Lois Lane slumped down in her chair at the Star office, totally unsure of what to do. She'd just been saved from a falling beam by Clark, in front of about a dozen other people on the street.
She had a dilemma. A major one. Something she hadn't told anyone.
At her core, Lois was a reporter. She dug deep, found the facts—the ones that really, truly mattered—and printed those stories for the world to see. She wasn't driven merely by a desire to eventually advance her career to a high-level paper like the Planet, but by an honest desire to root out the hidden truths of the world.
And here she was, sitting on the biggest story she'd probably ever get in her lifetime, and she couldn't write a thing. She knew three super-powered individuals—an amazon, a boy from the future, and an alien—and she couldn't say a thing about any of it. She'd seen them fly, bend steel, stop bullets, and move faster than her eyes could tell, but she had to suck it up and not say a word. After all, it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that Bart, Clark, and Diana's lives would be a living hell if the entire world knew who they were and what they could do.
When she wrote her article on the Excelsior hostage crisis, she'd had to write the facts in a deliberately vague fashion—which actually worked pretty well, since no one else actually understood what had happened anyway. This time, though, there were at least a few people who'd seen Clark's amazing rescue. They probably wouldn't be able to recognize him anyway, but that wasn't the problem. Would she actually write this story? What would she say? That a young man literally flew up to catch a crane, then stopped a fifty-foot steel beam from crushing her? She didn't have any proof other than her own eyewitness account—and those of the few other people that saw what happened, if she could somehow track them down.
But was that enough? The area she'd been in was a largely underdeveloped part of Metropolis, so there likely weren't any security cameras or anything else that she could use for evidence of Clark's miraculous intervention. Then again, she reminded herself, that's a good thing, for Clark's sake.
As though in response to her thoughts, Clark walked through the door. Lois noticed that his clothes were clean, despite the fact that he'd been caked in dirt from the street less than an hour ago. Either he had a "super-clothes-cleaning" power that she hadn't seen yet, or he had a closet full of identical red t-shirts and blue jackets. She figured it was the latter.
"Are you alright, Lois?" he asked gently.
"Um, yeah, thanks," she responded quietly, purposely trying to avoid a conversation.
Clark sat down across from her, giving her the "we should talk" look. She reluctantly met his gaze.
"What were you doing out there today?" he asked her.
"What were you doing out there?" she countered.
"I heard people shouting from the street below that crane, and flew over as fast as I could."
"Wait, you could hear them that clearly all the way from the school? How'd you—"
"Don't change the subject, Lois."
If he had been anyone else—even Bruce—Lois would have shot him a look of venom for cutting her off that way. With Clark, however, she couldn't help but let it go. Something about him calmed her down—a fact that puzzled her. Was that one of his powers? She'd have to figure it out later.
He continued. "You've got a class during that period, but you were half a mile away from school. You've been skipping classes every other day for the past two weeks. Why?"
She cringed a little, the same way she used to when her dad found out she'd been stealing her little sister's candy. She took a deep breath and let herself relax a bit. "I've been tailing Lionel Luthor and investigating his projects. That building with the crane is one of them."
Clark sighed and lowered his head. "Lois... you really shouldn't be doing that. Lione—"
Lois cut him off. "Lionel's the most dangerous criminal in the city; maybe the country. He's responsible for God-knows-how-many deaths. Someone needs to stop him before more people die."
Clark spoke a bit more calmly. "You're worried about Bruce, aren't you?"
"...yes," she replied.
Clark frowned a little. "You still shouldn't be doing this by yourself. Lionel could easily have you killed if you're alone."
"Clark... you don't understand. You're bulletproof. You don't have to worry about dying. Everyone else has to deal with that every day. We'll all die someday; I just want to make sure that I make a difference before I do."
Clark leaned forward a bit, looking earnestly into her eyes. "I worry about you, Lois. I care about you, and I don't want you hurt."
Lois shouldn't have been surprised by this, but she was. She'd earned a reputation for being able to take care of herself; no one ever really went out of their way to try and make sure she was safe.
She hid her surprise behind a wry smile and one of her usual sharp retorts.
"Thanks Smallville, but I can handle myself."
No comments:
Post a Comment