From Part 2...
Lois was in bed, but sleep wouldn’t come.
He’s a colleague, she told herself. Off limits.
She’d been sure he was going to kiss her tonight. And judging by the focus of his eyes, it wasn’t going to be a friendship kiss on the cheek.
Her heart rolled at the thought of him ... and her ...
He’s a *colleague*.
And worse ... a temporary one. She had no doubt that eventually the acid of Metropolis would burn through his soft Kansas hide and mercilessly shred his gallant heart. Then he would leave.
And she would be more alone than she had been before she went to Smallville.
PART 3
When Clark arrived at the Planet the next morning, Lois’s desk was vacant. He put her coffee on his desk and logged on to his computer.
Jimmy came up, holding photos. “CK,” he said. “Perry wants to see you.”
“What do you have there?” Clark asked, gesturing to the photos.
Jimmy showed him. “They’re for Lois’s story on Lex Luthor.”
Clark examined the photos of the smiling, confident man. Then he noticed the cufflink on Luthor’s left sleeve. Clark lowered his glasses and magnified it. It was identical to the one he’d found in the rubble of Janet Thorp’s shop.
“Did you take these this morning?” Clark asked.
“No such luck. A guy like me doesn’t get to take photos of a guy like Lex Luthor. He sent these.” Jimmy took back the photos. “Better get to the Chief,” he reminded Clark.
“Thanks, Jimmy.” Clark went into Perry’s office.
“How’s it going, Clark?” Perry asked, looking up from his work.
“Early days, but good, I think.” He studied Perry’s face. “Are you concerned I’m not up for this job?”
Perry laughed. “I back my judgement better than that. How are you finding working with Lois?”
“Interesting.”
The two men shared a smile. “She’s a tornado, but if you can stick with her, you’ll learn a lot.”
“I know that.”
“So you don’t mind if you two work together for a bit?”
“It’s fine with me, but you should ask Lois what she thinks.” Clark glanced to her still-empty desk.
“She’s doing the Luthor interview. I’m not expecting her back until after lunch.”
“That long?”
“Luthor wants an in-depth feature on the hospital.”
“Do you think she’ll be all right?”
“Lois? Are you kidding me? She’ll be back here with everything she needs for a great story.”
“Perry?” Clark said. “It’s Janet Thorp’s funeral this afternoon. Would it be all right if I went?”
Perry nodded his approval and Clark went back to his desk.
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Lois still hadn’t come in when Clark left for the funeral. He was a little worried about her, but both Jimmy and Perry seemed confident Lois could look after herself.
The funeral comprised of a casket, an elderly preacher, an even more ancient organist, four church deacons and him. Clark felt his shoulders slump. Janet Thorp had lived and died ... and the only mourner at her funeral had spent less than twenty minutes with her.
The preacher came over to Clark. “Are you family?” he asked.
“No.”
“Can you help me here? I know nothing about her.”
“Janet was a seamstress. She worked in a tiny place on the East Side. Her mother died last year.”
“Anything else?”
Regretfully, Clark shook his head.
“Thanks. We should get started.”
As the preacher walked to the pulpit, a woman came in. Clark hurried over to her. “Did you know Janet Thorp?” he asked.
“I knew her mother, Ellie.”
“Can we talk afterwards?”
“No. This is my lunch break. I have to get back to work.”
“Did you know Ellie worked for Lex Luthor?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know why she stopped working for him?”
“No. But I know it was sudden.”
“Did she have any hostility towards Luthor?”
“She wouldn’t talk about it. Or him.”
“How long between when she finished working for him and her death?”
“Not long, less than a month.”
The preacher was ready to begin. “Thank you for coming,” Clark said.
With memories of Janet being close to non-existent, the funeral was short. If it hadn’t been for the sluggish crawl through every verse of ‘Amazing Grace’, it would have been over in less than ten minutes. The preacher asked if either Clark or the woman wished to speak and both declined.
The four wardens carried the casket out of the church, followed by the preacher and Clark, as the woman hurried back to her job.
Clark revisited his scant memories of Janet Thorp as he walked, hands thrust deep in his pockets. It was so unspeakably sad that a life could end without causing so much as a ripple through the surrounding world. Her aloneness seemed to seep out of the casket and cling to him.
Then Clark felt a soft touch on his sleeve. He looked sideways. Lois. Lois - looking up at him, her eyes sweet with empathy. His despair evaporated.
Without saying a word, she lifted his wrist out of his pocket and slipped her hand into his. Her hand was small and warm and as his fingers curled around hers, a rivulet of well-being trickled up his arm.
He looked from their entwined hands back to her face. He squeezed her hand and was rewarded with her answering smile.
Together, they followed the casket until they reached Janet Thorp’s final resting place. The preacher read a portion from the Bible about love and Clark wondered exactly how much love Janet had experienced in her too-short life. Did she willingly sell her property to Luthor? Was her death really the result of a tragic accident?
As her casket disappeared into the ground, Clark vowed he would try to find answers for her.
When it was over, the preacher extended his hand and Clark reluctantly broke away from Lois. After shaking the preacher’s hand, he immediately sought her again, inwardly sighing with relief when she allowed him to re-connect. It felt so right, so perfect. Slowly, they walked away.
“How are you doing?” she asked once they were in the Jeep.
“You know, that would *never* happen in Smallville?” He stared back to the graveyard. “Regardless of who you were, or whether you had family, or friends, the people of the town would always make sure you had a decent burial.”
She put her hand on his cheek and turned his face towards her. “Metropolis isn’t Smallville, Clark.”
Her eyes shone like polished jarrah. “Thank you for coming,” he said, knowing it didn’t begin to express the depth of his appreciation. He wanted to touch her, to complete the circuit she’d initiated with her hand on his face. Her dark hair arched around her jaw like an invitation. He slowly lifted his hand, giving her time to pull back. When she didn’t, he slid his hand under her hair and along her jaw line, his fingertips exploring the smooth skin below her ear. He gently stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
She put her hand on top of his and smiled at him.
Far too soon, she backed away and started the Jeep.
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Lois parked outside a café. “I haven’t had lunch yet,” she said. “Let’s eat.”
“Haven’t you got the Luthor story to write?”
”Plenty of time,” she said, not entirely truthfully. She knew as soon as they got back to the Planet, she would be engrossed in her story and Clark would be left to his own thoughts. Thoughts which would centre on Janet Thorp.
“How was your interview with Luthor?” Clark asked, after they had ordered.
“Different. Not your standard interview, that’s for sure.”
“Different how?”
“For starters, we had breakfast in Nantucket.”
“That would be crowded this time of the year.”
“Not if you book out the entire restaurant.”
“Oh.”
“Coming back on his private jet, Luthor outlined the entire hospital project. It is going to have the very latest in technology. It’ll be large and spacious and meet the needs of the families and staff as well as the patients.”
“Sounds like he impressed you.”
“His plans sure did.”
Their food arrived. “How about the man?” Clark asked as they began eating. “Did *he* impress you?”
“Clark.” She put down her fork and pinned him with her eyes, trying to control the grin she knew was threatening in response to what looked suspiciously like a tinge of jealousy. “I’m not going to deny I enjoyed the novelty of being flown to breakfast in the company of a charming man. And having Luthor’s undivided attention for so long is the sort of opportunity every reporter craves.”
“You deserve it,” Clark said graciously.
“But that doesn’t mean I think any less of you just because you can’t fly me to Maine for breakfast.”
“As we were leaving her, Janet said she would never sell to him.”
“I didn’t hear her say that, Clark.”
“I have very good hearing.” Clark nodded to a table on the far side of the noisy café. “See the couple near the window? He’s ordering the quiche.”
Lois smiled. “See the specials’ board? The first item is quiche. Half the people here are ordering it.”
“He wants ketchup on his.”
“Ugh.”
“I know Janet Thorp’s mother worked for Luthor,” Clark persisted.
“He’s the third richest man in the world. Half of Metropolis has worked for him at some point.”
“But it proves Janet would know Luthor beyond merely a name. When his offer came, she would trust him or not, depending on her mother’s experience. That she held out suggests the experience wasn’t positive.”
Lois could see Clark genuinely thought he was onto something. “Clark,” she said kindly, “You don’t have anything that can’t be fairly easily explained.”
“The building is starting within two weeks. Don’t you think it’s all happening very quickly and smoothly – as if he knew in advance things would fall his way?”
“He’s a very successful businessman. I imagine he’d cover every eventuality.”
“Then there’s the fact that the two people who stood in the way of Luthor are now dead.”
“*Clark* –“
Clark took a cufflink from his pocket. “I found this in Janet Thorp’s shop,” he said, showing her. “Luthor had one the same.”
Lois examined the cufflink. “When did you go to Janet Thorp’s? This morning?”
Clark gestured to the waiter who was carrying food across to the couple they had watched order. The quiche on the plate was smothered in tomato ketchup.
Lois couldn’t help but laugh at his told-you-so look and satisfied grin. “Clark, ketchup on quiche does *not* make Luthor a criminal.”
He laughed with her as he pocketed the cufflink. But under it, she knew his suspicions still simmered unabated.
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Lois and Clark were the only two still in the newsroom. Lois put the finishing touches to her feature on the Luthor Hospital for Children and closed down her computer.
She stretched, tired. It had been a long day, starting many hours ago on Luthor’s private jet. She recalled the funeral and Clark’s sorrow. She wished there was a way to shield him from the inevitable.
She wondered about his distrust of Luthor. It seemed unlikely Luthor was involved in anything illegal. He was known for his philanthropy – hospitals, charities, youth resources. LexCorp was the financial backbone of so many community projects.
But Clark, despite being a little green, was not a complete fool. If he thought it possible Luthor had a dark side, he must have something firm to base it on. Was it possible Clark knew something he hadn’t shared with her?
He glanced up from his monitor and caught her looking at him. “Finished?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is it going in tomorrow’s edition?”
“No, the day after. But I wanted to finish it tonight.”
He turned off his computer. “Ready?”
“You’ve finished too?” she teased. “At exactly the same time I did?”
He smiled at her tone. “I finished awhile ago,” he admitted.
She controlled the little smile rising in her throat. “So why are you still here?”
“I’m waiting for you.”
She went to his desk. “You know Clark, I *can* get myself home safely. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“Maybe that’s not why I waited.” Despite his easy-going smile and the relaxed way he was leaning back in his seat, Lois discerned an underlying opening in his words.
She decided not to accept. She had enough to process once she got home and could clear her mind. Holding his hand today – there was a memory requiring some re-examination. “Let’s get out of here, Kent,” she said lightly.
He stood and put on his jacket. As they walked to the elevator, she felt Clark’s hand rest on her back. Had it been anyone else, she would have increased her pace and moved out of range.
Instead, she deliberately slowed, causing his touch to deepen a little. If he noticed, he gave no indication. But she noticed - noticed how it caused a little tremor to scurry across her back.
“Are you driving home?” he asked.
“No, I’d like to walk.” That took longer.
“You must be tired,” he said, as they entered the elevator.
“I am. But I’m too wound up to sleep, so I’d like to walk.”
Now she’d given him an opening. Would he take it? And if he did, would she tell him the truth or retreat back to the oh-so-available excuse of work? He didn’t ask, so she didn’t have to decide.
They didn’t speak in the elevator, nor as they walked out of the Planet building. It was dark outside. And they were alone. And she was just tired enough to fray the ends of her usual reserve. She shivered.
“Are you cold?” he asked instantly.
“A little.”
His jacket was on her shoulders within seconds. “Thanks,” she said. The warmth from his jacket enveloped her. It felt good; she *had* been a little cold. But it felt particularly good because it was *his* warmth.
Oh, Lane, she admonished herself, you’ve got it *so* bad.
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Clark loved how she looked in his jacket. It was way too big for her and accentuated the disparity in their sizes. She sure packed a lot of personality in that petite body.
That it was *his* jacket made it so much more enjoyable. “Are Metropolis days usually so full?” he asked.
“It *was* big – a funeral, a trip to Nantucket, the interview with Luthor, lunch and a feature.” She pulled his jacket tighter and he wished their relationship was such that he could put his arm across her shoulders and draw her into his body warmth.
“Are you tired, farmboy, after only three days in the big city?”
He glanced at her before answering. Seeing she wasn’t serious, he said, “I’m never too tired to walk you home, Ms Lane.”
“Thanks.” They walked in silence for a few steps. “Clark?”
“Uhm?”
“Do you ever think about the Sewells? The scientists who said they had a space ship?”
“What about them?”
“What if they really did find a space ship? What if there *was* someone in it?”
“Do you think that’s likely?”
“No. But it can’t be that simple to demand a million dollars from the government if you have absolutely no substance to your claims.”
“I suppose so.”
“I’ve thought about it a lot.”
“Have you come to any conclusions?”
“Only that I keep hitting dead ends. I don’t know where the Sewells are now. Jimmy gave me their address in Wichita and I checked it out and the neighbours said they went to Smallville for the Sunflower Celebration just as they had the past few years. Only this time they didn’t come back. A week later a moving company came and emptied the house. They told the neighbours the Sewells had moved west.”
“Did the neighbours think that strange?”
“They said the Sewells kept very much to themselves. Rarely left the house, rarely spoke beyond ‘good morning’. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“Wonder what?” Clark asked.
“Whether they really had a secret.”
“Or whether they locked themselves away to work on a hoax.”
“You mean build a spaceship themselves?”
“It’s possible.”
“I hate that there are so many questions and so few answers.”
Her evident frustration clunked around Clark’s consciousness – highlighting the sure realisation of how easily any one of several land mines could blow with a little digging from Lois Lane. His friendship with her was so new, so precariously balanced, so vulnerable, he just wanted to be normal in her eyes until they had established some sort of foundation. Something strong enough to weather revelations of Richter scale proportions.
“You’ve gone quiet,” she said.
“Just thinking.”
“I wish I knew how to contact Franklin Hodge.”
“Even if you did, do you think he’d tell you anything?”
She grinned up at him. “You’re talking to the reporter who got the interview with Lex Luthor today.”
They arrived at the front door of her apartment building. He waited while she unlocked the door, content to allow her the freedom to determine how they parted.
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Lois unlocked the door with slow deliberation. She turned to him. “Clark, would you ...?”
“Would I what?”
“Come in.”
He blushed.
Every other man she’d known would have taken that as an invitation and by now would be hustling them to her third floor apartment.
But Clark Kent just stood there, his face a little pink, his ears a definite red. He was man enough to see the possibilities, gentleman enough not to assume they were a given.
The combination was intoxicating.
“Just for a moment,” she hurried to assure him. “There is something I want to say to you.”
“OK,” he said uncertainly.
He followed her and stood uneasily in her apartment, still jacketless. She could see he was trying to make his face expressionless, but the disquiet in his eyes gave him away.
“Last night when you asked me why I thought you were unsuited to working in Metropolis, you seemed to think I didn’t want you here and I just want to clear up any misunderstanding.”
“OK,” he said in the same tentative tone.
“Clark, there’s no other way to say this. If you stay here, you will get battered and bruised and you’ll try so hard to make a difference, and for every small victory, you’ll face a hundred defeats and eventually it will crush you – or worse, it will harden you – and when you do go back to Smallville, your parents will wonder where their son has gone.”
“You think I’m that fragile?”
“No, of course not. It’s just ... there are only two outcomes I can see from you being here ... and I don’t like either of them.”
His jaw flexed as he swallowed and looked away.
Lois hurried on. “Either you’ll give up and go home.”
“Or?”
“You’ll stay and slowly become more resentful and more cynical ... and that would be ... just awful.”
“So ... you don’t want me to stay,” he said, confused. “And ... you don’t want me to leave?”
“Clark ...” Now she regretted getting into this. The only way out was to say things she hadn’t intended to divulge. Not yet, anyway.
Could she trust him? In truth, she didn’t know. But on the balance of probabilities - maybe. He hadn’t betrayed her so far. He hadn’t stolen her story.
But this was her heart. Losing that hurt more than losing a story.
“Why don’t you want me to leave?” he asked quietly.
There was no graceful way to back out of this. “Because I like you being here,” she blurted.
His smile exploded. He was trying to keep it a little contained and failing dismally. “I like being here too,” he said, through a heart-stopping grin.
She smiled back at him.
“So could you explain again why you don’t want me to stay?” he said.
“Because ...” OK, she was going to say it and hang the consequences. “Because I like you the way you are.”
If she thought his previous grin was explosive, it had nothing on this one. After a long moment, as if needing to recover, he said, “And you think Metropolis will change me?”
“Clark ... you’re so decent, so sure the world is a good place. It hurt you when Janet Thorp died. That was one day, one person. Things like that will happen again and again and again.”
He stepped closer to her. “Then I’ll need someone to be there for me,” he murmured, low and husky. “Someone who knows me well enough to tell me if I’m changing. Someone who cares enough to come and hold my hand.”
She smiled. She just couldn’t help it. They stood in her apartment, not touching physically, just staring at each other and grinning.
“Lois, it’s late,” he said eventually. “I have to go.”
“I know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Every tomorrow, Lois,” he pledged. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He brushed his fingers across her cheek and his thumb lingered on the corner of her mouth. Then he turned and left.
It was only after he’d gone she realised she was still wearing his jacket.
She took it off and breathed in deeply. His scent, his cologne – vaguely coconut - filled her nostrils and she was overwhelmed by how much she wished it wasn’t just his jacket staying the night.
So why hadn’t he kissed her when it was clear he wanted to and even clearer she was pitifully desperate for him to?
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Clark sauntered back to his apartment, his mind spinning.
Lois liked him! She liked him being here! He shook his head, trying to digest her words.
Lois, beautiful, capable, independent Lois had somehow seen beyond his country-boy exterior and, unbelievably, found someone not-automatically-dismissible.
He wanted to shoot into the stratosphere. Tomorrow morning couldn’t come quickly enough.
The voice of reason hammered through his head. Hold on, Kent, she said ‘like’, not ‘love’; she might be thinking brother not lover.
“Hey!”
Clark stopped abruptly. Two men glared at him, enraged by his sudden appearance and near collision with them. He didn’t need x-ray vision to see one had a knife tucked into the hip of his pants.
Clark raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t see you.”
The man’s hand went to his hip and Clark turned and walked away, hoping his disinterest and lack of fear would convince them he was not a threat.
He tuned in his hearing. They were silent until he was forty yards away, then they continued.
“So it’s coming in tomorrow night?”
“Yeah. Usual places. Spread the word.”
“You sure? The streets have been dry for a week. There’s a lot of desperate people out there.”
“I’m sure. Be there just after eleven.”
Clark heard their footsteps slink away in opposite directions.
He pushed the conversation to the back of his mind for later assessment and returned to thoughts of Lois.
What if she was thinking they could be great friends?
Friends would be excruciating. To see her every day, to laugh with her and watch her and work with her, to be subjected to her little touches on his arm or his shoulder and to know that much as she *liked* him, she would never be in love with him.
He could survive the evils of Metropolis, but *that* would surely destroy him piece by agonising piece.
He should have kissed her.
He should have kissed her full on those enticing lips just to see how she reacted.
Tomorrow he would. He would look for the opportunity and when it came, he would kiss her.
Tomorrow morning just couldn’t come quickly enough.
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Lois’s fractured frame of mind was evidenced in every aggressive step as she strode to the Planet the next morning. She had to walk because her Jeep was still in the Planet car park. That was his fault.
She hadn’t slept. Not one wink. That was his fault too.
She’d had to detour to drop his jacket at the cleaners because it was now crumpled from spending the night on her bed as she’d tried to sleep despite the doubts and questions curdling through her mind. That was most definitely his fault too.
Clark Kent! Just those words elevated her significant headache towards the boundaries of unbearable.
Why couldn’t he be normal? Why couldn’t he have kissed her goodnight? She’d exposed her soul, confessed far more than was prudent and he’d just grinned, said good night and left.
Any normal man would have tested the waters. More than tested them. Any normal man would have jumped in feet first and completely soaked both of them.
But you’ve had *normal* men before, her rational voice argued, and look how they turned out.
But normal or not, here she was ... again ... obsessing over how a guy felt about her.
Lois fished in her bag, found three aspirin, gulped them down and swigged on her water bottle.
Today was not going to be a good day. She could just feel it.
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Clark was at his desk. He was listening for Lois’s footsteps, although an observer would have thought his attention was exclusively focused on his monitor.
He studied the layer of maps he had assembled. Something was going to happen tonight. Something was ‘coming in’.
His conclusion, once he’d managed to lever his mind off Lois, had been drugs. It tied in with people being desperate. And if drugs were ‘coming in’, what better way than through the warehouse, into Luthor’s tunnel and onto the streets of Metropolis?
He needed to get out there. Familiarise himself with where the off-shoot tunnels came up to street level. Investigate the warehouse covering the main entrance to the tunnel.
And he needed to do it without Lois. She was too high-profile and too known to Luthor. Just the sight of the Planet’s top reporter sniffing around could tip the balance and jeopardise tonight’s delivery.
Clark logged off his computer and put on his jacket. He smiled, remembering how his other jacket was still with Lois. ‘I like you the way you are.’ He replayed her words, for, oh maybe the millionth time. “I *like* you too, honey,” he muttered under his breath. “A *whole* lot.”
He waited for the elevator. The door opened and he was nose-to-nose with Lois. “Hi, Lois” he managed, caught off-guard.
“Hi, Clark.” Her tone was light, inconsequential. She swung past him towards her desk.
“I have to ... I’ll be back,” he said quickly.
She turned. “You’ve got a story?” she asked. “Want me to come?”
“No.”
That sparked her. He watched her lightning transformation from disinterest to rabid curiosity. “Why?”
He stepped into the elevator and pushed the button. “See you when I get back,” he said as the door closed.
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Lois stormed, with as much vigour as her thumping head would allow, into Perry’s office. “What’s with Kent?” she demanded.
Perry looked up from his desk. “Kent?”
“He’s off on a story. By himself.”
That annoying little know-it-all smirk settled on Perry’s face. “I thought you didn’t want to work with him.”
“I don’t,” she barked. “But I do want the best stories and if he has one, I should be on it.”
“I have no idea what he’s working on,” Perry said.
She considered him for a long moment, but his eyes didn’t waver.
Lois slumped into the chair. “What could he *possibly* have?” she asked. “He has no sources, no contacts, no idea.”
“Then he’ll probably be back later with *no* story,” Perry said reasonably.
That notion eased her headache a little. That would teach him to go off without her. “But, Perry –“
“Let him go,” Perry said. “Let’s see what he can do. Meanwhile, I want you to get down to the school and cover the opening of their new gymnasium.”
“A school gym?” she said in disgust. “Come on, Chief, surely you’ve got something better than that?”
“No, I haven’t. I was going to send Kent, but seeing he’s not here, you can do it.”
Lois burst out of his office, ignoring how much her head protested. Lois Lane covering a school gym opening! This was most definitely, undeniably, absolutely and totally his fault too!
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tbc...
Nb - Jarrah is a hard, beautiful brown timber, grown almost exclusively in Western Australia.
http://www.naturallytimber.com.au/timber-details.html
