A/N: Hey guys... been a while, huh? Sorry about that. I'm trying to really concentrate on getting my novel done, so fanfiction's taken a back seat for a while.
This, however, is an anomoly.
The idea came about after I talked to SuperLC529, and a return to the script format (sort of) kept bugging me. It bugged me so much, I woke up at two o'clock this morning, and wrote this longhand.
Anyone familiar with Angel will know exactly where this story comes from. I'm not to bothered about that.
As Sam Seabourne said in The West Wing: "Good writers borrow from the classics. Great writers steal outright."
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As always, reviews are love. Thanks y'all!
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…the tape…
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…lois in tears…
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Clark was late.
And for someone with super-speed, this was particularly annoying. Clark knew he'd be in for it, too. Lois had asked him to help her move over a week ago, and had spent the subsequent days dropping hints to make sure he didn't forget.
Some hints were subtle: "I wonder if I have enough boxes…"
Others… not so much. Like the time he'd come back to his desk to find a photo of the Talon, and a photo of her new building taped to his monitor, with a note in-between: 'To get from here (crude arrow diagram indicating Talon) to here (crude arrow diagram indicating new place) I need you to meet me at noon. Noon, Smallville!'
It was 12:45.
Still, Clark felt he was on the side of right. How was he supposed to know that an armed gang would try to rob a bank five minutes before a bus full of nuns went off the Met Bay Bridge?
A bus full of nuns! Honestly!
Clark hustled up the stairs and emerged onto the landing in front of Lois' apartment. The door was open, and he could see a stack of boxes already piled in the entryway. His guilt deepened. Stepping round them, Clark was already shoring up his mental armour for the assault that was sure to follow.
"Lo!" he called, "Listen, sorry I'm late! I got caught up with, uh… some chores at the farm. See, our cow Bessie, she can get a bit moody sometimes, and…"
Clark broke off mid-sentence. He'd spotted Lois. She was on the floor in front of the TV, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking slowly.
She was crying.
"Lois? What's wrong? Are you okay?"
Clark launched himself across the room, falling to his knees by her side. Only when he laid a gentle hand on her arm did Lois even seem to notice him.
She tried to smile.
She failed.
"I'm fine…'' she choked, "I just…"
A fresh wave of tears broke over her, cutting off the words. Lois hugged herself tighter. Clark had seen Lois cry before – most notably after her break up with Oliver – but it was still so rare that it stunned him.
Also, this was different.
There were no sobs, no wails, no evidence of her pain other than the tears coursing freely down her cheeks and the gentle shaking of her shoulders.
Reaching forward, Clark pulled her into his embrace. Lois seemed to unravel and melt into his arms. She clutched at his shirt, burying her face in his chest.
And wept.
Clark trailed his fingers through her hair, gently stroking the back of her neck.
"Shh…" he cooed, softly, "It's okay…"
After a while, Lois seemed to calm. The shuddering ceased and she lifted herself out of his arms. Clark brushed the tears from her face.
"Sorry…" she mumbled, "I'm such a baby sometimes."
"What happened?"
Lois bit her lip, as though unwilling, or unable, to explain. But, typical of Lois Lane, she took a deep, strengthening breath, and soldiered on.
"I found something," she said, "I was packing up my old tapes, and it was just… there. I forgot I even had it. I don't know why I watched it. I should have known better."
"You found a tape?" said Clark, and she nodded, "It wasn't A Walk To Remember, was it? Because I thought we agreed to wait a year before watching it again – after the mush you turned into last time."
"It wasn't A Walk To Remember!" some annoyance crept into Lois' voice, banishing the sadness, for a while, at least, "And anyway, if I remember correctly, you were pretty mushy yourself, oh, every single time we've seen it!"
"I got something in my eye!" Clark protested.
"Thirteen times?"
"Yeah, well…" he blustered, "Anyone who doesn't cry when Landon takes Jamie to the state line and tells her she's in two places at once is just made of stone!"
Clark's explanation escaped in a defensive rush, and Lois giggled. The feeling that surged inside Clark when he heard that surprised him. It was beyond relief.
"What's on the tape?" he asked, carefully, lest she go off again.
"It's still in the machine," she said.
She picked up the remote, discarded beside her, and hit 'Rewind'. The odd, whining burr of the tape being spooled back filled the silence. The tape cranked to a halt and Lois hit 'Play'. The picture shifted from black, to dancing grey snow.
"How old was the camera?" asked Clark.
Lois slapped his arm and kept her eyes on the screen. After a couple of seconds, the picture resolved into an extreme close-up of slatted floorboards. Clark heard the weirdly enhanced, echoing clunking and shuffling as the camera operator got into position. The picture tilted, coming into focus, and Clark saw:
"My loft! What were you doing with a camera in my loft?"
"Relax, Smallville," said Lois, "This was way before we started going out."
"So… you'd be open to cameras now?"
Clark made a mental note to file that info away for later.
"Shh…" she said, "Watch."
Clark obeyed, reluctantly. The thought of Lois hanging around with a camera when he didn't know she was there was a disturbing one. There were things about him she didn't need to know.
Not yet.
A few seconds passed, and a figure stepped into frame. The camera, tilted and set at an oblique angle, negating the light streaming through the loft window, was still too low for Clark to make out the figure's face. It was a male, wearing a striped shirt and blue jeans.
The camera swung up, and the figure's open, boyish face filled the screen.
A face Clark hadn't expected to see again.
"Jimmy?"
I was helping him out last year," Lois explained, "We just used the loft. You don't mind, do you?"
"What were you doing?"
"Watch," she said, again, "You'll see."
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.
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