This is a relatively short part, but I'm still posting very close to what I'm writing. Actually, I've got a lot of it written - it just needs to be polished and the parts tied together so they'll flow.
There's a section-specific note at the end of this part this time. (Speaking of which... The author's notes for this story are pretty extensive. <sigh> They're probably a chapter all on their own. I'd be interested to see if anyone would want to read what amounts to a couple of pages of author's notes once this story is finished.)
From part 23:
“Want to come with me?” he whispered. “I don’t want to say goodnight to you, yet. It’s dark… no one will see you if we stay up high. And we could stop at your place for your ‘flying clothes’ if you want…”
Tempted, she thought about it for a minute or two. She wasn’t really ready to say goodnight to him, yet, either. Smiling at him, she nodded. “Yes.”
His smile widened and he extended his hand to her. When she took it, he walked with her into the bedroom. Stepping out onto the balcony with her at his side, he smiled down at her and said softly, “Fly with me?”
With an answering smile, she tightened her hand in his and stepped into the air with him.-----
The Girl Next Door, part 24:
Clark wasn’t in the newsroom when she arrived the next morning. She extended her thoughts toward him experimentally, but didn’t pick up anything. She hadn’t really expected it would work; so far, they’d only managed to communicate like that when they were happy and laughing.
The city – or at least, the criminal element - had been quiet last night when they’d patrolled. She’d enjoyed flying patrol with Clark more than she’d expected she would. Maybe she would have to consider some kind of disguise after all, just to be safe; then she could go with him again.
She looked up as Jimmy dropped a copy of the Planet on the corner of her desk. “Hey, Lois! Where’s CK?” he asked, tossing Clark’s copy of the morning edition lightly into the center of her partner’s desk.
“I don’t know, Jimmy,” she answered truthfully.
It *was* true; she didn’t know where he was at the moment. It was just the rest of what she was about to say that was completely fabricated.
“He’s either checking on some information one of our sources gave us, or meeting with the actual source. It was sort of up in the air last night…”
Had she really said that? Laughter bubbled up but she stifled it in a cough. If Clark were sitting across from her right now, he’d be choking back suppressed laughter, too. Of course, if he were sitting across from her right now, she wouldn’t have to be making all this up. “…But he was going to meet me here later,” she finished. Hopefully, Jimmy would interpret her grin as anticipation at seeing Clark.
“Oh. Okay.” Shifting the stack of newspapers under his arm, Jimmy dug into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Will you give him this when you see him? I borrowed ten bucks from him last week.”
“Sure, Jimmy.” She tucked the folded bill under her coffee cup; at some point in the day, Clark would more likely than not bring her coffee. She’d give him the money then.
As Jimmy wandered off to deliver the rest of his stack of newspapers, she marveled briefly at how easily the lies about Clark’s whereabouts rolled off her tongue.
Lies of necessity. Neither of them had a choice, if they wanted to protect their secrets. And of course, she’d spent all of her own life finding believable explanations for occasions when she’d had to quickly cover for herself. So it wasn’t really any harder to think up excuses for Clark.
Although it was easier to think of them as excuses, rather than lies.
She sighed. It *was* necessary to lie to protect their secrets. Just another part of the super experience. Super strength, invulnerability, flight, enhanced smell, fire – no, Clark called it heat – vision, super hearing, excuses…
“Hey look! It’s Superman!” She turned to see one of the staff writers pointing at the TV monitors.
As people gathered to watch, LNN showed a helicopter view of police surrounding the front entrance of a building. Behind them, a crowd of onlookers milled. The camera panned on Superman as he flew up along the side of the building, then moved around out of sight toward the far side.
“Isn’t that the Morrissey Building?” someone asked.
“Yeah. Wonder what –“ someone else began.
“Shhhhh!” somebody said.
The scene shifted as the helicopter maneuvered, following Superman as he made his way slowly around the building, apparently looking it over carefully. The view stabilized a few moments later as Superman landed and approached a group of both uniformed policemen and plainclothes men.
“Turn it up!” someone said.
They heard the tail end of a question from a male voice, probably the male news anchor, apparently talking to the reporter at the scene. “… a bomb situation, Julie?”
A female voice responded, “Yes, Phil. Apparently, a bomb threat was called in early this morning to the management of the Morrissey Building here in downtown Metropolis.”
“Has anyone claimed credit for the threat?” Phil asked.
“No, Phil.” The view changed to show a blond woman, hair blowing in the brisk morning breeze, holding a microphone. Behind her, another police car drew up. Someone off-camera spoke, and she gave a short nod. The camera view shifted slightly, the woman turning with it to stay facing the camera, until the group of policemen and Superman could be seen behind her.
“Police responded immediately, as did Superman,” she continued. “Apparently, it was a false alarm.” She gestured to the group behind her, who appeared to be discussing the situation calmly. “I was just speaking to the chief of police; he said they’ve found no bomb whatsoever. Superman has canvassed the entire building and has seen nothing, and has just finished one more courtesy look-over at the request of the building’s owner.”
As she spoke, the camera view changed back to the overhead shot. The scene was the same as before – Superman and a group of policemen standing together near the front entrance of the old building.
“Thank you, Julie.” The scene changed to Phil, sitting behind the news desk at LNN. “That was Julie Green, live from the Morrissey Building. Stay tuned to LNN for further updates. I’m Philip Mann. You’re watching LNN, your twenty-four hour news channel.”
The anchor was replaced by a commercial.
Lois stopped listening. She knew where Clark was now; he’d likely be back fairly shortly. And if possible - if they could find a way to explain his presence at the scene - he’d have a story about the bomb threat. As long as one of the Planet’s City Desk reporters hadn’t already been there. She hoped he’d remember to check before he left. Until he showed up, however, she had some work to do for Perry, who had asked her for a follow-up on one of her more recent stories.
---
She had been sorting through the information, working on a story outline, for about half an hour or so when she heard Clark’s heartbeat. She looked up, smiling, as he came through the stairway door and headed down the ramp. He was holding two Metropolis Coffee Company cups. Her smile widened.
“Hi, partner,” she said cheerfully when he reached her desk. “Welcome back. Anything interesting happen while you were out?” Dropping her voice to a near-whisper, she added, “We saw the news report on LNN.”
“Hi, Lois. Here’s your usual.” He hooked a foot around one of the legs of her guest chair and dragged it closer, then sat down and handed her one of the cups. “Yeah,” he said equally softly. “A false alarm. The police are looking into it; probably a disgruntled employee.” In a normal speaking voice, he continued, “Sorry I’m late; that little errand took me longer than I thought it would.”
“Well, that’s how it goes with sources.” She knew he’d understand that if anyone asked, he had been meeting a source.
“Didn’t pan out, though,” he said with a grin.
She laughed softly. <You’re having entirely too much fun with this, Kent.> She sipped her coffee appreciatively. “Mmmm. They certainly know their Mocha, don’t they? <So we don’t have a story about it?>
She felt as well as heard his laughter. <Yes, I am. I haven’t had this much fun for a long time.> “Yes, they do, although I’m partial to the caramel. What are we working on?” <And no, we don’t have a story. Jenner was there with a photographer.>
<Oh. Rats.> “Well, Perry wants a follow-up on the Amert Development story. <Not even a teeny little hey-I-happened-to-be-in-the-area-and-met-Superman-and-he-gave-me-a-quick-interview story?>
He smothered a laugh in a fit of coughing.
She thumped his back helpfully. “First you swallow, then you breathe, Kent,” she teased him. <Oops, sorry. Careful, there. Don’t want to make anyone suspicious.>
“I’m okay, thanks.” <It’s okay. I don’t think anyone’s paying any attention to us, anyway.> He grinned and winked at her. <Weren’t you just telling me last night that we didn’t want to have too many Superman interviews, just to be safe?> “So… has Perry got something else for me, then, or are we together on this? The Amert Development scam was originally your story.”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “That doesn’t matter, Clark. We’re working together on it now, okay? I want your input.” <Yeah, I guess I was. Darn it.>
He smiled. “Okay –“
“Kent! Good of you to drop in today!” Perry’s voice cut into Clark’s reply, and they looked up to see the editor standing behind them, arms crossed and a deceptively mild look of inquiry on his face. “I was about to put out a missing person bulletin.”
“I’m sorry, Chief, I -” Clark began, as Lois rushed in to defend him.
“He was meeting a source, Perry,” she said briskly. “We’ve got some feelers out on a couple of things…”
“Well, now that he’s here, I’ve got a story assignment for him.” Perry uncrossed his arms, thrusting his hands casually into his pockets, and continued blandly, “There’s a guy who says he can -”
“Can’t do it, Chief,” she cut in. “We’ve got a lot to do, here.” She waved an arm toward the back of the newsroom. “Give it to Ralph. He’s not doing anything.”
“Who is the editor, here, Lois?” Perry demanded in a pronounced drawl, even for him.
She grinned at him, unrepentant. “You are, Chief. But Clark’s mine.” She flashed a grin at her partner, who was watching the exchange with a bemused smile. “He’s far too good to be wasted on some dog show, or one of those touchy-feely things.”
Perry crossed his arms and regarded her skeptically. “If you weren’t my star reporter, Lois…”
She laughed. “Oh, go on, Perry. Go torture Ralph. You know Clark and I will deliver.”
“The Colonel didn’t have this much trouble with Elvis,” Perry muttered, shaking his head, but he was grinning as he turned and bellowed, “Ralph!” He moved away from Lois’s desk.
“How do you know it wasn’t a story we’d be interested in?” Clark asked curiously.
She waved a dismissive arm again, her attention already refocused on her partial outline. “Oh, Clark, Perry was just messing with you. He didn’t have a story for you. He just likes to remind people that he’s the editor. There’ve been some people who have taken advantage of the fact that Perry doesn’t hover, and doesn’t require us to log in and out…”
Clark frowned. “I guess there’s a lot of things I didn’t really think through before I…” He lowered his voice. “Before I created… you-know-who…”
Lois stopped what she was doing and looked directly at him. “Clark, this is different.” She spoke softly, mindful of where they were, but it was important to stop him worrying. “You’re not taking advantage of the situation. You work hard; you deliver good work.” She leaned forward slightly, speaking even more softly. “And in addition to your regular life, you do something many people wouldn’t even consider doing for pay, much less for free.”
“But…”
“Clark, Perry was not serious.” She almost leaned forward and kissed him, before she remembered, just in time, that they were in the newsroom. She didn’t know how Clark felt about public displays of affection, or whether he cared if anyone knew their relationship had changed. “If Perry were serious,” she continued, “he’d have called you into his office. Trust me on this one, okay?”
He smiled. “Okay.”
She’d been prepared to argue the point some more. “Okay, then…” She popped the top off of the Metropolis Coffee cup and glanced inside it, reheating the contents. “Well, then… shall we get started on that story?” She recapped the cup and took a healthy swig.
He nodded, but then said, “Uh… One more thing, Lois. How do you know for sure that Ralph isn’t doing anything?”
She laughed, and inhaled coffee. As she choked and wheezed, still laughing, and clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying coffee all over her papers, he thumped her on the back.
“Are you okay, Lois?” he asked in concern. Super powered or not, both of them only breathed air, not liquid – coffee or otherwise.
She waved an “I’m okay” sort of gesture at him. After a moment, she regained enough control to sort of gasp, “How do I know he’s not busy? Clark! This is Ralph we’re talking about. He’s only barely more active than a pet rock.”
“Lois!” he admonished, but he was laughing. Her description wasn’t particularly kind, but unfortunately, it was pretty accurate.
She set the cup on her desk. Better hold off taking another mouthful until she knew for sure he wasn’t going to say anything else funny.
“C’mon, partner. Let’s get to work,” she commanded cheerfully. “Here, see if you can wrestle these two paragraphs into a better flow, would you?” She shifted the story outline over where he could read it, and keyed her password into the computer, bringing up the partially written story.
“Let’s see… What’ve you got so far?”
As he leaned in to read, she picked up her Metropolis Coffee again, setting the tall, disposable cup into her empty Daily Planet mug so that it wouldn’t tip over.
“Oh - I almost forgot…” She pulled Jimmy’s ten-dollar bill out from under the coffee mug. “Here’s your ten, from Jimmy.”
He took it absently. “Oh, thanks. I’ll have to remember to thank him.” He paused, then waved it at her with a fake leer. “Can I buy you lunch, Miss? I’m flush.”
She laughed. “Sure, partner. After you help me with this story, okay?” She frowned, once more focused on the story. “I’m not entirely happy with the way this reads…”
“Okay, right. Work first, then play.” He hitched his chair closer. “…Let’s see… What if you moved this sentence up, and rephrased this…”
They worked steadily until almost lunchtime, sorting through information and deciding what to present, arguing good-naturedly about grammar. Finally, Lois typed the first full draft of the story, bantering lightly with Clark, who was reading over her shoulder and making suggestions from time to time.
---
Shortly before noon, Clark broke off a comment abruptly. Glancing over her shoulder at him, Lois saw his head come up; he appeared to be focusing on the far wall of the newsroom, and she knew he was hearing something. She extended her own hearing, but heard nothing except the city around them.
She turned to face him and waited until he refocused on her. “What is it?” she asked softly.
“Airplane… Lois…” He was already standing up, his eyes darting toward the stairs. “It’s urgent! I have to –“
She stood immediately. Her computer would go to station-lock when the screen saver started up in a few minutes, requiring her password to continue working, so she didn’t need to waste any time there.
So – it was show time.
“Aaaah! Clark! Look at the time!” Grabbing his arm, she turned toward the stairs, already moving as she barked, “C’mon, Kent, right now… Bobby! His lunch!” She glanced quickly over her shoulder at him; he was already beginning to tug on his tie.
She charged up the ramp at Mad Dog Lane speed, which was just short of a jog. Clark, of necessity, was right on her heels, since she hadn’t let go of his arm. Putting on her best Mad Dog, waving her free arm for effect, she commanded, “We need to hustle, partner!”
Her coworkers would be familiar with Mad Dog Lane, of course, and would most likely ignore her – them. “Let’s go! We have that meeting – and Bobby won’t wait around.” Reaching the top of the ramp, she turned toward the elevators, stopped abruptly, and then moved toward the door to the stairs as if she’d just made the decision. “C’mon, Clark - let’s take the stairs - it’s faster!”
She ducked through the stairwell door with Clark at her heels. The moment they were through the door, she let go of his arm, and simultaneously, both of them headed for the roof, fast. They were through the door at the top of the stairs in seconds. Clark immediately spun into the suit, and as he came out of it he said urgently, “It’s a small plane – in trouble and just about to land…”
“Go now, Clark!” she said, and he was gone in an instant.
She might have to rethink this behind-the-scenes stuff. It was harder than she’d expected to ignore a potential story. It would be difficult to come up with a believable explanation for her presence at the airport, but she didn’t want to miss this.
Of course, she didn’t necessarily *have* to explain how she got her stories... In fact, it wasn’t something she had *ever* explained. And she had had years of perfecting the Mad Dog glare - she could simply turn it on anyone who even asked how she’d managed it.
If only it wasn’t broad daylight, though. She’d have to go by cab…
She hesitated at the door to the stairs, looking back at the bright sky and the billowy clouds. Clark had said that he traveled in the daytime all the time. He’d said he just moved fast, going high enough so he wouldn’t be seen.
Could she…
Should she take the chance?
She looked around again, then one more time, thoroughly, using her special vision. She was absolutely alone. The Daily Planet building was the highest one in this part of the city.
She was wasting valuable time. She took a deep breath and shot into the air at top speed. She went high, above the clouds, scanning in all directions. There were no airplanes, no helicopters, no one to see her.
It was so strange to be up here – flying - during the day. She would have to use the layout of the city below her for guidance. She’d always navigated by the stars, but of course, she couldn’t do that right now. She turned slowly in the direction of the airport. It was strange – exhilarating; there was a sort of freedom to flying in daylight that was wholly different to even the most unrestricted flight undercover of night.
Clark took this for granted, but it would be a while before she got used to it.
She made it to the airport in time to see Clark – Superman – gently setting a medium-sized commuter plane down on one of the runways. There were emergency vehicles and fire trucks parked haphazardly along the edges of the runway, and men with hoses poised, ready to extinguish the flaming wreckage that wasn’t going to happen. She only had time for the one, quick look before she realized, suddenly, that this close to an airport, she very possibly *might* be seen – not just on radar, which was a certainty, but by real people - pilots or passengers in the planes that were circling in holding patterns or coming in for landings.
She needed a hiding place. Where she could observe - but not be observed herself.
The terminal?
Or one of those outbuildings - anonymous structures that could be offices or commuter terminals or the headquarters of some small regional carrier?
Or maybe one of the hangars?
Scanning hurriedly over the various airport structures, she noted that the terminal roof was a tent-like covering, actual fabric stretched tightly over a supporting frame. It looked sort of like the pictures of a circus Big Top tent in a long-ago magazine article she’d read somewhere. Well, pointier than the more rounded roof of a circus tent, actually. She’d heard Denver’s airport terminal was of a similar design.
At any rate, this terminal roof afforded no hiding places. And the office buildings, or whatever they were, were too low. Someone in the tower or maybe even in parts of the terminal might see her on the roof of one of those buildings.
Most of the hangars were big and sleek and utilitarian looking, with smooth, slightly arched roofs. But a couple of the older-looking hangars, built of brick and cement block with tall, arched windows above the huge doors at each end, had conveniently-placed ventilation shafts, short-ish and boxlike but offering excellent cover, on their roofs.
She dove for one of these as fast she could, knowing she was moving too fast to be seen but also hoping that she wouldn’t register on the tower’s radar. Or rather, that she wouldn’t register as anything alarming, like a bomb or something.
This was nerve-wracking. How did Clark do it?
Well, of course, *now* he did it in disguise. But before – how had he done it before, and kept his sanity? Honestly, it was beginning to look like the greatest super power of all might be a superior ability to multi-task. There were so many things to keep track of!
Maybe a disguise wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
She focused on the activity around the grounded plane. The emergency slide had been activated, or deployed or whatever, and the passengers were exiting the plane from the rear door, jumping somewhat awkwardly to slide down, legs splayed out in front of them like preschoolers testing out the big kids’ slide.
And here - there was a pause while Superman moved in, reaching into the doorway where flight personnel were apparently waiting to hand him someone… She focused her enhanced vision and saw that Superman’s passenger was a small, elderly gentleman, who gripped a cane and a small carry-on bag in his arms. Superman delivered him to the waiting paramedics, setting him down gently on a gurney, then gravely shook the man’s hand before returning to the plane to hover over it, waiting to see if his assistance was further required.
She watched as the rest of the passengers left the plane, followed lastly by the flight attendants. She listened in as Superman landed and conferred with the emergency personnel. No one had been seriously injured, just shaken up somewhat when the plane had abruptly tipped nose-down in a steep dive just before Superman had arrived and caught it.
And she listened as the pilot, whose heartbeat still sounded awfully fast, insisted that there’d been a sudden and complete systems failure – including all back-up systems - when he’d disengaged the autopilot preparatory to beginning his landing approach. And that no, he was sure that there’d been no external forces, no wind shear or turbulence, which had caused the problem.
As the last of the ambulances and shuttle buses pulled away, she watched and listened as Superman spoke with several flight mechanics who had arrived during the dramatic assisted landing. All three of the mechanics seemed to be taking the pilot’s concerns quite seriously. They began to discuss several possible causes of the sort of total systems failure that the still-shaken man was describing, and they assured both Superman and the rescue personnel that the plane would be checked over thoroughly.
She didn’t need to listen in to every word Superman exchanged with the emergency personnel, the flight crew, and the mechanics. Clark was an excellent reporter, and as Superman, he had a great opportunity to ask all kinds of questions. She had no doubt he was getting lots of good information.
So she could turn her attention to other areas. See what she could see, and hear what she could hear. Maybe she’d see or hear something interesting.
---
To be continued
---
Author's note - Some of you may remember that I went to Denver, Colorado, at the end of the summer. I used my experiences with the return flights from Denver to Indianapolis (via Chicago) when I created Metropolis International Airport - Denver International Airport's Jeppeson Terminal was my model for the exterior, and Chicago's O'Hare International Airport (as you'll see in the next section
) was my model for the interior of the terminal.
