001 - First Article - Video (post-sirens)
[The brunette on the video sports quite a few cuts and bruises; it looks like someone didn’t take her first night out seriously enough. From the scene behind her, she’s in the shelter-dugout, for those who would recognize it.] Okay, newsflash of the hour: humans totally have parental instincts coded into them, and it sucks
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However, then the door opens, the lights flick off--and before her brain entirely processes that familiar rush of air, she shrieks slightly and jumps, dropping her NV as she does. It means there's still faint light, but not much, as she whirls around and blinks, trying to peer into the gloom.]
OKAY, new rule, whatever the hell you are you freaking say something before opening the door that isn't supposed to just open on its own like some sort of--
[And then her brain catches up--because, really her mouth just sometimes operates before the rest of her. And Lois just stops, staring, trying desperately to make out... something. Some feature of his face, the symbol on his chest--but unlike the Blur's latest ( ... )
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I'm fine, Smallville. Geezes, you don't need to play nursemaid, okay? I really can take care of myself.
[And then she bites her lip again, and her voice is tinged with excitement and that fascination with the unknown.]
You have a space ship? Really?
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[You know, he really wishes he hadn't touched that subject with a four mile bargepole now. He swallows down the resentment and pain from so, so long ago and instead just smiles at her, blue eyes meeting hers across the table.]
It was just big enough for me and a few things from home. A blanket. I was literally the baby at the door. Except, well, I wasn't a baby, and I rolled over the Kents' car.
[Maybe digging her teeth into a story is what she needs.]
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However, something about the way he phrased it--not elaborating on what happened to the ship--pings her as something being distinctly wrong with this, which is why her smile fades a little.]
Clark? Are you... okay?
[She takes a sip of coffee, entirely planning to attempt (and probably fail) to be the Understanding Supportive Girlfriend.
And promptly sputters and chokes. Glancing down into the cup, she eyes him with incredulity.]
Okay, what? How the hell do you manage to murder coffee? You never did before.
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[Never, ever discussing the red Kryptonite vacation and his mom's lost baby and his dad's coma to Lois. Never ever. Unless she asks. But not now and not like this, and god, he's so glad for the distraction he almost can't believe he didn't make the coffee badly intentionally.]
I guess at home there was sort of a no powers in the house rule. Er... [Which he has been flaunting for years, but he was never allowed to make coffee his way before for a reason.] Is it really that bad?
[How did he make it through conversations before without being able to tell Lois about his powers?]
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Bad? Smallville, you can't taste the difference? Seriously, what did the coffee do to you to deserve... whatever the hell you did to it?
[She glares at him and eyes her coffee again dubiously and rather regretfully before sighing.
And, funny thing is, she's taking this totally in stride, even internally--because Clark being enough of a dork to somehow mess up making coffee with his superpowers (that he uses to save the world on a regular basis) is just so in character for him. It doesn't even cross her mind to think it's odd. It would if she stopped to think about it--but not at the moment.]
Okay. That's it. New house rule: unless you use the coffee machine, you're forbidden from making coffee that anyone else has to drink. You can pour cups, but it had better be from pre-made coffee in the pot, capiche?
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Well it's just so weak when the machine makes it... Alright, alright. Here.
[He takes the mug back and stands up, heading over to remake the coffee in front of her so that she can judge every part of the process. He uses the coffee machine.
A few moments later he returns with a properly made cafe latte, setting it down in front of her.]
That's probably better.
[Said as though he isn't sure.]
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[She rolls her eyes more, crosses her arms and watches him carefully to make sure he's not doing anything stupid to the poor, innocent coffee. As he does, she asks idly,] Anyway, what did you do to that poor cup, anyway?
[Lois takes the cup of coffee cautiously and sips, carefully, and sighs.]
Yes, much better. Thank you. [Beat.] So what happened? To your ship.
[And the only thing making this not how Lois ambushes interviewees is her tone, which is quite friendly.]
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[A tilt of his head.]
Ask me about anything else, okay?
[Literally anything would be better than discussing that.]
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And then she nods once.]
Okay.
[She studies him a minute longer, and then heads to the couch to curl up and regard him over the rim of the mug.] You mentioned a name. Earlier, I mean. Kal-El?
[Her voice is almost tentative. It's... almost like meeting him all over again, getting this side of him.]
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It is a little like that.
He tries to work out whether there's a way to say too much, whether actually she was asking a simpler question, starting it off easy so that she didn't have to dive headlong into 'Wait, your planet was destroyed?' so he starts off gently too.]
Kal-El--it means 'star child.'
My father's name was Jor, my mother Lara. El is my family name--and it's also the crest that I wear on my chest. A reminder.
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So, the [she mimes drawing the S-shield] is... like an initial, or a coat of arms or something? That's actually kind of nifty.
[And then she smiles a little, wryly, because the irony of his name is not lost on her.] Poetic name--all things considered. Did your parents pick it because they... knew?
That... they'd be sending you to Earth, I mean. [And oh god, this sounds so weird talking about this, but... well. It's his family. He's put up with her rants about the General, and Lucy--and frankly, they're probably still weirder, for all they're human.]
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[He doesn't even know how to explain to her that he's technically nobility, it'd sound sort of arrogant spoken out loud, and he doesn't really count it as important. What does it matter how he was born? It's how he's lived his life which matters.]
My parents knew before I was born. They made sure that the family that found me would love me, and they left behind ways for me to learn about my people and my powers; a huge computer - a fortress in the Arctic - programmed with all of Krypton's knowledge and history.
[He hesitates for a moment.]
I'm not going too fast, am I? It probably all sounds crazy.
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[Lois is hot on a story, as usual: this history of Clark's people and family is absolutely fascinating, in a way. There's this whole side of him she's never known, and getting to know him... god, it's everything she's wanted, these last few weeks.
And it's a heady feeling, too.
At the last question, however, Lois just gives him a wry, sidelong look.]
Clark, in the last... what, eighteen, twenty four hours? I have nearly died, discovered my boyfriend's a superhero--and apparently from another planet--been ripped out of my dimension, dropped in a bizarre city filled with monsters, and run across alternate versions of our history with people who apparently know who I am even though I don't know them at all. I'd rather just get through it all.
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The House of El was a respected representitive of the Science Council of Krypton. [There's no other way to say it:] A noble family. Heirarchically, I mean. There were other guilds; the Warrior Guild, to which the House of Zod belonged. The Artists Guild, but my family were scientists, and I suppose there's some of that in me. If I put my mind to it, I could probably be a brilliant scientist.
[But that's for another universe, one where Clark is a lot more self-dependent and doesn't always have a team to depend on to do things for him.]
It's not easy to imagine me in a labcoat, is it?
[He takes off the glasses, folds them and puts them away.]
You talked to Kara, then? And Bruce? [Warily.] Anyone
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Plus, the sheer image of Clark in a white coat puttering around a lab full of delicate glass and wiring and probably flammable chemicals may be one of the most hilarious mental pictures she has ever had.
So she just smiles, trying not to laugh.]
No, no it isn't.
[And then her expression turns thoughtful as she runs back through her conversations. Her voice turns into something like a recitation--this is where her reporter skills and ability to recall conversations well, even without taking notes, comes in really, really handy.]Um. Talked to a woman who said she was a wizard, and a doctor; a kid named Hope, sharp one; a skinny, rather creepy guy who has a thing against you by the way--costumed ( ... )
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