Chapter One - Reunited

Lois was finally finding her zone. Today was the first day in at least a month that she truly felt like herself.

In the initial aftermath of a destroyed Metropolis, it was hard to concentrate on writing. All survivors, it seemed, were initially dazed. But the city had come together, to comfort one another, to begin to rebuild. There was a new collective resolve, and a renewed love for the place they all called home.

Lois was collecting stories from the ground. Whole neighbourhoods and communities were coming out to clear away the destruction. Together, everyone was trying to get their lives back on track. The dedication was so focused, that huge swaths of rubble seemed to clear themselves overnight, as if by magic. Perry coined it: The Reconstruction.

At first, Lois felt that her personal reconstruction was lagging behind the rest of the city. She asked questions and took notes during interviews, but was having trouble piecing the stories together when she returned to her desk. It was so unlike her.

For weeks after it all happened — and after him — she was distracted. Her brain was unable to focus. Flashes of destruction and terror visited her at unexpected moments. Her chest would tighten, and breathing became laborious. Suddenly, the feeling of falling would grasp her unrelentingly. It was the first time in her life that she ever experienced anxiety. It shook her own self-image of resiliency.

And yet, after her third panic attack, memory came to her aid. She found she had the power to abate the sense of impending doom by tapping into a remembrance. The remembrance of gravity suddenly becoming irrelevant helped to release her seizing lungs. The remembrance of warm, strong arms helped her to inhale. The remembrance of sheer relief, euphoria, amazement, then a moment of passion, brought warmth to her tense body.

Now, whenever she felt the air escape her lungs involuntarily, she closed her eyes for a moment, and recalled his face. His impossibly perfect face. She would allow herself to indulge, just for a moment, in the memory of how it felt to be alive after almost falling to her death. How it felt to be in his arms, knowing it was he who saved her. How with no thought, just complete bodily compulsion, she had placed her hand on that impossibly perfect face, and pressed her lips fervently against his.

Looking back, she couldn't be sure if he felt the way she felt in that moment. All she knew was that she felt like she was on fire, and she had to kiss him. Yet, he had kissed her back, pulled her in, and put his arm around her shoulders. The contact amplified her heat, and erased the previous moment's terror from her mind.

"You know they say it's all downhill after the first kiss," she had blurted out. She didn't know why she said it.

"I'm pretty sure that only counts when you're kissing a human," he had replied.

It was this memory that brought Lois back from the edge, whenever she found herself teetering over it. And finally, slowly, she was starting to get her focus back. She was starting to draw the stories out of her notes and interviews. She was able to find that place where her fingers and the keyboard melded with the picture she needed to paint. She didn't even think about how she hadn't seen, heard from, or of him since. Most of the time, anyway.

It didn't matter. She was on a roll.

"Come on, Lois. When are you going to throw me a bone?" Steve interrupted her. "Court-side seats to the game tonight. What do you say?"

"I say…" She began, as she finished typing out a sentence before turning to look at him, "You should go back to trolling the intern pool. You'll probably have more luck." She turned to hand Jenny the latest draft for copy editing, and noticed a look of reproach on Jenny's face. "Sorry!" Lois told her with a small laugh.

Steve shrugged a smile. "Court-side?" He offered Jenny.

"Don't —" Lois began, but Jenny laughed a "no" in his face. She can handle herself, Lois thought.

"Lombard! Lane!" boomed Perry's baritone as he approached. "I want you to meet our new stringer, I want you to show him the ropes."

Lois paused. She didn't know Perry was hiring. He was always so tight with the purse strings.

"This is Clark Kent," Perry continued. "Good luck, Kent."

Lois's lungs were suddenly constricting, but this time it was not anxiety. She blinked twice. There, just barely disguised behind dark acetate frames, was his impossibly perfect face. He caught her eyes for a long moment, before she felt she couldn't look anymore. She broke their gaze, and smiled as she looked down at her desk, fighting to control the feeling that her blood was suddenly on fire.

She was thankful that Steve stepped forward to introduce himself. It gave her a moment to find composure. She knew that she needed to play along. She needed to protect him.

"Nice to meet you," Clark offered to Steve.

Lois got up from her desk, and did her best to pretend that this was their first time meeting. "Hi," she breathed, before finding her usual steady countenance, "Lois Lane. Welcome to The Planet." She presented her hand with determination.

He inhaled thoughtfully, and for a millisecond, Lois was surprised to feel vulnerability roar inside her. What if he didn't feel the same way about seeing her again? What if he only remembered her as that crazy woman who had planted one on him? Or maybe it was inconsequential to him; maybe the women he saves kiss him all the time.

She quickly found her footing again, and pushed those thoughts from her mind. Those thoughts were not Lois Lane.

Then, it was as if the sun broke through the clouds, as he cracked a shy smile. My God, Lois thought, is he blushing?

"Glad to be here, Lois."

She couldn't help but grin back.

Focus was difficult to achieve for the rest of the week. Perry had Clark take the empty desk diagonally across the bull-pen walkway from Lois.

It's a good place for him to be, Lois thought to herself as he first sat down. When he was sitting, his back was turned to her. He couldn't see that she was staring holes in the back of his flannel button-down. The only problem was, he was hardly ever in his seat. Lois thought back to her first week at The Planet. HR and orientation kept her running. The pace had been the same unrelenting race ever since. She wouldn't have had it any other way.

Perry had asked both Lois and Steve to show Clark the ropes, but so far Steve was leading the charge. Lois was secretly thankful. She was avoiding contact as much as possible. From time to time, she found the lion's roar of vulnerability echoing inside her uncharacteristically, and with increasing frequency. Her strategy of avoidance seemed the only way to repress it.

Then again, on the few occasions that Clark actually was at his desk, Lois was sure that she caught him craning his neck around to look at her more than once.

By Friday at 2:30 p.m., Lois' energy was taking its weekly nosedive. She touched her hand to her head, as it throbbed a little. It was four hours since her last cup of coffee — possibly a record. She pushed on the edge of her desk, rolling her chair backwards and escaping from her computer. She headed for the kitchenette, planning to put on a fresh pot. She swung open the worn plywood doors where they usually kept the grounds, only to find that it was empty.

"God dammit," she exclaimed loudly, cursing whoever hadn't replaced the last bag of beans. "What kind of a douc—"

"Don't make me force you to make a contribution to my swear jar," said a golden voice behind her.

She froze, staring into the empty cupboard. Her avoidance strategy was about to come crashing down around her. She felt him walk towards her, stopping so close that she could feel his warmth, but not close enough to actually touch her. It felt like the sun was shining in through a window onto her back.

"This might help," Clark said softly in her ear. A large, strong hand reached over her shoulder and placed a fresh bag of coffee onto the shelf.

She turned around to face him, causing their noses to almost touch. Lois pulled back immediately, breathing heavily. She searched for words, but none came.

"Hi," he said kindly.

"Hi," was all she could muster back. That remembrance flashed in her mind. But it wasn't to calm a panic attack this time. No, it was an involuntary recall, brought on by the feeling of his breath against her skin, that was raising her blood to a boil.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were avoiding me, Miss Lane."

She laughed, and stepped sideways, ducking away from him in a dance-like move. "Me? Avoiding you? Why would I be avoiding you?"

Clark shrugged, and pushed the edges of his corduroy jacket away from his waist so that he could put his hands in the pockets of his Levis. His nice, form fitting Levis, Lois mused for a moment before snapping herself out of it.

He tilted his head at an angle and looked at her out of the top of his glasses for a minute before cracking a sheepish smile. She didn't know what to do. She let out a little, forced and embarrassed laugh.

"Why don't you let me walk you home tonight after work," he said, dead serious.

Now, Lois gave a real laugh. "What is this? 1938?" She quipped.

His face changed from smug romance to a hint of hurt. She regretted opening her mouth instantly.

"I thought we could spend some time together," he shifted sheepishly, and looked at his shoes.

A million thoughts flooded through Lois' brain at high speed. How was it that this demigod was here, in front of her, shifting like an awkward teenager because he wanted to spend time with her? Why her?

"Don't you… have better things to do?" She asked earnestly in a hushed and knowing tone. Like, saving the world, for instance, she wanted to add.

"Well, Lo, I'd count you among the better things."

Lois searched his face for a trace of teasing, or innuendo, but all she could find was sincerity. Her face softened, and she opened her mouth, not sure exactly what she was going to say. She supposed —

"Lane!" came the bellowing of Perry's voice from down the hall. "My office, now!"

Lois turned on her heel, responding to the summons as if compelled by magic. Magic was about the only thing that could pull her away from Clark in that moment. It was the only thing that could have called her away without noticing that Clark lingered in the kitchenette, a look of longing on his face.