A/N: Welcome to my first fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it. Visit my author page for more info.

Important edit Feb 2008: It should be noted that these first three chapters (mainly 2 and 3) were written in haste, quickly, and without clear intent. They deserve much time and editing, but fall by the wayside in my efforts with the rest of the story. What you’re looking at here is way too much introduction and my feeble attempts to bring you all up to speed with where my characters are three months after SR. If you are new to this fic please consider this, and wait until the 4th chapter before you decide whether or not to read on. At that point dialog decides to say HELLO and we relax on the description. So please keep this in mind, these chapters need some serious tweaking.

Realm of Expectations

Three months ago, everything in Richard White’s life was progress up the long hill of success and adulthood. He had a house, a woman soon to be his wife, a child, a high paying and satisfying job, and the knowledge that Richard and his efforts had made it all come about. He was accomplished, he was normal, life was normal. Each day was simply a natural progression from the day before, and while new things would crop up with Jason or while Lois went through moods in relation to a new story, nothing was outside the realm of expectations.

They got up, got Jason ready and on the bus, swallowed the last bite of breakfast while starting their respective cars, and sometimes even parked next to each other in the deck. Richard went straight to his office, checked his email, and dialed his messaging service; Lois went straight to the coffee shop for a large mocha with a double shot of espresso and then up to her desk to rest her head on her monitor until the exact second that the coffee was cool enough to sip. After that point she was a blur or activity and phone calls, sometimes glancing towards Richard but more often than not just snapping at co-workers in her usual matter-of-fact way and waiting for the daily brief to be bellowed for by Perry. This usually came about 10:15. Her afternoon was spent writing, researching, or in the streets. Richard would glance out his office window and squint towards the Bullpen through the Venetian blinds. Sometimes they met for lunch.

This was Life. The beating of their hearts, the breath in their lungs, the simple pattern of patterns.

This morning, however, Richard was just staring. Staring and staring into the Bullpen. He was staring at Clark Kent, someone Richard had only heard about in passing until the day he walked back into 'their lives.'

The day after Richard had met Clark Kent, he had paused in the lobby to gaze in wonderment at the Hall of Framing and Matting Expenses. The long hallway leading to the elevator had amused Richard when he accepted the job, for it was lined with giant, framed articles, exposés, headlines, and memorable days in human history for as long as the Planet had been in business. Richard knew from days past, waiting in this hallway for the elevator to slowly transport some 550-something employees that the most recent articles were the ones closest the elevators. It was the kind of self-aggrandizement his uncle was famous for, and it was what made The Daily Planet the most famous newspaper in the world.

So he had gotten used to the blaring headlines, the dramatic language, the last 50 years of human history displayed like so many report cards on the refrigerator at home. He knew the faces of world leaders, drawn in concentration; he knew the stoic and inhuman portraits of Superman from the day he made his first headline to the lost, worried faces from the months after his disappearance. He knew from just passing that Lois’ named frequented the front page almost as often as Superman’s, and then of course before and beyond his stay in the city.

But what Richard was not used to was seeing Clark Kent’s name almost everywhere he looked, a name he had never trained his eye to recognize the pattern of, the way it looked as an image more than a name from across a hallway. Bylines, awards, interviews, mentions, plaques in Perry’s office, certificates in frames along the Bullpen walls, and even an old post-it note tacked on the break room cork-board saying that he would be happy to buy the entire office lunch if someone would just please stop eating his Chinese left-overs out of the fridge. There was a series of rude counter-notes and lunch orders that were probably a fond memory once-upon-ago, left until they were forgotten as eyes moved past familiar walls.

What really threw Richard though was what he was watching right now: Clark’s face was serious, his hand movements belied how passionately he felt about whatever he was saying, his typical geekish manner was set in concentration as he sat forward in his chair. Lois stood across from him, one heeled foot out in front of her supporting the weight of her argument back at Kent as her posture too spoke of intent. Betty, the copy-editor older than most of the staff combined (yet a woman who kept up with technology better than anyone Richard knew) shook her head with a wide smile as she fitted earbuds into her ears and took out an MP3 player to block out the argument.

What Richard was so angry and confused about not knowing was hidden in Betty’s smile, the way everyone in the office smiled and shook their head as Lois threw a stapler at Clark and he ducked out of the way. Everyone seemed to share in the appreciation of “Lois and Clark,” a phrase that had come back so seamlessly into the newsroom and which included a woman that Richard had seen scream that other people get in her way. As far as Richard knew she had never had a partner. It was just one of those things: Lois works alone. Yet in the time that Clark had been back a thousand untold stories surfaced about the two of them.

The stories they worked on, the exclusives they brought in, their power as a journalism team, and perhaps the worst were those of an intimate nature, those kinds of memories and nostalgic conversations that can make a person feel so out of place and yet so full of yearning in one moment. Richard had been struck dumb when he was supposed to be laughing or smiling with contentment at days gone by, at stories like the ones Jimmy would tell:

“Wait, wait, CK, do you remember,” and would trail off laughing a moment, “Do you remember when Lois got caught in traffic downtown while you were covering the Bridge Street fire, and you,” he turned his head and laughed like the thought of it was too much to bear, “You told her, ‘Gosh Lois, you don’t need to worry, this is simple as pie’ she actually ran all the way there, the fire was out, the police were clearing the area, Superman had been and gone, she was all freaked out and you were at a BAKERY.” And would dissolve into fits of laughter while Lois scowled at the memory and Clark hid his smile.

Once, early in the morning, Jimmy was sitting on the edge of Clark’s desk, smiling across the aisle at Lois while Clark hid his face in his hands. Lois was still waiting for her coffee to cool, “And," she giggled, “I was in the middle of nowhere at a gas station in fucking Gislton! 45 miles! Out of gas and pissed as all hell, remember the Franklin murders, Clark?” Clark nodded from behind his hands, “And Jimmy, get this, no one knew where I was, I was out of quarters, I had no cell phone, there was no one at the station, no cars passed for HOURS, and the payphone rings. I pick up the phone and feel like I’m in some terrible comedy when Clark says, ‘Hi, Lois! Where are you?’”

Lois threw her head back and laughed with more energy than she had expended all morning, “Clark! Ahhhh, that bothered me forever, WHY DID YOU ASK WHERE I WAS?!” Jimmy laughed and leaned back to prod Clark, trying to get his to move his hands so they could see his reaction. Clark was chuckling with sincere joy on his face as he sat back in his chair, letting his arms drape across the arms and still refusing to answer Lois about something that had happened so long ago. His sour mood from that morning had dissipated instantly; Richard realized that this is how they had cheered him up for years, with Jimmy egging Lois on to tease and curse at him.

Lois, Jimmy, and even Perry drew closer to each other than he had ever seen them with Clark in their midst. Perry and Jimmy would share “remember whens” about the duo even when they weren’t there, the whole office suddenly had a moment to share or an inside joke to introduce. Richard knew the other staff members acquired since Clark felt out of place as well, but they were starting to appreciate the dynamic. They got to watch Lois be tamed by the humble, stuttering hero to the Bullpen masses and were free to enjoy it. The newbies and interns appreciated the view from the far end of the newsroom and quipped about being on the other side of Lois’ temper at the water cooler.

Richard felt like he had just lost his footing on life.

Lois laughed with Richard, shared stories, but hardly as many as she seemed to share with Clark and besides all that, besides the general shift in the office and the sudden sense of familiarity that made the triangle between Lois, Clark, and Jimmy’s desk seem like a Forbidden Treehouse, Richard really could not make peace with the OTHER behavior pattern. The one happening outside his office this moment, the times when the Treehouse would suddenly catch fire and Clark managed to match Lois step-for-step as she raved, ranted, and reiterated. Still their co-workers hid their smiles, but Lois let no one talk back to her. Lois let no one hold open the door for her while she juggled files, let no one fix her noontime coffee, answer her phone when she was on the other side of the Bullpen or log on to her computer to search for something when she called in from outside the office. Richard had watched in frank, open-mouthed astonishment as Clark stretched the phone across the aisle one afternoon, trying not to let it fall off his desk while he rummaged in Lois’ drawer for a pen.

“Yes, okay, fine but I know that’s the wrong file, Lois,” Clark was moving the track ball to wake up the computer, “It’s 43256, not 43562,” he paused to listen while he typed the password for her user name, “No, Lois, you know you and numbers I just,” Richard could just imagine the snappy response, “There’s just no way, you know Ricardon was just baiting you about the laundering, that’s not his racket, yes, yes, I’m looking now,” Clark’s eyes were scanning Lois’ Documents folder faster than Richard thought possible, “Found it. Reading.” He had to suddenly stand and lift the coiled wire so Tom from the mailroom could walk past, the phone finally slipped off Clark’s desk and hit the floor but he ignored it. Richard could tell there was a respectful silence on the other end while he read.

“43256.”

He paused and only Clark Kent could make, “Um, darn you to hell too, Lois, you’re welcome,” sound like the most polite thing anyone had ever said while only Richard could fully appreciate the intimacy, trust, and significance of logging onto Lois’ computer. Something he had never even considered being allowed to do.

Lois worked alone. Lois lived alone, without fiancé or child in that brain of hers, and while they were present in every other part of her, only Clark Kent could really approach her mind. Not the Lois over the breakfast table, or the Lois reading to Jason at night, but the spitfire that was Lane, Reporter, press pass in your face, Pulitzer on the wall. That was Clark’s Lois, and as the weeks wore on Richard started to question Richard’s Lois more and more inside his head. Why did you never mention him? How are you so fiercely independent for five years, but suddenly pause to lean your arm on Clark’s shoulder while you shoot questions out toward the article or bit of research or archived file on the screen? Why is he number four on your speed dial? Why is everyone in on the joke but me?

It had not happened over night. At first, Clark was obviously out of step with his old life. He fumbled about the office for the first few weeks, not really engaging Lois or anyone for that matter. He would just sit at his computer clicking around (“When I left it was Windows ME! This XP is really neat, I’ve been getting familiar with it.”), wander around stuttering shyly while introducing himself to old and new faces (“Well, uh, he tends to stay inside the Papal Palace a lot, so no, I uh didn’t meet the Pope.”), go in and out of the three supply closets looking for things that had moved or been invented in his absence (“Erasable highlighters? Oh man, that’s useful!”), disappear randomly leading Richard to believe he had some kind of anxiety in crowds (“I, uh, forgot to get milk this morning.”), and get lost in thought at his desk, hands steepled, like the rest of the Bullpen at one point or another.

Perry may have initially placed Clark on the most useless of fluff pieces, but he was sure to read each and every one of them, even though he normally would not have spent the time, in order to see if Clark was still as good as he once was. Richard, only realizing now that he scanned the numerous awards and bylines that Clark was such a good reporter, snuck a glance at these crumbled articles in his uncle’s trash can and was surprised at the depth of thought there. Clark had obviously not only studied journalism but had a natural talent and drive for it. As soon as Perry was satisfied that this was still the case, he assigned them together that day. Rather than the huffing and puffing he would normally have expected from Lois, she just rolled her eyes and sighed, “Again?!” at Perry during the staff meeting. Jimmy had broken out into a wide smile at the sudden pairing and took a front row seat along with the rest of the Bullpen that afternoon, when they had their first fight.

Richard could not mark the day when Lois and Clark clicked back in to being “Lois and Clark,” but did note a day. He had obviously never known the pair before, but guessed at their working relationship the time that Lois had just sent her latest article to the printer while reminding Richard about Jason’s Back to School night later that week. Lois was immediately distracted by a phone call and Richard walked back to his office, just in time to notice Clark waiting by the printer on a line; he glanced at Lois’ article before taking both his print-out and her's back to his desk. Richard was busied for a few moments and looked up to watch Lois approach the printer a few minutes later. Rather than stomp back to her desk to reprint the file or perhaps ask around, Lois just slowly turned her head to glance at Clark’s desk as if remembering an old expectation and promise. She walked up, picked the white sheet with red scribbles off his desk, said, “Thanks, Smallville,” and walked away. Lois wordlessly e-mailed each of her articles to him after that and found them spell checked (“’Secrete’ does pass spell check Lois, but I’m pretty sure you meant ‘secret government bonds.’”) and edited in her inbox, or if she was past deadline, at Copy.

In the present, Richard watched Lois lose steam in the face of whatever counter-argument Clark was putting forth. Lois wouldn’t listen to him if he told her the sky was blue, but for Clark she would permit enough logic to get through to make her eventually maybe not agree, but accept the possibility that the sky was in fact red. Richard didn’t know if he hated Clark for this.

He hated something. He hated the way Lois would then spend the rest of a given day ignoring, abusing, or overall just lacking appreciation for the unique relationship she did not seem to even notice having with Clark Kent. For Richard, this meant that Clark was somehow even holier, for that was probably the reason behind Betty’s smile, she just knew, like everyone, how special Clark Kent seemed to be in relation to Lois Lane.

Every one but Clark Kent, of course.

Lois sat back down at her desk, glaring in Clark’s direction and hitting the keys harder than necessary. The Bullpen assumed the normal “that’s didn’t just happen” position, Jimmy went back to not eavesdropping, and Clark adjusted the glasses on his nose in his shy, normal way. Perry bellowed for the meeting, it was 10:15.

Kent, a farm boy with a mid-western accent from Kansas; the most normal, down-to-earth American Joe Richard had EVER met, was a force outside the realm of expectations in Richard’s otherwise simple life. Not him, but the affect he had unknowingly on the woman Richard alone was supposed to know so well but who now seemed such a stranger in comparison. Lois, the main part of his wake up / go to work / raise a child / sleep life was so suddenly the most alien thing he knew.

Or at least the second most alien.