Thanks again to Beth and Mary Beth for all of their great suggestions. And to Deborah Joy Levine for not suing me (hint hint) for using some of her dialogue and ideas.
Jogging up to the entrance of EPRAD, Clark smiled. Lois was standing there glancing at her watch and tapping her foot. It seemed entirely possible that she had been doing that since the moment she arrived, just so he would feel badly about being late. But thanks to his enhanced abilities, there was no way he was late. She must have called him from her car phone or something. Lois could not have possibly made it to EPRAD from the Planet’s office as quickly as he had gotten here.
Deciding this was just one way in which Lois was going to make it clear that she was in charge, Clark decided to humor her for the moment. “Sorry I took so long, Lois. Thanks for waiting for me.”
Lois looked up and for an instant, it was clear she was surprised. She had just called Clark five minutes ago. Then she smiled – if he apologized that easily, he was going to be easy to control.
“Well, come on, we can’t afford to wait any longer,” and without looking back, Lois turned and walked through the door.
Clark stood back and let Lois take charge of their interview with Dr. Baines. It was clear she wanted to. And besides, Clark had spent part of the previous day reading old copies of the Daily Planet. There was no question that he could learn a lot from Lois. Her writing was clear and sharp. And her stories were amazing – nearly all had been on the front page of the paper.
On the other hand, it was not Clark’s first day as a reporter. So when Baines said that no press was allowed to see the Messenger remains, Clark smiled at her. He had seen her eyeing him earlier. “No exceptions?” he asked.
Lois rolled her eyes, and then immediately did so again, when Baines replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Well, she was co-operative,” Clark said, as they walked out. He smiled – he was sure Lois did not agree, but there was something so satisfying about seeing this woman all wound up.
When Lois just nodded her head, but did not say anything, Clark tried again. “She’s attractive, too. And young for a woman in her position.”
“Typical,” Lois muttered.
“What?” Clark smiled. It was working.
Lois stopped her fast-paced walking to turn around and face Clark. “Nothing. It’s just that’s a typical male response.”
Clark said nothing, wishing that he was actually a typical male.
************************
Clark followed Lois into the newsroom, not completely sure what he should be doing. He stood next to her awkwardly while she made herself a cup of coffee and was just about to ask her what he was supposed to be doing when a tall woman with long auburn hair and not nearly enough clothing on walked right up to him, completely invading his personal space.
“Hi there,” she said, her voice husky and low.
“Hi,” Clark replied, trying to keep his voice even. He knew he had failed when he saw Lois grin.
“I’m Cat,” the woman said, holding her hand out to him palm down as if she expected him to kiss it.
“Clark,” he replied, his voice more normal this time. He took her hand and turning it slightly, he shook it before stepping back slightly. Cat followed him.
“You must be new around here,” Cat said, “I’d love to show you around.” She wound an arm around his neck.
Clark looked around, trying to find a way out. Lois was rolling her eyes again and he knew she would not be any help. “Um…maybe when I get settled in?” Clark tried to state, but the question was clear in his voice.
Cat smiled, “Count on it, Clark.” She lowered the hand behind his head to pinch his backside and then sashayed away.
Clark let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding when she walked away. Looking around the newsroom, he realized that Lois had moved back to her desk.
He walked over to it, leaning on the edge. “So, now what do we do?”
Lois looked up at him, annoyed. He wondered if she practiced that look in front of a mirror. “We don’t do anything,” she told him, her tone acerbic. “I am going to start writing up the story. You go home. I’ll call you if Ms. Young and Attractive Scientist calls us back. I may need help there and she seems to like you.”
Clark, completely ignoring her tone, asked, “Aren’t I going to help you write the story?”
Lois looked surprised, but taking a deep breath replied, “I don’t need help writing a story, Farmboy. It’s my job.”
“But…” Clark trailed off, not sure what to say. Wasn’t that why he was there? “Aren’t I going to help you?”
“I don’t need your help,” Lois repeated.
“But I thought you called me because you liked my article about the theater,” Clark could nearly hear the whine creeping into his voice and took a deep breath. Behaving like a child was not the answer here.
“No, I did not,” Lois clarified. It was clear from her tone that it did not even occur to her that this may be hurtful. “I thought it was soft and mushy. I do not write soft and mushy pieces, Clark. I write the news. I called you as Perry insisted.”
Clark nodded, deciding that if he did not want to continue to hear a childish tone to his voice, he was best off not speaking. Turning around, he walked out of the newsroom.
Lois glanced down at her computer about to write. For some reason she looked up and caught sight of Clark standing by the elevator. His shoulders were slumped and for a moment she felt badly. She supposed she could have been kinder to him. “You were awful to him,” a voice in her head whispered. She should apologize to him, she knew. His writing was not bad, really, even if it was not her style. And he had been helpful with Baines, pushing her when he saw that he was likely to get further than she could have with the woman.
And yet, even knowing she owed him an apology, Lois did nothing, just watched as Clark walked into the elevator and the doors closed between them.
************************
Clark lay on his bed at the Apollo hotel staring at the ceiling. Lois Lane infuriated him. She was so condescending and… well, just plain rude. He tried taking deep breaths to calm down, but that did not help.
He knew why she was like this. Or at least part of it. She was angry at having to work with him. And that was partly his fault. She may not have been so angry if she respected him more. If he had been a staff reporter, she would have. Maybe she would not be all sunshine and roses, but Clark suspected she would have behaved better than she was. But he could not get a job as a staff reporter. He had done that once before and then felt badly when he needed to leave so abruptly.
He was on his way back to his room when he first noticed it. He smiled and waved at Shreela and Emmanuel. They were not close friends, but in the past they had always seemed happy to see him.
It was not exactly like Clark blended in with the locals in Arusha. His olive skin tones had made him look like a local in Greece and he had had even been able to pass in South America, but here he stood out among all the dark-skinned natives. But overall, everyone here was very friendly and welcoming and people often stopped to talk to Clark when they passed, all surprised to find this westerner among them, particularly one who knew Swahili. But today the smile on Shreela’s face did not reach her eyes and Emmanuel looked away when he took in Clark’s face.
He did not mean to listen in, but it happened almost without his thinking. “Do you think it’s true?” Emmanuel asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Shreela answered. “It can’t be, right?”
“But then how did it happen?” Emmanuel countered. “No normal person could have gotten to Priya that quickly.”
Clark could see Shreela nodding her head in thought, but then Clark realized what he was doing and stopped eavesdropping.
He sighed. He was hoping to stay here a little longer. It had only been a month. And he really liked it here. He had been helping Henry with his farm and working at the Arusha Times. It was his first staff job at a newspaper and he liked it. The Arusha Times was a pretty major newspaper by Tanzania standards, so there were about thirty people working on it. And since the paper was produced in English, there were other Americans working there besides himself. The paper had a very close community feel to it – so many of people being so far away from the rest of their family. They had had a potluck two weeks ago to celebrate Thanksgiving. While it was hosted by David and Fannie, they had invited many of the people from the newsroom – including the small crew from England and several of the local Arushans. Overall, Clark felt like he belonged here. For a few days he had even fantasized about staying here longer term.
But that had been before Priya had gotten caught in the windstorm. Daytime disasters were always the problem. At night he could wear all black and if he was lucky, no one would see him, but during the day, he could not blend in. But if he had not saved her, Priya would have died.
Clark sighed. He supposed Paris would make a good next stop.
No, Clark knew well that working freelance was a better idea for him.
************************
Lois tapped a pen against her desk repeatedly. She could see Stan glaring at her out of the corner of her eye, but decided she did not care. She was not sure what her next move should be. She had considered going to see if Platt had gotten his report together yet, but he had promised to drop it off when he gathered all of it.
Without the report, she did not have a story. She had written the intro, but she needed more. Plus, she felt like even the intro was missing something, although she was not yet sure what.
“Why do I care?” Perry asked, leaning over her shoulder.
“What?” Lois looked at him confused.
“You say that if the answer to what caused the Messenger explosion isn’t found, the Space Station Prometheus will not be launched. Why do I care?” Perry asked again.
“Why do you care? Why do you care?” Lois asked, exasperated. “It’s the space station!”
“And?”
“It’s the whole point of the space program. Learning about new frontiers and all that.”
“Yeah, I get that. And it seems a bit sad, but really, not a big deal. I’ll forget about it tomorrow. It doesn’t concern me, make me feel bad, or sad, or angry. Nothing about it is lasting.”
Lois looked at him blindly.
“I don’t run stories on the front page that I won’t remember tomorrow, Lois. Make me care.” Perry’s words were gentle.
“I hate it when you try to improve my writing,” Lois grumbled.
“Where’s Kent?” Perry asked.
“I sent him home,” Lois replied, deadpan. She did not mention that she was not exactly kind when she did so. She was still feeling a bit guilty – just a bit, though.
Perry shook his head, “Don’t push him away, Lois. You can learn from him, too.”
“I can learn from him?” Lois asked, clearly annoyed. “He has no experience, doesn’t even want a real job. I’m a three time Kerth winner!” Lois crossed her arms in front of her chest, her entire body making her feelings about this clear.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t improve, Lois. Kent would find the angle to make me care.”
Lois did not say anything; she just stood there glaring at Perry.
Perry sighed and was about to walk away when he noticed Clark come in through the elevators. Something was off about his stance, Perry thought. For someone who had just been given the right to investigate a story without a staff job, he looked awfully down. Shaking his head, Perry sighed again. He was certain that some of the attitude Lois had just exhibited had come out while Clark was around.
“Lois?” Clark asked, his voice hesitant.
Lois turned to him, but did not say anything.
Clark held his hand out to Perry. “Thank you for giving me this chance, Mr. White.”
Perry smiled, “It’s Perry. And if you go to accounting when you are finished talking to Lois, they’ll cut you a check for the Bernhardt Theater article. That was good writing, son. Very good.”
Clark smiled broadly, the smile reaching his eyes. “Thanks, Perry.”
“What did you want, Clark?” Lois asked sounding somewhat exasperated, but the sound was a bit flat – not nearly as cold as Perry would have expected.
“I went to see Platt,” Clark started and then rushed to explain before Lois could get upset. “You said you didn’t need help writing the story, but I felt like I should do something. So, I went to talk to him. He’s still working on the report, but he said something I thought you’d want to know.”
Lois was tempted to tell him off for cutting into her investigation, but decided to see what he had found out first. “So?” she prodded him.
“Platt has a young teenage daughter who is disabled. She is supposed to go live on Space Station Prometheus.”
“And I care, why?” Lois asked. She saw Perry smile out of the corner of her eye, but decided not to respond.
“Well, Platt thinks that the space station will enable us to find cures to certain conditions – and his daughter might be able to walk again….” Clark trailed off, and when he continued, he sounded less sure of himself. “I thought it might make a good human interest angle to the story about the Messenger explosion.”
Perry laughed, shaking his head, “Good work, Clark. I think you have the right idea.” With that, he walked away.
Lois tried hard not to get angry just because Clark brought in exactly what Perry wanted. She was still feeling a bit guilty about earlier and so decided to be somewhat nicer to Clark.
Pointing to an empty desk she said, “Sit there. I’ll send you what I wrote so far and you can weave your human interest angle into.”
“I can write it?” Clark asked, hating the fact that he sounded like a four-year-old.
“You can write it. That doesn’t mean I’ll use it. This is my story, Farmboy.” She said she’d be nicer to him, not nice.
While he wrote, Clark tried not to hear Lois on the phone, but it was hard to ignore the resigned tone to her voice.
Hanging up, she walked over to the desk he was sitting at. “How’s it going?” she asked. It may have been the most civil thing she had said to him since they met.
“Good,” Clark replied, smiling at her warmly. “I’m hoping it won’t be clear where your writing leaves off and mine begins. Then maybe you’ll use my copy,” he teased her.
Lois smiled, “I’m sure I will. I lied earlier – the theater story was good. Not my style, but good writing.”
Clark’s smile was so wide and so genuine it almost felt better to Lois than when he thanked her, his voice quiet.
“Are you busy tonight?” she asked him.
Clark’s eyebrows raised slightly, then he remembered the phone conversation. Her date for Lex Luthor’s ball had cancelled as he had the sniffles. Trying not to smile, Clark replied, “I was planning to go to sleep early.”
“You were planning to go to sleep early?” Lois asked, incredulous. “Clark, tonight is Lex Luthor’s White Orchid Ball – it’s the social event of the season. Everyone who is anyone will be there.”
Clark tried hard not to laugh – Lois did not strike him as someone who would keep up with these types of social events unless they had news value. Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “I didn’t realize it was that big a deal.”
“Well, do you want to go?” Lois asked, starting to feel impatient.
“On a date? With you?” Clark asked.
“A date? Oh, you mean like in Kansas where you meet my parents and then you try to give me a hickey in the empty lot behind the Dairy Freeze. No, this is not a date! This is business. I’m going to get the first one-on-one Lex Luthor interview.”
“If it’s business, why do you need a date?” Clark asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.
“I don’t need a date,” Lois explained. “I thought you may want to come along. See a real reporter in action.”
“A real reporter?” Clark asked. So much for her being nice.
Lois decided to ignore the tone to his voice, “Look, Clark, do you want to go or not?”
“I’ll meet you there at seven,” Clark smiled.
Lois walked back to her desk, smiling once she knew Clark could not see her.
************************
Clark landed outside his parents’ farmhouse, the noise announcing his arrival so both his parents met him at the backdoor. He was in the doorway in two strides, wrapping his arms around his mom and then his father. He could not believe how much he had missed them during his few days in Metropolis. He had certainly gone longer than a couple of days without seeing them before, but somehow being in Metropolis was different – emotionally draining.
Martha placed her arm around Clark’s back bringing him inside. “How long are you staying?” she asked.
“Just for dinner. I’m going to the White Orchid Ball tonight, so I need to be back by six Metropolis time.”
“The White Orchid Ball? Lex Luthor’s party?” Martha asked, impressed.
“Yeah,” Clark clarified. “I guess the Daily Planet got several tickets and I’m the lucky beneficiary of one of them.”
“The Planet?” Jonathan asked.
“Oh, right, I didn’t tell you,” Clark said, the excitement clear in his voice. “I sold an article to the Daily Planet today. And I’m working on another one with Lois Lane.”
“Lois Lane?” Martha asked, her eyebrows raised, right as Jonathan said, “Congratulations, son,” pride clear in his voice.
“Thanks,” Clark said to his father, and then looking at his mother, “She’s the woman who invited me to the Ball,” Clark tried to keep his voice straight, but Martha smiled.
“So, what’s she like?” Jonathan asked, sneaking a smile at Martha.
Clark looked to the side, trying to think of an accurate way to describe Lois. “Lois is… well, she’s complicated. Domineering. Uncompromising. Pig-headed… Brilliant.” Jonathan and Martha shared another smile before Clark clarified, “And it’s not like we’re really going out. It’s business.”
Martha tried to hide her snicker while she put a plate down in front of Clark. “Smells great, Mom,” Clark smiled, trying to change the topic of conversation. Looking up, he asked, “What’s that?” pointing into the living room.
“Your mother is an artiste,” Jonathan said, sounding slightly contemptuous.
“They are offering a sculpting class at the high school,” Martha explained.
“It’s…interesting,” Clark said judiciously. Jonathan smiled.
