The MJAs, Part 2

Clark and Chloe stood quietly on the balcony, leaning gently against the railing.
Behind them was the main hall where the ceremony was being held, but they felt like being alone for the moment.
"So... Clark," Chloe began. "I haven't seen you around Smallville lately.  Are you still living at home?"
"Yeah, but I... I've been spending all my time here.  I'm needed here, Chloe.  If I spend too much time in Smallville, I'm afraid that I'll be gone when... when something happens."
Chloe frowned a little.  "What are you afraid will happen?"
Clark took a deep breath and stared out over the horizon, toward the city lights.
"I have friends in Metropolis that are in danger.  Lionel Luthor's tried to kill them—and me—before."
Chloe's eyes went wide. "Lionel Luthor?! As in Luthorcorp?!?"
"Yeah, that's him."
"Wow... I'd heard rumors of him being involved in shady stuff, but... wow... okay, who's he trying to kill?"
"For the moment, he's sort of laying low, from what we can tell.  After he threatened us directly, the police nearly had enough evidence to charge him with attempted murder."
Chloe nodded a little with understanding. "But the Luthor lawyers have managed to keep him clean thus far."
"Exactly."
"So... who is 'us,' exactly?  Who's he trying to kill, and why was he after you?"
"Bruce Wayne, for one."
"The boy heir to the throne of Wayne Enterprises? No wonder; they're Luthorcorp's biggest rival."
"Hey, how do you know all this, anyway?"
Chloe rolled her eyes.  "Please, Clark.  We do have the internet in Smallville.  I'm a reporter, and as boring as the inner workings of multi-billion-dollar corporations are, they're front page news.  And I read every front page of every major paper."
Clark couldn't help but smile at her.  She was the same brilliant Chloe that she'd always been.
She pushed him for more details. "So, who else? Come on! Tell me!"
Clark paused for a moment, and looked back into the hall.  Chloe could tell that Clark was troubled by whatever he was about to say. "It's Lois.  Lionel's after her, too."
Chloe's put her hands over her mouth in shock.  "Lois? Why?"
"Because she's dating Bruce, and she's been investigating Lionel nonstop. She's actually gotten pretty close to finding evidence on him a couple of times."
"Lois is DATING BRUCE WAYNE?!?"
Clark gave her a quizzical look. "Do you ever talk to your cousin?"
"We're both really busy, I guess.  Wait, so you're protecting Lois and Bruce all by yourself?  Do they know about your abilities?"
"...Yeah, they do.  And no, I'm not protecting them by myself.  There's a couple of others that we've met... people with powers."
Chloe was surprised. "Powers? Powers like yours?"
"No.  One of them's an amazon princess, and the other's a guy who... well, he can run really fast."
Chloe nearly laughed. "An amazon princess? What's her name, Xena?"
"Diana, actually," Clark said with a slight smile.
Chloe tilted her head a little at that.  "I saw that smile.  So... you like this 'Diana'?"
Clark stepped back a little.  "No, it's not that. She's a good friend, but I don't know her all that well."
Chloe wasn't convinced.  "Still, though... there's something special about her, isn't there?  Other than just the fact that she's got powers."
"Well..." Clark began, "She... she's like me.  She's not from here; she's from an island off somewhere hidden from the rest of the world.  She's got some powers like mine, and... she really cares about doing the right thing."
Chloe did her best to force a smile across her face. "Sounds like you've found a kindred spirit."
Clark didn't notice her falseness, and a slight smile of his own crept across his face.  "Yeah, kinda.  But I'm not interested in her... romantically, I mean.  It's nice to have a friend like her, but I'm not looking for anything more than that right now."
"Oh." Chloe was pleasantly surprised, but she tried to keep her composure.  "So... is there anyone you're interested in?"
Clark was a little taken aback at the question. "Well, I—"
Lois jumped in.  "Hey Smallvilles, my award's coming up! Come back inside!"

They both followed her back to their table, and sat down in preparation.  This was the final award of the evening, and Lois's article had been nominated.
The presenter on stage had the letter in her hand.  "And the award for best single article goes to..." She began opening the envelope.
Clark could almost feel Lois shaking in her seat from three feet away.  He wondered how much caffeine she'd had today.
The presenter finally ripped the envelope open and read the card inside. "...'The Red Blur of Central City', by Iris Allen!"
The room roared with applause.
Chloe and Clark both were slightly shocked and a little worried.  They both slowly turned to Lois.
Lois was livid, and looked slightly crazed.  "WHAT?!?"
She quickly pulled out her phone and looked up the article online.  "What?! This... this is about some random red blur that appears at crime scenes! It's... it's all circumstantial evidence! NO!!"
Chloe leaned over to Clark. "Is that blur the super-fast guy you were talking about?"
"No, that's his grandpa," Clark responded matter-of-factly.
Chloe felt as though she were the only person in the room that had a grip on reality.  "Okay, you guys really need to sit down and explain this stuff."

Dinner Plans

The school called it a "formal dinner," but it was mostly a staring contest.

The Excelsior Academy, being the foremost center of education for the children of the wealthy, held a bi-annual formal dinner for the families who donated the most amount of money to the school.

At the ornately-designed ebony table sat representatives from four families: the Queens, the Waynes, the Luthors, and the Edges.
Oliver sat with his two parents at one side of the long table, his mother chattering with Sarah Edge. Vincent Edge, Sarah's husband, owned a massive media corporation in Metropolis--the only one that LuthorCorp didn't own. Vincent and Sarah's son, Morgan, attended Excelsior despite his relatively low grades.
Oliver, bored out of his mind, tried to make friendly eye contact with Morgan across the table, but Morgan seemed to be perfectly set on ignoring everyone else in the room, keeping his eyes on his plate of roast duck.
Lionel and Lex sat toward the table's head, across from Bruce.
Bruce had come alone. He could have asked Lucius or Alfred to come along, but he specifically asked them not to.  This was a dinner for students and their parents.  His parents were dead.  No one would replace them.

Terrence Reynolds, the school principal, sat at the table's head, completely fed up with the obvious unspoken resentment that the men at the table had towards one another.  He was African-American, average height, slightly heavy-set, and easily angered. He didn't care in the slightest about the egos of the "Excelsior Royal Families"; he only allowed this dinner to be held because he knew that the satiated egos of the families were the only reason the school was so well-funded.

He swallowed his pride and took a quiet, deep breath. He needed to say this.  "If I could have your attention for a moment, please?"
The attendees all stopped eating and talking for a moment, turning to face him.
"Though I've said it before, I want to apologize again for the incident three weeks ago.  We—"
Lionel interrupted.  "Oh, come now, Mr. Reynolds, how exactly were you supposed to defend the school against an attack by heavily-armed gunmen?  Would you fortify the building with armed guards at every doorway?  Called in the National Guard?  No, Mr. Reynolds, I think the school did an admirable job.  After all, no one was hurt."
"Yeah," Victor Edge interjected with his signature New York accent, "just how was that, exactly?  Morgan tells me that the thugs just dropped to the floor, like somethin' hit 'em."

Reynolds had been waiting for this moment all day.  He'd answered the question countless times, always with the same answer: "I couldn't tell you, Mr. Edge.  I was out-of-state during the incident..."
"Well 'aint that convenient," Vincent interjected.
Reynolds ignored the comment and continued. "...and reports have been inconclusive."

"So you have... no idea what actually happened?"
When the attendees heard Laura Queen's question, they all looked down towards the end of the table in surprise.  She'd not joined into the main conversation all night.  Her face revealed a deep concern: she was worried about what had happened to her son, despite his claims that he was alright.
When Lex saw Laura's worried face, he slowly leaned back in his chair.  She reminded him a little of his own mother, and he didn't want everyone else to see his eyes welling up a little.  His own mother had died from a rare and unexplained illness, leaving him alone with his unaffectionate, demanding father.
"Mom, nothing happened," Oliver said.  "They just fell over, all at once.  Right, Lex?"
Lex momentarily looked back at Oliver and nodded.  They'd been held in the same room, and both saw the same unexplained event.  In fact, everyone in the school had given the exact same report: every gunman in the entire building fell unconscious at the same time, with no apparent cause.  Some reported a simultaneous gust of wind; others didn't.

Now that this subject had been brought up, Reynolds knew it would be the focus of the rest of the evening.  He was not looking forward to it.  As if in answer to his thoughts, Reynolds' secretary quietly walked in the room, moving over to whisper in his ear.  His eyes widened with her news, and he took a brief second to compose himself before speaking to his guests.
"I've just been informed that a man matching Floyd Lawton's description is attempting to rob a bank two blocks from here."
The room erupted with panicked questions.
"What!?"
"I thought he was in jail!"
"Are we in danger?!"
"Which bank?"
"Where are the police?"

"Stay calm, everyone," Reynolds replied in a very firm and slightly intimidating voice. "The police have patrol cars waiting downstairs; they will escort you safely to your homes."

The two mothers continued panicking while Vincent Edge and Robert Queen angrily asked Reynolds for information that he didn't have.  Bruce and Oliver kept completely calm.  They looked at one another across the table, exchanging looks of calm determination.  They'd been through this before, and they knew what to expect.  Neither of them were the type to be taken advantage of because of their relative youth: if they could help it, they would make sure they and their loved ones—or, in this case, Oliver's loved ones—got home safe.  As the dinner guests all got up from their seats and gathered together into a small, slightly hysterical crowd, Oliver whispered to Bruce: "I think we're the sanest people here."
Bruce nearly smirked at that, but stopped when he noticed Lionel Luthor's face:
Completely calm, merely observing the situation.  Bruce knew a thing or two about how to read human facial expressions—he'd taken a couple of college-level courses in criminal psychology—and Lionel portrayed no hint of surprise or concern.  The average observer might conclude that Lionel was simply a very composed man, but Bruce knew better: Lionel knew it was coming.

As the group walked down the stairway towards the school's entrance, Oliver and Bruce stayed at the front, with Lex trailing just behind them.  Bruce didn't mind Lex's presence.  From what he could tell, Lex had changed quite a bit in the past month or two since the attack on Bruce's tower.  His random and infantile mocking of Bruce had completely ceased, and he was much more reserved.  Bruce speculated that Lex and Lionel weren't exactly on the same page, probably because Lex actually had a conscience.   That didn't make Lex a friend by any means, but it also meant that he wasn't exactly a threat either.
"Are we even safe in our homes?" Oliver asked.  "I mean, the guy escaped from here last time, even after he was surrounded by cops.  My place isn't exactly bulletproof."
"Mine is." Bruce replied.  "Take your family there; I'll call Alfred to let him know you're coming."
Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Bruce.  Hey, wait, where are you going?"
"I've got somewhere else to be," he cryptically replied as they walked through the front doors.  Instead of moving forward and entering one of the police cruisers parked on the street in front of them, Bruce turned right and walked towards his own car, sitting in the school parking lot.
Other teens at Excelsior drove flashier vehicles; ones that were meant for looks and not much else.  Bruce's car was every bit as expensive—if not more—but it wasn't meant merely for looks; it was meant for speed.  On the outside, it looked like a brand-new, jet-black Mustang, but as soon as the engine roared to life, it was obvious that it was something else entirely.
Bruce pulled out his phone and hit the fifth number on his speed-dial.  He would call Alfred in a moment, but he needed to call someone else first.  He heard the other side of the line pick up, and he started talking before they could respond.  "Bart, Deadshot's robbing a bank two blocks from Excelsior.  Meet me there. Now."

The MJAs, Part 1

Clark was uncomfortable around all the flashing lights.

It reminded him a little of the school dances he went to in Smallville, but a lot bigger and more expensive, and without a dance floor.  The main ceremony took place in a big, dark auditorium, with flashing spotlights in the ceiling that bounced light all over the room.  Loud music played from the overhead speakers while the attendees talked amongst themselves.  If not for the elegant decoration and the formal dress of the attendees, it would have seemed more like a rock concert than a journalism award ceremony.

"Is it normally this loud?" Clark asked as he leaned over to Lois, who sat at his right.  She couldn't quite hear him over the music, but his confused, uncomfortable expression made it pretty obvious what he was asking. "NO," she said, yelling over the noise.  "IT'S DIFFERENT THIS YEAR."
Clark gave her a weird look and gestured to his ears, as if to say "um, I have super-hearing. Why are you yelling at me?"

She rolled her eyes and turned her head away, feigning annoyance.  Honestly, however, she didn't want him to see that she couldn't help but smile a little at him.  "Oh, god," she thought, realizing what she was doing.  "What the hell am I doing here?  With Clark?  I could have just grabbed someone else; I didn't need to take him.  I mean, look at me.  I'm wearing this ridiculous dress..."—she looked down at herself—"...this amazing dress, and he's all amazing-looking in his tux and... why am I doing this?"  She slowly drifted out of her mental dilemma when she noticed Clark standing up and moving to greet someone.

"Barry! Hey!"
"Hey!" Barry replied, stepping towards Clark and Lois's table and shaking Clark's hand.  "Nice seeing you again.  Hey, Lois, I read your articles about the hostage situation; are you okay?"
Lois was caught a little off-guard.  Most people just congratulated her for her award nomination for those articles; no one had actually asked her if she was alright.  Barry was giving her the genuinely caring look that Clark usually gave her; she was actually a little bothered by it.
"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks," she replied.
Barry looked over his shoulder, then turned back to them.  "Alright, well, I'd better go.  My date's run off again, and I need to find her."
They all said their goodbyes, and Barry walked off into the crowd.
Clark smiled a little.  "He really does look like Bart, doesn't he?"
Lois smiled a little, too. "Yeah."
Lois's smile quickly morphed into a barely-contained scowl, however.  Clark quickly recognized it as the look that one woman gives to a rival: like an angry leopard about to bite someone's jugular.  It kind of scared him.
A young woman approached them—somewhere around sixteen years old, about 5'5'', with short, light brown hair and piercing green eyes.
"Hey, Lois," she said mockingly.

Clark looked back and forth between the two girls.  Their eyes were locked, and they seemed to be in a kind of staring duel.  He decided to break it.
"Hi, I'm Clark Kent," he said with a big smile, holding out his hand.  The girl turned to him, returning his smile and politely shaking his hand.  "Hi, I'm Iris West."  She turned back to Lois.  "He your new boyfriend?" she asked, jutting her thumb in Clark's direction.
"No!" Lois replied, almost blushing through her frustration.  "I'm still with Bruce.  Clark works with me at the Star..."
"Gotcha," Iris said, quickly looking Clark over.  "Well, good luck tonight.  I'll see you later."
She walked away, with Lois still staring knives at her back.

Clark was still confused.  "So... Lois, what was that about?"
Lois looked up sideways at him, as though to show her annoyance.  "That was Iris West, the most self-centered hypocritical annoying frustrating..." She stopped herself, realizing that she was rambling.  "She's from Central City's student paper... she's taken a lot of the big stories that I've been after."
Clark was piecing it together.  "So... she's like your... rival."
Lois had certainly thought of it in those terms before.  "Yeah. Something like that."

As Lois and Clark continued watching Iris walk away, they nearly jumped when they saw Barry walk up to her, take her arm, and walk her back to their table.  "Lois..." Clark said with sudden realization, "Bart said that his grandmother was named Iris."
Lois's eyes shot wide open, and she covered her mouth in shock.  "No way..."

Lois heard her phone ring.  Picking it up, she yelled into it over the music. "WHAT?  YES—WAIT, NO. WE'RE OVER BY THE MIDDLE, A LITTLE TOWARDS THE BACK."  She hung up and quickly started looking around the room.
"Who was that?" Clark asked.
"My cousin.  She runs the school paper in her town."
Clark smiled at the irony.  "It runs in the family, apparently."
Lois grinned.  "Yup. Oh, you'd like her, Clark.  She's from some little farm town, too.  Could never remember its name, though..."
Suddenly, a little blonde girl ran up to Lois.  The two girls hugged, exchanging the usual high-pitched girl-greetings.  Clark thought he recognized the girl's voice...
The two girls separated from each others' arms, and Clark got a good look at Lois's cousin.  She met his gaze, too, and they both felt a surge of shock as they recognized one another.
"Clark?!"
"Chloe!?"
They didn't smile or say another word. They simply moved towards one another, and held each other.  A tear ran down Chloe's cheek.  "I missed you," she said quietly.
"I missed you, too," Clark gently said back.

Lois was very confused. "Wait, what?"

Stryker's

Stryker's Island was a half-mile out to sea from Coast City.  Often called "the modern Alcatraz," it was, essentially, the most well-guarded prison in America, and held only the most dangerous and powerful of criminals.

Floyd Lawton sat in his cell, utterly bored.

"Lawton. You've got a visitor."
Floyd's right eyebrow rose with curiosity.  Lionel Luthor stepped into the light in front of the cell, and nodded to the guard on his right. The guard nodded back and walked way.
Now Floyd was definitely interested.  He'd never seen anyone actually give orders to the guards like that.

"Mister Lawton," Lionel began.  "I understand you were behind the attack on the Excelsior Academy, correct?"
Floyd smirked a little.  "Yeah. I took your kid hostage, right?"
"Yes, indeed you did," Lionel replied.
Floyd still had the smirk. "You don't sound too upset about that."
Lionel quietly laughed, and got a smirk of his own. "Lex is a Luthor, Mister Lawton.  We have targets on our heads everywhere we go.  Your little maneuver wasn't the first time Lex has been threatened, and it will not be the last.  I'm not here to 'avenge' my son's humiliation; I'm here for information."
"...Alright, so whaddaya wanna know?"

"What happened that day?"

"Oh, come on, now.  Didn't they tell you I'm crazy?  That's what they told me, when I told them what happened."
"What did you tell them?"
Floyd leaned back on his bed, resting his head against the wall. "I was gonna start shooting hostages.  Found a girl in an air vent.  Hot little thing.  'Lois' something."
"Lane?" Lionel asked with interest.
"Yeah, that's the one. Why? She somethin' special?"
"Hmm... yes, it seems that Miss Lane has a tendency to constantly get herself in the way of things."
Floyd rolled his eyes and continued.  "Whatever.  So anyway, I decide that I'm gonna shoot the girl.  Little Kid Wayne goes crazy and tries to bite me.  I smack him upside the head.  Then I turn back to shoot her, pull the trigger, and then all the sudden something moves in front of my gun, and I hear my bullets bounce off metal.  Half a second later, I get shoved across the room. Musta flown about ten feet through the air.  Still don't have any idea what hit me.  I figured the job was blown by that point, so I ducked down into the sewer; the school's got a hatch in the basement that leads right to it.  That was my Plan B.  I ran about a block, then stopped and jumped out in an alley.  Then I run into this teenage chick.  Tall, black hair, blue eyes.  She has these metal bracelets.  I try and blow her away, but she blocks my bullets.  With her bracelets.  I got a shot at her leg, but she bounced a bullet right back at my face."  Floyd put two fingers to the middle of his forehead.  "My metal wrap kept me alive, but the bullet knocked me flat out."
Lionel's eyes narrowed.  "You're saying that a young woman was able to deflect your bullets with her jewelry?"
Floyd shook his head.  "Uh-uh.  Not jewelry.  They looked like cuffs.  And she was standing like she'd been trained for that sort of thing."
"Trained to block projectiles at lightning speed with metal cuffs?"
"Yeah, I suppose."
Lionel grinned.  "Like the women warriors of legend..."
Floyd wasn't sure if Lionel was mocking him.  "Hey, that's what happened.  Call me crazy if you want, but that's the way I remember it."

Lionel shifted a little bit, the same way he always did when he made a business proposition.  "What you're saying could land you in Arkham Asylum."
"Because I'm insane?  Yeah, I've heard that."
Lionel grinned again.  "I don't believe you're insane.  I think you may not understand what you saw, but there must be a... logical explanation for it."
Floyd shrugged. "Sure, whatever."
"Tell me, Mister Lawton, would you like the chance to get out of here?"
"Well, gee, I would, but I oh-so-enjoy being incarcerated."
"I can arrange for your escape, if you so choose."
"That right?  What's the deal?"
"The deal is, Mister Lawton, you work for me.  You do what I tell you, and you'll be rewarded handsomely."
"...Alright.  Deal.  I want one more thing, though."
"Yes?"
"I wanna find the bitch who got me put in here, and put a bullet in her head."

"...That can be arranged."

Plus One

Lois swung by Bruce's tower after school on Wednesday.
As she walked through the door into the penthouse, she exchanged an awkward look with Diana, who was just on her way out.

It had been a week and a half since Bruce and Diana started training together, and Lois was slightly proud of herself for not being more jealous than she already was.  After all, any other girl would have dumped Bruce at this point already.  Lois figured, however, that he had his reasons.  After all, he'd never even given Diana a single furtive glance—that Lois knew of, at least.  Even so, Lois found herself struggling not to freak out about it.  Should I be freaking out? she thought.

It wasn't like she had anyone to talk to about it, either.  The only other girl who would understand the situation was Diana herself.

Bruce greeted Lois at the door with a kiss.  She decided to push away whatever was bothering her and just tell him what she came here for.
"So, Bruce, the MJAs are next week..."
He frowned a little.  "...the MJAs?"
"Yeah.  The Midwestern Journalism Awards?  Y'know?  The second-biggest student journalism award ceremony in the country?  That thing you promised me you'd go to with me?  It's next Friday."
He winced a little in sudden realization.  "Lois... I'm sorry.  I can't make it. I've got a dinner to attend at Excelsior that night."
Lois rolled her eyes and put her hand on her forehead in frustration.  "Bruce! You already told me you'd go a month and a half ago!  I had your seat reserved and everything!"
"I can't miss this, Lois.  It's important—"
"And I'm not important?"
The two of them stared knives at each other for a few seconds.
"Bruce, that school hosts big dinner events every other month.  Why can't you just come to my one thing?"
Bruce's face went cold and serious, and he broke eye contact. "Because this is more important."
Lois's mouth hung open in anger and shock.  He'd never been quite so cold with her before.
Without another word, she stormed back out the way she came.

Five Minutes Later

"Hey, Clark, I have an extra seat for the MJAs. Do you wanna go with me?"

Journalistic Dilemma

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."

Saving Lois

She looked up.
She saw the falling beam.
She couldn't move in time.
She was going to die.
At the last possible moment, she was saved.

Lois slowly opened her eyes.  She'd tripped backwards onto the sidewalk out of pure shock, and now sat on the ground, gazing up at her savior.
He had managed to catch the end of the beam that would have landed on top of Lois, but most of the steel's bulk had slammed into the ground behind him, cracking the asphalt and concrete.  Through the sunlit dust, Lois only barely managed to see Clark's silhouette: standing with knees slightly bent, head down, and both hands firmly clasping the beam above his head.  For a moment, she saw his head turn in  her direction, then, slowly, he safely lowered his burden to the ground.  With slow steps backwards, he began to fade into the fog before taking off into the skies once more.

Lois was not one to be awestruck by anything, no matter how incredible.  But here, at this moment, she nearly cried.  For all her cynicism, here she could feel nothing but unending gratitude.