Author's Notes: Thanks again, everyone. Okay, so here's the thing. These acts are going to be jumping from one point in their lives to another. You're going to have to exercise your imaginations to fill the gaps in between. :)
Act 2
There could be a million other things in the world I could be doing, but today that's not the case. I drew the short end of the straw and now I'm wandering about the jungles of Central Africa looking into some macho man a bunch of locals call'The Savior'.
Personally, I think it's a load of crock.
According to eyewitness reports, a foreign white male was spotted rescuing a child off a bus that was too close from falling off the edge of a cliff.
Here's the kicker.
The bus actually fell and the witnesses didn't see the man until the bus was actually on the ground, in perfect condition, and the child lying besides it unconscious but very much alive.
I've had my share of miracles but come on!
It has to be a hoax.
If not, well, actually, I've got nothing to loose, so what the hell.
"Did you see anything else that could help me identify this person?"
The local who spoke the best English and shrugged.
"He was wearing back pack. That's all." I scribble in my handy little notepad. "Right. Black hair. Back pack. Then he was gone." I look at the local and shake his hand. "Thank you for your time." I turned and sighed. No one here had an eye for detail because every report was the same one. It's like one person saw and just passed the information around.
The pitfalls of being a reporter.
I should've stayed in the coffee business.
I make my way into a small village in Middle Congo and as much as camping and living in the boonies is not my thing, I can tolerate it despite what other people think. It's easier to be left alone when people believe I don't like it or can't handle it.
The Republic of the Congo is a former French colony of west-central Africa. Its borders are Gabon, Cameroon, Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of the Congo and the Gulf of Guinea. After it gained its independence in 1960, the former French region of Middle Congo became the Republic of the Congo.
I normally wouldn't know this much, but I realized that being a reporter took a lot of discipline and researching. Seriously, I'm not lying.
I think Chloe has it easy in Metropolis. She's working in the politics section of the Planet now. Pauline Kahn is no longer the editor, Perry White succeeded her the same time she announced her retirement.
Perry White. I'm still trying to wrap my head around that.
Coincidence?
Probably, but it's still a little weird.
Anway, so Chloe gets to play politics and sit behind a desk while I'm doing legwork in the middle of an African jungle where civil battles often occur for male testosterone reasons. My cousin owes me a case of beer when I get back, I'll tell you that much.
I've been here a week and I still have no lead.
But this is what I've discovered so far.
The 'man in question' is a tall white male carrying a back pack, and he has a hero-complex because everywhere I go, he leaves trails of saving people behind.
Couldn't he leave a driver's license or a photograph while he's at it?
Wishful thinking, I suppose.
Although I'm not the wishful kind, nor do I try to think too much. It might give off the impression that I'm actually smart. A characteristic I've successfully disassociated from.
I work alone, so I have no one else here with me but a wide-range radio, a map, some supplies and money. If I could carry a shower in my knapsack, all would've been good.
Spreading open my map, there are circles all over the locations I've been to. Whoever this guy is, he doesn't seem to be traveling in a pattern. He mostly sticks to the rural parts of the country and avoids any major and well-known cities.
Whoever he is, he doesn't want to be seen.
I'm beginning to think he's a former agent from one of those three letter branches who have a desired responsibility to save the world.
Great. A martyr.
If only the world had a lot of them.
I would've loved taking a shower at a four star hotel, but bathing beneath a waterfall would have to do. And it's warm too. Got to love that. After several minutes of just enjoying being soaked, I see something in the distance.
Trying to get a better look through the barrage of constant water flowing down, I notice a couple of kids playing nearby.
I smile at the display, and I recall a memory from the past when Chloe and I were little kids running along the shores of Palm Beach. Yeah, those were the memories worth cherishing.
One of the kids suddenly fell in, and after a few seconds, my instincts told me something was wrong and I jump out of the waterfall and into the open pool of water after him. My mind only focused to find the child.
I am not continuing on this 'hero' crusade with a guilty conscience.
I dive in, holding my breath for almost three of minutes using a technique I learned from my Navy Seal instructor called free-diving. This is basically holding your breath underwater for a long length of time.
Remember Geoff, the former football player at Metropolis University. I couldn't move a limb after he left me for dead in that sewage place, but as soon as I regained my ability to keep my mouth shut, I had to focus on holding my breath for as long as I can without panicking until Clark miraculously saved me.
Back to the situation at hand, I tried to see underwater, which was nearly impossible and I start to panic. I swim back to the surface in hopes that the boy got out himself.
When nothing, I was about to go under again and a splash of someone else holding the boy tightly in his arms appeared beneath the surface, swimming their way to land. I front crawl my way towards them as the man was quick to get out of the water.
He reminded me of A.C. short for Arthur Curry. He's another guy I met in Smallville.
I make my way to them. "Hey. Good job there. I was worried that - " You've got to be kidding me. "Clark?"
What are the odds?
"Lois?" he looked just as surprised to see me.
The kids thanked him and hurried off with no thank you for the runner up. I'll let that slide, they don't know any better.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, obviously shell-shocked. You'd think we haven't seen each other in years, when really, it's only been three.
"Business. You?"
It's odd that I'm breathing hard and he's looking as relaxed as ever. Not fair.
"Personal."
I nod. Then I start to shiver and he grows immediately concerned, grabbing his jacket on the ground and covering me with it. That makes me chuckle. You can take the farmboy out of Kansas, but not Kansas out of the farm boy.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing"
"Let's get you out of here and into some dry clothes before you catch hypothermia or something."
"What about you?"
I wasn't the only one half-naked here.
"I've been here a while, I've kind of adjusted. I'll be all right, I promise."
That wasn't very reassuring for me. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were in South America."
"I was a couple of years ago, I've been here three months now."
Wow, has it been that long. I've forgotten how fast time flies.
Then a light bulb hit me. "Three months?" That was around the time the reports started coming in about the mysterious savior. "You wouldn't happen to be traveling with someone, are you?"
He shook his head probably wondering why I would ask that.
"No. I travel alone."
If we were back in Smallville, I would most likely entertain the notion that he's the one going around saving people, but the reports I've read were to big to pull off by any one man, let alone a guy like Clark Kent.
"What about you?"
"The same."
"I can't believe you're here," he says, surprising me again with a hug.
"Yeah, what are the odds"
It's funny how we keep meeting like this. Three years later and things felt like nothing has changed.
Well, there are a few things.
Fortunately for me, plaid is no longer his acquired taste, but he does still wear them from time to time. That's good to know, if you can believe it. The years have done well for him, but I don't want him to change completely.
He's even sporting a twelve o'clock shadow.
"It suits you," tracing the light stubble on his cheek with my fingers.
He smiled. "You think?"
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
After a moment of awkward silence, Clark speaks up.
"So you said you were here on business, I heard you were working with Chloe now. Congratulations, are you here on assignment?"
"Yes and no. Yes I'm on an assignment and no, Chloe and I don't necessarily work together."
"I thought - "
"No, we are working for the Daily Planet, but she's all about the politics now and I kind of work in the city beat section, but I'm sort of undergoing a punishment at the moment."
He raised his eyebrows, curious.
"Don't give me that look."
"What look?" he asked, feigning ignorance. It doesn't suit him but it's cute when he does it.
"That look. That, 'what did I do?' look"
He laughed. "You know that look."
"Unfortunately."
He smiled.
"So what did you do?" he finally asked.
"I almost got myself killed again so our new editor sent me on this assignment." I sighed. "As if this isn't as dangerous."
"What did you do?"
"Oh, I impersonated a Russian Mafia princess. It's nothing that big."
"You didn't!"
I chuckled hoarsely.
"You did!" he changed his mind. "One of these days Lois, you're going to get hurt."
"Relax. I got out of there just fine." Then I say a little too sadly, "I can't say the same for my Ford Fusion though."
He frowned. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I evaded with success. My car was totally wrecked. "What about you, what have you doing here?"
I watched him swallow hard. Did I say something wrong? It can't have been that hard of a question.
To be Continued…