Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Airport - Part 9 of 32

Part Nine

Six days later, on a humid Saturday afternoon, Clark and Pete had just completed bringing up the last load of boxes from the moving van. Pete put down a heavy box, crammed with books. "Whew, I'm glad that's the LAST one, those stairs were killing me." He stood and surveyed the organized mess that was Clark’s new apartment. “With your super speed and strength we could have done this move in no time at all. Why did you want to do it the hard way?”

Clark bent down and opened a box marked, ‘artwork’; he carefully removed a wrapped object and said, “It was the right thing to do. Besides, Wrenn might have made an appearance.”

“Don’t worry; he was like that with Skip when he first bought the building. Kept thinking he was an ‘over educated’ frat boy, but his checks never bounced. Once your rent checks start flowing, he’ll back off. How about grabbing a couple of burgers and then maybe you can tell me what’s been bothering you?”

His friend moved his glasses up a bit and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It did not hurt, but whenever he wasn’t comfortable about discussing something, this is what he did to stall for time and collect his thoughts. “Lana called a couple of days ago. She’s settled into her hotel and is working with one of the board members to locate an artifact for one section of the exhibit. Apparently tracking down this particular item is presenting a few challenges; she is going to be in Europe for a month or more.” As he spoke, he unwrapped the object, revealing a beautiful piece of handmade painted Amazonian Indian pottery. Cautiously he placed it on the bookshelf.

“So? Since when is something like distance a problem for you? Fly over there for a quick visit; surprise Lana and take her on a daytrip to Paris. A romantic stroll on the left bank together might do wonders.”

Clark nodded, seriously considering the suggestion, but then said. “Yeah, but she’s working exceedingly hard to unearth this antique camp chair. We both know how she gets when she focuses on a project. It means a lot to her father and her career. She – she asked that I not come over to visit.”

Pete stiffened, for the past year Lana had indeed focused nearly all her considerable energies on two things: Clark and her career. Now suddenly she wanted to concentrate on work exclusively? Something did not sound right. Clark might have cause for concern. He knew his friend was a natural worrier, so he decided to lean towards the positive and said, “Isn’t that what you wanted: to have time to concentrate on your careers? Look, work on the apartment and when she gets back, show off your decorating skills. Knowing Lana, the thought of putting her touches on the place will be almost as good as living there!” He thought carefully over his next words and said, “Uh, are your ‘talents’ going to make appearances during her absence?”

Clark couldn’t quite explain it, but he had been feeling a stronger sense of self-confidence, especially since signing the lease with Mr. Wrenn. The corpulent landlord had tried to pull another fast one, but he stuck to his resolve and refused to pay more. “Yes. Yes, my ‘talents’ will be put to good use. Still, I have to be extremely cautious.”

“While I was traveling - more like tramping - around the world early on I attempted to blend in and yet there were times those attempts failed.”

“What happened?” Pete asked, his fatigue vanished as Clark told his story.

“While I was living in Alaska, driving trucks on the ice roads. I had a little place among the Inuit; it was nothing more than a shack. But the people made me feel at home. There was a family, really kind folks who had a young son named Akycha. We got to be pretty good friends, he was almost like a little brother. Anyway, on one particularly cold day on the edge of the forest, I was chopping wood with my bare hands and Akycha saw me.”

A groan escaped Pete’s lips, knowing what was going to happen next “Oh no.”

Clark’s expression grew clouded with the memory and sighed, “Yeah, I tried to play it off as using karate on the wood, but Akycha was no fool. From that day he avoided me. Not long afterwards, an early spring cleared the lake of heavy ice and my driving contract ended, so I decided it was time to move on.”

The apartment was deathly quiet when Pete’s said, “Clark, that must have been tough.”

“Yeah, it was a painfully hard lesson, now whenever the need arises to help; I use super speed and other abilities so rapidly as to not be seen. My powers must remain hidden; the expression on Akycha’s face haunts me to this day. It reminds me that I am an alien… different.”

There was a brief silence, then Pete asked carefully, “But you still want to help - despite the risks of being discovered?”

Clark face was set in an look of determination, “Yes. I have these abilities and they can save lives.”

His long-time friend nodded thoughtfully, pulled some tape off the box he had just brought up and began inserting books in their place on the shelf by the vase. There was more at work here than ‘missing Lana’. Pete had become aware that since Clark’s arrival in Metropolis he had been noticing understated changes in his personality, changes he heartily approved of. One of the most significant; spending time with Lois Lane, she was demanding and brilliant, but in her own way she appreciated - and most importantly - respected Clark as Lana never had. He had met her a few years before; while he was still an intern. She was the daughter of respected Neurosurgeons, Sam and Ellen Lane. When he realized she was the same Lois his friend had spoken so highly of, the thought of them working together was humorous. So wisely he decided to keep his mouth shut and watch the sparks fly.

From the stories Clark had related, Lois wanted him to be the best reporter possible, which also meant looking the part of a professional journalist. He was purchasing clothing that only a year before; he would have shied away from, not even entering such high-end men’s stores like Armani and Razor.

His friend’s taste in coffee had also taken a turn for upscale as well. It was not unusual to smell freshly roasted exotic brew coming from the kitchen in the morning.

Clark had traveled all over the world, but had always held onto his mid-western sense of naiveté. But this innocence had gradually faded away now that he was settled into one place. He was using all of his travel experiences and knowledge, blending them together, in effect becoming a cosmopolitan citizen of Metropolis. But for all the outward changes he was still driven to help those in need. He felt a sincere responsibility for the inhabitants of his new home in particular and humanity in general. Pete doubted very strongly if his friend would go back to concealing his special talents when Lana returned no matter what she said.

Putting the thought aside when he heard his stomach rumble Pete asked, “So, where do you want to eat?”

“Funny you should ask; there’s this great place called Café Americana…”

***

For the following two weeks Metropolis’ citizens were surprised by a number of rescues, unusual in every way. In fact, the news organizations were swamped by people reporting all manner of miraculous good deeds.

Muggings and street crimes of all types were down, arrests were up.
Horrific car accidents were averted; the automobiles involved that would have been destroyed did not touch each other, as if they were cushioned by a gigantic pillow of air.

Several bank heists had been stopped. At each one, all the perpetrators had claimed the same thing; their guns had suddenly become too hot to handle or too cold to hold.

A school bus was prevented from crashing into Hobbs Bay.

Even a short-haired domestic feline named Archimedes had been rescued from a majestic oak tree in Centennial Park.

These ‘near-miss’ situations and rescues had been occurring for some time, but now they were on a definite upswing. The city of Metropolis seemed to be the epicenter of safety.

The only information any reporter could get out of the bewildered victims and eye witnesses was they all felt some kind of powerful wind and then saw a haze of motion. Afterwards there was only a happy situation rather than a dreadful tragedy.

***

It was over a week later that Lois received the slender package from Eduardo she’d been expecting. Inside were handwritten sheets which answered the questions Lois had e-mailed days before, not to mention more information she had needed to continue building her series of articles against the media magnate. Unfortunately, Lois could not concentrate on the material immediately. She had been running from one near miss rescue situation to another, piecing together the different stories and coming up with …

“Zilch! Zip! Nada!” Lois groaned. “How do all these ‘rescues’ take place, yet no one can tell how they are accomplished. It’s almost as if our city has been overrun by a bunch of invisible super men!” Lois said in an exasperated babble as she energetically paced back and forth between her desk and Clark’s.

“There is no such thing as an invisible man or super man for that matter.” Clark said, in what he hoped was an off-the-cuff comment. These mysteries really had her going, so much so that of late she had refrained from wearing business suits with short skirts, but wore comfortable pants outfits that allowed her to move freely during the many near disasters she had covered over the past week.

“Oh is that so?” She asked, placing the palms of both hands on his desk and glaring at him. “Then please tell me how Archimedes the cat, got down from one of the tallest trees in Centennial Park? A cat, I might add that is documented by its veterinarian to have a fear of heights!”

“That’s some wimpy cat.” Ralph said with a snicker as he passed by their desks.

“Nobody asked you Lombard.” Lois snapped at his retreating back. Perhaps it was only because Lady Plushbottom was a member of the ‘catnip’ set, but Lois felt a strong, maternal need to defend all members of the feline race from a creep like Ralph Lombard, who for some reason had been returned to the newsroom, much to the chagrin of the female staffers.

Suddenly, the sound of an opening door was heard and a loud familiar voice drenched in a southern accent rang out through the bullpen. “Hey everybody, listen up!”

The bullpen, as one, turned and watched as Perry held up a dummy of the evening edition; the headline read: Drought in Upstate New Troy.

Perry waved his hand languidly over the paper and his eyes searched the faces of the newsroom staffers. “In lieu of our usual 8:00 am meeting. Does anybody see what I see?” He queried his audience.
Ralph raised his hand and said, “The figures for the lack of rainfall this year?”

“Yes! Thank you Ralph for stating the obvious. But guess what boys and girls? No one is interested in a drought that won’t impact them. Everyone is talking about all of these mysterious rescues that have been taking place! I want all of you highly paid members of the Fourth Estate to fan out and shake up your sources. Find out what in Sam Hill is going on! Either these folks are crazy or something very unusual is happening in our fair city. Now I expect all of you back here by one o’clock with something.” His blue eyes searched the faces of the anxious reporters and growled, “What are you standing around for? Git!”

The Chief did not have to speak a second time, everyone grabbed what they needed and disappeared from the office. Clark quietly got up from his desk and moved desultorily towards the red staircase. He urgently needed to find an exciting story that had nothing to do with the mysterious ‘Rescuer’ in order to keep Perry off his back. Due to this attention it would be a while before he would be in a position to help anyone else. Not with half the print and film media of the city ‘looking’ for an opportunity to expose him.
Still, if anyone truly needed his special talents, he would not ignore their call.

***

The phone on Lois’ desk rang out as she started up the ramp. She was going to ignore it. Perry was right. The first person to find out who or what was causing these rescues was guaranteed a Merriweather or possibly a Kerth. Getting a fourth award would do wonders for her reputation. She smiled to herself, <Look out whoever you are; Lois Lane is on the prowl!>

Stacy picked up the phone and said, “City Desk.”

Lois continued walking up the ramp, whoever it was, she would call them back later. Suddenly her name was hissed out; she turned back, having never heard that particular tone of voice from Stacy. The shy intern’s face has flushed a deep red. “Yes sir! She’s right here, just a moment please.” Covering the receiver she hissed out Lois’ name again. “Lois! It’s Lex Luthor!”

Caught between surprise and incredulity Lois ran back down the ramp and then whispered, “What does he want?”

Before Stacy could answer, impatiently, Lois took the receiver from her outstretched hand. “This is Lois Lane speaking. Good afternoon, Mr. Luthor.”

{Ah Miss Lane, there’s no reason to be so formal. Please, call me Lex.}

Lois arched a finely tweezed eyebrow and said. “All right then. Lex it is. How may I help you?”

Stacy looked on in amazement as the expression on Lois’ face abruptly shifted from curiosity, to barely contained excitement. After hanging up the phone, she was actually hopping from one foot to the other and practically squealing with glee.

Stacy said breathlessly, “What did he want?” .

Lois yanked open her desk drawer to remove a recording device and a fresh pack of batteries. She also pulled out a well worn blue folder entitled ‘Luthors’ from the file drawer. With deft movements the folder and other items were stuffed into her camel briefcase. In one breath she said, “Tell Perry to hold space on the front page below the fold. Forget about that drought upstate. I am getting a private interview with Lex Luthor about how he and Gregory Daae got the rights to the Space Station Archimedes story!” I’ll be back before noon and have it written up in time for the evening edition.”

Fully equipped for her mission, Lois stormed up the ramp and upon reaching the elevator, slapped her palm on the ‘down’ button. Amazingly the elevator car was already there, the doors flew open and she dove in. From the recesses of the car her voice hit Stacy’s ears. “Don’t forget to tell Perry!”

“Are you kidding?” Stacy mumbled as she walked towards the Managing Editor’s office, “Of course I’ll tell him, no one is going to call me crazy.”

***

Lois fairly burst out of the elevator car as soon as the doors opened. For once the cranky mechanism did as she wanted and had taken her down to the well-lighted parking garage with no problem. No matter how well the custodial staff Mr. Olsen had hired kept the place clean, the rank smell of gasoline and greasy motor oil dominated the space.

Quickly she ran to her Jeep, opened the door and jumped inside. On one side was Jack’s dependable little car, on the other was Ralph Lombard’s late model red sedan. Vaguely the thought passed her mind; how could a lamebrain like him be able to afford such a car? She pushed the notion away, there were much bigger fish to fry. Before she knew it, the powerful engine of her Jeep was running at full tilt and she was weaving her way through early morning traffic.

Lex’s words danced in her brain, {Arianna told me about the fascinating interview you and Mr. Kent conducted. Imagine my surprise when I read the article in the Daily Planet’s Weekend section. Excellently written Lois! Please also extend my compliments to your partner, Mr. Kent. Dear Arianna can be a trifle brusque at times and so I wanted to make up for it. I am free for an hour - today. If you wish we can discuss how Mr. Daae and I were able to get the exclusive rights to report on the Space Station’s construction.}

“’If I wish…!?!’” Lois said aloud in the Jeep. “Oh boy! This day is gettin’ better every second!”

She drove into the underground entry of the LexCorp parking garage. A middle-aged security guard who looked liked an ex-marine smiled tightly and said, “Mr. Luthor is expecting you Miss Lane. Please take this ID badge and drive to the space marked Visitor Zed.”

“Visitor Zed?” Lois said out loud. “That’s an odd name for a parking spot isn’t it?”

“If that’s what Mr. Luthor wants to call a space, that’s his decision, Ma’am. He pays the bills.” The guard turned away and opened up the gate. Lois drove straight into the marked space, exited the Jeep and walked over to the elevator. The ID badge permitted her to take the express elevator to Luthor’s penthouse. She had interviewed congressmen, senators; rock stars and sports heroes, but this interview, even if it was very short notice, made her nervous.

The doors opened once again into the formidable foyer. In front of her Nigel St. John solemnly stood looking as grave and silent as he had on her previous visit. He raised his arm and pointed Lois to the seat of Luthor’s power, his office and said, “This way please.”

As they walked, she felt uneasy and wondered where Arianna was. Stories of Mrs. Luthor’s jealous nature came to mind. The last thing Lois needed was to have the woman storm into the middle of their interview and ruin everything. Also, she disliked the idea of interviewing Luthor in the office. The room was more like a museum than an office, decorated with antiques and weapons of war, so she could be forgiven for being a little taken aback when they passed that door and entered another room. Lex greeted her wearing gray dress slacks and a lightweight black cashmere turtleneck sweater. The outfit was the most informal she had ever seen him.

“Ah, Lois, how good of you to come at such short notice!” he said effusively. “Welcome to my study! Please make yourself comfortable and then we can begin.”

With Armagnac brandy colored walls serving as a backdrop, the space was filled with sleek furnishings, including cognac colored deep leather side chairs, slant backed bookcases and rich gray carpeting, with a tiny paisley pattern. It was a pleasant room, one with decidedly masculine overtones. She could well imagine her father unwinding in here after a long day at the hospital. Luthor gestured to one of the chairs and she quietly sat down.

Playing his role of the genteel host Lex asked, “Please, may I offer some refreshments?” He indicated the tall crystal pitcher of lemon water on the coffee table.

Lois graciously accepted a tall glass and took a sip. The chilly liquid felt delightfully cool and invigorating as it slid down her throat. <This is a very pleasant way to begin an interview.> She thought. Keeping in mind Lex’s tight schedule and the Daily Planet’s deadline she quickly removed the recorder from her briefcase and placed it on the highly polished mahogany coffee table that separated them. Lois cleared her throat and began. “Well let’s get right to it shall we? How did LNN and DMG manage to acquire most of the rights to report from beginning to end the progress of Space Station Archimedes? After all, this is news, the kind of which has never been heard of before; colonizing space is mankind’s next frontier.”

Lex began speaking, his rich cultured voice resonating throughout the comfortable room. He explained to her that unfortunately the world had changed since the early days of space flight. “What security measures they had at the time were laughable; reporters were allowed to roam around Cape Kepler like it was an amusement park. There were a number of incidents which are best left unreported. The International Space Service felt it would be prudent to limit the number of journalists to those who passed rigorous security screenings. Those reporters would be part of news organizations that have impeccable reputations who would share equally the news with their respective global audiences. Between them and our soon to be named ‘Space Channel’ there will be freedom of the press.”

“That’s a pretty argument, but will freedom of the press continue throughout the project? I can’t help but think that this ‘maiden voyage’ of your joint venture with DMG will make a tidy profit for LNN in general and Lex Luthor in particular.” Lois challenged.

Lex smiled a smooth, calculating smile that reminded her of an alligator. “Let me reassure you Lois, LNN/DMG will not have exclusive rights. There is a list of reporters being considered. I cannot give any names of course, but rest assured they are persons within your community that are highly qualified and respected. On that other point, well, after all, I am a businessman.” He looked at her oddly, as if he were speaking to a particularly stubborn child. “Miss Lane, did you watch the last moon launch?”

Embarrassed, Lois voice faltered and then she said, “No, no, I did not.” She wished she could have taken those words back as soon as they crossed her lips; it was obvious what Luthor was driving at.

“Exactly, space flight has become routine. If all the news networks were given access to the story, just how much attention and time will they provide for the proper coverage? How many inches of type will the Daily Planet and her sister newspapers worldwide give it? True, the media will provide ample coverage in the beginning of construction. But, between LNN and DMG we will broadcast major highlights of the unfolding story of the station’s assembly. We have the resources … by allowing us to do our job of recording this project we will be able to cover the story from start to finish. Imagine how much better our understanding of history would have been if all great moments in history had been given such coverage?”

Lex continued talking, spinning an ingenious tale of the journalistic coverage of this mammoth construction project. As much as Lois hated to admit it, he was charming and very convincing. But she could easily imagine Perry having a fit over this partial muzzling of the news. Still, it was best to wait until the names of the other news organizations and their reporters were released before she condemned the man. Overall, this was a decent interview, but still a puff piece in comparison to what she had originally envisioned writing. It was odd through, that Luthor did not mention his business partner very much during their sixty minutes together.

Just as quickly as the meeting began, Lois found herself exiting the parking garage and heading back to the Daily Planet to write up the story in time for the evening edition. She felt a curious letdown of a sort; Lex Luthor was not at all as she perceived him to be. He had welcomed her into a warm, friendly environment, very different from what his wife had indicated of her husband’s personality. There was a nagging sense in the back of her mind, that as charming as Luthor had been the entire event had been orchestrated, from the timing on down to the room where they met, to the refreshing lemon water sparkling in its crystal pitcher and glasses.

If such was the case, than Lois had been used and she hated being exploited for any reason. There would be time to ponder these thoughts later. This might not have been the interview she had hoped for, but it was better than chasing around town looking for something or someone who might not exist.

***

It was shortly after one o’clock when Lois saw Perry emerge from his office and head in her direction to speak with her, his face beaming.
“Lois, I don’t know how you managed it, but this is a great piece about LNN and DMG’s involvement in keeping a living record of the construction of Archimedes. It’s good to know that other news outlets will have a chance to participate as well. This takes a ‘little bit’ of the sting out of not being allowed onboard, but I have to tell ya, there had better be a Daily Planet reporter on that short list! ”

Perry’s face held the wide toothy grin of a happy Managing Editor as he held the sheets of paper in his hand and ambled back to his office.
Catherine looked over her friend’s shoulder as she checked the monitor where the Luthor interview article was currently displayed. “Nice work Lois. That is the best story today; so far no one has any more idea about these mysterious doings around town than we did this morning. Maybe this will give people something else to think about.”

“Yeah, and it gets me out of Perry’s doghouse. We both know we’re only as good as our next story.” Lois said with not a small amount of relief.

Her friend sighed, “Wish I could say the same, but sooner or later he’s going to have to give up and set the bullpen to work on other stories. Speaking of which, have to get back to work on Bill Fences’ company, if my sources are correct; the software he’s developing will change computers forever. But the man needs better business advisors. See you later.” With those words, Catherine went back to her desk.

Clark stepped off the elevator with other members of the bullpen, who, like himself had ‘come up empty’ regarding ‘The Haze’, a name they had given to the flashes of motion and sound eye witnesses swore accompanied every rescue.

Perry came out of his office and looked expectantly at the group as they returned to the newsroom and was disappointed when Clark, acting as unofficial spokesman, shook his head and said. “Sorry Chief, I’ve interviewed a dozen ‘eye witnesses’ to these fantastic events and they can’t add anything to their accounts. None of my sources were able to provide information. It looks like the ‘story’ has run dry.”

“All right everyone, even the Colonel had bad recording sessions with Elvis. Let’s leave this story on the backburner. Sooner or later something has to give.” With a sad shake of his head, Perry retreated into his office.

No one was more relieved than Clark to hear Perry utter those words. He had to ignore some rescues and circumspectly handle others. He did not want to have his fellow reporters on his trail, especially one lovely lady reporter in particular. He walked over to his desk, slowly removed his jacket and sat down. Leisurely, he removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. It had been a long, painfully frustrating day …basically chasing himself. He powered up the computer and opened up a file marked ‘Article Ideas’. Maybe, if he worked fast enough, he could produce a story that would keep Perry at bay.

Lois looked over at him and thought, <Poor guy, he looks beat. It must be hard tracking down something that might or might not exist. Part of me wants to rub the Luthor interview in his nose, but that simply wouldn’t be right. If our situations were reversed Clark would be supportive, not vindictive. This Luthor interview just fell into my lap. I need to be respectful of what he and the others tried to accomplish today. So no razzing!> Her mind also went back to a low point in her career when Claude had almost ended it. It was a stern reminder that a little consideration goes a long way.

True to her word, Lois quietly encouraged the other reporters on the newsroom floor. She even went so far as to offer Diane a chance to use one of her sources to verify a story she had been working on. Her thoughtful gestures did not go unnoticed by the other reporters or Clark.

***

Late afternoon, found Lois again going downstairs to the parking garage. It had been a long day and the garage although well-lit seemed gloomy, almost foreboding. She had spent a couple of hours going over the material Eduardo had mailed.
It was surprising to discover a list of contacts in Switzerland and Paris - a list over three pages long. <Trust him to be thorough.> She mused as she backed the Jeep out of her parking space and moved towards the exit.

She pushed down gently on the brake pedal and without a hint of resistance, it sunk to the floor. The Jeep was accelerating, heading straight for the half wall that served as a barrier; if unchecked the powerful vehicle would plow straight through that concrete and steel barrier. A terrible, frightening scream ripped from her throat, leaving it raw and ragged. The oddest thought pierced her mind; Ellen Lane would probably insist she rinse her throat with salt water to soothe the pain. Abruptly her life passed before her eyes and the wall loomed closer and closer then abruptly, just inches before the Jeep would hit the massive grey barrier, it stopped, completely dead.

She placed the gear shift lever in park, turned off the engine and leaned over the steering wheel, inhaling and exhaling great frightening sobs of air as hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

Hysteria was edging into her mind when questions loomed up. <Why did that happened? The Jeep was checked out last week, and the mechanic said everything was normal. Better still, what stopped me from slamming into the wall?>

Suddenly a familiar, anguished voice forced its way into her thoughts, “Lois!” Frantic heavy footsteps were heard slapping on the concrete flooring. The simple action of lifting and turning her head took the last vestiges of her remaining self control. Clark came running up to her, his handsome face marred with concern and a touch of fear. He opened the door and with infinite care gradually helped her out of the vehicle. She leaned back against the automobile and tried to steady herself, unfortunately she began hyperventilating and was trembling so badly, Clark thought she was going to faint. Her beautiful face was bloodless it looked like a piece of broken white chalk.

Lois took one shaky step crossing the space between them and then grabbed him, allowing his strong arms to encircle her and for a brief space of time, let him take the weight of her fragile existence. It felt so good to feel the sturdy fabric of his jacket and beneath the jacket and shirt she swore she could feel his powerful muscles flexing. It was real and she was alive. They stood like that for more than a few heartbeats, he giving comfort and she being comforted.

Clark drank in the scent of her long, dark hair. The bouquet of fresh jasmine and lemon was so tantalizing he wanted to run his fingers through it. He loved the exotic combination and wondered why Lana never wore perfume like that.

He froze. Lana.

Gently, almost reverently, he pulled Lois away from him and masked his true feelings with those of a good friend’s concern, but also a reporter’s need to know, asked her a few questions. “What happened? Are you all right?”

Reluctantly she lifted her head off the comfort and protection of his strong, broad chest, her features were more under control, but those fine brown eyes, were still rimmed with fear. Words stammered out, “I don’t … I know, the … brakes … they … they failed. Someone … tried to…” She couldn’t finish the words; she looked down at the ground.

“What? Here, lean against back the Jeep, I’m going to check underneath.” Without another word, he took off his jacket and crawled under the vehicle. Lois leaned against the Jeep, allowing the automobile - rather than permit somewhat wobbly legs - to support her. A moment later he emerged from under the Jeep’s body slapping his hands together to remove excess dirt and grease from his clothes.

“Thankfully Lois, I don’t think this was sabotage; just a serious case of negligence. It looks like when they checked your brake lines for air they failed to tighten the fitting adequately. The brake fluid leaked out a little bit each time you applied the brakes. If it had been sabotage one of the lines would have been cut.”

She shook her head in disbelief, “Th … that makes some sense, the vehicle was checked out a few days ago.” Shock and fear were quickly replaced by a stark realization, “I’m a rescue survivor!”

“A … rescue survivor?” Now he was nervous and clearly did not like where this was going.

“That’s right! ‘The Haze’ was here!”

He hesitated speaking, not allowing fear in his voice to puncture through his thin veneer of calm. “Oh Lois, not you too! Look, I spent the better part of the morning searching for something or someone that doesn’t exist. There was probably enough brake fluid remaining to stop the Jeep. It’s the only logical explanation. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“What’ll we do about my Jeep?” Lois looked at it sadly; it couldn’t remain in that spot. It would be an obstacle for their fellow workers. “We can’t leave it there.” She sighed.

“Look, I’ll go upstairs and call a mechanic I know, he’ll come by and take a look at the brake line, if it’s an easy fix, he’ll have it ready in no time.”

Lois eyed him suspiciously, “Where does this sudden knowledge of mechanics spring from? You don’t even own a car!”

“I don’t. But my former roommate does. Pete’s got a Jeep the same make and model as yours. He swears by Jeff’s abilities as a mechanic.”

Her regained composure had wavered ever so slightly, that she failed to suppress a shudder. They went back upstairs to the bullpen and Clark was as good as his word, he called the mechanic and surprisingly Jeff showed up thirty minutes later. Lois, satisfied that her beloved Jeep was in good hands, allowed Clark to walk her home.

As they exited the garage, a thought was nagging at her mind, <What was Clark doing in the parking garage if he doesn’t have a car?> She wanted to ask, but the thought of pursuing this argument with him was not important. She had been through enough for one day.

***

As they had approached her building, Clark was relieved to see her complexion had returned to normal. She was even talking about ‘The Haze’ again and he was trying very hard to steer her away from the subject. He decided to attempt a little self deprecating humor, so with a small bow he said, “As promised Miss Lane, I have delivered you home, safe and sound.”

Ignoring him, she continued her conversation with, “I can’t help it, something or someone weird is happening in Metropolis.”

He sighed, “Lois, there was enough brake fluid to keep your car from crashing into the wall. ‘The Haze’, or whatever Perry and the rest of Metropolis think this is, does not exist.”

She thought for a moment, looked at him and said, “Hey, you don’t have any plans for dinner do you?”

Caught slightly off guard by her abrupt change of subject, Clark said,
“No, I was going to have a warmed up chicken potpie, most of my pots and pans are still in Smallville. My Uncle Wayne promised to send them, they should be here by the weekend. I’m looking forward to cooking real food again.”

“If that’s the case, come on in. I’ve got some spinach lasagna leftover and there’s a salad. My waistline won’t allow me to eat all of it myself. Wanna share?”

Clark hesitated, after his lapse in the garage, he was nervous about spending any time outside of work related activities with her. Lana had only been gone a few days. Being alone with Lois was the absolute last thing he should be doing. His lovely work partner … disturbed him in ways he did not or rather should not contemplate. But despite any misgivings heard himself saying, “Sure, sounds like a good idea.”

The evening went very pleasantly indeed. Over a delicious lasagna and green bean salad, they discussed sports, politics and her interview with Luthor. They felt easy in one another’s company, as if Clark visited Lois at her home all the time.

The next day Lois suggested they go over a story idea that Perry had pitched to them that morning, so they had dinner at Clark’s apartment. Lois was pleased with the layout and relaxed design of the place, especially his kitchen. The large island in the kitchen held a few essentials for serious cooks; she was very impressed with the well used large cast iron skillet, red enameled Dutch Oven and muffin tins. All of this was hints that Clark was a man who liked to eat well and cook gourmet meals.

She loved the spiral staircase leading to his work area and was quite impressed with the terrace. Although the old-fashioned lawn furniture was definitely not to her taste. She suspected that it was from his parents’ home and truly appreciated that nod to his family’s past.

Somehow he managed to make a delightful dish of baked Greek shrimp with tomatoes and feta casserole from leftovers without his favorite pots and casserole pans. This traditional Greek recipe disregards the notion that seafood and cheese don’t mix, and it works beautifully, resulting in a harmonious balance of flavors. The meal was finished off with generous slices of almond cake. Lois wanted to show off a new salmon with basil recipe, so she invited him over the next night.
That third evening at her apartment turned out to be different in a number of ways. They lingered over the remains of the meal and discussed the findings of their respective mechanics. Sonny, owner and operator of the Sunshine Garage and Lois’ long-time mechanic, was understandably upset when they had confronted him about the brake failure. He presented them with the repair inventory. “We go over everything with a fine tooth comb. That brake line was in perfect condition and all connections were tight when you picked up the vehicle.”

On the other hand, Jeff, Pete’s mechanic, stated the line had been deliberately loosened.

There was a disconnect somewhere. But one thing was absolutely certain; someone was out to get Lois Lane.
It had a sobering effect on their evening.

Lois, despite Clark’s concern, didn’t want to dwell on the unnerving subject. She got up from the couch and picked up the dinner dishes and then said with a cocky air, “Come on Clark, death threats are all a part of an investigative reporter’s job. I just have to be more careful in the future, although it would be nice to know who was trying to punch my clock.”

His eye grew wide in alarm and he said, “Lois! How can you be so… so casual about this! Someone was trying to kill you! If there hadn’t been some brake fluid remaining in that line ….”

“That’s another thing! No way should I have gotten out of that situation alive. If it hadn’t been for The Haze….”

“We’re not starting that again are we?” Clark said, throwing up his arms in exasperation.

His partner responded in kind, “Kansas, why do you keep ignoring the fact that something fantastic, something unexplainable is going on in Metropolis?”

Clark followed her into the kitchen, Lady Plushbottom padded softly behind at his heels, hoping to snag an extra bit of his leftovers. “Because I don’t want to go through wasting another day like this past Monday chasing after something which doesn’t exist! You might feel the same if Luthor hadn’t suddenly called and granted an exclusive interview.”

Properly chastised Lois said, “You’re right, Monday was a pretty rotten day for most of the bullpen staffers.” She stopped washing the plates, turned and looked at her friend with a quizzical expression. “Say, come to think of it, what were you doing in the parking garage anyway? You don’t own a car.”

Clark swallowed, this was exactly what he was afraid of, Lois Lane had him in her cross hairs, time to come up with an answer quickly. “Uh, African violets! Ah, your African violet to be exact.”
Confused, she blinked and said, “Come again?”

Warming to his story, Clark starting speaking quickly, “Oh, come on, everyone in the bullpen loves that plant! It grows so beautifully, even without a lot of sun! Anyhow, my apartment really needs something besides my art collection to liven the place up and a colorful plant or two might be just the thing! Monday was so depressing; I looked at the plant on your desk and thought to ask if you would come with me to the plant store.”

It was bewildering listening to Clark babble. She said, “OK, let me get this straight. You followed me down to the parking garage to ask about a plant?”

Nodding like a bobble head Clark said, “Yeah! How about helping me pick out some plants for my place?”

She looked at him oddly and said, “You forgot about this sudden desire for a plant - until just now?”

“Hey, Lois, we were a little busy that evening. Come on, it’s not that late. We can go to Charles’ Greenhouse.”

At hearing about the establishment, her eyes lit up in recognition, “Oh yeah, Steve wrote about him, a former football player who blew out his knee?”

“Exactly! His store has several varieties of indoor and outdoor plants, he even raises orchids.”

Lois smiled, warming to the task. It might be fun to walk around Metropolis streets at night and not go on a stakeout. “You know Kent, that balcony of yours could definitely do with a little greenery to dress up that furniture. Let me get my sweater and bag. This should be fun!”

***

On Thursday morning Lois sat at her desk and thought about the odd mixture of events that evening: the mechanic’s findings and what it could mean for her. She also reflected on the delicious dinner and the time she and Clark had spent together, despite their disagreement about The Haze. Instead of salmon, she had made a vegetarian dish, zucchini au gratin. He was even so thoughtful as to bring the perfect wine to complement the meal and some very delicate pastries, from a little out-of-the-way French bakery, he’d said with a mischievous smile.

That smile, she could get lost in it. She had gotten lost in it while they puttered around Charles’ Greenhouse looking for plants to brighten his home. It was the type of smile that was filled with trust and friendship. She dearly hoped Lana appreciated the kind and gentle soul she was dating and would do nothing to hurt him.
Charles Greer, a friendly bear of a man and his soft spoken wife Mia, helped them find one perfect plant for each room in the apartment. For the entryway, Lois chose a sweet little red-edge peperomia, the leaves had a narrow band of red surrounding a wide creamy margin. A Chinese evergreen for his living room its spiky leaves were punctuated with shades of silver, gray, with touches of green making it an attractive choice to brighten low-light areas of the apartment. They choose two Dieffenbachia; the large, green-and-white leaves created a decidedly tropical look to the balcony, thereby softening the hardscape. In Clark’s bedroom center perched on the window ledge, was a beautiful African violet with delicate purple flowers and fuzzy leaves, Mia suggested it was among the easiest to grow of flowering houseplants.

The final choice was a modest herb basket for the kitchen; the aromatic blend of Thai basil, Italian flathead parsley, mint, sage and thyme was the perfect gift for an adventurous cook.

Unexpectedly, after her jeep had been worked on, it had never smelled so good.

The entire evening had been a wonderful adventure. But, she sighed, Lana’s return from Europe was not that far off, and their innocent recipe trading and plant hunting would be at an end. Their relationship had shifted immensely; writing with him was more fun than work, she had almost stopped calling him by disrespectful nicknames and referred to him only as Clark. She sighed again, looked over at the handsome man not ten feet away and wished for the hundredth time that her mother was not right; it was not fair to poach another woman’s man.

Now, if she could just figure out what low-life scum sucker was trying to kill her?