Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Doodles: Part 2 - The Docks (2/4)

Description: Lois used to doodle the 'S' on her pad … now she doodles something else.
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Acknowledgements and Comments

This takes place somewhere in early Season 2. Lois and Clark are not yet dating. Lois' feelings for Clark are seriously accelerated. The 'hinted at' a-plot is all for show. Believe me, this is all about the b-plot. WAFFyness abounds, especially at the end.

Thanks to my two betas for this: Mozartmaid and Morgana. Your encouragement was definitely needed and it was great to know that this story was getting the kind of reactions I was hoping for.

Disclaimer: Superman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane and all other character and place names are owned by DC and/or Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. I own nothing ... except my fantasies -- which frequently include Clark/Superman.
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From Part 1 - The Notepad

"Ready?" he asked, as he pulled his jacket from the back of his chair.

Lois looked up and frowned in confusion. She shook her head and let out a tiny laugh as she replied. "Ready." Either the pen wouldn't come off, or Clark had forgotten what he was visiting the restroom for by the time he got there.

As they both approached the steps up to the elevator, a little snippet of a scene played out in her head. She saw Clark pushing open the door to the men's room, striding in then stopping in confusion. 'What am I doing in here?' came the softly mumbled thought. She saw Clark shrug and then turn into a stall. 'May as well take the opportunity,' was his next comment.

Unable to suppress a giggle, she lifted her hand to her mouth and bit the inside of her cheek. Clark still seemed to notice. He turned and reached out a hand to catch her elbow.

"Everything all right, Lois?"

"Mmm hmm," she nodded, now finding it harder to contain herself as the line of blue ink was right at eye level.

Clark held her arm until they made it to the elevator. Standing waiting for the doors to open, Lois warred with herself over whether to tell him. When she recalled the accident which caused the mark on his neck she felt herself blushing in humiliation, though. He so very nearly saw her scribbled signature of Lois Kent. Heart beating wildly, she dared a quick glance back up to view Clark's neck. No. She wouldn't tell him. He could suffer embarrassment all day as penance for nearly finding out her deepest secret. He could stay like that, and every time Lois saw that pen strike she would be able to find a little strength to counter the insane attraction she felt for him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Part 2 - The Docks

Standing waiting for the elevator Clark cast a surreptitious glance down at his partner. Leading her up the steps while gently holding her elbow was one of the ways he attempted to demonstrate his love to Lois. Day by day he tried to let his feelings show, but subtly - carefully - never pushing too much, never being more than just a caring best friend.

Yet he still hoped that she'd notice, that she'd figure it out. He wanted her to know how much he was in love with her, but if she figured it out herself then the 'embarrassment' factor would be eliminated. He wouldn't feel embarrassed during his confession, she wouldn't feel embarrassed by her lack of reciprocation. In fact, as he'd never openly declared his feelings, he could always convince himself that she might not actually know, or might not be 100% sure of her interpretation, so she'd never call him on it, she’d never approach him - in case she was wrong – once again saving his embarrassment at being found out, or her embarrassment in case she'd overinflated his feelings for her.

He wanted her to know. He just didn't want to risk his heart openly again. That day was still a scar, deep inside, which ached on metaphorical 'rainy days'.

As the elevator doors opened, and he ushered Lois in ahead of him, she gave a little cough and covered her mouth. "Are you all right, Lois?" he asked. She looked up at him, pausing at his jaw for a moment and then moving up to meet his eyes. She drew down her hand.

"Fine, Kent. Absolutely fine," came her not quite unwavering reply. She dropped her gaze and then reached out to push the button for the parking garage.

Clark frowned, wondering what the matter was. Clearly something was wrong even though Lois claimed the opposite. Suddenly he remembered. He was supposed to have washed his neck. Lois had paused at his jaw, obviously seeing the pen mark she'd left there.

What was she thinking now? It would still be there, yet he'd claimed to be going to wash it off. A shout for help from a nearby alley had called him away to prevent a mugging. Returning, less than a minute later, he had fallen into his usual routine whenever a 'bathroom break' was used as an excuse. He'd never stepped foot inside the restroom and had clear forgotten about the pen on his neck and that his 'bathroom break' was not supposed to have been an excuse this time.

Considering that she had noticed, but said nothing, and was clearly trying to hide some kind of emotional reaction, she was happy to leave him sporting a blue mark all day. Her respect for him knew no bounds! He shook his head in defeat. Today was a 'rainy day'. He'd have to remember to wash it off pretty soon, and he could no longer rely on Lois to remind him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

All through the journey to the docks Clark fought against despair. His long held hope, that Lois would - ever so gradually - fall deeply and passionately in love with him, seemed even more unrealistic than usual. He often allowed himself to dream that her friendly manner was concealing a changing heart, but her lack of respect for him was clearer than usual today.

Climbing out of the car the moment it stopped he raced around to the other side, but Lois was already emerging. He took the door anyway and held out his hand to her elbow. She deftly moved past, not allowing contact, and continued on towards the dock office. Clark closed the door and then sprinted to catch up. He raised his hand to guide her along, reaching out for that spot at the bottom of her spine. A moment before touching he drew it back, remembering her avoidance at the car, and dropped it, his heart dropping in tandem.

Lois pushed open the door to the dock office and Clark followed. He immediately noticed a sign for the restrooms and indicated to Lois.

"Didn't you go back at the office before we set off?" she whispered incredulously.

He shrugged and avoided answering her question directly. She groaned, rolled her eyes and then turned to approach the man behind the desk.

Clark pushed open the door and entered the tiny space designated as the restroom. He closed and locked the door then looked around for a mirror. The tiny sink, in one corner, had what could only be described as a hand mirror hanging above it. He attempted to look under his chin, tilting his head at all angles to catch sight of the pen mark in the minute mirror. He sighed and smiled when he finally saw the blue line starting below his chin, travelling along his neck and then disappearing behind his ear. Keeping his eyes on it he reached down and fumbled with the tap, letting the water begin to run. A quick glance down and he squeezed some soap onto his hands then brought it up to his chin.

He stopped, unable to continue. He stared at the line. The mark. Lois' mark.

He opened his mouth in a silent cry then, after a moment, his forehead creased in a wistful frown. She'd marked him long ago. Branded her name on his heart, in his soul. And that brand was much deeper, more permanent, than this. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to wash it off. He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. "Lois," he whispered then breathed deeply again. Opening his eyes he pushed away his emotions and began to rub at the blue line.

Superman couldn't afford to be seen with a pen mark on his neck. Although only Lois would know that 'Clark' had been the recipient of her wild gesticulations, the general public would easily have wild speculations about Superman if he was seen in this manner. Of course, he could already be too late. The mugging he had stopped straight after the pen incident was already in the past. Clark reasoned with himself that there was little chance of the muggers seeing the pen mark. They'd run at the first opportunity. And the victim hadn't really looked up at him. Tears and shock had kept her staring at the ground, mostly. Plus, it had all been dealt with in only one minute.

Inspecting his face once more in the tiny mirror Clark took a paper towel and wiped off the soap and water then returned out to the office, and the lady whose mark was still figuratively present on his heart, if no longer literally present on his body.

"C'mon, Kent," came Lois' immediate order. "Apparently we have free reign to talk to whoever we meet." She turned to look back at the skinny, balding guy behind the main desk. "Thanks," she called out.

Clark was hustled out of the door before he could say a word. Lois' tone led him to suspect that this interviewing freedom had been steamrollered out of the poor man.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Well, what a waste of time that was," Lois growled as she forcefully tossed her handbag down onto the table. Striding into her kitchen, she yanked open the refrigerator door and reached for a carton of milk.

"Ugh." She let out another frustrated sound once she was done, returning the milk to its home and closing the door. Striding back over to the table she dropped into the chair despondently. She rummaged around in her bag then drew out her notepad and began to systematically look through her notes for the afternoon.

Wandering the docks, looking for witnesses, supervisors, managers - anyone who could help Clark and her to move along this investigation - had resulted in the sum total of two pages of useless notes. She flipped back to the beginning of her notes and the first dockworker they had found. As Clark gently coaxed out of the frightened man the truth that he had been on the docks for one of the fires, but down at the other end, Lois had scribbled the important facts down. When there was nothing more to gain she had found herself doodling again.

Lois glanced down at the evidence of her wandering mind. At least she'd managed to check her romantic wanderings at 'Lois' this time, rather than ending up scribbling 'Lois Lane-Kent', or worse 'Lois Kent', all over the page - right when Clark was there to see it.

She flipped over the page and scanned her notes once more. "We're missing something," she mused out loud. That feeling, of the vital piece of evidence being just out of reach, was washing over her.

Making a snap decision, she raced into her bedroom and changed into a dark, comfortable outfit.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Keeping an eye on Lois Lane was a major part of every day for Clark Kent. It was also a major part of every 'patrol' period for Superman. Tonight was no exception. He'd noticed her about ten minutes ago. Apparently some part of his subconscious was tuned into her. Most days some sound, some movement at the corner of his eyes … something … would catch his attention - in either guise - and then there was nothing he could do except follow her, to make sure that she wasn't getting herself into trouble.

Watching from above, he saw her slipping through the fence at the southern end of the docks. She was dressed in black. A cap covered her hair. Hissing her name through his teeth in frustration he let himself drift lower … nearer. He watched as she made her way in among the barrels, boxes and small store houses which filled up the south part. Knowing what he did about the investigation and where their visit had led them this afternoon, he presumed that Lois would be heading for the northern end. That's where the two fires had taken place, on two consecutive early mornings.

Thankfully it was late evening, not early morning, or Clark would have been having a panic attack thinking that Lois was hoping to put herself at the heart of a third fire, looking for the front-page exclusive. As it was, she just slowly made her way north … in a very cautious manner. The dock was not completely empty overnight. Although most ships arrived or left during daylight hours, every few days there would be one arriving overnight. This could be due to the distance it was travelling, or unexpected delays on a journey originally expected to end in the daytime. Tonight was one of those nights.

A quick x-ray revealed a hold full of pineapples in wooden crates.

Clark immediately returned his focus to the black shadow creeping round a darkened warehouse and still ever northward. After ten minutes of watching her he began to feel the tension in his muscles. Because he was hovering in one position, his muscles were not getting any movement and his shoulders had gradually stiffened, almost as if he were anticipating having to speed off in the blink of an eye. Readiness was all around him. He felt his heart pounding, strong and slightly elevated.

When Lois reached the site of the first fire she stopped, crouched down behind a large crate next to the opposite warehouse. Clark watched as she lifted her head, took a look around and then headed for the ocean end of the warehouse. At that point she peered around the corner, then looked up and down the docks. The ship of pineapples was being unloaded in a more central pier and the few workers would be too far away to see her, especially as she had dressed suitably for this … exploration.

Lois jogged over to the charred building and began to search around the perimeter. Crouching down and shuffling along she pulled a pen torch out of her pocket and began shining it over the ground. Clark sighed, remembering her theories from earlier in the day. They included 'abandoned cigarette', 'sun shining through a broken glass bottle' and 'arson'. Possibly she was looking for the cigarette or the broken bottle. He shook his head in amusement and smiled.

Continuing to watch both her and the pineapple workers, he drifted a little higher again. She wasn't really in that much trouble, and he should just leave her to it. He was sure to find out exactly what happened in the morning. She'd appear on his doorstep at 7am and hold out some vital piece of evidence. He'd look up to see that 'got 'em' grin on her face. Then, as always, they'd write up the story and go back to looking for their next big scoop.

He gazed back down at her one last time then told himself that it was time to move on.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Lois brushed away that shiver down her spine once more. She'd felt as if she were being watched ever since entering the docks. That's why she'd taken it so slow, getting to the north warehouses. She'd carefully checked every corner, before moving from warehouse to warehouse; from barrel to crate. She'd even taken a slight detour inwards, rather than follow the piers directly, when she'd seen the ship being unloaded. But, so far, no-one had clamped her on the shoulder and hauled her off site.

Now, she was shining her pen-torch into the debris near the warehouse door. Behind her was the pier which would have been used whenever unloading into this warehouse. Crouching down she saw black, charred ash marks on the concrete ground. She didn't really know what she was searching for any longer, just that something must be here … She stood and twirled around, still shining the light down. A spot of something yellow reflected back at her. She wrinkled her brow and crouched back down. On closer inspection it looked like a paint splash. She shined her light around a little and found another. After another moment she found more. Following the trail she ended up on the wooden pier.

Half way down she finally listened to the voice in her head, telling her that it was just a leaked can of paint. Probably weeks old by the look of some of the drips, obviously worn off by dock workers boots striding back and forth. She turned back to view the warehouse from this angle and a new thought crossed her mind. What if it was arson, as one of her theories went? And why set fire to the warehouse? What did it gain the arsonist?

The fire looked to have started at the warehouse loading doors. What if someone had arrived from the pier, walked down, set off the fire then come back up the pier to escape on a boat, or a ship? Lois began to back up, slowly making her way to the very end of the pier.

If her theory was correct, then would the boat come back again tonight … or early morning? A third fire? Maybe there would be some place she could hide out. She turned to find herself only a step away from the edge. Kneeling down she grabbed hold of the wooden slats and leaned over to see if there was any chance of a hiding place directly underneath the pier.

It was much too dark to see. Letting go with one hand she tried to reach out into the dark with the other, shining her torch.

The one hand still holding onto the deck went numb. It slipped. She pitched forward. Closing her eyes she readied herself for the bitter cold of the ocean.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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