Yes, I'm finally starting to post this monster-of-a-story of mine!
This installment could be considered a modified repost, of sorts, since I posted this first installment a year or so ago. I've made a few changes since then, though, and I did wonder if there might be new readers on these boards since then that might feel this warrants a look, or people who couldn't remember it from back then.
I want to send a HUGE thank you to my BRs, Wendy, LabRat, and CC, for help with brainstorming this, and an extra huge THANK YOU to CC, who has continued to humor me by requesting to see more sections when I'm sure she has better things to do with her time than read this fic of mine.
Honestly, CC, I love you for it!
EDIT: How could I forget?!
I hope you enjoy this long--and hopefully wonderful!--journey I'm about to send you on. <crossing fingers> I've never written an Elseworlds fic, but I've been thoroughly enjoying it. I hope you do, too. And please, if you have suggestions on how this might be strengthened, by all means, email me! I'd love to know.
Thanks for taking a look!
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The Long Road Home
by Erin Klingler
erinklingler@cableone.net
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Some people are lucky enough to start and finish their lives right where they belong, always feeling comfortable with themselves and their lives. They have exactly what they want, and they feel an amazing sense of contentment.
Others, however, spend their entire lives searching-searching for themselves, searching for something...for whatever it is they feel they are missing. Their journey is wrought with difficulties and disappointments, a need to fulfill some part of themselves they simply don't know how to satisfy.
For these people, their lives continue to feel like the very first step on a long road home.
**********
The Long Road Home
With weary fingers, Lois typed the final few keystrokes to finish her story-a damning expose on a San Francisco crime ring. She sent the file off to Jim Langley, her editor in chief, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh of relief.
She was finally done. The realization left her both exhilarated...and exhausted. She'd been working so hard and for so long on this investigation, and now that all the evidence had finally been gathered, every source had been checked out, and every fact had been documented, she felt too tired to even move from her chair. But she also felt an incredible sense of exhilaration, knowing that when her article came out in tomorrow's morning edition, heads were going to roll.
Her editor had been momentarily concerned when she'd come to him a month ago asking to be put on the story. He knew that without hard evidence, a story naming several high-ranking officials in the city and its surrounding area could cause the San Francisco Chronicle a world of trouble. But even he hadn't been able to find fault with the tirelessly obtained evidence she'd presented him with the day before that would, most certainly, be one of the most incredible exposes the newspaper had ever printed. It would also present prosecutors with enough evidence to make the necessary indictments. It was investigative journalism at its best.
A confident smile worked its way across her face. *Dang, I'm good. And this story proves it.*
*Not that I have anything to prove,* she quickly amended.
In the six years she'd been a reporter, she'd built a name for herself by writing stories that had exposed everything from illegal gun-running operations to money-laundering schemes. She had even dealt local crime lords blows by exposing their carefully constructed operations, thereby cleaning up her little corner of the world.
She was known among her colleagues and peers as one to be reckoned with, an investigative journalist who got to the bottom of absolutely any story. If something were hidden, she would find it. That was all there was to it. Everyone knew she was the best. And she was.
But strangely enough, lately, being the best didn't seem to be enough. It felt like something was missing in her life. Something...
"Lois! Where's that story of yours?"
Lois jerked her thoughts back to the present and turned in the direction of the voice. She immediately spotted the familiar scowl on her editor-in-chief's stern, dark face as he stormed about the newsroom, making sure everyone was going to meet the evening deadline.
"It's done, Chief," she called back wearily. "I just sent it to you."
He nodded with satisfaction, but his mouth maintained its firm line. "Great. Now get out of here. Go home and get some sleep. That's an order."
Lois let a weary smile slip out and she pushed her chair back from her desk. "You don't have to tell me twice. G'night, Chief."
"'Night, Lois." This time his voice was a little less gruff as he turned and headed back to his office.
Lois shook her head as she gathered up her overcoat and attache and headed for the elevator. She'd worked for Jim Langley for a long time now, and she knew that underneath that gruff exterior, he was really a softie. He'd seen her through losing her parents, through threats of suspension from her job when witnesses hadn't panned out, through everyday hardships and trials. He'd become more of a friend than anyone knew. And these days, she was glad to have every friend she could get in her often lonely profession.
Yet, even though she was grateful to have a handful of people she could honestly call friends, she felt the same hint of depression trying to work its way into her soul. With great effort, she pushed it aside.
*What on earth do you have to be depressed about?* she asked herself as she stepped out of the elevator and into the Chronicle's below-ground parking garage. *You just nailed the expose of the year. If this story doesn't earn you the Pulitzer prize, nothing will. Enjoy the moment!*
But even as she insisted, she found it hard to do so. She always craved the action, the intensity, the battle to get the story--and usually the glory that came along with it--but this time, she just didn't feel her usual enthusiasm.
*It's the after-story blues,* the little voice in the back of her head reasoned. *You always feel like this after you finish a big story. All those weeks of tracking down leads and digging up the dirt--it's only natural that you would feel a sense of letdown.*
Somehow, though, Lois didn't think that was the only reason she was feeling this way. She felt restless. Discontented. With everything that she had going for her, for some reason it didn't seem like enough.
As she rounded the corner and approached her silver BMW, she couldn't help glancing over the car for any signs of tampering. It wouldn't have been the first time someone had set out to get her, to attempt to stop her from printing her articles. It was a fact that her investigative reporting made more enemies than friends.
When nothing seemed out of the ordinary, Lois hit the unlock button on her car's security remote and climbed in. So many times, her editor had voiced concerns about her ability to watch out for herself. He knew she was in a dangerous position, remaining in the public eye as her exposes tore down criminals and even occasionally sent men of power and wealth to prison.
On more than one occasion, he had wanted to assign one of the Chronicle's security officers to at least get her safely home, but Lois always insisted she could take care of herself. She knew the risks. There was always the possibility that the person or persons she was exposing would threaten her life. She had to stay on guard and remain watchful. But strangely enough, that's what made her feel alive, knowing she was constantly in the line of danger. It was an adrenaline rush, and it was addictive. But she knew it would be useless to try to explain all that to her editor-in-chief.
She started the engine and steered the sports car through the busy streets of San Francisco, dodging in and out of traffic. At her increased speed, it was only a few minutes before she was parking her car in her apartment's garage and taking the elevator up to her fifth-floor apartment. She had just walked down the hall to her apartment at the end and was about to insert her key into the lock when the door to the next apartment opened. A head with a bright blue, clear plastic cap covering a dozen or more bright pink rollers poked through the crack.
Lois raised her eyebrows at her elderly neighbor. "Hello, Agnes. Nice hair-do."
The elderly woman let out a noise of disgust as she stepped the rest of the way out of her apartment. She was dressed in a wild, floral print robe and hot pink slippers that almost matched the color of her hair rollers. A tiny white poodle with little red bows secured above each ear was held securely in her arms.
"Don't get smart with me, young lady," Agnes scolded. Beneath the harshness of her voice, though, was an unmistakable note of affection. She glanced down at her thin, gold watch. "You're home late again. What have I told you about working too hard?"
Lois let a smile slip out at her neighbor's familiar reprimand. "That I'm going to grow old before my time and end up an old maid," she said, repeating the words Agnes had told her many times before. Then she pointedly glanced at the little dog her neighbor was holding, and her voice took on a light, teasing tone. "Like you, perhaps? Living alone in an apartment in San Francisco with only a dog for a roommate?"
Agnes snorted again good-naturedly. "Never you mind about that. This isn't about me, this is about you. You just need to have a little fun once in a while, instead of working at that newspaper of yours all hours of the day and night."
Lois stepped back from her door and closed the distance between her and her neighbor. When she was close enough, she reached out to rub the little dog's ears and coo softly at her. The dog responded by twisting her head into Lois's hand, obviously enjoying the attention. "She sure loves people, doesn't she? Seems unusual for a poodle."
Agnes chuckled. "It's true poodles can be yippy and sometimes mean, but Princess has always been sweet. She loves people and the attention they give her. But she's a good judge of character. I'd hate to see her meet up with someone she didn't trust. She knows you're a good person, so she really loves you."
"Or maybe she just knows a sucker when she sees one." Lois grinned as the dog licked her hand, then she stepped back and took another look at her neighbor's interesting hairstyle. "You have a hot date tonight, Agnes?"
"One never knows." Agnes flashed a cryptic smile. "Just because I'm old doesn't mean I can't have a life. And that holds true for you, too, dear. Are you going out tonight?"
Lois felt a pang of sadness come over her, but she quickly pushed it aside and shook her head. "Not tonight. I think I'll curl up with some ice cream and a good book. I'm tired."
Agnes made a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue and shook her head reprovingly. "You're young and beautiful, Lois. You probably have a dozen guys eager to take you out. You should take one of them up on their offer."
Lois sighed. "Maybe sometime. None of them interest me, I guess."
"Interest, schminterest," the old lady scolded as she wrinkled her already wrinkled face at the younger woman. "I'm not saying you have to marry one of them. Just go out, for once! Having some kind of life outside of that paper of yours would do you some good."
"I know." Lois nodded half-heartedly. "I just...I don't know. I seem to be looking for something that doesn't exist." She paused a moment, afraid of going into territory that was better left unexplored. Finally, in an attempt to lighten the mood, she grinned and met Agnes's gaze. "I guess I'm just waiting for that knight in shining armor to sweep me off my feet, just like you are."
Agnes let out a laugh that could be heard clear down the hall. "Smart girl. And a romantic at heart, I must say. I always knew there was a hopeless romantic in you underneath all those exposes you write." She reached out to pat Lois's arm. "Good for you, Lois. Good for you."
Then, without another word, Agnes turned and went back into her apartment, shutting the door soundly behind her.
Lois smiled after her neighbor. Despite their age difference, Lois thought of her as a friend...as kind of the mother she'd always longed to have.
With a sigh, Lois turned back to her own apartment and let herself in. The lights were dim in the foyer, and she tossed her overcoat onto the Victorian chair next to the vestibule, where she set her attache. Then she crossed the darkened living room and slid onto the window seat at the far end of the room. From there she could look out over the bustling city. It was a beautiful sight, one she never tired of. It had soothed her on many an occasion after a long, stressful day of work, but tonight, even the beautiful views and the twinkling lights of the city spread out before her couldn't soothe her soul.
Lois shook her head. She didn't know why she felt so restless. She had a good career where she earned a nice living, a nice apartment in a safe part of town, and a life that was her own. She could come and go as she pleased.
*Then why am I not happy?* she asked herself as she felt a hint of depression sinking back in. *What is it, exactly, that I think I'm missing in my life?*
She leaned forward to rest her temple against the cool glass of the window as she stared out into the darkening night sky. She didn't know what it was, but something was missing. Something she just couldn't put her finger on.
She wanted more out of her life. But for the life of her, she had no idea what it was.
**********
