From Part 8 ...
Lois stepped outside and Jib shut the door. To Lois’s right was her room – lonely, boring, mind-numbing. To her left was Kal’s building.
Kal.
Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by an urgent need to see Kal.
She turned left.
As Lois passed the sentries, she felt the surge of joyful anticipation. She was going to Kal.
Part 9
Lois rapped on Kal’s bedroom door. There was no answering movement or sound and her disappointment flared. She entered and scanned the empty room.
Her gaze was drawn to the bed.
Kal had slept there last night.
Had he recalled the kiss? That thought exploded inside her, pulsing streams of hot lava throughout her body. If the mere memory of a kiss could do that ...
Lois forced her attention from Kal’s bed and went to his desk. She took a fresh piece of paper and began the story of the murdered concubine.
The words gushed onto the page, flowing unimpeded from her pencil. When she had finished, Lois re-read it, knowing it was good – clear, concise and with the human touch just right. Enough empathy that she didn’t seem impervious to the tragedy, not enough that she sacrificed her professionalism.
Perry would be proud of her.
He’d nagged her for years to *feel* her stories more - to delve beyond the cold detail and allow her heart a little freedom.
How strange that it had taken living in the most stolid place imaginable to release her emotions enough that they penetrated her work.
Or maybe it wasn’t strange at all.
Maybe the contrast had heightened her awareness.
It had, after all, taken less than four days for her to fall in love with Kal.
Kal.
Where was he? Would he come to his bedroom for lunch? Would he be detained elsewhere? Was he avoiding her?
Again Lois drifted her fingers across Kal’s crest.
It certainly had not been her choice.
But had she known then everything she knew now – the vulnerability of a single woman in this society, the goodness and gentleness of Kal, the brutality of Lord Nor – it *would* have been her choice.
She glanced to the door. There was no movement in the chambers, nothing to indicate Kal’s approaching presence.
Lois took a blank piece of paper and divided it with a long vertical line. Deciding it was too obvious, she ditched it and took another blank sheet.
This time without the line, she wrote an ‘S’ on the top left.
Then a thought struck her. ‘S’ was for ‘South’, yet it was the crest of the House of El, which was North. Clearly, it wasn’t the letter ‘S’, but a symbol that, not surprisingly, had nothing to do with the English alphabet.
Again, Lois replaced her paper.
This time, she wrote ‘Eb’ at the top left; then on the right side, she wrote ‘Eb’s husband and family’.
Kal had said that the old conflict still pervaded Kryptonian society. If she was going to understand the people, she was going to have to understand the underlying foundations first.
Under ‘Eb’, Lois wrote ‘Nor’. She didn’t know if he was southside, but she was betting he was on the opposite side to Jib and Mo ... and the sister he had murdered. Across the page, she wrote the names of the two sisters.
Tek? Where did he fit?
Kal? He was supposed to equally represent both sides ... but he used the name of his father’s house and their crest. Did those of the south resent this?
Lois studied the names for a few moments, then carefully concealed the page amongst those of her journal.
She returned her attention to the pile of paper. The many still-blank pages seemed to be issuing a challenge. What else could she write? She re-read her story of the murdered concubine, edited a couple of words and fervently wished she could take it to an editor just like Perry. She knew he would print it - regardless of the consequences, regardless of the status of Lord Nor.
Just the thought of uncovering a bad guy had teased her investigative juices out of hibernation.
Perry ... her ache for home rose again in her throat ... but then subsided.
She missed them.
Of course she missed them.
She ached for their grief.
But ... right now ... if she were offered the chance to go home ... would she take it?
Would she take it knowing it would mean leaving Kal?
Of course she would go home if it were possible, she told herself firmly. It had been her objective since the moment they’d hauled her from her life-pod.
But ...
Going home would mean leaving Kal.
She hadn’t seen him for fourteen hours and she missed him. Her heart jumped at every sound that could possibly indicate he was about to walk through the door. And that was after less than a day away from him.
Could she leave him?
Knowing she would never see him again.
Knowing it would be a forever goodbye.
He could never leave New Krypton, Lois knew that. His sense of responsibility to his people ran too deep.
She sighed. Right now, it wasn’t her choice to make. There was no way home. She was here on New Krypton and was going to be here for the foreseeable future. Kal was occupied with running the planet ... and she had no guarantee he would continue to choose to spend time with her.
She needed something to do.
It was past lunchtime and Kal had not come. The afternoon stretched long and empty in front of her.
She had to do something. If she didn’t find something to do, Lois was convinced her brain cells would fuse into a sluggish blob.
She couldn’t write for a paper.
There was only so much she could write in a journal.
Maybe she *should* go back to her novel. A movie script version, maybe?
But who would read it?
No one.
No one could read her language. The translator didn’t extend to the written word.
Did they even read fiction on New Krypton? Did they have movies? She’d seen nothing to suggest they did.
Then it came to her.
Children.
Children ... were surely not too different the universe over.
She could attempt to write a children’s book - a picture book – so the language differences were less of a barrier. She could give it to Tek to take home to his children. He didn’t look too much older than her, so Lois hoped his children would be young enough to still appreciate a picture book.
She needed a plot. Her first idea involved two children going to the park to play.
Except she had not seen anything resembling a park on New Krypton.
Her second idea involved them playing with their dog.
Except she had seen no animals on New Krypton.
Although they did eat something they called meat.
But Kryptonian children may not be familiar with the concept of pets. So the story of a dog may scare them.
Lois thought again.
She needed a universal concept.
Like ... generosity. Sharing.
She thought about how Kal shared his food with her.
Then the ideas flooded in. Two small boys walking ... each carrying a bag containing his lunch ... deciding to run down a small slope ... one boy falling over ... his lunch tumbling into the dirt ... both boys eating the other boy’s lunch together.
Lois wrote her simple story, then edited it and divided it into six parts. She planned six drawings to accompany her words.
Art had never been an interest and Lois wasn’t confident her ability extended much beyond stick figures. There would be no colour, she had only one grey pencil.
But – it would keep her mind from certain atrophy.
She was about to begin her first drawing when she heard the door open.
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The unscheduled meeting of the Water Committee had gone longer than Kal had expected. They had thrashed out Low-iss’s idea of searching underground for water.
At first, the majority of the Water Committee had been against the idea – believing it to be too speculative to justify the use of their limited energy resources.
Discussion had followed – good, productive discussion.
Poring over maps of their planet, they had dismissed the coastal areas, believing any water obtained so close to the ocean would have a high salinity. Using a combination of guesswork and much-debated estimation, they had selected three possible sites.
There were, of course, no guarantees.
But for the first time in a long, long time, Kal left the meeting with hope instead of desperation.
He glanced at his watch. It was over an hour past lunchtime. Was Low-iss in his room? Had she already had her lunch?
Kal hurried to his Chambers and opened the door to his bedroom.
Then he saw her – hunched over his desk, working on something, probably her writing.
Kal felt a brightening inside him.
Maybe, they had found a way to provide water for his people.
And Low-iss was in his bedroom.
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Lois’s heart flipped. Kal!
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she stood and turned to face him.
He stopped, door still open behind him. She found his eyes across the distance that separated them and lingered. “Hello, Lo-iss,” he said.
“Hello, Kal.”
“Have you had lunch?”
“No.”
“I’ll get it.”
He wheeled around and was gone.
Lois stood there, smiling. Impatient. Excited.
Just a few minutes later he was back – with the standard one plate and one glass. Lois sat on his bed and Kal pulled up the chair. “Did you have the meeting with the Water Committee?” she asked.
“Yes – it took all morning.”
“Did you make any decisions?”
“We are going to drill for water,” Kal said. “We have equipment which can be adapted to the task. We have chosen three sites.”
“I hope it works.”
“So do I.”
Lois could feel the strain generated by the years of despair. But she could also feel the smattering of hope weaved through it. She wanted to reach over and connect with Kal. She wanted to touch his strong, warm arm; to explore the definition of his muscles. She didn’t.
“Did you do more of your writing today?” Kal asked.
“Yes. Is it all right that I came here?”
“Yes. You can come here whenever you want to.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as she’d spoken, Lois regretted using those particular words.
It was exactly those words that had precipitated the kiss.
And now, it was those words that beckoned them back to its memory.
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So potent was the memory, Kal could still feel the imprint of Low-iss’s mouth on his.
It hadn’t left him all day.
Even when he’d been engrossed in the Water Committee meeting and the new and hopeful ideas, he’d known the memory was lurking, waiting for the opportunity to swamp his mind with thoughts of her.
Low-iss took a small mouthful of food and chewed it slowly as she stared at the plate. She didn’t want to look at him - which confirmed Kal's suspicions that asking her to do it again had been a mistake.
“What was that called?” Kal asked quietly.
Her face flooded with pink colour. Kal lifted his hand towards her, mesmerised. He hovered there, yearning to glide the back of his fingers along her cheek. Should he? He wanted to. He lowered his hand. “A kiss,” she said, still not looking at him.
If anything, his almost-touch had deepened the colour in her cheeks. Her mouth-twitch had gone. “That word doesn’t translate,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Kal,” Low-iss said. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Why not?” he said, wishing she would look at him.
“Because it’s something you don’t do unless you’re sure the other person wants you to.”
“I didn’t know I wanted you to.”
She looked up then and her mouth eased into a small mouth-twitch. “Why did you ask me to do it again?”
“Because it was wonderful.”
Her mouth widened and Kal felt its goodness ease his concerns. Ease them, but not erase them. Low-iss had a word ... “I ssrr ...” Kal stopped, knowing it didn’t sound right. “Teach me how to say it,” he requested.
“Sorry?” she said. “Is that the word you want to learn?”
“Yes.”
“All right.”
Kal put the still-half-full plate on the floor and moved forward so his knees were against the edge of the bed – his thighs right alongside hers.
“Put your mouth like this.” Her lips reached forward, reminding him of when she had mouth-touched him. He wrenched his thoughts from that memory and concentrated on shaping his mouth according to the pattern set by hers. “Sorry,” she said.
“Sry,” he copied.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
Low-iss smiled and Kal smiled back. “You are an incredibly quick learner, Kal,” she said.
“I want to learn other words,” he said eagerly. “Will you teach me?”
“What word do you want to learn next?”
This was his chance to touch her. Kal put his fingertips on her mouth and fashioned a mouth-twitch.
“Smile,” Lois said, when his hands had dropped.
Kal did.
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Lois smiled back – it was impossible *not* to respond to Kal’s smile. “Smile,” she repeated. “It starts with the same sound as ‘sorry’.”
“S-orry,” Kal said. “S-mile.”
“Good,” Lois said. “What other word do you want to learn?”
“The word for smile with sound.”
Lois chuckled. “Laugh,” she said.
“Laugh,” he said. “It is so good when you laugh.”
His simple candour was enchanting.
“Say your name,” Kal said. “I want to hear you say your name again.”
“Lois.”
“I don’t say it right,” he said.
“Lois.”
“Loiss.”
“Lois.”
“Lois.”
“I am amazed, Kal,” she said. “You’ve mastered not only new words, but new sounds that are totally foreign to your language. I am really impressed.”
He didn’t respond to her praise. Instead, his smile faded and his eyes delved deep into hers. “Last night ...” he said. “I’m sorry I asked you to do it again.”
Lois wanted to cradle her palm along his jaw. She wanted to spread her fingers – two into the softness behind his ear, two into the texture of his short hair in front. She would linger long enough for his warmth to permeate her skin. Then she would bunch her fingers and slide along the ridge of his jaw, coming to rest under his chin. Then she would lure him closer and ...
Lois buried that thought and somehow concocted enough composure to respond to his words. “You don’t need to say sorry, Kal,” she said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
He grinned suddenly. It wasn’t a smile. It was a bona fide grin ... boyish definitely ... a little lop-sided ... and appearing to have been sparked by something within him ... something light-hearted. “Will you teach me another word?” he asked.
Lois’s heart pounded and her tongue had to be prised from the roof of her mouth before she could speak. “S.sure,” she managed. “What word?”
Still grinning, Kal’s eyes trained on her mouth and then his forefinger followed his gaze – until the pad of it landed softly on the centre of her lips. He hesitated, then lifted it, turned it and brought the same pad to his own mouth.
Lois ran her tongue along her desert-dry lips. “Kiss,” she said.
His hand dropped. “Kiss,” he mimicked. His lips parted.
Lois felt like she was being pulled into a whirlpool. She knew she had to break away. She had to speak, had to pull back from the vortex. If she didn’t, she would be helpless. She would kiss him. And if she kissed him ... even once ... she … they … he … “Well done,” she said, her voice low and rough.
His throat leapt. “Thank you,” he said, equally low and rough.
“You’re welcome.”
Kal stood abruptly. “I have a meeting,” he informed her. He picked up the forgotten plate with its cold food. “I’ll see you for supper.”
“I’ll be here.”
Lois had meant it as a something of a throw-away line, but it stopped Kal. He studied her from the doorway. “Thank you,” he said.
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Kal walked to his meeting, dazed.
He had been sure nothing could dismantle his concentration as thoroughly as Lois kissing him.
He had been wrong.
Her *not* kissing him had infinitely greater capacity for chaos.
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Perry White stared out of his office. His eyes came to rest on a spot, slightly left of centre.
*The* spot.
The spot where Lois’s desk had been ... until he’d ordered it to be moved out of his sight because he couldn’t bear to look upon its emptiness any longer.
But he couldn’t move the spot.
Her place.
Perry had known, of course, that anything ... any organisation ... any group of people ... any team would suffer if its heart had been ripped out.
What he hadn’t known was how much the heart of the Daily Planet had been bound up in the little brunette dynamo.
Lois Lane.
Great shades of Elvis, he missed her.
There was not a reporter to touch her.
But it was more than that.
He missed *her* more than he missed her work.
Perry the man missed her far more than Perry the Editor-in-Chief.
He’d never told her that he thought of her as a daughter. He hadn’t known himself. Until it was too late.
He knew without a doubt that he would willingly give up every word, every story, every scoop, every award from his long and distinguished career – would give them all away to see her march out of the elevator and light up the newsroom with her vitality and fire.
Just one more time.
