The elevator doors opened, and Clark stepped out, still not sure he was doing the right thing. If his letters had been too much for her this summer, showing up uninvited and unexpected at her place of work was going to be worse than awkward. It was going to be inappropriate.
But the longer he had been away from her, the more he had missed her. Writing her letters helped take the edge off for a while, because he felt closer to her when he was writing to her. But then he would send them off into the ether, with no idea of how she was feeling as she read them, and once again he missed her with a ferocity that made him a little crazy. Crazy enough to make a detour to see her on his way home.
He knew he shouldn’t put her on the spot like this. He knew he should go home and call her, just like he had planned. But he had to know. He had to see her face, hear her voice, feel her touch. He had to know if she was feeling even a fraction of what he had been struggling with all summer.
And if she wasn’t…. If she didn’t…he needed to know that too. Because that was going to break his heart, and he needed time to heal before he could even attempt to resume his normal life.
He spotted her immediately. She was so beautiful, sitting at her desk oblivious to him, lost in her work. He could stare at her all day.
But then he saw the woman at the desk next to her say something, drawing her attention. And then suddenly her eyes were on his.
Her face was inscrutable, and for a moment his stomach dropped. And then he heard her heart begin to race in her chest, and her whispered, “oh my god” and he knew. He knew she was happy to see him.
He smiled at her tentatively, still not sure how she would react to his unexpected arrival at her work. She was shocked, he realized. Still processing his sudden appearance. He shrugged, waiting for her to give him an indication of whether he should come meet her at her desk or wait for her and go outside or…
And then she was running – across the bullpen, up the stairs, and straight to his arms, which he opened without hesitation or conscious thought.
She launched herself at him, and he laughed as he caught her in midair, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist and spinning her in a triumphant circle before setting her back on her feet. Her hands were in his hair, stroking his neck, caressing his face. Her face was lit up with joy and wonder. And he swore his heart would explode right out of his body.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice high and ragged, as if she was holding back a sob.
“My connecting flight was overbooked,” he said, wincing internally at the lie he had concocted as he lay in bed last night, desperate to see her again before he returned to Kansas. “I volunteered to take the next flight. I had three hours. I had to see you.”
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck again, and hugged him tightly.
He tightened his arms around her waist, and closed his eyes, soaking in the feel of her in his arms, savoring every second. When she finally pulled away, she glanced around and blushed, obviously realizing they were on display, and most of her coworkers weren’t even bothering to hide their shock.
“Conference room,” she said abruptly, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the closest available room, not slowing down until the door was shut behind them. He tensed, wondering if this was the moment she retreated or lashed out, embarrassed by their public display.
But then she was in his arms again, stroking his face and gazing at him with a look that made him want to fly.
“Are you really here?” she asked with a laugh. “You’re not a hallucination? I didn’t just conjure you? Because I just hit send on an email to you not five minutes ago. And I’ve been counting the hours until your plane lands tonight. And now here you are.”
He laughed too, delighted beyond words. Her reaction was like something out of a dream, a fantasy, and he wondered suddenly if he should pinch himself.
“I’m really here,” he said instead, still laughing. Her hands slid down his neck and rested on his chest, where his heart hammered out of control.
His hand went to her cheek automatically, and he took a ragged breath. Every fiber of his being wanted to kiss her. But he knew they were being watched. The conference room blinds were open, and he could see a dozen pairs of curious eyes watching, and hear the whispers of her astounded coworkers.
He was dying to kiss her. But not here. Not like this. He tried to form the words to explain to her, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.
“I know,” she said. “Just…come with me. I can’t leave. I have to finish this article I’m working on, or I’m not going to make my deadline. Come sit with me while I write. Talk to me. Stay with me.”
He nodded immediately, happy to be anywhere she was. He hesitated and then pulled her in for another hug, gentler this time. Lois rested her head on his chest, and he rubbed her back through the soft silk of her shirt, then rubbed her arm instead, wanting to feel her skin. She sighed contentedly, and his heart swelled in his chest.
Finally she stepped back and tilted her head toward the door. He nodded and reached for it, opening it for her and resting his hand on the small of her back as she walked through. He dropped his hand back to his side once they were through the doorway, following her to her desk wordlessly. He wanted to leave his hand on her back, or reach for her hand, but he was aware that this was her place of employment, and he had no idea what – if anything – she had told her coworkers about him.
Of course, if she was trying to keep her personal life private, flying into his arms in the middle of the newsroom was probably not the best way to do it, he thought with a smile.
As they approached her desk, the woman at the desk beside hers stood and sauntered over, reclining against Lois’ desk. Her dress was so short, and so tight, he couldn’t find a safe place to rest his gaze, and he trained his eyes on her face. This must be the gossip columnist, Cat, who Lois had described as “a lot”. He was beginning to understand what she meant.
“Hello, handsome,” she purred.
“Beat it, Cat,” Lois said. “He’s not interested.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Cat asked.
Lois waved at him and then at Cat. “Clark Kent, Catherine Grant. Cat is our resident gossip columnist,” Lois said dismissively.
“Society and entertainment,” Cat corrected, extending her hand with the palm down as if expecting him to kiss it. He shook it awkwardly instead.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Grant,” he said automatically. Cat wrinkled her nose at the formal title, and he saw the corner’s of Lois’ mouth twitch up.
He flashed back to the first time Lois had ever mentioned Cat, back when the two women had gone undercover at the Metro Club together, and he recalled the matter of fact way Lois had said no one looked at her when Cat was around. He reached for her, resting his hand on her back, his thumb stroking gently. She turned and looked up at him, and he beamed at her, eyes only for her. She blushed and smiled back at him, message received loud and clear.
“Well, it was nice to finally meet you,” Cat said, excusing herself and making her way back to her own desk without waiting to be acknowledged.
He reached for Lois’ chair, pulling it out for her, and she slid into it. Then he pulled her guest chair from beside her desk and scooted it closer to her before sitting.
His gaze shifted to her desk, and his heart squeezed pleasantly when he saw a half dozen of his postcards lined up along the cubicle wall. He turned his gaze to her, and she shrugged and smiled as if caught.
“They make me happy,” she said softly, and his whole body hummed with joy.
“There are more coming,” he said. “I sent you one every day, though a couple of times I had to skip a day and then double up because there wasn’t anywhere nearby to mail it.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You have no idea… I… They meant a lot to me.”
He nodded, a lump in his throat.
“Your letters…. They were so beautiful,” she continued, gazing at him in a way that made it really hard to remember why he couldn’t kiss her here. “The poems…”
“I’m teaching a poetry elective in the fall,” he said with a smile. “I’ll send you so many poems you’ll be sick of them.”
She laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
They gazed at each other for another minute, and then he took a deep breath and nodded toward her computer.
“What are you working on?”
Lois followed his gaze back to her computer. “Another fire. Yesterday. This is the follow up.”
“Another one? A warehouse?”
She shook her head. “Office building.”
“Have there been others while I was gone?”
She shook her head again. “This is the first in months. I knew they weren’t done.”
He smiled at her self-satisfied smirk.
“I never doubted you,” he said, earning himself a true smile. “Tell me more.”
Lois launched into a summary of the last month, outlining the information from the Metro Club disk and her investigation into the financial files of every club and bar she could get her hands on. Then she gave him a quick rundown on yesterday’s fire and her interview with the arson investigator earlier that day.
“So it’s definitely the same people,” Clark said. “Those arcs.”
“Yeah, and it’s got to be the Toasters. But where are those weapons?” She threw up her hands in frustration.
“Did you ever talk to the kids?”
She looked at him in confusion, brow furrowed.
“You said the original Toasters were just kids, right? You didn’t suspect them of having anything to do with this because they were just being used by Toni. And you’ve been trying to solve it by looking into the Metro Gang angle, assuming they wound up with the extra weapons.”
Lois nodded, waiting for him to continue.
“When they were arrested, they wouldn’t talk. But have you tried talking to them recently? They’re still in prison, right? It’s been a year. Toni’s in prison too. Maybe they aren’t scared of her anymore. Maybe they’ll be willing to tell you who they handed the weapons over to.”
Lois was quiet for a minute, thinking about it. Over the glass wall of the cubicle, he saw Cat pretending not to listen to their conversation, and sneaking glances at Lois as if she might explode at any second.
Clark remembered what Lois had told him, about her strong preference for working alone and her reputation around the office for being difficult to work with, and he wondered if he had overstepped.
“That’s good,” she said slowly. “That’s really good. Thanks.”
Cat’s eyebrows crawled so far up her forehead, they disappeared.
“Hey Lois! I got those photos-” A young man in a t-shirt in jeans skidded to a stop in front of Lois’ desk, a thick stack of photographs in hand. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were busy.”
Lois reached for the photos. “It’s fine. Clark, this is Jimmy Olsen. Jimmy, Clark Kent.”
Jimmy’s forehead furrowed as Clark stood and offered him his hand. Jimmy shook his hand, obviously still trying to guess who he was.
“Clark Kent,” Jimmy repeated. “CK? CK!”
Lois nodded, eyes still on the stack of photos she was flipping through now.
Jimmy clapped him on the arm with his free hand and began pumping his arm with enthusiasm. “It’s great to meet you, man!”
Clark glanced over at Lois, who shrugged bashfully when she felt his eyes on her. He smiled and turned back to Jimmy. “Nice to meet you too.”
“Hey, Jimmy, can you do me a favor?” Lois asked, setting the photos down on her desk, and pulling a file from her drawer.
He nodded immediately, and Clark sat back, studying their interaction. Lois always talked of Jimmy affectionately, even if she was venting about something he had said or done that day, and he knew she cared about him. He was glad to see that it seemed to be reciprocated, as Jimmy stood attentively waiting for Lois’ request.
She opened the file and jotted down a list of names of her notepad, then tore off the sheet of paper and handed it to him. “Call the New Troy Department of Corrections and see if you can get me an appointment to talk to any or all of them next week.”
Jimmy looked over the list and nodded. But before he could say anything else, his boss caught his attention.
“Olsen! You got those photos?” Perry yelled from the doorway of his office.
“Right here, Chief!” Jimmy said quickly. “Lois is looking at them.”
He reached for the photos, but Perry waved him off and sauntered over.
Clark stood as he approached Lois’ desk. “Mr. White,” he said, extending his hand, prepared to re-introduce himself.
“Kent!” Perry said, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “I found some of those paava leaves you recommended and my blood pressure is lower than it’s been in twenty years. Had to special order them from this crazy herb shop.”
“That’s great, sir,” he said, shocked that Perry remembered him and had taken his advice about the paava leaves. Over Perry’s shoulder, Clark could see Cat and Jimmy telegraphing their confusion.
“I talked to Carlson the other day,” Perry continued. “Planning our annual bass fishing trip. Mentioned you, and the guy couldn’t stop raving. Said you were the best writer he’d taught in years. He was pretty surprised to hear you were teaching. Said last he heard you were traveling the world, and he’d been expecting to get some reference calls from newspapers once you decided to settle down.”
Clark felt himself flush, both from the compliment and from the flicker of shame that his life hadn’t turned out the way he had planned. He loved teaching, loved his students, but sitting in this newsroom, talking to Lois about her story, he couldn’t help but wonder what other life he might have had.
“That was always my plan, sir,” he said. “But my dad got sick, and I had to go home and take care of my family for a while. I started teaching while I was home, and…”
He trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. Normally he talked about his move home as fate: falling into a wonderful job and a beautiful home. It had all worked out so perfectly. But now he wondered if he had just allowed himself to be complacent — if he should have finished out one semester as Lana’s substitute and then started applying for reporting jobs. Even if he had started small, after four years he could have worked his way up and built an impressive portfolio. He might have options. Options that could make a future with Lois a real possibility.
“Well, that’s certainly admirable,” Perry said, then turned to Lois and held out a hand for the photos. Clark sat down, trying not to let this sudden feeling of melancholy overwhelm him.
Lois handed the photos to Perry, immediately offering her opinion about which photos to run, as Perry waved her off and flipped through them to look for himself.
Clark felt a hand slide onto his knee and squeeze gently. He looked over at Lois, surprised, and saw her watching him with a concerned look. He should have known she would sense his ambivalence, his regret.
He smiled at her, not willing to ruin this tiny window with any negativity. She smiled back, reassured, and she slid her hand back into her lap. He missed the warmth of her hand immediately and longed to reach out and touch her.
He listened quietly as she and Perry discussed the fire and her follow up story, sorting through the photos together and discussing some of the details.
“Still no suspects?” Perry grumbled.
Lois shook her head and sighed. “The police have nothing. I’m at a dead end with the Metro Gang angle. Johnny is back in charge, and I’m almost certain they are paying protection money to Intergang. But there’s no indication at all that they are involved in these fires. Clark suggested meeting with the Toasters and seeing if I can get anything out of them after all this time. Maybe a year in prison has left them more likely to turn on whoever has the weapons. I’m going to see if I can get appointments to meet with any of them next week.”
Perry raised an eyebrow. “Nice work, Kent. I see Lois has added you to her payroll. I warned you about going undercover with her to that club.”
“Wait a minute? Is she supposed to be paying us?” Jimmy quipped. In the background, Clark could see Cat’s head swiveling back and forth between them, clearly trying to figure out what she had missed.
“I heard it was your quick thinking that got the two of you out of the club without getting busted,” Perry went on. “Though Lois refused to tell me exactly how you managed it.”
Clark’s face went hot, remembering that kiss. “It was Lois’ idea,” he managed to reply. “I just…executed it.”
Beside him, Lois snickered. When he turned to look at her, he saw she was blushing too.
“How long you in town for this time, son?” Perry asked.
“Oh, just a few hours.” Clark looked at his watch. “Actually, I need to leave in about an hour or so to catch my flight. I just got bumped and had a longer than expected layover.”
Lois turned to look at him, and his heart fluttered at the longing in her eyes. He nodded at her in understanding. He had thought a few hours would take the edge of missing her, but now he was desperate for more time.
“All right, well it was good to see you,” Perry said, waving the photos in their direction and heading back to his office.
“I”ll go call the prison,” Jimmy said, excusing himself as well.
“An hour?” Lois said softly when they were alone.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I-”
“I’m being ridiculous,” she interrupted, raising a hand to stop his apology. “I’m so glad you came. A couple hours is more than I expected. Let me see if I can get a rough draft finished on this article and then maybe we can take a walk before you have to head back to the airport.”
He nodded enthusiastically, hoping for a few minutes with her outside of the newsroom where all eyes were on them.
She returned to typing, and he read over her shoulder, smiling as he watched the words appear on the screen.
“That’s not how you spell accelerant,” he said automatically.
She turned in her chair to face him, mouth agape. “Watch it, Kent. You can be replaced.”
He laughed, and she lost her battle to look intimidating and began laughing as well. Around them, Clark could hear the swirl of whispers from her stunned colleagues, snippets of “Do you see this?” and “Who is that guy?” and “Mad Dog Lane”.
Lois went back to typing, a small smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. He watched as she backspaced and rewrote a paragraph, then erased it again. The smile disappeared as she typed it again and then sat back and looked at it, clearly not happy with the way she had worded it.
He leaned over her shoulder and pointed to the screen. “Pull this clause from the end of the sentence and put it at the beginning. Then make the sentence active instead of passive.”
She was silent as he sat back in his chair, and he wondered if he had gone too far. The tension around them was palpable as coworkers at nearby desks were quiet, waiting for her explosion.
She turned in her seat, grabbing the pencil beside her notebook, and throwing it at him playfully. “Do not edit my copy like I’m one of your students!”
Her smile belied her outraged demand, and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“Just try it,” he said.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the computer, but did as he suggested. She sat quietly for a minute rereading the paragraph with his changes.
“It’s better, and you know it,” he said with a grin.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Don’t get cocky, farm boy.”
But she left the paragraph as it was and went back to writing. He watched her work, not even bothering to try to hide his smile. He was so completely smitten. Head over heels.
After a few minutes, she finished typing and turned to him.
“Does that meet your expectations?” she teased, waving a hand at her screen, and he laughed.
“Everything you do exceeds my expectations,” he said softly.
She ducked her head and smiled, caught off guard by his flattery, and his heart swelled in his chest.
“Let’s go for a walk,” she said, sliding her chair back and standing.
He stood quickly, placing a hand on the back of her chair to steady it. She led the way through the newsroom and up to the elevators, and he followed quietly.
When they emerged from the building into the hot midday sun, Lois flinched. “I forgot how hot it is out here. Maybe a walk wasn’t my best idea.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t mind the heat.”
“There’s an ice cream store up one block,” she said. “It might be swamped given how hot it is, but…”
“That’s a great idea,” he said.
His mind scrambled for what else to say. He didn’t want to waste this time. But there was so much to say and so little time remaining. He didn’t know where to start, and the longer the silence stretched between them, the faster his mind whirled.
Then he felt her hand slip into his, weaving her fingers between his. He looked over at her automatically, overwhelmed by his feelings for her.
“I missed you so much,” he said softly, without thinking, the truth just slipping out before he could stop it.
“I missed you too,” she said. “The letters and postcards helped. I’m sorry I couldn’t write to you.”
She paused, and he looked at her questioningly.
“Well, I did write to you,” she said with a nervous grin. “But I couldn’t send you letters, so they’re sitting in your email inbox.”
“You emailed me while I was gone?” he asked, suddenly overwhelmed.
“Just for the last week or so,” she said. “After I got your letters…I had so much I wanted to say.”
He squeezed her hand, unable to find the words to respond.
She tilted her head toward a storefront. “There’s the ice cream place.”
He opened the door for her, resting his hand on the small of her back and leaving it there as they approached the counter and began to peruse the options. The store was surprisingly empty, with just a handful of customers scattered around the tables and waiting for their orders. Soon they had their cups in hand and were settling as a table by the window.
“Butter pecan?” Lois asked, waving a hand at his order. “What are you, eighty years old?”
He laughed. “Oh, okay. Ms. Plain Chocolate? Like you really have room to criticize?”
“Chocolate is a classic!” she argued. “What is even the point of ice cream if you aren’t going to have chocolate?”
“Lois, there are at least ten different chocolate flavors up there,” he said, waving his spoon toward the counter. “Double chocolate, chocolate chocolate chip, Moose Tracks, dark chocolate caramel. But you go with just plain chocolate? You didn’t want to try…rocky road?”
“I’ve tried rocky road,” she countered, scooping a spoonful of ice cream. “It’s fine in small doses. But chocolate is my favorite. I want chocolate.”
“It’s not boring? You don’t get sick of it?” he asked, the playfulness of their conversation starting to take on a more serious quality.
“It’s not boring. It’s…dependable.”
“Dependable sounds awfully boring,” he said softly.
“It’s not,” she said firmly.
He slid his hand across the table and covered her hand with his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. She flipped her hand over in invitation, and he tangled his fingers in hers. He stroked her palm gently, and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her heartbeat suddenly racing.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, and he felt breathless with everything unsaid between them. He slid his hand away and picked up his spoon, taking a deep breath to steady himself.
“What’s the last letter you received?” he asked. “I don’t know how delayed they are.”
“You were telling me about the Indigenous music festival,” she said quietly.
“Oh, that was fun. They do it every year. I haven’t been since I was living in Borneo.”
They chatted casually about his travels while they finished their ice cream, and before he knew it they were back out on the sidewalk, and Lois was flagging down a taxi for him. His heart and mind raced, trying to find a way to draw out this visit, his emotions torn between the joy of being with her again and the agony of leaving.
A taxi pulled up to the curb and idled beside them. The silence hung between them as they tried to figure out how to say goodbye.
“I’m so glad you came. Even if it was only for a few hours,” she said, turning her body to face him. He rested his hand on her arm and nodded his agreement. “I was looking forward to talking to you tonight, but there would still have been a thousand miles between us.”
“Fortunately, there’s no distance between us now,” he said softly, watching her face, giving her a chance to back away.
“Fortunately,” she whispered. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and his heart leapt in his chest.
He tilted his head and lowered his mouth to hers. It was tender and gentle, and his heart ached with the sweetness of it. He pulled back just a few inches, his eyes still closed, savoring this moment. And then he heard the catch in her breath, and he knew she was feeling it too, and then their mouths were drawn back together like magnets. And it was still so sweet and so tender, but it was also needy and passionate and almost desperate. Finally. Finally. Finally.
The world spun around them as their lips clasped again and again. He raised his hand to her cheek, her hair like silk between them. It was everything he had dreamed it would be. Everything he had imagined, lying alone on an island halfway around the world. Everything.
They pulled apart slowly, and he rested his forehead against hers for just a moment before straightening. She was gazing at him with a soft, almost dazed look in her eyes, and he smiled at her. She started to speak, and then stopped, and he knew she was struggling just as badly as he was to find any words to say after that kiss.
“Yeah,” he said softly. He tucked her hair behind her ear, and cupped her cheek. Then he lowered his head and brushed a final kiss across her lips.
“Call me when you get home?” she asked tentatively.
“Count on it,” he said, stroking her cheek one last time and then withdrawing his hand. Then he slid into the backseat of the cab and closed the door, his eyes still on her as they drove away.
