FDK: Stardust 3/? - 08/12/06 12:35 PM
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After the night they’d shared, how could she leave him without even saying goodbye?
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The brief note left on his pillow cheapened what had seemed so magical the night before. It hadn’t been a meeting of souls after all; it had just been a one-night stand, no different from any other except that this time it had happened to him. It was the same tired story of hormones running high and two people who hadn’t bothered to fight them.
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No matter how beautiful, how sensual, how passionate the night had been, in the harsh light of day he had to admit to himself that it had meant nothing. It wasn’t the start of something. Wasn’t the consummation of anything.
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Clark –
Thank you for the most wonderful night of my life.
Love,
Wanda
Thank you for the most wonderful night of my life.
Love,
Wanda
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Because as much as he wished it weren’t so, the faint traces of her perfume and their lovemaking were arousing him and indicting him at the same time.
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The entire newsroom would probably pay the price for Wanda Detroit’s night out, but Lois didn’t care. Why shouldn’t everyone else be as miserable as she was?
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She stumbled blearily into her kitchen and went through the motions of making coffee, not bothering with measuring. The result would probably be unspeakably nasty, but if it kept her awake long enough to get to the Daily Planet, she could augment it with some that was only disgusting.
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She dressed for work as she always did – conservative suit, light makeup, sleek hairstyle – with only the slight shadows beneath her eyes hinting that anything was amiss. She was Lois Lane, she reminded herself firmly as she choked down a cup of coffee, and Lois Lane did not wallow. Lois Lane did not allow romantic entanglements to sidetrack her from the pursuit of her goals. She was a successful career woman, and she had work to do: the day before, a brown bag full of scraps of research had been shoved into her hands by a crazy man, and her instincts were telling her that there was a story there somewhere.
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She would focus on the story. She would not think about Clark Kent, about the way his eyes had crinkled when he’d smiled at her or the way his hands had felt as they glided over her skin. She would not think about the weight of his body on hers or about the….
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The wrecking ball was in position, and as Clark drew near, he saw the driver of the truck climb in and start the engine.
But inside the building, what have we there?
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What he saw nearly broke his heart: an elderly actress standing alone on the stage, speaking her lines to an imaginary audience. Instantly, he turned and aimed a shot of heat vision at the motor of the truck, silencing its ominous rumble. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Clark took advantage of the distraction to slip inside the theatre.
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She was there, on the stage, and she could have looked sad or ridiculous or pathetic, but to Clark she was none of those things. She was lovely – lovely in the same way the old theatre was lovely. He paused for a moment just for the pleasure of hearing her voice ringing out with such emotion.
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"Oh, for the days of my childhood! Back when my soul was pure! I slept right here in this nursery, looking out at the orchard from this very room, and every morning I awoke with such joy in my heart! My orchard is just the same as it was then. Nothing different. All of it, all of it dressed in white! My lovely orchard!”
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“They don’t understand,” she said sadly. “A theatre is more than just bricks and mortar. It’s drama and passion and mystery and comedy and life. Please don’t make me go. I’m not ready.”
In that moment, Clark realized that he wasn’t quite ready to go either. Wasn’t ready to say goodbye, though whether to Metropolis or Wanda Detroit he couldn’t have said.
But this beautiful woman didn’t need to hear about his problems. He smiled at her. “We have some time,” he said gently, and then he settled in to enjoy the Sarah Bernhardt Theatre’s final performance.
In that moment, Clark realized that he wasn’t quite ready to go either. Wasn’t ready to say goodbye, though whether to Metropolis or Wanda Detroit he couldn’t have said.
But this beautiful woman didn’t need to hear about his problems. He smiled at her. “We have some time,” he said gently, and then he settled in to enjoy the Sarah Bernhardt Theatre’s final performance.
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“The Sarah Bernhardt Theatre,” Perry said, sounding surprised when he saw the subject of Clark’s article. “I assigned this story out yesterday, but the reporter told me she wasn’t in the mood.”
And Clark goes into the Daily Planet building to apply for that job, and Lois sees him, and this catalogue of questions that she asked herself just cracked me up:
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Who? Clark Kent.
What? Walking straight towards her.
When? Now! Right this minute!
Where? Wasn’t that already covered in number two? Really, this wasn’t helping much, and he was getting closer…
Why? Oh, God…why?
How? Seriously. How? How had she given herself away? Had he gone through her purse? But no, she’d never had it out of her sight.
What? Walking straight towards her.
When? Now! Right this minute!
Where? Wasn’t that already covered in number two? Really, this wasn’t helping much, and he was getting closer…
Why? Oh, God…why?
How? Seriously. How? How had she given herself away? Had he gone through her purse? But no, she’d never had it out of her sight.
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Would he actually say something in front of Jimmy, who was looking at her strangely and beginning to glance at Clark strangely, too? And Clark was bearing down on them, and all she could think to do was to look down, to take a sip of her coffee as if it were necessary to sustain life – which it was that day, so that part didn’t require much acting.
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“Excuse me,” he murmured, as he stepped around them at the last minute. She glanced up in time to catch his fleeting smile, the same one he’d given the waitress the night before, the same one that had sent Wanda Detroit straight into his arms. Only now it seemed like what it was – an impersonal smile he’d give a stranger. It was nothing like the way he’d looked at her when they’d danced. Nothing like the way he’d looked at her when they’d made love. It was a smile for Lois Lane, not Wanda Detroit, and as he knocked at Perry’s office door, Lois felt her heart splinter into razor sharp pieces.
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He wasn’t there to see her.
He didn’t even know her.
He had brushed by her – their shoulders had actually touched – and while she’d gone weak in the knees, he’d felt nothing at all. He hadn’t even given her a second glance. Her theory that Lois Lane couldn’t possibly hold any appeal for him was now a stone cold certainty.
He didn’t even know her.
He had brushed by her – their shoulders had actually touched – and while she’d gone weak in the knees, he’d felt nothing at all. He hadn’t even given her a second glance. Her theory that Lois Lane couldn’t possibly hold any appeal for him was now a stone cold certainty.
But Lois suddenly has a horrible suspicion - has Clark come here to apply for a job? Even more horrible, has he already got that job? I love her frantic questioning of Jimmy:
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“Jimmy.” She grabbed Jimmy’s arm so hard that he would probably have bruises. “That man who just went into Perry’s office. Do you know him?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean, I don’t know him, know him, but he was here yesterday for a job interview. Kent something or other, I think.” He winced a little and glanced down at her hand. “Do you mind, Lois? I’m kind of attached to that arm.”
She loosened her grip but didn’t release him, not about to let him get away until she’d wrung every last bit of information from him. “What did Perry tell him?”
“I think he told him he didn’t have any openings. Not sure what the guy’s doing back here. Why, do you know him?”
“No!” Lois flung his arm back at him. “Why would I know him? Why would I even care? Do you think I know every two-bit hack who comes in here looking for a job?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean, I don’t know him, know him, but he was here yesterday for a job interview. Kent something or other, I think.” He winced a little and glanced down at her hand. “Do you mind, Lois? I’m kind of attached to that arm.”
She loosened her grip but didn’t release him, not about to let him get away until she’d wrung every last bit of information from him. “What did Perry tell him?”
“I think he told him he didn’t have any openings. Not sure what the guy’s doing back here. Why, do you know him?”
“No!” Lois flung his arm back at him. “Why would I know him? Why would I even care? Do you think I know every two-bit hack who comes in here looking for a job?”
And this - oh, the tragic irony of it:
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Clark Kent was coming to work at the Daily Planet.
He was going to meet Lois Lane, and he was going to realize that she was a liar and a fake, that she’d played him for a fool and gone to his bed under false pretences. He was never going to be able to respect her – that was a given. No man respected a woman who fell into bed with him on two hours’ acquaintance. And what if he told the whole newsroom? That had happened before, and she’d be damned if she’d let it happen again. She’d worked too hard to get where she was to let a one-night stand ruin everything.
He was going to meet Lois Lane, and he was going to realize that she was a liar and a fake, that she’d played him for a fool and gone to his bed under false pretences. He was never going to be able to respect her – that was a given. No man respected a woman who fell into bed with him on two hours’ acquaintance. And what if he told the whole newsroom? That had happened before, and she’d be damned if she’d let it happen again. She’d worked too hard to get where she was to let a one-night stand ruin everything.
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Clark Kent was not coming to work at the Daily Planet. Not if she had anything to say about it.
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The elevator doors had no sooner closed on Clark than Lois was up and out of her seat and blasting into Perry’s office with all the subtlety of a stick of dynamite.
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“Well hello to you, too, Lois,” he said mildly, barely glancing up from the copy he was reading. “What can I do for you?”
Lois's attempts to persuade Perry to take back his offer of a job to Clark turns into tragecomedy:
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“You can’t hire him, Perry! He’s...he’s....” A great lover? A nice guy from Kansas? “Bad news!” she finished ominously. “Very bad news.”
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Lois emitted a snarl of pure rage. He’d stolen her story! While he was supposed to be sitting around his hotel room nursing his heartache, he’d gone out and stolen a story that she’d been assigned. Granted, she hadn’t wanted the story – hadn’t even intended to write it – but that didn’t change the fact that he had no business writing it.
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“Clark Kent is trouble. He is not someone I will ever work with, and if you hire him, you’ll have my resignation on your desk the same day.”
“Lois...”
“It’s him or me, Perry. Take your pick.”
“Lois...”
“It’s him or me, Perry. Take your pick.”
The Superman mythos is famous for its love triangle of two people: Clark loves Lois, Lois loves Superman but despises Clark, and Superman, who is Clark, doesn't want Lois. So are you turning the love triangle for two into a love quadrangle for two? Clark loves Wanda, who is Lois, but Lois is furious with Clark, who is Superman, and Lois loves Superman, who won't return her love?
Your story is fascinating and so beautifully written as always, Caroline.
Ann