Title: Every Time We Say Goodbye
Author: Sue S.
Rating: PG/PG13ish
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Previously:Was Luthor going to take Superman's word that Lois was out of reach? Or were his minions still combing the city in search of her? What was Luthor planning? The man didn't do anything without making a plan for it. Following Lois, and setting fires to occasionally dose Superman with kryptonite all had to be leading up to some kind of end game. Was he planning to kill Superman and offer himself to comfort Lois in her grief?
It didn't matter what Luthor's plan was, he couldn't walk away and leave Lois to that sociopath, no matter what Luthor threatened to do. Clark began to pace back and forth. He was trapped here, waiting for chaos to break out in the city, or for his own rapidly diminishing self-control to vanish and send him rocketing back to his apartment to either confess everything or give in completely to temptation as Superman. What he need right now was a call for help to distract him. A mugger, a bank robbery, or even a cat stuck in a tree would be perfect. Then again, the next call for help he answered might be his last.
Even though he'd wanted the distraction, a shiver shot down his spine when a siren began to shrill out its alarm.
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Part 6/12
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It was long past midnight but Lois couldn't fall asleep. She was restless and ultra-aware that she was in Clark's bed. The faint smell of him on his pillows and sheets made it feel like a cozy cotton cave that was the last safe place in Metropolis. And yet, as safe as she now felt, it was also more than a little bit titillating. After all this was where Clark slept, night after night. The implied intimacy of being in Clark's bed made it feel like she was doing something illicit. She told herself that Clark knew she was here and he was okay with it. It didn't matter. In fact, knowing that Clark knew she was currently lying in his bed made it feel that much more sensual.
She punched one of the pillows, plumping it up and turning it sideways so she could snuggle up against it. Lois tried to pretend it was Superman but she couldn't make the fantasy stick. Yes, Superman had flirted with her but a wink was miles away from being any kind of a promise -- especially in the face of his insistence that there could only be friendship between them.
What would it be like to be friends with Superman the same way she was friends with Clark? Would he ever let her get that close? Was Superman friends with Clark like that? Did the two of them chat on the phone? Or did they hang out together in the evenings, watching a movie or sports on the television?
Lois smiled at the mental image of Superman and Clark sitting side by side on Clark's couch with their eyes riveted on the screen and an open bag of Cheetos on the cushion between them. Then she felt a pang of regret that they never asked her to hang out with them. Maybe, now that Clark would be occupied with his new love, Superman would come visit her instead. Or was he afraid that she'd read too much into so much time spent together casually? Maybe that was why he stayed away.
Fine. She'd be nothing but friendly with Superman from now on. She'd exude trustworthiness with a dash of emotional distance. She'd be open and supportive but she wouldn't flirt with him. And, no matter how tempting, she wouldn't seize the opportunity to kiss him. She'd kissed Superman twice now -- and it had been amazing both times. But both times she was the one who initiated the kiss. What would it be like to have Superman grab her like Clark had and take charge? What would it be like to have Clark do that again -- only this time he actually meant it? Lois shook her head and told herself that time, distance, and late-night nostalgia were scrambling her memory and Clark's kiss hadn't been nearly as thrilling as she was making it out to be.
It didn't matter anyway. Clark was never going to kiss her again. Maybe, once upon a time, there had been the possibility to move past partners and become something more but that chance was gone now. Clark's heart belonged to somebody else.
Lois flipped onto her back with a sigh. It was insane to keep thinking about this. She couldn't have dated Clark -- they had been partners. More than partners, they'd been an amazing team. She was never going to find someone else who could be so touchy-feely and squishy-hearted without being a complete chump. There was no one else who would put up with her assertiveness and not call it something rhyming with 'witchy.' They had complemented each other perfectly. She was the brains and he was the heart. Between them they made up one half-decent person. Dating each other would have ruined that.
The sound of a siren nearby made her lift her head from the pillow. Maybe that was the reason for her sleepless state; it seemed like sirens had been sounding constantly for the past few hours. In a way it felt like the perfect metaphor for her current situation. Nothing but impending disaster lurked in her future. She couldn't hide in Clark's apartment forever. Eventually she was going to have to see Lex again. She shivered, dreading that next encounter. Maybe after that it would get easier. Or maybe it was be awkward forever -- especially now that Lex owned the Daily Planet.
Lois swallowed back the ache that was building at the back of her throat. Nothing -- absolutely nothing -- was the same anymore. In only a few days she had lost Clark, and Perry, and now even the Planet wasn't the refuge it used to be. Her arms wrapped around the pillow next to her and she buried her face in it, inhaling the comforting scent of Clark that lingered there. If he offered again tomorrow night to come home she wasn't going to dissuade him.
For a long while she stared at the moonlight coming in through Clark's window. She wondered if, somewhere in Hawaii, Clark was looking at the moon, too. The thought that he might be -- and that he might be thinking about her -- made it feel like he wasn't quite so far away.
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As the night slowly dissolved into morning Clark was slumped against the wall, deep in the shadows of the vestibule outside his front door. His forehead was resting on his knees and his arms were wrapped weakly around his legs. He had never felt as utterly, completely exhausted as he did right now. There had been five more fires overnight and the last one had included a dose of kryptonite that packed a wallop.
Luckily the fire department had responded at the same time as Superman because he'd been useless in putting the fire out. Instead he had staggered into the alley, retching and shaking. Blinded by fatigue and shaking with chills he had slowly made his way home, only to remember as he staggered up the last of the stairs that he shouldn't be there. He'd been too tired to contemplate leaving so he'd stumbled into the shadows and dropped to the floor.
Through the long, dark hours of the early morning he had tried again and again to listen for Lois. He couldn't hear her, though he knew that she must be inside. If he'd had the strength to crawl to the door he would have knocked. Instead he had sat, shivering for warmth, and on constant alert in case he had been followed. He didn't realize he had dozed off until he was suddenly startled into wakefulness when his front door opened. He lifted his head just as Lois exclaimed, "Oh my god!"
A moment later she was kneeling next to him, her hand cool against his forehead. "Superman? What happened?" she asked, her voice shaking a little. "Are you okay?"
"Thir--" he rasped. "Thirsty."
"Be right back." Lois stood up quickly, heading back into his apartment. He could hear the slap of her feet as she ran down the stairs. Several long seconds ticked by as he heard the faint sound of a cupboard door opening and slamming shut, then water running. It seemed an eternity before he heard her footsteps racing back in his direction.
"Here," Lois said breathlessly, spilling water onto his shoulder and chest as she dropped to her knees alongside him.
Clark's hand shook as he reached to take the glass from her. Lois didn't relinquish it completely, helping him to bring it to his lips and tipping it slightly. He took several deep swallows. The water was room temperature but it felt like heaven going down. Clark closed his eyes, letting his head tip back to rest against the wall.
Her hand touched his face again, cool and comforting. "You're burning up."
Clark shook his head. He was pretty sure that all he needed was an hour or two in sunlight to recover. "I'll be okay."
He opened his eyes and took the glass of water from her, lifting it shakily to his lips for another drink of water.
"See," he told her, breathless from the effort. "I'm fine."
Lois frowned at him. "You are not fine." She glanced over her shoulder at the stairwell then back at him. "We should get you inside. Can you stand up?"
"I think so." Clark moved to set the glass down but it slipped from his fingers, falling to the floor and shattering. He set his left hand down to brace himself only to suck in a startled breath at the sudden sharp burning sensation. He lifted his hand and stared at it without comprehension. Liquid red warmth was pooling in his palm.
"Oh my god, you're bleeding." Lois grasped his hand, her eyes wide with horror. She rose and used the toe of her shoe to push away the glass shards. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing. I just need rest."
"Nothing?" she echoed in disbelief. "You're bleeding! You don't bleed. This isn't nothing!" She closed both hands around his wrist and tugged impatiently on his arm. "You're gonna have to stand up. You can't stay out here in the hall."
Clark grunted in agreement but he couldn't quite stand up. He shifted to a kneeling position then used the wall to brace himself higher, leaving a scarlet handprint on the painted brickwork. Lois put an arm around his waist and he draped his arm across her shoulders, leaning heavily against her as, inch by inch, they made their way inside.
Lois kicked the door shut behind them. They lurched down the stairs together, taking each step slowly. By the time they reached the sofa Clark was sweaty and shaking. He sank onto the cushions with a sigh of relief.
"Thanks," he mumbled and tried to take a deep breath but that set off a series of wracking coughs that sent Lois scurrying to get another glass of water for him. This time she didn't let him hold the glass, lifting it to his mouth and tipping it back for him. Clark drank then flopped back against the sofa's arm, panting.
"Don't move," Lois warned before disappearing around the wall into his bedroom.
Clark shut his eyes and shook his head slowly. Even if he had wanted to move right now, he couldn't.
He reopened his eyes when he heard Lois coming back. She was carrying a wet washcloth and a roll of toilet paper. She took a seat next to him on the couch, picking up his injured left hand and dabbing at it with the washcloth. Clark winced, surprised anew by the sensation of pain.
"Sorry," Lois muttered, dabbing a little more gently to clean away the blood. She looked up, meeting his eyes, and gave him a tight smile. "This kind of thing usually only stings for a minute or two."
Clark nodded his understanding.
She lifted the washcloth and peered closely at his hand. "I don't know," she whispered. "It looks pretty deep. You might need stitches."
"No, it'll heal soon."
Lois made a face suggesting she didn't exactly believe him. "How long were you out there?"
"Not long," Clark lied. His best guess was a couple of hours but he couldn't really be sure.
"I couldn't find any kind of first aid kit, which is weird. Clark is the ultimate Boy Scout, you'd think he'd have provisions for everything." Lois' movements were as jumpy as her words as she tore off a length of toilet paper and began folding it into layers.
"Maybe he doesn't keep it in the bathroom," Clark suggested. He made a mental note to get a first aid kit and put it underneath his kitchen sink.
"Maybe." Lois pressed the makeshift compress to his palm. She folded his fingers down and instructed, "Hold that tight, and raise your arm."
Clark did as she instructed, leaning backwards against the sofa and bringing his fist up to rest next to his head.
"What can I do for you?" Lois asked. "Do you need some more water? Maybe you should take something for your fever?"
"That's not necessary, thanks." Clark took a deep breath and shifted forward, steeling himself to stand up. "If it's okay with you, I'm going to borrow the bed for a little while."
"I'm sure Clark wouldn't mind." She gave him a grin as she added, "I'm guessing his bed never sees this much action."
He chuffed out a surprised laugh that turned into a cough. "No, I'm positive it doesn't."
Clark stood slowly. Lois again put her arm around his waist to help him rise. He gratefully leaned against her as they shuffled towards his bedroom. When they reached the bed, he sat down slowly, feeling like he was two hundred years old. Lois went to step back but he weakly grasped her wrist with his good hand.
"Lois, can I ask you for a favor?"
"Anything! You know that."
"Don't go to work today."
Her forehead furrowed. "Don't go…?"
"Don't go anywhere. Don't leave here."
Lois bit her lower lip then released it as understanding dawned in her eyes. "Lex is looking for me, isn't he?" she whispered.
Clark nodded, squeezing her wrist lightly in sympathy. "He has people watching your place, the Planet, your parents, your sister, Perry…"
Lois drew in a sharp breath and sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," he affirmed quietly. "I've seen the men outside your apartment and I overheard Luthor last night trying to narrow down where you might be."
She hunched her shoulders and sighed. "I can't believe he hasn't looked here yet."
"I told him I took you outside the city."
"Yeah?" The beginnings of a smile tugged at her lips before she softly added, "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"I'd stay here anyway," she told him and this time she was able to work up a smile. "I couldn't walk away and leave you here, like this."
Clark returned the smile. "Thanks."
Her cheeks flushed a little and she stood up quickly. "Well, uh, I'll let you get some rest now. If you need anything, let me know." Lois didn't wait for him to reply, scurrying around the wall and into his kitchen before he could form another word.
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The first thing Lois did was clean up the glass and blood outside Clark's front door. It had taken a lot of scrubbing to get the blood to come off the brickwork and there was still the faint suggestion of a handprint if you looked closely enough. Next she turned her attention to her clothes. Blood was smeared all over the left sleeve and shoulder of her shirt. She tiptoed through Clark's bedroom and into the bathroom, taking pains not to invade Superman's privacy as she passed the bed. In the bathroom she'd pulled off her shirt and rinsed the blood out.
For a moment she stood there, holding her wet shirt over Clark's sink, and wondered what to do next. She could hardly put her shirt back on dripping wet and Clark didn't have a dryer. He didn't have a robe in there, either, but there was a blue dress shirt hanging on the back of the door.
Lois considered the shirt. She'd already worn one of Clark's shirts so it couldn't be the novelty of the experience that made it feel so illicit. Maybe it was the recollection of Clark's reaction -- the husky pitch of his voice as he'd teased her that was now driving her pulse faster. Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she grabbed the dress shirt and slipped it on. It smelled like Clark and made her wish for the umpteenth time that he was here. Clark would have been a lot more useful in wrangling Superman down the stairs and onto the bed. She knotted the bottom of the shirt, tying it at her waist so that it didn't drown her, and rolled up the sleeves.
When she came out of the bathroom she couldn't help looking over at Superman. He was lying on Clark's bed facing away from her with his cape tucked around him like a blanket. Lois debated taking off his boots, but she didn't want to wake him. She knew she should go back to the living room but this was the rarest opportunity of them all -- to see Superman when he was as mortal as anyone else. She tiptoed around the bed until she had a clearer view of him.
Superman's face was relaxed, making him look younger and more vulnerable in spite of the stubble darkening his cheeks and chin. What had happened to him? Clark had been right about Lex's ruthlessness, what if he was right when he'd claimed Lex was trying to destroy Superman?
Lois returned to the living room and made a stab at reading one of the books off Clark's shelf. It couldn't capture her attention nor could any of the next four books that she tried. She didn't dare to turn on the television. She tried to lie down and take a nap but it was impossible to take doze off when she was exquisitely aware that Superman was sleeping in the next room. It was so quiet that she could hear the slow, deep breaths as he exhaled.
She closed her eyes and listened, soothed by the sound of Superman's breathing. There was something reassuring in knowing that she wasn't alone in the apartment.
"Lois…"
Her eyes opened and she sat up straighter, wondering if she was imagining that he'd said her name. But then she heard it again, a sound so soft it was almost like a sigh, "Lois…"
Lois stood up and moved to peek around the corner at Superman. His eyes were open, his expression dazed, maybe even a little confused.
"Hey," she said softly. "Can I get you something?"
He shook his head and his mouth moved but she couldn't hear what he'd said.
"What was that?" Lois knelt next to the bed, leaning closer so she'd hear him.
"It doesn't bother me when it's you."
"What?" She had no idea what he was talking about. Lois gently placed her hand on his forehead to check for fever. His skin was cool to the touch.
"You," he persisted in a husky voice. "I don't mind when it's you. In fact, I kinda like it."
"Like what? You're not making any sense."
"You asked—." He had to pause to take a breath. "You asked if it bothered me to have people touching me all the time."
At once she remembered standing on the roof of the Met Museum a week earlier, both of them escaping from the fundraiser inside for different reasons. She had watched what felt like an endless parade of people touching Superman and asked him about it.
"I said strangers. I'm not a stranger. Am I?"
"M' sorry."
"Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for."
He swallowed, nodded. "Yes, I do. I lied... I--."
"Shh." Unable to resist, she brushed back the hair that had flopped onto his forehead. "Go back to sleep."
His hand emerged from beneath his cape, the gash from where he'd cut himself earlier was still present, though it didn't look as deep now. He took hold of her wrist, pressing her hand to his cheek. His skin was much cooler than earlier; now he felt clammy to her.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Do you believe me?"
"Of course, I do," she said to appease him. "We can talk about it later. For now I want you to get some rest."
He stared at her blankly for a few seconds, then nodded. "Later," he agreed, his fingers squeezing lightly on her wrist.
He looked so lost and forlorn that she impulsively leaned closer and kissed his forehead. When she pulled away slightly his eyes had closed, his eyelashes dark crescents on the unnatural pale of his cheeks. She felt a twist in her heart to see him so defenseless.
"You won't leave?" he murmured.
"No, I'll be right here, I promise."
"Don' let him find you."
"I won't." She brushed his hair back again. "I won't let him find
you, either."
His lips twisted in a weak smile as he whispered, "Thanks."
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When Clark woke up he knew his powers were back. He could feel them, like a faint electric buzz along his skin. Sunlight was flooding the room. Lois was sitting on the window seat with a book open in her lap, her face turned to look reflectively out the window. She was wearing his shirt -- he hadn't dreamed that. She looked absolutely beautiful, especially in that light shade of blue. Or maybe it was the ethereal play of light around her in the window and the implied intimacy in seeing her in his shirt.
Her head turned, catching him watching her. "Hey. How're you feeling?"
He sat up and flexed his shoulders, then stood up from the bed. "Super."
Lois grinned and set the book aside. "Good. That's good. I was pretty worried about you."
"I told you I'd be fine."
"And Superman never lies." Her smile widened. "Except maybe to Lex."
Clark returned her smile. "Let's just say that he makes it difficult to be entirely forthcoming."
"Did he do this to you?" Lois nodded at the rumpled bed.
"I think so, yes."
Her smile disappeared. "How?"
"Do you remember that story you wrote about kryptonite last year?"
Her eyes widened. "So it really exists?"
"It exists. It's been hidden at some of the fires recently."
"Some of the fires? Not all of them?"
"No, not all."
"I'm assuming it's a rare quantity, not something that would just be lying around."
"God, I hope not. It's rare. At least, I think it is."
"So it stands to reason that someone is moving it from place to place?"
Too late Clark realized where her instincts were taking her. "Lois, I know where you're going with this, but you have to stay out of it."
"Stay out of what?" she asked, her eyes wide with mock innocence.
"You can't leave here. And even if you could, you really shouldn't goad Luthor further by investigating this."
He saw her jaw clench in determination. "
I shouldn't goad him further? Are you implying that he's doing this because of me?"
For a long moment they stared at each other. Clark looked away first. "I don't know," he lied as he met her gaze again.
Her mouth tightened and she blinked, uncertain whether to believe him or not.
"Lois, I--." He hesitated. He wanted to tell her the truth -- all of it. But if he told her she'd definitely leave. "I need to go now. Will you please promise me you'll stay here?"
She folded her arms across her chest. "For how long?"
Clark shrugged. "I don't know. Not too much longer. I can go to the Planet, bring you whatever you need, but you need to stay out of sight for the foreseeable future."
She shook her head slightly as she looked around his bedroom. After a long moment she sighed and said, "Fine. I'll stay here today."
"Thank you--"
"Oh, it's not free," she interrupted. "If I'm going to be stuck here then you're going to bring me the notepad that's sitting on my desk. And you're going to give Chip Peterson a reason why I'm not there."
"Okay."
"And lunch," she added. "You're going to owe me lunch and dinner."
Clark nodded, grateful that he'd got her to agree to stay put. "I'll be back in an hour."
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When Clark got to the Planet it was the lunch hour. He was glad that most of the employees were out so he wouldn't draw too much attention. First he went to Perry's office and knocked on the door. The blinds were open and when Chip looked up his eyebrows rose. "Superman!" he muttered under his breath before he waved and called out, "Enter!"
Clark opened the door and came inside. "Mr. Peterson, may I have a moment of your time?"
Chip's voice squeaked a little as he asked, "You're here to see me?"
"I came to inform you that Lois Lane had to go into protective custody yesterday afternoon. She's asked me to tell you that she's working on an exclusive."
Chip looked nonplussed. "An exclusive? But… she's supposed to be doing a piece on infrastructure. How would that require her to enter protective custody?"
"I'm sorry. I'm not at liberty to share the details."
Chip's frown increased and he stood up from behind the desk. "Is this about the Excelsior International story? Because she was removed from that."
Clark said nothing, merely watched Chip start to pace as he weighed the merits of punishing Lois against the potential for a big exclusive.
After two circuits from the chair to Perry's bookshelf, Chip turned to face him. "Tell her I want her to call me before end of business today or she's fired."
Before Clark could answer there was a rumbling beneath their feet. Chip stumbled sideways, Clark reached out a hand to steady him.
"What was--?" Chip got no further before another rumble shook the building.
There was another moment of silence and then the screaming started. Clark let go of Chip's arm and sprinted for the stairwell. All around him the building had begun to groan and creak ominously.
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End 6/12
I'm experimenting with posting on Friday afternoons, in the hopes it will give you guys more time to leave
comments .
Note: Readers with long memories (or a saved file of this story) might notice that I changed a conversation. Trust me, it works out better in the long run the new way.
