The Hottest Team in Town: A Tank-and-Wendy-esque challenge

by HappyGirl <michelloyd@aol.com> and Female Hawk <hawka@iinet.net.au>

Rated PG

Submitted November, 2009

Summary: Clark Kent has landed his dream job, and, for the first
time in his life, he's head over heels in love. There's just
one problem. A Tank-and-Wendy-esque challenge by HappyGirl and
Female Hawk

Thanks to our GE, NearlyNoelNeill. This story was originally
posted to the message boards as Part 1, with the following plea
for a Part 2:

You can thank Classicalla for this idea. You'll recognize most
of this from the pilot, of course, but keep your eye out for the
twist. In keeping with the spirit of the Tank-and-Wendy
challenges of yesteryear, I do have an idea of how to fix this.
But I'll let you all have fun coming up with your own. So,
without further ado, here is Part 1:

***

Perry White looked up from the resume in his hand. "So,
Mr...."

"Kent. Clark Kent."

"Yes. Kent. Professor Carlton called me about you. I haven't
seen him in..." The sentence trailed off as the editor focused
once more on the resume. "Let's see...editor of the Smallville
Press. Smallville...that's..."

"Kansas," Clark supplied.

The intercom buzzed, and Mr. White leaned over to listen. Clark
could hear the voice of a young man in the background, but he
didn't eavesdrop. His parents had raised him better than that.

"Well, tell him to keep his pants on. And where's my lunch? If
Carlini's can't deliver on time, find a place that can." The
editor gave Clark a sigh and a long-suffering look. "I bought a
blood pressure monitor last week, you believe it?"

"Paava leaves," Clark blurted. Oh, great. A job interview is
just the place to be giving medical advice. But it was too late
now.

"Excuse me?"

"The Yolngu tribe in New Guinea eats paava leaves to relieve
stress...puts them in a meditative state. Maybe you should try
it." Oh, yeah, that was going to go over well.

"Uh huh. Sounds like you've done some traveling."

Clark nodded. "I spent some time in a Llamasary in Tibet and
with the Sherpas in Nepal. I just got back from Australia." No
need to mention that he'd been studying Dreamtime theory in
Aboriginal mythology. Perry White didn't look like the sort of
man who went in for mythology.

"A citizen of the world." Was the editor humoring him?

"Not really. It's my first time in Metropolis. I've brought
some writing samples." Clark needed to get the conversation off
his travels and onto his writing. He handed Mr. White his
portfolio.

"Well, let's take a look." The man's eyebrows rose higher and
higher as he perused Clark's samples. That couldn't be a good
sign.

"The Borneo Gazette? 'Mating rituals of the knob-tailed
gecko?'" He looked up at Clark. It was a sympathetic look, but
not an encouraging one.

"Look, Kent, I'm sure these stories are fascinating, but this
is the Daily Planet, the greatest newspaper in the world! Our
people are dedicated servants of the fourth estate who deal
routinely with matters of international significance."

At that moment, the door behind Mr. White swung open and a young
man in khakis and a sport coat burst in waving a sheaf of loose
papers. He was already speaking as he entered.

"Chief, I think there's a story here and we should check this
guy out. The crazy one from this morning? His name is Samuel
Platt and he was an engineer at EPRAD for ten years. He's..."

Mr. White interrupted before the intruder got any further.
"Can't you see I'm in the middle of something here?"

The young man blinked at Clark. Obviously, he hadn't even
noticed that there was a third person in the room. "Oh."

The older man attempted to cover for his underling's rudeness
with an introduction. "James Olsen, Clark Kent."

Clark began to stand to offer the other man his hand, but Olsen
just gave him a cursory glance and a brief nod.

"Nice to meet you." Then, to Mr. White, "Anyway, this guy
worked on the messenger, he..."

"Jim, what happed to that mood piece I gave you two? The razing
of that old theater on Forty-second?"

Olsen gave the editor a cocky grin. "She wasn't in the mood."
Clark tried not to smile at the comeback. The editor was not
amused.

"Now listen here, Olsen. I..."

But the conversation was interrupted once again, this time by a
knock on the glass window that separated White's office from the
newsroom. All three men turned to see the source of the sound.
But it was Clark's jaw that went slack.

Waving at James Olsen and tapping her watch impatiently was the
most beautiful woman Clark had ever seen. Luckily, Clark had time
to school his features before anyone noticed him. Olsen and
White's eyes were on the woman, and then Olsen spoke.

"Gotta run. Catch you later, Chief." And he was out the door,
following the striking woman in a brisk trot toward the
elevators. Mr. White shook his head.

"If that man wasn't one of the best damn photographers I've
ever seen, I'd..." He turned his attention back to Clark.

"Look, Kent, you seem like an intelligent guy, but you can't
just walk in here with this kind of resume and expect a job."

"Mr. White, I know I lack experience, but I'm a hard worker and
a good writer. I..."

That was as far as he got in his appeal. "Kent. I'm sorry. I
haven't got anything for you."

Clark had no choice but to yield as gracefully as he could.
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your taking the time to see me."

***

Twenty-four hours later Clark waited outside that same office,
this time feeling a bit more hopeful. It had been a stroke of
inspiration to wander down to that theater on Forty-second
Street. If he could get Perry White to read the piece that had
resulted from that impromptu foray, he had a good chance of at
least selling it free-lance. He still needed a permanent job, but
at least the money would tide him over for a few more days.

James Olsen was in with the editor now, and Clark waited for
their conversation to wrap up. Clark watched through the open
blinds as Olsen stood up, his business with the Chief evidently
concluded. The door opened and Clark stepped back to let the
young man through. Mr. White called one last remark as Olsen was
on his way out.

"Jim, I almost forgot. Alice wanted me to invite you and the
family for dinner Friday. She specifically said to bring your
daughter along."

Olsen turned back with an easy smile. "Sure, Chief. I'll have
to double-check with the Missus, but I think we're free."

Turning back to leave, Olsen noticed Clark waiting to enter.

"Hello again," he greeted him. "I'm sorry I was in such a
hurry yesterday. I don't feel like I've properly met you yet."
The man held a hand out to Clark. "Jim Olsen."

"Clark Kent." As Clark shook hands with the young man, he
silently took note of the ring he'd missed the day before. The
man looked too young to have a wife and daughter, but Clark knew
that looks could be deceiving. "Nice to meet you."

"I take it your interview went well yesterday."

Clark returned Olsen's friendly smile with a sheepish one of his
own. "Not really, but I've got a free-lance piece I hope Mr.
White will like. You gave me the idea, actually, about the
closing of the theater on Forty-second. I hope you don't
mind."

The young man laughed. "Not at all. More power to you. There's
no way Lois Lane was ever going to write that piece, and if the
Chief buys it I can always run down and get a few shots to go
with it."

A small light went off in Clark's head. "Wait a minute. Lois
Lane? And James Olsen. You're that Olsen? Of Lane and Olsen? The
Hottest Team in Town?"

The man smiled again. He seemed to smile constantly and it was
contagious. "Guilty as charged. Now come on, let's see what
you've done with the assignment that Lois wasn't in the mood
for."

By this time Perry White had come out from behind his desk,
curious as to the conversation that was taking place in his
office doorway between his star photographer and the rookie he'd
turned down the day before. As Clark turned to look for the
editor, he was already there, holding out his hand for the
article. He began reading as he walked back to his desk, absently
waving for Clark to take the same seat he'd had for his
disastrous job interview the day before. Jim Olsen leaned
casually against the doorframe, shamelessly listening in as Perry
began to read aloud.

"Beatrice was eighteen when she made her debut. Warren G.
Harding was President, the unknown soldier was interred at
Arlington, and Babe Ruth was sold to the Yankees..."

As Mr. White continued to read, Clark's confidence began to
rise. The editor was reading the entire article, not just
skimming it. And Jim Olsen seemed impressed.

In fact, three paragraphs into the article, Olsen quietly reached
out his hand and grabbed a passing woman by the elbow. Clark knew
right away who she was. The young lady from the window yesterday.
She looked like she would object, but Olsen held his index finger
to his lips and nodded silently toward Perry White, who was still
reading Clark's article aloud. The woman crossed her arms in
annoyance, but she stayed to listen. By the end of the article
she was as entranced as Olsen and White.

"...she came to say goodbye. Goodbye to a young girl in a
gossamer dress, goodbye to the players, long dead, to the spirit
of the theater, so strong that nothing, not even the wrecking
ball, could destroy it. She came to say goodbye, as we all must,
to the past, and to a life and a place that soon would exist only
in a bittersweet memory."

Perry looked up from the paper, his glance taking in Clark in the
chair in front of him and Jim and the young woman in the
doorway.

"Smooth." It was Olsen who broke the silence.

Perry turned an inquiring eye on the woman next to Jim.
Awkwardly, she shifted position, as if embarrassed to be caught
listening so attentively. "Yeah" she said begrudgingly, "if
you like that sort of thing."

The editor turned his attention back to Clark.

"You know, Kent, there's one attribute I value as much as
experience, and that's initiative." He held out his hand to
Clark. "Clark Kent, welcome to the Daily Planet."

Clark couldn't believe his ears. He had hoped to sell the
article, but he had landed his dream job after all. He returned
the editor's handshake with enthusiasm.

"Thank you, Mr. White. You won't regret it."

Clark knew that a sappy grin was spreading across his face, but
he couldn't help it. He'd landed the job, and, if he were very
lucky, he might even get a chance to work with the woman who drew
his attention like a magnet every time he saw her.

"See that I don't." The reply sounded gruff, but Clark could
tell it was just for show.

"Now, seeing as you're new in town, I'm going to start you off
slowly. I'm sure I'll come up with something for you to write
in a day or two, but I'd like you to start out by trailing these
two around town for the next couple of days." He nodded toward
the pair in the doorway.

The woman opened her mouth to object, but the Chief overrode her.
"Just for a couple of days, Lois, until he gets the lay of the
land. You've worked with a partner for years; having one rookie
in tow for a few days is not going to kill you."

Clark had surmised from the conversation that the woman must be
the famous Lois Lane. They hadn't been properly introduced,
though. Clark stood and was about to introduce himself when Jim
Olsen beat him to it.

"Clark, I don't think you've met the other half of the team
yet."

He turned to Lois and said, "Lois, I'd like you meet my new
friend and colleague, Clark Kent."

Then, turning to Clark and casually draping an arm around Lois's
shoulders, Jim continued, "Clark, I'd like you to meet Lois
Lane, the Planet's best investigative reporter, and my wife."

***

Thus ended the first part of the challenge. Female Hawk took up
the gauntlet and offered the following rescue for our poor
star-crossed duo:

***

His *wife*.

Clark arranged his face into a mask of polite acknowledgement,
even as sharp disappointment gouged a trench through his heart.

Lois leaned out of Jim's embrace and stretched her hand towards
Clark. He stared at it, dumbfounded, then with a start, took her
hand in his. Her touch discharged a series of fiery darts the
length of his arm.

Another man's wife.

Clark deliberately turned his attention back to Perry. Or, more
accurately, *away* from Lois.

"You two all set?" Perry said, his question directed at Jim and
Lois.

Jim winked at Lois. "You bet, Chief," he said. "You can trust
The Hottest Team in Town."

Clark swallowed as a never-before-experienced emotion engulfed
him.

Envy.

Jim Olsen was the luckiest man alive.

***

The next morning, Clark waited as a sporadic stream of people --
some he'd met, some he hadn't -- flowed into the conference
room.

He stared into his coffee, letting the hubbub wash over him. He
didn't really want the drink, but he'd got it as a precaution.
He might just need a distraction when Lois and Jim walked in.

After spending the night together.

Whilst he'd had to constantly drag his mind back from the
boundary of impropriety.

Perry walked in and the room fell silent. He scanned the faces as
if checking a mental list. "Where are Lane and Olsen?" he
barked.

Clark heard the sniggers and gulped from his coffee.

Before the undercurrent of laughter had died away, Jim strode in,
his face radiating complete satisfaction. "Sorry I'm late,
Chief," he said, looking anything but apologetic. He sat down,
pulled his camera from its case and began cleaning it with a
patch of soft material.

"Where's Lois?" Perry demanded.

"Just a moment or two behind me."

The woman next to Clark elaborately cleared her throat. "So how
*is* Lois?" she crooned. "Did you two have a good night?"
Clark glanced at her. He'd been introduced to her yesterday. Cat
-- her name suited her well.

Jim didn't look up. "I can tell you this," he said. "There's
nothing trivial about a game of Trivial Pursuit with Lois
Lane."

This time the sniggers were bolder. Clark shifted uncomfortably
and bit back his defense of the absent Lois Lane. They shouldn't
be talking about her like this -- though he could certainly
understand their levity. If Lois were *his* wife, he was sure the
Trivial Pursuit board wouldn't see the light of day -- or night
-- for at least the first two decades of marriage.

"But?" Perry demanded.

Jim looked up from camera, his grin just about wide enough to
split his face. "Suffice to say it was a *very* productive
night. But I'll let Lois tell you when she gets here."

"I guess the daughter had a busy night?" the guy across from
Clark asked.

Jim nodded, still lovingly cleaning every nook and cranny of his
camera. "Barely had a moment's rest."

Clark scanned the amused faces of the gathered people. Somehow a
restless child didn't fit with the picture in his mind. The
picture he was trying very hard to get out of his mind.

Jim glanced up. Clark tried to iron out his expression, but he
wasn't quite quick enough. Jim's eyes crinkled with fun and he
gestured to his camera. "This is my *daughter*," he explained.
"Because she costs me a fortune buying every latest gadget for
her and --."

"And," Perry cut in, "Jim gets very twitchy if anyone so much
as looks at her."

The room erupted into laughter although Clark knew they must have
all heard the joke before. He forced a smile. "You take
pictures?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Jim shrugged. "Can't imagine doing anything else."

"Alice will have the grandchildren on Friday," Perry said.
"It's been at least a month since she last had photos taken of
them."

Jim nodded, his casualness directly contrasting with the
discomfort flooding through Clark. People weren't quite so ...
explicit in Smallville.

Clark's tension increased exponentially at the arrival of Lois
Lane. She bounced into the room, her brown eyes shining and her
expression exultant.

Knowing every eye was on her, she dramatically dropped two video
tapes and a handful of computer disks onto the table. "Got
'em," she said with a smirk.

"*Both* of them?" Perry asked.

She nodded with such jubilation, Clark's heart lost the ability
to maintain anything resembling a steady rhythm. "Peter Roarke
... and Congressman Ian Harrington," she said gleefully.
"Nailed 'em cold."

Perry sprung from his chair and wrapped Lois in a big hug. Then
he patted Jim's shoulder. "What a team," Perry said proudly.

Lois removed the wedding band from her finger and tossed it next
to the video tapes. "A *reporting* team," she said.

Jim removed the band from his finger and dropped it next to
Lois's. "I guess the honeymoon's over." They shared a
friendly grin.

"It wasn't all bad, was it?" Perry asked Lois.

"It wasn't too bad at all," Lois said. "Although sharing a
small bathroom with two teenage boys is definitely not to be
recommended. They walk in, shut the door, you hear nothing for
over an hour, then they walk out, looking exactly the same as
they did when they walked in."

"You took your kid brothers?" Cat asked Jim, her distaste
evident. "To the Honeymoon Suite at the Lexor Hotel?"

Jim shrugged as he replaced his camera back in its bag. "I had
to ... if I wanted the apartment still intact when I got home."

Again everyone laughed.

Clark joined in absently, his mind spinning. Lois *wasn't*
married? "So ... who's 'The Missus'?" The question was out
before Clark realized it had come from him.

Jim flashed him that boyish grin again. "The conglomeration that
is my life," he said. "Two kid brothers, a camera, and Mad Dog
Lane for a partner -- I'd have more freedom if I *were*
married."

Lois *wasn't* married. Clark's pulse was singing through his
veins.

"Hey Chief?" Cat called out. "Wasn't the hotel reservation
for tonight as well?"

Perry nodded. "And already paid for. Anyone want it?"

Cat clamped her hand on Clark's arm and leaned flirtatiously
against him. "What do you say, Handsome? You're new in town.
Would you like Cat to show you the ropes?"

Clark purposefully reclaimed his arm and backed away. "No,
thanks," he replied, politely, but with a cool steeliness that
said unmistakably, 'not now, not ever'.

Cat pouted.

Clark turned away.

To Lois.

His eyes plunged into hers and he smiled.

She smiled back.

And his heart exploded.

***

Personally, I think that's the perfect place to end this story.
But, since I had made the tactical error of mentioning that I had
a possible solution in mind, Dragon and Female Hawk started a
campaign to elicit said solution. So, for your reading pleasure,
here is the

Alternate Ending

***

There is something about a last day that heightens the senses.
The very knowledge that this is the last time lends an uncanny
significance to the most mundane act. That awareness runs like an
internal narrator in the back of your mind. "This is the last
time I'll wake up in this room. This is the last time I'll buy
my morning coffee from Justin on this corner. This is my last
time walking through the revolving doors of the Planet lobby."

Clark had had many last days over the years. His last day at the
elementary school, the junior high, the high school, Midwest U.
Senior Day on the football team. He'd moved out of his parents'
house and four college dorm rooms.

Later, he'd had days that he hadn't known were the last until
they were almost over. Days that were only the last in
retrospect. The last day in Tibet, in Nepal, in Borneo, in
Australia. Those were days that ended in a hastily packed
suitcase and a quick flight back to Smallville to regroup.

But this last day was different. It wasn't a joyfully
anticipated rite of passage. It wasn't a bittersweet end to a
season that had run its course. It wasn't even a forced flight
to preserve his secret. The secret was safe, thanks to Superman.

No, this last day was entirely his own choice. This was the last
day that, for the first time in his life, would mark Clark Kent
as a quitter. Clark called for the elevator. As he waited for it
to carry him to the newsroom that had become so familiar to him
in the last few weeks, Clark was assaulted with a stream of
unwanted memories, as if his own mind was reminding him why he
couldn't stay.

The three of them. It was always the three of them. Ever since
that very first story when Clark had flown out of that hangar
with Jim and Lois each tucked under an arm.

It was Jim and Lois and Clark landing in the mud puddle. Jim and
Lois and Clark trapped in Trask's plane, Clark diving after the
pair when Trask threw them out. Jim and Lois working late when
Clark wandered in, dejected and discouraged after that early
story on the drive-by shooter.

"Whatever he can't do, it doesn't matter," Lois had said.
"It's the idea of Superman. Someone to believe in. Someone to
build a few hopes around."

"Yeah, CK," Jim had chimed in. "Whatever he can do, that's
enough."

The three of them arguing over the existence of an invisible man,
babysitting Alan Morris and sipping tea on Clark's balcony. The
three of them undercover at the Metro Club, Lois singing 'I've
Got a Crush on You' straight to Jim as he sat in the audience,
nursing the non-alcoholic drink that Clark has slipped him to
keep him sober on the job. People around the newsroom were
starting to call Clark the Third Amigo. He felt more like the
third wheel.

The times when it wasn't the three of them were worse. When the
legwork had been done and it was time to write the story, Jim
would take off for the darkroom, leaving Lois and Clark alone.

Clark had tried to put on a brave face. He'd tried to meet
Lois's gruff manner with his own snappy comebacks.

"Watch it, Farmboy. Not even my husband edits my copy," she'd
told him.

"Your husband isn't a writer," he'd shot back.

"Neither are you," she'd responded, giving his chest a slap.
She meant it in fun, but to Clark it was torture.

But Perry White wanted him on the team, and, given what a risk
Perry had taken by hiring him, he couldn't refuse. Not that Lois
was all that keen on the idea either.

"Partners?" He could hear Lois arguing with Perry in his
memory.

"You and Kent. The experience of a battle-scarred veteran paired
with the hunger of a fresh exciting new talent."

"I'm not so scarred and he's not so exciting."

"Your tenacity, his tact. Trust me, the two of you, there's
chemistry there. It'll make for better stories."

"But Perry, partnership is like marriage, and I've already got
a partner."

"No, Lois. Partnership is not entirely like marriage. You're
right that they both take work."

"Yes, and they both take patience, understanding, a willingness
to be supportive."

"I know. Fake it. Because I'll tell you how they're different:
unlike marriage, a partnership can have more than two members.
And, also unlike marriage, it's the boss who picks the partners.
Enough said."

And that had been the end of that. Or rather the beginning. But
it had to end. Clark couldn't take one more day of working
beside Jim Olsen and Lois Lane.

The soft 'ping' of the elevator doors brought him out of his
reverie. Clark stepped out onto the bullpen's landing, conscious
of the resignation letter resting in the inner pocket of his suit
coat. He felt like a heel. After everything that Perry White had
done for him, he hated to leave him after so short a time. But it
was necessary.

When it came right down to it, Clark didn't trust himself enough
to stay. At first he had hoped that his attraction to Lois Lane
would fade with time. But it only grew stronger, despite his
constant reminders to himself that it was completely out of line.
She was a married woman, and Clark would *not* cross that line.
Not with anyone, for any reason.

Besides, Jim Olsen was his friend. He'd welcomed Clark with open
arms even before he was hired. And, unlike Lois, Jim seemed
delighted that Perry had added Clark to the Hottest Team. Clark
had never felt the slightest hint of jealousy from Jim, never had
an inkling that Jim might be uncomfortable having Clark horn in
on his working relationship with his wife. It was Lois who seemed
to begrudge Clark's presence. Maybe that was because Lois was
the writer, and therefore had to work more closely with Clark and
share the credit for their joint work.

It didn't matter now. After today, she wouldn't have to put up
with him any more. He'd move on to the next city. Superman would
keep patrolling Metropolis for a few weeks, then begin spreading
his activities around more. Eventually Superman might make the
move along with Clark. To Gotham, Center City, San Francisco, he
didn't much care where. He'd land on his feet--he always did.
But his heart would never be the same.

Probably it was that black mood which explained what happened
next. As Clark made his way on automatic pilot toward the coffee
area, he was brought up short by the unexpected sight of Jim
Olsen and Angela Dunkirk chatting over the donut box. The
discussion involved the relative merits of cake donuts versus
raised, but that wasn't what made Clark lose his temper. It was
the way Jim was leaning toward Angela, touching her on her arm,
smiling and laughing as if she were the most fascinating woman to
ever grace the snack corner with her presence.

This was insane. Jim Olsen was the luckiest man alive, married to
the most beautiful, brilliant, heart-stopping woman on the
planet, and he was flirting with some young research assistant as
if were picking her up at the Ace of Clubs. Clark marched
straight up to the offending pair, grasped Jim Olsen by the
elbow, and, without uttering a word, marched him into the
conference room and closed the door behind them.

Clark released Jim's elbow. It was only with great effort that
he refrained from tossing Jim bodily across the room in the
process.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Clark demanded. He
couldn't believe how out of character Jim was acting.

Jim rubbed his elbow and directed his incredulous gaze at Clark.
"I *was* getting a donut and a cup of coffee. What do you think
*you're* doing hauling me in here like I'm the class clown and
you're the principal?"

"You were not getting a donut; you were *flirting* with Angela.
At work. In public. Where your *wife* might walk in at any
moment. Your wife who deserves better than to have her *husband*
act like he's picking up girls at some sleazy bar when by rights
he should be thanking God every day that he has the amazing good
fortune to be married to Lois Lane!"

"Clark, I..." Jim trailed off, a look of sudden realization
dawning on his face. "Oh my God. How did I not see it before
now? Of course."

Clark was nonplussed by Jim's sudden change of tack. "See
what?"

Jim was pointing an accusatory finger at Clark. "You're in love
with her!"

"Who? Angela? Don't be ridiculous!"

"Not Angela, Clark. Lois. You are in love with my wife."

Afterward, Clark would realize that Jim should have sounded
angrier at that moment. Instead, he sounded as if he had just
discovered the last piece of a puzzle that had been eluding him.
But at the moment, Clark was too miserable to notice. All he
could think of was his own guilt. His righteous indignation fled
and he collapsed into the nearest chair.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean for it to happen." At Jim's
look of surprise, Clark hastened to add, "Not that anything
happened. I would never...Jim, you have to believe me...I
never..."

Finding himself at a loss for words, Clark finally reached into
his pocket and handed the letter to Jim.

"Here. You can give that to Perry for me. You don't have to
worry, Jim. I'm not staying."

As he stood to take his leave, Clark heard Jim open the letter.
He couldn't look his friend in the eye. He ran his hand through
his hair and turned to make his way to the door. The door which
opened before him, revealing an impatient Lois Lane with one hand
on the doorknob and the other on her hip.

"Would someone like to tell me what my two partners are doing in
here and why neither of them is ready to go to our interview that
starts in..." she glanced at her watch..."fifteen minutes?"

"I'm sorry, Lois. I have to go." It was all Clark could
manage. As he began to steer his way around Lois to make his
escape, he was stopped by Jim's voice from behind him.

"Clark, wait." Funny. He didn't sound angry. "Lois," he
heard Jim say, "it's time."

"Time for what, Jim?"

"Time for the announcement."

"I thought we were going to do that after the interview."

"We were, but things have changed." He handed Lois Clark's
letter.

She skimmed it quickly and looked quietly from Clark to Jim and
back again.

Still holding Clark's gaze, she addressed her husband. "You're
right, Jim. The Beckworth School can wait. Come on, partners."

A befuddled Clark followed Lois and Jim into the newsroom.
Pulling Lois behind him, Jim trotted half-way up the ramp and
turned to face the newsroom floor.

"May I have your attention, please? Everyone?" Lois's piercing
whistle brought a sudden silence to the room and every eye turned
to the pair. Jim glanced at his wife with an amused "Thank you,
honey."

"As all of you know," Jim began, "Lois and I have been married
for the last four years, since the summer we both graduated from
Met U's journalism program. What most of you don't know is
why." He paused to give his wife's hand an encouraging squeeze.
"In April, 1989, Lois's parents, Sam and Ellen Lane, were
killed in the crash of LexAir flight 1806 in the Colorado
Rockies. Lois was 21 years old, but her sister, Lucy, was only
14. Lois was terrified that Lucy would be taken from her and
placed in foster care. Lois was my best friend." Jim gave his
wife a tender glance. "She still is. It was my idea that if the
two of us got married, Lois would have a better chance at gaining
custody of her sister. As you can guess, it worked. Lucy has been
our 'daughter' for the last four years. This weekend, Lucy
turned 18. She's legally an adult now, and she no longer needs
us to be her parents. In fact, I think she needs Lois to stop
being her mom and go back to being her sister. So, after four
mostly happy..." he gave Lois a wink"...years as a family, I am
pleased to announce that the Lane/Olsen marriage has been very
amicably dissolved."

"Ain't that quick, Olsen? I thought a divorce took six months
at least?" yelled Ralph from the back corner.

"A divorce, yes. But not an annulment," Jim answered.

"Not that it's any of your business," added Lois with a glare
in Ralph's direction.

Not to be deterred, Ralph persisted, "Annulment? I thought you
could only get one of those if the marriage hasn't been
consummated. You mean to tell me you two never..." Even Ralph
could read the danger that was now emanating from Lois Lane, and
the question faded into shocked silence.

"Lois is my friend, and that's all either of us is going to say
about that," Jim finished. "Except that we are both now free
agents," he added with a grin. Lois's answering scowl said loud
and clear that, unlike her former spouse, she was not in the
market for a rebound fling.

As the background hum of the newsroom returned to its normal
volume, Jim strode down the ramp and handed Clark his letter. "I
don't think you'll be needing that after all," he remarked.

Clark's gaze was riveted on Lois as he answered his friend,
"No, I guess I won't."

Lois's answer was a warning. "Don't fall for me, Farmboy. I
don't have time for it."

But Clark wasn't the only one who saw the look in her eyes that
belied her words. Lois headed for the elevators, but before she
could call them with a confident, "Come on, you two, the
Beckworth School is waiting," Jim whispered in Clark's ear.

"Famous last words."

THE END