Hi Corrina!
Again, welcome back!
The tears Lois Lane had been fighting for over an hour welled up her throat in a knotty lump of pain and disillusionment. She pulled onto the grassy bank and cut her engine. As she slumped against the back of the seat, her restraint dissolved, and anguished sobs racked her body.
Given the lack of clues, this sounds like a TOGoM story. Or an alternate beginning with Lois driving to/through Smallville for some other reason.
All her tears hadn’t changed a single detail of the triple disaster that had destroyed her life.
And worse, her head felt like a bomb had detonated behind her swollen, sandpapered eyes.
I should stop quoting…
The fields were green-brown, glistening in the early fall sunshine and separated by networks of wire fences.
Yep, Smallville.
She’d left Metropolis that morning, the day after her world had shattered. She’d flown to Wichita, rented a car, and here she was.
It could be her abortive wedding and Clark and Superman presumed dead. That would make it a triple D.
And then, for a few short weeks, her life had seemed perfect. It had been a flimsy shell with no real substance, and deep, deep down, she’d known it did nothing to fill the void.
It does sound like the Luthor dating sequence because Lois would be calling a flirt with Clark unfulfilling.
Until the shell had crumbled, powerless to withstand the onslaught of revelations – three of them, one after the other.
Clark/Superman.
Lex/Boss.
Clark/love?
“Are you OK, Miss?”
Lois startled at the quiet voice and turned to find a man standing a metre from her window and leaning down to peer into her car.
Quick! Friendly country folk! Get the maze!
He was about her age, his dark hair was neatly trimmed, he wore glasses, and his clothes instantly announced him as a farmer.
Oh wow, it really is an alternate beginning. I should have gone with my gut with an FHfic.
Umm… hi, Clark
“Are you lost?” he asked.
Yes, she was. Hopelessly. But not in the way he meant. “No.”
Awwwww poor dear!
“Here,” the man said, offering her a clean, folded, ironed handkerchief, white, with the letters ‘CK’ embroidered in blue on the corner.
Nice one for those who didn’t get the first hint
She dried her eyes and wiped her nose, realising with some surprise how little she cared that she must look like a snivelling blob who lacked sufficient composure to articulate her circumstances.
Awwwww phrasing
Let’s hope the blob won’t gobble up the farmer.
Trying to summon a shadow of the real Lois Lane from the debris, she resolved to get away from here as quickly as possible. She turned back to the yokel, words of dismissal forming, and discovered he was watching her with unmistakable concern on his rather good-looking face.
Great work with switching the phrasing to dismissive.
“That’s our farmhouse,” he said. “My mother’s kitchen is behind the left window. She will have seen you stop here. If I don’t take you in for a drink and something to eat, she is going to be really annoyed with me.
MARTHA: have you seen the dating scene in Smallville? He better not mess that up.
. I’m surprised she isn’t already charging down the hill to find out what is taking so long.”
This could be fun if they already had cellphones.
“No. Thank you,” she said, hoping her clipped tone crushed any possibility of extending this chance meeting.
Yes. Farmer. Dangerous.
Lois shook his hand but didn’t bother to offer her name.
City Girl. Snowwhite. Future Mrs. Kent. Take your pick.
“How do you know that?” Lois demanded, telling herself that if he so much as alluded to her unsightly appearance, she would drive away without another word.
Wild eyes. Heart racing at 217ppm. 221ppm. 222bpm. He really needs to calm her down.
There has to be a reason why you came.
It’s about as far as she could get from the beating heart of civilization and its men.
Maybe he could. “Do you know if someone called Jack Mackenzie lives near here?”
Waaa?
“No, here as in on our farm.”
“Jack Mackenzie is here?” Lois squeaked.
Say you didn’t by chance invent a last name for Jack, did you?
He said he’ll be back tomorrow around lunchtime.”
Been over at the Lang’s, checking out their coin collection?
Tomorrow? So soon? She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready.
Fun dichotomy!
He smiled, and she felt a little trickle of warmth drizzle through the ice layers capped over her heart.
Awwwww
Not because she could be coerced by soft brown eyes and a pleasant smile.
But because it postponed the need to make any other decisions.
Or all of those above.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t asked your name.”
That’s okay. She didn’t want to tell him anyway.
LOIS:
Lois… Luthor.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You are a long way from home.”
Household name?
Hehehe
“The local newsagency gets a few copies,” he said. “They come in twice a week.”
Daily news, twice a week
LOIS : I’m in the boondocks.
“Yes.” He glanced sideways and smiled. “I’ve read a lot of Lois Lane’s stories and been amazed by the depth and quality of her writing.”
Probably thinks they’re serialized fiction. Like Alexandre Dumas’ works.
“Thanks,” she said without any real warmth.
“You are that Lois Lane, the brilliant reporter?”
LOIS: /imitates giggling schoolgirl/
She had tarnished that status – probably beyond repair – in the past few days,
He hadn’t gotten those news yet.
“Yes,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t launch into an in-depth analysis of any of her stories.
Just wait till she learns he’s also an aspiring writer submitting his stories to the local paper.
“Personal reasons,” she replied.
“He’s not in any trouble?”
Depends. Does he earn enough for the alimony?
Women? Money? Law? Drugs?
Terrorism. He likes to blow up buildings.
She took it. Not because she’d appreciated the warmth of his touch. But because it was easier than having to explain a refusal.
Aha. Yes. And?
/jots down notes/
“Half an hour ago,” Clark replied. “Still no sign of labour.”
Lois looked up from her biscuit and scanned the expressions of both Clark and his mother.
No, Clark did not get their favorite milk cow pregnant himself. That was Dr. Mills.
Did Clark have a wife? His ring finger was bare. And why couldn’t Martha ask Bess herself?
If he did, what was holding him here?
He got a cow and a minotaur on the way.
“Of course, you could. I’ll cook supper. You can eat, have a bath if you want, and get an early night. Everything will look better in the morning.”
They’ll even supply the guy Lois thought begot the calf on Bessie if she’s so inclined.
It sounded ridiculously tempting. Staying with these people was out of the question, obviously, but Lois was surprised by how close she was to agreeing to do exactly as Martha suggested.
Yes, stranger danger. They might have her for a savory stew tomorrow evening. Or trade her to the neighbor for use of their ladder. Or something of the sort. You can never be too careful.
“I couldn’t,” Lois repeated as the first twinges of panic began to stir inside her. It was becoming clear that Clark and his mother were not the sort of people to allow her to flee their home with no firm plan.
She really needs to get a hold of the sheriff.
She ate the rest of it while Martha and Clark talked about various things that Lois assumed had to do with the farm.
You wash the vegetables and cut them into thin stripes…
Lois took another sip from her tea. The biscuit had given her a short spurt of energy, but now it felt as if a blanket of exhaustion was smothering her. She was so tired, and her mind – usually so nimble – was suffocating in thick fog.
That’s the tranquilizer Martha added to the tea kicking in.
She felt the table shift a little and sensed movement around her. Strong arms lifted her and held her against a broad body.
Huh. Clark? Or Jack. The description says ‘Clark’ but would he…?
But her final reserves of energy were gone. She snuggled closer into his chest and succumbed to the captivating lure of oblivion.
this was an unexpected turn of events. So glad you’re back!
Michael
