Her heart was thundering in her ears. It felt as if it was going to burst out of her chest. Ragged breaths escaped her lips as she quickly made her way to the house, doing everything in her power to put some distance between herself and the man still standing in the barn. It had been way too close of a call. She had almost let herself give into her desires, even after she had talked herself out of it. Her feelings for him were one matter; she couldn't do anything about them, not that she really wanted to. She was in love with him and had been for a long time. But acting on those feelings when there was still so much that needed to be done was a completely different problem.
She wasn't stupid. From what the future version of him had told her and based on what had just almost happened in the barn, she knew that he had feelings for her. If she believed Future Clark, he loved her right now. The only problem was that she didn't really know the truth. In the future, he had spent an entire year thinking she was dead. Time and suffering had shaped and hardened his feelings for her into something so powerful that it still made her stomach do flips to think about. But the Clark that she had just left high and dry in the barn outside didn't love her like that. He couldn't. And as selfish and irrational as it was, she was angry about it.
It wasn't fair that she had gotten to see what could be between them, then have it all ripped away from her and be sent back to square one. Well, maybe square three—it wasn't as if he had zero feelings for her—but still. Even though that future had been terrible and heartbreaking, it had also showed her the one thing she had always wanted. Now she had to deal with the repercussions of knowing that type of love, yet not being able to have it just yet.
When Clark came back inside, they both did their best to avoid what had almost happened out in the barn. He ordered pizza and they watched a movie together before Lois said goodnight and escaped to his bedroom for the night, which in hindsight, was a terrible idea. Sleeping in his bedroom, surrounded by everything that reminded her of him, did nothing but exacerbate her confusing feelings for him, but she knew that if she asked or offered to stay anywhere but there, it would raise too many questions she didn't want to answer. So she reluctantly retreated to his bedroom and did her best to get some sleep, which equated to about five hours, on and off.
When she woke up the next morning, she felt like a zombie. But it wasn't anything a couple shots of espresso couldn't fix. When she went down stairs, she was pleased to find a full pot of coffee already brewed and ready for consumption, but Clark was nowhere to be seen. Figuring he was out patrolling, she went ahead and got herself ready for the day ahead of her.
She had done her job in finding Clark and telling him about the future. Even Chloe's visit to the farm, despite how she had left things, had been a blessing in disguise. Now the only person left on her list that needed to get on board the future train was Oliver, but by the way her conversation with Clark went about him last night, she knew that she was on her own for that one.
When she asked him about Oliver, he had gone strangely quiet. She knew from the future that they certainly hadn't been on the best of terms due to the one-man show that he tried to put on when it came to fighting Zod, but she didn't know how their relationship would be when she came back. The only thing Clark had told her was that he hadn't been in contact with him or anyone else for three weeks, so he had no idea where or how he was. She had left it that, not wanting to see the brooding farm boy he had buried reemerge, but that didn't mean she still didn't have questions. But as much as she needed to fill Oliver in on the future, the most pressing matter was finding Zod. And the best way to do that was to go back to the one place where she could get the most information: The Daily Planet.
Packed up with the minimal belongings she had, she made her way out the kitchen door and ran smack dab into the middle of a wall. Well, what felt like a wall.
"Jeez, Smallville. I'm gonna buy a bell to hang around your neck, I swear," she muttered, attempting to wipe away the coffee that she had just spilled off of her shirt. Thank God she was wearing black today.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, then took a step back. He was wearing the same all-black outfit and trench coat that he had been wearing when she found him in his fortress yesterday and she wrinkled her nose at the look. The Blur symbol was reasonable, but the rest of it was questionable. At best.
"What's up with this whole Johnny Cash thing you got going on?" she said, gesturing at him and he looked down at himself.
"It's, uh, easier for me to blend in," he said, moving out of the way as she walked down the steps. "Keeps nosy reporters from catching me on camera."
"Ha ha. Since when did you grow a funny bone?" she asked. Setting her bag and coffee cup on the roof of her car, she unlocked the door and threw a raised eyebrow at him. "Seriously though, it looks like you're going to a funeral."
"I guess I sort of was," he said softly. When she saw the look in his eyes, she instantly regretted her words. In a flash, she wasn't looking at this version of him anymore, but the version that had held her in his arms under the glow of a red moon. She was staring at haunted eyes that had discovered and memorized every inch of her bare body within a manner of several hours. Before her, stood a man who had died.
"Lois, I died when you left."
Her keys fell out of her hand and into the dirt. It was like he was standing right there, saying those words again. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, trying to get a hold of herself. Not now, Lois. Not after what had almost happened last night…
"Lois?"
The man who really was standing there in front of her actually did speak and snapped her out of her memory. Shaking her head, she picked up the fallen keys and forced a smile on to her face as she glanced back at him.
"Sorry, still waking up," she said flippantly and opened the car door, throwing her bag into the passenger seat. "Anyhow, lose the trench coat. You aren't Humphrey Bogart. And I'm leaving before you ask me who that is because that conversation might actually kill me."
"Where are you going?" he asked. Taking a large and final gulp of coffee, she shoved the mug into his hands and slipped into the driver's seat. She did her best to ignore him because the disappointment in his tone would grab hold of her and make her stay if she let it. But as he stood there, staring down at her with those damn baby blues, she knew she couldn't just leave him hanging.
"I'm going back to the Planet. If there's one place I can go to keep an eye out for the Kandorians, it's there," she said and started the engine. Before she could close the door, Clark reached his hand out and stopped it from shutting.
"Are you sure that's a good idea? You just got back," he said. He must have noticed the emotion in his voice because he straightened his posture and cleared his throat. "Tess is going to have a lot of questions for you, too."
"I can handle an interrogation from our megalomaniac CEO if it means I can keep an eye on her extracurricular, extraterrestrial activities," she said. She pulled on the handle again, but the door didn't budge. Prepping herself for a fight, she looked back up and saw fear written all over his face. He wasn't being overprotective because he thought she couldn't handle herself; he was worried. She had just disappeared off the face of the Earth for three weeks and now she was headed back into the belly of the beast. Something in her stomach swooped at the realization.
"Trust me, if I need anything, I'll call, okay?" she said softly. Immediately, his shoulders relaxed and he let go of the door with a nod. Damn, he was easy sometimes. Flashing him a smile, she started the car and made her way down the dirt driveway, while trying and failing not to watch Clark standing there in the rearview mirror.
The drive to Metropolis wasn't especially long and she was thankful for the lack of Saturday traffic. She had taken the time to think about how she was going to approach Tess and what her story would be when she asked what had happened. She knew her best course of action was to play dumb, but she was nervous. She had never been a very good liar, unless she was undercover, so she thought that if she approached it that way, she might be able to make her story stick. Knowing Tess, she wouldn't believe anything she had to say. She would have her investigated, if she hadn't already been trying to, and she was sure that she'd have her under a close eye at the Planet, so she'd have to be extra careful with what exactly she used her computer to search for. Maybe Chloe could help her out on the tech front.
When she finally arrived beneath the golden globe, it took her breath away. Just days ago, the building had been dusty and deteriorating, but here it was, bustling with life as if nothing had never happened. Though, if she thought about it, nothing really had happened. Not in this reality.
Taking a deep breath, she strutted through the double doors, held her head high, and made a beeline for the elevator. Several heads turned as she walked through the doors and she heard a few rumblings of questions, but no one stopped her. But it was a different story when she made it down to the bullpen. She didn't make it five feet before Jeff came barreling towards her, nearly bowling her over in the process.
"Miss Lane! It's so good to see you! Where have you been? Everyone said that Tess must have fired you, but I said there was no way. If Lois Lane had been let go, it would be front page news. Plus, Tess hasn't been here in weeks, so how could she have let you go, right?" he babbled. She had to physically restrain herself from slapping a hand over his mouth.
"Cut the verbal marathon, Jeff. I don't have time for it," she said as he opened his mouth to say something else to her. "Now, walk with me. What do you mean Tess hasn't been here?"
As they walked to her desk, he told her all about how both of them seemed to have disappeared at the same time. They had all been told that Tess had been running things remotely for the time being due to "personal reasons," but no one had actually seen or spoken to her in weeks. Lois didn't know what to think about that, but something didn't quite sit well with her about it. But she didn't have long to think about it because Jeff couldn't seem to leave her alone.
"But seriously, where have you been? Everyone's been wondering. Your new partner keeps asking about you," he said. Lois stopped walking immediately. Looking across the room, she saw a dark-haired man sitting in Clark's chair, typing away at the computer. Shooing Jeff away, she marched right up to him and stared down at the invader.
"Who the hell are you?" she asked brusquely. She had no time for chit chat and certainly not with anyone who thought they could replace Clark Kent. Turning in his chair, she met his eyes and got a good look at him for the first time. In another life, she may have found him attractive. He had short, dark brown hair and a layer of scruff that covered his square jaw. Blue eyes looked at her curiously at first, then unabashedly made their way down her body before meeting her eyes again. She knew within three seconds that she absolutely, resolutely, without a doubt did not like this man.
"I'm a field reporter," he said simply as he leaned back in the chair and twirled a pencil between his fingers. Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow.
"The bullpen doesn't look like much of a field to me," she said. He smiled at her, but it wasn't one that gave her any warm, fuzzy feelings inside. Instead, it did quite the opposite.
"I've got to write my stories somewhere, don't I?" he countered.
"Not at that desk, you don't. Now again: who are you?" she asked, reaching for the name plate that was sitting on his desk. She had to contain the smile that threatened to make its way to her face when she saw the name "Clark Kent" printed in white letters. In her peripheral vision, she saw a hand making a grab for it, but she swiftly yanked it away and shot a glare at him as she walked to her desk to sit down.
"Name's John Corben. I spent the last few years in Afghanistan. Hopefully that gave me enough training to be your desk mate," he said with a sly grin. Rolling her eyes, she opened her desk drawer and put Clark's nameplate safely away before looking back to the cocky man that sat across from her.
"Don't bet on it. And don't get comfortable in that chair. Clark's coming back," she said pointedly, then turned to log in to her computer. Her first attempt logging in didn't work, so she retried, assuming that she had mistyped her password. When the second attempt failed, she bit back a groan. Damn, maybe Tess really had canned her.
"Really? I heard he was visiting family indefinitely," John said. Refusing to look at him, she tried different variations of her password and email, but to no avail. Damn it.
"Indefinitely? No. The guy never takes any time off. I'm sure he's just cashing in on some overdue vacation time," she replied. That was a good excuse, right? Saying he was sick would be a bit of a stretch for three weeks out of work. She just needed to make sure she filled him in later on her cover for him. Assuming he returned to the Planet, of course.
"Supposedly you've been fired," he said. She scoffed in response.
"Minor technicality."
"I hope so."
God, did this man ever quit? He was like a mosquito that wouldn't quit buzzing in her ear. An arrogant, grimy, player of a mosquito, at that. She chanced a look over at him and wasn't shocked to find him staring at her with that same overconfident look on his face.
"Don't waste your time," she said and turned back to the screen. Looking across the room, she saw Jeff sitting at his desk eating a maple donut and her stomach grumbled. Realizing she hadn't had anything to eat yet today, she decided that food took precedence over being locked out of the Planet database. It'd also get her away from John.
"Well then, partner, mind putting my time to good use? Like explaining to me how a seven-ton sky train belly flopped onto Main Street without a single fatality?" he asked. She couldn't help but flinch at the mention of her escapades from the other night and prayed he hadn't noticed her reaction. Leaning away from her screen so she could look at him directly, she leaned her chin on her hand and smiled.
"Why do you think I'd know anything about that?" she asked calmly. That stupid smirk on his face only grew as he twisted back and forth in his—Clark's—notoriously squeaky chair.
"Your name came up on the list of crash victims," he replied. Leaning back, she shrugged and slouched in the same relaxed position he was in. She had to play cool if she was going to pull the wool over his eyes.
"Guess we just need to chalk it up to a modern-day miracle," she suggested, then threw another glance back at Jeff. Damn, she was hungry.
"We could, or we could chalk it up to a vigilante on an ego trip," John said, finally standing up and grabbing his bag. It was the first time his cocky veneer had slipped away and been replaced with a certain bitterness that didn't exactly leave a good taste in her mouth.
"Is that what we call courage these days?" she asked and he frowned at her. Nope, she definitely didn't like this guy and she had a feeling that he definitely didn't like Clark's alter-ego.
"The infamous Blur," he said with a roll of his eyes, shouldering his bag. "You know, the ends don't always justify the means."
"Jealous much?" she asked, causing him to let out a bitter laugh. Taking a step towards her, he placed both of his palms on her desk and leaned forward.
"Obsessed much?" he countered. "Nearly all of your articles in the past year have all centered on one primary-colored, well, now mono-colored, freakshow."
"Hey, if it gets me printed on the front page, he can start wearing rainbow for all I care," she said. "Which is something you might want to think about if you want your name written anywhere before page eight."
"Oh, I have no problem writing about the Blur, Lane," he said, taking a step backwards and shifting the bag on his shoulder. "It just won't be full of hero worship, like you. See you in the trenches."
He threw another salacious smile at her before he sauntered away, leaving Lois feeling both extremely annoyed and a little intimidated, though she'd never admit it to him. It wasn't his journalism and cocky attitude that bothered her though; it was his obvious hatred for Clark. Sure, she had seen and dealt with her fair share of hero hatred, but the way John's attitude had totally flipped when he started talking about the Blur sent a shiver down her spine. But she could deal with that problem later.
As soon as she saw the elevator doors close in front of him, she slid into John's chair with a prayer that he hadn't logged out. The screen was black, but when she clicked, the computer came to life, free of a log in screen.
"Rookie," she breathed and pulled up the main page of the Planet. Low and behold, right there on the front page, John Corben's name stared back at her underneath the headline "Speeding Skytrain Sails to the Main Street." A photo of the crumpled metal car that nearly flattened her into a pancake was front and center, along with a photo of Clark's crest to the lower right.
"Talk about alliteration overkill," she mumbled as she scanned the article, which largely pointed out the damage that the Blur could have prevented along with the possibility that he had derailed the train simply so he could be hailed as a hero. Shaking her head at his obvious hatred, she scanned through the rest of the paper for anything remotely odd that might link her to the Kandorians, but there was nothing.
For hours, she sat there reading over three weeks' worth of Daily Planet articles, looking for anything that might point her in the direction of Zod and his cronies. But there was nothing. Nada. Zilch. Nothing strange or unexplained in any of the hundreds of pages she had just read through. Defeated and starving, she collected her things and made her way out of the building to get some groceries. All she could do now was get her life back on track after her three-week time jump.
For the next few days, Lois tried to catch up on everything she had missed and get back into a routine. On Sunday, she spent most of the day cleaning her apartment, doing laundry, and generally trying to screw her head on straight. Her rent and bills had been mysteriously paid, so she had a sneaking suspicion that she owed a certain blonde-haired billionaire a thank you card. Where he was, who knew, since he wouldn't return any of her phone calls or texts, which hurt her a little bit. It also made her worry that something had happened to him. She had pressed Clark again, but he told her that he didn't know.
On Monday, she had gone back to the Planet and strong-armed Jeff into revealing his login credentials since she obviously couldn't use John's computer while he was sitting there. She had gone about her work that day as best as she could using the database that was only available to interns, but it got more and more frustrating as the day wore on and she knew that she'd have to talk to Tess eventually. But the thing that was even more frustrating was the man that sat across from her.
John Corben was an ass. Plain and simple. She didn't think he was necessarily a bad man or a threat, but he certainly knew how to rile her up. And not in the good way that a certain black-haired alien did. John was as conceited as he was annoying. He continuously threw flirtatious looks and comments her way, had already asked her out and been shot down on two separate occasions, and had a habit of staring at her chest and ass way too much. But worse than that, he was a certified hero hater.
He thought that the Blur and other vigilantes couldn't be trusted because they couldn't be held accountable. They did whatever they wanted, whenever it suited them, consequences be damned. In his eyes, the only thing vigilantes were good for were catching headlines, which if she wasn't mistaken, he was jealous of. Ever since she had returned, he made it a point to criticize her articles about the Blur, Green Arrow, and other heroes that had rolled through town occasionally. That was the only time she really enjoyed being around him since she could piss him off.
Clark had called that night to update her on his search for the Kandorians, but sadly, he didn't have very much information to give her. He had gone to the Luthor mansion, since that had been Zod's home base in the future, but he couldn't find anything. However, he had a feeling they had been there since he couldn't find any security footage of the past three weeks when he snuck in. Lois had asked him if he had seen Tess, but he said it had been after midnight when he was there, so he didn't see anyone besides the guards.
They had chatted for a while that night. She asked if he had talked to Chloe and he said that he did, but only to talk about their search for the Kandorians. She could tell that he was hurting and missed her, and though every part of her wanted drive back to Smallville or ask him to come see her, she knew that it just wasn't time yet. Once they had a lead on Zod, then maybe. But until then, it needed to be business only.
By mid-afternoon Tuesday, she'd had it. Between her lack of progress on the Kandorians, John's presence, and her limited resources at the Planet, she knew that she had to talk to Tess or she wouldn't get anywhere. So as soon as the clock hit five, she sped out of there like a bullet. She didn't even go inside when she got to her apartment, she simply hopped in the car and got on the road. The thing she hadn't been counting on was traffic.
By the time she got to Smallville, it was after eight. She was tired, she was hungry, and she desperately wanted to punch something after dealing with so many people who didn't know how to drive. As she was coming up on the turn for the Kent farm, she bit her lip. She had come here to talk to Tess, but at the same time, she knew that she probably wasn't going to get a very warm welcome at this hour. Not that she'd get one at all. Decision made, she took a right and not two minutes later, pulled up to the familiar yellow farmhouse she once called home.
"Clark? Anyone home sweet home?" she asked into the darkness as she walked inside. She knew he probably wouldn't be, but still, a girl could hope. She stuck her head towards the stairs to see if maybe a light was on, but she was only met with more darkness.
"Guess not," she said to herself. Luckily for her, the house wasn't completely vacant. Shelby came bounding up to her and she immediately smiled.
"Hey, Shelby. Hey," she said, bending down to scratch his head and give him a hug. As much fun as it was to pretend that he was a nuisance due to her allergies, she had to admit that she'd be heartbroken the day that he died. She was the one who had found—well, hit—him, so in her eyes, they had a special bond. She felt the same way about his owner.
Just then, her phone rang. A smile instantly formed on her face, thinking that Clark must have used his super senses and knew she was there, but as soon as she read the caller ID, the smile dropped and was replaced with a grimace. She answered and put the phone up to her ear without a greeting.
"Hey, beautiful," the voice of her pest of a new colleague said over the phone.
"Are you still at the office?" she asked, standing up and shedding her jacket on the sofa. Strolling towards the kitchen, she opened the door to see if he had finally gone to buy groceries. Much to her surprise and delight, she found it fully stocked and it brought a smile to her face.
"No, no. Sitting behind a desk just isn't the same without those… pretty brown eyes of yours… I don't know… glaring at me," he said. She could practically see the smile on his face and rolled her eyes. "Since you didn't want to grab dinner tonight, I spent the time searching out news and you'll never guess what I found."
"If I do, will you take me off your speed dial?" she asked. He chuckled at her comment as she rifled through the fridge.
"Very funny. Your favorite freak's been at it again, and this time, the story's mine," he said. She should have known he'd be calling about the Blur. Well, at least that explained where Clark was.
"Take it, sticky fingers. There are plenty of headlines to go around," she said, pulling out what looked like a freshly made dish of lasagna. When the hell did he have time to make this?
"Oh my goodness. Never thought you'd be willing to share the Blur, Lois. We should celebrate... over coffee. Your place or mine?" he said. Lord, that man was relentless. As annoying as he was though, she knew he was only doing it to get a rise out of her. Sure, if she said yes to a date, she was sure that he'd jump on the chance, but she also knew that he certainly didn't expect it.
"Or neither. Besides, I'm not exactly being generous. You know, the Blur catches more bad guys before breakfast than most cops do in a day," she said. She was trying to support him, but it was also true. The number of criminals Clark had caught in just the past two days had been insurmountable compared to the saves he had made in the past. He was changing and growing for the better in the hero arena, that was for sure.
"Hell, that's the problem. He's not a cop. He's a vigilante… with superpowers and a thing for the letter 'S.'" he said, his tone changing just like it did every time he mentioned the Blur. A pitcher of lemonade caught her eye and she couldn't help but trace a crude version of the crest on the condensation as she answered.
"Well, then, he's done a super job cleaning up Metropolis. Thanks to him, the city can sleep at night."
"What if he screws up? How do you hold him accountable? No one's even seen his face," he said. She sighed. Usually, she was able to stick with her shtick of annoyed banter with him, but every time he went down the hero hating hole, she couldn't keep it up.
"John, after everything the Blur's done for the world, how can you be such a cynic?" she asked, pulling out the pitcher and setting it on the counter as she reached for a glass in the cabinet.
"Well, apparently, I don't suffer from the same softhearted hero worship you do," he said. Gritting her teeth, she poured herself a glass and took a lengthy sip before she answered.
"At least I have a heart. You got to lighten up, John. Spend a little less time on the dark side of the street," she said in an attempt to lighten the conversation before it got too dark, like it had on occasion. Usually their arguments consisted of him accusing her of acting like a lovesick schoolgirl and her accusing him of acting like a jealous boyfriend, but there were several times when there was a serious darkness and hatred in the way that he talked about the Blur. It was one reason, among many others, that she kept him at a professional distance.
"There's another side to the Blur, and I'm gonna expose it," he said. The line went dead before she could respond. Frowning in confusion, she simply shrugged and let it be. Whatever was up with him tonight was certainly not her problem. Not when she had other things to worry about.
"Ok-ay," she said to herself and snapped her phone shut. She put the pitcher back in the fridge and decided that she'd take a shower before getting something to eat in hopes that Clark might be home to join her when she got out. When she shut the door and turned around, she nearly threw the drink across the room.
"Jesus, Clark! Forget a bell around your neck, I'm buying a motion-sensor alarm," she said, clutching a hand to her thumping chest. He was standing as still and quiet as a statue, not even three feet behind her. His blue eyes were an intense shade of indigo and there was a rigidity to his posture that she didn't like. Fearing that something had gone wrong, she placed the glass on the table and stepped towards him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, but his expression didn't falter. Neither did his body language. Oh God, what had happened tonight? Did someone else die?
"Who were you talking to?" he asked, his voice low in his throat. If he didn't look so pissed off, she would have been affected by his tone in a much different way that she had been trying to avoid. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. Her worry immediately turned to confusion.
"My new so-called 'partner,' John Corben," she said. When his expression still didn't change, she raised an eyebrow. No way. "Why? Were you listening to my conversation?"
When he finally shifted his stance and his mouth pressed into a thin line, she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. Here she was worried that something traumatic had happened to him during his patrol, only to find out that he was mad about her conversation with John.
"I heard someone was in the house, so I tuned in my hearing and overheard. I couldn't really help it," he said. The fact that he had the audacity to try and defend himself almost made her mad. Almost.
"Uh, yeah, you could have hit the off-switch as soon as you heard my voice," she said with a scoff. "Face it, Kent. You were totally eavesdropping."
The blush that creeped into his cheeks gave her a sweet sense of satisfaction. He was the most powerful being on the planet and here she was, chastising him and making him feel like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.
"Okay, I'm sorry. But I really was just listening to figure out who was here at first," he explained. "Then I heard him talking about the Blur and I just…"
"Couldn't help yourself?" she finished for him and he nodded. It's why she couldn't really be mad at him. He had enough confidence and morality issues to deal with, so she understood the temptation to keep listening when John kept bashing the Blur. "It's okay, really. He's just an overconfident wannabe reporter who has some weird personal issue with your alter ego."
"So I gathered," he said. Sadness crept into his eyes, but she wasn't going to let him go down that road right now. John Corben certainly wasn't worth his time or energy.
"Don't sweat him, Smallville. Everyone has haters and the Blur is no exception," she said and patted his arm. Moving past him, she made her way towards the stairs. "I'm going to take a shower. What are the odds you still remember how to cook?"
"Are you inviting yourself to stay the night?" he asked. She couldn't help but notice the hopeful gleam in his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth ticked up.
"Do you even have to ask?" she replied, receiving a full-blown Clark Kent smile when she did. Her stomach did a triple backflip.
"Fine. Just don't expect anything to be warm if you decide to take a marathon shower," he said, both of them knowing full-well that whenever she decided to get out of the shower, dinner would be ready for her.
"Whatever you say, Martha," she said. "But, hey, for future reference, the next time I catch you eavesdropping on one of my conversations, you're going to wake up one morning with Kryptonite in your ears."
