Author's Note: My apologies first that this part is being posted so late and secondly that it's so short. I should have known better than to try to write fanfic during James' busy season at work. However it didn't make sense to post a NaNoWriMo ad after November was finished.
Previously, on part two:
Last night she had almost dozed off in the edge of an alley. It was a good thing she only had brought her keys, her pen and her notepad or else she may have ended up a statistic—not that she was worried about it. She could handle herself on the streets of Metropolis any day of the week.
Still, her game was a little off at work the next day.
Clark was putting in some kind of a bid to travel to some boring news story that wasn’t local at all. She was halfway through the conversation before she realized that Perry was not only buying his plug but also was considering sending her along.
It was bad enough that she had to cover for him in Metropolis, but there was no way she was going to cut him any slack in Pig Slop, Kentucky.
“If he needs a partner he can take Carl from Travel,” she’d argued.
“Carl doesn’t do hard news,” Perry had stated firmly. She raised an eyebrow in contempt. As if the EPA messing with the FFA was hard news!
“Exactly,” Clark had sided with him like a good little brownnoser. “I just have a feeling that there’s more going on here than meets the eye. Whoever covers this one is going to have to have the ability to dig beneath the surface… kind of like the first reporters at Love Canal.”
It didn’t sound a bit like Love Canal to her. It sounded like the same government runaround spin that happened in every city in every state of every country. Besides, she wasn’t sure she could continue to keep the grit going for Wanda if Lois were writing in some soybean field in the Heartland.
“You’re gonna’ let me cover a big story like that? Wow! I should be so honored,” she sniped in return. “You gonna’ buy me a Greyhound ticket? I’m not sure they can land airplanes on Podunkville’s gravel roads.”
“It’s Smallville,” Clark interrupted, correcting a perfectly good slur. “The airport is only about an hour’s drive away by paved, divided, four-lane highway, and I think the story will be worth your while. Big government versus everyday American. It’s the kind of thing that resonates with the reader.”
“Maybe you would have a point if this were the Reader’s Digest, but this is The Daily Planet. We report on cutting edge stories for a sophisticated readership.”
“Part of sophistication is diversity,” Clark retorted.
“We have plenty of diversity here. We don’t need to export it. Besides, this story is better suited to the Little League Press.”
“Just in case you two hadn’t noticed,” Perry interrupted, “I run this little shindig. I decide who covers what story. I the say who, where and when, and if I pick you I expect you to go.”
“Fine,” Lois agreed with a flip of the watch. “But right now I say that I’m late to my doctor’s office.”
Clark switched gears on a dime. The snooty farmboy was gone, replaced by the gentle boy-next-door who wrote touchy feely like it was front page news. “You okay?” She halfway expected him to kiss her forehead like her grandma used to do when she was worried young Lois might be feverish.
“I’m fine.” She pulled her purse from the bottom drawer, stuffed her notebook inside and slammed the drawer shut with the sole of her pumps. “I’m sure it’s no more serious than any of the—what was it, three?—visits you took to the dentist last week. Let me know what you decide, Chief. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As she got to the elevator she overheard Clark giving another of his lame excuses. “That reminds me. I need to go see my pharmacist.”
And now, Part three:
Lois Lane was a coward. When she reached the doctor’s office she was too mortified to tell him the truth about what happened.
Actually she was thrown for a loop long before her physician walked in the room. The nurse was being really snippy about it having been seven years since she’d done a foot-in-the-stirrups kind of exam, asking Lois repeatedly if that was all that had happened medically since her last examination. Of course that was all that had happened. Busy journalists didn’t have time for illness. Besides, seven years wasn’t all that long for someone with Lois’ good genes and a healthy metabolism.
She wondered why she was even bothering with the tests. Clark had assured her that nothing had happened between them and she wasn’t tender in the places that would indicate he was lying. She trusted him completely.
On the other hand, she had vivid memories that she couldn’t simply dismiss. Memories like that had to come from experience. Obviously the tests were necessary.
So after an hour of flipping through the poor, outdated excuses for writing which filled the magazine racks and stewing over the busybody nurse’s unwarranted feedback, Lois wasn’t feeling all that forthcoming anymore. Apparently the doctor’s watch ran fast, too. His hand was on the doorknob long before her two-and-a-half-minute exam should have been over. She’d spluttered a request that the doctor do a blood test to look for anything that might show up in someone who was single, but not dead. Hopefully he understood her intensions. He’d made a note in her chart and sent the medical historian back in with a needle and two vials to fill.
So when she’d shuffled into her apartment later that afternoon feeling sore in all the wrong places, humiliated, and angry both with herself and that poor excuse for a nurse, she hadn’t felt too much like writing.
Her story left off in the middle of a flashback. Memories of dating a duke as a young debutante conflicted with Wanda’s current battles with cigarettes and booze. Real emotions warred within the singer as a gravelly voice and graying memories threatened her future. That human-interest-monger of a partner who had been hounding her all morning couldn’t have written it better.
Yet it was difficult for Lois to jump into all of that angst headfirst and throw caution to the wind.
It was only three thirty, but perhaps she should prepare an early dinner so she would have the freedom to write without interruption all evening long. She opened her pantry and pulled out her stack of takeout menus.
She was in the mood for Hunan, but none of the local places delivered unless you were ordering a family-sized meal. It would have to be pizza.
Actually pizza would be a good choice because it would keep her filled all evening long so she wouldn’t have to stop writing to snack. Besides, it wouldn’t be all that unappetizing if her muse kicked in and dinner got cold. If only she were in the mood for pizza… Lois sat down with a notepad and perused her ingredients. She wanted to choose well, knowing that she needed ingredients with staying power, ingredients which would boost her creativity, something that would…
A knock on the door interrupted her decision-making process. She glanced at the clock. Who would be visiting at four in the afternoon? She opened the locks and swung the door.
“Jimmy? Did you need something?”
“Hey, Lois,” he greeted her casually. “The chief asked me to swing by with your tickets since your flight leaves so early.”
“My flight?”
“Unfortunately since you’re flying last minute, I couldn’t get anything direct which would fit in the Planet’s expense account recommendations. You’ll be leaving at five with a layover in St. Louis.”
“Five A.M.?”
The gopher shrugged an apology. “Here’s your itinerary. They’ll be holding your boarding pass at the gates, so you’ll need to arrive early.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.” She wondered what would happen if she accidentally overslept and missed her flight.
“One more thing--the chief wanted to know if you wanted me to give you a wakeup call.”
So much for that idea. “No, you can sleep in.”
After they had said their goodbyes, she shoved the paperwork into her briefcase. She had no intention of packing until she had written a few thousand words. She shoved her menu and notes aside and got her notebook out. It was time to get some writing done.
She tried to channel the rebellion that a teenage girl dating a full-grown man of influence might feel. He was off limits. He was naughty. He was just what she wanted.
She picked up her pen and let it perch on the edge of her lip while she searched for the perfect phrase to launch the next section. She let the mood envelope her, waiting for the words to wash over her.
She reread the last segment. She had misspelled provocative. Come to think of it, clandestine didn’t look right either.
She had to stop editing. There would be time to edit in December, but she didn’t have any time tonight if she were going to meet her goals. She was especially cramped for time now that Perry had her commuting halfway across the country for this wannabe story.
She warmed up her pen by making curlicues down the left margin.
She felt as if the right word was on the tip of her tongue. If only she could get it onto paper.
Maybe the cleanliness of the apartment was stunting her writing. Maybe she needed to go back to the docks.
Maybe she would feel better if she shot whoever it was who was knocking on her door. Whatever happened to the finer points of etiquette, like calling ahead of time to make sure ones intrusive ways would be welcomed.
It was Clark, of course. She tried not to groan as she opened the door, standing in the doorway so he wouldn’t assume he was invited inside.
“Hi. I just thought I’d stop by to tell you that Perry sent us home early tonight so we could be packed before our flight tomorrow.”
She didn’t point out that she was already home. Certainly it was obvious to the both of them.
Her smile was wan. Her voice, flat. “Thanks.”
“Are you feeling okay?” This time he actually did reach out, gently brushing her cheek with the back of his hand as if to check for a fever.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, although her voice sounded oddly shaky. She cleared her throat before she continued. “It wasn’t that kind of a doctor’s appointment.”
“So you’re not worried about anything?”
“Don’t tell me. In Kentucky the men are men, and they don’t visit the doctor unless a limb is missing or they lose touch with one of the five senses--except maybe smell. I bet you could easily live without the sense of smell out there on the hog farm.”
“You know I’m from Kansas, we don’t raise hogs on my family’s farm--never have, and you didn’t answer the question.”
“I did answer the question, even before you asked it. I said, ‘I’m fine.’”
“Fine, I don’t want to talk about it? Fine, the test results haven’t been confirmed yet? Fine, absolutely fine?”
“I’ll see you in the morning, Clark.” She slowly swung the door shut, giving him ample opportunity to take a half-step back so it wouldn’t hit him in the face.
He stopped it with his hand for just a moment before taking his leave. “Just as long as you’re okay.”
“Goodbye.” She smirked as closed the deadbolt. Her partner was such an old woman at times. Still, it was nice to know that he was looking out for her.
If only he was as faithful to her as a work partner as he was as a friend. She wondered who had covered for Clark while she was at the doctor’s office. He had taken off early, so surely he hadn’t made up for lost time all by himself.
She sighed. She wasn’t going to let anybody from the Daily Planet or anywhere else distract her anymore. She would be a lean, mean writing machine, focused on her task, immovable. It was quarter to five already, and time was seriously flying by.
She sat back down at her table with her notepad poised. She had her paper and her favorite pen. She was ready to write.
All that she lacked was the inspiration. She dropped her pen to the table and perched her chin on her hand.
As she did so, her fingers brushed her cheek. Perhaps the duke ought to brush Wanda’s cheek with his fingers. It had made Lois feel special when Clark had done that. Certainly Wanda would feel the same way. Better yet, maybe she should end the flashback and bring Wanda back together with Kent. It would be fabulous if Kent were to touch Wanda that way.
It was funny where inspiration came from. Who would have known that an unsophisticated guy like Clark would provide fodder for a romance novel? But who cared? The important thing was that she was writing again.
