Now, I thanked Wendy at the beginning of the story, but as this part includes a tiny bit she wrote for me in order to get Mel out of her moody funk, I'd like to say thanks again. It worked! So, thanks, Wendy!!! 
And bonus points to anyone who identifies Wendy's lines among mine. 
~~~Part 7~~~
Lois hugged the pillow tightly as she sobbed. She could only see half of the motel room from her curled up position, but it still depressed her. Everything was blurry through her tears. Muted. The kitchenette that had earlier filled her with a sense of comfort was only discouraging now. The grungy table sat empty and alone, save for one small wooden chair, and the refrigerator, nauseatingly green, wouldn’t stop rattling.
Lois turned over hastily, facing the wall and the opaque window, covered in dirt and grime, that robbed her of any connection to the outside world. The light bulb flickered and cast alternating shadows on the walls, an all too frightening reminder of firelight throwing ominous shapes against thick trees. The rusty water stains on the wall made it feel like the darkness outside was creeping slowly in.
She couldn't stay here anymore. Not after tonight. It wasn't her. This wasn't Lois Lane.
Lois Lane didn't stay in cheap motels; she stayed at the Lexor. Lois Lane didn't have to worry about how she was going to afford her next meal. Lois Lane didn't need to ask for help, for anything. Lois Lane didn't ever feel lonely or helpless. And most certainly, Lois Lane didn't cry.
All the tears shed in the last few nights, the last few *years*, those were someone else's tears. Someone she'd thought she'd left behind in the Congo, but Lois had been followed. She shuddered at the analogy. The weak and tired woman hadn't been the only one to chase her back from the Congo. She was sure of it. It was only a matter of time before they found her.
Stupid. Why had she come back to Metropolis? They weren't dumb. They'd have planted someone here to keep an eye out for her. But she'd *needed* to come here. Metropolis was the only place she could reestablish her identity, come back from the dead. Not to mention the hope... however foolish it may be... that she could rebuild her life, too.
Yes. Metropolis was the only place she could have come to. This was her home. They'd taken three years of her life, everything from her. She sure as hell wasn't going to let them take anything else. Metropolis was *her* home, dammit, and she was staying. The Planet was here. Perry was here. Her family - though dead and buried - was here. Superman was here. She needed his help to get to the bottom of all this. She just wished she didn't have to spend another night in this wretched room.
But what choice did she have? Perry was out of town for at least another week. Not that she was dependent on him for money, nor did she need him to vouch for her authenticity when going about proving herself alive again... at least on paper.
Oh, who was she kidding? She longed for someone to validate her existence. Someone to say, "Oh, thank God you're alive, Lois!"
She sniffled. Maybe it was selfish of her to want that. She'd been dead and gone for three years. Would anyone now even recognize her name?
Clark.
Clark had. But only because of some God-awful twist of fate that had brought a different Lois Lane to his door. One who obviously meant a great deal to him, otherwise he wouldn't have been so stunned instead of angry to find a strange woman in his apartment. Maybe those flashes of longing she'd seen in his eyes had been meant for her, the other Lois. Surely it would be confusing to have an exact double of someone dear to you mere feet away, and surely trying to remain stoic about it would be even worse of a trial.
He obviously admired the other Lois. Lois was certain that her counterpart held a special place in Clark's heart. A counterpart she clearly didn't match up to. Any illusion of similarity had been shattered when she'd revealed how weak and foolish she'd been.
Which didn't make any sense, anyway. Why would that upset him unless...
Unless he loved the other Lois.
Maybe that was why he'd been so upset. At first in his bedroom, then later after she'd said... too much. He'd realized it wasn't *her* standing in his bedroom. He'd been distant. Distracted. Thinking of the other Lois? Then later, he'd been horrified. Had he been comparing her to her counterpart? Finding her wanting?
That didn't make sense either.
She wasn't some replacement Lois, nor was it true that just because she was Lois Lane she was meant to be with him.
*That* was a ridiculous notion.
But whatever the reasons for his stunned reaction, he'd changed his mind. Or had done a pretty good job at hiding his dismay and shock. He'd made a heartfelt plea for her to stay, actually convinced her that he *did* care. About *her*.
Oh, she hoped it was true. She hoped he really did feel *something* for her, even if it was just concern for her well being.
Lois Lane hated to admit it, but she needed help. Clark's help. And she was starting to realize she'd need his help for more than just putting an end to the mess in the Congo.
She needed money. Or a place to stay. Or both. But she loathed the thought that he might consider her a charity case. She really needed to get a start on putting her life back together, and soon. She hated feeling so helpless and alone.
Though... she guessed she wasn't alone anymore, not in the grander sense. There was another universe. Another Lois Lane. Actually, there could be hundreds of Lois Lanes. Lois Lane was a dime a dozen. The thought only made her feel more isolated.
She'd known coming home wasn't going to be easy, but she would never have imagined she'd be faced with anything she'd been hit with in the last few hours. Parallel universes. H.G. Wells. Counterparts. An evil man trying to take over the world.
And then there was the niggling feeling somewhere inside that she just might be in love with Clark Kent.
***
For the first time in days, Clark couldn't sleep.
He walked over to the window and stared out. The window he'd flown through just hours ago, only to have his life turned upside down once again by Lois Lane. The sky was clear tonight, with lots of stars in evidence. Thousands of little orbs twinkling merrily at him, oblivious to how he was feeling.
The stars took on a different meaning tonight than they had just the night before. Instead of making him feel so isolated, they were... more hopeful?
No, not really.
But they didn't make him feel suffocatingly lonely anymore. That was something, wasn't it?
Hundreds, maybe thousands of other planets out there, so the astronomers said. Why had he had to end up on this one, where Lois Lane belonged? Why couldn't he have been sent to... oh, that one over there, the fifth star on the right above the Carver building?
A planet uninhabited by Lois Lanes. Now that would be a comfortable place to be.
But boring. And utterly, completely empty.
What was it that poet had said? Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?
But that wasn't the problem. He realized now that as much as it had felt like it, he hadn't really been in love with the first Lois. Lust. Attraction. Some kind of inexplicable echo of a connection between them. But he hadn't been in love with her.
And now that *his* Lois was here... he wasn't in love with her either.
Clark flung the window shut, only holding back enough so it wouldn't shatter. What was wrong with him?!
This wasn't how it was supposed to be!
Hours ago, he'd finally gathered himself together and dragged himself home. A pathetic excuse for a person, let alone a superhero. After an hour of crying and convincing himself that if he did have to live, the least he could to was make a decent attempt at it. He hadn't been sure if he would have the energy for it, but he'd decided he was too much of a coward to... do it. So he'd flown home, intent on doing... *something*. Anything besides being worthless.
Then he'd flown into his bedroom and saw her there. It'd been like a cold bucket of water being thrown in his face, shocking him and robbing him of the air in his lungs. Everything had halted. The world had stopped turning.
There she'd stood, the sole cause of all his misery and anguish.
Or so he'd thought.
Because, if she'd been the reason behind it all, shouldn't he be thrilled? Elated? Shouldn't all of his grief and despair have just vanished?
By all rights, it should have.
But it hadn't.
And now he was feeling something he'd never imagined possible. He resented Lois Lane. Both of them.
The Lois of the other universe had shown him what it could be like. Shown him that true love - a love so deep one could drown if he or she weren't careful - did exist. For some. She'd shown him just how perfect, how meant to be, Lois Lane and Clark Kent were for each other.
But not every Lois Lane and Clark Kent.
He resented his Lois. He flinched. She wasn't *his*.
He resented the Lois of this universe. Why was she here if she wasn't his to love? Wasn't this Lois and Clark thing supposed to be love at first sight? He wasn't supposed to have a feeling of dread or fear in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't supposed to feel hopeless still.
Though... that wasn't entirely true. There had been moments tonight when he'd felt almost giddy. Or delirious. He wasn't sure which. He didn't know what happy meant anymore, but his heart *had* beat a little faster when she'd said his name. The thud of the door closing as it marked her departure had stung. And when she'd cried...
It'd hurt, and he'd felt an ache far more intense than he had when he'd been in the other universe with the other Lois. That had to mean something, right? Or was it only because she was a Lois and he was a Clark? He'd felt the connection with the other Lois, but he hadn't been in love with her.
If only there was someway he coul -
<<Oh, God, please don't hurt me!>>
Clark froze.
No.
Nononono.
A piercing shriek.
No!
A sob.
Oh, God, not now. Please not now. He wasn't ready. He couldn't -
A muffled whimper, <<Someone please help me.>>
Clark shot out the window and towards the place where he'd heard the cries - the desperate pleas that had since gone silent, but for a faint sobbing.
Oh, God, don't let him be too late.
He spotted a man in a dark alley just blocks from the Apollo Motel.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
The man was hastily unfastening his pants and the brunette below him was whimpering from underneath the hand that covered her mouth.
Clark dove and tore the man away from her, tossing him against the brick wall. He stared at the woman lying prone on the ground, her skirt bunched up around her waist.
It wasn't Lois.
Thank God it wasn't Lois.
He was grounded to the spot, frozen with fear. He watched the woman pull her skirt down, still sobbing softly as she did. She was shivering. Clark shook himself and reached for his cape to offer it to her.
He wasn't wearing it.
He'd forgotten to change.
The woman stood stiffly and brought her gaze to his. "Th-thank you, sir." He watched her glance nervously in the direction of her attacker. "Is he... is he unconscious?"
His limbs were leaden and he turned uneasily towards the man as if this were a horrible nightmare and he could only move in slow motion. The would-be rapist was out cold.
"Superman?"
His head snapped back to where the woman was standing; she was staring at him questioningly.
She had her arms wrapped around herself tightly, but she seemed to be more curious than shaken at the moment. He watched her take in his appearance - jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers - and stare at him a bit incredulously. "Superman, is that you?"
He nodded. Or at least he thought he had, but she didn't give any indication that he'd even moved. "Y-yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yes."
The barest of smiles touched her lips and she spoke softly, "Thank you for saving me. A-and... Welcome back, Superman. We've missed you."
***
He'd managed to escort the young woman home without any questions regarding his appearance or *re*appearance. Maybe the gravity of what had almost happened to her had finally sunk in. Or maybe she'd been taken aback by his unexpected return and shaky attempt at heroism.
Still on auto-pilot, he'd gone back to the alley to collect the rapist and drop him off at the police station with only a hurried explanation to the officers on duty, and the contact number for the victim.
He hadn't been able to stay. He hadn't been sure how to respond to their questions or hearty "Welcome backs." They'd tried not to stare at his outward appearance or his insecure demeanor, but he could tell they'd been regarding him carefully, not sure what to make of their newly returned "super" hero.
It hadn't been the stares or the unarticulated questions that had fueled his hasty departure. It'd been the door. The door to the evidence room. As he flew home slowly, trying not to tremble, he couldn't erase the image of the thick steel door from his mind.
It'd stared at him. Taunted him. Callously reminded him that he was a coward. A failure.
He hadn't been able to go through with... killing himself, but he sure as hell wasn't succeeding at living either.
Clark neared his window and tensed. It was broken. He was just about to scan his apartment for an intruder when it hit him.
He hadn't bothered to open the window before he'd shot out.
He bit his lower lip and floated inside, stepping on the few shards of glass that had managed to find their way inside from the outward shattering of the window.
Clark sank to the couch in defeat. He was officially back now. He had to be. No getting around it. The morning papers were sure to have the story. He wondered how long it would be before the reporters swarmed back, demanding everything. Where'd he been? Why had he left? Why hadn't he been in the Suit when he'd rescued the woman?
He didn't want to answer those questions. He *couldn't* answer those questions. He didn't want to be back. Not yet. He was scared. He wasn't ready. He couldn't be Superman. Not now. Not when he was feeling so... not super.
He hadn't even been able to do it right! He'd barreled out of his window - breaking it in the process - in his *jeans* and t-shirt! And the rescue itself? He'd been a certifiable wreck. Trembling. Petrified. Idiotic. He'd handled it all wrong, and made a fool of himself in the process.
How was he supposed to face the world? There was no turning back now; he had to be back. He had to be Superman again. The hero he'd never really been confident being.
What business did he have helping the world in the state he was in? And what business did he have helping Lois? She clearly wanted help from Superman, not Clark. Not that she'd treated him like that, but she was a journalist already, far more qualified and accomplished than he. She didn't need him for his investigative skills; she needed his powers, his resources. Which didn't bother him, but for the fact he was useless as a superhero.
The woman he'd saved... she might think differently, but she was just one person. He was responsible for the whole of Metropolis, not to mention the world, and he was no longer sure it was something he could handle. The good and well-being of the world was centered squarely on his shoulders.
And it was suffocating him.
TBC...
