This is the sequel to
Weekend in Smallville .
Thanks to each person who asked for a sequel. I hope you enjoy it.
Many, many thanks to Iolanthe Alias who beta-ed and supplied great suggestions, probing questions, much-appreciated enthusiasm and encouragement and, as a bonus, a few lessons on American life.
FIRST DAYS IN METROPOLIS
by Female Hawk
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Most of the characters are not mine. Occasional lines are not mine. No infringement intended.
What if there *was* a space capsule?
A baby alien?
A strand of hair?
What if the Sewells’ story of an alien had contained some truth? *Any* truth?
Lois walked out of the elevator and to her desk at the Daily Planet. Franklin Hodge had said ‘do you have any evidence?’ not ‘there is no evidence'.
Not for the first time, Lois Lane felt a sense of unrest as she remembered her weekend in Smallville.
She accepted Clark Kent wasn’t an alien, but it didn’t necessarily follow there was *no* alien. Nor did it make the rest of the Sewells’ story a fabrication.
Was it possible?
Anything was possible, she thought grimly, remembering her own actions. She was there as a reporter, yet she’d closed her mind to a whole side of the story as the saga surrounding the Kent family had completely absorbed her.
Maybe it was the place. Smallville had a certain charm, she had to admit that. It drew you in and re-aligned your priorities.
Maybe it was the people. Martha and Jonathan Kent were uncomplicated, loving people whose personal contentment reached out and infused everyone in their vicinity.
Or maybe it was him. Clark Kent. Clark Kent, who lived his integrity as naturally as he breathed.
No, she told herself firmly, it wasn’t him. Not really. No more than a little, anyway.
Yet, in the three weeks since she’d returned, she’d noticed tiny differences in herself. She was more human, less driven, more compassionate, less intense, more relaxed, less single-minded.
She was losing her edge!
All she *really* needed was a good night’s sleep, she told herself. Dream-free sleep.
“Lois! The Chief wants you in his office.”
Perry was grinning. He probably had a dud story he wanted her to do – a story he knew she wouldn’t want to do. “Lois,” he said. “I’ve decided the Planet needs another reporter.”
Uh oh.
“I want you to show him the ropes.”
“No way, Perry. I don’t babysit copyboys.”
“You do this time.”
“Perry, I’m working on the children’s hospital story, I have no time for –“
Perry still had that ridiculous grin on his face. In fact, he was laughing at her. Lois heard a small sound behind her and swung around.
Clark Kent, freshly shaven and dark hair shining, stood there, looking sensational in a black suit, white shirt and a diamond-patterned brown tie - the *exact* brown of the eyes she was steadfastly avoiding. She recovered enough breath to ask, “What are you doing here, farmboy?”
“Lois, this is Clark Kent,” Perry said, clearly enjoying the charade. “He sent me his résumé a while back and I think he is exactly what we need. Clark, this is Lois Lane, the best darn investigative reporter this paper’s ever had.”
Clark shook her hand, grinning like a schoolboy. “It’s a pleasure, Ms Lane.”
Perry put one hand on each of their shoulders. “Now the formalities are done with, I want you kids to work on the hospital story together.”
“Together?” Lois choked.
“Together,” Perry confirmed.
“Why?”
“It will help Clark find his way around and it worked fine on the alien blackmail story.”
“That was Smallville.”
“And this is Metropolis.” Perry’s tone was final.
Lois flounced out of Perry’s office leaving Clark Kent to follow if he wanted to. He always did in her dreams.
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“Where are we going?” Clark asked as Lois drove the Jeep way too fast through heavy traffic.
“To see Janet Thorp. She’s a seamstress. She owns a tiny place on the East Side.”
“What does she have to do with the hospital?”
“Lex Luthor wants to build a new children’s hospital. He’s bought most of the land in the area – only Janet Thorp is holding out.”
“Who’s Lex Luthor?”
“The third richest man in the world.”
“Why won’t Janet Thorp sell?”
“That’s what we have to find out. Maybe a little publicity might push her in the right direction.”
This is good, Clark thought, remembering how cautiously he’d had to solicit information in Smallville. “So you think the hospital is a good thing?”
She glanced disdainfully in his direction. “Don’t you have sick children in Smallville?”
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Janet Thorp’s shop was little more than a counter with a tiny, poorly-lit room behind it. They heard the sound of a sewing machine from the depths of gloom.
“Ms Thorp!” Lois called.
An untidily dressed woman came from the shadows. “Yes.”
“Lois Lane, Daily Planet. Oh, and Clark Kent.”
Clark smiled at the woman and noticed with surprise she was very young – maybe not yet twenty.
“We understand you received an offer to buy your...” Lois gestured to the room. “... your property.”
Janet nodded.
“Did you think the offer was fair?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you understand the offer?”
“Yes.”
“Why haven’t you accepted?”
Janet looked down to where she was nervously picking at her finger nails. “I don’t want to sell,” she muttered.
“What did you say?” Lois demanded.
Clark rested fingertip pressure on Lois’s elbow. “Why don’t you want to sell?” he asked gently.
Janet lifted her eyes. She looked like a lost child, yet there was an undeniable dignity in her stance. “This is my mother’s business. I don’t want to leave.”
Lois brushed Clark’s hand off her arm. “Where is your mother?” she asked.
“She died last year.”
“Oh. Sorry for your loss.”
“We’re very sorry for your loss,” Clark said. “This must be difficult for you.”
“I believe the offer was very generous,” Lois said, her tone a tad softer. “If you sold you could start again. Maybe somewhere a little bigger, a little brighter?”
“She died here,” Janet whispered.
“Do you know what Lex Luthor is going to do with this land?” Lois asked.
Clark saw Janet’s jaw muscles twitch as she shook her head.
“He’s going to build a hospital for our children.”
“Oh.”
“So think about it, OK?” Lois suggested with an encouraging smile. “Metropolis needs this hospital and you need somewhere better.”
Lois and Clark turned back to the Jeep.
“Won’t ever sell to *him*.”
Clark heard Janet’s low words and turned back, but she had disappeared into her room. “Lois, I think we should ask Janet more questions.”
“Why? We said enough to get her thinking.”
“I thought we were trying to find out why she doesn’t want to sell.”
“We did. Her mother.”
“I think there is more to her story,” Clark persisted.
“Of course there is. She’s young, she’s grieving. She’s trying to work in a small, dank room and all the odds are set squarely against her achieving much at all.”
“So, maybe we could help her?”
“We did. We basically told her to take Luthor’s offer. She’s fortunate she happens to be right where he wants to build the hospital.”
“She looked so alone.”
As they reached the Jeep, Lois stopped and faced him. “Clark,” she said. She rested her hand on the sleeve of his jacket in a gesture which was sharply reminiscent of the Lois of his memories. “As we drive back to the Planet, look around. For every Janet Thorp there are a thousand other people in circumstances just as bad. We’re reporters, not social workers.”
“We should go back. She had more to say.”
Lois sighed and raised her hand off his arm. “Just get in the Jeep, Clark.”
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They were stuck in traffic, which further soured Lois’s mood.
Clark realised his smartest move would be to clamp shut his mouth. But if he allowed that precedent to lodge in her mind, it could take him months to claw back. “Lois?”
“What?”
“I’m not naive enough to think anything that happened in Smallville qualifies me to be your co-worker, nor even your friend, but I’m confused by your animosity.”
“I work alone. I didn’t ask for this.”
“Neither did I! It was Perry’s idea.”
“There are thousands of newspapers in this country. Why the Planet?”
“I sent Perry my résumé months ago. Before I met you.”
“I can’t think of anyone less suited to working at the Planet.”
Clark swallowed. “Why?”
“If it’s not obvious now, it will be very soon.”
“I’m not expecting this to be easy, Lois.”
“Good.” She accelerated suddenly and squeezed the Jeep into a gap in traffic barely big enough for a pushbike. “You coming to the Planet? Does it have anything to do with me?”
Clark shifted uneasily. “A little.”
“*Please* don’t tell me you’re in love with me.”
“OK.” He gazed out of his window. “I’d been reading your work and it inspired me. I thought coming here would help me become a better reporter. I didn’t assume we’d work together.”
“It didn’t occur to you to mention this in one of your e-mails?”
“Lois, I got a call from Perry late yesterday. I flew to Metropolis this morning. I interviewed just before lunch. I looked for you when I came in, but I couldn’t see you. Perry called later and asked me to come back to the Planet. He told me I had the job, shook my hand and called you in. There wasn’t a lot of time for national announcements.”
“So not once, in Smallville maybe, or since, you thought to say ‘I’ve applied for a position at the Planet’?”
He sighed. “Lois, there *was* no position. I just sent my résumé. When I didn’t hear back, I figured nothing would come of it. And I didn’t want you to think I expected you to ... you know ... put in a word for me.”
“So you’re here now ... starting today?”
“Perry asked when I could start, I said ‘now’.”
“What about the Smallville Press?”
“My editor knew I was looking at other options.”
The traffic moved a little and she pressed the accelerator, narrowly missing a cab. “Don’t imagine anything you learned in Smallville will be of much use here.”
“I’m sure you’ll point out where I slip up,” he said wearily.
He was sure she had a retort, but he was saved by the traffic suddenly clearing.
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They had been back at the Planet less than five minutes when Perry called them into his office. “You have an interview with Sarah Crawford.”
“Really?” Lois seemed pleased at this. “When?”
“Now.”
She was out of Perry’s office, past her desk and at the elevator before Clark had the chance to speak.
“Who’s Sarah Crawford?” he asked when he caught up.
“The Crawfords are the oldest, most established family in Metropolis. They are very wealthy, very generous and very exclusive. Two weeks ago, David Crawford was killed in a plane crash. The investigation is ongoing, but there is no evidence of foul play.”
“Sarah’s his widow? Or his daughter?”
“His widow.”
“Why are we interviewing her?”
“The children’s hospital was supposed to be a joint venture between Lex Luthor and David Crawford. Both are incredibly private – they give press conferences to discuss their projects, but no personal interviews – ever.”
They walked out of the Planet building and got into her Jeep.
“It was always thought Lex Luthor and David Crawford were good friends – or at least allies in the business world,” she continued. “They were similar ages, similar wealth, the only difference being Crawford had generations behind him – really old money – whereas Luthor is the archetypical self-made man."
Lois pulled into the line of traffic, seemingly oblivious to both the line of cars behind her and the irritated honks of their drivers.
“Before Crawford died, there were rumours of a major disagreement," she said. "Major enough to threaten the hospital project.”
“Does Luthor have an alibi for Crawford’s death?”
“Yes. Although it is ludicrous to think Luthor could be involved in anything like that.”
“What do we ask Mrs Crawford?”
“*We* don’t. She hasn’t been seen in public since her husband’s funeral. I’ll handle it.”
Clark bit back his reply. Somewhere, hidden under that neat-fitting suit she was wearing, was the Lois he’d known in Smallville. How long would it take for her to surface? Moments? Months? Longer? Did she even exist in Metropolis?
She was still beautiful though and being with her again was like ... waking up after a long hibernation.
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Lois parked in front of a sweeping mansion. “Remember,” she said as they waited to be let in. “I talk, you listen.”
Clark nodded compliantly and Lois felt a pang of guilt. It was for his benefit, she told herself. If she smoothed his way in the beginning, the fall would be that much harder when it finally came. The sooner he realised this was unworkable, the better for everyone.
Sarah Crawford was mid-thirties, blonde, elegant and very suited to the classy, understated wealth of her home. She sat them on a luxurious leather couch and a maid appeared with tea.
“Mrs Crawford, we’re very sorry for your loss,” Lois began.
“Thank you.”
“We know your husband was working on the proposed children’s hospital with Lex Luthor.”
“Yes.”
“Will the Crawford family continue their involvement?”
“That is what David would have wanted.”
“Before your husband’s death, there were rumours he and Lex Luthor hadn’t agreed on various important aspects of the project.”
“I heard those rumours and that is the reason I’m talking to you. David and Mr Luthor did have minor differences, but those differences never threatened the project.”
“What differences?”
“David thought a fifteen storey building would be best. He felt it would mean less disruption to the area and greater ease of moving patients and equipment within the hospital. Mr Luthor wanted a large, single storey building. He believes sick children need to see gardens and flowers, not be stuck in the sky.”
“What had they decided?”
“They intended to further discuss it once David returned.”
“Luthor is in the process of buying the surrounding land.”
“Yes.”
“The building will be Mr Luthor’s preferred model?”
“It seems that way.”
“How do you feel about that?” Clark asked. Lois leant the point of her elbow into his thigh to remind him of his place.
Sarah looked at Clark for the first time. “It’s not important now.”
“You will be heading the Crawford family now?” Lois asked.
“Yes,” Sarah said. “I have two small children and it is their future.”
“Do you have someone to help you?” Clark asked. Lois dug her elbow a little deeper.
“No. David was an only child.”
“Your children’s future is in good hands,” Clark said and Lois could so easily imagine the depth of understanding that would be evident in his brown eyes.
She saw the flicker of appreciation cross the widow’s face. Yep, Sarah Crawford had noticed the brown eyes too. “Will you be personally involved with the hospital project?” Lois asked.
“No. Our contribution will now be limited to a private financial capacity. Our withdrawal from public involvement in the project is entirely due to the passing of my husband.”
Sarah Crawford stood and Lois realised the interview had finished. “Thank you for your time, Mrs Crawford,” she said.
The maid saw them to the door.
“Lois?” Clark said when they were outside.
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you ask her how she feels about Luthor? How she feels about her husband’s wishes being ignored now he has passed away?”
She turned on him. “Let me guess,” she blazed. “You think there’s more to *her* story too?”
“Well, yes.”
Lois took a deep breath and tried to sound reasonable. “Clark, if we keep chasing extraneous tangents, we will never actually write the story.”
“I’m going back in.”
“She won’t see you.”
“Maybe she will,” he countered.
“You think your masculine charm will work a treat on a pretty grieving widow?”
He frowned. “No, I think there is more to the story.”
She could see he was too stubborn to listen to reason. “See you at the Planet,” she snapped. “Try to get back before next week.”
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Moments later, Clark was sitting on the leather couch across from Sarah Crawford. It was probably his imagination, but she seemed to have relaxed a little.
“Was it Luthor’s decision that your input be limited?” he asked. “Or yours?”
“We have only communicated through our lawyers. Luthor notified us he intended to continue with the project. He said we were welcome as silent financial sponsors.”
“Silent?”
She nodded.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I suppose it is for the best. My children will need me more than ever now.”
“But you wish things could be different?”
She shrugged. “Luthor does things his way.” She glanced to the family portrait on the wall above the fireplace. “When I had David, I ran the home and the children and he ran the businesses,” she said.
Clark could see that her hold on her composure was tenuous at best. “Now you have to do it all,” he said compassionately.
“Yes.” She fought against tears for an instant. “Sometimes it overwhelms me.”
“What concerns you most?”
She pushed a blonde lock from her forehead. “I know it sounds silly, but the Crawfords are an institution in Metropolis. I wasn’t born into this family, but now it’s my responsibility. I feel as if past generations of Crawfords are watching me, ready to pounce if I make a mistake.”
She glanced again at the portrait. “Only five years ago, I was Sarah Dixon, independent career woman, with no responsibilities beyond my job and having fun. My most onerous decisions were whether to wear the blue suit or the cream one during the week and which party to attend on the weekend.”
“There’ll still be time to be that person.”
“Not in public. Not now I’m the ...” She met his eyes with just a glimmer of self-mockery. “The Matriarch of the House of Crawford.”
“Maybe you could get a disguise and sneak out occasionally to have fun with your friends.”
She smiled. It was feeble, but a smile nevertheless. “Be two people? The sombre, responsible Crawford matron most of the time, but as occasion warrants ... be Sarah, without anyone knowing.”
“If I ever recognise you, I won’t blow your cover,” Clark promised with a smile.
“Thank you for coming back,” she said as she stood. She didn’t call the maid, but walked with him to the front door.
“Mrs Crawford?” Clark said as she opened the door. “Did your husband trust Mr Luthor?”
She didn’t answer for a stretched moment. “Off the record?” she said. “No.”
Her expression told him she was unwilling to elaborate. “Thank you for your time,” he said.
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Lois was still smarting when she arrived back at the Planet offices. He’d been working less than half a day and had challenged her judgement not once, but twice. In Smallville, he had been content to let her call the shots. Now, just because he was actually employed by the Daily Planet, he thought he had something worthwhile to offer. She was free from him for a couple of hours. It would take him at least that long to find his way back.
She stopped abruptly when she saw him clearing the desk across from hers. How the -?
“I guess you struck out with Sarah Crawford?” she said with a satisfaction she didn’t bother trying to hide.
Clark turned. “No. I went in and we talked.”
They talked? “What did she say?”
“That it was Luthor’s decision she have a financial-only involvement in the hospital.”
“Anything else?”
Clark continued packing things into a box. “Not really.”
“Not really? What do you mean ‘not really’?”
“I mean she said other things which I doubt would be relevant to the story.”
“I can be the judge of that.”
He stopped mid-task and grinned wickedly. “Only if I tell you what she said.”
Lois wanted to throw something at him. Very hard. Instead she went for the lowest blow she could think of. “Did you ask her for a date?”
“Do you think she’d accept?” he asked with infuriating indifference.
She stormed to her desk and deliberately turned her chair away from him. Fifteen minutes later, when she snuck a glance, his desk was deserted.
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Clark saw the thieves run from the bank and get into a car, which raced away. He melted their back tyres with his heat vision and the car skidded towards the sidewalk. Trusting people were watching the car or ducking away in fright, he circled around a couple of buildings and placed himself in the path of the car. As soon he’d stopped it, he leapt out of the way, allowing himself to fall on his back.
A woman rushed over to him and bent down. “Are you hurt?”
He stood, remembering to seem a little shaky. “I ... I don’t think so. What happened?”
“They skidded and I thought they were going to hit you for sure.”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
She walked away, apparently satisfied.
Clark saw two figures emerge from the car and disappear into an alley. He looked through the walls of the bank as they climbed into a van. The police arrived and Clark sprinted over to them. “They’re in the white van in that alley,” he said, pointing. He watched as the officers made the arrest, then slipped behind a newsstand and flew to Paris.
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The words were not flowing easily for Lois. Something had thwarted them. Something tall and dark. With glasses.
What had Sarah Crawford told Clark? Probably nothing, she reasoned. But it rankled anyway.
He’d been gone for half an hour. She would remind him this was not Smallville and he couldn’t disappear whenever the mood took him.
He walked in a few minutes later and came to her desk, carrying two coffees and two paper bags. “Hungry?” he asked nonchalantly.
She chose to ignore the enticing smell of coffee. “I have a story to write.”
“You still have to eat.”
“I’ve eaten.”
He squatted next to her desk. “I’m sorry about the date crack,” he said.
“Me too.”
He handed her one of the cups. “No fat, decaf, no sugar,” he recited. “And a chocolate croissant – not from Smallville – but I found somewhere nearly as good.”
The coffee was great. He always gave her great coffee. She peeked into the bag and her exasperation thawed a few more degrees. “Clark?”
“Uhm?”
“What did Sarah Crawford tell you?”
“Something she said was ‘off the record’.”
“So?”
“So it’s off the record.”
“Did you tell her you wouldn’t tell me?”
“No, but I would have to be sure you wouldn’t put it in the story.”
He took his coffee to his desk and turned on the computer which had been left there for him during his absence. Lois sipped her coffee, pondering his answer. Maybe he wasn’t quite the eager-to-please push-over she had feared. Not that she minded him being a push-over with her. But she was concerned what other people would do to this green, trusting, gullible guy from Smallville.
He wouldn’t last more than a month. She’d bet a lifetime’s supply of chocolate croissants on it.
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Clark had his desk sorted and his computer connected. He’d met Jimmy and Ralph and Cat. His life had progressed very quickly today.
Lois turned off her computer and came over to his desk. “Where are you staying?” she asked. “Can I give you a lift?”
“No, thanks.”
“So you’re staying nearby?”
“Not really.”
“Then I’ll give you a lift.”
He was going to have to confess. “Actually I haven’t had time to organise a room, so I’m flying home tonight.”
“To Smallville?”
“Yeah.”
“Clark, you can’t do that. It’s too far.”
“It’s OK.”
She hesitated and then she said, “Would you like to stay at my place?”
He grinned. “I have your bed? You have the porch?”
“No Clark,” she said with a smile. “I have my bed, you have the couch.”
“Thanks, Lois, but I need to go home. When I left this morning, I didn’t know this was more than an interview.”
“All right, but tomorrow we find a place for you.”
“OK. Good night, Lois.”
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Martha had made roast beef with baked potatoes for supper. Clark sat at his parents’ table and for the first time ever, felt like a guest. He might not have actually spent one night in Metropolis, but he already knew the city was his home.
“How was your day?” his father asked.
“Good.”
“How’s Lois?”
“Good.”
“Did you look for an apartment?”
“Good.”
Martha put her hand on his. “What’s on your mind, Clark?”
“There was a bank robbery today. I stopped the car and watched them until the police came.”
“Did anyone see you?” Jonathan asked.
“No. At least I don’t think so.”
“You need to be careful, Clark.”
“I know, Dad.” He turned to his mom. “I’ve been thinking about a secret identity. Then I could help people and no one would know it was me – Clark.”
“What sort of identity?”
“I don’t know, but I was talking to a woman today. Her husband belonged to a notable Metropolis family and he died recently, so now she heads it. She said she wished she could go out and just be a normal person occasionally and we joked about secret identities.”
“Are you thinking of a mask?”
“No. If I take off my glasses and slick down my hair and wear an identifiable outfit, it may work.”
“What if people recognise you, Clark?”
“I’d have to risk that. I can’t stand by, watching people getting hurt and knowing I could help them. I can’t continually think up ways to help without being noticed. The only way is to be someone else. Someone who can work in the open. Someone who doesn’t have to worry about people seeing his powers. Someone who isn’t Clark Kent.”
“You want me to make an outfit?”
“Thanks Mom. Can you have it ready by tomorrow night?”
“I can try.”
Clark gave his mother a hug and went out onto the porch. The sky was so clear; the silence so intense. Would he miss this?
He remembered standing here when Lois had asked him for the film. He remembered giving it to her, terrified his actions would indirectly lead to her death. He remembered her kissing his cheek. He touched his fingers to that spot again.
She thought he wasn’t suited to working at the Planet. That had struck home - had gone deep that she had such a low opinion of him, when he thought she was ... sublime. She might be right, he realised - maybe he was nothing more, could never be anything more, than a small town journalist. But he intended to give it his best shot.
He might miss his home, his parents, Smallville. But if he stayed here, it would be like living with a hole in his heart.
