The Girl He Left Behind Him

She wasn't drinking brandy or whisky, and she knew that somewhere the gods of journalism were frowning down on her, eyeing her chilled glass of white wine in disgust. She didn't blame them; she wasn't big on the white stuff, either, but she'd found that there were certain times of day when it suited her.

Of course, the gods of journalism had more important bones to pick with her than her taste in alcoholic beverages. Yesterday, Lois had told herself that today was the day she'd start atoning for those transgressions. Not that she had actually believed herself when she said it, but now, with an empty, blue sky outside and a glass of wine in hand, she felt up to the challenge.

If it had been cloudy, she probably wouldn't have been able to muster the strength.

She leaned over to the other end of the couch, where the phone sat, and picked up the receiver. Her fingers punched in the number without her having to consciously recall it.

He picked up after one ring. "Hello?" said a gruff, weary voice.

"Good morning, Perry. It's Lois. Have I got a story for you. A really good story. Want me to bring it over?"

A pause. "That good, is it? Can we afford to publish anything that good?"

She glanced towards the window, and the empty sky beyond it, and smiled. "I think we can today."

The best thing about Perry was how quickly he understood things. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Lois. He's only been missing for a week. There's a good chance he'll come back. And you remember what he said."

Remember? It was a long time ago, yes, but she couldn't have remembered it better if Superman branded it on her skin.

"I appreciate what you're doing," he had said, beautifully sincere, gloriously patronizing, "and it's necessary that society have people like you who are concerned with truth and justice." He held up that day's copy of the Planet, and his expression had darkened. "But this kind of article has nothing to do with justice, Lois. It has everything to do with spreading discord, with taking away our ability to maintain peace and security. Articles that are critical of our efforts undermine our efforts, and for what? So you can complain? Get people's attention?"

He had turned to Perry. "You're free to print what ever you want, but if you print another article like this, I'll have to close down the paper."

Superman's expression had been one that he had once reserved for people who were trying to destroy the world. It was only in retrospect that Lois had realized that, as far as he was concerned, that was what they were trying to do.

"You won't have a better opportunity, Perry." She swirled her drink, and said lightly, "Come on, I feel like jumping off a bridge today. Would you and your newspaper care to come with me?"

"Hmm. I don't know. Is everyone doing it?"

She grinned. "They will once they see us do it."

He didn't answer immediately, and, for once in her life, Lois didn't rush him. She didn't mind letting him think, as long as he thought his way to the right conclusion.

At last he said, "If we do this, we're not going to do it half-assed."

"Of course not."

"Then bring me everything you've got, and I mean everything." He took a deep breath. "I'll hold the presses."