Just a few words too many
In my head
A few words too many
In this bed
A few words too many
Left unsaid...
~ Billie Myers, A Few Words Too Many
Clark found himself in a very unexpected position. It was the first Saturday evening in December, and he was home alone. Jason and Kala were with Richard and Lana this weekend, and Lois had gone in to work in the afternoon, expecting to be there late. The burdens of administration never ended, and if the late-breaking story had been international instead of local, Clark would've been the one at the office on a weekend, while Lois had the apartment to herself.
Normally, Clark would've enjoyed a day off, some time to simply put his feet up and relax. Instead, he was avoiding the house, and had very little that needed to be done outside it. His Christmas shopping was done, and the plans for their holiday trip to Smallville were already finalized. He had done a couple of rescues that morning, mostly minor stuff, but when he stopped to get a kitten out of a tree Clark had to admit he was just bored.
Still, he didn't want to linger at home. This morning's fiasco was still very much on his mind. He'd been out very late last night, between the JLA public appearance in California yesterday evening and having to go out on a rescue afterward. Clark hadn't gotten to sleep until the three o'clock in the morning, which left him short on sleep. He'd skipped his morning rounds and slept in a little, only to wake up to an argument between Lois and Kala. No idea what it had been about, just that their raised voices drilled into his skull until he got up and stalked into the kitchen. Clark rarely spoke harshly to anyone, especially not his wife and children, but he had demanded silence quite sternly. When Lois and Kala both tried to explain, he'd testily replied that he didn't care what it was about or who said what first, so long as they both hushed.
Twenty minutes later, the front door had slammed as Lois left, knowing perfectly well that she was supposed to take the kids to the Whites' on her way. Jason had stuck his head out of his room, calling "Mom?!" in a startled voice that seemed to belong to a much younger version of himself.
Clark had sighed, growling under his breath at Lois, and told both kids to get dressed. He'd take them, but only if they were ready in half an hour. Kala, still miffed about the argument, had been silent through the car ride until her brother hissed, "Everything would've been fine if you'd just kept your mouth shut about the stupid picture!"
Before Clark could ask, Kala retorted angrily, "It's not my fault the Wonder Wench was on page one! Mom would've seen it anyway. All I did was comment."
"Yeah, on how her special Amazonian power is staying wrinkle-free at her age," Jason had shot back acidly. "And how that bustier ought to come with a warning, at her height she could poke some guys' eyes out with those things. Real classy, Kal, and just what Mom wants to hear in the morning."
He'd left out especially when Dad was out all night, but he might as well have said it. Clark wanted to bang his forehead against the steering wheel; Lois' animosity toward Diana of Themyscira was unfounded, so far as he knew, but deeply held. He had forgotten that the JLA press conference yesterday would be covered in today's paper, and photos of Wonder Woman particularly incensed Lois. Sighing in aggravation, he'd broken up the kids' quarreling and dropped them off with Richard and Lana. Over Kristin's excited squeals, he'd managed to warn Richard that both twins might be a little temperamental, and the younger man had only shrugged. "Life with teens," he'd said philosophically.
Clark had gone out, but now found himself with nothing to do. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost lunch time. Just enough time to pick up a pizza for Lois and bring it to the office. Clark grinned at the thought; it wasn't his fault she was angry, and he didn't think he'd done anything wrong that morning to deserve the way she'd stormed out. But apologizing to her wouldn't hurt, and would most likely allow the whole mess to just blow over.
He wondered, rather more often than he used to, what was going on in Lois' mind. Once she had been an open book to him, but lately he seemed to be missing a few pages. At times, it felt as though he was also trying to read upside-down, in an unfamiliar language. Lois' propensity for keeping secrets wasn't news to Clark, but for a long time it seemed that their marriage was based on open, honest communication. Just lately, though…
Sometimes Lois would snap at him, seemingly for no reason. And half her arguments with Kala seemed utterly irrational to Clark. Lois had been very enthusiastic about the JLA when it was first formed, but her attitude had cooled significantly over the last year or so, and now she got disgruntled every time the League was mentioned. Clark couldn't understand why, and Lois wouldn't tell him. She wouldn't tell him anything about her moods anymore – why she was upset or angry, or what he could do to help her. He knew she was under pressure, and did his best to relieve it, but that was all he could do for her without knowing what specifically was stressing her.
Sighing a little, Clark headed out to Lois' favorite pizza place to get her dinner. That, at least, was something he could do for her and be certain she would enjoy it.
…
Almost immediately after arriving at the Whites' house, Kala and Jason had stopped their quarreling. It was hard to be snide to each other when Kristin was practically climbing their legs, demanding to be held and swung. Besides, any home that Lana lived in became an island of serenity, and both teenagers behaved more graciously there.
After their Saturday outing – a whirlwind tour of the bookstore, the music shop, and the new café, Fuel – Kala was starting to feel a little tired. Her allowance had bought two used CDs, a hardcover Stephen King anthology and a couple of paperbacks, and a large sugarplum spice latte. Even better, she'd hung around Fuel long enough to learn that it was a club of sorts in the evening. They still sold coffee and neat appetizers, but they moved the furniture around to create a dance floor. Like many teen venues, they hosted an open-mike night, but they went a step beyond, in Kala's opinion.
Fuel featured a lot of local bands, the kinds of acts that tended to open for bigger bands until they managed to sign their own record deal. When those garage bands headlined at Fuel, someone had to open for them. Since Fuel also had a karaoke machine, their answer was to let anyone with the guts to approach the mike sing a few songs. Once Kala learned that, she decided that was going to be her next major goal in life: sing in front of an audience that wasn't comprised of art-school teachers, students, and parents.
That news had even been thrilling enough for her to overlook Giselle being at the bookstore. Kala had sighed loudly at the time, but most of the kids at Stalmaster tended to congregate at the same places. News of something like Fuel would spread through the school in a couple of weeks, and by January Kala could expect to see familiar faces there any time she visited.
All the excitement – good and otherwise – was probably what had worn her down. Now, all she wanted was a little peace and quiet, perhaps even a brief nap. When Kala strolled into the living room, she saw Jason sitting on the sofa while Kristin sprawled on the floor, drawing in her sketch pad. Dusty was snoring in his bed nearby, all four feet in the air. Yawning, Kala went over to Jason and nudged his shoe with the toe of her boot. "Lemme have the couch?" she asked.
He looked up at her incredulously. "Now? But Mythbusters is on! They're testing a hwacha. It's this ancient Korean war machine with black powder…"
Kala yawned more forcefully. "Sorry, you lost me in the geek-speak. If you won't move and miss your precious whatchamacallit, at least budge over?"
Jason rolled his eyes and slid over, muttering, "Don't call me a geek, Elvira."
Kala stuck her tongue out at him and dropped onto the couch, leaning against him. She wriggled her shoulders until she found a comfortable position, and tipped her head back to grin at him. "You make a pretty good pillow, brother mine."
Jason sighed. "You're just as much a geek as I am, by the way."
"Nuh-uh," she said, in outright denial of all the times they'd both watched Discovery channel programming in rapt amazement.
"Yes-huh," he retorted, and they both chuckled.
The sound finally caught Kristin's attention, and she turned to look at her older siblings. Her drawing was close to done, so she flipped the sketchpad cover closed and got up, ambling over to the pair on the couch. "Can I sit with you?" she asked plaintively.
"Of course," Kala said. She patted her leg, offering her lap.
Kristin was happy to oblige, and scrambled up easily. She was the right height to sit in Kala's lap and lean back, her head tucked under Kala's chin and her feet resting on Kala's knees. The three of them lay like that, Jason watching the television and the two girls dozing, for almost an hour. Jason saw Lana come in to check on them once, and leave them to their own devices with a smile. Kala heard her, but didn't open her eyes. She was half-asleep but more aware than she normally was when awake; her fantastic hearing was automatically tracking the heartbeats of everyone in the penthouse, as well as listening to the noises of the building and the outdoors. This is how Dad hears the world, she thought briefly, and smiled in satisfaction before slipping into dreams.
After Mythbusters went off, Jason watched a special about Egyptian pharaohs. As the program wound to a close, Richard stepped in and looked at the three of them. "Hey tiger," he said to Jason. "I see you're developing my talent for attracting the ladies. Just for my sake, try to make it work on someone besides your sisters. Am I gonna need a crowbar to pry Kristin away for her bath?"
"Gross," Jason commented sourly. "We're not in Alabama, Dad. And I think you will need a crowbar for Little Red."
Chuckling, Richard reached over to tickle his daughter under the chin. "Hey there, kidlet. Bath time."
"Nooooo," Kristin whined, batting at his hand. "Wanna stay wi' Jason 'n' Kala."
"You have to get a bath, little one," Richard insisted, stroking his fingertips down her nose. "No stinky kids in my house."
Kala stretched, almost crowding her brother off the sofa in the process, and looked up at Richard. "So you're kicking Jason out?" she asked sweetly.
Jason elbowed her. "Stop being a dweeb."
"You are stinky, Jason," she replied, batting her eyelashes innocently. "Remember that time in Kansas when you went swimming in the mud to play with Mr. Fabulous Fred the Funky Frog?"
Jason's jaw dropped in horror. "Um, excuse me, but I just called him Fred. And we both wound up dumped in the bath for it."
"Daddy's first time bathing us," Kala said. "He didn't know how, remember?"
"It's easy," Richard cut in. "Put some detergent in the washing machine, drop the kid in, and set it on the gentle cycle."
"Dad!" Kala groaned. "Now I don't trust you to bathe Kristin. Heck, I don't trust you to bathe Dusty. C'mon, Little Red, upsa-daisy. I'll give you your bath."
As she got to her feet, holding the still-whining Kristin, Richard grinned at Jason and shot him a thumb's-up. "See how I managed to get out of bathing her? I am awesome. Watch and learn, my son, watch and learn."
Jason guffawed. "You'd better supervise Kala and make sure she doesn't dye Kristin's hair black again, though."
Now it was Richard's turn to groan. "God, when Lana saw that I thought she'd have a heart attack. Either that or go psychotic and kill us all. I'm so glad it was the wash-out Halloween stuff."
"I am not homicidal, Richard James White," Lana said from the doorway, looking at him with auburn brows raised and her arms folded.
"Oh no, she used my middle name," Richard stage-whispered to Jason. "Word of advice – any time your woman does that to you, run like hell." He followed his own advice, giving Lana a quick peck on the cheek before dashing out to check on Kristin and Kala.
Lana shook her head in amusement, and came in to sit beside Jason. "Well, at least one other person in this family is remotely sane," she said with a gentle smile.
…
The keys on Lois' keyboard were screaming in protest as those hazel eyes bored a hole through her monitor. When she'd left on Friday, there had been several irons in the fire and the fury she was feeling this evening would be channeled into research on them. Thank God Perry wasn't in or she had this feeling she'd strangle the old man with his necktie.
When the news of the press conference had first come through, she had held her temper. They had originally had dinner plans out with the whole family, but those had only been tentative. There was general disappointment; both Kala and Lois had been looking forward to trying out the new Korean restaurant that had opened up a couple of blocks from the house on Stern. When the appearance had been announced, the other three had sighed and shrugged, declaring that it was fine. Kal-El had promised that he'd be home before it got too late with a pint of the blueberry-acai ice cream that was the current house-favorite dessert.
The meal had been unbelievable, all three of the Lane-Kents eating more than their fair share: Lois and Jason partaking of Shinseollo and Nakji Bokkeum; Kala, who was making a dedicated attempt at vegetarianism this week, managing to put away just as much of Japchae and Doraji Namul. Filled to the brim with excellent food, they had managed to make it home without a single fight (a minor miracle). The first of Metropolis' Christmas lights were being lit up for the first time of the season on their way back to Reeve Plaza. It had been a relaxing and even fun evening for all.
Kal-El still hadn't returned by the time they got home, but none of them had really been surprised. According to him, he was leaving to go directly to the appearance when he had left them at fifteen to six. It was only just eight when they arrived. From experience, they all knew that it would be at least three hours before they could expect to see him. At the least. Still in the cheerful mood that had buoyed them thus far this evening; they had all spent the evening watching a marathon of a show called Damages that Jason had run across a few weeks before. All of them were so engrossed that it amazed them when the last episode aired and they realized that it was after midnight. Both yawning hugely, the twins had gotten their hugs before bed and headed down the hallway to their rooms, only shoving each other half-heartedly before separating for the night.
It had only been a short time later that she turned off the living room lights and the television. It was getting more than a little late; especially after the long day she'd had. Calling Bagel's name, Lois strolled toward her bedroom, hearing the beagle's tags jingle as she got up from the heating vent she'd been snoozing on to follow her.
While Bagel had gotten herself settled in for the night, Lois had taken a shower. Part of her had hoped to have company before she finished, but no such luck. It wasn't the first time that she'd spent the night alone since they married; she'd live. Even if he got caught up in something, they had all day tomorrow.
Her laid-back attitude had only started to slip when she realized that it was nearing two o'clock in the morning and she had yet to hear from her husband. As was her habit, despite the late hour, she turned on CNN as she dressed in a nightgown and got into bed.
Thinking about it now, the keys howled and rattled as she pounded them with aggravation. And within moments of her tuning in, their coverage of the conference was being recounted; all was well until a single image turned her whole day on its ear.
The three founding members of the Justice League of America were known to the press, perhaps blasphemously, as the Trinity: Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. Lois had been let in on their secrets as well as several other JLA members in order to protect them both; a little misdirection at the right time, coming from a reporter of her legendary status, had saved several superheroes from being exposed. It also amused her to have interviewed Bruce long before she learned about his extracurricular activities, even shortly before she'd met Clark.
In the video clip, Kal-El was speaking into the microphone, answering reporters' questions, his attention focused on the crowd. Bruce and Diana were both waiting, pretty much just backing up their colleague. Lois knew that Bruce hated these public appearances, and beneath the mask she saw his scowl. He looked bored, and Lois had smiled a little at his expression; someone would much rather be beating the snot out of Gotham's criminals than making nice with the public. Diana, however, was the emissary of her people, as much politician as hero, and she did much better with the public stuff. But at that moment, she didn't have her mind on business…
Diana was watching Kal-El attentively. No, raptly. She looked at him like a cat eyeing a bowl of cream, and Lois had felt her temperature begin to rise. Back when Wonder Woman had first appeared on the superhero scene, some wag had made the comment that Superman was single, and wouldn't that be the match of the century? If any man could handle a Wonder Woman, it would be Superman, and many other witty little remarks. Lois had to stifle her instinct to bellow that he was married, dammit – she couldn't do that without revealing his identity.
She'd been angry, but she hadn't become furious until she'd overheard another reporter saying that Lois Lane was a hottie, but still, she was only human. Man of Steel, Woman of Kleenex. Now this Wonder Woman had powers of her own… The rest of the conversation had been drowned out by the red tide of wrath in Lois' mind, and if she could have found the speaker in the crowd, she might have done something regretful.
Lois had never told Kal-El about any of this, but he probably knew. Her fears had gradually eased. It helped that by the time the JLA was founded, Bruce and Diana both knew about Clark's identity, as he knew theirs, and Diana had been filled in at length about his marriage and his children. She'd seemed to step back from Kal-El, and he had always treated her like any other colleague, almost seeming not to notice that she was a beautiful woman with powers to match his own, a woman who would never age…
The simple fact of Diana's existence had led Lois to start buying expensive cosmetics and dyeing her hair; even the tiniest glimpse of gray was too much to bear with the freakin' Princess of the Amazons around. But she hid those activities from Clark, skulking around to purchase the age-defying moisturizers and checking to make sure she wasn't followed to the salon. Lois hated herself for it; Kal-El had never given her any reason to be vain or jealous, but she couldn't help it.
They'd been at a détente of sorts, Lois growling whenever Wonder Woman was in the news, and Diana keeping away from Kal-El. But that little snippet of video last night … it was only four or five seconds in which Kal-El said something to make the crowd chuckle, and Diana had looked at him and smiled. Not the smile that complimented a colleague on a nice bit of work, but a smile full of attraction, a smile that found Kal-El fascinating and well-nigh irresistible. Lois knew that look; she'd felt it on her own face too many times to count. As a woman who had reason to be frequently disappointed in men – a circumstance Diana shared – Lois was often amazed by the many little ways in which Kal-El failed to disappoint. He didn't lie, he didn't denigrate others to bolster his own self-image, he didn't use people, and he never thought of women as objects or chattel. Combined with his looks, Kal-El was actually a little too good to be real. A lot of women gave him that amazed smile, and Lois usually laughed it off. But not where Diana was concerned…
Infuriated, Lois had viciously stabbed at the OFF button on the remote, and as soon as the television went dark she flung the remote at the television. Bagel had yelped at the sound of it hitting the wall, the little dog diving off the bed to hide beneath it. Lois hadn't even bothered to comfort her pet; she'd just wanted to make sure she was deeply asleep whenever Kal-El finally dragged himself home.
Sleep had drained the most of the fury out of her, although she had already made the decision that she wouldn't spend the day at home due to her continued irritation. It would just chafe at her until she turned on Kal-El with her temper blazing and demanded an explanation. He had gotten in extremely late, she knew. She herself had broken down and taken three Tylenol PM at around four to assure herself of at least five hours of rest before heading to the paper. Well, that and she just couldn't handle facing him. And all would have stayed well if Kala hadn't seen fit to show her ass at the breakfast table. After seeing that same smile on Diana's face the night before and having been all too aware of the differences between herself and the Amazon, Lois had just barely managed to not rip the newspaper out of her daughter's hands. It wasn't the first time that she'd had this splashed in her face. And if the picture was on the front page of her paper, God only knew what the others would print.
Never mind the fact that it was Clark's fault in the first place that Kala had anything to taunt her with; he'd scheduled one of his own people to cover the press conference in Sacramento and he'd asked Jimmy to come along for it. Yes, it was an excellent opportunity to be front and center at one of the rare gatherings of the Justice League, and Jimmy had been thrilled, but to see what had been whispered about on the front page of her own paper. To think that her own photographer had shot that piece of tripe…
"Hi, Lois," Eastlake said, rapping his knuckles against the open door. "Mind if I intrude?"
She'd jerked her head up, startled by the sound, and forced herself to relax with a little chuckle. "Sure, Erik, have a seat," she said. By now, her smile wasn't forced; Eastlake had picked up the intricacies of running a newspaper like a sponge soaking up knowledge instead of water. He was that rarest of inheritance investors, one who had discovered a passion for the thing that his father considered merely a sound stock. If he'd been looking for a job, Lois might've hired him – enthusiasm and curiosity were key traits in a budding reporter.
But by all accounts, Eastlake had never worked and didn't intend to start now. He'd inherited enough money to keep him in the style to which he was accustomed, and accountants saw to it that the money kept on growing. It was only when a whim struck him that Erik looked into his investments personally. And Lois appreciated his current fancy: her newspaper. He'd already contributed to the funds Perry had established for upgrading the presses and the computer network.
Best of all, though, Erik was the only man Lois had met in the past twenty years who hadn't asked about her most famous story. He was interested in her as an administrator, not as a reporter.
"I had an idea about the network thing," he said, leaning forward to brace his elbows on her desk. "It'd be more costly going in, but you'd save yourself a lot of trouble in the long run."
"Oh really?" Lois asked, intrigued.
"Switch over to the new Kal processors in your central servers," he said, his eyes excited. Lois felt her heart plummet, but Eastlake didn't notice. "They're faster, they're more energy-efficient, and they require almost no maintenance."
"They're new on the market," Lois said through numb lips. "No one knows how much maintenance they require long-term."
"Nah, the L-Tech research and development facility's been using them in all its mainframes for seven years," Erik said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Not a single burnout. Upgrading them is easy, too. They are heavier than silicone chips, and when you're running as many computers as L-Tech is, that means you have to reinforce the floors, but you won't have that problem here. And, L-Tech is going to come out with a new memory module specifically designed to work with their processor … but you didn't hear it from me!"
Lois felt her stomach plummet. L-Tech was Luthor's company, somehow. He ran it through a long chain of intermediaries, since he was still wanted on two murder charges in Metropolis, but she knew it was his. The Kal processor proved it – and from what Eastlake was saying, more Kryptonian-based technology would soon be on the market. Mastering herself, Lois said, "Really? I'm guessing that's not public information – I've been looking into the company for a while, and I haven't heard a peep about the memory."
Eastlake looked sheepish. "Well, I own stock with them, too. Pop got in on the ground floor – took ten percent of the stock at the initial public offering of the company. He didn't normally take risks like that, but the prototype processor at the demonstration convinced him. L-Tech is going to be the next IBM, was how he put it. At the last shareholders' meeting, they unveiled the plans for the memory. There's talk of an upgrade to the Kal processor in five years or so, too."
He was almost pathetically eager to please, and Lois had the gut feeling that Eastlake wasn't one of Luthor's employees. It was probably just as he'd said – his father had seen a fantastic investment opportunity, and the younger man had followed it up as enthusiastically as he was now checking out the newspaper business. As star reporter, Lois had often relied on her intuition, and she trusted it now.
She would, however, be careful. Hunches were sometimes wrong, and no matter how slight the risk, Lois wouldn't let her guard down all the way. That didn't mean that she wouldn't cultivate Eastlake as a source, however. Insider's knowledge about L-Tech was too valuable to ignore, no matter the source; it might eventually lead back to Luthor himself. And in spite of her promise, Lois couldn't pass up the chance to catch a glimpse of what her old enemy was up to these days.
With that in mind, Lois set her mind to charming Eastlake out of every last bit of information he possessed.
…
For a moment, Richard just stood in the doorway and watched Kala and Kristin. Kristin had many doting female relatives, but none so attentive as her big sister. For a while, Richard had actually worried that she wouldn't learn to walk until she got too heavy for Kala to carry. That hadn't happened, but whenever the twins were at the Whites' apartment, Kala just naturally fell into the role of Kristin's caretaker. And the little redhead loved the attention, even if she didn't love the bath. "Need my 'izzard," she informed Kala, as the teenager tested the water temperature.
"One Godzilla floaty toy, coming up," Kala replied, reaching up to grab it off the shelf above the commode. Richard grinned at the sight of it; the Godzilla tub toy had come on the market after Jason had outgrown it, but the boy had seen it in the store and loved it so much he bought it for Kristin. She was probably the only girl in the world who had a Godzilla toy floating in her Disney Princess bubble bath. Then again, Richard thought, Lana would certainly blame him for the movie monster.
Kala got Kristin undressed and in the bathtub with little complaint, and starting pouring warm water down the little girl's long red hair. As usual, Kristin relaxed profoundly, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. "You have the prettiest hair," Kala sighed.
"Nuh-uh," Kristin protested lazily. "I like yours better."
"But mine's just black and wavy," Kala said. "Yours is so lovely and red."
"Your hair was red once," Kristin said, her eyes opening.
Kala chuckled, and Richard echoed her. "She bleached the black out of it and dyed it red, kidlet," he said. "Her mother almost fainted."
"She knew I was doing it," Kala said, glancing over her shoulder at Richard.
"Yeah, she just wasn't prepared for the two days you waited between bleaching and dyeing," Richard replied. He saw the irritation in her expression, and wondered at the tension between Lois and Kala. All teenage girls had problems with their moms, or so he'd heard, and Lois' reaction to the locket the twins gave her on their birthday showed how strong the love between them really was. But still, he worried…
Kala was shampooing Kristin's long hair, the younger girl once again almost falling asleep in bliss. The dark-haired teen hummed softly, and Richard recognized the melody of an old Moody Blues song. Richard sat down on the edge of the tub beside her, and Kala flashed him a quick smile.
He rumpled her hair lightly, and she shook her head as she started rinsing the lather from Kristin's hair. "Quit it, Dad."
"Sorry," Richard said. "Are things any easier with your mom?"
For a long while, Kala didn't speak, concentrating on Kristin. Richard thought she would simply sidestep the question, until she answered in a low, considering voice. "A little. Maybe."
Richard sighed under his breath. He knew that tone; it was as much Lois as the grin a moment ago had been Clark. He also knew he wouldn't be able to get another word out of Kala on the subject of her mother, and any attempt to discuss it would be met with increasing hostility. Instead, he asked, "Would you like to read Little K her bedtime story when we're done?"
"Sure," Kala said, favoring him with a smile.
…
Jason seemed distant to Lana, a faint scowl on his face as he watched television. Taken with Clark's warning about the twins' argument earlier, it worried her. She put her hand on his shoulder and felt him stiffen slightly, then relax and turn to her. He looked so mournful that he reminded her of Dusty as a pup, and she couldn't help smiling. "What's wrong, handsome?" she asked.
"Nothing," he muttered, his gaze flickering away from her eyes.
Lana smiled ruefully and stroked his cheek. "You're as good a liar as your father, Jason," she told him kindly. "Which is to say, you're not much good at lying."
He sighed hugely, lower lip pouting slightly, an expression Lana was more accustomed to seeing on Kala's face – or Lois'. The resemblances made her want to lean over and kiss his forehead, but she held her peace for the moment. With Jason, it was best not to push him; just waiting expectantly would often cause him to elaborate.
Lana knew she wasn't his first choice of confidant. He was Lois' baby boy, her firstborn and only son, and while the redhead never doubted that he loved her, the first part of his heart was given to Lois. Kala was a close – very close – second, but Lana suspected she was the only one who'd noticed the first tremors of estrangement growing between the twins. She was the last of the four parents to have come into their lives, and she saw the two teenagers with perhaps a little more clarity than the others did. Still, Jason seemed to be unable to talk to his mother or his sister about whatever was troubling him, and he hadn't gone to either dad with it either, so Lana waited to see if he would confide in her.
By the look of him, Jason had more than one worry on his mind. Lana wasn't surprised at that; those who saw only a smart, good-natured teenager were not looking hard enough. Jason was much deeper than most of them suspected. He had his insecurities, and he spent more time in weighty philosophical ponderings than the average boy his age. The only thing Lana wondered was which of his concerns he would choose to share. Like his mother, Jason was a master of the bait-and-switch method of answering personal questions.
He finally came out with, "How come Mom and Kala have to fight so much?" That was one of the ones Lana had been expecting, but it didn't make it any easier to unravel, especially not with Jason looking at her plaintively. She took a few moments to marshal her thoughts on the subject, and let him see her thinking it over, knowing he'd understand the respect she gave him and his worry.
"Partly, it's a mother-daughter thing," she finally said. "I know, it sounds like a platitude, but things like that get said so often because they're so often true. I'm not looking forward to it with Kristin."
"Nuh-uh," Jason protested. "You and Little K will never…"
"We will," Lana interrupted him gently. "Almost guaranteed. I know I quarreled with my mother more than once, and I was more like Kristin than Kala when I was young. Jason, very few mothers and daughters get through adolescence without a few storms."
"This isn't a storm, it's freakin' hurricane season," Jason groused.
Lana patted his shoulder soothingly, absently noting the muscle there – Jason would one day have Clark's powerful build as well as his height. A far cry from the frail little boy she'd first met ten years ago… "Jason, honey. Your mother is very strong-willed, and she's not used to backing down. Your sister is the same way. Neither of those are bad personality traits, but they do make life complicated, especially when they're in opposition to each other. All the little quibbles a teenage girl and her mother would have normally wind up becoming huge fights, because neither of them knows how to do anything but escalate."
"Escalation, like in warfare," Jason muttered cynically. "No wonder it feels like I'm living on scorched earth sometimes."
"With the language your mother uses at times, I'm surprised there aren't literal scorch marks on the walls," Lana joked, and she surprised a chuckle out of Jason. While he was still smiling at that, she asked, "Now what's really bothering you?"
Jason cut her an astonished look, and Lana had to bite back laughter. Kids didn't know how transparent they were to their elders, and Jason had no idea that Lana could read him so well. But he drove those thoughts from her mind with his unexpected reply. "How come you don't like Giselle?"
Lana took a deep breath. He would ask that. "Jason, I don't dislike her," she said evenly. "It's just that…" She trailed off, trying to find the words to explain without sounding like the typical parent misunderstanding young love.
"Nobody does," Jason said dispiritedly. "It's like how Jor-El was about Mom – everybody thinks she's not good enough for me."
"Jason, I never said that," Lana corrected. "I don't presume to speak for anyone else, but I don't dislike Giselle. I can't say I like her, either, because I don't know her."
"We've been going out since September," Jason replied, startled.
"Yes, and I've spoken to her plenty of times since then," Lana said. "But I've never gotten the sense that she has something she believes in strongly enough to argue it. She's never disagreed with me, or with anyone in the family, except maybe Kala. Giselle is unfailingly sweet, polite, and complimentary to every adult she meets, and I know absolutely nothing about her beyond that. I can't really base an opinion of her on that alone."
"Since when is it a bad thing that she's nice?" Jason's tone had turned slightly belligerent, and he'd turned to face Lana, his back against the arm of the sofa and his brows drawing down to a scowl.
"It's not a bad thing. Listen, when you went out with…" Lana paused and made a hasty substitution, not wanting to mention Elise, "…Ashlyn, the first time I met her, I learned a lot about her. She's a very nice girl, too, but she also has opinions. Once when she came over, she and I had a very long conversation about music. There are a couple of genres she likes that I don't, and she politely disagreed with me and backed up her feelings. I actually bought a CD based on that conversation, by the way."
Jason was still frowning, but she seemed to be making sense to him. "Okay."
"She might just be shy," Lana offered. "A lot of times a person who seems confident really isn't. But I'm not going to really have any reason to like or dislike Giselle until I know something about her besides the fact that she has good manners."
Lana rarely withheld information from the kids, but she did it now. One of her concerns with Giselle was something she'd never broach to Jason, not while he was so protective over the girl. Simply put, Giselle knew who Lana was, and knew that Jason was essentially her stepson. The designer treated him and Kala no differently than she treated Kristin, something Giselle had been witness to on numerous occasions.
It was reasonable to assume that Jason had access to her money, either through his allowance or through birthday gifts and the like. It was reasonable – and correct, though neither twin knew it – to assume that Jason stood to inherit part of her estate, as well. Lana had noticed that Giselle had very expensive tastes; her clothes were often designer, and Lana suspected some of them were tailored. She also wore jewelry and perfume that few teenagers could afford. Lana hadn't quite begun to suspect that the girl was more interested in Jason's money than in Jason himself, but given that they seemed a poor match in many ways…
Lana doubted that Giselle had the kind of strength to be a part of this family. True, not every date Jason went on was about future marriage prospects, and Lana was fairly certain he didn't have any plans to marry Giselle. But anyone who spent significant time around the family began to notice things, the kinds of things that strained relationships: unexplained absences and unwillingness to discuss certain subjects among them. The sense of secrets kept, the feeling of being the outsider, tended to be disastrous in romance. Lana rather pitied Giselle, thinking that she was nice enough, but didn't have the determination to stick with Jason even though she was (of necessity) being kept in the dark, and suspecting that the eventual breakup would hurt both kids.
Such was life, however, and like most kids, Jason would have to learn its lessons on his own. Besides, he was perceptive enough to have noticed that all the adults in the family had given Giselle a cool reception – not cold, not even chilly, but not the warmth that he'd expected. Any advice Lana gave him at this point wouldn't be well-received; he'd just assume she was 'ganging up' on Giselle, and that would only strengthen his resolve to stay with the girl. Lana had a moment to think that the whole situation was probably driving Lois and Clark out of their minds, but they hadn't said anything against Giselle, either. They both knew, as Lana did, that young love is romantic and idealistic, and listens very little to worldly-wise realism.
Jason had fallen silent, perhaps considering Lana's remark about shyness. He was an optimist where other people were concerned, and that possible explanation probably sounded best to him. Lana decided to let him think on it for now – he was smart enough to consider other probabilities, as well. And perhaps he might even wonder how well he knew Giselle, too. Getting him thinking along those lines would do a lot more good than trying to force him to break up with her.
That's enough parenting for one night, Lana thought, and ruffled Jason's hair. "Kristin is probably on her way to sleep by now. You and Kala are welcome to stay up until ten-thirty, but I'd rather have my rest, and I imagine Richard feels the same – unless he finds an old horror movie on TV."
Jason grinned wryly. "I happen to know they're showing Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II tonight."
"Oh, dear Lord," Lana groaned. "There go my plans for the evening."
…
The Daily Planet was usually quiet on a Saturday evening, only a few employees taking care of the weekend editions, so Clark was startled to hear laughter as he got off the elevator. Lois' laughter, at that. It shocked him, considering the way she left. She'd never even told him she was headed into work, probably due to his absence from dinner last night, and he had to learn that from the twins. Clark walked in warily, glancing through the doors and walls to see where Lois was.
Sitting in her office, with the young investor Eastlake sitting across from her. He was leaning one elbow on her desk in a familiar way that Clark immediately disliked. But he composed his expression to a pleasant mask of neutrality as he crossed the bullpen to her office.
"I'll grant her the bustier," Eastlake was saying, "it might be bulletproof for all I know, but the panties? Come on. You gotta be kidding me! Our resident superhero in Metropolis may wear his briefs on the outside, but at least he's wearing some tights to go with them and not flashing an acre of skin like she is."
Lois was laughing so hard she was almost in tears, at least up until the remark about Superman. "There's a reason for the skintight costume," she said, between chuckles. "One, aerodynamics. Two, he's invulnerable, but the costume isn't. It has to be close to his skin to be protected from damage. That's why the cape sometimes gets ripped, but the suit, never."
"Makes sense," Eastlake was saying. "So what's her excuse?" Lois laughed again, trying in vain to stifle it.
Clark was beginning to get angry – something that normally took a very long time with him. But this Eastlake guy was pushing all of his buttons. First, though Clark was not normally a jealous man, this kid who had inherited his father's money and never done a day's work in his life was lounging in Lois' office making sheep's-eyes at her, when he had to know she was married. Lois Lane-Kent was right there on the door he'd walked in, for crying out loud! Eastlake had been around an awful lot over the last two months, and he always seemed to gravitate toward Lois.
Clark could've forgiven that; he had to, considering that dozens of men looked at his wife every day, and at least one or two a week actually leered at her. Lois laughed it off as flattery, and Clark ignored it. But here she was snickering with Eastlake like a couple of high-school kids making fun of the teachers after school.
He could not forgive what Eastlake was saying – and Lois was laughing – about one of his colleagues. True, Wonder Woman's uniform was quite revealing; Clark had noticed that a lot of female superheroes tended to, well, advertise their assets. In Diana's case, she'd once confided to him that she'd had no idea how her choice of costume would be perceived. She'd come from a world without men or men's preconceptions, and the leers and wolf whistles that had greeted her first public appearances were baffling to her. Now she knew, but there was little hope of changing her uniform, and she'd accepted the slightly skewed image it had fixed in the public eye with a certain fatalism.
Clark knew how she felt – his own costume had been designed for exactly the reasons Lois had just mentioned to Eastlake, but he'd heard the joke about his briefs approximately three thousand times. Coming from that arrogant little wife-ogling rich boy's mouth, it was once too many. He all but barged into Lois' office, exaggerating his reputation for clumsiness a little. "Hi honey," he said to Lois, his tone a trifle too bright. "I brought you dinner."
Lois looked up at him, wide-eyed. The expression on her face could've been guilt, or simple astonishment. But after a second's pause, she smiled up at him, the old sweet smile he knew so well. "That's sweet of you, Clark. Do you have time to share it with me?"
That simple kindness – and the implied acceptance of his peace offering – perversely annoyed Clark even more. Someone else had cajoled Lois out of her cranky mood this morning, and Clark had the feeling that it was the young man sitting in the chair beside him. He didn't look at Eastlake – didn't quite trust himself to. Instead, he settled for standing just close enough to loom, acting as though he hadn't seen the other man. "It's our day, isn't it?" he said to Lois, smiling to dispel any hint of sarcasm in his words. "Of course I have time. And I got your favorite pizza – three kinds of mushrooms, two kinds of olives, and extra feta cheese."
Lois' smile in return was somewhere between wry and amused; she'd caught the subtext, but she couldn't turn down the pizza. Turning to Eastlake, she said, "Thanks for stopping by, Erik. I'll get back with you about all this later, okay?"
"Sure," the young man said, rising from his seat. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to me, Mrs. Lane-Kent." He shook her hand, then offered his to Clark, meeting the taller man's eyes with no hesitation, no glimmer of guilt.
Clark, however, had known used-car salesmen who could lie with such open countenances, and he didn't trust the investor. He also hadn't missed Lois' usage of the man's first name. Aggravation was rapidly boiling over into anger, and Clark didn't trust himself to shake the interloper's hand. He shrugged, displaying the bag with the individual pizza boxes in his left hand and the drinks carrier in his right. "Sorry, I don't have a free hand," he said, making his voice as genial as possible. But he didn't turn to face Eastlake, just giving him a look from the corner of his eye that spoke volumes.
Eastlake was not so much a fool as he seemed; he took himself out without saying anything further. Lois was looking up at Clark wonderingly, and after a moment she said, "That was pretty rude, for you – I mean, that was the equivalent of spitting on somebody's shoes."
He could make this a fight, or he could put it aside and enjoy dinner with his wife. Little wonder which Clark would choose. "If he looked any further down your cleavage, I might've spat on his shoes," he reflected, setting her pizza box on her desk as she picked up her coffee mug and rolled her eyes. "Too bad I don't have acid spit like certain other aliens I can think of."
Lois burst out laughing. "Now I know you're hanging out with Richard too much," she said, and that shadow was gone from her eyes – she was his Lois again. "If you're comparing yourself to that Ridley Scott movie, you've been watching too many creature-features with Mr. White."
"Actually, I saw it with Jason," Clark said, sitting down. Once again it seemed like things could be all right, and he reached across the table to take her hand. "I love you, Lois. There isn't another like you in any galaxy, you know that?"
"I know there're quite a few people who hope there isn't another me anywhere in the universe." That rejoinder was meant to be funny, but instead of the mischievous gleam he'd expected to see in her eyes, Clark only saw that odd little smile she'd been wearing on and off lately. He wasn't sure entirely what that expression portended, but it didn't make prying into her mood seem like a good idea.
Instead, Clark squeezed her hand gently, and promised himself he would make sure she knew how much she was loved by the time night gave way to morning.