Life Belongs to the Living (Superman Returns) 21/? (01/19)

[bistyboo1974]

Title: Life Belongs to the Living
Author: bistyboo1974
Characters: Lois/Clark (Superman)
Rating: TEEN (L) (this rating is for most chapters)/ MATURE (S) (this rating is for chapters thirteen and twenty-one only, at this point).
Disclaimer: I don’t own a darn thing. Please, don’t sue. I beg you.
Summary: Every moment on this planet is unpredictable. This is a story about moving on, and about learning to live with whatever life throws at you.
Spoilers: Superman Returns and I suppose any of the Superman movies, to be on the safe side. Occasional references inspired from anything in the Superman mythology, actually – although I’m basically talking television/movies, here.
Author’s Note: This was definitely inspired by my recent move, and by my latest fan obsession. *ogles the pretty red cape* Thanks to Sheryln for beta-reading something not of the Potterverse. *smooches* And thanks to Goethe for the title. Yeah, you heard me right...Goethe.


ONE


The last box was taped, labeled and slid towards the front door to join with the others in the large fortress of cardboard awaiting the moving truck’s arrival. The words “Jason’s Toys” were scrawled out in turquoise-blue Sharpie marker on the lid of that final box, and within it hid a menagerie of action figures, toy airplanes and – Jason’s latest craze – jigsaw puzzles. Outer space puzzles, farm life puzzles, wild animal puzzles. You name it, the kid loved to piece it back together. The more challenging, the better. Jason couldn’t get enough of puzzles these days.

God knows he didn’t get that from me… I don’t have the patience to sit still long enough to reconstruct hundreds of mixed up pieces, Lois thought as she picked up an errant puzzle piece that had missed the boat on being packed away for the move. She tossed the stray piece into a bulging garbage bag and made a mental note to get a new puzzle from the toy shop after the move to replace the now deficient one hidden away in the cardboard box of her son’s playthings.

Lois was alone in the house, waiting rather eagerly for the large moving truck from Ace Moving Company to pull into her driveway. She bit at her thumbnail and paced across the bare pine floor in the foyer. Her heels made a loud click-clack sound on the wood, which echoed through the empty house. Why hadn’t she asked Lucy to wait with her for the movers instead of having her take Jason to lunch and a movie? And now that she was thinking of her younger sister, had Lucy bothered to put Jason’s Albuterol in her purse before they left?

“Oh, Christ!” Lois bleated as she sprinted over to check her own bag. “No, it’s not here. Lucy must’ve taken it.” She breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

She wished the movers would hurry. She glanced at her wristwatch. They still had fifteen minutes before they were scheduled to pull in. She nibbled some more at her thumbnail; a nervous habit she’d picked up after kicking her nicotine addiction. But being alone, in this vacant house…this house that had once housed a family…a now defunct family…

It had been over a year now. Well over, actually. Nineteen months, to be exact. Nineteen months since Richard…

“Don’t dwell,” Lois told herself. “Remember what your therapist told you.” Dr. Williams had advised her against constantly dwelling in the past.

“You can’t move on if you’re stuck dwelling in the past. You have a future to consider. A future without Richard. And what about your boy? Think of him.”

The good doctor need not have reminded Lois to think about her son, however. He was all she could think about for the past year and a half, and more. The man who’d helped raise him was gone. The only man Jason had ever called “Daddy” was no longer here. And the man who actually was daddy? Well, that was a really long story, and certainly not one to share with her overpaid therapist. How far would doctor/patient confidentiality go if Lois let slip Jason’s uncanny origins? She didn’t think very far at all.

Lois peered out the front window, desperate for the movers to break her out of her ponderings. Before she could stop herself, her eyes trailed to the skyline. Did he know they were moving today? Did he know where they were going? How does one go about giving a forwarding address to a superhero? They’d been staying with Lucy for all these months. They’d seen him twice in all that time. Lois was sure it was guilt that kept him away. No matter how many times she’d reassured him that she didn’t blame him, nor did Jason, she knew. He couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Lois understood. It hurt like hell, losing Richard. Damn, she herself felt responsible, in a lot of ways. There was a whole litany of “what ifs” she went through right after the accident.

What if we’d slept in that morning, like Richard had wanted to?

What if I’d made waffles and eggs instead of pouring him a quick bowl of cold cereal? Would he have left the house later, thus avoiding the bus?

What if he’d taken extra time in the shower, or brushing his teeth, or putting his shoes on?

What if I’d driven him to his appointment that day, instead of letting him take a cab? Would I have been killed, too? Or would we both have been spared, since I drive faster than every cabbie in Metropolis?

What if I’d taken the time to stop him for a kiss before he left, instead of blurting out a hasty “Love you, ‘bye!” like I usually did on rushed school-day mornings?

The “what ifs” went on and on, until she’d begun seeing Dr. Williams, the therapist a friend of her sister’s had recommended when Lois and Jason finally decided to “get away” from the city for awhile and stay with Lucy. Lois was never big on psychotherapy, but after losing Richard, she needed someone to talk her off the ledge she was teetering on so precariously. After all, Jason needed a sane mother.

She continued looking towards the sky, only half aware that the movers were now officially late. The first time he had come was the very night after the accident. She recalled it was late, perhaps 2:00 AM or so, although it was hard to recall an exact time due to the circumstances. It had been the most harrowing day of her life, and she was midway through a bottle of Merlot while the rest of the house slept. Lucy drove in to the city immediately upon receiving the cell phone call telling her that a bus driver had run a red light on 53rd Street. Both Richard White and the driver of the cab had been killed instantaneously. In its evening edition, the Daily Planet reported that Superman had arrived on the scene just moments afterwards, but only precognition on his part could’ve saved those helpless victims…and everyone knew, as powerful as the Man of Steel was, foreseeing the future was not one of his powers.

Still, the guilt swept over him. Lois had never seen him so crestfallen as that night. He had gone through his own litany of “what ifs.” Lois remembered crumbling onto the sofa when he left her, hardly knowing what hurt worse – losing Richard, or seeing the guilt ripping away at Superman. As hurt as she was, she never blamed him. And it was important to her that Jason not blame him, either. She made certain of that. When Jason had accidentally glanced at that Planet headline (Lois had cursed herself repeatedly for leaving it out where he could find it), and saw the picture of the horrible wreckage on 53rd – smoke billowing from the mangled bus and cab; bright lights glaring from the emergency vehicles that had stopped mid-morning traffic for hours; and at the center of it all, a crimson cape flying like a banner on that windy, fateful day in October – Jason looked at Lois with a quizzical expression that she read as, “Why didn’t he save Daddy?” She sat him down that instant and explained.

“He’s an extraordinary man, Jason,” Lois had told her son. “But he’s not a character from one of those fantasy stories on your bookshelf. There are some things in this world that even he can’t do.” It was amazing how much clarity she recalled having about the situation. Enough clarity to go on and explain matters to a son mourning the death of the only father he’d known…so that she could guarantee he’d grow up not placing blame on a father he’d never get to know. At least know no more than what the rest of the world knew; what an iconic figure he was to the world at large – a superhero, an idol that all the kids at school longed to be one day.

In that photo from the Planet, his back was to the camera. Some out-of-town tourist had snapped the shot with her digital camera, no doubt along with scads of other photos taken earlier, of grinning family members posed in front of every famous building and site in Metropolis. He usually stood proud and tall in stature, conveying his power with his very presence, but in that photo, he looked dejected. Beaten by the very thought that he couldn’t save someone who meant so much to Lois Lane, and to her son.

His son.

Strong enough to move mountains, but not all-powerful enough to peer into the future to see a bus driver running through an intersection on a red light, and crashing into the taxi cab carrying Richard White, foster father to his own very own son, as Richard was headed towards a meeting in midtown. It had all happened in the blink of an eye, and in another blink, he had been there, only by then it was too late. The coroner’s report stated that Richard had died instantly.

And in that instant, Lois’ life had changed. When she’d called Perry about taking an extended leave of absence from the paper, he didn’t question her or try to talk her out of it. The sadness at losing his own nephew was evident in his normally gruff tone when he told her, “Take all the time you need.”

Life had gotten a little easier for both Lois and Jason while staying with Lucy – the sharp pain of losing a loved one numbed to a dull ache over time. The school she enrolled Jason in to finish up his first grade year was small, but quite good. He wasn’t quick to make friends in the beginning, but his teacher was gentle and caring, and soon going to school each day wasn’t such a chore. He even began taking piano lessons from the school’s music instructor each Thursday afternoon, after school. In fact, Jason had surprised Lois with a charming – if slightly off-key – rendition of “Happy Birthday” on her birthday that year, played on Lucy’s ancient Casio keyboard. Later that night, Lois cried herself nearly to sleep remembering her son’s sweet gesture.

A noise near her bedroom window had stopped her before she was able to get worked up properly. She pulled back the curtains and saw blue and red in the dim white light of the moon. The sight of him never failed to make her pulse quicken. A tiny, inaudible gasp sounded from her mouth – well, inaudible if your ability to hear was average. Nothing about him was average, though.

“Happy birthday, Lois,” he’d said softly after she’d opened the window. The green glow of the digital readout on her alarm clock told her he’d made it just in the nick of time. It was 11:57 PM.

“Thanks,” she whispered, barely finding her voice. Should she be remorseful for the sensation of joy she felt just then, seeing him there at her window? Certainly she should for wanting to reach out to him, for wanting him to touch her, to comfort her. But if she was plagued by guilt, it was nothing to what he was feeling. His blue eyes were deep with sadness, and his next words expressed his regret – his most apologetic regret – for having failed her. For having failed Jason.

“You haven’t failed us,” Lois said. But it was as if her words fell on deaf ears. His eyes remained full of misery and dark emotion. It was all she could do not to reach out then and clasp his strong hand in her small one, to offer him comfort. “Would you like to see Jason?” she asked hastily, suddenly thinking of a remedy…something that might bring him momentary gladness. “I could wake him…”

“No,” he muttered quickly. He reached to stop her as she turned towards her bedroom door. His hand brushed the sleeve of her nightgown, trailed down her arm and clutched at her fingers. “No,” he repeated.

Electricity throbbed through her veins. Her breath caught in her throat. “But…” she nearly choked on the single word, trying to work out the rest of her protest in her now clouded mind.

“Jason’s asleep,” he said softly, letting go of Lois’s hand. She felt it float back down to her side. “Don’t disturb him.”

She could see there was so much more he wanted to say. So much that he was leaving unsaid.

“He won’t mind if I wake him, if he sees you’re here…he won’t mind,” Lois tried to assure him.

“Don’t,” he said again. “Please…I…”

He couldn’t face him. He still blamed himself.

“You didn’t kill Richard!” Lois spluttered, wanting to shout it at him, but having to keep her voice down for fear of waking Lucy’s neighbors. She wanted him to get it through his thick, steel, male skull once and for all. She had spent many months and many dollars on therapy to come to terms with losing Richard. Sometimes things happen that are beyond a person’s control. Many times in life, people lose the people they love. And death with always be a part of living. She wanted – needed, even – for him to understand this, and be OK with this, and to stop blaming himself for things he couldn’t control.

He couldn’t meet her eyes, though, and she knew that she was a long way off from getting what she wanted. He breathed a deep sigh – so deep that she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin in the cold night air – and whispered that he had to go. She finally mustered the courage to reach out for him, but it was too late. He’d disappeared into the night before she could even lift her hand towards the spot where he had hovered only moments before.

TBC

[bistyboo1974]

Author’s Note: Thanks again to Sherylyn for the beta-read.

Word Count: 2,414

TWO

Not since that night had Lois seen him, except for TV news reports and photos accompanying Daily Planet articles, of course. She stood at the front window of her empty house and stared at the bright sky, empty but for a few stray puffy clouds, for a wistful moment longer, then resolutely brought herself back into the present long enough to dial the number for Ace Moving Company.

She paced the wood floor some more as she listened to the line ring once, twice, three times…

“Pick up, dammit!” she barked into her cell phone as the line rang for a fourth time.

“Hello,” drawled a voice on the other end. “You’ve reached Ace Moving Company, serving the greater Metropolis area for over fifty years. This is Lilah speaking. How may I direct your call?”

“Hi. Lilah, is it? This is Lois Lane. I ordered movers, and they were supposed to be here thirty-five minutes ago. Any clue why I’m standing in my house, all alone, with tons furniture and a thousand cardboard boxes? Do they expect me to load up my car and move this stuff on my own?”

“What’s your address, ma’am?”

“312 Riverside Drive,” growled Lois. And don’t call me ‘ma’am,’ she thought bitterly.

“Just a moment while I check,” Lilah said.

“Don’t put me on hold!” Lois shouted just before a horrible instrumental version of My Heart Will Go On began playing in her ear. Lois set the phone down on the windowsill, ran her hands savagely through her hair, and gulped back the urge to yell.

“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you there?” Lois heard the drawling voice calling from the edge of the sill. She picked up the phone and gave Lilah word that she was still there.

“Well,” Lilah began, “Ricky called in sick today, and Anthony’s wife just went into labor an hour ago. It’s their first baby. Marshall’s got jury duty, so Frank’s gonna drive the truck over with Harold, whose right index finger is in a splint, so he won’t be able to lift anything too heavy today. Sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am. Thanks for choosing Ace.” And she hung up.

Lois gaped at her cell phone. “Shit,” she said softly, then a bit louder, she cried, “Shit!”

It had first been Lucy’s idea to sell the house when Lois announced it was time to go back to Metropolis, and back to her life. Lois knew she was right, even though it was a painful decision to do so. There were so many memories wrapped up in that place. It was where Jason took his first steps and spoke his first words. It was where Richard would surprise her with candlelit dinners on the patio after Jason had been tucked snuggly into his bed. They’d go through glass after glass of wine and admire the breathtaking cityscape just across the river; then, after dinner, Richard would lead her by the hand, up to their bedroom. The dishes always kept until morning, because neither one of them ever thought of scrubbing plates and cutlery on these evenings.

But Lois knew she could preserve those memories without being haunted by them at every turn, so she reluctantly got on the phone with a real estate agent and put the plan into action. Prime property such as their comfortable home on the riverfront didn’t take long to sell, and a bid came in a week after the place went on the market. It was a decent offer, and Lois accepted. She even sold Richard’s seaplane through a contact at the Planet; society reporter Marjorie Peterson’s husband was going through a midlife crisis and he suddenly fancied himself a pilot at the age of 47. Marjorie thought the plane would make a good anniversary gift. With the house sold and the plane sold, Lois actually started to feel as if it were possible to move on.

Until now, that is.

“Damn movers!” Lois growled. “Now what? Now what?” She had to be out of the house on Riverside Drive by 8:00 AM the following morning. She was certain the new residents wouldn’t take well to finding a house full of stuff on the day they’d scheduled to move in.

Lois dialed Perry’s cell number and began gnawing at her thumbnail again. What she wouldn’t do for a pack of cigarettes at that moment. Perry’s gruff voice answered on the other line.

“Chief? It’s Lois,” she said.

“Lois?” Perry barked. “I thought you were moving today. What’s up?”

“I’m trying to move today,” she said desperately. “That’s the thing, Perry.”

“Trying? That doesn’t sound so good.”

“It’s not so good.” Lois explained the situation.

“Listen, I’ll send some guys over to give you a hand. It’s a slow news day, so you’re in luck. Hold on…”

Lois heard Perry shouting out, “Anderson! Winston! Olsen! Kent! I need you to give Lane a hand. She’s moving today, and she’s in a bit of a pickle.”

“A pickle, Chief?” It was Clark Kent’s voice. “Is everything OK?”

“If you define ‘OK’ as stranded in a house full of stuff with no one to help her move it, Kent…then she’s OK!”

Lois thanked Perry and ended the call. Twenty minutes later, Frank and Harold with the splinted finger showed up with the truck. Twenty minutes after that, the guys from the Planet arrived in Nick Anderson’s SUV.

Jimmy Olsen took a quick glance at Lois’s skirt and high heels and smirked. “Nice outfit, Ms. Lane. Better watch those heels when you’re carrying the big boxes.”

“You’d better watch it, Jimmy,” Lois growled. “It’s not exactly like I figured I’d be doing this myself today. I thought I had hired competent workers” She glared at Harold and his stupid broken finger. He cleared his throat loudly and scooped up a small box with his left hand and scampered away, insomuch that a 275 lb. ex-bodybuilder from Scranton can scamper, that is.

She kicked off her heels and grabbed the nearest box – a large one with bed linens and bath towels – and set off to haul it to out to the moving truck. She was halfway to the front door when she nearly collided with Clark, who was loaded down with three fair-sized boxes of kitchen stuff that completely obstructed his vision.

“Jeez, Clark!” Lois exclaimed, losing her grip on her large box and dropping it with a loud thud onto the floor.

“Sorry, Lois,” he stammered. He set his tower of boxes down and picked up the box of linens. “Let me get this…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lois snapped, grabbing at the box to pry it out of Clark’s clutches. “You can barely manage what you’ve got.”

“I’m sorry,” he stammered again.

As Lois made her way out to the truck, she felt a twinge of shame for having lost her temper with Clark.

Good old Clark, who’d donate his liver and both kidneys if he thought it’d do you some good. He was probably first in line when Perry barked orders to get over here and help with the move. She owed him an apology.

Later, she thought. After all of this is done.

She peeked into the moving truck as it was being filled with nearly everything she owned in the world. She fought back the tears as she felt them begin to well up in her eyes at the sight, then she turned back to fetch another box or two.

***

The last of it all was shoved into the Ace Company’s moving truck, and Frank waved to everyone as he pulled out of the driveway. Nick Anderson got directions to the new neighborhood, which wasn’t all that far away. Lois still wanted Jason to grow up in the suburbs with grass and trees and a yard for a dog, as opposed to the city with pavement and traffic lights and barely enough room for even a goldfish.

As the guys began to pile into Nick’s SUV, Lois tapped Clark on the shoulder. “Ride with me?” she asked.

Clark, as was usually the case when Lois caught him off-guard, looked as if he’d just swallowed an electric eel. He gulped and said OK.

Lois turned the key in the ignition, then turned to Clark as the car motor hummed. She was ready to spill out her apology, but was interrupted by Jason’s “Learn Italian the Quick & Easy Way” CD that he listened to every time they rode anywhere these days. He had completed a jigsaw puzzle of the Colosseum in Rome three weeks ago, and was determined to one day visit it in person, and when he did, he planned on being able to converse with “the natives.” His words, not hers.

Lois clicked off Signore Leonardi’s current lesson, and turned to Clark. “Jason’s learning Italian,” she explained. “He’s planning a trip to Rome, to see the Colosseum.”

Clark nodded. “Wow,” was all he said.

“Well,” Lois continued, changing the subject so as not to bore him with accounts of her seven-year-old’s travel ambitions, “I just wanted to thank you for helping out today, Clark...and to apologize for biting your head off earlier. I’m a little on edge today. I’d probably chew off the Easter Bunny’s head, if he were around.”

Clark chuckled. “No problem,” he said. “I understand.” He adjusted his glasses and shot her a classic Clark Kent grin.

The very sight warmed her heart. Good old Clark. It was nice to know you could always count on some things.

***

The dust finally settled at the new place late in the evening. Lois had called Lucy and asked her to keep Jason overnight.

“Order a veggie pizza and take him to Blockbuster,” she advised her sister. “Don’t be surprised if he picks out Roman Holiday, though. I’ll see you two tomorrow, and hopefully I’ll have his things unpacked and put away by then, at least.”

All the guys headed off, with the exception of Clark. She begged him to stick around to bring her up to date on what had been going on at the Planet, and –although she didn’t admit this to him – to keep her company.

“I have plenty of beer,” she said, as a way to entice him to stay. “And soy milk, if that’s more your speed,” she added with a wink. She’d stopped by the day before to semi-stock the fridge and pantry in the new house, so she and Jason weren’t scrambling around for food during their first few days there. The beer was for Lucy, and the soy milk was for Jason. As for Lois, she was feeling more like a glass of Chardonnay.

“Now, for the life of me, I can’t recall which box I packed the corkscrew and wine glasses in,” Lois said, getting down on the floor to read the box labels more closely.

“Here, let me see it,” said Clark, taking the wine bottle as Lois examined the boxes.

“I haven’t a clue,” she said, staring at fifteen different boxes labeled “Various Kitchen Items,” just as she heard the pop of the cork coming loose from the Chardonnay bottle.

Lois raised an eyebrow as she turned around.

“Swiss Army Knife,” said Clark with a slight smirk. He patted his pocket knowingly.

“You were a Boy Scout, weren’t you?” said Lois, taking the bottle from him. “Always prepared and all.”

Clark looked guilty as charged.

“You don’t happen to have a wine glass in your back pocket, now do you?” she asked hopefully.

“Sorry, no,” he said, opening the bottle of beer Lois had offered him earlier.

“Well, then,” Lois said, clinking her wine bottle against the glass of his beer bottle. “Cheers.” She took a large swig and sighed. “What a day.”

***

After getting caught up on the latest happenings at the Daily Planet, Lois brought her now three-quarters-empty wine bottle out to the backyard, with Clark in tow. He’d polished off a couple beers, and carried a third one with him as they headed out back.

“It’s a nice yard,” Lois said, stumbling out across the grass in the darkness. The floodlight on the back of the house barely reached her. Clark followed and stood beside her, surveying the landscape – or at least, what he could make out in the shadows of night.

“I’m thinking of getting Jason a dog,” Lois continued. “Maybe a beagle or a Jack Russell. Whadda you think, Clark? Did you have a dog when you were a kid? I’ll bet you did. You grew up on a farm, didn’t you? I’ll bet all farm boys from Kansas grow up with a dog.”

She was babbling like a brook; a horrible habit she had when she’d been drinking a little too much. She plopped down on the grass and reclined back, gazing at the starry sky above. Clark sat down on the grass beside her.

“Look at them, Clark,” Lois sighed, staring longingly at the stars. “Aren’t they magnificent? And there are so many of them. Did you ever wish you could reach out and touch them?” She reached her hand towards the sky, moving it back and forth like a child working on a finger painting. She turned towards Clark, who was taking a swill from his beer bottle. “You’re not even looking,” she huffed. She tugged at his shirt sleeve and ordered him, “Lie down. Take a look at the stars.”

Clark reclined in the grass next to Lois. They were silent for the next few minutes, until Lois finally said, “Do you ever wonder, Clark?”

Clark turned to face her. “Wonder…” His voice trailed off. “Wonder what, Lois?”

“Just wonder,” she said dreamily. As she spoke, she lifted her hand back in the air, painting more invisible pictures against the inky night sky. She sat up slowly, and finished off the Chardonnay. She collapsed back onto the grass and let out a quiet laugh, soft and melodic. The empty wine bottle rested at her side. “Just wonder, Clark. Let’s just wonder.” Her hand nudged his as she brought it back to rest at her side, and to her intoxicated surprise, he took it gently into his. A sensation of contentment washed over her at the gesture, a sensation that was probably heightened by the many ounces of alcohol dancing through her system at the time, or so she thought.

It really was nice to know you could always count on some things, though. She sighed. Good old Clark.

TBC

[majiklmoon]

ah...your muse is back! Excellent, I was just getting ready to ship you a new case of shampoo.

Great start Bisty

[bistyboo1974]

Might want to go ahead and ship the shampoo anyhow, Tracie. I sat down to write tonight, but for some reason I can't get past one little hurdle in part three. It's driving me crazy.

[Island Breeze]

Good old Clark! Well, if she only knew.

I know it was a serious moment, to her, but I still had to smile at Lois' thoughts about being the faster driver. She probably is!

What if I’d driven him to his appointment that day, instead of letting him take a cab? Would I have been killed, too? Or would we both have been spared, since I drive faster than every cabbie in Metropolis?

Interesting twist with Jason in the picture, and Richard getting killed and Superman being too late to save him... I haven't seen Superman Returns yet, so I'm a bit unsure what is in that movie.

Great start, Bisty! :D

[bistyboo1974]

Gerry - Thanks for the feedback.

I haven't seen Superman Returns yet, so I'm a bit unsure what is in that movie.

I'm almost embarrassed to admit how many times I'VE seen it! lol

***

Word Count: 2,938

THREE

When Lois awoke the next morning, she was tucked snugly under the covers of her bed. She couldn’t recollect having gotten the bed linens out and making up the bed the night before. Or getting upstairs to bed, for that matter.

Clark, she remembered. Must’ve been Clark.

Her head ached and the morning sun made her squint uncomfortably as its bright rays streamed in through the curtainless windows. She remembered her promise to Lucy to have Jason’s room unpacked and ready when he arrived. She groaned, also remembering how she never got around to that last night. Finishing off the bottle of Chardonnay had kind of seen to that. She stumbled down the hallway towards Jason’s room, fully prepared to find a wall of boxes and furniture shoved this way and that – and fully prepared to tackle the task in her current state of being hung-over – only to find nothing of the sort when she passed through the doorway. A note was placed in the middle of Jason’s bed – which was made up in with his bright blue comforter and bed sheets – with Lois’s name scrawled out in familiar handwriting.

She opened the note and read:

Dear Lois,

I took a guess at where everything should go. I know you want everything ready and waiting when Jason arrives, and I had a hunch you wouldn’t be feeling up to the task first thing in the morning.

Clark

She thought, Took a guess, did he? She looked around the room. Good guess. It was nearly perfect. Jason’s puzzles were placed on the shelves near the table where he liked to piece them together. All of his books were placed on a bookcase near his bed, where he could grab one to read before drifting off to sleep if he wanted to. His toy chest was positioned beneath his window, just as it had been in the old house. Even his trusty old stuffed bear, Bentley, was perched in the appropriate spot on the bed, keeping a watchful eye on all. Bentley, who had been a gift from Richard when Jason was only two, had been brought back from London when Richard had been sent there on Daily Planet business.

How did Clark know? She glanced around again and began to think sensibly. She supposed it wasn’t too difficult to imagine how to set up a kid’s bedroom. But, still. She was amazed that Clark had even bothered. Not a lot of people would have, especially after having done heavy lifting all day long and with several beers floating around inside them. Clark Kent was a good friend.

It suddenly hit her. Was he still here? Did he set her living room up last night, too, and was still out cold on her sofa after playing Santa Claus all night with her packed up belongings? She navigated the staircase a little too quickly than was prudent in her state of post-inebriation, but found herself a little disappointed to see that there was no Clark curled up on her sofa once she’d bounded to the bottom.

Or was it that she was disappointed to find that her living room was still packed up tightly in a series of cardboard boxes littering the hardwood floor? In any case, she thought, I’ll be needing a pot of coffee…or two. And I’ll be sure to thank Clark profusely when I see him.

***

Finding the coffee pot and container of grounds proved to be a daunting task with a hangover, but Lois finally managed. She drained the carafe dry, and was able to stand upright long enough to take a quick shower afterwards. By the time she dug her hairdryer out of hiding and got dressed, the doorbell chimed merrily, announcing the arrival of her sister and her son.

“Didn’t get much unpacking done last night?” inquired Lucy as she investigated the situation in the living room.

“Not in here, no,” said Lois.

Lucy strolled into the kitchen. “You unpacked the coffee pot, I see.”

“Priority one,” retorted Lois.

“My room, Mom…can we see my room?” Jason’s face looked hopeful.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” said Lois with a smile. Thank you, Clark, she thought as she looked into Jason’s eager face.

Jason tromped up the stairs and hung a right at the top of the banister. Lois and Lucy followed, hearing the creak of his bedsprings as he crashed down on the mattress.

“How can such a little squirt make such a loud noise?” asked Lucy.

Lois merely smiled at her sister as she entered Jason's room.

“Like it?” Lois asked, watching her son reclined on his blue comforter. He was staring at the ceiling.

“I love it, Mom…where’d you get the stars?”

“The what?” Lois asked, craning her neck to look at the ceiling, where her son’s gaze was cast.

Lois’s mouth gaped as she took in the galaxy that was Jason’s ceiling. There had to be hundreds of tiny, glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling, all strategically placed to resemble constellations. Well, at least she thought they might be constellations. She didn’t exactly recognize any of them, but then again, she hadn’t exactly gotten straight As in Astronomy class in college, either. At the center of this mini-universe, Lois noticed a single vivid red star sticker. Where the rest of them were bright green, there in the middle of the constellation clusters was a lone red one.

Something inside Lois lurched. At the back of her mind, something niggled and nagged at her memory. Like having a word on the tip of your tongue, she almost had it. Almost recalled. Almost…

“Isn’t this cool, Aunt Lucy?” Jason asked, interrupting Lois’s thoughts.

Lucy plopped down on the bed beside her nephew to get a better vantage point.

“Awesome,” replied Lucy. “So this is what your mother was up to all night.”

Lois smiled once more, all the while wondering how on earth Clark had pulled this off.

***

A week later, Jason had begun attending the summer program at his school, and Lois was back to work at the paper.

She felt her kneecaps turn to Jell-O on the elevator ride up to the newsroom, and scolded herself for not feeling gutsier about the first day back on the job.

Yellow’s not a good color on you, Lois, she told herself. So, let’s strap on a pair and get back to work.

The elevator announced its arrival to the newsroom floor with a soft ping, and Lois stepped out after the doors had parted. She took in the view – a sea of computers, desks and office equipment, overlooked by dozens of mounted television monitors, and in the midst of it all, the hustle and bustle of tons of tremendously busy men and women practically tripping over themselves to meet deadline upon dreaded deadline – all composing what was the beating heart of the Planet. She looked a little closer, and took in the faces of some of her colleagues. There was Nick Anderson’s caffeine-deprived expression as he poured himself a large cup of coffee and rubbed the sleep from his bleary, red eyes – no doubt he had been out all night on assignment, or else he had slept on the couch again after a fight with his wife, Maxine; Marjorie Peterson’s gleam of triumph as she yammered on the phone, probably successfully securing an interview with some prominent somebody or another; Jimmy Olsen, looking critically through a stack of his latest prints, searching for just the right shot to impress Perry with; and Clark Kent, looking at…well, looking at her.

Before she knew what was happening, Lois felt her face flush. With all the uproar of getting settled into the new house over the past week, Lois hadn’t actually gotten to speak with Clark to properly thank him for the help he’d given her. She left him a message on his machine one evening when she thought she might’ve been able to catch him at home, told him thanks again and again, and said that the least she could do was offer him dinner once the unpacking was over and done with, and once she was back at work. She supposed she ought to go over and thank him again in person, and make an offer to make good on the dinner invitation.

With purpose in each stride, she made her way across the newsroom, nodding and greeting each person who offered her a “Welcome back!” or “So good to see you!” or “We’ve really missed you!” along the way. Halfway to Clark’s desk, however, she found herself rerouted to Perry’s office as he swung his door open, barked a hello to her, and beckoned her in.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she mouthed to Clark as she rushed past to Perry’s office. “We need to talk…”

***

“Tonight?” Clark said, as he fidgeted with a container of paper clips that had been nestled amid the sea of junk on Lois’s desk. “Dinner…tonight?”

“Oh, God,” Lois said, grabbing the paper clips from him and tossing them aside, back atop the junk pile. “You’re nervous I’m cooking, aren’t you?”

Clark gave her an odd look, then said quickly, “No, of course not. I’m sure your cooking…”

“…comes with a Surgeon General’s warning?” finished Lois with a smirk. “I’m a big girl. I can take assaults to my culinary skills when they come at me.”

She could tell Clark was unsure whether to laugh or…or perhaps call for psychiatric backup. Either way, it was time to stop kidding around and get on with it.

“Dinner. Tonight at 7:00, and rest assured I will not be doing the cooking. How do you feel about Italian?”

“Italian’s good. It’s good, Lois,” Clark stammered.

“Be there at 7:00, then? And dress casually…” Lois gave his necktie a quick tug and smiled. “…no work clothes. I’ll be sure to let Jason know we’re having a guest over.”

Clark straightened his tie and nodded. “7:00…and no ties...got it.” He nodded again.

“See you, then,” said Lois, grabbing her bag and readying herself to dash off to the elevator. Perry had already given her an assignment, and she was surprised at how anxious she was to get her feet wet once again. Besides, she figured if she didn’t leave Clark alone to process this evening’s dinner plans, he might just fidget himself into orbit.

***

“Find some clean socks to put on!” Lois shouted up the staircase, the bag of take-out from Luigi’s in her hands. “And make sure I can see the carpeting when I get up there to inspect your bedroom!”

“OK, Mom!” was Jason’s reply.

OK, thought Lois. Was it every seven-year-old or just her own who had an aversion to clean socks and a tidy bedroom?

She emptied the contents of the take-out bag onto her kitchen counter. She’d ordered rigatoni, lasagna, and manicotti, uncertain of what Clark preferred. She knew she’d probably have to hide the cannoli for dessert from Jason, however. His sweet-tooth always liked to rear its hungry little head, but the ricotta it was made with wasn’t something his digestive tract could handle. A plate of meatless spaghetti (sans cheese), some veggies on the side, and a “Bambini Sundae” made with lactose-free vanilla ice cream was what was on the menu for Jason this evening.

Lois scooped the food into serving dishes, making a nice presentation, and tried every trick she’d picked up from watching the Food Network in the evenings while staying at Lucy’s. She arranged the place settings, then took out a pair of wine glasses and a small glass tumbler for Jason’s soy milk. She made a mental note to limit herself to a single glass of wine that evening. The last thing she needed was to end up passed out in her backyard…again. Clark might get the impression she’d turned into a lush.

Lois glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was five minutes until 7:00. If Clark doesn’t get here soon, the food’s going to be ice cold, she thought.

She sprinted up the stairs to see whether or not her son’s feet and bedroom were up to par or not. When Jason presented her with a pair of freshly laundered sock-clad feet and a fairly neat bedroom, she asked him to slip on his sneakers and make his way downstairs for dinner. Just as she told him this, the doorbell chimed.

Jason grabbed his shoes and bolted. “I’ll get it!”

“Wait,” called Lois, following behind. “Let me use the peephole before you open that door, mister!”

“We don’t need the peephole,” Jason said, slipping across the entryway floor in his clean socks, and grabbing for the doorknob. “It’s Mr. Kent!”

“How do you know that?” Lois choked.

“Because…” Jason said, trying to reason with his mother. He swung the door wide open with his left hand; his sneakers still clutched in his right. He turned to Lois and explained, “…it’s seven o’clock, and Mr. Kent was supposed to come over at seven o’clock.”

Lois sighed. How simple. And she had imagined her son seeing through the door, as clearly as if it were a pane of glass. Imagine that, she thought.

Clark stood on the porch, looking a bit baffled by the scene in front of him.

“Where are our manners?” Lois finally said, gently moving Jason aside to invite Clark into the house. “C’mon in Clark…Jason, say hi to Mr. Kent.”

“Hi,” said Jason. He plopped down on the floor of the entryway and slid his feet into his sneakers.

“Hello,” Clark said after he’d made his way inside. He looked at Jason for a moment, who was slowly tying the laces on his left shoe, then over to Lois, whose hand was clutching the knob of the door she’d just closed.

“So,” Lois said, feeling a bit awkward. “Who’s hungry?”

***

“I’ll be just a sec,” Lois said, after dinner was finished. “Let me pile these dishes into the dishwasher, and I’ll be right out.”

Clark was waiting in the living room with Jason. Jason was busy rifling through his book bag, looking for something he’d painted during arts and crafts time at day camp.

After she’d finished up with the dishes, Lois walked towards the living room, but paused as she reached the doorway.

Jason was sitting on the sofa holding a small wooden racecar in his hands. He spun the wheels and was clearly admiring the bright colors he’d painted on it earlier that day. One half of the car was flaming red, the other a deep sea blue. A thin, golden stripe detailed the car’s sides. With each spin of the wheels, Jason made a low, vroom-vroom sound, mimicking the sound of a racecar’s engine.

Clark was standing in front of the fireplace, observing the photos displayed on the mantelpiece. There was a black and white one of Jason, only a few hours old; Jimmy Olsen had snapped it just on his visit to Metropolis General to see how baby and mother were doing. Jason's eyes were wide open, and he looked calm and content, all snuggled tightly into his mother's embrace. At first sight, he looked like such a tiny, fragile creature, but his bright eyes conveyed that he was full of life and might some day become a force to be reckoned with. A shock of dark hair curled out from beneath the knit baby cap that the nurse had fitted on his tiny head. Lois recalled thinking she’d never seen a more perfect baby than her sweet little Jason. Next to that photo on the mantel was a snapshot of Jason's first birthday. In this photograph, the baby cap was replaced with a silly party hat that he wore proudly over his moppy, black hair; and in front of him, on the tray of his highchair, sat a small round birthday cake with a sizeable chunk missing. Blue and white icing covered most of Jason's face. Lois recalled the horrendous rash he broke out into after the icing was wiped clean – just one more thing in a long procession of allergies and sensitivities for young Jason. Richard, as Lois remembered, had driven to four different pharmacies that afternoon looking for the specific brand of ointment that the pediatrician had recommended for clearing the rash up. Beside the first two photos were several others, all documenting meaningful events in Jason White’s life. There was a photo of him splashing in the water at the beach during a vacation the family had taken when Jason was three; one of his first day of school; another of him learning to balance on a bicycle equipped with training wheels; and one of him riding atop Richard’s shoulders with a sunny yellow balloon gripped in his hands, taken just weeks before the accident.

But Clark’s gaze had fallen back on the black and white photo. Jason continued vroom-ing his racecar, and Lois quietly walked into the living room.

“He looks like you,” Clark remarked.

“Yeah,” replied Lois, standing beside Clark to take a closer look at the picture of her infant son. “A lot of people say that.” She took the frame from its place on the mantel and stroked the glass separating her child’s image from her touch. “But I see his father there as well.”

“Richard seemed like a really good dad,” Clark said quietly.

Lois quickly set the frame back in its place and took in a deep breath. He really, truly was, thought Lois, still holding onto her breath, suddenly fearful of letting it go. But that’s not who I meant.


TBC

[Island Breeze]

Woohoo! Great chapter, Bisty! That last line is very revealing. She doesn't mean Richard. And she was thinking earlier that Jason was seeing Kent though the door. The timing answer was a good answer, but... hmmm.

And I loved the galaxy on Jason's ceiling!

Lois’s mouth gaped as she took in the galaxy that was Jason’s ceiling. There had to be hundreds of tiny, glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling, all strategically placed to resemble constellations. Well, at least she thought they might be constellations. She didn’t exactly recognize any of them, but then again, she hadn’t exactly gotten straight As in Astronomy class in college, either. At the center of this mini-universe, Lois noticed a single vivid red star sticker. Where the rest of them were bright green, there in the middle of the constellation clusters was a lone red one.

Something inside Lois lurched. At the back of her mind, something niggled and nagged at her memory. Like having a word on the tip of your tongue, she almost had it. Almost recalled. Almost…

Great chapter, Bisty! :D

[bistyboo1974]

That last line is very revealing. She doesn't mean Richard.

Nope, she sure doesn't.

I've been slack about posting updates here, so here's another one before I head off to bed!

***

Word Count: 2,488

FOUR

Lois took one last glance at the photo and slowly released her breath, then – not being able to muster up the courage to meet Clark’s eyes – sat down on the sofa beside Jason. After an uneasy moment of silence, Clark spoke. His voice, still low and quiet, almost broke when he finally said, “I’m so sorry, Lois.”

She froze as she sat there next to her son. Jason had set his racecar down and was now rummaging through his book bag once more. Lois’s eyes slowly met Clark’s and she narrowed them, perplexed by the peculiar feeling his words had given her. Tons of people had said those same simple sentiments to her, yet now, when Clark spoke them…

He hastily gave his glasses an unnecessary adjustment, and said quickly, his pitch returning to normal, “I shouldn’t have mentioned it...how thoughtless…”

Lois shook her head. “It’s OK, Clark.” She stared at him for a moment, and realized she couldn’t remember ever seeing him wearing something as down-to-earth as a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Before, when she’d been watching him as he looked at the pictures on the mantel, she thought of how different he seemed outside of the buttoned-down world of the Daily Planet office. She supposed there were times when Clark Kent did not wear stodgy three-piece suits and neckties. How many years had she known him? Yet, now she felt that maybe she really didn’t know him at all.

Jason tugged a heap of papers our of his book bag and deposited them in the center of the coffee table. “Mrs. Murphy wanted you to see this stuff,” Jason commented as he removed a tattered copy of Stuart Little from his bag.

“He shows me this now,” said Lois with a chuckle, scooping up the papers and glancing at the top sheet. “Why don’t I take a look at all of these papers while you show Mr. Kent your latest project, hmm?” Lois was referring to Jason’s newest puzzle, a work-in-progress on the table in his bedroom.

Jason looked at Clark hopefully.

Clark nodded. “Sure,” he said. “I’d really like that.”

Lois whispered in Jason’s ear before he could dash off, “Don’t forget to tell Mr. Kent thank you…you know, for the stars.”

“I won’t,” Jason assured her. Still hanging onto Stuart Little, he led Clark up the staircase.

***

Lois leafed through the stack of papers sent home from Jason’s school. There was a newsletter; a permission slip for an upcoming field trip to the Metropolis Zoo; a school supply list for next fall; and a series of crayon drawings, all of which were signed “Jason White” in her son’s handwriting. The first drawing was of the Colosseum in Rome. Had she not been able to identify it on sight, then her son’s phonetic spelling of the word – “Kalaseeyum” – might’ve tipped her off. She sighed, realizing she’d probably cursed her only child for life. The poor boy would never have aspirations of one day reaching the National Spelling Bee. The next two drawings were clearly prompted by Mrs. Murphy, the director of the school’s summer program. The first sheet of paper had a typed-out heading that read: At the zoo, I would like to see a(n) ______. Jason had filled in the blank with the word “lion.” Lois was relieved to see he had spelled it correctly. He’d illustrated his paper with a hefty, growling lion whose bushy mane encircled its head like a golden wreath. The second drawing prompt read: If I could be any animal on Earth, I would be a(n) ______. This time, Jason had filled in the blank with the word “eagle,” and had drawn the bird quite majestic-looking with its broad wings spread wide and its hooked beak open, seemingly crying out to the wind as it soared above the clouds. Lois stared a long time at this drawing, wondering if Jason had chosen the eagle for its ability to fly. She ran her fingertips across the paper, feeling the smooth wax of the crayon beneath them. They’d never discussed it, and she wasn’t even certain Jason remembered the one time he’d outwardly exhibited anything...physically extraordinary. She was always left wondering, what did her son suspect? What did he know?

At that, what did she know? There were unexplained chunks of missing of time, inexplicable gaps in her own memories. And how about the fact that she gave birth to a baby boy so early, she’d baffled her obstetrician beyond words? She managed to convince herself all too quickly that Richard had to be Jason’s father, because who else had she been with? No one. Or, at least no one that she could recall. When Jason was born, he was such a tiny wisp of a thing, the rationale that he’d merely been born prematurely seemed enough for her. Forgotten was the fact that she’d missed several cycles prior to even meeting Richard. That had been credited to stress. After all, she’d been abandoned without so much as a word, hadn’t she? Abandoned by someone she loved…

Lois took her hand away from the drawing and wiped her eyes dry. She realized just then that they were becoming very moist as she dwelt on these thoughts. She placed the field trip form on top of the stack of papers so as not to forget to sign it later, and headed upstairs to see what Jason and Clark were up to.

***

As she walked down the hallway towards Jason’s bedroom, Lois heard Clark’s voice, again low and hushed, like before – and most unlike his customary tone, which always seemed nervous and anxious – as he read aloud from a book to Jason. Jason’s attention was held raptly, hanging on every word that Clark spoke.

“When Mrs. Frederick C. Little's second son arrived, everybody noticed that he was not much bigger than a mouse. The truth of the matter was, the baby looked very much like a mouse in every way. He was only about two inches high; and he had a mouse's sharp nose, a mouse's tail, a mouse's whiskers, and the pleasant, shy manner of a mouse. Before he was many days old he was not only looking like a mouse but acting like one, too-wearing a gray hat and carrying a small cane. Mr. and Mrs. Little named him Stuart, and Mr. Little made him a tiny bed out of four clothespins and a cigarette box.”

Lois stood stock-still just outside the doorway to Jason’s room, not wanting to disrupt the tableau she found before her. She listened to Clark as he read, becoming just as engrossed in his narrative as Jason was. Clark had gotten to the part about Stuart Little’s feats of daring as he rescued his mother’s ring from the evil clutches of the bathtub drain.

“‘Oh, my brave little son’ said Mrs. Little proudly, as she kissed Stuart and thanked him.”

Clark paused, and Lois watched as Jason gently nudged him and said, “What happens next, Mr. Kent?”

Clark remained silent for a moment longer, then finally said, “It’s OK for you to call me Clark, Jason.”

“Cool,” said Jason, grinning widely. “What happens next, Clark?”

Lois watched as Clark smiled back at Jason. “Well, let’s find out,” he said, looking back to the pages of the book.

She couldn’t believe the natural rapport he had with Jason. There he sat, looking comfortable and relaxed, effortlessly reading from the pages of a children’s story while Jason keenly absorbed each word. Was this the same Clark Kent who spilled coffee on his keyboard at least twice a week, and who you couldn’t have a sensible conversation with without having to endure a certain degree of bumbling and stammering? Was this the result of removing that dress shirt and necktie?

Lois shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she stood watching the pair. A loose floorboard groaned weakly, but enough to give away her presence. The spell was broken.

“Mom, just one more chapter?” begged Jason, knowing that his mother was about to announce it was bedtime.

“Stuart will be there tomorrow. Besides, you’ve got school in the morning,” Lois said, trying to be reasonable.

“Did your mom make you go to school in the summer?” Jason asked Clark desperately. Apparently, he was looking for an ally in fighting the injustice of off-season school attendance.

“No,” said Clark. “But…”

“But his mother made him get up very early to milk the cows, so count your blessings, Munchkin. We could live in on a farm.” She opened the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas. She tossed them onto his lap and said, “You’ve got ten minutes to change into these and get your teeth brushed. C’mon downstairs when you’re ready to say good-night.”

“But…”

“Nope. Mom’s not taking suggestions at this time. Clark…” She beckoned Clark to follow her downstairs.

Once in the living room, they took a seat, waiting for Jason to bound down after them to bid them goodnight.

“Jason’ll want this back,” Clark said, realizing he was still holding onto the copy of Stuart Little. He gave it to Lois, who stared at the cover for a second, then thanked him.

“Jason really enjoyed you reading to him,” Lois said as she played with the binding of the book.

“I really enjoyed reading to him,” admitted Clark.

“Did you read a lot…as a kid, I mean?” asked Lois.

“Yeah,” Clark replied, smiling as he reminisced. “My dad read quite a bit, and he’d take me along with him to the public library every week.”

Lois nodded.

“What, no jokes about how Smallville couldn’t possibly be big enough to have a public library?” asked Clark, a tiny smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

Lois smiled back. “Nope, no more farm jokes. I think that was great. Your dad, taking you to the library every week? It was a great thing for a dad to do.” Her smile faded. She realized she was gripping the binding of Stuart Little quite firmly. Her throat began to tighten and her eyes burned as she struggled to keep back tears.

“Lois?” Clark reached out to take the book from her. He managed to free it from her grasp and set it gently down on the coffee table, beside the stack of Jason’s school papers. He reached out again, this time gently resting his hand on her shoulder

“Clark, I…” she tried to choke out words of explanation. She wanted desperately for someone to know how confused she was becoming all of a sudden. She was desperate to have one person in the whole world to talk to her about this confusion. But she knew she could say nothing to Clark of this, even though a little part of her was crying on the inside to say something to someone. And Clark was…a friend.

When Richard was alive, the rules had been clear. Lines were drawn, and she was OK with that, or so she told herself. She honestly loved Richard, and the life they had made together was a good one, and the right choice for her son. She had been able to push back questions and thoughts of what had happened and why they happened…to make her forget. She’d even been good at controlling her emotions, because she could not bear to hurt Richard or Jason with even the smallest betrayal. There were no midnight flights around Metropolis. When she had to speak to him for the Planet, it was always in broad daylight, usually with others around. They spoke, but never touched. Not even a handshake. It was one of her rules. Because if he were to touch her, she might’ve crumbled.

Clark’s hand on her shoulder was a steadying force. He said her name again. She heard it through the roar of uncertainty growing louder and louder in her head.

Once again, he said, “Lois?”

Lois drew in a quick gasp. “Yeah, I’m OK,” she said, with a bit of a struggle.

“Jason’s here to say goodnight,” Clark explained, lowering his hand so that Jason could slide into his mother’s lap and wrap his arms tightly around her neck.

“Mom,” Jason murmured in her ear. “Are you sick?” He lightly planted a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m not sick, baby,” Lois assured him. “Don’t worry.” She hugged him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Jason echoed, giving her one last squeeze before hopping down from her lap. He turned to Clark and said, “Goodnight, Clark.”

“Goodnight, Jason,” Clark said quietly. He reached out and lightly touched Jason atop his mop of dark hair.

“I’ll be up to tuck you in soon, ‘kay?” called Lois as Jason climbed back up the staircase once more.

“OK,” answered Jason as he disappeared into the upstairs.

Lois turned to Clark. “Well, I’ll bet you didn’t count on getting a nervous breakdown with dinner tonight, huh?” She gave a feeble attempt at a chuckle.

Clark didn’t smile. “Is there anything I can do? Are you going to be alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised him. “Honestly, drunk one night, going nuts the next…maybe you bring it out in me, Clark?”

Still, no smile.

“Don’t worry about me,” she told him firmly before he left. “I’ll be fine.”

***

It was nearly midnight when Lois made her way to the backyard. It was a clear night, and the stars in the sky were twinkling down from their positions in the heavens like little luminous paint flecks on a painter’s dark canvas. When she’d been out there the other night, Lois’s mind was clouded with the haze of alcohol. Tonight, her thoughts were clear. Her mind kept dwelling on him. Suddenly, those questions that she’d kept buried deep wanted to resurface. She had things she wanted to ask him…needed to ask him. Wasn’t it her right to know what had happened, and what had caused her to forget? If they had been together, why couldn’t she remember his touch?

Lois folded her arms tightly and drew in a quick breath, closing her eyes as she did so. She imagined his hands – strong, but so tender at the same time – embracing her, caressing her, holding her close...

How could she have forgotten his touch? How could he have let her?

She felt a soft breeze, then heard the crunch of grass beneath someone’s feet…she was no longer alone. She opened her eyes, waited for them to readjust to the darkness, then reached out a hand to the shadows. Her fingertips met with the slick fabric of his suit and trailed down to rest on what she knew was the emblem he always wore on his chest.

She’d sworn it before, and she’d hold to it until the day she drew her last breath. That man could read her mind.



TBC

Author's Note: Book excerpts are taken from Stuart Little, by E.B. White.

[Angie]

Hey Bistyboo! Well I love this story! I think that you do an amazingly good job with Lois's character and her feelings. I felt with her especially in Chapter 1 when she was getting ready to move. Excellent idea to bring in a child! Jason sounds so cute! Great start!

[bistyboo1974]

Angie - Glad you're enjoying it! As for Jason, he's not mine. I'm borrowing him from Bryan Singer & Co. But he is a doll. *squishes him* Take a look.

***

FIVE


Maybe this was all in her imagination. Maybe she was still fantasizing about him being there with her, still trying with all her might to remember sensations long ago forgotten…trying desperately to take back stolen time. So as not to let the moment slip by, she kept her hand resting on his chest, against the scarlet “S” that snaked within the confines of his diamond-shaped emblem. Beneath it, she felt his heartbeat pounding away. She could hear her own pulse throbbing in her ears. At that moment, their cadence was a flawless match

“What have you done to me?” she whispered to him. Whether this was fantasy or reality, she was frantic to know.

He stepped back, leaving her hand outstretched in the darkness, touching nothing but cold air.

She gasped. That single action was like a lifeline being cut. She boldly stepped forward, determined now. Knowing then that he was real, she wasn’t going to let him fly off without a word. She grabbed out into the darkness and caught him by the arm.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he told her, but he didn’t break free from her hold.

She stepped closer. So close, in fact, she could feel the warmth radiating from him. Being close to him was like basking in sunshine. She realized her free hand had caught hold of his other arm now. She stood there for a moment in silence, locked in this awkward embrace, until his own arms lifted and came to rest on her shoulders.

“I should go,” he said, but his tone was reluctant.

She wasn’t going to let him start this again. It had been so long since she’d seen him. She had hoped the time had helped wash those last remnants of guilt away.

“Don’t go,” she murmured anxiously. Her words had come out sounding more pleading than she’d have liked, but there was no way around it at this point. She was still caught up in the fantasy, but the reality was that he was here with her now, touching her now…

If you can read my mind, then make me remember, she thought, this time trying to plead with him in earnest.

“Lois…” His voice was low and hypnotic.

She closed her eyes and relaxed in his arms. He was holding her close now, sliding a hand cautiously down the length of her hair as she nuzzled her face into his chest. Then he released her; bringing his hands to cup her face, he slowly lifted it from the shelter of his embrace and gazed at her under the starlight.

She hadn’t needed him to rescue her in ages, but now she was in critical need. There were no crashing airplanes or cunning villains around this time; just the two of them, and the aching need for her to remember everything…

His hands cradled her face so gently. She tried to fathom how someone so physically powerful could also be so tender. She was in danger now, but not in the way she usually was when she needed him to save her. She wanted answers from him, but following the course they were on would surely not lead to conversation.

But it may help me remember, a tiny voice at the back of her mind sang out.

He lowered his head a bit. His face was so near….near enough that an inch or two would made the difference between tasting him or not. Lois’s brain was spinning out of control. Being drunk on an entire crate of Chardonnay would have nothing on how intoxicated she was feeling in his arms that instant. Her mouth opened just the smallest bit, and she realized she was running her tongue across her bottom lip, so certain that a kiss was imminent. She was hungry for it.

Kiss me…I swear, I’ll remember everything if you do, she thought.

His head lowered an inch more, but he swept his face to the side, and spoke softly into her ear. His breath on her earlobe sent a shiver down her spine.

“I came here tonight to make sure you were alright,” he said quietly.

She turned her head so that his mouth brushed lightly against the tender part of her neck, just below her ear. She shivered again. “And how have you found me?” she murmured. “Satisfactory?” Her pulse was racing, but at her words, he stepped back once more, taking his warmth with him and leaving only the chilly night air to shroud her.

“It’s late,” he told her. “And you’re better off going inside and getting some rest.”

Better off? she thought in surprise. Touch me, and practically drive me out of my mind…then send me off to sleep? But I need answers! She stared at him, speechless. Why wasn’t she able to tell him all of the things that were racing around in her head? It was maddening.

“Goodnight, Lois,” he said, and then he was gone. As quickly and as quietly as he’d come, he was gone.

***

What had just happened? She asked herself that question a thousand times as she came back into the house, locked the doors, climbed the staircase, looked in on Jason, brushed her teeth, dressed in her nightgown, then slipped beneath the covers of her bed.

He shows up out of nowhere, she thought. Typical.

I go crazy on a whim. She considered this for a moment, then concluded, Yeah, still typical.

Then the Man of Steel proves that he really is made of steel and puts the brakes on the whole thing. She sighed. Probably a wise thing to do, all things considered.

She had really lost it there for a bit. How about next time you want answers, Lois, you start out by asking questions, hmm?

She pounded her pillow, trying to get it just right so that she could get comfortable enough to drift off to sleep. How about next time you don’t melt when you see him? How about snapping out of fantasyland, huh? It’s probably what got you into trouble the first time around, not that you can even remember! She tossed the pillow on the floor beside her bed, and slammed her head down against the mattress.

You’re an investigative reporter, for Christ’s sake! she thought savagely. There’s a right way of going about getting to the bottom of things, and there’s a wrong way. Next time, you put the rules back into play. No touching. Eye contact at a minimum isn’t a bad notion, either. You ask direct questions, and you demand direct answers. Like your therapist once told you, ‘You are in control of your life, Lois Lane!’

***

“Why is the coffee pot always empty when I’m ready for a cup?” Lois barked, holding an empty coffee mug in one hand and an empty carafe in the other.

Jimmy Olsen shrugged as he sprinted by the coffee machine, his camera in hand. Lois all but growled at him as he went.

“Morning, Lois,” said a voice from behind her. She turned to see Clark holding a steaming cup emblazoned with the Starbucks logo. “Raspberry latte, no whipped cream?” He handed her the cup.

“My God, Clark!” she exclaimed. She snatched the cup from him and took a wonderfully long sip. “Thank you! You’re a saint!”

“You’re welcome,” he said, giving his glasses a perfunctory nudge. “Just a little thanks for dinner.”

“Dinner?” She took another swallow from the coffee cup and coughed a little. “Oh, dinner…last night.” She set the cup down and rubbed her eyes. “You’ve gotta forgive me. I didn’t sleep well last night, so dinner seems eons ago.”

“Everything alright? When I left…you seemed…it’s not Jason, is it?” Clark looked concerned.

“Jason’s fine,” Lois assured him. She picked up her coffee cup and continued working on draining it dry. “No, I...uh, I got one of those really annoying phone calls late last night. You know the kind?”

“Wrong number?” asked Clark, smiling weakly.

“Yeah,” said Lois. “Most definitely a wrong number.”

Clark nodded. “Hmm, I hate when that happens.”

“You, on the other hand, look quite chipper this morning, Mr. Kent. I take it you had the good fortune of getting a decent night’s sleep?” She eyed him enviously.

Clark gave her another weak smile.

“If you hadn’t gotten me this heavenly cup of coffee, I might just have to hate you for that,” she told him, patting him on the back jovially.

“Kent!” Perry’s voice boomed from the other end of the newsroom. “My office…now!”

“Chief beckons,” said Lois. She took the final sip of latte and tossed the paper coffee cup into the wastebasket. “Back to work.”

She watched Clark hurry across the newsroom to Perry White’s office, then meandered back to her own desk.

At her desk, Lois opened a drawer, grabbed a notepad and pen, and began to scribble:

Explain, if you will, the circumstances surrounding—

She stopped short and groaned. No, that wouldn’t do. She scratched through the line.

Please elucidate, in clear and concise terms—

That wasn’t right, either. In a flash, a line of ink blotted out that line

Where were you the night of—

This was getting worse by the minute. She scratched the third line out, then considered what she was doing for a moment. Then it dawned on her…ask direct questions and demand direct answers. She put her pen to paper, and wrote out a fourth line:

What the hell did you do to me?

“What are you writing, Lois?”

“Clark!” Lois flipped the notepad over and spun around in her chair. “Jeez, don’t sneak up on people like that!”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he said. “I was…I mean, Perry asked me to…I’ve got an assignment…”

Lois nodded. “Congratulations, Clark.” She eyed his necktie and thought seriously about loosening it for him.

“I meant to say, we’ve got an assignment. Perry asked me to fill you in, but if you’re already working on something else…” He indicated her pad of paper.

“This?” she looked at the back of the notepad and laughed nervously. Clark was staring at it as well. “This is nothing. I was just…it’s nothing.” She opened her desk drawer and shoved it inside. “What’s up?”

Clark cleared his throat. “Perry said Metropolis Transit workers are ready to strike any day now. He’s scheduled an interview with the chairman of the MTA this afternoon.”

“He wants both of us on this?” asked Lois.

Clark nodded.

“This city will be a damn mess if the transit workers strike. No trains running, no subway...”

“No buses, no ferries,” Clark added.

“OK,” said Lois, grabbing her bag. “We’re on it.”

***

“The man is a moron,” Lois concluded after interview was over. “Those transit workers have rights, you know.”

“I agree,” said Clark, jogging through the hall of the building to keep up with Lois. She was steamed, and she was walking quickly. “But don’t you think the chairman offered some valid points…and don’t you think he’s at least trying to avoid a strike?”

“But is he trying hard enough? Is he being completely honest with them? I mean, he told us he was being completely honest, but we all know, Clark…people lie. Even people who swear that they stand for truth.” Lois continued her fast-paced strides towards the exit of the transit headquarters building, but paused when she reached the doors. She turned around and saw Clark standing immobile a few yards behind her.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked impatiently. “Let’s catch the subway while it’s still running.”

***

The subway car rattled and shook as it rocketed through the tunnel. The next stop was theirs, and Lois had noticed Clark had slipped into silent-mode.

“You’ve stopped speaking to me,” Lois pointed out. Clark was staring absently at an advertisement for WMET’s morning show that was displayed above the row of seats across from them. “Is this about the interview? Because if it is, I…”

“No,” Clark said. “I was just…thinking.”

“About any topic in particular?” Lois queried.

“Yes,” Clark said, turning to her. The fringe of his thick dark hair hung low, covering the top rim of his glasses. Through the lenses, his eyes looked almost solemn. In fact, the look he gave her was quite possibly the most serious expression she’d ever seen Clark Kent muster.

Just then, the subway train came to a screeching halt. Passengers scurried towards the exits, pushing past them as they remained seated, staring at one another.

Clark cleared his throat and stood up, offering his hand to assist Lois out of her seat. “This is our stop,” he reminded her.

As she disembarked from the platform, a strange thing had occurred to her. It was a silly thing, really, but she had never noticed before...Clark Kent’s eyes were blue.

TBC

[Angie]

Another great chapter, Bisty! I liked it a lot! I like Clark and hope that Lois is able to see the good in him that she saw/sees in Superman...

[bistyboo1974]

Thanks again, Angie.

***

SIX

“Your façade is crumbling,” Lois said as she and Clark stepped into a crowded elevator in the Daily Planet building. She nudged past three people and tapped a button on the panel, choosing the floor number for the newsroom. She squeezed back to her position next to Clark, who was staring at his shoes.

“My what?” he asked, looking up at her in confusion, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Your façade…this thin veneer…I see through it, Clark Kent.” She crossed her arms and bit her bottom lip.

“You do?"

“Yes,” Lois said. “It’s obvious…you’re still angry over the interview, aren’t you? Because I disagreed with what the transit chairman said. It’s why you were pouting the whole way back on the subway—”

“I was not pouting!” Clark protested.

“Sulking then,” Lois said. “You hardly said two words the whole way back. What do you have to say to that?”

“I’m not angry, Lois,” Clark said flatly. “I had…something else…on my mind. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” was Lois’s retort. She didn’t look completely convinced. “If Jason were here, he’d make you pinkie swear that you were telling me the truth.”

Clark managed to smile at her comment, and Lois got the distinct impression that perhaps there really was something – aside from the interview – that was troubling him. She thought she should ask, to see if there was anything she could do to help. But she realized once again that she knew so little about his life outside the office. Was he having relationship trouble? Or else could it be that his mother – Lois remembered he was close to her – wasn’t well? Or maybe he was past due on his rent and had debt collectors breathing down his neck… Lois just didn’t have a clue where to begin.

“Anything you want to talk about?” she asked finally, as the elevator doors opened to let them escape into the newsroom.

“Umm,” Clark said as he and Lois were herded out of the elevator by the throng of people around them. “Actually, I think we should—”

“Kent! Lane!” Perry’s voice boomed as he caught sight of them, interrupting Clark’s comment. “Have we got a story? Tell me we’ve got a story!”

“We’ve got a story, chief,” Lois promised him. “It’s just yet to be written.” She turned to Clark. “Ready to type?”

***

Having gotten Perry’s blessing on the piece she and Clark had issued him, Lois made a visit to the ladies’ room, then grabbed her bag and hurried toward the elevator, more than ready to end her day at the office. She was cutting it close to pick Jason up from the school before they were ready to close down for the day. It would take a miracle for her to avoid having to pay the director a late fee for arriving after hours.

“Hold it!” she shouted as the doors began to shut. The elevator’s lone passenger stopped the doors just before they sealed tightly and forced them to part so that Lois could board. “Thanks,” she said, then saw that Clark was the person inside.

“Are you following me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, I was here first,” Clark pointed out with a slight smile.

Lois pressed the button for the lobby and listened to the background Musak as the elevator descended to the ground floor. Ella Fitzgerald was begging the question, “What is this thing called love?” Clark fidgeted with his tie as he shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other.

Relationship trouble, Lois thought, willing to place a bet on it, if necessary. She contemplated offering him counsel for his problems, but reconsidered on second thought. She wasn’t the best person to be dishing out “sage” advice in the relationship department at this point.

Maybe I should be asking him for some pointers, she thought indignantly. She glanced at him as Ella continued to croon. She thought perhaps Clark should lose the glasses and start wearing contacts instead. He wasn’t a bad looking guy; he just needed to work on his image a bit. Style the hair so that it didn’t drape over half his face, and get rid of the glasses so that people could actually see those blue eyes of his. They were quite striking, as she recalled from the subway. It was so odd that she’d never picked up on that before. She looked away, and gave a small sigh. Ella’s tune was soon replaced by another, and before that one could play all the way through, the elevator had reached its destination.

As they disembarked, Clark cleared his throat and said, “Before, do you remember when you asked if I had something I wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah, Clark…I remember,” said Lois, looking at the time on her cell phone. “Damn!”

“What is it?” Clark asked, following Lois out onto the sidewalk.

“Nothing. It’s just that now I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to pay the school director to get my child out of hock. There’s no way on earth I’m going to make it there before closing time. Not to mention Jason’s going to be pretty unhappy that I’m the last mommy to bother showing up…” Before she could stop herself, she glanced up towards the skyline. Actually, there was no way on earth to get to the school on time, save one…

She inwardly grumbled for even giving that idea an iota of merit, then stuck out her hand to hail a cab.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, OK?” she told Clark as she slid into the backseat of the taxi. She mumbled the address of Jason’s school to the driver, then slunk back into her seat, fully prepared to incur the wrath of a grumpy seven-year-old when they arrived.

***

“It’s OK, Mom,” Jason said for the tenth time as the cab driver steered his taxi into the neighborhood where Jason and Lois lived.

“It’s not OK,” Lois explained to her son. “I’m turning into a repeat offender.”

“A what?” asked Jason, tugging the strap of his book bag over his shoulder. They were pulling into the driveway in front of the house.

Lois paid the cab driver and walked with Jason to the front door. “A repeat offender…it means this isn’t the first time I was late to pick you up.”

“It’s OK, Mom,” Jason said yet again. “I know it’s tough.”

Lois jiggled the key in the deadbolt lock and opened the door. It’s tough without Dad’s help, he meant. She shut the door behind them after they’d walked in, then she knelt down beside him and squeezed him into a tight hug.

“Do you know how much I love you, kiddo?” she asked him softly.

***

After Jason had gone to bed later that evening, Lois sat on the sofa with only her laptop for company. She was trying to do some digging on the potential transit strike, but her mind just wasn’t into it. She was too preoccupied with the digging that needed to be done in her own life. There was just one person she could get answers from on that topic, but she was certain he couldn’t be found trolling around the Internet or contacted via email. She wasn’t going to be able to pick up her cell phone and make a call, either. She figured trying to get his attention by hurling herself off the rooftop would be too cliché, and standing under the wistful twinkle of the stars in the backyard until he dropped in for a visit was downright dangerous.

She powered down the computer and turned off the lamps in the living room, resigning herself to another day without answers; another day feeling like her life resembled one of Jason’s puzzles with the missing pieces.

She climbed the staircase and trudged down the hallway to her bedroom. Once there, she opened the double doors to her closet and pulled out the black bag she stored her laptop in. As she slid it carefully into its case, her eyes caught a glimpse of a small sheet of paper. It was Clark’s. It had his handwriting scribbled all over it – notes from the interview that they’d used to compose the article with earlier that day. They had worked frantically all afternoon to get it in Perry’s hands in time to print for the next edition, she and Clark had. Clark, with his striking blue eyes.

She dropped the paper like it had burned her hand. Where had that thought come from? My God, like I don’t have enough problems as it is, she thought desperately. She crumpled the paper up and stashed it one of the bag’s many compartments. She shoved the bag back into the closet next to her shoes. On the shelf of the closet, she glanced at a single box she had yet to unpack. The name “Richard” was written on the side, and Lois knew it contained many things she’d been unwilling to part with after he’d died. Certain things that held important memories or that Jason might one day want to inherit were packed safely inside. Lois touched the side of the box and blinked. Richard had once asked her a question – a question she’d thought completely preposterous at the time – but for some strange reason, it was now resurfacing.

“How tall would you say Clark is?”

It was absurd that Richard had even entertained the notion that Clark – Clark Kent, of all people – could possibly be…

It was absurd then, and it’s still laughable now, she thought. Only, she wasn’t laughing.

Wasn’t there a time…didn’t that thought occur to me once? She held her hands to her temples and felt the dull ache of a headache brewing as she tried once more to get a grasp on forgotten memories. She got a sick feeling that if she didn’t get some answers soon, she was going to go mad.

She went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom to find a bottle of ibuprofen. She popped a couple in her hand and swallowed them down with a Dixie Cup full of water. She went back out to the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Before she knew it, she’d drifted off to sleep.

***

There he was as she dreamed, standing awkwardly in his drabbest three-piece suit, wearing the most unattractive tie her subconscious could’ve imagined. His hair hung untidily down over the top of his glasses, and he was smiling at her.
“Clark?” she said. She looked down and saw herself dressed in her nightgown. Funny, she thought. Didn’t I fall asleep in my work clothes?

“Lois!” Clark called back cheerfully. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

“Show me what?” Lois answered, sounding rather skeptical.

“You’ll see,” he said as she approached. When she stood just a couple feet away, he removed his glasses and grinned. “I’ve got contacts. Remember how you said it would improve my image?”

“I don’t recall actually saying that—”

“Sure you did,” Clark interrupted. “How do I look?”

“Swell,” mumbled Lois, hardly looking at him.

“You’re not looking,” Clark protested. “Take a good, hard look…”

He took her face in his hands and she stared.

“How do I look?” he said again, this time in a low whisper.

The timbre of his voice sent a shudder right through her, yet she said nothing, just simply stared. His eyes…and if I brush his hair back… She reached up to smooth it away from his face. This was absurd, wasn’t it? Simply preposterous…

“How do I look, Lois?” he repeated.

“Lois? His voice was low and hushed.

“Lois…”

***

“Lois, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A voice was speaking softly to her.

“Clark?” Lois muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and sitting up slowly as she tried to bring the room into focus. Her head was still aching, and she felt cold. Was the window open?

“No,” the voice said. “It’s not Clark.”

He stood beside the opened window, his scarlet cape rippling with the curtains as a cool breeze blew in. The lamplight softened its hue, and for just a moment she sat there under its hypnotic spell as it danced in the draft of air.

“Of course you’re not Clark,” she said, rubbing her eyes again in order to see more clearly. “How absurd.” Her eyes locked with his and she nearly choked as she matched their striking color to the color of the eyes in her memory…the ones that had mesmerized her on the subway earlier that day.

Clark’s eyes.


TBC

[Ti88]

i love this. was not crazy about the movie. although the things i wasn't crazy about aren't here so its all good. i am sad richard is dead. so she figure's it out. oh man that rocks. i love the fact clark put stars inhis room. that red one is krypton isn't it. him and jason reading is to cute.

[bistyboo1974]

Roselle - Thanks for the review. *hugs Richard* It was sad to kill him off, and I guess maybe that was the "easy way out" (like some reviewers have said in other forums), but I hope I am kind to his memory in my story. I actually like his character quite a bit, which was unexpected...I don't typically tend to like the rival.

***

SEVEN

And a little while ago she had been worried about seeking him out in the backyard again, under the romantic canopy of starlight.

Ha! she thought bitterly. The irony of having him standing there, five feet away from the bed, was not lost on her.

She’d have told him this – or told him something, at any rate – but at the moment, she was at a loss for words. Her eyes were glued to his gaze. He never lied; he’d told her this detail a long time ago, and for a long time, she believed him, but something stirred inside of her right then. Some sort of primal gut feeling that told her otherwise. She’d gotten the feeling that he had just told her a whopper. She decided to play along, for now. After all, what kind of evidence did she have, apart from the color of his eyes? Her intuition whispered one single word that she couldn’t ignore…

Jason, it spoke softly
Clark’s rapport with Jason was so…natural. And what about the room? That mini-universe he’d assembled on Jason’s ceiling was so unexpected, yet so…perfect. If the blue eyes tipped her off, the innate bond between Clark and Jason nearly sealed the deal for her.

This was too much to take in all at once. She finally broke their gaze and rested her forehead against the palms of her hands, taking in a long, shuddering gasp of air as she did. She heard him move towards her, and she jerked her head up quickly, then shook it in protest.

“Don’t,” she told him firmly. “I need to think clearly, and if you come any closer, I will not be able to think clearly.”

She had a tremendous list of questions she needed answered. Pencil in at the bottom, ‘Tell me about your double-life. Do you find investigative reporting as challenging and rewarding as saving the world from disaster on a regular basis?’ she thought indignantly.

“Lois, we need to talk,” he said quietly.

Lois scoffed at this. “Understatement of the year.” She took in another deep breath. “There are a couple hundred things that I need to know. Things that have been driving me crazy lately.”

“Ask me anything,” he replied.

“Anything?” she repeated. Where to begin, she thought. She looked at her reflection in the mirror above the dressing table. She saw him reflected there, too, looking at her as she sat on the edge of the bed. He stood as still as one of those stone sculptures pictured in Jason’s book about Roman tourist attractions, waiting patiently for her admonitions to come. She wanted to cry out that one burning question she’d written down earlier: What the hell did you do to me? That question about summed it up in a nutshell, but now that she thought about it, it wasn’t enough just to scream and shout. No, she needed him first to understand. Maybe she’d scream and shout later.

“Did you ever have one of those perfect dreams – you know, one of those really good ones that you wish and hope with all your might will come true while you’re dreaming it – only, when you wake up in the morning, you can’t remember it at all? You just have this weird sensation that it was great – and it made you feel really good – only, now that you’re awake, you just can’t recall the details.”

He didn’t answer, so she continued.

“That’s what it’s like for me. And for a long time, I made myself believe it was better not knowing the truth about…circumstances. But now…” She stopped. This was more difficult than she’d ever imagined it could be. “Now, I find myself needing to know. There’s this empty chasm in my life, this gaping hole. It’s shaped kind of like…” She blinked. “Kind of like you.”

“Lois…”

“Let me finish,” she said, interrupting him without regret. “I know you’re there, in that empty space…that space I don’t have a single memory of. I may not remember, but I see a reminder of it every, single day. I see it in the face of our child.” Her eyes were on fire with tears, but she blinked them back. “Our little boy,” she whispered.

His eyes closed; heartache radiated from him in waves, like heat from the sun. She could see his inward pain outwardly in the expression on his face, and she felt a tiny pang of shame for being satisfied at this. Not that she took delight in his anguish, but because she now had someone to share her own anguish with.

“Imagine, if you will, not being able to remember the simplest touch from the person you loved.” Before she could stop herself with rational thought, she was on her feet. “You loved this person enough that, together, the two of you created a tiny, perfect life.” She started slowly towards him. “Imagine, though, forgetting the warmth of your lover’s touch.” She reached out and placed a hand gently to his cheek, caressing it tenderly. “Forgetting the scent of your lover’s skin.” She leaned into him slowly, and felt him lower his head to her neck, drinking her in with his heightened sense. “Forgetting your lover’s taste.” She brought her hand to his mouth, and he lightly nipped at her fingertips. She withdrew her hand again quickly and whispered, almost inaudibly, “Forgetting what it was like to hear your lover say ‘I love you.’ ” Once again, she brought her hand back up, this time lightly trailing her fingers across his eyes; she felt the tickle of his lashes as she did so. “Even forgetting your lover’s face.”

She took a step back and stared. He hadn’t forgotten. It was written plainly on his face. A mixture of shame, regret, and sorrow. She tried to wish him as much pain for this as she’d had to endure, but she couldn’t. Right now all she wished for was an answer. One simple, straightforward answer…

“Why can’t I remember?” she said, begging to know.

“There are reasons. They’re complicated, and you’ll accuse me of being noble and stupid because I followed them, and then you’ll say that love isn’t all that complicated, but it is…” He stopped.

“Love got complicated, didn’t it…but it wasn’t then. There was no one else but you then, was there?”

“Well,” he said. “I don’t know if that’s entirely true…”

Lois felt her chest constrict. Her head was light, but she managed to ask, “Who else would there be?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door stopped him before words could materialize.

“Mommy?” Jason’s small voice sounded muffled through the closed door. “I can’t sleep.”

Lois looked worried. “Go!” she whispered hastily. “But we’re not finished…”

He was gone in an instant.

***

“Where’s Clark?” They were the first words Lois spoke the next morning when she arrived at work.

“On assignment, maybe?” said Nick Anderson with a shrug.

“Haven’t seen him…sorry, Lois,” said Marjorie Peterson, looking apologetic.

“Dunno,” said Jimmy Olsen. “But you know Clark…he’s always around.”

“Yes,” retorted Lois, scanning the newsroom floor. “He is, isn’t he?”

“You looking for Kent?” interrupted Ned Winston. “He’s faxing something to the transit office.” Ned pointed to the fax machine. Sure enough, there was Clark, waiting patiently for his fax to go through.

Lois bit at her thumbnail, then resigned herself. She needed to know for sure. She ambled over to the fax machine and cleared her throat.

“Morning, Clark.”

“Morning, Lois.” He gave his glasses the usual nervous adjustment, but didn’t look up.

“Looks like that machine could use a ribbon refill,” she said matter-of-factly, giving it a tap for emphasis. “Don’t you agree?”

“It seems to be working—”

“Trust me,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll show you where the refills are.”

“I know where—”

“Follow me,” she directed him.

Lois led him across the newsroom, to the storage room near the elevators.

“Right in here,” she said, opening the door and practically shoving Clark inside. “The ribbons are on this shelf, here.” She closed the door behind them.

“This isn’t about ribbon refills, is it?” Clark asked quietly.

“Nope,” said Lois, crossing her arms. “I told you, we weren’t finished.”

“You told…me?”

“Cut the act, Clark….I know.” Her lips were pressed tightly together, and she was beginning to feel the need to scream and shout at last. Either she was about to be really embarrassed, or else her intuition was about to be proven right once and for all. She backed him into the corner of the storage closet, her hand reaching out, pointing a finger, ready to accuse him. “I know…and you still won’t say a word! It’s quite noble of you! And stupid!” She pressed her pointed index finger into his chest, and watched his anxious expression as his glasses slid just a fraction of an inch down the bridge of his nose. Those penetrating blue eyes of his pierced right through her. “Just say it,” she hissed.

Clark nodded. “OK,” he said at last. “OK, Lois…”

“Say it!” she demanded. With two hands she removed the glasses.

He drew in a deep breath, then stood tall. He loosened his horrid maroon tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. Just underneath, Lois could see the brilliant blue she knew so well.

She reached for him, unfastening the next two buttons until she saw the familiar “S” emblem. She rested her hand there, then whispered, “Say it, damn you…”

He reached for her, touching her hair softly, then brushing one side lightly with his hand so that it rested behind her ear.

“Lois Lane,” he said softly. “I’m Superman.”



TBC

[Angie]

Wow! Bisty I absolutely loved these last two chapters!! I am so glad that Lois finally knows that Clark is Superman and that he finally, FINALLY admitted it to her...yay!!! Great chapters!

[bistyboo1974]

I am so glad that Lois finally knows that Clark is Superman and that he finally, FINALLY admitted it to her...yay!!!

Angie - Having him ADMIT it was a big thing to me...and to Lois, too. Glad you liked the updates!

***

EIGHT

Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

Lois never went to Sunday school a day in her life, but that quote was a pretty popular one, and she’d heard it often. At the moment, however, she wasn’t so certain of its relevance to this particular situation. There was Clark Kent, standing before her, his dress shirt splayed open. Vivid primary colors were glowing beneath a broken cocoon of starched striped cotton and gray wool – visual confirmation of the words he’d just spoken: I’m Superman. But she began to feel the invisible binds of the lie tighten on her mind. The truth shall make you free, she reminded herself. But if he’d lied about this – about who he really was – what else had he lied about? How could she trust him again? And, most importantly of all, why hadn’t he trusted her?

She shook her head and gaped at him. Then the silliest thought occurred to her.

“The other night, at dinner…” she said. “The Parmesan cheese!”

Clark raised an eyebrow. “The cheese?”

“You said you couldn’t get the container of Parmesan open when I was having trouble and asked you to try! My God, Jason cracked it open with a butter knife!”

“He’s a resourceful boy—”

Lois pointed a finger at him again. “You were in the drama club at Smallville High, weren’t you? You’re quite the actor, Clark!”

Clark looked as if he were stifling a laugh.

“There’s nothing funny about this, Clark Kent!” Lois bellowed.

Clark eyed the door to the storage room in alarm. Lois watched as he gave it a solid stare.

“I should probably keep my voice down, shouldn’t I?” hissed Lois in an almost vicious whisper. “I’ll bet you x-rayed the door just now, huh? Did you see half the newsroom out there listening in? Are you afraid someone might come in and find out the truth?” She thumped him directly on the “S” with her right hand. She had spat the words out like venom, and tried to use them as weapons. Her tone cut like a knife. She could see the ache in his eyes from the attack. She tried to ignore her guilt by glaring at him. It wasn’t working.

He made a move forward, his eyes imploring her. “Lois, please—” Sometimes he made things so difficult.

“Don’t tell me you know I’m hurting,” she said. “You don’t know the half of it.” She turned to look toward the door, unable to face him for another second. Suddenly, she felt strong arms reach for her from behind, enveloping her in their warmth. She leaned back into him, despite all of her raging emotions. “I would never tell your secret,” she said quietly. “You can trust me.”

She felt him bury his face in her hair. She laced her fingers together with his and squeezed them tightly.

“I would never intentionally hurt you, Lois,” he murmured. “Please, trust me. It just seems like everything I do ends up hurting you…”

She ran her hand up the rough wool of his jacket sleeve, urging him to hold her closer. She was a living, breathing contradiction at this moment. A big part of her still wanted to roar at him in fury, but another part purred as he spoke soft words of regret in her ear; as he breathed his warm breath against her neck. The furious part reminded her that she still had the whole lost memories quandary to resolve; the perfectly content part told her they were about to make new memories…

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Lois.” He was being noble and stupid again; his mouth was teasing her earlobe and neck with the soft moistness of his lips, when what she really wanted him to do was spin her around and kiss her until she saw stars.

Good God, we’re at work, she thought frantically as she reluctantly pulled away from his grip.

“This isn’t the time…this isn’t the place,” she gasped. The tiny part of her brain left that was capable of coherent thought interrupted the other irrational parts. She turned around. “Perry’s going to put out an APB if we don’t get back to our desks.”

Slowly, she began to do up the buttons on his shirt. “For the record, I’m still furious with you.” She secured the maroon necktie back in its place for him, and smoothed the creases in his jacket. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, you and I.” She found his glasses and slipped them back into place. “There,” she said, brushing the fringe of his hair forward a bit. She gave him an appraising look. “You’re Clark again.”

***

Work was nearly impossible. Lois sat at her desk, gnawing at the cap of a ballpoint pen and tapping her foot nervously under her desk. When she thought Clark wasn’t looking, she’d steal a peek across the newsroom at his desk, but she never managed to do so without garnering his attention. He’d return her glance, peering at her through those completely pointless glasses of his, and she’d hastily bury her nose back in one of her contact books. Pretending to stay busy while being completely preoccupied with the person sitting across the room was unnerving her. After several minutes of flipping through page after page of contacts, she noticed he was talking on the phone.

Who is he talking to? she thought curiously, leaning back in her chair to see him at a better angle. Just then, he hung up the phone and quickly glanced up at her. “Crap!” she hissed under her breath. She nearly toppled out of her chair and onto the floor. She composed herself just in time to see him walking over towards her.

“Lois…” he began as he approached her desk.

“Clark,” Lois said, saying his name with just an extra hint of significance.

“There’s a press conference scheduled at the transit building in an hour…Perry’d like us to be there.”

Lois blinked. She’d actually forgotten that there were other things going on in the world, aside from her personal issues.

“A press conference,” she echoed. “And Perry is sending us?”

“Well, we were the ones to write the article about the potential transit strike,” Clark said. “He’d like a follow-up…”

“A follow-up isn’t a bad idea,” said Lois. She was absentmindedly tapping her right index finger rapidly against the spacebar on her keyboard. “More people should follow things up. You’re interested in following things up, too? Aren’t you, Clark?”

Clark nodded slowly. “Yes, Lois.” He rested his hand over her jittery one, stopping it from shaking the spacebar loose. “But first, we’ve got to take care of the press conference.”

Press conference, she thought. Work. Transit strike. Article. Follow-up. She repeated the words like a mantra as she walked with Clark to the elevator. She was Lois Lane, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, and she was not going to lose her mind when there was a job to be done.

***

“Ms. Lane, you were on fire,” commented Abe Washburn, a reporter from the Metropolis Star, when the press conference had ended. “I’m standing here before you, completely green with envy. Holy Moses, I don’t think that chairman knew what hit him with you shooting those questions at him left and right!”

Lois smiled in spite of herself. She had to admit, that conference felt good.

“Mr. Kent, what do you think of Lane coming to work with me, at the Star?” He winked. Abe Washburn had always been a cad; never really a good reporter, oftentimes amusing, and always a cad.

Clark shot him an insincere grin and replied, “I don’t think so, Abe.”

The two of them left Abe standing amidst the crowd in the lobby of the transit building as they headed towards the exit doors.

***

“This is a good piece,” acknowledged Perry as he finished reading the copy Lois handed him. “Lane, Kent…” He held up the papers as if to offer them a toast. “May you never fail to impress me with your impeccable knack at handling the written word.”

“Thanks, Chief” Lois and Clark said in unison.

“Now – both of you – get out of this office so I can eventually put this paper to bed.”

They left Perry’s office and went to their respective desks to close up shop for the night. When Lois had finished a phone call to Lucy and made sure her bag was packed up, she meandered over to Clark’s side.

“So, Jason’s with his aunt tonight, which means I’m going home to an empty house,” Lois whispered to Clark as he crammed a stack of papers into his briefcase. “I see this as a good chance to work on…our follow-up.” She turned to her left and saw Nick Anderson a few feet away. She cleared her throat and waited for him to walk away. “No interruptions, lots of privacy…a perfect opportunity for you to convince me not to strangle you…not that strangling you would do any good.”

Clark leaned back in his chair and showed her the faintest of smiles. “Probably not.”

She looked at his neck and had other thoughts actually, like how it might taste if she leaned over and let herself savor it with a kiss. Perhaps lots of privacy in an empty house wasn’t such a good plan after all.

“Shall we go, then?” she asked before she could change her mind. “It might take us all night to hail a cab.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t take a cab,” Clark said quietly.

“What are you suggesting?” Lois whispered, going lightheaded at what she knew he was getting at.

“Meet me in two minutes,” he said simply.

“Where?” said Lois quickly, knowing exactly where.

“The rooftop,” he answered.

Lois bit her lip to keep from smiling. “It’ll take you two minutes?” she whispered.

“No,” he replied. “I’m guessing that’s how long it’ll take you.”

She had to force herself not to run the length of the floor towards the elevator. She turned around just before the doors opened and saw him still sitting at his desk, looking relaxed, and smiling.

He was making things quite difficult, indeed. She boarded the elevator, gave the control panel an impatient push and felt the car jolt into motion. She leaned against the bar at the back of the compartment and closed her eyes, anticipating what was to come…

Flight.



TBC

Author’s Note: Reference to biblical scripture is John 8:36. The Parmesan cheese container incident was a nod to ABC’s Lois & Clark, but I believe in their case, Lois cited a jar of peanut butter. ;-)

[Angie]

: Good one then! : Great chapter, Bisty! Flight! How romantic.... Looking forward to seeing what happens at Lois' place when they get there...

[bistyboo1974]

Angie - Don't you wish they could fly around together all the time? It's insanely romantic, or at least I think so. *heart goes pitter-patter* ;-)

***


NINE

Lois held fast to the bar at the back of the elevator compartment. The heel of her right shoe teetered from side to side as she stood there, a result of her leg dancing anxiously to the syncopated rhythms emanating from the elevator’s sound system. She never realized how slowly these Daily Planet lifts traveled before, but now…now she felt as if she were being pulled upward through a thick molasses cloud.

Honestly, she thought as she nibbled at her thumbnail. Someone should come out and check on these things.

The elevator did however, in due course, arrive at its destination. She could hear the intense, slow whirring of the massive Daily Planet globe even before she stepped outside. The glow from the globe lit her path as she walked slowly across the concrete of the rooftop. It also illuminated the face of the person there waiting for her. She had to admit, she was a bit shocked seeing him standing there. Not because he’d made it there before her – no doubt it only took him seconds to arrive – but that he was standing on the rooftop still dressed as Clark Kent. She assumed she’d find him up there as Superman; red cape billowing in the wind, standing tall with his strong arms crossed over his “S”-emblazoned chest, ready to sweep her off her feet and into the night. Instead she saw Clark Kent, the Daily Planet’s most unassuming reporter, with his hands shoved into the pockets of his gray slacks, and his thick mop of hair blowing gently with the cool breeze. A smile that reached his brilliant blue eyes broke out at the sight of her walking towards him, and she felt her face flush.

“Hi,” she murmured.

“Hi,” he echoed.

His hands were still tucked away in his pockets, and Lois could practically feel currents of uneasiness coming from where he stood. Was he nervous? God knew she was. This was uncharted territory she was traveling into with him. It was hard to make herself think of Clark Kent in any terms other than awkward or perhaps slightly endearing…or was it? Look deeper, she thought. Look deeper and you’ll start to recognize this man as the man you fell in love with so long ago…

“I was meeting someone up here,” she told him gently. “Someone who was going to give me a ride home…”

He took his hands from his pockets now. He held them out to her. “Me?” he inquired.

“You,” she confirmed, letting him take hold of her hands. He may have otherwise seemed nervous, but his hands held hers firmly

She took a step closer and allowed him to hold her around the waist.

“Ready?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. She felt her feet slowly rise from the ground; first her heels, then finally her toes, until there was nothing but air beneath them. Her arms were clasped securely around him, but she knew – even if she let go – he wouldn’t let her fall.

“What if someone sees us?” she said suddenly, realizing that flying over the streets of Metropolis with Superman was one thing, but with Clark Kent? That was quite another.

“I can make sure no one does.” They were still hovering only a few feet above the rooftop of the Planet building. “Ready?” he asked again.
She nodded once more, then instinctively grabbed hold of him a bit tighter than before, despite her confidence at his ability to keep her airborne alongside him during their flight.

At her signal, he rocketed them upward. Before long, Lois felt her ears pop, and the airstream collided against her so forcefully, she could not ignore the compulsion to pinch her eyes shut. Ultimately, he slowed their ascent, and Lois gradually opened her eyes. Below where they floated, she saw a thin blanket of cloud, and farther below that, the blazing lights of the city. She looked up at Clark and saw the bright lights reflected in his glasses. She noticed, too, that his mop of dark hair had taken on a sleeker look after the flight. She reached up and touched the bit of it that curled at his forehead.

He leaned their bodies forward. Lois felt the tug of gravity summoning her back to the ground, but Clark held her tightly in place, flush with his body. His right arm hugged her around the waist, while the left was outstretched with hers. Their fingers knitted together, and Lois felt Clark’s grip press ever so slightly tighter. Lois drew in a long breath, and couldn’t help but feel – no matter how odd it should have seemed – that being up here with him felt so…right. It was crazy, really. It went against everything in Nature for a human being to be soaring above the clouds; to be boldly defying her laws. Yet, here she was with him, feeling right at home

Home, she thought as their flight resumed, remembering where they were headed. Being up there with him had made her start to imagine an infinite list of possibilities of where they could go together, but then she remembered. Clark owed her explanations. This wasn’t a mere “flight of fancy,” but a trip with a purpose – a purpose she could not allow herself to be distracted from again.

***

Clark paused and Lois noticed as he scanned the area surrounding her house before he dropped them in a quick descent into her backyard. After just a second, Lois could feel her feet lightly touch down on the grass.

As they stood there on the lawn, their arms were still clinging to one another, each keeping the other close, just as they had been in the air. But with her feet firmly planted on the ground, Lois found it easier to force herself to do what she knew she had to do. She cleared her throat and released her part of the embrace. Slowly – almost hesitantly – Clark let go, too. It would have been so simple just to ignore reality for the time being, and to submit to the incontestable desire they clearly felt for one another, but Lois wasn’t some lustful teenage girl. She was a sharp, mostly-sensible woman and – more importantly – a mother. Actions had consequences, and this time, not just for her. She couldn’t deny that she hoped that one day…maybe…

But right now was not the time.

She walked quickly across the yard, careful to navigate around some of the toys that Jason had neglected to return to the garage the day before, and fumbled around in the dark to find her house key in the small handbag she had strapped across her body. Once inside, she led Clark to the kitchen and began an immediate search for the container of coffee filters.

“Will you drink some if I brew a pot?” she asked, holding up a bag of coffee grounds for him to see.

“Sure,” Clark said, removing his glasses so that he could wipe them clean with a paper towel from the roll Lois had placed beside the sink that morning. She watched him with great curiosity. He tossed the towel into the trash can and slid his glasses back into place.

“You don’t need those, do you?” she asked, realizing that she didn’t know the answer for certain.
Clark shrugged his shoulders, then removed them. He held them in his hands and looked at them for a moment, before saying, “I don’t, but…I do.”

Lois took the glasses from his hands and ran a finger around the frames. Not to see, she thought. But so that others might not see… She couldn’t help but feel a pang of humiliation for not being able to see through such a weak guise. She handed them back to him without word. Instead of putting the glasses back on, he slipped them safely inside his jacket pocket. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

The coffeemaker took its time creating its product. Lois found two mugs stashed away in the cupboards and set them onto the countertop while she waited for the pot to be finished. “Cream?” and “Sugar?” were the only words she spoke as she waited. Clark refused both, and when the pot was finally done brewing, Lois poured out two mugs of steaming black coffee. She handed one to Clark and kept the other for herself as they took seats at the kitchen table. Clark took an immediate swallow from his mug of coffee, but Lois set hers down to cool.

“So,” she said, looking him straight in the eye as she spoke. “I’m just going to ask it…the big question…”

The corners of Clark’s mouth turned upward and into a tiny smile for just an instant. This was not the first time she had confronted him in this way. Lois knew he had recalled. She ignored his small amusement and went on.

“Why can’t I remember anything about us?”

Clark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, all hints at being amused having left him, but he held her gaze. “Lois, you can’t remember because I made it so that you wouldn’t remember.

Lois had figured this much out, but the certainty of hearing the words made her stomach feel as if it had done several violent flips. “Why?” she moaned, utterly desperate to know his reasons. “Dammit, tell me why! Because when I stop to consider your motivation here – why you would have done something like this to me – I keep coming back to just one thing, but I know it can’t be true.” She narrowed her eyes. “I know you’re no coward.”

“You think I did this…"

“To break up with me?” spat Lois, having meant to sputter out her question as an accusation instead. She felt her face redden. It was probably a splotchy mess and she was sure her blood pressure would eventually reach dangerous levels. “Yes! Well, maybe?” she added, then picked up her coffee and took a large swill, even though she had no taste for it. It gave her something to do while she awaited his response.

“You think I did what I did to break up with you?” Clark blinked. “Lois, you were – you are – the love of my life. I don’t know what you’re imagining, but that’s not how it was…”

“Please,” she begged, hot tears threatening to flood her eyes – My, God! The love of his life! “Please tell me how it was, then, because I’m the one left to imagine what goes inside those gaps, and I tend to have an overactive imagination, so…”

Clark moved his chair close to hers and took both of her shaking hands into his. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t allow it.

The love of his life, she thought again and again.

“Before—” he began, but she suddenly cut him off.

“Before you erased my memory?” she muttered.

“Let me finish,” he said firmly. “Yes, before that.” He took a quick pause to draw in a deep breath, then continued. “We were in love, Lois. And I thought our love was strong enough to stand against anything. Lois, it felt stronger than me…”

She let the implication of his words sink in.

“…and it still does, actually,” he said softly.

She felt him squeeze her hands gently, and she closed her eyes. She didn’t remember everything like he did, but she knew this must be true. Merely from what she’d been feeling lately, it had to be true. She opened her eyes again and met his. She tried to tug her hands away from him again, and this time he conceded.

“If our love was so strong, what went wrong?” She suspected she could answer this one for him. She knew this was where the accusation of him being noble and stupid was going to figure in. She may not remember the situation, but she knew him.

“People were hurt, because I made a choice.”

“You mean, because you chose me, don’t you?” she amended.

He nodded. “But you were one of the people who stood to get hurt, Lois. And that alone was reason enough to sacrifice…”

“To sacrifice everything? To sacrifice the love of your life?”

“It would’ve been selfish not to. It would’ve been wrong not to.”

Another question burned in her mind, but she wanted to ask another first.

“Just out of curiosity, did I know about the whole alter-ego thing?”

“After a while,” he said. He offered her a warm smile.

She couldn’t muster up the energy to offer one back, though. All she could think of was that she had been exceptionally blind not once, but twice.

Double humiliation…great, she thought, inwardly wincing.

She then thought about the biggest of all the breaches in her memory – the point in time when their son was conceived. My God, she thought bitterly. We had this epic love…and it was all stripped away.

Her eyes hadn’t stopped smoldering with the tears she had been holding back, and now she felt dampness flow down her cheeks as she could hold back no more, but she didn’t care. She had one more thing she needed to know, and she’d ask it whether she was straight-faced or sobbing.

“Did I have any say in this? At all? Did I know what was going to happen?” She knew her own mind and heart well enough to already know this question’s answer, too, but she had to hear it from him.

He was silent, which was quite enough of an affirmation on its own, but she was going to wait out an answer if it took all night.

He slowly began to shake his head. “No,” he confirmed. “You had no idea.”

Lois felt her hands begin to quake. He had given her no choice, no warning. Fury was boiling beneath her very skin. She wanted to strike out at him, for all the good it would do. He had taken away their time, their love…and not even thought to notify her or discuss it with her. With her, the person involved. She felt violated, used, betrayed…. To hell with his noble reasons. The very least he could’ve done was given her a bloody heads-up.

“I think you should go,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Lois, let me explain…”

“I don’t think I need you to.” She was backing away from the table. Backing away from him. “Go.”

“Not like this,” he said. He got up and took a step towards her.

“Exactly like this,” she replied. “You don’t have a choice

“Lois—”

“Go away, Clark.

And without another word, without another protest, he went.

TBC

[Angie]

Oh this was another good chapter, Bisty, sad, but good. I hope that Lois can eventually forgive Clark/Superman for his choice and that he can eventually maybe give back her memories...I hope, I hope! My romantic heart wants the impossible! loL! Great job!!

[bistyboo1974]

Angie - Yes, part nine was sad...but, no pain, no gain!

***

TEN

Lois stood beside the kitchen table; she was staring across the living room at the door Clark had just walked through. Her mind was a turbulent mess, a chaotic mix of thoughts and emotions. She couldn’t stop thinking about how he could’ve made such a colossal decision for the both of them without even consulting her. So, things got a little tricky, and his solution was to do what? To wipe her slate clean? Did he have such little confidence in her that he believed doing so was actually a wise choice?

“God!” she screamed to the empty house. She picked up her coffee mug and sent it flying into the kitchen sink with a satisfying crash. The ceramic mug shattered against the stainless steel of the sink, and Lois shouted again, “Damn all this!” She grabbed Clark’s mug and hurled it in after hers. For several moments, she stared at the broken pieces of both mugs, mingled together in a shallow pool of cold coffee, then she brought her hands up to her face and choked back a sob.

“Lois, you were – you are – the love of my life.”

She shivered as she heard his words replay in her thoughts. She saw his jacket still hanging on the back of the kitchen chair where he’d been sitting just moments before. She walked over to it and rested her hands on it, feeling the scratchy wool under her palms. She wanted to rip it to bits; light a match to it; do whatever was necessary to get rid of it, but she couldn’t. Instead, she lifted it up and hugged it close, much like Jason used to do with his baby blue security blanket when he was very young. She breathed in deeply and drank in the familiar, pleasing scent of its owner. How had she ever stood within mere feet of Clark Kent and not recognized it before? Mostly she had been blind, but she supposed it was because all of her senses had been deceived in one way or another.

“I thought our love was strong enough to stand against anything. Lois, it felt stronger than me…”

Lois slipped the jacket on over her clothes. It enveloped her like a large blanket of grey wool. She wrapped it snuggly around her until she was swallowed up in its fabric, hiding beneath her own makeshift security blanket. He had always made her feel safe. She always felt secure knowing he was around. But now? Now, she just didn’t know. She slunk down to the cold tile floor, resting her back against the refrigerator. She brought her knees close to her chest and hugged her arms around them. She closed her eyes and fought to understand the chaos of the situation. Thoughts of fury were mingled with thoughts of tenderness. He still loved her, but she was forced to take a good look at where that love had led her. What kind of person, who claims love for another, makes rash, insane decisions that irrevocably change the path of that other person’s life? She dug her fingernails fiercely into the fabric of his jacket.

He’s an extraordinary man, a small voice said in a whispered echo at the back of her mind. But he’s not a character from one of those fantasy stories on your bookshelf.

These were the very words she’d spoken to her son many, many months ago. She’d been explaining to Jason, in essence, that Superman was not perfect. He could do tremendous things, but some things were beyond even his powers. Lois sighed and realized perhaps she needed to listen to her own advice; perhaps she needed to stop putting him up on a pedestal.

Everybody makes bad judgment calls once in a while, right? she thought. She dug her nails in deeper into the fabric, remembering him telling her that she hadn’t known what he’d done to her; that, in fact, she’d had no idea. But this bad call? This one took the prize.

She hugged her knees tighter to her chest, until she felt something solid pressing into her skin. She reached into the jacket pocket and fished out Clark’s glasses. She held them in her hands for several moments, imagining his eyes behind the lenses; his mop of jet-black hair brushed over the top rims; his clumsy way of fidgeting with them and adjusting them when he was nervous. She flipped them over and slid them onto her own face.

“Try to see this from his angle,” she told herself.

“People were hurt, because I made a choice… you were one of the people who stood to get hurt…that alone was reason enough to sacrifice…”

Sacrifice.

Lois stopped to consider everything he had sacrificed in his life by taking the steps he had taken.

Love, happiness, family.

She turned and looked upward, and in doing so, she saw Jason’s school photo attached to the fridge by a magnetic frame. She couldn’t imagine life without her son. She couldn’t fathom watching him grow up before her eyes, but not being able to scoop him up in her arms at will to squeeze him and tell him how very much her heart was full of love for him. But that was part of the sacrifice Clark lived with every day.

Could she then go on to imagine seeing the person she was in love with – the love of her life, as it were – across a newsroom each day, only to have that person constantly look at her with indifference; to exchange occasional words with that person, but never anything meaningful or heartfelt: to know that person merely considered her an acquaintance or colleague – hardly even a friend, let alone a loved one? But these things were yet another part of this sacrifice Clark spoke of.

“Is it supposed to make me feel better, that I didn’t know what I was missing?” she asked out loud, despite having no one around to offer her an answer. She took Clark’s glasses off and held them tightly in her right hand. She collapsed the rest of the way on the floor, resting her head on the icy tile, and not caring that she’d made the kitchen floor her bed for the night. Before she could be bothered to care, she’d drifted off to sleep.

***

Maybe it was the icy-coldness of the stone tile that made her dream of being cold, but her Dream-Self thought, This isn’t just cold. This is arctic.

She looked down to notice herself dressed in a thin nightgown, and pondered that it was no wonder she was freezing her butt off. Leave it to her to get caught in a blizzard in her nightgown. Her feet were turning blue standing on a thick layer of ice. Ugh, she moaned. And without slippers, too.

She puffed a mouthful of hot air into her hands, then rubbed them together, blessing the friction that allowed them some temporary warmth.

“Where am I?” she shouted, looking around the vast frozen dessert of ice and snow surrounding her. Everywhere she turned, it was more of the same. And she was starting to go numb. Her teeth chattered as she tried to say, “I’m…f-f-freezing…to…d-d-death.”

“Lois?”

Lois peered through the icicles forming on her eyelashes. There, across a thick meadow of snow, was Clark.

She tried to say his name; tried to ask him what they were both doing out in weather like this, but she’d lost the ability to open and shut her jaw. In fact, she was more or less certain that hypothermia had set in.

Clark seemed to take his time reaching her, but when he finally did, he managed to pry her petrified body loose from the spot where she’d become frozen. He wrapped his arms around her and assured her she’d be OK in no time. His hands moved quickly over her back, down her arms, all over. Blessed friction, she thought, luxuriating in the feel of his hands over her cold skin. She wondered why he hadn’t just used his heat vision to thaw her out, but she didn’t bother him with the question. He was too busy bringing life back to her legs.

“Wow,” she told him, once he’d finished. “Like new again.” She looked down at her feet. They had a healthy pink glow again. Her jaw moved without objection, and her eyelashes were once more icicle-free.

Clark nodded, then took her by the hand.

“Where are we going?” she queried, hoping he’d tell her someplace with an ocean breeze, soft sand and balmy temperatures.

He told her nothing, but led her back across the snow meadow where she’d spotted him before. Lois didn’t argue, because as long he had her by the hand, it didn’t seem like the cold affected her. He took several more strides before stopping, then he turned to her, and said simply, “Do you remember?”

Lois shook her head.

Clark pulled her close, and asked, “Now?”

Lois gulped down a startled breath and shook her head again. She felt his fingertips trace the column of her spine, then trail farther below. Her nightgown was shifting upwards and her entire body started to tingle eagerly.

“Now?” he panted in her ear, nipping at her earlobe with his mouth, then even lower in order to savor her neck and shoulder.

Her fingernails sank into his shirt and she shook her head again, very quickly. “Not quite yet,” she spluttered, anxious to feel his next reminder. She felt her body being lowered down, onto the icy ground beneath them. She writhed in anticipation as he joined her.

“What are you doing on the floor?” he asked once he had.

Lois blinked and stared at him blankly.

“What are you doing on the floor, Lois?” His voice was unnaturally high. Actually, he sounded an awful lot like…

“Jesus, Lois! Jason is upstairs…get off the floor!”

…her sister.

***

Lois blinked her eyes open and sat up so quickly, she felt her head go dizzy.

“Don’t tell me you spent the night on the kitchen floor?” whispered Lucy, eyeing Lois with a look of disapproval. “I thought we got past this a long time ago.” Clearly she was under the impression this had something to do with Richard. “Do I need to call your therapist?”

Lois glared at her. “No!” she said firmly. She brought her index fingers up to her temples and applied pressure.

“Were you drunk?” asked Lucy, looking around for evidence of some sort. She even sniffed the air, apparently trying to detect a whiff of booze.

“No,” growled Lois, attempting to force her stiff legs to stand up. Eventually she was successful, with a hand from Lucy.

“Oh, my God!” gasped Lucy, looking at Lois as she stood there in front of the refrigerator. “What are you wearing?” She grabbed at the sleeve of Clark’s jacket. “You got drunk and you brought some guy here last night, didn’t you?”

Lois felt her blood begin to boil. “Yeah, that’s it!” she hissed savagely. “And we made mad, hot love all over every surface in here, so you’d better watch out…I haven’t had a chance to clean up yet.”

Lucy looked appalled, but Lois didn’t know where her little sister got off. She changed boyfriends as often as she changed her underwear.

Lois continued, “As if it’s any of your business, that’s not what happened.”

“It’s totally my business when I’m taking care of your kid!” spat Lucy.

She had a point, Lois had to admit, but she’d be damned if she were any mood to admit it at the moment. Without a word, she removed Clark’s jacket and handed it to her sister. She was shocked at how bare she felt without it now.

“Go see your son,” mumbled Lucy, the jacket draped over her arm. She bent down and picked up Clark’s glasses from the tile. “I’ll take care of things in here.” She caught a glimpse of the disaster in the sink. “But know this, Lois…you’re gonna tell me what went on here last night.”

***

“I called Perry,” Lois told Lucy when she came back to the kitchen. “I’ve begged off work today. And I told Jason he could play hooky from school just this once. I gave him thirty minutes in front of Animal Planet, then I think we’ll walk down to the park.”

“Sounds great,” Lucy said, tossing the last dustpan load of coffee mug shards into the trash can. “So, in the meantime, you can talk to me.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, and Lois got the sudden feeling she was sixteen-years-old again, being stared down by her mother. “Who’d you have over last night?”

“Somebody from work,” Lois muttered, not meeting her sister’s eyes.

“Yeah?” she replied.

“Yeah,” said Lois.

“And the mess in the sink?”

“I dropped the cups when I was cleaning up. It was late. I was tired.”

“You were so tired, you fell asleep on the kitchen floor?”

“It was a long day…”

“Wearing this guy’s jacket?”

“I was cold…”

“Lois Lane, I have known you all my life, and I know you well enough to know when you’re lying to me!”

“I’m not lying,” Lois said irritably. Well, not exactly, anyways.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?

Lois nodded. Anything but this, little sis.

“You know I’m a little scared to leave you like this, don’t you?”

Lois smirked and said, “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

“You know I’m only a phone call away…if you need crisis intervention…”

“I’ll call,” Lois assured her.

After Lucy grudgingly departed, Lois traipsed into the living room, where Jason sat glued in front of the television.

“Meerkats are primarily insectivores, feeding on termites, beetle larvae, and scorpions,” the show’s hostess informed them.

“Sounds delicious,” Lois said, plopping down on the couch next to her son. She brushed the hair back from his forehead and planted a soft kiss there.

“They’re in the mongoose family,” said Jason knowledgably, still staring at the TV, unable to tear his eyes away from the funny little creatures scampering across the screen.

“I love you, kiddo? Do you know that?”

Jason nodded, then scooted across the couch cushion to sit in her lap, still taking in the antics of the meerkats as he did so.

She squeezed him tightly and kissed him atop his mop of dark hair. “I love you so much.”


TBC