Just a short fic I put together. Set right after the ending of The Eyes Have It.
Thanks to Carol, Dave and Jenni for brainstorming with me - you really kicked the Muse into gear! Also, to Karen for reading it, liking it and coming up with a title.
See ya,
Anna.
-No Excuse-
“No, seriously. Where have you been?”
There’s nothing inquisitive in her voice. More like good-natured curiosity. After all, I’m her partner, and I *did* disappear for three days, while we were in the midst of a story, without even letting my parents know.
So, where have I been?
As the moments pass and I’m not replying, she grows more curious. I feel cornered, and I feel that it shows in my face. Damn.
“...Around?” I cringe.
She eyes me with disbelief. “Around where?”
I gesture around – very lamely. Her expression has hardened; she has realized that I’m trying to keep something from her. And she doesn’t seem to like this concept at all.
“See, I was... I had an accident,” I invent wildly. “Friday morning. On my way here. They took me to the hospital. I was just discharged yesterday evening.”
I can tell by the look she’s throwing at me that she doesn’t believe me. “And why didn’t you let anyone know?”
“...I was unconscious.” I feel stupid.
She shakes her head. “You were not.” Although she’s smiling, her voice comes out firmly, and a little... menacingly?
“Okay, I was not.” Now why in the world did I say that? Wouldn’t it be better if I stuck to my story?
On second thoughts, I wouldn’t put it past her to call all the hospitals in Metropolis to find out if I had really been admitted in one of them.
“So where *were* you?” she insists.
“I wish I could tell you,” I blurt out. How smooth of me.
“Okay, so why can’t you?”
I hear an alarm go off, and voices. ‘Fire! Fire!’
I’m saved. Or, I’m dead meat. Or both.
“I have to go,” I say. She opens her mouth, probably to berate me, but I speak before she has a chance to. “Someday, I promise I’ll tell you.” And with that, I run off.
-----
I blink – and by the time I open my eyes again, he’s halfway to the elevator. I hate it when he does that; we’re in the middle of a conversation and suddenly he’s running off like he’s Superman to the rescue or something...
...Now wait a minute, what did I just say?
