[Road Not Taken] Can you read my mind?
The competing gravities and turbulence and everything made for a sharp couple of jerks, and Lois wondered how it was, when she was on freaking Air Force One, she managed to be even more bruised than she had been in the better part of a month.
Figures, she thought as she slammed against the wall and window. She winced at the feeling. If we end up dead and the world saved because the heroes figure out something in time for them, I am never going to hear the end of it. Only I guess I will, seeing as hearing will be a problem…
Before she could start editing her own internal running commentary for mixing sense-metaphors badly, however, she felt the plane steady, could practically feel through the wall a ripple of force through the whole body of the plane. With effort she turned her head to look outside, and all she saw was the wing, the faint hint of golden sunlight, and the firey planet so frighteningly close. The whole sky was bathed in crimson and orange and brown and golden hues. Not for the first time, Lois reflected that the end of the world was somehow more terrible for all its beauty. Well, if it had to end, at least there would be something beautiful in it, even in that flash of blue in the corner of her-
Blue.
Bright, unvarnished blue against a field of fire.
Her eyes refocused then, and her lips parted in absolute disbelief. Elation and a feeling she couldn’t begin to name coursed through her body as she watched his deep green eyes flick over the whole plane, obviously checking for anything that might need him to get someone out fast. Even the red contrasted with the sky and planet behind him, the solid color unyielding, and he almost glowed in that tainted lava-light.
“Oh my god,” she murmured. Even as she said it, her lips curved into a smile.
Maybe it was her voice, but he glanced towards her, and she wished her heart would stop beating so fast. He looked startled for a moment before it turned into a familiar look completely lacking in surprise, and she considered rolling her eyes at him. Honestly, did he really expect her not to make sure she was at the center of the action? And with that broadcast, did he really expect her not to try to get the important information where it needed to go?
Only then he smiled at her, and it felt like the whole world stopped. Her own grew a little broader in answer, despite herself. She kept her eyes on him as he drifted back, letting the plane fly on under its own power. Even from here she could just make out the shield on his chest, and she remembered seeing it before, in his loft that time. Red and yellow, a bright and familiar shape. Already the city knew it meant security, it meant safety, it meant hope.
Some part of Lois’ mind commented, with clinical amusement, that this was Clark Kent, the dorky farmboy King of All Things Plaid, and he was just floating thousands of feet in the air in tights, red briefs on the outside, and a freaking cape. It defied all definitions of sanity, and ought to be enough to make anyone question that old adage about ‘seeing is believing.’
And she only stared as he hovered there, protectively. Finally he seemed satisfied his aid to the plane was sufficient, and turned in the direction of the planet above.
No sooner had he vanished than gravity seemed to reassert itself, and she hit the floor. Even now that he was gone, the image was burned into her mind. So much grace and power in such a human-shaped body, all that strength and compassion in a soul more pure than any she’d ever known. “Go on, hero,” she whispered with fondness. Thank god he couldn’t read her mind, as far as she knew, but at least maybe he could still hear her. Wherever he was now, maybe the support would mean something. “Go save the world. We’ve got the rest.”
She pushed herself up, still smiling, and her eyes fell on the camera. After a moment, she picked it up, and carefully turned it over. It was still working, and without hesitation she made sure it was recording.
“This is Lois Lane of the Daily Planet, reporting live from Air Force One,” she began, forcing her voice to stay steady.
“Ms. Lane,” said a familiar voice, and Lois looked up sharply and drew in a breath.
“Mr. President,” she replied, turning the camera around as another thrill coursed through her.
You’ve done it, Lane, she thought to herself. Story of the century. Now don’t you dare let it go.
And as the film rolled and she talked with the President, the light changed, the air cleared, and the clouds turned white and the sky pale blue again. The crisis, it seemed, was over. To Lois, it felt like the beginning of something new, and hell if she knew what it was. But that surety and excitement still sang in her blood as in her mind she began composing her article, about the end of the world, about heroes, about hope-and a man in the sky, watching over the planet he called home.
Figures, she thought as she slammed against the wall and window. She winced at the feeling. If we end up dead and the world saved because the heroes figure out something in time for them, I am never going to hear the end of it. Only I guess I will, seeing as hearing will be a problem…
Before she could start editing her own internal running commentary for mixing sense-metaphors badly, however, she felt the plane steady, could practically feel through the wall a ripple of force through the whole body of the plane. With effort she turned her head to look outside, and all she saw was the wing, the faint hint of golden sunlight, and the firey planet so frighteningly close. The whole sky was bathed in crimson and orange and brown and golden hues. Not for the first time, Lois reflected that the end of the world was somehow more terrible for all its beauty. Well, if it had to end, at least there would be something beautiful in it, even in that flash of blue in the corner of her-
Blue.
Bright, unvarnished blue against a field of fire.
Her eyes refocused then, and her lips parted in absolute disbelief. Elation and a feeling she couldn’t begin to name coursed through her body as she watched his deep green eyes flick over the whole plane, obviously checking for anything that might need him to get someone out fast. Even the red contrasted with the sky and planet behind him, the solid color unyielding, and he almost glowed in that tainted lava-light.
“Oh my god,” she murmured. Even as she said it, her lips curved into a smile.
Maybe it was her voice, but he glanced towards her, and she wished her heart would stop beating so fast. He looked startled for a moment before it turned into a familiar look completely lacking in surprise, and she considered rolling her eyes at him. Honestly, did he really expect her not to make sure she was at the center of the action? And with that broadcast, did he really expect her not to try to get the important information where it needed to go?
Only then he smiled at her, and it felt like the whole world stopped. Her own grew a little broader in answer, despite herself. She kept her eyes on him as he drifted back, letting the plane fly on under its own power. Even from here she could just make out the shield on his chest, and she remembered seeing it before, in his loft that time. Red and yellow, a bright and familiar shape. Already the city knew it meant security, it meant safety, it meant hope.
Some part of Lois’ mind commented, with clinical amusement, that this was Clark Kent, the dorky farmboy King of All Things Plaid, and he was just floating thousands of feet in the air in tights, red briefs on the outside, and a freaking cape. It defied all definitions of sanity, and ought to be enough to make anyone question that old adage about ‘seeing is believing.’
And she only stared as he hovered there, protectively. Finally he seemed satisfied his aid to the plane was sufficient, and turned in the direction of the planet above.
No sooner had he vanished than gravity seemed to reassert itself, and she hit the floor. Even now that he was gone, the image was burned into her mind. So much grace and power in such a human-shaped body, all that strength and compassion in a soul more pure than any she’d ever known. “Go on, hero,” she whispered with fondness. Thank god he couldn’t read her mind, as far as she knew, but at least maybe he could still hear her. Wherever he was now, maybe the support would mean something. “Go save the world. We’ve got the rest.”
She pushed herself up, still smiling, and her eyes fell on the camera. After a moment, she picked it up, and carefully turned it over. It was still working, and without hesitation she made sure it was recording.
“This is Lois Lane of the Daily Planet, reporting live from Air Force One,” she began, forcing her voice to stay steady.
“Ms. Lane,” said a familiar voice, and Lois looked up sharply and drew in a breath.
“Mr. President,” she replied, turning the camera around as another thrill coursed through her.
You’ve done it, Lane, she thought to herself. Story of the century. Now don’t you dare let it go.
And as the film rolled and she talked with the President, the light changed, the air cleared, and the clouds turned white and the sky pale blue again. The crisis, it seemed, was over. To Lois, it felt like the beginning of something new, and hell if she knew what it was. But that surety and excitement still sang in her blood as in her mind she began composing her article, about the end of the world, about heroes, about hope-and a man in the sky, watching over the planet he called home.