"I'm going to Melbourne-Richmond with Banjo," Clark said, realising she would already know but wanting to give some small voice to the disappointment he felt that he would not be with her.
Lois nodded. "I hope you have a great day. There's nothing like the 'G for watching the footy."
She stopped the Jeep at the end of his driveway. "Thanks, Lois," Clark said. "Thanks for everything." He didn't add that what he appreciated most was the hug she had given him so many hours ago - the hug that had eased him from his moroseness and shown him the way back to life.
"No worries," she said. "See you tomorrow."
She drove away, and Clark walked slowly to his unit, wishing things were different.
Wishing Lois didn't have to leave him.
Wishing he could be with her always.
Wishing she loved him the way he loved her.
Part 11
Sunday was, in many ways, a carbon copy of Saturday. The MCG was certainly an impressive stadium, Banjo was good company, and Richmond led the entire game to secure a comfortable win over Melbourne.
But in other ways, Sunday was a hollow and futile day because Clark saw Lois for only a few minutes in the evening as she worked on her report and he worked with Banjo on their story. By the time Clark had finished, Lois had already left.
Earlier, as he had passed her desk, she had asked after Perry White, and Clark had replied that he'd called the hospital and learned that Perry's condition was continuing to improve steadily. She'd smiled, and that had been the sum total of their interaction for the entire day.
Monday augured no better when Clark walked into the office and discovered Lois's desk vacant again. He guessed she was chasing up the merger story, and he toyed with the idea of asking Browny if he, Clark, could work on it with her.
But Browny sent him out to Footscray with Bluey for a follow-up story on yesterday's game. Clark went, trying hard to appreciate the crisp, sunny morning and a job that didn't involve chasing down criminals ... and a life that didn't require dodging Mayson Drake.
But none of that came near to making up for not being with Lois Lane.
||_||
Clark's day rallied when Lois walked into the office mid-afternoon and came straight to his desk. He tried not to be too obvious in the gusto of his greeting, but he realised wryly that he had probably failed spectacularly.
"Hi, Clark," Lois said.
"Hi, Lois."
She stood there, grinning at him, her eyes shining.
"Your story broke?" he guessed.
"No," she said, sobering, but only for a moment. "I have something for you."
"You do?"
She nodded. "I could give it to you now, or -."
"Or," Clark cut in, "You could come to my apartment for supper tonight, and you can give it to me then."
"Are you cooking?" she asked.
"Sure," Clark agreed. "I'll even take requests."
"Anything you want to cook is fine by me," Lois said. She glanced to Browny's office. "I better get in to see Browny before he starts hollering my name across the newsroom. See you tonight."
Clark watched her walked away, his world glorious with anticipation.
||_||
The meal was almost ready when Lois arrived that evening. "Perfect timing," Clark said, thinking that her timing was only one of the many things about Lois Lane that was perfect.
She grinned. "What's for tea?" she asked.
"Chicken and Vegetable Lo Mein," he said.
She looked around his kitchen. "You got take-away?" she asked.
Clark sensed she tried to hide her disappointment, and he felt ridiculously pleased that he could reply, "No, not at all. I cooked it."
"You cooked it?" she asked suspiciously. "Or you warmed it up?"
He laughed at her response, feeling elated because she was here and they were going to spend the evening together. "I cooked it from scratch," he said. "Would you like to see the vegetable scraps?"
She chuckled. "No, I'm willing to believe you."
He felt cheerful enough to press her with, "Didn't you say you had a present for me?"
She looked at him disparagingly, but her eyes lost none of their cheerfulness. "What are you?" she demanded. "A kid on Christmas morning?"
No - not even Christmas felt this good. "I just want to see my present," he said, grinning.
Her mouth broke into the smile he loved. "Well, Kent, you're going to have to wait. I'll give it to you after we've eaten."
"No fair," he said.
"If the food isn't up to the standard you set last time, you might not get your present at all," she warned.
He piled two plates with the egg noodles and topped them with the chicken and vegetables he had stir-fried. Lois sat and eyed her plate appreciatively. "Wow," she said. "I'm impressed."
"Try it," he said, hoping she would still be impressed after she had tasted it.
He could tell by her expression that she was and his mood elevated a few more levels.
"Are you going to Gazza's barbie on Wednesday?" she asked.
"He invited me," Clark said. "Are you going?"
"Yeah."
That decided it. "I am, too."
Lois grinned suddenly. "Did Gazza tell you to bring a plate?"
Clark nodded. "Yeah, but I wasn't sure what he meant."
"He means to bring some food to share. Either a bottle of drink or a bag of chips or a salad or a dessert."
"So I don't actually have to bring a plate?"
Lois grinned. "No - but I do wonder how many newcomers arrive at a barbie armed with a single empty plate."
Clark smiled, seeing the humour, but glad she had saved him from that particular embarrassment.
Lois stabbed a piece of juicy chicken with her fork. "Originally, it meant to bring food on a plate - like sandwiches or a cake - but now it just means bring food. Usually the hosts provide the meat, the bread, and perhaps the alcohol, and the guests provide the salads, the desserts, the soft drinks, and more beer if they want it."
"Gazza said he's married."
"Yeah. His wife, Narelle, is a slim and very attractive redhead."
"And she married Gazza?" Clark said with slightly exaggerated shock.
Lois chuckled. "No accounting for taste, eh? Though she does barrack for Collingwood, so I guess that's a start."
"Bessie said she didn't marry a man because he barracked for Carlton," Clark said. "Was she joking?"
"Not at all," Lois said. "We don't believe in mixed marriages."
She looked serious, although she was suddenly taking diligent interest in her food as she twirled the noodles around her fork. Clark waited for her to look up at him and give him a clue as to whether she was joshing with him. She didn't look up, just kept twirling her noodles. "Mixed marriages?" he scoffed. "Because of a football team?"
She did look at him then, her face set like concrete. "This is Melbourne," she said.
Her dancing eyes and oh-so-tightly controlled mouth were close to the most enchanting sight Clark had ever seen. "So ... you wouldn't consider a proposal of marriage from a man who didn't barrack for Hawthorn?" he asked.
"Never," she said. Her facade crumbled, and her grin burst through.
"Who does Dan barrack for?" Clark asked casually.
"Fitzroy."
"Oh."
The sadness he had seen before swept the smile from her face. "I'm waiting on a call to confirm the story I wrote today," Lois said. "If I get the call early enough, it will be in tomorrow's paper."
"Saying what?"
"That tomorrow night, there will be a secret meeting between representatives of the AFL, North Melbourne, and Fitzroy to sign the deal and bring the North-Fitzroy Kangaroos into being."
"They will continue as separate entities for this season, I suppose?" Clark noted.
She nodded grimly. "Which is going to be like a long, slow, excruciatingly painful death march for Fitzroy."
"What happens if you don't get the call?"
"Browny won't print anything."
"But when it was a matter of Kendall's shoulder, he was willing to print with only flimsy evidence," Clark pointed out.
"That was a shoulder," Lois said. "This is a football club." She placed her fork on her empty plate. "Browny has to do an incredible balancing act. He has a responsibility to the Fitzroy fans, but he also has a responsibility to try to ensure that nothing we print could jeopardise this - if it is indeed the best thing for Fitzroy."
"Is it?"
Lois shrugged despondently. "I don't know," she said. "We have a saying - 'There's no sentimentality in football.' It's rubbish. There has to be sentimentality when people love something this much. But decisions made with the heart are not always the wisest of decisions."
"You think they should merge?" Clark probed gently.
Lois let loose a deep breath. "I haven't seen the accounts, and I don't know the details, but I think the harsh-reality decision would be to merge."
"But?"
"But that is going to break the hearts of every Fitzroy supporter and sadden the entire footy community. Fitzroy have over a hundred years of history and are one of the founding members of the VFL. At the very least, they deserve to be treated with dignity."
From Lois's bag, her cell sounded, and she answered it. After listening for a few minutes, she thanked whoever was on the other end of the line and hung up. When she looked at Clark, her face was blank.
"Well?" he said.
"We can't print - not yet. I can't get any solid evidence that the meeting is going ahead tomorrow." She punched some numbers into her cell. "Excuse me," she said. "I'll just ring Browny."
Clark stood and cleared away the plates, aware that something of the happy atmosphere of their evening had seeped away. He was desperate to lure it back but really didn't want to make the mistake of glossing over the death of a football club - something he knew was going to upset Lois.
And it wasn't even her club.
But it was Scardino's.
And if Lois loved Dan, and Dan loved Fitzroy ...
When he heard Lois finish her call, he turned to her. "There's nothing we can do about it now," she said with a smile that seemed almost genuine.
He grasped the opening she was offering. "Can I have my present then?" he said.
As quickly as it had come, some of her good humour died away. "You can," she said hesitantly. "Although it didn't work out as well as I'd hoped."
His curiosity soared. What could she possibly have gotten for him? "Isn't it the thought that counts?" he asked.
She nodded and reached for her bag. She withdrew a newspaper, instantly recognisable as an edition of the Daily Planet. "Nugget, one of the guys from Travel, was sent to Sydney, and I asked him to go to the international newsagency there and get the latest available copy of the Daily Planet. I thought it might be a nice piece of home for you."
Clark was touched. "Thanks, Lois," he said, knowing the slight jaggedness in his voice probably gave away how much this meant to him.
"Except ..."
"Except what?"
She held it out for him to take. He unfolded it and was immediately hit with the massive headline 'SUPER CONSPIRACY'. Next to it was a picture of him - an unflattering image where he appeared distant and unapproachable. A bitter taste rose in his mouth.
Clark scanned the rest of the front page, noticing more was promised on pages two, three, four, five, and six. His eyes flitted to the byline ... Mayson Drake. "Have you read this?" he asked Lois.
She nodded.
His heart felt like it was being crushed as his ribcage caved in. "What did you think?"
Lois shrugged. "I think I'd love a cup of coffee," she said. "Would you mind if I made one? I know where everything is. What would you like?"
"I can make the coffee," Clark said.
"No, I'll do it." She stood. "You read the paper."
He didn't want to read the paper, but he knew he had to ... and for more reasons than just that he couldn't appear unappreciative of Lois's gesture.
Pages two and three were a double-page spread of Mayson's in-depth interview with someone called Jason Trask - a government agent who claimed to have mountains of evidence against the alien being. Specifically, this evidence apparently included that Superman was responsible for the sabotage to the train track and tunnel - a move designed to give him the opportunity to curry favour with humans by appearing to be a helpful friend.
The further Clark read, the more vitriolic it became. Trask alleged that the reason for the suit was to disguise the fact that 'Superman' was actually more than one person. He asserted that many aliens lived on Earth - assimilating, gathering information, strengthening their strategic position, and easing humans into a fatal attitude of complacency.
Complacency was certainly not something Trask could be accused of.
The final column was given to Trask's detailed and emotive depiction of exactly how the barbarous invasion would mercilessly seize Planet Earth and wipe out all humanity.
Clark felt the acrid taste of nausea crawl up his throat.
Lois pushed a cup of coffee in front of him and sat down. Clark attempted to clear his face of all expression and forced a smile so fake it probably looked like he was in pain.
Actually, he was.
"Thanks," he said. "And thanks for getting me the Planet. That was a sweet idea."
"Would you like me to leave after the coffee?" Lois asked. "So you can read it in peace?"
"No," he said quickly. "I can read this later."
"OK," she smiled. "What would you like to do? Watch a movie? Dan has a big collection of videos. What interests you?"
Clark had the distinct impression that Lois really didn't want to discuss the story plastered all over the Planet. Why? Did she find the topic of alien life distressing? Did she believe Trask was right? Had she been swept up in the tsunami of fear and hatred? "What do you think of the story?" Clark said, trying for a level of nonchalance that probably wasn't attainable.
He had to know.
He was sure her answer would scythe through his crushed heart, but he had to know.
"I think I'm an Australian and should stay out of it," she said.
"What?" he exclaimed.
Lois seemed undaunted by the sharpness of his question. "This is your paper," she said calmly. "The stories are probably written by people you know. It's also possible that you know Superman - although it seems he isn't very popular with your paper. Whatever I say, I'm sure to say something that will offend you." She smiled hesitantly. "It was never my plan to get something this controversial."
"I know that," he assured her. Inside him, his logical side was sending dire warnings that the smartest course would be to just drop this right now. Questioning Lois about - of all topics - Superman could only lead to places he should avoid. Mayson Drake wasn't a completely safe subject either. Yet despite the screaming protests from the dark corners of his mind, Clark said, "But I'm really interested in what you think."
"You should know me well enough by now that you understand that if you ask for my opinion, you'll get it, no holds barred," Lois said.
"I know that."
"Clark ..." She sighed. "I really don't want to get into an argument with you. I'd rather we just watched a movie."
"Please tell me what you think," he said. It sounded far too much like a plea, but Clark couldn't help it.
"No, Clark."
"You enjoyed getting my perspective on football," he said. "I'd like your perspective on my world."
Lois sighed in resignation. "OK," she said. "I think it's obscene and someone should do something about stopping it."
Clark's throat seized, and his stomach lurched. "Stopping what?" he asked in a strained voice. "The invasion by countless armies of vicious aliens intent on conquering Earth and massacring all humans?"
"No," she said. "Unsubstantiated reporting that is clearly aimed at stirring up hatred for an individual who, despite being different, has done nothing to deserve such treatment." Her lip curled in disgust. "And that Trask definitely has a few kangaroos loose in the top paddock."
Clark felt his lower jaw drop. Not for anything could he have managed a response.
Lois looked at him with an unrepentant fire. "You asked what I thought," she said. "I warned you that you wouldn't like it."
"What makes you think I wouldn't like it?" he asked.
"It's your paper," she said, as if it were obvious. "Mayson Drake is probably a friend of yours. It'd be just my luck she's a close friend of yours, perhaps even a girlfriend. But you asked what I thought, and my opinion is that that ..." Lois poked contemptuously at the front page of the Daily Planet. "... *that* is as close to propaganda as I've seen in a long time, and I really thought the Daily Planet was above such drivel."
Clark felt waves of hysterical laughter start to rumble deep inside him. He knew he had to control it - if he didn't, Lois would be convinced *he* had a few kangaroos loose. "Mayson is no friend of mine," he said tightly.
Lois took a moment to assess his declaration, and then her smile made a slow, majestic appearance. "I *haven't* offended you?" she said, clearly surprised.
Clark shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, I agree with you on all counts."
"You do?" she squeaked.
He nodded, his joy now bubbling very close to the surface. "I agree that Mayson's story is very light on facts and seems to have no intent to inform or to report but only to stir feeling against Superman. I agree that Jason Trask doesn't warrant his claims being taken seriously. And I agree that the Daily Planet should be above that. My only defence is that Perry is still in the hospital, and I hope you'll believe me when I say that there is no way he would have allowed this to be printed if he'd been at the helm."
"Does Perry think that Superman is here to hurt us?"
"Perry keeps his opinions close to his chest," Clark said. "But he doesn't allow speculation to be printed as fact."
"Is Mayson the assistant editor?" Lois asked. "Is that how she got her story printed?"
"Mayson's uncle is on the board. Perry stands up to her regardless, but with Perry not there, I assume she just ran straight over the top of whoever is acting Editor-in-Chief."
Lois chuckled. "I guess you're not mad at me," she said.
Clark couldn't imagine ever being mad at her. "I'm only sorry you had to see such a poor example of what is usually a fine newspaper," he said.
"Well, it's to be expected," Lois said.
"What is?"
"That the standard of the Daily Planet would fall."
"Why?"
"'Cause we snaffled their best reporter," she said with a triumphant smile.
Clark laughed. "I'm not sure too many people would agree with your assessment," he said. "Mayson gets most of the big stories."
Lois snorted. "You and Mayson Drake are not in the same league," she said decisively.
Clark grinned. "I'm taking that as a compliment," he said.
"You do that," she replied. She rotated the paper, and her eyes dropped to the photograph. She studied it, and Clark held his breath. Would Lois notice? No one else had. But would she?
He realised with profound shock that a significant part of him hoped she would notice ... hoped she would look up with a light of recognition in her beautiful eyes and probe his deepest secret.
He *wanted* her to know.
He *wanted* to share everything with her.
"Have you met him?" Lois asked.
Clark's breath caught in his throat. Should he tell her? Should he just come right out and say he hadn't met Superman as such because he *was* Superman? He wanted to. But he couldn't. The habit from years of hiding was too strong. "Yes, I've seen him," Clark said.
Her eyes were still scrutinising the photograph. "What's he like?"
"He says very little. He just arrives, helps out where he can, and leaves."
"Can he really fly?"
"Yes."
"You've seen it with your own eyes?" Lois questioned. "You've seen him fly? No trick photography, no clever stunts?"
"He can fly."
Lois seemed to take a moment to digest that.
"Don't you believe he's real?" Clark asked.
Lois shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, the first time he appeared in Metropolis, it was big news here, but mostly we just dismissed it as one of those 'only in America' stories."
"Would you believe he was real if you met him?" Clark asked.
Lois's laughter gurgled into the sombre atmosphere. "As if that's going to happen," she said.
"Why do you say that?"
"He's never been seen outside of Metropolis. And if for some reason he decided to visit Australia, I doubt he would have any interest in a footy journo from Melbourne."
That was where she was very wrong. "You might be surprised."
"He seems to take particular care to avoid the media," she said. "I don't think I've ever seen or heard of him giving an interview to anyone."
"If you did come face to face with him, what would you say?"
Lois thought for a moment and then said, "I'd tell him that not everyone believes he is intent on murder and destruction. I'd tell him he is welcome to share our planet."
Clark felt his joy explode into a million tiny pieces that, inexplicably, brought him closer to tears than he'd ever been. "I think that would mean a lot to him," he said quietly.
"I think it would be easy for him to feel very alone," Lois reflected. "However he got those powers - whether he is an alien, or whether he's the result of a cloning attempt gone out of control, or whether he was badly injured and they've rebuilt him with metallic body parts - what can't be denied is that he is very different to the rest of us. And sometimes that feels lonely."
Something in her voice told Clark she had had her share of loneliness, and he longed to take her into his arms and whisper assurances that she would never be alone again.
Lois smiled. "Although clearly, he has *someone*," she said.
"Why do you think that?"
She gestured to the photograph. "*Someone* made that suit," she said. "Unless his powers include a deft hand with a sewing machine."
"You think he has a wife?" Clark asked.
Lois peered at the photograph. "I hope so," she said. "I hope he has someone - someone he can go home to ... someone who can hold him and love him and be there for him."
The memory of her arms around his neck invaded Clark's senses. He could feel her body pressed against his. "Why are you so sure he's a good guy?" he asked. "How can you know for sure that his intentions are not what Trask is alleging?"
"Because Superman has never done anything to suggest he is other than a friend. In every instance, he has stood for life and justice, not death and destruction."
Clark smiled. "If he knocked on your door, you wouldn't be scared of him?"
"I'd be shocked," she admitted. "Probably speechless." She thought for a moment. "But, no, I wouldn't be scared of him." She eyed Clark. "What about you? You said you've met him? Do you think he's a threat?"
"No," Clark said. "No, I don't think he's a threat."
Her hand rested momentarily on his. "Then we agree," she said, looking relieved. "What sort of movies do you like?"
"You choose," Clark said.
Lois stood and went to Dan's shelves of videos. "Dan likes action movies," she said. "Anything here appeal?"
Clark knew he didn't want to watch anything that would remind Lois of her times with Dan. He would rather not watch a movie than risk doing that. "Not really," he said, pretending to cast an eye over the videos.
Suddenly, Lois grinned and went to her bag. "It just so happens ..." she said.
"What?" Clark asked, unable to control his grin.
"I brought my favourite movie." She pulled a video from her bag. It wasn't anything Clark recognised.
"What is it?"
"The Man From Snowy River," she said, holding out the video so he could see the cover.
"And it's your favourite movie?"
"Just. I love 'Gallipoli', too, but I'm not really in the mood for all that angst right now." Lois grinned. "'Man From' is probably not your sort of movie," she admitted.
"Have you ever watched it with Dan?"
Lois laughed. "Are you kidding? Dan only watches movies if they have at least a dozen gun fights, mega-litres of spurting blood, and a few flying body parts."
That settled it. Now Clark really wanted to watch this movie with Lois. He didn't care if there was not one single scene that interested him in the least - he just wanted to watch it with her. He held out his hand, and she gave him the video. He removed it from the box and slid it into the VCR. "What's it about?" he asked.
"It's based on the famous ballad by Banjo Paterson," Lois said. "It's about a mountain man, Jim Craig, who comes down from the high country, and falls in love with Jessica, the daughter of a rich squatter."
"At home, a squatter is usually someone who has moved into a house they don't own."
"Same here," Lois said. "But years ago, a squatter was a land owner."
"Does Jim get his girl?" Clark asked as he sat on the couch.
"Eventually, yes," Lois said. "But not until the sequel." She sat down - not close to him, but facing him. "Jessica's father gets together a huge group of riders to go after a mob of brumbies - they're wild horses - and Jim becomes a legend because he and his horse are mountain bred, so when the mob goes over a steep drop, the rest pull up, but Jim just keeps going."
"Let's watch it," Clark said.
"Are you sure?" Lois said. "It's much more a woman's movie than a man's."
Clark pointedly put his arm across the top of the couch and gestured to the space next to him with his other hand. "Come and sit down," he said, ignoring the fact that she was already sitting. "And let the story begin."
Lois hesitated and looked from his face to his arm that was stretched out along the top of the couch. Then she turned and shuffled back against him, leaning ever so slightly into his side.
Clark took a deep breath of pure happiness and let his fingertips gently rest on the curve of her shoulder. Nope, he didn't care in the least if 'The Man From Snowy River' was less entertaining than watching paint dry. But he did hope it was a long movie. A very, very long movie.
||_||
Almost two hours later, the movie finished, and Lois gave a sigh of contentment. She turned, her eyes still a little dreamy from the movie. "Well?" she said.
"I enjoyed it," Clark said, realising it was the truth.
"Really?" She sounded surprised.
"It was great," he said. "Stunning scenery, some great action - Jim coming down that mountain was amazing - and ..." Clark grinned. "... a very good-looking female lead."
Lois laughed and swatted his chest with her hand. "Sigrid Thornton," she said. "Mind you, Tom Burlinson is pretty easy on the eyes, too."
"So you're partial to tough, lean Aussie men, are you?" he asked.
"If you're asking if I'm waiting for my handsome hero to come riding in on a white horse," Lois said. "The answer is 'no'."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm just not the sort of girl something like that would happen to."
Clark opened his mouth in protest, but Lois cut him off.
"And anyway," she said. "My dreams run much more to a Hawthorn premiership than a gorgeous guy sweeping me off my feet."
Clark wagged his finger at her. "Don't give me that, Ms Lane," he said. "I saw how much you enjoyed the mushy bits with Jim and Jessica."
Lois grinned. "You should see me after a Hawthorn premiership," she said.
"Is that an invitation?" Clark asked.
She stood and smiled. "I should be getting home." She took the video from the VCR and returned it to her bag.
"You said there is a sequel," Clark persisted.
"There is."
"So? Can we watch it?"
"You really want to watch the sequel?" she asked dubiously. "I don't think it's as good as the original."
"Absolutely I want to watch it," he said.
"OK," she agreed easily. "I'll bring the sequel around one night soon, and we'll watch it together."
Clark grinned, awash with anticipation. "Can I walk you home?" he asked.
"No, thanks," she said. "It's only a minute away."
"So it will only take me a minute to walk with you."
"I'll be fine." Lois opened the door. "Good night, Clark," she said.
"Good night, Lois," he replied. "Thanks for a wonderful evening."
"Thanks for dinner."
"Any time," he said. "I'll cook for you any time."
With a final smile, she turned and left.
Clark closed his door and moved to the table. He stared at the front page of the Daily Planet. The accusations and the distrust and the suspicion had lost their sting.
Because Lois didn't believe them.
And that meant more than anything else.
||_||
Glossary
A few kangaroos loose in the top paddock - not right in the head.
