By Anna Botsakou <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Submitted: November 2005
Summary: Lois has figured out where Clark went when he disappeared… will she give him a chance to explain? Sequel to "No Excuse."
This is a sequel to my story No Excuse, which can be found here: http://www.lcfanfic.com/stories/2005/noexcuse.txt
Thankies: To everyone who asked for a sequel to No Excuse. To Erica and Dave for nagging me about it on IRC. To Dave again for BRing this piece. And to the readers over at Zoom's and the fanfic boards.
I hope you enjoy. Any comments are welcome. Anna.
Speechless, I watch him heading to the elevators…
…walking to the left of them…
…and taking the staircase leading to the roof.
He's dead meat.
I'm back at the Planet that fire was a really minor thing. A woman who left the oven turned on after she was done cooking. She vaguely reminded me of Lois.
Speaking of Lois, there she is, sitting at her desk. What is she doing, breaking her pencils?
I hate him. I despise him. I want him covered with tar and feathers and hung upside down from a tree to dry.
I shriek as he appears out of nowhere, interrupting my train of thought. Then become aware that the whole newsroom is staring at me. The incompetent, lazy jerks! Can't a woman even berate her partner without everyone watching?
"Don't you have anything better to do?"
Most of them find that they do. Satisfied, I turn to Clark.
"And you, why did you sneak up to me?"
"I didn't 'sneak up', I walked straight from the elevators and in front of your desk."
The elevators. Yeah, right.
"What are you doing to your pencils?"
I look down. I see a pile of… well, pencil remains. I wish it had been a Clark Kent doll. Or Clark Kent himself.
"See what you did? You made me ruin my pencils!"
"*I* made you ruin your pencils?"
He looks bewildered. The traitor. How many times have *I* given him that look after he has fed me another lame excuse?
I return to my chair and turn my head away from him. He's not worthy of my time. I have much better things to do than occupy my mind with his pathetic lies.
How could he keep that from me? We're supposed to be best friends! I'm not suggesting he should have told me from the moment we met, but we've known each other for a year and a half, doesn't he know by now that he can trust me? Heck, he spent the whole weekend in my house… with his parents, no less! How could I have missed that? Of course. Martha and Jonathan appearing in my door, a blinded Superman in my apartment… and that… oblong tea for him and Martha.
I look up. He's still there, and staring at me.
He looks concerned, the big, filthy liar. "Are you okay, Lois?"
"I. Am. Perfectly. Okay!" I think that the way I emphasize my words does not suggest that I'm okay, but I'd rather die than admit that to that hypocrite.
He's still staring, and his face grows even more concerned. You think you're concerned, buddy? I'll give you something to be concerned about.
Only I don't know what, yet.
I take my purse and stride out of the newsroom. He doesn't try to follow me. Taking a hint already. Good.
I finally unfreeze. I was gone for less than ten minutes, and she was fine when I left. What could have possibly happened in the meantime?
//"I wish I could tell you."
"Okay, so why can't you?"//
I wince as the earlier dialogue replays in my head. No wonder she's angry. I left her without an explanation. Lois Lane asked me a question, and I left it unanswered.
The problem is, how can I answer that question? I can't exactly walk up to her and tell her that I'm waiting until she falls in love with me.
I realize I haven't unfrozen, after all. My feet are still stuck on the floor.
With great effort, I manage to move all the way to my desk to ponder the new developments without standing in front of her desk like a dummy.
Several hours later, I find myself outside her door, dressed in my regular clothes, ready to knock.
Okay, so not exactly 'ready'. 'Ready' would suggest I have a plan as to how to act and what to tell her, which I most certainly don't.
Still, I made it here, right?
I take a deep breath and knock on the door. Then wait.
That peephole is a very useful invention after all.
I lean with my back on the door, careful not to make any noises. Superman or no Superman, he'll have to beg for mercy before I let him go through this door.
I wonder if he knows I'm in. Knowing him, he'd never use this vision gizmo of his to spy upon me. But, on second thought, I'm not sure I know him at all anymore.
He can wait.
I knock on the door again. She must be in, I heard her footsteps.
No reply. I knock yet again. "Lois?"
I'm starting to get worried. Much as I'd like to believe that she is not listening, I have the impression that she is actually avoiding me.
"Lois?" I say again, a little more loudly.
This is fun. Superman is outside my door, totally unable to use his powers to get in. Not without revealing himself, something he has already proved he is not planning to do.
There's something pleading in his voice. But it's not nearly enough for me to let him in.
"Lois?" he repeats. "Lois, open the door, please."
'Please?' That's hardly beginning to make it up to me.
"Lois, open the door, I know you're in there."
"And how do you know that? Are you Superman and you x-rayed in?"
Several moments pass before I can form a coherent thought again.
She knows. There is no way she said that coincidentally.
I realize my jaw has dropped open. I close it, swallow hard and speak. "Actually, I only used my super-hearing. Can I come in now?" Too late, I remember to take a look around to see if anyone is listening. Nope, nobody in sight. Thank goodness; having to deal with Lois is going to be hard enough.
She doesn't answer. "Lois? Please?"
I stay pinned on the door. He has to try harder.
"Lois, please, let me explain!"
"You are free to explain."
"To your door?"
"Then break in."
"I don't want to do that, Lois, please."
This guy is beginning to get boring.
"I beg you, let me come in. I know I should've told you."
Oh, you do?
"Lois, I beg you, just let me come in and explain and I'll never bother you again."
You are almost there.
"Lois, please, I love you."
I cringe at my stupidity. That was the last thing I should have said. I probably just ruined every little chance I had for her to forgive me.
And just as I'm standing there, wondering what in the world possessed me to make me do that, I hear the sound of locks hastily unlocking and the door opens, revealing a beautiful Lois Lane in a state of shock.
"What did you just say?"
I feel cold sweat dripping down my forehead. I open my mouth, and my voice comes out almost inaudible.
"I said I love you."
My mind has gone blank. I can't believe my ears. Nor can I believe my eyes; I am looking at Clark, a man who is as vulnerable as a hurt puppy… and I am actually staring at Superman. This is not just confusing, it is just plain absurd. Superman would have *never* given me that look of… love?
"Who loves me?" I manage. "Clark, or Superman?"
"*I* love you," he says simply.
I have been infatuated with Superman since the day I first saw him, and secretly, albeit very strongly, attracted to Clark for longer than I am willing to admit.
And right now, as I look at this man, whoever he is, I know he is the one I love.
Although he has been a lunkhead.
"You have no excuse for not telling me earlier," I say quietly.
He's giving me the most beautiful smile as he reaches for my hand. "Will you forgive me?"
I smile back. "Of course I will."
He squeezes my hand and gives me another loving look. I can't help but play one last teasing on him.