What Friends Are For

By Wendy Richards <wendy@lcfanfic.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: February 2002 ------------

Yet another birthday fic... This one was for Kaylle. :)

Thanks to Kaethel for a little brainstorming on IRC and  help with some lines I was having problems with.

The rights to Lois and Clark belong to DC Comics and Warner  Bros; I've only borrowed them for a few minutes!

~ What Friends Are For ~

The newsroom was in darkness when Lois came hurrying out of  the elevator, anxious to get to her desk and transfer the  words in her brain to the computer. At four in the morning  she could be pretty sure of finding the bullpen empty; the  night editor was probably downstairs checking on the final  print run by this time, and the night shift of journalists  would have gone home. She'd have plenty of peace and quiet  to get this story down before the early birds on the day  shift arrived.

She groped for the power switch on her computer and, while  it was powering up, fumbled around her desk for the switch  for her lamp. The sudden illumination made her blink; when  she opened her eyes again, she suddenly realised that she  wasn't alone.

Just a few feet away, Clark was sitting at his desk,  hunched over, his head in his hands.

He was dressed casually, in jeans and a faded cotton shirt,  and his hair was unkempt. He looked as if he'd just tumbled  out of bed and pulled on the first things which came to  hand, regardless of whether they were appropriate for where  he was going.

He hadn't stirred since she'd seen him, and she wondered at  first whether he was asleep. But then she saw a slight  shudder go through his body, which made her curious. He was  certainly awake... What was going on? And why wasn't he  acknowledging her presence?

Her story forgotten for the moment, Lois got up and went  over to Clark. Still, he didn't move.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she said, "Clark, what are  you doing here at this time of night?"

Without looking at her, he said quietly, "I dunno. Maybe I  should ask you the same question."

"I've been up most of the night!" she retorted. "Big story.  Major incident in my neighbourhood - a truck crashed into a  hostel, then the fuel tank exploded, and there were lots of  injuries - appalling burns. Some fatalities, too. I came in  here to write it up."

She felt Clark's body tense under her hand. "Is that all a  human tragedy is to you, Lois? Another front-page story?"  The words were bitten out harshly, and still he didn't look  at her.

"Clark, of course it's terrible!" she exclaimed, stung by  the implication that she simply didn't care. "Of course I  feel bad for the people who were hurt or killed. But  someone has to write about it. That's what we *do*, Clark!  You're a reporter, remember? We report the news!"

"Yeah. Six people died tonight... how many column inches  does that get? Would it get more if ten people had died?  Twenty? A hundred?" Now he was sounding bitterly cynical,  but there was deep pain in his voice too.

Now concerned for her colleague, Lois pulled up a chair to  sit beside him.

"Clark, you know how this business works as well as I do,"  she said, her tone matter-of-fact, but not without  sympathy. "Yeah, bad news sells newspapers. But you have to  look on the positive side, too. What we do, telling the  stories when things like this happen, *helps* people. You  have to remember that."

"How can anything help those people who were killed  tonight? Those who were badly burned and are only just  alive?" he demanded roughly.

"We can't help them, no," Lois agreed, placing her hand on  his arm. He didn't shake it off.

"By writing about what happened - by telling it like it is,  including explaining the cause of the accident, we help to  put pressure on the state legislature to make sure that  laws on road safety and vehicle maintenance are properly  enforced," she explained, knowing that he knew this  already, but figuring that he needed the reminder. "That  accident probably wouldn't have happened if that truck's  brakes had been checked - that's what the accident  investigator on the scene told me, off the record."

Clark was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he  straightened and turned to face her.

Lois stifled a gasp. Her partner's expression was so bleak  that he looked nothing like the Clark Kent she knew. The  lively spark usually dancing in his eyes had disappeared in  favour of a haunted look; the brown depths now reflected  only grief and a sadness she couldn't begin to understand.  His face was pale and the set of his jaw was grim,  confirming her impression that there was something badly  wrong. He was unshaven, and the stubble somehow seemed to  add to the impression of desolation about him.

If she didn't know better, she'd have sworn that the red  rims she could faintly see around his eyes meant that he'd  been crying. But that couldn't be true. It was dark in the  newsroom; the only light was coming from her desk. She was  obviously imagining things.

But Clark was very upset about something...

"Did something happen, Clark?" she asked softly, after a  long moment during which he made no attempt at breaking the  silence.

In a low voice, which she had to strain to hear, he  murmured, "Nothing. It's just... sometimes I wonder, Lois."

"About?" she prompted, when he didn't continue.

He sighed heavily. Then, just as she'd decided that he  wasn't going to elaborate, he added, "Whether there's any  good left in the world. Whether we're all selfish, Lois -  all out for ourselves, for what we can get. Doesn't anyone  care about their fellow human beings any more?"

Unsure how to respond, Lois asked, "What's brought this on,  Clark?"

"Oh..." He shrugged helplessly. "I don't know... I suppose  this last week hasn't helped - the way everyone wanted a  piece of Superman, not because of what he can do, but  because they want to make money out of him. All that tacky  memorabilia... selling him on every street corner like some  sort of Disney toy!"

"You're too naive, Clark," Lois felt compelled to say. "I  keep telling you, this isn't Kansas. It's the big city, and  in the big city most people are out for a fast buck. You  should know that. It's not as if you haven't lived in  cities before."

"I know," he agreed, still sounding depressed.

But Lois couldn't help feeling certain that what he'd just  given her wasn't the real reason for his depression,  though. That - and she fully agreed that it had been tacky  and in bad taste - wasn't enough to reduce her colleague to  this state. So she remained silent, waiting.

She wasn't wrong. After several moments, he spoke again,  sounding bitter and angry. "Lois, tonight... before the  emergency services came, people were just standing around  looking! Staring - enjoying the spectacle! Some of those  folks in that hostel could have been saved if a couple of  the... the *curiosity seekers* had just made an effort...  gone inside and helped someone to get out before the fuel  tank exploded... They were old people, Lois. Drunks and  vagrants mostly, but they didn't deserve to die, or to get  burned. And yet all the *concerned citizens of Metropolis*  could do was point and stare and say how they'd never  wanted that hostel there in the first place."

"I heard that," Lois said quietly. "One of the police  officers on the scene said much the same thing to me. And,  you know, I have every intention of writing about that, too  - don't worry, I'll make sure everyone in Metropolis knows  how *public-spirited* the people in that neighbourhood  are." She paused, giving his arm another gentle squeeze.  "So maybe you can see that it's not such a bad thing to see  this as a story, Clark? Maybe it'll make some people  reassess their values."

"I guess you're right," he said after a moment, giving her  a rueful smile.

He was looking a little more like the Clark she knew, Lois  thought, feeling oddly relieved. Just why her - unwanted -  partner's mental state should matter to her, she had no  idea. After all, he was an occasionally irritating hack  from some rural backwater in Kansas, wasn't he? He was also  unwanted competition - he'd even beaten her to a couple of  stories which should have been hers, like that first  Superman interview.

And yet, something had torn at her when she'd seen his  ravaged expression just now.

Maybe it was that humanity thing Clark had just been  talking about. Maybe she wasn't as hard-bitten and detached  as she'd believed herself to be; perhaps she was still  capable of caring - to some infinitesimal degree - about  the people around her.

The fact that her partner was, for some reason, suffering  the kind of torment which always seemed worse at four am  had actually bothered her. Bothered her enough, in fact,  that she'd forgotten all about the urgency of getting her  story written.

"Lois?" A hand waved in front of her face.

"Huh? Oh, sorry - I was thinking."

"Don't you have a story to write?" he prompted her, pushing  his chair back as if he was about to get up.

"I guess... yeah," she said. But still she hesitated, even  when Clark seemed to be making it clear that he didn't need  her any more and she should go back to her desk.

"Are you okay now?" she found herself asking at last,  without having intended it.

"Yeah." He smiled, the warm smile she was becoming  accustomed to from him. "Thanks to you, Lois. You reminded  me that not everyone in the world is selfish."

She shrugged. "There's a lot of selfishness around, Clark,  sure. But there's also a lot of kindness, and courage, and  self*less*ness. I mean, look at all those emergency service  workers tonight - they turn up, they put themselves at  risk, and they save lives. And Superman, too - all that he  does to save people, just because he can. Because that's  what he does - he gives people something to hope for. And  between them, Superman and the rescue workers saved a lot  of lives tonight."

"I guess," he acknowledged. "Superman could have done more,  though." That last was said in little more than a whisper.

"How?" Lois demanded. "I know he got there late, after the  explosion, but I heard him tell someone that he'd been  across town helping a woman whose car had broken down in a  dangerous area. If he hadn't helped her, she could have  been attacked... killed..."

"If he'd got there sooner, six people could still be  alive," Clark pointed out quietly. "And the burns unit at  Metropolis General might not be overflowing with patients  who'll be disfigured for life. Superman might as well not  have bothered tonight," he finished, his voice bitter  again.

Lois shook her head in denial of that criticism. "Superman  was needed in both places tonight, Clark, and not even he  can be in two places at once!"

"Maybe he should learn to," Clark retorted, a wry note of  humour in his voice.

"Superman saved lives tonight, Clark," Lois pointed out.  "Sure, six died, but if he hadn't turned up that could just  as easily have been twice as many. And, as well as that, he  reminded us all once again that he *cares*. That there is  someone who can come flying in and save the day. It sounds  corny, Clark, but he gives us all a reason to hope. Without  that... " She shrugged and left the thought hanging in the  air between them.

"I guess you're right," Clark said softly, getting to his  feet. "Thank you. For giving me a sense of perspective."

Lois shrugged again, a little embarrassed. "That's okay,  Clark. It's what friends are for, isn't it?" she said as  she stood up.

He was silent for a long moment. Then, in a low voice, he  said, "Are we friends, then?"

Were they? She'd said that without really thinking. And  yet... Well, Clark wasn't exactly obnoxious. In fact, he  was pretty okay to be with. He had a lively sense of  humour, which he used to good effect when he wanted to  jolly her out of one of her vile moods. And he was  thoughtful and considerate. She suspected that Clark was  the kind of person who could never pass by on the other  side of the road when he saw someone in need.

In fact, Clark himself was proof that he was wrong: not  everyone in the world was selfish.

Realising that he was still waiting for an answer, she took  a deep breath and said, "Yes. We're... friends, Clark. I  think."

He smiled again; a dazzling smile which, even in the dim  light of the deserted newsroom, took her breath away. "I'm  glad."

She was too, Lois realised, almost stunned by the  knowledge. She'd never really seen friends - or friendship  - as important. And yet, tonight, she'd gained a friend,  and she was glad of it.

"Well, I... uh..." She gestured towards her desk. "I'd  better get my story written."

Clark nodded. "And I better get home. I must look a  mess..." He brushed his stubbly cheek with one hand.

They hesitated for a moment, neither seeming willing to  make the first move away. Then Clark leaned forward and, to  Lois's amazement, brushed her cheek with his lips. His  stubble rasped against her skin, but oddly, she didn't  mind. The unexpectedness of the kiss, together with the  sensation of Clark's lips against her face, almost made her  heart skip a beat.

Before she'd recovered her equilibrium, he'd turned on his  heel and was heading for the elevator. He didn't look back.

The elevator doors had slid shut behind him when Lois sat  up abruptly in her chair as a sudden thought struck her.

"Clark! But how did you know what happened...? YOU WEREN'T  THERE!" she yelled after him.

But he'd gone, and the only sound she heard in response to  her confused question was the gentle hum of machinery.

~ The End ~

(c) Wendy Richards 2002 wendy@lcfanfic.com

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