From Part 7:
“You shouldn’t have to give up coffee because of me,” he said softly.
“I wasn’t....” She began her denial and then gave it up just as quickly. They’d both know she was lying. She looked down at the cup on her desk, at the pile of little packets. “Thank you.”
A smile touched his lips, there and gone much too fast. “You’re welcome.”
And without another word, he walked away, back to his desk and whatever mundane story Perry had assigned him. Lois, her heart still pounding from his nearness, from the fact that they’d exchanged a few simple words, reached for packets of artificial sweetener and powdered whitener and ripped them open, dumping them into the coffee and feeling at once even more guilty than she had before, but also relieved.
Maybe they could actually do this. Maybe they could even – one day – be friends. Maybe he didn’t hate her as much as she deserved to be hated. Maybe when he’d said he wasn’t like most men, he’d actually been telling the truth.
As she sipped carefully at the coffee he’d brought her, she felt something that had been clenched tight inside her begin to relax, just a little.
_________________________________
Part 8:
As Clark walked away, he wanted to feel elated that she had accepted his small gesture without a fight, but he couldn’t. Elation simply wasn’t in his emotional range just then.
He’d spent a sleepless night mired in his own guilt and dishonesty, pacing the floor...and walls...and ceiling...of his hotel room. He had never considered himself particularly fanciful, but now he was investing the room and everything in it with ridiculous power over him: Those walls had seen what he had done; they knew his guilt...and his pleasure in it. Her sweater had graced that chair. In his imagination, he could still see the echo of its bright pink splash against the chair’s scarred wooden slats. The bed still held her scent, and even though the sheets had been changed, if he pressed his face to her pillow, his sensitive nose could find her perfume. It was rich and musky, with nothing cloying or floral about it. He knew little of women’s perfumes, but he knew he’d liked hers.
And then there was the floor. The dingy, threadbare carpet was swept clean now, but he could still picture those condom wrappers tossed so carelessly beside the bed, looking utterly sordid in the light of day. Haunting him.
His room was haunting him.
His guilt was haunting him.
He'd gone in to work early, tired of wallowing, tired of torturing himself with the what-ifs that always seemed so dire in the middle of the night. He hadn't hurt her with his strength - that was the most important thing - and even though he would always feel guilty that he hadn't even given the possibility a thought, he knew there was no point in dwelling on it now. Nothing good could come of throwing himself at Lois’s feet and confessing everything. His guilt had had the effect of softening him a little toward Lois Lane, but it hadn't made him completely stupid. She was at best unpredictable, and she was clearly hostile toward him. Risking his own security – and his parents’ – by trusting Lois with his secret would just compound the mistakes he’d already made.
He had arrived at work to find Perry White already there, and for whatever reason, the editor seemed to have completely acquitted Clark of whatever sins he’d been accusing him of the day before. It was a little bewildering, this sudden about-face, but Clark thought tiredly that perhaps the Daily Planet employees all changed their personalities every day. Maybe Cat Grant, who had been uncomfortably obvious in her attentions to him the day before, would come to work dressed as a nun and sit primly at her desk all day. Maybe Jimmy Olsen would be sullen and uncommunicative. Maybe Lois would be open and friendly.
Right.
He had just dragged his wandering attention back to his boss when Lois Lane stepped off the elevator. She went to her desk without appearing even to look in his direction, but Clark had watched her out of the corner of his eye – had admired her, however unwillingly.
Because, God, she was beautiful. She wasn’t Wanda Detroit, but she was beautiful in a perfect, cut glass, razor-sharp way that he found even more intriguing than Wanda’s more obvious charms. He didn’t like her; he didn’t want to think she was beautiful, but he couldn’t deny the evidence of his own eyes. And his eyes were telling him that they would be content to gaze on Lois Lane for the rest of the day and maybe for the rest of his life. That they’d be perfectly happy to just watch her boot up her computer, sift through her briefcase, reach for her coffee cup - boring activities that normally wouldn’t interest his eyes for a second. Because his eyes had seen things. Lots of things. Incredible things. His eyes had seen the whole world.
Yet they wanted to stop right there and watch Lois Lane get coffee.
He had made some answer to Perry White that must have satisfied the man because he went away and left Clark to seat himself at his desk and look his fill at Lois Lane. It was easy enough to do since she was looking everywhere in the newsroom but at him, a fact that penetrated his consciousness belatedly. Once it did, however, he realized how uncomfortable she was, just trying to get a cup of coffee, and his guilt returned in a rush. What had they done to one another?
Suddenly, her eyes had locked with his, and he’d been unable to move, unable to breathe, even. Watching her had been a pleasure, but looking into those wide, scared eyes was a torment, an accusation. I’m sorry Lois, he wanted to say. I’m so sorry for both of us. If she had asked him at that moment to leave – to walk out of the Daily Planet and leave her in peace, he would have done it. He would have packed his things and given up on everything he’d fought for the day before. But she didn’t ask. She stopped and then turned away from him, returning to her desk.
She couldn’t come near him. She couldn’t even walk past him to get a cup of coffee. He knew that this was not all his fault. He knew that whatever guilt there was had to be shared between them, and he had not forgotten for a minute her underhanded attempt to cost him his job. He knew all this, but it didn’t change the fact that he hated seeing what he was doing to her. He hated seeing this bright, confident woman reduced to a shambles merely because of his presence. He had to find some way for them to coexist. He had to find some way to get her to relax, at least a little, while he was in the newsroom.
Or else he had to go. They couldn’t endure this indefinitely.
So he had taken her a cup of coffee. A peace offering, of sorts, but also a salve to his own guilty conscience. He had lied too, he reminded himself. He had let her think she was going to bed with a nice, normal guy from Smallville, Kansas. The fact that the guy came to Kansas by way of the planet Krypton wasn’t exactly a small omission. He hadn’t meant to do it, but he had lied.
As he’d handed her the coffee, he had cursed the enhanced senses that had allowed him to hear so clearly the pounding of her heart and the shallowness of her breathing as he’d stood beside her. He saw the blush on her cheeks, which in other circumstances he might have found attractive – even endearing. But it wasn’t either of those things. It was just that much more evidence that she was on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack, merely because he’d approached her.
No, there was nothing in that to feel elated about. But she had said thank you...and that was all she’d done. She hadn’t hissed and spit and reminded him of his promise to keep his distance. She hadn’t tossed the coffee into his face. She hadn’t threatened him or his job or done anything to cause a scene. In spite of her obvious discomfort with his presence, she hadn’t done anything except say a quiet thank you, at which point he had beat a strategic retreat. So he didn’t feel elated, but he did feel the first stirrings of hope that this situation might eventually ease enough for her to brave a trip to the coffee pot.
One little blue packet, two of the powdered creamers...
He again watched out of the corner of his eye as she fixed her coffee, watched as she blew on it once and took a tentative sip. It took a ridiculous amount of effort to tear himself away from the sight of Lois Lane drinking coffee and working at her desk, but Perry (or the ‘Chief’ – he wasn’t sure when he’d be comfortable enough for that) had given him an assignment that morning, and he needed to do a little background research before he covered the annual Kiwanis Club awards luncheon that day. It wasn’t an exciting story, true enough, but it would give him a chance to meet some of the business people in Metropolis, and maybe they’d be useful contacts in other stories. He wasn’t disappointed in his assignment; not at all. After his sleepless night, anything more challenging might well have been beyond him anyway.
“Hey CK!” Clark heard the words but didn’t look up from his computer until Jimmy Olsen punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?”
Clark smiled. “Probably not, but I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry, Jimmy. What did you call me?”
“CK. You just kinda look like a CK for some reason. But I can call you Clark if you don’t like it.”
Clark chuckled. “It’s fine.”
“So...you working on a story?”
“Yep. I’m covering the Kiwanis Club luncheon today.”
Jimmy grinned. “The Chief’s got you on the rubber chicken circuit, eh? Don’t take it personally. He thinks people should have to prove themselves before they get the good assignments.”
“You must have proven yourself, then. Aren’t you working with Lois Lane on the Messenger explosion?”
“Yeah, but Lois didn’t waste any time telling me that it was only because no one else was available.” Jimmy looked a little rueful at the admission. “A week ago I was writing obituaries, and usually I’m just a gofer. So the Messenger story is way out of my league. The truth is, I’m just on it so if Lois gets herself into trouble, there’ll be someone around to call 911.”
Clark couldn’t tell whether or not Jimmy was making a joke. “Gets herself into trouble?” he repeated.
“Well, yeah. Oh, I forget you don’t know Lois. She’s kind of....” Jimmy looked thoughtful, obviously trying to find just the right word. He shook his head, giving up. “Things just seem to happen to her. I guess you don’t get the kinds of scoops she gets without taking some risks.”
“I guess not,” Clark said, but he frowned, not much liking the sound of what Jimmy was telling him. “It works out well for you though – the Messenger story is a great assignment, no matter why you got it.”
“That’s what I figure, too. And I’m used to Lois – I know how she is and don’t take it personally like a lot of people do. She’s not so bad once you get to know her.”
“All bark and no bite?” Clark suggested.
“Well...no, I wouldn’t say that either,” Jimmy said with a grin. “More like I’ve been bitten so often I’ve kind of stopped noticing it. Anyway, for a chance to work on a story like this one, I can put up with a lot. It’s really cool - we went to EPRAD yesterday and met that Dr. Baines who’s been on TV so much since the explosion. She’s even hotter in person than she is on television.”
“An important quality in a scientist,” Clark deadpanned.
Jimmy snickered. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a sexist pig. But you didn’t meet her. Trust me, you can’t help but notice.”
Privately, Clark couldn’t imagine how anyone standing next to Lois Lane could possibly notice another woman, but he would rip out his tongue before he would admit that to Jimmy or anyone else. He wasn’t all that happy about acknowledging it to himself.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Clark said.
“Say listen,” Jimmy said, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Do you know about the ball tonight?”
Clark raised his eyebrows. “Uh, no. Guess not.”
“Well, it’s this thing Lex Luthor is putting on. An everybody-who’s-anybody-will-be-there kind of thing.”
“The billionaire?” Clark said, and then realized immediately that it was an asinine question. How many Lex Luthors could there be? He attempted a recovery. “Do you know him?”
“I’ve never met him, but I’ve read all five of his unauthorized biographies. Rags to riches, wrong side of the tracks, self-made billionaire, owns dozens of companies, employs thousands of people. Man of the Year, every year, has his finger in every pie, but won’t give personal interviews - which has Lois spitting nails, by the way.” He smiled, obviously enjoying Lois’s failure a little bit. “Anyway, he’s having this ball tonight as a fundraiser, and the Chief gave me a couple of tickets. I was going to go with this girl in my building, but she cancelled at the last minute. So I was wondering if you might want to use my extra ticket...in a non-date kind of way, I mean. Not that you’re not...I mean if I were...or you were...though I guess I don’t know that you’re not, but I’m not...”
Clark burst out laughing. “Relax, Jimmy. I didn’t think you were asking me for a date. And thanks – I’d like to go if you really don’t mind. I don’t go to many balls, but this sounds like the kind of thing where I might be able to make some useful contacts.”
“Exactly.” Jimmy sighed with relief. “That’s what I was thinking, what with you being new and all.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out slightly crumpled gold and white ticket and handed it to Clark.
“The White Orchid Ball,” Clark read aloud. “Sounds like I’d better get a tux.”
“That’s the best part. Yeah, they’re uncomfortable, but women go crazy over guys in tuxedos,” Jimmy said conspiratorially. “Kerry – that’s the girl in my apartment building – well she doesn’t know what she’s missing. Trust me, CK, we may be going to this ball alone, but if we play our cards right, we won’t be leaving that way, you know what I mean?” He gave Clark’s shoulder a playful shove.
Clark smiled, as Jimmy obviously expected him to, but he wasn’t amused. The last thing on earth he intended to do was to pick up another woman. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see the end of the trouble the last one had caused. No, for him Lex Luthor’s ball was just another professional opportunity.
“Well,” Jimmy said, “I’d better go check in with Lois. I’m not sure what she has planned for me today. Enjoy your rubber chicken.”
“Right,” Clark said, chuckling. “Try not to be too jealous.”
Jimmy laughed and set sail in the direction of Lois’s desk. Clark looked her way and caught her staring at him, much as she’d caught him staring a little earlier that morning. But this time she quickly averted her gaze, focusing instead on Jimmy’s approach, and soon she and Jimmy were huddled over her desk, with Lois talking and Jimmy scribbling notes.
___________________________________
“Jimmy, I need a list of the names and phone numbers of everyone who worked with Dr. Platt at EPRAD. Anyone who might have known him, and that includes secretaries and custodians, people who worked in the mail room, the cafeteria – anyone. I want to start with those who have left EPRAD for one reason or another, but if we have to, we’ll move on to the ones who are still there. We have to know if we can trust this guy. Right now it’s just his word against Dr. Baines’, and she’s obviously not going to tell us anything else.”
“I’ll get on it,” Jimmy said, making a note. “But it’s a tall order. It might take a while.”
“The phone calls will take a while, too. When you have the first few names, bring ‘em here and I’ll start calling while you track down the rest.”
“Are we going back to EPPRAD today?” Jimmy asked, sounding hopeful. “That place was cool.”
Lois gave him a look. “Cool?”
“Well...yeah. I mean, it’s EPRAD! With spaceships and stuff. And then that Dr. Baines was...she was....”
“Yes?” Lois asked, narrowing her eyes dangerously.
“Uh, very...professional.” Jimmy grinned, knowing he hadn’t fooled Lois for a minute. “As a matter of fact, I was just telling Clark over there how professional Dr. Baines was.”
Lois scowled, not liking the idea of Jimmy and Clark sitting around talking about the beautiful scientist. “And what did Clark have to say about her?” Lois’s tone was sarcastic, belying her genuine interest in the answer.
“Uh...nothing, now that I think about it.” Jimmy sounded surprised as he considered that none of his ‘guy talk’ had seemed to interest Clark at all. He returned to the idea that had occurred to him when he’d offered Clark the ticket to the ball. “Say, do you think Clark might be gay?”
Lois blinked at him. “What would make you think that?” she asked, trying hard to sound disinterested.
“Well, Cat was all over him yesterday. Trust me, he had a sure thing there, but he didn’t seem interested.”
Lois looked over at Cat Grant’s empty desk. If fate had granted her the powers she thought she deserved, the desk would have been reduced to a pile of smoldering cinders from just the one glance. “Maybe he just has standards.”
“Maybe.” Jimmy shrugged, clearly not convinced, and Lois let the subject drop.
“Aren’t you supposed to be finding some phone numbers for me?” she said.
“I’m on it!” Jimmy moved away quickly, and Lois knew that he would be back soon with the first of the numbers she’d requested. Jimmy was sometimes annoying, and his writing was painfully raw, but he had a real talent for research and a tenacity that she appreciated. If the information could be gotten, Jimmy would get it.
The rest of her day was spent making phone calls and trying to put together an accurate picture of Samuel Platt. She wished she had an excuse to be out of the office, but the reality was that investigative work was often desk work and research, and she’d learned the hard way that it didn’t pay to go out without a certain number of facts in hand. So she spent the day navigating a tedious series of dead ends, since many of the former EPRAD employees with whom she talked either didn’t know Dr. Platt or didn’t know him well enough to contribute anything useful. The few who had worked with him seemed unwilling to help, clamming up the minute she started asking questions about the Messenger. By the time four o’clock rolled around, she was frustrated enough to scream and Jimmy was giving her a wide berth.
Of course, the fact that she’d spent most of the day in the newsroom with Clark didn’t help matters. He’d been gone at lunchtime, but other than that he’d been there, at his desk and around the newsroom, providing her with a constant and unwelcome distraction. Perry could cross the newsroom when she was working, and unless he was literally bellowing her name (which, granted, was a pretty common occurrence) she didn’t bother to look up. Cat could walk by half-naked (which, ditto) and if Lois was working, she wouldn’t even notice. But let Clark Kent so much as lean back and stretch, and her attention was diverted from whatever she was doing to whatever he was doing. And of course, all the while, she was trying to make it look like she was still busy working. Watching Clark while pretending she wasn’t watching Clark took twice as much effort as just watching him would, which would mean four times as much effort as not watching him at all.
Wouldn’t it? Maybe not. Math had never been her best subject. Anyway, the exact formula didn’t matter, since not watching him at all just wasn’t happening, despite her best efforts.
It was maddening, but it wasn’t like she could complain. Aside from bringing her coffee that morning, something he’d done when the newsroom was almost empty, he hadn’t approached her, hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t even glanced her way again, as best she could tell. He was keeping his promise to keep his distance, and that should have pleased her, but instead it was nearly driving her crazy. How dare he be so totally immune to her when his very presence was shredding her nerves?
An insidious little voice whispered to her that if she’d looked and acted like Wanda Detroit, he wouldn’t be able to help looking. It whispered that this just proved what she already knew – that Wanda Detroit was what he’d wanted all along, and Lois Lane wasn’t worth a glance. He’d probably brought the coffee out of pity, after watching her make a spectacle of her inability to approach him.
Because that was the other thing she’d learned during this day of involuntary Clark-watching: Clark Kent was an incredibly nice guy. It was in everything he did, all day long. She’d watched him smile and chat with his new colleagues, even the ones like Edna from travel, who had spent twenty minutes showing Clark pictures of her grandchildren.
And if that wasn’t boring enough, she’d actually seen him listen to three of Perry’s Elvis stories in a row, appearing interested in each one – even the one about Elvis having a dead twin brother, which surely even people from hick towns in Kansas already knew. But watching Clark, you’d never have suspected that news of Elvis Presley had made its way to Smallville. Perry was clearly in raptures at being presented with this tabula rasa when it came to Elvis lore.
And then that afternoon, Clark had held the door of the elevator when Myerson was dashing to get on. Granted, he’d probably regretted it immediately, since absolutely everyone knew that Myerson never showered after going to the gym at lunch time. For Lois, “never share an elevator with Myerson in the afternoon” was rule number four, right after “never sleep with anyone you work with.” Some things you only have to learn the hard way once. But she had a feeling that even after the memorable experience of an afternoon elevator ride with Myerson, Clark would probably hold the door again the next day if the same situation arose. He was just like that.
There was a cynical part of her that was revolted by Clark’s relentless niceness. There was a part of her that wanted to believe it was all a ploy – that he was sucking up to anyone and everyone so that his ‘provisional’ job would become a permanent one. But she couldn’t quite make herself believe it. Everything she’d seen that day in the newsroom was exactly what she would have predicted based on the one night she’d spent with Clark Kent. He was that nice. He was the kind of guy people just liked having around, and if he could write at all, Perry White wasn’t likely to let him go.
The buzzing of her phone broke into her reverie, and she realized that she’d been staring, unseeing, at her computer monitor for at least ten minutes. She was incredibly sick of talking on the phone, but she still had a number of messages out to Platt’s former co-workers, so she sighed and reached for it.
“Lois Lane.”
“Lois.”
She recognized the voice immediately and winced as she realized that she’d forgotten the ball again. She glanced at her watch - still plenty of time to get ready, thank goodness.
“Hi, Mitchell.” She tried to sound enthusiastic, but even to her own ears, she sounded more like she was making a dental appointment than confirming a date.
“Just wanted to touch base about tonight.” Mitchell sounded distracted, as if he were reading while he was talking. He probably was, Lois thought, and checking his phone call to her off of his to-do list at the same time. “I’ve made dinner reservations for 7:30. Is that all right?”
“Um, yeah.” They hadn’t talked about having dinner first, but she supposed it was fine. “Where are we eating?”
“Uh...I told my secretary either Calverts or Centennial Gardens. Is one of those all right?”
In other words, he’d delegated their date to his secretary. If Lois had cared about Mitchell in the slightest, she might have been wounded. As it was, she’d only asked in the first place because it seemed right to express some interest in their evening. “Either one will be fine.” She smiled wryly into the phone. “Sure you’re feeling up to it? No sniffles or tummy aches?”
“Funny, Lois. I’ve only canceled on you twice.”
“At the last minute,” she pointed out.
“And I’ll apparently never hear the end of it. You know, if I wanted to be nagged, I’d get married.”
“You’ll never get married.” One of the things that Lois liked best about Mitchell was that he was at least as commitment-shy as she was. He seemed perfectly content to escort her to various social events without expecting anything at all from her beyond a dry, fraternal kiss at the door. For a while, there had been some gossip about them after they had turned up together at several functions, but it had died down when it became apparent to even the most casual observer that the relationship – if it could be called that – wasn’t going anywhere. They had each found in the other a person of commensurate attractiveness who knew what to wear and which fork to use and was capable of making decent conversation over cocktails. It was enough for both of them.
“Damn straight,” he agreed, chuckling. “Listen, I have to run – late meeting with a client. I’ll pick you up around 7:00, all right?”
“I’ll see you then.”
They both hung up without bothering to say goodbye. Mitchell’s attention was obviously on his client, and Lois’s had been riveted by the sight of Clark Kent standing up and reaching for the sports coat that had been draped over the back of his chair. He shrugged himself into it with easy grace and then reached for the switch on his computer, shutting it down.
“You heading out, CK?” Jimmy called from his place at a desk midway between Lois and Clark.
CK? Lois thought, a little amused.
Clark flashed his devastating smile. “Yeah. I have some things to take care of. I’ll see you tonight, though. Thanks again.”
“No problem. Were you able to get a tux?”
Lois felt lightheaded for a few seconds as the implications of that question sank in and then bounced around in her brain.
Clark was going to the ball.
She couldn’t help it. Her head came up and she stared at Jimmy, uncaring, for once, what her face might be giving away. Because Clark was going to be at the ball. He was going to be wearing a tuxedo. He was going to be smiling and laughing and maybe flirting with other women. Dancing with them, like he’d danced with her at the Stardust. She was going to have to see Clark Kent with another woman in his arms. She felt like throwing up just thinking about it.
Clark approached Jimmy’s desk, never once looking her way. “Yeah,” he said. “Took care of it at lunchtime.”
“Good deal.” Jimmy’s head swiveled around towards Lois, catching her completely off-guard. “Lois, what about you? Are you going with that lawyer guy?”
Clark’s eyes flickered in her direction, and she felt her face flame. “Uh, yeah.”
“What’s his name again?” Jimmy asked. “I always want to call him Ken.”
Well that was weird, even for Jimmy. “Ken?” she asked.
Jimmy grinned at Clark. “He looks like a Ken doll. I know that’s not really his name, but every time I see him, I just think...Ken!”
“His name is Mitchell,” Lois said through gritted teeth. Her irritation with Jimmy had almost made her forget her embarrassment. Almost. “And if you call me Barbie even one time, they’ll never find your body.”
“Who me?” Jimmy pasted on his most innocent expression. “Compare you to a tall, sexy blonde? Why would I do that?”
Jimmy was teasing her, of course, and on a normal day, she actually appreciated that Jimmy was the only person in the whole newsroom who had the nerve to tease her. On a normal day, she didn’t mind his annoying-kid-brother shtick and gave back as good as she got. But Clark Kent was standing right there, and Jimmy’s comment had gone straight to the heart of Lois’s insecurities. Her eyes went wide, and she sucked in a furious breath, prepared to deliver a scathing response that was totally out of proportion to Jimmy’s comment.
“Lois is more beautiful than any blonde,” Clark said firmly, squaring his shoulders and giving Jimmy a look of stern disapproval.
If he’d suddenly dropped to one knee and declared his undying love, neither Lois nor Jimmy could possibly have been more shocked. Both stared at Clark, who quickly went from looking almost menacing to looking completely flustered. He reached up and fiddled with his glasses, averting his gaze from Lois and shooting an apologetic look in Jimmy’s direction.
“Take it easy, CK,” Jimmy said with an awkward laugh. “Lois knows I was just kidding. Right, Lois?”
“Right,” she said faintly, forgetting that two minutes before she’d been planning to feed Jimmy to the tiger at the Metropolis Zoo. She was still staring at Clark and grasping blindly for her own response. She should be angry, shouldn’t she? Clark was clearly violating their agreement – an agreement they’d only made yesterday – and she’d be well within her rights to put him squarely in his place. But as she watched the dull red flush make its way across his cheeks, down his neck, and even to his ears, she couldn’t seem to find the anger she thought she should be feeling.
His head came up and he looked at her, those expressive eyes seeming to beg for her forgiveness. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “From now on I’ll keep my opinions to myself.” He glanced at Jimmy. “I’ll see you both tonight.”
He strode away, and as they watched him go, Jimmy said in a low voice, “What the heck was that all about?”
“Kent’s version of small-town chivalry, I guess,” she answered coldly, throwing up the words like a shield against Jimmy’s curiosity. “He won’t last a month in Metropolis. Mark my words.”
“I dunno,” Jimmy said, shaking his head. “He might be tougher than you think. Did you see the look on his face when I insulted you?”
She had seen it. She just wasn’t sure what to make of it, and she certainly didn’t want to encourage Jimmy’s speculations on the subject. “Don’t you have work to do?” she asked pointedly.
“On it.” Jimmy hurried back to his desk, and Lois looked up just in time to see the elevator doors close on Clark Kent.
He’d said she was beautiful. He’d said Lois was beautiful, with no reference to Wanda Detroit. More than that, he’d all but said straight out that she was the most beautiful woman he knew. She kept telling herself that she should be angry, that this wasn’t in their agreement. She reminded herself that someone as relentlessly nice as Clark Kent probably just wasn’t capable of standing by and seeing a woman insulted, no matter who the woman was. Because after the way she’d behaved, it just wasn’t possible that he could still care about her.
That thought was enough to deflate her.
She thought of the look on his face, though, when he’d stood up for her, and she realized that she’d liked it – liked having someone on her side, no matter what his reasons. She’d hardly needed rescuing from Jimmy, but the fact that Clark had bothered was still...
Well, she’d liked it, that was all.
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A/N: More quoting from the pilot episode in this part – the section where Jimmy is talking about Lex Luthor, specifically. Thanks again to all who are following the story and have taken the time to comment. I enjoy hearing your thoughts on the story and hope it continues to entertain.
