The
ToC for this story is
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Comments can go
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Writer's block is a terrible thing -- especially when it's only a minor detail that's holding you up!
Anyway, inspiration finally
struck 
and here's the latest chapter...
Last time, you may recall, we promised you: the start of a working week that will be unlike any other in Lois and Clark's experience -- for which they will be truly thankful!
Babylon 5 -- "Signs and Portents".
Actually, certain S&P have been scattered through the last few parts, and it will be interesting to see who picks up on them beforehand.
Meantime, it's Monday morning in a certain well-known elevator...*****
Now read on:Lois hastily brushed the crumbs off her blouse and skirt just before the elevator doors opened to reveal the welcome sight of the newsroom -- and the even more welcome sight of her partner over by the coffee machine with her mug in his hand. She'd been hoping he'd be here ever since she'd been woken that morning by yet another delightfully torturous smell wafting its way into her bedroom. Once the aroma of coffee and pastry had done its evil work, rousing her from pleasant dreams that she couldn't quite remember (but was certain were really nice ones), she had dragged herself out of bed and into her dressing gown, and headed for the kitchen, where she hoped to find Clark, along with whatever was making her stomach rumble so audibly. She was going to clobber the one and devour the other, after which she ought to be awake enough to "apologise" for her display of
not-a-morning-person bad temper by giving him a kiss.
This plan, formed by a half-awake brain badly in need of a caffeine fix, came to an abrupt halt when she found that while there was indeed a steaming mug of hot coffee sitting on the countertop, with an accompanying plate of
pains des chocolats that she had no doubt were fresh from a French bakery, there was no Clark. Instead, there was a hand-written note to the effect that he had to leave -- another fire -- and that he'd see her at the
Planet; he was going to take a quick look in daylight at the building from last night, and he wanted to talk to her about it when they met up for the day.
Lois had carried the mug and plate to her dining table and sat down heavily in a chair, grumbling to herself half-heartedly about people who started fires in the wee, small hours, and about Kryptonians who just
had to go and clean up the mess that the first lot started. She stopped debating who was worse when she took her first sip from the coffee, and the subject was mostly forgotten as the wonderful brew -- made just the way she liked it, naturally -- worked its usual magic.
Now fully awake, or close to it, her mind turned to other topics -- in particular, how nice it was to have someone who brought her breakfasts like this... which led her to smile ruefully at the memory of how shocked and angry she'd been, the first time he did it. She knew better now; this morning, instead of planning to turn him into dog chow, her reaction had been to...
Coffee went everywhere as she finally, consciously, took in what she'd been about to do prior to finding that her "victim" wasn't there. She coughed and spluttered, and stumbled back into the kitchen to find a cloth to clean up the mess before it ruined her furniture, but that was all done automatically; her mind was focussed on the startling revelation that quite unconsciously -- or, at least,
semi-consciously -- she had intended to greet Clark by...
...kissing him?! I was going to "clobber" Clark for waking me up with breakfast, and then apologise by kissing
him? Oh, my God... Lane, you've got it bad for this guy, haven't you? And then she grinned, and kept grinning while she cleaned up the spilled coffee. Now that she thought about it, that sounded like a great idea... if she was ever able to summon the courage to actually
do it, that is.
The trouble was, for all her new-found resolution that this was what she wanted, and the certainty that his feelings matched her own, Lois was still incredibly nervous about beginning a relationship with Clark -- a
romantic relationship, that is, because they already shared the deepest friendship she had ever known or could even conceive of having. She was certain that, once she was involved that way with Clark, they would be happy together, but how did they get there from where they were now? She had no experience of anything like this; what did you
do to start a romance? And what else did you have to do to start one with a guy who could fly?
And, just to complicate matters, there was a small but vocal part of her that kept objecting to the whole idea, complaining that she must be crazy to have dived headlong into dreams of starry-eyed, romantic bliss like this -- and so fast!
How long had she known Clark? Three weeks? And she was convinced that he was The One, something that she would have denied
existed before bumping into this guy from Kansas outside the
Planet morgue! If this had been anyone else -- Lucy, say -- she'd have been screaming at them to slow down, to be more careful and not be swept away by hormones and unrealistic fantasies; why wasn't she taking her own advice?
Somewhat to her surprise, Lois wasn't listening to that part of her -- or, rather, she'd heard what it had to say and decided that it was wrong. In her opinion, she
had taken that advice, and she'd acted on it... and then she'd made her mind up about what she was going to do, and was doing it! Okay, going from strangers to potential romantic partners in such a short time might seem a little fast to an outside observer, but no observer could possibly appreciate how close she and Clark had become over the course of those few weeks; she knew him better than she had ever known anyone in her life -- even her family -- and he knew her just as well, if not better... and he loved her anyway.
And as for unrealistic fantasies... all she wanted was to become the girlfriend (and maybe something more) of an incredibly good-looking man who was born on another planet in a parallel universe, and who could fly, see through walls and bench-press a mountain. What was unrealistic about that?
She had nodded in affirmation to herself of the reasonableness of that question... and then caught sight of the clock.
Eep! How did it get that late? Romance was one thing, but wasting time mooning over a boyfriend she didn't even have yet was quite another. Lois threw the cloth she had used to clean the table into the sink and sprinted for the bathroom; if she didn't want to be late, she'd have to get going -- and her breakfast would have to be eaten on the move.
Which it was. The
pains des chocolats were so good that she took her time eating them in order to savour the exquisite combination of the pastry and the chocolate filling -- which is how she came to be brushing herself down, having just finished the last one, as she arrived at the newsroom. By the time she reached her desk, the perfect finishing touch to her mobile meal was waiting for her in the form of another perfectly-made cup of piping-hot coffee. She sat down, took a sip and sought out her partner, now sitting at his own desk, to silently mouth, "Thanks..." He smiled back and their working day began.
*****
Others' working day had also begun, and some of those others wanted to talk to the partners for a variety of reasons. First, perhaps surprisingly, was Cat Grant, who undulated her way past, sending Clark her usual sultry smile and husky greeting as she did so. As usual, this led to a familiar little pantomime: Clark responded in his normal friendly manner, ignoring the innuendo and treating her as he did any other colleague, and Cat rolled her eyes in mock frustration at his supposed obtuseness, which she knew very well was nothing of the sort. Where this morning differed from many another was that after the usual exchange between herself and Clark, Cat did a double-take and regarded Lois with a keen, appraising eye.
"Well, well..." she purred. Lois, who hadn't been paying that much attention, looked up in some surprise to see that she was the recipient of an unusually direct scrutiny -- unusual for Cat, at least.
"Very nice, Lois," the columnist murmured. "That look really suits you -- professional, but classy. More than classy, in fact -- downright glamorous, I'd say. Definitely an improvement on your usual style. What's the special occasion?"
"Uh..." Lois stammered, caught off guard. How the heck was she going to explain this? "Nothing special. I... I treated myself to a weekend break at a hotel and had a makeover at their salon..." She trailed off, wondering why she was going into so much detail, and for Cat Grant of all people.
"Really?" Cat exclaimed, her carefully-plucked brows reaching for the sky and a teasing grin starting to spread across her face. "
You took a weekend break and had a makeover? Okay, who are you and what are you doing at Mad Dog Lane's desk?"
"Cat!" came a familiar voice with a surprising note of sternness to it, and both women unconsciously turned to look at its source -- Clark, who was regarding Cat with an uncharacteristic frown.
Cat's grin faded -- but not completely. "Oh, come on, Clark," she said, highly amused, but also a little defensive. "I think it's great that Lois did something like that, but it's uncharacteristic, to say the least." Her smile broadened again as something almost visibly came to mind. "Or at least it
was," she went on, "until now, anyway. And, you know, the only
other thing I know of that's different about Lois these days is that she has
you as a partner. You must be a good influence on her. Keep it up..."
She aimed one last wicked grin at the pair and wandered off, a soft, "
Ciao..." floating back to them. Their gazes met, and Lois rolled her eyes; Clark raised his brows and chuckled, which earned him a glare -- but a half-hearted one -- after which exchange of opinions, the two of them got back to work.
Some time later, Lois was about to ask Clark what he'd wanted to check out at last night's fire scene but was forestalled by Ralph, who arrived in the elevator, went over to his desk for just long enough to drop something there and headed straight for them.
"Hey, Lois... Lookin' good!" was his immediate greeting -- but in a rather softer voice than might have been expected, which short-circuited Lois' instinctive, half-formed defensive reaction in favour of curiosity: Ralph acting out of character must mean something, and it might be something worth knowing about if his recent lurch into decent journalism wasn't just a one-off born of outrage over a relative's misfortune.
And it seemed that that might just be the case -- or, if it wasn't, then the outrage fuelling Ralph's atypical efforts had yet to run its course. Nor, apparently, had his desire to tease Lois about having "competition" in the investigative journalism field, for his stated reason for coming over was to tell her that he was on the verge of landing a huge scoop concerning recent developments in the Metropolis gang scene, and -- he wasn't completely sure, but it looked real promising -- it might even tie into something bigger; there was the feeling on the streets that something big was brewing, that the
status quo was about to be upset, good and hard. He was hoping to find out more about what was going on in time to work it into the story he was writing for the front page on Wednesday -- or Thursday, at the latest.
Ordinarily, Lois would have dismissed this as just another example of
braggadocio on the part of a man whose ego outweighed his ability by several orders of magnitude, but she noticed that Clark, who, naturally, had also heard what Ralph had to say, was regarding him in the sympathetic manner that she had seen him use with people he'd rescued as Superman, or the way he encouraged interviewees to tell just that little more than they had intended. Why was that, she wondered, and then, looking up at Ralph's half-hopeful, half-nervous expression, she understood: the little man hadn't come over to boast about his story -- or not entirely. What Ralph was looking for was some support from his colleagues -- a confidence boost; reassurance that he was doing the right thing in his attempt to investigate matters far more important, and far more dangerous, than his usual round of sex scandals in medium-to-low places.
Well, that was fair enough; Lois could remember when she could have used some of that kind of thing herself, but the only one who'd ever given it to her was Perry -- until Clark came along, of course. Almost instinctively, she sought him out and her eyes met his. For just a second, the two shared a moment of communion with one another, and each knew that the other was thinking that they needed to help their colleague -- and, who knew, if he kept this up, maybe even a friend.
"Nice going, Ralph," she offered, meaning it, and Clark backed her up, saying that they looked forward to reading his stuff when it was printed. "...unless you'd like to give us a sneak preview...?" Lois teased.
"Oh, no!" was the startled, almost frightened reply. Lois exchanged a quick glance with her partner -- Ralph really
was nervous about this story. "You'll have to wait, just like everyone else. Unless..." Suddenly, in the space of a single word, the old Ralph was back... but not for long. Just as Lois was expecting a typical leer and lewd remark, he seemed to think better of it and muttered, half to himself, "Nah, forget it."
Little chance of that, as shown by the way in which Lois skewered him with a raised eyebrow and a glare that somehow achieved the difficult, if not impossible feat of being both penetrating and yet unthreatening -- or perhaps the threat was merely implied. Either way, it was too much for the hapless Ralph, who hastily explained, "I was gonna suggest that you might like to help with a follow-up -- a trip to a pool hall where one gang hangs out -- but you look too good today. It'd be a cryin' shame to mess that look up, and you'd never pass for a gang girl like that -- too much class..."
He wandered off, blushing slightly, leaving an amazed and bemused Lois staring after him. After a moment or two, Clark leaned over and commented, "I think that makes it official: Cat Grant, Ralph Naylor
and the Metropolis gangs all agree that you look gorgeous this morning."
Lois didn't know whether to roll her eyes or blush herself, and ended up doing both. She didn't however, let the subject drop, for there was one significant omission from the list of those supposedly in agreement, and she found that she really wanted to know his opinion -- so she asked for it. "And what do you think about that, Clark?"
"I think they all grossly understate the case," was the prompt, amused reply.
This time, there was no contest -- Lois blushed an even brighter scarlet, closely rivalling the colour of Superman's cape, and quickly hid her face in a pile of research papers. Clark returned to his own work, but his super-hearing easily caught a very soft "Thanks..." from the direction of his partner. He said nothing in reply... but when she shot a quick, hopefully surreptitious glance at him, his smile told Lois that he'd heard her.
Absorbed in their own concerns, neither reporter noticed another interested spectator to their conversations with their colleagues and each other, but this undetected observer took note of all that had been said and filed it away for future consideration -- and use.
*****
The working day passed in its usual fashion -- if such a thing could be said of any day for the team of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, alias Superman. Actually, this was a rather quiet day, which Clark didn't mind but did
not please Lois. She was bored with the inactivity and the run-of-the-mill stories that were all that passed for news that day.
Clark's idea about the two fires he'd helped put out last night and this morning had come to nothing -- so far, because he was going to keep his eyes open. Luthor seemed to be lying so low that none of Lois' usual sources had any useful leads, and that was one more annoyance. Not only that, but other people -- like a certain editor -- were starting to notice. He called her into his office in the middle of the afternoon, and Lois could guess what his first words were going to be...
"You gettin' anywhere with your Luthor hunt, darlin'?"
Got it in one, Lois told herself, which was not good news. Unfortunately, honesty compelled her to admit, "Not really, Perry. The rat seems to have dug himself a really deep hole and pulled it in after him."
"I thought as much. Well, Lois, you know I always back my reporters and their judgement 110%, but--"
"But there's something that you need Clark and I to work on, right?" she interrupted, familiar with this tactic from far too many experiences with it.
"That's right, darlin'. But it is related to your story on Bureau 39, so I'm not landin' you with a dog show. Y'see, Secretary Frobisher's holding this big press conference in Washington on Wednesday, and Don Smith's down with the flu, so I'm making a virtue out of a necessity and sendin' you two to cover it. You know as much about that bunch as anyone does, so I want some good questions from you both; remind those guys in the Pentagon that the public wants to know what's goin' on."
"Okay..." she said, unhappy and frustrated but also resigned to the trip, realising from long experience of Perry's managerial methods that this was a done deal. "I'll tell Clark." Then, after asking for and getting the details of the forthcoming press conference, that same experience of her editor's machinations led her to ask, "I don't suppose that the fact that this will take Clark and me out of town for most of
two days had anything to do with your choosing us for this -- instead of, say, someone from the Washington bureau?"
Perry leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Well, I did say I was making a virtue out of a necessity... Seriously, Lois, you and Kent are the perfect choice for this assignment anyway, and if it makes your movements less predictable, then so much the better. Luthor's gonna make a move some time, but there's no reason to make it easy for him."
Lois grimaced at Perry's admission, but there was nothing she could say.
And besides, she thought,
two days in Washington with Clark is hardly an onerous chore. In fact...Her musings on what else might occupy their time other than a press conference with the Secretary of Defense were interrupted abruptly by her boss, who had reverted to Get-back-to-work! mode. She scrambled to her feet, hastily reassuring him that she'd sort everything out before the trip, including finishing any and all stories that were ready for print before she left the office the following evening, and left, running through the timetable for Wednesday and Thursday in her head and making plans for both days -- all sorts of plans.
Clark was there when she got back to her desk and she quickly filled him in on their new assignment -- and Perry's reasons for giving it to them. He had a few thoughts on the subject, including one whispered idea that she agreed to without hesitation, and they put their heads together to discuss what sort of "good questions" they might ask at the press conference... and for the second time that day, failed to notice an eavesdropper.
*****
Ah, concentration... truly a two-edged sword. Join us next time (TBA 
) to learn, or at least have foreshadowed, the perils of working late, alone
, before going off on a two-day trip out of town...Phil
