This is the PG version of a story that has already posted on the Nfic boards. My beta suggested I post it over here as well. I'll post two parts each day. Title: The Next Step
Author: Sue S.
Email: sister_suze@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Summary: This takes place right after Whine, Whine, Whine. I've always felt like Lois got over Clark's constant disappearances far too easily. She had a genuine gripe and she forgave him so quickly without having a clue about the reason he kept walking out on her.
These characters don't belong to me. This story is written without anything even bordering on permission. I'm not making any sort of monetary profit from this story, although feedback is always welcome. It seemed like there weren't many Lois POV stories out there and I foolishly thought it would be fun to try one. Now I know why there aren't many Lois POV stories out there. I would very much appreciate knowing where I went wrong, or right, in the attempt.
Special thanks and appreciation go to Sara who took the risk and answered my plea for a beta. I thank you for your steady eye and patience, but especially for your sense of humor and encouragement. By the end I was writing solely for the sheer fun of entertaining you.
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Part 1/11
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As we enter the elevator Clark's fingers brush the small of my back. I can't decide what irritates me more - the fact that he's touching me, or that usually I like it when he's unconsciously possessive like this.
Make no mistake about it - Clark Kent is persona non grata to me at this moment.
Okay, actually it's not just this particular moment. It's been off and on for weeks now. Last night we were on a date. A date he had sworn to me he would stick around to see the end of. After so many misunderstandings and a massive amount of counseling I had confronted him with my feelings. I had said goodbye to Dan, told Superman there was someone else and shown up on Clark's doorstep to lay it all on the line. He'd agreed that it was time to take this "to the next step".
So there we were, at the next step, the end of the date in sight as we approached my building. His fingers rested on the small of my back then, too, but I was definitely enjoying the sensation more at the time. I was enjoying it so much that I was frantically running down the end-of-date checklist in my head: My legs were shaved, I hadn't eaten onions, there was a bottle of wine in the fridge, I'd changed the sheets on the bed… not that I was really going to bring him into the bedroom. I just wanted to be prepared. Just in case. I wasn't entirely certain what the next step was, but I wasn't going to say no to a little action.
Anyway, so we were climbing the steps and then - oh then - he froze and tilted his head in that way that I have become so infuriatingly familiar with. His inner voice must have realized where all this was heading because he stammered out that he just remembered that he had shut off the water heater in his apartment earlier and it took hours and hours for the thing to warm up and he'd better go and… And he was gone. Without so much as a "thanks for the nice evening" or a good night kiss. If I'm being honest, it was the missed kiss that rankled me most.
He did say he would call me later. I took the phone off the hook. I haven't said more than three words to him yet today. Of course it's only nine o'clock, but it's not looking too promising for him. You might think he'd take the cold shoulder treatment a little more harshly but he hasn't even tried to talk to me. Maybe he realizes this was the absolute end of my patience?
Perry has to have noticed but he's apparently chosen to be deliberately obtuse. When I told him that Bobby Bigmouth had just called and I was going to meet him down by the docks he insisted that I take Clark along.
"Why? It's Bobby! The only thing to worry about is how much food I can carry."
"And who is this source he's having you meet? It's a dangerous part of town. Take Clark."
"But Perry!"
"I'm not going to argue this one with you. Either you take him along or you don't go."
I had glanced at Clark. He was studiously picking away at an imaginary spot on his tie. Truthfully, Bobby had asked for both of us, I just didn't want to be alone with Clark. If he was at all nice to me I was pretty certain I'd cave in and forgive him much sooner than he deserved.
"What if I take Jimmy?"
"Jimmy has other things to do this morning. So either you find Superman to go with you or you take Clark. And frankly, honey, I think Superman has better things to do than to trot along after you all day."
At that Clark let out a sort of snicker, apparently finding it as funny as Perry did. Perry good-naturedly slapped him on the back and said, "No offense, Kent."
"None taken." Clark looked like he was about to choke with laughter.
That was when I turned on my heel and left. Which brings us to now, standing in the elevator. There's nothing worse than a slow ride in an elevator with the one person you least want to talk to. When the doors finally open I'm going to be out of here like a shot. If Clark wants to be on this field trip he's just going to have to keep up.
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"What did you bring me?" Bobby grabs greedily at the sack in my hands.
"Six tacos, extra cheese."
"Uh huh." Bobby takes the first one out, licking his lips in anticipation at the dark grease stain on the golden wrapper. "Good. Come on in."
We follow him inside. The warehouse is gloomy and dank. The only strong light is coming from the doorway we just walked through. The dingy windows high above us aren't much help.
"Stop there," a deep voice booms across the warehouse. "That's close enough."
"Who's there?" I ask.
"Just call me 'E'."
"Okay, E, what did you want to meet with us about?" Clark asks.
"Before we start we need to get some of the niceties out of the way. Bobby…"
Bobby nods and swallows, letting out a loud belch. "Yes, sir. I'm on it." He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a pair of handcuffs.
"You've got to be kidding me!" I hate Perry for being right about coming alone. I hate even more where I see this heading.
"Think of it as a gesture of trust," E says.
"I can't imagine how this is going to make us trust you," I say. This guy can't be serious.
"No, I suppose it wouldn't. But I'm not sure that I can trust you to just sit on what I'm about to tell you. So it will work like this – Bobby will handcuff you to the wall. After I catch my plane, he'll come back with the key. You'll only be slightly inconvenienced. You trust Bobby, don't you?"
The answer to that question is "not hardly". I look over at Clark – he actually seems to be considering the idea.
"Okay," he says and holds his right hand out to Bobby.
"Clark!"
"What? So we sit here for a little while - it might be worth it."
"Or he might just be some sick freak who gets his jollies from chaining reporters to the wall!"
Bobby snickers and claps the cuff onto Clark's wrist, then tugs him over closer to the wall. He passes the free end behind a pipe running up the wall and turns to look at me expectantly.
"Go on, Miss Lane, I promise it will be worth it." E's voice does nothing to reassure me.
I hesitate. Maybe somewhere, in some twisted recess of my mind on a day when I'm not mad at him, being handcuffed to Clark wouldn't be the end of the world. This morning, however, it is a huge imposition. I sigh heavily when I realize there aren't many other options.
"Fine." The tone of my voice makes it apparent that it is anything but fine. I walk over and stick my left hand out. Bobby snaps the cuff on quickly, before I can change my mind.
"Ouch! Too tight!" I try to yank my arm away before he ratchets the clasp close to my wrist, hoping maybe I can work my hand free later. Bobby isn't having any of it and he tightens the bracelet until it's digging into my wrist.
"Bobby! Ow!"
"Shouldn't have forgotten the hot sauce, Lois. Cell phones please." He's enjoying this far too much.
"What?" I give the handcuff a futile tug. Clark's hand whacks against the pipe and he shoots me disgusted look.
"Can't have you calling for help. Gimme your phones." Clark surrenders his and Bobby takes it. "C'mon Lois, I promise I'll give it back. If you're lucky I won't even use up all your minutes."
I glare at Bobby. This is the last time he gets anything from me. I wouldn't even give him so much as the doughnut crumbs off Clark's desk after this.
"Either you hand it over, babe, or I'll come after it."
"You do, you die." I hand my phone over, but my misgivings are severe.
"Wonderful," says E. "I can't stay long, and I can see that you'd rather be somewhere else yourselves so I'll just come straight to the point. You ought to take a look in the Schafer Building before it burns down."
"The Schafer Building…?" Clark and I say almost in unison.
"…It's going to burn down?" Clark asks.
"…Who's going to burn it down?" I ask at the same time.
"It's a distinct possibility that it won't make it four more days to demolition. Let's just say… sources close to the mayor want it gone," E answers.
"Is that you?" I ask.
"No, not me. Just… someone close to the mayor."
"Why are they going to burn it down?" Clark asks.
"Why would you burn down a building that was about to be demolished?" E counters.
"Because there's something in there someone doesn't want found? Is it the mayor? Is he hiding something?" I ask.
"I didn't say it was the mayor - only someone close to him. But you're right, this is something that someone doesn't want to see the light of day ever, ever again."
"What?" I ask.
"Perhaps the more accurate question is 'who', Miss Lane."
"Who then?" Clark asks.
"Who, who?" E mocks. "You should think outside the box. And that's more than enough to get you started."
"When are they going to burn the building down?" Clark calls out to stop E from leaving. He frowns at me like it's my fault E is being vague.
"I don't know. Maybe tonight." E says.
Clark gives an experimental tug on the handcuffs, looking up along the pipe in assessment.
"Don't worry, Mr. Kent, I promise you'll be out of here in plenty of time."
"Is this political?" I ask. "Are you trying to start a scandal?"
"No," says E. "This is personal." He chuckles, a low, ominous sound that sends a shiver down my spine. There's something familiar about that laugh. Footsteps echo in the large space of the warehouse. There's a brief ribbon of light at the far side of the building before his silhouette disappears through a door.
"That's my cue," says Bobby, stuffing the last bit of taco into his mouth and crumpling up the bag. He throws the bag at us, hitting the pipe between us with precision. "I'll see you two later."
"Bobby wait!" I yell. "Let's work something out. I'll get you a combo platter, that enchilada one you like so much! Extra hot sauce! Guacamole! With a side of nachos and a churro! Come on!"
He completely ignores me.
"Well that's just great," I say as Bobby's footsteps fade. "Now what? If you hadn't been so eager to get us locked up we could've been halfway to the Schafer Building by now."
"Eager to get us locked up?" Clark shakes his head and leans back against the wall. "It's not like this is the most dire situation we've ever been in. Bobby will be back in a little while…"
"A little while? Hardly! Think about it, E said he had a plane to catch. That means he has to get to the airport. He has to check in, go through security… it's going to be hours!"
"It's not the end of the world, Lois. You said you wanted me to stick around through a conversation, here's your chance."
"You're kidding me, right? This is why you caved so quickly on getting handcuffed? So we could talk?" I give the handcuffs a vicious tug, pleased with the sound the pipe makes when Clark's hand hits it.
Clark barely flinches. "It didn't seem like a bad idea at the time."
"Well it was! It was a terrible idea! What if I don't feel like talking to you – did you even think of that?
Clark looks at the handcuff on his wrist, then at me. It's the oddest kind of considering look.
"What?" I ask, feeling self-conscious.
"Nothing." He shakes his head dismissively. Then he looks up the pipe up and down. He knocks on it and there's a dull thunk. "Lead," he says like it's a dirty word. His finger traces the one shiny spot on the pipe, about four feet from the floor, where a hole was cut and soldered back in place.
"That pipe is too thick," I say, feeling vindicated that he, too, seems to wish he were anywhere else right now. "Look at the bolts holding it on the wall, not a single rusty one."
We both look up. It's hopeless. We're stuck here until Bobby gets back.
Clark sighs and slides down the wall until he's sitting. "C'mon Lois, take a load off. I can't hold my arm up all day." He rattles the handcuffs a little.
"I'm not going to sit on that floor!" It's not wet, but it doesn't smell all that good in here and this skirt is dry clean only. Besides, if it makes him uncomfortable to sit with his hand stuck in the air, I'm not about to make it any easier for him.
"You can sit on my lap." His eyebrows rise lecherously.
"When hell freezes over." I could not mean that more. This is all his fault – if he hadn't been such a wuss we could have talked E into leaving us unencumbered.
Clark shrugs. "Suit yourself."
I look at my watch and let out a disgusted sigh.
"You late for something?"
"If Bobby doesn't come back in the next hour I'm going to miss my pedicure and now I don't even have a phone to call and reschedule."
Clark says nothing; just turns his head away. I know he's smiling and it irks me all the more.
"You don't know these people! You don't know how far in advance you have to schedule to get into the Metro Salon! I'm never going to be able to show my face in there again!"
"Or your feet," Clark deadpans.
"It's not just that! We need to get over and see what's in the Schafer Building! What if they torch it before we get a chance to look inside? How long are we going to be here? It's the not knowing that kills me! Where the hell is Bobby? Where the hell is Superman?"
"Superman?" Clark echoes with obvious disbelief. "Your missing a pedicure hardly qualifies as an emergency. Like Perry said, maybe he has better things to do."
"Like what?"
"I wish I knew," Clark mutters.
"So you're saying Superman only shows up when it's a true emergency? I've got news for you, sometimes he just shows up. Unlike you, he's actually there when it matters."
Clark closes his eyes and sighs. I feel bad that I said that. I didn't mean it, at least not like it sounded. For almost a minute there's no sound in the building except the muted rumble of the distant traffic. Unbidden, I remember how he kissed me two nights ago. I could forgive him a lot if he'd kiss me like that again. Plus, he looks so dejected, it makes me feel like I'm being irrational. Like Dr. Friskin said, maybe I'm distancing myself so don't have to deal directly with what's bothering me.
"I'm sorry, Clark. That was low. I didn't mean it like that." I slide down the wall into a crouch as I apologize, hoping that he'll recognize this as a conciliatory gesture. "I'm distancing again. It's not the pedicure that's bothering me."
"About Superman…" Clark says.
