No Excuse By Anna Botsakou Rated: G Submitted: September 2005 A really short piece, set after the end of The Eyes Have It. Thankies: To Carol, Dave and Jenni, for brainstorming with me, to Karen for coming up with a title, and to everyone who read and enjoyed when this was first posted. See ya, Anna. ----- "No, seriously. Where have you been?" There's nothing inquisitive in her voice. More like good-natured curiosity. After all, I'm her partner, and I *did* disappear for three days, while we were in the midst of a story, without even letting my parents know. So, where have I been? As the moments pass and I'm not replying, she grows more curious. I feel cornered, and I feel that it shows on my face. Damn. "...Around?" I cringe. She eyes me with disbelief. "Around where?" I gesture around very lamely. Her expression has hardened; she has realized that I'm trying to keep something from her. And she doesn't seem to like this concept at all. "See, I was... I had an accident," I invent wildly. "Friday morning. On my way here. They took me to the hospital. I was just discharged yesterday evening." I can tell by the look she's throwing at me that she doesn't believe me. "And why didn't you let anyone know?" "...I was unconscious." I feel stupid. She shakes her head. "You were not." Although she's smiling, her voice comes out firmly, and a little... menacingly? "Okay, I was not." Now why in the world did I say that? Wouldn't it be better if I stuck to my story? On second thought, I wouldn't put it past her to call all the hospitals in Metropolis to find out if I had really been admitted in one of them. "So where *were* you?" she insists. "I wish I could tell you," I blurt out. How smooth of me. "Okay, so why can't you?" I hear an alarm go off, and voices. 'Fire! Fire!' I'm saved. Or, I'm dead meat. Or both. "I have to go," I say. She opens her mouth, probably to berate me, but I speak before she has a chance to. "Someday, I promise I'll tell you." And with that, I run off. ----- I blink and by the time I open my eyes again, he's halfway to the elevator. I hate it when he does that; we're in the middle of a conversation and suddenly he's running off like he's Superman to the rescue or something... ...Wait a minute, what did I just say?