Description: Lois used to doodle the 'S' on her pad … now she doodles something else.
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Acknowledgements and CommentsThis takes place somewhere in early Season 2. Lois and Clark are not yet dating. Lois' feelings for Clark are seriously accelerated. The 'hinted at' a-plot is all for show. Believe me, this is all about the b-plot. WAFFyness abounds, especially at the end.
Thanks to my two betas for this: Mozartmaid and Morgana. Your encouragement was definitely needed and it was great to know that this story was getting the kind of reactions I was hoping for.
Disclaimer: Superman, Clark Kent, Lois Lane and all other character and place names are owned by DC and/or Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. I own nothing ... except my fantasies -- which frequently include Clark/Superman.
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From
Part 2 - The DocksLois brushed away that shiver down her spine once more. She'd felt as if she were being watched ever since entering the docks. That's why she'd taken it so slow, getting to the north warehouses. She'd carefully checked every corner, before moving from warehouse to warehouse; from barrel to crate. She'd even taken a slight detour inwards, rather than follow the piers directly, when she'd seen the ship being unloaded. But, so far, no-one had clamped her on the shoulder and hauled her off site.
Now, she was shining her pen-torch into the debris near the warehouse door. Behind her was the pier which would have been used whenever unloading into this warehouse. Crouching down she saw black, charred ash marks on the concrete ground. She didn't really know what she was searching for any longer, just that something must be here … She stood and twirled around, still shining the light down. A spot of something yellow reflected back at her. She wrinkled her brow and crouched back down. On closer inspection it looked like a paint splash. She shined her light around a little and found another. After another moment she found more. Following the trail she ended up on the wooden pier.
Half way down she finally listened to the voice in her head, telling her that it was just a leaked can of paint. Probably weeks old by the look of some of the drips, obviously worn off by dock workers boots striding back and forth. She turned back to view the warehouse from this angle and a new thought crossed her mind. What if it was arson, as one of her theories went? And why set fire to the warehouse? What did it gain the arsonist?
The fire looked to have started at the warehouse loading doors. What if someone had arrived from the pier, walked down, set off the fire then come back up the pier to escape on a boat, or a ship? Lois began to back up, slowly making her way to the very end of the pier.
If her theory was correct, then would the boat come back again tonight … or early morning? A third fire? Maybe there would be some place she could hide out. She turned to find herself only a step away from the edge. Kneeling down she grabbed hold of the wooden slats and leaned over to see if there was any chance of a hiding place directly underneath the pier.
It was much too dark to see. Letting go with one hand she tried to reach out into the dark with the other, shining her torch.
The one hand still holding onto the deck went numb. It slipped. She pitched forward. Closing her eyes she readied herself for the bitter cold of the ocean.
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Part 3 - The FlightLois expected the splash as she hit the water at any moment. It never came. Instead, a pair of strong arms plucked her from the air only millimetres from the ocean. Her arms immediately went round his neck. It was such a familiar and well-practiced position.
"Lois!" came his deep, husky, yet reprimanding voice. "What was it this time?"
As they rose higher, the chill creeping into her bones quickly, she rested her head on his shoulder and tried to gather in the heat from his body. "Clark and I are investigating the dock fires. I'm sure we're missing something. Something out of place. Some piece of evidence."
"And you decided to go looking …" Superman's tone was full of humour mixed with long-suffering worry. Lois had long since accepted that she made too much out of that tone. Her fantasies had been driven by that tone of worry for so long, but it didn't mean what she's always hoped it meant. The 'S' doodles in her pad had often been accompanied by daydreams of Superman gently chastising her as he placed her down in her apartment. The chastising would then morph into gentle pleading. Pleas that she be more careful or his heart would break. At that point she would realise that he'd never removed his arms from around her waist. "Didn't you?" came his reminder that they were actually engaged in a conversation.
"Well … " she explained in a quiet, embarrassed tone.
"And what made you think that this story-breaking find would be dangling off the end of the pier?"
Lois lifted her head to look at Superman when she heard the unexpected, and rare, teasing tone, but instead of meeting his eyes she focussed on his neck, directly in her line of sight.
Her mouth dropped open and she completely forgot to answer.
Blue pen.
A short stripe of blue pen, just behind his ear.
Out of sight to anyone.
Except if a person happened to be held cradled in his arms. Out of sight, even, to the man himself, Lois guessed, were he to look in a mirror. She cast her mind back to various points during the day. Why had Clark returned from the restroom
without washing this off, originally? And then at the dock office, he had visited the restroom again, this time returning with the pen mark washed away. Except, the mark travelled behind his ear ...
"Lois?" he asked carefully, changing teasing into concern.
"Just … um … just take me home please … Superman." That final word escaped her lips in a croak. It almost felt a lie, to call him that. In fact it was a lie. It was no more his name than … the name she currently doodled when lost in her dreams.
She groaned in dismay and dropped her head back to his shoulder. The doodles in her pad. Even going all the way back to page one of her notebook. They were all this man. The man currently flying her back home. The man who'd saved her more times than she could count. She'd spent the last year of her life fantasising about this man, in one form or another. And the written proof could be seen on every page of her notepad.
"Lois," came his voice again. "Are you sure you're okay?" He genuinely sounded worried and she realised that she'd groaned out loud.
"I …" She swallowed in nervousness. "Superman …" There was that name again. "Home."
She closed her eyes, mortified with herself. Her grasp of the English language, rules of grammar, literary ability, had all been reduced to single words.
"All right, Lois," Superman spoke gently.
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Clark was so relieved that he hadn't actually been able to tear himself away from watching over her. When he'd seen her leaning over the end of the pier he'd frowned, slightly concerned. When she'd slipped he'd almost screamed in horror. Reaching her 'just in time' was another thing that seemed to have become a habit for him, just like 'checking up' on her.
She slipped so easily into his arms. The crook of his elbow cradled the back of her knees. His other arm supported her back. She slid her arms around his neck. It was all so familiar. It was the feeling he liked to recall at night, when alone in his apartment. Being allowed to hold her close was such a gift. He cherished every time. Oh, he held her as Clark. They hugged often. But there was something about this particular position. It meant so much more. It meant that he was her hero. It meant that she trusted him. It meant that her mouth was only inches from his. If he turned his head …
He took a deep breath to clear away those, currently, unhelpful thoughts, and continued to fly in the direction of her apartment.
But for all that he cherished these moments, there seemed to be something different this time. What it was, he couldn't tell.
He tightened his hold carefully. Nope, it didn't feel like she was in danger of slipping. He listened to her breathing. It was a little ragged. He listened to her heart. It was beating a wild rhythm. Both of these could be attributed to the 'near miss'.
Clark shook his head in confusion and sped up slightly.
A quiet sniff beside his ear had him slowing again. Was she crying? His pulse increased in concern. Was she hurt. Maybe a ragged piece of wood had slashed her on the way down. Panic began to overtake him. Surely she would have said something if this were the case. Then again, Lois Lane was never one to admit she was a mortal human. Getting her to hospital was a skill all in itself.
Indecision overtook him for a moment. Lois' safety was the most important thing in the world, to him. Well, second actually - her happiness being the first. He needed to take her to the hospital. But he was probably blowing this all out of proportion. All he had heard was one, barely audible, sniff.
Possibly he should just get her home. He would be able to, quickly, x-ray her, once there, and then he'd know what to do.
Satisfied with that conclusion he continued on.
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Lois tried to fight off the chill from the night air just as she tried to fight against the feelings crowding her thoughts. She was flying in the arms of every woman's unattainable fantasy, while now also knowing that it was the real man she ached for every day. She'd loved him for so long. Loved, not hero-worshiped. For every other woman it was hero-worship. For every other women, they could only claim to have superficial knowledge of this man. For her, it was love. She'd loved him so fiercely when she'd imagined he was Superman and only Superman. Even then she could truthfully claim to have known him better than all those other women out there. But even that love for Superman paled in comparison to the depth of her love for Clark. Being in Clark's arms always felt like heaven to her. Spending time with him made every day seem complete. She knew him better than she'd ever known … anyone.
He was her best friend. He was her dream. He was her fantasy.
The doodles in her notebook were a testament to that.
She used to weave fantastic stories about Superman declaring his love. She'd briefly relived one when he caught her at the dock. But that was shot down not so very long ago. Instead, she now weaved fantasies that ended in cosy, romantic embraces on a comfy couch. She loved him so much that, sometimes, all that got her through the day, was a desperate hope that Clark would offer to see her home and then kiss her goodnight.
Really kiss her.
He walked her home often enough. But there was never a goodnight kiss.
Now she knew why.
She'd suspected, many times, that Clark was not interested in her … romantically. Sometimes, something would happen and she'd question that belief. Maybe he did hope for more with her, But then she'd return to that conversation, outside the Daily Planet, where he told her that all he wanted was friendship. Adding into the equation the fact that her best friend had chosen to keep this secret from her … plus that particular evening when Superman rejected her …
The chill began to creep in, even as she held tighter to the warm body flying her safely home. She tried to banish the thoughts of unrequited love by choosing to focus on the majestic beauty of the Metropolis skyline. Dark skyscrapers loomed out of the night, sometimes blending into the background if abandoned till morning work-time, other times brightly lit with people living their evening routines at home. Looking directly below she saw that the streets were a constant stop-go of vehicles, red tail lights and white headlights moving up and down. The view from up here, in Superman's arms, always took her breath away. She'd seen it in the bright daytime, at night-time, in fog, in rain. It had always been incredibly moving.
But it was all different now. When she'd imagined that this was Superman's realm, that this was where he lived, where he belonged, then her viewpoint had been similar. Superman was looking down on us, looking after us, yet set apart, not really understanding life. As some ancient Greek god, who knew everything, who could cope with any situation. Although, thinking about it, there
had been major flaws in those mythical characters.
Superman was absolutely without flaw. In fact, the idea that he was apart from humanity, yet he chose to spend time with her, was one the things which gave rise to her fantasies, and kept them running long-term.
How glorious would it be, to be the one female in the whole human race who could capture the heart of the Man of Steel? It was poetic, it was fantastic, it was the thing of dreams, she would tell herself. But Greek mythology actually had boundless examples of gods being overcome with love for humans. If Superman was to be likened to a Greek god, then … he already chose to favour her, in many ways … so, it was possible that her fantasies were not … so very … impossible. This thought had kept her hope alive for so long … until a greater hope had come along.
Now, looking down from this height, knowing what that pen mark had revealed, she saw the beauty below her in a completely different light.
Superman wasn't looking down on us, he lived among us. When he looked down from up here, it was as someone who understood life, lived it, struggled through it, wanted to make life better for everyone, wanted to make the world better. But, he was still set apart - she knew that, she felt it in the way he acted emotionless, aloof, when in the costume. He was separate. He was distant. Flying up here in his arms she knew that he felt … alone. He hadn't chosen to set himself apart, as a god. He was
forced to be apart. Forced by his own self-image, his morals, his beliefs and his abilities. They separated him from the very people he lived among. And it explained why he'd never told her his identity.
And now, the idea of being the one female to capture the heart of the Man of Steel ... strangely enough, it seemed even more impossible now. He had no romantic feelings for her. He didn't even want her to know who he was.
Now … knowing who he really was, knowing that he only considered her a 'friend', knowing the number of women in his 'human' life who would gladly fall at his feet at only one word from him, never mind the rest of the world's desire for his famous alter ego … she had zero chance.
A tear trailed down her cheek and she buried her head even more into his shoulder.
Lois Kent.
Never gonna happen.
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