Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Savior (7-8/15)

Lois searched the crowd of passengers exiting through the large set of double doors at Metropolis International Airport. Her eyes landed on a tall, dark-haired man whose deep brown eyes were hidden behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses. He weaved in and out of the crowd, his eyes jumping nervously around until they met hers. And when she smiled and waved at him, a look of relief crossed his face, followed quickly by a wide, bright grin. He raised his hand to wave back and then carefully maneuvered through the other passengers toward her, shouldering his duffle bag.

“Clark, you made it!” Lois greeted, reaching up to hug him enthusiastically. He returned the embrace with a sigh, and she felt a slight trembling in his body.

“Finally,” he breathed. “That may have been the longest four hours of my life. I’m not sure I ever want to fly again.”

She pulled back out of the embrace, chuckling slightly, and looked up at him, still smiling.

“Was there a lot of turbulence? I know the weather has been a bit unpredictable lately,” she said. She looped her arm through his and started leading the way toward the baggage claim area.

“Um, I don’t really know. It just felt…claustrophobic, I guess. The space was too small, and there were too many people, and… Well, since I’ve never flown before, I have no frame of reference. But it was not fun,” he explained.

She nodded and twisted her head to smile up at him again. His eyes were trained ahead, shifting around to take in the sights of the airport, and his jaw twitched slightly as he frowned.

“There’s so many people. Is it—is it a-always this c-crowded?” he asked, grimacing and shaking his head. He seemed to lean into her a little bit, his body tensing, and she steered him over toward a quieter corner of the baggage claim area where they could still see the baggage carousel.

“On a Sunday afternoon in early summer, yes, this is normal,” she confirmed. She stepped in front of him and then wrapped her arms up and around his neck, pulling him in for another hug. “It’s so good to see you, Clark.”

He dropped his duffle bag next to them and looped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer to him, and they both breathed in deeply. Lois didn’t know whether Clark felt it too, but something about this hug, this embrace just filled her. Made her feel whole and complete and…loved. Which was crazy, she reflected, pulling away from him slowly. His dark eyes studied hers briefly, and her smile grew as he shyly looked away toward the baggage carousel. God, he was even more handsome than when she’d last seen him four months ago, when she’d stayed at his parents’ home in Smallville during that unexpected snow storm. His hair had grown out a little and was neatly styled, and he’d filled out more, his solid physique accentuated by his well-fitted dark-wash jeans and long-sleeved heather gray t-shirt. Her heart seemed to skip a beat, and she swallowed tightly as his closeness made her feel…warmer.

Stop, Lois. You don’t have that kind of relationship. He’s just a friend. He’s just a friend and…and he’s still got his arm around me… She stiffened slightly at the realization as his arm lingered on her waist.

“So, uh, how long does it usually take for…” His voice trailed off as he too seemed to remember that his arm casually rested around her. His face turned bright red, and he dropped his arm and stepped away, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah, s-sorry, I—how long until the luggage comes out?”

He forced a smile on his face, and their eyes met again. Lois couldn’t help but grin at him; he looked adorably sheepish, like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She momentarily considered teasing him, but decided against it. Instead, she shifted her gaze to the baggage carousel, which hadn’t yet started to move.

“Not long, usually just a few minutes,” she answered, keeping her tone light.

From her pocket, her phone buzzed, a welcome distraction as her mind tried to remind her how nice it had felt to have his arm wrapped around her waist. And how solid and warm he was. She gulped and quickly pulled the phone out, her eyes landing on the notification of a text message from Martha Kent.

“Oh, Clark, did you call your mom when you landed?” She tapped on the notification and then read the message silently to herself. “I’m guessing not,” she added with a laugh.

Lois held the phone up for him to see. The short message was a strongly worded request to have Clark call her ASAP so she knew he was alive and had made the trip to Metropolis safely.

He blanched and shook his head. “N-no, I completely forgot. Ah, my poor mom,” he mumbled, and he stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out an older black Samsung cell phone, similar to a phone Lois had replaced about a year prior. He fumbled slightly with the phone as his hands began to tremble, but he managed to dial the Kents’ number. Lois smiled at him knowingly and gently patted his shoulder as he bit his lip nervously.

“You know, I’m thinking traveling may not be my thing, Lois. I—Hi, Mom… Yeah, I’m sorry, I—” He turned away from Lois slightly and raked a hand through his hair, nodding into the phone. Half-listening to his conversation, she glanced again to the baggage carousel, which had finally creaked to life. “Y-yeah, I know, I…It was fine, Mom, and Lois is here with me and—and w-we’re w-waiting—we’re waiting for the b-b—the luggage—” He stopped talking abruptly, and Lois shifted her gaze back to him. He nodded again into the phone, but his eyes had screwed shut, and his free hand pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. He took a deep breath and seemed to try to steady himself. “Okay, Mom…Yeah, I will…Yeah, Mom, I love you too…Bye.”

He hung up the phone with shaking hands and shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans with a heavy sigh.

“She asked one thing of me—to call her when I landed—and I forgot. After everything that they’ve d-done f-for me…I still forgot,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes glued to the floor. He shuffled his feet.

“Hey, now, it’s okay,” Lois assured him. She hesitated a moment, but then reached out and took his hand. “Let’s get your luggage and get out of here, huh? I can’t wait to show you the city. You’re going to love it.”

Lois looped her arm through his and patted his chest playfully, eliciting a tight smile from him. She’d take it for now. He stooped down and picked up his duffle bag, and together they pushed through the crowd toward the baggage carousel to find Clark’s luggage.




One thing Lois learned over the next hour was that Martha Kent did indeed have a bit of an overprotective streak. She received no fewer than five more text messages from Martha in the time between when Clark hung up with her and when they found Lois’s silver Jeep Grand Cherokee, which was parked neatly near the back of the short-term parking lot. Martha wanted to make sure Clark’s luggage didn’t get lost, and that he had remembered to grab his carry-on luggage before he’d exited the airplane, and that he had his medication with him—which he needed to take promptly at 5:00 p.m. every day—and that Lois was sure he wasn’t going to be an imposition, staying with her for the summer while he explored whether he was interested in pursuing a career in journalism.

Not that Lois blamed Martha. No, she was sure that if she were in Martha’s shoes, she probably wouldn’t have even let Clark out of her sight.

As Clark hefted his two large luggage bags and duffle bag into the back of the Jeep, Lois sent Martha a quick message to let her know Clark was doing well and that he had all of his luggage. She also assured Martha again that she was more than happy to have Clark stay with her; after all, she had an extra bedroom that otherwise sat empty.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he climbed into the passenger’s seat next to her.

She nodded and switched her phone off.

“Just returning a text from your mom,” Lois explained with a sideways smile. She started the car and glanced at the clock as it blinked to life. 4:58 p.m. “She asked me to remind you—”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Clark interjected. “One sec.”

He unfastened his seatbelt, hopped out of the vehicle, rifled through his duffle bag for a minute, and then joined her in the front seat again, an orange pill bottle in his hand. He refastened his seatbelt and quickly swallowed a small blue pill while Lois backed out of the parking spot and followed the signs for downtown Metropolis.

She glanced sideways at him as he shoved the small pill bottle into his pocket and then shifted in his seat and leaned over slightly to gaze out at the tall buildings of the Metropolis skyline in the distance. She was curious about the pills, but it would be rude of her to ask, she knew. She refocused her attention on the road in front of her.

“Oh, wow, that’s…” Clark’s voice trailed off as he stared out the windshield.

“It’s pretty incredible, huh? Do you see the Daily Planet? The globe is there,” Lois said, pointing ahead and slightly to her right at the landmark globe glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Clark adjusted his glasses and nodded.

“It’s—it’s just…Wow.”

She smiled and glanced at him again as she merged onto the highway. His expression showed pure awe, and he blinked and then grinned at her. God, that smile.

“And I get to work there with you for the next three months? I can’t believe it,” he beamed. He shifted again in his seat for a better view.

She expertly navigated the Jeep into downtown Metropolis, and they spent the next half hour just driving around, taking in the sights of the city and the people living there. It was busy; traffic was heavy, and crowds congregated on the street corners and bus stops. But that gave her more time to explain the buildings they drove by. Clark seemed particularly interested in the architecture of the old theater in the historical district and in the expansive grounds of Metropolis University. He made Lois promise to bring him back to visit the campus when they had free time later in the week. Finally, Lois turned down a quiet, tree-lined street and pulled the Jeep up to her apartment building—a multi-story brick structure nestled among other similar apartment buildings.

“Here we are,” she announced. She removed the keys from the ignition and watched Clark as he again stared almost in awe at the apartment building. She laughed and patted his shoulder. “It’s really nothing special, you know.”

“All of this is so different from Smallville. I-I think it’s all incredible.” He quickly unfastened his seatbelt and jumped out of the car onto the sidewalk, glancing back at Lois as she copied him. She let him gawk at the building while she moved to the back of the Jeep and opened the hatch, revealing his two large luggage bags and smaller duffle bag. She shouldered the duffle and pulled the two luggage bags out, struggling with their weight as she set them on the sidewalk. Clark still stood, smiling up at the building, oblivious to her effort, and she laughed to herself as she shut the hatch.

“If you think the outside of the building is neat, wait until you see the inside,” she joked, adding, “Here, come help me with this, and we’ll head up.”

Clark twisted around to look at her, that adorable grin on his face, and Lois motioned to him with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, right, of course. Sorry.”

He trotted over to her and grabbed both luggage bags as she began leading the way inside.

“You have both of those? They seem pretty heavy,” Lois commented, holding the door to the building open for him. He grinned at her again and nodded.

“They’re not that heavy,” he replied. To demonstrate his point, or maybe to show off, Lois wondered, he lifted both of the luggage bags higher and smiled again. “See?”

“Maybe you’ve just been working out, Mr. Kent,” Lois teased. He blushed a deep red as she patted him on the arm, and she then turned toward the elevator, Clark following closely. As they entered the elevator, her stomach growled loudly, and she grimaced. “I don’t know if you remember, but I don’t really cook. Well, it’s not that I don’t cook, actually, it’s more like anytime I try to cook, well, things just tend to, you know, blow up or catch fire… So, uh, well, do you like pepperoni or sausage on your pizza?”

Clark blinked at her several times, his eyes narrowed as he tried to interpret her rambling. Then, he laughed, and Lois couldn’t help but join him. She leaned up against him to steady herself as the elevator lurched to a stop on the fifth floor.

“Whatever you want is fine with me, Lois.”

“Good. Right answer. I think we’re going to get along just fine,” she quipped, flashing him a brilliant, wide smile and then leading the way down the hall to her apartment.



Clark stared at the ceiling, his eyes focusing on a single point straight above him. The clock on the wall next to him blinked as the time changed to 9:55 p.m. Tension began building behind his eyes, just like every night about this time. He was glad Lois had suggested they get to bed early; she wouldn’t have to witness his nightly migraine or experience the panic that he always felt before and after the onset of the debilitating headache.

He curled up onto his side, facing the wall, and pulled the comforter up to his chin. The dark, unfamiliar room was warm, but he felt exposed without the blanket covering him. And it helped to keep his mind from thinking he was back there in that awful place, where he’d not been given any clothing or blankets. He shook his head as he remembered the constant chill of the room. Never warm. Never comfortable. Always exposed.

No, he was safe and warm and comfortable here. Except the growing pain behind his eyes. Nausea hit him then, and he curled up more, clutching at his stomach as he suppressed a groan.

Quiet. Stay quiet. Don’t cry. Don’t move.

He shook his head again, ridding his mind of the intrusive thoughts, and then he allowed himself to cry. Silently, tears fell from his eyes, staining the pillow. And he allowed himself to move, turning over again onto his back and staring up at the plain white ceiling. No, no, no, not plain white. He closed his eyes and imagined it being painted blue. A bright blue, like the sky.

Too late. He couldn’t stop it. The panic. His heart started racing, and the lightheadedness that always accompanied it made him shiver, despite his warmth.

In his mind, the comfortable, quiet, dark room disappeared, replaced by harsh white walls and a hard steel platform beneath him. He heard his own screams, cut short by a rough hand slapping him across the face with such force that he nearly blacked out. “Shut the hell up, or I’ll give you something to cry about. Freak.” He felt the needle piercing his skin, plunging deep into the muscle of his right shoulder. And the stabbing pains as the drug spread. And then he was on the ground, blood dripping from his nose. A steel-toed boot kicked him in the side, a sickening crunch echoing in his ears as his ribs cracked.

He couldn’t cry.

No crying, or else.

Or else they’d make it hurt even more.

He shook himself and forced his breathing to stabilize. Lois. He was here, with her, in her apartment, safe from them. His hands gripped the comforter tightly, causing the muscles in his arms to tremble, but he didn’t let go. The blanket was soft, warm, enveloping him. He felt a crease in the fabric and ran his fingers along it.

One, two, three. Four, five, six. One, two, three. Four, five, six. His new chant, breathing in and out. Sometimes it helped. A little.

He opened his eyes again, but turned his head toward the door. The door wasn’t locked. He could leave if he wanted. He was in control.

Quickly, he pushed back the comforter and stood, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over him and the sharp stabbing pains pulsing behind his eyes. He stepped over to the door, grabbed the handle, and eased the door open several inches. Light from the living room filtered in; Lois was still up. He didn’t want to see her right now, not like this. But his breathing eased considerably as he closed the door again.

The simple reminder of the unlocked door usually allowed him to go to sleep; he’d discovered that early on, within the first week he’d been back at his parents’ house. Here, now, in this unfamiliar room, with its unfamiliar colors and warmth and smells, he needed the reminder again.

Blindly, he felt his way back to the bed, collapsed onto the soft mattress, and pulled the comforter back up over himself, all the way up to his chin.

And he willed himself to go to sleep, his teeth chattering and his hands trembling.





Lois pushed the button for the main newsroom floor, the elevator doors closed, and the elevator lurched upward. She could feel Clark’s nervous energy next to her, and he shuffled his feet while staring at the number blinking above the elevator doors. It beeped loudly each time they rose a level, and he flinched every time. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder as she wondered whether she should have brought him in the day before, when it would have been quiet and not crowded.

The doors opened loudly, and Lois stepped out confidently. Clark followed a step behind, his wide dark eyes scanning the room. He adjusted his glasses and then shoved his hands deep into his pockets as his eyes landed on her. She frowned as he forced a tight smile, quite different from the look of awe he’d had the day before when she’d given him a tour of the city from the safety of her car. She slowed to walk next to him instead of in front of him and then rested a hand gently on his arm. He trembled slightly under her touch.

“Just follow me,” she instructed quietly. Several of her colleagues greeted them as they walked down the ramp and through the maze of desks toward the small conference room in the back corner, and she smiled and nodded cordially, though her attention remained focused on the man next to her.

He’d told her that morning that he was a bit nervous about the day, and although she’d assured him that he’d be with her all day, she’d noticed a steady decline in his speech patterns as they got closer to the Planet on the drive in. His stuttering definitely worsened when he was stressed or nervous, and she didn’t want that for him. She wanted him to be relaxed and comfortable and to have a good experience. And so, she needed to get him into the conference room and settled, where he could get used to the hustle and bustle without having to mitigate the loud noises and curious stares of her colleagues.

“Here we go,” she said. She opened the door to the small conference room and ushered him inside. As she closed the door behind them, she heard him exhale sharply, and she turned back around toward him. “You okay?”

He nodded, his tight forced smile replaced with something a bit more organic, and he raised his eyes to look out the glass windows of the conference room. She followed his gaze for a moment.

It was 8 a.m. Monday morning in the Daily Planet newsroom. Like every Monday morning, the room was filled with a sense of anticipation—reporters moved around the room, congregated at the coffee machine, and threw ideas at each other for stories that had been brewing over the weekend. TVs with various news stations playing hung along the walls, and a photographer, holding up a large camera, jogged down the ramp while shouting to another of their colleagues. Perry White, Editor-in-Chief, stepped out of his office, bellowed something that momentarily brought the newsroom to a standstill, and then yelled again for everyone to get back to work.

Lois smiled; it was her favorite time of day. The energy, the anticipation, the eagerness—she thrived on this. However, a quick glance at her new “apprentice” revealed that he was not quite as enthused. His shoulders hunched slightly, and his lips tightened into a grimace as Perry slammed the door to his office. She reminded herself again that less than five months had passed since he’d been rescued from that facility north of Metropolis, where he’d been held since he was a young boy. So…his life experience as an adult consisted of all of five months, most of which was living quietly with his parents at their small farm in Nowheresville, Kansas.

And they were definitely not in Kansas anymore.

“It’s loud and busy out there, so we can work in here today. How does that sound?” she asked as casually as she could, not wanting to attract attention to his discomfort. She patted him on the shoulder and turned away from the window. “Actually, how about you settle in here—you can ‘people watch’ for a few minutes—and I’ll get a few things from my desk and grab us some coffee?”

Clark shifted his eyes to her, blinking several times, and then nodded.

“Um, yeah, that’s—that s-sounds g-good. Uh, lots of milk and sugar though, please,” he mumbled. And he grinned at her—still forced, but he seemed to be trying to control his anxiety.

She chuckled, remembering their conversation about coffee from four months ago, and she glanced quickly out into the newsroom.

“See that man over there in the gray T-shirt and blue jeans?” she asked, pointing to her right out the window, where a young man in his early twenties stood talking to an older blonde woman.

“Yeah.”

“That’s Jimmy Olsen. He was there when we…rescued you. And he drinks his coffee like that—mostly milk and sugar, with a little coffee.” Lois winked at him, and Clark’s smile grew just a little more. “I’ll have him make your coffee for you. Sound good?”

He nodded.

“Yeah, yes. Uh, th-thank you—thank you, Lois,” he added. With a shaking hand, he reached up and removed his glasses, squinted for a moment, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He then replaced his glasses and blinked before shifting his eyes to meet hers.

The many unspoken words in his mannerisms told her a lot. Not just that he was uncertain, nervous, and insecure. No, not just that. Something else too. She paused as she studied him briefly. No, it wasn’t just his anxiety. She realized that he needed something from this experience, but he was terrified that he wouldn’t find it. Somehow, from the simple act of him removing and replacing his glasses, she saw that he needed validation, assurance, and a purpose. He needed to know that he could be something. That he wasn’t a ten-year-old boy in an adult’s body—someone with no past to build a future on.

God, she wanted to hug him right now. She wanted to tell him that he would find his way and his purpose given time, to tell him that she believed in him and would help him as much as she could. But she just smiled at him and then hurriedly left the conference room, the door closing behind her.

They could talk more about it later.

For now, coffee first, then the stuff she needed from her desk. She angled toward Jimmy, who was now walking briskly toward Perry’s office, and she waved as she called his name.

“Jimmy! I need your help!”



“Impressive, Kent. I like it.”

Perry White looked up at Lois and Clark over the top of his glasses as he set down the single-page printout of Clark’s write up, and Lois felt a huge smile growing on her face. She’d given him a simple task—compiling and familiarizing himself with all of her research on a story she was working on related to a huge asteroid that was supposed to be passing within several hundred thousand miles of Earth in about a month. She’d planned to write up the article herself for tomorrow morning’s edition, but she’d gotten stuck in traffic on her way back from meeting a source—one who would talk to her and only her, leaving Clark to stay back at the Planet. When she’d returned with only an hour to go before deadline, he’d nervously presented her with his draft of an article, which, to her surprise, had been not only well written and impactful but also an accurate representation of her research. She’d done a quick once-over, changing only a few words here and there, and had then shot the article off to Perry, with Clark’s name following hers on the byline. Clark had argued that his name shouldn’t be on the article, since he was technically not a writer and he’d only written up the research she’d already done, but Lois had been so amazed by his work that she’d insisted. And it seemed that Perry agreed.

“Thank you, sir,” Clark replied stiffly. He glanced at her before adding, “It’s all Lois’s research. I just wrote it up, to—to help her out of course.”

“Ah, well, regardless, Kent, if this article is any indication, I’d say you have a bright future ahead of you, son. Good job,” Perry drawled, and he stood up and offered his hand. Clark stepped forward to shake hands with the older man, his movement still unsure and rigid.

“Thank you, sir,” Clark repeated.

Lois patted him on the shoulder and winked at Perry.

“I told you he was gonna be good, didn’t I, Chief?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she turned to Clark. “Come on, Mr. Kent. I think a celebration is in order. I know this burger joint on the other side of town. They have the best double fudge chocolate milkshakes in Metropolis.”

“Uh, right, sure, okay.”

Lois heard Perry chuckle and mumble something about how nice it would be to be young again as she and Clark exited his office, her arm looped in his. The newsroom was still in full swing, with deadline approaching rapidly; however, their work for the day was all done, and she was starving. They’d been so busy that she’d forgotten to suggest they break for lunch. Clark had never complained. About anything. All day, in fact. He’d worked hard, done everything she’d asked of him right away, and had been focused and on task. She imagined he should be quite hungry too.

She’d never been one to want to work with a partner, but she had to admit to herself that she really could enjoy working with him. They just seemed to be on the same wavelength. Together, they quickly cleaned up the work they’d left in the conference room and then started up the ramp toward the elevators, Clark hanging back one step behind Lois as she led the way.

When they reached the elevator, Clark’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and Lois glanced at him as she pushed the ‘down’ button to take them to the parking garage. He pulled out his cell phone and swiped at a notification.

“Ah, shoot, it’s 5. I f-forgot to b-bring my medication…” His voice trailed off as the elevator doors opened, and he followed Lois inside.

“We can stop at home first,” she offered. “It’s actually not far out of the way.” A quick glance sideways told her that he was genuinely upset, and she frowned as the elevator lurched into motion. “Five minutes extra is all. Really.”

“Thank you. And sorry,” he mumbled, stuffing his cell phone back into his pocket.

The elevator doors opened on level 2 of the parking garage, and Lois looped her arm in his again as she led the way out. He was so hard on himself, she mused, her eyes drifting sideways to study him. Like his posture, his face looked stiff and unhappy, his jaw set in a tight frown. His glasses had fallen slightly down his nose, and he reached up with his free hand to straighten them. Lois looked back ahead of them, her silver Jeep coming into view just around the back of a large white truck, and she released his arm to pull her keys out of her purse.

A moment later, they both settled into the front seat, and Lois started the engine. She didn’t immediately back out of the parking spot, however. Instead, she shifted in her seat to face him. His hands were clasped tensely in his lap, and he stared silently out the window as though avoiding her gaze.

“Clark…”

Her voice seemed to startle him, and he flinched slightly, then turned to face her, blinking anxiously.

“Hmm?” Again, he reached up and adjusted his glasses.

“Do you…do you think I’m upset because we have to stop at home first? Because I’m not. It’s really not a big deal. And I don’t want you to be worried or think that I’m angry or anything.” She reached out and placed her hand over his while she spoke, and she felt him trembling. “In fact, right now, I’m pretty much the opposite of upset. I’m so impressed by what you were able to get done today, Clark. And it’s just day one. You’re an amazing writer, and you seem to have this innate ability to consolidate information easily and quickly. I’m excited for this summer, Clark. I think we’re going to get a lot done together.”

He just lowered his eyes and stared at their hands in his lap. He didn’t respond right away. Finally, just as she was about to pull away and get started on the way home, he let out a long breath.

“Thank you, Lois. I’m sorry if I seem upset. I just—I just want—I just want—” He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head, and she waited patiently while he gathered his thoughts. When he started talking again, his voice was calmer and deeper, as though he was working extra hard to control his words. “I just want to do my best, and I get frustrated when I forget things, like my medication.” He paused for another moment, letting his eyes drift up to meet hers. “My mom was really worried about letting me come here by myself, and I wanted to prove to her and to myself that I could do this—you know, that I could be a responsible adult. And it’s only day one, and I’m already forgetting something very important. I-I know you’re not upset with me, but I’m upset with myself.”

She squeezed his hands lightly and gave him a half smile.

“Clark, even those of us who have been at this as adults for much, much longer than you forget things,” Lois told him softly. He blinked and lowered his eyes again. “We even sometimes forget really important things. Like just last week, I forgot to pay my rent on the first of the month. I’ve never been late with my rent before, but I’d been working on a big story the day before, and it just completely slipped my mind.” Clark removed his glasses for a minute and rubbed his eyes, and Lois saw for the first time that day how tired he looked. She continued. “It’s completely normal, especially when you’ve had such an eventful day like today.”

Despite the truth in her words, she could see he was unconvinced. He still frowned, and he shook his head slowly as he replaced his glasses. Before he could object, she cleared her throat and started again.

“And you’re actually light-years ahead of most people still, even though you’ve only been at this adult thing for not even five months,” she declared. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh, you don’t believe me, huh? Well, tell me this. You already have a plan so this doesn’t happen again, don’t you?”

He actually looked embarrassed; his cheeks turned red, and he nodded self-consciously.

“I was going to ask you if I can put my extra bottle of pills in your purse tonight so I won’t forget tomorrow. And then I’ll leave them in a drawer in my desk. I mean, uh, you said I’m getting the desk next to yours tomorrow, right?”

She nodded, grinning at him.

“See, you’re doing just fine, Clark. You made a little mistake earlier, and now you’re already taking steps to be sure it doesn’t happen again,” Lois explained, shifting her Jeep into reverse and starting to back out of the small parking space. “Everyone makes mistakes, but it’s how you respond to those mistakes that defines you. And you’re acting much more mature than many other adults I know, trust me.”

“You mean that?”

“Definitely. Now let’s go get some food. I’m starving.”



“No, Mom… J-just t-twenty minutes late, Mom. It’s fine and—”

Clark moved down the hallway toward his bedroom, mumbling into his phone, and Lois finished pouring herself a glass of wine and Clark a cup of tea. She moved both drinks to the coffee table and settled herself on the couch to wait for him. A few minutes later, he reappeared, shaking his head as he stuffed his phone into his pocket.

“I had to convince her that she doesn’t need to visit next week to check on me,” he grumbled, taking his seat next to her on the couch.

Lois chuckled and set her wine glass down.

“She just loves you a lot and misses you,” she observed, and she patted him on the back gently and then reached under the coffee table and pulled out a colorful box. “Okay, after last night, I need a rematch. You’re not going to beat me at Scrabble twice in a row, Mr. Kent.”

She glanced sideways at him and grinned as he laughed, some of his tension from earlier fading.

“And if I do?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, a silly grin spreading across his face, and Lois momentarily lost herself staring at him, unable to think of a witty comeback. All she wanted to do in that moment was kiss him. He looked adorable and goofy and handsome and kind and completely kissable…

No, stop it, Lane.

“If you do—which you won’t—then I guess I’ll have to…”

Kiss you. Or maybe that should be if I win, you kiss me. God, Lois, get a hold of yourself.

She felt her cheeks turn red, and she looked away, pretending to think harder. “Oh, I got it! Loser does the dishes for a week.”

She nodded and twisted back toward him as he grimaced in response.

“Okay, you’re on,” he accepted, offering her his hand to shake.

She giggled and dramatically shook his hand, then opened up the Scrabble box to get the game set up. He helped her, taking out the board and unfolding it while she placed a tile holder in front of each of them and shook up the bag of tiles. He’d surprised them both by being extremely good at Scrabble, besting her by nearly fifty points the previous evening. Granted, he’d gotten fairly lucky with his tiles and managed multiple Bingos during the game. But she’d beat him tonight. No one was that lucky twice in a row.

They each chose a tile to see who would go first; his selection of a C, while she chose an R, should have been her first indication that she’d be gearing up for a long week of dishwashing. Clark smiled, cleared his throat, and settled back into the couch while he studied his tiles. She lifted her wine glass to her lips again and glanced sideways at him. He adjusted his glasses on his nose, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Gosh, he’s even adorable when he’s thinking. She pursed her lips and shifted her gaze back to her own tiles. A moment later, he coughed.

“Uh, well, Ms. Lane, I’ll give you one chance to back out of our agreement before the game officially starts,” he teased. She peered at him over her wine glass. His crooked smile and twinkling eyes made her heart skip a beat.

“Not a chance, Farmboy. Do your worst.”

She crossed her arms over her chest mockingly and then sat back stunned as he nodded and picked up all of his tiles to place on the board, spelling out the word OCTAGON. He looked quite pleased with himself, and he reached casually over to the notebook they were using as a scorecard.

“That’s thirteen times two plus fifty. Seventy-six points.”

She shook her head in disbelief. Right off the bat, just like the day before. She was going to be washing dishes all week.

“You mean business. Okay. Okay. Here we go then.”

One hour and two glasses of wine later, Lois slumped back into the couch cushion laughing as Clark placed his final tiles on the board, forming the word GRAY. Boy, was he proud of himself. And he should be. He’d beaten her again, though this time only by twenty-three points.

“You know, I don’t know that anyone has ever beaten me twice in a row, Clark,” she admitted.

She leaned forward to the coffee table and set down her wine glass. He didn’t respond, except to flash her another of his dazzling smiles. God, she loved that smile. It was genuine, full, real. A memory flickered of the first time she’d seen him outside of that warehouse in the freezing cold; he’d been sickly, ill, and barely conscious. She gazed at him in awe as he began putting all of the tiles back in the bag.

He’s come so far in such a short time.

“It’s amazing,” she whispered, not meaning to.

“Hmm? What’s amazing? That I beat you—again?” He smirked at her teasingly, and she pretended to punch him in the arm before helping him put the final few tiles into the bag.

“No, not that. It’s nothing. I was just thinking.”

She felt his gaze on her, but she didn’t say any more. He didn’t need to know. She placed the top on the Scrabble box and glanced quickly at the clock on the wall. Only 9:30 p.m., but she was exhausted. She remembered how tired he’d looked earlier on their way out of the office, and she shifted her gaze back to him. He’d removed his glasses for a moment and was cleaning the lenses using his shirt. He squinted at them as though trying to check whether they were clean and then replaced them on his face.

“Is it bad? Your vision, I mean,” she asked quietly. Seeing his confused expression, she added, “When I visited Smallville, you only wore glasses when you were reading, but now you’re wearing them all the time. Has your vision gotten worse?”

“Oh.”

He looked down at his hands for a moment, and she had the distinct impression that he was embarrassed about having to wear glasses. He cleared his throat nervously.

“Well, uh, I guess, yeah,” he answered noncommittally. His lips twisted into a frown. “Mom said that—that I had perfect vision when I was a kid, and…and I guess I didn’t even realize how bad it was until she took me to see the eye doctor. We were hoping m-my headaches were related to my poor eyesight, but—but that—that the glasses…” He shook his head and started again. “But that the glasses would help.”

“And do they?” Lois turned toward him and pulled both of her legs up onto the couch, sitting cross-legged. He grimaced.

“A little, but…no, not really,” he confessed, raking his free hand through his hair. “They—the glasses—they help m-my eyesight for sure; everything is blurry otherwise. But the headaches still come. Sometimes randomly.”

Lois hesitated a second, watching him. He shared his medical information with her willingly, but he seemed slightly uncomfortable about it, as shown by both his deteriorating speech patterns and his mannerisms. He shifted on the couch a bit, clenched his jaw, and crossed his arms over his chest. But then he looked up at her and held her gaze.

“You want to know a-about the, uh, the pills, don’t you?” He gave her a weak smile and then dropped his eyes to his hands.

“I’m curious,” she admitted. However, she quickly added, “But only if you want to share.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly, and then after another moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small orange bottle. He turned the bottle around in his hands to read the label and then handed it to her.

“I can’t pronounce it. Pro—propran—something.”

She eyed the bottle in her hand, reading the label as he had. Propranolol. She was familiar with the drug. It was a beta blocker commonly prescribed to manage heart problems and anxiety. Her mother had been on it for a while several years back when she’d had high blood pressure due to stress.

“It’s supposed to help with my migraines. I get them every night at about the same time. At, uh, 10 p.m.”

Her eyes shot up and met his, but he immediately looked down with a sort of knowing frown, confirming her suspicion; 10 p.m., she remembered, was when he had been dosed with that drug every night.

“They also think there might be something wrong w-with my—with my heart. It, uh, starts with an A… Arrhy—arrhyth… I don’t remember. My heartbeat is not steady, I guess. Sometimes it’s too fast, sometimes it’s too slow,” he continued. “The pills could help with that too, they said.”

Lois nodded as she handed the bottle back to him. He took it and stuffed it back in his pocket. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, and she wondered if he regretted sharing too much. She moved closer to him on the couch and tentatively reached out to wrap her arm around his shoulders.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she said quietly, embracing him in a gentle hug. She felt the tension in him, and his breathing seemed to quicken slightly as she held him. Finally, he leaned into her a bit, his head coming to rest on her shoulder. She wanted to ask him a bunch of questions, but she knew now was not the time; if she pressed him any further, she’d likely make him even more anxious, which she definitely didn’t want. So instead, she held him, allowing her hand to rub his back soothingly.

He slowly relaxed into her, and his breathing stabilized as the tension left his shoulders. After another moment, he sat up and moved away from her slightly.

“A-another big day t-tomorrow, so I should—I should probably get to bed,” he mumbled, and he stood and took his mug to the kitchen.

Lois watched him, but didn’t move from her spot on the couch. She wasn’t ready to go to bed quite yet herself.

“Sleep well, Clark. I’ll see you in the morning then,” she told him, her voice low.

He started toward the hallway, but paused and glanced back at her with a sort of silly half-smile.

“And tomorrow night, when I win three times in a row, you can do my laundry for a week too, right?”

Her jaw dropped, and she broke into a fit of laughter as she grabbed the nearest thing—a couch pillow—and tossed it at him. He ducked as it launched over his head, landing harmlessly in the middle of the hallway. And then he turned back toward her and smiled again.

“Goodnight, Lois.”

“Goodnight, Clark.”



Clark stared at the ceiling again. 9:55 p.m. Like clockwork, the familiar pain began to pulse behind his eyes. But his mind was elsewhere tonight, and he blinked as he turned onto his side.

He’d had an incredible day. The best day he could remember, actually.

His first day working with Lois at the Daily Planet.

A small taste of what being a journalist—and a normal adult male with friends and a job—might be like.

Yes, there’d been a couple hiccups, he thought as he reached up and rubbed his eyes wearily. He’d been terribly nervous in the morning, and he hadn’t missed the fact that Lois moved them into the conference room to work to allow him time to get used to the busy environment of the newsroom. And then he’d stumbled a bit with his words when he’d had to ask Jimmy Olsen for help with downloading a file from Lois’s email. And of course, forgetting his medication; he’d been so angry with himself for that. Lois had assured him it was not a big deal, but he vowed to not make the same mistake twice.

And despite these few glitches, the rest of the day had been…fun, exciting, new. He’d thoroughly enjoyed working with Lois. Just being around her made him feel good. And he’d loved writing up the short article on the asteroid. His impulsive decision to write the story when Lois had texted him to tell him she’d be back late had really paid off.

He smiled to himself, even as the pain in his head intensified and nausea began to set in. Closing his eyes and taking slow, measured breaths, he recalled Lois’s surprise when he’d presented her with the article. The smile on her face as she’d read through the article was enough to make his day. No, his month. And Mr. White had even agreed with leaving his name next to hers in the byline.

His mom was going to be so proud.

The pain shifted to his chest, which was disconcerting but not unusual for him, and his heart began to race. The panic set in then, just like it always did, and the room swayed around him, little spots of light flickering in his vision. Not a good sign, he knew. The funny vision spots usually meant… He groaned out loud and shook his head as a distant memory echoed, pulling him in suddenly.

His small preteen body lay strapped onto the cold steel platform in the middle of the experimentation room; three men in white lab coats studied his naked form, poking and prodding him and chatting amongst themselves while he shivered with fear and cold. He didn’t dare move, speak, or cry; the large purple bruise on his chest reminded him what would happen if he disobeyed them again. It still hurt to breathe. So instead, he closed his eyes and imagined he was somewhere else. Outside a familiar yellow and white farmhouse. The bright sunlight shining down on him and making all the flowers bloom in beautiful colors around him. A warm breeze ruffling his hair. The smell of ripe red apples from the orchard, ready to be picked. And a bright blue sky. He loved blue; it really was his favorite. The sharp pain of a needle in his arm forced his eyes back open, and one of the men stood over him now, scowling as he injected the glowing green liquid directly into Clark’s veins. He couldn’t help it; he screamed in agony and writhed against the straps holding him down. He quickly weakened as the drug spread, but the pain only intensified. Ten million tiny daggers piercing through him. He couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t move. His eyes closed as darkness overtook him.

With a start, Clark sat up in bed, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. Hastily, he wiped the moisture away, swung his legs off the side of the bed, and stood. Nausea crept back up on him, but he ignored it as he began pacing the room.

He hated that memory. They hadn’t often injected the drug directly into his veins like that, but when they did, the pain was so intense he knew he’d rather die than go through it again. He felt his fists clenching and unclenching almost rhythmically with his pacing, and he forced himself to stop and sit back down on the bed. He’d wanted to die that night. When he’d woken up after blacking out, the pain had been unbearable. And they’d also…

He buried his head in his hands, trembling.

They’d also performed some sort of surgery on him that night. He had no idea what they’d done to him, but he still had the four-inch-long scar down the center of his abdomen to show for it. It had been the first time they’d done anything like that. No anesthesia, no pain medication.

“Alien scum. I hope you feel this pain, because there’s more to come.”

The voice penetrated his thoughts and made him sick. For a moment, he worried he might vomit, but the feeling passed fairly quickly, and he resorted once again to his familiar breathing exercise to both distract him and calm him down. Lying on his side on the bed, he pulled the comforter back up to his chin and began silently reciting, “One, two, three. Four, five, six. One, two, three. Four, five, six,” as he breathed in and out regularly.

Several minutes later, his body relaxed; his heart stopped pounding in his chest, and the pain receded back to the single spot between his eyes, where a normal headache should be.

And he was again exhausted.

A gentle knock at his door forced his eyes back open.

“Clark? I heard some noise, and I just wanted to check that you’re okay.”

Lois’s kind, soft voice brought a thin smile to his lips, and he slowly stood, flicked on the light switch, and opened the door. She shifted a bit uncomfortably a couple feet back, her arms crossed over her chest. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she wore an obviously well-used pair of blue plaid pajamas. As their eyes met, Clark let out the breath he’d been holding. Concern filled her gaze. Concern for him. He dropped his eyes to the ground and mimicked her stance, crossing his arms over his chest loosely.

“Sorry to wake you, Lois. I-I’m fine. It was just, um, a bad dream, I guess,” he told her. Inwardly, he argued with himself; it was only a half-lie, really. But his jaw tightened.

“Okay. Um…” Her voice trailed off as she hesitated, stepping closer to him. A gentle hand lifted up to rest on his shoulder, and his eyes closed involuntarily as warmth spread through his body. “Do you want to talk about it?” she ventured cautiously.

He knew she just wanted to help, but he shook his head almost immediately. She didn’t need to know about any of that—any of what he’d been through. And she definitely didn’t need to know that the past still haunted him, every night, like clockwork.

“No, no, I-I can’t. It-it’s fine, really. I’ll be f-fine,” he stuttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Thank you—thank you though, Lois. I appreciate your—” He stopped abruptly as his brain chose that moment to shut off. He shook his head and swallowed hard. “I appreciate your—” He didn’t know. What was he going to say? What were they even talking about? Frustrated, he turned away from her for a minute and ran a hand angrily through his hair. He hadn’t had a problem like this in a while now. This forgetting what he was saying thing. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Two small hands touched his shoulders, and he twisted around toward her as she enveloped him in a quiet embrace. He leaned into her as his arms wrapped around her. His eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell rhythmically as he took deep breaths.

“No need to apologize, Clark. I just wanted to check on you,” she soothed. After another moment, she added, “And I think you needed this hug. I know I did. So now, maybe we can both get back to sleep.”

“Thank you,” he managed, his breath escaping as a shuddering sigh. “Thank you for checking on me.”

She pulled back and looked at him with a half-smile.

“That’s what friends are for, Clark.” And then she patted him lightly on the chest. “Now go get back to sleep. Perry is going to expect more from you tomorrow, and I’m sure you’ll prove to him that you can handle anything he throws at you. But it will definitely be easier if we’re both firing on all cylinders, if you know what I mean!”

He didn’t know; he wasn’t familiar with that expression. But he smiled and nodded anyways.

She grinned back at him and then stepped away and gave him a little wave before heading off down the hallway and back toward her bedroom. He watched her until she disappeared behind the door, and he then also retreated into his room, closing the door behind him and shutting off the light.

As he crawled back under the warm covers, he scolded himself again. A bad dream. No, it wasn’t a bad dream. He’d lied to her. That wasn’t okay. He could have simply said he would be fine, or that he didn’t want to talk about it, or even the full truth—that along with his nightly migraines, which she already knew about, he also sometimes had panic attacks or flashbacks. He didn’t have to give her more detail, but he definitely shouldn’t have lied.

He closed his eyes, and as he drifted off to sleep, he vowed to tell her the truth in the morning.



Day two. He was all set. He straightened his tie and regarded himself in the mirror. Today was going to be even better than yesterday, he could feel it.

He exited the bathroom and moved toward the kitchen, where he heard Lois muttering under her breath and smelled the distinct fragrance of…burnt toast. He grimaced as he rounded the corner and saw her tossing the blackened, inedible food unceremoniously into the trash can, cursing as she did. He managed to suppress a laugh, but his shoe scuffed the floor as he stopped a few feet away from her, and she spun around, her face bright red with embarrassment.

“Clark! Oh, I just, well—so, what do you think about grabbing croissants from the bakery down the street? It’s a beautiful morning, so we can walk to work. Exercise is good, right? And then, I can show you where everything is—the market, and the convenience store, and… Just what do you think you are staring at, mister?”

He shook his head and tore his gaze away from hers. No longer able to hold back, he began laughing.

“You babble sometimes, you know?” he explained after his laughter died down. In a more serious tone, he added, “Croissants and walking to work sound great, Lois.”

He was relieved when she smiled back at him, and she grabbed her purse and led the way out of the building, Clark hurrying after her.

He quickly found himself staring in awe at all the sights as they walked briskly down the sidewalk toward downtown. Pigeons searching for crumbs next to a park bench across the street. A woman walking her tiny brown dog. A child sitting on a step outside another apartment building, tossing a coin into the air. And thousands of feet above them, an airplane soaring silently eastward, a faint white contrail lagging behind it. As they rounded the corner, Lois pointed ahead to a shop with a bright red sign out front. “JOE’S BAKERY” was written in block letters, followed by a listing of daily specials.

“Joe makes the best chocolate croissants in Metropolis,” Lois asserted. She grasped his hand and pulled him toward the bakery. “You’re gonna love it. Well, I mean, that is, if you wanted a chocolate croissant.” She stopped suddenly and turned to him. “You can get whatever you want, of course. They have muffins and donuts and regular croissants. They also have strawberry turnovers. Those are to die for. And coffee—we can get coffee here, too… What now?!”

He couldn’t help the grin that had grown on his face as he listened to her. But he just shook his head and lowered his eyes.

“Chocolate croissants are great, Lois. I’ll try one,” he said, and he raised his eyes to hers again, still smiling. I probably look like a smiling fool, he reprimanded. But try as he might, he couldn’t tone down his grin. Especially when Lois giggled and smiled back at him.

“I knew you’d see it my way, Kent,” she countered. “Come on.”

He followed her into the bakery, and she ordered for them—two chocolate croissants and two coffees, one plain and the other with lots of milk and sugar. Several minutes later, food and drink in hand, they exited the building and started back on their way down the sidewalk.

As he bit into the sweet pastry, he glanced at his companion, and a sense of contentment washed over him. He smiled and shifted his gaze back ahead of them. Then, he remembered his resolution the night before; he had intended to tell her something closer to the truth.

His smile quickly faded.

“What’s up, partner?” Lois asked lightheartedly. She seemed to be able to sense when his mood changed, he realized, and he forced a smile back on his face as he shook his head.

“Nothing really. I just needed to—um—I needed to tell you something, and I-I d-don’t… It’s not easy to say.”

He took another bite of his croissant as they stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change. The woman next to him placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“Is this about last night?”

He nodded, and then, realizing she might not have seen him, he added, “Yes. I-I didn’t exactly, um—that is, I meant to—”

The light changed, interrupting him mid-sentence, and Lois’s hand dropped off his arm as they moved in sync with the other pedestrians across the busy street. Once they stepped back up onto the sidewalk on the other side, he swallowed the last bite of his breakfast, washed it down with a sip of coffee, and cleared his throat.

She will understand. She’s always been nothing but understanding, even that first day, he told himself sharply.

Ahead of them, the Daily Planet’s landmark globe glinted in the morning sunlight, and he couldn’t help but smile as he raised his eyes.

“It’s still pretty incredible, isn’t it?” Lois commented, her arm looping through his as they continued down the street.

“It really is. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be here,” he agreed. Then he slowed slightly, and she copied him. Staring down at the concrete underneath their feet, he took a deep breath. “I wasn’t entirely truthful l-last n-night, Lois,” he started. He silently willed himself to speak clearly, without stuttering. “Um, I mean, I didn’t have a bad dream. I…you know how I said I get migraines every night at 10 p.m.? Well, sometimes I also have these sort of m-mini, um, mini p-p-panic attacks, and last night, it was kinda bad.”

There, that wasn’t so hard.

Except it was.

His insides felt like they were twisted in knots, and a familiar pain began to grow at the base of his skull. He pulled his arm out of hers and reached up to adjust his glasses as a shuddering breath escaped him.

Lois nudged him a bit toward an empty bench under an elm tree along the edge of the sidewalk, and he followed her to sit. Then, she angled toward him, and he risked a glance up at her. The same kind, concerned eyes he’d always known her to have stared back at him, and a soft smile graced her lips. He quickly lowered his eyes back to his trembling hands and took a small sip of his coffee to try to steady himself.

Next to him, Lois shifted slightly, sipped her own coffee, and then swallowed.

“Clark, I can’t even begin to understand everything you’ve been through,” she started, her voice quiet and soothing. He allowed the comforting calmness of her tone to embrace him as she continued. “I only know what your mother told me about the day you were taken, bits and pieces from what the security guards told the police, and then the condition you were in when we found you. I’m entitled to nothing more, unless you want to tell me or need someone to talk to, in which case, I’m a really good listener.”

He briefly glanced up at her, and, seeing her weak smile, he nodded slightly, then dropped his eyes again.

“I do appreciate your honesty. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as honest as you, actually. But I want you to know that it is one hundred percent okay for you to only share what you want to, when you want to, if you want to. You do not owe me or anyone else anything more than that.”

He nodded again, and her arm moved to wrap around his shoulders in a now-familiar embrace. He allowed himself to lean into her; her strength gave him strength.

“Now, given that…” She paused, took a sip of her coffee, and pulled away from him slightly. “I don’t know the first thing about panic attacks or um, post-traumatic stress, or how to deal with it. But talking about it might help. So, if you ever feel like you are ready to or need to or want to, like I said, I’m a really good listener.”

Shaking. Now he was shaking, badly. He gripped his coffee with both hands, barely managing to keep from dropping the cup.

She wouldn’t push him. But she was there if she needed him. Could she be any more understanding? He didn’t think so.

“Thank you, Lois,” he murmured, tucking his chin down into his chest. He felt the world closing in around him—all the sounds of the city seemed to blink louder for a second, all the colors pulsed with energy, and the air felt momentarily electrified. Then everything settled back to normal, and even his headache faded. And he realized she was hugging him again. He smiled into her shoulder and returned the embrace.

“We should get to work. Perry hates when I’m late for the staff meeting, and you’ll get to sit in on it today. That should be exciting! And then I have a few things I think we should get working on. Have you ever heard of Intergang?”

Lois stood abruptly, and Clark copied her, shaking his head in response to her question.

“Well, then, you’ve got some reading to do to catch up,” she said, smiling and looping her arm back through his. “Come on, let’s go. I have all my research compiled already. And yesterday, my source gave me a new lead. I think I might finally have a break in a story I’ve been working on for a while now.”

Clark smiled again as he walked briskly beside her, her enthusiasm energizing him. He remembered his excitement earlier and channeled that feeling as they entered the lobby and headed toward the elevator. He knew he definitely loved Smallville; it would always be special to him. But this building, this city, it already felt like he was finally home. Like some force was telling him he was destined to be here.

He reached ahead of Lois and pressed the ‘up’ button on the elevator.

Day two. He was ready for whatever would come. He would tackle it—he and Lois together. Maybe he’d even get his name on another byline.

They stepped onto the elevator together, and Clark glanced at the woman next to him. She looked at him, almost shyly, he thought, and smiled.

And he remembered the first day he’d met her, when seeing her smile and trying to mimic it had seemed so foreign. Now, he couldn’t keep the silly grin off his face. She nudged him playfully in the side and sipped her coffee as the doors dinged open on the newsroom floor.

“Let’s go, Kent. See if you can keep up.”

He chuckled and hurried off the elevator after her.