Description: Lois has been waiting since she was nineteen to meet a certain, super-special someone. Sequel to
Vision of Destiny and part 2 in the Destiny series.
TOC__________
From Chapter 5"Lois," he whispered.
Another memory … hundreds of snippets of memory … told her what was coming next. Panic mode set in. "Don't," she whispered in terror, her eyes wide.
Clark stared back at her, frozen. After a wait, that was both too short and too long, he pulled away and turned to start collecting the takeout containers. Lois felt an incredible sense of loss. She'd just stopped Clark from kissing her. She was sure. But why? She had a list … of three things she missed ... three things she was waiting for. Kissing Clark was one of those three things. She longed for it, every day, since that day … when it had all started, when she'd 'acquired' these memories. And she'd panicked.
She busied herself, tidying her side of the table. Once the cartons were dealt with she spied the mess of paperwork, now revealed again.
"Come on," she sighed. "Let's go find Platt. Maybe he can help us decipher this."
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Chapter 6The cab ride over to Platt's apartment felt strained. Not only were they both, clearly, frustrated with the lack of progress in piecing together the report … and therefore the lack of progress for the whole investigation, but Lois was having to deal with her own inexplicable behaviour.
She was supposed to be aloof, cynical, superior. Well, at least, pretend … act … that way. Instead she'd got into a cute verbal sparring match, seeing who could come up with the most ridiculous fortune cookie saying. And then, to make matters worse, Clark had made a move on her … which she'd rejected. Why would she
ever reject a romantic move from the man she was totally in love with?
As the cab pulled up at the side of the road she began to re-evaluate her theories once more. OL would not have been interested in Clark Kent. She would have considered herself superior. But then, how did he fall in love with her? Maybe he didn't fall in love with her until a few years had gone by, and she'd softened towards him. In that case, why did she keep seeing his 'adoring' face whenever he looked at her? He couldn't possibly already be in love with her. And if he was … then why was she fighting it? Why was she acting superior and … horrible to him … when she just wanted to be with him?
She slammed the door to the cab and strode out into the night, pushing through the junk to get to Dr. Platt's doorway. Worryingly, it was slightly ajar … at five in the morning!
"Lois," Clark called, as a light flickered through the door. "Lois, let me look first." He gently took her arm.
"Don't be silly. I've seen it all, okay? War, crime, famine…" She continued to push into the apartment. Typical of Clark, always trying to protect her. While one part of her loved it, another part needed to prove to herself, and Clark, that she was perfectly capable … herself.
Inside the apartment it became clear that the flickering light effect was not from the standard light bulbs. Lois noticed the light switch and flicked it back and forth. No lights came on … or went off. Nothing.
As she advanced further into the room she could see a high backed chair. The subdued, flickering seemed to be coming from that direction.
"Dr. Platt?" she called out. A gentle touch on her arm stopped her again.
"Wait. Wait. The water…" Clark pointed to the puddle of water that could be seen surrounding the chair.
Lois continued to inch forward, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. Clark was continuing his protective behaviour, standing as close as would be accepted for working partners who might be in a dangerous situation. He followed her as she peered around the chair. When the scene came fully in to view it only took a second to sear it on her mind forever.
She started to sway. The world faded, her vision blurred and there was a buzzing sound in her ears. She felt a pair of arms surround her and she melted into Clark's embrace. Turning her face and burying it in his jacket she suddenly felt her strength return again. She was safe. She was in Clark's arms, item number three on her list, and it felt like coming home.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sparks of lightning were flickering all around her. "Suicide? That's ridiculous."
Darkness was interspersed with random light patterns. "The man's name was Samuel Platt. He was brilliant, a scientist, and
someone who cared about others."
An electrical popping sound fizzed around her head. "We should have known. We should have protected him."
A heavy weight was on her heart. "It's only six. Why don't we try and get a few hours sleep. I'll come by for you at nine."
Suddenly there was something constricting her. Tight arms held her still, held her close. She burrowed her face into the chest holding her closely. There was no worry, no fear. Even though she couldn't move she was safe. She squeezed her arms up and snaked them round his neck. Burrowing higher with her face she came upon his neck.
His arms tightened around her, if that were even possible.
Giving in to all the sensations raging through her body she parted her lips and tasted the skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Moving higher she found his earlobe and began to nibble.
His hands were under her t-shirt, roaming freely. His lips found hers. He pulled her closer and she felt their, suddenly bare, chests meet.
Lois cried out as he lowered her to the bed. "Yes, Clark." He nuzzled just under her ear and then began to trail down her body. At her stomach he stopped and kissed her belly button then looked up and grinned at her. She loved that grin. It was a combination of cute, shy, little boy and sexy, confident, virile … man.
He kissed his way back up, stopping to investigate her sensitive chest and then continuing back to her lips, where he began to tease. His heavy weight, pinning her to the bed, was comforting, familiar. His legs tangled with hers, the sheets tangled in among them.
She reached for him, emotions spiralling higher and higher, until … An unwelcome beeping sound intruded. She forcefully opened her bleary eyes and turned to see the alarm clock. A weary hand reached over to shut off the intrusive sound. Once the room had returned to its silent state Lois flopped back and brought her arm up to her forehead. Closing her eyes again she could feel Clark's hands on her. It was so real. Her skin tingled where he'd stroked with his fingertips, it burned where he'd kissed.
But she knew if she opened her eyes and looked to the side then her bed would be empty. He wouldn't be there.
Over the years she'd dreamed of Clark, on occasion. Never before had it been so vivid. The dreams usually felt ethereal, emotional. On extremely rare occasions she dreamed, what she presumed, were real events that had happened to OL, but they never lasted long, or revealed any pertinent information.
But this one…
Her heart was still racing and she felt … unfulfilled.
She dropped her head down, cradling it in her hands, and took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to dwell on this, or to let her emotions out. Her list … the three things she was waiting for, desperately, had something missing. Something that didn't make the list. Not because it wasn't as good as the other three, not because she didn't miss it.
Because … she thought about the things on her list a lot. She dwelt on them, fantasised about them. If she put … making love to Clark … on the list, then she'd think about it. Too much. Too often. And she'd be emotionally crippled for the rest of the day.
It didn't go on the list.
It couldn't go on the list.
It surpassed the list.
She dragged her hands down her face. Pushing the tangled sheets to one side she stormed out of her bed and into the bathroom, determined to face the day in control, rather than filled with longing.
She'd told Clark she'd pick him up at nine, and there was no way she would be late. There was so much to do in this investigation and she intended to show up on time … looking fresh, looking beautiful.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"I said nine. I thought you'd be naked ... ready." Memories of last night's dream assaulted her. If that towel fell … she wouldn't be complaining. In fact, if Clark just grabbed her and dragged her over to the bed … then she'd be completely willing.
"I was on the phone. I'll be out in jiff." He strode off, the towel riding low on his hips. It must have been extremely tightly secured because Clark seemed to be very trusting that it would stay in place as he wandered over to the bathroom. Lois kept a vigilant eye over every moment of his body. As the door closed behind him she sighed in great disappointment. That one look at his bare chest had confirmed that last night's dream was pretty accurate and it had reawakened all her unfulfilled longings.
She was still staring at the blank bathroom door, lost in her memories, when it opened and Clark emerged, fully dressed, only thirty seconds later. She widened her eyes in shock and turned away. She was both scared - that he'd wonder why she was staring after him - and confused - that he'd get himself dressed so quickly and give himself away.
She turned back and looked him up and down, sighing. He was so good-looking, so handsome, and his body was shaped in the most perfect way. Clark clearly noticed her reaction and looked down at his attire then back up at her, questioningly.
A sudden dryness in the mouth had her licking her lips. "Uh, do you have anything to drink. I'm parched." She breezed around the room and noticed a glass on the counter. She picked it up and turned to the refrigerator.
"Lois …" he began, as she reached for the handle on the refrigerator. "I … uh," he continued. She glanced back to him, when he sounded nervous. What was he nervous about?
"What?" she questioned, frowning.
"Um, well," he stuttered as she opened the door. The sight which greeted her was both a shock and familiar. The shelves were stuffed full of junk food. She turned to look, once more, at Clark. She knew what was hiding under that smart suit. And she knew that he didn't need to worry about calories.
His embarrassed look shocked her back into reality. She needed to be Mad Dog Lane. She needed to be OL.
"We'd better go," she spoke, stiffly, and closed the refrigerator, placed the cup back down, and headed for the door. "It's not fair," she grumbled. She suddenly turned to him, stopping in the doorway.
"What's not fair?"
"That you can eat like an eight-year-old but look like Mr. Hardbody."
He looked a little nervous - as if she would ask him how that was possible. "I guess I'm just blessed with a fast metabolism."
"And then some … " she murmured, setting off, and the door closed behind them.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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