From Part 2:It dawned on him that his father had not been concerned that Luthor might expose Clark, when he had asked if he was sure that he wanted to attend the ball. He knew that fear was irrational, anyway. But Clark just could not shake the feeling that Luthor knew, that he had known… It was a nagging feeling that he just could not shake.
“And if Luthor is truly responsible for…” Martha trailed of, the slight trembling in her voice indicating that she was indeed worried that Clark might be right.
“I know what I’m getting myself into,” Clark added defensively, wondering if he truly did.
“Just be careful, son.” Jonathan said thickly and got up from his chair as well.
“I will,” Clark promised and hugged his father. “It’s time for me to head back now.”
“We’ll see you next week,” Martha replied and buried her face in her son’s broad chest as she hugged him, too. “Be careful, sweetie,” she whispered before she let go of him. Clark smiled at his parents and turned to leave. “Uh, and Clark…”
“Yeah, Mom?” His hand on the door knob, he turned to her.
“Give this girl a chance, will you?”
Hurt Before
Part 3: Lightning disrupted the sky, briefly illuminating the street. Then darkness once again overtook. Torrents of rain veiled Clark’s view like a dense curtain. He stood under the awning at the bottom of the LuthorCorp building, waiting for Lois. Drenched attendants rushed to the incoming stretch limos, dutifully holding out umbrellas for Luthor’s illustrious guests. Clark saw famous athletes and businessmen, whose faces had covered the front pages of important magazines. The mayor and his wife were there, as well as Perry White and some other editors of Metropolis’ newspapers.
It was getting late. Just as Clark was beginning to hope that Lois would not show up, a cab pulled up in front of the completely soaked red carpet. The first Clark saw was a pair of shapely legs. The slender figure of a woman followed. Covered in a full-length raincoat and a hat she was barely recognizable. The servant who had come to her aid, jumped back as an opening umbrella almost hit him square in his chest. As the umbrella came up it revealed Lois Lane. Heedlessly, she breezed past the servant and moved to join Clark.
“Why didn’t you go inside?” she asked, nodding towards the raging thunderstorm. She folded her umbrella and stepped through the doors that another pair of servants held open. “By the way, nice tux.”
“Thank you and good evening to you, too, Lois,” Clark replied dryly as he followed her into the building.
<Pull yourself together,> he warned himself. <You don’t want to start fighting with her again, not in front of all those people. Be nice.>
The foyer was a display of Luthor’s expensive taste. The floor was lined with Carrara marble. Elegant golden chandeliers bathed the guests in their gentle light. A fancy red carpet led to an elevator that seemed to exist for the sole purpose of accessing Luthor’s penthouse. Knowing Luthor that was likely even true, Clark mused.
The only thing amiss in the picture was a makeshift coat rack in a far corner of the hall. Whoever had planned the party, obviously had not expected that anything as mundane as a thunderstorm could possibly disturb Luthor’s ball.
“I’ve got to fix my hair,” Lois muttered, looking around self-consciously. She seemed impressed with her ostentatious surroundings that were clearly built to intimidate.
“There’s a Lady’s Room to the left of the elevator, Miss,” a servant, who had rushed to help Lois take her coat off, dutifully replied.
Clark involuntarily held his breath as the dull coat gave way to a night blue gown with a deeply plunging neckline. It contrasted nicely with Lois’ ivory skin. Clark took it all in, every amazing inch – from the dark brown pools of her eyes to her velvet lips and her slender neck. His gaze dropped to a dizzying cleavage with ample breasts. Beautiful did not begin to describe it. His mouth ran dry and he had a hard time forcing himself to look at her face again.
“You look … good,” Clark ground out.
He soon settled for a more neutral expression than the one he had had in mind. Good was the understatement of the year. Clark’s mind involuntarily indulged in pleasant thoughts of feeling her body against his in a slow dance. His breath caught. He was walking on dangerous ground.
A small smile played on Lois’ lips. “Thanks. I guess I should…” She vaguely gestured in the direction of the Lady’s Room.
“Go,” Clark immediately said, grateful for the brief respite.
As Lois turned, her back came into view, no less breath-taking than the rest of her. Clark could not help but stare at her the whole way until the door to the Lady’s Room fell shut behind her. Then he closed his eyes, trying to shake the spell Lois had cast on him. It was only then that Clark realized he was actually *floating* a few inches above the ground. He dropped to the floor, praying that no one had noticed.
<Snap out of it, Clark!> he chastised himself. <One pair of legs and you’re ready to kiss all reason good-bye. Forget about her. She’s trouble.>
Clark was still berating himself, when Lois returned. She joined him in the line of people waiting to be admitted to the ball. He greeted her with a nod and a brief smile, and then forced himself not to look in her direction. Absentmindedly, he surveyed the hall. A man dressed as a butler stood next to the elevator and checked the invitations. One by one he let the guests pass. As they approached the elevator, Lois began to search her bag for her own invitation. Involuntarily, Clark found his attention drawn to her again. She had wonderful hands, slender fingers…
“Ah, Mr. Kent, I wasn’t expecting to ever see you again. What a nice surprise. ” An accented voice suddenly pulled Clark from his thoughts.
Oblivious to his surroundings, Clark had not noticed the man wearing an Indian coat and a turban. He froze as he recognized Luthor’s mysterious personal valet. Asabi stood next to the butler and whispered a few words to the man, before he once again turned to Lois and Clark.
“It’s a pleasure to see you and your beautiful companion.” Asabi stepped aside. “Enjoy the evening.” He made an inviting gesture towards the elevator.
For a moment, it seemed as if someone had stopped time. Neither Lois nor Clark were moving. One of them was seriously contemplating running off, the other was just staring in disbelief. Seconds ticked by that stretched to hours. Clark had the strange impression of being an actor in his own slow motion picture, a mere puppet. As if steered by strings, he walked into the elevator. His hand had been put on the small of Lois back to take her along. Helplessly, he watched the doors of the elevator close, sealing his fate.
“
Your companion?” Lois breathed. Her eyes were still wide open with surprise and a hint of anger. “Wait a moment… they did not even ask for my invitation, did they?” she muttered incredulously. “What…”
Clark clenched his jaw, deciding to let her mull over the problem. He was not going to spell it out for her. Of course, sooner or later she was going to draw the right conclusion. He just hoped that fading into the background was still an option. It did not seem all that likely.
The rest of the ride passed in silence. Clark was not sure whether that was because his lack of a reply had sufficiently conveyed his reluctance to discuss the matter or if Lois did not want to make a scene in front of everyone. His bet was on the latter option. Clark did not dare look at Lois, but stared ahead, bleakly. He could very well imagine how she stood beside him, almost choking on the ton of questions she must have come up with by now. Clark could practically see the wheels in her mind turning as she mapped out a strategy to nail him. Unfortunately, his own mind came up empty as he desperately tried to think of a way to explain the incident without raising more questions.
The elevator came to an abrupt halt as it reached Luthor’s penthouse. Clark dashed out as quickly as he could without starting to run. Even crowded with Metropolis’ upper class, the place was spacious. White Orchids sat everywhere, deliberately illuminated to underline their beauty. The light reflected in sparkling diamond earrings and necklaces. A chamber orchestra accompanied the celebration with soft music. Waiters were serving champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Everyone was dressed up, smiling and chatting in small groups, apparently enjoying themselves immensely.
“Clark, what…?” Lois asked as she followed in Clark’s wake.
Again, he settled for ignoring her and went on, waving at Perry who stood with a group of people. Before Clark had decided whether to join them, Jimmy had walked over and smiled at him.
“Incredible, huh?” he said, gesturing at the luxury around them.
“Yeah,” Clark agreed uncomfortably. A furious Lois seemed to be breathing down his neck.
“I can’t believe we’ll see him,” Jimmy went on excitedly. “I read all five of his unauthorized biographies. Rags to riches, wrong side of the tracks, self-made billionaire, owns dozens of companies, employs thousands of people. *Man Of The Year*, every year, has his finger in every pie, but rarely appears in public. Won't give personal interviews.” He rattled through as if someone had demanded that he know those facts by heart.
“Clark, are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Lois asked, fuming by now and staring daggers at Clark. She had come to stand right next to Jimmy and Clark, arms folded in front of her chest, seething with anger.
“Hey. There he is.” Jimmy pointed at the staircase on the far side of the hall, awe-struck.
Luthor chose to orchestrate his appearance with a bolt of lightning. It illuminated the glass window behind him, casting an eerie light on the billionaire. For the blink of an eye it showed Luthor unadorned, without the mask of integrity that he wore for the public. As Luthor stepped down the stairs, he was bathed in the warm glow of the chandeliers. A winning smile was plastered on his face. His tailor-made tuxedo fit perfectly. The shiny white shirt underneath was stiff with starch. Clark was sure that even with his enhanced vision he would not have found a spot on him.
Luthor played the role of the wealthy philanthropist to perfection. He shook hands with his guests, greeting each and every one of them in their native language, like he was particularly glad that they had come. His gaze however, darted around for the brief moments when he was not talking to anyone. Luthor drank in the attention everyone was paying him.
Next to Clark, Lois unfolded her arms and straightened her shoulders. Her anger was merely put on hold for the time being. From the corner of his eye Clark caught one last furious glance that told him she was not yet through with him. Suddenly all business, Lois focused on Luthor as he slowly approached them on his way through the ball room. Lois’ lips were moving silently, perhaps rehearsing what she was going to say. Deliberately unclenching her fists, she took a step forward. Now, Lex Luthor was almost so close that Lois could touch him, his back turned on her as he amiably chatted with the mayor. Clark watched her draw a shaky breath and as if on cue, the stupor that kept him in place was gone. Hastily, he looked around, spotting the bar.
“I’ll get us something to drink,” he muttered to no one in particular.
Just as he took the first step, Luthor turned and faced him. “Clark Kent …” Luthor let the name roll of his tongue deliberately slow. A smile spread across his lips. “Is that really you? I was afraid I’d never see you again. Why haven’t you returned any of my phone calls?”
All of a sudden, the world seemed to have stopped turning. Clark felt strangely numb, a mere spectator of the showdown his whole life had been headed for. He could neither move nor breathe. The slightly uneasy feeling that had accompanied him the whole day through was building up to a full blown panic attack. Luthor’s eyes rested on him. Clark felt himself shrivel under their scrutiny. He felt exposed, as if he was turned inside out, as if all his secrets were suddenly on display for the whole world to see. The smile that was plastered on Luthor’s face seemed awfully knowing.
<He doesn’t know,> Clark told himself, trying to fight his rising nausea. <He can’t possibly have figured out what happened.>
Clark was aware that almost everyone’s gaze was now on him. Lois’ carefully adopted bearing had shattered to pieces. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. Different emotions rippled across her face, ranging from sheer astonishment to utmost betrayal. As soon as Lois collected herself enough to close her mouth, her lips became so tight a line that they were almost invisible in her pale face.
Jimmy’s expression was a mix of surprise and awe. His hand hung in mid-air as if he was still holding the glass of champagne that lay on the floor, shattered. Perry’s brows were furrowed, his gaze intent as if he tried to look right through Clark.
Every sound around Clark was drowned out by the frantic beating of his heart. He desperately wished for a bolt of lightning to strike him down right there or for the earth to swallow him. Being the center of attention had never been anything Clark was comfortable with. Now that he found himself thrown right into his own worst nightmare, his mind was completely blank.
“Lex …” Clark breathed tinny, the voice of an automaton added to his puppet body.
<I shouldn’t have come. I really, really shouldn’t have come>, a panicky voice in the back of his mind screamed.
“I’m pleasantly surprised that you finally decided to accept my invitation. I have sent you so many I lost count. Your parents did tell you that, didn’t they?” Luthor asked, his brows furrowing. “I must have left at least a hundred messages for you on your parent's answering machine. But you never called back. I was worried when you suddenly broke all contact. It has been years since we last saw each other. Where have you been?”
“Abroad.” Clark choked out. He wanted nothing but to get out of the limelight.
“Well, that explains a lot,” Luthor nodded. “And now you’re back, I presume. Are you visiting Metropolis?”
“I work here,” Clark managed to say. At least some feeling returned into his wooden body, slowly untying his tongue. “May I introduce – this is my colleague, Lois Lane”, he said, once again placing his hand on the small of Lois’ back and pushing her towards Luthor. “I guess you already know Perry White. And this is Jimmy Olsen.” Clark went on and stepped behind the two men.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Luthor. How do you and Clark know each other?” Lois was the quickest to recover.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Luthor replied and placed a kiss on the back of the hand Lois offered him. “Oh, and please call me Lex.”
Lois smiled at him sweetly. “Oh, thank you, Lex. So, how do you know Clark?” she pressed on. “You don’t seem to be on friendly terms with the press. After all, it’s well-known that you never give interviews.”
“Oh, you see, with Clark it’s different. He saved my life.” Once more Lex Luthor’s gaze fixed on Clark. “We used to be friends, but then we lost sight of each other. Not for lack of trying on my part, I dare say.”
Clark felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger. He deeply regretted coming to the ball. This wasn’t a chance at all, but a federal disaster, just as he had anticipated it to be. But instead of listening to reason, he had let his hormones make the decision. Clark cursed himself. He knew he was playing with fire. And one of these days he was going to get burned, bad.
“You know very well why I left, Lex.” Clark said though clenched teeth, trying very hard not to sound accusing.
“I guess, I do,” Luthor said with a regretful smile that to Clark seemed like a sneer. “Anyway, it’s good to see you, Clark. I had almost given up hope. Why don’t we have lunch next week and catch up?” Luthor ventured. “It was nice meeting you, Ms. Lane. Mr. White.” Luthor nodded towards them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other guests to attend to. I hope you’ll enjoy the evening.”
As Luthor walked off, Lois, Perry and Jimmy eyed Clark in stunned silence. A muscle ticked on Perry’s jaw as he strained to hold back a bark. The seasoned editor studied Clark carefully, taking in the sheen of sweat Clark knew was collecting on his forehead. Perry’s eyes were fixed on Clark as he unclenched his fists.
“Care to explain that, Clark?” Lois broke the silence, simmering with rage. “You have an invitation to this ball? How come you never mentioned that you know Lex Luthor personally? I mean, he would probably serve you an interview with him on a silver platter. I know journalists who would kill for such an opportunity, myself included! And you don’t even try? What kind of reporter are you?” Lois hissed.
“It’s a long story, Lois,” Clark said quietly. He still felt the tension in every muscle. With Luthor gone, it only gradually abated.
“I’m listening.” Once more, she folded her arms in front of her chest. “This better be good.”
Lois’ jaw was clenched tightly. Every fiber of her being exuded anger. Taking flight was not an option - her gaze held him firmly in place. Being stared at by Lois, Jimmy and his boss was almost a physical experience. Clark felt slightly sick to his stomach. Not one of the three was going to let him off the hook. He could either hand Perry his resignation right there or he had some explaining to do.
“I’m too close,” Clark hedged. “If I interviewed him, it wouldn’t be worthy of an investigative journalist…”
That was as close to the truth as he dared to get. The thing was that he probably really would not be able to write anything objective when it came to Luthor. Clark longed to expose the man for who he really was and he was not going to settle for anything less. For that he needed as much evidence as he could possibly get, which was no easy task. To make things worse, Clark was afraid that Luthor might harbor a suspicion about his powers. The thought that Luthor could somehow gain leverage sent shivers down his spine. Ultimately, Clark’s fear of Luthor clashed with his desire to expose the man, which put him in a rather difficult position - namely in the midst of this particular nightmare.
“As much as I hate to agree, but Kent has a point,” Perry conceded gruffly. He patted Clark on the back, let out a sigh and ruefully added. “Damn luck, an interview with Luthor would look great on our front page.”
“Then convince Luthor to let me interview him,” Lois suggested, clearly not ready to let it go. “You can’t just let that opportunity pass by. This is the story of the century.”
“That’s a great idea. What do you think, Kent?” Perry nodded enthusiastically.
“Uh… huh,” Clark muttered noncommittally.
Dizzy with a mixture of relief and a new surge of panic, Clark had a hard time keeping it together. His gut screamed at him to run as fast as he could. Reason suggested to give it a try and to tell Lois what he knew about Luthor. With her, he might pull off what he alone did not dare to do.
<Yeah. And how exactly are you going to pull that off without becoming a story yourself?> The mere thought made him break a sweat. <Luthor’s going to charm her into believing that he’s such a nice guy.>
“Would you excuse me for a moment?” Clark apologized and turned on his heels to escape the scrutiny of his colleagues rather than face another argument.
“We’re not done here, Clark!” Lois protested.
Pretending not to have heard her, Clark deftly wound his way through the crowd. He almost collapsed as the Men’s Room door shut behind him. Loosening his bow tie he walked over to the sink to wash his face. His trembling hands spilled most of the water across his shirt. Years had passed since he had first met Luthor. He knew the guy was filthy, yet his air still intimidated him.
Flashes of a summer day long gone danced before Clark’s eyes, mocking him. Clark heard his mother’s voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he could not know for sure what had really happened that day. It might have been an accident, as Luthor claimed. He might not be the monster of Clark’s nightmares.
“But if Luthor really thinks I’m just a normal guy, then why does he bother? Why doesn’t he just leave me alone?” Clark muttered in response to that thought. He splashed his face with more cooling water and then straightend to look at himself in the mirror.
He was not quite the sorry sight he had expected himself to be. His complexion was the same olive tone it always was, maybe a shade paler than usual. What a mess he had gotten himself into. Clark had not planned on letting anyone in on his acquaintance with Luthor, at least not yet. That was his mine field to navigate.
<Yeah, but you were asking for this to happen, weren’t you?> he thought bitterly. < Accepting Lois invitation to the ball, well aware that such an invitation had been sent to your parents. You knew Luthor wouldn’t let you come and go unnoticed.>
As much as Clark would have liked to spend the rest of the evening hiding under the sink, he knew that he had to get back. Taking deep breaths, he tried to calm himself down. Slowly, his nausea abated.
<Luthor doesn’t know about your secret,> he told himself firmly. <What happened in Smallville has to have convinced him otherwise. Now go back into that ballroom and save what is left of your dignity. Don’t chicken out again, you did that one time too many.>
Besides, it would be rude to leave without saying good-bye to Lois. Clark took another deep breath and looked over his shoulders, making sure that no one was watching him. With a quick beam of heat-vision he dried his shirt. Then he fixed his bow tie. He would simply walk up to Luthor and get Lois the interview. It was simple as that.
As Clark stepped out of the bathroom, the crowd had gathered around Luthor, listening to an announcement. It briefly flickered through Clark’s mind that this was the perfect opportunity to leave unnoticed. He could leave Metropolis behind and no one would be the wiser. But that was not going to solve any problems.
Luthor seemed completely at ease with the attention everyone paid him. He strived for it.
“…House for Homeless Children will soon be a reality,” he just said and proudly smiled at his guests. “As you know, I have dedicated my life to improving the quality of the lives of the citizens of Metropolis. Tonight, I’d like to go further.” His expression turned serious as he went on. “It is my sad understanding that due, in part, to the terrible tragedy that befell the Messenger last week, the Congress of Nations intends to cancel Space Station Prometheus.” He made a deliberate pause to let his words take effect.
Clark could not help but concede that Luthor was a very skilled speaker. He had the undivided attention of his audience. The people around him looked at him in awe, nodding their approval at his every word, drawn in by the sheer power of his appearance.
“I cannot stand by and allow that to happen to the citizens of this planet. Profit aside, the potential benefits that a zero gravity laboratory could bring – most importantly, pharmaceuticals that could end crippling diseases here on Earth - must not be lost.” With another pause Luthor emphasized his point. Clark had the bad feeling that Luthor could have easily convinced his captive audience of the benefits of a war, if only he had wanted to.
“Therefore, I have decided to commit my total financial support toward the building of a privately owned space laboratory. I have submitted my proposal to the Congress of Nations and I am awaiting their go-ahead,” he concluded and pulled a curtain that covered a model of a space station. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you… Space Station Luthor.”
The crowd broke into enthusiastic applause, cheering Luthor. He spread his arms like a magician who had just done an impressive trick.
“An engineering marvel. Signpost to a new age in exploration and scientific advancement. A gift to the future of mankind,” Luthor announced, beaming with pride.
Clark’s stomach was suddenly tied in knots. He had been reluctant to believe in Platt’s theory that the Messenger was sabotaged, because he could not imagine that anyone would do such a thing. But in the light of Luthor’s announcement it all added up to a heinous picture. Luthor wanted to instill a monopoly for space research. When in several years, the Russian space station ‘Mir’ exceeded its durability, the world would depend solely on Luthor’s zero gravity lab. The influence Luthor would gain was too horrible to even contemplate.
Clark wanted to scream as he looked into all those enthusiastic faces, wondering, why not one of the people at this ball seemed to understand Luthor’s real intentions. The angry beast that lived inside his heart ever since Lana’s death raised its ugly head again. Clark’s hands tightened into fists. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and silently counted to ten to calm himself down. Losing his temper was something he could not afford. Besides, this was not more than a hunch. Clark inwardly berated himself for being so unprofessional. Whatever he might think, Luthor was not automatically responsible for all the evil things that happened.
The crowd dissolved into various smaller groups as the orchestra began to play. Clark was still frozen to the spot. He tried to wrap his mind around what he had just heard. If he could prove Luthor’s involvement in the explosion of the Messenger, he would finally be able to tear down his mask of integrity. But from years of experience, Clark knew that he could not do this alone. He could not hope to succeed in two weeks at exposing him, when he had failed to do so in the last five years.
“Will you dance with me?” Startled, Clark recognized Lois, who was standing right in front of him. He had not seen her coming. “It’s lady’s choice.” She smiled at him, mischievously. Clark stared at her bewildered, wondering what was going on. Before he had fled to the Men’s Room, she had been fuming with anger.
Without waiting for his reply, she drew him towards the dance floor, placing his right hand on her back and taking his left hand in hers. When Clark became fully aware what was happening to him, he was already engaged in a waltz.
“You’re a good dancer,” Lois complimented him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, dumbfounded. “You, too.”
“I’m impressed. I was afraid you Kansan guys were more into square dancing,” she teased him good-naturedly.
“Actually, I learned from a Nigerian princess who studied Ballroom dancing in England,” Clark heard himself tell her.
“A citizen of the world,” she said and fell silent again.
Clark guided her across the dance floor in slow circles. The abrupt change in her behavior baffled him. The way Lois smiled at him made Clark feel weak in his knees. She felt fragile in his arms. Once again, he lost himself in the dark brown pools of her eyes. Her body was pressing into him, tantalizing him with every breath that she took. Clark smelled her perfume mixed with the flowery scent of her shampoo. For a while they just danced, sliding along, almost floating. Clark had to concentrate hard on not actually leaving the ground.
“How do you know Luthor?” Lois eventually asked.
“Changing strategy, are we?” Clark raised his brows.
“Oh, come on, Clark. Stop biting my head off. We’re partners now. Don’t you think this is something I should know?” she pressed on. “He said you saved his life?”
“That sounds more heroic than it really was,” Clark replied dismissively. Then he sighed. “Well, I guess it won’t hurt to tell you. I met Luthor a few years ago. It was during my sophomore year at Midwestern University. Luthor had just made his first couple of million dollars and had been awarded business man of the year.”
Lois nodded. “I remember that time. He was a nobody, and then one day his face was suddenly plastered all over Forbes magazine.”
“Well, he was asked to do a lecture series on modern business strategies in various universities all over the country. He came to Midwestern, too,” Clark explained. “A friend of mine was studying business at the time and she invited me to go. I thought it might be a good opportunity to do a feature on him for our paper. It turned out that, like me, he has a talent for learning foreign languages. That got us talking.”
“You did an interview with Luthor?” Lois said surprised.
Clark only shrugged. “Not really, it was more of a friendly chat,” he replied with a wrys smile.
“And you saved his life?” Lois asked further.
“It was a mugging.” Clark stated simply. “I don’t know who did it, they were already gone when I happened to pass by. One of them had shot Luthor. He was unconscious. I managed to stem the bleeding until the emergency services arrived. It was a lucky coincidence, is all.”
“So without you he might have bled to death. I remember reading an article about that incident, but I don’t think it ever mentioned you or how close he came to losing his life.” Lois said thoughtfully.
“Like I said, it wasn’t all that heroic. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” he concluded, repeating what he had told Luthor over and over. The music was fading and he let go of Lois. “Now, are you satisfied?”
“For now,” Lois conceded. “But I’m feeling that there is more to this story than you’re letting on.”
“Maybe. But that’s all you’re going to hear tonight. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going home. I’m tired.” Clark said. “Good night, Lois.”
“Good night, Clark,” she replied with a smile. “Am I going to see you tomorrow?” He raised his brows questioningly. “I’m going to EPRAD, trying to see the fragments of the Messenger. And Platt promised us his report. After all, we’re supposed to work as partners.”
Clark looked at her, irritated. It did not seem like Lois to go so soft on him. He had expected an interrogation. Instead, she talked about being partners - no tough questions about Luthor, no nagging about the interview. Her fury could not possibly have vanished completely. So, what was her plan? Well, one way or another, Clark was pretty sure he was going to find out.
“Partners,” he agreed cautiously and shook the hand Lois offered him. “Oh, and just for the record - we both get to ask the questions!”
to be continued...
