Previously...
Clark shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal, Lois. A couple of breakfast burritos here, a few coffees there aren't going to make or break me. Besides, I don't plan on working for free for much longer." He gave her his biggest smile.
The two reached the crosswalk and waited for the light to change. Clark rocked on the balls of his feet. As always, he could scarcely believe his good luck. He was in one of the biggest, busiest cities in America. He was employed, for the moment, with one of the most prestigious papers in the world. He was partnered with one of the most talented journalists he'd ever had the pleasure of reading. And, although he had to hide it, he was in love with that same woman, the person he worked with, day in and day out.
"Yeah, but now you're looking at apartments," Lois argued.
"It's fine, Lois. Trust me."
Truth be told, he was in need of a paycheck. As it was, the hotel charges and footing the bill for his and Lois' meals was putting a drain on his meager savings account. He'd taken to not eating at all unless he was with Lois or could fly back to Kansas to have a meal with his folks. It didn't bother him. He didn't specifically need to eat, though he liked to. The only reason why he was even bothering with the hotel and not flying back to his parents' farmhouse at night to sleep was because he needed to establish himself in the city. He needed an address, even one so feeble as a hotel room, to keep away unwanted questions. Plus, there were times when Lois had offered to pick him up on the way to work.
He wasn't going broke by any means, but he did want to be able to maintain a comfortable living.
The light finally changed and they began to cross. They were in the middle of the street when Clark's sensitive hearing picked up something.
Help! Somebody! Anybody! Watch out! The brakes are gone! I can't stop!
Clark's head jerked to the right. A truck was weaving in and out of traffic. He could just see glimpses of Benny's Fish Market on the side of the vehicle. Frantically, the driver was blaring his horn, trying his best to alert people to his situation. With his enhanced hearing, Clark could hear the man pumping his brakes, but to no avail. Then, mercifully, he heard the engine click off as the man turned the key, but he was coming too fast and the thought had come to him to cut the truck's power too late. Anyone caught in the truck's path was in serious trouble.
"Lois!" Clark cried, giving her a shove forward in an effort to get her out of the way in time. He only hoped that he wasn't going to be too late to protect her.
***
"Hey! Watch it, Farmboy!" Lois said in an irritated manner as Clark pushed her out of harm's way, her body jerking forward.
Clark braced himself for impact as he turned toward the oncoming vehicle. The truck struck him full in the chest as he brought his hands up, as if to ward off the blow. He dug in his heels as the truck pushed him backwards, but between his strength and the natural loss of power from the now silent engine, the delivery truck slowed and stopped. Before he could fully stop the vehicle, Clark allowed himself to fly backwards onto the pavement.
Shocked gasps and screams surrounded him throughout the ordeal. Chief among them, he heard Lois calling his name in horror. He let his head hit the asphalt in an attempt to look like a normal man and he heard the back of his jacket shredding as he dragged along the ground for a foot or two. When he came to a stop, he just lay there as if in a daze.
"Clark?" Lois cried out, rushing to his side. She immediately dropped to her knees and checked him for signs of injury. "Clark? Can you hear me?"
Clark groaned and rolled his head from side to side, as if starting to come to. He let his eyes flutter open. Lois' concerned face immediately filled his entire field of vision. She smiled tenderly at him when she realized he was awake.
"Clark? Are you hurt?" she asked.
"I think...I think I'm okay," he said, pushing himself up to sit.
"Don't move. Let me call an ambulance," she said, trying to get him to lay still.
Clark reveled at the feel of her warm hand on his chest. But he didn't allow her to stop him from getting up. He stood and brushed off his clothing, taking stock of the rips and tears in his suit. His jacket was a complete loss. Not even his mother's impressive sewing skills could salvage the mess that it was. The back looked like a tiger had mauled it and the elbows had simply ceased to exist. He groaned. It wasn't an overly expensive suit by any stretch, but he had liked it.
"I'm okay," he repeated, still assessing the damage to his clothing. "My suit, however, has seen better days."
The driver of the truck, apparently still in shock but starting to come around, hopped out of his vehicle. He didn't bother to close the door behind him. It remained open, the rusty hinges squeaking as they moved. The driver himself was a tall, thin black man, dressed in neatly pressed jeans and a matching shirt. He shook his head, as if in disbelief of what had happened, then made his way to Clark.
"Hey, are you okay, man?" He sounded really worried to Clark's ears.
"I'm fine," Clark said in a friendly tone.
"I'm so sorry. The brakes went out. I couldn't stop. I tried."
"I'm sure you did," Clark replied, clasping the man's shoulder in a gesture of comfort and acceptance. "Are you okay?"
The man looked shocked. "Me? I'm fine. My heart's racing and my mind's a mess, but I'm not hurt, I mean."
Clark smiled and chuckled a little. "I can imagine."
"You going to call the cops?" the man wanted to know, sounding scared.
Clark opened his mouth to speak, but, before he could say a word, sirens filled the air. Moments later, several police cars arrived on the scene, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Clark sighed. He wanted nothing more than to vanish into the crowd, especially as an ambulance pulled up. The paramedics would want to examine him. Would they be suspicious of him when they found not a scratch on him? Before he could attempt to merge with the crowd, however, one of the paramedics took him gently by the arm and led him off to the truck to be looked over.
With a sigh, Clark submitted himself to their check, trying his best not to become too impatient or annoyed with them. After all, they were just trying to do their jobs. He couldn't fault them for wanting to do it well, or for being concerned for someone who'd been hit by a truck. He did try to politely brush off their concerns, to no avail, until they were completely satisfied that he wasn't in immediate danger of dying on the spot.
Then it was time for the police to take his statement. Before they could speak to him though, he managed to get a private word in with Lois.
"Lois?" he asked, as he led her off to one side.
"Clark...I can't believe..." she looked more in shock than the driver of the truck had been.
"I know," he said, gently cutting her off. "Listen, there isn't much you can do here. I have to give my statement...it might be a while, depending on how things go. Why don't you go on ahead? I can meet you at the Planet. Besides, I'm going to have to go back to the hotel and change." He gestured helplessly at his clothing. Then he pulled out his wallet and gave Lois a twenty dollar bill. "Here. I promised you breakfast. I don't want to make you wait."
"No, Clark."
"Don't worry about it. Just get me a number eleven combo, okay?"
"I'll get you your breakfast," Lois said with a smug smile. "But you aren't going to be the one buying. In fact, you aren't buying lunch or dinner either today."
"Lo-is," he began to argue.
Lois pressed the crisp twenty dollar bill back into his palm. "No arguments. I refuse to let you pay. Go. Do what you need to do. I'll let Perry know that you'll be running a little late."
Clark opened his mouth to argue, but Lois was already moving away. And one of the officers was already approaching him, pad and pen already out and ready for Clark's version of the story. Clark recognized Julius Corzone from one of his previous investigations with Lois, not three days past. He gave the man a friendly smile before they got down to business.
Not much later, Clark finally was able to duck back to his hotel room and change. He wound up completely swapping his wardrobe, none of his clean jackets matching his pants, shirt, or tie. To be fair, he changed at super speed, not wanting Lois to have to wait too long for him. Still, he couldn't join up with her at work too quickly, lest she ask questions he didn't want to answer. Luckily, his hotel wasn't too far from work, and he was able to walk the distance, at a normal, human speed, in just under thirty minutes.
"A gift for the writing gods," Clark said, walking up behind Lois and plopping a small notepad on her desk.
Lois jumped a little. Apparently, she'd been completely unaware of his presence. That made Clark feel a little guilty. He hadn't meant to scare her. He'd merely walked behind her desk to avoid the mail cart which had been parked right in the middle of the aisle between his desk and Lois'.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's not polite to sneak up on people?" Lois said as she brushed off her surprise at Clark's appearance. Then, seeing the notepad, "What's this?"
"Story notes. For you," he said, clarifying.
"Story notes?"
He nodded. "From the accident. There were a couple of things that came up after you left. So...here you go."
"You're giving me your notes?" she asked, incredulous.
"I can't exactly write the story myself," he said, brushing it off like it was no big deal. "I'm a bit too close to it, remember?"
"Still..."
"It's no big deal, really."
"It's not 'no big deal,' Clark. You're handing me a story on a silver platter," Lois argued. "Most reporters would be doing the exact opposite."
"A story I can't write," he reminded her gently. "Lois, please. Just take the notes and write the story. I'm not the kind of guy who steals stories."
"Then you're unlike any reporter I've ever known," she replied, if not a slight bit skeptically.
"Trust me, Lois, I've unlike anyone you've ever met," Clark said with a smile.
"We'll see about that," she said with a playful grin. "Go, eat your breakfast."
Clark nodded and grabbed the breakfast burrito and coffee from his desk. Quickly crossing the bullpen, he warmed them in the microwave in the break area, then returned to his desk. He was just biting into the southwestern style egg burrito when Perry stopped by his desk. Clark swallowed and frowned, unhappy with the lack of hot sauce. He reached for one of the packets Lois had left for him.
"Morning, Chief," he said cheerfully as he squeezed three entire packets onto his breakfast.
"Morning, Kent. Whoa, that's a lot of hot sauce. Careful or you'll burn your insides quicker than you can say 'blue suede shoes.'"
Clark chuckled. "I'm tougher than I look, Chief. My dad's spicy chili makes the term 'five alarm' sound tame."
"Speaking of being tougher than you look, Lois told me what happened earlier. You okay, son?" He gently put a fatherly hand on Clark's shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm fine. My suit's a goner, but luckily that was the only damage."
"Mmm," the editor hummed in agreement. "She also mentioned that. Uh, the suit that is. She suggested that I assign you a locker, to keep some spare duds in. Not that either of us anticipate anything like this again, that is."
"A locker?" Clark asked.
Lois nodded. "I find it's helpful to keep a change of clothes on hand. You never know when you might need them. A stakeout pops up and you can't get home to grab something to wear. Or you have to go undercover and your work attire's just going to make you stand out like a sore thumb."
A light bulb went off in Clark's head at the suggestion. A change of clothes. That could solve his problems, just not in the way Lois was thinking. For a while now, he'd been toying with the idea of finding some way to use his abilities to help save people. He wanted to help, he really did.
No, he thought with a sudden realization. I need to help.
As though written into his very DNA, the need to help those in trouble was there - had always been there. Would always be there, if he was any judge. He'd often wondered if it was something that actually was part of his genetic makeup, or if it was the result of a lifetime of having his parents as shining examples of how a person should be.
Maybe both, he thought. All I know for sure is that I need to be free to help people, without drawing attention to the fact that Clark Kent is more than he appears to be.
"That sounds like a great idea," he said aloud. "I just hope I won't need any more changes for completely ruined suits. Thanks, Perry. And thank you, Lois."
Perry handed him a small silver key. "Here you go, son. Number one fifty-nine."
Clark pocketed the key, planning on adding it to his keychain when he had a free moment. He nodded his thanks again.
"Now that that's taken care of, I'll let you two get back to work. I want you two to head down to the wharf. Three bodies were found there this morning, right about daybreak, by a jogger. All were tied up and shot, execution style, from what I've gathered."
"We're on it," Clark said enthusiastically.
He was more than eager to shift the focus off of himself and the accident. But first things were first. He took another bite of his breakfast burrito, wanting to finish it while it was still hot from the microwave. Although he could always heat it with his eyes again, should it grow cold, he didn't want to. He'd already drawn enough attention to himself for the day, if not the month.
"Take your time," Lois said, when she saw him trying to hurry up and finish his breakfast. "I want to get the accident story off to Perry before we head out. If the crime scene was found at dawn, the police and the bodies will be long gone by now. There's no rush."
His mouth full, Clark could answer with no more than a nod. Lois nodded in acknowledgement and went back to typing. Clark watched her while he ate, slowing down his chewing speed as he did so. It was incredible to him, just having the privilege of watching Lois work.
Everything about her is incredible, his inner voice whispered with awe. Her mind. Her beauty. Her passion. His inner voice sighed. Clark, when you fall for someone, you sure do fall hard, he acknowledged.
"Ready?" she asked him not long after.
"Ready," he confirmed, standing from his chair and tossing his empty coffee cup in the wastepaper basket at his feet.
"Then let's go catch some criminals," Lois said, giving him a grin. To Clark's surprise, she grabbed his arm almost affectionately. "That is, of course, if you're feeling up to it."
"I told you, Lois, I'm totally fine. The paramedics gave me a clean bill of health as well. Come on, let's talk to whoever's in charge of the police investigation."
***
Clark let out a low whistle as he took in the apartment at 344 Clinton. Lois had warned him that her sister had said the place had been in bad shape. But he hadn't expected this level of filth and brokenness. It looked like a tornado, hurricane, earthquake, and bomb had all hit the place at the exact same time. Still...Clark couldn't deny that the place had potential. It was one of the more spacious apartments he'd seen so far. Plus, the terrace was perfectly isolated and hidden from view. He could use it as a place to take off and land when he needed to fly. He wasn't having too many issues finding deserted alleyways so far, but it would make things much simpler if he always had at least one reliable place to utilize.
"Ugh!" Lois said as she side-stepped a sheet of newspaper on the floor. It was stained with some unidentifiable brown smear. "This place is disgusting!"
"Oh, it needs a little cleaning," Larry, the landlord said, munching on a buttered bagel. "That's all."
"That's all?" Lois repeated, incredulous. "A little cleaning? This place should be condemned."
Clark rolled his eyes, thankful that Lois had her back to him. Taking advantage of the fact that the two were focused on each other and not him, he slid his glasses down just enough to peek over the lenses. Pretending to give the place a cursory look, he scanned the entire apartment, top to bottom, with his x-ray vision. When he was done, he pushed the frames back up his nose. Remarkably, he'd found nothing amiss - no evidence of vermin, no mold, and what appeared to be a very sturdy construction.
"You're over-reacting," the landlord was arguing with Lois.
"I don't think so. In fact, I might just have to write up an article on this place and the slumlord land owner."
"Slumlord?" the man half-roared. "Now wait just a second!"
"Well, what do you call a man who keeps apartments in this condition?" Lois folded her arms before her chest in a defiant manner.
"I've been trying to get the previous owners to pay for a cleaning service," Larry tried to explain.
"How much?" Clark cut in.
"For the cleaning service? All the ones I've gotten quotes for are over a grand."
Clark shook his head. "I meant for the apartment."
"Clark!" Lois scolded. "You aren't seriously considering renting out this," she gestured wildly at the entire apartment, "the gateway to hell."
"How much?" Clark asked again, this time a little louder, to show Lois that he was, indeed, serious.
"A grand a month," Larry replied.
"A thousand dollars?" Clark asked in disbelief. He shook his head. "No way."
"You're out of your mind," Lois said, though Clark wasn't sure if that was aimed at him, Larry, or both of them.
"A place this size, this close to midtown...?" The portly landlord shrugged and let his voice trail off.
"It's also in pretty bad disrepair," Clark pointed out. He lifted the broken top of the newel post at the bottom of the stairs in the living room to drive home that same point.
"I really can't go any lower," the man said.
"Oh please," Lois said. "Listen up. I happen to know that you've been running the same 'for rent' ad in the Daily Planet for the last three months. Don't even bother trying to deny it," she said as Larry opened his mouth to argue. "You need a tenant. And for some God-forsaken reason, Clark here seems to be willing to take the place. Lower your price."
"I really can't.."
"I'll do the cleaning and repair work myself," Clark said.
Larry looked skeptical. "You?"
Clark smiled and shrugged off the near-insult. "I'm pretty handy."
"Well...I guess I could take fifty bucks off the rent," Larry said as he considered Clark's proposal.
"Fifty bucks? That's all?" Lois looked and sounded annoyed. "Come on, Clark. This place isn't worth it. At least this visit wasn't a total loss. We'll get a story out of it, if nothing else."
She tugged on Clark's arm to get him to follow her. Clark hesitated, undecided if he should go with her or if he could commit to the place. Despite its ramshackle state now, he knew he could turn it into a wonderful place to live, given enough time and effort. He could make it his home. Still, the price was steep and would leave him almost completely strapped for cash until Perry decided to hire him as a full employee.
I wonder... he thought as he stepped forward to follow Lois.
He was almost at the door when Larry called out to him. "Wait, Mr. Kent."
Clark turned back, wondering if his bluff had worked. "Yes?"
"How about I knock a hundred off? Nine hundred a month and the place is yours."
"Eight-fifty," Lois immediately countered. She arched her eyebrow in a dare for him to haggle with her.
"Eight seventy-five" Larry said. "My final offer."
"I'll take it," Clark said before Lois could argue further and perhaps cost him the apartment. He extended a hand to shake on the deal, which Larry accepted. "When can I move in?"
"As soon as the check clears."
Clark nodded. "I'll drop it off tomorrow before I head to work."
"Welcome to the building, Mr. Kent."
***
"I can't believe you actually rented out that pig-sty," Lois huffed as they sat together back in the bullpen of the Daily Planet, hours later.
They were in the conference room, working on the story Perry had given them. A stack of papers stood before them - all of the research Jimmy had managed to find for them as they followed what few leads they had on the execution-style murders. A pattern had emerged as they sifted through all of the gathered information. For the past five years, on the same date, the same type of murders had been committed, with all of the victims matching the same general profiles.
"It's really not that bad," he insisted.
"I'll bet it's just crawling with vermin," Lois argued. "In fact, it probably has roaches the size of poodles."
"It wasn't," he assured her.
"How do you know?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "You barely looked at the place before agreeing to it."
"Something the size of a poodle is pretty hard to miss," he said, winking at her just a bit. "It...just looked clean...that way," he said when her eyebrow failed to fall back into its normal spot. "Besides...why do you care what apartment I rent?"
"I just think it's a shame that the landlord has had that apartment up for rent for three whole months and hasn't bothered to do anything about the condition that it's in. He's either completely lazy or a total cheapskate. In any case, he doesn't seem like the world's greatest landlord."
"I admit that he should have done something with the place," Clark said. "But, I don't know. There's something about the place that sort of...feels right to me." He yawned a bit and stretched his arms above his head briefly. He picked up a print out, studied it for a moment, then placed it back on the long conference table again with a sigh. "Have you found anything with your stack of research?"
Lois ' sigh matched Clark's. "Nothing yet." Her stomach growled, loudly enough to cause her face to flush in embarrassment.
"Do you want to call it a night?" Clark asked. "Get some dinner and start fresh in the morning?"
Lois hesitated before answering. In the short time Clark had known her, he'd come to learn some basic truths about her. Chief among them was her drive. She was a woman who hated leaving loose ends, a person who loathed to give up on things, even for a short time to gain a clearer head and better perspective. But in the end, she nodded.
"It might be for the best. It's getting late. I doubt we'll hear back from any of those messages we left."
"Okay," Clark said, standing and arching his back to loosen a kink that had formed from sitting in the same position for so long. "Dinner?"
Throwing a glance over to the wall clock, Lois nodded again. "Sure."
"Where?" Clark asked, straightening up their work and tucking it under his arm to bring to his desk for safe keeping.
Lois went to her desk and scrawled a quick note. She handed it to Clark, who glanced down at it. It was an address.
"What...?" he asked.
"That's my apartment," she explained. "Give me..." She paused, thinking. "An hour?"
"Lois, you don't need to have me over. We can just go grab a burger or something."
"No, no. I want to. I just need to run a couple of errands. Okay?"
"Better than okay," he assured her.
"Great. See you later."
"Later."
Clark watched her hurriedly pull her jacket on and rush off through the bullpen. He couldn't help the smile that started to curl his lips. Lois had just invited him to her apartment. He had no illusions about her intentions. Knowing Lois, it really would just be about eating dinner together. But still, it made his heart glad. If she was inviting him into her home, it meant that she was beginning to accept him as more than a work partner. It meant that they were paving the way toward a friendship.
That didn't take as long as I'd feared, he thought to himself, feeling a sense of happiness seep through his entire body.
"Kent? You leaving?" Perry asked as Clark passed him in the break area while on his way to the elevators.
"Yeah. I, uh, I'm having dinner with a friend," Clark said, slowing his pace and stopping for a moment.
"Lois?" Perry guessed.
"Actually, yes. How did you...?"
"I've seen the way you two interact," the editor said, cutting him off with a knowing wink. "A word of advice, son. Lois is a bit like...well...a bucking bronco."
"I'm not sure that I follow you, Chief," Clark said, rubbing the back of his neck and scratching his ear. "A bucking bronco?"
"Wild. Dangerous. Thrilling to be sure. But chances are, you're going to get thrown from the saddle and trampled over."
"I don't know about that, Perry," Clark replied, unconvinced.
"Trust me, Clark. You go after her, you're liable to get your heart torn right out of your chest and stomped on. I've seen it happen before. She doesn't mean to do it, but she sure can be a heartbreaker."
"Things are a little different with me," Clark said, feeling confident. "I'm not your average guy."
Perry chuckled and shook his head. "Then I wish you luck. You'll need it."
"We're only friends," Clark tried to assure his boss.
"Oh, I know that. But, like I said, I've seen the way you look at her. You've already got it bad for her, don't you?"
"I'm not sure I want to answer that, especially when I'm only an intern," Clark replied cagily.
Perry nearly roared a laugh. "Fair enough. Say no more. Good luck tonight."
Clark grinned as Perry patted his shoulder. "Night, Chief. See you tomorrow."
To Be Continued...
