the whole weekend at Luthor’s mansion and he’d seemed more than a little distracted. Almost as if he was worried about something.

“What would you know?”

Flag nodded toward Emil. “Ask him. He’s been following your boyfriend.”

She frowned as she turned to look at Emil. She didn’t ask questions about the people Flag chose to use for the jobs she asked him to do but he’d told her LaSalle was a teleporter. How he’d got those powers she didn’t know.

She had no idea how being a teleporter helped him follow someone like Clark.

“The guy seems to just disappear,” Emil said. “It’s like one second he’s there, the next he’s vanished.”

“He’s a teleporter?” she asked.

The man shook his head. “I don’t know what he is, but I’m gonna find out.”

“Leave him alone! I don’t pay you to follow my boyfriend.”

“So you admit it,” Flag said, sounding amused.

“I said leave it alone,” she snapped. “Now what else do you have for me?”

“I asked around about your little ‘mission’. There’s a woman who operates out of Gotham, but she figures she’ll help you with this one job. Pretty simple uplift. You sure you want to do this?”

She nodded. After talking with the maid, she had contacted the agency, claiming she was with the accounting department at LexCorp saying she just needed to confirm some records. The maid service had been none the wiser and told her they had a permanent contract cleaning the offices at LexCorp as well as the occasional job at the mansion.

Knowing she needed to get into Lex’s private files, she had decided to disguise herself as one of the cleaning crew. The trouble was, she also needed an access card to get into secured offices in the building and the only way to get that was to uplift it from a worker. Since she wasn’t exactly a pickpocket, she needed someone who was and had asked Flag to find one.

“Give me her number,” she said.

Flag handed over a business card. The card was white with a picture of a black cat. Clever, she thought, reading the name. Catwoman. She was obviously considered being a cat-burglar a profession.

“Nice!” she said.

“Thought you’d like it.”

Flag started to leave the office, Emil following behind him. The older man paused in the doorway.

“Take my advice, cutie. Always mind your surroundings. You never know what might be coming at you.”

“Well, thanks for that pearl of wisdom, Chief. I can take care of myself.”

Flag raised his hand in the shape of a gun and pretended to shoot her. She glared at him. As much as she needed what he and his team could do, she heartily disliked him. The man was a creep and an a*shole.

She sat down at the desk with a heavy sigh. The sooner all this was over, the better.

She just wished she could work something out so Clark didn’t have to get hurt.

She unlocked the desk drawer and pulled out a laptop, switching it on. Once it had booted up, she opened up her files and began reading through some of the documents she had. Eventually, everything on the files would be sent to the authorities. She would first have to make sure she had covered her ass. The last thing she wanted was for it all to come crashing down and the authorities arrest her. Then again, she hoped they would overlook a little breaking and entering in favour of the much bigger fish she was dangling on a hook.

Her phone beeped and she glanced at it. Stuart had sent her a text asking if it was safe to talk. She dialled his number.

“What’s up?”

“What’s up is I’m in deep sh*t! I’m sure they found me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t exactly know who they are!” he responded, sounding almost exasperated. “It’s the same people who have been trying to track me for weeks. What do you want me to do?”

“Get the hell out of Dodge!”

“What about Luthor’s files?”

“I’ve got another angle I’m chasing. I figured I’d need a back-up plan.”

“So, I’m out?”

“I told you when things started getting dodgy that this might happen. I don’t know why you’re getting so pissed with me. You knew the score when we started this, Stuart.”

“You’re a b!tch, you know that? You’re just going to leave me to hang high and dry?”

“I just told you to get out, Stuart! I don’t know what else you expect me to do!”

“Yeah, thanks for nothing!” he snarled, ending the call.

She sat back, huffing. “I’m not a b!tch,” she said.

The insult rankled. When she had first met with Stuart, she had thought she had made it quite clear that if he got caught, he was on his own. He’d been so confident that there was no way he could be tracked but clearly someone else out there was just better than him.

She thought he understood exactly what she was doing. Not to mention all the money she’d paid him to use his expertise. She’d gone to great lengths to make sure he had a contingency plan should the worst happen.

She just hoped he managed to get out before they found him.

[DJ Doena]

Roughly turn-of-the-century, she thought.

This particular English phrase caught my eye. Will it forever mean 19th-to-20th century? I mean we are 18 years away from last turn of the century. Will there be some point that "turn of the century" will refer to the year 2000?

[phoenixnz]

This particular English phrase caught my eye. Will it forever mean 19th-to-20th century? I mean we are 18 years away from last turn of the century. Will there be some point that "turn of the century" will refer to the year 2000?

I know. I had second thoughts about using it but it’s such a common phrase. I decided the fact that I’d also mentioned the building being a hundred years old would help with context.

[DJ Doena]

I know. I had second thoughts about using it but it’s such a common phrase. I decided the fact that I’d also mentioned the building being a hundred years old would help with context.

It wasn't meant as a criticism, just a mere observation.

[phoenixnz]

It wasn't meant as a criticism, just a mere observation.

No, I understood that, Karsten. It was just when I was editing the chapter it felt odd using it. It's funny though. Phrases like that have become so commonplace we never really think about the way the meaning can change given time.

[phoenixnz]

Chapter Eighteen

Clark had been mulling over everything he’d seen and heard that weekend. He’d already reported everything he’d heard during Lex’s conversation with the man from Gotham to Bruce, but he hadn’t said anything to his colleagues about his concerns about Jo.

He’d spent a lot of time analysing every conversation they’d ever had and still hadn’t come to any conclusion about her. Meanwhile, they’d been together almost every night. Despite his misgivings, he still enjoyed spending time with her and thought she felt the same thing.

He had decided there was only one person who he could talk to about this, but Chloe was busy with other things. He realised it was a matter that would have to wait until his friend was not so busy.

He was surprised to get a call from Oliver on the Friday, just as he was about to leave work for the weekend. Jo had told him she couldn’t have dinner with him that night as she had to meet with a client, but was happy to spend the day with him on Saturday. He had decided to take her horse-riding at the farm. She’d confessed she hadn’t been on a horse in years and was well out of practice but he knew Ben Hubbard, who was lending him the horses for the day, wouldn’t provide a horse that was too spirited.

“What’s up?” he asked, wondering why his friend was calling on his cellphone. He figured it must be urgent if Oliver was taking such a chance. They always used a scrambler in their communications so the calls couldn’t be tracked, but there was still a good chance Lex had had people bug the phone itself.

“Can you meet me? Ten minutes?”

“Sure.”

Oliver gave him the GPS co-ordinates. Clark looked them up on his phone and memorised the location, which looked like a warehouse on Bessolo Boulevard.

When he got there, he realised the warehouse was one of many that had been converted into apartments. All part of the mayor’s ‘urban renewal’ plan, he thought.

He entered the building and looked around.

“Here!” Oliver stepped out of the shadows and pointed to a large door which would slide on a track. Clark guessed it had been converted from either an office or storage area.

“What are we doing here?” he asked in a low voice.

“Remember that guy Chloe was tracking?” Oliver replied in an equally low voice. Clark nodded. “Yeah.”

Clark reached for the door and realised it was locked. He pulled hard to break the lock and slid the door aside. Just in time to see a man trying to flee through a window. Oliver looked at him.

“Go!” he said.

Without hesitation, Clark ran at super speed, quickly tracking the man and cutting him off. The man tried running in another direction but Oliver was already there, aiming an arrow.

“Stop, or I will shoot.”

Clark studied the man as he hesitated, obviously trying to decide his best course of action. He looked young, with dark hair. He recognised him from Chloe’s files. Stuart Campbell.

Stuart looked as if he was going to try to run anyway. Clark shook his head.

“I wouldn’t do it. He’s a good shot.”

The dark-haired man looked at him. “Hey, aren’t you … Don’t you work for Lex?”

“What do you know about it?”

Stuart immediately shut his mouth, clearly realising he’d said the wrong thing. He fidgeted, looking nervous. Clark wondered if the other man thought Lex had sent him.

Oliver sent him a meaningful look. Clark nodded and approached Stuart, taking his arm.

“Hope you don’t get motion sickness,” he said. Stuart stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Uh, what?” he asked, alarmed.

Clark wasted no time, gripping the man firmly before taking off at super-speed. The League had rooms on a floor two levels below Watchtower where they would take people like Stuart. Those they didn’t exactly classify as suspects and were clearly not dangerous, but were still a concern.

A redhead greeted him as he arrived.

“Put him in room two,” she said. It was designed to be an interrogation room with a one-way mirror. The room adjoining it had the other side of the mirror as well as recording equipment.

He did as ordered and left Stuart in the room, following the woman out. She entered the adjoining room and began setting up the recording.

He studied her. Tess Mercer was Lex’s half-sister. When Clark had first met her, he had thought she was just as ruthless and manipulative as her brother but as he’d got to know her he’d realised that she was just as much a victim as anyone. They’d tried dating but had decided to remain good friends.

Tess’ mother Pamela had been Lillian Luthor’s nurse before she’d had an affair with Lionel. Her mother’s refusal to abort Tess when she’d become pregnant had led to a demotion to a position as the-then one-year-old Lex’s nanny. Lillian had probably suspected the affair but had never confronted Pamela.

When Tess was five, Pamela had gone with Lillian and Lex to the family’s ranch in Montana. She had wanted to take her daughter with her but Lionel had paid a doctor to say that Tess was severely allergic to animals and would not be able to tolerate a few days on the ranch. By the time they returned two weeks later, Lionel had taken his daughter to an orphanage and left her there.

Of course, Tess remembered none of that, but she had learned the truth from a package Pamela had left in a safety deposit box. Lex, having also discovered the secret after Pamela had died from cancer, had taken the contents of the box himself and hidden them. Why he had never actually destroyed them was something neither Clark nor Tess would ever know but they both figured Lex had been on some kind of power trip.

A couple of months after Lionel had dumped her, he returned, telling the woman who ran the orphanage that he had found a couple who would adopt her. The couple were abusive, both physically and emotionally. Clark suspected Tess’ adoptive father was also sexually abusive as well, but Tess had never said a word.

Lex had hired Tess and began grooming her for a senior executive position within LexCorp, without telling her the truth about her parentage. It was only a chance discovery that had led her to the truth and she’d confided in Clark. He had contacted his friends in the League who had offered her a way to escape her half-brother’s manipulations.

“How’re you doing, Tess?” Clark asked.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, smiling at him, able to relax a little. “So, this guy’s been hacking into Lex’s systems?”

“Yeah, we think so.”

The door to the interrogation room opened and J’onn J’onzz walked in. He was a tall man with the appearance of an African American, with dark skin and wiry black hair. Clark grinned at Tess. J’onn, also known as the Martian Manhunter, had once worked for his birth father, Jor-El, on Krypton. He’d taken on the role of enforcer after his own people on Mars had been wiped out due to years of civil war. Plus, he was a telepath. Whatever Stuart was up to, there was no way he would be able to lie.

Stuart smirked as J’onn dropped a thick file on the table.

“I get what this is,” he said, sounding amused. “This is like an interrogation, right? I’ve seen this movie. Are you cops?”

“I’ll ask the questions!” J’onn told him coolly, not giving anything away. The one thing Clark had always liked about the Martian was his ability to show little emotion, even under difficult circumstances. It made him the perfect interrogator. Most of those he questioned became unnerved at their own inability to rattle him.

“Yeah, you’re cops, aren’t you? And I know my rights. You didn’t read me my rights when you brought me here. Which means your arrest won’t stick.”

“You’re not under arrest,” J’onn replied.

With another smirk, Stuart got up. “Well, if I’m not under arrest, I’ll be leaving then.”

“Sit. Down.”

The younger man looked at the Martian as if trying to gauge what he could get away with. Clark glanced at Tess before looking back into the interrogation room. The older man’s human visage slipped for barely a second. Enough so that Clark could detect it, but not enough for anyone human to do so. Yet Stuart shrank back in fear. He sank down on the chair, all bravado having vanished. Clark figured J’onn had let his appearance change just enough to send a clear message.

“What … ah, what do you want?” the computer hacker asked.

J’onn opened the file. “Tell me about Phoenix Inc.”

“I don’t … I mean, it’s, uh, a dummy corporation.”

“Yes, we’re aware of that. What is its purpose?”

“Um, it was just a way to hide money.”

J’onn nodded. “In the past three or so years, Phoenix Inc has stolen approximately five million dollars from LexCorp accounts. What is that money being used for?”

Stuart looked worried. He scratched at his jaw, clearly trying to figure out what to say.

“I can’t tell you. She’ll kill me. Okay, she won’t exactly kill me, but she’ll be very upset.”

“She who?”

“I can’t. I … if he finds her, he’ll kill her.”

Clark looked uneasily at Tess. Who was the woman and why was Stuart so concerned for her welfare? Who was the ‘he’ Stuart had mentioned. Was it Lex?

J’onn clearly had the same idea. “Who is this man you referred to?”

Stuart shook his head and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t understand. I can’t!”

“We cannot help you if you will not help us.”

“I don’t need your help. I want to get out of here.”

“I am afraid, Mr Campbell, that that is not possible. You are now in the custody of the Justice League.”

“The what?” Stuart looked confused. “You’re not … cops? And you’re not working for Lex, either, are you? That guy, whatsisname. The one who brought me here. If he’s working for you, then how … Who is he?”

“That is not your concern.” J’onn turned to look in the mirror. “Tess?”

Tess turned and went out, opening the door to the interrogation room. J’onn instructed Stuart to follow her. Clark knew there was an apartment in the building which was used to place witnesses until they could be transferred out of the city.

As far as anyone who might be looking for the witness was concerned, they would have vanished without trace.

J’onn entered the room and pressed a few keys on the keyboard, storing the recording. He turned to smile at Clark.

“Hello, Kal-El.”

“J’onn. So, I’m guessing you read his mind.”

“A little,” he admitted. “The young man seemed very concerned for the woman he is working with. I do not believe their intentions are … nefarious.”

Hence the order to place Stuart in protective custody, Clark thought. He had wondered when he’d first discovered the theft whether those stealing the money had done it out of greed or something else. It was good to know, just from J’onn’s assessment of that brief conversation, that he didn’t think it was greed.

The question was, what were they trying to achieve? Stuart had clearly been afraid.

Of course, the other question was, who was he working with?

When Tess returned, they held a debriefing in the main room of Watchtower with Chloe, Bruce and Oliver. J’onn quickly explained what he’d learned from Stuart.

“I think we need to find this woman,” Clark said. “If Lex tracks her down …”

“He won’t,” Oliver assured him. “At least, not through Campbell. I went through his apartment and found his phone.”

“So you’ll be able to trace her?” Clark asked.

“That depends on whether she has her tracking system on,” Chloe interjected, explaining that using GPS to home in on her location would only work if the system was activated. If the woman was smart, she would have deactivated it. It wasn’t exactly as easy as it was portrayed on procedural cop shows.

Clark sighed. That wasn’t very reassuring. Whatever her reasons for getting Campbell to hack into Lex’s systems, she was playing a very dangerous game and it was up to him to save her. Even from herself.

[phoenixnz]

Chapter Nineteen

Catwoman had informed her they were to meet on a ferry which crossed the river between Gotham and Metropolis. The cat-burglar didn’t want to take any chances of them both being recognised, although she wondered how that was possible since the people she had once been closest to probably thought she was dead.

She got onboard the ferry, wearing dark glasses and a white silk scarf over her head. Another instruction from the woman she was to meet. She stood on the deck, the wind blowing just enough to make her occasionally put a hand on her head to stop the scarf being blown off.

As she stood against the rail pretending to look out over the scenery, someone came to stand beside her, with a gap of maybe six inches between them. She could tell it was a woman as she caught a whiff of expensive perfume.

The woman began to speak in a low voice.

“Sure is pretty out here.”

“It’s prettier over the other side,” she responded.

The woman turned her head and smiled. She had pretty features and dark, wavy hair which framed an oval face.

“So, how you want to play this, Kansas?”

“All I need is an access card which will get me into LexCorp Tower.”

“It’s gonna cost you.”

“How much?” she asked coolly.

“A hundred K.”

“Done.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “What? No quibble?”

“Are you thinking you should have asked for more?” she replied with a smirk. The woman’s expression was neutral but she guessed Catwoman was accustomed to having to negotiate her price. “A hundred K is a fair price for what I’m wanting.” She dug in her pocket and handed over a flash card. “It’s all on there.”

“Got a deadline for this?”

“One week.”

Catwoman nodded. “That’s doable.” She studied her with a curious expression. “Why are you doing this? Our mutual friend didn’t go into detail.”

“You don’t need details,” she said. “The less you know, the better.”

She didn’t say it but implied it clearly enough. Catwoman could be caught doing whatever it was she did, but if she only knew a few things, then Lex or whoever had caught her could not track the job back to her.

The ferry returned to dock at Metropolis and she got off without saying goodbye to the other woman, as they’d arranged. She took her phone out of her purse and looked at the clock. It was almost five and she’d promised Clark she would spend the evening with him.

As much as she tried not to admit it to herself, her stomach gave a little lurch at the thought of being with him. They’d been getting closer and closer in the past few weeks and it somehow seemed to make her day better.

Clark had been oddly quiet the past few days. She had wondered if it was something she’d done, or something she’d said as they hadn’t been talking much since the party at Lex’s. They had gone horse-riding last weekend but he’d seemed distracted.

There had also been Stuart’s disappearance. Despite all her talk of him being ‘on his own’ once everything went down, she had gone to his apartment out of concern and was even more worried when she saw how much of a mess it was. Never having been the tidiest person herself, she would have understood at least a little mess but the place looked like it had been ransacked.

The neighbour had told her some people had been by and she’d heard some kind of ruckus but given the neighbourhood they were in, had not stuck her head outside the door to find out what had happened.

She didn’t dare call Stuart’s phone or try to contact him any other way. If he had indeed been tracked, a call to his phone would alert whoever had him. She always used a pre-paid cellphone to contact Stuart and made sure certain features were deactivated.

She returned to her apartment and quickly showered and changed into jeans and a sweater. Clark liked her in jeans. He’d commented once about her shapely butt; not in a way that was meant to be sexist but letting her know that he loved her figure. She had never been overweight but still needed to exercise regularly to stay trim and often went jogging. Clark had gone running with her a few times although he’d jokingly complained about late nights working for his slave-driver boss and her wanting to be up early.

By the time she was ready, it was almost six. Clark had an apartment across town. While not as luxurious as she assumed Lex’s penthouse would be, it was still a fairly modern construction. What was interesting was the décor. Clark had gone for modest furnishings which would have suited a rambling bungalow rather than a modern apartment. She knew he earned a substantial amount in his position as Lex’s executive assistant and he could have afforded luxury furniture. Instead, he’d opted for comfort.

She loved that about him. In many ways, he was still a farmboy. He certainly didn’t act like an executive or throw his weight around like someone in his position normally would. Or so she had assumed. She had learned something from her father a long time ago to judge people by the way they treated others and Clark was always courteous. No matter who they were.

Even when it was obvious that he didn’t really like who he was dealing with, he was polite but cool. She had known a few men who treated people like they were a bug on the sidewalk. Unless they wanted something. Then they were charm itself.

Clark greeted her with a smile as she entered his apartment. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi. How was your day?”

“Oh, same as usual. How was yours?”

“Ugh.” He made a face. “Lex was b!tching as usual.”

She smiled in sympathy. “Why do you stay if it’s that bad?”

Clark sighed. “You know how difficult it is to get a decent job right now. I hate to admit it, but the pay’s an incentive.” He stayed within her embrace. “I don’t know. I mean, at least I’m not working somewhere where I never have time to see my friends, or my family, or I’m out all hours of the night.”

“That’s true,” she said.

He let her go and turned to the counter, running a hand through his dark hair. “Anyway,” he said, with a soft smile which crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Seeing you makes it all better.”

“That’s quite a compliment, Clark Kent.”

“I meant every word.”

She loved that about him. With some guys it might sound trite or cliched, but he was always sincere.

Clark poured them each a glass of wine and they sat on the couch. He took her hand and lifted it to kiss her knuckles.

“I kind of missed you this week,” he said. “That’s my fault. I’m sorry. It’s just been really crazy at work.”

“I missed you too,” she said. “I’m sorry it’s been so crazy. Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, Lex did mention something about consulting with you on a project. Don’t ask me what it was about. But I think he needs some PR. Would you be willing to meet with him?”

Part of her wanted to say no. The man repulsed her. It wasn’t his looks. As looks went, his weren’t that bad. He certainly wasn’t unattractive by any means. It was his character that bothered her. She had heard enough about Lex to know he was not a good man and he treated others like they were beneath him. She could understand why Clark hated his job sometimes. For two men who had supposedly been friends once upon a time, Lex only treated him as a friend when it suited his purpose. Clark was just as much a target of his boss’ ire as anyone else, probably even more so.

“Sure,” she said. “Why don’t you go ahead and set it up?”

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s great, thank you, Jo.”

She’d been using the alias for a while, but for some reason it felt weird to hear him use it. A big part of her wished she could hear him say her real name.

God, why did she torture herself like this? As much as she wanted this to be real, it was never going to be. Once Clark found out the truth, he would never want anything to do with her ever again. He was going to hate her.

Why did the thought of him hating her hurt so much?

After they’d eaten dinner, a simple meal of pot roast which Clark had told her his mother had taught him, they again sat on the couch, watching the local news on television. She had curled her legs under her, her head on his shoulder, feeling quite comfortable.

“This is nice,” she said softly. “I mean, who needs fancy restaurants. We could just skip to the delicious donuts and stay warm and cosy without worrying about what to wear, or how much to tip the waiter …”

“I agree,” he said. “Except the part about the donuts. Is that really what you live on?”

“Well, I used to,” she said. “I love maple donuts.”

“I’ll have to get some next time I’m at Dunkin’ Donuts,” he said. “You know, my ex, Chloe, used to live on coffee. It’s like she mainlined the stuff. Without fail, every time I walked into the Torch office, she’d have a cup of coffee on one side of the desk and her cellphone on the other.”

“The Torch?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I told you about that. Remember? The school newspaper?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Chloe wanted to work at the Daily Planet but it didn’t work out.”

“What happened?”

“Well, they only had a couple of spaces for interns the year she applied. Unfortunately the editor-in-chief didn’t like her history of writing what she called ‘unsubstantiated stories’ about meteor freaks.”

“That must have hurt,” she said careful to keep her voice even. Clark didn’t talk about Chloe a lot but she was always careful not to give anything away. Even just the slightest hitch in her tone could make him suspicious, if he was astute enough to catch it.

“Funny enough, her cousin got a job there a couple years later. I think she was interning for some army rag or something and got hired on the basis of her experience. Chloe was so upset.”

She frowned. She thought Chloe and Clark had broken up by then. Or maybe they were on the outs? All she remembered from her conversation with her cousin was that their relationship had started to change when she’d decided to go to Met U.

“Well, I guess I can understand why she’d be upset,” she said. “I mean, if it was her dream job but someone else got it in her place. Especially someone she knew.”

She remembered Chloe calling her when she’d got the job at the Planet. Her cousin had sounded like she was happy for her, but there’d been a little note in Chloe’s voice that suggested she was not totally sincere. It was one of the reasons she’d tended to avoid her cousin after that, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

Of course, a year or so later, when she’d moved into the apartment at the Talon, things had changed considerably. She didn’t know what her cousin did for a living but Chloe had appeared happy with her lot.

She wondered how Chloe would feel now that she was dating her ex-boyfriend? Would she feel once again that her place was being usurped?

She couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. The fact that Chloe had missed out on the Daily Planet was not her fault, but it might have felt like her cousin was being overshadowed once more. She’d always known that the blonde had been a little insecure about her looks but had thought that Chloe having a steady boyfriend all through high school might have helped with that insecurity.

“I wonder what happened to her?” Clark murmured.

“Her who?” she asked.

“Lois Lane.”

She chewed on her lip, trying not to react. “What do you mean? Who’s Lois Lane?”

“Chloe’s cousin. She got into some trouble at the Daily Planet. Some said she was drinking and using drugs but I don’t know. I don’t really believe that. She got fired from the Planet and she was working for the Inquisitor but she disappeared three years ago. No one’s heard from her since. Not even Chloe.”

Again, she frowned. Maybe she had been confused about the timeframe before, but there was no way if the couple had gone their separate ways that Clark would even know if Chloe had heard from her.

She decided she needed to distract him before she went and said something which would give herself away. She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, turning around so one leg was draped over his lap.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What do you think I’m doing?” she returned with a grin.

“It looks to me like you’re planning something devious.”

She tried to adopt an innocent look. “Who? Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he said. She felt his big hands at her waist, supporting her as she straddled him. “What are you up to?”

“Maybe I decided we’d done enough talking for the night.”

He pretended to look wounded. “Am I boring you?”

She giggled and kissed him. He smirked at her as if refusing to respond.

“Aw, c’mon Smallville. I wanna play. Don’t you wanna play?”

“You are very bad, missy.”

She giggled again. “Whatcha gonna do about it?” she asked.

“Is that a dare?” he returned.

She squealed as he tickled her, squirming on his lap. “No fair,” she replied with a pout. He’d already told her he wasn’t ticklish.

He continued to tease her, until she swore revenge. “Oh, you’ll get revenge, huh? I’d like to see you try,” he retorted.

She grabbed a pillow and pummelled him with it. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“A pillow fight? Seriously?”

“Not chicken are you? Clarkie?”

“Don’t call me Clarkie!” he told her with a scowl.

“Aww, poor widdle Clarkie, doesn’t like being teased.”

“That does it, missy! You are going down!”

Much laughter ensued as he grabbed another pillow and pummelled her with it. They continued to playfight until disaster struck. She sat up and stared at the feathers all over the couch and the floor, a hand over her mouth.

“Oh no!” she said.

Clark stared at her, then began to laugh. “You are a handful,” he said.

She aimed a punch at his shoulder, pretending to be offended. He grabbed her wrist. She tried to punch him with the other hand and he grabbed that one as well, pushing her down on the cushion. She gazed up at him, her amusement dying as she looked into his eyes.

He kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth with his tongue. She felt his grip relax on her wrists and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down.

She moaned softly as his hands began to explore her body. He had such big hands. Bigger than any other man she had ever been with. It was odd that for someone who had spent so much time on a farm, his skin was soft and not at all callused.

His hand slipped beneath her blouse to cup her breast and she moaned again, her body tingling at his closeness. They hadn’t done anything more intimate than sleep in the same bed together or make out a little, so this was further than they’d been before. She wanted him, more than she’d ever wanted any other man. Maybe it was time they took it further, she thought.

Clark stopped kissing her and gazed down at her, a soft smile on his lips. She looked back up at him, wondering what to say. Just as he started to say something, she heard the ringtone from her phone. She sat up, reluctantly pushing him away.

“I should get that,” she said.

She got off the couch and grabbed her bag, pulling the phone out.

“Hello?” An accented voice responded to her.

“Hello, I am calling about the car you have for sale?”

She frowned. “You’ve got the wrong number.” She ended the call and looked at Clark. “I guess they mis-dialled. It’s probably time I left anyway.”

He came over and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Do you have to? Why don’t you stay?”

“I … I would love to except I have a meeting with a client in the morning.” She laid a hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t we go away next weekend?” he suggested quietly. “I know this little place. It’s only about a couple of hours’ drive out of town. It’s a little isolated but we wouldn’t be interrupted with work.”

She kissed him. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll have to check my diary but I think I could make it.”

“Great. I’ll set it up.”

She smiled and went to the door. She opened it, turning to look at him. “Goodnight, Clark.”

[Sykobee]

Hmm. Steam was starting to waft off of my screen! The ante has been upped! That call, thinking it was code for a meet or contact. Added to the last couple of chapters ratcheting up the tensions and suspicions, I'm almost ready to read with one eye closed. I'm REALLY hoping things don't go too far south when the storm of truth breaks. Worried about both Clark and Chloe's reactions. There was no Lollie on this backstory right? Don't like Cueball wanting to work with "Jo" either. Yup, I'm a worry-reader. It's worse when I read in installments.😏

Life has jumped on the breakneck speed race to the end of the year, to the tune of holiday crazy. I get to snatch quick reads of updates, sporadically and get to comment even less frequently. However, updates are still a bright spot in any day, so thank you. Still very much thrilled to read your work even if I don't comment as often.

[phoenixnz]

Hmm. Steam was starting to waft off of my screen! The ante has been upped! That call, thinking it was code for a meet or contact. Added to the last couple of chapters ratcheting up the tensions and suspicions, I'm almost ready to read with one eye closed. I'm REALLY hoping things don't go too far south when the storm of truth breaks. Worried about both Clark and Chloe's reactions. There was no Lollie on this backstory right? Don't like Cueball wanting to work with "Jo" either. Yup, I'm a worry-reader. It's worse when I read in installments.

Life has jumped on the breakneck speed race to the end of the year, to the tune of holiday crazy. I get to snatch quick reads of updates, sporadically and get to comment even less frequently. However, updates are still a bright spot in any day, so thank you. Still very much thrilled to read your work even if I don't comment as often.

Things were certainly steaming up for our Clois, but somebody is still hesitating. Tensions and suspicions are mounting and the truth will come out. As for things going south, I may surprise you there.

No, no Lollie in this story. Since Lois and Clark never met in this 'verse, she never met Oliver.

Yeah, there's a reason they call it the 'silly season'. Everyone seems to go completely nuts this time of year.

[phoenixnz]

Chapter Twenty

For once, Lex seemed to be in a good mood when Clark got into work the morning after he’d had dinner with Jo.

“’Morning, Clark,” Lex said with a smile. He put a couple of folders down on the desk. “Would you mind going over these?”

“What are they?” Clark asked.

“New business merger proposals. We’re meeting with the CEOs on Friday, so I need you to study up on the companies.”

“You seem cheerful this morning.”

“Yeah, I met this woman at the opera last night.” The expression on his face suggested he’d done more than just spend an evening watching opera with the woman.

Clark remembered a few years ago that Lex had had a series of one-night stands which had ended in murder. The woman who had tried to frame him had met him at the opera. Clark had disapproved of his friend’s actions then, but it looked like Lex hadn’t learnt his lesson.

He didn’t voice any of that and just smiled.

“I had dinner with Jo last night and I mentioned the project you wanted to discuss with her.”

Lex nodded. “Great! How’s it going with you two? You looked very cosy at the party.”

“Going good,” he said. He chose not to reveal any more than that. If Lex sensed that his feelings for his girlfriend ran deeper than he led him to believe, he was sure that the other man would make her the target of his anger when he learned what Clark had done.

“You’ve been dating … what? A month?”

“Almost two.”

“Must be getting serious.”

Unlike you, I suppose, Clark thought darkly, doing his best to ensure his thoughts didn’t show on his face. Lex didn’t seem to notice and left the office without a backward glance. Clark sighed and picked up the files, skimming through them. One of the companies Lex was negotiating with was the one in Gotham.

He left the office at the end of the day and walked down to the subway, merging with the other commuters before speeding off to Watchtower.

Chloe was sitting on one of the couches with a mug of herbal tea in front of her. As he entered through the double doors, she picked up the mug and sipped, making a face.

“Ugh!”

He grinned as Oliver spoke from his position at the console.

“Sorry it’s not your usual caffeine-laden beverage, Sidekick, but you know it’s not good for the sproglet.”

She snorted and scrunched up her nose at her husband before looking up at Clark.

“Hey, Clark. What’s up?”

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about. But it can wait. Have you been able to get any more out of Stuart?”

Oliver shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. He’s very protective of this woman he’s been working with.”

“I guess there is something to be said for loyalty,” Chloe returned. “Why do you want to know?”

“If what J’onn says is true, this woman could be putting herself in a lot of danger.”

“Lex hasn’t given any indication that he knows what’s going on, has he?” his friend asked.

He shook his head. “Not so far. He hasn’t said anything about the hacking but I know the guys in I.T are still looking into it. I’ve done my best to block them.”

Chloe nodded. “Good. I think you’re right. While I don’t think their intentions are totally honourable, I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Stuart at least seems interested in working with us.”

Clark was surprised at that. “He does?”

“I’ve mentioned it in passing,” she told him. “Just something about being able to use a guy with his skills. Of course, he came back with something like they couldn’t be that good if I was able to track him down.”

Oliver scoffed. “Is he trying to be sexist?”

Chloe shrugged. “Is there any other way to take that?” Her husband snorted as if he disagreed with that premise entirely. Even Clark knew Chloe was just as good, if not better than some men at hacking. She again looked at Clark. “So, how are things going with your lady friend?”

“Uh, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

It was as good an opening as he was going to get, he thought. Chloe nodded and pushed her mug away, making herself more comfortable on the couch. She patted the cushion next to her, a clear invitation for him to sit there.

He was glad that he could still confide in her. He’d heard of some ‘relationship expert’ commenting that it wasn’t possible for two people who had dated for a long time to stay friends but he didn’t believe that. It wasn’t as if their actual split had been acrimonious. They had just drifted apart.

Oliver coughed. “Uh, should I be somewhere else? Is this something you want to talk about in private?”

Clark shook his head. “No. It’s nothing, uh, personal. I just … I’ve been noticing things about Jo that seem a little, uh, off.”

His friend looked curious, clearly wanting details. Chloe maintained a neutral expression, obviously knowing Clark would get around to explaining.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like we went to this party at Lex’s mansion in Smallville and she was kind of cool toward Lex, yet friendly toward everyone else.”

“Well, that’s nothing unusual. I’d be the same,” Chloe said, wrinkling her nose. Her dislike of Lex was obvious. As Clark had told Jo, his ex-best friend and his girlfriend had never really gotten along. It wasn’t that Chloe was a cynic. She just tended to not trust people like Lex who had a lot of secrets of their own but acted as if the rest of the world owed them everything. Even when Clark had been good friends with Lex, he’d known the other man hid a lot of his own secrets. It was hypocritical of him to expect Clark to be so forthcoming.

“That’s not all. We were sleeping in the same room and I woke up and she wasn’t there.”

“Maybe she was hungry? Or just couldn’t sleep?”

“I heard her downstairs and she was talking to the maid about the agency that employed her. She said it was a friend who was looking for a maid service.”

Chloe frowned. “I’m still not seeing the problem.”

“Me either,” Oliver said.

“There are times when she acts like she’s someone else,” Clark told them, without going into any detail. He knew it wasn’t helpful but he didn’t know how to explain it. Jo could act so friendly and flirty one minute and be completely cool the next. Almost as if she was two different personalities.

He’d noticed it again the night before, after dinner, when she’d suddenly turned and wanted to make-out. Not that he minded the making out. It was just the way it had happened. Like she was changing the subject.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Clark, do you have feelings for this woman?” his friend asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

Chloe nodded, her jaw shifting so it looked like she was biting her upper lip with her bottom teeth. She often did that when she was trying to think of a diplomatic way to say something. She’d got better at it over the years.

“Well, devil’s advocate and all that but are you sure these things that you’re noticing are anomalies or just projections of your own fears?”

Oliver snickered. “Psych 101, anyone?”

Clark was confused. “What do you mean?”

“Look, you know I love you, but remember in freshman year when you kept pining after Lana Lang? Even though she had an actual boyfriend at the time?”

He hadn’t thought about Whitney Fordman in years. Lana had been dating the blond football player for at least a couple of years, although even her aunt Nell had thought she was too young at fourteen, almost fifteen, to be getting seriously involved with a high school senior. Clark had had his problems with Whitney. Especially when the quarterback had become jealous, seeing Clark walk Lana home late one night. Smallville High had its hazing traditions like any other school and Whitney had chosen Clark to be the target of one of those traditions. To be strung up like a scarecrow.

Eventually Whitney had changed his tune and they’d become if not friends, at least friendlier. When the football jock’s father had died, he’d decided to enlist in the marines. He’d died on a mission in Indonesia.

“What about Lana?” Clark asked.

“It used to piss me off how you were always so blind where Lana was concerned. It was like the rest of the world didn’t exist.”

He remembered that. He also remembered a few of her accusations where she’d berated him for refusing to take any other point of view, just because he’d had a crush on the pretty brunette.

“But I chose you in the end.”

Chloe smiled softly for a second before sobering.

“Yeah, you did, but that’s not the point, Clark.”

“What is the point?”

“You could never be objective when it came to Lana. It was like she could do nothing wrong in your eyes. Even when you had your disagreements, it didn’t take long for you to make it up. You and I had our fair share of arguments, sure, but somehow those seemed to be world-ending type fights.”

Since most of their fights had to do with Chloe’s digging into his secrets, it was inevitable that those arguments would have been doozies compared to the occasional spat he’d had with Lana. Usually because of something Whitney had done or said which he hadn’t agreed with.

“I’m still not seeing what you’re getting at.”

“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t think you’re looking at this objectively. I think you’re afraid of being with someone new so you’re trying to find excuses not to take things a step further. I mean, have you actually slept with her yet?”

“We’ve slept in the same bed, but I’m guessing that’s not what you meant.”

“I think you know what I meant. Intimacy, Clark.”

“I was actually thinking of taking her away next weekend. There’s this bed-and-breakfast place …”

Chloe nodded. “That’s great, Clark, but if you’re having these issues …”

“They’re not issues! Not really. I mean, I just …”

“You need to quit backpedalling and decide what you really want. If you care about this woman, then you need to decide if these concerns you have are the deal-breaker.”

“What do you mean by deal-breaker?” he asked.

Oliver interjected. He had been listening to most of the conversation, nodding along as if he agreed with whatever his wife was saying. It was plain that the couple had talked a lot about her past relationships.

“Let me take this one, Sidekick. A deal-breaker is sort of like when Chloe and I started dating. I knew she had a history with you and I had to decide if that history was enough to make me back off. I mean, I had a lot to live up to when it came to you.”

Clark frowned. He had never thought of it as some kind of competition. The idea that Oliver would think he couldn’t measure up to him was almost laughable.

“It’s not a competition, Oliver,” he said quietly. “In some ways, you’re a better man than I am.”

Oliver looked taken aback at that.

“You’re both good men, in your own way. And Ollie knows that,” Chloe returned, with a slight frown at her husband. “But getting back to my point. Do your feelings override those concerns or are you more worried about what these things mean?”

That was the problem. He didn’t really know. How much could he really know about a woman he’d been seeing for only a few weeks?

“Maybe a weekend away would help us get to know each other better,” he said. “Away from interruptions, and work.”

“Works for me,” Oliver said. “One of the first things I did when we were dating was take Chloe away from any distractions.”

She grinned. “You know, that weekend away was the first time I actually got to see the sillier side of Oliver Queen. And it was one of the first things that made me fall in love with you.”

“Oh, really? What were the other things?”

“I’ll tell you later,” she said, her expression flirty and full of promise.

Clark rolled his eyes and smirked at his friends. He might be happy that they had each other, but he didn’t need to know the gory details.

He started to get up from the couch and felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out and looked at the screen.

Hi. Coming over for dinner? Bring dessert. You know what I like. Jo had sent a flirty emoji. Clark chuckled.

His friends looked at him curiously. “Message?”

“Yeah, it’s Jo, asking me over for dinner. She wants me to bring dessert.”

“Dessert as in actual dessert or do you think she means something else?”

He shook his head. “No, she told me her favourite last night. She loves maple donuts.”

Chloe’s face took on an odd expression. “Maple donuts? Really?”

“Something wrong with that?”

She shook her head. “No. Not really. Uh, you don’t happen to have a picture of this woman, do you?”

“Yeah. It’s on my phone. Why?”

He’d taken the picture without Jo realising it. She had told him she didn’t like her photo being taken and refused to even take selfies. Clark had thought it a little odd but hadn’t asked her for details. Wanting to get a picture of her anyway, he’d taken it when they had gone to dinner one night. He’d gone to the bathroom and turned back to see her sitting at the table staring dreamily out the window. He’d loved the way she looked in the light and decided to take a photo, intending to show her later, but had never got around to it.

“Can you send it to me?” Chloe asked.

“Sure, but I don’t know why you …”

“I just thought I’d like to get to know the woman who finally managed to capture the heart of Clark Kent,” she said.

He frowned. That wasn’t really what he thought she was going to say, but decided to leave it alone. He left Watchtower, promising to send her the photo later.
He sent Jo a message telling her he would be there shortly and stopped by the local donut store for her maple donuts.

It was getting dark when he arrived at Jo’s apartment. She greeted him with a smile and a kiss.

“Hey, you,” she said. He studied her. She had dressed in tailored grey pants and a dark green blouse, with her hair loose down her back. It was simple but pretty.

They moved into the main room and she poured them each a glass of pinot noir, chattering animatedly as she bustled about the kitchen, cooking their meal. He responded automatically to whatever she was saying, caught up in watching her work. It reminded him so much of when he was a child, sitting at the counter watching his mother cooking dinner.

His father had often cooked breakfasts on Sunday mornings and sometimes evenings when he felt his wife needed a break, but the kitchen had mostly been Martha’s domain. It wasn’t anything sexist, as far as Clark knew. His parents had shared everything else equally.

Yet he’d always loved the way his mother would get so absorbed in cooking, listening absently to his chatter as he talked about school and what his friends were up to.

This was sort of the reverse, he thought, as Jo continued to chatter about her day. The light above was harsh but at times it caught the highlights in her hair, giving it a kind of glow. Almost like a halo, he thought.

Okay, that was sappy, he thought with a grin. She turned and must have caught the grin.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing, really.”

“Uh huh. Like I’ll believe that, Smallville.”

He mock-glared at her. “What are you trying to say?” he asked.

“I think I know you pretty well by now, Clark Kent.”

“Yeah? What am I thinking now?” he said with a cheesy smirk at her, pretending to look her up and down as if he was checking out her body.

She leaned across the counter and kissed him. “You’re incorrigible,” she replied.

God he loved this woman!

As she turned back to her cooking, the truth dawned on him. He was in love with her! Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with her. Whatever perceived problems there might be, that wouldn’t change how he felt.

Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe he’d let his own fears about his past failed relationships colour his new one. The one.

[DJ Doena]

“Can you send it to me?” Chloe asked.

Uh-oh. The hammer is about to hit the firing pin! Please continue ASAP! *bites nails*

[Sykobee]

Uh-oh. The hammer is about to hit the firing pin! Please continue ASAP! *bites nails*

Ditto, big time! 🙄😇 More PLEASE!