This little imp of a chapter really needs no intro. This is it, folks. The coaster has hit the first big loop in the dark, you're strapped in. It's too late to exit the ride. Just hold on tight. Within the next two chapters, we'll be going M for subject matter. The best part of the ride is just ahead. Again, we'll warn you about language and themes. But stay with us. The best is yet to be...
Annnnd, FYI, this chapter caused the postponement of the MegaCon trip until tomorrow. I'll be meeting Ms. Kidder Sunday instead of today due to a late night finishing this chappie and not wanting to meet her half asleep and looking like Lord Know What. (Laughs) Don't say you're not loved!
Is that a shadow, or a flaw in the paint? Lois stared up at the patterns of the ceiling and wondered, as she had the last half hour. She was wide awake and sober too soon, the last of the alcohol having burned out of her system. Unfortunately, the soothing effect of the nicotine was gone as well.
I should've known something was wrong the minute Richard offered to let me smoke, she thought. Her gaze shifted to Richard's slumbering form, but she found it difficult to be angry with him. Not after the last several hours, anyway. Herself, was a different matter.
Dinner had been wonderful. The restaurant was fantastic, candles in low red glasses on every table, all the wood stained dark with time and use, everywhere the mellow gleam of candlelight and brass and glasses full of delicious wines.
They'd sampled a variety of Middle Eastern fare: hummus with olive oil drizzled atop it, spicy falafel, swordfish kabobs, and delicious meat pies in flaky pastry. Lois had eaten far too many olives, and downed several glasses of delightful wine. The highlight of the evening for her, of course, had been the hookah. Filled with rose-flavored shisha tobacco and filtered through rosewater, it had lifted the simple act of smoking to a sublime ritual of relaxation.
Combining the joys of the thick, cool hookah smoke with an assortment of sweet baklava and a bottle of chilled ice wine had elevated the evening to exceptional heights. Lois looked back on her behavior and winced; now the pattern of Richard's conversation was easy to define, but then he had seemed innocuously curious. He always circled back to Clark, and like a fool, she'd spoken too freely, her tongue loosened by liquor and nicotine. Lois had reminisced fondly – she cringed at the memory – over the many stories she and Clark had hunted down together, all of the good times they'd had. Even the memory of their first awkward meeting, admitting with a sly smile that she had been testing him with the soda bottle trick.
Was I really that blind? Did I really say all that? Dear God. What kind of moron was I to fall for this, hook line, and sinker?
At least she'd managed to keep the secret of his alter ego. And at least she had made it very clear that, though Clark certainly had feelings for her, she'd kept him at arm's length, kept him guessing. Only when Richard asked about the last time she'd seen Clark did Lois actually stop. The haunted look on her face she hadn't been able to conceal and her muttered comment about not knowing he was taking extended leave had convinced Richard to end that line of questioning for the night. Thank God for small favors.
More wine, sweet and golden, thick with flavor. More shisha, this time flavored with mint. Thick cups of sweetened coffee, and then it was finally time to leave. Lois felt pleasantly off-kilter, though she wasn't precisely inebriated. Just the combination of vices had relaxed her to the point of lightheadedness, and Richard helped her to the car. She'd laughed easily, leaning on his arm, and that laughter had been precious to them both.
The restaurant was set back from the street behind a courtyard full of potted plants and trickling fountains. They'd had to cross in front of traffic to get to the parking lot, which was dimly lit. As Richard tried to unlock the passenger side door, Lois had leaned heavily on him, feeling as though the lovely evening had somehow melted her bones. It was also quite a funny feeling, and she couldn't stop chuckling as she pressed closer to him to hold herself up. Which threw her off-balance and she had slipped just as she was afraid she'd do. But Richard caught her easily.
Now, lying in bed and remembering that moment, Lois still couldn't be sure that she hadn't kissed him first. It was like in dreams, where the scene changes abruptly with no transition, and she found herself pressed against the car, kissing him hungrily as if the last taste of the coffee in his mouth was ambrosia. And Richard clearly felt the same about her, his hands running possessively up and down her sides, pinning her against the car door and kissing her hard enough for her lips to feel bruised.
As his passion became tangible, Lois' mind started to disconnect. Do you really want to do this? the Romantic whispered. With him? With the way you're feeling about someone else right now? It's not right, Lois. Didn't we do this once already, and who felt guilty afterwards?
Shut up, Lois growled back, determined to block the voice out. Shut up, I'm not gonna ruin this… Who cares if it's right? It's no more wrong than those damn dreams I've been having about him. I don't care … it feels so nice after so long…
And it was nice to just forget about everything else, Richard nuzzling her neck, feeling warmth suffuse her body. Lois murmured incoherently, tilting her head back and letting him kiss her throat with a low moan. So very nice, drifting in a haze of warm pleasure…
Which suddenly shattered. Richard ran his hands down to her thighs and lifted her, pinning her at a more convenient height. An icy shiver of déjà vu ran through Lois as her eyes opened wide; that was a car door handle poking her in the back instead of the drawer handle of a filing cabinet, but the comparison to the other morning couldn't be clearer. And recognizing the similarities, admitting to her feelings for both men, she couldn't go on. Damn you, Kal-El.
"No," Lois whispered, almost moaning with frustration and resignation. "No, no, no, we can't. Not like this, not now, no…" She pressed both hands against Richard's chest as she dropped her head, tormented by memories and promises. "Richard, no, stop."
Richard sighed heavily against her neck, and Lois shuddered at his breath on the sensitive skin. "Why?" he asked. "Why not?"
"We can't," Lois whispered back, not daring to look him in the eyes. Her body ached with craving, but her mind was frozen. "Not here."
Richard let her down gently. "Well, no, not here," he said with a breathless chuckle, desire making his voice rough. "But later…" He kissed her earlobe, letting his warm breath tickle her.
Shivers ran up and down Lois' spine and she leaned toward him, then suddenly pulled back. "No," she said more sternly, clamping down hard on the lightning-quick desire in her veins. In that way at least, he knew her so very well. "Richard … it's the wrong time." Lois blushed as she offered that last-ditch excuse. Oh, for God's sake, Lois! You couldn't come up with anything better than that?
For a moment, Richard looked confused, then understanding dawned. "Oh," he said, crestfallen. But he didn't question her; no man ever would question that particular reason. However, Lois was acutely aware that even six months ago he would've known she was lying – only their recent estrangement made the excuse plausible.
He kissed her brow, sliding his arms around her gently. "Another time, then," he murmured, and Lois was still enough under the sway of caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol to cuddle against his chest and let the rest of the world spin as it would.
Lying awake in bed beside him now, the reporter didn't know exactly what to damn herself for. Part of her wished she'd accepted the affection she craved, having missed it for quite some time. Another part felt that doing so would be a betrayal of Kal-El, who had woken feelings in her heart she could no longer deny regardless of her fears. And still another part felt that making love to Richard now would be a betrayal of Richard as well, since she could no longer make herself believe she loved him the same way.
To make things even worse, Richard chose that moment to roll over in his sleep and slip his arm around her waist with a blissful murmur.
What am I going to do now? Just what the hell am I going to do? How do I get myself into these things? And just how am I going to get myself out of it this time, without destroying everything? Staring up at the ceiling, still unable to decide whether it was a shadow or stain, whether semblance or substance.
…
As Richard drove the twins to school the next morning, Kala leaned against the window, staring out and upward. She couldn't see much sky now that they were downtown, only glimpses between Metropolis' concrete canyons, but those few stretches of blue captivated her interest. Had Lois, still in bed miles behind them, known what Kala was thinking, she would have been wide awake and terrified.
Wonder if I'm gonna ever be up there? Kala mused. Maybe I can fly, like Daddy. That'd be really cool.
Several days after overhearing her Nana's urgently whispered conversation with Mommy – Have you told Superman about his twins? – Kala had been up at her parents' job, and talked Uncle Jimmy into walking her down to the break room for some flavored water. They had passed the rows of front-page stories, framed and mounted, which Kala had seen dozens of times before. At six years old, she couldn't read much past the headlines, and had always dismissed them as sort of boring posters. But that day, with Nana's electrifying words still floating in her mind, Kala had skidded to a halt in front of one the stories.
I Spent the Night with Superman, she needed no help with that. The biggest word was one every child in Metropolis knew well. But what Kala had never quite noticed before was the byline beneath it. By Lois Lane, she read, and her hazel eyes grew wide. "Uncle Jimmy, my Mommy went to a sleepover at Superman's house?" she had asked, impressed.
The photographer had chuckled, and explained that the two had spent the evening flying around, which Kala found incredibly exciting. She'd managed not to tell Uncle Jimmy everything she knew, though.
Superman's my daddy, Kala thought, remembering the incident warmly as she gazed up at the brief flashes of sky. My Mommy was in love with Superman. That's the most special-est ever. Then another realization hit, and she sat bolt upright in the back seat. That means Mommy kissed Superman! Maybe more than once! Wow! New respect for her mother shone in the little girl's eyes.
Jason was looking at her like she'd lost her mind, and Kala just glared at him. He doesn't have a clue. Boys. They're all so dumb … except Daddy. Both daddies, Richard and Superman. They're pretty smart. Hey, Superman was in love with my Mommy! That's so neat.
Such pleasant and intriguing thoughts kept her occupied all the way to her classroom.
…
It had not been a pleasant morning for Lois. She'd woken in the wee hours from a dream that left her clammy with sweat. In it, the life she'd worked so hard to build had continued on just as planned. She'd married Richard, they'd lived in this house, and they had come to know each other very well after all and to enjoy each other more with each passing year. Their lovemaking had become more tender than passionate as time went by, and they spent more time together in silence because everything was known between them. But it was a good life, one happier than many women could ever dream of.
So why had she woken up shivering with fear? Lois asked herself that as she crept to the bathroom and rinsed her face, trying to shake herself back into reality – and out of the sudden urge to call Clark.
Staring at the dark shadows under her eyes in the pitiless fluorescent light, Lois had to admit that she wanted more. More than happiness, more than comfort, more than stability. She wanted that level of intimacy that was almost painful in its intensity; she wanted awe and wonder and the occasional feeling that her life was out of her control. For a moment the reporter tried to scold herself, thinking, Life is not a fairy tale, you don't always get magic and princes.
But another voice replied softly, Once upon a time you did – and it's not too late, if you're brave enough to try again. Brave enough to call the whirlwind into your own life and let it blow away everything that isn't bolted down tight. Make the choice, dare to say the things you've been thinking, and when it all dies down you'll see what's left is what's strongest. And you already know what that is – the love you can't deny, can't excise from your heart.
Still she hesitated. Even if her own heart – and finally her mind – were clear on what she wanted, Lois wasn't making a decision just for herself. The twins. Which is best for them: the security of the life they've always known, or the constant uncertainty of life with their real father?
It hadn't been the kind of question she could answer that early, so Lois had crawled back into bed and eventually slept. Later that morning, after Richard left with the twins, she decided to make time to investigate the Vanderworth estate a second time, now armed with both the information Clark had passed on and additional tidbits passed on from Karla Smith-Bennett during their phone conversation. She'd stop briefly by the office, of course, but only briefly. She had to at least show up in the morning, but it would be best if she didn't run into either of the men today…
…
One of those mornings, again. Maybe the arsonist planned to plead not guilty by reason of insanity if he was ever caught, or maybe he was inspiring copycats. Clark privately thought it could be either one as he hurried in to work. Certainly this morning's fire was nonsensical, in some respects closely following the firebug's usual M.O., in others widely different.
The same model airplane fuels, but this time the target had been an abandoned warehouse. Virtually no risk to human life, but the same timed ignitions. Of course, the other arson targets didn't fit an easy pattern, unless maximum mayhem was a pattern…
He changed in the ventilation shaft and headed into the newsroom the back way, as if he'd just come down the secondary stairs from the corrections department above. As Clark walked in, something made him look up and across the busy city room to the front doors.
Lois was on her way out, though she couldn't have been in long at this hour. Even across the crowded room, their eyes met, and for a moment Clark couldn't move. He had once stood next to the great bells of Big Ben as the clock struck noon, just to see if the chimes would dampen the thousands of other sounds he could hear. It hadn't worked, but the vibration shocked him into immobility. Standing that close, every cell in his body seemed to resonate in answer, even his pulse and breath keeping the bells' time.
That feeling returned to him as he met Lois' gaze, seeing a kind of stricken look on her face. The sight of his beloved drove everything else out of his heart and mind for a moment, and from the unthinking way she took a step toward him, Lois felt as much for him. What are you thinking, Lois? he couldn't help but wonder.
Then the moment was gone, Lois shaking her head slightly as she turned to leave. What are you thinking? Clark scolded himself as he headed to his desk. Stop it. Just stop it. How much you miss her doesn't matter; what she wants, and what's best for her, does. How the heck can you manage to put the entire planet above your own needs, except when it comes to her?
But he knew the answer to that. Love has its reasons, that reason never knows.
Clark didn't have long to contemplate, however. He'd been at his desk barely ten minutes when he heard a fire alarm. Not again… It might just be a school testing the system; it might just be a homeowner who'd let the bacon sizzle a little too long. He listened a moment longer.
And heard the alarms in one of the main fire stations go off, shortly followed by sirens. I have got to catch this guy, he thought, hurrying out again. Or else he's going to make me lose my job.
…
Lois's heart had stopped beating for a moment, catching Clark's glance. There was so much she needed to say to him, her stubborn defiance gradually being won over by the desire to end this secret-keeping. In spite of her resolutions, every time she saw him she wanted to simply confide in him, to take him back into her trust. What are you thinking? Are you really as torn over all of this as I am? Do you really want me back or do you want me just because you don't have me?
Do you dream about me at night, the same as I do about you, and then lie to yourself in the morning?
Is iteven possible for us to have another chance? Even now?
They would talk soon, set the record straight on everything, but now wasn't the time. Not with all that was going on at the moment. Soon, she promised herself. For better or worse. Closure or new beginning, it had to be done. But for now, she forced herself to leave, remembering that she probably wouldn't get out of the office at all if she didn't do it before Richard got there.
Thankfully, the Vanderworth alarm systems had a few vulnerable points – vulnerable to someone who didn't mind climbing the property fence and getting in the basement via a cellar window, anyway.
The basement was dark and dusty, forcing Lois to suppress a sneeze. She kept close to the wall, listening intently. Somewhere in the mansion, she could hear the dull roar of a furnace, but there was no other sound. For the moment, she could risk a light. Lois always carried a small electromagnetic flashlight in her purse, the kind that needs no batteries. All she had to do was shake it briskly, and it gave her a strong bluish LED beam.
Dusty was an understatement. Every surface was cloaked in pale powder, giving the room an unsettling shrouded appearance. And it wasn't all the normal dust of neglect – quite a lot of it appeared to be from cracking and shifting concrete, since the floor and walls were buckled. The extent of the damage was incredible – apparently there had once been some kind of train set down here, but now it was in ruins. The powerful light showed toppled buildings, derailed trains, flattened mountains, and everywhere the figures of miniature plastic people lay knocked over and broken.
Lois felt a premonitory chill run down her spine. Whatever caused this destruction, I really hope Luthor hasn't figured out how to scale it up. She couldn't, however, immediately divine the source of the EMP. A great many wires lay tangled in a heap under and around the jumbled remains of the train set, but they could have all been part of the set itself.
Suddenly, a glint from under one of the piles of debris caught Lois' eye. She had to pick her way across to it carefully, stepping over miniature bridges and roads and trees, but finally the reporter knelt in the dust and examined her find.
A tiny chip of glass… no, crystal, no bigger than a grain of rice. Lois sighed disgustedly; it could be part of some kind of timing device for explosives, or a piece chipped out of someone's watch face. Why can't life be more like a novel? Why can't I find a nice big clue, like a book entitled "How to Cause a Massive EMP with Easily-Traceable Materials"? Yeah, open to the page that would tell me how he did it, with his fingerprints on the cover.
Oh well. This might mean something, it might not. Either way, I'm taking no chances. Lois took an envelope out of her purse and sealed the fragment inside. Then she set off to continue her exploration, carefully avoiding the windows so she wouldn't be caught on the exterior security cameras. She wasn't worried about the interior; the specs of the alarm system hadn't mentioned indoor monitoring.
…
After dropping the twins off, Richard stopped for coffee. He hated that stuff Perry brewed at the office, it looked and smelled like tar – and tasted worse. He preferred to get his cup of steaming black wakefulness from a corner doughnut shop, at which newsmen from several papers liked to congregate.
As Richard was paying for his coffee, he overheard a wisp of conversation from somewhere in the back of the dingy, dough-scented room. He could only make out a couple of words, but they electrified him: "Lane … drunk … Pulitzers…"
The International Editor drifted toward the voice, pretending to be preoccupied with the selection of doughnuts in the large glass case. The speaker was a heavyset reporter Richard had seen here often, but whose name he didn't know. He gestured with a powdered, jelly-filled doughnut, then took a bite, spraying powdered sugar all over the table. "I'm tellin' ya, she was drunk off her ass."
The man across from him at the small table leaned back in distaste. "You obviously don't know Lois Lane. There wasn't enough liquor there to get her drunk. She's made of iron…"
"Nah, she ain't," the large man replied. "Dunno who she thinks she is anyway…"
"She's the next editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet, Harry," his companion replied sharply. "And she knows it perfectly well. Lois Lane won the Pulitzer; she got the first Superman interview back in the day, too. I'd be careful what you say about her."
The other man harrumphed, and sipped his coffee noisily. Richard acted as though he was fascinated by the crullers. "Yeah, right," Harry said. "I'm not scared of her. What's she gonna do, break my arm?"
"Wouldn't be the first time," the other replied. "Don't underestimate her. She looks pretty and sweet and vapid right up until she scoops your story and steals your sources. And don't forget her boyfriend."
Richard kept his face turned away, but he soon realized they weren't talking about him. Harry sprayed more crumbs as he laughed. "Yeah? That guy in International, the pilot? So what, Dan?"
"No, the other flyboy," Dan replied, dusting off his sleeve and glaring at his companion. "The caped one. He wouldn't take kindly to you disparaging his lady love."
Another shower of crumbs. "Hah! Superman? Please. It's been six years and she wrote a bitchy article about him. That's the first time PMS has won anybody a Pulitzer."
"Tone it down, Harry. I'm serious."
The heavyset man seemed not to hear, and Richard began to suspect there was more than creamer in his coffee by his slightly slurred words. "Besides, he's got a lot more to worry 'bout than me. How thrilled you think he's gonna be when he finds out she almost kissed Kent at the Pulitzers?"
"Kent?" Dan's disbelief was clear, and Richard felt frozen in shock. "Clark Kent? Mr. Milquetoast? Her old partner?"
"Yup," Harry replied, relishing his moment of glory. "Kent. Told you she was drunk."
That effectively ruined Richard's day. Kent. She kissed Clark at the Pulitzers? Why am I the last one to find out these things? What the hell else have they all been hiding from me?
Oh, Uncle Perry's in for it now… He stormed out, seething, and headed right back to the office to confront Lois, Perry, and Clark … whichever of them were around.
…
Perry White never quite minded his own business. Everyone else's was so much more obviously in need of experienced minding. At the moment, he was peacefully monitoring what his employees thought were private emails … in spite of the notice in the handbook that said all emails sent to and from the company server were subject to managerial review.
Grinning at some of the less than savory descriptions of himself – wouldn't they be surprised when he casually remarked on the inaccuracies – he was completely unprepared for Richard to burst into the office. Perry raised a grizzled eyebrow and looked skeptically at his brother's son.
At least Richard let the door shut completely behind him. "What the hell happened at the Pulitzers, Perry?" he demanded immediately.
The editor sat back in his chair, for once in his life stunned. Ah, shit. I knew this was coming. I just hoped it wouldn't be so soon. "What're you talking about, Richard? And don't take that tone with me."
"I'm talking about my fiancée and Kent." Richard leaned across the desk, and completely ignored the warning about tone. "Don't play stupid with me, Perry. You were there, and nosy as you are, you had to know about it."
"What about your fiancée and Kent? What kind of rumor-mill bullshit have you been listening to? And watch your goddamn tone, Richard – you're not too old to feel my belt."
"Oh, come off it," Richard scoffed. "Stop screwing around and tell me what the hell you know about Kent and Lois making out at the Pulitzers."
"Making out? Are you smoking something?" Perry was relieved to be on safe ground here. "I don't know who you were talking to, but they don't have their facts straight."
"So what really happened?"
The editor hesitated, then plunged on. "Dammit, you told her there'd be an open bar. You practically told her to drink."
"So she got plastered?"
"She didn't get drunk, she got a little bit tipsy. I chased them out onto the dance floor so she could finally talk to Kent – which is what we all wanted, so they'd quit fighting all the damn time – and it worked. They were bickering like they used to. Problem is, she almost kissed him at the end of a slow dance."
"She kissed him?" Richard hissed.
"Almost," Perry growled. "Stop calling yourself a reporter if you can't quote a source accurately! She quit and pulled back well before she actually kissed him, though."
"And you weren't gonna tell me?!"
"Of course not!" Perry barked. "You'd just make an ass of yourself, like you're doing right now!"
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really! She'd had a few and she was dancing with the guy. So she almost kissed him. There's a shrink in Chelsea who did a whole lot more than kiss her a couple years before you showed up, if you want to be a jerk to someone who deserves it."
"Well, I have good reason to believe she did a whole lot more than kiss Clark," Richard replied hotly. Before he really knew what he was saying, he spilled everything. "I'm pretty sure I caught them making out in the damn supply closet the day we got back – they sure looked guilty as hell. But it shouldn't surprise me, considering that he's the father of the twins."
"What?" Perry stared at him incredulously. "Richard, son, you have completely and utterly lost your mind. Clark Kent no more slept with Lois than I did."
"I'm serious," Richard said, regaining a little of his composure. "Look, Uncle Perry. You sent them to Niagara, posing as newlyweds. Those Kryptonians try taking over the world, Lois is a hostage, Superman shows up in the nick of time to save the day. Next thing we know, Clark's acting all kinds of pained, Lois is being a little flaky about remembering things. Boom, Superman vanishes. Clark goes on leave the same time – to France. To Paris, actually. Lois heads out looking for Superman, and she winds up in Paris."
"So you're saying they met in Paris? Richard, there was nothing romantic between them before they left. I would've known. Besides, she was nuts about Superman."
"Yes, and thanks so very much for telling me that when I first met her," Richard replied sharply. "Anyway, she was in Paris, just realizing that Superman was gone indefinitely. And then suppose she met Kent, just by coincidence. Kent who's always had a thing for her. Who's always been there for her. The one man she trusts more than anyone, except you and Superman. You know Lois – can't you see it? When she needed someone who was comfortable and reliable more than anything else, he was there."
"Okay, okay, it's plausible. But what about Garen what's-his-name?"
"No such person," Richard retorted. "I checked. The name Garen never appeared in a Quotidienne byline, as first, middle, or last. The only Garen who ever worked in the area had a stationery shop across the street, and his boyfriend didn't appreciate me calling."
"You called…"
"Furthermore, of the four guys who worked there at the same time as Lois and who claim to have slept with her – none named Garen – none of them actually have. At least, none of them have ever seen her naked."
"What? How the hell do you know that?"
"Because they can all describe, in detail, a birthmark she doesn't have," Richard told him.
Perry stared. Slowly, he said, "If she ever finds out you've been investigating her, Richard, she'll kick your ass. I mean she will literally beat the daylights out of you."
"Yes, well, this is what happens when you lie and evade to the point where someone doesn't trust you to answer a direct question," Richard replied hotly.
"Still…"
"Perry, look me in the eyes and tell me you think I'm wrong," the younger man demanded. "It's the only explanation that makes sense. He was gone, Clark was there. You know Lois better than I do – everybody knows her better than I do, apparently – tell me I'm completely wide of the mark. Go on, do it."
Perry sighed, dropping his face into his hands. For a moment, just a moment, he looked his age, careworn and tired. His voice was low and resigned as he said, "Richard, listen to me for once in your life. Which do you want, the truth – or Lois? Because you're gonna lose her if you keep this up."
His nephew leaned forward, eyes intense. "What if she was never mine to begin with, Perry? Just answer me."
"Fine, shoot yourself in the foot if you want to," Perry barked, some of the old fire coming back. "I didn't want you to get hurt, but I can't stop you if you're this determined. Yeah, I think it makes sense. I don't one hundred percent believe you've hit on the truth, but it's plausible. If you're happy now, do me a favor."
"What?"
"Don't talk to Kent. If what you think is the truth, that's her job. Don't you dare spring this on Kent."
"Why … not that I'm gonna, but why not, Perry?"
The editor glared. "Because if you're wrong and he never slept with her, you'll probably kill him by suggesting he did."
Richard rolled his eyes, got up, and left the office without a further word. A few moments later, Perry saw the switchboard monitoring program on his computer pick up a call from Richard's cell phone to Troupe in International. At least the boy's figured out he better let someone know when he leaves this office, the older man thought, sitting back in his chair with a troubled glance into Lois' office. She and Kent had both just barely missed meeting Richard, and Perry was damned glad they had. That was not a scene he cared to witness.
…
Lois arrived back at the office after Richard had shown up and left again. Perry was giving her a strange look, but he didn't call her into his office, so she ignored him for the moment.
Richard stayed gone, and Clark eventually made it back. Seems like this is the morning for wandering in and out. Typical Friday, she thought, but it was probably better this way. Lois had a chance to work on her editorial due tomorrow, and the Vanderworth story as well. A few minutes of searching on the internet quickly told her that she'd have to find an actual expert to ask about the crystals; half the people online were more concerned with whether a given stone could open your chakras or help you remember a past life. The way testimonials were worded, she couldn't weed out those kinds of search results even by adding explosive, detonate, destruction and similar search terms.
By lunch time, she'd given up in disgust. I'm going to have to talk to an actual geologist. Lovely. Forget this, I'm going to go get something to eat. And no breakroom vending machine for me today, please. She waved to Jimmy on her way out, and he smiled at her, instantly lightening her mood.
Ten minutes later she was back, her heels striking the carpet sharply, and Jimmy looked up questioningly but knew better than to ask what was wrong. Lois headed to her office without a word and called her car insurance company. "Hi, this is Lois Lane," she said pleasantly, but there was that edge to her voice, the one that those who knew her well learned to hear exquisitely – and fear. The operator replied politely, and Lois continued, "I've got an Audi A3 covered by you guys… Yeah. It won't start."
The man started going through what was clearly a checklist, and Lois replied impatiently. "Right, I tried that… Uh-huh. Nope, it has fuel, I checked the distributor cap, spark plugs are tight. Battery's only a year old…" That seemed to be the end of it; Lois rolled her eyes and suppressed a sigh as the operator finally agreed to tow the car. "Yes, please, take it to the dealership for me. It's in the Daily Planet parking garage, space B12. First floor. Have them call me and I'll meet the tow truck driver at the car… Thanks… You too."
She hung up the phone, sighing in disgust, and then called in an order of pizza. After that she dialed Barbara, "You'll definitely be picking them up today, hon."
"Really? What happened?" Someone was practicing the piano in the background, probably one of her adult students.
"My stupid car died. I have a $450 a month lease and the bloody thing just won't start. I love that car, but right now I could just kick the hell out of it."
"It's no problem, really. I'll get them. You just be glad the car didn't break down while you were driving it, Lo."
"Very true," Lois chuckled. "Thanks, hon. No, really. Thank you. I guess I'd better get back to work…
The student hit a blatantly sour note, and Lois envisioned Barbara flinching as the woman sighed. "Yeah, me too. See you later."
"See you. Bye." Lois hung up and dropped back into her chair, glaring out the windows. Just another lovely day in the life of Lois Lane. And to think people envy me…
…
Things in the office had seemed unusually tense that morning, and Jimmy wisely chose to spend it in the darkroom, away from everyone's line of fire. He came up in the afternoon with justification for his pay, plus a couple more pictures from the recent fires to run with an article on the arsonist.
Jimmy was at his desk, keeping a weather eye out for Perry and Richard. One of the other photographers had muttered something to him about a very intense discussion between those two. Sarah Olsen hadn't raised any fools; the way things had been lately, the discussion could only be about Lois, and Jimmy didn't want to be interrogated again.
The coast looked clear, though Perry and Lois were in their offices. Richard had been gone for a while, though Clark was finally back. Maybe nothing was up … this place was a giant rumor mill, and what the gossips couldn't dig up they made up, the juicier the better.
Still, Jimmy kept an eye on Lois. Anything that went wrong around here would either center on her or drag her into it, always had. Lois was a magnet for controversy.
Her office door was partly open; it wouldn't close all the way unless you tugged it, which Lois blamed on damp weather and Perry blamed on her slamming it. So Jimmy heard her phone ring, and having finished setting up the photos for tomorrow's article, he glanced her way with mild interest.
The raven-haired reporter smiled at first, but then that pleasant expression fell from her face and shattered, like fine china falling from the shelf with a splintering smash. Jimmy sat up, worried, and watched as Lois' expression went from shock, to fear, to absolute terror. And then rage swarmed up to join the horror, and Lois dropped the phone. It swung beneath her desk from its cord, smacking the wood, while she snatched up her purse and bolted for the door.
Uh-oh, Jimmy thought, panicking. He'd never seen her look like this; even when the Kryptonians threatened them and hurt Perry, she'd been furious, but not this frightened. And again, he'd seen her scared, but not simultaneously so wrathful.
As Lois stormed past his desk, her eyes glazed and fixed on the door, Jimmy yelled for help. "Chief! Clark! Somebody stop her! Clark!"
Perry was already out of his office, calling her name, but Lois didn't turn around. No one else seemed willing to get in her way, and Jimmy started to follow her as well. Someone's got to stop her; there's no telling what she'll do when she's like this, Jimmy thought. Where the heck is Clark when…? Oh, thank God.
As he and Perry reached the still-swinging doors, they saw Clark outside, standing between Lois and the elevators. His shoulders were set, but his entire posture spoke of reluctant resignation. "Lois, wait," he said in a low, firm voice neither of them had ever heard him use before.
"Get out of my way now, Kent," Lois growled, and Perry and Jimmy were both shocked by the panic in her tone. The panic, and the fury.
She tried to shove him aside, but he caught her arm. "Lois, you can't do this. You can't run headlong…"
Even if the newsroom doors hadn't still been swinging back and forth after she slammed them open, they would've heard her voice suddenly rise almost to a shriek. "Don't tell me what I can't do! Luthor has my twins! And I'll do whatever I have to do! Now get the hell out of my way!"
She sits in her corner
Singing herself to sleep
Wrapped in all of the promises
That no one seems to keep
She no longer cries to herself
No tears left to wash away
Just diaries of empty pages
Feelings gone a stray
But she will sing
Til everything burns
While everyone screams
Burning their lies
Burning my dreams
All of this hate
And all of this pain
I'll burn it all down
As my anger reigns
Til everything burns
Watching it all fade away...
-Ben Moody and Anastacia, "Everything Burns"