Bolt, From Dubuque (part 7)
By: Ann Nonymous
Lois smiled. Here was what she would call a classic moment, a moment where she had her subject exactly where she wanted him. He seemed too flustered to run away, but he didn’t seem entirely displeased to see her, either. She had a feeling that if she had wanted, she could’ve dove into his meal and he would’ve just watched in quiet confusion. Too bad he was already finished.
“I said to myself, I could really go for a steak tonight,” she said, plunging ahead. “Being a college student, normally I’d just try to cremate one myself, but I usually want to enjoy what I eat, so I figured that maybe me cooking it wasn’t the right thing. So here I am. Imagine my luck when the hostess just happened to give me this table.”
She paused, basking in the moment. He was still just looking at her, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. This was just too delicious. Not unlike her steak.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I should introduce myself,” she said, moving the pawn on her mental chess board and sticking her hand out toward him. “Lois Lane. You know, from the alley.”
He looked at her hand a moment, then toward her. With a slight shrug, he grasped her outstretched hand. “I’m Clark,” he said, still somewhat guarded, surprising her. He wasn’t supposed to play along with her quite yet. Darn. She had secretly planned how she would torturously draw his name from him, reveling in the little discomforts she would cause him along the way, but he had to go and spoil the fun. Better say something fast, she thought, trying to figure a way to back herself out of the corner she had stepped into. It only took a moment for a new plan to present itself.
“So I heard,” she said, her voice sounding more saccharine than planned. Subtle, Lois, very subtle. How about just telling him that you heard practically every word he said with absolute clarity? She had always been a little too...blunt to be coy, at least when she had to think on the fly. As his eyes narrowed, she quickly tried to steer the conversation back on course. “You know, with your girlfriend’s voice, it kind of just cut through everything when she said it.”
A smile. Finally. That was worth the price of admission, she thought, basking in the moment and silently congratulating herself. It almost wasn’t sporting, pointing out one of the more apparent character flaws in his now ex-girlfriend, but she didn’t regret the reward that little joke at what’s-her-face’s expense had brought her. His smile was enough to make her forget her own name. Time seemed to slow down as she lost herself in his gorgeous face, hazily wondering how it was that a man could be so devastatingly handsome. But the sensation only lasted a moment, and she wrestled her consciousness back to reality, vowing that she would never watch another soap opera again if she didn’t somehow succeed in her plan tonight. And to do that, it was evidently up to her to say something, anything, to keep the conversation rolling. He seemed more than content to just sit there and let her ask the questions and do most of the talking.
“Well, Clark, up until a second ago, I got the impression that you weren’t exactly happy to see me,” she said, hoping to maybe coax something from him, even if it were nothing more than a blush.
His eyebrows raised slightly, his face showing no signs of redness. “I’ve already been Shanghaied once today, so in that respect I could definitely have gone without any more surprises. But in retrospect I should probably be thanking you,” he said, catching her off guard. She had expected some weak platitudes or maybe a long-winded tirade about what a rotten night, what a rotten WEEK it had been, because that would probably have been what she’d have said, but he didn’t seem to play by the same rules.
“Me, why?” she asked, still too surprised to be entirely aware that he had skillfully managed to put her on the defensive.
All of a sudden, his smile became very wry. “You were the only person I saw in Metropolis last time I was here, aside from that mugger, and he passed out so quickly that I doubt he even knew what happened. And since my exploits apparently ended up in the paper, I can only assume that you were the source.”
“You’re thanking me for writing that article?” she asked, confused.
He leaned back, surprisingly at ease now. “Yes.” With a small flick of the wrist, he gestured toward the restrooms, where his dinner companion was at the moment. “Thanks to you, my girlfriend is now my ex-girlfriend.” His smile was almost triumphant.
“The steakhouse breakup. Brutal,” she said, amazed. His mistrust of her that alley had been well-founded – she DID write about him, she DID reveal his existence, even it if was vague. It affected his personal life, ruined his relationship with his significant other, maybe even compromised his identity, but he couldn’t be happier. It somehow took the fun out of it all to have him so happy about how everything had turned out.
“It’s not exactly what I had in mind,” he said, looking around, his eyes ultimately landing on her. “But I got some good food out of the deal, and I’ve found that, contrary to what I’ve always thought, it feels great to be free from the old ball and chain, so to speak, so thank you.”
Lois blushed this time. This man was truly an enigma. She’d love to spend some time getting into his head, and maybe some other places while she was at it. Maybe it was the steak, but she certainly felt sustained, comfortable, and, darn it, she was staring. But so was he.
Their staring contest was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat immediately beside her. Startled, they both jerked their heads toward the sound, and saw the very impatient form of his ex-girlfriend. Her eyes were locked on Lois, her expression deadly. Clark calmly sat up and looked toward Lois, his gaze calming and almost protective. “Lois, I’d like you to meet Lana Lang,”
“Nice to meet you,” Lois said, extending her hand toward the scantily clad woman. Lana just stared at her hand, then turned her wrath toward Clark.
“Clark, I didn’t know that you had any friends here in Metropolis,” she said, her voice revealing a barely controlled rage.
“Oh, sure, Lois and I met a while ago. Journalism conference.” He smiled at Lana, and they probably exchanged some more unpleasantries, but Lois found herself staring at him, mouth somewhat open. Why would he be at a journalism conference? And why would she buy that excuse, unless.... Well, that was certainly an unexpected development.
“Lois?” She heard her name and snapped out of her thoughts.
“Hmm?” she asked, trying to act nonchalant.
“Your check,” he said, pointing to the waiter standing expectantly at her table.
“Oh, right,” she said, giving him a smile, then slipping around the divider to her table. Behind her, she heard nothing but silence as Lana slid into the seat Lois had just vacated. After a few moments, the annoying sound of a flip flop regularly smacking against Lana’s foot began to become apparent, causing Lois to grit her teeth and clench her hands into fists. It was all she could do to keep herself from turning around and shaking this woman who had no manners and no class, even if she did have enough taste to have dated Clark, at least for a little while. Eventually Lois’s bill was paid, and she stood to leave, wondering how she could somehow extend her time with Clark. The last thing she wanted was to leave now, after things had just begun to get a little juicy. His impassioned speech to his girlfriend alluded to things that could be positively fascinating if put in the right context, and she wanted to make sure that she was clear on just what that context was. There was something else, too, a strong, steamy attraction that she wouldn’t mind exploring a little. If it meant finding some large, dark pit throw his companion into, all the better.
“Lois, wait,” she heard Clark say as she took a tentative step away from the table. Did he want to continue their conversation, too? If so, it would certainly save her from having to come up with some excuse to stick around him, which was good, because she didn’t feel much like having to fake some sort of terrible illness in her favorite restaurant just to gain his attention. She tried hard not to appear too sly as she looked over her shoulder, throwing him her best ‘who me?’ look. It was all for not, though, as he had scrunched over the table, whispering something to his now ex-girlfriend. The pink spikes atop the woman’s head stood straight and tall as she nodded a few times, every now and then casting a nasty glare toward Lois.
“Well, goodbye, Clark. Have a nice life,” she said, almost too loudly, offering him a hand to shake, which he gladly took. Some relationship, Lois thought, suppressing a grunt. The two of them part ways, possibly seeing each other for the last time ever, and all this woman could offer was a handshake. No kiss, not even a gentle pat on the arm or some sunny words of regret over the love lost. Not that Lois was big on affection herself, but she had a hard time believing that anyone could not have regrets over losing a man who was even a fraction of the man that Lois imagined this Clark was.
Lana didn’t even look back as she stood, molding her face into an entirely neutral expression and straightening out her too tight shirt. She brushed past Lois and headed toward the exit, her hips swinging seductively, tugging down the edges of her jeans, which left almost nothing to the imagination as it was. Lois had to fight an involuntary shudder as she turned her attention away from the woman and back toward Clark, who was now looking at her anxiously
Clark gestured toward the empty seat across from him, and Lois gladly sat down, dropping her coat and purse on the seat next to her as she gave Clark a questioning stare. “I was thinking about getting some dessert,” he said, grabbing the dessert menu from behind the ketchup bottles and salt shakers. “Would you care to join me?” He opened it up and immediately smiled wickedly. Dropping the menu to the table, he pointed to a dessert named Mount Mud, a mountain of double chocolate chunk ice cream over a chocolate brownie, topped in hot chocolate.
Lois immediately smiled goofily as her chocolate reflex kicked in, and she had to wipe her hand across her mouth, afraid that involuntary drool would soon come dripping out. “You’ve discovered my ultimate weakness,” she said, her attention firmly locked on the picture. “Let me share that with you and I’ll be your new best friend.” With a start, her eyes grew large, her vision focusing through the menu as she tried desperately not to look up toward him. She’d actually said those words out loud? Lois Lane never admitted to any weakness, and she certainly didn’t throw around platitudes to strange men offering her chocolate, no matter how handsome and mysterious they were. But, she thought, forcing herself to calm down, she didn’t have any reason not to trust him. And, considering the knowledge that she held about him, the sharing of one little dessert wouldn’t obligate her to him in any way. In fact, he would probably be obligated to her when it was all said and done, and that was just fine by her.
She looked up and was somewhat surprised to find that Clark was chuckling softly, his eyes sparkling even has his gaze held the shadow of affection, maybe an inkling of something deeper, more serious. Involuntarily, she found her worries about decorum and appearances fading away, and a smile spreading across her face at the sound of his laughter and the pure innocence that it held. Her eyes locked into his again, and she was struck with how familiar and comfortable she felt with him, even if she really didn’t know anything about who he was. Sure, she could make a pretty good guess at what he was, or at the very least what he could do, but that didn’t tell her thing one about who he truly was. What kinds of things did he like to do for fun? What were his political leanings? What was his favorite movie or book? Did he have friends? Family? She felt a twinge of conscience as she considered just what it was that she was there to accomplish. Why was it such a big deal to somehow expose him for what he was? What would it prove to get him to admit to all the things he could do? And what did she intend to do with that confession when she got it?
Lois let the warmth of his gaze wash over her, her smile fading somewhat as she pondered those questions. One of the things that she had gleaned from the overheard conversation between Clark and his ex-girlfriend was that there had been tension, maybe even shame or fear or any number of other negative emotions, over the fact that he was what he was. Distant planets, unbelievable powers, abnormalities, all these things had been mentioned, and in such a way that Lois was sure that those, applied to Clark, were at the root of whatever problems had been between the two of them. Lana had wanted a normal boyfriend, and maybe somewhere deep down inside, Clark had wanted to be normal, too. If he really could do all the things that Lois imagined he could do – the flying, the invulnerability and the heat vision and whatever other talents that were also apparently held by Bolt – then she really couldn’t blame Clark for keeping them hidden away. She could also understand why, all of a sudden, after the emergence and acceptance of Bolt, he wouldn’t feel so skittish about them. And so maybe it had been curiosity or newfound confidence that had led him to be a hero to her in that alley, and his girlfriend had been resentful.
It was all speculation, of course, but Lois felt almost heartbroken at what he must have endured in the name of saving a relationship with that woman. To appease her, and to appease himself and whatever fear he held inside, he had hidden away, ashamed, until that day. But what did he have to be ashamed of? And why try to appease a woman who obviously didn’t love him for who he was? No wonder he had been anxious in that alley, no wonder he tried to hide what he could do and who he was, especially after feeling that spark of mutual attraction. Maybe he thought nobody was capable of loving him once they found out the whole story about him. It was kind of odd, Lois thought, noticing that they were silently staring at each other again. She knew what he was, and she wasn’t afraid or ashamed or disgusted. She knew what he was and all she wanted was to know more, because powers or no, she knew he cared enough about her well-being to risk exposure and save her life. That made him someone worth knowing more about, someone worth getting closer to, and maybe someone worth...well, she’d think about that later.
So why try to pry his secrets out of him? Well, to confirm that she was right, for one. But more importantly, she wanted him to know that she accepted that part of him, and she couldn’t do that unless he opened up to her. Besides, Lois Lane always liked a challenge, and getting someone who had been guarded his whole life to tell her his deepest, darkest secrets was a challenge if she ever saw one. Besides, they had a mountain of chocolate waiting for them and all night to eat it in, and she had every intention of prying all those things out of him in that time.
“So,” she said, breaking the silence, dragging a rogue strand of hair behind her ear and getting down to the business at hand. “Am I to guess that you’re in journalism? You mentioned seeing me at some fictional conference and your ex seemed to buy it.”
His eyebrows rose questioningly, but he didn’t appear to be too flustered, which she supposed was to be expected. He wouldn’t have made that excuse if he had intended to hide the tidbit of information about him that it revealed. He leaned back and appraised her, folding his arms across his chest. “I write some articles every now and then, and with any luck I’ll be making a living off that soon enough,” he said. “Somehow it’s a lot more fun writing about the news than finding out that you ARE news, though.” He gave her a little smile and a challenging look, and Lois found herself blushing. “I can’t imagine what you’d want to write about me.”
Yeah, right, Lois thought, although she had to give him points for boldness. He seemed to have controlled the conversation all night, framing things such that he was in charge of the conversation, like a good journalist usually did. As much as she could respect and admire that, she had to turn things around, and soon. “I think having your life saved by a mysterious stranger is newsworthy,” she said. “Besides, you have to admit that the whole situation was, well, a little weird.”
He seemed amused at that comment, but before he got a chance to elaborate, the waiter came and took their order. Once the waiter was safely out of the way, Clark leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. “Weird how? You were asleep in the alley and I stopped a guy from mugging you.”
So much for putting him on the defensive. “You just seemed to appear out of thin air,” she said, mentally playing her first card, the weakest argument that she had. He didn’t need to know that she had peripherally seen him drop from the sky.
“The last thing you want to do when trying to stop someone is to let them know that you’re there. As far as you were concerned, that mugger came out of nowhere, too,” he said, and she nodded in agreement. All perfectly valid arguments to a perfectly vague observation.
“So what happened to the bullet the guy fired from that gun? There weren’t any marks in the alley, no trace of it after it was discharged.” She smiled at him, mentally throwing down her second card. This one wasn’t quite as much of a softball as the previous question, but it was close.
His answer was about what she expected. “I hit his hand and the bullet went up in the air,” he said. “It’s probably lodged in an air conditioner on top of one of the nearby skyscrapers.”
Or stuffed into the pocket of his jeans, Lois thought. Maybe he kept it as a souvenir, or maybe it had become a resident of the local dump in wherever town it was he came from. In any case, one of the very clear recollections that she had from that experience was his conspicuously balled up fist, and what appeared to powder burns around it. But she let his answer slide, knowing full well that it was perfectly reasonable, given the circumstances. “So why did the mugger pass out? And why did you run away so quickly?” she continued, asking the last of the obvious questions.
His eyes were still twinkling, his smile was still easy. He was enjoying this, she realized. Making up excuses for her observations was giving him a kick. Did that mean he enjoyed lying to her? It was enough to make Lois almost feel resentful, but she realized that he had no reason to open up to her. She was a reporter, even if she was attractive, and therefore she was dangerous to him. Maybe it was time to stop being subtle and just come right out and say everything.
“I couldn’t tell you why the guy passed out, and as for me, well, the only thing I was thinking about was facing the wrath of Lana if she ever found out I was there,” he said, pointing his thumb toward the door as he said his ex-girlfriend’s name. “Why, did you think I was like that Bolt guy or something?”
-/-\-
In retrospect, that might have been a really stupid thing to ask, Clark thought, telling himself for the umpteenth time what an idiot he was. He didn’t know if it was the location, or the company, or the fact that his breakup with Lana had left him in such good spirits, but ever since Lois Lane had appeared in front of him, he hadn’t been himself. The real Clark was very cautious, especially when discussing items that might expose him and the talents that he kept hidden. True, he had decided to turn over a new leaf, but it had never been part of his plan to advertise that Clark Kent had powers. He should be worried about what she was saying. He should be doubly worried about the fact that she’s a reporter who has already written one article about him. But he really wasn’t concerned, or at least he hadn’t been up until a second ago.
Clark supposed that he was generally personable. He had plenty of friends and got along with almost everyone, but being personable and being laid back were two entirely separate things, and Clark had to admit that even under the best of circumstances, he was a little high strung. So why not tonight? Why oh why couldn’t he have played it safe before digging a hole for himself? And why did he have to go and be so cocky? One look across the table and he thought he knew why.
Lana had been Clark’s girlfriend almost since he had discovered what it was that made girls special. He hadn’t had to woo her, or fight for her, since they had always been friends as long as either of them could remember. But he also hadn’t really been in love with her, and Clark wondered if maybe it was infatuation that was causing him to act this way. That incredible feeling of rightness that had been present when he had seen her in that alley had come back in full force once they had started talking, and it had brought out that inner confidence that had been pushed away for so long. With her, he wanted to play around a little. With her, he felt sly and confident and, best of all, happy, even though all the circumstances around him told him that he shouldn’t be. And maybe he had gotten caught up in that, and that’s why he had asked that question, that incredibly stupid question.
“Well, yeah,” Lois said in answer to his question, giving him a sly smile that even the most cunning rogue could appreciate. The party was over, he thought, his smile slipping away, even though he was valiantly trying to keep up appearances for her. The confidence that had held him in its clutches was now definitely gone, and he felt the sudden need to panic. She knew all about him, she had to. Watching her eyes only reinforced that belief, but it also brought that strange feeling, the zap of something that held him in his seat even though he should be fleeing out the door right now. She couldn’t know, he told himself, as he drank in every detail of her face. She could suspect, but the bottom line was that she couldn’t have anything firm, that much he knew. Besides, wouldn’t it be interesting to know what she thought of him even if she did suspect he had fantastic powers? Would she be disgusted with him, as Lana had, or was she truly someone special, someone who embraced those things? And wouldn’t it be worth it to stick around and find out?
“You definitely have a great imagination,” he said, recovering quickly. No sense changing the official line right now. He would continue to be plain old Clark, regular guy and good citizen, with no special talents to speak of.
Lois raised her eyebrows and appraised him, then shrugged and looked down toward the menu and the various confections that it held. “Well, it’s possible that all the hype about the new superhero got under my skin. I was returning from Bolt’s press conference when you found me.”
“Really?” Clark asked, seizing the opportunity to turn the conversation away from himself for a while. “Did you get to see him up close, or did you have to observe from afar?”
Lois shrugged, although her face lit up. Reporters liked to talk shop. If he had learned nothing about the business, he had learned that. And just being there with Bolt had probably been a major coup for a reporter who worked for a lowly campus newspaper. “He landed right in front of me. For a moment I thought he was flirting with me. He even answered one of my questions.”
Clark was impressed, although he felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of Bolt flirting with Lois. Blinking, Clark forced that thought away. Another opportunity had presented itself, and the question needed to be asked, even if he was sure that he wanted to hear the answer. “So what did you think of him?” he asked.
Lois looked at him questioningly, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Clark opened him mouth, then closed it, looked at his hands, and tried to frame the question. “He can do some pretty weird stuff. It’s not every day that you see a guy who can fly, after all. Some people even say that he could be from outer space.”
Lois smiled and exhaled quickly, shaking her head. “I couldn’t tell you where he was from, but he didn’t look any more like an alien than you do.”
Clark raised his eyebrows, wondering how to take that comment. Lois didn’t seem to notice, however. “And all that stuff he can do, I think it’s pretty neat. How many people wouldn’t want to be able to fly? How many people wouldn’t want to be impervious to harm? Let me tell you, in a city like Metropolis, that would definitely come in handy.”
A smile was spreading across Clark’s face. She seemed so nonchalant about the whole situation. It was refreshing. He almost hated to keep prodding. “I think some people might be scared of doing that stuff, or of someone, a possible alien no less, who could,” Clark continued, trying not to color his words with old emotions gained from experience.
“I don’t know why,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “Even if the guy is an alien, so what? He’s probably more human than a lot of the people I’ve met. He goes out of his way to fight crime and rescue people, to look out for the average person in the city. How many people can you say that about? Everything he can do is a talent, and I would definitely say he should be someone who is considered special rather than creepy.” She looked up at him again, curiosity etched on her face. “Why? What do you think?”
I think you’re absolutely terrific, Clark thought, his heart beating heavily. Aware that he was staring at her, he shrugged, noticing that the waiter was coming their way with dessert. “Oh, you know. What you said,” he answered.
As soon as the treat was set down in front of them, they dug in, not saying anything for a few moments. He caught himself looking at Lois, appraising her, wondering. What if she went to school at Midwestern State instead of Metropolis University? What if they really had met at some conference, two random colleagues among a crowd, what then? Would they have had that instant attraction? He was a single man now, no attachments, and he was very temped to ask her out, but what could come from a relationship with her, really? They couldn’t see each other regularly, not unless he kept from her every vital piece of information about himself, and that wouldn’t be fair to her. And he wasn’t going to reveal himself to her, no matter how favorably she looked upon the things he could do. It wasn’t to be, he told himself, trying to fight off the wave of depression that thought brought with it. He just needed to enjoy this night, and make the most of their time together.
The sound of Lois’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. “You know, I had it all planned out at that press conference,” she said, a slightly far away tone in her voice. “I, Lois Lane, of the Metropolis University Daily, would be the one to supply the world’s first superhero with a name.”
“So Bolt wouldn’t have been your first choice?” he asked, and she shook her head.
“No, I wanted to call him Superman,” she said, and Clark raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Superman?” he asked, chewing the name over in his mind. It definitely had a dramatic flare, although, he thought, it did seem a little presumptuous. It was akin to calling him Fantastic Dude or Incredible Guy, but Clark supposed that such a name coming from a complete stranger should be a compliment for anyone. And it would be a lot to live up to. But still, there was something about that name. “I think I like that,” he said, and the smile returned to Lois’s face.
“Yeah?” she asked, and he nodded. They continued to eat, the conversation moving away from superheroes and fantastic powers, both of them laughing on more than one occasion. As they finished up and the waiter came with the bill, he found himself stalling, not really wanting the evening to end. But the end must come at some time, he told himself, and people were still waiting to be seated. He put his money on the table, paying cash as he always did when he was out of town, and rose, Lois joining him as they walked out of the restaurant. He let her take the lead, following her to a car in the parking lot.
“Do you need a ride anywhere? It looks like your girlfriend is long gone,” Lois asked, digging the keys out of her purse. Clark shrugged and shook his head.
“I think I can manage to find my own way home,” he said, bringing that sly smile to her face once again. Her key, which had been close to being inserted into the door lock, dropped to her side, and she leaned against the car, cocking her head to the side, regarding him.
“So, Clark, do you have a last name? A phone number? I just might want to find a way to contact you again.”
Clark looked at her, wondering what to say. If she told him his full name, she would be able to look him up. If he gave her a phone number, she would be able to know where he was from. And if he said nothing, well, he wasn’t sure if he could live with himself. “Kent. Clark Kent,” he said, giving her a little smile. “And I could give you a phone number, but maybe I want to see what kind of research skills a budding reporter such as yourself has.” He knew he was smiling too wide, and he knew that she would find him eventually. It would be fun to see how long that would take.
Watching her, though, he noted the knowing look on her face beneath her increasingly seductive grin. “A challenge, oh good,” she said, taking a step toward him. “While I’m working on that, maybe you can start formulating your next excuse.”
“Excuse?” Clark asked, a part of him sending out an alarm as he noticed her slyness increase with his confusion.
“Sure,” she said, leaning in toward him. “You can think of a way to explain away the fact that you were in a city of millions of people last week, but somehow I was the only one to see you.” Her finger came up and traced the area behind his ear as she planted a kiss on his cheek. “A girl could almost think that you could fly,” she rasped. Clark found himself unable to move as she straightened up and turned back toward her car, giving him a smile over her shoulder as she climbed in and started it up.
She knew, dear lord she knew, and she had known throughout their whole conversation. All the questions she had asked, all the things she had said, all had been done knowing full well what it was he could do. He didn’t know whether he should be terrified or delighted. What would she do with that knowledge? Would she write about him again? No, he thought as his finger went up and touched the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him. Surely she wouldn’t expose him, couldn’t expose him, because all she had for evidence were moments in an alley and snippets of private conversation. It would be easy to be paranoid, to follow her around for the rest of the night and obsess about that, but something deep inside told him to trust her. That same something had held back the anxiety all night, had reveled in what he saw in her gaze and what it made him feel.
In the end, he just watched as she drove away, a growing feeling of satisfaction deep inside of him. When the time came and his phone rang, it would be interesting to see how things would turn out. In the meantime, it would feel great to dream about that moment, and to seize the destiny that was coming.
