"Jason--" Lana placed her hands on his chest and gave him a little shove. "Not now."
Jason pulled his head away from her, a bit shocked at her reaction to his attempt to kiss her. "Why not? We're finally away from prying eyes...and that reporter."
Lana felt a strong need to defend Clark's actions. She took a step back, the noise of her footstep ricocheting off the walls of the empty hallway. "Clark's an old friend, Jason. I agreed to follow him out to the gardens."
"I know... It's just, you never mentioned him to me before."
Lana raised an eyebrow, frowning. "What are you getting at?"
"I don't know... I just would have thought that if you two were such good friends back in high school, you would have at least mentioned him to me once. I genuinely felt that he was just using you for information." He shrugged. "That's why I pulled you away. I know how much you hate reporters."
Lana inwardly let out a breath. Good, he didn't suspect anything out of the ordinary. She forced a smile. "Well, Clark's a special case."
Jason nodded. "Of course."
There was an awkward pause between them before Lana suggested, "Why don't you head back to the gala? I'll be right there in a second...I have to use the restroom."
Although he looked skeptical, Jason agreed and slipped back into the ballroom. Instead of heading to the ladies' room, however, Lana remained in the hallway, replaying her last words with Clark in her mind.
What was she thinking asking him to remain friends? It was dangerous enough that she kept running into him all over the place. First the alley and now here...it was as if fate wasn't done playing its game with the two of them yet. Lana felt like a game board piece, randomly moving up and down a board, waiting for another board piece to eat her or take away all her fortunes.
It was always a gamble getting into a relationship with Clark--whether it was platonic or romantic. Clark guarded his emotions and thoughts so well...it was a wonder how she had gotten so close to him in high school. Of course, capturing his heart had helped, Lana remembered, smiling wistfully.
The fact was that Lana wasn't completely sure where her feelings for him lied. She thought that she had sorted that whole mess out the night before, but tonight, after seeing him in his drool-worthy tux...
And it wasn't just his physical appearance that had Lana examining her feelings for him. He was different...she couldn't quite put her finger on it yet, but there was something there. Something to show for the past ten years.
Lana sighed. Everything with Clark just had to be complicated, didn't it? How many times had she actually sat down--or in this case, stood--and sorted through the past and present?
Well, one thing was for sure. She had opened up a door; a door that would allow Clark to enter her life again. The question was: did she want to close it?
Two Weeks Later
"What the hell is this, Kent?"
Clark flinched slightly as the editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet threw down a manila folder containing his latest article.
"It's the article you wanted," Clark said slowly, pushing up his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. Wrong thing to say--Perry's face was going redder by the second.
"No, this," Perry began, holding up another manila folder, "is the article I wanted. Not some editorial on how small town life is better than city life!"
Clark made a small noise, not quite knowing how to respond. He continued to stare at the folder in Perry's hand as he watched the color in Perry's face drain away slightly.
"Dammit, Kent. What am I going to do with you?" Perry sunk into his worn upholster chair, rubbing his face with his hands.
Clark shifted from foot to foot.
"Look, Kent, you're one of my best reporters. But lately, you've been slacking off. Coming to work later than usual...appearing distracted all the time...giving me crappy work like this." He picked up the article off the desk and slammed it down to emphasize his point.
Clark, having found his vocal cords, managed to get out, "I'm sorry, Mr. White...I've just been...out of it."
"Well, you better get back into it," Perry said briskly. Then, out of nowhere, he shot out, "You feeling homesick, Kent?"
"What?"
"This is the third time you've mentioned that charming little hometown of yours in one of your drafts."
"Uh..."
"You know what I think you need?" Perry leaned back in his chair, a small smile coming back into his features.
"No, not really..." Clark pushed his glasses up again.
"A vacation!" Perry exclaimed, looking quite smug with himself. Just then, the phone rang and Clark had to wait until he could collaborate with Perry on that idea.
A vacation? Clark hadn't heard that word in quite some time. Well, except the daily calls on his answering machine left by his mother, pestering him to visit Smallville soon.
Clark watched as Perry scribbled something down and put the person on the other line on hold.
"How many weeks of vacation have you accumulated?"
"Uh..."
"Tell you what? I'll give you four weeks off because I'm a nice guy."
Clark's eyes widened at that proposal. "Mr. White...I don't think..."
But he was already back on the phone and Clark was forced to wait again. Finally, Perry cupped his hand to the mouth piece and waved his hand at Clark to get going. "Get going, Kent. I expect to see you back here in four weeks and you better have some stories to pull out of your ass."
Clark sighed, knowing that when Perry made up his mind, it was final. He shuffled out of office and just as the door behind him slammed shut, Jeanne, Perry's secretary, came running up to him.
"There you are, Kent," she began breathlessly, shifting some folders in her arms, no doubt all for Perry. "You have a call on line one."
Clark frowned, baffled at who would be calling him at work. He hadn't given out his work number to anyone except his parents and Pete, and they rarely, if ever, called him at work.
He thanked her and made his way to his cubicle. Thankfully, Lois was out of state on an interview in New York City, so, the cubicle over was empty. Clark gingerly picked up the receiver and said the usual, "Hello?"
"Clark? This is Pete."
"Hey, man." Clark sunk into his seat and began shuffling his papers into his briefcase. Yes, he worked hard at his job, but hey, he wasn't going to pass up four weeks of vacation, especially if it was a paid one. "What's up?"
"Some wedding news," Pete announced on the other line. Clark had to admit, he did sound rather happy.
"Spill." He glanced at his watch, noting that it was a little before two.
"Well, we've set a date. May 20th. That's a Saturday and it's also your birthday."
"Oh. Well, gives me an extra reason to celebrate."
"Yeah...Well, it doesn't leave us a lot of time for wedding preparations. That's why you have to come done here this weekend so that we can start doing the best man stuff."
Clark shut his briefcase and wondered if Perry and Pete both planned this. "Well, tomorrow's Saturday, right? I'll just run down."
He could sense Pete hesitating on the other line. "Well...this best man stuff is going to take a while...we can't get it all done in a weekend."
"What if I told you that I have four weeks of vacation?"
"I'd ask if this is really Clark Kent, A.K.A. Superman, and the guy who never takes a break."
Clark smiled. "This is him."
"You're not serious, are you? You're really going to be spending a month in Smallville?"
"Well...I don't know if it's going to be a full month... I still have that other job...you know, the one that entails flying around and saving people."
"Of course."
The conversation hit a lull and Clark grabbed at the opportunity to end the conversation so that he could get out of the office. Rush hour was about to start and he needed to pick up a few items from the store. Of course, he was positive that Superman would be needed to clear a few accidents in the next hour or so.
"Listen, Pete...I gotta go..."
There was a chuckle over the line. "You never stop trying to save the world, do you?"
Clark shrugged, but remembered that Pete couldn't see him. "Old habits die hard and all that."
Once Clark had assured Pete that he would, indeed, be heading down to Smallville tomorrow, he hung up the phone and proceeded to leave. He passed by the many cubicles and the realization hit him that he probably wouldn't be back in this building for a whole month. It was strange, really. He had spent a many late nights in this building by himself, caffeine being his only company.
He yawned as he punched the down button for the elevator. Perhaps it was time for a vacation. The past two weeks had been hectic. Five fires, a dozen or so major accidents, and there had been that one unsolved murder that had weighed him down for at least a week. The poor mother of three had been gunned down while Superman was out patrolling the downtown area of Metropolis. Since then, Superman had been extra careful to patrol the outskirts of Metropolis a little more carefully. It seemed like Superman's work never quite ended.
Clark sighed and bent down to pick up his briefcase from the floor once the elevator doors slid open. It was time for Superman's day to begin.
Superman landed gracefully on the rooftop of a mediocre apartment complex. Inconspicuously, he slipped out of his Superman costume, the darkness of the night concealing his identity. Once he had adjusted his white tee and jeans comfortably, he headed for the emergency stairway that would bring him inside of the building.
To his relief, he had managed to sneak in without the prying eyes of his neighbors. Most of them were elderly and had nothing to do but to watch him and his supposed drug smuggling schemes, as Mr. Harris had put it. Mr. Harris lived across the hall from him and while his wife often treated him to baked goods and chatted to him politely about their grandchildren, Mr. Harris was always looking for some excuse to pin down another crime on him. Twice, he had called the cops on him, which Clark thought hilarious, considering he was Superman.
Clark smiled to himself and pulled out his keys from his front pocket. He let himself in and flicked on the lights to reveal a slightly disorganized kitchen and living area. Clark threw down the paper bag that held his Superman outfit on the ugly worn couch that he had gotten at a garage sale. It wasn't that he couldn't afford furniture or proper working appliances now that he was the star reporter for the Daily Planet, it was just time-consuming to spend a whole weekend shopping to update his home. Clark Kent might get paid vacations, but Superman certainly didn't.
Clark padded toward the old Kenmore refrigerator and pulled it open. He gingerly picked up a box of left over Thai noodles, sniffed it, and then with a grimace, dumped it in the trash. After sniffing and trashing basically all the food in his fridge, Clark decided to give Shanghai Ming a call.
Once Clark hung up the phone, he flopped down on the couch and glanced at the time. Ten twenty-one. It was a good thing that Shanghai Ming was open twenty-four seven for those like him that were kitchen illiterate.
Deciding to kill some time before his food was ready, he fiddled with his answering machine, ceasing the red light that had been blinking for a week.
The first message was from an interviewee, correctly something that she had said earlier in an interview. The following ones were basically people trying to sell him Viagra or a new television. Of course, there were a handful of ones from his mother, inquiring about his next visit to Smallville.
With a jolt of realization, Clark realized that he could finally stop pretending he hadn't received any calls from her. He picked up the phone and dialed the number to his childhood home. After one ring, he hastily hung up, remembering the time. His parents would probably be asleep by now, no doubt, considering their early mornings.
Clark leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes.
When he finally opened his eyes, he noticed that he was sitting in the dark. Outside, he could hear the pounding of rain and trees swinging back and forth.
"The power must have gone out," Clark said aloud. He stood up and stretched, noting that it was a little passed midnight. Wondering if it was just this building or the entire city, Clark felt his way through the dark, looking for his Superman costume. He was just about to change when there was a knock at the door.
He staggered through the dark and finally, his hand landed on the doorknob. "Please don't let it be Mr. Harris on the other side," he muttered. He pulled the door open and blinked, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness. From what he could make out, it looked like an outline of a woman draped in a long coat. Dripping sounds could be heard, suggesting that she had probably traveled through the rain.
Not knowing what to say, Clark waited for her to say something.
"Clark?" she breathed.
He swallowed hard. "Lana?"
Hit the purple button!