Rendezvous
"Well then so who do you think," Clark yawned in the middle of his sentence, "Did it?"
"Oh I don't know, I'm thinking the Countess because she's young enough to be the lost Armstrong sister."
Lois' voice was soft as she drove a silent car along a quiet highway. It was 10:30 at night and she had Clark on speakerphone through the radio. She thought it was a wonderful feature. His voice filled the cabin in response; Lois felt comfortable in the darkness, her hands illuminated by the dashboard.
"That's a good guess."
"Am I right?"
"That would ruin it, Lois."
Small bumps in the road that Lois never really felt in her fast paced commute seemed to rock the car every few seconds, the repetitive 'thump-thump' of both axles hitting them was hypnotizing. The darkness and quiet of the car was soothing. Lois was alone and she liked it.
"Well fine, I should finish it tomorrow. So you're good for 9 o'clock?"
"Yes."
Thump-thump.
"I'll pick you up. Gotta run, Smallville."
"See you tomorrow, Lois."
Lois reached out and hit 'end' on her phone in its holder. If there was one great thing about Clark, it was that he never forced her through polite, normal conversation. Lois could call, ask a question, and hang up. She could call with sirens in the background, call from the car when she would normally have been home, call from work when she would normally be in the car, or call at any hour and it didn't matter. There were no unnecessary questions, no wondering about where she was and what she was doing, no need to lead into the point from the polite pleasantries following 'hello' or towards 'goodbye.' It was simple, to the point, and unobtrusive. He was easy to talk to.
Lois sighed into glow of the interior lights and the cool air blowing from the vents. She was on edge about ideas of 'where she was going,' 'when,' and 'why.' The very reason she was so refreshed by Clark's simple conversation was probably still staring out the small pane of glass next to the front door back at home, wondering to the universe why Lois would be going back to the Planet at 10:30pm on a Thursday. Lois briefly thought back to a time when she wouldn't be home from the Planet until 10:30 on a Thursday and sighed...
'It's just guilt,' she thought sullenly as the familiar irritation at Richard's constant presence in her life started through her mind again. She shifted in her seat, sitting up a little as she anticipated her exit approaching, and took a moment to stare off at the city as she came along the Harbor Bridge and across the water.
Her city. Metropolis. Its buildings only a pattern of random, dimly lit windows against a dark, new moon sky; twinkling lights of cabs driving on Bay Boulevard evidence of the late-night hustle, the never ending rise and fall of breath in the city. Lois looked in her rear view mirror at the darkness behind her, the quiet, slumbering coast that, while traced within the city limits on property tax maps, was far more than a bridge away from being a city. It was a place Lois never dreamed of living before considerations like schools and wide-open playgrounds mattered in her life. Her playground was never a cab ride away, in the city, in the pulse of all-night diners and bars, laundromats and bodegas. The grind of the subways, the hard sidewalks beneath her heels, the feeling of being surrounded by millions of people and yet alone on late night streets.
Lois gave herself a moment to remember her old apartment, to remember falling asleep to sirens in the distance and waking up to honking traffic and her coffee guy on the corner.
Soon, the scents of oil-stained macadam and dried out garbage reached her nostrils through the vents and the air got a little warmer. Lois made the six turns that she needed to make after she reached the light at the end of her off-ramp. Her eyes slid past the motley selection of people roaming the city at quarter to eleven and when the ground floor of the Planet came into view her palms started to sweat.
Into the parking deck and with her pass card, Lois took a spot nearest the elevator (which she never managed to get during the day) and started to seriously consider turning around and going back home. She sat for five minutes after she turned off the nearly silent engine and stared at the 'COMPACT CARS ONLY' sign without really seeing it.
She sighed to herself. What was she doing?
A small, unsealed envelope, slightly worn from having its contents taken in and out about fifty times, sat peeking out of her purse. Lois checked her reflection in the little lit mirror on the underside of the sunshade. The bottom of her stomach was missing and her cheeks looked pale.
Lois started riffling through her purse, looking for some blush and maybe some eye shadow.
The second Lois had gotten home she had taken a shower, and as she wasn't supposed to be doing anything that even remotely resembled meeting Superman she had not put on any makeup and was sure to pick out the most casual 'I'm only going in to look something up' outfit she could think of. That way, after dinner and while tucking Jason in, she could huff that she needed a file from back at the Planet and only had to grab her keys, escaping the inevitable questions as quickly as possible.
Now, halfway through applying the blush and doing the little Left-Right Dance that was checking that everything was even, Lois stopped.
"What the hell am I doing?" she said aloud, scolding herself in the mirror. The eye shadow was in her other hand. Somehow putting on makeup made this seem a hell of a lot more like what it wasn't supposed to feel like: a forbidden rendezvous.
Her thoughts were already on the roof, but her body was three months behind her, same roof, looking into wary eyes that knew they'd nearly kissed a long-taken woman.
She started applying the eye shadow, but only the lightest shade. Lip gloss, but only, she thought, as a fail-safe, to stop her from kissing him. A trick in the Lois Lane arsenal was that she never wore lip gloss when she wanted someone, there was no more annoying feeling than having a sticky, fruity substance smeared all over the place in the middle of a...
'Shit,' and Lois slammed her hand on the steering wheel, 'Shut up, shut up, this is not a fucking lay, put your lip gloss on and get out of the car.'
Lois didn't plan to stop by her desk on the way to the roof and hit R immediately upon entering the elevator. The cabin seemed foreign, like she had not used it nearly everyday for nine years, and everything seemed louder, from the doors closing to the gentle ascent. Lois was pacing, her heart was pounding, the speech she planned was racing away from her synapses. Suddenly she was left nervous and alone with her thoughts, the 35th floor gave way to the 36th, she thought wildly about hitting the Emergency Stop button.
'Let him wait on goddamn roof for five years!'
Her panicked thoughts stopped on the idea of pizza, and then the soft ding announced the roof.
Lois stepped out into the little weather-proof, steel enclosure that was the entrance to the roof and made her way past the stairs and towards the fireproof door in front of her. Aware that she could now be x-rayed at any second, Lois took pains to control her expression as her pass card went through the little reader on the right hand side ("What do I need roof access for? Shut up.") and her left hand turned the stainless knob, cool against her sweaty hand.
Hovering under the orange-ish lights that illuminated the globe, his gaze directly out towards the city they both thrived for, cape moving in the vortex that surrounded this and every building was...
He obviously heard her long ago, but turned only now as she closed the door behind her, "Good evening, Ms. Lane..." he quickly added, "Lois."
And all the nervousness left her, to be replaced with reality.
In the instant that she met his eyes all thoughts of nervous anticipation at the thought of their rendezvous disappeared. The cold reality of the reserved misery on his face slapped all memories of late-night meetings and simple, flirty conversation from years ago right out of her. Lois realized what a fool she was, how out of time and place she had been on the way here. There was no reason to think about lip gloss, there were no furtive looks or renewed explorations here, there was nothing but the cold, empty shell of a memory.
She was struck dumb by it. Dumb and angry. Furious at herself for all the worthless thoughts about what she should wear and whether Richard was right to question her. She thought of how senseless it had been to worry about kissing him, to even think about dancing a secret waltz with this creature who looked at her now like he wanted to flee. All the warm, sensual anxiety that she had refused to acknowledge now left her to be replaced with... nothing.
She had absolutely nothing to say. What was she going to say?
"Hi!" she squeaked.
Lois had been so into the interviews, so trapped in memories that she completely forgot that they were barely speaking! Today had been so familiar, too familiar, to the point where she convinced herself that... that...
She felt lost.
Superman was staring at her now, a little puzzled. The Daily Planet globe was clanking away on its servos above them.
'Don't ask if I'm okay.'
"The interview...?" he prompted her.
She closed her eyes in relief, and then moved to get her recorder, but ended up dropping her purse in her haste. She closed her eyes again, mortified.
The eyeliner rolled out and he touched down gently to pick it up for her. As he came back up he stopped short at her staring at him. He looked down at her purse and bent to pick that up as well, taking a few steps closer as he did so. He placed the tube back inside the depths and reached past the little blue envelope to actually get her her digital recorder. He flicked it on with a shy smile and held it between them, like she always did. There, in that smile and that glint of his eye was a hint of the man she used to know.
In a different time and place he probably would have started to ask her questions, to mock her, clearing his throat and saying something like, 'So Ms. Lane, what was your reaction to the hoax this afternoon and what do you think it says about the perpetrators?''
As it was, he was just looking at her expectantly, at a reasonable distance but yet further from her reach than he had ever been, even halfway across the galaxy.
She put her hand over the recorder and gently pushed his hand down and away. Pure, energetic honesty was rising in her throat, pouring out her eyes and into him. When all else fails, go for broke.
"Who's your favorite baseball player?" She had no idea what made her ask it. The June 4th interview that she had listened to four days ago had been on her mind all week. She hadn't asked him then, because she didn't care. Her voice was shaking.
His professional, detached interviewee face cracked. He looked surprised, but not upset.
"Active?"
She nodded.
"Jack Baker, first base, .321 with 48 home runs and 128 RBIs last season." She had no idea what that meant. He raised his eyebrow, but still looked reserved.
"What do you like on your pizza?" This was from the elevator ride.
"Onions..." he looked wary now. He was still holding the recorder out in front of them, just lower.
"Your second favorite book?" From the June 8th interview, which she had also listened to four days ago. A look of sudden comprehension came across his face, which still ended in looking even more wary.
"The Divine Comedy."
Really? Well, good, she'd read that already in college, "What was the first thing you did when you realized you could fly?"
That broke through to him. That relaxed him. He smiled: the honest smile that she remembered. His shoulders relaxed. Him relaxing made her relaxe a little, too. He handed her the recorder. She took it. Lois shifted her weight on her feet, tried to get more comfortable, looked across at the cityscape for the first time. He looked deep in thought.
"I don't really remember. I tried to make it happen again by jumping onto a roof and then stepping down..."
"What happened?"
"I just stood in midair." Beat. "And then I fell on my head." He smiled, Lois chuckled.
"But when you first realized that you could really fly, when you controlled it, what did you do, where did you go?"
"You won't believe me, but, Metropolis," he swung his arm wide, "The City of Glass," he spoke Metropolis' old moniker with reverence and looked out across the city, "The biggest city in the world, a center of art, commerce, history, the avant garde. A great city of the world, like Paris, London, or Tokyo; a great city in history, like Rome, Athens, Carthage. I came here. I stayed above the clouds. I was very young and definitely scared that I wouldn't find my way back. And," he laughed, "I got lost for three hours on the way home, had to stop and ask directions," he gestured backwards in time, using his hands to pass over words he didn't care to say, maybe about asking directions to Maine when he was in Oregon, "It was rather funny. I took up geography after that; I studied topographical maps and landmarks so I wouldn't get lost. And I flew with a compass!" He laughed outright, "I should get a GPS."
"And when you were confident enough to cross an ocean?" This seemed like the next logical question, and he had anticipated it.
"France, the Normandy Coast. I went to Mont Saint Michel, a place I had been fascinated by my entire life, the first place to see on my list of life goals, before I even dreamed I could fly." She had never heard of it, but this was good...
"And?"
"The best three days of my life," he sounded wistful, full of yearning, "You know, you've reminded me of how much I haven't seen." He looked in from the city, back at her, "How can it be that I haven't seen all I wanted? But I never found the time, or maybe..." He trailed off. The misery was starting to come back, Lois could sense it. She rushed to think of something to keep him out of it, tried to recapture the ease of their times past.
"Maybe?" She prompted.
But his look had darkened, the magic gone, "Never mind, it was an incomplete thought." He cleared his throat, "Aren't you curious about the burglary this afternoon?"
'Damn,' thought Lois. She looked back out at the city, remembered the times that he'd brought her through it, above it, around it; managing drafts above streets, circling buildings and seeing scenes from the lives of the inhabitants, and tried to imagine a young man, flying, not yet a hero, just trying to get a glimpse at the throes of civilization.
She turned back to him, stubborn.
"We'll get nowhere like this," she bit out.
"What-?"
"How are we ever going to move on?"
"Lo-"
"What happened to us?"
She threw it against the door she'd entered from, shattering the personification of the professionalism between them. "Sit down!"
Superman stared at her, and then looked around, confused. Lois had a sudden image of them sitting cross-legged on the roof and brushed it aside.
"Never mind!" He looked more confused, and a little off-put.
"Take me somewhere."
Back to looking confused, he opened his mouth.
"Never mind!"
"Lois! What?" He lost his patience.
"YES! Good! Stay like that and let's go."
"Where?" he bit back and gestured at the sky in comic exasperation.
Lois was trying to keep him off-balance, she was thinking wildly about how to get through this conversation, what step to take next. This seemed right; fuck the bullshit, the tip-toeing around each other, the sad little dance.
"France."
He stared at her.
"Lois."
"What? Fine. No France. Where would you like to go?" She crossed her arms.
He looked at her shrewdly, "Why did you ask me here tonight?"
"To clear the air."
"Of what?"
"This!" she motioned back and forth between them, "Look at us! Standing here, not being able to look at each other, we go weeks without talking, see each other in the street more than in private, you look sick at the sight of me, I stutter like a schoolgirl because I'm either so afraid of watching you bleed your misery out or worried that I'm going to kiss you at any second!"
He looked shocked at her outburst, was watching her pace up and down in front of the door, cracking small bits of plastic and metal beneath her shoes. "We used to be friends! We have a son!" He looked miserable again, "You want to know why I invited you here?"
She bent down, picked up her purse, picked out the small, blue envelope and shoved it in his face, "This is why."
He reached out gingerly and plucked the unsealed envelope out of her fingers with two of his own. He flipped open the top fold and shimmied a small piece of card stock out of the pocket. Lois watched him, suddenly terrified, second-guessing not only everything she said, but most especially having given him the envelope. She reached out to yank it back before he could flip it over. He paused, waiting for her to take it. She drew her hand back.
He turned it over.
Lois had let Jason pick out his birthday invitations at the local pharmacy and then spent an afternoon writing them out and addressing them at her desk. She had him gather all the addresses of his friends in daycare and then called the parents of his friends from school herself. Fifteen invitations made their way to mailboxes throughout Metropolis to be opened by little hands, about six made their way to family and family friends.
It made her want to cry to look at this beautiful creature before her scan the little Superman cartoon holding a balloon with the very same glinting blue eyes that he had bequeathed to his son. He looked up at her with an indescribable and completely naked expression. His mouth was open in surprise, his normally stoic features looked anguished, his eyes begged her to answer his silent questions.
She looked down, ashamed at the nakedness of his stare, unable to look at him, "He was born in the middle of the day, 12:03, I asked for a room with a window and begged the doctors to open the shades; they couldn't understand why. The second the sunlight hit me the pain lessened, I didn't even remember that until recently. His eyes were white when he was born, it was the oddest thing..." she cleared her throat, offering him whatever she could think of, "He was 5 pounds exactly, small, the umbilical cord was attached lower than usual. He didn't cry, but I did..." Superman moved closer to her; she still wouldn't look up but was speaking directly to him, all the same, "I named him Jason because I've known a Jason. He's never gotten sunburn in his life, he likes pickles, and he picked out the invitations."
She paused.
"I want you to come, that's the reason behind tonight," she finally glanced up. His look was so intense it hurt, but she grit her teeth and took it, "I figured I could cover your presence by being 'Lois Lane,' I could explain that Jason asked for Superman for his birthday and I as the most awesome mom ever could deliver..." she trailed off a moment but regained her pace, "That is in no way meant to make you feel like a clown or a pony ride," her voice rose in emphasis, "And it's only a cover for inviting you, not the other way around. I want you to be there, to see your... our..." she ended hopelessly.
She felt dizzy. She watched him watch her. His eyes moved down to her lips, she panicked. But it never came, his eyes moved back up her face, then down to the invitation. Lois held her breath, for what she did not know. Words of anguish, a sad rejection, wondering philosophies, hopeless realities, 'I'm sorry, Lois, but...', 'This isn't a good idea...'
"Do I really look like this?" he held up the one-sided invitation and pointed to the little cartoon Superman holding a blue balloon with his red and yellow shield on it. The cartoon was grinning and waving, but with a very serious expression on its face, like the artist was trying to convey the character of an international hero, but with the sense of fun that comes with a K-6 birthday card. The absurdity of the question and that of the little character resulted in her grinning like an idiot.
"Make the face!"
"No."
"Do it!"
"No."
"Look at your cape, oh my god, I didn't even notice, look!" and she laughed, a bit hysterical with the situation.
"Who makes these?" he flipped over the card, "I knew I should have copyrighted myself, I'd own an island by now..."
Lois laughed again, sharing a sincere smile with the father of her child. He sobered a little and engaged her, but still lightheartedly, "I would love to come, Lois. Thank you. And I don't feel like a pony. Yet."
Lois chuckled, "Good." She sobered and took a deep breath that ended in a sigh.
"Listen," she began softly, indicating that there was more to be said, "There's a lot we need to talk about, not the least of which is Jason. There's a shitload between us," she looked hopelessly at him, "And whatever mistakes we made we need to deal with, or at least ignore before too much more time passes and there's a lot of reasons." That was a little too rambling. There was so much behind this door.
Lois glanced over at the ledge and made to walk over to it. She moved past Superman and hefted herself up onto the edge of the roof, nonplussed at the incredible height behind her unprotected back. She gestured to a spot across from her, he lifted off gently and sat down opposite her, intrigued.
"Before everything else, there's something I haven't told you, something very serious, and I want you prepare yourself for it," he looked worried, she moved on quickly, "Luthor knows Jason is your son."
"What?" he placed a hand out onto the surface between them and leaned forward, "How? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Jason crushed a man under a piano on the yacht, right after I sent a fax to the Planet, and right before we were subsequently locked in the pantry you found us in."
He looked flabbergasted. She didn't blame him.
"That's why I was really very happy that the ship sank, because I'm not sure what would have happened had anyone suspected a five year old of killing someone..."
His expression was turning to utterly terrified.
"And I didn't tell you because of that right there," she pointed at his expression, then went on anyway:
"The good news is that Jason doesn't seem affected by kryptonite, at least not yet. And I figure, even if Luthor takes a full-page ad, no one will believe it. You are, after all, a different species, and there's enough tabloid history between us that we could just play it off like we always did."
Memories of poorly written headlines filed past her inner eye: 'LOIS LANE TO SUPERMAN: YOU'RE MY BABY'S DADDY!' "I was even thinking of hiring someone to make a similar claim so that it could be ridiculed and done with in the tabloid press."
"Spoken like a true journalist."
"Right?" she chuckled, "A positive, also, is that Luthor will probably keep this advantage to himself and plan for another year or so, like he usually does," Superman's face was dark and angry, "In the meantime, I would like to... well, I mean to ask you whether you think it's a good idea to..." she took a deep breath, "Jason should know you. Beyond the hero, before he gets too old I want him to know the man, the person I know, you," she gestured at the Superman sitting cross-legged on a ledge, not the Superman flying above the world against a background of spangled banners and explosions.
"In the hope that by the time he figures this out it'll be easier to accept a father-figure as a father rather than some other-worldly thing," she flapped her hand at the sky, "And if you foster his powers, whatever they might be, we can teach him how to escape Luthor, or whatever other threats might come his way. Otherwise he'll be breaking his schoolmates' bones by accident and be oblivious to bald men with kryptonite candy."
This was met with silence.
"What do you think?" she said uncertainly, trying to read his expression.
"You want me in his life?"
Lois suddenly realized again that the workings of her mind had taken her away from place and time. The last time they had spoken about Jason, Superman had pretty much resigned himself to being written out of his son's life. To her it was obvious that she wanted him in his life. Lois sensed the importance of relaying this moment to him properly. She reached out for him, and placed her hand on his.
"Yes." And left it at that.
Perhaps to occupy himself in this awkward exchange, Superman looked down at the card that was still in his hand, pinched to stop it flying away in the wind. Lois looked down and read: 'WHO? Jason Lane, WHEN? August 11th' upside down. He was staring seriously at the little image of himself.
She waited. He seemed to reach a decision, looked up, and smiled.
"Good. Good." She was relieved. The hardest hurdles had been jumped and with relative ease. She suddenly found herself comparing this conversation to the insanity that was telling a one-night stand whose last name she had never known that he was probably a father. She shuddered and moved on from that memory as quickly as possible, "If you would consent, also, um, I would like you to come back after everyone leaves, spend the evening with him on his birthday. We'll be alone..."
She hoped.
Superman nodded with a small smile, still looking down at the little characterature.
She rushed to say this next: "I didn't know he was yours until that moment on the yacht." He looked up at this shift in conversation and cocked his head.
"Just, well, just to let you know that I didn't hate you for leaving me barefoot and pregnant, or anything." An old ire rose, "I hated you for other reasons." She paused, "And I told you as soon as I knew, so you don't think I had kept it from you when you returned." It occurred to Lois that she was having a conversation with his facial expressions more so than with him. The tone of her voice, the gestures she made and the words she chose reflected how he looked at her from one moment to the next; his face was as open to her as it had been when he stepped back from their near kiss, wary and hurt.
"And don't start blaming yourself for the last five years, this is the shit we need to deal with, I know you, I know what you're thinking right now, all torn up and writhing in guilt, I can tell!" He looked mutely back at her, "So just stop it. Or ignore it until we can deal with it. We can deal with us later, we need to deal with Jason now, so don't let your self-loathing get in the way of parental honesty here." He looked cheered at this choice of words, "And I understand that you weren't expecting to return a father, trust me, I know the feeling, so I'll help you. The good news is that Jason is a well-adjusted little boy, he has had a good father."
Richard might as well have walked onto the roof, that's how suddenly his presence entered the conversation. Lois once again responded to his expression, "I... I don't know. I don't know what to do, what to tell him, whether to tell him, I just don't know. I only brought it up so that you realize that you don't need to heap the guilt on yourself over him, he's fine." She fingered her engagement ring. Superman saw her. Suddenly Richard's spiritual presence on the roof became a lot more about being Lois' future husband than Jason's current father.
Lois ignored it. They sat, the both of them, in thoughtful silence. The rushing of late night traffic liberated from the jams of the day was whooshing past on the streets below. Lois reviewed their conversation, thought suddenly of the way he had looked at her lips. She felt like a teenager who just had a long and thorough conversation about her first crush with the boy in question.
"How big of a piano?"
"Really big."
He chuckled.
Superman's eyes swept her face and Lois had a feeling Jason was being forgotten; the fact that he chuckled rather than following up with some serious comment told her so. With the shift, Lois found herself watching his lips now, looking closely at his face since she had not seen him properly in so long. She thought he had not aged a day.
"Are you immortal?" It was more a rhetorical question than anything; a sudden wonder at him, his physiology, rather than a comment on his youthfulness relative to hers, which was easily explained by the special circumstances of his intragalactic journey.
"I don't know," his voice uncertain, "I hope not."
She didn't need to ask why.
"I've thought about it, wondered if my body will break down. I've seen so much death."
They were staring out over the corner of the building to where the best view of the city was available from their angle, past the Concord Building and down 32nd street, when he spoke again. "I have a small store of kryptonite, hidden far away."
Lois looked around at him; despite the morbid suggestion in his unspoken words, his face was clear, the mood still neutral. She recognized the familiar tone of the exchange from the tapes; the random topics, the general ease of meandering, human conversation.
They both turned about towards the view, "You are human, you know that? You're entitled to self-pity, to hate, to failure, and yes, to death. Stop hiding." She wasn't sure how each point was leading to the other, but she wanted him to ask.
"Hiding?"
"Remember the small things, the little moments you used to share with the world? The post-crisis interviews, the jokes with the news, the projects you used to work on with NASA and NOAA, the kittens and little old ladies?" She saw his pout out of the corner of her eye, "Come down a little more often; stay when you get here. Like today. Jimmy's missed you."
"Aren't I entitled to being depressed, too? Wanting a little alone time?" His tone was wondering, teasing.
"Touché."
"What time is it?"
Lois looked at her watch, "11:25."
"What time do you need to be back?" If there was a bomb set to go off somewhere that only she could defuse (and there was, and it was named Richard), Lois was now so determined to see this conversation through that she still would have said, "Whenever."
They sat in the same thoughtful silence, comfortable with each other for the first time since his return.
"What about you, Lois? What in this world do you want to see, what have you seen already?"
"You mean like you and the Pyramids of Giza and the Straits of Gibraltar," she said it in a teasing tone, a light airy quality of hearkening back to worlds lost, civilizations conquered, "You know that's not me so much. You and Clark should talk."
But he waited for an answer, none-the-less. Lois was suddenly pensive. Why didn't she have a similar list? Maybe not of ancient sites or wonders, but even just oddities, curious places where history took place or famous people stood. She chuckled at a thought.
"Maybe stay a night in the Watergate? That would be fun." What about natural wonders, beauties beyond human history?
"I've seen the Grand Canyon, and most of that shit across the States. Army brat." What about works of art and the museums where they are housed, great buildings across the world?
Coming up short on this, Lois was suddenly off-put. It occurred to her that no one had ever asked this question of her, not even herself. She sat, thinking, and in the meantime turned the tables on him.
"What about you, while I think? Name one of the things you haven't done."
Now they were both thinking. Life went on all around them; sleeping bodies laid out in repose, drunken men and women trying to sate the loneliness in seedy bars, children begging to stay up late. Somewhere in the city someone was dying, somewhere someone was being born, drugs were being injected, laughter was getting infectious, a cab driver was going an unknown 45 down Haddonfield... Lois inhaled Metropolis like the scent of it was necessary to her vital life functions.
"Aura borealis from above, or below, or," he struggled with the terminology, "from the atmosphere."
"Ooooo, good one. That would be beautiful," she smiled at his blundering.
"Remember the meteor shower over Mexico?" Wrapped around each other in a fiery sky, Lois wanted nothing more than to have him right then and there...
"Of course," she made this sound nonchalant, "Oh! I've got one. Machu Picchu at sunrise, watching the ruins revealed as the mountain mists burn off..." she phrased this like he would and caught his eye over her shoulder, but stopped in thought again.
"You know, I curse at tourists and the way they clog up downtown, but you're right that people list Metropolis as one of their Places to See, just like you," she turned to acknowledge him and then back towards the view, "And I've never seen anything in all the time I've lived here. I mean I know the bars, the streets, the restaurants, the people, but I've never been to the Frelenhausen or the Deddon Building. Or the Boulevard Club, or even St. Lukes. And I've only driven down 32nd," she gestured below them, "While people come from all over just to walk it. A city like you said, shining out in history with all the great things that make a city great, and I've never taken the time as a tourist. I don't know the history, I don't know the sights, I've never even cared until about thirty seconds ago. And I pride myself on living here, on having my heart beat to its rhythm."
"You've really never been to to the Frelenhausen? Or to St. Luke's?"
She shook her head.
She was all out of sorts again, a stranger in her own home. She stared down at 32nd, up there with the Champs-Élysées as one of the most famous streets in the world, one she worked on. Department stores opened their first stores here, jewelers cut diamonds for the rich of the world, one-of-a-kind fashions stared out on mannequins in windows with five digit price tags, and a world famous newspaper had its historic Art Deco headquarters here.
Superman was making movements to stand and Lois turned around to look at him, fearing their conversation over, looking to see if his gaze was directed inward, listening. But instead, he was looking down at her, waiting for her to follow suit. Lois unfolded her legs and slid down onto the roof, cringing as the blood made its way back to her feet. She looked across at the shattered remains of the digital recorder Richard had given her.
"Shit."
Superman held out his hand and the recorder was forgotten. She stepped up to him, kicking off her shoes, and unabashedly sliding her hands up his arms.
"Where are we going?"
"Ms. Lane, we are going to Metropolis! And we're going to start by breaking into St. Luke's Cathedral."