Fractals

Fractals Chapter Twenty One (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… the Thai lady says hello, lol. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are pumpkiny goodness for archiving/hosting! ProPhile: *gloke* Morgan: *happy dance* Readers/Reviewers: Thank you SO much for reading/reviewing! I didn’t intend for this to be a full on cross over but this chapter begs to differ… *ahem *


“You’re doing what?”
“I’m going to Bayville for the week. There’s a story in this. Jimmy really kicked something up here!”
“Lois…” Clark Kent grabbed Lois’s hands to keep them from fluttering over her desk and forced her to look at him by virtue of his intensely blue gaze. “Jimmy is getting reprimanded even as we speak. Charles Xavier called and asked that anything we’ve printed be retracted and the photos be destroyed except for the digital files, which he has requested in their entirety.”
Lois Lane looked briefly dismayed. “Clark, don’t be an idiot. Jimmy is really onto something here and all it needs is an experienced reporter’s touch to make it really shine.”
“Lois…we’re talking about gossip and rumors here. This isn’t Watergate!”1 He leaned against Lois’s desk and glanced out the floor-to-ceiling window at the nightscape of the city. “Why don’t we go get something to eat and we can talk about this before you go off to Bayville…”
“Clark,” she sighed, brandishing a slip of paper. “Do you know what this is?”
“A sheet off your phone memo pad. Why do you ask?” He raised a sardonic brow, refusing to be baited.
Lois waved it like a flag. “An invitation!”
“To…?” He trailed after her, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Sometimes, he thought, they were more trouble than the disguise was worth. He had spent a fortune in replacements over the past six months alone and the optometrist was starting to give him odd looks when he came in with yet another crushed or mutilated pair.
“To some hoity toity reception for the media at some estate outside of Bayville. One of those East Egg places.2” She shrugged, stopping to get her coat from the rack by the door. “You want Chinese? I think it’s the only thing open this late.”
He nd, pd, plucking the memo from her hand. “You just got this an hour ago?” he queried, peering at the paper as if it would yield some hidden information. “Lois, you really need to talk to Perry about this.”
“Clark,” she sighed, punching the down button for the elevator. “If you want to be a great reporter, you need to trust your instincts. And this,” she took the paper back as delicately as if it were a rose, holding it between her thumb and forefinger,” is telling me that it’d be stupid not to go.”
“At least wait until Tuesday,” he suggested, following her into the elevator. “Give it a few days to show it’s true colors.”
She snorted. “You are such a farm boy sometimes. Come on, loosen up!” She elbowed him jovially in the ribs before tucking the paper into her coat pocket. “It’s just some eccentric who lives up there and he’s throwing this media reception because that Xavier Institute is nearby. He’s probably tied to it somehow and wants to drum up business.”
Clark sighed. He heard things, he knew… “Lois, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Clark, I’m not going to be the only persherehere! And if you’re so worried about your reputation as a reporter, come with me. Maybe you can get a nice little story for yourself while we’re there.”
He blinked. He had been angling to convince her to invite him along and was surprised to have his work already done for him. “Sure,” he said smoothly as they exited the elevator and strode across the lobby. “We’ll leave Tuesday.”
She stopped at the revolving door and stared up at him in consternation. “You really want to come?”
“Sure,” he shrugged, smiling genially. “Sounds like it could be interesting, now that you mention it.”
Lois narrowed her eyes. “Clark, I don’t know what you’re up to, but you’re up to something.”
He grinned and ushered her through the revolving door and into the crisp autumn night. “Your reporter instincts?”
“No, I’ve just known you long enough to realize when you think that you’re being sneaky.” She stepped out to the curb to hail a cab and glanced back at him. “And now’s one of those times.”
“Well, it must be working because you can’t seem to figure out my ulterior motive, can you?” he teased, reaching to open the door for her.
She rolled her eyes and did not speak again until they were under way. “Think about it, though,” she said in a quiet tone. “If this is real… mutants, Clark!”
He sighed. “Lois, ever think that maybe some things are better left unknown?” The city sped by them and Clark stared out the window, wondering if there was ever a good time for such revelations.
“Nope,” she replied blithely.
“So how old are you anyway?” he asked suavely, smiling to himself at her affronted expression. “Is that an exception to the rule then?”
Lois narrowed her eyes and pressed onward. “Clark, if these kids are some sort of super humans… think about what kind of headline that would make!”
“Lois,” he shifted to face her, intensity rolling off of him in waves. “If there is such a thing as mutants, think about it. These are kids. This is their life. They’re real people… I know you and I know you would never destroy someone’s life for the sake of a story.”
Lois fell silent and turned her face away, leaning her forehead against the cold window glass. “You would make a great mother,” she finally muttered. “I’m still going to the reception.”
“And I’m still going with you.”
“I still want to find out why this guy o hoo hot to trot about having the media out for this hoo ha.” She fished in her purse for money to pay the fare. “Crud. Got a ten?”
Clark nodded and paid the driver as Lois slid out to stand on the curb in front of the restaurant. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed when you find out it’s just a hoax Jimmy got the wrong end of,” he commentplacplacing his hand at the small of her back to lead her to the restaurant.
“I don’t know Clark,” she sighed. “ I have a feeling about this…”
_So do I, _ he thought grimly. _So do I. _


1 I’m going with the pre-death Superman here. The old school comics.
2 Great Gatsby anyone?