From Part 1 ...
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.
Part 2
Lois pulled her knees into her chest and hunkered into the corner of her sofa. Her tub of chocolate ice-cream sat on the coffee table, untouched. She glanced at it, noting that dots of moisture had run down the container and were gathering at the base.
She looked away.
She didn’t want to eat. Not even ice-cream.
She wanted to think.
Clark Kent.
There was the problem. There, in two words. Clark Kent. Clark Jerome Kent.
Kansas farmboy.
Except he wasn’t a boy.
No boy could have so tied her thoughts in knots and rendered her heart incapable of maintaining a regular rhythm.
She’d learnt, through painful experience, how Lois Lane did matters of the heart.
First – she picked the guy, well, her heart did. A very good-looking guy with a body to match, confident, assured, high-profile, powerful, driven and successful.
Then she’d fall hopelessly and pathetically in love with him and her life would be reduced to fear-infested analysis of how he felt about her.
Eventually, he’d have the opportunity to further his success, or build his profile, or assert his power, or test his looks and body on another woman and she, Lois, would be yesterday’s headline.
Soon after that, she would be alone, a torn and tearful ice-cream-eating globule of humiliation.
She had promised herself – never again.
Never.
But you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know Clark Kent was different.
Oh, he had the looks. And the body. She’d known that the second he’d barged into his bedroom in Smallville.
But his considerable physical assets were balanced by a naivety which made her wonder if he’d ever looked in a mirror.
His confidence was balanced with a vulnerability which he didn’t feel compelled to cover with phony superiority.
His assurance was based more on what he believed in than what he believed he could do.
He cared about success. He’d admitted he wanted to be a better reporter. But it didn’t drive him, not to the exclusion of things he cared about more.
Family. Honesty. Principles.
She vented her inner frustration with a loud raspy groan. She could control her unruly preoccupation with Clark. She could. When he was safely tucked away in Smallville.
But now he was here.
In Metropolis.
Working at the Planet.
She’d see him every day, even if Perry didn’t team them together on stories.
Lois shot up from the sofa and hurled the ice-cream into the freezer. She went to her bedroom and took a folded piece of paper from under her pillow.
She straightened it, caressing its creases. It was the copy Nunk – the National Inquisitor’s eminent nuisance - had given her. It was the last thing she’d looked at every night since Smallville.
It was a fake – she knew that now. Nunk - when confronted with the full fury of a Lois Lane who had needlessly bartered her evidence - had admitted he’d been doing what passed as research for him and had stumbled upon the juicy detail that there was no record of Clark’s birth. From there he’d simply obtained a photo of Clark, butchered it a little and run with his alien story.
Had she been in Metropolis, she would have had the resources to disprove his story without ever needing to part with the photos of Franklin Hodge.
But she hadn’t been in Metropolis. She’d been in Smallville, cut off from her networks and out of her comfort zone and barely able to see beyond a family in trouble and a friend being victimised – a friend who, if she was honest, had already affected her beyond friendship.
She clutched the paper to her chest. It was one thing to look at this every night - remembering him and their time together - when she had the comforting buffer of many hundreds of miles.
It was quite another to be pawing over the photo of a colleague.
After a final lingering look, she resolutely ripped it into little pieces and deposited them into the trash.
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Clark looked for an apartment first thing the next morning. He’d already checked the arrival time of the first flight from Smallville and knew he couldn’t get to the Planet before ten o’clock.
He found an apartment – in a not-so-great part of town, with so-so decor and a lot of someone else’s junk. He signed the contract and had the place cleared and cleaned before he walked into the Planet, whistling softly, carrying coffee and croissants.
Lois was at her desk. *Her* desk, just across from *his* desk. At the Daily Planet. Life was good, so very good.
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Lois looked up as Clark walked in with coffee and, she guessed, croissants. “How was your flight?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“You look pretty good,” she said and immediately felt her face heat a little. “For someone who had to fly in this morning,” she added quickly.
He put her coffee and croissant on her desk.
“Clark,” she said sternly. “If we’re going to work together, there are going to have to be rules.”
“Rules?” he said dubiously.
She hid her smile at his expression. “No more than one croissant a week.”
He grinned. “Do you like doughnuts?”
“Clark,” she said with feigned severity. “I’ll be two hundred pounds if you keep going like this.”
His grin said he didn’t particularly share her concerns. “What are we doing today?” he asked.
“We’re finding you somewhere to live. We’re going back to Janet Thorp to ask if she’s made a decision about selling. If she has, we’ll call LexCorp and try to find out if there’s a decision regarding a starting date for the hospital.”
“I’ve found an apartment.”
“You have? That was quick.”
“Just needed a couple of phone calls.”
“Is it – ?“ Lois was interrupted by a commotion near the television. She hurried over to it. Clark followed half a step behind.
“A fire broke out in the tiny shop and spread quickly,” said the television reporter. “A body was found and is thought to be that of the owner, Janet Thorp. It is believed the cause of the fire was faulty electrical wiring.”
Lois heard Clark’s low, despairing groan behind her. She watched him shuffle to his desk and lean against it, head down, staring at the floor, hands buried in his pants’ pockets. She went to him and put her hand on his forearm. “You couldn’t have done anything, Clark.”
“I could have gone back,” he ground out.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“She wanted to talk. I could have listened.”
“I should get over there.”
“I’ll come too.”
“No Clark, you stay here. Get settled in.”
“OK,” he agreed, far more easily than she expected.
As she waited for the elevator, she snuck a look at Clark. He was sitting at his desk, his face bleak. This was his first test and it was going to be tough. And she had no way to protect him.
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Clark dragged himself out of his stupor and logged on to his computer. He needed to find out why Janet was so adamant she would not sell to Luthor. What was the link between them?
An hour later, he had some answers.
He left the Planet and flew towards what was left of Janet Thorp’s tiny shop. On the way, he noticed Lois’s Jeep heading back to the Planet. He landed in a discreet alley and approached the police officers.
“Clark Kent, Daily Planet,” he said, showing his press badge. He felt a glow of satisfaction as he said it. Clark Kent, Daily Planet. Sounded good.
“Henderson. You’re new around here?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you from?”
“Smallville, Kansas. What happened?”
“Electrical fault,” said Henderson. “Looks like she was asleep and didn’t have a chance.”
“Are you sure it’s Janet Thorp?”
“Yes. The neighbour identified the body.”
“Mind if I look around?”
“Go ahead. We’ve finished.”
Clark walked through the tiny side door and into the murky room, still leaden with smoke. He couldn’t forget the dispirited eyes of the girl-woman and deeply regretted not insisting they go back to talk to her.
He lowered his glasses and scanned the room. The wires in the wall *were* frayed and worn. It looked as if the fire had started near her sewing machine. He felt the gloominess permeate his mood. As he turned to leave, he noticed something bright in the dark recesses of the room. He picked it out of the wet ash. It was a cufflink. Once outside, he examined it closely. By his estimation, it was from the higher end of the market. What was it doing in Janet Thorp’s sewing room?
The quality of the cufflink seemed incompatible with the girl he’d met yesterday and there had been no mention of a father. It was possible she had worked on a shirt, but it would be odd for a cufflink to be left on a shirt sent to be mended.
He scanned the room again, then, confident the matching cufflink was not there, slipped the one he had into his pocket and left.
Again, he beat Lois back to the Planet. He was going to have to be careful. She would get suspicious if he continually got around her town quicker than she could.
“Anything?” he asked as she arrived at her desk.
“Nothing suspicious. The fire started in the wall behind the sewing machine, caused by the worn condition of the wiring. Most of those buildings are really old and the wiring isn’t up to standard. It will be a good thing when they’re all demolished for the hospital.”
“You think that’s all there is to the story?” he asked.
“Yes. Don’t you?”
She was asking his opinion. That was progress. “I don’t know. It just seems a bit ... convenient ... that the one person standing in the way of Luthor’s hospital is now dead.” Possibly the other person was David Crawford and he also was dead.
Lois considered for a moment, chewing on her pencil. “My source says Lex Luthor offered her twice what the property was worth and he was willing to double it again. Janet would have sold. It was just a matter of time.”
“Maybe Luthor doesn’t appreciate being stalled.”
“Clark! First you thought Luthor might have killed David Crawford, now you think he’s killed Janet Thorp.”
“Are you sure he didn’t?”
“Clark, remember what you said to me when you were offering to help with my story about Franklin Hodge? About how you knew the people and you knew the town?”
“Yes.” Every shared moment of that weekend was etched in his memory.
“I can say the same to you now. I know Metropolis. Lex Luthor is a private man, an enigma. But I know what he has done for this city and I know people respect him. So it might be wise if you were a little careful with what you say.”
“OK,” he said. “Thanks.”
He decided this was not the time to tell her he had discovered Janet Thorp’s mother had worked for Lex Luthor.
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Early that afternoon, Lex Luthor called a press conference.
“What are you expecting?” Clark asked as Lois drove them to the LexCorp building.
“Something concrete about the hospital would be good.” In the parameters of her vision, she saw he was looking out of his window and she took the opportunity to subtly observe him. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said, too cheerfully.
“No, I mean ... about Janet Thorp. It was a terrible thing to happen on your second day.”
“It was a terrible thing to happen.”
She removed her right hand from the steering wheel and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Are you flying home tonight?”
“The apartment is vacant, so I can stay there.”
“Do you have everything you need? Bed? Bedding? Food?”
“Mostly.”
“I’ll come around with a pizza, so you won’t have to bother with supper.”
He smiled his appreciation, although his eyes were still sombre. “Thanks, Lois.”
She smiled back. “Hey, I owe you Kents a few meals.”
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The press conference was crowded. Lois thrust her way through the assembled press and positioned herself centrally. Clark followed, a little self-conscious at pushing through. He would have been more so if he’d held back and she had summoned him forward.
A dark-haired man came through the side door and onto the raised platform. That must be Lex Luthor.
Luthor surveyed the crowd, stopping now and then to nod to individuals. He smiled. “It is my great pleasure to officially announce that construction of the Luthor Hospital for Children will begin within two weeks.”
There was an audible gasp and Clark noted Luthor’s gratification at their response.
Several people, including Lois, raised their hands and began to speak. Luthor gestured for silence.
“I wish to offer my sincere condolences to the family of Janet Thorp who tragically died this morning. Late yesterday, Ms Thorp signed the contract selling her property to LexCorp.”
His air of satisfaction, understated though it was, grated on Clark who could still so clearly visualise the woebegone figure outside her meagre shop.
“The agreed price will, of course, be paid to her estate,” Luthor continued. “I would also like to add that in a gesture of goodwill, her funeral costs will be met by LexCorp.”
Clark heard the murmur of appreciation. Luthor smiled and then nodded to the man to Clark’s left.
“Commencement of the building in two weeks seems ambitious considering you only purchased the last of the land yesterday,” he said.
“We have a fourteen day settlement on Janet Thorp’s property,” Luthor replied smoothly.
“Do you have visuals?”
Luthor picked up a remote control from the lectern. Behind him, an image of a large, sprawling building appeared on the wall.
“The hospital will be a single storey building stretching from Waverley Road in the east to Glenferrie Street in the west. The wings of the building will be surrounded by lawns and gardens – places of restoration – for families and staff. A helipad will be built on the south east corner of the property, so children can be brought from great distances to receive care and treatment at the Luthor Hospital for Children.”
Lois raised her hand insistently. “Mr Luthor,” she called loudly.
“Ms Lane?”
“When did you decide to reject the multi-storey model?”
Clark saw the glimmer of annoyance cross Luthor’s face. He covered it with an ingratiating smile, aimed squarely at Lois. “Initially, there were two sets of plans,” he conceded. “After much consideration, this plan was found to be inherently superior.”
He waved away any remaining questions and departed through the side door.
Lois looked up at Clark, excited. “This is such good news. When David Crawford died, there were fears this would never eventuate.”
Clark forced a smile. “I guess Janet Thorp changed her mind about selling.”
“I guess so.”
A tall, refined-looking gentleman approached. “Ms Lane?” he said with an English accent. “I’m Nigel St John. Mr Luthor has asked to see you.”
Lois beamed. “Of course.”
“Come this way, Ms Lane.”
Clark followed them to the door. St John held it open for Lois, but blocked Clark’s way. “Ms Lane only.”
“I’ll see you back at the Planet,” Clark called to Lois.
She nodded.
“Be careful,” he added.
The door shut in his face. Clark lowered his glasses and watched as St John and Lois walked down the corridor. Lex Luthor opened a door and greeted her with a kiss on her hand.
Clark pushed back his glasses, convinced David Crawford was right - Luthor was not to be trusted.
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Clark found a telephone booth and looked up the address of the nearest builder. Soon he was in an office.
“What are the fundamental considerations in deciding between a low sprawling building and a multi-storey building?” Clark asked.
“Availability of land, price of land, building regulations.”
“The low building would be a lot more expensive, surely, because of the need for extra land.”
“Not necessarily. A lot of the work on a multi-storey building happens underground. The taller the building, the deeper and more extensive the foundations.”
Clark thanked her and left.
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Back at the Planet, Clark got onto the LexCorp website and copied the impressions of the children’s hospital, already up-loaded. He selected the floor plan image.
Why was Luthor so adamant the hospital had to be single-storey? Maybe he just liked acquiring other people’s property and it gave him some sort of thrill to get his own way. Or maybe there was something underground which Luthor did not want disturbed.
Clark found archived maps of the East Side of Metropolis and searched the site for maps which included details of below ground.
He found a selection, chose one map, scaled it alike with the floor plan image and superimposed one over the other, placing the hospital between Waverley Road and Glenferrie Street.
The proposed helipad sat adjacent to an underground tunnel. The tunnel went fifty yards and then it terminated, just before the planned hospital building.
Clark searched the maps for tunnel details at other levels. He found a possible match, scaled it and linked it with the other two.
The tunnel continued, at a deeper level, under the proposed hospital.
He continued adding more maps, until he had tracked the main tunnel to deep under the LexCorp Building. There were also four off-shoot tunnels, terminating in different parts of Metropolis.
Clark stared at the final result.
Convoluted though it was, one thing was startlingly clear - if these maps were still accurate, Lex Luthor would have a direct, hidden link between the helipad and his building.
He could bring anything in.
He could send anything out.
He could distribute anything throughout Metropolis.
All under the cover of mercy flights to a children’s hospital.
Clark saved his composite map, printed out a copy and put it in his pocket.
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Lois bought the pizza and found the address Clark had given her. She knocked on his door and he opened it.
He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt which stretched tantalisingly across the breadth of his biceps.
“Hi, Clark.”
“Hi, Lois.”
“Nice place.”
“Thanks.”
They sat at opposite ends of Clark’s couch and opened the pizza and cokes. “What did Luthor want?” he asked.
“He wondered if I was interested in doing a feature article on the hospital.”
“And are you?”
“Are you serious? It’s an unbelievable opportunity.”
"What’s he like? Luthor?”
“Charming. A lot more human than I ever realised. He’s very passionate about this project.”
“Did he mention Janet Thorp?” Clark asked darkly.
“Yes. Her funeral is tomorrow afternoon.”
Lois could see the subject of Janet Thorp did nothing for Clark’s mood. She studied him while pretending total fascination with her pizza. The depths of his remorse, so clearly depicted on his face, didn’t surprise her at all. What did surprise her was the surge of tenderness she felt towards him. How intensely she wanted to take him into her arms and hold him until he felt better. “When are you going to tell me what Sarah Crawford said off the record?” she asked lightly.
He broke away from his unseeing stare. “When you agree not to print it.” He sounded serious, but she could see the amusement glistening in his eyes.
“OK, I won’t print it.”
“And you also have to agree to answer a question.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Kent.”
“Deal?” he persisted.
“Deal.”
“She told me her husband didn’t trust Lex Luthor.”
“Perhaps the rumours were true about conflict over the hospital plans.”
“It seemed more like it was a general thing. He didn’t trust Luthor, period, and not just regarding the hospital.”
“Then why did he work with Luthor?” she asked.
“Metropolis can’t have too many people with that amount of money.”
“Did she say why?”
“No.”
Lois pondered as she ate her second piece of pizza. “It’s probably not that relevant now David Crawford is dead,” she concluded. She wiped her fingers with the napkin. “What’s your question?”
“Why do you think I’m so completely unsuited to working at the Daily Planet?”
“Maybe not completely unsuited,” she hedged.
“But?” He was contemplating her – with that steadfast gaze that somehow transmitted itself from his eyes to her heart and made it skip a little faster.
She closed the empty pizza box. “I just don’t think you and Metropolis are a good mix.”
“You don’t think I’m good enough?”
“I don’t think you’re ... hardened enough.” He glanced away and she knew her answer had stung him. She hurried on. “Today, for instance. Janet Thorp dies. That cut you up.”
“Of course it did. Yesterday, we talked to her. Today, she’s dead.”
Lois wriggled a little closer to him on the couch, close enough that she could touch him, although she didn’t. “But Clark, what happened to Janet, that *happens*. Regularly. If it wasn’t for her selling to Luthor, her death probably wouldn’t have made the news.”
“So in Metropolis, no one cares.”
“It’s not that no one cares, it’s that there is so much suffering, so much tragedy, so many wasted lives, it’s overwhelming. No one is strong enough, or powerful enough, to fix it.”
“So we just accept that’s how it is and turn away?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have any answers,” she admitted. “Except to survive the best way you know how.” Which she knew wouldn’t be enough for Clark Kent.
He stared at her, chin in his hand, eyes solemn. “I want to do this.”
She sighed. “I know.”
“Why don’t you want me at the Planet?”
“I *don’t* don’t want you at the Planet.”
“You didn’t seem very pleased about it yesterday.”
“Yesterday ... I was thrown. You were the last thing I was expecting when I walked into Perry’s office.”
“And now?”
“And now, I don’t know.”
“I thought we worked together all right in Smallville,” he said with a small smile.
“It was great while it lasted, but we both knew it was temporary. I was coming home; you had your family, your job, your life in Smallville.”
“Now, we’re both here in Metropolis.”
But for how long, she wanted to ask. “How are your parents?” she said. “Do they miss you?”
“Some. But I can visit.”
Lois had a sudden perception of how good it would be to come home to that house, those parents. She sighed.
“How would you feel about coming with me, sometime?” Clark asked. “I know Mom and Dad would love to see you.”
Sometimes a taste of what you didn’t have just made it harder to pretend you didn’t care. “I’m pretty busy.” Realising she sounded rude and dismissive, Lois hurried on. “But maybe one day. Your parents are wonderful.”
“They think you’re wonderful too.”
“They only knew me for three days.”
“That was enough.” He leant forward and picked up his coke. “What about your parents? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned them.”
“That’s ‘cause there’s nothing to mention.”
His face creased with concern. “Are they deceased?”
“No. They’re divorced.”
“Oh. But you still see them?”
“When there’s no avoiding it.”
Clark's confounded expression only reinforced the enormity of the chasm between his experience of family and hers. Suddenly tired, Lois stood and gathered her bag. “I’d better go.”
He stood too. “Thanks for bringing the pizza.”
He followed her up the stairs and opened the door for her.
“See you tomorrow,” she said.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“I’m in the Jeep.”
“Then I’ll walk you to your car.”
When she'd unlocked and opened the door of the Jeep, she turned and found herself caught between his body and her vehicle.
For one suspended moment, they both stilled and she thought he was going to kiss her.
“Goodnight, Lois,” he said. The catch in his voice triggered an echoing catch in her heart.
“Good night, Clark.” She got into the Jeep and drove away from him.
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As soon as Lois’s Jeep was out of sight, Clark melted into a dark alley, levitated above the buildings and flew home to Smallville. He had been tempted to kiss Lois goodnight. So tempted, it had been near impossible to tear his eyes from her slightly-parted lips.
“How was the pizza with Lois?” his mother greeted with a knowing smile.
“Good,” he said, trying to keep his tone even. “How did you go with the outfit?”
“Come and see.” He followed his Mom into his bedroom and she took something from his closet. She swung around with a flourish. “Ta dah!”
He gulped. It was ... excessive. Excessive in colour – bold blue with flagrant red and splashes of yellow. Excessive in form – shiny, body-hugging spandex which would give him next to no modesty. Excessive in style – from the flowing red cape to the large ‘S’ smack bang in the middle of his chest.
“What do you think?” Mom asked.
“What does the ‘S’ stand for?”
“Sex appeal?” she suggested with a girlish giggle.
“Mom!”
“Why don’t you try it on?”
He examined it doubtfully. There were red briefs dangling from the coat hanger hook. He lifted them off, hoping he was managing to keep most of his misgivings off his face. “I guess these go on the inside?” he said.
“No,” she said. “The outside.”
He took a deep breath. The secret identity idea was clearly *not* going to work.
His mother pushed the suit into his hands. “Call me when you have it on,” she said.
It took him five minutes to stretch the spandex around his lower body. At this rate, whoever needed rescuing would be dead already.
He wriggled into the harness attached to the cape and eased the top half of the suit over his shoulders. A pair of red boots stood next to his bed, so he slipped them on. He stood up and forced himself to look in the mirror.
He looked like a five-year-old on steroids.
“Clark! Can I come in?”
“Just a minute, Mom.” He needed an excuse, something, anything ... but his brain refused to co-operate. “Come in,” he said lamely.
Her face lit up when she saw him. “Clark! You look spectacular.”
Spectacular wasn’t quite the word he had in mind.
“Take off your glasses,” she instructed.
He did. He slicked down his hair and looked in the mirror again.
“Shoulders back,” Mom said. “Chest out.”
They both peered into the mirror.
“Fold your arms.” She patted his chest, just above the ‘S’. “Perfect.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes. You just need to get quicker at changing from one to the other. A bit of practice and you’ll be all set.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He hugged her tightly.
“That’s my boy,” she said. “Come and show Dad.”
He just couldn’t bring himself to squash her enthusiasm, so he dutifully followed her out of his room.
Later, when he’d managed to get back to his bedroom, he put on his Clark clothes over the suit, then hugged his parents and flew to the East Side, Metropolis.
He hovered in the darkness, looked through the ground and tracked the main tunnel and its off-shoots. They were exactly as he’d seen on the maps. The opening to the main tunnel was in a warehouse.
So even without the hospital, Luthor had an underground secret pathway to his building.
Did he use it?
Somehow, Clark was sure he did. What he needed to find out was how.
And what Luthor's real intentions were regarding the children’s hospital.
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Lois was in bed, but sleep wouldn’t come.
He’s a colleague, she told herself. Off limits.
She’d been sure he was going to kiss her tonight. And judging by the focus of his eyes, it wasn’t going to be a friendship kiss on the cheek.
Her heart rolled at the thought of him ... and her ...
He’s a *colleague*.
And worse ... a temporary one. She had no doubt that eventually the acid of Metropolis would burn through his soft Kansas hide and mercilessly shred his gallant heart. Then he would leave.
And she would be more alone than she had been before she went to Smallville.
