Note: I got this idea for this story in the last month or so. After having read literally hundreds of stories, and seen the general image of Claude portrayed in the Lois and Clark universe as someone who was an ambitious egotist who didn’t consider Lois in any regard other than an easy source for a good story, and achieved this by sleeping with her and ultimately deserting her in the morning, this idea came into existence. Granted, we got this image from the horse’s mouth, figuratively speaking; I thought how interesting it would have been had Lois actually had a loving relationship with Claude.

The details of this story branch off dramatically from the series’ cannon, but you may see similarities here and there. Hopefully, the most similarities being in the characters themselves. I haven’t speculated much on how long this story will be, but I don’t see it ending short. Hopefully, those reading this story will enjoy it enough to read for its entire duration, however long that shall be.

And finally, a last minute note, the French used throughout this story is French-Canadian French. I apologize for the differences, but the only sources I was able to tap, were those of my friends who were bilingual in French-Canadian French.

This is also my first posted Lois and Clark fan fiction and I hope it meets the standards that have come to be expected of these boards and their audience.

Additional Note: Some people have impeccable nagging abilities... <bg>

*** Damage Control ***
By Jocelyn Brant (jocelynbrant@hotmail.com)

Clark Kent stood up quickly as the vivacious brunette stepped into the confines of the Editor-In-Chief of the Daily Planet’s office. Her complete disregard to Clark’s presence did not deter him one bit, as he watched her coerce her boss to her ways.

“Chief,” she spoke definitively, “I think there’s a story here and we should check this guy out. The crazy one this morning? His name is Samuel Platt, and he was an engineer at EPRAD for 10 years. He’s--”

“Can’t you see,” Perry White asked, indicating Clark standing in front of them, “that I’m in the middle of something?”

“Oh.” She didn’t move. Clark took in her appearance; a well tailored women’s business suit, complete with knee length, form-fitting skirt. Her hair hung loose in a bob below her ears and her skin was pleasantly fair, off-setting her dark hair. She didn’t give him a single glance of acknowledgement.

“Lois Lane,” he said turning slightly towards her, “Clark Kent.” Now she turned an inch to look at him, and then spoke dismissively.

“Nice to meet you.” Turning back to Perry she gave a somewhat annoyed look, “Anyway, this guy worked on the Messenger, he—”

“Lois, what happened to that mood piece I gave you? The razing of the old theater on Forty-second?”

“I wasn’t in the ‘mood’,” she replied sardonically. Clark tried to withhold a smile at her sarcastic, ‘You-might-as-well-let-me-do-my-own-thing’ attitude.

“Now listen here, Lois,” Perry began, but Lois was now distracted by a figure that had appeared at the door miming something unintelligible to Clark.

“Got to run, catch you later, Chief!” And she was gone in seconds. Perry shook his head in bewilderment. He sighed and looked up at Clark.

“If that woman wasn’t the best damn investigative reporters I’ve ever seen, I’d…” he trailed off. He considered Clark for a mere second before speaking. “Look, Kent, you can’t just walk in here with this kind of resume and expect a job. Hell, I’ve got people with PhD’s in Journalism delivering newspapers.”

“Mr. White,” Clark responded earnestly, “I know I lack experience, but I’m a hard worker and a good writer. I—”

Perry interrupted him with an apologetic look yet with a forceful tone, “Kent, I haven’t got anything for you.” And that was that. The subject was closed, and Clark knew it. He stretched his hand to the older man and squeezed as was customary.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate you taking the time to see me.” He walked out of the office and through the newsroom to the elevators. He passed by Lois Lane’s desk and saw her rub her forehead as if to ward off an oncoming headache. Her eyes were downcast, and she sighed.

“Non non, Madame Audette je te comprends, mais je ne peut pas changer l'entretien.... oui, bien... oui, je comprends. Merci." She replaced the phone that she had been cradling between her shoulder and ear back into its cradle. Clark hadn’t meant to overhear her private conversation, but her French had caught him off guard. He didn’t know what interview it was that she had to change, or even why she had to change it, but it was clear by the expression of discontent that it was obviously something important.

The elevator door parted to admit a few people from its car onto the newsroom floor. Clark stepped in, and watched as Lois jotted down notes quickly before heading towards the young man who had appeared at the door before, during his interview.

~

“Jimmy,” Lois Lane said agitatedly, as she approached the cub reporter milling about with stacks of files balancing precariously on his forearms, “can you get me everything you can find about the Messenger project, and send it to my laptop?” Jimmy looked up at the reporter with a look of dismay, but Lois didn’t falter. “I need to get home to Angelina, and if I’m going to check out this Dr. Platt I should at least no more than what’s being said on the news.”

“Is there something wrong with Angie?” Jimmy asked, now concerned for the wellbeing of Lois Lane’s two year old daughter. He set the files down on the empty desk adjacent to Lois’s desk, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Lois shook her head, and then sighed dramatically. “The babysitter, the only one I could find who speaks French, has to go and watch her mother get a coronary bypass done tomorrow in Cleveland, and her flight leaves in two hours.” Jimmy’s eyes widened in surprise, and Lois’s eyebrows rose in irritation. “Why she failed to mention it to me until today, we’re unsure, but I have to get over there now to watch Angelina as Lucy isn’t going to be home until much later this evening.”

“All right, Lois, no problem. I’ll let the chief know, and I’ll get on that information you wanted, as soon as I can.” With that, he picked up his discarded files and trotted off to deposit files sporadically on desks all over the newsroom.

Lois snatched up her purse and coat, and headed quickly to the elevators. If only she knew someone else who spoke French, it would be easier to get those exclusives she always strived for. Further more, maybe even that Pulitzer would be closer to her grasp. But as it was, she had a daughter to look after, and so for the next sixteen or seventeen years the risks usual reporters took to get the scoop would have to take the back burner to good old fashion wit and skill.

The elevator doors opened to admit her into its car.

~~

“Viens ici, my darling,” Lois cooed to the little child who raced to the door as fast as her little legs were willing to carry her. Her dark curls and chocolate eyes shined with mirth as she squirmed in her mother’s arms, as Lois knelt on the ground to receive her hug. Lois took in her clean baby smell, the smell that seemed to waft in the air of every home that had an infant, and kissed the chubby, flushed cheeks of her daughter.

She stood then, holding the settled baby in her arms and addressed the older lady who had entered the living room from the kitchen. “Partez-vous maintenant, Madame Audette?” Lois had asked the babysitter if she was leaving now, and the elder lady nodded curtly.

“Oui,” she said, moving towards the window that overlooked the street below, “ma soeur est sur sa façon maintenant pour me choisir en haut.” Lois tried to follow, but her French wasn’t good enough to catch everything when someone spoke quickly with the easy of fluency. Her confused look confirmed this for the babysitter, and she smiled tightly.

“My sister is on her way over now to pick me up.” Lois nodded, though Madame Audette couldn’t see her doing so, and kissed Angelina’s cheek noisily, now ignoring the woman before her. Lois wasn’t a rude woman most of the time, and only then when she was on a story and was in danger of being scooped, but she was displeased with Madame Audette, and the last minute arrangements.

Suddenly she clapped her hands, at her obvious excitement of her sister’s arrival. Angelina emulated the activity and clapped her hands in the perfect imitation of Madame Audette. Lois chuckled quietly to herself, and then moved to open the door for the older lady. She turned in the middle of the doorframe back to Lois, and pushed an errant gray strand behind her ear as she forced a smile on to her face.

“It would suit you better to use more French while I’m away. Your fluency will be a great help for Angelina in the later years.” Lois, as well, forced a fake smile onto her face as she watched Madame Audette leave down the hallway. She shut the door soundlessly behind her, and then held her baby out before her. Angelina giggled as only a child can do, and kicked her legs back and forth. Lois smiled brightly; her dissimulative smile vanished from her face. She pulled gleeful child forward and kissed her hair before setting her onto the floor. Angelina instantly ran for couch and fell purposefully on her face into the cushions. Lois let out a laugh, and sighed sadly as Angelina gazed up at her the same way her father had.

Claude had a certain look to him that was undeniably charming, and Angelina had certainly inherited it.

***

Lois finally had Angelina down for her late afternoon nap, and was booting up the laptop that sat on the kitchen table before her. She checked her email and brought up the email Jimmy Olsen had sent to her regarding the Messenger Space Launch. He stated that not much was known save for what was revealed on news but that he would try to put her into contact with a Dr. Antoinette Baines.

‘If Claude was here, he’d have the story written by now,’ Lois thought sadly. Her eyes flickered to the framed photo of her and Claude at their wedding. The picture was only three years old but it was worn at the edges and showed many visible creases.

When she had first heard of the news of Claude’s disappearance in the Congo, she had scrambled to gather everything of his that she could. She had everyone of his photos placed in her purse to keep near her. She had his clothes strewn all over the floor of their bedroom that they had shared only five months, as though they had been that way when he left. But it was a ruse, and did not serve to remind her how Claude really was. He was immaculately clean, and all his clothes were always promptly hung up or folded and placed into a drawer upon their immediate departure from the dryer.

Even now, three years later, there was still an almost tangible ache around her heart. It always intensified when she thought about her daughter and how she will never touch her father’s slightly rough jaw with her tiny hands, as she had seen many toddlers do to their fathers on television and in movies. Angelina Desrosiers looked more like Lois than Claude, which hurt Lois a bit. As her only visible reminder of her husband, Lois had hoped that she would resemble him in every way, but instead ended up with her dark brown hair, and her dark eyes. His nose had written its code on her genetic makeup, but in truth, that was all that was a visible reminder of him.

But her expressions; nearly everyone that could control Lois to her daughter’s every whim was one that she had seen on a few occasions on Claude, making it that much more impossible to resist Angelina’s wishes.

Her lack of resemblance had been one of the deciding factors for Lois on whether she should learn French, as Claude had suggested during one of those hypothetical “What-would-we-name-our-children?” kind of conversations. Lois hadn’t known French, aside from how to order a decent meal off a menu, but she had conceded it would be a good skill to have, knowing two languages, especially since the language in question was the first-language of her husband. It gave her heart a tolerable tug to hear her daughter speak it with such a childlike innocence.

It still hurt Lois that she had not been able to find anything much on Claude’s disappearance. Perry had sent out dozens of people in search of him, on many different expeditions, and had every single time come back empty handed. The only evidence being a crashed plane without a single body inside. No one knew what had happened to that plane, or who had taken the bodies. There was no where to look, and no one to blame… with the exception of that vigilante in the annoying primary colors: Superman.

~~~

Clark flew above the Metropolis skyline a little less enthusiastic than normal. He hadn’t gotten the job at the Daily Planet as he thought he would, and he was down to his last ten dollars. His father had offered to wire him some money, when Clark had called home collect earlier that night, but Clark would hear nothing of it. He wasn’t about to give up on his getting a job so soon. Something would turn up, eventually. Besides, he still had his Superman duties to attend to.

When he had first arrived in Metropolis eight days earlier, he had noticed how busy he had been at night. But tonight was shaping up to be pretty slow, and Clark drifted towards the Hotel he was staying at. The Apollo Hotel was not the Ritz-Carlton, but it served its purpose as far as Clark was concerned. He had been happy to accept the available room on the top floor with its tall windows that one could easily open from the inside and the outside. He had tried not to be disappointed with its state of cleanliness, but when faced with what could only be the dingiest, most un-savory hotel room in all of Metropolis, Clark had a hard time about it. But Clark Kent was not one to be waved by merely dirty walls, and bed sheets. He used his special vision to scan the sheets for any unidentifiable substances, however, and came away happy that he had found none.

Now, having changed back from the recognizable suit made by his mother, Clark stood silently in the middle of the main room. He thought a moment about calling his parents again, but thought better of it. He was tempted to call Lana Lang and see how her wedding preparations were going, but decided she was probably busy. After all it was… 11:33 p.m.

Clark gave a wry smile. Lana Lang had been his high school and college sweetheart, had even stayed with him through his traveling years after graduation from Midwestern U, and had been the driving force in his life, along with his parents, for as long as he could remember. She was the only one, save for his parents that knew the full truth about him, and had even encouraged him to use his powers to help others and “fight crime”. Clark had laughed slightly at the cliché phrase, but had also thought the idea was intriguing. He had always been optimistic about the human-race, even with all its faults, and thought that with a little push from the proper source, it could be peaceful. Lana had given him the idea of creating a separate identity, to act as a beacon to those who needed his help. Something that could be easily recognizable, but not as Clark Kent.

His mother had sewn the suit, and even included the crest from the baby blanket that his parents had found him in those many years ago in Shuster’s field. He didn’t really know what the large ‘S’ had meant, but Lana had responded enthusiastically, “Superman!” It had stuck, as he flew from place to place around the world, aiding people in their tribulations. “Superman” was turning into the beacon Lana had encouraged.

Although Lana and he had never been closer, their romance was fading out slowly, to be replaced with an intense friendship. Neither had left the relationship bitterly, both agreeing it was for the best. Lana had even said she had met someone, someone she thought she could spend the rest of her life with and Clark had never been happier for her. Lana and her new boyfriend dated seriously for two years, with Lana confiding in Clark about all the details as though two schoolgirls.

Everything was perfect in Clark’s life. He had a best friend he would move the heavens for; he had a good job at The Smallville Press, a family that loved and respected him, and the respect of the majority of the world. He didn’t have a girlfriend, but he figured everything else was worth the void there. Yes, everything was perfect. Until a group of Government agents showed up asking questions no one had answers to, no one except Lana, Clark, and Clark’s parents.

It became dangerously self-evident that it was time for Clark to relocate. He hadn’t wanted to; he enjoyed the closeness with his parents, and being there for Lana as everything for her was falling into place. But he couldn’t put them into danger, and couldn’t risk anyone finding out the truth about him. The government agents showed him that not everyone was as supportive of Superman’s altruistic intentions.

That was ten days ago. Clark had, since then, moved to Metropolis, New Troy in search of a new job in journalism at the famous “Daily Planet”, the best newspaper in the world.

He wished he could call Lana and tell her of his trials in Metropolis.

Instead Clark decided to gather his thoughts on his next course of action for a job by going for a walk. So he stepped onto the wall and paced forward to the top, where the wall met the ceiling. He needed a convincing article to show Perry White that the Daily Planet could use a reporter like him, but his most promising article, the expose he had done on the knob-tailed gecko from the Borneo Gazette, wasn’t taken very well. He needed something fresh, something the Planet wanted but hadn’t got yet.

A snippet of the morning’s meeting played in his mind.

“…that mood piece I gave you? The razing of the old theater on Forty-second?” Perry had asked the woman who had walked in on the interview.

“I wasn’t in the mood,” was her sarcastic reaction.

Clark was formulating a plan. If he got the article and gave it to Mr. White, using all the skill he knew the Editor had appreciated in the gecko story even if he hadn’t appreciated the subject itself, he was sure to impress him enough to get the job. He could get to the building early in the morning before they razed it and perhaps get the human-interest side of it; he would be a shoe in. He was sure Lois Lane hadn’t covered the story yet; she hardly seemed the type to drop a potentially big story for a “mood piece”.

Clark could hardly wait for the morning to arrive.

~~~

“…she had come to say goodbye. Goodbye to a young girl in a gossamer dress, goodbye to the players, long dead, to the spirit of the theater, so strong that nothing, not even a wrecking ball, could destroy it,” Perry read aloud the article that Clark had submitted as though it had been written for the stage by William Shakespeare. “She came to say goodbye,” he continued, “as we all must, to the past, and to a life and a place that soon would exist only in a bittersweet memory.”

“Smooth,” Clark heard the younger man from yesterday mutter. He stood behind Clark as they stood in front of Perry White’s desk at the Daily Planet. The young woman from yesterday, revealed yesterday by Perry as being Lois Lane, stood off to the side, leaning against the wall.

Her huff was audible as she scoffed at the fluffy nature of the story. At Perry’s gaze she responded finally, “Yeah, if you like that sort of thing.”

“Kent,” Perry said, turning his gaze back to Clark, “there’s one attribute I value as much as experience, and that’s initiative.” He extended his hand to the hopeful candidate, and Clark smiled shakily. “Clark Kent, welcome to the Daily Planet.”

Clark’s smile widened more steadily, as he accepted the hand offered and shook it earnestly.

There was a commotion in the newsroom, outside of the office, and the four joined the other staff members who had gathered around the television monitors to witness the horrific fate of the Messenger pre-dawn flight. After the anchor-person finished the mournful introduction to the scene, Lois turned to Perry.

“I knew there was something to Platt’s story. I knew it,” she finished definitively.

Perry’s stunned expression was present in his tone as he addressed Lois, “Lois, just because one madman’s predictions come true, doesn’t mean there is a conspiracy to sabotage the entire space program.”

“Maybe not,” Lois agreed, “but with over a hundred colonists going up in the next launch,” she stared pointedly at Perry, “are you willing to take that risk?” His face conceded that he wasn’t.

“There are no clues as to the cause of this disaster,” spoke an attractive blonde woman identified as Dr. Antoinette Baines, “and, so far, no link to the previous setbacks EPRAD has encountered during the past year.”

The news-anchor returned to the screen, and went on to explain the position that the space station Prometheus was currently in. He explained how the Congress of Nations, and international committee made up of representatives from across the globes, were deciding whether to continue the internationally financed space station. There were also questions as to whether or not man should live in space.

“Of course we were destined for outer space!” Jimmy gushed, then turning to Clark he asked, “You believe in life on other planets, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Clark replied instantaneously. Lois turned with a disbelieving look on her face.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well,” Clark responded carefully, “what about Superman? I mean, no one really knows where he came from.”

“Superman,” Lois answered with disdain, “is nothing but an overgrown little boy in tights, using his so called, ‘super-powers’ to interfere in people’s lives.”

“*Save* peoples lives,” Clark corrected. Lois eye’s narrowed as she responded to his edit.

“Yeah, those he chooses to.” Considering the matter closed, Lois left to follow Perry as he walked towards his office. Clark watched her graceful strides as she walked away from him. He was sure he hadn’t mistaken the animosity in her voice, and was confused as to what she meant by her final comment. Surely she didn’t think Superman picked who he wanted to save, that she realized that he couldn’t save everyone. Furthermore, he was curious as to what gave her the initial idea.

Perry turned to Lois as he approached his office door. She took a step back, momentarily startled as his abrupt turn.

“Give me a minute,” he said quietly.

“But, Chief—” she began, the argument already running up from her throat.

“One minute,” he demanded, barely able to control his reaction. “Please.”

“No problem, Chief,” she acquiesced, seeing the tension in his jaw. “Take two.”

***
(tbc)