ToC - for previous parts.
Okay, well I said I would make up for my short post on Tuesday. Nice big post today!
Thanks again for all the comments on this story, I appreciate the feedback!
Waking a Miracle -- (09/??)
Clark's pale face stared back at him from the mirror. He
stood there watching himself for a set of long, painful
moments. The blemish of stubble crept across his chin and
cheeks like a weed, demanding to be taken care of. He
couldn't go to a black-tie ball with a five o' clock shadow
frosting his face.
His eyes grew wide, and there was a small rim of
perspiration along his brow that shined, even under the
bleak fluorescent lighting. Taking a deep breath, he looked
around again -- to the left, the right, above, below,
although it seemed ridiculous in such a small room as this.
Come on, Clark, he urged himself. Just do it.
He crunched up his toes and made tents in the towel mat he
had left on the floor.
You can do it without getting the curtains and the door.
Try it. Just once. Who's left in your life to get hurt?
Lois.
He sighed and moved away from the mirror, darting for the
window. With a grimace he drew closed the makeshift towel
curtains he had put up along his bathroom window. Then he
went to the door and closed it, flipping the light switch
off as he passed.
Again he searched around.
Okay. No excuses left, Clark, even you can barely see in
here now. You do this every day, Clark. This is getting to
be really pathetic.
He stared again at his reflection and took a deep, cleansing
breath.
Oh, good grief, Clark. *No one* is going to get killed
because you shaved.
His reflection looked like a ghost in the dim lighting. He
gripped the sides of the little sink below the mirror as
hard as he dared.
Get on with it!
He leaned in, let loose a burst of low intensity, wide-beam
heat vision across his face, and was done with his task in
seconds. The dark shadow of stubble was gone, leaving an
unblemished apparition in the mirror. With a sigh of
relief, he let muscles he hadn't even realized were held
taut relax a little, and his hands shook as he released the
sink.
The tuxedo that he had rented on the way home lay out on his
mattress, waiting, but he was drenched with sweat now.
Weary, he took a long, hot shower, and relaxed in the dark.
*****
Lois sat in her cab watching rain splat onto the windows and
meander down past her view. She could see Clark standing
there under an awning, water spilling over it as though
someone were dumping buckets on top. His hands were in the
pockets of his coat and he was still, staring off at some
unknown fascination in the sidewalk.
He's waiting for me, she thought, and her breath caught.
She was immediately thankful for the cradle of darkness that
the backseat of the cab offered. What was she going to do?
What had possessed her to ask him as an escort when she knew
she was attracted to him?
Real smart move, Lane. You're probably going to break all
three rules in one date.
It wasn't a date!
She had said so!
Right...
She took a deep breath, and another, clutching at her
raincoat. His face was pale in the darkness, and his look
uncertain. He appeared lost in thought, or maybe just lost.
He wasn't even fidgeting -- just standing there, set in
stone. Like a chameleon, he blended further into the
background the longer she looked at him.
Like someone practiced at not getting noticed.
The rain grew a bit more steady, and she placed her hand on
the glass, wishing the stream flooding down the window would
part for her to see better. Clark's figure blurred,
tremored, and seemed to fade even more behind the curtain of
water.
"Lady, are you going to pay and get out, or should I drive
you home to meet the family?"
She jumped back from the window and fumbled for her wallet.
"I was just waiting for the rain to let up," she fibbed as
she handed the cabbie a twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the
change."
Well, here we go, she thought.
She pushed open the door of the car and fanned her umbrella
out in front of her like a shield. She got out of the car
with some effort and moved her umbrella overtop of her. She
hopped over the river of muck and liquid in the gutter as
best as she could with her heels and darted underneath the
awning where Clark stood.
He became animated almost immediately. "Lois, hi," he said
with one of his dashing smiles as she brought her umbrella
down and shook it off. Water flew everywhere and splattered
across Clark's trench coat, but he didn't even seem to
notice, his eyes on her the whole time.
She looked up into his eyes and tried to ignore the blurry,
relaxed feeling that seeped into her bones like a drug.
"Hi," she replied, but was frightened to discover how
breathless she sounded.
Silenced stretched forwards, interminable. Clark's breath
fanned out in front of him in misty tendrils, and she
clutched at the handle of her umbrella as though it were her
only lifeline. She couldn't wrench her eyes away from him.
"I--" She began as a blush began to creep across her skin,
but her tongue was suddenly a dead thing.
What was she doing? She shook her head to clear it.
"I've got to fix my hair," she snapped. "I'll meet you
inside."
And then she fled into the LexCorp building without waiting
for him to respond. What was she doing? This was to get an
interview with Lex Luthor. And that was it!
Why then, was she suddenly afraid of how dressed up she was?
One thought toward her plunging v-line dress and she didn't
even want to take off her coat.
She jammed her thumb on the elevator's 'up' button and began
to pace. Clark had looked at her as if she were the only
thing that existed on this Earth. No man had ever looked at
her that way before, not even Claude when he had been faking
it. No one ever, not even her family, but there was no
mistaking its meaning, and it was terrifying.
What was she doing? Why had she invited him along? She
should have just gone stag like the career woman in her said
she should go. And it didn't help that she had known
beforehand that Clark was a little attracted to her. She
would have to have been dead to have not noticed that.
She'd noticed his furtive glances her way when he obviously
thought she wasn't paying attention, caught the amazed look
in his eyes.
So why had she invited him along?
Well it had been flattering, really. Not many people seemed
to think she was amazing.
She blushed again. She seemed to be doing that a lot
lately.
"Lois, I thought you had to fix your hair?" she felt Clark
walk up behind her more than she heard him. The soft, mushy
sound of his feet hitting the lush red carpet told her he
hadn't been in a real hurry. Had she been standing here
that long?
Damn this elevator for being so slow! The bell dinged and
the doors trundled open, but she didn't enter.
"I--" her voice cut off as though the word were only
intended to be a mere grunt. Excuse, girl, you need an
excuse! "--couldn't find a bathroom."
Her hands flew to her head to feel around for anything that
seemed to be in disarray. "It... doesn't look bad does it?"
Suddenly the thought that she might look tussled caused her
panic. What if she walked into Lex Luthor's ballroom
looking like a tribble? Would Clark care? Why did she care
if Clark cared? She could look how she wanted to look! As
far as Clark was concerned, tribble-Lois would be fine.
But excuses kept tumbling from her mouth like rocks off a
cliff, and she was powerless to stop them. "I had to work
so hard get the pins in right, I'm sure one of them nicked
something when I got into the cab and I'm all sorts of
disarray. Oh, and the rain certainly didn't help, I'd
imagine."
Her eyes grew wider and wider as she babbled along, noting
Clark's small grin of amusement.
What was *wrong* with her?
"Lois..."
Her mouth just kept on going. "Maybe I should have brought
a brush, but then, it wouldn't fit in this sort of purse,
would it? I guess not. I really don't know what's gotten
into me, I don't normally talk this much. Well yes okay, I
do, but--"
"Lois," Clark interrupted more forcefully. "It looks
beautiful. *You* look beautiful."
"Oh," she finished lamely. She started to tremble a little
bit and forced herself to remain calm. A really gorgeous
man had told her she looked beautiful.
Calm, Lois. Stay calm! This is *not* a date. You are
okay. You owe Clark nothing. Clark's not expecting
anything. It's all okay. He's from Kansas, he can't be
shifty! But then there was that thing about Trask that they
still hadn't cleared up, wasn't there? But he couldn't be
bad, he just couldn't.
Yeah, right, another voice interjected. Clark's a man.
Claude said the same stuff. It's nothing more than a ploy.
Her body, however, seemed to be ignoring both voices, and
was sending signals she wasn't really sure she knew what to
do with. Every muscle seemed to be hung in a state of
hypertension, and she was sure if she released the death
grip she had on her purse's handles, her fingers would prove
to be shaking.
The elevator dinged again and threatened to close, but Clark
stuck his hand out and the doors snapped back. "Shall we?"
he asked, gesturing towards the private, very small,
enclosed space.
She nodded, for the first time in her life too terrified to
let herself speak. Her stomach felt like it was in knots,
and the butterflies in it were gasping and twitching for
much-needed breath. Just when she thought it couldn't get
any worse, Clark removed his trench coat to reveal his
sleek, well-fitting tuxedo.
To say he was handsome in it was understating things by
about twenty times over. His healthy olive complexion and
dark hair made him look fabulous in black, and he didn't
look stiff as though being dressed up bothered him. His
shoulders were broad and his waist very narrow, making him
appear masculine with a capital 'M,' and with her earlier
sampling of his shoulder, she didn't have to try too hard to
imagine what lay underneath the tux.
Her heart thudded furiously in her ears and she fought a
desperate fight to keep her breath steady as she stepped
into the elevator. The doors closed and she was alone.
With him.
The bittersweet, spicy aroma of his aftershave was almost
making her dizzy, but not in a nauseated way. She leaned
back against the wall of the elevator, not trusting her legs
to hold her upright, and stared at him.
"Lois, are you all right?" he asked. The smile he had
carried plastered across his face had slipped into a
concerned frown.
"Not friend, friend not!" she blurted and immediately
brought her hands to her mouth in horror. "I mean--"
What did she mean?
The elevator dinged and the doors decided to open.
"Look, we're here!" she said breathlessly as she launched
off of the elevator wall, shrugged her coat off and shoved
it, along with her umbrella, into Clark's hands. Despite
the look of complete surprise on his face, he managed to
catch them midway down his legs, moments before they slipped
to the floor.
She turned and moved along, not waiting for him to collect
himself.
At the end of a long hall, two wide double doors were
propped open. The elegant ballroom sprawled out behind
them, and from this distance, the air sparkled as though
stars were scattered about, dancing. As she got closer,
she could tell it was really just everyone's jewelry
glinting against the dimmed lights, but the effect was
dazzling. Lois had never seen so many beautiful people in
one space before in her life. Everyone who was anyone in
Metropolis was here. It was a writhing mass of news
stories.
"Madame," the usher at the door said with a flourish as she
flashed her invitation and moved past as fast as her heels
and dignity would allow her.
The room she found herself in was stunning. A massive
chandelier hung over head, glittering, and over the soft hum
of whispering she could hear the sounds of a piano tune akin
to smooth jazz. A glance to her left revealed an ebony-
colored grand piano about ten feet long, and a thin red-
haired man seated at it playing away, his hands gliding over
the keys, graceful, like the gentle crush and swell of
waves. The soft, tasty smell of hors'douvres wafted from
the nearby refreshment table, overwriting the imprinted
scent of Clark's aftershave.
She took a cursory glance downward at herself. Her blue
dress cascaded downwards, and she seemed to be in order.
Nothing unsightly stuck to her shoes. Everything in place
-- no weird wrinkles or pleats in the fabric of her skirt.
You look beautiful, Clark's voice echoed in her mind.
Lex Luthor!
She was here to interview Lex Luthor.
She wandered out amidst the throng of dancers. The soft
clicks of their heels on the floor tiles echoed in time
along with the music emanating from the huge piano. In the
distance, she saw a set of steps leading upwards to another
floor of the penthouse, just as a tall, handsome man strode
out onto the top landing. His hair was a chestnut color,
and curly, but his eyebrows seemed a dark black. His face
was long, and there was a cleft to his chin that made it
seem to turn upwards a bit. The end result of which made
him appear younger than he probably was, but cultured.
Lex Luthor.
A group of people came out onto the landing after him, and
he walked down with a bounce to his step and a smile. He
greeted guests as he recognized them. "Good evening
Margaret. Thanks for coming, Charles. I--"
This is it, Lois! Everything within her screamed, every
cell urging her to go forward. Go! Forget about Clark!
Loose the dogs of war! Tell this man what you really think
of him for ignoring you!
No one ignores my phone calls!
"Lex Luthor!" she called, putting her hands on her hips and
casting a deadly glare in his direction. Her voice sliced
the air like a sword, and he looked up, his eyes widening in
surprise.
"Why haven't you returned my calls?" she asked.
He turned to her and smiled.
Oh my, he's approaching me... She suppressed a small burble
of panic, not having planned what she was going to do if he
didn't tell her to stuff it. To her surprise, he looked
intrigued.
"Lois Lane, Daily Planet," she answered the question in his
eyes as the distance between them closed to inches and he
took her hand in his. The warmth of his skin on hers did
little to ease the nerves she'd frazzled earlier in the
elevator.
His eyes roved up and down her body, and she immediately
felt uncomfortable. "I can assure you," he said with a
suave charm, "I'll never make that mistake again." His
voice was rich, and deep, and his eyes sparkled under the
dim light of the chandelier. But there was something there
that she caught, deep within his gaze. Malevolent.
Festering. So different from Clark's pained and soulful
stare.
Clark was a lot cuter too.
She nixed that thought.
"Care to dance?" Mr. Luthor asked.
She nodded mutely. This was her opportunity to snag an
exclusive interview with the most eligible bachelor on the
planet, not to mention the most sought after by the press.
If she got him to speak more than a paragraph to her, it
would probably be an instant Kerth award and a raise. This
man was news, for sure, and yet he managed to dodge it as
deftly as she could ask questions and seek clues.
But for some reason, as she felt his firm hand slip around
her waist, she found her stomach roiling in disgust rather
than fluttering with excitement. The sweet odor of cigar
smoke was making her eyes water. Luthor didn't speak for a
moment as they moved about in dizzying circles.
She could feel eyes on her, but one set in particular made
her crane her neck to see who was giving her such attention.
Clark stood back against a marble pillar, watching, silent.
He didn't have a smile on his face, but his lips were parted
slightly as if he were slack-jawed. Jimmy stood next to him
and was saying something.
Jimmy must have arrived before them to take photos for the
society section. Lois remembered offhandedly that Perry had
sent him on this job as a test of his skills after Jimmy had
spent days trying to convince him.
But Jimmy wasn't what made her do a double take. Clark was
several feet taller than Jimmy. Wait a minute, no he
wasn't! As fast as she noticed it, Clark's height seemed to
drop alarmingly, until his eyes were back to hovering only a
few inches above the top Jimmy's short, spiked hair.
She blinked and tried not to gasp. She must have imagined
that. She must have! The wine -- it was getting to her
already.
But Lois, you didn't have any wine...
Maybe she was sick. Dying. What if she had some sort of
sudden death syndrome? That would explain the flip-flops
her stomach had been doing and the weakness in her legs.
Wouldn't it?
It occurred to her that Mr. Luthor was staring at her.
She forced her attention and racing thoughts back to her
dance companion. "I hope you'll forgive me for being so
bold," she began, but her voice sounded like someone had
knocked the wind out of her with a bat, and she had to clear
her throat mid-sentence.
What was *wrong* with her today? Maybe she really was
dying. First she'd been feeling like a quivery mess just by
looking at Clark, and now she was hallucinating and feeling
ill. Her thoughts raced as she tried to recall if she'd
taken any pills or eaten anything strange that day.
What were the symptoms of salmonella? She knew she should
have cleaned out the gunk in her microwave...
"Boldness is a trait I find very attractive in a woman, Ms.
Lane," Mr. Luthor was saying.
Pay attention, Lois! Your exclusive is talking!
"Oh," she said, her heart beginning to hammer in a method
altogether different than when she had been in the elevator
with Clark. What do I say? "Thank you."
Lame! Where did your fancy practice speech go, Lois? You
wrote it and serialized it on index cards just so you could
practice in the cab!
Get to the point, before he wanders off!
"I was wondering, Mr. Luthor--"
"Lex," he corrected.
She bit back a retort at his correction. That certainly
assumed a level of informality which they did *not* have.
But she needed to get this story. "Lex," she edited
herself. "I know you're hesitant to give interviews--"
"I hope you can understand," he interrupted again.
Don't bite his head off, Lois, or you'll lose the
opportunity. Nod and smile, girl. Nod and smile! Think
Kerth. Think big shiny Kerth. Biiiig, shiny Kerth.
"--A man in my position," he continued. "I wouldn't want to
be misinterpreted, and I have had one or two bad experiences
with the media." He looked down on her with a condescending
smile.
Why did jumping in front of trains and breaking into labs
for stories suddenly seem much more appealing?
"But not with me," she said, plastering the best smile she
could manage on her lips.
Mr. Luthor grazed her with his eyes again and smiled as
though he were sampling an exquisite wine. She tried not to
wince. "Why don't we make it dinner?" he asked.
Her eyes widened. He was surrendering already? Wow, that
had been remarkably easier than she expected. Her index
card speech had had a lot of point and counterpoint examples
prepared so she could argue from any front, but it seemed
she didn't need any argument at all. Which was good,
because in the state she was currently in, she doubted she
would be able to remember past 'card 3A: How to introduce
yourself.'
His eyes are eating you up like Claude, Lois. This will be
dinner and more. Do you want the story that bad?
"Mind if I cut in?" Clark asked from somewhere to her right.
She resisted the urge to scream. She didn't need a deus ex
machina. She could navigate on her own perfectly well,
thanks. She suppressed a growl and was thankful to discover
that her previous shivery feeling was not returning when she
glared in Clark's direction. Oh, he was so dead. Deader
than dead.
"Lex," she gritted, "This is Clark Kent. He works at the
Daily Planet."
"A pleasure," Mr. Luthor said, but his stare was
considerably colder.
Oh yeah, Lois, this man was not interested in your wit.
Mr. Luthor turned back to her and she suppressed her anger.
Kerth, she thought again calmly. Kerth, Kerth, Kerth.
"Later then?" he asked.
And suddenly Luthor was gone, and she was in Clark's arms.
"Clark, you idiot," she snapped. "It's taken me a *year* to
get this close!"
I don't need to be rescued! she wanted to scream. Did she?
Clark pulled her closer and she gasped. The scent of his
aftershave threatened to make her drunk again. Lost, she
stared up into his unblinking chocolate eyes. Blood rushed
in her ears, and the sounds of whispering, footsteps, and
piano dulled in the thrumming roar.
"This close?" he asked. His voice was quiet, but to her it
sounded like potent thunder.
She licked her lips and tried to find words, but was
speechless yet again. Clark, or maybe it was the
salmonella, was doing bad things to her vocal chords.
The music stopped and the man at the piano stood, but her
attention on Clark's face didn't end until applause yanked
her back into reality like a bungee cord.
She pushed against his chest and backed up, thankfully
without tripping on her much too painful heels. "I would
have thought square-dancing was more your style," she said.
Clark smiled. Why did he smile so darn much? It was
infuriating! "Actually," he said, "I learned from a
Nigerian princess who studied ballroom dancing in England."
She looked across the dance floor and noted for the first
time that there was a set of doors off in a darker corner of
the room that nobody seemed to be paying attention to.
Interesting.
"Really? How fascinating."
She made a beeline for the door.
She heard Clark call, "Where are you going?" over her
shoulder, but she didn't answer.
Target acquired!
She put her hand on the doorknob and found it wasn't locked.
Watch it be the world's largest walk-in closet, she thought.
She glanced around to make sure no one was looking and
pushed it open. It stuck a little on the hinges, but with a
firm shove, her hip forced it open. She was surprised to
find a large, yawning study with a balcony behind a set of
wide, French doors, opening into the rainstorm like an
offering.
One more glance behind her revealed she wasn't being
watched, so she slipped into the darkness and closed the
door behind her. So, Lex Luthor, what do you have to hide?
Given what she'd seen earlier in his gaze, probably a lot.
Although granted, she could have read him wrong--
Naaah.
Something bumped up behind her and she flinched. She
flipped around and nearly brought her nose into Clark's
chest. He smelled *really* good.
"Lois, what are you doing?" he asked.
She resisted the urge to scream at him as she backed up. He
needed one of those little bells to tie around his neck,
like they did with cats so the birds would know they were
coming. Although, she wondered how much good it would do.
When she was a kid, her neighbor's cat had learned how to
move without making the bell sound off, and had continued to
bring little mouse and bird bits back home with him every
evening. She was relieved, however, to find that imagining
Clark with a little bell around his neck was making him more
amusing than handsome.
"Being a reporter," she retorted. "You should try it
sometime!"
She turned again to look around, not bothering to wait for
his reaction. The less time she spent looking at him, the
better. She didn't need the salmonella to flare up again,
not when she was sneaking uninvited through an unlit room in
the home of one of the richest men in the world.
Her eyes were finally adjusting to the lighting when the
room flared bright white and a crack of thunder pealed
through the air. Her heart skittered about in her chest,
but she kept body steady and continued her assessment of the
room. At the center of the room stood a heavy mahogany
desk. Books littered the shelves everywhere, and along the
wall there were an array of weapons hanging up.
Clark looked more interested in the weapons, and wandered
that way, but to her, the desk looked to have the most
investigative potential.
She walked up to it and started rifling through the drawers,
but most of it seemed to be unused stationary and writing
implements. Jeez, the man didn't even take notes on
anything, it seemed. There weren't even any phone numbers
or scribbles jotted on the yellow sticky pad by the
decorative rotary-dial phone that sat on the corner of the
writing surface. Maybe this was a guest study and his real
office was somewhere else, or an alternate study that he
used only every other Sunday. She knew his penthouse was
probably big enough to have a study for every day of the
week.
Her muscles tensed and she sensed something was wrong before
she had even finished closing the drawer. She looked up and
her mouth fell open. Lex Luthor stood before her, the hilt
of a sword clenched in his grip. The sword clawed out in
front of him like an extension of his own arm, and it
pointed directly at Clark's heart. The metal of the blade
flashed as lightning reflected off of it, and Mr. Luthor's
eyes glinted like a predator in the darkness.
Clark, to his credit, didn't even appear startled. His gaze
flitted down to the blade that was nearly poking a hole in
the breast of his tuxedo, and appraised it. "Macedonian,"
he said, his voice low and cautious.
Luthor nodded. "It belonged to Alexander the Great. A
brilliant tactician."
Lois tried not to gape at the weapon. Alexander the Great.
That meant Luthor was flaunting a sword that had to be worth
millions, casually, as though it were a mere sparring
weapon.
Luthor lowered the sword and flipped it so the hilt pointed
towards Clark. Clark grasped the handle and inspected it.
"Alexander's strategy was simple," Lex continued. "Always
control the high ground. It was with this sword that he--"
"Defeated Darius the Third, and was proclaimed King of
Asia," Clark interrupted.
Go, Clark! She wanted to cheer, but resisted the urge. At
the same time, she wondered briefly how Clark could possibly
remember all that from what was probably a high school world
history class. People with eidetic memory made her so
jealous! It would come in such handy the days she couldn't
get her little disposable cameras to work.
"You surprise me, Mr. Kent. I'm not often surprised."
The two men stared at each other for an eternity of moments,
and Lois could have sworn they were sizing each other up
like male lions fighting for control of the pride. She
chose this moment to draw attention to herself. Glancing
back at the desk, she made sure everything was as she had
happened on it the first time, and then walked up to the
pair while Clark placed the sword back in its holder.
"I hope you don't mind our looking around. You have a
beautiful home, Lex," she gushed, hoping she wasn't laying
her saccharine tone on too thickly.
For the barest of moments, she saw his feelings unmasked.
Yes, he certainly did mind. And *if* he minded, that was
even more evidence that he had something to hide. Why would
a man have a personal party in his own home without locking
the places he didn't want nosey people like herself in, and
then get upset when people breached his privacy? All of a
sudden, she found it very suspicious that the man had had no
interviews with the press his entire life, and had seemingly
emerged out of nowhere. He didn't exist, and then he was
third richest man in the world.
You didn't shoot up the financial ladder that fast unless
you had a busload of dumb luck, or a business savvy that was
a little skimpy on the ethics side. And she was fairly sure
it would have made the news if he'd been the lucky recipient
of fifty winning lottery tickets, all of which probably
wouldn't have added up to even a quarter of his full worth.
One glance at Clark told her that he agreed with her
assessment.
But as quickly as she had caught it, the look in Luthor's
eyes disappeared behind a charming smile. A slippery one,
he was. She felt his hand on her hip and forced herself not
to stiffen up. "Have you seen the view from here?" he
asked, gesturing grandly towards the balcony.
She let him guide her out almost to the edge, although her
body was screaming against allowing this man to get her so
close to a place she could fall so very far from. The
massive building towered not much farther above them, and
the sky was a mass of dark, flickering clouds, but the
surface of the balcony was, for the most part, cool, and
dry. An overhang sluiced the rain off from the roof a few
inches out from the railing. She hazarded a look down and
was greeted with a carpet of glowing, dazzling lights that
spread outward until they fuzzed and disappeared over the
horizon. The spectacle before her made it appear like
millions of tiny fireflies were congregating at the base of
the tower.
The view was thrilling.
Clark had followed behind them, and she could hear his deep
breaths, but he wasn't speaking. A quick glance behind her
revealed he was standing with his eyes closed, his face
turned upwards toward the sky as if meaning to catch the
breeze. At first, she thought his eyes might be closed
because he was afraid of heights, but the vaguest of smiles
crept across his face, and he looked at peace.
Luthor took no notice of this, and urged her again to look
out. "Tallest building in Metropolis," he explained. "I
must confess a certain pleasure in knowing that everyone in
the city has to look up in order to see me."
She raised her eyebrows. It appeared Lex Luthor had an ego
the size of his pocketbook. Luthor blinked and cleared his
throat, and she realized with satisfaction that he knew he
had made an error in revealing that to her.
"Let's get back to the party," Luthor hedged. "I think my
announcement will interest you."
Yeah right, Lois thought. You just want to get me out of
your hair, you louse. She, however, managed to place
another fake smile on her face. Clark had done the same.
He was a fast learner, she thought. He hadn't said much,
but she could tell he was picking up on the same things she
was just by his minute facial reactions. Luthor, of course,
wasn't paying anything but the barest attention to Clark, so
he had more freedom to observe without having to act like he
was impressed.
Luthor led them back out onto the main ballroom floor and
hopped up onto a raised part of the floor, which she
supposed was a makeshift stage. A small crowd had gathered
around the area. Apparently this was a planned
announcement.
Jimmy caught up with them and stood to their left. "I guess
this is what you call the high society," he commented as he
gazed along the teaming crowd of rich and richer people.
"Did someone mention my name?" Cat's voice called from
behind them.
Lois turned and was blinded. Cat's skintight, semi-
transparent, metallic-colored dress glinted in a
fantastically garish fashion under the chandelier overhead.
"How did you pass the metal detector?" Lois asked.
Cat ignored her comment and was looking hungrily at Clark,
who had his mouth open and looked horrified, but he didn't
speak. Cat inhaled to begin her pounce, but Luthor chose
this time to begin his presentation.
"Honored guests," he began grandly. His right hand swept
over the crowd in a half-arc. "We're here tonight for a
good cause. Thanks to your generosity, Luthor House for
Homeless Children will soon be a reality. As you know, I
have dedicated my life to improving the quality of the lives
of the citizens of Metropolis. Tonight, I'd like to go
further. It is my sad understanding that due, in part, to
the terrible tragedy that befell the Messenger last week,
the Congress of Nations intends to cancel Space Station
Prometheus."
Lois eyed Luthor with suspicion. He didn't sound that sad,
and there was that funny glint she caught in his eyes again.
Sinister. Malicious.
"I cannot stand by and allow that to happen to the citizens
of this planet," Luthor continued. "Profit aside, potential
benefits that a zero gravity laboratory could bring -- most
importantly, pharmaceuticals that could end crippling
diseases here on Earth -- must not be lost. Therefore, I
have decided to commit my *total* financial support toward
the building of a privately owned space laboratory. I have
submitted my proposal to the Congress of Nations and I am
awaiting their go-ahead. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give
you... Space Station Luthor."
The lights on the makeshift stage changed to a haunting
cerulean color, and the hologram of a huge space station
began to hover in the middle, rotating slowly in circles.
The light glowed across everyone's faces, making them appear
to be a crowd of mystical apparitions. Lois fought down her
initial inclination to be impressed.
It was completely obvious to her that Luthor was doing this
for the profits, and the profits alone. Although, from the
resounding applause, the rest of the room didn't seem to
think so. She turned to see Jimmy and Cat clapping with
grins and looks of enthusiasm on their faces. Clark,
however, was still along side her, and he was not smiling.
"An engineering marvel," Luthor concluded. "Signpost to a
new age in exploration and scientific advancement. A *gift*
to the future of mankind."
And your wallet, Lois thought. She glared at him, but the
moment he looked over and caught her eye, she flourished the
biggest, widest smile she could manage and tried to imitate
the boisterous clapping of the rest of the onlookers. He
gave her a dashing smile, and walked back off into the
crowd, letting everyone have a good look at his newest
profitable endeavor.
The rest of the night was rather uneventful. Luthor didn't
return to mingle with her after the presentation, instead
choosing to roam amongst the more important guests. She had
caught him having a little tête-à-tête with the mayor in the
corner towards the end of the night, and had spotted him
even later with a few other important dignitaries.
As the night progressed, she even danced with Clark a few
times without her knees turning into complete spaghetti. He
was a good dancer. Very good. Perhaps the spiel he'd given
her about the Nigerian princess had been the truth, although
the naive way in which he'd put it forth hadn't given her
any reason to doubt it the first time. She'd just been more
interested in other things.
Her little foray into Luthor's private domain still had her
a bit buzzed and excited, and she guessed it had rubbed off
on her demeanor. She ended up enjoying herself quite
thoroughly, much to Cat's utter and obvious disgust, and by
the time they were filtering out of the ballroom to go home,
she felt sated in a way she hadn't been in a long time. Her
whole body was relaxed, and she was quite sure she was
carrying around a dopey smile for the world to see.
"Mmm, I should go investigate corrupt billionaires more
often," she mumbled as she and Clark dumped out onto the
sidewalk and began looking for cabs to hail. Rain was still
drizzling down, but it had calmed enough that she didn't
care enough to open up her umbrella, and neither, it seemed,
did Clark. Water spattered on his glasses, and his hair was
flattening onto his scalp, but he didn't even appear
distracted by it.
Clark smiled at her. "Well, I admit, I'm not a seasoned
veteran by any means of the word, but that was a bit more
invasive than any investigating I have ever done."
"Let me guess," she laughed. "Before this you hadn't once
even considered breaking the law to get a story."
He blushed. "Well, no. And this wasn't exactly breaking
the law, Lois, it was more like wandering into a place by
accident." He gave the word 'accident' air quotes and
looked at her with a mischievous gaze.
"See, Farmboy, you're learning already!"
They stared at each other as a cab drove up. "You want this
one?" Clark asked, and Lois felt strangely sad.
Even drenched with rain, he *did* look handsome. And the
evening had been so much fun. She had forgotten what it was
like to be social just to be social -- after hunting down
Luthor and scoring an interview, she probably would have
just left if it had been not even two weeks ago.
"Would you..." she began, and halted, her voice trailing off
into silence as her mental blocks slammed on the breaks.
Ohgod. Had she been about to ask?
Clark looked at her expectantly. "Yes, Lois?"
"Never mind," she muttered, and hobbled into the cab. If he
was disappointed, he didn't show it. He was so gentlemanly!
She was about to say goodbye and close the door behind her
when her mouth ran away with her again.
"Wouldyouliketocomebackforcoffee?" she blurted, the
syllables all running together like one long mess of a word.
His eyebrows raised, but he didn't seem to have trouble
understanding her garbled outburst. "Only if you want me
to."
Did she want him to? She began to feel a bit fluttery again
just thinking about it. He was kind enough to give her an
easy-out, unlike most men she had known in the past. But
still... This probably wasn't a good idea. Actually it was
most likely a very bad idea.
Very bad.
Three rules!
Plus, it was nearly two AM already and they had work in the
morning. What was she thinking?
But the protest was weak, and her defensive flags seemed to
be flying at half mast. She nodded and gave him a hesitant
grin. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."
"Then that sounds wonderful," Clark answered, and moved
into the cab after her as she slid aside.
*****
TBC...
(End Part 09/??)
