The boards have been so dead lately that I've decided to fight back the only way I know how. Unfortunately, I have nothing decent to offer. However, I did find an intro on my hard-drive that was supposed to be the second in a series. Instead, I never finished the first story and probably will never finish this second one. So, instead I'm waving my magic wand. <Presto! Chango!> It is now a vignette.
This was one of the first things I ever wrote. I honestly can't say when I wrote it. I can, however, note that I know longer have the software to read all of it, so I've had to reproduce some of it. Hopefully, I've grown a little bit since I wrote this.
However, I figure if we each find some little morsel to offer, eventually the drought of inactivitiy will be broken. (I know, there are a few authors who are still offering up fanfic right now. I'm not overlooking them. I simply want more. Call me insatiable.)
Elisabeth
who hopes this rambling isn't longer than the actual fic
I Know
The elevator doors opened to reveal a world of chaos and energy. He stood at the top of the ramp, looking down at the hubbub below: the courriers moving at breakneck speed across the office, the phones jangling off the hook, the tirade going on in the glass office across the way, the computers, the faxes, the reporters... All seemed to swirl around before him.
He unsurely made his way to the bottom of the ramp, scanning the faces for signs of friendliness. A dark-haired lady in her early twenties caught his eye as a possible kind soul. He waited as she made her way toward him, carefully balancing three very full cups of coffee.
"Excuse me, ma'am," he started, gaining confidence as he spoke. "I have an appointment with..." he briefly glanced at his appointment book for confirmation. "Lois Lane and Kent Clark."
She giggled and smiled, before politely correcting him, and then ushered him toward a frenzy of activity in a satin pantsuit.
"Hi, you must be Lois Lane. I'm Edgar Banneret, your one-thirty appointment."
Lois offered a firm handshake. "I'm afraid Clark was called away on an urgent matter. I hope you don't mind if we go on without him. I don't expect he'll take too long, but you never know about these things." She led him back to a conference room, taking a seat across from him and flipping her notebook open to an empty page.
Edgar made a conscious effort to still his fidgeting hands. "I'm a little nervous. I've never been interviewed before, and I'm not quite sure what to expect."
"That's okay," Lois reassured him. "It won't hurt a bit. Promise." She held up her hand as if making an oath. "I guess we start with the basics. What can you tell me about 'Gideon's Contenders'?
"Well, it's a rather small group, headquartered in Rhode Island, that believes... Gosh, they believe a lot of things: they believe that America has morally gone way off the deep end; they believe fasting and celibacy are key to holding off God's wrath; they encourage their followers to avoid distractions by remaining single, but those who do marry tend to have huge families. Officially, they're lead by Sebastian Henson, but I'm pretty sure a man by the name of Stewart Swagger makes most of the really big decisions."
Lois soaked up Edgar's information, prompting him with interesting questions whenever he started to slow down. She didn't notice Clark approach the glass door, a look of admiration on his face as he observed his wife in action.
Her hair was swept away behind her ear, but an errant lock curled to frame her face. Over the years a few gray hairs had mixed in with the dark strands, although a dye bottle and a Sunday afternoon cured that. There were also lines around her eyes, forehead and mouth where wrinkles might one day form. Still, he found her as beautiful today as she was the day he met her--probably even more so since he had fallen in love with her passion and now he was one of the sources of her passion.
He waited for a natural pause in the conversation before opening the door.
"My wife broke from the group in May, but actually she's had a very hard transition back into the real..."
The moment Clark placed his hand on the doorknob, the chatter stilled. A stunned look upon his countenance, Edgar froze. Lois gestured for him to continue, but the man simply stared at the blank wall behind her.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Clark bestowed a special smile upon his wife before reaching his hand toward the silent stranger in greeting. "You must be Edgar Banneret. I'm Clark Kent. I'm sorry I was held up."
Clark awkwardly withdrew his hand as he realized the gentlemen had no intention of shaking it.
"I appreciate you taking the time to speak with us on such short notice."
Edgar nodded, mutely.
"There are so few experts on this subject."
The fog in Edgar's eyes began to lift, "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"
Clark repeated, rather slowly, "There are so few experts on this subject."
There was a long pause before Edgar replied, "Yes."
The silence strained Lois' patience.
Edgar spoke again, "And you are?"
"Clark Kent. Lois' partner and husband."
"Of course."
"I'm sorry I interrupted you earlier. You were speaking of your wife?"
"Yes."
Lois scrambled to pick up the interview where it had seemingly gone astray, "How did your wife act when she left the brotherhood."
"Odd."
She waited a long time for him to fill in the details, but when it became obvious he didn't intend to say more, she merely frowned and said, "I see." She glanced at her notes.
A tap on the window revealed Jimmy, jangling his thumb and pinkie at Lois in the universal sign for "phone call." She excused herself, rushing out of the room in relief.
The door slammed behind her, leaving Clark alone with the awkward interview. Banneret stared intently at the woodgrain in the table.
"Maybe I should just look over Lois' notes here for a moment," he offered. He flipped through the many pages thoughtfully before posing his next question. "You mentioned that you don't believe that Sebastian has any false intentions. What do you believe are Stewart's goals for the group?"
Edgar shrugged, his eyes never leaving the table.
Clark waited a long time before proceeding to the next question. "Are you worried about Stewart's leadership?"
Edgar sniffed a bit, swiping his hands across his nose. He rocked back in forth in silence, breathing several times as if he was about to speak, but the words never seemed to come out.
"Mr. Banneret? Edgar, is this a bad time?"
Edgar worried his hands across his hair; then slumped down, leaning his head in his hands.
"Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable if we went out for coffee or something when Lois gets back?" Clark offered.
Edgar swallowed, and then sharply inhaled. The words that came out were mumbled, but Clark's keen sense of hearing had no trouble making out the words. "I know who you are."
"What?"
This time he straightened, looking Clark clearly in the eye for the first time. "I know who you are."
Clark looked at him, dumbfounded.
"I'm sorry I wasn't prepared for this," Edgar tossed out as he raced from the conference room and tumbled into the waiting elevator.
~*~
Lois' phone conversation wasn't going well, either. When Henderson finally did return her call, she assumed he would be willing to share further information, but he seemed rather preoccupied with finding too many of Lois' prints at the scene of the crime.
"You have to understand, criminal investigations are very delicate. You can't just barge into a crime scene and rifle through the evidence."
"There was no rifling. Maybe I perused a little, but I never rifled."
"Lois! I ought to have you arrested for tampering with evidence, for-"
"There was never any tampering. Investigating, not tampering." She shouted to be heard over Henderson's increasingly long list.
"...interfering with a criminal investigation, for breaking and entering, for crying out loud I'm trying to get some work done around here. You just can't behave that way, Lois."
"How do you expect me to behave? You don't return my phone calls. You won't answer my questions. There's a lot out there that you know and won't tell me. I'm a reporter. It's my job to find these things out, and if you won't help me, I'll find out some other way."
"It ends here. I'll talk to you later."
Lois swallowed her retort when the dial tone interrupted her tirade. Grumbling to herself, she returned to the conference room. But only a table and empty chairs awaited her return.
~*~
"Mr. Banneret? Mr. Banneret? Wait!" Clark finally caught up to him when the swell of Metropolis traffic held him at bay. His heavy breaths made conversation difficult, but Clark pressed forward in earnest. "There must be a mistake. Who do you think I am? A friend of Swagger's? I swear to you, I have no intention of hurting you. I'm just a reporter."
"You are not just a reporter, Mr. Kent. You may be many things, but you are definately not just a reporter."
"Mr. Banneret, I read Lois' notes. You must have been awfully comfortable with her to share all that information. Perhaps you'd feel better if my wife were to join us now."
"Mr. Kent, I know how I must have looked back there... like a simpleton grasping for words. But I assure you, Mr. Kent, I am no fool. I know who you are. I can't tell you how I know, but I know."
Edgar closed the distance between Clark and himself, looking intently into his face.
"The interview is over. There doesn't seem to be much point to it anymore, is there?" Edgar boldly stepped out, barely noticing the cars screaching to a stop as he parted the sea of traffic. Clark stood in silence, watching the man until he was out of sight.
And all along he heard the man talking quietly to himself. "I know. I just know. I don't know how I know, but I know. I just know. I know."
~*~
"Jimmy!" Clark hailed his friend before thim doors were fully opened. "Give me everything you can on an Edgar Banneret."
"I'll see what I can find."
Lois eyed her husband warily, blind to the story that lay at her feet.
~*~
He was waiting for them after work that evening. Perhaps he thought Lois and Clark wouldn't notice him, but with Clark's senses and Lois' reporting skills, it wasn't long before they realized they were being tailed.
Clark brought his hand over and grasped his wife's, pulling her into a one-armed embrace as they walked. Her scent was comfortingly familiar as they lazily strolled homeward. When she leaned her head closer to his, it looked to the average passer-by as two lovers sauntering down the sidewalk, sharing sweet nothings. Of course, a more accurate depiction would be two lovers sauntering down the sidewalk, casually plotting strategies.
Until they knew more about this strange man, it didn't seem wise to bring him to their home, so they headed toward Centennial Park, instead. They snuggled on a park bench waiting for Bannerett to make his move.
~*~ Okay, admittedly there is a scene missing here, but since I never intended to post this, sue me.
"Mr. Kent, ... It seems silly to call you that, but it's easier talking to you by that name... I know you don't want to believe me. You want to think I'm thinking something else. But I assure you, I do know who you are."
Edgar waved off Clark's protest, before he continued.
"Maybe it would help if you knew a little more about me. I''ve led a pretty boring life, Mr. Kent. Got married before I finished college. Became a pharmacist, just like my Uncle Mac. Settled down in a small town upstate, Albion. White house with a picket fence. No kids, though Gloria and I tried hard enough. Boring life.
"That all changed early in the morning on November 12, '95. I was driving down Sugar Maple Drive on my way to work. I don't remember much, but supposedly that's a normal thing. Anyway, I'm told that I was seen driving down the wrong side of the road. I have no idea why. Olive Tuckens said when she swerved to miss me, I looked like I was looking at the floor... or maybe I was slumped over. I don't know. Anyway, the accident was brutal. Most of my car didn't survive. I have no idea how I managed, myself.
"When I was somewhat stable, the decision was made to fly me to the nearest trauma center... Metropolis General, of course. Boy, do I remember the helicopter ride. Brutal!
"Mr. Kent, I died during that flight. I remember dying. They revived me, of course, but I remember dying.
"The trauma center responded right after I arrived. They put me back together, piece by piece.
"This is the part you'll care about. I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but it couldn't have been long after I arrived. I was laying on a gurney in the hallway. I had my eyes closed--I can remember I was terribly cold--and I sensed something I never felt before. It was almost like a smell you can't quite place, only it wasn't a smell exactly. It was like the ambiance of power filled the room. I looked up and saw this women with short, dark hair. She was dressed head to toe in this hot pink spandex get-up and a baby blue cape. I knew there was something different about her, and I'm not talking about her fashion sense.
"It's hard to explain, but ever since I died things have been different for me. I can sense things that I never sensed before. It's like I can hear things that other people can't hear, and I can see things like I've never seen before, and I can smell and taste and feel things like I've never felt before. And then there's this intangible sense that I can see people for who they really are. I had my eyes closed, when I saw that woman; but I knew who she was. When I did open my eyes, I saw this aura of protection just a couple millimeters all around her. It was like she exuded power.
"Mr. Kent, you have that aura of power. I can see it now. And, I know who you are."
