Author's Note: Despite all evidence to the contrary, I am alive. Real life threw me a curveball that resulted in me not being able to write at all for more than half a year. Fortunately, things are settling down, and while I can't promise consistent updates, I will be able to post more often on this story now. Thanks for your patience, and hope you enjoy!
Lois spent the rest of March trying to wrap her head around having Clark for a co-worker, but by the time April rolled around, she was more or less used to the idea. Even Cat Grant found other reporters to people-watch after a few weeks and stopped looking up with interest whenever Clark approached Lois' desk. The fact that Lois was eventually able to speak to Clark without grinning like a fangirl probably helped Cat lose interest. Familiarity couldn't stop Lois' heart from warming, though, when he'd find an excuse to touch her – her hand, her shoulder, even just bumping into her "on accident." It made him look like the office klutz, and she had to fight to smother her grin.
By day, they worked together, usually on the same story, though every now and then she encouraged him to write companion pieces to their articles, hoping to increase his confidence. Once he understood her motives, he was enthusiastic about the idea.
She and Clark frequently spent evenings at her place, though more often than not, the Suit meant dinner was cut short or she ate alone, but that became just another part of this new rhythm of her life. After all, she felt only slightly less inexperienced than Clark at this whole clingy, in-a-relationship thing and wasn't particularly bothered by a little solitude. All-in-all, Lois had never been happier in her adult life, and quite possibly not even in her childhood.
So it wasn't a particular surprise when Clark IM'd her on Tuesday afternoon in mid-April. "Are you busy?"
"Not too busy for you," she wrote back, smiling but exercising the self-control to not glance at him.
"They're holding a press conference at City Hall. Apparently they're unveiling the initial plans for a memorial downtown, and Perry wants me to cover it. He said to bring you along if you weren't too busy with your spider. Is that some kind of journalism slang I haven't heard yet?"
Lois shook her head in amusement and locked her workstation. Grabbing her tote, she crossed the bullpen to Clark, who apparently was still waiting for her to reply. "Well, Podunk, you coming?"
Clark lifted his gaze to hers with a knowing twinkle in his eyes and said, "Smallville. I'm from Smallville. Podunk isn't even a real place."
"Whatever. Save your work and let's go."
Lois managed to maintain her brusque manner all the way to the taxi cab, but as soon as they were safely anonymous, she placed her hand over his.
He smiled down at her simple gesture and turned his hand so that their fingers intertwined. There was an intensity in his expression that surprised her as he contemplated their clasped hands. "Thank you," he eventually said, "for coming with me."
"Of course," she answered, puzzled but pleased by his reaction. In a voice low enough that only he would hear, she added, "And the thing about the spider was just an analogy for a certain philanthropist that we've been investigating."
"Ah." His smile slipped into something slightly exasperated when he glanced up at her. "Back home we would have called it digging up snakes. Probably useless, definitely dangerous."
She smirked at the mental image, but aloud she said, "So…you're working on reconstruction. Do you have any insider information about this memorial?"
He relaxed against the seat back. "Not much – just that it will be located at pretty much the point where the World Engine had been. I've also heard that debris ash will be mixed into the concrete for it."
Lois considered that. For many families, that ash was sacred. Relatively few bodies were recovered; most of them were incinerated or pulverized to oblivion in the destruction. "That's not going to go over well with some people – using human remains for construction material."
Clark shrugged. "It's just a rumor."
"Until we confirm it."
They arrived at City Hall, showed their press passes, and were ushered along with a herd of reporters to the room where the press conference was being held. There was a large table covered with black cloth, and Lois assumed it was a scale model of the memorial. Glancing up at Clark, she whispered, "Sneak a peek."
He gave her an incredulous look, and she nodded pointedly toward the table. In an even lower voice, she said, "I don't want to be asking questions on a knee-jerk basis."
He frowned thoughtfully but tipped his glasses down. When he pushed them back up his nose a moment later, his frown had deepened to actual displeasure.
"What?"
Leaning close, he softly said, "There's going to be a larger-than-life statue of ...of Superman."
It made sense to Lois - Superman was larger than life. Even knowing the human side of him, there was still a part of her that was a fawning fangirl. But she could guess why Clark would be unsettled by it.
"What else?" she hissed.
Still speaking directly into her ear, he said, "Pretty standard, otherwise. A park with reflecting pools and black marble walls. I assume the names of the dead will be engraved on them."
"Where does the ash come in?"
"Maybe it doesn't." He shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."
The mayor walked in with her entourage then, and Lois turned her attention to the podium.
"Thank you for joining us," she began. "Today marks eight months since the battle that brought our city to its knees. With the coming of spring and favorable weather for construction, we as a city government will start the transition from mourning to rebuilding. In light of that, it seemed appropriate to unveil our plans for a memorial park in the area most heavily damaged by the World Engine."
The mayor nodded to an assistant, and he pulled the cloth covering away from the model. Cameras snapped photos around her, including Clark's, and Lois looked more closely at the central figure of the memorial. It was Superman in a classic pose - hands on his hips with cape billowing behind him - but his head was bowed in either respect or grief. Lois found herself frowning, too. The sculpture didn't capture the pathos of that day or, more importantly, the depth of Clark's caring.
The mayor continued, "The memorial's proposed name is Heroes Park. It will consist of reflecting pools, green space and gardens, and the central feature will be the memorial walls and Superman statue. The names of the dead will be recorded on the walls."
"Can you confirm whether or not debris ash will be used in construction of the memorial?" Lois interjected, and she was pleased by the murmur of surprise that rippled through the reporters around her. It was a minor scoop, but still.
"I'll let Jacques Michaud, the architect who designed the park, answer that." The mayor turned to a middle-aged man next to her and, stepping aside, gestured that he speak into the microphone.
"Even though gardens will grow above it, the entire area is sacred ground," he said. "In designing this memorial, I wanted to emphasize that. So yes, debris ash from the clearing created by the World Engine will be included in the cement under the marble in the reflecting walls and in the Superman statue."
"Wait, what?" Clark blurted out. "Even the Superman statue?"
"It will be cast, not carved," the architect said.
Lois glanced at Clark, and he was beyond uneasy with all this.
"What's the timeline for the memorial's construction?" another reporter asked, and the mayor stepped up to the podium again.
"We will begin with a public comment period for the next month, and we'll have an official groundbreaking on Memorial Day. The site will be developed in several stages, each taking about a year. While the grounds might still be in progress, we anticipate having the actual memorial complete in time for the one-year anniversary of the battle."
Lois nodded slightly in understanding. That explained the rush.
Other reporters continued to ask questions about the cost of the memorial, if there would be additional information on the city's website, and if there would be any sections devoted to military or emergency response personnel (and Lois' thoughts flitted to Colonel Hardy at that one). She jotted down the answers to the questions but was too distracted by worry for Clark to come up with any others of her own. He seemed to be more troubled by the moment.
After another ten minutes of Q&A, the press conference ended and most of the reporters started filing out of the room. Clark lingered, though, drifting closer to the model of the memorial and staring at it intently.
After several minutes, they were the only reporters left, and Clark still hadn't even blinked as near as she could tell. She'd seen him do this once before with the Valentine's Day card she'd made for him. Lois suspected it was some kind of mental super-focus because last time he hadn't pulled out of it until Martha touched him.
They were in a professional setting so Lois couldn't exactly kiss him out of it, but she moved closer to him and let the back of her hand rest against his.
He drew a sharp breath and stirred like he was shaking himself out of it before glancing down at her with a small smile. "Sorry."
"No problem. Let's head back to the Planet and get this written up."
He nodded in agreement and followed her out.
There were still a half-dozen reporters trying to hail cabs, so Lois paused at the top of City Hall's steps. Clark continued down a pace before he realized she'd stopped, so he turned and gave her a curious look.
It was the first time she could remember being eye-to-eye with him and it made her smile. "We need to talk – you need to talk – but I don't think even a cab is private enough for this conversation."
"Probably not," he agreed, looking down.
"If I spring for Chinese take-out and we go to my place after work, do you think you can keep from getting lost in your thoughts between now and then? Because that was…weird. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought you were having a seizure or something."
He chuckled mirthlessly before meeting her gaze again. "Sorry about that, and yes, I can stay on track." His forced smile didn't reach his eyes when he offered her his arm and added, "But you don't have to play amateur shrink to get a date with me, Lois. All you have to do is ask – and I'll even pay."
She looped her arm through his. "Now that would just be taking advantage of you, Smallville."
He smirked. "You got the name right."
...
They submitted the story at quarter 'til five o'clock, and Lois suggested they leave a few minutes early. Heaven and Perry both knew the two of them pulled their own weight and then some. As usual, they rode the elevator in silence. Clark was still broody – something about the set of his mouth gave him away – and Lois had a good guess that the whole thing with the statue was a big part of it.
Once they were safely out on the sidewalk, she said, "You know, they are having a public comment period on the memorial."
Clark looked at her sharply and then shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Too bad Superman doesn't have a verified email address."
Lois tilted her head in acknowledgment but smiled as she said, "When he makes an appearance, it's pretty undeniable that it's him."
He glanced at her again, his eyes thoughtful. "That's true."
Lois smiled that at least he was considering ways of fixing this instead of just getting grumpy on her. She happily let that thought stew while they walked the rest of the way to the subway platform. While they waited, Clark pulled up the menu on his phone for the Chinese place they'd gone to last December, and Lois used her cell to call in their order for take-out.
Their train pulled into the station just a minute or two after she hung up. The cars were packed, but they managed to find a place where they could at least stand next to each other.
Leaning close, Clark said, "I can pay for my own food."
She smiled up at him. "I want to take care of you for a change."
Some of the sparkle was returning to his eyes, and he said, "I'll arm-wrestle you for it."
Lois barked out a laugh and shook her head. "Not a chance, Kent. I might let you flip a coin once we get there, though."
"Deal."
Outside the restaurant, Clark pulled a quarter out of his pocket and Lois snatched it from his palm. "Call it in the air."
She flipped it, and he said, "Heads."
Catching it in the air, she slapped it to her arm and then a grin spread across her face. "Tails. I get to treat you tonight."
He sighed in frustration as he took the quarter back, muttering, "Traitor," at it before pocketing it again. Then he held the door for her.
As she crossed the threshold, Lois realized Clark would probably struggle with being rescued instead of being the rescuer. It made her sigh as determination welled up in her. That was the thing about a partnership – turnabout was fair play. Reciprocity was what held any relationship together, whether it was writing partners, boyfriend and girlfriend, or Superman and humanity. If he wanted in on all this, he was going to need to learn how to receive and not just give.
Lost in her thoughts, Lois quietly paid for their meal, but Clark insisted on carrying the bagged-up boxes and Lois shook her head indulgently at him before looping her arm through his.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked when they were out on the street again.
"That I'm going to have to pick my battles tonight."
He blinked a couple of times in surprise. "I admit that wasn't what I was expecting."
Lois chuckled and glanced up at his brilliant blue eyes. "I was thinking that there's give and take in any relationship, and that you don't take anywhere near enough. But I'll let you juggle the take-out this time."
"You did pay for dinner," he pointed out.
"That was the luck of the toss."
"You still did. And you had to put up with those spy devices for far too long. That was a big sacrifice you made because of me."
"But not for you," Lois shot back. "It was just something I had to deal with – it didn't directly benefit you in any way."
He frowned thoughtfully, and they walked in companionable silence back to the subway.
The platform was even more crowded this time and they were lucky to end up on the same car. Standing together wasn't possible, much less having an actual conversation. So it wasn't until they had escaped Lois' subway stop and were up on her street that Clark said, "You do more for me than I think you realize."
A smile twitched on Lois' lips – she had successfully distracted him from the dark cloud that had been following him ever since the press conference. "Like what?"
"Like my job at the Daily Planet. You helped me clean up that editorial back in October, you taught me literally everything I know about journalism, and you've mentored me for more than a month now."
Lois had enjoyed having him around so much that she'd never thought of it like that.
"You were my first real ally," he added, "and my fiercest."
She actually laughed at that, and he sharply said, "What?"
"I'm fierce on paper, but the thought of me being..." She glanced at the other pedestrians around them and whispered, "Superman's fiercest ally..."
"You are, and it's invaluable," he interrupted. "No question."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Fiercer than Colonel Hardy?"
"He didn't willingly walk with m... Superman into Zod's spaceship," Clark pointed out.
"That just makes me adventuresome, not fierce," Lois answered.
"Regardless, you walked into the lion's den for Superman that day. If that's not 'taking' I don't know what is."
They reached Lois' apartment building, and she opened the door and held it for Clark with an exasperated sigh. As they crossed the lobby to the elevator, she said, "My Battle of Metropolis piece was nominated for a Pulitzer. If I win – and, frankly, no other piece comes close to rivaling mine – I'll be literally profiting from the whole experience. I took, too."
Clark tilted his head with an amused twinkle in his eye. "Is our first fight really going to be over who's the bigger drain on the other?"
Lois punched the button for her floor and smirked. "Apparently."
He straightened his tie. "Well in that case..."
They bantered back and forth all the way through dinner about who had done more for the other. Lois was honestly surprised at how many things he counted as favors from her, and trying to one-up him with his perfect memory kept her on her toes.
"And then there's your mom," she eventually said, fishing sweet-and-sour shrimp out of her take-out box with her chopsticks.
He was tipped back in his chair, toying with his kung pao chicken (he'd already finished the beef and broccoli he'd ordered), and a boyish grin spread across his face. "You're bringing my mother into our first fight? That's a low blow."
Lois threw one of her shrimp at Clark. Punk superhero that he was, he caught it in his mouth, even though he had to levitate to do it.
"I was going to say I wouldn't have known her at all if it weren't for you."
He chewed for a moment as he settled back into his chair. "But you make her happy, which is me taking again."
Lois fought a smile. "No, that's your mom taking, and that's between her and me."
"Now that's a scary thought," he muttered, and Lois tilted her head curiously, so he added, "You and my mom ganging up."
She smirked. "You started that one."
"True," he admitted.
Lois stood to stretch and started folding up her take-out box. "I'm stuffed. Are you about done?"
"Sure," he said, and gently took the box from her hand to put it away. Lois didn't protest, but only because she had other plans. While he took care of the food, she retrieved a couple of goblets and a bottle of wine from the fridge door. Maybe it would loosen his tongue a little bit and get him to open up to her. Clark's smile was almost shy when he accepted the goblet she offered him, and she raised her glass. "What shall we toast to?"
"Friendship?" Clark suggested.
While other girlfriends might be put off by that, Lois had appreciated from very early on in their relationship just how rare and precious friendship was to Clark. It was his way of saying he cherished her, and she clinked her goblet to his. "To friendship."
When they'd both downed a swallow or two, Lois took him by the hand and led him to the couch. As he took his seat, she settled into the far corner and sat facing him. "So...what happened back there?"
He looked down, the joy and affection and light about him instantly gone, and it drove home to Lois just how much their easy banter tonight had been a disguise as much as the Suit was. "Perfect memory," he softly answered. "I was reliving that day, the day of the battle."
Lois frowned thoughtfully. "Like a PTSD flashback?"
The look he gave her was one of consternation. "Maybe. But it sometimes happens with good memories, too."
"Like when it happened on the day after Valentine's Day?"
He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You're good."
She shrugged. "I pay attention to things that interest me."
His smile was wry. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Her own lips tugged up in an answering smile. "Do. But you know I don't derail that easily."
"Yeah," he agreed, just a hint of regret creeping into his voice. "I know." The wry smile faded as he gathered his thoughts. "I think it's related to my ability to fly somehow, or maybe to how my parents taught me to filter out my powers when I don't want them."
Lois straightened a little. In their conversations over the last several weeks, he'd never mentioned a time when he didn't want his powers.
He didn't seem to notice her movement, though, and softly continued, "The memories are perfect, and almost as vivid as when I was living them. Sometimes I get…swept away by the more intense ones. When that happens, I usually need a cue – a touch, something more vivid than memory – to pull me out of it. Or I wait for the memory to finish playing out."
"So…to any casual observer, it would just look like you were daydreaming?"
He lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "Probably. Is that what it looked like to you?"
"At first, yeah. But it was going on for a long time."
"So did the Battle of Metropolis."
"Why…" She hesitated, wondering if it was too personal of a question to ask why he wouldn't want his powers, or if he would think she was slipping into reporter mode, which she kind of was.
"Yes?" he asked.
"It's not important."
"I can see the question spinning away in your mind like a gear, Lois. Not really," he added when she jolted in surprise. "But you may as well ask it."
She smiled at herself for taking him literally and decided his honesty deserved some of hers. "As a friend, I'm just curious, so you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but…why on Earth would you ever not want your powers? I mean, I can see why the memory thing could make everyone think you were daydreaming, but that seems so minor…"
"It hurt," he said.
Lois felt her jaw drop. "I didn't think you could get hurt."
"I'm…less vulnerable now, but back then, when the powers first started manifesting themselves, they were overwhelming." He looked down, fidgeting with the goblet in his hands. "We didn't know what they were, and they were pretty sporadic at first, only becoming more constant as I got older. Everything would be perfectly normal, and then I'd blink and my teacher would look like she'd been skinned alive. The sound of chalk squeaking on a blackboard physically hurt. Everything was too bright, too loud, too rough." He glanced up at her and then away again. "I was a freak. Nowadays they'd probably have me evaluated for autism or something with how oversensitive I was, but back then, it just scared the tar out of me and probably everybody else."
It made Lois smile to hear him use the polite, Kansas farm-boy euphemism, and she impulsively moved close enough to rest her hand on one of his. For the first time, she realized that his powers might be as much curse as they were blessing. It also explained a lot of who he was today – his suffering then contributed to his compassion now.
"You're not a freak," she firmly said. "You're beautiful."
He chuckled at that, and lifted his gaze back up to hers. The sparkle in his eyes was back, and it made her heart squeeze in unexpected ways. "Look who's talking."
She couldn't think of a retort to that and instead leaned in for a kiss. Fortunately, Clark was happy to oblige.
Unfortunately, he flinched a moment later in a way that was already too familiar.
Her eyes fluttered open, and Lois sat back, doing her best to hide her disappointment. "Trouble?"
"Yes," he said, already in the Suit and opening the balcony door. Still, he paused long enough to give her a warm smile full of promise. "See you tomorrow." Then he was gone with a shock of misting, April air.
Sighing now that he was out of earshot, Lois crossed the living room and shut the glass door. (They'd figured out during Clark's first week at The Planet that it was much better for her apartment's security deposit if they let the one who wasn't in a supersonic hurry do the door-shutting.) Lois looked out into the gray and dismal evening and whispered, "See you tomorrow, Clark."