Previously...
"Trust me," Martha said. "The important thing is, you saved that kid's life. And that's what everyone will be talking about. Not how fast you swam over, or how deep you had to dive to get him."
"I hope so," he said, though he knew his words couldn't conceal his skepticism.
"The important thing is, how do you feel about all this?" Jonathan asked.
"Scared," Clark admitted. "I mean, my whole life, I've been hiding what I can do. Now, I might have blown everything."
"And?" Jonathan prodded, sensing, perhaps, that there was more to Clark's feelings.
"And...elated," he finally confessed. "I never thought these powers would be good for anything, except for personal use...like when I used to fly home for dinner sometimes while I was away at school. But using them today for the benefit of someone else? It was the greatest feeling in the world. Maybe you guys were right. Maybe I really do have these abilities for a reason. Oh, I'm not saying that I want to parade around as Clark Kent, super weirdo, but I just can't help feeling like I was meant to be there today, to save that kid."
Jonathan and Martha smiled as Clark talked, seeing his face widen out into a smile as he talked. He couldn't help it. Despite his lingering terror of being discovered for what he really was, his heart was swollen with pride and happiness. He'd used his powers for good. Robbie was alive because of him. His powers, and the split-second decision to employ them, had made the difference between life and death.
He knew he could never risk doing that again. But for the moment, he basked in the knowledge that his strange, sometimes frightening, powers had managed to accomplish some good in the world.
***
Restless.
The word fit Clark like it had been invented solely to describe how he felt. He paced the floor of his studio apartment in Paris, sighing heavily as a thunderstorm raged out beyond his windows. He'd been there for three months and, already, he was itching to move on. It just wasn't the right fit for him. The food was amazing. And most of the people he'd met had been nice, even tolerating his less than stellar accent when he spoke in French.
But it wasn't home.
Clark reached the far wall and placed his arm against it, then laid his forehead in the crook of his elbow. He sighed again, torn. Should he move on? Should he risk giving up the staff job he'd gotten with one of the local papers? And if he did leave, where would he go? He'd been so many places already, and none had quelled the wanderlust in his heart. Should he stay? Should he force himself to settle down and make a life here, in this city? Would he - could he - eventually learn to be happy here?
"No," he whispered to himself.
He could never be happy here. There was something lacking. Something Clark couldn't quite put his finger one.
"Homesick," he uttered to himself.
He pushed himself away from the wall and dropped heavily onto his worn and beaten couch. Homesick. It hadn't occurred to him in quite that way before. But it rang true nonetheless. Homesick. He knew he wasn't looking for an excuse to return to Smallville. He needed to find where he truly belonged.
"It's not possible, is it?" he asked the empty air around him. "To miss a place I've never been to?"
Even as he voiced the question, he knew the answer. Yes, it was possible. He ached for home - a place he hadn't yet found, but somehow missed terribly. But where? Where was his home? It certainly wasn't here, in France. It hadn't been in Guam, or China, or Australia either. Japan hadn't been it. Neither had Borneo or Norway, or any place else that Clark had spent any amount of time in.
Lonely.
That was his life. Lonely and empty. While it was true that he was thankful for the editors that had hired him so far, and had loved the work he'd done, he felt completely unfulfilled. His work thus far, while it had been interesting, hadn't done much to change the world or the lives of the people involved. Puff pieces, mostly, if he were to be honest. But it was more than that. It was an emptiness in his heart.
All his life, he'd wanted to be normal. To fit in and have friends. As he'd grown, though, he'd learned that, although he had friends - some of whom he considered as close as family - he would never truly be normal. He'd wanted a job, like everyone else. It was true that he'd worked for several papers already, but most of it had been freelance, not the steady job he'd always dreamed of. But most of all, he wanted to find his soul mate, the one woman he could love and be completely and totally honest with. The person he could finally let down his guard around and carry no secrets with. And when he did find that one, special woman, he wanted to marry her and start a family of his own with her.
But at the moment, he felt like that was something that might never happen. He'd been all over the globe, visited most of the major cities. He'd even been in some of the worst areas of the planet, covering stories and trying to help people. He'd seen hundreds of thousands of women in those travels. And not one of them had appealed to him enough to make him ask them out on a date, or to lure him into giving that city a chance to become his home.
"Maybe what I'm looking for doesn't exist," he lamented softly. He paused a moment, then sighed. "I really must be in bad shape," he mused. "I'm sitting here talking to myself."
He sighed again and fidgeted in his seat. He looked around his tiny, though comfortable, apartment. It was pretty sparsely furnished, but it serviced his, admittedly few, needs. He'd even forgone getting a bed. The couch was long enough to stretch out on to sleep if he wanted. But half the time he just skipped even that and simply floated. It was so right, so natural to him, to defy gravity like that, that he had no problem doing it in his sleep.
All in all, he wouldn't miss the place. It was totally unremarkable in any way. He didn't even have a decent view to enjoy - just a blackened brick back wall of a music store to stare at. At least it concealed him from prying eyes, which was one of the reasons why he wasn't afraid to do things like float in his sleep or boil a cup of tea water with his heat vision instead of a teapot.
"It's time to move on," he said. "But...where? Where do I go?"
That was a question that was not so easily answered. He hated uprooting himself all the time. He just wanted to find where he belonged and stay there for the rest of his life. He wanted permanence in his life. He hated his spotty work record. He despised his month-to-month rental agreements. He was tired of changing what language he needed to speak on what felt like a weekly basis.
He stood and crossed to the small table near the window. He picked up the newspapers there. Whenever he could, he picked up as many papers from as many different places as he could from the local newsstand. Today's assortment began with the Daily Planet, one of Clark's favorite papers, now that he was out in the world. At the time when he'd left home, four years prior, none of the stores in Smallville had really carried it. Now he simply stared at the logo, a globe with a ring around it.
"The Daily Planet," he said, standing in place, eyes still fixed on the distinctive logo. "That's it!"
He dropped the papers on the table and began to pack his meager belongings. As soon as night fell, he would be on his way.
***
Clark hovered, hidden in the heavy, rain-laden clouds above Metropolis, looking for a place to land. He scanned carefully, as he always did, before choosing a spot behind a donut shop. It was perfect. Abandoned and with no windows for prying eyes to peek out of, it would offer him total cover. He flew down to it with all speed, ensuring that no wandering eyes would see his descent.
Keeping a casual stride, he ducked out of the alley and onto the sidewalk. At this late hour of the night, though, there were virtually no people there to see him emerge out of the darkness. He shrugged down into his jacket. The cold water droplets didn't bother him much - the cold never did - but it was a little uncomfortable as the water slid down his skin, wet his clothing, and matted his hair down.
Still, there was something about the city, even at night, that felt inviting and comfortable. Clark couldn't place his finger on what it was. Perhaps it was that, even as late as it was, the city never slept. Just two blocks over and Clark left the quiet place where he'd landed and found himself amid a bustling hub of activity. People rushed from place to place or strolled hand-in-hand with the one they loved. Taxis raced down the streets and irate drivers honked angrily as others cut them off. Lights turned the night into day.
And gleaming in the center of it all - The Daily Planet building, the ring around the globe glowing an enticing and soothing electric blue.
Clark stared at the logo for a good long moment, soaking up the feeling of being so close to his dream job. The more he'd thought about the paper, the greater his need to work for it had become.
"Tomorrow," he said to himself, the word carrying all his conviction, as if it could ensure him a position with the paper.
Tomorrow indeed. He'd managed to secure an interview with the editor, a Perry White by name. Clark was excited and impatient for the interview. But, he had to admit, he was a little nervous too, as he always was before interviewing. And now, it was worse, because he'd never before wanted a job so badly. Only one thing was certain. Tomorrow, he would be ready. He would do his best to secure a job with the paper.
***
"Mr. White, thanks for seeing me," Clark said as he shook hands with the grizzled old editor of The Daily Planet. "I appreciate it, especially on such short notice."
"Well, Professor Carlton gave his highest recommendation of you. Ah, I haven't seen him in years. How is the old goat?"
Clark smiled. He already liked the man, gruff demeanor and all. "He's great, last I talked to him. It's been a few years since I last got the chance to sit down with him, face to face."
The editor smiled. "He's a good man. Cheats like a son of a gun at poker, but he's a good man."
"Can't say I've had the privilege of playing cards with him," Clark said, the same smile crossing his lips.
"Well, come on. Let's see what you've got," the man encouraged Clark.
Clark opened his old, but neatly kept, briefcase. He reached in and grabbed a copy of his resume and handed it over before taking out a stack of news articles he'd written. Mr. White pored over the resume, humming to himself now and again.
"Quite the ah...assortment of papers," he noted.
Clark nodded. He'd known that his spotty work record could be a problem. "I moved around quite a bit," he confessed. "Most of those positions were as a freelancer. It was great, and I loved the experience, but I kept hoping and looking for something more permanent."
"And if I were to hire you? How could I be assured that you'd stick around?" Mr. White asked skeptically.
"I know it doesn't look great," Clark confessed. "But I can promise that, if I were to work for this paper, I would never want to leave it. It's been my dream since childhood to work for a major newspaper such as this. The Daily Planet is one of the most respected papers in the world. What more could anyone ask for?"
The editor cracked another smile. Apparently, Clark's answer had pleased him.
"Let me see those articles," he said after a moment, and Clark dutifully handed them over. But as the man rifled through them, his face fell further and further. "These articles..." he started.
Clark nodded. "I know they're mostly puff pieces," he began as Mr. White paused.
"Mostly? There's not a single hard hitting story here, son."
"I know I lack some experience..."
"Some? Look here, Kent, work like this...I just don't have a use for it. No offense, that is."
"Mr. White, if you just give me a chance, I can and will prove to you that I can hold my own with your top reporter."
"Perry!" interrupted an extremely agitated voice.
"Lois, honey, I'm in the middle of something here," the editor said as a woman came bursting into the room. To Clark, he muttered, "Speak of the devil, there's my top reporter now."
Clark automatically stood as the newcomer came barreling in. It was just who he was, thanks to the way his parents had raised him. He turned to see who had interrupted his job interview, which, admittedly, wasn't going well and found himself face to face with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He tried not to stare but found it hard to pull his gaze from her. For her part, she seemed oblivious to the fact that he was standing there.
"A beauty pageant?" she complained. "A beauty pageant?" she repeated, more forcefully this time, and beginning to pace. "Have I done something wrong, Chief? Perhaps you hated the way I busted open that story on the car theft ring? Or maybe you were offended by the Kerth I won for my coverage of the Presidential campaign. Oh, no, I got it. It was the series of articles I wrote on those headless corpses last year when that serial killer was loose. Because there can be no other reasons that I can think of why you're assigning such...such...trash to me."
"Lydia's out this week," Mr. White said by way of explanation. "I need someone to cover it."
"Find somebody else," she said, crossing her arms over her chest but finally coming to a halt. "Because I'm not doing it."
"You will, and you'll do it well."
"Perry, you know how I feel about the disgusting meat market mentality of these things. Turning women into nothing but sex objects. I won't cover it, Chief. There has to be someone else who can cover it. I'll do anything else, but not this one."
Mr. White let loose a long sigh, exhaling noisily through his nose. "Lois," he began in a warning tone.
Lois, in turn, gave him what looked to Clark to be a triumphant look, like she already knew that she'd won the battle. Clark rocked back on his heels, uncomfortable as the two stared each other down. With a start, the editor seemed to remember that Clark was still in the room.
"We'll discuss this later," he said at last. "I'm in the middle of something here." He gestured to Clark.
"Oh, sorry. I'll just wait over here," she said, backing up a step to lean against the wall. "So you don't forget."
Mr. White sighed again. "Clark Kent...Lois Lane," he said as an introduction.
"Lois...Lane?" Clark asked, his eyes going wide.
This was simply too good to be true. He'd been following Lois Lane's stories for a long time. She was, by far, one of the most talented writers he'd seen in any of the numerous papers he'd read. He'd never imagined that she could be so beautiful as well as so talented. Now, more than ever, Clark was desperate to secure a position at the paper.
"I...uh..." he stammered for a moment. "I'm honored to meet you." He stuck out his hand in greeting.
"Oh, well...thanks," she said, a bit awkwardly. But she shook his hand nonetheless, almost causing Clark to literally float right there.
"Anyway, son, I'm sorry," the editor said, turning his gaze back to Clark. "I just can't use you right now."
"Please," Clark said, aware that his voice had taken on a pleading tone. "I'll do anything you ask. I'll...I'll..." he scrambled for something - anything - that could help him make his case. "Work for a month...for free," he blurted out before he was even aware of what he was saying.
"I'm sorry," Mr. White repeated.
"Two months," Clark said, readily upping the ante. "I'll work for two months, completely free. If I haven't proven myself at the end of that time, I'll leave. Just please...give me a chance. I mean, what harm can come from that? It's a win-win."
"I don't know..." Mr. White hesitated.
"Please. I know what my resume must look like to you. But every reporter has to start somewhere, right? We don't all start out covering the hardest hitting stories. I just need a chance. I'll prove to you that I'm better than this," he said, gesturing to the stack of worthless articles.
"Well..." Mr. White said, now sounding like he was possibly considering Clark's proposal.
"I'll even take the pageant," he offered, "if you have no one else to cover it."
"Typical," Lois muttered under her breath.
Clark gave her a smile. "Hey, I'm with you on this. I might be male, but I see these kinds of things the way you do. The same goes for the Mr. Universe type of competitions. But if taking a puff piece like the pageant can help me prove myself, I'll do it."
"You've got yourself a deal, Kent," Mr. White said. "I'll let you intern for two months. But if you don't show me that you're up to the Planet's standards, you'll be out of here faster than you can say 'great shades of Elvis,' got it?"
"Got it," Clark said with a smile, shaking the editor's hand. "Trust me, you won't regret this decision."
"I better not. Now, then, the pageant is tomorrow at the Metropolis Arena, ten sharp, got it? Oh and Lois?"
"Yes, Chief?"
"You still working on that drug bust story?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I was just about to start it when I got your little note on my desk."
"Take Kent with you."
"What?" she sputtered.
"You said you'd do anything if I reassigned the beauty pageant story. I reassigned it. Now you get to take Kent here under your wing and teach him the ropes. Got it?"
"You can't be serious!" she argued.
"I am," the older man said, his face betraying no amusement. "You're the best reporter I've got. And he should learn from the best."
"But Perry!"
"No 'but Perry' this time, Lois."
"Chief! The First Mercantile Bank is being robbed. It's a hostage situation," came a new voice as a young man stuck his head in through the doorway.
"I'm on it," Lois said before the boss could answer. Then, yelling after the young man, "Jimmy! Get your camera. You're coming with me."
"With us," Clark corrected her as she dashed through the door. Before he could follow though, he turned and shook the editor's hand. "Thank you, again, for the opportunity. I won't let you down, I swear it." Then he was jogging out of the office and into the bullpen, hot on Lois' heels.
When they reached the elevator, the door was opening, letting out just one person. Lois, Clark, and Jimmy got into the car and Lois pressed the ground floor button. Lois turned her gaze on Clark and her face clouded with anger.
"Let's get something straight, Kemp."
"Kent," he gently corrected her. "Clark Kent."
"Whatever. I'm in charge. I'm the star reporter here. You're just here through Perry's good graces. You will defer to me, got it?"
"Got it," Clark said. "You're the one on top."
Lois rolled her eyes.
"Well, I, for one, am glad to have you with us," the photographer said. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jimmy Olsen. Mind if I call you CK?"
Clark smiled and shook Jimmy's hand. "Be my guest."
"Cool," Jimmy said with a smile as he loaded a fresh roll of film into his camera.
The bank wasn't too far from the paper. Lois, Clark, and Jimmy were able half walk, half run there. They had to jockey for a position, as a wide area around the bank had been cordoned off by the police already. Still, they managed to maneuver themselves into a space where they could just see inside the building. Clark could see the robber holding a gun to a pregnant woman's head. The woman looked to be near hysterics, but doing an admirable job of holding it at bay. Still, Clark could see the way she shook and the unshed tears in her eyes as he telescoped his vision in.
It made his heart ache to see anyone in that kind of situation, but seeing that the hostage was a heavily pregnant woman was almost more than he could bear. He had to do something. There was simply no way he could just stand back and watch whatever events were about to unfold. Not while two lives hung in the balance - the woman and her unborn child.
A police officer was trying to talk the man down, attempting to keep the woman safe, but the robber wasn't being swayed. He sent a couple of bullets out through the plate glass windows. Shards of glass went flying and people screamed. One of the bullets hit one of the other officers, striking him in the center of his Kevlar vest. The force of the impact staggered the man, but Clark was relieved to see that he was unhurt.
Still, the broken windows were exactly the opportunity Clark had been looking for. He subtly inched his glasses down and focused his vision on the gun in the man's hand, which was sliding back to its former position at the woman's temple. Using some of his heat vision, he began to make the gun hot. He very carefully controlled how much heat he applied, making the weapon heat up enough to make the man drop it, but not so hot that it scalded his skin. With a yelp of pain, the robber dropped the gun. The police sprang into action and made the arrest while the woman that had been held hostage was checked over by the waiting paramedics.
Clark smiled to himself as he pushed his glasses back up. Ever since that first rescue, when he'd saved that drowned boy in the quarry lake years before, he'd known that he needed to find ways to help people. It felt so good, so right, so natural to use his powers to save people when he could. The problem was how to do it without exposing the fact that he had powers and that he wasn't exactly human.
"Incredible," Lois breathed as the robber tossed aside his weapon. "I wonder what made him do that?"
"What?" Clark asked, feigning ignorance.
"Drop the gun like that."
"Maybe he couldn't take the heat anymore," Clark offered.
"The heat?" Lois gave him a sideways look.
"You know...'the heat was on' him from the police," he scrambled, covering his earlier slip in word choice.
"Oh," was all she said. Then, "Stay here. I'm going to see if I can grab an interview or two."
"No way," Clark said firmly. "I'm going with you."
"I'm warning you, rookie. Stay out of my way," she said, and there was no missing the anger in her voice.
Before he could retort, she stormed off as best she could, half slipping through the crowd and half forcing a path to open up. Clark took his time, apologizing as he jostled his way out of the crowd. Already, Lois was talking to one of the police officers on the scene, her pen practically flying as she jotted down notes and quotes for the story. Clark hesitated a moment, then made the split-second decision to see if the woman who'd been held hostage would talk to him, now that the paramedics had checked her over.
To his surprise, she agreed to speak with him once he introduced himself. As tactfully as he could, Clark interviewed her, producing a notepad and pen from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He didn't really need to take notes - his mind was almost flawless -but it looked natural and helped him blend in like a normal person. When he was done, he thanked the woman and rejoined Lois, who'd just finished with the police officer she'd been grilling for details.
"I wonder if the hostage will talk to me," Lois wondered aloud, though Clark could tell she was mostly talking to herself.
"Already done," he said proudly, holding his notepad up for Lois to view.
He face darkened. "You...what? I specifically told you to wait, Kent. I'm the one in charge, remember?"
"I know," he said diplomatically. "But I figured we could cover more ground if I pitched in. Not to mention that I have my career on the line. I need to prove myself to Mr. White. Besides," he said, gesturing, "she's already leaving."
Lois huffed but said nothing.
"Take a look at my notes, if you'd like," he offered.
For a moment, Lois didn't move and didn't say a word. Then, wordlessly, she took the proffered notes and perused them. After a moment, she nodded.
"There might be something we can use in that," she admitted gruffly, handing back the notepad. "Come on. If we hurry, the article can make it into the evening edition."
She walked away without another word. Clark smiled to himself. Since the moment he'd met Lois that morning, he'd promised himself that he would do whatever it would take to win Lois over, not only as a friend, but possibly as a girlfriend as well. It was odd, he thought. He'd never believed in the concept of "love at first sight" before. But as soon as he'd laid eyes on Lois, he'd become a believer.
Within the hour, they had the first draft of their story written. At least, Clark thought of it as their story. Lois, on the other hand, thought of it as solely her story. But, after some gentle prodding from Clark - and the interview notes he'd taken - she allowed him some input on the story. She even - begrudgingly - added his name to the byline, after he'd given enough suggestions and provided enough choice quotes from the woman who'd been held hostage. On his own, he quickly typed out a sidebar article, including all of the details from the interview he'd conducted on his own that he and Lois hadn't been able to include in the main article.
"Great stuff, kids," Perry praised them as he strolled past their desks on his way back from the vending machine. He bite into the candy bar he'd bought.
"Thanks, Chief," Lois said.
"Nice work on that sidebar piece, Kent."
Clark smiled. "Thank you, sir."
Mr. White waved the air before him, as if to dismiss Clark's words. "None of that Mr. White or sir stuff. Perry or Chief, if you don't mind."
"Okay...Chief," Clark said.
Perry smiled. "Good man. Now then, you keep on giving me articles like that, and you might just find that you have a future here after all."
"Count on it, Chief," Clark said, his heart swelling with hope and pride.
"Now then, that said, there's no time for resting on our laurels. Back to work."
Perry's voice was gruff, but there was no mistaking the affection in his voice, in particular, toward Lois. Clark could tell, even only having known the two for a few short hours, that there was a strong bond between them. It was clear that Lois looked up to the editor, and his pride in her was unmistakable. It made Clark absurdly happy to see that.
He cares, he thought to himself. He genuinely cares about his employees. He respects them as much as they respect him. This is what was missing at all of those other papers - what I knew was lacking but couldn't put my finger on. It's no wonder why he's able to maintain such high standards for his paper. I already love it here. Everything I've been missing in my life is here. Especially Lois. She's smart as well as beautiful, feisty and fierce. She's everything I've been looking for in a woman. It sounds crazy - I mean, I barely even know her. But...I'm certain that I want to know her better...and that I want her to get to know me too. But how to start? She doesn't trust me. She barely tolerates me. But...whatever it takes, I'll find a way to change the way she looks at me.
"Lunch?" Clark offered a little while later, as the clock inched past the noon mark.
Lois hesitated and Clark could see that she was unsure if she wanted to spend any additional time with the lowly intern she'd been saddled with. But after a second, she nodded and poured the rest of her cold coffee on the half-dead aloe plant on her desk.
"There's a pizza place a few blocks over," she said.
"Sounds great," he said, genuinely meaning it.
Though he had to be careful with his money, now that he had committed himself to two months of unpaid work with no guarantee of a job afterward, the idea of a hot, gooey slice of pizza sounded heavenly. Even better, he'd be getting to spend some time with Lois. And that, alone, would be worth every penny.
"I'm buying," he continued, almost before he realized he was speaking.
Lois arched an eyebrow. "You? Mr. Unpaid Intern?"
He wanted to make a retort, but found himself drawing a blank. "Please?" he simply asked instead.
"Fine," Lois said, as though she were doing him a favor.
"Great," Clark said. "Lead on."
It didn't take long before they were at the tiny, nearly hole-in-the-wall pizza shop. They squeezed into the last two seats at the counter and bit into their slices as soon as they were served to them. Clark took a minute to really savor the flavor before swallowing. It really was very good.
"Lois?" he ventured after several minutes of silence had lapsed.
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," she said before taking a sip of her cream soda.
"Did I do the right thing today? Offering to work for free? I mean, you know Perry far better than I do."
For the first time, Lois gave him a half smile. "It was gutsy, I'll give you that. I've never seen anyone do that before. But...yeah, I think you did the right thing, if you want to work for the paper. Perry...he's...how can I put this? He's one of those guys who isn't easily impressed. He admires when people take initiative and refuse to back down from getting what they want. Unless you went out and tracked down a story for him, there was probably nothing better that you could have said or done to change his mind than what you did today. With Perry, boldness is one of the best assets a person can have."
Clark breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear that."
"Let me ask you something."
"Sure. It's only fair."
"Why? Why give up two months without pay for no guarantee of getting the job?"
"Because," Clark said, shrugging, "this is my dream. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to attain that dream. Besides, I didn't really plan on making that offer," he admitted. "It sort of just came out in the heat of the moment." He rubbed his neck as he felt a flush creep up it. "It's probably a good thing he agreed to two months and didn't let me offer up a year or something."
Lois nodded as though she understood where he was coming from and checked her watch. "Come on. We've got a few interviews to do before the end of the day." She sounded annoyed.
"Look, Lois, I'm sorry. I hope you understand that. I'm not looking to take credit for all the stories that you've already begun investigating. You can keep my name off the articles if you want, just do me a favor and at least make sure that Perry knows I contributed. I know you don't owe me anything, but I swear, I'll do my best to earn at least that."
For the first time, Lois smiled. "You know something? You surprise me."
Clark felt his optimism perk up a bit. "How?"
"Most guys I've worked with - even some women - haven't exactly been shy of using me to get what they want. They haven't shied away from claiming undue credit, if not completely stealing the credit, for what they haven't earned."
"What?" Clark asked, his restored happiness instantly replaced by concern and a sense of heartache for Lois. "Are you serious?"
She nodded and sighed. "There have been times...as much as I've tried to prevent it...where my partner at the time has stolen my work. The last time, the guy even won an award with the story I'd written. He didn't even have the decency to thank me in his speech. At least Perry fired him."
"I'm so sorry," Clark said, his heart hurting for her. "But, I swear, I'm not that kind of guy. I work hard and earn whatever credit I take. But, at least I understand now why you hate having a partner...even one who's an unpaid intern."
"I appreciate that," was all she seemed able to say as she stood and threw out the paper plate, used napkins, and empty soda bottle she'd used.
By the end of the day, a contented tiredness had settled over Clark. He and Lois nailed down five interviews and managed to finish up two of the stories they were working on. A third had been started, but put aside in favor of making Perry's edits to the ones they had completed and submitted to him. Clark stretched at his computer desk and switched off the power button. It was time to call it quits for the day. He stood, stretched again, and walked across the way to Lois' desk.
"Goodnight, Lois," he said as she powered her computer down.
"Goodnight, Clark. We've got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow. I'll pick you up at nine, okay? Where are you staying?"
Clark shook his head. "I can't. I've got the beauty pageant at ten, remember? And I'm staying at the Hotel Apollo."
Lois' face scrunched up in revulsion. "Oh, gross!"
"What?"
"The Hotel Apollo. Philomena just did an expose on that place. Mold in the walls, several bedbug infestations in the last three years, asbestos in the pipes. My advice? Find a new place before it lands you in the hospital."
Clark shuddered. Sure, he didn't have to worry about those things affecting him, but the very thought of the things Lois had mentioned gave him the creeps. He knew the place was shabby and in desperate need of repair when he checked in the night before, but the price had been right and he'd been to five other hotels before finding one with a vacancy. He'd been too preoccupied with thoughts of his interview at the Planet to give the place a once-over with his enhanced senses.
"Thanks for the head's up. I'm looking for a more permanent place. You don't happen to know of anything, do you?"
"Not off hand. Ask John tomorrow. He's our classifies guy."
"Great, thanks. Well, I'll see you tomorrow after the pageant."
"Right. Enjoy the meat market," she said disdainfully.
Clark shook his head as he turned and headed for the elevators. As much as he hated that he was, once again, covering a puff piece instead of hard news, he vowed to knock the article out of the park. And, as things stood, he wasn't even bent on changing Perry's mind about his writing abilities.
More than anything, he wanted to impress Lois.
To Be Continued...
