From: "L-Soft list server at Indiana University (1.8d)" To: "ARTF@MemoryAlpha.nil" File: "LOISCLA-GENERAL-L LOG9711D" ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 22 Nov 1997 08:20:01 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: SwapMeet: Metropolis Part 16 of 16 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Metropolis, New Troy 11:30 p.m. Eastern Standard Time, Friday Lois and Clark's Home Lois snuggled up to Clark. She and Clark were in bed, reviewing the time they'd spent apart. Clark's rendition of his time in Burbank was so notably Superman-like she wondered why she'd ever doubted him. Of course he loved her, he'd told her so, but she had to be *sure*. "Clark...." She knew she sounded tentative, but that's the way she felt. "Yes, honey." Clark leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You do like being back, don't you?" She saw his puzzled expression. "I mean, you did *want* to come back." "Lo-is!" He sat up and turned to face her, his expression solemn. "What's the matter? Are you still having that 'Teri's a vamp' thing?" "Well...when I saw you in the Mexican Restaurant...I know it's silly...but I thought--felt that you liked Teri...maybe better than...than me..." There she'd said it, now he'd laugh and she'd know how silly she'd been. She avoided looking at him, just in case she was wrong. He didn't laugh. Clark put his finger under her chin and gently raised it so that she was looking into his eyes. His expression serious he confided, "I love *you*! There is not *now*...and never has been *anyone* else...ever! Understand?" "Oh, Clark!" She hugged him close. She was so relieved. She recognized she'd been wrong in doubting him, but it felt so good to *know*. Pushing her gently away so he could see the expression on her face he asked, "Now, what made you think I would like Teri better than you...Ummm?" Lois twirled the ends of her hair with her fingers. "Well,,,she's got great clothes, and she's thinner, and...well I saw those pictures--she's *way* sexier than me!" Clark pulled her to him and caressed her. "But she isn't *you*, honey. It's *you* that I find sexy!" He kissed her on the temple then made a series of light kisses along the side of her face and chin until he reached her lips. With his lips brushing hers he whispered her name. Breathing "Oh, Clark!" so only he would hear, Lois submitted herself to the enthusiasm of his kiss. What had ever possessed her to doubt him? Metropolis, New Troy Early Morning, Thursday, three weeks later. Lois and Clark's Home Clark had finished his morning phone conversation with Martha and was now upstairs taking his sweet time in the bathroom. For a man who could do things at the speed of light, sometimes he could take *forever*. In the meantime, she was putting the final touches on her personal notes on the Burbank experience. She'd intended to get to them a lot sooner, but so much had happened in the last three weeks that now was the first time she'd had the opportunity to work on something personal. Martha had stayed on for her visit, and then gone home on the Sunday night via Superman Express. Clark's Dad had called her after Martha got home to see how she was. He'd been appalled at hearing of the strange events during Martha's visit and had berated himself for not being there. She and Clark had spent the intervening weeks, since the middle of August, cleaning up the mess created by the bizarre exchange between worlds. Perry hadn't been a problem, he'd assumed that the VibroWhammy had affected Lois and, consequently, her behaviour in the Planet newsroom that morning so he accepted her "memory lapse" as an anomaly of her contact with the machine. The other staff hadn't been quite so forgiving at first. However, now everyone seemed to have come to the conclusion that it was just another Lois and Clark feature adventure. Dr. Klein had been true to his word and destroyed the VibroWhammy the day after Clark's return. He hadn't found any discrepancy in the equipment, but had called Lois and Clark to let them know that the VibroWhammy was being dismantled anyway. Clive Tisdell was now working on another renovated piece of equipment. It was some kind of vehicle, discovered in a recently uncovered old west ghost town just outside Smallville, Kansas. S.T.A.R. Labs thought it might be useful as a new form of land-based hydrofoil transportation. Tisdell thought it had originated as an attempt to create a time machine, but Lois had avoided publishing *that* information as being too farfetched. Word had spread fast among the underground that Superman had an antidote to Kryptonite and so Clark hadn't been bothered much with *that* particular problem since his return. Especially since the one guy who'd tried to test Superman's new immunity had run into some bad luck, because Clark had been able to hide his reaction to it and so perpetuated the myth that he now was invulnerable to that particular menace. Lois had been working on her usual front page stories. Those, and trying to arrange for estimates for installing a second bathroom, had kept her pretty well fully occupied during the past three weeks. She'd anticipated, after the VibroWhammy was destroyed, that she'd be able to settle back into a routine, and now things *were* pretty much back to normal. It was almost as if the adventure in Burbank had never happened. They didn't even have a proper souvenir of their trip, unless you counted second-hand clothes as souvenirs. It was almost 7:30 and almost like an echo of the headaches she'd been getting three weeks ago, her body reacted. This had been happening regularly every morning recently. She *really* wished the renovations to install the second bathroom had been done last spring like they'd planned. She wasn't sure if she was going to be able to hold on until Clark was finished in the only one they had right now. She didn't want Clark to know about her current little problem until after the visit to the doctor later this morning. *Then* she'd know if what she suspected was true. Come to think of it, if she *was* right, then maybe her weakness in Dr. Klein's lab had been because she was in the presence of Kryptonite. It made sense, she wasn't normally so insecure and hysterical, at least not since she and Clark had formed a long-term relationship. She heard Clark exit the bathroom and quickly went up the stairs to get in and out before he was finished dressing. She just barely made it past him into the bathroom and just got the door closed before she threw up. Her desire to avoid letting Clark in on this recent addition to her morning routine, until after she'd visited the doctor, was dashed. Unlike the last three mornings, this time she knew he'd heard her because moments later he flung the bathroom door open and stood in the doorway looking alarmed. "Lois! Are you okay?" In an instant, she found herself cradled in his arms on their bed. "Lois, why didn't you tell me you weren't well?" "I'm fine, I'm not sick." "Lo-is!" "I'm not! I have an appointment to see the doctor today. I...I missed my period." Smiling at the dawning realization on Clark's face she stroked his cheek and whispered, "I think we *do* have a souvenir from Burbank after all." Clark pulled her closer and gently demonstrated to her exactly how he felt about being presented with such a memento. The End *************************************************************** Just a reminder:) The Burbank half of the story is available from ftp://ftp.swcp.com/pub/users/dstark Stories and from Debby at debby@swcp.com by email. In closing I'd like to thank Debby S. for her patience and counseling during the creation of this mirrorfic:) Thanks:D ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 22 Nov 1997 08:31:19 -0700 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Stark Subject: Swap-Meet: Burbank part 20 of 20 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Swap-Meet: Burbank part 20 of 20 by Debby Stark, Debby@swcp.com [previous editing comments apply] Dean's eyes were blinking open a little but he didn't seem to be home. "This happened before with Clark!" Justin cried out to Teri as he helped drag his friend's body into the back seat of K's car. Teri grabbed an arm and tugged as well. "He's *not* dead!" K insisted and in moments she confirmed this. Dean was breathing, raggedly but with increasing steadiness. "We're taking him to my place and getting him into a warm bed." No one questioned this. Teri comforted him and gave running reports of her observations of his condition as they sped back down the mountain and toward K's home. Dean appeared to be somewhat more oriented and able to walk with considerable assistance as they pulled him out of the car, guided him into the house and dropped him on the guest bed. He said nothing intelligible all this time--maybe he didn't want to talk?--as they stripped him to his briefs and he curled up under the blankets on the bed. He slept. Hours later, without a sense of time or place but feeling the immense comfort and enjoying it, and then eventually deciding that someone was cooking something delicious, Dean woke up. It was night, or at least it was a night kind of dark inside this strange room. Off to the left was a nearly closed door and beyond it, a light. He rose, waited out a touch of dizziness, got to his feet and headed for the light. A bathroom. Good. He used it. Before he left it, he leaned on the vanity and stared at himself in the mirror, trying to remember. Superman. Gad, he haunts me... But he began to remember more, he remembered flying... and his stomach wanted to turn. "Oh, no..." He gripped the edge of the vanity and calmed himself. Okay now... Where the hell am I...? "Dean...?" K? She was knocking at the door; the door threatened to open more. He wasn't sure what to do. K's here? He looked around the edge of the door, wishing he had some clothes. She'd seen him in about as few clothes before, but that was on the *set*, not here, wherever, not in some strange bathroom, bathing him... no, that hadn't been K, that had been... ah... Here and now: it *was* her. K! K!? He pulled back, hiding, then realized there was nothing to hide from, she knew he was there. "K? What are *you* doing here?" "I live here. Take this." She poked her hand through the narrow opening of the door. She was holding his robe. He took it. "How did you get this?" "I didn't, Justin did. Put it on and come out. If you're hungry, I'm making turkey noodle soup." Hungry? "I'm starving." "That's good. You know where the kitchen is..." Ah... yes, he remembered that. He noticed as he crept through it a few moments later that K had changed some things about the house but that wasn't unusual, the house was always changing. The kitchen was in the same place, though, and she was there, placing a big, steaming bowl of thick soup and a great looking dark bread on the table. "I did this on Wednesday for... some friends, and it worked like a charm then, too..." He sat down in the chair she pointed at, where she had put the food. "Wednesday...?" She paused and looked concerned, then motherly. "What do you remember, Dean?" "I... I don't know. Bits and pieces..." The phone rang. He searched for the source of the sound and in the process saw a sunflower-shaped clock. 8:55. It must have been night time, okay. How had he gotten here, how had he gotten "now"... His stomach asked, Does it really matter? Nope, not at the moment. He dug into the food. He tried to listen to what K was saying but she was in the next room and apparently speaking quietly. He wondered why he even tried to hear her; she'd share if it was something he should know. After all, it wasn't like she was... calling for help... Huh? One of K's cats walked in. Dean preferred dogs just a little more, which was why, he had figured early on, some cats liked to bug him. This tiger-striped one of hers was among that tribe who seemed to think it her special task in life to bug Dean Cain into getting a cat of his own. "I'm on to you..." he couldn't remember it's name. "Cat. Now, if you were up a tree, I'd res..." Something big hit him full force, a giant memory. He sat back away from it. "Ohmigod..." K returned, muttering about wrong numbers, and stopped in the doorway. "What? Are you all right?" She put her arm over his shoulder and waved her other hand in front of his face. "Dean...?" "Ah, I'm okay, I just... I just remembered... everything." "But that's good!" "Yeah... It's just..." His stomach murmured. "Do you have any more soup?" Plenty. She fed him and, wisely, he realized, didn't press him for any details. He wasn't sure of them anyway, though he was sure they were all lumped into that massive memory. There were some things he remembered clearly. When she wasn't looking, he discretely tried to lift the heavy oak table. He could have--if he had stood up and used both hands and then only this end. He couldn't see through the table down to his bare feet, though he could wiggle his toes. He couldn't hover above the chair. He couldn't do anything... super, and it was almost a relief. Teri and Justin showed up within a half-hour. First thing, Teri hugged him, hard, like a long-lost brother. Second thing, Justin hugged him then assured him that his dogs were okay. He'd seen to them himself that afternoon, while Dean was "sleeping it off," and earlier, over the last two days, Clark had taken care of them. Wow, Dean thought, Clark Kent took care of my dogs... They asked him carefully several times about how he felt until he realized exactly what they were really asking. "I don't have the powers anymore. They must have been zapped out of me by the lightning strike or whatever it was while I was helping to close the portal. All gone... but in a good cause, you know, saving the universe..." They nodded. He had been joking but they were enthralled. Great. That meant he had to continue, "And... I'm not *really* disappointed that I can't fly." They smiled along with him, it helped to break the wall they'd unconsciously thrown up between themselves and him. Sure it would have made the harness obsolete, but, like an exposed Clark Kent, he shook his head, "What kind of life would I have had? *None.* My friends, my family would have..." He paused. His family. What if they had been trying to... He looked at Justin. "I have to get home!" They argued gently with him, he should relax and rest, but he won, proving he was at least mentally stable enough for the trip and Justin would be driving anyhow. Home was fine. The dogs were pleased to see him and of course didn't obey when he told them to calm down and sit, but that was okay. They hadn't taken immediately to Clark Kent, Justin explained, but they hadn't barked at him either. Weird, huh? Yep. Dean glanced around, but the visitor hadn't done anything easily discernable to his home except leave the closet door open in his bedroom. Clark Kent went through my clothes... "Your clothes fit him okay, the looser ones. He was just a little bigger than you. At first he looked a lot like you, but the more I was around him and got to know him, the less he looked like you. He just looked like himself," Justin said. "If we put you side by side, in the same clothes, I could tell the difference right away. I got pictures of him, you'll see..." "That's... good, I guess. No one questioned it in Metropolis except his mother, but we stayed away from almost everyone..." Dean stopped. "Pictures? You took *pictures* of him?" "Sure. Teri did, too, she used my camera. We're trying to decide who to get to process them, someone we can trust." "Oh, yeah, especially if he was flying... I'll try to think of someone, too." "Great. You know what? Clark said I'm like Jimmy." "You look like him. We saw him briefly, and Perry White, too... We decided not to press our luck and got out of the... the Daily Planet building as fast as we could... I wish we could have stayed and explored more." Dean checked the bathroom. The soap had been used and his comb. Hmm, no Clark Kent hair... but the towels--he'd put out fresh ones Wednesday morning and they were used now--had been hung neatly to dry. Dean wondered, Should I save them for souvenirs? Clark Kent used my towels... He thought, I'm obsessing... I need more sleep. "We missed so many opportunities..." "I'm sure you still saw a *lot*... Clark said he left some things for us on your desk." Clark Kent used my desk? Sure enough, in a folder marked "Clark" in neat script were three sheets of paper with hand-written letters, one to Justin, one to K, and the third to Teri. Dean didn't look at them past seeing they were signed by Clark Kent. Dean wondered if the man had left anything for him. He didn't get to know me--I didn't get to meet him, damn... Whatever, these had to be protected. "There are some plastic bags in the kitchen. You can use one to protect this and take these to K and Teri if you want..." "Okay. You know, maybe I better get going. You still look beat and could probably use some more sleep. I'll give you a call about ten, okay? Or you can call me earlier if you want." "Will do. We all need to meet and compare notes." "Great!" He smiled and turned away but turned back. "Oh, Clark said he left things in your computer, too. I know he used it to surf the net and do some other things we'll tell you about tomorrow, okay?" "Okay..." He stared this computer. Clark Kent used my computer.... "I'll see myself to the door..." "Okay..." "And, Dean? Go to bed *first,* okay? If you're rested, then it will be easier for you to do other things." "Huh? Ah..." easier, rested... He sighed and nodded. "You're right." He saw his friend to the front door and watched him leave, the he went to bed, his very own bed, and slept like a new man. *** Over a late breakfast of maple granola and low-fat yoghurt, a wide-awake and determined Dean Cain searched through his computer. Clark Kent hadn't hidden his tracks. Indeed, he'd left lots of evidence of what he had done. What he had done was astounding. Clark Kent did astounding things on my computer... Dean shook his head at himself... and smiled. He hoped it would be a long time before he got over this feeling of awe. He printed out what he found, all but the terrorist information, which Clark had noted had already been printed out. Clark Kent saves trees... He called K and as soon as he said "Hi, it's me," she invited him to lunch. Teri and Justin had already accepted a similar invitation; her house, she said, was the command center. Dean liked it. Good idea, he told her. On the way over (had Clark Kent driven his Bronco?), he stopped at a copy shop and made three copies of the Clark Kent Material. His friends gave him more hugs and reiterated that he looked great. Gad, he thought, I must have looked awful before... but now he *felt* great. "I can't leap tall buildings anymore, but I don't need to. I feel like the powers left me... healthy, I guess. I *better* not get the flu this year..." As he sat down at the table, he smiled at the big sandwich K put before him. "I think I lost some weight, too, so I can afford to eat this..." He dug in, then a few bites later, noticed that they hadn't started yet, they were watching him. Oh. He put down the sandwich, smiled self consciously, "Sorry, being super left me hungry, too..." He called up his best announcer voice, "I've got something important here." He laid a hand on the stack of papers in the yellow plastic bag to the right of his sandwich. "Something for our eyes only. He didn't title it but we could the Clark Kent Memo. It's what's wrong with our show... and what's right with it, too. So, if we can use it, it's a manifesto--*our* manifesto." "A secret manifesto," Teri whispered, excited. "Exactly." "We can illustrate it, too." "Yes," K smiled. "When Justin told me about his pictures and finding someone to develop them, well, *I* can, I can easily set up my darkroom again in the spare bathroom. I even took some pictures of Lois Thursday morning, when she was here in the kitchen, helping me. I didn't think to take one of Clark in that black outfit though..." "He wore black?" They told him about it. "Wow... well, I'll save all those clothes. This is going something else... Okay." He opened the bag and passed out the copies of the Memo. "I've put it on diskettes, too, and configured for your machines, so it won't get lost." He passed out labeled disks next. "I've even mailed one to myself..." "We sound like spies. I'll make plenty of copies of the pictures for everyone." They proceeded to read as they ate. K provided marking pens so they could note anything significant. They made lots of notes. Then they began to plan. The outline for show's coming season had to be scrapped, no doubt about it. New scripts were definitely needed then, and they could begin with the one Teri was already working on. Other than the Dracula part, it already, Dean thought, fit the new ideas they wanted to inject into the show. He had several ideas for scripts, too, based upon what he had seen, and these were jotted down for later outlining. Some overall resetting of the show might be needed, and definitely flashbacks to fill in of events left unexplained, things fans had wondered about but probably given up on learning more about. Clark had commented heavily on the show's tendency to make light of or simply skip important milestones. This could be fixed. The Powers That Be would not Be happy. "So?" Teri said. "We present a united front. I'm sure we can pull Lane and Eddie in, and others, maybe even some of the writers, and, of course, we can rally the fans if we have to. We don't have to tell them what we have, only that we've decided that we have to act--I mean, for the show, for... you know what I mean." They nodded. "We've got to get the show turned around and headed up again or..." she looked down at her heavily annotated copy of the Manifesto, "or their visit here won't have been worth anything in the long run." "Yeah," Justin nodded. "And he was a great guy, we owe it to him... and her, she was great, too." "I liked Lois. I was in love with her for a while," Dean admitted, "so I can see what he saw in her... I don't *still* love her, you understand. It was like flying, I loved that for a while, too. It really confused me, but Martha said I'd probably picked up both things from Clark along with the powers. I mean, Lois just isn't my *type*... she's ditzy and she worries a lot about Clark and... and I think they're desperate to have a baby..." Teri nodded. "Yes, exactly. They have a home and it's incredibly important to them, trying to be real, average-- *ordinary* people when they're faced with what they face... There's so much we've only touched on the show that is really important to them. Real things that can make the show better." Dean sighed, agreeing, that decided it. "Okay, tomorrow, first thing, we...?" Plans were made, a strategy conceived. They outlined scripts into the night. Characters, both primary and supporting, were fleshed out more than they had been before and made real. New characters and sets were suggested. Biographies of truly challenging villains were sketched out. Metropolis became a large, vibrant city full of adventure. Superman (and the Clark and Lois duo that he consisted of) became truly larger than life. The next day, they began to gather allies and dissected the script for the next episode. It was unacceptable in its present form. Rewriting it, the quartet took it back to the "real" writers and producers. This was the first test of their ideas, the whole thing could rise or fall on what happened in this unexpected script meeting. Their united front held. The lead writers (who were also the shows lead producers) begrudgingly joined the team and they headed next for the offices of those higher up, and, in time and en masse, to the offices of ABC. Things began to change, slowly, inevitably. *** About three weeks later, K Callan sat down at her computer on Wednesday evening and logged on to the IRC through her local provider. She was tired. She and Eddie had spent most of the day filming an adventure that took place between Smallville and Metropolis and feature only cameos by Superman, Clark and Lois. She felt exhilarated. Almost as interesting, someone--she had her list of suspects--had jumped the gun by two days and leaked the word that things were changing on the set, there was a whole new attitude toward the show. No more than that; the leaker held rain on his or her excitement. The List was already trying to think up names for it, Coup de Cast (CdC) being among the top contenders, as well as The Cast Strikes Back (TCSB). Fans wanted to talk about it, naturally, and she looked forward to signing on and pretending to be innocent... but letting on to a few more of the details. The team had plotted out this public relations angle, too, and she had happily taken on the assignment to be the main internet contact. Dean would talk to people from Extra on Friday, and Teri promised to mention it coyly to TV Guide, which wanted her for another fashion shoot on Monday. This way interesting details were being trickled out to fans and the media, making the last to notice, the reviewers and the bigwigs, sit up and marvel at how the ratings were being tickled... and how they would surely respond by slowly rising. She had been trying something for the last three weeks, every time she logged on to chat and before she did anything else. If it didn't work again today, this, she told herself would be the last time. She promised. Probably. She typed. /whois Metroduo And almost immediately received. Metroduo no such nick/channel She sighed and smiled fondly. "Well, kids, if you were here you'd be so happy. And, eventually... you'd be parents." The End - Swapmeet: Burbank Your author wishes to thank Margaret B, Lynda L and Lori H for proofing and editing advice :) All remaining typos (other than those properly in place, i.e., IRC sessions, and in the beginning) are my own and you may correct them if you wish. Reedited on November 5-9, 1997 ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 22 Nov 1997 21:44:22 EST Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: B Pike Subject: Re: request :) >Can someone clue me/us in so we can invite more people to join? > >Debby :) I haven't read mail for 2 days, so someone may have already answered this, but- I think you send mail to with a body of: SUBSCRIBE LOISCLA YOURNAME where YOURNAME is, well, your name. Brian ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 09:45:59 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Farah Meitzen Chisham Subject: From list owner. Subscription info. Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" >I haven't read mail for 2 days, so someone may have already answered >this, but- I think you send mail to with a body >of: > >SUBSCRIBE LOISCLA YOURNAME > >where YOURNAME is, well, your name. This is correct for LOISCLA list, but to subscribe to the fanfic and general list LOISCLA-GENERAL-L, you send email to LISTSERV@LISTSERV.INDIANA.EDU body text: SUBSCRIBE LOISCLA-GENERAL-L farah :) fchisham@indiana.edu ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 09:47:02 -0700 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Stark Subject: Re: request :) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 09:44 PM 11/22/97 EST, Brian wrote: >I haven't read mail for 2 days, so someone may have already answered >this, but- I think you send mail to with a body >of: >SUBSCRIBE LOISCLA YOURNAME >where YOURNAME is, well, your name. >Brian Farrah wrote me and said it's this way... Send email to: LISTSERV@LISTSERV.INDIANA.EDU body text: SUBSCRIBE LOISCLA-GENERAL-L Now I'll know the proper thing to tell folcs :) Also, she told me she'll be working on a faq. Maybe we could list some helpful hints here? Hmmm... Debby Debby@swcp.com thinking... thinking... thinking I'll go to bed :) ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 09:47:17 -0700 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Stark Subject: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable [I'm posting these things so we can watch out for them in our own=20 writing... and maybe twist them around to be new and different :)=20 - Debby, Debby@swcp.com] >From John Fri, 14 Nov 1997 21:04:22 -0800 Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.tv,rec.arts.sf.written,rec.arts.sf.movies Subject: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches (1/4) Date: Fri, 14 Nov 1997 21:04:22 -0800 Those of us who have read or seen a lot of science fiction have seen certain story elements pop up over and over and over. Some of these elements were actually pretty good ideas, and when handled well make for a pretty entertaining story, but have become hackneyed from overuse by the unimaginative. Others came into being through the deliberate effort to avoid another clich=E9. Still other ideas were lame from day one, and should have been dismissed from the author's thinking. It should be noted that in some cases, the clich=E9 is excusable if it is supported by a well-reasoned means. F'rinstance, if an alien species is subjected to frequent and thorough racial purges, a large degree of racial homogeneity will not challenge the reader's credulity. The sophisticated reader (one who reads more than just SF) will note that these clich=E9s are not found solely in SF, but in other genres as= well. DISCLAIMER: The use of masculine/feminine pronouns and assignment of gender roles is not intended to preclude a reversal of gender roles. It is, however, intended to offend those who think that the Y chromosone is the root of all evil. Nyah. Overused Plot Lines: 1. Post-apocalyptic rag-tag armies struggle to kick the Rooskies out of the good ol' US of A 2. Post-apocalyptic rag-tag armies struggle to survive against gangs of bandits, mutants, cyberpunks, bikers, etc. 3. Rag-tag rebel army/fleet struggles valiantly to overthrow the Evil= Empire 4. Time travel by Good Guys to stop a historical Bad Guy, usually Hitler 5. Time travel by Bad Guy to stop Good Guy from ever being born 6. Time travel by Temporal Policeman to catch a Bad Guy who escaped into the past 7. The race to develop a cure for the Supervirus or a weapon to stop the Invincible Bad Guys 8. An alien who a. Is stranded on earth b. Befriends a human child or falls in love with an earth gal c. Is pursued by shadowy malevolent Pentagon officials under the pretense of national security d. Uses alien powers to defeat the shadowy malevolent Pentagon officials, making them look foolish without really harming them e. Makes teary farewell and returns to home planet 9. A virtual reality program is activated, and the distinction between reality and the program becomes confused or indistinguishable 10. People connect their brains directly to computers and get dependent on them 11. Aliens travel a zillion miles to loot the earth of resources which exist in far greater and much more easily recoverable quantities on the many uninhabited bodies they pass on the way to earth 12. Gang of cute and/or misfit kids rescue the universe, where a large group of competent, organized and well-armed adults failed 13. A complex computer system spontaneously becomes self-aware 14. A couple filing an application to the government for permission to conceive a baby 15. A human developing a romantic attachment to a robot 16. UFO abductions 17. Brain-controlling parasites attempt to wrest control of human race 18. Aliens put an ordinary Joe on trial for the sins of humanity 19. A high-tech amusement park goes lethally berserk 20. Death from old age turns out to be due to some simple, single cause, leading to an easy immortality treatment, with consequent catastrophic social implications 21. A great hunter decides that humans are the most entertaining prey of all, and visits Earth to bag a few 22. Psychedelic drugs give somebody magical power over space, time and reality 23. Aliens with completely incomprehenisble motivations make war on the human race 24. The bureaucratic/reactionary mindset stands in the way of scientific progress, but is overcome by the researcher through ability, purity of heart, and use of the scientific method The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches can be found at: http://www.erols.com/vansickl/cliche.htm ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 15:19:40 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Gary Subject: Re: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches In-Reply-To: <2.2.16.19971123095246.255f60b4@swcp.com> MIME-version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 09:47 AM 11/23/97 -0700, you wrote: >[I'm posting these things so we can watch out for them in our own >writing... and maybe twist them around to be new and different :) >- Debby, Debby@swcp.com] > >From John Fri, 14 Nov 1997 21:04:22 -0800 >Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.tv,rec.arts.sf.written,rec.arts.sf.movies >Subject: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches (1/4) >Date: Fri, 14 Nov 1997 21:04:22 -0800 > > >Overused Plot Lines: > 8. An alien who > a. Is stranded on earth > b. Befriends a human child or falls in love with an earth gal ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Does this mean we're all in trouble? > c. Is pursued by shadowy malevolent Pentagon officials under the > pretense of national security > d. Uses alien powers to defeat the shadowy malevolent Pentagon > officials, making them look foolish without really harming them > e. Makes teary farewell and returns to home planet > Glasses, a secret identity, it sounded like a good idea at the time... =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= | Gary A. Rudick mailto:gar8434@rit.edu | | "You decide what you feel heaven is worth" - Deborah Gibson, TWYH | =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 16:01:21 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Peace Everett Subject: Re: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches In a message dated 97-11-23 11:57:26 EST, debby@SWCP.COM writes: > 8. An alien who > a. Is stranded on earth > b. Befriends a human child or falls in love with an earth gal > c. Is pursued by shadowy malevolent Pentagon officials under the > pretense of national security > d. Uses alien powers to defeat the shadowy malevolent Pentagon > officials, making them look foolish without really harming them > e. Makes teary farewell and returns to home planet Hmmm..... a - LOIS & CLARK: THE NEW ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN "Pilot" b - LOIS & CLARK: THE NEW ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN "Pilot" and all following episodes c - LOIS & CLARK: THE NEW ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN "Green Green Glow of Home" d - LOIS & CLA... well, no, he did kill Trask, didn't he -- I guess that would qualify as harming... but all the rest fits. e - LOIS & CLARK: THE NEW ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN "Big Girls Don't Fly" Congratulations, Debby, you've just shown that our raison d'etre is an overused science fiction cliche. Thanks a lot. Peace going to her room to sulk ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 16:10:37 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Re: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 09:47 AM 23/11/97 -0700, Debby wrote: >[I'm posting these things so we can watch out for them in our own >writing... and maybe twist them around to be new and different :) \ Sure, but think of what we would have missed if *nobody* used these >Subject: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches (1/4) >Date: Fri, 14 Nov 1997 21:04:22 -0800 >Overused Plot Lines: > 3. Rag-tag rebel army/fleet struggles valiantly to overthrow the Evil Empire Star Wars > 4. Time travel by Good Guys to stop a historical Bad Guy, usually Hitler Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure Time Bandits? > 5. Time travel by Bad Guy to stop Good Guy from ever being born Tempus Fugitive Most of Heinlein's "Future History" novels > 6. Time travel by Temporal Policeman to catch a Bad Guy who escaped into > the past Back to the Future Trilogy Soul Mates Meet John Doe > 7. The race to develop a cure for the Supervirus or a weapon to stop the > Invincible Bad Guys Superman II > 8. An alien who > a. Is stranded on earth > b. Befriends a human child or falls in love with an earth gal > c. Is pursued by shadowy malevolent Pentagon officials under the > pretense of national security > d. Uses alien powers to defeat the shadowy malevolent Pentagon > officials, making them look foolish without really harming them > e. Makes teary farewell and returns to home planet Superman (comics) Superman (movies) Superman (TV) Lois and Clark The New Krypton Arc (maybe it's *because* they didn't follow the formula exactly that this wasn't so great) > 9. A virtual reality program is activated, and the distinction between > reality and the program becomes confused or indistinguishable Virtually Destroyed >13. A complex computer system spontaneously becomes self-aware The Moon is a Harsh Mistress >15. A human developing a romantic attachment to a robot Data from Star Trek >17. Brain-controlling parasites attempt to wrest control of human race Half of the original Star Trek episodes >18. Aliens put an ordinary Joe on trial for the sins of humanity The other half of the original Star Trek episodes >23. Aliens with completely incomprehenisble motivations make war on the > human race The New Krypton Arc (hey, then again, maybe it's because they tried to combine *two* cliches) That's the best I can do off the top of my head. Does anyone else have hits (or misses;) that wouldn't have seen the light of day if none of these ever got used? Margaret ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 13:51:07 -0800 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Leanne Shawler Subject: Thanks for allthe offers! Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Just wanted to thank everyone who wrote, responding to my request for editing help! So many! Thanks guys! Leanne Leanne Shawler aka Volterra on IRC volterra@sd.znet.com http://www.znet.com/~volterra/leanne.html *********************************************************************** Lois and Clark Season 5 Fanfic: http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/mothership/60/season5.htm *********************************************************************** Midnight Dreaming: The Original Anthony Warlow Home Page: http://www.zweb.com/volterra/anthony.html *********************************************************************** ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 14:26:08 -0800 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Leanne Shawler Subject: S5: Episode 8 (part 1 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" The Cat in the Hat Comes Back by Nancy Merckle (edited by Adrienne Vukovic) TEASER/PROLOGUE: A shadowy figure stalked the alleys of Suicide Slum. Out of the darkness a plaintive meow was heard before being muffled by the burlap of an old grain sack. The figure placed the sack into the trunk of a car and disappeared out of the slum. ***** The arrival of her flight at Metropolis International Airport was a homecoming to Catherine Grant. It had been well over three years since she was last in Metropolis and in that time, she had been married and divorced. Now she was back to put the final touches on a book, hoping to reinstate her position in the writing profession without stepping on too many toes. She knew that some of the subjects of her book would not be too pleased to see her story come to light, but hoped at least a few would actually enjoy seeing her side of their encounter. Catherine, or Cat as she was more commonly known, organized her carry-on items in preparation for the plane's final approach to Metropolis Airport. Once at the gate she gathered her items quickly and was on her way. She disembarked and showed her passport to the immigration official. The next stop was the luggage carousel to pick up four checked bags containing her extensive wardrobe and a few of the latest fashions from her home for the past three months, Paris. She was extremely glad that she had worn sensible low pumps. Her figure flattering maroon slacks and very light maroon silk blouse with patterned scarf, allowed her to remain comfortable even while waiting in what seemed to be an unusually time-consuming customs line. And if she tilted her head just right, the floppy brim of her matching hat shielded her eyes from the bright fluorescent lighting of the airport. Glancing at her watch, she noted it was much later than she had anticipated and she would have to hurry to make the deadline for her reservations at the Lexor hotel. The customs agent became an obstacle in her battle with time. He insisted on going through each bag, matching each piece of expensive clothing and each knickknack to her customs voucher. The agent fingered through her expensive silk negligee, and held it up to imagine it on her. Next came the feather boa as the agent removed each carefully packed item in Cat's suitcase. Bit by bit the agent explored each piece of Cat's colorful wardrobe, and packed possessions. He was looking for discrepancies, and enjoying the task. As declared, she was over the customs limit and paid the few dollars of additional duty required for her purchases. In front of her were four open suitcases with clothing haphazardly piled on them waiting to be repacked. Cat stared at the customs agent who had relished his job in manhandling her clothes. The agent stared back, expecting to watch her stuff the suitcases closed and leave. Ending the contest, Cat hopped up and sat on the customs table, effectively blocking the agent from continuing his job with the next passenger. "You had so much fun taking everything out, now it'd my turn to have fun watching you repack everything," Cat imparted to the customs agent as she removed a nail file from her purse. "Oh, and do be careful with the boa; it was a gift." The delay in dealing with the overzealous customs agent did not help her disposition and cost her even more time. Finally having worked her way through customs, she made her way to the front of the airport to get a taxi to her hotel. She found a taxi and carefully parked the luggage cart right beside her keeping one hand on the cart as she questioned the cabby. "How much to the Lexor?" "Thirty Bucks, Lady," he told her. She began to argue, considering the cost a bit high, but she decided to take it. "Help me with my luggage?" she asked, leaning back to get her purse. Looking at the cart, she realized something was out of place. Carefully she looked over, around and below the cart in hopes that the items had merely slipped down between her luggage. No such luck, the missing items were nowhere to be found. Where was her laptop? Where was her purse? "I can't believe it, I only looked away for a moment, and it's gone." In disgust, she placed her hands on her hips and looked back to see the cab take on another fare. OPENING CREDITS: ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 14:26:18 -0800 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Leanne Shawler Subject: S5: Episode 8 (part 2 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" ACT I Cat was seated by the desk of Metropolis' newest detective Jerry Hoffman filling out the forms to report the theft of her purse and laptop at Metropolis Airport. Once filled out, in duplicate and triplicate, all that remained was her signature. There were so many forms; it appeared she had more forms to sign than her recent book contract. After affixing the first signature, she looked up at the detective. His dark hair, blue eyes, and slender physique were intriguing to Cat. She smiled. Noticing actions he perceived to be flirtatious, the officer simply smiled and made sure that his wedding band was clearly visible. Cat noticed the ring, smiled, shrugged her shoulders and went back to signing her paperwork. Spending the evening in Metropolis Police Headquarters was not her idea of fun, especially considering it could probably have been avoided had she spent the evening packing and sleeping instead of attending the Paris opening of Harrison Ford's latest movie. Not only was she exhausted from too little sleep, she was jet-lagged and angry at her carelessness. Making the rounds of the police station with her forms, each new officer she encountered seemed to want to hear her story all over again. Frustrated with the constant questioning Cat blurted out, "Can't I just put this on tape, so each different officer that needs to hear the story can just listen to the tape?" "I'm afraid not, Miss Grant," the latest officer in line told her calmly. Cat sighed, and resigned herself to telling the story one more time. Finally she was finished with the report and free to leave, but Cat had nowhere to go. It was well past the check-in deadline for the Lexor Hotel. A phone call confirmed her room had been given to someone else. Even so, without her credit cards or purse, it would be difficult for her to arrange payment at this hour. Her credit cards! Cat quickly made a few phone calls to cancel them and order replacements. Still, she needed a place to stay for the night. As a last resort she decided to call Lois Lane. Cat heard the familiar tones, followed by the recorded operator voice; "the number you have reached, 555-3487 is not in service." She tried the number for Clark Kent and got a similar not in service recording. Cat breathed a heavy sigh, "Doesn't anyone I know still live in Metropolis?" There had to be someone at the Planet, even at this late hour. She dialed the number and was surprised when Perry answered. "So, you're still working the day *and* evening shift, Chief?" "Cat, is that you?" "Yes, Chief it's me. Why are you still at the Planet?" "Just putting the final edition to bed Cat, as usual," Perry told her. "I tried to call Lois, but her number is not in service. Does she still live here in Metropolis?" "Lois is here working late, too. So what are you doing in Metropolis? You are in Metropolis right?" "It's a long story, Chief, but I'm back in town for a little while. I just flew in earlier tonight. Could I speak to Lois? I need to ask her a favor." "Sure Cat. Just a minute, I'll put her on." "Lois Lane," she announced, picking up the phone. "Lois, it's Cat Grant." "Cat? Wow, it's been ages since we've talked," Lois commented. "Yes, almost four years. Right now though I need your help. Would it be possible for me to bunk with you tonight? I just flew into Metropolis, and had my purse stolen at the airport." "Sure Cat, you can use the spare bedroom. Where are you now?" "At the police station." "I'll be there to pick you up in about fifteen minutes." "Thanks, Lois. I owe you one." Cat told her breathing a sigh of relief as she hung up the phone. Bunking with Lois was not going to be as much fun as staying with Clark might have been, but at least she had a place to stay for the night. Tomorrow, with her cards replaced, she could be independent again. Lois hung up the phone and looked in the general direction of her husband, who was still making last minute edits to his story for the final edition. "Clark, we have a house guest tonight. Do you want me to come back for you after I pick her up from the police station?" Clark gave her a strange look. "Maybe I should go along with you," he stated. Lois walked over to his desk. "Cat Grant is back in town and needs our help." "Cat? Why did she call you, Lois?" "Well probably because only I could get all of her luggage in the trunk of the car and unfortunately Cat had her purse stolen at the airport. Why don't I meet you at home? That will give you a chance to check out the city before you get there," Lois told him, giving their secret signal for Superman. ***** Lois Lane slowly drove her silver Jeep to police headquarters, still surprised that her former co-worker Cat Grant had asked for her. She couldn't really call her a friend as she remembered back to their time together at the Planet. Cat was always finding some fault, making some snide comment or trying to impress people with her conquests. Yet Cat didn't really have many close associates at the Daily Planet, which may have been part of the reason behind her leaving. ***** Lois unlocked the door to the town house she and Clark shared. "Wow, Lois, this place is a lot nicer than your apartment," Cat exclaimed with her first glimpse of the interior of the home. "Perry must be paying better for you to afford this all by yourself." "I don't afford it all by myself Cat, I got married. Didn't you hear about it?" "You, married? No, I didn't hear about it. Who? I hope he won't mind. Do I know him?" Cat was surprised at how much things had changed in Metropolis during her absence. "He already knows that I went to pick you up, and yes you do know him. I married Clark Kent," Lois stated with pride. "Clark? The hack from nowheresville?" Now Cat was truly shocked. Lois rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed. 'Wasn't anyone going to ever forget she had said that?' Lois thought. "You and Clark. That's going to take some time to get used too. Let's see, when I left, you were dating Lex Luthor and infatuated with Superman. What happened?" Lois was caught off guard. "Clark helped me see through Lex's charms ...." Lois paused as thoughts of the past and Lex, filtered into her mind. "It was a difficult time." Flushing the memories of Lex and turning to a much more pleasant topic, the expression on Lois' face clearly brightened. "Superman on the other hand ... I finally realized he was a fantasy. Believe me, it took months to get him out of my mind, and while I was working on that project, Clark was working his way into my heart." Lois began heading upstairs. "I'll show you to the guest room." "I still can't believe it, *you* married." Cat followed Lois up the stairs muttering, "Lois and Clark, married," over and over softly to herself and shaking her head. After getting settled in, Cat found Lois in the kitchen pouring a glass of sparkling cider, waiting for Clark to come home. "Sparkling Cider?" Lois offered. "Sure," Cat replied. "If I remember correctly you once mentioned how much you enjoyed having a glass of wine in the evening to wind down after a busy day at the Planet." "My life is still as busy, but I'm trying to limit my alcohol. This is a nice non-alcoholic alternative. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy a glass of wine now and then. Would you prefer wine Cat?" "No, cider is fine." "So tell me Cat, why are you here in Metropolis?" Lois brought Cat a glass of the cider and joined her at the kitchen table. She was eager to catch up on some of the missing years. "Well it is more than a just a vacation. First, Richard called and asked me to meet him here tomorrow when he flies in from South America." Cat told her as she took the proffered glass. "So I decided to meet him and arranged a few other appointments around the trip." Lois' natural curiosity was piqued. "Who's Richard? I don't believe I know him." "You don't," Cat replied. "I met him shortly before you came to work at the Planet. We had a brief and passionate relationship." Cat smiled from the memory of those times. "Then we split up. He came back into my life about a year after I left Metropolis. It was in April, in Rome. The following Christmas we were married in Switzerland. That lasted eight months. Since our divorce, we've stayed close as friends, but realized marriage would take a lot more work than we were ready to invest." "I'm sorry to hear about your divorce, Cat." Lois added with sincerity, "I didn't mean to pry into your life." "I know you didn't, Lois," Cat told her. "Do you remember the night you and Clark spent in the Honeymoon Suite at the Lexor? It was back when Congressman Harrington was involved with that tsunami thing." "Yes, what about it?" "Richard is the man who engraved my name in the table. He asked me to come back to Metropolis to give our relationship another chance. I'm not sure I'm ready for it, but with his big new cosmetic contract, I thought I'd give it a try." "Complete with free samples?" Lois teased. "Of course." Cat told her with a toothy smile. "That sounds more like the Cat I remember," Lois replied. "So tell me more about Richard." "Richard worked for Luthor Technologies when I met him. He is a talented research chemist. When Lex Luthor's empire fell, he was hired by Constant Cosmetics. About eighteen months ago, he went to the Amazon rain forest to research new compounds for the company. The big announcement tomorrow is based in part on his research there." "Clark and I are covering the press conference tomorrow. These new cosmetics really sound promising. I mean one application a week! That would be a real time saver." "Don't I know it," Cat quipped. "He invited me to stay with him in the Amazon for a few months. It was fascinating but very primitive. I couldn't stand being out of touch for more than six months. Of course most of the news that filtered into the back country was in Portuguese, which did me a lot of good," Cat added sarcastically. "I might have lasted longer if my preparations had included a crash course in Portuguese." "That must have been extremely difficult for someone who has always been connected like you, Cat. Didn't you get any news down there?" "I had heard some wild rumors that Superman was having an affair with a married woman, but the details weren't translated. It is amazing how much news simply does not filter into the Amazon back country. Your wedding announcement is a perfect example." "Well, that was in some of the papers," Lois confided. She considered her words very carefully. "On the other hand, I'm not surprised you heard about the Superman affair. It was everywhere for a few days. Superman was videotaped talking with me in a manner that some considered more than friendly during a break in the world peace talks. You know how special Superman is to me, but Clark is the man I love. It was blown way out of proportion." "World Peace talks?" "Yes, Superman was helping with the negotiations." "Like I said, the Amazon is a news void," Cat commented shrugging her shoulders. ***** ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 14:26:22 -0800 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Leanne Shawler Subject: S5: Episode 8 (part 3 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Clark had finally finished his story, and left the Planet. His evening patrol would have to be expedited tonight. With leaving work late and having a house guest, Lois probably expected him home at a reasonable hour. After a few wide circles above the city, he headed home. Clark entered the front door to hear giggles and laughter from the kitchen. Poking his head through the door, he found the two women catching up on the last few years. Cat spotted Clark. Jumping up in mid-sentence, she ran to the kitchen door threw her arms around Clark, and gave him a big kiss. "Clark!" She exclaimed before kissing him again. Lois and Clark were both caught off guard by Cat's actions. Clark broke the kiss and gently held Cat at arms length. "C-a-t! ..." Clark exclaimed with a questioning expression. "I missed my chance to kiss the groom at the wedding," Cat explained smiling broadly. "Congratulations to both of you!" Clark recovered from the surprise. Both he and Lois accepted Cat's good wishes. Pouring himself a glass of cider, Clark suggested that they move to the living room. "So Cat, what brings you back to Metropolis?" Clark inquired. "Mostly it's Richard and the announcement by Constant Cosmetics tomorrow, but I also arranged to meet with my book editor." "You've written a book? What's it about?" Clark asked. "I've decided to write an expanded version of my life encounters. There are so many people I've met with influence on happenings in the world. My publisher thought some of the information I've been able to gather on these people would be of interest. I've been putting the final touches on it for the last three months in Paris." "So is it a 'tell-all'?" Clark wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer, but knew Lois wouldn't dare ask the question. "Sort-of. It goes into some detail about the many people I've met. Obviously it doesn't go into *every* detail," Cat quipped. "So Cat, tell me, who's the most famous encounter in your book?" Lois asked. "Well there are two actually. About three months after I left the Planet, I met Bill Gates. He and I dated for a while, but it didn't work out. I got upset one day about one of his fetishes and we couldn't work it out." Cat stated sadly. "What fetish does Bill Gates have?" Lois was very curious about this inside information on the computer mogul. "He has a windows fetish, Lois. He told me that in order for our relationship to progress, I would have to learn to do windows. I told him, You are a billionaire and you still want me to do windows? There are maids for these things!" Cat looked at her handsomely polished nails. "Do you know what window cleaner would do to my polish?" Lois tried valiantly to stifle a giggle. "No, um, Cat. Windows is... ah, never mind," Clark tried to add before being forced to hide his own reaction. "I know what Windows is *now*, Clark. When it happened I didn't know and was only relating how I put it in my book. Of course that wasn't everything," Cat continued. "He also wanted me to get rid of my Macintosh." After regaining her composure, Lois asked about the second encounter. "You remember that one Lois, Victor Chow." ***** The glass shattered from the back door window on the darkened house. Missy, the only current resident of the house looked up from her water dish, at the shadow entering her territory. Silently scampering under a chair by the table, she sat watching the shadow and feeling invisible. The shadow wandered around the kitchen, and into the dining room. Missy could hear the shadow going through drawers, and collecting some loud metal things, along with some not so loud shuffling noises. The shadow came back into the kitchen. Unfortunately Missy discovered she was not invisible. She was cornered and placed in a burlap bag. When Missy finally saw light again, she found herself being placed in a kennel cage. Many other cages with other cats surrounded her cage. These cats looked funny to Missy. And what were all those funny scents? ***** Bright morning sunshine greeted the trio on their way to the Planet. Cat planned on visiting with some of her former co- workers while she waited on the guaranteed 10AM delivery of her replacement credit cards. Perry White was especially happy to see the former gossip columnist, and shared a new Elvis story with her. Many of her former colleagues were also surprised to see her. When the commotion of her presence wound down, Cat spent a few moments at her old desk waiting for the current owner to show up. Cat spotted Jimmy walking toward Clark's desk. He was one person she hadn't yet spoken with. Walking over to intercept him, she gave him a big hug. "You have really changed." It had been a long time since Jimmy had seen Cat, and to be greeted in such a manner confused him. "Cat, it has been a few years. We've both changed." "You look a bit different though, I remembered you a bit taller." "It must have been the deflated feeling I got after you wouldn't go out with me," Jimmy told her in jest. "Well Jimmy, although you've matured, and gained more responsibility here, we are still related," Cat told him with a wide teasing smile. "Cat!" Perry shouted across the newsroom. He held up an envelope and waved it at her. The replacement cards had arrived. Cat stopped by Lois' desk. "Well it looks like I'm off on my errands. Thanks for everything, Lois. I'll see you this afternoon at the press conference." Cat gave Lois a brief hug, before leaving to visit a few of her favorite old haunts in Metropolis. It felt a bit odd to Lois, that she and Cat had become closer in the past twenty-four hours than they had in the years they had worked together. It was obvious that Cat's experiences had softened her rough edges, and perhaps her own 'rough edges' had been smoothed by her feelings for Clark. In any event, her relationship with Cat had been reinstated to a level of friendship greater than it had been when both worked together at the Planet. To Lois' amazement, neither of them had resorted to the curt digs of each other that was common in their conversations merely four years ago. Clark interrupted Lois' thoughts and reminded her that they both had a few odds and ends to clean up before leaving for the new cosmetic announcement. The morning meeting had very little hard news for them to cover other than the latest on this new cosmetic. ***** Lois and Clark entered the ballroom of the Lexor Hotel. Constant Cosmetics had lavishly decorated the room, with all of the male company personnel wearing formal attire and the women in expensive gowns of varying shades. Glancing around the room, both Lois and Clark felt oddly out of place at what almost appeared to be a black tie affair. Promptly at one, the master of ceremonies walked on stage in his top hat and tux. Following right behind him were six beautiful models wearing six different colors of the same floor length formal gown. The models created a semi-circle behind him as he walked up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen of the press, may I have your attention please." The conversations around the room ceased, as reporters turned their attention to the podium for the announcement. "My name is William North, and I am president of the research division of Constant Cosmetics." Several members of the press politely applauded, but were loudly outnumbered by the other members of the company assisting in the grandiose production. William waved his hands trying to hush the applause so the formal presentation could continue. After attempting a couple of lame jokes and introductions of other members of the firm, William brought to the stage the reason the press conference had been called. "I'd like to introduce six of Metropolis' most glamorous models. Each model is wearing a color coordinated shade of our latest makeup, ULTIMATE, by Constant Cosmetics. This cosmetic is the only one to last a week, or more," he said smiling broadly, "until *you* decide to remove it. These lovely ladies will be passing out our official press release along with information sheets on the company and our latest product line." Clark watched the beautiful women leave the stage and begin handing out information. He knew if Lois thought he was paying too much attention to them, he'd wind up with a well-placed elbow to the ribs and have some explaining to do. Instead of watching the models, he turned his attention to Lois. It would be easy to tell her that she was more beautiful than any of the models, because it was true. One of the models approached him and held out a pamphlet on the cosmetic. The mood was broken. Thanking the model, he looked around the room. Spotting Cat in the back to the left, he noticed that she was wearing a pale violet chiffon gown, and clinging to the arm of a man which Clark suspected was her ex-husband Richard Jackson. "Once you have had a chance to read over our promotional material, my staff and I will be glad to answer any of your questions," William continued. "In the meantime, please enjoy the fabulous cuisine of the Lexor Hotel," he told the assembled group as he motioned toward a large spread of food to his right. Reporters from all over Metropolis, New York, some from more distant areas of the country, and a few international reporters mingled around and sampled the food. Some reporters went to the area established by the company for answering questions and handing out samples. Clark scanned the handout the lovely model had given him. "This is very impressive," Clark commented to Lois. "I'll believe it when I try it," Lois replied. "I mean realistically Clark, I have never found any so-called waterproof makeup that will stay on when I wash my face before bedtime, overnight and still be there when I wash my face the next morning. It has to be a hoax." "Don't forget the sun block properties, Lois," Clark added. "And the moisturizing properties. You know what they say about things too good to be true, don't you Clark?" "You sound very skeptical. Why don't you see if you can get one of the free samples, and then we can expose all the broken promises of the cosmetic in our story," Clark added sarcastically. "I think I will get a free sample or two," Lois informed her husband as she walked toward the sample table. "We should also find Cat," Clark stated, following behind. "Her ex-husband might be able to provide some inside information for our story." Lois tucked the bag of free cosmetics under her arm. "There's Cat," Clark said as he began working his way toward her through the crowd. Lois followed. "Clark, Lois," Cat announced as they came within view. "I want you both to meet Dr. Richard Jackson, research chemist with Constant Cosmetics." After exchanging pleasantries, Dr. Jackson invited Lois and Clark to join Cat and himself for a nice quiet dinner at the Lexor Hotel. **** Returning to the Planet, Lois and Clark began to outline their cosmetic story. Without much more than what was in the press release, the story would be sorely one-sided. They hoped spending the evening with the developer of ULTIMATE would provide a few exclusive details. After putting together a first draft, they headed home to prepare for their evening out. ***** Dinner proved to be extremely helpful to their story as well as being a pleasant evening. Even though Lois and Clark had not been close with Cat, before this trip to Metropolis, they found that time and experience had managed to add depth to Cat's personality. She was still capable of being the life of the party, and proved it. Never one to miss an opportunity to get more information for a story, Lois cornered Richard with a few pointed questions. "So Richard, what gave you the idea for this 'permanent' cosmetic?" "Can I blame it on Cat?" Richard responded squeezing Cat's hand with a wild grin on his face. "Actually she did give me the inspiration. Clark, you should understand my motives. How long does it take Lois to put on her make up in the morning?" "Sometimes it is too long," Clark told him. "But I'm learning to live with it," he amended to appease Lois. "Exactly my point. When we were married, Cat was taking almost an hour to get the makeup 'just right'. With ULTIMATE, you only need to spend that hour once each week, and maybe five minutes a day to touch it up." "So how was the secret uncovered?" "I didn't go into this project looking to develop a cosmetic that could be worn day and night without adverse effects to the wearer, I was simply after a longer lasting cosmetic. Better yet if that same cosmetic included moisturizers and sun block as an all-in-one product. What made the jump possible from what I was looking for to ULTIMATE was an interesting plant found deep in the forests of the Amazon. This plant produced a chemical that allowed the makeup to bond to the skin without harm. Not only that, the chemical is a natural sun block. Fortunately we were also able to add moisturizers to keep the skin soft. So, not only did I achieve my goal, but I went beyond it to ULTIMATE." ***** Lois and Clark walked to where Lois had parked the Jeep. "Clark, do you really think this cosmetic will revolutionize the cosmetic industry?" "Only if all of the promises are true," Clark told her as they arrived at the Jeep. "Lois, do you mind driving home alone? It's getting late and Superman really should check on the city." "Sure Clark, I'll see you at home," Lois told him as she buckled into the driver's seat. Clark watched her leave before changing into the man of steel. Superman had only been on patrol a few minutes when he spotted a shadowy figure in the wharf area of Hobbs bay. The figure had a burlap sack with a squirming content. Just as he was about to land and confront the man, he heard a mournful cry a few blocks away. He turned his attentions in the direction of the cry and found a scrappy undernourished young cat. Landing quietly near the cat, he was able to pick it up and soothe its cries. He felt the trust the little animal gave him. It was purring. Looking around and using his x-ray vision Superman could see no one around. Obviously the cat was either a stray or one that had been discarded. Slowly he lifted into the sky to take the animal home to Lois. They could find a home for the little cat tomorrow. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 14:28:54 -0800 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Leanne Shawler Subject: S5: Episode 8 (part 4 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" ACT II Lois was not particularly enthusiastic about Clark's latest gift, but the little one won her over as she felt the soft fur and heard the soothing purr of the abandoned animal still being held by Clark. Springing into action, she took the cat from him and sent Clark out for cat food. She was amazed that the little animal was so trusting, and purred loudly in her arms. Clark returned with the cat food, opened a can and put some of it on a plate. "We shouldn't let it eat too fast, or it may not keep it down." Clark told Lois as she put the kitten down by the plate of food. Despite their best efforts the kitten devoured the food much faster than it should have, and wanted more. Lois searched for and found a soft towel which she made into a bed for the animal. Wisely, Lois and Clark made the kitten wait until morning for more cat food. ***** Lois was running late, but she promised Clark she would have their newest house guest checked out by the local veterinarian. She explained the situation to Dr. Moore, leaving out the Superman connection. Dr. Moore suggested that the cat be given a series of tests, and that if she didn't want to keep the animal, she should register it with their lost and found service. "Can you tell how old she is?" Lois asked. "I would estimate *his* age at about seven months." "Oops. You know, my husband and I never even bothered checking that little detail." "Your cat is very undernourished, and may have worms. We'll check him out for you though," the vet told her as he continued the exam. "We did feed him last night, but didn't want to overwhelm his digestive system with too much, too fast." "That's fine, Ms. Lane. A cat this undernourished, needs to start eating again slowly and regularly." The vet finished his examination and drew a blood sample. "We should have the complete results tomorrow morning." "And in the mean time?" Lois asked the vet. "Just keep doing what you are doing. You may want to spread out his meals, give him a smaller quantity three or four times a day. Give the cat some attention, along with these nutritional supplements and this worm medicine once a day." "Three or four times a day! That seems a bit much, don't you think?" "Ms. Lane, this cat needs special treatment now, but it won't need feeding that often forever." "Oh ... Ok ... I guess I can handle that," Lois said picking up the cat and making her way into the outer office. Before leaving the vet's office, she registered the cat with their lost and found. "So what happens if the animal is not claimed?" Lois asked the receptionist. "Normally when that happens, you get to keep the cat. Or," the receptionist continued noting the less than enthusiastic look on Lois' face, "we will help you try to place the cat." "Thanks," Lois replied. "It's not that I don't like the animal, I'm just not sure about the responsibility." "Cats are not like dogs. They don't require walking, or going outside. Of the two, cats are much easier to care for and you could easily get fifteen to twenty years of purring devotion." "I'll think about it," she stated as she paid the bill for the visit, and her purchases. Lois took the kitten, his medicine, a litter pan and bag of litter home before heading to the Planet. She set up the pan in the kitchen and closed the door to contain the kitten. Earlier that morning she had found a small reminder that she had forgotten a major necessity for having a cat in the house. ***** At the Planet, Clark had been diligently trying to put all of the information they had on the cosmetics into their news story. However no matter how he worded it, the story still sounded more like an advertisement than news. Lois looked over his shoulder at the story. "Hi Honey," Lois greeted, just as Clark realized she was behind him. "How's our story coming along?" "It still sounds too much like a commercial for the greatest thing since lipstick in a tube, but other than that, fine." Jimmy rushed up with several file folders in his hands. "Here's the research on Constant Cosmetics you wanted, Clark." Jimmy told him as he placed one of the files on Clark's desk. "It seems that Richard Jackson's chemical discovery has been very lucrative both in salary and company profits. Constant Cosmetics has invested quite a sum in the development, testing and promotion of the ULTIMATE series based on his discovery." Placing a second file on Clark's desk, Jimmy continued. "There was even one item buried in *this* file that mentions his discovery was almost lost due to a mining deal with the Rain Forest Consortium that Superman thwarted a little over four years ago." Jimmy placed the last file on top of the first two. "This last file contains a sampling of some of the tests performed before Constant Cosmetics could put the ULTIMATE brand on the market. This file is incomplete. You know how companies try to protect corporate secrets, however there does appear to be some type of after effect when using the makeup." "Good work Jimmy," Clark responded. "Did you take the sample I gave you over to Star Labs for analysis?" "Yeah, CK," Jimmy told him as he turned to leave. "They should have something later this afternoon." "Thanks, Jimmy," Clark called after the retreating figure. "How about filling me in on what you've found out so far," Lois asked her partner. "Unfortunately Jimmy just told us everything I've found out," Clark told her with a smile. Lois looked at her partner/husband. "Well, we still need to clean the story up a bit. Let me take a look at it and see what I can do." After several minutes of editing, and consulting with Clark, Lois sent the story to Perry. "Lois! Clark! My office!" Perry shouted. The two reporters headed for the office of their editor in chief. "Chief, if this is about the cosmetic piece," Lois began as she entered the office. "No, Lois. I need someone to go down to police headquarters. The police chief's home was burgled last night." "We're on it, Chief," Clark said as he and Lois headed out toward the elevators. Lois and Clark arrived at headquarters to find police officers and the normal complement of reporters milling about. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Lois spotted one of her sources grabbing a cup of coffee and darted down the hall to chat with him. "Charlie," Lois half shouted at the policeman. "Clark and I got a tip that Chief Roberts home was burgled last night. What's the scoop?" "We've had a lot of petty burglaries happening over the past few weeks, money and jewelry taken, petty thefts for the most part." "And the rest of it," Lois prompted. "There is a weird aspect to these burglaries," Charlie continued. "In each case if the household has a pet cat, it is also stolen." "A cat?" Lois couldn't believe that a thief would steal a common household animal. "Did the police chief have a cat?" "Yes, originally it was his daughter's cat, but when she left for college, it became his wife's cat. I think they called it Missy. The chief told me, his wife is more upset about the missing cat, than she is about her jewels." "I can understand that," Clark added after catching up to Lois and Charlie. Lois looked at Clark without comprehending his point. "I mean a cat is a living thing, something that cannot be replaced. Silver, no matter how antique or sentimental to the owner, can be replaced," Clark explained. "Lois, can you keep this out of the paper?" "That's a lot to ask, Charlie," Lois told him giving his problem some thought. "But I'll make a deal with you. You give us information on the other burglaries you've linked together, and we'll save the information on the burglary of the police Chief's home as a last resort." Lois looked at her partner for confirmation of their agreement. Clark nodded his assent. "I'll be back in a minute," Charlie told them before disappearing through the door to his office with his full coffee cup. Moments later, Charlie reappeared with a few folded papers. Lois slipped the papers in her purse. "Thanks Charlie." Clark led the way out of the police station. ***** Lois and Clark made their way into the Planet conference room to discuss the information Charlie had given them. After leafing through the documents they began piecing together the information. Lois rubbed her temples. Even after spending an hour pouring over the data, the motive for the thefts eluded them. "I just don't get it Clark. Why would anyone want to steal common household cats?" Jimmy knocked on the conference room door, almost bounding into the room before Lois and Clark could acknowledge his presence. "The report from Star Labs on the cosmetic is in," he announced bolting into the room. "According to their report, the makeup contains a compound that is a brand new adhesive. From what they know about the adhesive, they figure it is what gives the makeup its staying power. Almost as if it were a stain instead of a cosmetic." "A stain? You mean like a permanent marker?" "They didn't say that, exactly," Jimmy told them. "But that would account for the long lasting qualities claimed by Constant Cosmetics," Clark added. ***** Lois and Clark put the final touches on a generic story about the insignificant burglaries happening around the city before heading home. Clark freed the kitten from being penned up in the kitchen and discovered the mess left behind. Shredded paper towels covered the counter with more tattered papers, and napkins on the floor. Several plastic bowls were scattered about. "It seems our guest has had a busy day," Clark told Lois as he reentered the living room. "What did he do?" "You probably don't want to know," Clark told her. "I'll take care of it." Clark headed back into the kitchen and cleaned up the mess at super speed. Emerging from the kitchen about a minute later, he brought the little one a plate of cat food. ***** The next afternoon Jimmy spotted Lois and Clark busy in the conference room trying to piece together information for a follow-up article on yesterday's burglary story. Lois had spent the morning talking with burglary victims. Fortunately they were making some headway, having discovered that of the fourteen cats taken, only Missy was a purebred white Persian cat. The remaining animals were standard domestic short-hair cats. One interesting item involved the coloring of the cats. They were all white, light tan or gray. Jimmy watched them move to Clark's desk and figured it might be an appropriate time to update them on the news from S.T.A.R. Labs. He reached the desk just as Clark was about to enter their facts into the computer. "I got some more information on that cosmetic, if you're interested," Jimmy mentioned nonchalantly. Lois crooked her finger at Jimmy so he would follow her to her desk, allowing Clark to work the keyboard. "What ya got, Jimmy?" "My contact gave me more on the adhesive ingredient. It forms a bond with almost any organic surface. They tested a small amount on the skin of a female volunteer and had a tough time getting it off. The bond that formed almost required removal of the skin to get it off. Maybe this stuff really works," Jimmy added. "That seems strange," Lois mentioned to no one in particular. The thought process was visibly reflected on her face. "They had to have developed a way to remove the cosmetic without taking the skin with it." Lois found the flyer handed out at yesterday's press conference and looked over the information. "Ah, here it is. How convenient. Constant Cosmetics also sells a compound to remove the makeup. See if you can get some of that compound over to S.T.A.R. Labs." Jimmy headed off with his new assignment. Lois picked up the phone and dialed the vet. It was after five, and she had forgotten to call the vet for the test results. "Hi, this is Lois Lane. I'm calling for the test results on the stray kitten I brought in yesterday." It was good news. Other than some anemia which was to be expected, the blood tests were fine. "Has anyone called to claim the cat?" "Not yet." "Ok, thanks," Lois told the receptionist as she hung up the phone. She walked over to Clark's desk and gave him the news. ***** Lois was ready to call it a day. Perry had not given the follow-up story on either the cosmetic or the burglaries newspaper space. Many details still needed to be sorted through before they would have a follow-up story Perry would publish. Clark switched off his computer and cleared his desk. "Shall we do something special tonight?" "Just what did you have in mind?" Lois wondered returning Clark's hopeful tone. "Well first we have a house guest to feed, but afterward I thought maybe some fresh night air might be on the agenda," Clark mentioned giving his 'flying' signal. "And who knows what might become special in the night air." Hand in hand they left the Planet building and headed home. ***** William North met with his contact. This contact was his connection to the secret organization providing the research funds which enabled him to develop the cosmetic. "My boss is very pleased with the publicity you've received on our product," John Peters told him. "We will have your bonus ready for you as soon as sales reach the agreed upon level." "That shouldn't take too long," North commented. "The special properties of the cosmetic assure sales. It's as sure as Grant being buried in Grant's Tomb." "The head of my organization will be glad to hear that." ***** Lois walked in the town house to discover an innocent looking kitten in the middle of the dinning room. Surrounding the cat were two overturned plants, a spider plant and the dieffenbachia plant given to her as a wedding present from Lucy. "Don't give me those innocent green eyes," she told the cat disgustedly. "What am I going to do with you?" Lois scowled at the cat which cowered at her voice. Clark followed Lois into the room and shook his finger at the kitten before helping Lois with her jacket. Returning to the coat tree by the door, he carefully placed both of their jackets on the tree. Setting the plants back on the shelf, Lois replaced as much of the lost soil as possible, before digging out the vacuum cleaner to get the rest of the dirt. As soon as she switched on the appliance, terror filled the young cat who leapt into the air and ran toward the closest and tallest object to climb like a tree. Surprised by the kitten's actions, Clark used his lightning speed to try to catch the cat, but was only able to keep the kitten from falling to the ground. The damage was done, several splintered claws, with multiple varying length matching slits in the fabric of his slacks. The poor kitten was also a bit dazed from colliding with 'steel'. Lois finished the job and turned off the vacuum cleaner. She turned around to see Clark standing in the middle of the hallway with a slightly dazed but still terrified cat, attempting to cling to Clark's thigh but only managing to hang on to his navy slacks. "I could use your help here," Clark appealed to his wife. Gently, he started to cautiously remove the cat from the entanglement. Once the cat was free, Clark got a good look at the animals claws. A few were badly splintered. "Think we should take him to the vet?" Clark asked. "Let's see how well we can clean him up first. I'll get my finger nail clippers." Lois was able to trim and file the rough edges of all of the little claws. She had a bit of a fight from the cat, who did not like having his defending claws manicured, even though the splintered ones were not much good to him without repair. "Maybe this will teach you to look before you leap little one," she told the cat as she finished the final claw. "Veterinary bill averted," she announced to Clark as she presented the kitten to him for his inspection. "Hmm, maybe we should name this little one Lucky... Just as long as he stops overturning plants," Clark suggested. "And, only if he learns that Superman is not a tree," Lois added while petting the kitten still being held by Clark. ***** Misty Moon, one of the models hired for the cosmetic announcement of only twenty-eight hours ago walked into her agent's office looking very plain. "What is this?" Carl Green, her agent asked. "You aren't wearing any makeup." "Yes I am." "It certainly doesn't look like you are." "Take a closer look," Misty suggested. "See what this new cosmetic did to my skin! I've aged ten years in less than two days. I'm ruined," she stated plopping down in a plush agency chair in front of Carl's desk. "I'm ruined," she muttered again into her hands. "I have another cosmetic photo shoot scheduled tonight and it won't look good for me to walk in wearing a competing brand, which is the only thing I could think to do. I was afraid it would make me look worse. None of my makeup will cover the effects left behind." "I can't believe something like this would get government approval." Carl picked up his telephone. "I'll make some calls. We'll find out if any of the other girls had a problem and figure out what we can do about it." ***** "We need one more cat for our testing," William told the figure hugging the shadows. "Do you have any particular cat in mind?" "Yes, I understand the Mayor's wife doesn't want to try our cosmetic. And she has a cat." "Consider it done." ***** There was cash on the counter, and jewels in the bedroom, but no cat to be found. To make his effort worthwhile he took the jewels and the cash. On his way out he noticed two glowing orbs in the darkness of the living room. He had the cat. ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 14:29:02 -0800 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Leanne Shawler Subject: S5: EPisode 8 (part 5 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" ACT III Within her plush suite at the Lexor Hotel, Cat sat in front of the large bathroom mirror. Spread out on the counter was a wide selection of cosmetics from the ULTIMATE collection. Her afternoon was completely open giving her time to experiment with the new cosmetic. Feeling like a teenager all over again, Cat opened each container and placed a small sample of the contents on her skin. She had to see how each hue looked on her, and how certain groups of colors went together. After going through almost the entire ULTIMATE collection, Cat selected those shades and products that looked good and fit her personal tastes. The rest would simply dry up on her shelf or become a gift to the less fortunate. Now came the task of cleaning off the test areas. Once the makeup had dried, it was a real chore to remove. She did not have any problem at first with the colors she didn't like. They were still wet, when she removed them simply with soap and water. When she liked a color, she let the makeup dry to make sure the color remained true. These dried test areas remained even after scrubbing vigorously with soap and water. Next she tried the cold cream she had always used for stubborn makeup which did not dim the colors on her skin. Finally she reached for the special liquid she saved to cleanse her pores each night before going to bed. It too, failed miserably. 'I can't go out looking like this,' she thought to herself. 'Something has got to remove this stuff.' Digging deeper into the cosmetic samples Richard had generously provided for her, she found some of the special ULTIMATE removing gel. Finally this worked to remove the test patches of color from her skin. The gel also functioned as a makeup base for her evening date with Richard. Completing the application for her date, and making sure some of the removing gel remained, she let the new application dry. Looking in the mirror, she felt five years younger based simply on the image reflected. 'Wow this stuff is great,' she thought as she finished preparing for the evening. ***** Clark's phone rang. "Clark Kent," he announced. "Mr. Kent, this is Carl Green. I'm the managing agent for several models who were hired to showcase a new make up two days ago." "Yes, Mr. Green, I was at the announcement. They looked great!" "Well, they don't look great now. Could you see me this afternoon? I may have a story for you," Carl told him. "Sure. How does two o'clock sound?" "Thanks, that's fine," Carl said hanging up the phone. Before him sat four of his models, all plain in appearance, looking significantly older than they did merely two days ago. ***** Arriving at the agency, Lois and Clark were stunned to see how plain and ordinary the four models looked, sitting to the left of a man behind a large desk. Both easily remembered how lovely these women looked at the cosmetic announcement, and wondered what could have possibly caused the sudden change in their appearance. "Mr. Green," Clark assumed stretching out his hand in greeting, "this is my partner, Lois Lane." The two reporters sat in the two plush chairs near Mr. Green's desk. ***** Lois and Clark entered Perry's office. "We have a follow-up story on the Constant Cosmetic announcement, Chief," Lois announced as Clark closed the door behind them. "What could you possibly have to follow that fluff piece you turned in?" Perry scoffed. "The models who showcased the make up have suddenly aged ten years," Lois stated. "What?" Perry's eyes widened. "We have signed affidavits from four of the six models, that they believe their careers have been ruined, by simply wearing the ULTIMATE line of Constant Cosmetics," Clark informed his boss. "First they had a difficult time removing the stuff, and then after they did get it off, the skin deteriorated and showed every wrinkle," Lois added. "Even trying to cover it with their regular make up didn't help. They really looked bad, Perry." "So what caused the deterioration?" Perry asked. "We don't know," Clark responded. "But it had to be something in the cosmetic and we have a few connections to check out for our story." "Let me know what you find," Perry told them ushering them out of his office. "Clark, I'd better call Cat, and tell her not to use that makeup," Lois told her partner as she rushed to her desk. "I'll check with S.T.A.R. Labs and see if they've found anything unusual," Clark responded. The reporters went to work. Lois missed connecting with Cat at her hotel. Clark, on the other hand, was a bit more fortunate. S.T.A.R. Labs still had some of the samples he had delivered and were willing to run additional tests. "They did give me a little information on that cosmetic remover gel you sent over," Clark told his partner. "It's a variation on the makeup base, with the same adhesive compound, but in smaller quantities." "Great, they get you coming and going." "Maybe that's the key, Lois. If they sell both products, and you can't use one without the other, they would create a virtual monopoly." "Especially if using the product gives you an unwanted 'after effect' unless you use even more," Lois chimed in. "We need to talk to Dr. Richard Jackson and find out exactly what happened to those models." It was early evening. After several tries and failing to contact Jackson, Lois and Clark decided to head home. They still had little 'Lucky' to feed, and cuddle. ***** The new morning brought a new Cat to the Planet newsroom. She walked over to Lois' desk. "Good Morning, Lois," Cat said to get her attention. "Good ... Morning, Cat," Lois said as she looked up, she was shocked to see Cat's obviously different appearance. Cat was wearing a big floppy hat, large sunglasses, blue jeans and a plain turtleneck sweater. This was one outfit Lois never expected to see her wearing. Cat unceremoniously plopped herself in a chair beside Lois' desk. "Look at what that makeup has done to my face! It makes me look fifteen years older," she stated removing her glasses briefly so Lois could glimpse her hidden face. "Cat, what happened?" Lois asked even though she felt she knew at least part of the story. "I removed Richard's makeup last night, and woke up to this. I wanted to wear a different color today, but was afraid to use any after seeing what the first application had done." Lois knew Cat was in emotional pain over her discovery and that telling her they had found out about the 'problem' late yesterday would not be helpful. "Have you talked with Richard this morning? Maybe he has an answer," Lois suggested with a dual purpose. "We had a date last night. He said I looked fabulous. I think his phrase was 'like the day we first met'. We danced, talked over old times and simply enjoyed each other's company. Now I'm afraid to see him," Cat told her. "I'd really just like to become invisible." Clark picked an inopportune time to return to his desk. He spotted Cat and began to walk over to greet her when he noticed that Lois was desperately trying to tell him something using her personal sign language. Lois failed. Cat spotted Clark and immediately turned away from him. Realizing the problem, Clark suggested they take their conversation to the Conference room where there would be more privacy. After closing the door, he picked up the phone. "Who are you calling?" Cat asked. "Richard. Maybe he can help us figure out what is going on here," Clark answered. "No! I don't want to see him," Cat declared. "Cat, take it easy, I'm going to talk with him on the phone," Clark told her with a calm voice. "We need to find out more information." "You knew? And you didn't tell me? What kind of friends are you?" It was Lois' turn to try and calm down a very agitated Cat. "Yes Cat. We found out late yesterday. My first phone call was to you, but you had already left the hotel." "Richard? This is Clark Kent. We've had a report of some adverse after effects as a result of using ULTIMATE. Could I ask you a few questions about it? ... Great." Clark covered the phone. "He wants to come down here and put our concerns to rest." Clark uncovered the phone. "That will be fine. I'll see you in half an hour." Clark hung up the phone and made direct eye contact with Cat. "You don't have to be here when he arrives, Cat." Looking over at his wife, Clark suggested, "why don't you take Cat to meet Lucky?" "I don't really want to meet anyone the way I look." "Cat. Trust Me." Lois led Cat out to her Jeep and drove to the home she and Clark shared. Once inside, the mewing of little Lucky caught Cat's attention and momentarily made her forget her own problems. As soon as Lois and Cat had left the building, Clark got on the phone to S.T.A.R. Labs. "Dr. Klein. Have you gotten any additional information on the make up samples?" "Oh, hi Clark. That makeup is really strange stuff. The bonding properties are very strong. Without proper treatment, the surface skin cells deteriorate. The only way to prevent the deterioration is a second application of the makeup, or the skin conditioner. Both have the same bonding properties, which makes it a vicious cycle." "Is there any way to counteract the adhesive?" "Not that I've found so far. Without the conditioner, an accelerated aging process begins. It appears to be temporary, but we haven't been able to figure out how long the temporary condition will last. We are thinking that eventually as the surface cells are renewed by new cells the effect will literally wear off." "And the conditioner is manufactured by the same company," Clark stated to no one in particular. "I wouldn't know about that, but it does contain the same adhesive in a slightly diluted form." "What else did you find?" "The chemical base is alkaline. The contents include a wonderful selection of moisturizers and color dyes. Except for the adhesive, it's a really nice mixture." "Thanks, Dr. Klein, I really appreciate the help." ***** Cat was becoming increasingly attached to Lucky. Lois had told her the whole story, about how Superman had found the cat, and brought it to her. Now she and Clark were trying to decide if they should find a home for it, or keep it. Taking care of the animal with all of its special needs was becoming more of a chore than either she or Clark had envisioned. Especially considering their work schedules. "I think he's absolutely adorable," Cat stated. "If I stay in Metropolis, and you decide not to keep him, I'll take him." ***** Dr. Richard Jackson exited the Daily Planet elevator into the newsroom. Briefly stopping the first person to pass the elevator, he asked the directions to the desk of Clark Kent. Jimmy led him to Clark's desk, instead of merely giving directions. "Clark, you have a visitor." "Dr. Jackson," Clark said in greeting. "Thank you for coming to meet with me. We've had a report of some problems with your makeup. The models who showcased the makeup and handed out the information sheets removed the make up and suddenly looked ten years older." "This is really strange. We never had any problem with our test subjects." "Test subjects?" "My boss William North arranged to have the tests run on about a dozen cats." "Cats?" "Yes, we were testing the staying power of the cosmetic, and tested it on the fur of the animals to see how long it would last. None of the cats were harmed, I assure you. We also tested the removal gel, to make sure it would take the cosmetic off the fur. Everything went according to plan, and there were no ill effects. Once that test was completed, we shaved small sections of the fur and tested the cosmetic directly on the skin of the cats." "Did you test the cosmetic on human skin?" "We didn't see the need for that prior to our introduction of the cosmetic. The exhaustive testing we've done on the cats over the past six months was considered sufficient." "There is a skin problem with the cosmetic. Several of the models reported it late yesterday, and unfortunately this morning we discovered that Cat is also a victim." "Cat? What kind of skin problem? We tested this cosmetic in every known way before going public." Richard shook his head, 'what had he done?' Realizing that Richard was taking the news hard, Clark tried to gently explain. "It seems that once the makeup is removed, the skin underneath gives the appearance of advanced aging. She didn't want to see you here this morning because of how bad she felt she looked after removing the makeup. My wife took her to our place. As part of our story, we took the liberty of sending some of your free samples to a trusted scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, hoping for additional information. So far we've found nothing out of the ordinary except maybe the strength of the bonding adhesive." "That was the chemical I found in the Amazon. It came from a member of the sundew family, like the Venus flytrap. You can't imagine how amazing it was to sit and watch an unsuspecting insect get caught by the plant. The properties of the adhesive worked to lure the insect to the plant and to bond the insect to a leaf for ingestion. Truly fascinating to watch. It was so strong we had to dilute it to even work with the substance." "How did you get from an adhesive, to a cosmetic? That seems like quite a large jump of logic," Clark interjected. "My first plan for the adhesive was to integrate it into a sun block, so that the protection would last all day without becoming diluted. We discovered the adhesive was a natural sun block. Then we went on to develop skin moisturizer which of course retained the natural sun block properties. The addition of colorful cosmetic compounds gave us the first ULTIMATE cosmetic. The moisturizer removes the cosmetic by dissolving the existing bond and diluting the solution containing the color. A new bond is made between the skin and the clear drying moisturizer." "So how can we break the bonding process?" Clark asked. "Dr. Klein at S.T.A.R. Labs seems to think the process is temporary, but has no idea how long the effect will last." "I'll get over to my lab and see what solutions might work," Richard volunteered. "We never noticed any kind of cell disruption on the lab animals, temporary or permanent. I'll let you know if we come up with anything." Richard left the Planet newsroom for the lab. He hoped to find some way of reversing a process he had inadvertently started. Clark picked up the phone and dialed home. "Lois? The coast is clear. Richard left to begin working on the aging problem. Oh, and tell Cat that Dr. Klein thinks the after effect is temporary." ***** Lois sighed. Still no progress on solving either the cosmetic problem or the cat theft story. A commotion over by the elevator drew her attention in that direction. Richard Jackson had knocked over one of the Planet staff runners, causing papers to fly. Lois was forced to stifle a giggle, as she watched the two participants in the collision gather their papers haphazardly. Richard was able to collect his papers and a plastic container before making his way to Clark's desk. "I think I have something," he announced. Clark motioned to Lois to join them in the conference room. "So what did you find?" Lois asked anxiously. "It may not be much," Richard replied, "but I further diluted the adhesive in the removal gel and produced a substance that will remove the makeup with a weaker bond. It may still create some problems with the skin cells. There was no deterioration found with the cats with this new formula, but the original formula didn't create a problem either. I used some of it on my arm," Richard told them as he showed Lois and Clark his left forearm, which had no reaction. A knock at the conference door made the three of them look up to see Cat. As she entered, Lois and Clark could both tell that she looked better, but still showed some effects of the cosmetic. "Hi Cat," Richard greeted her. "I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to apologize to you for what happened with my cosmetic. I really don't know what went wrong." "I understand, Richard. Lois told me you were working on something that might improve the removal process," Cat told him accepting his apology. "Can I help?" "I'd hate to ask you to help, after all you've been through," Richard told her, "but I have something I tested on myself, and had no adverse reaction. The next step is to test it on someone who has had a reaction, to see if it helps." Cat looked at her ex-husband. "Well I've had a reaction and I want an antidote. I'll be your volunteer." Inspector Henderson along with two uniformed officers walked into the Planet newsroom. Spotting the foursome in the conference room, he knocked gently before entering. "Richard Jackson?" "Yes." "You are under arrest for grand theft," Henderson told him before giving him his Miranda warning. "What is this all about? I've never stolen anything in my life," Richard protested. "This arrest warrant accuses you of stealing money, jewelry, and a cat from the home of the Chief of Police," Inspector Henderson told him. Richard Jackson was ushered out of the Planet conference room toward the elevator in handcuffs. His research papers along with a sample of the new diluted gel remained temporarily forgotten on the conference room table. Lois, Clark and Cat followed Richard and Inspector Henderson to the elevators, trying to get more information on the arrest. "I'll call your lawyer, Richard," Cat told him as the elevator doors closed. Cat couldn't believe this was happening. Cat took Lois aside. "You've got to help me, Lois. I don't know why they think Richard is a thief, but he is not the type. He's got a penthouse condo; he has no need to steal money. I know him." "We'll do everything we can, Cat," Lois assured her. Leanne Shawler aka Volterra on IRC volterra@sd.znet.com http://www.znet.com/~volterra/leanne.html *********************************************************************** Lois and Clark Season 5 Fanfic: http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/mothership/60/season5.htm *********************************************************************** Midnight Dreaming: The Original Anthony Warlow Home Page: http://www.zweb.com/volterra/anthony.html *********************************************************************** ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 14:29:11 -0800 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Leanne Shawler Subject: S5: Episode 8 (part 6 of 6) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" ACT IV Cat hung up the phone with Richard's attorney. "I filled him in on what just happened. He's going to try and get Richard out on bail." Clark headed back to the conference room for the papers Richard had scattered on the conference room table. The two women joined him, just as he finished gathering the files and new gel left behind. "Cat, you know Dr. Klein said the effects are temporary, are you sure you want to try this?" Clark asked. He picked up the plastic container for Cat to see. She thought about it for only a few seconds before taking the container from Clark's hand. "Let's get this over with. Lois will you help me?" Cat headed toward the Planet's Ladies Room. "Cat," Lois called allowing her to catch up. "Maybe we should do this at my place or in your hotel room, it's more private." Nodding her head in agreement, the two women headed to the elevator. Clark took the papers he'd gathered to his desk, and began to sort through the documents. Something Richard told him, nagged at the back of his mind. Suddenly it hit him. William North had arranged the testing on the cats. Maybe he had also been the one to procure them. "Jimmy," Clark called spotting the young man passing Lois' desk. "See what you can dig up on a William North, business contacts, acquaintances, the works." "Sure thing, CK." Clark searched the documents for confirmation of what Richard had told him. Not finding the solution there, he went back to the papers Jimmy had found on the cosmetic. Buried deep within these papers was an unfamiliar name, Wells Foundation. The notes showed that this foundation had provided substantial sums of cash to finance Richard's research and other cosmetic development at Constant Cosmetics. ***** Things were not going well with Lois and Cat. The new compound was successful in removing the makeup, but did not return the skin to normal. It would be a few more hours before any additional damage to the skin would be known. Cat planned to spend the rest of the day in the town home, keeping Lucky company. She didn't want to be seen, especially if her situation worsened. Lois headed to the police station to find out what she could about the arrest of Richard Jackson. She cornered Inspector Henderson in his office. "Ok, Inspector, What makes you think Richard Jackson is the thief?" Lois asked with notepad and pen in hand. "Lois, you know I can't tell you that on the record." Putting her notepad away, she asked "What can you tell me off the record?" "We had a hot tip that we could find some of the missing jewels in his hotel room. Security was kind enough to let us in to do a search, and guess what we found? Evidence from three of the robberies, including a cat collar." "Purely circumstantial," Lois snapped. "He didn't even get into the country until the day of the cosmetic announcement. How could he have possibly been involved in those thefts?" "If he ordered the thefts or knowingly received the stolen goods, he's involved," Henderson responded. The discussion ended abruptly, when one of the other officers informed Inspector Henderson that Jackson's attorney had arranged bail. Henderson followed the officer to where Richard Jackson was being signed out of custody. Lois followed Henderson. As soon as Richard reached freedom, he asked about Cat. Lois had no really good news and tempered her answer. "She is at my place. The compound removed her makeup, and didn't appear to make things any worse. Unfortunately there was no improvement either. Right now she's staying there babysitting Lucky." "Well then, I guess I should get back to the lab and see if I can find a better solution. How about dropping me off at the lab?" "Sure," Lois replied pointing in the general direction of where she had parked the Jeep. "How about a tour?" Richard led the way into his research facility passing several guards. "This is the main research lab. As you can see it is a fairly typical chemical lab, probably a lot like what you saw in college. Through these doors," Richard said walking to the large connecting doors, "are the kennels we use for our lab animals." Opening the door, he ushered Lois into the kennel section. Walking over to the cages, Lois could see the healthy felines. Some had colorful fur, and some with patches of fur removed to expose colorful areas of skin. Lois spotted a White Persian cat who appeared completely normal. "Why is this cat here?" Lois asked. "She arrived a day or two ago from our supplier. We haven't begun testing on her yet." "Wait a minute," Lois said as she searched her memory for information. "Missy, this could be Missy." "Missy? Who is Missy?" "This cat could belong to the chief of police! Your supplier may have been stealing these cats," Lois deduced. "Who is supplying you with these animals?" "My boss, William North made the arrangements," Richard stated as he looked closely at the new addition. Moving quickly out of the kennel area to his desk, he began looking through file folders. Surprised by Richard's sudden departure, Lois caught up with him at his desk. "According to my records, he hired Metro Lab Animals to supply the cats. All of the animals are supposed to be specifically raised for this purpose. According to our contract, no household pets, no strays, and no pet store animals are acceptable." "Then why would you have a pure bred Persian cat?" Lois asked. "It doesn't make sense." Richard picked up the phone and dialed the number for the animal supplier. "A recording," he announced. "Who signed the contract for the company?" "The name appears to be a Sal Myers. I think I better make a photocopy of this contract for my lawyer. It just might help my case." "How about a spare photocopy for the Planet," Lois suggested. Richard nodded and took the papers to the photocopier, making the desired copies himself. He then handed a copy to Lois. "Once your lawyer has his copy, you should call the police and have Chief Roberts come out and see if that is Missy," Lois suggested as she placed the Planet photocopy in her purse. "I need to get back to the Planet, and you need to find a cure." ***** Cat was bored. Lucky was curled up in a patch of sunshine, tired of chasing the aluminum foil string toy. Exploring the kitchen, Cat found a nice juicy peach in the fruit bowl on the table. Deciding to eat the peach, she washed off the fruit in the sink and bit into it. It was delicious. Cleaning up afterward in the bathroom, she noticed something different around her mouth and chin. The areas covered by the juices of the peach appeared rejuvenated. The rest of her face was still dull and old looking. Running back to the kitchen for another peach, Cat found that she had eaten the last one. Pondering the situation for only a moment, Cat picked up the phone and called a cab. Traipsing to the nearest market, she bought a dozen peaches. Returning to Lois' town house, she cut one of the peaches into a bowl. Taking the bowl to the sink, she began smearing the chunks of fruit all over her face. The juice stung her eyes; but if this worked, it would be well worth the slight discomfort. Washing the sticky juice from her face in the bathroom produced a very pleasing result. No traces of the old looking skin remained. Once again Cat picked up the phone. This time the cab took her straight to the Daily Planet. Walking into the newsroom, looking and feeling much better, cat strode over to the desk of Clark Kent. "Well Clark, what do you think?" Clark looked up at Cat and smiled. "The new gel worked." "No, it didn't, but I found a solution." Reaching into the grocery bag, she pulled out a big juicy peach. "This did it." Clark couldn't believe the solution was so simple. "Of course, Dr. Klein mentioned something about the makeup having an alkaline base. Peaches are acidic. It makes perfect sense. We need to get this information to Richard." "Richard is out?" Cat asked. "Lois called from the Jeep. She was taking him to his lab so he could find a solution." ***** Just as Clark picked up the phone to dial the lab, Lois exited the elevators and made her way to Clark's desk. Noticing Cat by Clark's desk she looked closely at Cat's face. "It worked?" Lois probed. "Not exactly," Cat said holding up one of the peaches. "What, a peach reversed the process? That's amazing." Lois couldn't believe the solution had been so easy. The surprising solution made her forget for a moment about the information she brought from the lab. "I've got a clue on the thefts," she announced to Clark digging out the photocopy. "It seems that the lab animals were provided by Metro Lab Animals, with a contract signed by Sal Myers." "Sal Myers? That name rings a bell," Clark stated as he shuffled through the papers he studied earlier. "Here it is, Sal Myers is on the board of directors of the Wells Foundation, a substantial contributor to the research fund of Constant Cosmetics." "There's our link," Lois stated. Jimmy walked up bringing a fairly large file folder. "I found more information on William North. It seems he has some rather unscrupulous friends. The file also appears to contain a few monetary deals that probably wouldn't pass IRS muster." Clark took the documentation wishing he could speed scan the contents, but knew that was impossible with so many eyes on him. He handed off each document to Lois as he finished browsing the contents, hoping he was not going too fast. Lois in turn handed her finished documents to Cat. Sitting up straight at his desk, a name had caught his eye. Once again Sal Myers was mentioned; this time the reference pointed to Myers as a former co-worker at Luthor Technologies. ***** Richard took the police chief into the kennel area of the lab and to the cage of the white Persian. "Missy!" Roberts exclaimed. The cat let out a soft meow as if answering to her name. Opening the cage, he pulled the cat out and handed it to Chief Roberts. Immediately the animal began to purr. "It is her," Roberts nearly shouted. "Thank you for finding her, my wife will be so pleased." "Actually it was Lois Lane who spotted Missy. I never made the connection." Richard guided the chief of Police out of the kennel and lab. Just as the chief of Police opened the door behind him, he was met by Cat, Lois and Clark. Richard was astonished to see that Cat's beauty had been restored. He never even noticed that she was wearing very little makeup. "It worked!" Richard exclaimed. For the third time Cat reached into the bag she was carrying, pulled out a peach and said "not quite." Richard's expression was incomprehension. "What are you trying to tell me?" he asked. "The gel removed the make up ok, but didn't help my skin at all. Then I ate a peach." Cat continued to explain what had actually transpired to restore her skin. Richard took the peach from her hand and studied it until enlightenment dawned. "Citric acid! That must be the key." Delving back into his research and ignoring his guests, he began to tap away at his computer. "Yes, that might be exactly the right acidity to return the gel to a neutral pH. I'll get to work on it right away." "Do you want any help?" Cat's question was bait in hoping Richard would ask her to stay. "Sure Cat, I'd love the company." Clark motioned to Lois and whispered, "we should let them alone, don't you think?" Lois nodded. "I think Clark and I should go get started on this story. Will you let us know when you have anything?" "Sure, Lois," Richard told her. "And if you get the opportunity, contact those models, I'd like to clear up their problem as well." Lois and Clark knowingly smiled at each other as they left the lab. ***** Sal Myers stood in the dark office. Mindy Church was not pleased with what she had read in the paper. "It seems that the cosmetic firm you spoke of so highly is being investigated by the Daily Planet," Mindy stated. "There is no way they can tie that to Intergang," Sal told her confidently. "They have succeeded in compromising the Wells Foundation which cost us a lot of money." "It will never happen again, Mrs. Church." Making eye contact with a man in the shadows, he stepped forward into the light. "You are right it will never happen again." ***** Perry walked up to his reporting duo smiling and carrying the latest edition of the Daily Planet. Holding it up to Lois and Clark, he let his expression speak for him. The headlines said it all: 'Cat Burglar Caught, Makeup Key'. "You two may have another Kerth on this one," Perry told them. "Not only did you solve the mysterious thefts, you restored the youth to many women in Metropolis." "Cat was the real pioneer there, Chief," Lois advised as she spotted her stepping out of the elevator with Richard. "And we couldn't have made the connection without Jimmy's research," Clark added. "Well it is a fine piece of journalism. William North in jail for the thefts, an APB out on Sal Myers, and a long lasting cosmetic safely on the market." Cat and Richard walked up and joined the conversation. Richard was carrying a brown paper bag. "Thanks to the two of you," Richard told Lois and Clark, "I've been cleared and my cosmetic is safely on the market and promises to be very lucrative. This is a small way to thank you for saving my career and keeping me out of jail." Before Lois could open the bag, Cat added ,"And for all the things you've done for me, and for us." Cat hooked her hand over Richard's now free arm. Lois opened her bag, to discover a complete line of reformulated ULTIMATE. "I've also given a complete line of the reformulated version to the six models from the demonstration," Richard told them. "I'm hopeful they will reconsider their lawsuits." "Especially now that we know the process can be reversed," Clark added. "So will you be staying in Metropolis Cat?" "Might be, Chief.... I think Richard's kinda glad that the Cat is back....." Cat's smile generated smiles around the group. "Well in that case," Perry smirked, "I do have an opening to replace Miller, the Society Section Chief." "That's a very tempting offer, Perry. Mind if I talk it over with Richard before giving you an answer?" "Sure, take your time. Just don't take too much time, that section of the paper is sorely in need of your column." Perry smiled. "Well in that case, Perry, you've got Cat's Corner back. I'm still going to have to think about the section chief part though." "That's great news!" Perry proclaimed. "Welcome back to the Daily Planet staff, Miss Grant. I'll get the paperwork filled out before you have a chance to change your mind," Perry stated before heading back to his office. "You know what really gripes me about this whole story?" Lois asked rhetorically. "I'm upset we couldn't prove a connection to Intergang." "Lois and I are both convinced that Wells Foundation was merely a front for Intergang," Clark explained. "All the clues were there, just no proof." "I'm sure you will find the proof someday," Cat reassured them. ***** Unlocking the door to their home, Lois and Clark entered and flicked on the light switch. The place was a mess and sitting in the center of the room, was Lucky. "I think our cat's luck has run out," Lois exclaimed angrily. "He didn't do this when Cat was here." "You know what that means don't you Lois? Cat has a magic touch with Lucky." "And I don't?" "Well maybe not with this cat Lois," Clark hedged. "Each animal has its own personality. Maybe this little guy would be better off with Cat and you would be better off with a different cat, or a dog, or more fish ..." Lois put her finger to Clark's lips to stop his rambling. "I can always visit Lucky at Cat's," Lois whispered. "Right now I have plans for the other male in this house." *** END CREDITS *** Leanne Shawler aka Volterra on IRC volterra@sd.znet.com http://www.znet.com/~volterra/leanne.html *********************************************************************** Lois and Clark Season 5 Fanfic: http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/mothership/60/season5.htm *********************************************************************** Midnight Dreaming: The Original Anthony Warlow Home Page: http://www.zweb.com/volterra/anthony.html *********************************************************************** ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 23 Nov 1997 18:33:09 -0600 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Alyssa Mondelli Organization: Brought to you by the legal firm of Deceive, Inveigle, & Obfuscate Subject: Episode 8 now airing at the S5 website Comments: To: loiscla@vm.ege.edu.tr MIME-version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Psst! Hey, you! Yeah, you, the fanfic junkie over there. Have you got your daily fix of: Cat Grant? cosmetics? chemistry? petnappings? supermodels? rapid aging? Well, all this and more is in Season 5, Episode 8: "The Cat in the Hat Came Back", by Nancy Merckle, which has just been uploaded to the website. All together, now: http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/mothership/60/season5.htm or, if you fear graphics, http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/mothership/60/s5text.htm As always, feedback and all major credit cards will be happily accepted. ==Alyssa in St. Paul== (agmondelli@stthomas.edu)(AlyssaM on the IRC) http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/mothership/60/index.htm Web-hostess, Lois & Clark Season 5 - now airing on a monitor near you P.S. Here, I'll save you seven bucks: "What happened?" "Oh, that Jim Williams shot someone. Canape?" --Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil This line is one of the few good things about the movie version. Be kind to yourself; stay home and read (or reread) the book instead. ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 05:29:18 -0700 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Stark Subject: Re: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 04:01 PM 11/23/97 -0500, you wrote: >In a message dated 97-11-23 11:57:26 EST, debby@SWCP.COM writes: [snip incriminating evidence...] >Congratulations, Debby, you've just shown that our raison d'etre is an >overused science fiction cliche. >Thanks a lot. >Peace >going to her room to sulk > :) Actually, I think *our* show did it just fine--and may even have inspired what became cliches :) I think they were referring to "Starman" and others of that ilk (and probably even some episodes of Star Trek), as well as a bit to The Visitor, which fortunately is beginning to twist away from cliches as the tension mounts right up through the last of the 13 episodes that are supposed to be shown now that it's been canceled :( Debby Debby@swcp.com ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 05:29:19 -0700 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Stark Subject: Re: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 04:10 PM 11/23/97 -0500, Margaret B. wrote: >At 09:47 AM 23/11/97 -0700, Debby wrote: >>[I'm posting these things so we can watch out for them in our own >>writing... and maybe twist them around to be new and different :) \ >Sure, but think of what we would have missed if *nobody* used these True, they had to be used a first time... it's when it's the 50th time and the last, oh, 45 were pretty much identical that it gets tiring... >>Subject: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches (1/4) >>Date: Fri, 14 Nov 1997 21:04:22 -0800 > >>Overused Plot Lines: >> 3. Rag-tag rebel army/fleet struggles valiantly to overthrow the Evil Empire > >Star Wars Battlestar Galactica, Robin Hood. >> 4. Time travel by Good Guys to stop a historical Bad Guy, usually Hitler > >Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure >Time Bandits? I don't think Time Bandits, or if it did it twisted the idea interestingly. Time Cops, yes, and the movies it ripped off. >> 5. Time travel by Bad Guy to stop Good Guy from ever being born >Tempus Fugitive >Most of Heinlein's "Future History" novels >> 6. Time travel by Temporal Policeman to catch a Bad Guy who escaped into >> the past > >Back to the Future Trilogy >Soul Mates >Meet John Doe Time Cop. That movie with Wells going after The Ripper >> 7. The race to develop a cure for the Supervirus or a weapon to stop the >> Invincible Bad Guys >Superman II The Stand, Star Wars (vs the Death Star); Outbreak (though no bad guy per se) [snip] >> 9. A virtual reality program is activated, and the distinction between >> reality and the program becomes confused or indistinguishable >Virtually Destroyed that Swartzenegger movie on Mars >>13. A complex computer system spontaneously becomes self-aware >The Moon is a Harsh Mistress Hal in 2001 & 2010 (but done very well) Data in Star Wars The Forbin Project My Living Doll (sort of) >>15. A human developing a romantic attachment to a robot >Data from Star Trek > >>17. Brain-controlling parasites attempt to wrest control of human race > >Half of the original Star Trek episodes Heilein did one (I can't recall the name at the moment and it was a favorite of mine as a kid...) Body Snatchers War of the Worlds TV Series (first, excellent season) >>18. Aliens put an ordinary Joe on trial for the sins of humanity > >The other half of the original Star Trek episodes Yep, the first episode of the original & every spin off. Weird. >>23. Aliens with completely incomprehenisble motivations make war on the >> human race > >The New Krypton Arc (hey, then again, maybe it's because they tried to >combine *two* cliches) Mars Attacks (? I haven't seen it yet; ditto Independence Day) I generally can't understand this particular kind of plot since at the very least it would be militarily stupid: the supply lines would be too long... and exploring would be a lot more fun (and profitable) than war. >That's the best I can do off the top of my head. Does anyone else have >hits (or misses;) that wouldn't have seen the light of day if none of these >ever got used? or, if they took on the cliche, seemed to know it and did it in an uncliched manner? (so we can learn from them :) Debby Debby@swcp.com who realizes now that all the cliched shows seem to blur together... ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 10:33:25 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Farah Meitzen Chisham Subject: HAVING LISTSERV PROBLEMS?? Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" If you are having listserv problems (I have only received one email with subscription problems), I gave this listserv a list of early subscribers that may help you if you need it however, this is an updated of support providers: 1) farah@chisham.com or 2) List Administrator who always knows all of the answers. These people are great and will help you with any answers concerning THIS list you may have. I assumed other list members, who were on the list in the very beginning, could help you, but myself or the list-admin at Indiana (where the list is originated) am able to get to the root of the problem much sooner. Thanks FOLCs! farah :) fchisham@indiana.edu ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 10:37:47 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Farah Meitzen Chisham Subject: FOR NEW MEMBERS Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" For those new members, here are instructions on setting digest: Send email to: LISTSERV@LISTSERV.INDIANA.EDU body text: SET LOISCLA-GENERAL-L DIGEST farah :) fchisham@indiana.edu ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 10:49:56 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Farah Meitzen Chisham Subject: sorry about multiposting Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" I am having some bounced messages from subscribers whose mailbox is full or other reasons. If I have deleted you from the list, please don't take it personally just resubscribe and I will add you post haste. farah :) fchisham@indiana.edu ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 18:48:26 -0800 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Leanne Shawler Subject: S5: Promo for Episode 9 Comments: To: Lois & Clark Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Next week on Lois and Clark - A Thanksgiving/St Andrew's Night Special Martha : "Ellen was inviting herself and Sam to stay with Clark and Lois for Thanksgiving. I told Lois that her parents should just join us here....." A shadowy figure poured another whisky into a large glass. Picking up the glass, he raised it to his lips, "Slainte!" he nodded to the figure, before collapsing to the ground...... Jimmy : "You know that new Scottish bar that opened last night on Main Street? Well, they found two bodies in it this morning!" Older whitehaired gentleman in a Scottish accent : "That means that I have a murderer on my staff somewhere." Lois : "We're going to Scotland? We'll have to uninvite my parents" Clark : "Jack MacPherson was part of a team with a certain Nigel St John." Lois : "Before or after Nigel started working for Lex?" Opening the door,Martha was faced by a smiling Ellen Lane. "Oh my!" Clark : "The invitation said to wear something Scottish" Lois : "Clark Kent! Are you really a true Scotsman?" Everything, or perhaps not, will be revealed......next week on a monitor near you! Leanne Shawler aka Volterra on IRC volterra@sd.znet.com http://www.znet.com/~volterra/leanne.html *********************************************************************** Lois and Clark Season 5 Fanfic: http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/mothership/60/season5.htm *********************************************************************** Midnight Dreaming: The Original Anthony Warlow Home Page: http://www.zweb.com/volterra/anthony.html *********************************************************************** ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 25 Nov 1997 13:53:54 +1100 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Jenny Stosser Subject: Re: S5: Promo for Episode 9 In-Reply-To: Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 06:48 PM 24/11/97 -0800, you wrote: >Next week on Lois and Clark - A Thanksgiving/St Andrew's Night >Special > > snip Is this a clean version of Whiskey Galore? -- Jenny Stosser -*- jenerate@ozramp.net.au -*- (Jenerator or MoiAussie on IRC) This message is umop ap!sdn -*- David is 5 and Megan is 2! Photos on the Stosser Family HomePage: http://www.ozramp.net.au/~jenerate Please Visit! ========================================================================= Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 20:47:21 -0600 Reply-To: peabody@mcs.com Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Pat Organization: Amarna House Subject: Re: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Hi FOLCs, Debby Stark wrote: > > [I'm posting these things so we can watch out for them in our own > writing... and maybe twist them around to be new and different :) The only "oversued plot" this list missed was "any story that centers around a cute chimpanzee." Debby, have you sent a copy of this list to Bob Singer? It's obvious that he's never seen it ;) Since Bob feels the fans were responsible for L&C's demise, I think it's only fair that we make every effort to help him out in his next venture! ;p Pat (who's sending a *big* "thank you" to Farah for her patience! :) peabody@mcs.com pattijean@aol.com ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 25 Nov 1997 08:12:54 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: No Name Available Subject: Re: an answer SOmeone asked not too long ago if Perry had ever visted Graceland. THe answer was on yesterday in BY where he stated that he and Alice had gone there for their honeymoon. --Laurie ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 25 Nov 1997 07:13:44 -0800 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Leanne Shawler Subject: Re: S5: Promo for Episode 9 In-Reply-To: <3.0.1.32.19971125135354.0069f22c@mail.ozramp.net.au> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" >At 06:48 PM 24/11/97 -0800, you wrote: >>Next week on Lois and Clark - A Thanksgiving/St Andrew's Night >>Special >> >> >snip > >Is this a clean version of Whiskey Galore? It's based on Whisky Galore (in fact, that's its title). But in the cleanup from nfic to not only PG-fic, but to a full-length episode fic, there were quite a few changes made and additions too. Just wait until you see the web version with its pictures :) Leanne Leanne Shawler aka Volterra on IRC volterra@sd.znet.com http://www.znet.com/~volterra/leanne.html *********************************************************************** Lois and Clark Season 5 Fanfic: http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/mothership/60/season5.htm *********************************************************************** Midnight Dreaming: The Original Anthony Warlow Home Page: http://www.zweb.com/volterra/anthony.html *********************************************************************** ========================================================================= Date: Tue, 25 Nov 1997 19:55:43 -0700 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Stark Subject: Yet *more* SF Cliches :) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable >From John Fri, 14 Nov 1997 21:15:09 -0800 From: John & Linda VanSickle Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.tv,rec.arts.sf.written,rec.arts.sf.movies Subject: The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches (2/4) Those of us who have read or seen a lot of science fiction have seen certain story elements pop up over and over and over. Some of these elements were actually pretty good ideas, and when handled well make for a pretty entertaining story, but have become hackneyed from overuse by the unimaginative. Others came into being through the deliberate effort to avoid another clich=E9. Still other ideas were lame from day one, and should have been dismissed from the author's thinking. It should be noted that in some cases, the clich=E9 is excusable if it is supported by a well-reasoned means. F'rinstance, if an alien species is subjected to frequent and thorough racial purges, a large degree of racial homogeneity will not challenge the reader's credulity. The sophisticated reader (one who reads more than just SF) will note that these clich=E9s are not found solely in SF, but in other genres as= well. DISCLAIMER: The use of masculine/feminine pronouns and assignment of gender roles is not intended to preclude a reversal of gender roles. It is, however, intended to offend those who think that the Y chromosone is the root of all evil. Nyah. Overused settings/characterizations: 1. Aliens whose thinking is so different from ours that no communication is possible 2. Alien races that find our women attractive, while we find theirs to be repulsive 3. Alien races whose women differ from ours only in skin color and facial features 4. Extra breasts on the alien women 5. The aliens are incomprehensible to humans, while the humans are perfectly comprehensible to the aliens 6. Alien species depicted as having no ethnic, religious, cultural, philosophical or political variance, especially: a. Wise mystics b. Stoic warriors c. Pastoral innocents d. Cowardly sneaks 7. Alien races whose names all have lots of hard consonants 8. Lots of apostrophes packed into alien words and phrases for no apparent reason 9. Humans of future depicted as having no ethnic, religious, cultural, philosophical or political variance 10. Cities of future depicted as though sanitation workers have been on strike from now until then 11. Entire story setting dominated by huge impersonal business conglomerates 12. Planets with the same exact climate planet-wide 13. Super-intelligent AI's that speak, behave, and act in a manner indistinguishable from the human characters 14. The incredibly competent man-of-action with more skills/degrees than you can shake a blaster at 15. The incredibly competent woman-of-action with large breasts, no sexual inhibitions, and more skills/degrees than you can shake a blaster at 16. Shadowy malevolent Pentagon officials 17. Every single character has a tainted history 18. Society divided as follows: a. A handful of ultra-powerful ultra-rich b. Hordes of starving people living in the streets c. Criminal lords who control everything not controlled by the= ultra-rich d. Police whose only principle of operation is maintenance of the status quo 19. Societies where all technology has been destroyed except automobiles and their equivalents, which are still running yet there are no mechanics, workshops, or gas stations 20. Heroes who are so emotionally stunted that they don't care about close friends/relatives that die as long as they complete some mission 21. Any character with a perpetual two-day growth of beard, when no apparent pains are taken to maintain this rugged look 22. Futuristic societies where only the ultra-rich can afford quality health care, and everyone else is reduced to selling their bodily organs 23. Beings of pure energy 24. A society in which everyone is required to die on his or her Nth= birthday 25. Creatures from our mythology (e.g., centaurs, dragons) occur among the wildlife native to an alien planet 26. Aliens whose sociology, values and beliefs are indistinguishable from those of an Oriental culture, e.g., feudal Japan. 27. Eccentric scientists 28. The assistant to the scientist who is either deformed or dating the scientist's daughter 29. Future societies that have relapsed into feudalism for no apparent reason 30. Alternative Earths where society is just like some society of the past, with some technodoodads added 31. Palace guards who are ineffectual due to ineptitude or inattentiveness 32. Fantastical but non-viable creatures (men with tortoiseshell backs, gigantic insects) made possible by high levels of radiation 33. Aliens that speak human languages without error, having taken no pains to learn how 34. Aliens whose vocal apparatus is just like ours, so that they can speak human languages with only a slight accent 35. Omnipotent pacifist aliens who impose their philosophy on us without bothering to protect us from the races they have left alone 36. Men and women live in separate societies (and I'm not talking Mars and Venus, either) 37. Clones are inexplicably different from regular people in a particular manner (mentally unstable, don't mind being used as cannon fodder, etc) 38. The vast majority of alien races consider 20=BAC to be room temperature 39. Societies that are utopian in every regard except for one serious drawback that completely outweighs the utopian aspects, such as having the death penalty for some really minor offense The Grand List of Overused Science Fiction Cliches can be found at: http://www.erols.com/vansickl/cliche.htm --=20 "It wasn't my fault--in a way I haven't totally figured out yet." http://www.erols.com/vansickl [via Debby, Debby@swcp.com] ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 26 Nov 1997 00:30:11 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Demona Subject: INFO > LC FANFIC ARCHIVE Comments: To: loiscla@vm.ege.edu.tr Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" FoLCs, Under normal circumstances we wouldn't be posting this en mass, however as many of you know (We got your letters! LOL) the Fanfiction archive hadn't been updated in almost a month. That was at first due to time constraints, and then later due to technical difficulties beyound our control with the virtual server we are using...(many of you experienced errors while downloading as well, and we apologise for the inconvenience :) However, it's our pleasure to announce to you that the archive has been updated today with many new stories for your reading enjoyment; you can grab them as usual from: http://www.ixpres.com/chrispat/lcfanfic Again, we apologise for the inconvenience, it's our goal to keep things running on a more timely basis than once a month, and we've taken on some extra staff to perhaps alleviate the problem. But keep in mind that we all have day jobs as well, so if your story isn't up right after your send it in, it will be soon..just have patience, like Clark! ;) My favorite line Take Care All! Demi ___________________________________ Demi / Demona Archive Coordinator Lois & Clark Fanfic Archive ___________________________________ ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 26 Nov 1997 01:09:02 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Pam Jernigan Subject: Re: an answer Comments: To: Blind.Copy.Receiver@compuserve.com MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 >> SOmeone asked not too long ago if Perry had ever visted Graceland. THe answer was on yesterday in BY where he stated that he and Alice had gone there f= or their honeymoon. << This of course overlooks the fact that when P&A went on their honeymoon, Graceland was *not* the same place it is today... I'm not too= up on my Elvis timelines, but Perry had to have been married at *least* 2= 5 years - was Graceland open to the public in 1970? PJ !^NavFont02F0163000FMGJHG8EMG90HH64F65B E-mail from: Pam Jernigan, 25-Nov-1997 jernigan@compuserve.com / ChiefPam on the IRC ~~~~~ Unreformed, unrepentent, sometimes unproductive but never uninteresting fanfic writer = Visit Sarah & Pam's Shrine o'Fanfic at: http://www.geocities.com/hollywood/2501 ~~~~~ Lois and Clark Season 5 Fanfic: http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/mothership/60/season5.htm ~~~~~ "The first thing she said to me was 'Herbie, get me to the Planet.' Naturally, I wondered which planet..." "Ah, Constable, you've returned. Upon reflection, I imagine this pleases= me." <-- Due South is back! :-) ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 26 Nov 1997 08:20:30 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: No Name Available Subject: Re: an answer In a message dated 97-11-26 02:01:15 EST, you write: << I'm not too up on my Elvis timelines, but Perry had to have been married at *least* 25 years - was Graceland open to the public in 1970? >> How do you know they didn't actually visit Elvis there? --Laurie ;) ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 26 Nov 1997 21:23:55 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Ethel \"Terri\" Addison" Subject: That Sexy Noise Clark Makes (How to Describe It?) Dear Fellow Writers: I'm in a bit of a quandry. You see, there is a certain noise that Clark (Dean, really) makes that is really sexy to me, and I'd like to incorporate it into some of my romantic stories about L&C. Trouble is, I have *no idea* how to describe it. Below is the scene from "Meet John Doe" that involves that sexy noise. At the end, I will ask for your assistance in describing it. I realize that in this adaptation, the way I wrote it is just as sexy...but I want a description of the *sound*. If you have to watch the ep to get a better idea, please do so--anything that might help is appreciated. MEET JOHN DOE SCENE Clark awakened from his first nightmare about someone taking Lois away from him. He reached up to turn on the lamp, then turned over to find Lois's pillow empty. He put his robe on and went downstairs, only to find Lois sitting at the dining room table with a jumble of papers in front of her. "Honey?" She looked up at him. "Honey, you know what time it is?" "I couldn't sleep," she told him. "What are you doing?" "Paperwork," she answered. "Insurance forms, bank signature cards." She shuffled some papers as he came up behind her. "Thought filling out all these triplicate forms would put me right back to sleep, but you know what?" She turned around to smile at him. "I kinda like it. I get a kick out of checking the 'married' box." She checked yet another one with a flourish of her pen. Clark had to smile. "Plus," she went on, "I've never had a beneficiary before." Clark's smile faded. "You know," she further explained, looking up at him, "in the event of death?" "Honey," Clark suggested, bending down to kiss her neck, "you can do this later." "Well," she replied, giving her husband better access to her neck, "I'm just thinking about the future." "Well, the *future* can *wait,*" he said, kissing her ear, then her neck again, creating a trail of warm shivers down to her shoulder. "Come on," he urged, his kisses moving to her nape. "I'll help you get back to sleep." "Mm," Lois purred. "Or not," Clark amended, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tender spot where her neck met her back. Lois giggled. "You're probably right," she conceded, lolling her head around to guide his kisses. "The future's overrated, anyway. It couldn't *possibly* get any better than *this.*" "Mm-mm," Clark agreed against her neck. "Mm, mm, mm, mm...." * * * * * * * * * Okay, FoLCs, now you know the noise I'm looking for. (The scene ended with it.) Please help me if you can. Thanks! Eternally grateful for any assistance, Carol A. Editor, THROUGH SUPER-COLORED GLASSES p.s. Some members of my writers' group suggested purring, but somehow that strikes me as a female-specific sound. Thoughts? Suggestions? HELP??? : ) ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 26 Nov 1997 20:04:18 -0700 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Debby Stark Subject: Re: an answer Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 01:09 AM 11/26/97 -0500, Pam wrote: >>...he and Alice had gone there for their honeymoon. << >This of course overlooks the fact that when P&A went on their >honeymoon, Graceland was *not* the same place it is today... I'm not too >up on my Elvis timelines, but Perry had to have been married at *least* 25 >years - was Graceland open to the public in 1970? > >PJ Maybe in the L&C Universe it was...? Or maybe they just stood outside the gates and bowed and gave thanks for being there (which I *might* do if I were at the McCartney estate in Scotland...) ;) Or, they did it in time travel :) >!^NavFont02F0163000FMGJHG8EMG90HH64F65B Secret code? Debby Debby@swcp.com ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 26 Nov 1997 22:22:59 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Re: INFO > LC FANFIC ARCHIVE Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 12:30 AM 26/11/97 -0500, Demi wrote: >FoLCs, >However, it's our pleasure to announce to you that the archive has been >updated today with many new stories for your reading enjoyment; you can >grab them as usual from: >http://www.ixpres.com/chrispat/lcfanfic >Again, we apologise for the inconvenience There's a Murphy's Law out to get you Demi...Now that you have new stories posted, the server is down;p Margaret It's going to be one of *those* weeks ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 14:50:12 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: The Zoomway Subject: Re: That Sexy Noise Clark Makes (How to Describe It?) Well, we play that scene as a wav file on #loiscla a lot. It's sort of a gutterul (oooh ;) hum or moan. Gutterul means 'from the throat' (this *is* getting interesting ;) I actually asked this question for you on IRC and played the wav. Chris said it was a 'yummy' sound ;) All we agreed on really is that we *love* when Dean does/did that Zoomway@aol.com ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 15:49:27 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Ethel \"Terri\" Addison" Subject: Re: That Sexy Noise Clark Makes (How to Describe It?) Dear Zoomie, et al.: On Thu, 27 Nov 1997 14:50:12 -0500 The Zoomway writes: >Well, we play that scene as a wav file on #loiscla a lot. It's sort of a >gutterul (oooh ;) hum or moan. Gutterul means 'from the throat' (this *is* >getting interesting ;) I actually asked this question for you on IRC and >played the wav. Chris said it was a 'yummy' sound ;) All we agreed on really >is that we *love* when Dean does/did that He *does* make some rather DEE-licious sounds, doesn't he? Not to mention when he scrunches up his face in that cute, sexy way. God, is there anything about him that *isn't* sexy (other than the fact that he's a neat freak)??? I was watching some more episodes last night (my folks are up north, can you tell?), and I discovered that he makes a noise at the beginning of "Brutal Youth" that is a lot closer to the one I'm trying to pin down. He does it right after (and during) the following conversation: CLARK: You know, we could still make those reservations in Hawaii. (The noise is kind of thrumming in his voice at this point.) LOIS: *We* are not leaving this *room.* Then he makes the noise in response to her directive. YUMMY!!! (Yeah, that describes it for general purposes...but what about *written* purposes? C'mon, guys....Can't you help me out, here? My writers' group told me to come to you for guidance.) :-) LO-OVE that MA-AN!!! Your friend in FoLCdom, Carol A. Editor, THROUGH SUPER-COLORED GLASSES ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 17:36:18 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: No Name Available Subject: Re: That Sexy Noise Clark Makes (How to Describe It?) Could someone please send me that wav file? ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 20:06:33 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Laurie Stroh Subject: Re: That Sexy Noise Clark Makes (How to Describe It?) In a message dated 97-11-27 15:11:32 EST, you write: << Well, we play that scene as a wav file on #loiscla a lot. It's sort of a gutterul (oooh ;) hum or moan. Gutterul means 'from the throat' (this *is* getting interesting ;) I actually asked this question for you on IRC and played the wav. Chris said it was a 'yummy' sound ;) All we agreed on really is that we *love* when Dean does/did that >> Now Zoom, don't tell me you posted this without thinking that you might get just a few requests for this wav...and guess what? I'm asking for it...or maybe begging is a better word! Actually, with the people I know, I'll be able to send it out to lots of other folks who won't have to bother you for it...... So, if you wouldn't mind could you send the wav my way? Thanks.... Laurie ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 21:29:32 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Ethel \"Terri\" Addison" Subject: TAN: What's a wav? On Thu, 27 Nov 1997 20:06:33 -0500 Laurie Stroh writes: >In a message dated 97-11-27 15:11:32 EST, you write: > ><< Well, we play that scene as a wav file on #loiscla a lot. It's sort of a > gutterul (oooh ;) hum or moan. Gutterul means 'from the throat' (this *is* > getting interesting ;) I actually asked this question for you on IRC and > played the wav. Chris said it was a 'yummy' sound ;) All we agreed on really > is that we *love* when Dean does/did that > >> > >Now Zoom, don't tell me you posted this without thinking that you might get >just a few requests for this wav...and guess what? I'm asking for it...or >maybe begging is a better word! Actually, with the people I know, I'll be >able to send it out to lots of other folks who won't have to bother you for >it...... > >So, if you wouldn't mind could you send the wav my way? Thanks.... Okay, guys....I gather a "wav" is a sound bite file. The question is, how does one "send" it? Does it require web access? (I'll have that soon, but I don't have it, yet. "The software's in the mail.") Thanks for any info, Carol A. ~*~ ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 22:59:42 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 1 of 8 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" [I decided to post this to the list, because on re-reading it I realized I hadn't given credit to Peace for all the inside information she gave me on Lawrence, Kansas and wanted to rectify that omission. I was intrigued by the fact that she thought Ottawa, Kansas could be the "alternate name" for the *real* Smallville. And, since I live in Ottawa, Canada I couldn't resist using that location and nearby Lawrence, Kansas with its university (complete with real-life Journalism School) as Clark's alma mater. Peace went the extra mile in making sure I had all the place names in Lawrence real. Yes, there really is a store called Dean's Half Price Books there, she even wrote to them to make sure she was giving me the true facts:) I hope knowing this will add to your enjoyment of the story:)] ************************************************************** Author's Note: For a while now, I've been fascinated by what Clark's life was like before he came to Metropolis. This is my third fanfic on the subject (the other two are "The Rules" and "The Long Road") You don't *have* to have read the previous ones to read this one;) However, it *would* help if you'd seen the Pilot episode of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman:) I acknowledge that I'm just borrowing the famous characters created by DC Comics, Warner Brothers Studios, December 3rd Productions and ABC Television. On the other hand this story and the rest of the characters in it are mine--all mine It should be noted that in the world that Clark lives in, the British spelling is used as the standard (this little known fact I learned on a recent trip to Metropolis) I'd like to thank Debby S., Lynda L., Peace E. and Phillip A. for critiquing and proofing. I'd also like to thank Debby for giving me access to a copy of the script for the Pilot episode, and Peace for all the inside information on Lawrence, Kansas. Words with * around them are emphasized. ************************************************************* The One by Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com February 1997 ************************************************************* Ottawa -- August 1992 Clark stared out of the second-floor restaurant window at the calm waters of the lake below. There were sailboats skittering across the widest part of Dows Lake, and right below where he was sitting were several blue and yellow pedal boats, filled with couples and families enjoying the late afternoon sun. Hanging overhead in the far distance was a rainbow-coloured hot air balloon, its colours contrasting with the almost cloudless blue sky. On the other side of the lake, couples strolled among the manicured gardens. It was an ideal summer day. "Clark. When does your flight leave?" Clark's attention returned to the young woman sitting on the opposite side of the table. Her wide blue eyes were her predominant feature, giving her an air of innocence that was accentuated by her halo of blond hair. She was one of the reasons he had to leave, but that wasn't something he wanted *her* to know. He'd agreed to this early dinner with her to say goodbye and hopefully allay any suspicions she might have about him. "I fly out tomorrow evening." He didn't bother adding that he wouldn't be using a plane to do it. "So that means you're free this evening?" She had that smug look on her face that he'd learned to be wary of. "Well, not exactly, I still have some packing to do." He had the feeling that she was going to insist he spend his last evening in Ottawa at her place--and he wanted to avoid that at all costs. "But you have all day tomorrow for that." She pouted prettily. "You could take some time off tonight," she reached over and took his hand in hers. "Couldn't you?" He gently withdrew his hand from her clasp. "I really don't think so. But thanks for asking, I appreciate it." "But, Cla-ark!" Paula pouted. She was particularly good at pouting. In the distance, Clark heard a splash, off on the other side of the lake, and a quick peer over his glasses showed that one of the sailboats was in trouble. "I'm sorry, Paula," Clark pulled the napkin off his lap and laid it on the table, "I need to visit the men's room. I'll be right back." He smiled apologetically at her and rose from the table. Paula did not look at all pleased at his sudden departure. Clark hurried out of the restaurant and down the stairs to the public deck below. Once outside, he dashed around the outside of the pavilion underneath the restaurant overhang and then, using his "special" breath, righted the sailboat just before its sail fell into the water. Pausing for a few seconds to make sure the sailboat and its occupants were going to be fine, if a little damp, he hurried back up to the restaurant, and returned to the table and Paula. While he was gone, the check had come and Paula had paid it. She was now sipping the remains of her drink. This wasn't like Paula. She usually let him pick up the tab. "Paula, you didn't have to do that! I was more than willing to pay." "Think of it as my goodbye present." Paula was watching him carefully, as if she wanted to see what he was going to do next. Her scrutiny was making him nervous, especially in light of what he suspected she'd seen a couple of weeks ago, not to mention the partial conversation he'd overheard, just before they'd left the Journal building to come to the restaurant, that had ended with the words "..it's harmless--relax, already". He took a sip out of the drink remaining in his glass, but found it had an odd taste that for some reason seemed kind of familiar. Paula was watching him intently. Clark took another sip to try and analyze its contents. Yes, there was definitely something wrong with this. Then an image of the voodoo ritual he'd witnessed when he was in the Caribbean, last fall, popped into his head. His guide had explained that tranquillizers were sometimes used to make the worshippers more susceptible to suggestion. The guide had insisted that Clark and his FBI companion smell and taste-test the concoction so they would recognize it if they came across it again in their investigation. They hadn't--then. But now...? He sniffed the contents of his glass cautiously, and decided his initial instinct was right--there was an almost lethal amount of tranquillizer in the beer. He looked at Paula. Could she? Would she? From the eager expression on her face, he knew she had! She'd dropped something in his beer when he'd supposedly gone to the men's room. What was she trying to do? Test him? Poison him? No--more likely she figured he'd be more "in the mood" with a little help. This only confirmed the implications of the conversation he'd overheard before they'd left the office. He sighed. He shouldn't have accepted her invitation for an early dinner. Well, he couldn't leave this for some unsuspecting person to accidentally swallow. He upended the last of the beer into his mouth and when he looked at Paula, dilated his eyes so she'd think the drug was taking effect, then "accidentally" knocked the glass off the table so that it shattered on the tile floor and couldn't be used again. The serving staff rushed over to clean up the broken glass and Clark apologized profusely, over and over, to further solidify Paula's notion that he was being affected by whatever she'd dropped into his glass. She took him by the arm and led him towards the restaurant's exit. Clark stopped as they passed the sign with an arrow and the word "Washrooms" on it. He put his hand on the wall as if he needed it for support. "I need...men's room." He pulled away from Paula and stumbled through the door with the stick-man figure on it. Once inside he entered a cubicle, locked the door and used his "special" vision to see what Paula was doing. She was sitting on one of the little wooden benches the restaurant provided for people waiting when the restaurant was busy. She was looking more than a little concerned. Maybe she hadn't realized the consequences of what she'd done. What the heck had she been thinking? He wished he could just leave without seeing her again, but there were no windows and only one exit from this second-storey washroom. He leaned back into a reclining position and began to float a few inches above the tiled floor. He might as well relax since he'd have to kill some time before re-emerging. Floating felt so good. He hadn't permitted himself to relax like this since that day, a couple of weeks back, when he'd almost given himself away in front of Paula. How could he have been so dumb? It had only been a tiny mistake: when everyone else at the office had been away in a meeting and he was alone, he'd floated up to the ceiling to tighten the fluorescent light tube to stop its maddening flickering. He'd almost made it back down to the ground when Paula had walked in. He'd only been about half a foot off the ground, but she *had* to have seen him floating in midair. He'd tried faking an exercise program to cover his action, but that wasn't logical. Why would he be doing jumping jacks in the middle of the office? It hadn't been the first time he'd made a mistake doing something "special", here in Ottawa, but it *was* the most glaring. His job at the Ottawa Journal was nice, steady work, but it wasn't exactly exciting, especially compared with his recent jobs in Washington and the Caribbean. He liked the city, but it wasn't the kind of place you could remain anonymous in for any length of time, especially if you were at all unusual. He couldn't make any more mistakes. He was tired of making excuses. He had to leave. Not wanting to make it too obvious why he was leaving, he'd arranged for a job interview in England to use as his reason for quitting. Then the day after the "jumping jacks" incident, he handed in his two weeks notice. Coming back to the present he peered out at Paula again, and wondered how long he should stay in this cubicle. She wasn't restless so he must still be within a normal time-frame for a visit to the facilities. Clark sighed. He was sensing a trend here. When he first got to a new place, everything would be great. He'd get a job he liked, meet a few people who he figured he could be friends with and then, wham, he'd blow it and have to leave before people started asking too many awkward questions. His sojourn in Ottawa had almost precisely followed this pattern. He'd gotten into town in mid-February when Winterlude was in full swing. That had been fun! The ice sculptures in Confederation Park, made by professional sculptors, had been simply amazing. He'd had a wonderful time skating the six kilometres along the Canal to Dows Lake, where equally amazing snow sculptures made by amateur teams had covered the frozen lake. His first Beavertail, from a snack hut on the ice, had satisfied his craving for high fat, high sugar, non-nutritious food. Then, he'd gotten the job at the Journal! He'd never been happier. Early in April he'd met Paula, and she'd seemed wonderful. He'd watched the seasons change from Winter through Spring into Summer. Spring had exploded on the scene with masses of colourful flowers throughout all the parks--and Ottawa had an amazing number of parks, especially along the canal and the rivers. The hot-air balloons had begun to proliferate then too. It had felt like he finally had a place to feel comfortable and safe. Summer had arrived with its heat and humidity and he could hardly wait until Fall so he could see the change of colour in the trees everyone raved about. Kansas had lovely leaf changes in the Fall, but people came from all over the world to see the "colour" in *this* area. Just as he'd finally decided to stay here for a while, his world had started to deteriorate. Paula had proven to be a problem, rather than a blessing. It hadn't been too long before he began to realize just how narcissistic she could be. He'd tried to see this as a good thing. After all, if she was totally focused on herself, she wouldn't notice any minor anomolies in his own behaviour. He'd been *so* wrong about that! She seemed to view real life as if it were some kind of soap opera where everyone was perturbed about what every one else was doing--and talked about it constantly. She'd totally focused on his every move, especially as it related to herself. He'd soon learned to be wary of being alone with her and avoided it whenever possible. Then, he'd just about exposed his secret. The time had come, once again, to cut his losses and move on. Clark again looked out into the hall to see what Paula was doing. She still seemed to be waiting patiently so he'd hold on a little longer before making his appearance. Clark shook his head, uncertain as to why he'd even been interested in her. It made no sense, in light of her behaviour over the last few weeks. Why had he agreed to dinner with her tonight? He knew she was extremely neurotic and totally self-absorbed. He should have said no, or at least communicated what *he* wanted. Not that she would have paid any attention, her self-absorption was supreme. Take the choice of this restaurant, for instance, they were supposed to be here as *his* goodbye dinner, but it was *her* favourite restaurant, and of course if she liked it *everyone* must like it. He sighed at his own stupidity. She'd seemed so sweet and innocent when he first met her. For several weeks now she'd been trying to get him to her apartment. She obviously had only one thing in mind and he knew he couldn't do that thing--not with her. He still wasn't sure if he dared take the chance with *anyone*, but at the very least he'd have to be able to trust that person to keep his secret--and Paula just wasn't that person. He took another look into the hallway. Now Paula was starting to look restless and a little anxious, so he figured he'd been away long enough for someone who was ill. He exited the cubicle and went to the sink. He'd have to make this look like he'd been sick and cleaned up after himself, if he meant to convince her not to try this on anyone else more vulnerable. He looked in the mirror. His hair and beard were far too neat. He always tried to keep them as neat as possible since he couldn't trim them. Fortunately, his hair had a smooth, silky texture that didn't become frizzy in the heat and humidity and just needed regular combing to keep it tidy. With his features and colouring, he tended to look like a Native American, and he often wore his hair braided to complete this illusion. However, today, his hair was simply tied back. He pulled the leather thong holding his hair back from its place at the nape of his neck, and let the black abundance of hair cascade around his shoulders until it rested part way down his back. He'd really have to figure out how to cut his hair soon! His Mom's last attempt a few years back had broken the toughest garden shears they had! He'd decided to wear a beard and let his hair grow in the summer between his Sophomore and Junior years, to blend in better with the college crowd. Then, a couple of years later, discovered that he didn't have a choice about the length of his hair. He couldn't use any man-made tools to cut his hair. His beard had taken a little longer to become invulnerable, but now he couldn't cut it either. Fortunately, it grew slowly, so it wasn't really long and scruffy--yet. The beard and long hair hadn't been too much of a problem when he was first wandering the globe, after finishing school. However, long hair and beards weren't as acceptable as they used to be, especially in the business world--even drug dealers had short hair and tended to look like that cop on Miami Vice. Now, long hair gave him the air of being a radical. He didn't want to appear radical, he wanted to blend in so people wouldn't be paying attention to him if he made a mistake. He bent over the sink to splash water on his face, dampening his hair, moustache, beard and T-shirt in the process. He used a paper towel to wipe off most of the excess water, leaving some for effect. He then retied his hair back so that it looked less sleek. As he put his glasses back on, he remembered that summer he'd decided to grow a beard was also the one when he'd decided to forgo wearing glasses. What a mistake! It had seemed silly to wear expensive visual assists he didn't actually need. Unfortunately, he'd discovered that in fact he *did* need the glasses--to make him think twice about using his special skills. His early training with the glasses still held even after all this time. Subsequent to his decision to not wear glasses, he'd spent most of *that* summer leaving for new places, to avoid having to explain the "strange" thing he'd just done. He'd keep forgetting to not use any kind of "special" vision in the presence of others, prompting people to wonder about "magical" fires and Clark's "second sight", and then he'd have to think up even more excuses to hide his special nature. As a result he'd gone back to wearing glasses again that Fall. He'd told the few friends and neighbours who'd known he wasn't wearing glasses that summer that he just hadn't been able to adjust to wearing contact lenses. No-one seemed to think his going back to wearing glasses unusual. Satisfied with the mussed appearance he'd created, he changed the dilation of his eyes and the blood flow to his face so that he now looked pale and somewhat frail. When he came out of the men's room door, Paula looked relieved. "Are you okay, Clark?" "I think so. I don't know what happened...I've never had this bad a reaction to food before!" Actually he'd never had a bad reaction to any food, but that was beside the point. "Reaction?" Paula sounded a little scared. "Yes, I have allergies, but not usually to foods. Mostly medication, like Penicillin and some types of tranquillizers." Paula's eyes widened as he said this and she looked terrified. Obviously, she'd done it without realizing the damage she could do! Nevertheless, he couldn't let her do that to anyone else. They walked slowly out of the restaurant, Clark keeping up his pose of invalid as he'd seen people do it on television. He stopped at the top of the steps for a few seconds, as if the stairs were going to be a problem, and held onto the handrail the whole way down. Once they'd reached the ground floor and exited through the double entrance doors he leaned on one of the support pillars for the restaurant overhang and tried to look weak, hoping he wasn't being a ham. "Clark, what's wrong?" "I...I think I'd better...sit down." She led him to one of the metal park benches that overlooked the wooden dock along the north edge of the lake. After sitting with his elbows on his knees, and his hands over his eyes for a few moments, he looked up at Paula and said, "I'm sorry, I'm spoiling your goodbye gift." Paula looked stricken. She swallowed a couple of times, pulled a tissue from her purse, and then to his surprise confessed, "No *I'm* sorry. I shouldn't have..." She twisted the Kleenex in her hands. "She said it wouldn't hurt you. She said it would just make you relax." "She?" He'd known there was an accomplice in this, he just hadn't seen the other person she'd been talking to in the scrap of conversation he'd overheard. It hadn't seemed important at the time. "Susie in Printing. She gave me this stuff that she said would help you relax and then you'd agree to come home with me." Paula was crying now. "I never meant to hurt you! I just wanted you to...to..." Clark said, in short simple sentences so there would be no misunderstanding, "Paula, you drugged me! You were lucky that I didn't *die*!" Paula's eyes widened in horror. He knew that the drug would have no effect on someone with his iron constitution, but if she ever tried this with anyone else.... "Look, Paula, lots of people have allergies. You never know what that will do to a person. If they go into anaphylactic shock, they can die. You were lucky that I reacted so violently that it didn't stay in my system. What were you *thinking*?" "I wanted you to be with me tonight. I wanted to feel good about myself. You never wanted to...to..." Paula blew her nose on a now-almost-shredded Kleenex. Clark sighed. "Paula, why would getting me stoned and then doing what you...thought you'd get me to do, make you feel good about yourself? That doesn't make sense." "I dunno. I guess I thought you'd like me if...if we did it, and then you'd change your mind and stay." Wondering which soap opera she'd gleaned this "wisdom" from, Clark scrubbed his face with his hands, and then looked at her long and hard. "Paula, I don't think that's the way it works." Paula looked miserable and hurt. In other circumstances he might have tried to let her know she was a worthwhile person who didn't need to trick people into doing what she wanted. However, he realized that would be counter-productive at this point. Any indication that he cared for her, however slight, would only feed her fantasy. "Could you call a cab? I don't think I'm going to be able to walk any distance any time real soon." What he wanted to do was fly as far and as fast as possible from here, but he'd have to carry out his role to the end. Paula jumped up and hurried to a nearby phone box to call Royal Line. The cab came within minutes and he gave the driver Paula's address. Paula looked pleased, as if she was going to get what she wanted after all--Clark at her place. When the cab pulled up to the curb in front of Paula's building on The Driveway, Clark claimed weakness and fatigue as a reason not to see her to her door as he normally would have done--if it had been any other woman, in any other circumstances. He thanked her for dinner and said this was goodbye since he wouldn't have time tomorrow to see her again. Paula looked disappointed but didn't press him to stay, which was unusual enough to convince him that his "lesson" had taken some effect. He redirected the cab to his place on Sunnyside and breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door of his small, one-room apartment behind him. It was a good thing he was leaving town tomorrow. He didn't know if he could have dealt with Paula too much longer. Why did he always have these kinds of problems? Why couldn't he just find a really interesting, exciting job...and a woman to be friends with, who liked him for who he was--whom he could trust with his secret? Was that too much to ask? ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 22:59:47 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 2 of 8 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" ***** London--August 1992 Clark stood across the street from The Chronicle building. He was ten minutes early for his job interview and was staring at the building, trying to decide if this felt like the kind of place in which he'd like to spend some time working. The Chronicle was the last holdout newspaper on Fleet Street. Most had moved to the East End. However, The Chronicle of London was a world-class newspaper, like the New York Times, the Metropolis Daily Planet and The International Tribune--and The Chronicle was proud of it, and as a result had stayed put in the same building it had occupied for the last 234 years. Nevertheless, it liked to keep up with the times and had changed its name four times in the last 175 years in an effort to stay relevant to its subscribers. The Chronicle was the kind of newspaper that set the standard, it didn't just follow the pack. Clark picked up his suitcase and stepped into the street. He carefully watched for traffic in the "wrong" direction, since he didn't want to expose himself by denting any vehicles that accidentally ran into him. He crossed and slowly mounted the worn stone steps into the main lobby. At the focal point of the lobby was a circular desk with an "Information" sign hung from the vaulted ceiling. Under the sign, a young woman sat at the desk. He approached, put down his case and explained he had an appointment with Mr. Cunningham. The woman barely glanced up from the novel she was reading, "Take the first lift to the fourth floor. When you get off, he's in the second office on your right." Clark thanked her, and picking up his case again, he walked towards the elevator. The ancient elevator was manually operated. The operator, a short elderly man with a distinct stoop, asked Clark which floor he wanted and then pulled the metal accordion safety doors across before flipping the switch to close the outer door. He rotated a handle to set the elevator in motion and then began to hum, slightly out of tune, until they reached the fourth floor. As the old man adjusted the cage to be level with the floor and pulled open the accordion folding doors he repeated Clark's request, "Four, please," and held out his arm to suggest that Clark leave. Clark smiled and said "Thank you," as he stepped out of the elevator. Clark found himself in a long wood-panelled corridor, and turning to the right, spotted Mr. Cunningham's office almost immediately. He knocked on the door and, at the shouted invitation to "Come in!" opened the door and entered. Mr. Cunningham's office made Clark think of a room out of a movie version of a Dickens novel. It was small and dark and cluttered. The furniture must have been at least a hundred years old and it was covered with proofs and old editions of The Chronicle under at least three out of its four various names. Mr. Cunningham could have been a character out of Dickens as well, he even wore a green eye-shade on his forehead. Clark could easily visualize this man sitting at a tall clerk's desk writing with a quill pen in a long ledger. Mr. Cunningham looked up. "Ye-e-s?" "Mr. Cunningham, I'm Clark Kent. We corresponded and arranged an interview." "Ah, yes. The Canadian." Mr. Cunningham rummaged through a pile of papers on his desk and pulled out a piece of paper that Clark recognized as his letter of application. "Actually I'm from Kansas, in the United States." "Ah, quite. An American. Please, sit." Clark sat in a straight-back chair in front of Mr. Cunningham's desk. "Now, why did you want to work for The Chronicle?" Mr. Cunningham looked at him over his glasses. "Well, sir, I know this is a world-class newspaper and I'd like to gain the kind of experience I can get here." "Of course. Why did you leave the Ottawa Journal so abruptly?" Mr. Cunningham peered over his reading glasses and steepled his fingers waiting for an answer. Clark was beginning to get nervous. This might not be as easy an interview as he'd hoped. Clark had known he was almost bound to get this kind of question. There hadn't been any good reason why he should leave the Journal. He gave the only reason he'd been able to think of in preparation for the question he knew he was bound to be asked, "Ah.... I needed to be in London for personal reasons, and so I handed in my resignation." "I see. The editor of the Journal said he was sorry to see you go. What other experience do you have?" Clark breathed a little easier. His weak excuse had passed the test. Clark told Mr. Cunningham about his experience writing for the Smallville Post and his freelance articles written for other newspapers around the world during his travels. "Good, very good. Well travelled are you? That would explain your eclectic resume. Do you have any samples of your work?" Clark pulled out one of the stories he'd written that first summer he'd travelled to the South Pacific and his article on gun runners in the Caribbean. Mr. Cunningham scanned them quickly. "Well, Mr. Kent, you seem qualified." He readjusted his glasses. "I have a three-month contract position open at the moment. I can't promise it will get more permanent. The newspaper business is in a state of flux right now. However, if you wish to take it, it's yours. You'd be working as an assistant to more senior reporters." "That sounds fine, Mr. Cunningham. Working with a senior reporter should give me some of the experience I'm looking for." "Good. Report to Personnel, and then tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. see Rex Carruthers in Sports. He'll be your first assignment. I'll have you rotate through the different areas and let you know which will be your assignment for the duration." Clark stood up, thanked him and shook his hand. He asked for directions to Personnel and then left Mr. Carruthers peering at some copy. ***** Clark went back to his room and phoned home to Kansas to let his folks know where he was and that he had a job with The Chronicle. Mom and Dad were thrilled to hear from him. They'd just received the Hudson Bay blankets he'd sent from Ottawa. Mom said she'd put one of them away in the attic with his other things for when he got a place of his own. Clark noticed Mom never said "if". Dad warned him again about the "big city" and all the problems it could create for him. Mom asked him to look for a pretty silk scarf to go with her beige pant suit. She'd heard that Liberty's had a wonderful selection--but only when he'd collected some spare cash together, she didn't want him to be extravagant. Clark assured her he'd be frugal, gave them both his love and hung up. He now had the afternoon and evening free, since he'd been hired at The Chronicle and didn't have to look any further for work. He still had some money from his job in Ottawa, so he decided to be a tourist and see some of London. After combing his hair and forming it into a single braid, he threw on his suit jacket and ventured out to see the sights and sounds of London. Late in the afternoon, after a grand tour of some of the museums and galleries, he stopped into the Savoy for afternoon tea. He was still dressed in the suit and tie he'd worn to his job interview and he made a side trip to the men's room to make sure his hair was still tightly braided and his beard was as neat as he could make it under the circumstances. Fortunately, it had grown slowly since he'd been unable to trim it, but it was now on the edge of looking ragged. He combed it as meticulously as he could. He didn't want to be barred from the restaurant in this elegant hotel. He'd always wanted to have a *real* English tea. The tea was really good, but the scones weren't anywhere near as scrumptious as his Mom's. While he was relaxing in the opulent atmosphere of the hotel, he thought about where he was going to live for the next few months. He couldn't stay in the room he was in at the rooming-house in Bloomsbury. It would cost a fortune and, from his interview with Personnel, he knew he wasn't going to be able to afford that kind of accommodation. He'd have to find something else, and soon. Putting this problem aside for now, he decided he'd continue his day as a tourist. It might be his last chance to do this. Once he started his job, he figured he'd be too busy for sightseeing. He decided to use the evening to see a live theatre show. After all, London was famous for its theatre. At the same-day sale kiosk in Leicester Square he looked over the list of available tickets. Most were out of his price range, especially the latest hits. He wanted to see a truly British production and finally narrowed his selection down to the Agatha Christie mystery, and bought a ticket to "The Mousetrap." It had been running since before he was born and *still* people wanted to see it. He'd seen an amateur production in Toronto, which had been entertaining, if a little pedantic. It would be interesting to see why it was still running in London. He chose not to return to his rooms to change. The suit he'd worn to his job interview would do for the theatre. He used one of the public washrooms in the tube station to freshen up, stopped at a bistro in the theatre district for dinner and then went in search of the theatre itself. The streets in that neighbourhood were bustling with crowds rushing to the different theatres. He was beginning to realize what city life in a major metropolitan centre could be like. He had tended to travel in more remote regions, afraid he'd stand out among crowds of people. He was beginning to like the feel of a big city. The feeling was completely different than in smaller cities he'd visited, like Ottawa. He found the theatre without too much difficulty, climbed the steps up to the third balcony and found his seat. Anticipation for the start of the play permeated the theatre. Two and a half hours later the mystery came to its conclusion and Clark sat back in his seat, after leaning forward for the applause, letting the sounds and sights of the theatre just flow over him. The play had been fascinating. He hadn't realized what a difference professional acting could make to a play. The amateur production was positively dull compared to this one. These actors brought the play to life. This time the characters were real and had true motivation. He'd applauded with the rest of the audience when the lead actor pleaded for everyone to keep the secret of the mystery so others could come and enjoy it. Clark was so glad he'd come. He'd thoroughly enjoyed himself. He remained seated waiting for the bulk of the crowd to leave. He gazed at the throng around him, enjoying watching the people. Everyone dealt with the delay in their own way. Standing in the aisle was a couple holding hands, completely in love and oblivious to the crowds around them. They were nose-to-nose, whispering small endearments to each other. Behind them, an old man with a cane shuffled along, taking each stair one step at a time. A young woman about Clark's own age with curly auburn hair stood in the aisle reading a book, while she patiently waited for the people ahead of her to move forward. Others, like Clark, just remained seated. Once the crowd had thinned, Clark rose from his seat and slowly walked down the steps to the Upper Circle lobby. Here the crowd was jostling its way to the double doors leading to the stairs that would eventually reach the street below. He was part way down the stairs when someone stumbled against him. He quickly caught them so they didn't fall. It was the auburn-haired young woman he'd seen reading the book. "Are you okay?" Clark asked. "Yes...yes." She pulled herself away from him, standing up straight only to be knocked by two people in a hurry to pass, right after a tour bus driver had given a general call to encourage his coachload of theatre-goers to hurry it up. Clark put his arm protectively behind her to prevent further shoving by the crowd on the stairs. "Here, stand in front of me so you don't get pushed again." The young woman moved in front of him as asked and stood holding the handrail until the crowd in front of them cleared a little. "Thank you." She looked up over her shoulder at him and smiled. "You're American, aren't you?" "You're welcome!" Clark said, returning her smile. "And, yes I am." She smiled again and started to move forward, since the crowd had begun to disperse. Clark hurried after her so he wouldn't lose her in the crowd. "I'm Clark, what's your name?" "Deirdre." She moved further down the stairs, stopped and turned. "And thanks again, Clark. Thank you very much." Then she almost ran down the remaining stairs and exited to the street before Clark was aware of what she was going to do. He stared after her. She seemed almost scared of him. He could have caught up with her, but he decided that would only frighten her even more. Why was she scared? He shook his head in bewilderment. Shrugging off the feeling he continued down the stairs. As he crossed to the exit, he caught sight of himself in the mirrored walls in the front foyer. His carefully combed hair and beard were now dishevelled. Oh, great, she probably ran off because she thought he was some kind of wild man. He *really* needed to figure out a way to trim his hair and beard--and soon. ***** Clark was juggling five pints of beer as he squirmed his way through the crowd surrounding the bar at the Goose and Garter, trying to avoid spilling any of it and at the same time not injuring anyone he bumped into. He was endeavouring to return to the table used by the crowd from work. They were seated in the far back corner, next to the fireplace which even in August was blazing to keep the room warm. It was tradition, or so he'd been told, that the person who had just received their first pay packet was obliged to buy the first round of drinks. He wasn't sure if they'd just made this up, or if it really was a tradition, but he was willing to go along with the idea to make friends. It was a form of celebration too. It was the Friday after his first week at The Chronicle, during which he'd worked briefly in all the different sections of the newspaper. Today he'd been told he'd be working for the society editor, Reginald Chrichton, for the balance of his contract. It wasn't exactly the beat he'd have preferred, he'd wanted to spend more time in the community news section, but it *was* a toe in the door. Clark was happy to have a framework for his immediate future. Now all he had to do was act "normal" and he'd be able to stick around for a while. He lowered each pint to the table in front of his new co-workers and seated himself beside Lynda who'd been the one to inform him of his obligation as "first pay packet" recipient. "So, Clark, where are you working next week? Who's the lucky bloke getting you on his team?" Phillip grinned. "Mr. Cunningham said I'd be working with the society editor." Clark didn't mention that Mr. Cunningham had been surprised an American had such facility with languages, and had chosen the society section to utilize this unexpected talent. "Society! Clark! You have to be kidding me!" Lynda stared at him intently, then at his puzzled look continued, "Old Man Chrichton is a *stickler* for what he calls 'proper'." She crooked her fingers around the word as she spoke it to suggest quotation marks. "Proper?" Colin jumped in, "Chrichton insists all his 'boys' dress 'proper'." "I have a suit. I need more shirts, but..." Did they think he was too "colonial" to know how to dress? "It's not just the *clothes*, Clark," Lynda interrupted. "No face fuzz!" added Colin. "No long hair!" said Peter. "Business clothes are only the beginning." Clark stared around at the four of them, with a terrible feeling of disaster forming in the pit of his stomach. "So you're telling me that by Monday, I have to shave off my beard and get my hair cut?" "Yep!" they cried in unison, grinning. Clark buried his face in his hands. "I can't..." He felt Lynda's arm around his shoulders. "Clark, it's not the end of the world. You can grow them back once your assignment with Chrichton is over. It's only a couple of months." "But, you don't understand..." Clark was feeling panic. How the heck was he going to cut his hair by Monday? He'd been trying to figure out a way to do that for *years*! Peter cuffed him gently in the shoulder. "Clark, I felt exactly the same way when I had to work for Chrichton and look at me now." Peter had a Van Dyke beard and shoulder length hair. It made him look like a medieval painting of a prince that Clark had seen at one of the art galleries. Clark sighed. If it wasn't one thing it was another. Resignedly he said, "Okay, I guess I'll have to bite the bullet and just do it." "That's the spirit!" Colin raised his glass to toast the demise of Clark's hirsute looks. Clark drank glumly. No-one seemed to think his mood unusual, so he stopped worrying that he might have given himself away. After reviewing the conversation again, he realized he hadn't said anything that might indicate a physical inability to remove the excess hair. However, if he couldn't figure out a way to cut his hair, he'd have to leave town again. He'd only just got here a week ago! How was he supposed to build a journalism career if he if he couldn't stick in one place for anything more than a few weeks? Peter bought the next round and the topic of conversation moved onto other more worldly events. During a break in the conversation when Lynda went to the bar for her round, Colin bemoaned the fact that his third was leaving. "Third?" Clark was puzzled. "The third person in our flat. We need his rent to make ends meet." Colin sounded morose. Clark asked about details. If the third of the rent was within his means, this could solve his housing problem. The only difficulty with this option being that he'd be living in close quarters with two other people who didn't know about his "special" talents. He'd never done that before. He didn't know if he could. Even in college he'd had his own room, Mom insisted because she wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep, under stress, without floating. By the end of the evening, he'd gotten an invitation from Colin to see the flat on Monday evening after work. Colin had explained that the other flat-mate was going to be away for the weekend, so Monday was the earliest he could meet him. So on Monday he could meet the second roommate, see the accommodations, and make his decision. Clark and the rest of the crowd split up at the tube station, as they each headed towards their respective homes. ******* It was Saturday night. Clark stood staring at himself in the bathroom mirror in his small room in Bloomsbury. He'd gone out and bought a pair of scissors, a comb, a razor and shaving cream, and a hand mirror to use in his attempt to cut his hair and shave off his beard and mustache. As expected, the scissors didn't survive his first attempt to snip off the ends of a lock of hair. He glared at himself. There had to be a solution. *Think* Clark, think! But nothing came, his mind was a blank. Throwing the broken scissors on the shelf under the medicine cabinet, he walked over to the lumpy couch, flopped down and switched on the TV. Sometimes it helped just to let the mind wander. He surfed through the four channels available, passing up on a game show that seemed to be a British version of a silly American show that had died in the States years ago, a personal account on laser eye surgery that just barely bordered on being like an American infomercial, and a documentary on earth worms. He finally settled on an interview of two people who it appeared were in high society here. If he was going to work for the society editor, it might be a good idea to get a feel for what the job could entail. After ten minutes of listening to the interviewer politely ask what appeared to Clark to be entirely irrelevant questions, he gave up and switched off the TV. He lay back and tried *not* to think about how he was going to cut his hair. His mind drifted, and he was just on the edge of falling asleep when he jerked awake and flipped the TV back on. He flipped through the channels again and stopped at the "infomercial." This was it! The doctors were using lasers to cut the iris of the person's eye to shape it so that they wouldn't need to wear glasses. *He* had eyes that used a weird kind of "special" vision which acted almost like laser beams. Up to now he'd just assumed the vision was only good for lighting fires. But if he focused his vision properly, he could use his eyes for cutting things! Surely it had to work on his hair! He pulled the cord out of his hair to let it fall loose, then pulled a handful of it in front of his eyes. He concentrated the vision--and it worked--he sheered off the ends. He did the same with another handful, and another. This was fantastic! He had his solution! Clark literally flew back to the bathroom mirror. His hair hung unevenly at shoulder length. Next problem--how could he cut it to "short back and sides" length and how could he shave off his beard? He couldn't see the back of his head or his beard, except in the mirror. Then another piece of the puzzle clicked into place: Laser beams used mirrors to focus the beam. He could use the mirror to focus on himself. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Grinning through the whole process, he reflected his "laser eye" beam off the mirror and "shaved" off his beard and mustache. The process kind of tickled, but he didn't feel the heat. Somehow his skin seemed to withstand the heat now matter how strongly he concentrated it. Now, with his clean-shaven face and shoulder length hair, he looked like Prince Valiant. Unfortunately, unlike his skin, this activity seemed to have melted part of the mirror. How was he going to continue cutting his hair without destroying the mirror? He couldn't quit now, he really needed to cut his hair in a business cut. After thinking a moment, he pulled the comb through his hair to the length he wanted it at the side and using the comb as a guide "cut" it by reflecting his vision off a different part of the mirror. This seemed to work just fine. He did the same thing on the other side, continuously shifting the focal point of the reflection so that he didn't do any more damage to the mirror. The front of his hair was now even and just below tops of his ears. He picked up the hand mirror. Turning his back to the bathroom mirror, he used the hand mirror to see the back of his head. He held out the hair at the back of his head with the comb and using the same technique, reflected his vision off the hand mirror and bathroom mirror to "cut" it. He could hardly contain the excitement of having resolved a problem he'd been agonizing about for years. When he was finished, he was clean shaven and his hair looked like it had been recently cut by a novice barber. He wasn't too concerned. It would do for now, and he was *sure* he'd do a better job next time. He'd visit a library and look up a book on styling techniques before he had to cut his hair again. He combed his hair away from his forehead. One lock had a tendency to fall forward, but that wasn't unusual. He'd had the same problem when his hair had been short before. He grinned at himself in the mirror. Finally, *finally* he could blend in as a regular guy. ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 22:59:51 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 3 of 8 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" *********** Clark reported to Mr. Chrichton promptly at 9:00 a.m. on Monday morning wearing a freshly pressed suit and shirt and his newly fashioned hair. He figured that if Mr. Chrichton was a stickler for office dress code, punctuality was probably next on his list of "musts." Mr. Chrichton made no comment about his appearance, which Clark took as approval. He was introduced to his mentor, Derek Chapman, and told they would be covering the Embassy and High Commission beat. They were to report social events, and, whenever possible, potential breaking news. Derek spent most of the day showing Clark the ropes, and explaining the styles of inquiry needed when talking to different foreign representatives. Derek then divvied up the week's list of Embassies and High Commissions and he and Clark phoned to make appointments for the balance of the week. During one of his Embassy conversations Derek put his hand over the mouth piece of his phone and said, "Do you have plans Friday night?" and raised his eyebrows interrogatively. "Not so far. Why?" "The President of Nigeria's entourage is visiting for the weekend. There's a buffet dance at Nigeria House, do you want to go? It means free food." "Sure. How should I dress?" Derek rolled his eyes. "Black tie, of course. Do you have a tux?" Clark shook his head. "Don't worry, we'll get you one. Just a sec." Derek removed his hand from the mouthpiece and continued his conversation with the people at the High Commission. When he hung up the phone, Derek looked Clark up and down. "Okay, it's all set. They'll send us our invitations by Thursday at the latest. You probably can't afford to buy a tux before Friday, although I'd recommend the investment, even if you're only going to be doing this for a couple of months. I'll take you to my tailor. In the meantime we can hire one for the night. Okay?" Clark gaped at him. A *tuxedo*. He was expected to buy a tuxedo? "Okay." What else could he say? ***** After his first Monday working with Derek, Clark met Colin in the coffee bar across the street from the Chronicle offices, as agreed. Colin teased him unmercifully about his "new" look. He kept telling Clark the rest of the gang wouldn't recognize him. Once Colin was finished getting a chuckle out of the change, he paused and said, "You know, Clark, this is a good look for you. You should keep it. Only next time--pay a better barber." Clark grinned and concurred: next time the barber would be better. He and Colin took the tube and then the train to Lewisham south of the Thames and walked the short distance from the station to the block of flats where Colin lived. The flat was on what Clark thought of as the second floor, but was described by Colin as the first. There was a living room, a tiny kitchen, and a bathroom that the room-mates shared. Each person had a bedroom to themselves, with a lock on each bedroom door. Clark thought he could live with the arrangement. His main difficulty would be making enough use of the kitchen and bathroom facilities to appear "normal." A tall, lanky young man with crinkly blond hair exited one of the bedrooms and locked the door. "Geoff, I'd like you to meet Clark Kent. He's thinking about sharing the flat." Geoff shook hands with Clark. "Hi, I'm Geoffrey Summers, Colin said you'd be around. Sorry I can't stay, I've got a meeting." Colin rolled his eyes. "What's it this time? Crop circles? Little green men from mars? What?" Geoffrey looked resigned. "It's my UFO club meeting. Clayton Chalmers is addressing the question 'Have Aliens Visited Earth?'. I think it'll be interesting. Professor Chalmers is a very good speaker." Clark heard Colin mutter under his breath, "...for a nutcase." "Nice to meet you, Geoff. I hope you're not going to be late for your meeting." Clark asked politely. "Nice to meet you too. I'll make the meeting okay, if Colin will just step out of my path to the front door." Colin moved to one side and let Geoff exit. He and Clark discussed the costs of sharing the apartment, house rules and do's and don'ts. None of which seemed excessive to Clark. The one-third rent was about half what he was paying for his current room nearer the centre of town, and he kind of liked the idea of being close to other people. He agreed to move in the next day, Tuesday evening after work, since it was the first of the month. He paid his first month's share in advance. Clark went back to his room in Bloomsbury, handing in his notice at the front desk on the way in. They refunded the balance of the week he'd paid in advance and advised him to be out of his room by noon the next day. Since Clark's entire belongings could fit into his one suitcase, this didn't pose a problem. The case had been a gift from Mom and Dad on his twenty-first birthday. It was leather and had his initials in gold on the side. It served as a suitcase, as well as briefcase and laptop holder all in one. He started to pack things into his case, in readiness for his move the next day. ***** London - September 1992 Tuesday he took his belongings into the office and after work moved into the flat in Lewisham. Wednesday evening he'd phoned home to his parents to let them know his new address and phone number and to fill them in on his experiences in London. They were pleased that he'd been able to resolve his haircut and shaving problem and wanted to know all the details about his new "style". Clark could only afford a few minutes on the overseas call so they didn't get to chat long but he was happy to hear their voices. By Thursday evening he was fully settled into his new home, he had the rental of a tux all arranged and was looking forward to experiencing the event at Nigeria House on Friday evening. His two flat-mates were out for the evening so he had the place to himself. It felt wonderful to have more than one room to roam about in. He hadn't realized how cramped he'd felt in the last few places he'd stayed. If he could afford it, next time he'd get a whole apartment for himself, though he'd have to get a better paying job first. He sat in the window seat staring out at the street below. The sidewalks were made of flagstones and the street had an old-fashioned aura as if it were a cobbled street scene, although in actual fact the street was paved. Curious, he used his "special" sight to discover that at one time it *had* been a cobbled street. He refocused and watched people walking along the street, hurrying to finish their errands and get home. He noticed one young couple strolling along hand-in-hand who seemed out of step with the bustle on the street. He watched them with a pang of envy. Clark sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back against the side of the window seat. Would he ever find a woman with whom he would feel mutual love? His history with girlfriends so far hadn't exactly led him in the direction of a mutual feeling of love. First there'd been Lana, who wouldn't have taken kindly to his special nature--if she'd been willing to acknowledge it. Then Donna, who'd recognized it but saw that it wasn't enough of a common bond for them to be a couple. All his other relationships with women had been brief and without any real emotional involvement on his part at all. His relationship with Paula had been longer, but Paula had wanted them to be a couple so badly that she'd been willing to do *anything* to make it so. There hadn't been any real emotional tie on his side. Was that his future? One-sided relationships where either he, or the girl, thought they were in love--but not both at the same time? What was *real* love? Donna had said he'd know it when he found it. But how? Clark sighed, got up and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. He decided to make it the "normal" way, just in case his flat-mates showed up in the next few minutes. ***** The chandelier shimmered in the subdued light of the ballroom. People of all colours and nationalities were mingling, chatting and laughing. Couples dressed in tuxedos and floor length gowns danced to the music of a small dance band playing in one corner. Clark drank in the smells, the textures and the sounds. He'd spent so much of his time in the past few years in remote areas that he hadn't attended any formal occasions. It had never occurred to him that he might enjoy this kind of formal evening. He and Derek had arrived promptly at the time printed on their invitations and were admitted without even a hint that they might not be special guests of the High Commissioner. Derek had explained that these evening events were more PR than real news, so their press credentials were overlooked in preference to examination of their invitations. Derek had shepherded Clark through his first round of greetings with the Nigerian embassy staff and guests and then left Clark to his own devices. Clark was now watching the most beautiful woman he thought he'd ever seen dancing with Derek on the far side of the room. Her profile reminded him of the bust of Nefertiti he'd seen at the British Museum. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" a high-pitched voice asked from behind him. Clark turned to see who had spoken and had to look down to see the cheerful face smiling up at him. "Yes, she is." Clark returned the little girl's radiant smile. She was dressed in a miniature version of the Nigerian native costume the beautiful woman was wearing. "She's a princess." The little girl sounded proud. "I thought Nigeria was a Republic. How can she be a princess?" "Well, she's not exactly a real princess now. But her great-grandfather was a Hausa king and that makes her a princess." "Oh, I see." "Would *you* like to dance with her?" The little girl seemed to be about to go and make the arrangements. "No, that's okay. I don't know the steps." He indicated the couples dancing. The child looked at him in astonishment. "It's a waltz! Don't you know how to waltz?" Clark shook his head. "I only know what I learned back in Kansas." "Kansas? What kind of dances do they do in Kansas?" The child seemed genuinely interested. "Well, mostly line and square dancing," Clark admitted. "Square dancing!" The little girl's eyes flashed with excitement. "You know how to square dance? Can you teach me? Please!" She grasped his hand and started to pull him toward the dance floor. Clark gently resisted her insistence, so as not to hurt her. "This isn't the right kind of music." "Oh, right! It's waltz music. The President likes waltzes so there's going be a *lot* of those tonight." She frowned in concentration, "I don't think they'll change the music for me." She looked up at Clark apologetically, "So, I guess, we'll have to think of something else." Clark smiled; she was so intense and sincere. Then he could almost see the lightbulb over her head as she said, "Come on! I have a tape we can use." She turned abruptly and pulled him towards the French doors leading out to a conservatory of tropical plants, just off the ballroom. Clark stopped in his tracks. She turned and looked at him inquiringly. "What? Don't you want to teach me to square dance?" "It's not that. Where are your parents? I'm not sure they'd like you going away alone with a stranger." "I don't have parents, only Nana. Well there's Dee as well but she hardly counts. Come on, I'll have to go to bed soon and I won't learn anything if you don't come now!" He frowned about this, working up to "stern", but she seemed impervious to his expression so he decided to try a delaying tactic. "I'm Clark, what's your name?" "Ushe. I can go anywhere I like, I live here. Now let's *dance*!" She grasped his right hand again and pulled him towards the conservatory. Clark sighed--he could never resist a strong-minded female--and followed her. She closed the doors leading to the ballroom to shut out the sound and walked over to the nearest bench where she pulled a small tape player from behind one of the potted palms and hit the play button. To Clark's surprise the music was a fiddle version of "Red River Valley." "Okay, now show me what to do." The little girl stood foursquare in front of him. She obviously wasn't going to budge until he showed her how to square dance. "Ushe, how old are you anyway?" Her apparent age and her self-confidence collided with each other. "Ten, how old are you?" She grinned mischievously. "Twenty-six, but it's not polite to ask." Ushe shrugged, "You asked first. Now, show me how to square dance." "Okay, well, first you stand beside me and hold my hands like this." Clark demonstrated the classic square dance starting position. "Then you put your right foot forward and we move in time to the music." Clark led her through a simple promenade and do-se-do. "Then we turn our backs to each other and change partners." Ushe stopped. "But there isn't anyone else. Now what do we do?" Clark shrugged. "Usually there are four couples in square dancing. They form a square with one couple on each side. That's why it's called square dancing." The little girl's bottom lip began to quiver. "But, I want to dance!" "Well..." Clark thought for a moment. He didn't want to disappoint her. "Do you know how to dance to the music in the ballroom?" Ushe nodded. "Then why don't you show me how to do that?" Ushe pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "You just want to dance with Lucalla." "Lucalla?" Clark had an inkling who this might be but didn't want to jump to any hasty conclusions. "Princess Lucalla. *Everyone* always wants to dance with her." "No, honestly, I just want you to show me how to do ballroom dancing so I don't embarrass myself." Ushe looked sceptical, but she shut off the tape player and went over to the double doors, opening one so they could hear the music in the ballroom. She then stood in front of him and gave him instructions to put his left hand in her right and his right hand at her waist. This was awkward given the difference in their heights so he moved his right hand to her shoulder. The band was playing yet another waltz, and she showed him the steps. By the time the music stopped he had it down pat, and when "The Blue Danube" started he was able to dance Ushe around the conservatory without any mistakes. "You learn quick!" Ushe sounded astonished. Clark hoped he hadn't done anything too out of the ordinary. "You must have natural rhythm." "Why, thank you." Clark bowed with his right hand behind his back and his left making a sweeping gesture, as if he had swept a hat, with a tall feather, from his head. Ushe giggled. "You're funny. Do you have kids?" Clark shook his head. "No. Not yet. Maybe someday." Just then a short chubby woman burst through the corridor door on the opposite side of the conservatory. "Ushe! So this is where you are. I've been looking *everywhere* for you!" Ushe didn't look the slightest bit contrite. "Nana, this is Clark. He was showing me how to square dance." Nana looked suspiciously at Clark, but must have seen his pure soul because she slowly smiled and said, "Thank you for keeping her Highness entertained. These events can be so boring for her." "Her Highness?" Clark raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Ushe who had the grace to look embarrassed. "I'm a Hausa princess, too. You don't mind do you?" "Mind? Of course not. Why should I mind?" "Well, Lucalla's my big sister...well, half-sister, and...and I'm sure you'd much rather have danced with *that* princess." Ushe was staring down at her feet. Clark walked over to her and kneeling on one knee so that he was more at eye level with her said, "No, I liked dancing with *this* princess." Ushe looked up, her eyes sparkling, then she whispered confidingly, "Well, to be honest, Lucalla is kind of a snob. She wouldn't be caught *dead* teaching anyone how to dance." She covered her mouth and giggled. Clark returned her smile with a wink and confided in return, "Well, if anyone ever asks where I learned how to dance so well, I'll tell them I was taught by Princess Ushe." Ushe looked gratified. He stood up and watched Nana fuss over her. "Dee has been looking for you, you naughty girl. How could you be so wicked?" Ushe squirmed and muttered that she didn't like being with Dee. Dee was a "Nervous Nelly." Clark had a hard time keeping a straight face because only his enhanced hearing ability allowed him to hear what Ushe said. Just then a young woman in a pale green formal evening gown entered through the French doors leading from the ballroom. "Ushe! *There* you are! I've been looking *everywhere* for you." Clark stared at her--she looked like the redhead he'd helped on the stairs after The Mousetrap. Ushe shrugged. "I've been right here. Nana's going to take me to bed now." She turned, walked over to Clark and took his hand to shake it, gravely saying, "Thank you, Clark. I'll remember this always." Clark smiled and thanked her in return. Nana led Ushe out of the room and closed the door behind her. He turned to the woman who had just entered. "Hi, I'm Clark Kent. I'm sorry you couldn't find Ushe, I guess that was mostly my fault." "No, I'm sure it was mostly Ushe's fault. She can be very demanding." She sounded resigned. "It's nice to meet you, I'm Deirdre Jessop." "Deirdre?" Clark smiled. It *was* her. "I'm glad to meet you again." She looked at him, puzzled, and started to shake her head negatively, "I don't think..." Then her eyes widened. "Yes! Of course, you're the American I saw after 'The Mousetrap'! But, you look different. You had a beard...and long hair. I thought..." Her voice trailed off, making Clark wonder what she'd been going to say. "I know, I was looking too radical." Clark grinned lopsidedly, "I cut them off--to keep my job." Outside in the ballroom the band started a Viennese waltz. Clark took the initiative. "Would you like to dance?" She looked at him warily, but assented. He led her onto the dance floor and reproduced the steps Ushe had taught him, with a few innovations of his own, based on the actions of other couples dancing around them. Deirdre kept a small smile on her face, but Clark had the impression she was tense, waiting for something to happen. He wished she'd relax. He wondered if it had anything to do with the Embassy security team leaving the ballroom just as they entered, apparently to concentrate their efforts on protecting the Presidential party. "You dance very well," she said after a time, smiling now and relaxing a little, as though what she'd been afraid of had gone away. "I was taught everything I know by a Nigerian princess," he grinned down at her. She stiffened. "Lucalla taught you to dance?" He could hear her heartbeat revving up. "No. I have it on the best authority that Lucalla wouldn't deign to teach *anyone* to dance." She visibly relaxed, "Ah, Ushe has been her usual precocious self." Clark could feel the underlying tension was back and he didn't think it was entirely due to Deirdre's misapprehension that the elder princess had taught him to dance. Why would that matter to her anyway? "What is it? What's wrong?" "Nothing, really...nothing." Dee was watching something over his right shoulder and, whatever it was, was upsetting her. He used the movement of the dance to turn them around so he faced in that direction. He could see three men in the doorway at the far end of the ballroom. If it hadn't been for Deirdre's tension, he wouldn't have even been aware of their presence. However, now that he was conscious of the situation, he focused on the suspicious gentleman and could see that they were armed. They might have been bodyguards, but his instinct told him there was going to be trouble. He couldn't see any Embassy security in the room so he'd have to figure out some way to avert any trouble without anyone getting hurt--and without revealing himself. He made a sudden unexpected move that caused Deirdre to trip and fall against him. He stopped her from falling, and exuding solicitous concern, led her from the dance floor, his arm loosely clasped around her waist. In a low voice he asked, "Now, who exactly are those men?" "What men?" "The ones with weapons in their cummerbunds." The blood drained from Deirdre's face, "How...how..." Clark felt Dee's tension escalate into terror. He could tell by her blood pressure, breathing and heart rate that she was very frightened of something, and he also had the feeling it wasn't only the three men with armaments in their cummerbunds. He guided her out into the wide hallway, on the opposite side of the ballroom from the conservatory, where there were a number of people sitting on sofas along each wall of the passageway. It was too crowded a place to stay. Peering over his glasses, he found a vacant room two doors down. He steered Dee in that direction and opened the door onto a darkened room. He could feel her quiver in fearful foreboding. He pushed her gently through the door and quickly closed it behind him. He found the light switch and flicked it down to turn on the lights in the room. "Now, do you want to tell me what this is all about? Who are those men, and why are you so scared of them?" ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 22:59:56 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 4 of 8 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" The young woman was pale and shaking, "I...I can't. You'll be k-k-killed, too!" She let out a quiet sob. Clark led her to a nearby sofa and made her sit down. Sitting beside her with his arm around her shoulders, turning so he could see her face, he asked, "What makes you think that?" "I was secretary to Ushe's father. He was killed...murdered, in his office one night. I was there, in the next room. I saw the people who did it. I d-didn't think anyone knew I was there, but lately..." She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose, "...lately, I've had the feeling I'm being followed. I get to the point that I'm almost positive, and then they disappear. I...I thought you were one of *them* that night at the theatre." She gulped and blew her nose again. "So that's why you ran away? You were afraid I might be an assassin of some kind?" Clark was amazed. This was like something out of a made-for-tv movie. "I couldn't be sure. You didn't look like one of *them*, they're Cameroons, but they could have hired you. I..." Dee stopped, her eyes wide as the door from the next room burst open. The three men he'd seen in the ballroom charged through the doorway, guns in hand. Clark thought quickly. How could he disarm them, protect Deirdre and yet not give himself away? He got up off the sofa, and pushing Dee face down behind him, stared at the three men. He decided the surprise attack was his best bet. Acting as if he was intoxicated enough to not recognize the danger, he slurred his words as he said, "Hey, guys, what's all thish? Canna guy have a quiet cuddle with hish girl without clowns like you bargin' in?" Clark walked belligerently up to the nearest of the three men and took the gun out of his hand before he could react. He threw it across the room so that it slid under a heavy sofa. "An' carrying them thingth...ain't polite, at leash not where I come from." Moving slightly faster than the men could react, he snatched the guns from the other two men and tossed them out of reach. The first man lunged at him. Clark hit him on the chin, just hard enough to knock him out, but not so hard as to do any permanent damage. "Why, you...!" The second man roared as he charged forward. Clark grabbed him by the chin and grasping the third man by the back of the neck, knocked their two heads together only hard enough to render them unconscious. The three stupefied men lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Deirdre was still cowering on the sofa. Clark lifted her to her feet and propelled her towards the door and into the hallway. Once in the hall, he seated her at a vacant sofa, as far away as possible from the other people in the hallway and sat next to her, supporting her trembling body. An elderly woman came up to them. "Deirdre, darling, what's wrong. You're so pale." "Nothing, Lady DeWint. I..." She paused, as if she didn't know how to continue. She sat twisting her handkerchief into a tight ball and then stuffed it into her evening bag. Clark answered for her. "She was overcome by the heat in the ballroom. We decided to sit out the rest of the dance." "Oh, you poor thing! Would you like me to get Henry to drive you home, dear?" "No, really, I'm fine..." Deirdre started to stand and then suddenly crumpled. Clark caught her in time to prevent her from hitting the carpet. "Oh, my dear!" Lady DeWint exclaimed, "I'll get some water," and hurried away. Clark seated Deirdre back on the sofa and fanned her until he saw acknowledgement in her eyes that she knew he was there. "I'm sorry, Clark, I...I'm just so s-s-scared." Deirdre picked up her evening bag, pulled out her handkerchief and blew her nose. "I've been terrified of guns ever since..." Just then Lady DeWint returned, and gave a glass of water to Deirdre for her to drink. Clark held onto the glass while Deirdre sipped the water. "Deirdre has been under so much stress lately. Thank you for taking such good care of her--Mr. Kent, isn't it? " "How did you know...?" "Well, you're one of the three new people I met tonight and I'm one of those hundreds of people you were introduced to earlier. It was easy to remember you, whereas I'm sure you don't even remember seeing me at all." Lady DeWint smiled. Clark nodded, and glanced at Deirdre to make sure she was recovering. "Mr. Kent, could I ask you to make sure that Deirdre gets home okay? I'd do it myself, but I'm part of the welcoming committee for the Presidential party that's due to arrive any minute now." "Yes, of course." "Now, I'll just go find Henry and have him bring the car around to the front." She hurried off in the direction of the front entrance. Clark supported Deirdre by the waist, as they walked slowly to the front foyer of the embassy, once there he seated her on a chair to wait for Henry. Clark went to pick up Dierdre's wrap in the cloakroom and while he was waiting for the shawl, asked to use a phone. On being shown to a small room off the downstairs hall, he called the Embassy switchboard to let them know about the unconscious gunmen. Then when he returned to Deirdre, he let the doorman know that he was leaving and asked him to inform Derek Chapman, should he ask after Clark Kent. Lady DeWint's chauffeur, Henry, pulled the Bentley up to the front of the High Commission entrance. Since Derek and Clark had entered the High Commission a light rain had started. Henry, a short and wiry man in a black uniform, held an umbrella over Deirdre and Clark as he escorted them from the entrance to the car door. Then he opened the door while Clark helped Deirdre into the car and then followed her. Seated in the back of the Bentley, with the glass partition closed between themselves and the chauffeur, Deirdre and Clark rode in mutual silence for a few minutes. Clark saw how pale she still was and could feel her trembling, although less than before. "Are you feeling better, now?" Deirdre brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "Yes, thank you," she whispered tremulously. "Clark, you have no idea how grateful I am for what you did tonight." "Deirdre..." She interrupted him, "Please, call me Dee. All my friends do and after tonight I think I can definitely call you a friend." She smiled. "Okay...Dee," Clark smiled in return. Dee took out her handkerchief again and blew her nose. "I'm sorry for being so silly. I'm just so scared of guns. I have been ever since...since I was a little girl." Clark felt her fear escalate again at this admission. "What happened when you were a little girl?" Dee drew in her breath and whispered. "I was in bed, it was dark...the middle of the night. I heard shots...my Mummy screaming and more shots. I covered my ears and hid under the covers." Dee looked into his eyes and seeing his expression of horror continued, "I was six years old when they came and killed my parents." Clark put his arm around her and squeezed her in sympathy. Dee buried her face into his collar and sobbed. Clark remembered nights when, at about that age, he'd cowered in bed, hiding under the covers, trembling in terror that *they* would come and take him away and do terrible things to his parents. Clark was distressed. For him it had been only a childhood fear...Dee had *lived* that nightmare! Clark made soothing sounds and stroked Dee's back to help her through her emotional crisis. A few minutes later she pulled away and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, Clark. You don't even know me...and here I am forcing my troubles on you." "That's okay. It's good to get these things out in the open." "Now you see why I'm so grateful. I'm such a coward and you...you were so *brave*." Clark smiled, "You're *not* a coward, and I didn't do anything that extraordinary." Wide-eyed, she stared at him. He could hear her heart beat change rhythm. He knew which way she was heading. Clark racked his brains on a way to sidetrack her from asking the questions he didn't really want to answer. She was looking at him in awe. "Clark, how can you say that?" she said breathlessly, "You just walked right up to them and took their guns away! Weren't you afraid?" "Yes, I was afraid." Well, he'd been afraid that she'd be injured--and that he'd get a bullet-hole in the rented tuxedo that he'd have a hard time explaining away. "But all I wanted to do was stop them and get us out of there. I didn't think about getting hurt." Mostly because the last time he'd been physically hurt was when he'd been about seven years old, and even then he'd mended so fast it had hardly hurt at all. Dee put her hand on the front of his shirt. She was looking at him with an expression of awe and wonder. She had no idea that he wasn't just any ordinary guy. If any woman looked at him like that, knowing what he really was...well why even think it could be possible? "Don't be so modest! You saved my life tonight!" She drew closer and caressed his lips with a kiss. Just then the car stopped in front of Dee's building. Dee pulled away from him reluctantly and waited for Henry to open the door. The rain had stopped, and the sidewalk reflected the light from the lamp posts in the puddles. As they exited the car, Henry said he would wait while Clark saw Dee to her flat. Clark had the impression that the man was doing this as a protective measure for Dee. Clark nodded his acknowledgement of Henry's offer and followed Dee up the stairs. As they approached the flat, he peered through the walls to see if there was anyone hidden inside. There wasn't. When Dee unlocked the door, he told her he'd wait at the door until she checked the rooms. Once she was satisfied she was safe, he said goodnight. "Clark, I'd like to thank you again for everything you've done." She moved close to him, and caressed his face with her fingertips. "Thank you for listening to me...and for saving my life." Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him more ardently than she had a few minutes ago. He wasn't as panicked by her forwardness as he'd been in similar situations in the past. Over the last seven years he'd learned a lot about self-control and how to get himself out of these situations without the girl screaming epithets at him as he left, like Sally had done in New Zealand. Nevertheless, it took all the control that Clark had to check the urge to respond in kind. He hardly knew this woman. She had no idea who or what he was. *He* didn't really know that himself. She was feeling distressed and was reacting to the danger. He couldn't take advantage of her like this. He began to ease her hands from his neck and said, "Dee, you don't have to..." "No, I don't, but somehow just saying 'Thank you' doesn't seem like enough." She pressed closer, if that was possible, and tried to kiss him again. His mind went back to a similar situation he'd been in with another redhead in Singapore, only that time he'd been *this* close to finding out what would happen if he let his passion rule his reason. The memory of the bruise he'd caused on that girl's shoulder stopped him in his tracks now. When he didn't respond as expected, Deirdre stepped back with a puzzled look on her face. "Clark, what's wrong? Don't you like me?" Clark groaned inside. How many times was he going to have to dodge this question? Why couldn't he just have been a normal everyday guy who didn't have to worry that he might critically hurt a woman if he lost his control? Ignoring his misgiving, Clark responded, "It's not that I don't like you. It's just that we only really met tonight and I suspect that what you're feeling right now isn't attraction for me, it's reaction to the danger." Dee looked thoughtful, pulled her hands away from his neck and, crossing her arms, held herself by the waist. "You know, you may be right." Although he could see she wasn't totally convinced. "But...I *do* feel terribly grateful to you for rescuing me." Clark put his hands on her shoulders, "Then keep yourself safe. Lock the door behind me, and call Lady DeWint to let her know you made it home safely." Clark gave her a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Clark, I'll do that." She gave him a watery smile as she opened the door to let him leave. "Thank you--for everything." Clark just smiled and left, listening to make sure she locked the door before he left the floor. When he got back to the car, Henry asked if he wanted to return to Nigeria House. Clark didn't feel like going back to the party and asked Henry to drop him at Waterloo station so he could just go home. Henry insisted on driving Clark to his flat, he said that Lady DeWint would never forgive him if he just left Clark at a railway station. When Henry opened the door of the car for Clark to exit, the chauffeur coughed politely and said, "Thank you, sir," and continued when Clark raised his eyebrows questioningly, "I mean for helping Miss Deirdre. She needs help badly, Lady DeWint told me how supportive you were...I'm glad you were there." "So am I, Henry. It's good to know she has someone like you looking out for her." Henry looked embarrassed and closed the car door. Clark stood and watched the Bentley drive away and entered the foyer of the block of flats he now called home. ***** Once he was inside the flat, he changed out of the tuxedo, hanging it carefully on the rental store hanger, and pulled on some shorts and a tank top. Geoffrey was in his back bedroom, locked away watching television. The quiet background laughter of a comedy show permeated throughout the flat. Colin was still out for the evening. Clark sat on the window seat in the darkened living room, staring morosely out of the window at the deserted street below--the soft sound of the laughter worsening his pensive mood. Once again he'd come up against the main problem in his life...his special nature coming into conflict with his desires. He wanted to have a relationship. He wanted to be able to follow through when a girl showed interest in him. He wanted to be free to follow his desires. Dee had called him "brave" for what he'd done. If she only knew! He wasn't brave! If anything, he was a coward! It didn't take any bravery to face men he could kill with a glance and who couldn't harm him in return. If he was *really* brave he'd just do the things that came naturally and to heck with the consequences, but he could never do that because he always had to lie and pretend. He remembered that time, a couple of years back, when he'd tried to just *be* "normal". No flying, no floating, no seeing through walls--even when he was alone. It hadn't worked. He'd nearly had a nervous breakdown trying to pretend to himself that he couldn't do all the things he really could. His frustration at not being able to act totally like a "normal" person had culminated in him flying as far and as fast as possible to the back side of the moon where he'd screamed and stomped and generally expressed his anger at the fate that life had handed him. Of course the screaming part (impossible on an airless moon) had forced him to return to Earth at top speed so he could take a breath, burning off his clothes during reentry. Well, not all of his clothes, only the parts that weren't actually touching his body. That's when he'd realized there was some kind of semi-voluntary protective layer extending a few millimetres above his skin. He hadn't known that before. So the experience hadn't been totally without its positive moments. Maybe it would come in handy some day. He always seemed to be finding out new facets to his "special" nature. Not that it was bad, per se. It just made him wonder what else about him was different that he hadn't found out about yet. He'd definitely found out that he couldn't ignore what he was...he just had to keep on hiding it. What was he anyway? Some kind of experiment gone bad? A biological construct? An alien from another planet? Or, some kind of mutated being? Even Mom and Dad had no real idea of why he'd come to them. They'd all talked over the possibilities. Dad leaned towards the idea that he was some kind of government experiment (either by the Russians or their own government) that had been an attempt to create a new kind of human that could travel in space without needing protective clothing. Mom seemed to lean towards believing that he was from another planet. Clark could see evidence that pointed to either theory being true. Or to any of the others they'd considered if it came to that. Whether he was an alien, a biological construct or a mutation, he couldn't tell from what he currently knew of himself and his "special" skills. The only thing he did know for sure was that he could do things that no one else he'd ever met could do. And because of that he could never lead a normal life. It wasn't *right*! Clark felt a sob rise into his throat. All the old feelings of frustration surfaced again. He *had* to come up with a way of being himself, without jeopardizing his personal life and Mom and Dad, he just *had* to! He wiped the tears from his cheeks, forcing himself to be quiet so that he didn't attract Geoffrey's attention, although with the TV on, it was doubtful Geoffrey would hear him even if he sobbed out loud. He knew his desire to just be himself was a pipe dream. He was no longer a child who could hope for miracles. Being himself openly wasn't going to be possible either, why even think that it was? And, there was no point crying over it. That wouldn't solve anything. He took a deep breath and tapped into his inner serenity, using one of the calming techniques he'd learned at a religious commune in Honan province, China to dissociate himself from his negative feelings. Once he was calmer, he was able to remind himself that up until this week he hadn't been able to figure out how to cut his own hair! That had been a relatively easy dilemma. Figuring out the answer to this more complex problem was just going to take more time, that was all. Worrying about it wasn't going to make it resolve itself, so he stuffed the predicament in the back left corner of his mind to be brought out some other day when he had a fresh perspective. He wanted to fly home for comfort, but they'd decided as a family, years ago, that he shouldn't just run home every time he ran into a little problem. He was a grown man, now. Nevertheless, he needed some kind of distraction, some kind of exercise to take his mind of his problems. He needed to do something that was normal for him, but not here, with Geoffrey in the other room. Heaven only knew when Colin would be back, so he couldn't just float here in the living room. He decided to go flying. He went into his bedroom, locked the door behind him, and dressed himself totally in black to blend in with the night sky. He flew out of his bedroom window to float above the clouds. That had always helped in the past, and it did again now. ***** The breakfast routine on Saturday morning was pretty much the same as other mornings, since both Colin and Clark had to work and Geoffrey was a morning person. They all sat around the table eating cold cereal with milk, drinking their coffee and reading the early edition of the newspaper. Clark read the Chronicle, so he could keep on top of what was happening locally. Colin read the Daily Planet to find out what was going on in America and Geoffrey read the Cosmic tabloid, claiming it helped him gain perspective. "Hey, you guys, did you know that there's some witch doctor in Africa that can take a beating heart out of a guy, put his blessing on it and reinsert it into the guy and the guy lives to tell about it?" Geoffrey asked, looking up from the newspaper from which he'd gathered this nugget of information. Colin groaned. "Geoff, why do you read that trash? They make it up! Haven't you figured that out by now?" Geoffrey looked up at him, disdainfully. "I *know* that! I just think it's neat the stuff they come up with, that's all." He flipped to the next page and buried his nose in the next "miracle" story. Clark grinned at Colin, who just rolled his eyes. "Okay, Clark if you're ready, let's head down to the old salt mines." He folded his paper and laid it on the kitchen counter. Clark gathered up the dirty dishes, washed and rinsed them and put them in the drainer to dry. The trip into work was uneventful and Clark parted from Colin in the lobby of the newspaper building. They worked on different floors and Colin had to pick up copies of the early editions of the competition newspapers before going up to the sixth floor. After picking up his incoming mail at the reception desk on the second floor, Clark headed for his desk and started on his list of contacts. He was left peacefully alone for about twenty minutes until Derek came back from the manager's office. "Clark, you are *never* going to believe what happened at Nigeria House last night!" Derek was leaning on the front of Clark's desk. "What happened?" Clark wanted to know what Derek knew. "Three guys, with handguns, broke into the High Commissioner's residence at Nigeria House and tried to kidnap the young princess' governess." Derek was in full spate. "Some guy, who'd had a few too many, just walked right up to them and took their handguns from them--tossed the guns aside, and then knocked the guys out. Can you *believe* that?" "You're kidding! How'd you find all this out?" Clark was fascinated. Dee was Ushe's governess, he hadn't known that. "Well, my contact at the Nigeria House switchboard let me know something was going on, when someone phoned to tell them that those three guys were out cold in one of their unused salons. I just followed the police when they arrived, and was right there when the police gave their statement to the press. The three guys confessed to everything and told this unbelievable story about the drunk who'd knocked them out. I phoned the story in and 'Voila'!" Derek pulled up the late morning edition of the paper in front of Clark's eyes so he could see the two-inch column of the report by "our correspondent Derek Chapman." Derek gloated over his story in print. "Too bad you'd left already. You missed all the excitement." Clark just smiled and went back to making his list of diplomatic contacts for the coming week. ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 23:00:00 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 5 of 8 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" ***** This upcoming Saturday, Clark and Derek were scheduled to go to a formal festivity at Canada House in Trafalgar Square, then another even more formal event at the American Embassy the following Wednesday evening. As a result, Clark decided to take Derek's advice and buy a tuxedo. It would be cheaper in the long run, and he wouldn't have to answer to anyone if he happened to get any stray bullet-holes in the suit. He and Derek had visited Derek's tailor and arranged for Clark to get an off-the-rack tuxedo altered. Clark knew he could have probably gotten one cheaper if he'd flown to Hong Kong to have it made, but would have a hard time explaining how he'd suddenly acquired a made-to-measure tuxedo so soon from the far east--so he went along with getting one altered from the rack. He'd also needed a dress shirt and patent leather shoes to go with the tux, so he had visited a store that Colin recommended, to get them at a discounted price. It was a good thing he didn't need to eat, his pay cheque was being stretched to the limit as it was. Not to mention that he wanted to invite Dee out on a date and wouldn't be able to until the payday after this, at the very earliest. The gang from work was going to the Goose and Garter Friday night and he'd already committed himself to going. He'd have to make sure he had enough funds to pay for at least one round, but otherwise he should be okay. Thankfully, he'd already paid the rent for this month. Most of the week at work was spent visiting different Embassies and High Commissions to cover press conferences and keep up with Derek's contacts. He stayed in most evenings, went for walks in the neighbourhood and tried to not think about the kind of danger Dee might be in. He'd called her a couple of times, and she seemed to be okay. She also sounded pleased to hear from him. He tried to keep the conversations friendly but not intimate. He wasn't sure he wanted a relationship with her, but from what she'd told him at Nigeria House, she was still in danger from whoever had murdered Ushe's father. He wanted to try to prevent any further attempts on her life, if he could. Friday he had to work late. A late-breaking story about overuse of paper clips at the American Embassy needed writing up and as the junior person of the team, Clark was elected to do it. As a result he was late leaving to meet the gang at the pub. He walked through the darkened streets of London, savouring the sounds and smells. Each place had its own ambiance and he found he liked the one here very much. As he approached the Goose and Garter he noticed a sudden movement across the street. A woman was struggling with an assailant. Hardly stopping to think, Clark dashed across the street at lightning speed and pulled the thug off his victim. He tied the thug's arms behind him with some wire from a nearby trash can and fastened him to the nearest signpost, so he couldn't run away. Moving so swiftly that the normal eye couldn't see him, Clark went to the nearest telephone kiosk where, slowing down, he punched in 999 and told the operator he needed the police and an ambulance, that he was opposite the Goose and Garter, that there'd been a mugging and someone was hurt! Rather than give a false name when asked for his identity, he gasped as if he'd been startled and exclaimed, "Someone's coming!" and hung up. He instantly returned to the scene and hurried into the alley as if he was just passing and had seen someone who needed help. The young woman was still lying on the ground in shock. He'd been gone a matter of seconds and he hoped she wouldn't suffer by his lack of attention to her well-being. Clark's heart lurched, now that he had time to stop and look he discovered that she was very pregnant. He should have taken care of her right away, rather than trying to protect his own identity. Clark felt a pang of guilt. He appealed to whatever guardian angel that was looking over them that she and the baby were going to be okay after their ordeal. Then, pretending he'd just discovered her, he gasped in horror and knelt beside her to give her first aid. Just then a police officer arrived on the scene and suggested the young lady be taken over to the pub for shelter while he took care of the assailant. Clark picked her up and carried her across the street into the Goose and Garter. People in the pub milled around him and the distressed woman, fussing about her health. She was obviously finding all this "assistance" overwhelming and Clark asked everyone to stand back and give the lady some air as he gently placed her in the nearest upholstered chair. "Is there someone I can call? Your husband?" Clark did a quick visual scan and to his relief was almost sure she wasn't physically hurt, and thought that having someone she knew and trusted present would help her recover. Just then an harassed young man rushed into the pub. "The police, they said Sheila might be in here!" The young woman called, "Brian! O thank God, Brian! You're all right!" The young couple clung to each other, reassuring themselves that the other was fine. Clark felt a pang of something very like envy. To have one person you could count on in times of need-- would he ever have that for himself? Then Brian asked what had happened, and Sheila explained that she'd just got off the bus and was walking home when someone had jumped out of the shadows and tried to snatch her handbag. Then, everything was kind of fuzzy until this nice American--she indicated Clark--came and carried her into the pub. Brian walked over to Clark and shook his hand, "How can I ever thank you?" "That's okay, I didn't do much except help your wife to shelter. I'm sure that anyone would have done the same." Now that the woman and her unborn child appeared to be fine, hiding his "special" nature was once again the priority. The police and ambulance attendants came into the pub. The attendants made sure that the pregnant woman was well. The police then ushered Clark and the young woman into the manager's office to get their statements. The assailant was a known mugger and there was no doubt that with Sheila Nekkleton's statement he would get some time behind bars. Clark stuck to his story that he'd come after everything was over and had just helped the pregnant woman to shelter. The police believed him, but were puzzled by the thug's being tied up, as well as the 999 phone call by an anonymous caller. Clark denied having seen anyone else in the area, he claimed to have been too preoccupied with Mrs. Nekkleton's possible injuries to notice anything else. Once released from police scrutiny, Clark joined the gang at their usual table. He related the story of why he was late, omitting the proactive part he'd played in the whole event. Colin thought he'd phone the story in as a human interest piece and dashed off to use the phone. "Hey, Clark, you're letting him steal your story!" Lynda sounded indignant. "It's okay, it's more Colin's beat than mine. Besides, I think I'm too close to the whole thing to really do it justice." Colin came back beaming. He was going to get a byline on the story, so he was very happy, even if it *was* going to be buried half way back behind the classifieds in tomorrow's early edition. Colin paid for Clark's round in thanks for the story that would up his credibility with his boss. ***** London - October 1992 Clark was watching the boating activity on the Thames. Banners about the Cutty Sark and Gypsy Moth IV were flapping in the warm breeze off the river, straining at the grommets that attached them to the black old-fashioned lampposts along the edge of the dock, and the air was filled with the shouts of children racing about on the grass nearby. It was a sunny and warm afternoon and as a result a lot of people had come to picnic in the park. Clark leaned forward and caught a ball that had come dangerously close to the water and tossed it back to the small boy who'd come racing after it. It was Sunday afternoon and he was sitting on a park bench near the river, waiting for Dee. Dee had called him earlier in the afternoon. She wanted to meet him, today. She couldn't say why, but it was important that she talk to him as soon as possible, face-to-face. Clark had suggested Greenwich. It was nearby for him, and had the advantage of being a tourist spot he hadn't yet been to. He quickly changed into grey slacks, shirt and navy sleeveless pullover and caught the bus to Greenwich. They'd agreed to meet on the Cutty Sark dock. Dee had said there were park benches and enough activity so that it wouldn't seem odd for one or the other of them to be seen waiting. It would be assumed that they were waiting for the rest of their party before boarding the famous tea-clipper for the tour. "Hi, Clark." Dee sat on the bench beside him, and took his hand in hers. "I'm glad you could make it." "I was glad you called. What did you want to see me about? You sounded so mysterious." She looked calm and relaxed, dressed in an emerald green linen dress and pale green cardigan, as if she was just looking forward to an afternoon in the park. But Clark could feel her anxiety through her fingertips. She was almost as tense as during their dance at Nigeria House. "I don't think we should talk right here. Let's get in the car and go for a drive. I need to talk to you in private." She stood up, and headed towards the parking lot. Once they reached the car, they were far enough from other people to be able to talk in confidence. Clark stopped Dee as she was pulling the car keys from her bag. Turning her around to face him, he asked, "Now are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Dee looked pale now and swallowed convulsively a couple of times before she whispered her story to him. "I got a phone call. They didn't say who they were, just that they knew I knew. They asked if my 'inebriated friend' knew too. I told them you didn't know anything." "Well, that was true. Did they believe you?" Dee shook her head. "I don't think so. I think they'll be coming after you too." She put the key in the passenger's door and unlocked it. "Well, let them come. I don't know anything, so what can they do?" Clark opened the car door to get in. Dee gasped, "They could *kill* you!" She pulled him around, and clutched his arms. "Oh, right. I keep forgetting that part." Clark tried to make it sound like a joke. "Clark, it's not f-f-funny." Dee leaned against him and buried her head in his shoulder. He could feel her sobs. She was truly frightened. He stroked her back in an effort to comfort her. She threw her head back to look at him, the tear stains still on her cheeks. "You escaped once. I don't think you can be that lucky again." "What about you? You're in even more danger!" Dee swallowed another sob. Her voice had a crack in it as she said, "I know. I-I-'m scared!" Clark was about to suggest they call the police when he heard a quiet clicking sound, far off up the hill. When he looked up over his glasses, he saw a man aiming a gun with a silencer in their direction. He'd heard the safety catch being released. "Dee, do me a favour," she looked up at him, puzzled, "someone's watching us. Pretend to faint." "But..." "Now!" He'd heard the bullet leave its chamber and could hear it whistling in their direction. He caught the bullet with one hand and the "swooning" Dee with the other. "Good, now stay limp." He crushed the bullet and dropped it and then picked her up and gently placed her in the passenger seat and fastened the seat belt around her. "Keep your eyes closed and lie still." He closed the passenger door, took out the keys, hurried around to the driver's side, opened the door and quickly started the engine. He revved the motor dramatically, as if he was in a hurry to get Dee to a hospital and burnt rubber getting out of the parking lot. Clark followed the road signs to the A2 and headed east along the dual carriageway. After driving for about fifteen minutes he pulled over into a layby and parked between an empty lorry and a removals van so that they wouldn't be easily seen from the highway. When he saw the condition of the nearby phone, any hopes of being able to call the police were put on hold. He killed the engine and turned to face the passenger seat. "Okay, Dee. You can sit up now. I think you need to tell me the *whole* story. If we're going to beat this thing, I need to know what's going on." "Going on?" Dee sounded perplexed as she shifted to an upright position. "A man shot at you in the park. We were lucky he missed." Dee went completely white. "Shot! I...I don't believe it. How do you know that?" "Believe it! I felt the bullet whiz past my head! Now are you going to tell me what's going on, or not?" At the mention of the word "bullet" Dee whimpered and buried her face in her hands. Clark sighed and said, "Okay. I understand that someone knows you know who killed Ushe's father. What I *don't* understand is why they're gunning for you *now*!" "I...I don't know why *now*. If I did I'd tell you." Dee was trembling again. Clark was getting really impatient. She *had* to know what had initiated this. But with her childhood terror over-riding her common sense, she just wasn't thinking. Gently Clark lifted Dee's chin so that she was looking into his eyes. "I'm going to tell you what I know and I'll ask some questions to clarify what I don't, okay?" Dee nodded. "You worked as secretary to Ushe's father and you were in the next office when he was shot." Dee nodded. "And, you saw who killed him." Dee nodded again. Clark gently wiped a tear from Dee's cheek. "When was that?" "Three years ago." Dee wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. She rummaged around in her handbag and found a handkerchief. "That long? Did you tell anyone what you'd seen?" Dee shook her head vigorously in a negative gesture. "When did you first start to feel scared?" Dee took a deep breath, "Just before Christmas last year. But I don't know why, it was a really great time." "What was happening then?" "Well, Jakob--that's Ushe's guardian-- was appointed High Commissioner to London and we were all really busy preparing for the move." "And...?" "We were preparing for Christmas...and...Oh, Lucalla came home from University so we had some festivities for her. It was a very busy time." "Okay, then what?" "Well, Ushe and Nana and I moved to London with Jakob. Lucalla stayed in Nigeria to finish her year at University." "Were you scared when you first came to London?" "No, that's the odd thing. I wasn't scared at all. I was sort of afraid that someone might find out my secret, but I wasn't really scared." "So when did you start being *really* afraid?" "In June. There were these Cameroon hit men that suddenly started following me." "That was it? In June, suddenly some men just appeared and started following you?" "Well, Lucalla came to London at the end of May, but..." Dee stopped. She started to tremble. "That's *it*! After Lucalla came to London, *that's* when I started feeling scared!" Her voice sounded strangled. Her eyes were wide in terror and she was shaking like a leaf. "It's Lucalla! Oh, Clark! What am I going to do?" "So what would Lucalla have to do with Cameroon hit men and Ushe's father's death?" "I...I... don't know!" Dee was sobbing uncontrollably into her handkerchief. Clark sighed. This was getting them nowhere. "I think you're going to have to tell me what you saw the night Ushe's father died." He took the handkerchief from Dee's hand and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I c-c-can't!" Dee's crying had got to the hiccup stage. "Dee, I know you're scared. But if you tell me then maybe I can help." Between hiccups Dee told him about the night that Aderonke Jakobson had been killed. Dee had been working late getting some files in order. Ushe's father had been in the next room working on his speech on Nigeria's history and culture. Dee had dropped the contents of a file and had been scrabbling around on the floor under the desk trying to get all the papers back in the file. She was just about to stand up and rearrange the contents of the file when a woman and a man marched through the room, guns in hand. She'd heard the shot and saw the two people run out past her, through her outer office. When she'd gone in to see if Aderonke was all right, she'd found his body and called the guards. "So the guards knew you were there?" Dee shook her head, "No, I said I'd just got back from the toilet and found A-Aderonke like that. They didn't really notice how jittery I was, I guess they thought I was upset at finding the body. "Did you recognize the people who'd done it?" Dee nodded. "Yes. They were..." A dark green sedan that Clark had just seen go past in the other direction was now returning and pulling into the parking layby. He had a bad feeling about this and started the engine. "I think we've been found. Fasten your seat belt!" Clark pulled out from between the two trucks and shot ahead of the sedan towards the highway. He was into traffic and a good five cars ahead of the sedan when it too peeled out of the layby and onto the road. "Dee, do you know where we are? What's a good place for us to try to lose them?" Dee looked at the map she'd pulled out of the passenger's door pocket. "I think we're near Rochester. Try to get off this highway and onto some of the B roads that go through towns and villages. We might be able to lose them there. Take this flyover and try to head west." Clark surmised that she meant the next overpass, and followed her directions, keeping as far away as possible from the green sedan. Unfortunately, the sedan seemed to be gaining. In the first town they came to, Clark took a sharp right up a narrow street and an almost immediate left. He kept driving through the twisted narrow streets until they were on the far side of the town. He didn't even know what town they'd been in. The narrow country road on the far side of town, with high hedges on each side, seemed to stretch on for miles. Just about the time that he was sure that they'd lost the sedan, it showed up in the rearview mirror. It looked like he was going to have to deal with them in his own way, but how was he going to explain this to Dee? Just then they went around a sharp bend in the road, and a pub with a wooden sign with a picture of a checkerboard on it appeared in a gap in the hedge on the right-hand side. He did a sharp right turn into their parking area and moved the car behind the pub, out of line of sight of the road. With any luck at all the sedan would just drive on by, assuming they'd be running as far and as fast as they could. He looked through the building to the road and saw the sedan flash by. He waited a couple of minutes to be sure the occupants of the sedan weren't able to see the pub entrance, then drove quickly out onto the road heading back in the direction of the town they had just come from. When he and Dee were back in the town he took a left and right and drove into the walled courtyard of a hotel and pub he'd noticed on their previous trip through the town. Parking the car so that it couldn't easily be seen from the street outside, he killed the engine and then told Dee they should get inside the pub. "Is there someone you can call that you trust?" "Lady DeWint or Henry. I've known them since I was a baby, I could trust either one of them." "Then I'd suggest you call them." They were in the entrance of the pub and there was a call box to one side, in the hallway leading to the hotel front desk. Dee put coins into the slots and called a number from memory. Clark peered through the wall to watch the road for the returning sedan. "Clark?" Dee was looking at him with a puzzled expression on her face. "Why are you staring at the wall?" Clark blushed. "Sorry, I guess I was just trying to think. I'm hungry, do you want tea while we wait?" Dee nodded and they went into the lounge bar and ordered sandwiches and cakes for tea. During their meal Clark kept one ear listening for the sound of the sedan engine. "So, do you want to finish that sentence that was so rudely interrupted?" Clark smiled at Dee encouragingly. "They were Aderonke's first wife and her second husband." Dee hung her head. "Aderonke's first wife? Lucalla's mother?" Dee nodded silently, he could see tears in her eyes. "I never told *anyone*! How did they figure it out?" "Where's Lucalla's mother now?" "Dead. She was killed in the political struggles last year. Lucalla was devastated." "Do you think she blames you for her mother's death?" "Me? Why? I had nothing to do with it!" Dee looked at him, astonished. Clark shrugged. "I don't know. I just figured there has to be some reason why Lucalla is orchestrating this hunt for the two of us. You *do* think it's Lucalla, don't you?" Dee nodded glumly. "I didn't realize it but I've been wary of Lucalla for a while now. For some reason, she must think I arranged for her mother to be assassinated." Clark sat silently pondering the possibilities. "When did Henry say he'd be here?" "It shouldn't be too much longer. We'll go back with him. I can leave my car here and have it picked up tomorrow. I'll just say I had engine trouble." Dee's face was blank and she was staring at nothing, as if what she was thinking about was more vivid than the man sitting in front of her. "I could drive your car back now, if you want." Clark was more than a little concerned by Dee's distracted look. Was she remembering her parents death again? She shook her head, "No, I think it would be very dangerous for anyone driving that car until after I've been seen in London again." Clark didn't respond, since the only thing that came to mind was that *he* couldn't be hurt. "In fact, Clark, I think things are going to be really dangerous for you now, no matter what." Dee was looking distressed. "Is there somewhere you can hide for a little while?" Clark shook his head, "I'm not going to run. It wouldn't be fair to you." Dee laughed a little hysterically, "Clark! You're just too gallant for words. Either, that or you're completely crazy!" Clark just smiled. ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 23:00:04 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 6 of 8 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Just then, Henry appeared at the pub entrance and they both got up and went to meet him. Henry said he'd arrange for Dee's car to be picked up the next day and he'd drop Clark at his flat on the way back to London. Dee and Clark sat in the back of the car in silence through most of the trip. Clark had been thinking through the options available and finally turned to Dee, "I think you should tell the High Commissioner what you know. He can arrange to investigate the situation. Since the murder took place in Nigeria, the police here wouldn't be able to investigate." "Yes, but the men taking a potshot at us, they did that here." "Then Jakob can fill in the police here. I think you need protection, and I can't do it all." Clark was serious. Dee gave him an admiring glance, "I don't expect you to be my bodyguard." Her smile faded. "Maybe you're right, though, maybe I should just get this all out in the open. Keeping it quiet hasn't done much good." "I think you should." Clark turned to look at the passing scenery. They were almost at the block of flats where he lived. "And, Clark, I don't think we should be seen together until this is all cleared up. It's too dangerous...for both of us." Clark nodded. Henry drew up to the curb and opened the car door for Clark to get out. Dee squeezed Clark's hand as he got up to leave the car. "Clark, thanks for everything. You're the most amazing person I've ever met." She brushed his cheek with a light kiss. Clark just nodded again, and got out of the car. He stood on the street and waved goodbye to the car as it drove out of sight. Once the car was out of sight, he turned and walked into the building and up to the flat. He hoped Dee would call and let him know how her interview with the High Commissioner went, soon. She didn't call. Worried, he decided to sit with Geoffrey to watch the nine-o-clock news, that was when he heard that a sharpshooter had been on the roof of the building opposite Dee's apartment and had gunned down both her and Henry as they drew up to her front door. The announcer said there was very little hope either had survived. Clark was stunned. If he'd only insisted on seeing her home, he might have been able to *do* something! Once he'd recovered from the immediate shock, he looked up the number in the phone book and called Lady DeWint to find out what had happened. She gave him a few more details. Both Dee and Henry were in critical condition in the hospital. This wasn't generally known, since they weren't sure that whoever was doing this wouldn't try to kill them again once they knew they'd failed. She asked to meet Clark at the High Commission first thing in the morning. ****** Clark had his interview with the High Commissioner, filling him in on what he'd learned from Dee. Then the security people took up the investigation. The local police were called in and took several more hours to interview Clark about the car chase. The getaway car for the sharpshooter had also been a green sedan, so his ability to provide a licence number was instrumental in apprehending the suspects. At the end of all these interviews, Lady DeWint invited Clark to afternoon tea. Clark asked if he could visit Dee now that, since the suspects were behind bars, the danger of their meeting was over. Lady DeWint frowned, "I'm sorry Clark, that's not going to be possible." "Why not? Doesn't she want to see me?" "Clark...how do I say this? Dee isn't well." "Well, no, of course not she's still recovering from being shot." "No, physically Dee is doing fine. I'm afraid that this has all been too much for her mental stability." Clark paled, "What are you trying to say?" "Dee is locked into the nightmare that she went through the night her parents were assassinated. Being shot herself has knocked away her grip on reality. She's locked into the world of a six-year old trying to hide from the nightmare going on around her. She doesn't recognize anyone or understand what's being said to her." Clark whispered, "Omigod!" Lady DeWint patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I'm sorry I couldn't have forewarned you. You have to understand that Dee has been suffering a great deal of anxiety for the last twenty years. Dee was given psychiatric treatment when her parents were killed. She had a mild relapse after she found Aderonke dead which she recovered from quite quickly. This has been the final straw. There's nothing you could have done under the circumstances." "Who killed Dee's parents?" "We're not sure, but it must have been masterminded by the same political extremists who were behind the Aderonke's death." Clark couldn't get up any interest in some historic conspiracy so he said, "I'd like to see her." Lady DeWint tried to argue him out of it, but finally relented. She called Henry and insisted on accompanying Clark to the hospital. Seeing Dee in the throes of her nightmare was heartrending. Clark stared at her as she cowered in the corner of the bed, whimpering only one word--"Mommy"--over and over. Clark swallowed a sob, he wished he'd been there when she needed him. After a few minutes, Lady DeWint pulled his arm and indicated it was time to leave. In the car on the way back to his flat, she advised Clark to leave England as soon as possible. Otherwise, he too could be in danger from this Nigerian faction. Clark said he'd consider it. ****** Mr. Chrichton was extremely pleased with Clark's story. Murder and intrigue at a High Commission weren't your run-of-the-mill events for the society pages. If Chrichton had anything to do with it, Clark's article would make the front page. Lucalla and her stepfather had been arrested for the attempted murder of Dee and Henry, and the stepfather for the murder of Aderonke. Henry informed the police that Miss Deirdre had told him she suspected Lucalla and her stepfather of being behind the incident at Nigeria House last month. The police were hoping for Dee to recover to confirm this. Clark had written up the bare bones of the story, leaving out his own role in twice saving Dee from these assassins. Over the next few days, Clark felt like he was walking around in a daze. He couldn't quite believe Dee's condition. If he'd only been there for her. She wouldn't have been hurt! Since his visit to the hospital, the High Commissioner had arranged for Dee's departure to Nigeria as a precautionary measure against retaliation by Lucalla's supporters in London. There was also hope that familiar surroundings might help in her recovery. Clark thought he'd wait a while before trying to visit her. His experience at the hospital had been too painful to repeat again soon. ***** Derek was *not* pleased that his *assistant*, "the American," had scooped the biggest story in six months. Clark figured he'd be sorting paper clips for the balance of his contract, if Derek had any say in the matter. As a result he wasn't surprised to find Derek had him reorganizing the back files of the society columns under an entirely different filing system. A step up from sorting paper clips to be sure, but it meant he didn't get out to the Embassies and High Commissions any longer. When no one was in the file room, Clark would use some of his special skills to speed up the progress and then use the extra time to do private research on scientific experiments by the U.S. and Soviet governments in the mid-sixties. He was hoping to shed some light on his own background. Colin was sympathetic of Clark's predicament, but couldn't think of any positive way for him to escape the wrath of Derek that wouldn't reflect badly on Clark. As a result, Clark kept up on the filing, at the pace that Derek set for him, and continued with his personal research at "special" speed. Life pretty well settled down into a rut from then on, with some minor variations. He, Colin and Geoffrey would have breakfast every morning while reading their newspapers. There was the trip into London and the mountainous job of filing every day. The only difference was that instead of reading the Chronicle every morning, Clark alternated between it and the Daily Planet to broaden his job search options. He knew his future at the Chronicle was not going to be extended after his contract ended. Mr. Chrichton had been really apologetic, but money was tight and, unfortunately, temp staff were the first to go. Derek had looked positively ecstatic at the news. ***** Colin was reading the front section of the Daily Planet, while Clark read the classifieds in the Chronicle. Geoffrey was gleefully reading all the news not fit to print in the Cosmic tabloid. Clark was thinking about where else he should look for work when Colin exclaimed, "That bitch! She won *again*!" "Who won what?" Geoffrey glanced up from his reading. "Oh that woman in Metropolis that always wins the Kerth Award, she did it again!" "If she always wins, why are you surprised?" Clark asked. He could never understand why Colin seemed to get all excited about things that he could have predicted were going to happen. Colin just looked at him, over the top of the newspaper, and went on reading, muttering to himself. Geoffrey shrugged, grinning. "Hey, guys, listen to this..." Colin slammed down his paper. "Once and for all Geoff, we're *not*, do you *understand*, *not* interested." Colin jerked up out of his chair and stormed to his room. "Guess he got out of bed on the wrong side this morning," Clark commented. "Nah, Deborah ditched him last night. She does it regularly and he gets like this every time." Geoffrey went back to reading the story he'd been about to tell them about. "Can you believe it? There's this woman in New Zealand that was burnt to death and she wasn't anywhere near a fire at the time! Her husband says she was a pain empath and had been severely injured...before.... *Clark*, what's wrong!" Clark was having trouble breathing. It couldn't be.... It *had* to be.... "Donna!" "Yea, she was Donna Courville, you knew her?" In the haze surrounding him, Clark saw Geoffrey drop the paper and step around the table to take Clark by the arm. "Clark! You look *awful*. Can I get you anything?" Geoff's voice was fading in and out, the room was slowly spiralling round and round. Clark swallowed convulsively. The room steadied and he saw Geoff turn towards the back of the apartment and heard him yell, "*Colin*! Get out here!" From what seemed like a long way off, Clark heard Colin's door open behind him. "What!" Colin was still in his mood. "Colin, get over here! I need your help. Clark's not feeling good." Clark wanted to disagree but to be perfectly honest he *didn't* feel all that good. First Dee was hurt and now Donna was dead! "I have to go. I have to be there..." He tried to stand, but Colin and Geoff were restraining him. He could have just thrown them to one side, but somehow he didn't feel up to doing that. All the conflicting emotions seemed to be affecting his ability to do anything at all. The two people in front of him seemed to be having a conversation that involved him, but it all seemed so far removed. "Geoff, what happened?" "I was telling Clark the story from the paper. Only he knew her, the woman who died I mean, and he just freaked out." Clark saw that Geoff had brought some brandy from the kitchen cupboard and poured a large dose into the juice glass he'd been using then insisted he drink it. Clark tried to protest. After all, alcohol didn't affect him. It would be a waste. His hands were shaking and Colin helped him to lift the glass to his mouth. "I have to go to New Zealand, I have to go now..." "No, Clark, you can't! It would take days to get there and we don't know how old the story is...or even if it's true." Colin attempted to sound soothing. Clark found that the effort of trying to swallow the brandy had brought the room and his flat-mates back into focus. Geoffrey tried his hand at helping, "Yes, Clark it might not even be true. They make up stuff like that all the time." Clark pushed his fingers through his hair. "No, it's true. Donna was afraid that she'd die during one of her 'attacks', I guess she finally did." Clark did breathing exercises to calm himself. He'd known all along that it was possible that Donna would die this way. It still upset him though. Maybe it didn't matter if you knew something bad was going to happen ahead of time, it was just as awful when it did. "What kind of person was she?" Geoffrey asked quietly, "and what do you mean by 'one of her attacks'?" Clark stared blindly at Geoff, only seeing a vision of Donna in his mind's eye. "She was beautiful and vivacious, an all-American girl. Except she had this difference that she couldn't control." "She'd really get burned when she wasn't near a fire?" "No, she would be suddenly 'at one' with someone who was dying a horrible death. She would get all the pain and injuries that the other person was experiencing. The last letter I got from them, her husband said she'd been linked to someone buried in a building collapse. She had to be hospitalized for a couple of weeks after that." Clark let his head drop into his hands. He still couldn't believe she was gone forever. "You loved her, didn't you?" Colin stated. Clark lifted his head up. He no longer cared if these people saw his tears. "I thought I did. I was nineteen when we met. I thought she was the most enchanting person I had ever known." "So what happened?" Geoffrey's nose for gossip resurfaced again. Clark vividly remembered their last conversation. Donna's voice echoed in his head: '"Clark, when you meet the one you're meant to be with, you'll *know*. There'll be something inside of you, something so fundamentally *right* in you, that will tell you *this* is the person you were meant to be with. I don't have that feeling about you. Can you honestly say you have it with me?"' Clark wiped the tears from his cheeks. "She turned me down." "Jeez, Geoff, don't you have any manners at all?" Colin rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter what happened *then*, it's how it's affecting him now that's important. Are you okay now, Clark, or do you want me to tell them at work that you're not feeling good and you'll be in tomorrow?" "No, I'll be fine. I spend most of the day in the file cupboard anyway, so I won't have to explain any sudden emotional bouts to anyone. Besides, I need to keep busy." Clark slowly stood up and went to the bathroom to clean up. He and Colin took the train and tube into the office. Clark spent the day concentrating on finishing the filing project. He could have sped up the process even faster, but he didn't want Derek asking any odd questions and it gave him something useful to do. Once he'd finished this project he'd hand in his resignation. He *had* to go to New Zealand. Besides, Lady DeWint had recommended he leave England. He'd call her and tell her he'd decided to take her advice and ask her to let him know, via his parents, when Dee was feeling better. At lunch he'd gone to Colin's area and asked about searching New Zealand newspapers. Colin had shown him how the back issues were organized. Once Colin had left the room, it took Clark only seconds to find the story of Donna's death. It had happened three weeks ago. Despite the fact that it was over and done with now, he wanted to go there. He couldn't visit her husband without having to give some awkward explanations about how come he just happened to be in the South Pacific. Despite this risk, he felt a compulsion to visit her grave. He should have been there for her when she was alive! He had all these skills and yet whenever anyone really needed them, he wasn't able to use them. He always had to hide who he really was and what he could do. It wasn't right! He *had* to come up with a solution to this problem. Soon! Clark handed in his resignation at the end of the week. Mr. Chrichton was sad to see him go, but understood that the work wasn't exactly the kind to keep him, especially since his three months were almost up and there couldn't be any extension on his contract. The secretarial pool got together and threw an impromptu party consisting mostly of tissue rosettes in lieu of balloons and Flake bars in lieu of champagne. Clark felt touched at their thoughtfulness. Colin and the gang gave him a rousing goodbye party at the Goose and Garter, after which Clark had to carry Colin home. Next morning he packed his bag and after saying goodbye to Colin and Geoffrey, took the train to Gatwick. He used the departure of a Qantas flight to cover his own takeoff. Once high above the clouds, bag in hand, he headed towards New Zealand. ***** New Zealand - November 1992 Clark was staring at her grave. There hadn't been time to erect a headstone just yet, but he didn't need that kind of marker to know which one was hers. Tears ran down his cheeks as he told Donna how sorry he was that he hadn't been there for her when she really needed him. He stood looking down at the grave and could almost feel Donna's presence. He told her of all the things that had happened since their last letter and how he was still looking for the one person he was meant to be with that she'd been convinced was out there somewhere. After he was finished telling her all of this, he stood for a few minutes remembering all the good times they'd had together. The picnic when he'd discovered how fast he could really fly when he needed to. Their exploration of Dunedin together--the Octagon in the centre of town and Taiaroa Head on the peninsula. He wished he'd had the courage to tell her the whole truth, that time he'd proved his invulnerability to her in the fire of the common room at the hostel. She would have understood. Now he'd never be able to correct that omission. He stood and let the tears fall down his cheeks, regret gnawing at his insides. Finally, he whispered his last goodbye to her and walked away from her grave. He was almost at the gate to the cemetery when he thought he heard his name. He turned to see who was calling him, but there was no one there. He'd heard that this kind of thing happened to grieving people. He'd never felt grief like this before. He hoped he wouldn't again--for a very long time. ***** Borneo - November 1992 Clark was standing opposite the offices of the Borneo Gazette. This didn't strike him as the place he'd finally settle down but he wanted to work again. His grief was still gnawing at him. He needed to keep busy to stop the pain. After visiting Donna's grave, he'd moved on to Australia and then New Guinea just wandering around, trying to keep his mind off Donna and his failure to help her when she needed him the most. He toured through the remote regions of New Guinea and visited the tribes in the Yolngu villages. He was envious of these people's ability to reduce stress by the simple means of chewing a local herbal leaf to bring them to a meditative state. Nothing like that ever helped him. Using their meditation regimen as a guide, Clark started practising the yoga meditation routines he'd learned on other trips to the East on a daily basis, and found that they did indeed reduce his stress and helped cushion the grief. After he'd been in New Guinea for a couple of weeks, he'd heard that the Borneo Gazette was looking for an experienced reporter. So here he was to apply for the job. It was yet again another contract position. This time he was assistant to the wildlife editor. Clark liked the job; he got to visit all parts of the island, and the editor gave him free reign in writing his stories, within certain parameters. On one of his trips to the mountains, he'd been caught in a monsoon and had flown home, hoping that the rain would act as cover if anyone was looking. Unfortunately, as it turned out, one of the tribe's medicine men had seen him and was now declaring him to be a new god. No one had connected this "golden god" with Clark just yet (he'd been wearing yellow slacks and a yellow T-shirt) but he was afraid it was only a matter of time. By the end of January, Clark was almost happy that his contract was coming to an end. He was tired of being the novelty simply because he was an American abroad. The effort in trying to hide his "special" talents was also starting to tire him. He really needed to move on. He thought long and hard about where to go next, but finally decided to go back home. He wanted to be someplace where he wasn't so much of an outsider. He'd always be different no matter where he was, but at least in Smallville he'd feel a little more like he belonged. The loss of Donna had made him stop and think hard about what his life was like and what he wanted his life to become. He was tired of being "different." Maybe if he went back to the States he'd feel a little less like an outsider, not so much a stranger in a strange land. Maybe then he could figure out how he could use the skills he had without losing himself in the process. He wanted a good job, one where he had a chance to stay and make a contribution, and steady money would be nice too. And, finally, of course he wanted to find a woman he could love and have a relationship with, and maybe even have children with. This last he figured was just a dream, but it gave him something to aim towards. ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 23:00:09 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 7 of 8 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" ****** Kansas - February 1993 Clark stood at the end of the driveway and just looked at the farm house. It represented so much to him--love, security and acceptance. It was home! He swung his suitcase happily at his side as he strode up the driveway. He could have flown right onto the porch, but he'd wanted to savour the moment of arrival as long as possible. He could hear Mom humming in the kitchen and Dad tinkering with the tractor in the barn. It felt *so* good to be home. He stepped up on the porch and knocked on the door. He could hear his Mom drying her hands and walking to the door. She almost moved at the speed of light when she saw who was there. "Clark! Oh, Clark!" They hugged and he swung her around as they both laughed. "Clark, why didn't you tell us you were coming home today? I could have made all your favourite foods." Mom gave him a mock severe look. He grinned back. "Oh! Your Dad. Go to the barn and get him! This is no time to be messing around with tractors." She shooed him away. Clark knew she was getting rid of him so she could rush around the house to make sure everything was perfect for his homecoming. He walked into the barn and snuck up behind his Dad who was kneeling beside the tractor. "Hi, Dad." Jon dropped the tool he'd been using and jumped up to give his son a bear hug. "Clark, does your mother know you're home, yet? She's going to fry you alive for not telling us which day you'd be here." "It's okay, Dad, she knows." Clark felt himself grinning from ear to ear. He was so happy to be here and with these people. He'd missed them more than he'd thought he ever could. Clark helped his father finish fixing the tractor, at "special" speed so Mom wouldn't fuss at the time they were wasting. Somehow, Mom had managed to put together everything he liked to eat at a moment's notice. Over dinner, they applauded Clark on his new "look" and he brought them up to date on what he'd been doing since their last phone conversation from Borneo. They knew about Donna's death, but he hadn't told them about Dee. Mom was supportive but, as usual, Dad fussed about people finding Clark out. ***** Clark went into town the next morning to see some of his friends at the malt shop and to just savour being home again. During his third chocolate shake, Mazie told him that Mr. Isaacs had suffered a heart attack and they were looking for a temporary editor for the Smallville Press while he recovered. Once he was finished with his shake, Clark walked over to the newspaper offices to ask after Mr. Isaacs. Jim Fairmont was so glad to see Clark, he was having one heck of a time trying to be writer, editor and publisher all in one. He asked Clark to be a temporary editor for a few weeks. Clark wanted some time to think about his future and this seemed like a good way to keep his hand in and yet know that he'd have other options in the near future. He accepted. ***** Kansas - March 1993 Clark was busy with his editing chores at the Smallville Post, but still had more than enough time to help Dad around the farm, in between bouts of fretting about his future. He got back together with his high school and college friends, and had a good time. However, somehow they seemed to be from a different world than himself. His travels had put a rift between himself and them. They were focused on the here and now, and he was concentrating on the world and the future. This scared him, he'd thought being "home" would make him feel like he belonged, but he felt more alienated now than he had during his travels. Nevertheless, the main benefit to being in Smallville was that he could talk things over with Mom and Dad. There was a warm familiarity about small town life that made him feel like he belonged, but he knew that he couldn't stay here for too much longer. He knew, now, that he didn't really belong in Smallville any more. ***** Kansas - April 1993 Mr. Isaacs was back at the Smallville Press. He asked Clark to help out for a couple of weeks, but Clark knew he'd have to find himself another job. He'd spent a lot of his visit home thinking through his options for the future. He had come to the conclusion he wanted to move to a big city. After visiting places like Toronto, London, and Tokyo, he'd decided that a big city meant a better chance at anonymity. Besides, he liked being in cities, they had so much vibrancy, and there were lots of opportunities to help. He also wanted to stay in the United States. He'd liked visiting places around the world, but he wanted to live some place where he fit in, *if* he could hide his "special" abilities. He talked it over with Mom and Dad. Mom suggested Chicago, her Aunt Hilda was there and he'd have family close by. Dad wasn't keen on the idea of Clark moving to *any* city. He just thought that a city would allow more chances for Clark to get caught and put in a lab. Clark considered moving to Los Angeles. However, he rejected that idea because in the brief time he'd been there, it seemed almost as foreign as some of the more exotic places he'd been. He didn't think he could make a home there. He wanted to settle down, plant some roots and maybe form a family. Los Angeles hadn't impressed him as a place to do any of that. He remembered Aunt Hilda in Chicago. She was extremely inquisitive, and he doubted he could keep his secret from her if he was living in the same city, no matter how far apart they were. So that nixed the idea of moving to Chicago. New York was an option, but his application to work at the Times had come back with a badly Xeroxed rejection notice. He wanted to work someplace where you weren't just another number. That left Metropolis as the most likely place. The Daily Planet was there, and it was the kind of world class newspaper that he wanted to work for. Besides, one of their staff kept winning all the awards, so they must be doing something right. However, he didn't want to make the same mistake he'd made with the New York Times and cold call The Daily Planet. He needed an introduction. He vaguely remembered that Professor Carlton knew one of the editors there. He decided to make an appointment to visit his former professor at the University of Kansas in Lawrence, and get his advice regarding his career. ****** Clark walked up Jayhawk Boulevard from the Union building, gazing at the Collegiate Gothic and Romanesque Style buildings gracing both sides of the street, and watching the squirrels cavort along the tree-lined boulevard. The red roofs and yellow limestone walls brought memories of his days at the Journalism School flooding back. He walked slowly, savouring the sounds and sights around him. As he entered the Quad, the campanile sounded the quarter of the hour. He stood in front of Stauffer-Flint Hall for a few minutes, remembering the journalism classes taken there, and the friends he'd made. Everything had seemed so simple then. Clark ducked flying frisbees as he crossed the Quad and entered the building. It only took a couple of seconds to re-orient himself and locate Professor Carlton's office. The interior of Stauffer-Flint Hall hadn't changed much since he'd graduated. Professor Carlton was happy to see Clark. He had followed Clark's progress and was more than glad to support Clark's bid to get a job at The Daily Planet. However, before he wrote the letter of introduction to Perry White, he wanted to see some of Clark's recent work. Clark handed over the story he'd written about Caribbean gun running, an article from his Ottawa Journal days that now seemed like they were in the ancient past, the story about Dee's almost assassination and an article he'd written about the knob-tailed gecko for the Borneo Gazette. Professor Carlton read them all while they drank coffee together in his office. He was shaking his head over the last one. "Clark, this is a wonderful exposition on wildlife in Borneo as it parallels human development. Whatever made you give this article a title like 'Mating rituals of the knob-tailed gecko'?" Clark sighed, "The editor was a stickler for keeping 'smut' out of his newspaper. The only way you could get anything 'racy' past him was to make it sound as deadly dull as possible. Do you think I should leave that out of my samples?" "No...no, it's a very well written piece. Anyone who takes the time to read it will recognize its worth. Keep it in." Professor Carleton flipped through the other material. "I'd leave out the Journal stuff, it's too pedestrian. Not your fault, that's the kind of job you had there. I'd keep the other samples, but they're not as well written as the Borneo one. Then of course, it's your most recent as well. I'd present the samples in reverse date order, that way anyone interested can see the progress you've made over the years." He handed the bundle of samples back to Clark. "So you've been acting as editor for the Smallville Post? How is old Isaacs anyway? I haven't seen him in ages." Professor Carlton reminisced about his early days in journalism and then when the clock chimed, excused himself saying that he had a lecture. Clark stood and thanked him for all his help. "I'll write that letter to Perry White tomorrow and send you a copy so you know it's been mailed. Just let me know when your interview is and I'll make a follow up call to him." "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate your help." "No problem, Clark. You always had the potential to become a fine journalist." With that, Professor Carlton shook Clark's hand and strode out of the room. Clark followed the professor into the hallway and went down the stairs. On his way out of Stauffer-Flint Hall, crossing the quad, Clark almost knocked a young woman over. "Clark! Clark Kent! Well, I never!" Clark searched through his memory for a connection and finally had it. "Lori? Lori Calumet! What on earth are you doing here?" "Finishing my degree. And, actually it's Lori Cain, now but what are *you* doing here?" "Visiting Professor Carlton to get a reference." Clark and Lori were being jostled by students changing classes. "If you're not busy, maybe we could have coffee and catch up on old times?" Lori offered. "Sure. Where? I see that Union's under construction, do you want to go to La Prima Tazza? I haven't had a cappuccino like that since I graduated." "Sure, La Prima Tazza would be great." Clark led her through the construction maze in the Union building down to the public parking, where he'd parked Mom's car for the duration. He opened the passenger's door until Lori had entered, closed the door and then got in on the driver's side. "So, are there any more major changes I should be aware of, or is it the usual route to Mass Street?" Clark started the engine. "The usual route. Nothing's changed on Mass Street since Noah." Lori grinned. Clark drove them down Mass and found a parking place very close to La Prima Tazza coffee shop. He wasn't quite quick enough to open the passenger door for Lori to get out of the car. Once seated in La Prima Tazza with sweet buns and cappuccinos between them, Clark and Lori caught up on the intervening years and Clark's plans to move to Metropolis. "You know, Clark, I had the *biggest* crush on you in my freshman year, but you didn't even know I existed. I'm not sure why I'm still talking to you." Lori grinned to counter the criticism in her words. "Well, in first year I was having major girlfriend problems. I probably wouldn't have noticed a solar eclipse that year." Clark grinned back. Not to mention that he'd just learned to fly and he'd found that kind of overwhelming. "Oh, right. Lana Lang. I forgot about her. Besides, that summer I met John and in the fall you'd changed, like something major had happened to you that summer. I heard Lana and you broke up, I guess that was it." Lori took another bite out of her beignet. "I guess. You didn't come back after second year, what happened?" Clark picked up his third cruller and took a bite. "Clark Kent, I don't know how you do it! You eat sweet buns like there's no tomorrow and still look like sugar and fat have never passed your lips." She paused for a second, looking thoughtful. "To answer your question, I got pregnant and got married. The kids are in school now so I'm back finishing my degree." "Oh!" Clark was surprised, he hadn't even heard any rumours about why she'd left. "Yes, I guess having kids would certainly put a roadblock in the way of finishing. Must have been tough to have to stop part way through. Do you ever wish you'd planned it better?" Lori looked at him skeptically. "Clark! You are even more controlled now than I remember! You can't plan *everything* in life. That's not the way it is." "Well, you have to try and plan, it makes life much easier." Lori sighed. "Maybe, but then life gets kind of boring if it's all planned out. You really should loosen up more...be less compulsive...stop being so controlled. Have more fun." "I'm not *that* controlled." If he was more controlled he wouldn't keep making those stupid mistakes that forced him to leave each new place he went. "Yes, Clark, you are! You seem to want to plan *everything* in your life. I can't see you getting yourself in trouble, let alone any girl. You just aren't like that. Have you ever just gone out and got blind drunk, or done something dumb just for the hell-of-it?" "Well, I played hooky from school a few times." Clark wasn't going to tell her how he'd tried to get blind drunk after leaving Donna's grave, and failed miserably because alcohol just didn't affect him. He'd wanted to become oblivious to the pain so badly, and couldn't. On the other hand, it was just as well that he couldn't, without restraints he'd be lethal! Lori rolled her eyes. "Like I said, you just don't have it in you. You're just too much of a goody-two-shoes." Clark sighed. What choice did he have? He couldn't just do whatever he wanted! He could *hurt* people! "I'll put it in my agenda. 'Try to loosen up!' Would that work?" He gave her a lopsided grin, to show he was kidding. Lori patted his hand. "Don't plan it, just do it." She looked at her watch. "I have a class now. It's been nice talking again Clark. I hope your job interview goes well." "Do you want a lift back to the campus?" Clark stood, to leave with her. "No, that's fine. There's a bus due in a couple of minutes. You just relax and finish your cappuccino." "Hope your year goes well," Clark called after Lori as she grabbed her backpack and rushed from the shop to catch the bus. Clark stared after her. Her assessment of him was brutal, if accurate. He *was* over-controlled. What she didn't know was that he *had* to be, if he wanted to be able to live with his conscience. He finished his cappuccino and left to walk along Mass Street. Nothing much had changed. As he passed Dean's Half Price Books, he ducked in to see what they had. There wasn't anything of real interest for him there, so he continued his walk along the street. He walked through the park area across from the court house and dropped into J. Hood's Booksellers. It was a nice old bookstore that resembled some of the comfortable old book stores he'd visited in London. He picked up a Chinese cook book, in Chinese, and a reasonably clean hardback copy of C.S. Lewis' "The Last Battle" to round out his Narnia collection. He crossed the street and dropped into Mass Street Music to see if they had anything he was interested in. He'd collected a lot of music from around the world, but liked browsing here. It brought back memories of the nicer parts of his college days. He picked up a tape of Taoist music that he could use to help with meditation as well as provide background for his Tai Chi practice. Clark drove back to the farm and tried to avoid thinking about what he'd do if the Daily Planet interview didn't pan out. There were other newspapers. He'd just have to keep trying. ****** About a week later he got the copy of Professor Carlton's letter to Perry White at the Daily Planet. Clark wrote a letter of application to the editor, requesting an interview. It was another two weeks before he got the reply from Mr. White. He had an interview at 11:00 a.m., Wednesday, May 12, 1993 with Perry White, Editor-in-Chief, fourth floor newsroom, Daily Planet building, Metropolis, New Troy. Clark could hardly wait! He phoned Professor Carlton to tell him the good news. ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Thu, 27 Nov 1997 23:00:12 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 8 of 8 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" ****** Metropolis - May 1993 Clark flew himself to Metropolis. Following his normal routine when arriving at a new place, he landed near the airport and took local transit to the centre of town. He had a map of Metropolis and knew that he would have about a two-block walk from the #36 bus route to the Daily Planet building. As he got off the bus, he set his suitcase down and gazed about. He saw the bustle of the crowds, smelled the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee from sidewalk cappuccino vendors, heard the roar and rumble of traffic in the big city, and loved it all. Suddenly, he sensed a disturbing sound in the hurly-burly around him. Looking up the hill, he saw a bus weaving out of control. The brakes had failed and the bus was heading directly for a crowd of unsuspecting pedestrians crossing the street with the light. With only a cursory glance at the surrounding people, Clark stepped in front of the bus and stopped it before it hit the oblivious pedestrians. When he removed his hand there remained a hand print in the metal on the front of the bus. Clark cringed--he hadn't been here five minutes and already he'd messed up! One of the pedestrians kept trying to tell the others what he'd done, so Clark dodged back to the sidewalk, picked up his suitcase and merged with the crowd. He'd have to be more careful if he wanted to settle down here. He turned the corner, and there before him was the famous Daily Planet globe over the newspaper's big front door. It took Clark's breath away. He stared at the building, trying to sense if this was the place for him. He couldn't tell from just the bricks and mortar, but it didn't make him feel bad. He hefted the suitcase again and crossed into the Daily Planet building. In the lobby was a small coffee counter and a newsstand. There were art-deco style brass elevator doors on the left. Clark took the first one, even though it was packed. He wanted to get the feel of the people here. Most just stood and watched the floor buttons change but a couple of people were chattering on about some crazy man who'd burst into the newsroom earlier. A shrill voice commented, "That's Lois Lane for you, she always draws the nutcases out of the woodwork." Lois Lane, that was the woman who won all the awards. She must have been in the business for years to have done everything she'd accomplished so far. He wondered if she'd be interesting to talk to, or would she be such an old warhorse who you wouldn't be surprised to find she spit nails. The elevator stopped at the fourth floor. It was nice to be able to know the fourth floor was actually four floors up, instead of five like in England. He must be getting nervous, he only thought of those kinds of picky details when he was under stress. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He needed it, the noise and bustle of the newsroom was horrendous. The other papers he'd been at seemed almost reserved by comparison. He asked a passing staffer where he'd find Perry White and was directed to a glassed-in office across the far side of the bedlam below him. As he walked across the newsroom to the office, he noticed Lois Lane's nameplate on a desk with files and notes piled all over it, and a dead plant in one corner. It didn't look like the desk of a prizewinning reporter. He'd expected more status symbols, like an enclosed office and a case for her awards. He knocked on Mr. White's door and entered when commanded. Perry White was on the phone, he indicated that Clark should sit. When he got off the phone he said, "So, Mr. ...?" "Kent. Clark Kent." Clark swallowed nervously as Mr. White studied his resume. "Yes. Kent. Professor Carlton called me about you. Haven't seen him in... let's see... editor of the Smallville Press... that's...?" "Kansas." The intercom on the desk buzzed. Barely listening to the message, Perry White yelled into the receiver instructions about rearranging lunch. Clark was beginning to get a bad feeling about this interview. Mr. White didn't seem to be interested in making time to properly interview him. Then to Clark's surprise, Mr. White said, with a sigh, "I bought a blood pressure monitor last week, you believe it?" Clark realized the man was going into stress-overload. He decided to make a suggestion. "Paava leaves." "Excuse me?" "The Yolngu tribe in New Guinea eat paava leaves to relieve stress...puts them in a meditative state. Maybe you should try it." "Uh-huh. Sounds like you've done some travelling." Clark felt a bit more relaxed--finally they were talking about him. He nodded. "Well, it *is* my first time in Metropolis." Clark handed over his portfolio of sample work, in reverse chronological order. "I brought some samples of my work." Mr. White seemed a little taken aback by his preparedness. "Well, let's take a look..." He raised his eyebrows as he read the first in the portfolio, "The Borneo Gazette? 'Mating rituals of the knob-tailed gecko'?" Mr. White looked up from the portfolio, clearly dismissing it. Clark's heart sank. The way the man spoke he wasn't going to read the article, just judge it by its title. "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." Before Clark could say anything in his defence, the office door behind him burst open and a young man entered and tossed a set of keys onto Mr. White's desk. He explained in detail how he'd fixed a golf cart while Mr. White tried to make him leave. Clark sensed that this Jimmy person had taken one look at him and, dismissed him as irrelevant, which was probably a reflection of how his prospective boss felt, too. "*Not now!*" Perry White, finally, got the young man to stop talking. Jimmy shrugged, and exited, closing the door. Mr. White turned his attention back to Clark, "As I was saying, I just don't think that...." Clark's stomach clenched. He was going to be rejected because this man was too busy to give him his full attention. Then the office door flew open again. How on earth did this man get anything done? No wonder he had high blood pressure! Then Clark saw her. She was absolutely beautiful and vivacious, with the most endearing frown on her face. Clark was in a daze as he rose to his feet. Who was this? He had to get to know her, he just had to. "Chief, I think there's a story here and we should check this guy out. The crazy one this morning? His name is Samuel Platt and he was an engineer at EPRAD for ten years. He's...." She even had a beautiful voice. Mr. White was annoyed at being interrupted in the middle of his rejection speech, yet again, "Can't you see I'm in the middle of something here?" "Oh." She said, but still stood her ground. She was looking at Mr. White resolutely and Clark wished with all his heart that she'd look at him. Mr. White seemed resigned to her determination, and remembering his manners, made the introductions: "Lois Lane, Clark Kent." This was *her*, *the* Lois Lane, and she wasn't an old warhorse, she was stunning! "Nice to meet you." She almost ran the words together as if they were the means to finishing her conversation with Mr. White. This was confirmed when she barely glanced in his direction and continued her speech to the editor, "Anyway, this guy worked on the Messenger, he...." Mr. White looked even more annoyed, "Lois, what happened to that mood piece I gave you? The razing of that old theatre on Forty-second?" "I wasn't in the 'mood'." Clark was charmed, not only beautiful and good at her job, but she had wit as well. Clark felt himself smiling. "Now listen here, Lois, I ..." Mr. White might as well have not spoken, because Jimmy knocked on the glass office wall and signalled that Lois had a phone call. "Gotta run. Catch you later, Chief." And she was gone. Mr. White was shaking his head. "If that woman wasn't one of the best damn investigative reporters I've ever seen, I'd..." He then seemed to remember what he'd been doing before he got interrupted and 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." Clark felt deflated. He wasn't going to work here. And he'd probably never see that wonderful woman again. He tried to plead his case, "Mr. White. I know I lack experience, but I'm a hard worker and a good writer. I ..." Mr. White reiterated, "Kent. I haven't got anything for you." With a sinking heart, Clark went through the motions. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your taking the time to see me." He stood and shook Mr. White's hand. His brain was in a turmoil. How could he change this man's mind? Clark walked slowly over to the elevator. He looked down into the bullpen of activity. He could see Lois Lane gesticulating as she talked on the phone. He had to figure out some way of getting a job here. The atmosphere was just right. He'd have no problem dodging Mr. White's attention if he had to do something "special" since the man was always so busy. And that woman.... He wanted to work with her! The elevator door opened and he stepped inside, just as Lois Lane dashed up the ramp towards the door. "Hold it!" Clark held the door back for her. He was having trouble breathing. Clark tried not to stare at her, not that she would have noticed, she was too busy giving orders to the young man who'd followed her into the elevator, the one who'd fixed Mr. White's golf cart, while rummaging through her briefcase looking for something that she didn't find. Jimmy kept saying "Yes, Lois" and "No, Lois" which Clark soon decided was exactly the wrong stance to take with her. If he ever did get to work with her, he'd have to remember to be her straight man, not her "yes man". She obviously had no use for "yes men". To Clark's regret, she bolted through the elevator doors as soon as they opened on the ground floor. She was in a taxi, with Jimmy in tow, pulling away from the curb by the time Clark got through the revolving doors onto the street. He stared after her, until she was too far away for even him to see. Someone jostled him and told him to get a move on, he was blocking the sidewalk. Clark refocused his eyes back to "normal" strength. He turned back in the direction of his hotel. The sight of a city bus reminded him that he'd already almost blown his cover. He'd have to be more careful if he intended to stick around here for any length of time. He went back to the Hotel Apollo and called home, collect. Mom and Dad were sympathetic and offered him funds to tide him over. They couldn't keep doing this for him. He had to make a go of it this time, he just had to. He flopped onto the iron bedstead that constituted the Apollo's idea of luxury sleeping accommodations and tried to think. The image of Lois Lane kept crossing his mind and colliding with the feeling of failure at the end of the interview with Mr. White. If he could get a job at the Planet, he'd have everything that he wanted in life. But how was he going to convince Mr. White to hire him? He'd been very definite that there wasn't a job for Clark. There was no point in lying here and moping, he decided to go out and see some of the city. After all it was his first visit here and he should see what it had to offer. With this laudable goal in mind he went out into the teaming streets of Metropolis. He stopped at a newsstand and bought a Daily Planet. He wanted to find out what was happening in Metropolis, and he had to admit he wanted to read Lois Lane's work. He'd read her articles before, and had the impression they were written by a tough, austere woman of indefinite age. Now that he'd met her, he saw her writing in a new light. She was tough, yes, but she had a sensitivity that kind of seeped through now and then. Her writing was admittedly austere, the exact opposite of his own natural writing style; but, he recognized it was the right style for the kind of stories that she investigated. They had nothing in common, so why was he so taken with her? She didn't even look like the kind of woman he'd thought beautiful. He'd almost always been attracted to blondes before. He shrugged off this conundrum and began looking through the want ads for jobs. There ended up not being anything he could apply for. He folded up the newspaper and with it under his arm walked around the streets of downtown Metropolis, drinking in the atmosphere of one of the biggest cities in the world. He walked along the banks of the river and admired the myriad of architectural styles in the city. As dark descended, he watched the crowds heading for the theatre district and dodged block long limousines with stars of stage and screen behind the tinted glass, some of whom he actually recognized from major motion pictures he'd seen. Eventually he was back in front of the Daily Planet staring at the globe. He knew he'd have to go back to his hotel room soon, but there was nothing to do there. He'd be climbing the walls within an hour. Just as he was about to turn down the street to the Apollo Hotel, he saw Lois Lane exit through the revolving doors of the Daily Planet. She looked tired but walked purposefully towards the nearest transit station. She must be going home. Clark watched her, using his "special" vision to see down to the train platform, as she boarded the train marked Carter Street. He wondered what kind of place she lived in. Did she live alone? His heart froze as he realized she might already be in a relationship. He forced himself to relax. No one that intensely involved in their job would have a loving significant other waiting for them at home. Besides, what difference did it make? She wasn't interested in him. ...Not yet, anyway. Not yet? He must be delusional. Try "Not ever," Kent. Stuffing his hands in his pants pockets he walked back to the hotel. Why was he daydreaming about a mythical relationship with someone he'd only met for a few seconds? He should be practical and try to figure out how he was going to get a job. *Then* he could think about trying to fill the other parts of his dream. He walked past a crater in the ground that had once been a building and now had a sign informing the world at large that a parking garage was going to be built at this location by the Fall of 1991. Seeing as how it was May 1993 now, the funding must have fallen through. It made him wonder why they kept tearing down buildings only to leave the land idle. Why not renovate them and put them to good use? Like that old theatre that Mr. White had wanted Lois Lane to do a piece on. Why Mr. White would want someone with her writing style to do a mood piece, Clark couldn't divine. He grinned at the memory of Lois' comeback that she wasn't in the mood. He walked up the steps of the Apollo Hotel and after checking his mailbox went up to his room. His stay here couldn't go much past the week he'd paid for. Once the week was up he'd have to go back home if he didn't have a definite job in sight. He flopped on the bed and read the rest of the newspaper until the flickering light drove him to fixing it. He stared at the four walls, and as predicted in no time at all he was walking the walls for something to do. His life seemed as barren as that empty lot he'd passed earlier. Flopping back onto the bed, face down, he buried his face in his arms. He needed a job! He wanted a job at the Daily Planet! After he'd read the entire paper cover to cover he'd found the only article by Lois Lane was a follow-up article on her uncovering the car-theft ring. He'd wanted to see what she did with the "mood" piece. Let's face it, he wanted to see her again. The mood piece! His head jerked up. She still hadn't done the story that Perry White wanted--probably didn't intend to do it, unless she was forced to, if Clark was any judge of character. Mr. White wanted the story. He, Clark was *good* at that kind of story. Tomorrow, he'd try to find that theatre and see what he could dig up about its fate. If he could find the right mood for the piece...and could actually get Mr. White to read his work...then, maybe...just, maybe...he'd get a job there and after that who knew what might happen! Clark felt a great relief. He had a plan. With any luck at all he'd have the job he wanted, then he could start on figuring out how he could accomplish the other dreams he had for his life. He wanted this to be the last time he had to run out of town because he'd blown his cover. He wanted to settle down. He wanted to get to know Lois Lane. He had to figure out some way to stay here, to use his "special" talents to help people and yet lead a normal life. Well, one step at a time. First, get the job at the Daily Planet. If he could do that, then anything was possible. After all, less than a year ago he hadn't been able to cut his own hair and now he looked like any ordinary guy. He'd found the solution when it counted, he'd be able to do it again. He just had to be open to anything that might help him solve the problem, no matter how disconnected it seemed at the time. Clark lay his head back down on the pillow. He would find a way to stay, he *knew* he would! Because, *inside*, he knew this city, this newspaper...no, he should be honest with himself, this *woman* was fundamentally the *right* one for him. The End ***** Not really the end! It's destined to be the beginning of "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman":) ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ****************************** ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 28 Nov 1997 09:59:14 -0500 Reply-To: gdeer@ix.netcom.com Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: "Gery L. Deer" Organization: L & G Enterprises Subject: Re: FOR NEW MEMBERS MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Farah Meitzen Chisham wrote: > > For those new members, here are instructions on setting digest: > > Send email to: > > LISTSERV@LISTSERV.INDIANA.EDU > > body text: > > SET LOISCLA-GENERAL-L DIGEST > > farah :) > fchisham@indiana.edu Could you submit my email address for removal from the list? I would no longer like to receive L&C email... THanks ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 28 Nov 1997 11:39:08 -0700 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Sheila Harper Subject: Re: That Sexy Noise Clark Makes (How to Describe It?) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 09:23 PM 11/26/97 -0500, Ethel \"Terri\" Addison wrote: >there is a certain noise that Clark >(Dean, really) makes that is really sexy to me. Trouble is, I >have *no idea* how to describe it. Carol, I've used "a murmur of pleasure rumbled in his throat" to describe it, but it could also be described as a soft groan or a low rumble, too. Sheila ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 28 Nov 1997 12:49:20 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Peace Everett Subject: Fanfic Archive Questionnaire -- Readers/Writers Hi, I'm a grad student in Library School, working on a paper for a cataloging class on the subject of fanfiction archives. (Hey, they always say, write about what you know about! ) I would appreciate your taking the time to answer a few questions about the archives you visit. FANFIC ARCHIVE QUESTIONNAIRE - READERS/WRITERS Which archives do you visit on a regular basis? (Give URLs, names, and fandoms, if possible.) How did you find out about those archives? How are those archives organized? How do you select the stories that you read (by author, by subject matter, etc.)? Do the stories have summaries or blurbs that tell what the stories are about? Do you know who writes the blurbs? Are the stories rated by content (eg. PG, R, NC-17)? Do you know who determines the ratings? Have you written any stories which are in the archives you've mentioned? If so, did you submit the stories for consideration or did the archivists approach you and request to include your stories? Is there anything else you would like to tell me about the archives you visit which I haven't asked about here? Thanks for your help with this project. Please send all responses to Peace at PEverett9@aol.com or Peace9@worldnett.att.net with Questionnaire in the subject line. Please don't send your responses back to the list or newsgroup where you found this questionnaire, as I may not find it in time to use, and the list/newsgroup can use the bandwidth for other things! Thanks again! Peace ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 29 Nov 1997 09:54:32 +1100 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Jenny Stosser Subject: Re: That Sexy Noise Clark Makes (How to Describe It?) In-Reply-To: <971127145011_833230044@mrin54.mail.aol.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 02:50 PM 27/11/97 -0500, The Zoomway wrote: >Well, we play that scene as a wav file on #loiscla a lot. It's sort of a >gutterul (oooh ;) hum or moan. Gutterul means 'from the throat' (this *is* >getting interesting ;) I actually asked this question for you on IRC and >played the wav. Chris said it was a 'yummy' sound ;) All we agreed on really >is that we *love* when Dean does/did that > >Zoomway@aol.com > A question for those of you who have scripts: what was the description in the script of this scene? BTW, as for sexy sounds, there's this one scene in, oh it must have been TPvLL or DLW (I forget which) where Lois is in the cell and Superman breaks in to see her, and she says something to the effect of "I love it when you do that!" and his response is just SOOOO sexy sounding, I can't understand why noone else has commented on it! -- Jenny Stosser -*- jenerate@ozramp.net.au -*- (Jenerator or MoiAussie on IRC) This message is umop ap!sdn -*- David is 5 and Megan is 2! Photos on the Stosser Family HomePage: http://www.ozramp.net.au/~jenerate Please Visit! ========================================================================= Date: Wed, 26 Nov 1997 18:34:33 PST Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Peace Everett Subject: Re: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 1 of 8 In-Reply-To: <3.0.32.19971127225832.0068d9f0@capitalnet.com> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="ISO-8859-1"; X-MAPIextension=".TXT" Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable Hi, again, Margaret Finally got around to looking at this -- it's been in my mailbox a couple= of days. Thanks for the kind words at the beginning! Lori looking forward to rereading... ========================================================================= Date: Fri, 28 Nov 1997 22:52:56 -0500 Reply-To: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" Sender: "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Fanfic" From: Margaret Brignell Subject: Re: Fanfic Rerun: The One -- Part 1 of 8 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" At 06:34 PM 26/11/97 PST, Peace wrote: >Thanks for the kind words at the beginning! You're welcome:) >Lori LOL You nut! So my character Lori Calumet is attending Clark's alma mater in Lawrence, Kansas...and gets to hold a conversation with Clark...and is married to a Mr. Cain. That's no reason to use her name...although I don't blame you...who wouldn't want to be her? Lois Hey, I like to live vicariously too ****************************** Margaret Brignell brignell@capitalnet.com Ottawa, Canada %%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%% My fanfic now available at: http://www.capitalnet.com/~brignell/ ******************************