Thank you, thank you, thank you to all who've stuck with me, especially those who provided feedback.
TOC is
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From part 17:
“You were in danger,” he shrugs. “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”
My eyes fill with tears again. “You took a bullet for me, knowing it could kill you.”
“Always,” he says.
Clark smiles tenderly and places his hand on my cheek and I cover it with my own, leaning into his tender caress. His eyes are shining with a light I never thought I would see directed at me, filled with a love I never thought I would receive. My eyes shimmer with a new kind of unshed tears and my breath hitches with the knowledge that Clark loves me. With that thought, my heart fills to bursting, banishing the numbness.
“My hero.”
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Master of Disguise - Part 18 (Epilogue)
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I fidget in the elevator as it slowly brings me up to the bullpen of the newly renovated Daily Planet. I sniffle a little when the familiar ding announces my arrival and then roll my eyes at my own sentimentality. Consciously, I shove any sadness away and straighten my back; this is a day for celebration, not tears. As the heavy doors slide apart, the noise of dozens of voices talking, fingers typing, machines humming and televisions blaring assails me and I smile contentedly. It’s the most amazing sound in the entire universe.
I step up to the railing that overlooks the bullpen and breathe deeply. Even with the smell of paint and new carpet in the air, the underlying scent of a newspaper office is strong and welcome. It’s been a long time since the old linotype machines were used, but somehow the smell of ink and paper still lingers.
This isn’t the first time I’ve come in since the building renovations started. In fact, I’ve been practically living on a cot in Perry’s old office for the past ten weeks while I oversaw the repairs. It’s been my sanctuary away from the storm of dealing with Lex’s exposure and death. And what a storm it had been, too.
By the time Henderson had secured the penthouse as a crime scene, the LNN news crews were hovering outside the building, reporting on Lex’s death. Henderson kept his word, though, and no one else knew anything about his criminal side until our article came out in the afternoon edition of the San Francisco Chronicle.
Being the widow of the worst criminal of our time had been a nightmare, but at least I didn’t have to deal with a complicated divorce. One of the most satisfying aspects of printing the truth about Lex was that everyone knew I was the one to bring him down … with Clark’s help, of course. Other than a small, select group, most people assumed that I knew Lex was ‘the Boss’ from the beginning and that I’d married him to get on the inside. I didn’t bother to correct them.
It didn’t take long for the police to find the rest of the evidence they needed to dismantle the Boss’s organization, leading them to every criminal, thug, dirty cop and politician on Lex’s payroll. Of course, Clark and I got those exclusives, too, and we worked tirelessly on follow-ups and sidebars about the demise of Luthor’s empire. I smile to myself at the thought; by the second day, people were already talking Pulitzer.
After that, I’d received job offers from numerous news agencies and all but one had been easy to turn down. Only the San Francisco Chronicle and the thought of working full-time with Clark had tempted me, but in the end I couldn’t take it. I realized pretty quickly that there was too much to do in the aftermath of Lex’s death and downfall to leave. Someone had to pick up the pieces and when it came right down to it, I couldn’t give Metropolis up. It’s my home.
Luckily, I’d found someone willing to help me rebuild the Daily Planet and then it had been me doing the tempting. I’d gotten back most of the Daily Planet’s staff and added to her ranks by wooing some great reporters away from the nation’s best papers as well. We’d reopened her doors just a week ago and it felt like coming home.
My mind registers the larger-than-life presence to my left just before the deep voice of Franklin Stern can announce his presence.
“Good to see you, Ms. Lane,” he says.
“It’s good to be here, Mr. Stern. Can I assume from your presence that the LexCorp takeover is complete?”
“You certainly may. It wasn’t easy to stem the panic caused by your shakedown of the organization, but now that the clean-up operation is over and the massive hemorrhaging has stopped, we’ll regain market confidence.”
I shake my head and thank the heavens for Franklin Stern. According to the laws of New Troy state, without a prenuptial agreement I had inherited every asset and holding of Lex Luthor and Luthor Industries, including LexCorp and although I didn’t want a single thing from Lex, I knew that thousands, if not millions, of innocent people would be impacted if those companies were to go under. Thanks to a silent partnership with the enigmatic businessman standing next to me, Franklin Stern is the proud owner of all Lex’s legitimate business holdings, as well as the recently restored Daily Planet. He’s also now the second wealthiest man in the world.
“Are you sure you won’t consider taking the job as Editor-In-Chief ?” he asks me again.
“No thank you, Mr. Stern. I’m a reporter and although no one will ever replace Perry, Eduardo is the next best thing. He’ll take good care of the Daily Planet.”
My statement is confirmed when Eduardo’s bellow rings across the bullpen, a yell that bears more than a passing resemblance to Perry’s fear-inducing bark. I smile as the new copy boy runs for the stairwell at near super-speed. From the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Stern’s nod of agreement.
“From your presence and the smile on your face, can I assume that the DA is finally done grilling my best reporter?”
I nod. “There may be a few trials I still need to testify at, but for the most part, I’m a free woman.”
“Good,” he states matter-of-factly. “I didn’t buy the Daily Planet to have you stuck in a courtroom all day. When are you going to start writing stories again?”
I turn fully toward him and cross my arms. “The scoop on the Superman Foundation doesn’t count?”
“That was last week’s news – unless you’re ready to reveal the Foundation’s mysterious benefactor. I suspect you may know more about the two-hundred million dollar seed money than you’re saying.”
I shift uncomfortably under his inscrutable gaze before the twinkle in his eye tells me he already knows where the seed money came from. I shrug. “One has to protect her sources in this business,” I answer cryptically.
He flashes a quick grin at me before his habitual scowl returns. “So you do. Well, get to it; I expect some front page news from you, Ms. Lane.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turns on his heel and leaves. I shake my head at his retreating back. You’re only as good as your next story; time to get back to work.
I look around the room again before starting down the ramp toward my new desk. Although the furniture and computer equipment is new, my rolodex and a wilted rhododendron make me feel right at home. I reach over to pick up my new nameplate and am fingering the gilded letters of ‘Lois Lane’ when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Lois? I almost didn’t recognize you.”
As Jimmy comes bounding over, I set the nameplate back down and reach up to nervously finger comb through my shorter locks. Other than retrieving the Kryptonite from under Lex’s weapons cabinet and taking a few personal belongings I had brought into the marriage, I didn’t keep anything from my married life. I sold at auction or donated to charity all of Lex’s other possessions and made a fresh start. The haircut was just a physical manifestation of living life after Lex – my life as Lois Lane.
“Hey Jimmy,” I respond. “…er, I mean ‘James.’”
“That sounds so weird when you say it,” he laughs. “Maybe you should stick with Jimmy?”
I shrug and point to the equipment hanging around his neck. “How’s the new camera?” I ask.
Jimmy eyes light up as he reaches down to handle the evidence of his new job responsibilities. “Oh, man, it’s great! You should see the sweet shots I got of Superman at the opening of the Superman Foundation this morning. Eduardo is going to use one of them on the front page.”
“That’s great, Jimmy.”
“What about you? Are you back to stay this time?”
“Yeah. After Mrs. Cox’s trial ended this morning, the DA’s office cut me loose. That was the last one for a while; I don’t have to worry about Lex’s cronies anymore.”
My fears that the Boss’s inner-circle would get away turned out to be unfounded. Mrs. Cox had been brought in that same morning Lex died when Superman identified her outside the Metropolis Bank after the false alarm. As soon as Clark had seen Mrs. Cox led away in handcuffs (from a distance, of course), he’d flown back to the police precinct, realized I’d disappeared and immediately went to Lex Towers to find me.
Nigel, on the other hand, had been found by Henderson, knocked out, tied up and gagged in a broom closet. Henderson had taken him into custody and although the evidence showed him responsible for many of the Boss’s horrible crimes, Nigel had been extradited back to England to face charges too numerous to mention.
Asabi had turned himself in and even Gretchen Kelly was serving time for attempting to steal Lex’s body from the morgue. I’d ordered his body cremated after that and had found flushing his ashes down the toilet very therapeutic.
Eduardo’s bellow of, “Wallace, Olsen!” interrupts my thoughts and Jimmy shrugs as the copy boy breaks into a run past us.
“I’m still doing some research and general gofer stuff,” Jimmy explains, “just until the new guy is trained, but this job has been a dream.”
“Well, you deserve it.”
As Jimmy walks away, I settle into my chair and my eyes drift to the folded newspaper on my desk. On the front page is my article about the opening of the Superman Foundation. It’s a tightly held secret that after using some of Lex’s vast fortune to pay restitution to the victims of his crimes and some to rebuild the Daily Planet, I had used everything else to create a new charity in Superman’s name, a foundation to help the poor and needy throughout the world. I smile at the thought of Lex writhing in hell, gnashing his teeth over how I’m spending his money.
I’m pulled from my musings when I notice Clark entering the newsroom through the stairwell door, his hands still straightening his tie. I watch him move across the newsroom, his gentle grace and natural courtesy obvious in his very movements. He settles into his chair and logs into his computer and soon, his fingers are flying across the keyboard.
Clark had stayed in Metropolis for two weeks after Lex’s death to write the follow-ups with me and, I suspect, to make sure I was going to be all right. Eventually, though, I had convinced him I would be fine and Clark had gone back home to San Francisco. Although he had visited a few times over the intervening weeks, the distance had been good for me, allowing me the space to readjust to life after Lex on my own.
I never stopped missing Clark, though, and once Franklin Stern had agreed to help rebuild the Daily Planet, Clark had been at the top of my recruiting list. I made him an employment offer that he couldn’t refuse, including a perfectly good excuse for Superman’s sudden relocation to Metropolis in the form of the Foundation.
Well, that and I finally agreed to go on a date with him.
I smile as I recall how nervous I’d been when he arrived to take me to Fouquet’s last night – filled with breathless anticipation and nervous babble. He’d been nervous too, but it turned out to be a wonderfully intimate and relaxed night. A blush rises to my cheeks at the memory of our goodnight kiss that began at my door and ended an hour later in a breathless tangle on my sofa. The date had just …worked and it left me yearning for more.
My life is so different now than it was two years ago. Before, I couldn’t stand to work with anyone and now I can’t see a future without Clark, either professionally or personally. I wonder for a minute why it was so easy to trust him. Without even trying, he had earned my trust and admiration and I’d come back to myself in part because of Clark’s belief in me. From the moment he learned my identity, Clark believed in the real me, not the simulacrum I’d become; he helped me find the part of myself that was lost.
Clark must feel my eyes on him because he looks up from his work and our eyes lock. He flashes *that* grin at me, the one that always makes my knees wobble and my heart race. I smile back when I realize it wasn’t just his friendship or his skill as a reporter that made me trust him.
It was his smile.
The End
