DESCRIPTION: THE DANCE SEQUENCE IN THE FILMS, MISS POTTER, YOUNG VICTORIA AND CINDERELLA GOT ME TO THINKING HOW TO SET THESE ENCHANTING MOMENTS TO AN ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE LOIS AND CLARK FOR SHEER ROMANCE! HOPEFULLY EVERYONE WILL ENJOY THE RESULTS. THANKS TO KATHERINEKENT FOR THE GREAT BETA WORK.
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: MOST OF THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE PROPERTY OF DC COMICS, DECEMBER 3RD PRODUCTIONS AND WARNER BROS AND WHOMEVER OWNS LEGAL CLAIM TO THEM. THE SONG, WHEN YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO DANCE IS BY KATE MELUA. NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT IS INTENDED. I HAVE MERELY BORROWED THE CHARACTERS FOR A LITTLE WHILE.
***
Chapter One
It was a warm Friday night in August and the Daily Planet’s bullpen staff was in the midst of altering from the day shift into night. A trio of young, attractive women clustered around the elevator talking excitedly. One of them, a statuesque blonde in a fabulous cream colored suit separated from them and with the stride of a gazelle, walked down the ramp over to Lois Lane’s desk.
“Lois! Where have you been all day? Perry hasn’t chained you to the desk on a Friday night because you were chasing down a source that didn’t pan out? He’s gone for the night, give the writing a rest, shut down your monitor and get out from behind that desk! Stacy, Erin and I are going for dinner and a couple of rounds of darts at the Pen and Pencil. After that we’re heading over to the Imperial Theatre to check out that new British Regency romance movie, The Queen’s Consort. Come with us, the Pulitzer Prize isn’t going anywhere!” Diane Pallister said with a generous smile.
In her characteristic pose of hunched shoulders and jaw tightly clenched, Lois never lifted her head from the monitor while banging away on the keyboard. “Perry may be out for the evening, but Ivan is waiting for this final draft on the Alistair Grigg’s murder investigation. The crime lab boys *finally* figured out what poisoned him and the method of delivery. That little tidbit has gotta be included in the evening edition!”
Fascinated, Diane walked closer to Lois’ desk and looked over her friend’s shoulder as green characters, glowing dimly against a black background, appeared on the monitor while the murder investigation story took shape. She insinuated herself into the visitor’s chair and said, “Oh yes, the case has been discussed by several media outlets for the past week. How was Mr. Griggs poisoned?”
Lois snorted, “The simplest type of poison, which told me the killer was a clever amateur not a professional; contaminated water. Griggs just got back from visiting potential clients in an emerging third world country. So it was assumed he contracted Cholera while there. But after a bunch of expensive phone calls to the clients and the hotel where he was staying, it was discovered he only drank bottled water. The man was a nut on the subject, even brought his own supply of water from Metropolis for drinking and bathing.”
Diane’s eyebrows disappeared under heavy blonde bangs. “Wow that is extreme. So he had to have been poisoned in New Troy?” She said, following Lois’ line of reasoning.
“That’s right. His business partner, Lance Aldrich, was the murderer. He met Griggs at the airport and they had celebratory drinks in the limousine on the way home. Griggs had his usual bourbon and branch water, while Aldrich drank Scotch, neat.”
“How did the police know it was Aldrich?”
“Once Forensics knew he had been poisoned, the lab boys descended over every place Griggs had been once he got home, especially his home kitchen, office fridge and the limo that he rode in and came up with zilch. That is until Inspector Henderson questioned the limo driver who said Aldrich took the liquor bottles and Griggs’ glass with him. Apparently Aldrich was the type who didn’t clean up after himself. He has cleaning ‘staff’ for that sort of thing. The driver saw Aldrich take the bottles and glasses with him. He didn’t think anything of it until later. …”
Diane chimed in, “…when he read about the story of Griggs’ suspicious death in the Daily Planet, written by intrepid reporter Lois Lane.”
“Exactly!” Lois responded, her brown eyes flashed with excitement.
“The driver came forward and told Henderson about it. I just happened to be at the precinct this afternoon regarding another story and overhead the whole conversation. Henderson had to call Judge Finch for a search warrant. After all they were not completely sure it was him. I knew by the time the paperwork arrived, all the evidence would disappear into Hobbs Bay.”
“Don’t tell me, you did something Perry doesn’t want to know about and dragged poor Clark into it?” Diane said as a worried frown creased her pretty face.
Lois stopped typing as a thoughtful expression briefly clouded her face. She answered slowly, as if discussing her impulsive behavior was something new. “Yeah I did do something … rash. But as Perry always says, a reporter needs the ‘cold, hard facts’ to back up any story. After hearing all that at the precinct, I bolted out of there and decided to visit Aldrich.”
Shocked, it was all Diane could do to keep silent while letting her friend finished the story.
“When I first arrived at his home, Mr. Aldrich thought I wanted to interview him about his late partner. Apparently he was thought he was in the clear. He tried to be professional and kind, but anyone who listened closely could draw the conclusion that he and Griggs were no longer the best of friends.”
“After a few more probing questions, Aldrich revealed that Griggs had cheated him out of untold millions in profits and was planning on - by legal chicanery - removing him from the company they had started as young men.” Lois smiled like a Cheshire cat and said, “That’s when I lowered the boom on him and asked if he had killed his partner.”
“We were in the living room which had a huge fireplace. When those words came out of my mouth, he jumped up, grabbed a poker, and held it over his head, ready to strike!”
Her audience gave a tiny gasp, but made a hasty gesture with her hands for Lois to continue.
“It was weird; I guess the thought of killing an innocent person was too much for him. The poor man dropped the poker, fell to his knees and started sobbing. The gruesome reality of what he had done finally hit him with unyielding force.”
Hurriedly Lois’ attention returned to the keyboard, the staccato sound of the keys filled the bullpen. She may have acted as if the encounter was of no little consequence, just another day in the life of Lois Lane, ace investigative reporter. But honestly, Lois had been badly frightened and did not want anyone to glimpse the fear that the memory brought to her eyes.
Diane placed a hand on Lois’ shoulder and said, “Please tell me Clark was nearby! Imagine what might have happened if Aldrich didn’t have an attack of conscience?”
The rapid fire typing suddenly ceased. Lois looked down at her now still fingers, turned around in her chair and grimaced. With more than a hint of Mad Dog in her voice she said. “It figures you and everyone else in the bullpen would think Clark was nearby, but he wasn’t. I confronted Aldrich alone ...just like when I first started investigative reporting!”
Astounded, Diane said, “Come again? This isn’t going undercover to expose a congressman’s mismanagement of funds or catching an internationally infamous jewel thief. You were alone with a killer!” Diane responded in a chiding tone.
Brushing aside the comment with a wave of her hand, Lois answered dismissively, “Stop worrying. Henderson and his happy band of flatfoots showed up just in time … with a search warrant. By then, I had Aldrich eating out of my hand. He even asked me to ride in the squad car so he could finish relating his side of the story.”
“Aha! So, that explains where you’ve been this afternoon.” Diane said rather dryly.
“Yeah! Once he was booked, Henderson gave me permission to write the story, so the Daily Planet has an exclusive! This article missed the evening edition, but will make the morning papers.” She mused, “A picture of Aldrich being arrested wearing handcuffs, now that would have made a nice touch! I love it when a story comes together! So no, I won’t be joining the girls tonight, but thanks for asking me.”
She spun around in her chair and started typing again.
“Great story Lois! Perry’s gonna love it! Still, there’s more to life than chasing a headline.” Diane said with a sigh, “It doesn’t hurt to have a social life outside of the newsroom.”
Again, the brunette stopped typing, lifted her head and fixed a pointed stare at Diane. “Please! I already have one little sister who insists I have some fun and meet eligible men every time she calls me. I don’t need another one playing the same tune while I’m at work.”
Diane held up her hands in mock surrender, “Okay! Okay! It was a suggestion!” With a flash of insight, Diane suddenly understood the actual reason why Lois tackled Lance Aldrich alone, she said gingerly, “Speaking of life outside of work. Clark has been squiring his old high school ‘friend’ Lana Lang around town a lot since she moved here from Los Angeles. By the way, where is he?”
In answer to Diane’s question, Lois responded with an indignant sniff.
“Oh, you mean Clark and Lana? He accompanied her to some function at the Metropolis Museum. Apparently her job as an assistant curator provides all kinds of opportunities to rub shoulders with the rich and famous, such as; Lex Luthor, Jasper Templar the computer genius and the Swiss media mogul Gregory Daae to name a few.”
“Oh my! That’s a lot of power and money concentrated in the same room.” Diane whistled appreciatively.
Ignoring her comment Lois continued, “Personally, I don’t care if they swing from the bullpen’s ceiling fans! I’m interested in a real man…” Despite her determination to sound indifferent, the tone although pure ‘Mad Dog’, held a touch of petulance.
Diane shook her head in askance than said, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the one with the red cape and blue tights. He’s gorgeous and a gentleman, but honestly, I can’t see him shootin’ a round of pool or knocking back a few with the guys on a Friday night.”
Nettled by Diane’s candor, but deciding not to let her know the comment stung, Lois pointed with her chin to the elevator and said, “Stacy and Erin are starting to get impatient. Listen, thanks for the invitation.” She hesitated and then continued with a lopsided smile,
“I’m sorry for snapping at you, but I’ve got a few more things to wrap up before leaving. Have fun and win a game of darts for me. See you on Monday.”
Sighing in defeat, Diane realized that trying to convince Mad Dog Lane to spend an evening out with the girls was a lost cause. Sooner or later the Lana issue was going to have to be faced; otherwise she was going to lose her handsome partner forever. She said in a kind voice, “Sure, have a good evening. Don’t work too hard.” She stood up, turned away and returned to Erin and Janet who were indeed getting a little irritated.
Lois smiled after her friend and turned back to the monitor and continued typing. Fifteen minutes later the bullpen was quiet. Night Editor Ivan Horvath and his staff were in different parts of the building, preparing the morning edition. She was in need of a break and so leaned back in her chair thinking about that night at the movies.
How could she tell Diane that she had indeed seen The Queen’s Consort with its dashing male lead, Hugh Cain and his stunning co-star, Terisa Hatcher? Her mind drifted backwards to last Saturday night.
FLASHBACK
After spending the day cleaning her apartment and paying monthly bills, Lois wanted to do something besides sitting home alone with a tank of tropical fish. She went over her options: Molly Flynn was out of town promoting her latest computer manual and Lucy was studying for her finals. Perry and Alice had extended a standing invitation to dinner, but she felt it would be extremely rude to drop in on them at the last minute. Maybe she could have dinner at her uncle’s restaurant, Café Americana, but dismissed that thought; the café always did a brisk business on the weekends and she didn’t feel like fighting the crowds. Maybe Clark …?
With a snort she remembered Clark was spending that evening with Lana Lang … as he had for the past three weekends. Normally however her partner amused himself outside of the office was his own affair, but to hand over free time to an opinionated, stubborn woman like that was crazy. Sure, she led an interesting life as an assistant curator in the Metropolis Museum and traveled all over the world acquiring, cataloging and studying artifacts from ancient ruins. Still, why did she have to monopolize all of Clark’s time? It was the primary reason why she hadn’t asked Clark to help her tackle the Grigg’s case. Her partner was too busy as Lana’s arm candy and having drinks with members of Metropolis social elite.
Even his friends, Dr. Pete Ross and Skip Rowans had complained about Lana. Since her arrival they had not gone to a basketball game or played poker together.
She was flipping through the Daily Planet’s entertainment section when she came across Film critic Waldo Emerson’s glowing review of The Queen’s Consort. His quote made her chuckle ‘This film is so first-rate, I recommend it as the perfect date movie – even if you are only taking yourself.’ Waldo had a reputation for being stingy with his praise. The movie section said it was playing at the Imperial and the next showing was at 6:45PM. If she hurried she could beat the crowds.
It was a muggy evening; the oxygen was so tight and humid it felt like she was breathing through a sponge. Not a puff of cool air could be felt. She looked skyward, thinking rain might be in the forecast, but was disappointed. What did anyone expect in the middle of August? She was ecstatic to find an empty cab - with working air conditioning - that got her to the theatre in record time.
Once inside the blissfully cool theatre she paid for her ticket, a small bag of popcorn – no butter, no salt – and picked a seat among a group of older people. Hopefully they were not the type who talked a movie to death. Quickly the seats began to fill up, she realized a trip to the ladies room was necessary and asked the woman next to her to save her seat. The woman kindly agreed. Lois returned just as the lights went down and the previews began .
Through the flawless combination of talented actors, historical settings and meticulously crafted, colorful period costumes the story had transported her to a long ago era of grace and refined manners. By the time the credits rolled, her eyes were puffy with happy tears, nothing was better than a good movie. Much as the hard-edged journalist tried to hide it, she was an unabashed romantic.
Just as the lights went up she heard the familiar voice of Lana Lang loudly talking to someone in self-assured tones, disparaging the cast and everything else about the film. She remembered thinking; ‘who would have imagined that a woman raised in bucolic Kansas farm country could sound so Manhattan upper crust and arrogant’? It seemed ridiculous that kind-hearted Clark ever dated such a woman.
In the middle of her mental ramble, another voice, achingly familiar in its deep, masculine rumble gently answered, saying the movie was much better than he had anticipated and for once, the film and its actors had lived up to the media hype.
With an inward groan she realized Clark had taken Lana to the movies! Of all the movie theatres in Metropolis, why, oh why, had he taken her to this one? They must have come in while she was in the ladies room. Going into undercover mode, Lois pulled the black Metros baseball cap over her face and sunk down into her seat. The *last* thing she wanted Clark to see was her sitting in a movie theatre on a Saturday night … dateless.
After a few moments the couple made their way out of the theatre with the rest of the crowd. Employing her skills as an investigative reporter, she hung back until the house lights came up and a crew of three young women came in carrying brooms and dust pans to sweep up the leftover popcorn, twizzlers, paper cups and other debris that had spilled between the theatre seats onto the floor.
Only then did Lois vacate her seat and walked briskly to the lobby and onto the street, leaving behind the crisp coolness afforded her by the air conditioning and into the sweltering humid August evening. Trying to hail a cab at that hour was close to impossible. No one wanted to walk through air that felt and smelled like a discarded gym sock. Lois groaned and reluctantly accepted the fact that she would not be riding home in air conditioned comfort. Nonetheless the discomfort was worth it not to have run into Clark and Lana.
It took about twenty minutes to make the ten-block walk to her apartment. Never was she as grateful as when the air of the lobby enveloped her in a welcomed, frosty embrace. After feeding her fish, she indulged in a long, cold shower to get the sweat off her body. It was a relief to put on a cotton tank top and sleep shorts and then hop into bed. The climactic ballroom scene from the movie kept playing in her mind. The soon-to-be-crowned young queen had a final dance with the man she really loved, not the nobleman her parents had dictated she marry. With a smile of sheer delight Lois wondered if something so completely magical could ever happen in her life. As sleep claimed her for the night, Clark’s handsome face appeared in her mind.
END FLASHBACK
Dragging her thoughts back from that night she returned to the job at hand, once the finishing touches for the Griggs investigation was complete. She needed to type up another article for the business section which Perry has requested. Of course, business journalism was not her forte, but the story was compelling. Lex Luthor agreed to donate one million dollars to the Metropolis Museum in order to help them build a secure facility for the amazing rare art treasures Superman had recently discovered in an underground vault. Lex Luthor promised that the security measures would be the best his experts could provide. “So that all of Metropolis and the world could view and appreciate these previously unseen priceless works of artistic expression.”
Lois yawned and stretched as she put the finishing touches on the final draft. Lex was certainly a man to be admired. The greatest philanthropist Metropolis had ever known. How fortunate that he lived here. His business and personal interests were lining the pockets of not a few of New Troy’s citizens. She admired Lex Luthor and wished more of the world’s wealth was focused on such acts of generosity.
Again her mind drifted, this time weighing the elusive billionaire on a more intimate level. They had gone out a few times, when she attempted to in-depth interview him. He had even hinted at putting their relationship on a more serious footing. Lex was indeed charming and very attractive. From time to time she imagined what marriage to such a charismatic man would be like. It was a certainty that all those doors which were closed to Lois Lane reporter would be opened wide for Mrs. Lois Luthor.
But no, she no more belonged in his champagne and caviar world than he did in her cream soda and pizza one. Besides there were times when she detected flashes of something almost sinister in his eyes which gave her the shivers. It was better for all concerned if they remained polite acquaintances.
Hours had passed. The night shift staff was in the conference room discussing tomorrow’s morning edition. Lois had given the Griggs murder investigation article to Ivan, who was just as cantankerous about her spelling and grammar as Perry or Clark.
She grumbled something not quite ladylike under her breath when she thought of her partner and his former Smallville girlfriend. The petite blonde was pushy, opinionated and did not respect Clark – or his co-workers. Clark didn’t need her; he needed … the errant thought stopped as if it was stuck in one of the Daily Planet’s giant printing presses. Where did such a thought – even a half-baked one - come from?
After all? Wasn’t she hopelessly *in love* with Superman?
As she typed furiously the bright green crystallized words began to form on the DOS computer screen. Finally around 11:30, the final draft was just in time for Perry to look over for the Saturday afternoon edition. Triumphant, she leaned backed in her chair, opened the lower right hand drawer and pulled out a Double Fudge Crunch bar to celebrate. As the creamy richness of milk chocolate melted over her taste buds, Lois realized she should be sharing this moment with friends or someone special not sitting in a deserted bullpen on a Friday night; her only companion a half-eaten candy bar.
“No!” she said aloud, I just finished two stories in one day! Two very good stories, I have a lot to be proud of!”
So why did she feel so empty and alone? True, the murder investigation story was complete; she could have gone with Diane and the girls. Another ‘good deed’ article about the fabulously wealthy Lex Luthor could have been written up in her spare time on Sunday and delivered to Perry’s inbox on Monday.
Unexpectedly a familiar sound of rushing wind pricked the quiet, one usually associated with Superman when he flew towards a rescue at a high speed. She looked up and there was the mysterious superhero, suspended in mid-air just inside the large window with the Metropolis skyline serving as a shimmering backdrop behind him.
Without preamble he said, “Hello, Miss Lane.”
Words, which usually came so easily, were caught in the logjam of surprise and girlish confusion that was her throat. But, after taking a quick breath, she managed a husky, “Hello, Superman.”
The red and blue figure floated downward without a sound into the newsroom, never taking his penetrating brown eyes from hers. When had it become the norm to see a man fly as easily as if he were walking? When his red leather boots touched lightly on the floor right next to Clark’s desk, she could barely breathe and only started to do so when he said, “What are you doing here so late on a Friday night? Shouldn’t you be with friends after a long week at work?”
Terribly flattered that the superhero thought of her, Lois responded, “Oh, I was going to join some of the girls I work with, but a story just had to be written. Besides, the movie they went to, The Queen’s Consort, I’ve already seen. It must have been last Saturday, what a humid night that was!” She forced herself to stop babbling, turned to the desk and indicated with her slightly shaking hand, the small pile of folders and research notes. “Uh, besides, there was this story about Lex Luther I had to finish …”
Upon hearing the billionaire’s name, he grimaced slightly, his jaw visibly tightening while gritting his teeth. “There’s *no* article about Luthor that can’t wait until Monday morning.”
Surprised by his reaction, she nodded and said, “I guess you’re right, articles on Lex Luthor are written all the time. This one could have waited. Anyway, it’s finished now.”
He looked intensely into her eyes and the tightness around his mouth relaxed. He asked quietly, “Did you attend the movie alone?”
Embarrassed, Lois looked down at something on the floor, feeling suddenly like she was back in high school, ashamed to talk with a boy she had a desperate crush on. “Th …there’s nothing wrong with seeing a film alone is there?” She didn’t mention how often she had gone to the movies unaccompanied when friends were unavailable. It had never bothered her in the past, but now, for some reason it did. Diane’s words came back with stinging effect. How could this man, who lived above everyone else ever have the time to take Lois Lane to something as mundane as the movies? He could fly for Pete’s sake!
Superman did not smile; in fact, there was the tiniest hint of gentle sadness in his deep brown eyes.
Uncomfortable with his expression, she said quickly, “The movie was everything our film critic, Waldo, said it was. The plot was sweet and dreamy, but very well written. Clothing, especially the dresses worn by noblewomen from the Napoleonic era were effortlessly simple, yet made of the most sumptuous fabrics and embellished with handmade colorful lace and ribbons. Honestly the whisper of delicate yellow and cream muslin as the Queen took to the dance floor was just …” Her voice trailed off.
“Romantic?” He said, now a mischievous smile did tug at his lips.
“Yes,” she sighed. Remembering with every detail of the ballroom scene where the Queen and her true love danced in public for the first and last time.
“Miss Lane, perhaps you should have gone with your friends in order to experience the ballroom scene again.” He took a commanding step towards her, just like the hero in the movie.
“Maybe … maybe I should have,” she whispered her voice soft and distant; suddenly being so close to this strikingly handsome man was overwhelming her senses. Nonetheless a scrap of thought tugged like a loose thread at her mind. How did the Man of Steel know she was talking about a ballroom scene?
Before she could think about it any further, he held out a hand, like an eager suitor his voice rumbled gently, almost seductively in her ears, “I cannot take you to the movies, but would you care to dance, Lois?”
Without a moment’s hesitation she stood, slipped into his embrace as a warm muscular arm encircled her waist. In her mind the boxy gray business suit fell away replaced by a pale lavender gown made of finest muslin and embroidered with silky silver thread. Her feet were wrapped in delicate kidskin, perfect for dancing.
He was no longer wearing the familiar blue and red spandex suit of a superhero but the evening garments of a nobleman about to dance with his lady. How could arms strong enough to hoist a space shuttle into the Earth’s atmosphere hold her with such incredible tenderness? Somehow in the magnificence of the moment, the fact hardly seemed an issue; she simply did not want him to stop. With easy sinuous grace they moved around the newsroom floor. He began to sing, she immediately recognized it, but could not place where it came from.
When you taught me how to dance
years ago with misty eyes
every step and silent glance
every move a sweet surprise.
Someone must have taught you well
to beguile and to entrance
for that night you cast your spell
and you taught me how to dance.
Like reflections in the lake
I recall what went before
as I give alone to take
and will be alone no more.
Other lights may light my way
I may even find romance
but I won’t forget that night
when you taught me how to dance.
Cold winds blow but up on those hills you find me
and I know you’re walking ‘round behind me.
When you taught me how to dance
years ago with misty eyes
every step and silent glance
every move a sweet surprise.
Someone must have taught you well
to beguile and to entrance
for that night you cast your spell
and you taught me how to dance.
He stopped singing and they gazed into each other’s eyes, nothing but unvoiced love and admiration was present. Their physical movements conveyed a musical communication like a song so profound and startling to her that nothing; not the wooden floor beneath them or even the air that drew into her lungs mattered. Oddly in the depths of her consciousness, her partner’s movements were familiar, almost comfortingly so. She wanted to study that glimmering thought, but it was at that moment Superman transformed their physical communication from a gentle sweet song into a symphony, she felt her body lift up and they were literally dancing upon nothingness. A tiny gasp escaped her lips, but she trusted this man and so they continued as he taught her an entirely new way to be a part of the dance. They floated on glossamer wings of emotion above the bullpen for what seemed like an eternity, then, slowly ever so slowly, he descended until their feet touched down on the floor and they were by her desk once more.
The dance, with its accompanying symphony, had come to an end. The ethereal garments of another age had vanished, they were back to their normal selves, but oh, the unfulfilled passion that came with that return was exquisite torture!
She could tell by the darkly passionate gaze in her dance partner’s deep brown eyes he felt exactly the same way, but abruptly it was replaced by a ‘far and away’ look. He bowed and in a courtly manner said, “Thank you for the dance Miss Lane, but sadly, I am needed elsewhere.” He took her hand in his and allowed his soft lips to brush over each of her knuckles, then turned over the palm of her hand and kissed it with aching tenderness. “Good-night, my lady,” he said with all the gallantry of a young nobleman in love.
With those simple words he alighted into the air once more and flew out of the newsroom.
Lois looked after him, then her knees gave way and she almost fell into her chair.
“Oh my ... what a dance,” she whispered.
Abruptly, the sound of a door opening and a man’s voice shattered her thoughts. “Hey Lane! It’s nearly midnight. Ain’t it time for you to go home?”
“What? Oh! Ivan I … I was just packing everything up and getting ready for the weekend!” With that she turned off the computer, unceremoniously dumped all the files and notes into an already bulging camel-colored briefcase and quit the newsroom.
TBC
Last edited by Morgana; 11/02/23 04:38 PM.
