I know I didn't quite capture Chloe in January, and I struggled over how to word her responses. If someone wants to give me a suggestion as to how I can tweak it to make it a bit more in character, please let me know. Thanks!
March
"Clark, since you're new here at the Daily Planet, let me give you a friendly bit of advice. If you want to live to see another Smallville sunset…keep your hands off my copy," Lois said in an overly sweet tone that was completely at odds with the ferocity with which she snatched the paper out of his hands. Looking it over quickly to reassure herself that he hadn't marred it in any way, Lois indulged herself in satisfied smile. This was a great story. It would be even better without the shared byline, but she was sure she could get Perry to come to his senses before too long. This rampantly insane scheme of his could only go so far.
From the seat he'd taken at her desk, Clark glared at her in a way that was reminiscent of the way he used to look at her when she was living on his family farm, almost a decade ago. Instead of the acerbic remark he would have responded with in the past, however, he reminded her, "Don't you mean 'our' copy, Lois? We are supposed to be partners now."
"Oh, we are, Clark!" she reassured him in a condescending tone. "In the sense that I go out and get the story, and you," she paused at this, desperately searching her brain for an appropriate term to describe his role in their relationship. "You provide backup!" she finally supplied with satisfaction.
"Provide backup!" he responded indignantly. "Lois, I don't think…"
"Now, Clark," she cut in quickly with a patronizing pat on the arm. "You know I'm only looking out for your best interests. You're new to Metropolis, and you don't know how dangerous the city can be. You're not in Kansas anymore, Toto." Okay, that statement was probably more ridiculous than true. Smallville hadn't exactly been the most peaceful hamlet on the map during the time she lived there, and from the stories Chloe had shared since she'd left, things hadn't changed much.
Before Clark could argue the point by bringing up this glaring discrepancy, however, she leaned over him and grabbed her purse out of the bottom drawer, where she'd stashed it. "Anyway, we can discuss your role at the paper some time later. I'm heading home."
She turned on her heel and had almost made it to the elevator before Clark stopped her. "Lois, wait," he called as he jogged to catch up to her.
With a visible sigh, Lois turned to look at him. He stopped in front of her and pushed the glasses he now apparently needed further up the bridge of his nose. "Listen, Smallville," she began and smiled to herself when she saw his eyes narrow in response to the nickname she hadn't called him in years. "It's been a long week, and I need to go home and relax. Preferably in a hot bubble bath, reading a novel with a plot I'll forget ten minutes after I've put it down. I'm not above killing anyone who stands in the way of that. So is there something I can do for you?"
Giving her a searching look, he responded, "I just wanted to make sure that's all you're going to do. You're not going to break into a known gangster's private office. Or blatantly accuse some very powerful people of murder. Or do anything else that would cause someone, or a group of people, to want to kidnap, torture, maim, or kill you in any way. At least until tomorrow." It had been a very busy week.
Lois smirked. He was a fast learner. Still, he couldn't possibly know her well enough to tell for sure when she was lying, and while she had been totally honest in saying she was looking forward to the whole bath/book evening, she did have one tiny stop to make first. She just wanted to check up on a lead to a new story with a source down in Hobb's Bay, otherwise known as Suicide Slum. "I'm heading straight home. Scout's honor! Honestly, Clark, don't you trust me?" she asked, her innocent smile only a fraction too wide. Clark's reaction to this was a little hard to read, but she no longer knew him as well as she once had. Once upon a time, she would have pretty much known what he would say and do even before he did (another sign, in her opinion, of his boring predictability). Then again, a decade was more than time enough for two people to grow apart, particularly when their relationship was as unusual and undefined as the two of theirs had been.
"Sure I do, Lois," he finally responded, and Lois wanted to roll her eyes. He always had been too trusting, and he should know better by now.
"Okay, then! Good night, Clark," she said firmly, turned, and walked briskly towards the exit. She supposed she could have asked him to go with her. What she was planning tonight probably wouldn't be too dangerous, and she'd worked with her informer often enough that Clark wouldn't be in the way. Much. And he was supposed to be her partner. But just because Perry White, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Planet and Lois's mentor, had told her she was supposed to work with Clark Kent didn't mean she had to take the news with good grace. She firmly reserved the right to define the phrase "work with" as loosely as she chose, and, as long as the name "Clark Kent" immediately followed that phrase, she'd define it very loosely indeed.
When Perry had come to her, not two weeks ago, and told her that she was going to have a partner, Lois had been irate and a little insulted. When she realized her new partner was going to be none other than the Clark Kent of her adolescent years, she'd felt so many conflicting emotions that she'd actually lost the ability to speak for a good minute.
Anger: How dare Perry do this to her! She had worked hard for her position at the Daily Planet, and she didn't need to spend her time babysitting the Plaid Prince of Smallville High.
Guilt: When she'd left Smallville to go to Metropolis University, she'd promised Mrs. Kent that she would visit, and she had kept her word for a few years, at least. However, as she'd become more driven towards pursuing first her journalism degree and then her career, she'd had less and less time to do so. She loved her job at the Daily Planet and had pounded her share of pavement in her day to get here, but that had meant working long hours, getting herself into (and out of) the occasional dangerous situation, and being willing to pick up and fly halfway across the world with a moment's notice in the pursuit of a story. Visiting Smallville had gradually progressed from something she 'would do' past something she 'wanted to do' and all the way to something she 'someday might get around to doing, if she had time'.
Dismay: Though she still thought of Mrs. Kent as the mother she never had, she rarely spoke to the older woman on the phone any more and sent only the occasional letter. Over time, she had managed to convince herself that the attempts to stay connected with that part of her life were intrusive, like an irritating houseguest who refuses to acknowledge that it as past time to move on. She had come into the Kents' lives as an outsider, and, while she still cared for Mrs. Kent, she couldn't shake the knowledge that she wasn't now, nor had she ever been, a member of the family. She wasn't quite prepared to have Clark Kent in such proximity when she was still attempting to keep from imposing herself upon his family any longer.
Irritation: Why did it have to be Clark Kent of all people?
Elation: Lois couldn't help the occasional fond remembrance of Smallville. The smell of her morning coffee even brought back the odd nostalgic memory of her time slinging coffee at the Talon, and Clark was, for better or worse (mostly worse) a tangible link to that time.
Exasperation: But, seriously. Clark Kent?
Disbelief: The man before her couldn't possibly be the same Clark she once knew. So much about him was so different from what she remembered. He had clearly left the plaid flannel at home, for one thing. He was also shorter than she'd thought. She'd known Clark Kent the football hero, short-lived ruler of Smallville High, and there was something about the way he used to carry himself back in high school that made him seem to tower over her. Although, come to think of it, that could have just been something he did to annoy her. She certainly wouldn't have put it past the boy he used to be. The man in front of her, however, walked as if he wanted nothing more than to fade into the background. As long as he stayed out of her way as she went after a story, she was more than willing to let him.
Lois scowled as she left the Daily Planet and remembered she'd have to take a taxi to the Slum. Her car was still in the shop, as she was having a minor disagreement with her mechanic over work that had been done. She didn't care how many times he promised that he had tuned her engine, she hadn't paid him six hundred dollars to have her car shift like a garbage truck, and she refused to pay him more until he addressed the initial problem. He, of course, refused to do so until she paid him another two hundred dollars.
Resigning herself to traveling by taxi, Lois hailed one and gave the driver her destination, stopping only briefly on the way to pick up a sandwich from a nearby deli. She paid this particular informant in food, not cash, and she was hoping to put him in a good enough mood this evening to get information from him on a rising number of "accidental" fires in Suicide Slum recently. Since the area was overflowing with the junkies, prostitutes, and homeless of Metropolis, the occasional accidental fire was not unheard of, and the police had yet to become terribly concerned over the matter as nobody had yet been hurt by the flames. Until a link between the fires became clear, they were unlikely to pursue the issue. Lois, however, suspected there was more to the situation and hoped Rabbit could help her.
In the Slum, she asked the driver drop her off in front of the abandoned warehouse where she had agreed to meet her informant. Before stepping out of the car, she took a moment to get a careful look at her surroundings and tucked a small container of pepper spray that she took from her purse inside her left sleeve. With one last look at her surroundings, Lois reassured herself that everything seemed as safe as a junkie hangout could be, steeled her shoulders, and cautiously stepped through the open doorway.
When she entered the interior of the building, Lois's nose wrinkled and she forced herself to take shallow breaths from her mouth to avoid retching. The overpowering stench of human waste and rotting refuse made her seriously rethink the turkey club on rye she'd had for dinner a couple hours before, but she refused to stoop to the indignity of getting sick. The warehouse was lit only by what little light leaked through the broken windows from the streetlamp outside, which Lois took as a blessing in disguise, as it prevented her from closely examining the objects covering the cement floor. Being careful to watch her footing, she tried to avoid the more suspicious looking areas and slowly made her way into the building.
"Rabbit? It's Lois!" she called softly, trying not to startle the man in question. He had earned the moniker both because he suffered from involuntary muscle spasms that caused him to twitch and because he had a tendency to go to ground when startled. He startled quite frequently, and Lois knew it was not beyond the realm of possibility that he'd forgotten, in his perpetual drugged out haze, that he had spoken with her earlier that day. In as encouraging a manner as possible, she gently shook the bag with the sandwich in it and called, "I brought you food!" She paused, but her overture was met with total silence. "Rabbit? Be a good boy and come out now, okay?"
Suddenly, from the darkness on the far right side of the building, Lois heard something crash to the ground, followed by the rapid patter of footsteps. She crouched to make a smaller target of her outline while she ascertained the source of the potential threat, but she needn't have bothered. The footsteps were heading towards a side exit and out the building.
"Rabbit, stop!" she called as she jumped to her feet and tried to follow, but she was thwarted by the huge pieces of broken-down equipment and waste that had been abandoned with the factory itself long ago. "It's Lois! You said you'd meet me!" Her words had no effect, and the footsteps faded into the distance.
Cursing, Lois vented her frustration by kicking at the nearest pile of trash and then wished she hadn't when it squelched disturbingly in return. "Rabbit, the next time I get my hands on you, I'm going to have you skinned for this," she muttered darkly to herself. Her homicidal musings were interrupted suddenly, however, as flaming bottles were launched through the broken windows around the building and crashed on the floor below, where the fire fed hungrily on the available debris.
Lois knew she was in trouble. She had made her way to more or less the middle of the room, and the fires were spreading fast around her. She quickly dropped to the floor to avoid the smoke and scanned the room for the nearest exit, but there weren't many promising options. The door was out of the question, since a bottle had clearly been lobbed through the opening, so she was forced to consider the high windows along the wall in front of her, but the smoke filling the room made visibility low and the flames were racing to block off her escape route. Hoping to find one she might be able to reach, she kept low to the ground and made her way to the wall as quickly as she could manage.
Scanning the area, Lois was relieved to find a metal barrel nearby she could use as a footstool to reach the windows above her head if she could get it a little closer to the wall. The fires had spread throughout the room now and had almost reached her position. The thick smoke was choking her and the heat was searing into her skin, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. It was hard for her to resist the urge to panic clawing at her throat when she realized the barrel was heavier than she expected.
She forced herself to concentrate on her task, not the oppressive fear that was almost overwhelming, and pulled the barrel with all her weight until she thought it might have gotten close enough. There wasn't time to do anything about it, either way, as the flames were dangerously close now. It would have to do. Hopping up onto the lid, she prayed it would hold her weight for a moment while she stripped off her jacket and wrapped it around her hand as quickly as she could, using it to break the remaining shards of glass from the window frame. Unable to breathe, with the flames at her heels, she pulled herself up to the windowsill and dropped down to the ground on the other side, landing hard.
Lois felt her right ankle twist beneath her, and she fell to her knees with a gasp. She didn't have time to indulge the pain, however, so she jumped to her feet and ran as best she could to the street, trying to clear the perimeter of the building. Finally, after she reached relative safety, she stopped to catch her breath and call the fire department.
Lois had just finished her call when she heard a soft sound behind her. Turning quickly, the sudden move causing her ankle to throb in agony, she instinctively grabbed the pepper spray she had concealed and crouched in a defensive stance. Behind her, she found the most incredible sight she had ever seen.
Inexplicably, in the middle of Suicide Slum in the dead of night, she faced a man garbed in from head to toe in tight blue spandex. It was impossible to see his face clearly in the dim light, but a large red and yellow "S" was emblazoned on his chest, and a red cape flapped behind him in the slight breeze. Though she would have died of embarrassment to have been caught in public in such an outfit, he stood very confidently in front of her, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he looked down at her.
"Are you okay, miss?" he asked with concern, seemingly unaware of her amazement.
Trying to remember if smoke inhalation ever led to hallucinations, she tilted her head back to try to get a look at his face and demanded, "Where did you come from? And what's with the suit? I don't know where you heard that primary colors go well together, but you were seriously misinformed." He didn't answer her; he merely repeated his previous question, so she responded in a brusque tone, "I'm fine. But you still haven't answered me."
Though his features were still obscured, she could swear his shoulders sagged in relief for a moment, but it passed so quickly that she couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined it. In a terse voice, he said, "Good. Is there anyone else in the building?" She shook her head quickly, and he continued, "Stay here." Then he stepped around her and towards the warehouse.
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" she demanded. He paused when she grabbed hold of his cape and turned to look at her. Okay, she had a cape in her hands, so he wasn't a hallucination, which meant he had to be either deranged or on a bad trip. She had to stop him; she didn't want his death on her conscience when he got fried to a crisp because he didn't know better than to stay away from a raging inferno. Knowing her ankle would make her pay for this abuse later, she hobbled around him to stand between him and the warehouse. "Listen, Sparky. I can understand why, wearing that outfit, you'd feel the need to display some male bravado, but that building is on fire. The fire department has already been notified and they're on their way. Unless that S on your chest stands for Suicidal, you'll stay where you are and let the professionals do their job. Understand?"
"It'll be okay, Miss…," he paused, giving her an expectant look.
"Lane. Lois Lane."
"Miss Lane, you're going to have to trust me. I can take care of the fire, but you need to stay here."
He turned towards the warehouse again, but once more, she grabbed onto him and stopped him. Hobbling in front of him again, she raised her hands, palms outward in a halting gesture. "What are you, insane?" She looked him over quickly again. "You know what? Scratch that. But you're really going to have to trust me when I say that fire is bad. Very bad. The kind of bad that makes pretty much everything else seem fun by comparison. Comprende? So please behave like a nice crazy person and stay here."
He sighed, and suddenly, she was speaking to empty air. Lois's head whipped around as she tried desperately to find the strange man she had just been talking to, but he seemed to have disappeared. She didn't know how he'd gotten past her so quickly, but she had a feeling she knew where he'd gone and she whispered, "Oh God oh God oh God," desperately as she hopped towards the building.
As she neared the blaze, however, she realized there was something odd about it. Though it was hard to see through the smoke, she could swear the wave of heat itself was lessening. She cautiously approached the doorway and gazed in open-mouthed wonder inside the building.
At first, she couldn't tell what was happening. As she stood there, however, she could see the fire was actually drawing in on itself, not expanding as it would normally do. In the middle of the room, the fire was forming a column of flame that then erupted through a hole in the roof and dissipated, clearing the area. It took only about a minute before it had been put out completely. As the rest of the smoke cleared, she could see the strange man in the blue suit standing where the column had formed, but he seemed miraculously unharmed and was looking around in satisfaction.
When he was finally certain that his work was done, he turned and seemed unsurprised to find her there, staring at him. It was a long moment before anyone moved, and Lois was trying desperately to come to terms with what she had just seen. It was impossible, but there was no other explanation for it: the man had walked into a raging inferno without any protection, put it out by…she had no idea what he'd done, and was entirely unscathed by the experience.
Lois had just stumbled across the story of the year.
"Who are you?" she asked in wonder as she hobbled towards him, but he strode forward to meet her before she'd gotten more than a few steps.
"You shouldn't be in here, Miss Lane. The fire's been put out, but it did some pretty serious structural damage. The building's unsafe." He looked her over. "You need to go to a doctor."
She contradicted him in a firm voice. "I'm fine. My ankle's not broken; it's just sprained. I'll put ice on it when I get home. And don't avoid my question."
The strange man gazed down at her foot for a moment and then agreed. "You're right; it's not broken, but you need to be careful with it for a few days." Somehow, Lois had the feeling he wasn't saying her ankle was fine simply to agree with her. He knew, somehow.
Making a mental note to return to that issue, she reminded him, "You still haven't told me who you are."
He paused, and in the distance, she could hear the blare of sirens from the approaching fire truck. Finally, he spoke, "I'm a friend."
"Okay, you're a friend, but what's your name? Do you want to give me something to work with, here? Because my editor is not going to be happy if the lead to my story for tomorrow reads, 'He is able to walk through fire unscathed and calls himself only 'a friend'…'"
The sirens were getting louder, and he looked behind her to the street outside. "I should go. Explaining my presence might get…complicated."
She should probably go, too. She'd been harassing the P.D. down in the Slum about the fires, and a number of them would not take too kindly to find her at yet another scene. In fact, they'd insinuated the last time that she was in danger of making herself a suspect. But she wasn't quite ready to let this guy get away, yet. She still needed her story. And that was the only reason. Really. "It might get compli-? What are you, kidding? Of course it would! I was right here, and I don't understand what happened!"
"Are you okay getting home, Miss Lane?"
"I'll be fine. I can just call a ta-woah!" she yelped as the mysterious stranger leaned over swiftly and swept her into his arms. "Okay, Mister, you need to put me down right now. I've never been a fan of the He-Man type, and just because you can put a fire out with your bare hands doesn't get you the right to put them all over me!"
She tried to push him away, but her efforts produced no effect. Suddenly, she got a curious floating feeling. While there was certainly something compelling about the man who had her in his arms, she didn't think she was able to attribute it entirely to his presence, so she looked down.
Somehow, the two of them were floating a good twenty feet off the ground and climbing. Choking back an undignified shriek (though, really, if there was ever a time to lose her composure, she was willing to bet that this would be it), Lois changed tactics, wrapped her arms around his neck, and held on tight instead. She'd never been afraid of heights before, but, then again, this was an unusual situation – she'd always been supported by an airplane or a parachute in the past, and she'd been fairly secure in the idea that they would work properly. Her brain was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that she had to put her trust completely in this stranger, believe that he wouldn't drop her. Her brain, in fact, was having a hard time coming to terms with the idea that a man could fly.
"Don't worry, Miss Lane. I've got you."
She leaned forward to mutter in his ear (also conveniently hiding her face in his neck). "If you drop me, I swear I will haunt you for the rest of your life."
"I believe it," she thought she heard him murmur in response as he pulled her a little bit closer to him.
Though he offered to take her home, she insisted he drop her off at the Daily Planet building so she could file her story. While she could tell he wanted to argue the point with her, he didn't. Somehow, he must have been able to tell that arguing with Lois Lane never did anybody any good. She was too stubborn to do anything but what she wanted to do, and even if he did take her home, she'd just hop in a taxi and go to the Planet on her own.
Reluctantly, he did what she asked and landed in front of the Planet, where photographer Jimmy Olsen and editor-in-chief Perry White were heading out for the day. Both watched in amazement as the man in blue descended to the ground and put Lois very carefully back on her feet. Lois didn't notice when Jimmy picked up his ever-present camera and began taking pictures; she was too busy trying to think of a way to stop her escort from flying away.
As he rose into the air and prepared to fly away, she called, "Wait! I'd like to interview you! Uh, please," she added as an afterthought.
The stranger turned to look down at her. After a moment, he smiled in a way that made her breath hitch in the back of her throat and said, "I'll be around." Then he flew away, leaving Lois behind to stare wistfully in the sky after him. She remained there long after he'd disappeared, but finally, she turned to find Clark standing slightly behind her.
Embarrassed that she had been so long lost in thought, she barked, "Clark! Help me back to my desk! I need to type up this story for the morning edition." She noticed him looking at her ankle in concern and forestalled his comment by saying, "Don't even think about it; you know I'm not going anywhere until Perry has this story. The minute I'm done, I'll go to the doctor. You can take me yourself, if it'll make you happy, but right now, I'm going to my desk!" At his skeptical look, she glared at him. "Either you're going to help me, or I'm going to hop up there on my own. Your choice." Clark sighed, but he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around her waist to support her weight as she hobbled towards the elevator. Jimmy and Perry followed, discussing the stranger the whole time, but Lois was too lost in her thoughts to pay attention.
"Weren't you going to head straight home, Lois? I think those were your exact words."
"I was headed straight home! I just got detained," she explained, being less than completely honest.
"Lois, your apartment is nowhere near Suicide Slum," he reminded her. She looked at him in surprise, so he clarified, "You're covered in soot, and there was a report over the police scanner of a fire. It didn't take much to put the two together."
"Hm. Well, by 'I'm going straight home' I obviously meant 'after following up a lead first' of course."
"Oh, of course. How did I not realize?" he asked dryly, and Lois smirked when she saw him roll his eyes.
In the elevator, Lois moved away from Clark and rested against the railing to relieve pressure on her sore ankle. She hated that she had to get his help to get the short distance to her desk, but all the abuse she'd heaped upon her injury caused even the slightest pressure to be agonizingly painful. Relishing in the quiet moment, Lois laid her head back against the wall and sighed, lost in thought. It had definitely been a long, extremely odd evening, and she didn't know quite what to make of the man she'd discovered – or his incredible powers. Finally, Jimmy broke the silence by asking, "What do you think the S stands for?"
Absently, Lois muttered to herself in a soft, almost wistful voice, "Stunning. Spectacular. Sexy."
Clark's head whipped around so fast, she could almost hear it snap. He looked at her with wide eyes and asked, almost choking, "What?"
Although he was standing on the other side of the elevator and there was no way he could have heard what she said, Lois blushed. "Um. I said…um…Super…man. The S stands for Superman."
Clark grinned at her as the doors opened and he wrapped his arm around her waist again to help her to her desk. "You know, Lois, with the way you were looking at him tonight, I'd almost think you had a crush on this…Superman."
Lois scoffed. "Oh, grow up, Clark. The day I resort to a schoolgirl crush is the day you learn to fly."