Chapter 6
Clark hoped it wasn't too much of an intrusion leaving the envelope on her desk. But the information was far too sensitive to send by mail or courier, and he moved faster than the eye could see. He hoped it didn't count as another strike against him, but he was seriously trying to do the right thing here.
His mother's letter had been a good idea, or so he thought. He added in his own to the mix, but the more voices he had in his corner the better. He sighed and walked up the streets of Metropolis, away from the Daily Planet. Now that he'd taken care of that, he had one more thing to do in Metropolis this morning before he could go back to his ratty hotel room and wait for a phonecall that might never come.
The elevator dinged, and he stepped on carefully, noticing how much less busy it was here. The elevator wasn't half as crowded, the lobby not quite so bustling. The bullpen was nice, very well furnished and the like, but something about it just felt off still. It didn't have the grit, the character of the Daily Planet. It felt too shiny. This wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for when he first started out, but he needed to start somewhere, and it was still a reputable job. Maybe he could start small and work his way up. Right now, he just needed a job. He was a father. He had to be able to support his child, even if it was from a distance. At least this way, he'd still be in Metropolis.
"Mr. Kent?"
He turned his attention to the mousy brunette at the desk to his right, startled out of his thoughts. "Yes?"
"Mr. Carpenter will see you now."
He smiled graciously at the man's secretary and walked into Preston Carpenter's office with his head held high.
The man spun around in his chair with a big grin, and Clark hesitated midstep. "You must be Clark Kent."
There was something offputting about the man, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He pushed his glasses up the bride of his nose nervously. "Uh, yes, sir. I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carpenter." He stuck his hand out for a shake, but the man seemed content to sit where he was. That made things awkward. Clark pulled back his hand and gestured to the seat before Mr. Carpenter's oversized desk. "May I?"
"Oh, of course, do, sit. Let's get to it."
Clark sank into the chair and handed over his file of work. It was thin at best, he knew he had a long ways to go before he could call himself a true reporter. But he knew his work was quality.
Mr. Carpenter took the file from his hand and set it aside without giving its contents a second glance. "I appreciate your eagerness, but I don't need to read your work. All you have to do is answer a couple of questions correctly, and the job is yours. Understand?"
Clark furrowed his brow in confusion, but nodded anyway.
"Good. Number one, how fast can you type?"
He debated how to answer that question, smiled like it was a joke. "As fast as the machine will let me."
The man snorted a laugh. "Really."
Clark smiled and gave what would be a generous estimate for most people. "Maybe 90 words per minute."
"How do you feel about being on the front lines, the first at the scene?"
"I think it's terribly important," he began, not sure where these questions were coming from, and more importantly, where they were leading. "I think as a reporter, you have a responsibility to get the information to the public as quickly and accurately as possible."
The man hummed nonresponsively, and Clark wasn't sure if that was the right or the wrong answer. "Last question. How do you feel about maybe going outside your usualy wheelhouse? Taking on some lighter pieces?"
Clark furrowed his brow. Was he coming across as pretentious? He shifted in his seat and fidgetted with his glasses. "Mr. Carpenter, I do understand the concept of paying your dues. I'm happy to work on any projects you throw my way."
At that the man finally grinned, and the tension in Clark's gut finally loosened. "That's good news, Kent. Good news. My society columnist up and quit a bit unexpectedly, and there's this event tomorrow night... I'd like you to be there."
His heart skipped a beat, and he firmly planted his feet on the ground to ensure that he wouldn't accidentally start floating. "Does that mean I got the job?"
Preston Carpenter held out his hand finally for a shake. "Welcome to the Metropolis Star."
Clark grinned and shook the man's hand firmly. "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it."
"You start tomorrow, first thing, so get some rest."
He gathered his briefcase and stood up. "Thanks, I will." Clark exited Mr. Carpenter's office with a slight skip to his step. Finally, finally, something seemed to be going his way. This was a good sign. He was still working in his field, working in the city he always dreamed of living in, reporting for a big paper. This was good. This was great.
He wanted to fly.
Instead, he took a walk through the streets of Metropolis, appreciating every aspect of the city he'd be living in. He couldn't wait to tell his parents. He couldn't contain his grin-- and he didn't care if it made him look like a tourist, or a country bumpkin. He was almost literally walking on air.
He shuffled through his pockets for the room key as he walked up the stairs to his temporary housing-- holy cow, he'd have to start looking for a real place to stay. The pay wasn't fabulous, but he was sure he could find some place cheap enough, make some repairs--
"Finally. Where have you been all morning?"
The sound of her voice startled him out of his skin, and he dropped his keys clumsily. He grasped for words as she slowly gathered herself and got to her feet. "I-I... I had a job interview... how did you find where I was staying?"
Her eyes cut to his with a patent glare. "Real reporter, here. You thought I couldn't track you down from a phone number?"
He was stumped a little by that, because clearly she was proving a point. He looked to his feet a little abashed and flashed her a shy, apologetic smile. "About last night-- I am sorry. For all of it. I shouldn't have tracked you down like that, shown up unannounced--"
"Damn right you shouldn't have!" Her nostrils flared and she took two steps closer to him in order to prod a finger in his chest menacingly. Clark swallowed. "We spent one night together, and you think you suddenly have a right to corner me like that? I don't know you. You know how many people have tried to come after me because of some of my stories? And you think showing up unnannounced is going to soothe me, calm me--"
He held up his hands defensively. "No, no. I just wasn't thinking. I'm... I really am sorry, Lois."
She clicked her tongue at him and flipped her hair over her shoulder dismissively. "Figures."
Clark bent over to pick up his keys and fiddled around for the right one. He thought of inviting her in, but this time thought it through. He didn't want it to feel like he was cornering her, and bringing her into the place where he slept could come across wrong. "Look, do you want to go somewhere and talk? Not that I'm assuming you want anything to do with me, but you've come here for a reason, and I really would like to talk some things through with you. If you'll give me a chance."
She glared at him darkly, sizing him up, and even though he had all his superpowers, he genuinely believed Lois Lane could find a way to dismember him. If anybody could do it, it would be her.
"Fine." She snapped irritably at him. "But you're buying. You can buy, can't you?"
He huffed at that, a little offended, until he glanced at the room he was staying in. "I mean, I'm not rolling in dough here, but I've got enough to live on. Plus I did get the job, so--"
She rolled her eyes and walked away briskly. Clark pocketed his keys again and trailed after her, trying to keep his distance.
His mother made him promise he wouldn't interact with her through anything other than phone or mail.
But Lois had come to him, so that had to be some sort of defense.
They ended up on the sidewalk and Lois kept going without so much as a glance back at him. He shuffled a little closer amidst the noise of the street. "You don't want to take a cab? Where are we going, anyway?"
She muttered some unflattering words about him under her breath before responding. "There's a nice little cafe just two blocks from here. I figured we could walk."
"You're sure?"
Lois stopped short in front of him, making him pull back abruptly. "Are you going to second guess every decision I make?"
"No, no! Of course not! I was just concerned--"
"I'm sick, but I'm not an invalid. I'll die on my feet, thank you very much."
She turned on her heel and stormed ahead of him, and Clark couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. That was a little dramatic, but he'd make sure not to make any more assumptions about her or her condition. The best chance he had was to keep his mouth shut and take whatever was coming.
She was right about one thing for sure-- the cafe was close. Clark marveled how he hadn't stumbled upon it himself yet, but he should have trusted the Metropolis native first and foremost. It had a nice cozy atmosphere, too.
"Lolo! How you doin'?"
"Uncle Mike! Good to see you." She leaned in to hug the stranger and Clark tried his best not to look like an awkward prom date hovering in the background.
"And who's this?"
Uncle Mike eyed him up and down suspiciously, but Lois didn't miss a beat. "An old friend I ran into, we wanted to catch up. You got a nice, private booth for us, Uncle Mike?"
He still didn't look away from Clark, his look darkening into a frown, and Clark swallowed thickly. Everyone was so overprotective of Lois, he wondered if he'd ever really get a change to know her. But he supposed he couldn't begrudge them that. In fact, it was nice. Lois had been in a difficult position-- first alone and pregnant, then a single mother and sick. He was glad she had a whole host of people to look out for her. "Sure thing, Lo. I got a nice seat right here in the corner, right in the line of sight of the kitchen."
"Uncle Mike!"
"What? It's relatively secluded from the rest of the restaraunt."
"It's perfect, thanks," Clark slid into the booth quickly, brokering a peace treaty for the impending argument. They both glared at him for speaking, and he turned his focus to the menu already on the table. Lois groused about it a little more before taking a seat as well and ordering a couple of drinks.
The silence between them remained awkward until their drinks arrived, and surprise struck him when Lois' "usual" order turned out to be a chamomile tea. She seemed to notice his attention and she hunched her shoulders defensively. "I try to limit my caffeine intake. I already had my coffee for the day."
"I didn't say anything," he defended helplessly, trying to stop coming off as judgy and rude.
"You didn't have to."
"I love herbal teas. I got this really nice red oolong from when I was staying in Taipei..." he realized he was talking again-- how did he keep doing that?-- and probably boring her about his random collection of teas when she stared at him with her head cocked to the side. He blushed a little and turned his own focus to his coffee. "Sorry. Not important."
She shrugged casually. "I don't mind. I think it helps, finding out some of the more mundane things about you. Especially after, you know..."
His stomach tumbled uncomfortably. "So you did get a chance to read it."
"Do you honestly think I'd even be here if I hadn't?"
He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I don't know. I'm sorry, again."
"Stop," she slapped her menu down on the table, and leaned her elbows onto the table. "Stop apologizing already. I get it, okay? You're sorry for everything. Can we stop wasting time?"
Clark opened his mouth on the instinct to apologize again, and shut it with a grimace. "Okay. Where do you wanna start?"
She pursed her lips, glanced over her shoulder looking for her uncle. "Well, I want to start with a tuna melt, but I guess we can start with some questions."
Amusement pulled at the corners of his mouth for a moment, before he got serious again. "Why did you come by my place, anyway? Not that I'm not happy to see you-- I just thought you'd never want to see my face again."
"Well, to be fair, I did call a few times and got no reply. So I didn't have much of a choice." Her eyes cut to him on a glare, and Clark only just clamped down on the urge to apologize again. "But it's better this way. I get to look you in the eyes when you're answering."
He swallowed thickly. That was fair. Intimidating, but fair. "Okay. What do you want to know?"
"You're... you're really an alien?"
Her tone was hushed, and a little disbelieving. He smiled, appreciative of her concern for his secret. "Yeah. From a planet called Krypton."
She leaned back into the booth, literally taken aback, and eyed him carefully. "Wow. And your... Krypton... It's gone?"
A sad smile crossed his face. "Yeah. Apparently I'm the last of my kind. They sent me here to escape."
"And how do you have all your... abilities?"
"Krypton revolved around a red star, much larger and cooler than our sun. Our planets and lifeforms were very similar, excepting the star, so my parents decided this would be a safe place for me. The yellow sun though. That's what gives me my powers."
Uncle Mike came up unexpectedly to take their order, and he hoped he hadn't heard anything. He really wanted to tell Lois everything before any of her family found out. The man ripped the menu out of his hand a bit forcefully, and Clark grimaced at Lois as he walked away. "I don't think your Uncle likes me very much."
"Oh, Uncle Mike's not really my uncle."
He frowned at her in confusion. "No?"
She shrugged. "He's always been around, like an uncle. He's practically family."
"I never had any aunts or uncles," Clark mused thoughtfully. "I wish I had. My parents were both only children, and I was an only child. They had cousins, at least, but it was never the same." He glanced over at her again, noting the curious expression on her face. "What about you? What's your family like?"
Lois' shoulders hunched again, and he wasn't sure why she was on edge from his question. "I have a younger sister, who's been a big help. Lucy. Then there's my mother-- who tries, really, but she's a handful. And I don't really speak to my father."
Ah. There it was. Clark nodded sympathetically, not wanting to pry. "And how's Havana? What's she like?"
A wide grin split her face, and warmed Clark from the inside out. "She's brilliant. Truly. She's so smart, and creative, and beautiful-- yeah, sometimes she's a bit of a handful, but she's so perfect. I don't know what my life would be like without her."
Clark smiled softly. "She really is amazing, Lois. You've done a great job with her."
Her eyes turned sad. "Yeah. I just hope I get to keep doing a great job with her."
And they were back to square one again. The silence between them was deafening. He didn't want to address her illness directly-- his mother told him to keep things light, play on Lois' terms, but it just lurked under the surface of every sentence. Clark grimaced. "You know I was serious in my letter. I don't want to do anything to upset you, or take Havana away from you at all. I'd love to spend some more time with her in the future, but we're not there yet, I know. But I was also serious about my doctor."
Lois shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "So you really think there's a possibility that... you got me sick?"
His heart pounded at the thought, unsure of how to phrase this. "I don't know. I'd never... I try to stay in control, all the time, because I never know what my powers will do, or what I'll do, if I'm not. And you're the only person I ever truly... lost control... with. I think I'm the only unexplained thing that you've crossed paths with and suddenly you get this unexplainable illness? It's... I'd like to think it's not true, but it's scary how easily that timeline adds up."
He heard her swallow thickly, and she leaned forward to sip at her tea. He glanced down at his own forgotten coffee and grimaced into it. It was one of his biggest fears, that he was the reason behind her illness, but at least maybe, if he was... maybe he could be apart of the solution.
And if he wasn't the cause... he shuddered. Because Lois Lane dying and having nothing he could do about it... that was an even scarier thought.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt to go see your doctor."
His eyebrows jumped up in surprise. "Seriously?"
She pinned him with a patronizing stare. "Don't get too excited. I doubt he'll find anything. But on the off chance that it'll make an ounce of difference, I don't want to turn down any possible avenues of help."
A ghost of a smile crossed his face, nervous and excited all at once. "Well, all right then. I'll give Bernie a call, maybe he can fit you in sometime tomorrow. Maybe a long lunch?"
Lois smiled softly in return, and opened her mouth to reply, when the door to thee cafe opened with a loud bang. Clark craned his neck around the edge of the booth to see what was causing all the ruckus, and his heart stopped in his chest.
"Nobody move! Everybody on the ground, now!"
