[CHAPTER 8]
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Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained. --Marie Curie
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Monday
Lois looked up for the umpteenth time as the elevator delivered another batch of reporters to the newsroom floor. She had been at her desk since 5 o’clock that morning and hadn’t seen Clark arrive yet. She reached for her coffee cup only to find that once again it was empty.
Already anxious, she resisted the urge to refill it. She hadn’t been able to go to sleep the night before and binging on high doses of caffeine wouldn’t really be calming.
“Need I remind you that both this paper and the US Daily are holding 5 inches of column space on tomorrow’s front page for your story?”
Lois looked up from where her thoughts had gotten lost in the bottom of her mug. “Chief… no, uh, the story will make the deadline.”
Perry snorted and took a long sip from his own mug. “Funny you should sound so confident about that, seeing as you’ve been sitting at that desk for three hours and haven’t even turned on your computer yet.”
“Oh.” Lois blinked – she hadn’t realized that it had been that long. “I’m just waiting for Kent.”
“Hmm, Kent,” Perry said with a grunt. “How did he take the news of the of the job offer?”
“I didn’t really get a chance to tell him about it.”
Perry took a step closer to the desk and tilted his head to see what it was that had been the focus of Lois’s attention all morning. A leather bound notebook lay in front of her. “That looks antique,” he observed.
“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing,” she answered dismissively. “An old notebook - family heirloom.”
Perry frowned. If the notebook had nothing to do with the story than it was a distraction. “Well, when Kent finally does decide to make an appearance, I need to go over the contract HR sent down with him.”
He shot her computer a dirty look. “You could at least pretend to work to make me feel better. I’m not running a day spa here,” he grumbled as he walked away.
Jimmy ducked out of the editor’s path while making his way to Lois’s desk. When he got there, he refrained from speaking, seeing that she was on the phone.
“What?” Lois demanded. “When?” Her shoulders slumped. “Yesterday. You’re sure? Of course you’re sure. Sorry. Thank you.”
She hung up the phone and rose to her feet. “Hey, Jimmy,” she greeted distractedly as she hurriedly gathered her belongings.
“Hey… Everything okay?” Jimmy asked in concern.
“It will be,” Lois said, sliding the leather notebook carefully into her bag. “I’ve got to go. If Perry asks, tell him I will beat the deadline.” She spun and began to walk away.
Jimmy blinked at the whirlwind he was caught in. “Wait, Lois!” He chased after her, holding the file he had come to give her. “Don’t you need this?”
“Oh. Yeah, I do need that,” she said absently, taking it from him but not slowing her pace. “Thanks, Jim. I’ll see you later.”
Jimmy watched as she jabbed the elevator button impatiently a few times. She waited a few seconds and then disappeared through the door to the stairwell.
~.~
Clark was sitting at the kitchen table of his parent’s farm house when he heard the sound of a car at the far end of the long gravel drive. Turning his head and squinting, he peered through the kitchen wall to determine the driver’s identity.
“What is it?” Martha Kent asked when her son’s jaw tensed and he violently pushed his chair backwards.
“Stay here,” he said. The screen door slapped shut with a bang after he exited.
Worried, Martha crossed the room and peered out of the window.
Clark met the white Toyota Highlander when it pulled to a stop in front of the farmhouse.
“What are you doing here?”
Lois slowly shut the car door she had just exited and looked at him across the roof of her SUV. “I brought you something,” she revealed calmly, lifting a notebook.
He merely flicked a glance to it before returning his gaze to her face. “How dare you come here?”
She lowered her arm, bringing the journal to her side. “You left without a goodbye.”
Clark scoffed. “You really think you deserved one?” He took a step forward, his eyes looking dangerously wild. “Why are you here?” he asked again.
He narrowed his eyes, scanned her through the car, and saw that she had her laptop tote hanging from her shoulder. “You expect me to help you with your article?”
“It’s your article, too,” she replied softly.
Lois lifted the notebook again, moving from her spot to step from behind her car. “I think you should take this.”
“What is it?”
“Anthony West’s lost manuscript.”
A flicker of surprise flashed through Clark’s expression before it morphed into incredulous anger. He reached out and took the bound notebook from her. He opened the cover and saw some faded words written in longhand on the first page.
‘This is the account of a historical tale as told to me by my father…’
“How did you get this?” The expression on her face told him that it was a futile question. He carefully flipped to a later portion of the book. The pages were fragile and thin.
“It’s not finished,” Lois commented.
“So, you’ve read it.” It wasn’t a question. He caught a few words on the page he was on and looked up at her wryly. “Time travel?”
Lois was unfazed. “A little unbelievable, yes – but so is a man who can fly.”
Clark shook his head disbelievingly. “A man who can fly,” he scoffed.
“Or who is invulnerable. A man having skin that cannot be harmed by the blade of a knife.”
Clark’s expression hardened.
Lois sighed and “We’re both reporters, Clark. Are you going to tell me that you didn’t investigate me?” she asked.
His jaw was set. If she had Anthony West’s document then she tracked his computer as he had suspected and already knew that answer to that question. “It’s different.”
Lois tilted her head. “Different, why? Because you actually have something to hide?”
Clark stepped forward again and lowered his voice to a growl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Clark?”
Both reporters turned at the sound of the voice coming from the porch. Martha stood looking at them with visible concern. “Is everything okay?”
Clark moved backwards, increasing the space between Lois and himself. He addressed his mother while still looking at Lois. “Miss Lane was just leaving.”
“Miss Lane,” Martha repeated, her eyebrows rising slightly. She looked at the young woman thoughtfully. “Did you drive all the way out here by yourself?”
“Oh, uh…” Lois stammered, knocked a little off balance by the sudden appearance of the kind-looking woman. “It’s no big deal.”
“It certainly is a big deal. My guess is that you drove straight here. An eight hour drive without a break, am I right?”
Lois glanced at Clark and composed herself. He was looking angrier now that his mother was interfering with his attempt to throw her off the property. It calmed her a little. “Yes, Ma’am. Eight hours,” she said, turning her body so her attention was fully focused on the older woman.
“Well, you can’t just turn around and drive back without rest, now can you? Come on in get something to drink.”
“Mom.”
“Clark, hush. It’s polite to be hospitable. Miss Lane, how about some lemonade?”
Lois sidestepped Clark and made her way up the porch steps. She extended her hand when she made it to the top. “Please, Mrs. Kent, call me Lois – and lemonade sounds great.”
“And I’m Martha…”
Clark shut the notebook and tersely followed the women through the kitchen door. Once inside, he remained hovering near the door like a sentinel, waiting for the chance to usher Lois out again.
Martha showed Lois to the kitchen table and gestured for her to take a seat. “So, we’ve been keeping tabs on your recent series of stories,” she said conversationally. “It’s hard to believe that there are companies out there who would do such terrible things.”
Lois accepted the glass that was handed to her. “Thank you. Yes, ethical business standards seem to have become extinct.”
Clark scoffed at her words and earned a dirty look from his mother.
“Although, people sometimes make mistakes when they are acting in the best interests of others,” Lois added, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Best interests of yourself, is more likely,” Clark replied.
“Clark,” Martha warned.
Clark’s face suddenly clouded and his head snapped to the room on the other side of the kitchen. “Dad,” he called, “don’t…”
Before he could finish, a little boy, who looked to be around the age of two or three, darted into the room and latched onto Martha’s legs. Lois’s eyes widened in shock and the hand holding the glass she was about to drink from froze in mid-air.
An older man who Lois assumed was Clark’s father entered from the same direction the boy had come from.
“Damn it,” Clark said, moving across the room and picking the little boy up. Without another word, he left the kitchen.
“Jonathan, this is Lois Lane,” Martha introduced.
Jonathan Kent’s expression darkened, but he nodded politely in Lois’s direction. He shot a look at his wife and then followed the example his son had just set, and left the room.
Lois wordlessly set the glass on the table. “I…I should probably go,” she said, pushing her chair backwards.
Martha eyed her seriously as she stood up. “From what I’ve heard about you, you don’t strike me as a person who does things without reason.”
Lois chuckled nervously. “Then you probably didn’t get the opinion of my boss.”
Martha half-smiled at the attempt. “I’m going to sit down. I think you should join me.”
The no-nonsense tone in the woman’s voice commanded Lois the way Clark’s anger hadn’t been able. She slowly returned to her seat, silently watching as the woman sat across from her.
“First, let me apologize for their behavior. Men desire to protect their domains, and when they feel that their jobs have been threatened or that they cannot fulfill their duties, they tend to overreact.” She smiled softly. “But you and I know that the mother is really the one who protects the house.”
Lois swallowed soundlessly. “I didn’t know he had a child…”
“His name is Jonathan, but since we already have one of those here, we call him Jory.”
“Jory,” Lois repeated softly.
“Does that change the reason why you came?”
Lois nibbled on her lower lip. She recognized an interrogation – though she was more accustomed to be on the giving side. “I… I don’t know really know. It might.”
“Hmm. Well, why don’t you run it by me and we’ll try to figure it out?”
Lois met the woman’s gaze. She knew it wasn’t a suggestion. “I’m not here as a threat. I want to make that clear up front.”
Martha nodded but didn’t say anything.
“I came to bring Clark a book,” Lois continued. “It’s a story about a man who travels to the future and it describes what he saw there. The man who wrote it… well, it never was published because he insisted that it was true. Eventually, he stopped trying to shop it out and its existence became a myth.”
“But you found it,” Martha surmised.
“I have a cousin… The details are not important,” Lois dismissed, leaning forward. “Mrs. Kent, in the book, the time traveler speaks about a man who can fly - a man who uses his great abilities to protect people and save lives.”
“Why did you think this book needed to go to Clark?”
Lois glanced away from the intensity of the older woman’s stare. “I think that Clark is a… remarkable person who has a… need to help other people. It rings true in his articles and in his personality – at least from what little I know. He’s been all over the world, and I think he’s looking for something – well, he’s looking for many things – but most of all, I think he’s trying to find himself.”
Lois mentally rolled her eyes. She felt entirely inadequate for trying to analyze this woman’s child in front of her face.
“What is it that you came here for, Lois? What is it that you wanted Clark to do?”
Lois met Martha’s eyes. “To stop running,” she said simply.
The room was quiet for a full minute as the women’s gazes locked.
Finally, Lois broke the silence. “Now, I should really go,” she said, standing. “I’m truly sorry for the intrusion, and…”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“What?” Lois asked uncertainly. She irrationally hoped that this meek farm housewife wasn’t a closet member of the NRA.
“Lois, you don’t think that as a mother I would consider a 30 minute chat a long enough rest before the second leg of a 16 hour road trip, do you?”
“Oh, ah…” Lois fumbled for an excuse. She didn’t doubt that Martha Kent would somehow wrangle a way for her to stay at the farm that night if she wasn’t careful. “I’m just going to find a hotel in town.”
“Maisie owns a bed and breakfast you’ll love.” Martha rose from her chair. “I’ll go write down the address and directions for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure I can find it.”
“Nonsense,” Martha quipped with a smile. “Just give me one minute.”
Lois sighed as the woman climbed up the stairs to the second level. She walked through the archway that had facilitated Clark’s earlier departure and found herself in a comfortable den. A mantle lined with picture frames above the fireplace drew her attention.
She smiled as she looked at pictures of Clark at all ages. There were the given yearbook photos, family pictures, and pee-wee league mugshots. Her expression became confused when she found herself in front of a photo of a young Clark in the arms of his mother. Martha Kent looked to be the same age as she was when she had been sitting at the table with Lois.
“Oh.” Suddenly, Lois realized that the little boy in the picture was not Clark, but his son. They looked so much alike at that age that the resemblance was astounding. “Wow.”
She went back through the photos and mentally picked out the ones that she had earlier assumed were a young Clark, now thinking that they could also be of the little boy. It struck her as odd that there was no unfamiliar woman in any of the photos. It made her wonder where the boy’s mother was.
“Here we go,” Martha announced, entering the den to give Lois a piece of paper. “I already called and told them you were coming. You’ll have plenty of time and energy to make the drive back to Metropolis after a good night’s rest.”
From the knowing look on Martha’s face, Lois knew her bluff had been called. She was going to have stay the night in Smallville. Chuckling at having likely met her match, she sheepishly returned the woman’s smile. “Thank you.”
~.~
Tuesday, early morning
Clark was standing beside the white SUV when Lois exited the front door of the bed and breakfast early the next morning.
“Didn’t think I’d see you anytime soon,” she remarked, pressing the button on her keychain to electronically unlock the doors.
“It wasn’t my idea,” he replied gruffly, opening the passenger side door and climbing inside. “My mother wants to make sure you get back safely.”
Lois frowned and pulled open the driver’s door. “I guess I’m not the only one that can’t say no to her,” she muttered, sitting down and pulling the door shut. She started the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.
“I sent our story in last night,” she said. “Emailed it to the Planet and the US Daily.”
Clark continued to stare out the front window. He wasn’t thrilled to be riding in a car with her and he didn’t mind letting it show.
“How do you plan on getting back home from Metropolis?” she asked.
He just turned his head and gave her a look.
“You mean… you really can…” she lifted a hand from the steering wheel and made a flying motion.
“There’s a four o’clock train leaving from Union Station,” he said sarcastically, pleased at the confused look his statement put on her face. He turned to face forward again. “The least you can do is let me get my family secured before you start destroying my life.”
Lois’s brow was creased when she turned her head to look at him. “I didn’t come here to write an article about you, Clark. I told as much to your mother.”
He scoffed disbelievingly. “While I was investigating you, I asked around. I know that your life’s aspiration is to win the Pulitzer. It guides everything you do.”
“Who would believe it?” she asked. “I’m not sure *I* believe it.”
“That didn’t stop you from trying, did it?”
Lois focused her attention on the road ahead of her. The downfall of deciding to hit the road so early was that it was still dark outside. The deserted two-lane highway was creepy in the darkness with the tall cornstalks lining the sides like walls.
“My life is not guided by the pursuit of an award.”
“See, I think it is,” Clark shot back. “I think you’re the type of reporter that would throw innocent people off of a plane just to get the story. Lois Lane is a cold-hearted witch who would do anything in order to get that ever-elusive Pulizter. You’ll have to excuse me when I don’t believe you when come into my home as a threat to my family and claim altruism.”
Lois suddenly stamped on the brakes, causing the vehicle to skid while she steered it to the side of the road. She put the SUV in park and shifted in her seat so she was fully facing him. Angrily, she reached into the back seat and started digging around in her bag.
When she sat back up she practically threw her wallet at him. “Open it.”
“What, you want to pay me for my story now?”
Lois grabbed the wallet back and opened it herself. She pulled something from the bill section and flicked on the overhead light. “Look at it,” she demanded, handing him what looked to be a newspaper clipping.
Clark unfolded the paper and recoiled when he saw what it showed. “What is this?”
Lois met his eyes evenly. “You wanted to know what guided my life. That photo was taken by Kevin Carter. He won the Pulitzer for it in ‘94.”
Clark looked back down at the heartbreaking image. In it, a small child was crawling on the ground, obviously emaciated from malnutrition and hunger. In the background behind the child was a vulture, patiently waiting for its prey to stop moving. Clark raised his eyes to meet Lois’s again.
“Kevin was asked what happened to the child in the picture and he didn’t know. He took the shot and left,” Lois said. “He took that picture, won the award… and in response to the horrifying reality of it all, he committed suicide.”
She reached out and pulled the picture from his hands, carefully refolding it and placing it back into her wallet. “No, the Pulitzer is not my everything – it’s not my brass ring. I keep that picture with me every day to remind myself that an award is not worth my soul. I’ve had many chances to publish something that would guarantee that honor, but I haven’t been willing to – how did you put it – throw innocent people from a plane.”
She tossed her wallet into the back seat. “So, I’m going to have to refute your argument on the basis that your facts suck. You should think about getting new sources. And here’s a news flash for you: if you don’t want people to think you have a secret, you shouldn’t act like you have something to hide.”
She hit the overhead light, dousing the interior of the car in darkness once again. Then she put the car in drive and guided it back onto the road.
“I…” Clark started, but Lois cut him off.
“You didn’t promise your mother that we would talk,” she said. “So let’s not.”
She reached out and turned the volume of the radio up loud enough that speaking was unfeasible.
The rest of the drive to Metropolis was done in without conversation. They only stopped to refuel on gas, and though she had to be stiff and tired, Lois never asked for his help to drive.
Clark found himself both admiring and detesting her stubbornness. She was proving to have just as much will power as he did.
When Lois pulled to a stop outside her apartment building, she shut off the car and got out – retrieving her belongings and walking to the building – all without saying a word to him.
Not one to be outdone, Clark climbed out of the car and slammed the door. When Lois turned around, pointing her keychain toward the SUV to lock the doors, Clark slowly lifted into the air.
Her mouth dropped as Clark hovered ten feet in the air. In the time span of a blink, he disappeared, and a second later, she heard the resulting sonic boom.
“Holy sh*t.”
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End of Act I
