Hello guys, I've decided to interrupt my usual status as lurker to post another story. Strangely enough, the initial idea to this story has once again faded into the background, to the point of playing no part in this story at all. I don't know why this keeps happening, it just does. Anyway, so you're not going to read a story in which Cat starts a rumor mill claiming that she has slept with Clark and other women joining the club. I'd really like to write such a thing, but it just won't let itself be written. If anyone likes that premise, please feel free to run off with it. You'd definitely have me as a reader.
What's left of that idea is that this story is taking place in the first season. Kind of embarrassing, huh? The original idea has mingled with a few other ones, most importantly one that was posted a long time ago in the "challenges" folder. It was an idea to flip the script and that I kind oft did. The rest evolved around this premise.
I need to thank KenJ and magical for their beta.
Disclaimer: Lois and Clark don't belong to me. Parts of this story are taken from the script of the Pilot.
Oh, and should anyone be reminded of Smallville at some point, all the characters are meant to be portrayed like they are in Lois and Clark.
<...> denotes thought.
*...* denotes emphasis.
I try to keep up a weekly posting schedule. Okay, now without further ado...
Hurt Before
Part 1
Smallville, June 1988
The sun burned hot from a perfectly cloudless sky. There was little to remind anyone of the tornado that had hit Smallville the evening before. There were a few fences and some roofs to repair, but the only building that had collapsed was the Harris’ old barn. For months, Rachel's dad had been planning on tearing it down, but as it turned out, his insurance was now going to pay for the rebuild, so for the most part, the storm had been a blessing in disguise, rather than a disaster.
Another one of the few victims of the storm stuck its branches and roots into the sky. Clark Kent was sweating as he turned one of Wayne Irig’s old apple trees into fire wood, while the poor guy nursed a bad case of flu. The unripened fruits were scattered all across the field, along with broken-off pieces of the branches, smaller twigs and bruised leaves. It was a sorry sight. Clark was glad that he could do Wayne a favor. This was the tree where the late Mrs. Irig’s famous caramel apples had grown. Of all the trees the tornado could have chosen, it had uprooted the one tree that had carried the declaration of love that a much younger Wayne Irig had carved into the wood. It was a testament to the simple truth that life just was not fair.
Clark drove his axe more forcefully into the wood than was necessary. The log split in two and clattered to the ground. He bent down to add the pieces to the pile of wood that was already stacked on the bed of his father’s pick-up. Clark’s gaze wandered off to the next part of the trunk he was about to chop to pieces. It was large, but to Clark it did hardly seem large enough. He had volunteered his help, partly because he hoped that the physical exertion would do him some good. But it was only a drop in the ocean. He seriously doubted that even chopping down Redwood National Park would do anything to alleviate his pain.
With an anguished cry, Clark dug his axe deep into the wood, easily splitting it into three parts and driving the blade into the soil underneath. All he had ever wanted was to be like all the other guys, meet a girl, fall in love. Experience should have taught him that in his life, things just never went the easy way. He had been living in a world of make-believe and now he was paying the price.
Clark took one of the three logs. Tears blurred his vision as he picked up the axe and unconsciously turned the log into kindling. He went on to make quick work of the second one. Fighting to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks, he added the small pieces of wood to the pile on the truck.
Perhaps he should try talking to her. His gut tightened painfully.
<Yeah, right, as if there’s anything left to say.> Clark sighed and dropped the axe.
Cursing his fate, he looked at what was left of the old apple tree. It was not nearly enough to keep him busy for much longer. Other men could just go and vent their frustrations by working themselves to exhaustion, Clark thought bitterly - but not him, of course never him. Another anguished cry was drowned out by a car suddenly pulling up on the gravel road.
A cloud of dust veiled it for a moment and then slowly settled down on the dark finish of an expensive car. The dirt on it was the only thing that did not seem out of place. The driver got out and let the door fall shut. It was a tall man with brown, curly hair. Despite his choice of clothing – a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt – he stood out. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. Slowly, he approached the fence that bordered Irig’s field and waved his hand.
“Clark,” he yelled and waved again. “Your parents told me I’d find you here.”
“Lex,” Clark replied flatly, not sure he was able to face anyone. It probably was not safe, angry as he was. Trying not to sound too offensive, he asked, “What are you doing out here?”
“I heard about your break-up,” Lex said sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I know how much you love her.”
For a man who spent most of his time in an office, he climbed the fence rather deftly. Clark watched Lex as he walked up to him, a look of genuine concern on his face. Guilt washed over him. Lex did not deserve his anger. Had he actually come all the way from Metropolis to pay him a visit, Clark wondered. It did not seem likely, but that was beside the point anyway. He had taken the time to talk to him and for that he should be grateful. But the wound was still too fresh for Clark to feel anything but the pain.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” Clark muttered, barely loud enough for Lex to hear him. “So, what brings you here? You didn’t come all the way down here just to offer me a shoulder to cry on, did you?” He picked up the axe, walking back to the tree and resuming his work.
“I had a meeting in Wichita and decided to drop by,” Lex conceded and started to roll up his sleeves. “Mind if I help you, Clark?”
In fact, he did mind. Clark would much prefer to be alone, but it seemed awfully rude to say so. Instead, he just nodded, pointing at the pick-up truck. Next to the pile of wood was a set of tools. Lex found another axe. He weighed it in his hand and tested the blade with the tip of his thumb. Smiling in appreciation, he joined Clark who had already started chopping wood again.
* * *
Metropolis, present day
The newsroom was busy with shuffling feet as the working day drew to a close. As if sitting on a quiet island in the midst of a sea of bustling activity, Clark Kent watched as one by one, his co-workers shut down their computers and cleared their desks, more or less thoroughly. The elevators burst with people on their way down, most of them glad to finally call it a day. Eventually, the shuffling died and the arrival of the elevators became less frequent, until the last employee left the newsroom with a wave of his hand.
Clark’s gaze involuntarily wandered to the only other desk that was still occupied. The woman behind it was the reason he had stayed late. Why that was exactly, Clark could not have said, though. He tried to rationalize it with needing to talk to her about their new partnership, if one wanted to call it that. Earlier that day Lois had outlined their working relationship pretty clearly. Being partners had not been a part of her definition. Anyway, if he had actually wanted to come clean with her and tell her what he thought about her bossy behavior, it would have involved some planning on his part. And he could not claim that he had consciously decided to stay so long that only the two of them were left. It had just sort of happened.
The unadulterated truth was that the fiery brunette sitting across from him had him mesmerized. Lois Lane, award-winning investigative journalist, was the reason why he had come here in the first place. Given her reputation, Clark had hoped that Lois would be the right person to help him break the story he had been working on for years now. But she was also the reason why he had almost quit working at the Daily Planet after his first week. Not one of the many articles he had read, had revealed how gorgeous, breath-taking, brilliant, stubborn and difficult she was. Now she was also his so-called partner, thanks to Perry White, his editor-in-chief. Clark was not entirely sure how he felt about that.
Their first day of working together had been anything but easy. It had all started when Dr. Platt had stormed into the newsroom, claiming that someone was going to be sabotaging the shuttle ‘Messenger’. The man had been erratic and had not seemed all that trustworthy.
But then the ‘Messenger’ had exploded, just as Dr. Platt had predicted. Lois had asked Perry for a task force and had ended up being partnered with Clark.
Clearly, he did not meet her expectations, which she had no qualms about voicing on a regular basis. She viewed him as a sidekick rather than a partner. Lois insisted on calling all the shots and growled at him every time he dared to ask questions. Her behavior had alternated between indifference and hostility. Still, Lois fascinated him and that was probably what unsettled Clark most.
Today they had gone to interview Antoinette Baines, the director of EPRAD, and Dr. Platt, who had been working for her. Platt had told them about his report on problems with the heating device. His demeanor however, complete with a wild story about being drugged, was suggestive of an acute psychosis rather than a real story.
Dr. Baines on the other hand had been all professional and had told them the sad story of a brilliant scientist, who had unfortunately crossed the small line between genius and madness.
He had supposedly been a drug addict, had divorced his wife and blown up his own lab.
When it came right down to it, it was Dr. Baines’ word against Dr. Platt’s. After meeting the two of them there was little doubt who the more reliable source was. Still, Dr. Platt had predicted the explosion, which made Clark wonder. Lost in thought, his gaze wandered back to his new partner.
Lois picked up the phone and dialed a number, her fingers tapping on her desk as she impatiently waited for her call to be taken. She seemed tired, her shoulders were slumped and she barely stifled a yawn. Earlier that day she had been bursting with enthusiasm, eager to chase the lead Dr. Platt had presented her with. But as the day had drawn on, it had become more and more likely that she would be recounting the official report on a tragic accident rather than reveal the juicy details of a ramified conspiracy.
Suddenly, Lois’ stance straightened as someone answered the phone. She spoke a few words into the receiver and then listened, her expression gradually turning upset.
“No, Mitchell, I'm not mad,” she said after a pause, betraying her words by a roll of her eyes. “If you've got the sniffles, you've got the sniffles… Yes, that could lead to complications… No, don't call me. I'll call you.” She slammed down the phone, shaking her head in annoyance. A small sigh escaped her as she had a look at her wristwatch. Then she lifted her gaze, looking around the newsroom.
Clark managed to avert his gaze just in time. Now that the opportunity presented itself, talking to her did not seem like such a good idea anymore. He pushed back his chair and busied himself with clearing his own desk. After about one and a half weeks of working at the Planet there was not much to clear, though. From the corner of his eyes, Clark saw Lois approach and straightened to face her.
“I don't suppose you own a tuxedo?” she asked tentatively.
“I could get one. Why?” Clark replied indifferently, trying to suppress the flutter he felt in his belly.
“Oh. Well, the man I was going to Lex Luthor's ball with has the flu, and…” Lois squirmed and gave him a small smile.
“Yes?” Despite himself, Clark noticed that the flutter increased. The sensation however did not last long. He plummeted back to reality with a vengeance as it suddenly dawned on him, what she had just said - Lex Luthor’s ball. The butterflies morphed into an ugly beast that settled in his stomach with an angry roar.
“…well, I was wondering if you'd like to…” Lois went on, blissfully ignorant. She paused again, her eyes pleading with him to give her a break. Finally, Lois added. “Look, do you want to take his place or not?”
“I’d rather not,” Clark said gruffly.
“Are you crazy?” Lois cried, her mouth hanging open in surprise for a moment. “This is the social event of the season. Everyone who's anyone will be there and you're just lucky that I'm being stood up - and you don’t want to go?” Seconds ticked by in which neither of them said anything. Then, Lois suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth in a swift motion and flashed Clark an apologetic look. “Oh my gosh, I just did it again, didn’t I?” she muttered.
“If you mean that you were treating me like a hick - then yeah, you did it again,” he deadpanned, his gaze stern and unwavering.
“I’m sorry, Clark. I know we didn’t start on the best of terms …” Lois said softly.
“That’s one way to put it,” he interrupted her wryly.
“When Jimmy introduced us and you told me that you were from Smallville, Kansas, how was I to know that you were already a seasoned reporter with a Kerth under your belt?” Lois failed at keeping the contempt from her voice as she mentioned the town.
“Snob,” Clark muttered and turned his attention back to clearing his desk.
“Come again?” Lois asked.
“I said you’re a snob, Lois.” Clark repeated unfazed. “You didn’t even stop to read my work before you formed your opinion of me.”
“I already apologized,” Lois said with a hint of annoyance. “Look, like it or not…we’re partners now…”
“Oh, are we?” Clark threw in sarcastically.
Lois ignored him. “… and Lex Luthor is a story,” she went on. “I… we’re going to land Luthor's first one-on-one interview if it kills me… eh… I mean us. And I will not walk into his party unescorted. This is…”
“Then find someone else, because I’m not going.” Clark cut her off, snatched his coat and started for the elevators.
“Clark, please…” Lois stepped in his way, flashing him a sweet smile. “This could be my only chance at getting this interview,” she said, batting her eyelashes, almost at the verge of begging. “I’ve been trying for months to get hold of Luthor. This could be another Kerth… a Pulitzer even. Of course, we would share the by-line,” she added as a peace offering.
Her smile, complete with puppy-dog eyes, was wearing down Clark’s resolve. He did not particularly look forward to seeing Luthor again. Lois had no idea how much of a story the billionaire really was. Clark had earned himself a Kerth while chasing down evidence against him. His case just never seemed solid enough.
Clark raked his hand through his hair and once more looked into Lois’ the brown eyes that sent his heart racing. This woman would be his undoing. He had vowed to never again let anyone get under his skin like this, but Lois was more than he had bargained for. She was infuriating, uncompromising, pig-headed, domineering, ambitious, brilliant and absolutely breath-taking. He had fancied himself to be in love before, but he realized that he had not even begun to understand what that word meant. Now he knew better. There were a whole bunch of reasons though, why going to that ball was a very bad idea.
Yet, he could not help himself. “O… kay,” Clark said grudgingly.
The look of triumph on Lois’ face was unmistakable. “Then, it’s a date. Meet me in front of LuthorCorp. Nine,” she said gladly.
“Make no mistake, Lois. This is not a date – it’s business,” he all but snapped.
Her face fell. “Whatever,” she muttered, downcast. “I’ll see you there.” Lois turned on her heels. Hurriedly, she fetched her coat that hung across her chair and moments later the doors of the elevator had closed behind her.
“I'll see you there,” Clark mumbled to himself, sinking back onto his chair.
He stared into space, ashamed of himself and his abominable behavior. It had not been right to snap at her like that, regardless of how she treated him. And what on earth had possessed him to consent to going to Luthor’s ball - and with Lois Lane of all people? For all intents and purposes, this situation had disaster written all over it. It took long moments until he managed to shake the stupor that had befallen him. A soft, optimistic voice that Clark more often than not kept confined to the back of his mind, insisted that this might very well be a chance – in several ways.
As if to prove its point, that voice stirred up the rather fresh memories of Lois Lane storming into Clark’s life. He had been working late, writing up a mood-piece about an old theater that was about to be demolished. Just as Clark had typed away the last paragraph, the elevator doors had opened to reveal a young guy about Jimmy’s age who had beamed with pride as he leisurely strolled down towards the newsroom. He had worn a cap and a shirt that seemed several seizes too big for him. His legs had been clad in an old pair of baggy jeans. The ragged clothes, however, had done nothing to lessen his air of confidence. The ease with which this guy had caught Clark’s attention had almost made Clark question his sexuality. Watching as the guy slowly turned into an even more stunning woman had been some kind of relief. That day, Lois Lane had returned from exposing a million dollar car theft ring single-handedly. By the time Jimmy had introduced Lois to her new co-worker, Clark had already been smitten.
With a sigh, Clark dragged himself up from his chair. It was no use denying that he had feelings for Lois Lane. What was important was how he dealt with them. Pushing her away certainly was the safer way to handle her. But that did not mean that he had to be rude. This was not the way he wanted to treat a woman; he would not be able to live with himself. There were just certain mistakes he was not going to make again, and daydreaming about a brunette female reporter was definitely one of them.
Clark had one last look at the empty newsroom in general and Lois’ desk in particular, before he switched off the lamp and made his way towards the elevators. He needed to get a tuxedo.
to be continued...
Last edited by bakasi; 07/10/14 12:51 PM.
