Note: I'm bumping these first four parts up to "repost" them. Longer note at the bottom of this thread. More to come! Here's the story's TOC.
Sara - 6/15/14"Chinese is okay, right? You like Chinese, don't you? I mean, probably not from Peking Palace since you can fly around the world for real Chinese anytime you like. I was trying to find the menu for this place Clark always gets food from, but I guess I don't h--"
"Did you say fly?"
and now...
~~~Part 3~~~She was staring at him now like a deer caught in the headlights. A confused deer. "Yeah... I said fly. You don't... you don't remember that you can fly?"
"Fly how? Like I own a private jet? They let me pilot a plane wearing *this*? Wouldn't... the cape get in the way?"
"No..." She bit at her lower lip. "You, uh..." She made a wavy motion with her hand. "Fly."
"Huh?" He wrinkled his brow in confusion.
"It's sort of like this." Her hands and arms came out in front of her and she leaned forward a bit.
This had to be another joke. "I fly?"
"Yeah."
"Without a plane?" The punch line was coming any second now...
She nodded.
"How?"
Her brow creased. "I'm not sure. You just... do it. Somehow."
"Okay," he said slowly. He was trying his best to believe she wasn't crazy, but she wasn't doing much to make him think otherwise. Maybe he should just humor her. After all, for all he knew... she could be right. Probably was right.
She was still looking at him expectantly. Nervously, as if she was afraid she'd said something wrong. She broke eye contact, and he followed her gaze to her fidgeting hands. She glanced back up, her eyes disappointed.
He felt a small twinge in his chest, and he smiled, hoping he could reassure her--maybe even himself--that she hadn't lost it. That seemed to break her from her distraction.
"So," he started. "Chinese food. Why don't you go ahead and order what you like? It all looks good to me."
She nodded shyly and took the menu back from him. She was quiet on her way back to the kitchen to phone in the order.
Flying?
The idea sounded... wonderful. Insane, but wonderful. Flying under his own power, soaring among the clouds...
It just... couldn't be possible, though. Could it?
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Lois wasn't watching, raised his arms out in front of him as she'd done, and strained upwards from his seat on the couch.
Nothing.
Yeah, too good to be true. Men didn't fly. She had to have meant something else... something similar that made it seem as if he could fly.
What other bizarre revelations did this woman have up her sleeve? Would she be telling him next that he could see through walls and catch bullets in his bare hands? He turned a palm up and examined the creases in his hand, and his eyes wandered to the line of blue spandex that stopped exactly at his wrist. Not too short, not too long.
Where had he gotten this outfit? And who did he think he was, walking around wearing something so ostentatious and calling himself Superman?
Maybe Lois had the answers. She seemed to know a great deal about him, certainly more than he did. And maybe if she had enough answers, he'd be able to remember everything... or at least *something*.
***
She cursed under her breath as she hung up the phone. Of course they'd be closed. It was the middle of the night. Even Chen's Chow. They were *always* open. But tonight, with the asteroid and everything else going on, even they'd decided to close up shop. Why hadn't she thought of that before?
She was a wreck. That was why. Superman was in her living room without a clue who he was. And he was expecting her to feed him. She bit at her lower lip. What was she supposed to do now?
She made her way back to the living room with trepidation. "Uh... Superman?"
She caught the end of a wince on his features before he smiled up at her. "Yes?"
"I, uh... how hungry are you? Because I kind of... there's nothing open right now, and I don't really have anything to feed you. Unless you wouldn't mind one of those frozen dinners, but it's been in the freezer for... a while. I'm not sure it's good anymore. I mean, they don't go bad, normally, it's just that I opened it one night and didn't get around to--"
"It's okay, Lois." There was an amused gleam in his eyes when he interrupted her. "I'm actually not that hungry."
"No?" Her hands twisted in front of her.
He shook his head, and smiled softly. "No."
She bit back a sigh of relief and tried to ignore the little flip in her stomach at the sight of his smile. That smile. The one she'd always known was reserved for her and her alone. Not that he ever did it consciously, but he never looked at anyone else with the same... tenderness. Kind of like the way Clark smiled at her, but not quite.
"Uh, okay. Good. Then we should probably..." Talk? She talked to Superman all the time; there was no need to be nervous. Well, other than the fact that he didn't remember a thing about himself, yet his subconscious seemed to remember how to smile just for her.
Nope. Nothing to be nervous about. And nothing to read into. It was just a smile.
"... talk?" he provided.
"Yeah, talk." Good grief. Couldn't she even finish a sentence? "I, uh... I bet you've probably got a few more questions. I'm not sure I can answer them all for you, but I can try. I know where your suits are now, what kind of rescues you do, some of the charities you volunteer for -"
"Lois?" he interrupted.
She stopped and looked over at him. His eyes were... well, she wasn't going to think about how his eyes were because they reminded her of Clark's when he'd thought she'd gone off the deep end and was worried about telling her so. And that was just ridiculous.
"Yeah?"
"Are we... more than friends?"
She nearly choked. Oh, god.
How was she supposed to answer that? Yes, please? No? If you'd only give it a chance? Only in my dreams?
She swallowed. Hard. She should have at least made some coffee. Taking a sip or ten would have given her time to... think.
No, no. No thinking needed. She knew the answer. No, they weren't. That was the answer, plain and simple. That was how he wanted it. As much as he seemed conflicted with his own boundaries, he'd still been the one to set and keep them. She had to respect that.
She shook her head, though didn't say anything. Her voice didn't feel very trustworthy at the moment, as if it were holding on to some silly notion that if she didn't actually say it aloud...
She coughed. "No, we're not... more than friends."
An inscrutable looked passed over his eyes, but she did catch more than a touch of confusion in there. "Ah, okay," he said.
Asking him why he'd asked would be out of the question. Right? Or maybe...
Well, there had to be a reason why he had. It wasn't her place to pry, though. No reason to open up a can of worms she had no business opening.
He cleared his throat, and she looked up again. "I, uh... I'm just asking because..."
She swallowed again, resisting the urge to offer him a can opener.
She followed his gaze over to the picture frame on her end table. The photograph wasn't facing them, but she knew well which one it was--her and Clark in the newsroom. She loved that picture. But why was Superman...
He wasn't asking. His eyes had dropped from the frame already and were staring down at his wrist where the spandex met skin. "Never mind," he told his wrist before he looked back up at her. "So, you were saying something about charities, right?"
Her brow furrowed. He wasn't going to give a reason for his abrupt change of mind.
***
It was better not to ask her. She'd said they weren't more than friends, and she didn't really have a reason to lie about it. Unless it was one-sided. Which could be possible, but didn't really explain why she'd been so flustered all night. Or why she'd been... gawking at him when he'd been wearing nothing but the towel. There was definitely a mutual attraction. He just... got the feeling that he shouldn't mention it. And for some reason that made him unaccountably sad.
He watched her and half-listened as she rattled off charities and functions and a slew of other events that didn't sound at all familiar. Then she yawned. A huge yawn.
It was late, wasn't it? He looked around for a clock. Yikes. Three a.m. "You're tired, Lois. We should go to bed." He found her wide-eyed and staring at him. And he could have sworn he'd heard her breath hitch, but that had to be his mind playing tricks on him. "Sleep. We should go to sleep."
She nodded slowly.
"Which brings up the question... where do I live?"
She stared, speechless, and his heart started thumping.
"Oh, god. I'm sorry, I should have asked that first off! Here I am keeping you up at all hours when I could have been home already, and..."
"I don't know."
Huh? "You don't know what?"
She blushed, ducking her head. "I don't know where you live."
She didn't... They were friends, weren't they? "How do..." Why didn't she know?
"I... well, you've never told me before. And I just found out tonight... you keep all your extra suits at Clark's place."
"Extra suits?"
"Well, yeah. More of the..." She made a sweeping gesture at the loud red and blue he was wearing. "Suits."
That was just... something to worry about later.
"Anyway, you keep them at Clark's place, so maybe... I guess maybe you don't have a ho-- don't have a place to... stay."
How did he not have a place to live? "Maybe I live at Clark's, then?"
"I... I don't think so. I would have noticed. Or Clark would have told me. At least, I think he would have told me. Even though he didn't tell me about the suits. But I've been there plenty of times and... I'm not sure."
"Could we call and ask him? Or is he asleep already?"
A worried look crossed her face. "I... He actually wasn't home. I'm not sure where he is." She frowned and her brow creased.
He didn't like seeing her like this. Something about her being upset sat uneasily with him. But at the same time, he felt a small pluck of jealousy towards this man who was apparently a good friend of his.
She waved a hand in the air, as if brushing the worry aside, though he could clearly see it still bothered her. "He probably managed to find a flight to Smallville to see his parents or something."
"If you're sure..." What was there he could do? "We could look for him or something."
She shook her head and cleared her throat. "No, it's okay. He'll be fine. He has a habit of disappearing, anyway. Meantime, you need a place to stay. I know my couches aren't the most comfortable, but you're welcome to sleep here. Or, actually, I should take the couch. You take the bed. You've been through a lot, and you're my guest and--"
"The couch is fine, Lois. I insist." The word comfortable shouldn't even be allowed *near* the definition of her couches, but he didn't want to kick her out of her own bed, not when she'd done so much to help him already. "Thank you," he said softly.
Her head tilted slightly. "For what?"
"For whatever it is that you've done for me that makes me feel so good about you."
Her cheeks flushed a bit, and she ducked her head. "You're welcome." She smiled at him and he felt his heart do a little flip. "Okay. I, uh... I'll go get you a blanket and a spare pillow. I'll be right back."
He watched her disappear into the bedroom. Maybe he should have offered to stay over at Clark's. She still seemed a bit nervous around him, and he didn't want to make her more uncomfortable.
But... he didn't know Clark. Even as good of friends as they were supposed to be, he just didn't feel right intruding, especially when the guy wasn't there. Not to mention he didn't know anyone but Lois. Yeah, it was a selfish reason to stay, but the idea of leaving everything he knew, leaving her, made him anxious. He'd figure out where he could go in the morning.
***
Lois climbed into her bed and pulled the covers up over her shoulders. It might have been a little rude to just hand him the blanket and pillow and retreat to her room with nothing more than a quiet goodnight, but she couldn't help it. She felt horribly unbalanced and depressed.
Here, she thought she'd be the best person for Superman to have help him in this situation, but she wasn't. Not at all. She hadn't known where he kept his suits. She didn't know where he lived. She didn't know how he flew, or how *any* of his powers worked, for that matter. She didn't really know Superman at all.
She turned to her side and curled up, hugging the pillow to her cheek. How had she disillusioned herself so much? If anyone had asked her yesterday, she would have told them she was the foremost expert on Superman. She knew him best. She was friends with him.
Well, that wasn't even close to the truth. Sure, she probably still knew him better than most of the world, but when it came to the important stuff, she was still in the dark.
Clark knew, though. She'd always known Clark was closer to Superman than she was, but she hadn't realized how much closer. Clark certainly knew where Superman lived if the superhero was keeping his capes at Clark's apartment. He probably even knew how Superman took his coffee and how he liked his eggs. There was a whole other side of Superman she didn't know about. And Clark did.
That was what hurt the most. Clark hadn't told her. She'd thought she knew Clark pretty darned well. She knew how *he* drank his coffee. She knew lots of things about Clark. She knew she could call him her best friend and mean it. And she'd thought he could say the same of her. But what kind of best friend never said anything about building closet space for the local superhero's wardrobe? And what kind of best friend took off without notice or explanation during such a time as this?
He had better be all right. She'd call first thing in the morning to see if he'd gotten home yet. Then, after she gave him a piece of her mind for disappearing during a world crisis, they'd figure out a way to help Superman get his memory back.
tbc... when the Muse figures out how long it really is, so probably Saturday night? 
