The story is written, but the last half is still being beta'd and I'm still tweaking with the last bits. It looks to be about 14 parts but I don't want to commit to that just yet. I will post a part each day (worst case scenario would be every other day).
Title: Revisionist History
Author: Sue S.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lois and Clark investigate a ring of black market antiquities thieves. This takes place near the end of season two sometime after 'Individual Responsibility' but before 'Whine, Whine, Whine'. From the beginning it was easy for me to understand what Lois could see in Clark. I honestly used to wonder sometimes just what he saw in her. This story is what my inner mild-mannered reporter had to say on the matter.
A few notes before we start:
I was a history major and I almost always find it irritating when someone plays fast and loose with historical events. That said, I beg your indulgence while I freely and willfully alter or completely make up people and events to suit the story. This is a work of fiction not a recitation of history; it just happens to bear a striking resemblance to some actual people, places and events. Actually, it contains a reference to a real historical figure but I didn't take many liberties with him.
Revising history is the least of my sins since I'm also using fictional characters that don't belong to me. I've also changed a minor detail or two from 'Foundling'. I know that it's not canon. Please don't correct me - it was intentional. Try to take comfort in the fact that I'm not making any money from this story.
This story is for my favorite history major, Sara. She also happens to be my beta and I can't begin to express how grateful I am for her input. Thanks for reassuring me in all my insecurities and for pointing out my mistakes. Most of all, thank you for your sense of humour (see, I spelled it right just for you - and the Iron Lady <g>). You rock my world!
I must also express my appreciation to DJ who beta'd the PG version of this story for me. She suffered through computer problems with me and persevered beautifully with some of the fastest turnarounds on a beta I've ever seen. Thanks DJ!
Text bracketed inside < > is a memory.
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"This had better be worth it, Clark. Otherwise, believe me, I will get even with you."
From anyone else those words would be an idle threat. Out of the mouth of Lois Lane they are enough to make even Superman tread lightly. Normally I would just let her rant, but I'm feeling especially reckless today. She's been not so subtly complaining since we left Metropolis this morning. Bad weather, flight delays and switching to the small single-engine plane that brought us to this decrepit little airfield have not improved her mood.
"It was your decision to come, Lois. Not mine."
"It wasn't my decision, it was Perry's. And it's your stupid story."
"It's not a stupid story. Doesn't it make you angry to know that artifacts that belong in a museum are being stolen and sold on the black market?"
Lois stands up and walks away, apparently as tired of this argument as I am. Just as I think that maybe I'm going to have a small respite she turns around and comes back towards me. "So where is this guy? Your friend, what's his name?"
"Joshua Grey. And I don't know where he is, maybe he got held up."
"Maybe he's not coming."
"Then we'll be sitting here for a long time, won't we?" I give her my sunniest smile.
She turns around, her heels clacking impatiently against the well-worn linoleum floor as she stalks away from me. She stops in front of the vending machine and puts her hands on her hips as she assesses the fact that nothing new has appeared inside since she last checked maybe, oh, three minutes earlier.
"… Big fat stupid story about what… pottery shards? I mean, who cares? Besides Clark? Who really cares?" She's muttering under her breath, completely unaware that I can hear her just fine.
I sigh and look at my watch. We've been sitting here for over half an hour and there's still no sign of Josh. When I spoke with him last night he had repeated our flight information back to me twice, just to make certain there were no mix-ups. It's puzzling that he's not here, but I'm not ready to give up on him just yet. Besides, I get a certain amount of enjoyment from watching Lois stew. Nobody frets better and - especially on her worst days - she can make me laugh. On the inside anyway. I know better than to laugh out loud at her right now.
She continues to mutter about the dearth of Double Fudge Crunch bars in the machine and to cast abuse at me in general. I tilt my head towards the road outside and listen. There's a distant engine noise but it's too far away to tell if their destination is the airfield.
Lois moves further away from me, her steps more slow and deliberate as she paces. I can tell she's thinking and I wonder how long it's going to take her to bring up just why Perry insisted that she come along on this story.
I called Perry two nights ago to tell him about Josh and the theft of several valuable artifacts from his small university-sponsored archaeological dig. When I told him I was going to come out and join the dig, Perry asked me if I'd consider bringing Lois along. I was hoping he'd suggest the idea first. Think of it as plausible deniability.
It's been nearly a week since Lois received an anonymous series of photographs - all of her in unguarded moments like walking to work, sitting at her desk, and wandering through her apartment wearing only a towel. There was no note or explanation left with the pictures - a silence that I still find unnerving.
We haven't been able to discover who took them, who sent them, or why. Perry thinks it's Lex Luthor, who reappeared recently in her life before skulking back into the shadows. I think Luthor's smarter than that but I'm at a loss to know who's behind it. I've flown past her apartment several times a night since then but I've never seen anyone or anything suspicious. Lois has shrugged it off with her usual bravado but it doesn't fool either Perry or myself. She agreed to come along on this story easily enough and I know she's only being grouchy because it's preferable to admitting that she's scared.
One thing you should know about Lois - what you see on the surface is often miles away from what's actually happening inside that amazing mind of hers. I've gleaned this knowledge from observation and from being in the right place when the veneer cracks and her grip loosens on the facade she tries to keep so tightly in place.
When we first started working together I was well on my way to considering her a world-class bitch. That was until Dr. Baines tied us up and tried to kill us. Lois surprised me by breaking down and confessing that she'd broken all the "rules" she'd spat out at me the day before. In a moment of clarity I realized that there were two Lois Lane's. She may be tough and cynical on the outside but it's only to hide her soft candy center. I love both sides of her, just not equally. I enjoy the verbal sparring with the bitchy one. She keeps me on my toes and, like I said earlier, I find her amusing since I know that it's all an act. It's the other Lois, the one I only see occasionally, that I love to distraction. That Lois brings out every protective and tender feeling I have, stretching those emotions until they're almost exquisite pain.
Sometimes though, on days like today, I'm left to wonder what it really is about her that draws me in. Those glimpses of her soul are becoming more frequent but they're still rare. So what is it that intrigues me? Is it her intelligence? Her body? The challenge? Some bizarre and exhilarating combination of all of the above?
"Hello! Earth to Clark?"
"What?" I glance up and she's standing next to me, her eyebrows knit together in suspicion. "Sorry. I was just… thinking."
"Hmph." She doesn't look like she actually believes me - she thinks I was ignoring her on purpose. "I asked if you'd switch seats with me."
"Why?"
"The one you're on looks softer."
I look at the chair next to me. It's exactly the same. I don't know what her game is and I toy with the idea of telling her "no" just to push her buttons. I decide it's not worth the risk, especially since I don't know how long we'll be stuck here. I get up and move to the other seat muttering under my breath, "There's nothing wrong with that chair."
"What?" Lois asks suspiciously.
"I said, 'Sure, take this chair'."
She frowns, but she can't prove what I did or didn't say. She murmurs something resembling a thank you as she sits down. I listen for the engine noise. It seems now to be headed in our direction. Lois begins to fidget, picking at the cracked plastic of the arm between our chairs. I know she's working up to something, but I can't decide if she wants another favor or she's just readying herself for another round of griping.
"Clark?"
Oh, here it comes. "Yes?"
"Why do you think Perry sent us both? I mean, honestly, isn't this something you could do on your own?"
I know she only wants me to answer the first question but I don't feel like getting into it right now so I content myself with saying, "I don't know."
She gives up picking at the arm of the chair to examine her cuticles closely. "Do you want to know what I think?"
The engine noise is definitely coming closer so I decide to gamble on the fact that Josh will be here in a few more minutes. "I'm sure you're about to tell me."
Her head swivels to look at me. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Lois, you've never had an *unexpressed* thought."
She narrows her eyes at me. "I'm having one right now."
Caught off guard, I grin at her. "Back at you."
"Never mind," she huffs and stands up to stomp back over to the vending machine.
Now that her back is turned I allow myself a quiet chuckle and shake my head. I stand up, too, going over to the large window and tipping my glasses down to focus on the approaching truck. It's not Josh behind the wheel. The driver is a female in her late teens or early twenties. She has blond hair, pulled back in a ponytail and she's scowling at the windshield in an expression reminiscent of Lois' current mood. It looks like it might be a long ride to the dig site.
"Is that your friend?" Lois joins me in looking out the window at the truck as it speeds towards the airfield.
"I guess so." I surreptitiously push my glasses back up. Whoever she is, she's not close enough yet that I'd be able to tell she isn't Josh.
"Well, finally!" Lois turns from the window, brushing against my elbow as she moves past me. As always, it sends a little shiver of delight through me. I wonder sometimes if she does it on purpose, just to mess with my head. Then again, that would presuppose that she comprehends just how much I desire her. She knows I'm attracted to her. She just has no idea how deep and complete the attraction is. Given the way she freaked out after our first date it's a very good thing she doesn't realize the intensity of my feelings for her.
I move to grab Lois' suitcase before she does. "Here, let me."
She gives me another suspicious look while she tries to decide if I'm being chivalrous or condescending. Then she shrugs. "Fine. Thanks."
I follow her the length of the small terminal and she holds the door open for me. We walk out just as the truck slides to a stop on the gravel a few feet away from us.
"Are you Clark and Lois?" the girl asks through the open window of the truck.
"Yes," I answer hesitantly. Lois gives me a questioning look, like I might know why Josh is suddenly a surly young woman.
"What happened to Josh?" I ask.
"Oh, some paper pusher from the government showed up this morning and he and Dr. Hanover had to go back to the school with the guy. There's some big to-do over the stuff that got stolen last weekend. You couldn't have picked a worse week to volunteer on this project."
"We're only here because Josh said you guys were short-staffed…" It's partially the truth. Josh did say they were short-staffed.
"That's an understatement. Have you been on a dig before?"
"Once," I answer, "but it was years ago."
"What about you?" she jerks her head at Lois.
"I've never had the pleasure, no."
The girl gives Lois a nasty smile. I get the feeling they've both sized each other up and found the other severely wanting. "It's an acquired taste. Lots of tedium, very little reward."
"My favorite." Lois flashes her a saccharine smile.
It's going to be a *very* long ride.
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As we drive to the dig site we learn that our driver's name is Emily McKay. She's twenty years old, an archaeology major and an even more aggressive driver than Lois. Emily had wanted to spend her summer excavating the ancient city of Tiwanaku on the border between Bolivia and Peru. That she's stuck in Ohio sifting through artifacts that only date back to the mid-1800's is a huge disappointment to her.
"It's all politics, you know," Emily says as she accelerates into a left turn that sends Lois sliding against me. "I'd be in Bolivia right now if I was willing to compromise my standards."
You'd think that the truck's cab, with its wide bench seat, would be enough to accommodate two small females and me. But Emily's driving has turned it into a contest to see how well Lois and I can brace against smashing into each other. Lois, for her part, seems to look on this as some kind of thrill ride. She's smiling as she gets thrown hard against me. I wish it were because she enjoyed the contact but I suspect that it's actually Emily's misery that's making her so happy. That, and the fact that she would rather die before letting anyone think she was scared. Ironically, I seem to be the only person in the truck the least bit intimidated.
This latest turn has put us on an unpaved road. As we bounce along the ruts I try not to watch Lois' breasts jostle. I fix my attention on the road ahead of us but I can still see them bounce in my peripheral vision.
"Do you get a lot of volunteers out here?" I ask, trying to redirect both Emily's thoughts and my own.
"We've had a couple of anthropology classes come in for a day. And you always get the wannabe's." She glances over at Lois as she says this. I will never understand women and how they can make such snap judgments about each other.
Lois opens her mouth as if she means to reply.
"How many people are on the team right now?" I ask before Lois can formulate anything to say.
"Josh, me, Doc and Marty. We had a couple of locals helping out a few weeks ago but this is really just the Doc's little vanity project. He's obsessed, I tell you."
"Obsessed with what?" Lois asks.
"Lucas Peregrine. He died around 1915 and left his property to Doc's grandfather. But grandpa wasn't able to pay taxes on it during the Great Depression and lost it in foreclosure. The state bought the land but their plans to turn it into a historical site never happened. You've heard of Morgan's Raid, right?"
"July 1863, it was the northernmost penetration of the Confederacy during the Civil War," I answer.
Lois rolls her eyes and mutters, "Know-it-all."
"Right." Emily, at least, seems slightly impressed. "Brigadier General John Hunt Morgan, against orders, made a feint into Ohio to distract the Union Army into a chase. He came right through this area and it created a huge panic. Lucas figures heavily into the stories about the Raid in this neck of the woods. Apparently he practically took on an entire company of soldiers single-handedly. A couple of local families hid their valuables on his property for safe-keeping but they couldn't remember later where they buried them."
"Is that what Doc is doing? Looking for the family silver?" Lois asks.
"I guess," Emily shrugs. The truck rolls onto a narrow old bridge and I brace myself for disaster as I realize that the road makes a sharp right angle turn at the other end. As we negotiate the turn I manage to keep from hitting Lois. She grabs my arm to stop from sliding into Emily.
Clear of the bridge, Emily stomps on the accelerator and we speed up a hill. As we come over the top of the hill we barrel through a tree-lined driveway. I can see a large old house built of stone with a wrap-around porch at the end of the driveway.
"Here is it," Emily says as we come up rather fast on the house. She hits the brakes hard. Lois and I both reach forward to brace against the dashboard. "Welcome to paradise."
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A man appears on the porch of the house. He's in his mid to late thirties with unkempt reddish-brown hair and a goatee. He raises his hand in greeting as we approach.
"How's it going?" he asks.
Emily ignores him, stalking past him and into the house. The screen door slams behind her, bouncing a couple of times in its frame before settling back into place.
"Is she always that cheerful?" Lois mutters.
"No, sometimes she's a little moody." The man grins at us and I get the impression he derives just as much pleasure from irritating Emily as I do from provoking Lois. "I'm Marty, by the way. Marty Evans." He shakes each of our hands as we tell him our names.
"Is this your house?" Lois asks.
"No, this is Doc's house. Dr. Hanover, that is. It's been in his family for years. The dig site is about fifty yards behind us. Come on in, I'll show you your rooms. Maybe before dinner we can take you over to the dig site and give you a quick tour."
Just inside the front door there is a small foyer. Directly in front of the door is a steep flight of stairs to the next floor. There are two archways on either side of the stairs. Marty gestures to the one on the left and says, "That's the kitchen. This room over here," he indicates the doorway on the right, "is the sitting room, but mostly we just keep field specimens in there. Doc's room is at the back of the house through there." He motions at the kitchen and then picks up Lois' suitcase, starting up the stairs with it.
"There are four rooms up here," Marty says after we've come to the top of the stairs. "The bathroom is straight ahead. We'll put you in here, Lois." He pushes open the first bedroom door on the right and then points to the next door down. "Clark, you can take that one."
I open the door and grimace. I don't particularly care about the room but I'm quite certain that this is just going to be more fuel for Lois' slow burn. The room is small. There's only enough space for a twin-size bed and a desk. There's a shelf on the wall above the desk. The head of the bed is beneath an open window but the room still feels stuffy.
I set my suitcase down and come back into the hallway. Marty gestures at the two doors across the hall saying, "Emily, Josh." Emily's room is opposite mine while Lois is opposite Josh. Lois reappears in the doorway of her room.
"Does the window open?" she asks Marty.
"Yeah, sure. Sometimes it just gets stuck. You know, from the humidity. The wood swells up."
"I know about humidity," Lois glares. "But the window will only open about an inch before it gets stuck."
"Can you help her out?" Marty asks me. "I gotta get started on dinner. Which reminds me, I need to know who to put on the schedule for dinner tomorrow."
"Schedule?" Lois sounds incredulous. "We only get dinner if we're on the schedule?"
"No, everyone eats. It's just we take turns cooking, you know? One of you will be cooking tomorrow night. You two can decide who's going first."
"I'm going to have to cook? Can't we just order a pizza or something?"
"No one delivers this far out in the country. But you can get a frozen pizza in town and cook it. Can't you?" The last two words are dripping with sarcasm. Just like that, Lois is now on Marty's list of people to annoy. I suppress a smile. Give her time, Marty. She grows on you.
Marty heads back down the stairs and I go in Lois' room to see about the window. Her room is as small and austere as mine. I push the window closed and then lift it open all the way, with maybe just a little more coercion than Lois could have used.
"How's that?" I turn around and give her a smile.
Lois smiles back. "Great. Thanks."
I actually think she means it, there's not a trace of sarcasm in either her words or her smile. There's a small silence and then Lois takes a step closer to me, reaching out to brush some non-existent lint from my shoulder.
"You know what I've always liked about you, Clark?"
"What?" I wish this was about something other than her not wanting to cook, but I can tell where her flattery is headed.
"Your cooking. You’re a very good cook."
"Lois, I've never actually cooked for you."
"Well, here's your chance. I bet you could really impress me, if you tried."
"I'll take tomorrow night. But I'm not cooking when it's your turn." She starts to frown so I lean down to tell her in conspiratorial tone, "I bet you could really impress me, if you tried."
She steps away from me and takes hold of the door handle as she hints that I'm welcome to leave now. "*If* I wanted to impress you, I wouldn't have to cook to do it. In fact, I find it rather sexist that you assume I'd have to cook to impress you."
I move past her into the hallway. "I'm not being sexist. You're the one who said I could cook to impress you."
"Well, guess what? I'm not the slightest bit interested in impressing you. Especially if it involves cooking." She shuts the door. I'm turning to go back to my room when she flings the door open again. Her eyes are wide with alarm as she holds out a sheet of paper to me. "This was taped to the back of my door."
"What is it?" I take the paper from her and my blood runs cold. The image printed on the paper was taken this morning outside of Lois' apartment building. It's a picture of both of us getting in the cab to head for the airport.
"Who could have followed us?" Lois asks.
I shake my head. I have no idea who took the picture. I have no idea how they knew we were coming here, let alone exactly where to find us. I can feel a tic working in my jaw as I try to come to terms with the fact that she's no safer here than she was in Metropolis.
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End Part 1/?
