Yes, I know I'm already posting another story. But this one is going up on the Archive on Sunday and I wanted to post it here first. Three parts and EOD sound okay?

Much thanks and appreciation to Kaethel and Tricia for beta-reading this at very short notice indeed, and without whose help I’d have felt extremely unsure about posting this story. You guys never cease to amaze me with your cheerful helpfulness - I owe you! Thanks also to Kaylle for being a fount of information about certain movie references. wink

For all the FoLCs with December birthdays - in particular, Karen, Laura, Laurach and Erica. I know there are others, so consider it for you too if you’re in that category! In the chaos and excitement of this time of year, birthdays can easily get overlooked. frown So this is a present for you guys.


The Dark Side of Christmas


“What am I doing here?” Lois muttered, scowling as yet another Father Christmas knocked against her with his over-padded belly. She sighed, turning away and searching for a quiet, empty corner to get away from everyone in the function room for a while.

Why had she allowed herself to be persuaded to come to this farce of an event? she asked herself for about the tenth time since she’d arrived about ninety minutes ago. A masquerade ball. How... quaint.

She hadn’t intended to be here at all. When Matty Harris, a city councilwoman who’d given Lois a few useful tip-offs in the past year, had called her asking her to come to the ball, which was in aid of children’s and homeless charities, Lois had been definite in her refusal. She was happy to make a donation to the cause, she’d assured Matty. But she would be busy the night of the ball.

Well, she’d intended to be busy. But it had turned out that her partner, with whom she’d planned to be busy, had other plans.

Lois sipped at her drink again, wincing at the acidic taste of the warm liquid. Cheap Chardonnay, not even properly chilled. Didn’t these people know how to serve the overpriced stuff they called wine?

Glancing at her watch, she noted with dismay that she still had to endure two hours before she could make her exit. It was only just after ten.

“It’s a masquerade, Lois. That’s what’s going to be so much fun!” Matty had exclaimed. “Everyone’s coming in a costume, but we’ll all be masked too. Completely disguised. When people arrive they’ll be given a number and a list to fill in, and there’ll be prizes at the end of the evening - for whoever guesses the most correct identities, whoever manages to fool most people about who they really are, you name it.”

Lois, on the other end of the phone, had rolled her eyes, grateful that she’d had a reason to decline. But then she hadn’t had a reason any more. And when Matty, persistent as ever, had called her back, Lois had agreed out of frustration. After all, Clark couldn’t be bothered to spend his last evening in Metropolis before Christmas with her. So she sure as hell was not going to sit around at home on her own, as if she had nothing better to do merely because her partner and best friend had plans.

She looked around the room again. The mayor was so obvious in his Henry VIII costume, his ample stomach suiting the role perfectly. And there was Maya Li of LNN, showing off her assets even more blatantly as usual dressed as Cleopatra. Didn’t any of these people even try to disguise themselves? Predictable costumes, no attempt to disguise hairstyles, masks so thin they only covered the area around their wearers’ eyes. Even Matty was easily recognisable in the Amelia Earhart outfit she wore.

Lois glanced down at her own costume again. She’d chosen to come as one of her lifelong heroines, Susan B Anthony, one of the great campaigners for women’s suffrage. She was aware that, in the light of her partner’s desertion, she was making another statement in her choice of role: by staying single all her life, Anthony had shown that women did not need a man in their lives.

It was a good costume, even if she said so herself, she thought in satisfaction. The full-length, long-sleeved and high-collared dress typical of women’s wear in the 1850s, her hair dressed in the severe style Anthony had favoured for most of her life - and with a full Susan Anthony face-mask, leaving only gaps for her eyes and mouth - Lois thought she was highly unlikely to be recognised as herself. She’d pinned a facsimile of an early National Women’s Suffrage Association poster to her back, for the benefit of anyone ignorant enough of American history not to identify her outfit.

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Taking another sip of her tepid wine, Lois took another glance around the room, grimacing at the over-the-top Christmas garlands, lights and banners. The organisers even had Santa Clauses and sleighs and trees projected onto the ceiling. And every second song played was a Christmas song. If she heard Bing Crosby or Band Aid one more time...

Christmas. The one time of the year she hated more than any other. And yet she’d been ready to make an effort this year. For Clark. For the man she’d thought was her best friend. The man who she’d stupidly allowed into her heart, only to have him walk all over it.

He was going to Smallville for Christmas tomorrow, just as he had last year. He had three full days off, from midday Christmas Eve until the afternoon of the 27th. She had made sure that he had those days. She’d volunteered to work all day tomorrow and come in early on the 26th, doing a double shift, just so that Clark could have the time off. Perry had questioned her offer, pointing out that it was her turn to have extra time off for the holiday, but she’d shrugged, saying that Clark had further to go than she had to be with family.

Of course, she wasn’t spending Christmas with her family anyway, but that was beside the point.

She’d done Clark a favour. And, okay, she’d sworn Perry to secrecy about it, and wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of her, but still she found herself resenting his defection. His ingratitude.

“Come over for dinner on Thursday, Clark,” she’d suggested a couple of days ago. Actually, she’d been meaning to ask him for weeks, but hadn’t got around to it. Hadn’t been able to find a way to ask him casually, because she’d realised just how much she wanted to spend a special evening with him to celebrate the time of year he loved so much. How much she wanted him to show her what was so wonderful about Christmas.

He’d given her a regretful look, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Lois. I have other plans for Thursday.” As she’d backed away, waving her hand casually and babbling that it didn’t matter, it wasn’t important, it had just been a thought, he’d added, “I wish you’d asked me sooner. But I can’t cancel this. I promised.”

Yeah. She just bet he couldn’t cancel it. And she knew very well who he’d made the promise to.

Mayson Drake. It had to be. The assistant DA hadn’t stopped sniffing around Clark ever since they’d met back in October. She was so obvious! All that ‘you’re so brave to testify against Baby Rage, Clark!’ crap! He was only doing what any concerned citizen would. What she would have done herself if she’d been a witness in that situation.

And then, after Clark had come back from the dead, she’d intensified her efforts to get into his pants. Excuse after excuse to come into the newsroom. Messages left for him all the time. Oh-so-casually bumping into him in places everyone knew that she and Clark went for lunch. And flaunting her body, and those baby-blue eyes, in front of him.

Well, Clark wasn’t worth brooding over, she told herself angrily. He was just another man, after all. Just like all the rest. Men were obsessed with sex when it came to relationships. They judged everything from the perspective of their pants and not their brains. It wasn’t worth letting herself care about a man like that.

And, since she had to be at this nightmare of a Christmas ball, she should just stop obsessing and make an effort. Dancing. People were dancing. So that was what she should be doing too.

She dumped her unwanted wine-glass on a convenient shelf and cast a glance around for a suitable partner. Someone who wouldn’t stand on her toes or bore her rigid with inane talk.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

She spun and found herself staring at a portly, short, balding man of about forty, wearing an utterly ridiculous reindeer outfit. The pungent scent of stale garlic drowned in bourbon assaulted her.

Unable - and barely willing - to prevent a grimace, she stepped backwards. The reindeer stepped closer. She took another step back. “No. No, I don’t wanna dan - urgh!” She broke off as something behind her hit her solidly in the back. Or someone.

“Hey, are you okay?” The voice was male, but strangely muffled. Strong hands cupped her shoulders and steadied her.

She turned her head, and saw only black.

“Hey, I saw her first!” the reindeer, clearly drunk, protested, trying to grab her arm.

A hand, clad in what looked like black PVC, shot out and caught the reindeer’s hand firmly. “The lady said no, I believe.” Again, Black PVC’s voice sounded distorted, as if it was being filtered through a bad telephone line.

The reindeer looked belligerent, but his expression quickly changed to one of pain. “Okay, okay, I get the message!” he muttered, and looked relieved when Black PVC Guy released him. Rubbing his wrist, he added, “Frigid bi - ”

Before he could finish the word, Black PVC Guy had reached past Lois and grabbed him one-handed by the throat. “Don’t say it. Just get out of here before I decide to show you what your mother obviously forgot to teach you about how to treat a lady.”

His expression angry and humiliated, Reindeer Guy turned and hurried away, almost slipping on the polished floor as he did so.

Lois turned to her rescuer, who let go of her with his other hand as she did so. “Thank you. He was kind of persistent.”

Then she noticed his costume and realised why his voice was so distorted. Just her luck. Was there no end to the weird costumes tonight? Darth Vader?

[img]http://images7.fotki.com/v130/photos/1/11220/134028/swonline007-vi.jpg?1103135728[/img]

She began to roll her eyes, but then reminded herself that the guy had actually done her a favour. At least, she thought, he’d had the good sense to leave the cape at home. That really would have been over the top.

She made herself smile at him.

Of course, she couldn’t tell whether he was smiling in return or not. “I was glad to help. Though I was beginning to think I’d have to use my light-sabre on him if he didn’t take his hand off you.”

Lois eyed him, pretending wariness. “You carry that thing with you? Do you have a licence?”

“Darth Vader does not need a licence!” he pronounced sonorously. Then he extended his arm towards her. “So... is it just reindeer you don’t dance with, or men as a species, Ms Anthony? Cause I wouldn’t want to risk offending a fine suffragette such as yourself.”

A science-fiction geek with a sense of humour? Stifling a grin, Lois replied, “Well, I’ve never danced with an evil interplanetary overlord before, so I guess I could give it a try.”

Darth inclined his head. “I’m honoured.”

She went into his arms in an easy movement, and found him an excellent dancer. “They must teach you well on the Death Star.”

“Subliminal programming,” her partner deadpanned. “Uploaded to our brains every night as we sleep. The Empire doesn’t like wasting time.”

“Efficient,” she agreed. “Do they also pre-programme you to treat women as equals? Because if not I’m not sure that I can afford to be seen with you...”

“Women, equals?” Darth queried. She could hear his incredulous tone even through the distortion of his helmet. Actually, she thought, he had to be really hot under there, especially given that his outfit was made of PVC too. “That does not compute,” he said solemnly.

Lois rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to be Darth Vader, not Mr Spock!”

He laughed. “So I get my universes mixed up. You going to exterminate me for that?”

Daleks, she thought, recognising the reference. Dr Who. “Well, I don’t know... I mean, Luke Skywalker would be an awful lot safer if I did...”

He made a scornful sound. “That puppy? He’d get into a lot more trouble if I wasn’t keeping him occupied, believe me.”

She was about to say something scathing, but then he swung her around suddenly, in time to the music, and she had to catch her breath. He was definitely one of the best dancers she’d encountered in a long time.

And she had no idea at all who he was. The distorted voice didn’t help, of course. The outfit was reasonably close-fitting in parts, enough to allow her to see strong, muscular biceps and powerful thighs.

The music came to an abrupt end then, and Lois felt disappointment flood her at the thought of parting from her strangely-attired partner. He released her and stepped back, and she tried to force a smile to her face. “Well, thank you for - ”

“Can I get you a drink, Ms Anthony?” he enquired politely.

Well, that was something. He clearly wasn’t in a rush to move on to his next partner. “What, warm, cheap wine?”

She heard a faint sound which could have been a laugh. “I think I can manage better than that. Wait here. I won’t be long.”

Lois glanced at the queue around the bar and rolled her eyes. At that rate, she’d be lucky if he got back to her before unmasking time. And, for some strange reason, she was reluctant to have the identity of her anonymous rescuer revealed yet. As he was, completely hidden by his disguise, he was mysterious. Intriguing.

Once that bulky hood came off, he’d just be an ordinary man. The kind she’d pass in the street every day. Probably not even good-looking, and certainly not courtly or dashing. And not mysterious at all.

She sighed, and reminded herself sardonically that handsome, dashing heroes didn’t exist outside the pages of lurid romance novels.

Perhaps she’d better ensure that she was nowhere near him come midnight. That way she wouldn’t have to see her fantasies dashed when he turned out to be the kind of nerd she’d never go near. Or completely boring once he didn’t have his outfit to hide behind.

“Your drink, Ms Anthony.”

She swung around. Darth Vader stood in front of her, holding out a glass of pale yellow liquid. The glass looked chilled. She accepted the wine and sipped it. Not acidic at all. And very definitely chilled.

“How on earth did you manage that?”

There was definitely a grin in his voice. “I just asked nicely.”

Shaking her head in admiration, she dropped into a faint curtsey. “And I appreciate it, my Lord Vader.”

He gave her a courtly bow. “My pleasure, my lady. Being on the Dark Side is sometimes very useful.”

Lois winced, briefly reminded of her own brush with the dark side during her engagement to Lex Luthor. For a moment, it occurred to her to wonder...

No, that was crazy. Luthor was dead. She’d seen him crash to his death herself. And, okay, there’d been that flaky, fit-for-the-nuthouse doctor who’d thought she could bring him back to life, but... no, it was stupid to imagine... Although his body had disappeared, never to be found...

Oh, this was stupid! Of course her mysterious dance-partner wasn’t Lex! He was just some ordinary guy with old-world charm - or knew how to put it on - and a great sense of humour. Come to think of it, that was another reason why it couldn’t possibly be Lex. Lex had never exhibited much of a sense of humour.

She sipped her wine again, and noticed that Darth didn’t have a drink; she supposed it would be kind of difficult with his helmet/face-mask thing, and wondered whether he’d thought of that inconvenience before choosing the costume.

His arm came around her shoulders suddenly, pulling her into him. She froze; now, when he’d lulled her into feeling good around him, he was making a pass?

“Careful,” his distorted voice rumbled near her ear. “Someone almost knocked you over.” And he gently tugged her to one side, closer to him still, just in time to evade a drunken couple who were stumbling past.

Oh, okay. Still a knight in shining armour, despite his costume.

“Actually, I should have asked. Are you here with someone?”

“Huh? No, I’m not.”

“Ah, I should have guessed. Ms Anthony never did see the point in men as a species, did she?” The humour in his voice was audible even through his helmet.

“I don’t remember Darth Vader being much on women, either,” Lois pointed out. “Although I guess he had to have had at least one encounter with a woman.”

“Ah, my secret’s out, I see,” Darth rumbled. “That was a mistake. That I should have fathered one child was bad enough, but two - and two such traitors to the Dark Side, too... I am ashamed.”

Lois had to stifle a giggle. “I always did think that Luke was a bit of a girly, myself - and as for Leia’s hairstyle, if I looked like that I’d shave myself bald! But I did have a kind of a crush on Han Solo...”

“I should have run him through with my sabre while I had the chance!” Darth growled. Taking her near-empty glass from her hand, he put it down on a nearby shelf. “I can dance much better than that renegade.” And he swung her onto the dance-floor again.

Lois didn’t object. She’d always enjoyed dancing, as long as it was with a partner who knew what he was doing, and Darth certainly did. The thought crossed her mind that, unmasked, maybe he wouldn’t be as much of a disappointment as she feared. She shouldn’t be so pessimistic. So far, he’d been a very amusing and considerate companion. And, since the man she was desperately trying not to be obsessed with was so clearly not interested in her, maybe she needed to start dating again herself.

Date Darth Vader? an incredulous little voice asked her.

Well, why not? It was only a costume, after all. And, okay, it was a geekish kind of costume, but the man wearing it didn’t appear to be a geek in reality. He was more than capable of laughing at himself. Plus, he seemed to be intelligent, witty and knowledgeable...

... like Lex had been intelligent and knowledgeable, even if not quite so witty, she remembered.

Stop imagining you see bits of Lex in every man you could be halfway interested in! she told herself furiously.

Clark was intelligent. And very funny. And considerate... well, when he wasn’t blowing her off to spend time with Mayson Doe-Eyes Drake.

I will not think about Clark!

“Are you okay in there?” Her dancing-partner’s amused voice came from somewhere above her head.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Sorry - I was just thinking about something...”

“Must’ve been something important. You were really out of it for a minute or so there. I spoke to you twice and you didn’t answer.”

That was it. Enough! No more brooding over her so-called best friend’s defection. He was having a terrific time tonight with his girlfriend. Well, she was going to have a great time too with this guy.

“Sorry,” she repeated. “It wasn’t anything important.”

“Oh, well, that puts me in my place, then,” he teased. “Ignored in favour of something completely unimportant!”

She couldn’t help laughing. “Okay, okay! Look, I was just thinking about this guy, okay?”

“Uh-oh. You mean I’ve got competition?”

He was a flirt, too, it seemed. And that was just perfect. She was completely in the mood for flirting right now. Perhaps she would stick around with him until unmasking, after all. Perhaps, depending how she felt, she might even manoeuvre it so that they were standing underneath one of the sprigs of mistletoe which were scattered throughout the room...

“Maybe,” she said lightly. “So you’re the competitive type?”

“I duel six times a week before breakfast,” he deadpanned. “Competitive enough for you?”

“Ooh, a guy who likes to keep himself in shape.” She made a murmur of appreciation. “And I can tell - that’s a pretty revealing outfit, and you have great muscle definition.”

Eesh, she thought, hearing herself say that. Going way over the top there, Lois! She’d better pull back the flirting a notch or two. Otherwise he’d be expecting a lot more than just a midnight kiss.

And anyway, she wasn’t even sure that she wanted that. Sure, it was a nice idea to toy with for a moment or two, but the guy was a stranger. And anyway, she really didn’t like the idea of kissing anyone...

Anyone but Clark. Or maybe Superman, but even then, for some reason, Clark had leapt to the top of her kissable males list. She wasn’t even sure why. The thrill of the unattainable, perhaps? She was very well aware that, for almost an entire year, she’d known that he was attracted to her, but she’d barely given him the time of day.

Now, when Mayson Drake was all over him like a rash, she wanted him. God, she was an idiot.

She sighed.

“Now, I hope it’s not me who’s made you sigh like that,” her dance partner said.

“What? Oh, no. No, it wasn’t you.” Flustered, Lois realised too late what she’d given away.

“Who, then? Some worthless human male? And I thought you had no time for the species!”

“Oh, some of them have a few redeeming features.” She tried to recapture some of the light banter she’d been able to engage in only a few minutes earlier, but she knew that she wasn’t succeeding very well. The teasing tone she’d aimed for had fallen flat.

Darth’s arms tightened around her briefly, almost as if in a hug. “Want to talk about it?”

She was amazed to find that she was actually tempted. “No. Thank you, but... no.”

“Hey, I could be the best possible person to talk to,” he said. “I mean, you have no idea who I am. I can just disappear before the unmasking, if you like. You’ll never have to know - I could just be the mystery man you knew for only an hour or so.”

That was so close to what Lois had been thinking earlier that she caught her breath. And he was right: he was the perfect confidant.

“All right,” she said. “There is a guy I... sort of care about. But he just doesn’t feel the same way. I still hoped that maybe... but I found out a couple of days ago that he’s just not interested. And I guess I’m finding it tough to accept. I shouldn’t let it get to me, though.”

She shouldn’t. She was turning into a wallower, and she hated wallowers. And she was with someone who seemed to be a nice guy, who might even be fun to get to know, and all she was telling him was that she was hung up on someone else.

Okay, she was hung up on someone else... but she wished she wasn’t.

And she wished that it wasn’t Christmas, and that she wasn’t being assailed with annoying Christmas music and decorations and costumes and greetings at every turn!

And the man she was with still hadn’t said a word in response to her self-pitying monologue.

“Sorry.” She patted Darth’s arm lightly. “I guess when you asked if I wanted to talk about, you didn’t really want to hear it.”

“Don’t make assumptions.” He shook her gently. “I asked. That means I wanted to hear. Anyway,” he added, so quietly that it she had to strain to hear, “I do know how you feel. There’s this woman...”

The pang of jealousy was so unexpected that Lois almost winced. “She isn’t interested in you either?”

She felt him shrug. “We’re friends. But she’ll never take me seriously any other way. She only has eyes for this other guy... someone I know I’ll never match up to as far as she’s concerned.”

Torn between sympathy for his situation and almost delight that it meant he could be open to other offers, Lois shook her head. “She must be an idiot.”

“No.” His disagreement was immediate. “Just... thinks she’s in love with someone else.”

And he was desperately in love with her. Lois could tell. Something told her, too, that he wasn’t the kind of guy to seek comfort somewhere else while he felt that way. He wasn’t going to suggest that they ease each other’s loneliness. And, while one tiny fraction of her felt disappointment at that thought, overall she was relieved. She wasn’t going to have to fight off possibly unwelcome advances at the end of the evening.

The silence between them stretched to several moments. Then Darth broke it. “So, this guy. Does he happen to use a white stick, by any chance?”

“No.” She smiled wryly at the thought. “He does wear glasses, though.”


**********

...tbc

Just a fly-by! *waves*