Daily Planet newsroom
Waiting, Lois hated waiting.
It seemed as if she spent her entire life waiting on something or another: go to the bank; wait in line, go to a restaurant; wait for a table; drive to work; wait in traffic. Around and around until her entire life was just one vicious cycle of waiting.
She drummed her fingers impatiently upon the wooden surface of the conference room table.
As it happened, she was waiting for Clark to get back, from god knew where, so she could make amends. She snickered sardonically, how many people could lay claim to an honest to goodness apology from Lois Lane? That short list of privileged individuals began with Lucy, and ended with Perry—with no one else in between.
The arrival of the elevator grasped her attention, quickly, she scoured the passengers for her partner—she was not disappointed. With his hands tucked casually in his pockets, and his unassuming yet determined walk, Clark ambled into the newsroom.
He stopped for a moment as if listening for something; then with a sudden and deliberate motion he turned toward the far conference room, and locked eyes with her.
What she saw in his gaze was almost enough to make her turn and run for the hills; determination, sincerity, and something else she was afraid to analyze poured from his soft brown eyes straight into her own. A sad smile crossed his face briefly, and she gifted him with one in return.
Lois’s heart immediately began to beat faster. This is it Lane she thought; there’s no turning back now.
Clark made his way down the ramp and toward the glass door of the conference room. He arrived at his destination within moments, and pulled the handle. Lois stood wringing her hand slightly in nervousness. For his part Clark looked just as hesitant.
“Hey” he offered softly, as if afraid the word would shatter into a million pieces if said to loud.
“Hey” Lois offered, in the same ethereal tone.
“So…I guess we should talk”
“Yeah…talk” Lois lifted her head slightly, and began. Almost concurrently Clark did the same
“Clark--”
“Lois—“
A nervous chuckle escaped from both of them, momentarily ebbing the awkward tension. “Look Clark, I’ve never been one for drawn out apologies so I’ll just get right down to it. I said some things this morning that I…didn’t mean.” She sighed and ran her hand through her silky brown hair, and then continued “What I said was hurtful, inexcusable, and downright unprofessional.” Taking a tentative step forward, she rested her hand on his upper arm “You should know that I have nothing but the utmost respect for you. And I have not considered you to be nothing more then a hack from Nowheresville, for quite some time.” A small smile crossed her face “and Perry is right you’re a pretty good dancer.”
This caused Clark to produce one of his million watt smiles she’d grown to love. “I believe he said I was a great dancer” Clark teased.
“Don’t push your luck Kent” Lois said, not an ounce of seriousness present in her statement. “Let’s not forget who the senior partner is around here. I’m still top banana comprehendes?” she stated her face breaking into a massive smile.
Clark could only smirk “you got it partner”. They stood for a moment reveling in companionable silence, then Clark spoke “Lois I owe you an apology. I never should have blown up at you, and you’re right; your personal life is none of my business, and from now on I’ll just keep my nose out of it.”
<But I don’t want to keep you out of it> something inside her screamed; <I want you in it>.
“Oh Clark…you’re just so…Clarklike sometimes” a smile once again graced Clark’s handsome features.
“Clarklike? Is that a technical term Lois?” She smiled pleasantly at him; leave it to Kent to make her feel guilty, joyous, and loved all at the same time. Loved? Where had that come from?
“All kidding aside Clark—you have every reason to know what goes on in my personal life, IF it affects our working relationship. Which is why I’m going to call Lex, and tell him thanks but no thanks on his offer to escort me to the Black and White Ball; I got invited to do a story for The Planet, and that’s what I intend to do. And I can’t be expected to write the exclusive of the season without my partner.”
Relief—wonderful, glorious, beautiful relief washed over Clark in a wave. Never in a million year did he ever think he’d get off this lucky. For Clark the best case scenario had been Lois ALLOWING him to work in the same building, and if he was lucky on the same floor as her. Worst case scenario—well all of those ended with him flying to Antarctica and living like a hermit for the rest of his life in some sort of giant ice igloo.
“Won’t Luthour be upset about that?” Clark asked, not really caring.
“I’m sure he’ll get over it” Lois said, Lex’s recent finagling still staunchly etched in her brain. The pity party she’d been having all day had come to an abrupt and hopefully permanent stop, and so had her guilt over that whole debacle with Lex. True, his offer had been more the gallant, at the time, but now Lois was seeing with a brand new set of eyes. She couldn’t believe how easily she’d been manipulated. Well no more, the assertive Lois Lane, Kerth Award winner, was back. And the spineless gelatinous blob who’d downed eight err…seven triple chocolate sundae’s at the Fudge Castle this morning was gone, forever.
++++++++
Saturday night Metropolis convention center
“Lois, will you stop fiddling with my tie? It looks fine.”
“Clark we’re representing the world’s greatest newspaper—we can’t afford to be seen with messy clothes.”
“Is that why it took you THREE dress changes to decide which one to wear?”
Lois sighed “Yes Clark, you’re a man—you can just slap on a tux put some gel in your hair and be ready. It takes a lot to look this good.”
Clark smiled, he couldn’t argue with that. To say Lois looked beautiful would be the understatement of the century. It would be like saying “the sun is kind of bright” or “Superman is pretty fast”. Such comparisons failed to live up to the splendor Clark saw before him.
Lois was dressed in a simple, yet elegant, red evening gown. It showed everything that needed showing, without being promiscuous; and it accentuated her features without being skin tight. Around her neck was a delicate silver chain with a diamond heart pendant attached to the end. To complete the look were a pair of, extremely uncomfortable looking, but tasteful toeless high heels.
Her elegant brown locks were curled in ringlets, similar in appearance to when she was under the influence of Miranda’s perfume. What he wouldn’t give to run his hands through that hair, to caress the side of her cheek with his thumb—to capture her lips in the sweetest of embraces.
Clark inhaled sharply; Lois was without a doubt the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. At present, the object of his attentions was standing on tip toe trying to see to the front of the line. She stretched out her hand, and rested it on his shoulder for balance.
“I wish they’d hurry up, these heels are killing me” she said wincing at the offending footwear.
“Well if you’d gone with Luthour you’d already be inside” Clark chuckled “looks like there are a few downsides at going to parties with regular Joes; you might actually have to wait in line for a few minutes.” Lois rolled her eyes.
“Clark, just because you’re blessed with the patience of ten nuns and a priest, doesn’t mean you have to rub it in”
“Well Lois—“Clark started, but he was cut off sharply by Lois’s next declaration.
“Ruggles?” Lois said, producing a raised eyebrow from her partner.
“Ruggles? Lois what are you talking about? Who or what is Ruggles?” confused, Clark glanced in the direction that seemed to have captured Lois’s notice.
What—or more appropriately who Ruggles was soon became apparent to him. Ruggles was a man, a tall man with black hair; who seemed to be preoccupied with the evening edition of The Daily Planet. At his side was a petite woman with golden brown hair and, fairly attractive, features.
“Clark!” Lois whispered excitedly “I know them. We met yesterday in a cab on my way back from the fu—“realizing she didn’t want to that sentence, or risk embarrassment, Lois revised her statement “We shared a cab yesterday before I came back to work”
“So…you shared a cab with him; what’s the big deal?” seemingly exasperated Lois pulled him closer to her height level.
“They told me that they were insurance salesmen—women—people—and that they were here for a convention.”
“So…?”
“So, what would two sales representatives be doing at the biggest event of the season?” Lois said, the wheels in her head spinning into over drive.
“Maybe they do business with Lexcorp, maybe they’re personal friends of Lex’s, or maybe they were invited by mistake. What does it matter Lois? They don’t look particularly threatening to me”
“I’m not saying they’re dangerous. I just think it’s a little suspicious, that two average wage earners end up at a ball famous for its VIP guests.” Clark gazed back at the couple; the man was still thoroughly engrossed in the article before him. The woman was glancing at it over his shoulder.
With practiced ease Clark tuned his super-hearing toward them, filtering out the various conversations that were going on around him.
***
“Superman saves busload of nuns, amazing absolutely amazing. Don’t you think so Miss Holt?”
“It’s not something you see everyday, certainly is exciting though” Steele smirked disbelievingly.
“You mean to tell me that Laura Holt, math major from Stanford University, President and founder of “Pessimistic Realists Anonymous”, and obstinate seeker of hard facts—believes in something as fantastical as a flying man”
“It’s Myrtle Groggins” Laura corrected, wary of their surroundings “and I’m not saying I believe it…I’m just keeping an open mind. Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to preach to me these last few years?”
Before Steele could retort the doors of the convention center opened, and people began moving toward the entrance in a mass. One man, considerably shorter then Steele lost his footing and stumbled right into him, causing both to fall to the floor.
Steele wound up flat on his back, as the man had fallen on top of him.
“I’m so sorry sir” the man said helping Remington to his feet “It’s my first time at one of these things, ‘fraid I don’t know what to do with myself” He chuckled good naturedly.
“Quite alright, I’m a bit nervous myself”
“I should be gettin back to my wife—she worries so”
“Of course, it was a pleasure bumping into you” Remington said, extending his hand politely. The man accepted, shaking hands jovially.
For an instant Steele’s blue eyes made contact with the man’s green ones, and a strange since of Déjà vu past over the detective; but it was gone in an instant, and the man followed suit.
Steele cleared his throat, and self consciously ran his hands through his hair, a vein attempt to tame its some what mussed appearance.
“Shall we Mr. Ruggles?” Laura said, taking Remington’s offered arm
“Indeed Ms. Groggins” Steele replied, but before he could take a step something caught his eye. It was small and silver; Steele bent down to retrieve it. Holding it up to the light for further scrutiny he assessed that it was a lighter, a fairly expensive one judging by the craftsmanship. And not only was it expensive, it was obviously custom made; beneath an emerald green shamrock something was written, but it was in language Steele couldn’t decipher.
“Is minic a gheibhean beal oscailt diog dunta.” Laura recited staring intently at the object in her husband’s hand. “What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know, but just the same we should hang on to it—in case the owner comes looking for it later.”
****
