From part 6:
She opened her mouth to speak, but Clark rushed on. "Look, Ms. Lane, I'm sorry that you're angry I scooped you, but I'll have you know I'm not just some hack. I've paid my dues just like you have, and I would not have been hired here as an investigative journalist if I didn't have the skills *and* the credentials. If we're going to talk connections, there's also something else you've probably heard of--it's called professional courtesy. And right now I'm not feeling particularly courteous. If you're going to walk in here and call me a hack, you can just go and find your own sources."
Lois's eyes widened and her jaw dropped open. In the silence that followed, Clark was surprised to see that she was actually speechless. Judging from her babbling of only minutes before, he assumed that probably didn't happen often.
For a moment, he almost felt guilty for lashing out at her--something he could never remember doing in the history of his career. He had always been courteous and respectful to his colleagues. But something about this Lois Lane's attitude and accusations had really rubbed him the wrong way. He had worked hard to get to where he was, and he wasn't about to let this woman--no matter how beautiful she was--talk down to him and accuse him of being a hack.
With his outburst hanging heavily in the air, Clark cleared his throat. "Well. If you'll excuse me, I've got some work to do. Good luck with your story."
And with that, Clark stalked across the newsroom and into the elevator, leaving her staring silently after him.
**********
Now on to part 7...
**********
"I can't believe I lost it like that," Clark vented to his parents later that evening. "I don't think I've ever done that to a colleague before."
"Well, it sounds like you had the right to," Martha Kent consoled, her tone supportive and understanding. "Accusing you of being a...what did she call it?"
"A lucky hack. Can you believe it?" He shook his head, even though he knew his parents couldn't see him. "Still, I should have been more courteous. I felt a little guilty then, and I feel even guiltier now. What possessed me to act like that?"
"It's simple, Clark," his mom analyzed. "Here this Lois Lane woman shows up, a very renowned journalist, with a reputation for getting to the bottom of any story, and she's demanding to know how to get hold of Metropolis's new hero. You felt threatened, plain and simple. Anyone in your place would have felt that way. It's perfectly natural to lash out when you're scared. Not that I recommend you do that in the future, though," she finished in her best scolding-parent tone.
Jonathan chuckled, joining in on the conversation from the other phone extension. "Yeah, we're not recommending you treat your colleagues that way, but it does sound like she didn't have much respect for you. Maybe she will now, though, and leave you alone. If that secret of yours ever got out, there could be some terrible consequences. I don't think I need to remind you, Clark, what those scientists would do to you if they ever found out you're from another planet. They would open you up--"
"--and dissect me like a frog," Clark finished for him. "I know, Dad. Why do you think I was worried when I found out Lois Lane from the San Francisco Chronicle was at the Daily Planet? I've read her stuff; I know how talented she is. And from what I've heard about her, she's ruthless. But...well...I guess I just never expected her to be so..."
When Clark didn't finish, his mom prompted, "So...what?"
Clark paused, then went ahead and said it. "Beautiful. I never expected her to be so beautiful."
There was a moment of silence from his parents' end of the line, and Clark groaned inwardly as he imagined them exchanging a look of interest. He hurried on to dispel what they were surely thinking. "And aggravating! I cannot believe how aggravating she is. She storms around like she owns the place, and clearly treats people like she has no consideration for them at all. It makes me wonder if she has any friends back in San Francisco."
"Now, Clark." His mom's voice had a scolding tone to it. "That's a little unfair, don't you think? The truth is, you really don't know that much about her. I'm sure she only acts that because she's had to fight so hard to get where she is in her line of work. I can't say that I blame her. I know what it's like. Your father and I both work equally hard to farm our land, and I know almost as much as your father does about how to run a farm. But if I ever try to voice an opinion around other men farmers, they all treat me like I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm sure this Ms. Lane must feel the same way from time to time."
Clark stopped his pacing. "Mom, are you taking Lois Lane's side? I thought you were supposed to be on my side."
"We are on your side, honey," his mom hurried to reassure him. "I'm just saying you shouldn't go jumping to conclusions and think she's a terrible person. Until you've walked a mile in somebody's shoes, you have no right to judge them."
Clark paused, confused. "So...you don't think I should be worried about her?"
"Oh, you should be terrified." His mother chuckled. "You just shouldn't judge her while you're running the other way."
Clark heard his dad laugh, and he found himself smiling, too. "Got it, Mom. Thanks."
"You be careful, son," his dad put in before they hung up. "And keep us posted."
Clark assured him he would do both, then hung up. He smiled. His parents always made him feel better. There were times when he felt very lonely, living the life he had to, but it was nice to know they were always there for him when he needed them. That made things almost bearable.
But there were also times, though, when he wanted something else. Someone else.
A mental image of Lois Lane unwillingly popped into his mind. It was true what he'd told his parents. Lois Lane was beautiful. His heart rate increased as he pictured her standing before him, her silky brown hair barely brushing her shoulders and curling under slightly, drawing attention to her full, red lips, her intense brown eyes framed by long, thick lashes, and her flawless, fair complexion. Then there was that long expanse of bare, shapely leg he'd gotten a good look at....
He shook his head, refusing to let himself go there. Yes, there was definitely something about her to interest a man. But it wasn't just that she was beautiful. There was more about her that piqued his interest.
He smiled at the memory of her babbling on about the 'super hero' needing a name, and sarcastically calling him 'friend man.' She had a sense of humor, he had to give her that. There was also a fire and determination that gave her cheeks color and brightened her eyes. Under other circumstances, he would have loved to get to know her better, but he knew that just wasn't possible. She was after an expose, a tell-all story to expose him and his life. He couldn't let that happen. It was dangerous. *She* was dangerous.
And as much as he felt inexplicably drawn to her, he knew he had to steer clear. No matter what his heart was telling him.
**********
Lois shut her hotel room door, then walked across the room and plunked down on the couch. 'What an awful day,' she grumbled to herself. She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling for several long minutes. It had been bad enough that she'd crapped out in her efforts to track down the super hero, but she also felt bad for the way she'd treated Clark Kent.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. The more she thought about their conversation, the more disappointed she was in herself. She hadn't meant to offend him; she'd been frustrated at her lack of success and had taken it out on him. She'd had no right to do that, and he was absolutely right--that was no way to treat somebody she needed a favor from.
When he had stormed off after taking her down a notch, she had been shocked into silence. She wasn't used to being stood up to. Most people were intimidated by her, and got out of her way when they saw she was in one of her moods. But Clark hadn't. She didn't know whether to be angry...or impressed. There was clearly more to this Clark Kent than met the eye.
She sighed. She'd really made a mess of things. She'd struck out in her search today, then to top it all off, she had alienated Clark Kent, the one person she knew of who could be a link to getting in touch with the super hero. There was only one thing she could do.
Apologize.
She groaned and leaned forward, dropping her face into hands. She hated apologizing. She avoided it like the plague. It was demeaning and embarrassing, but in this case, she knew she had to do it. It was the only way she could mend her fences with Clark Kent, and hopefully convince him to help her reach the city's new hero.
'I'll apologize tomorrow morning,' she conceded.
Feeling a little better, she stood up and wandered over to the nightstand where the in-house menu had been placed. The room service prices were costly, but she decided she wasn't up to going out. Not after the day she'd had.
Picking up the phone, she ordered a turkey sandwich and the house soup, then went to change into something more comfortable before it was delivered. She rummaged through her suitcase and pulled out a black T-shirt and a pair of blue and black plaid lounge pants. It was only eight o'clock, but she decided she'd spend the evening in doing research on her computer through the hotel's provided Internet service.
After changing into her comfortable sleepwear, she hooked up her computer and grabbed her cell phone to call in to check her messages. There were two new messages. She punched in her code to listen to them, and grimaced when her editor's voice came across the line demanding an update. She made a face. That call was going to have to wait. She wasn't about to call him back and tell him that so far she had nothing.
The next message caused her brow to furrow. An unfamiliar woman's voice came through loud and clear:
"Ms, Lane, this is Deirdre Long, Mr. Luthor's personal secretary. Mr. Luthor is an admirer of your work and has learned you are in town for a few days. He was hoping you might have time to have dinner with him while you're still in town. Please call me back at 555-2137 to let me know and we can schedule something. Thank you."
The message ended, and Lois's draw dropped open. Lex Luthor wanted to have dinner with her? Sure, she knew who he was. Who didn't? He was the third richest man in the world, and one of the most powerful men in the United States. He owned so many companies and corporations that it was impossible to list them all in one sitting. He had his hand in everything from real estate and computer software, to space technologies and nuclear power plants. She'd read articles about him over the years, intrigued by his rise to wealth and power from his meager beginnings.
'And he wants to have dinner with me, Lois Lane,' she thought, feeling both surprised and flattered.
She replayed the message, writing down the phone number on the note pad next to the phone. Then she glanced at her watch. She wondered if it would be too late to return the call. Figuring it was worth a try, she dialed. Her stomach danced with butterflies as the phone began to ring.
A female voice answered smoothly, "Lex Luthor's offices, may I help you?"
"Hi," Lois said, trying to sound professional in spite of her fluttering stomach. "I had a message from Deirdre Long I'm trying to return. Is she available?"
"This is Deirdre Long. May I ask who's calling?"
"This is Lois Lane--"
The receptionist's voice cut her off. "Yes, Ms. Lane, let me put you through to Mr. Luthor. He's expecting your call."
There were a couple of clicks on the line, and Lois's throat seized up. She was actually being put through to Lex Luthor? She swallowed nervously. She hadn't expected this. She had expected to schedule something with his secretary, not talk to him himself.
She squeezed the phone a little tighter in anticipation. She didn't have long to wait, because only a few moments later a smooth, cultured voice came across the line.
"Ms. Lane, how kind of you to return my call."
Lois shook herself out of her momentary state of shock and cleared her throat. "Mr Luthor," she said by way of greeting. "It's a pleasure to talk with you. I have to admit, I was a little surprised to hear a message for me from your receptionist. If you don't mind me asking, how did you get my number?"
His voice had a smile in it when he answered. "I learned you were in town, and I'm such a admirer of your work that I had my secretary phone your editor in San Francisco. He passed your number along. I hope you don't mind."
"Oh, not at all," she said. "I'm flattered you would go to so much trouble."
There was a brief pause, then his voice, clear and confident, came across the line. "Ms. Lane, I know you're busy, and probably only in town for a few days, but I was hoping to meet you. Would your schedule allow for a dinner appointment?"
"I think so," Lois answered, trying not to sound too eager. The thought flitted through her head that this could definitely work to her advantage. Maybe if she played her cards right, she could return home with an exclusive interview of the city's new hero *and* an interview with Lex Luthor. "I leave Saturday morning. Is there a night that works better for you?"
"How about tomorrow night? We could go to any restaurant you'd like, or better yet, we could have a private dinner in my penthouse. I have a personal chef on staff who's one of the most renowned chef's in the world. I think you would be pleased."
Lois smiled to herself. Dinner at his penthouse with a world-renowned personal chef? 'Such a tough decision to make,' she joked silently. Not only would the food be wonderful, they would have some privacy, and any good reporter knew the best way to get a subject to open up was talking with them on their home turf, where they felt most comfortable. There was no way she could say no.
"Tomorrow night would be great," she found herself saying. "I'll look forward to it."
"As shall I." She could hear, rather than see, him smile. "If you approve, I'll send a car for you around seven."
Lois agreed, telling him which hotel she was staying in, then bidding him goodnight. She hung up the phone and stared at it for several minutes.
She was having dinner with Lex Luthor. Unbelievable.
A knock sounded on her door, and she hurried over to look through the peephole. A young lady stood on the other side in a hotel uniform, holding a large tray. Realizing it was her dinner, she quickly opened the door and accepted the tray.
The tantalizing smell of hot soup wafted up to her nose as she lifted the tray's lid. Her stomach growled. It wasn't until then that she realized she'd never had lunch. She'd been so busy chasing the super hero all over the city she'd never found time to think about lunch.
Suddenly famished, she settled down at the room's small table and began to eat. As she did, she thought about her conversation with Lex Luthor. He had sounded nice, and she knew from the pictures she'd seen of him that he was a very handsome, distinguished man. And she, Lois Lane, was going to be having dinner with him.
She shook her head. She still couldn't believe it. She was going to be having dinner with the third richest man in the world, a man who carried a great deal of influence in the corporate world. It surprised her even more to hear that he was interested in meeting her. She wasn't exactly in his social circles. He had said he was a fan. A fan? She didn't realize she had fans. Most people who contacted her usually were people who were more interested in delivering death threats. This was a nice switch.
As she took a bite of her turkey sandwich, she suddenly remembered him saying he had learned she was in town. She couldn't help wondering how he'd learned that little piece of information. She had been so surprised by his phone call she hadn't thought to ask. Making a mental note to ask him tomorrow when she met him, she reached for the complimentary evening addition of the Daily Planet sitting on her table and read as she ate.
She reread the front-page article dealing with the apartment fire rescue, remembering the scene that was pictured first hand. The grainy picture of the super hero in action did little to show how truly good-looking he was up close. Lois made it a point to not get involved with her stories--or the subjects of her stories--but this super hero...he was really something. His display of powers in person was even more impressive than on TV, and she had been surprised by the very human side to him that she suspected didn't show up on camera. The way he'd tried to cover his sheepish smile when the crowd of onlookers at the fire had cheered when he'd rescued the people from the burning building, for instance. He had seemed a little embarrassed at the attention, but there was something else...something that she'd gotten a brief glimpse of. He had seemed...flattered.
She sat back in her chair and reached up to twist a lock of hair around her finger as she contemplated that. Would an alien really have the sense of human emotions she'd glimpsed on his face during that brief moment? There seemed to be something very human about him, much more so than she'd expected. It made him even more attractive, she decided. He wasn't just an alien from another planet, flying around and helping people like a robot. Clearly he had at least some human emotions, which led her to wonder...did he have other feelings as well? He was obviously worried about the people he had rescued from the fire, but what about the more personal emotions? Did he ever get scared? Did he ever feel...lonely?
She thought about the ladies next to her at the fire, and remembered their obvious interest in his eligibility status. They would obviously go out with him in a heartbeat. Probably any eligible woman in the world would jump at the chance. But she knew from experience that that didn't necessarily make a person less lonely. After her parents and sister had been killed, she'd gone out with a myriad of different men, seeking something they clearly couldn't offer her. Did this hero maybe feel the same way, living amongst millions of people but feeling so alone with the realization he was so different than everybody else on the planet? At the end of the day, did this man have anyone to go home to? She wondered if he did. Surely he had to live somewhere completely isolated in order to keep from getting hounded by the media. Having a support system of friends seemed unlikely in those circumstances.
With a start, Lois realized she felt a little sorry for him. And what was worse, for the first time since she'd seen the footage on TV, Lois realized that this was very much a person she was hunting down, not just an impressive, mechanical being performing impressive feats and rescues.
She frowned. That made her job harder. If she started personalizing the man's potential situation, it was going to be much harder to remain detached and objective in her attempts to expose this man.
With a firm shake of her head, she forced herself to pull herself together. She couldn't think about it that way. He was her story, pure and simple. She wasn't out to hurt him--she just wanted to give everyone the answers to the questions that she herself had wanted.
And that was exactly what she was going to do.
Lois took the last bite of her sandwich and looked once again at the front-page photograph. Something caught her eye, and she leaned forward, scrutinizing the picture. The dark hair, the broad shoulders, the intelligence in his brown eyes....
For some strange reason, she realized just how much this hero resembled Clark Kent. If she didn't know any better, she would think that Clark Kent was....
Lois suddenly laughed out loud. "Oh, Lois, you are *definitely* losing your edge!" she declared aloud to the empty room. "Where's your common sense? You met Clark Kent at the Planet. He was afraid of his own shadow! Well, he was until you set him off by calling him a lucky hack." She grimaced at the memory, then felt a wave of guilt wash over her once again.
She pushed the memory aside and stared back down at the picture, shaking her head and smiling. There was no way a guy like Kent could be the world's strongest man, flying around the world saving people's lives. He was too mild-mannered. Besides, he'd been wearing glasses. She still didn't know much about the super hero, but someone with his powers surely didn't need vision help. The thought was ludicrous.
Lois finished up the last of her dinner, still chuckling to herself. It had been a very long day, and she needed to get some sleep. Her usually sharp investigative instincts were clearly suffering.
**********
Clark stepped off the elevator into the newsroom early the next morning feeling apprehensive. He glanced around the room. There was no sight of Lois Lane, but he knew that didn't mean she wasn't there. She may have already been hitting the streets on her search for...well, him.
He frowned. He would consider himself lucky if he could find a way to avoid her completely. With one last look around, he went to his desk and got to work. He still had a story to work on, one that was dangerously close to being killed by Perry. If he didn't want that to happen, he'd better get in research mode.
An hour later, he had become so engrossed in his notes and research that he didn't hear light footsteps approaching. Then the sound of an all-too-familiar voice caused his heart to lurch in his chest.
"Hi, Clark."
Tentatively, Clark looked up. Lois stood beside his desk, looking amazing in a sleek red suit. The color complimented her fair complexion and dark hair and eyes perfectly, and the stark white blouse looked elegant beneath her tailored suit jacket. The suit's skirt came halfway down her long, shapely thighs, causing Clark to blush once again as he remembered the glimpse he'd been given of those long legs the day before when her skirt had been torn.
Shoving that image aside before his emotions could betray him, he forced himself to meet her gaze coolly. He nodded curly. "Ms. Lane."
He turned to go back to work, but she remained where she was. His jaw tightened. Couldn't she take a hint? He had work to do. But his scribbling on his notepad didn't cause her to leave, so he steeled himself and glanced back up. Their eyes met, and his heart skipped a beat. There was a look of vulnerability in her eyes he hadn't seen the day before. Somehow it made her appear even more beautiful.
He watched as she shifted on her feet, then wet her lips. His brows drew together in confusion. She looked like she had something to say, but if the day before had been any indication, she wasn't exactly the type of person who was ever at a loss for words.
"Did you...have something to say, Ms. Lane?" he prompted, half afraid to ask, but too curious by her obvious change of attitude not to.
She nodded wordless, then licked her lips again. She looked down and smoothed her hand over a non-existent wrinkle on her skirt. Finally, she looked back up and met his gaze.
"Look, Clark," she began, looking away from his gaze once again, "About last night...you were right about my lack of professional courtesy. I had no right to call you what I did, and I feel really badly about how I treated you last night. I was out of line, and..." she paused for a moment, then continued, her voice sincere, "...I'm sorry."
Clark's eyebrows crawled clear up his forehead. She was sorry? That was the last thing he expected to hear from her. The voice in the back of his head wondered if the only reason she was apologizing was to get him to cooperate with her, but he didn't suspect that was the case. Watching her struggle to get the words out told him that apologizing wasn't something she did often. He had no reason to think she was being anything other than sincere.
Stunned by her unexpected behavior, Clark continued to stare at her for several moments until she finally looked up and met his gaze. That drew him out of his perplexed state.
"Oh, um...thank you," he offered, seeing her tense body relax at his acceptance of her apology. He half expected her behavior to revert back to her stubborn, determined one of the night before, but she appeared uncertain what to do next.
Seeing her stand there looking vulnerable and uncertain made him wonder if there was more to her than he'd expected. Maybe she wasn't the completely ruthless and unfeeling woman he had judged her to be.
Clark felt his defenses weaken. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that. I guess you just kind of...hit a nerve."
She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. "Oh?"
He nodded, then found himself offering an explanation. "Even though I've traveled all over the world, working for different papers and as a foreign correspondent, I'm originally from Kansas. A lot of people have given me a hard time about that over the years. I guess the 'hack' accusation kind of set me off."
Lois smiled, and Clark felt his heart twist against his will. It was clear that stubborn organ was not about to listen to reason.
"I guess I can understand that." She nodded, and a look of sympathy softened her features. "Stereotypes can be hard to escape--like being a woman in this business, for example. It hasn't exactly been easy. I tend to come off pretty strong, and I have this bad habit of kind of running over the top of people." She looked sheepish as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "It's not that I'm trying to be mean, it's just kind of become a survival skill when I've had to work twice as hard as any man to get where I am." She paused. "Again, I'm sorry. I really am."
Clark smiled, and this time it was a genuine one. "Apology accepted."
They stood there for a long moment, staring at each other. Finally, Lois opened her mouth to speak...only to be interrupted by a shout from the end of the newsroom.
"Kent! I just got a tip about the Mayor's voting scandal and I want you on it."
Lois looked over to see Perry White coming toward them. Clark stood up and listened intently as his editor passed along the information he'd received about the recent allegations of ballot stuffing during the mayoral race. When Perry finished, Clark nodded and reached for his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair.
"I'm on it, Chief."
Perry left to talk with another member of his staff, and Clark slipped into his suit jacket and grabbed a notebook off his desk. Lois quickly spoke up before he could leave.
"Um, Clark, I don't want this to sound like the only reason I apologized a minute ago, because it's not, but...would you mind if I tagged along with you and asked you a few questions about what you might know about this hero? I have to go back to San Francisco the day after tomorrow, and if I go back empty handed, well...my editor's going to have my head."
Clark froze, his hands stilled on his lapel as he'd reached to straighten it. Her eyes were earnest as they continued to stare hopefully up into his, and he felt the tug-of-war start up inside of himself between his heart and his head. There was nothing he'd enjoy more than having her spend the morning with him, but he knew he couldn't give her the answers or the help she was looking for. It was too dangerous. And apology or not, she was too good at what she did. Eventually she might see right through him. And he couldn't afford to have that happen.
'You could just be really careful,' his heart offered up hopefully. 'What is it going to hurt to have her tag along? You could hold firm to the explanation that the man found you, and offered to give you the exclusive, and you have no idea how to get hold of him.'
'Yeah, like she's going to buy that?' the voice inside his head argued.
'Why not?' his heart argued back. 'She already accused you of being a lucky hack. Play off that. Admit you got lucky, and that it was a once-in-a-lifetime fluke. If you stick to that story, she'll have no reason to suspect otherwise.'
Perry's gruff voice interrupted his internal debate. "Kent, are you getting on this anytime soon, or are you going to stand around my newsroom all day?"
Clark nodded at his editor, then looked back at Lois. She was watching him intently, hope brimming in her eyes. Finally, he sighed, giving in to his heart. "Fine. Come on. I can't promise I'll be of any help, though."
"Yes!" Lois's eyes lit up and she imperceptibly pumped a fist. She hurried to catch up with him as he started walking quickly toward the elevators. When they stopped to wait for the down elevator, she turned to him. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
A muscle involuntarily twitched in his jaw, and he nodded. He wasn't about to let on, but Clark's mind was continuing to wage a war with his heart. He knew this was stupid, but he just couldn't seem to help himself. There was something about her that just wouldn't allow him to say no.
He only hoped he wouldn't live to regret it.
**********
stay tuned for part 8 on Wednesday...
