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Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found Here

Where we left off in Part 65 …

Lois set down the phone. Barbara Trevino had just threatened her. Not in so many words, but she sure had implied it. Moreover, Lois had just sent Clark home. Good going there, Lane. Not that she was scared. Of course not. It was just an idle threat. Lois was threatened by the people she wrote about all the time. She was fine. She took a deep breath. Fine.

Just as she told Cat, she wasn’t scared. Finn was in jail, and it was doubtful that Barbara Trevino would come after her personally, being who the woman was, but still…

Lois picked up her phone, wondering if Clark was home yet. Then she set it back down again. She was being paranoid. Barbara Trevino wasn’t coming after her. She was only trying to scare Lois, and it wasn’t going to work because Lois didn’t scare easily. No, not at all. She was fine. More than fine. A lot fine.

Crap.

Suddenly, Lois didn’t want to be in the office any longer, but she didn’t want to go home either. Sebastian Finn had found her at home. She could go to Clark’s apartment. She dropped her head into her palm. She couldn’t go to Clark, not after all she had said about not needing him to protect her. No, she could handle this. She was just nervous, that was all.

Of course, if she had another reason to go to Clark’s besides needing his protection, she wouldn’t feel so weak about going there. She could tell Clark that was the reason… well, not in so many words… but it was a great excuse to go to Clark’s apartment. She nodded as she started to pack her briefcase. Yes, she would go to Clark’s apartment. He would let her stay the night, right? Of course, he would. He’d have her move in, if he could. Moreover, while he was asleep, she would be able to search his apartment for clues on his identity. It wasn’t like she was going to get any sleep anyway. That would be the true reason for her going to Clark’s, not because she was scared, because she wasn’t scared.

Yeah, right, Lane.

***

Part 66

Clark stopped the VCR and went to open the door. “Lois!” he said in shock. What was she doing there? “Is everything all right?”

“Hi,” Lois said weakly. “You don’t mind if I… I…” She didn’t seem able to finish.

“Come in?” he answered for her, stepping away from the door.

“Thanks,” she said, entering. “I just would feel better if I… um… didn’t… uh… have to…”

“Go home tonight?” Clark suggested, his heart racing. He didn’t know if it was because something had spooked Lois or because she might say yes.

“Yes,” she more breathed in relief, than spoke.

“You’re always welcome, Lois. You know that,” he reassured her. Actually, he was pleased that she trusted him enough to come to him in her hour of need, pleased in a way he knew he should no longer be now that he knew that he needed to save Lois’s true Clark. “What happened?”

She brushed aside her reasons for being there with a wave of her hand.

Okay, later then.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked, changing the topic. “I thought I heard music.”

Clark blushed. “Nothing.”

Lois raised a brow and walked further into his apartment looking around. “Nothing?”

“Okay, I was watching a movie,” he said, picking up the box the movie Cat had given him earlier as part of her ‘Earth cultural enrichment program’ she had put him on, and hid it behind his back. Apparently, he had made some horrendous faux pas regarding a well-known movie star during one of their conversations, and she deemed it important to keep his cover persona secure. Part and parcel to ‘fitting in here on Earth’, Cat had told him. Some of the films made in his dimension were the same here, but others were not.

“What are you hiding, Clark?” Lois asked, dropping her coat and briefcase next to his sofa.

“Nothing,” he said, turning around quickly to enter his kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?” He had stocked up on cream soda, just in case Lois ever came by. “Or eat?”

“Clark Jerome Kent, I can’t believe you’re lying to me,” Lois said, setting her hands on her hips. “Again.”

He winced. She would pick up on that one measly detail. “Fine,” he retorted. “Not that it’s important, but Cat lent me a movie to watch.”

Lois paled and her jaw dropped. “Is it a…?” she started saying and then glanced surreptitiously at the television.

“A what?” he asked, not following.

She looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he didn’t know to what she was referring.

His eyes widened. “Goodness! I hope not,” he said, contemplating the box. “She said it was about a theft, a court case.” He shook his head, unable to figure out where Cat had come up with that description of this movie. Five minutes in, and he already doubted the validity of Cat’s statement. With a shrug, he tossed Lois the box.

Lois examined it and burst into laughter. “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?”

It was good to see Lois laugh again after the last couple of days. Too bad, it had to be at his expense.

“It’s a Marilyn Monroe movie, Clark,” she explained through her laughter. “Oh, I guess there’s a bit of intrigue towards the end, but mostly it’s her and Jane Russell singing, dancing, and flirting with a bunch of men.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling more the fool. Another Marilyn Monroe movie, after he had told Cat he hadn’t liked ‘the man contemplating an affair’ plot of The Seven Year Itch. He should have known. He had heard of Jane Russell. She was a popular actress in his dimension as well. “I guess I shouldn’t have mentioned that I hadn’t seen any of Marilyn Monroe’s movies. Cat’s been ‘educating’ me ever since.”

Lois set the box down on the coffee table and joined him in the kitchen. “I’m glad it isn’t a porno.”

“Me, too,” he said, and then couldn’t help chuckling at the thought of Lois walking in on him accidentally watching one of those. Not that he ever would on purpose, because he didn’t. Not anymore. Not for many years. He decided to get his mind off that topic. “So, what are you feeling hungry for?”

“Italian,” she said, and Clark could feel a blush creep up his cheeks.

Oh, please, please, don’t ask for the famous pasta I made that night Superman broke up with you, he begged her with his mind. He had stayed at her place the night before. They had come to his apartment that morning to shower. She had asked to stay over at his place tonight. They had just touched on the topic of pornography, and if she mentioned pasta, there was no way he could possibly make it two more months, let alone two minutes, without kissing her. He should never have kissed her fingers the night before when he had visited her apartment as Superman. He gulped.

“How about we order some pizza and ‘educate’ you on Marilyn?” Lois suggested, setting her hand on his chest for a moment. “It’s the perfect movie to get our mind off things.”

Clark glanced down at where her hand had seared his chest with its heat. His mind would be stuck on ‘things’ for the foreseeable future. For the first time in his life, he wished that Lois were mad at him again. Her anger was much easier to deal with than her friendship.

***

“That was different,” Clark said later, switching off the television with the remote and leaning back against the sofa. He rested against one end and Lois against the other, with their knees meeting in the middle. “I don’t understand the title though. It seemed like Jane Russell was having much more fun than Marilyn was. She’s a bit like you.”

Okay, I’ll bite, Lois decided. “Jane or Marilyn?”

“Jane, of course. A smart, sassy, fiercely loyal, and talented brunette,” he explained. “Someone who was always up for a lark.”

Uh-huh. “So, you didn’t mean her assets?” she asked skeptically.

He tossed her a naughty grin that, for once, went straight to his eyes. “I have no idea to what you’re referring,” he replied, clearly knowing exactly what she meant. “I’ve already listed her ‘assets’.”

Lois guffawed. “You can’t keep going around lying, Clark,” she teased, picking up the pizza box from the coffee table and dumping it into the trash. Besides the obvious reasons that it made her angry and that it went against his personality, he was just plain lousy at it. Although, he had fooled her for months. Or had he?

Clark popped the movie out of the machine and put it back into its box. “Actually, I don’t lie as much as you do,” he countered.

“Excuse me?” She couldn’t believe that he was taking this path. Was he picking a fight with her on purpose?

“Most everything I say is the truth. Can you say that about yourself?” Clark asked.

“No, but…” Ooooh. She hated when he used her words against her. “I’m from Metropolis; you’re from…?” Where was he from? That was her main motivation for coming to his apartment this evening, to find out. Italy? Possibly, but he didn’t know that she knew that. “Kansas?” she supplied, drenched in sarcasm, when he didn’t fill in her blank.

Clark nodded, taking the last sip of his wine.

Damn! She had given him an answer to her question, instead of waiting for him to respond. What was she? A freshman journalism student? Pushing aside his origins for the time being, she went back to their current conflict. “Exactly!”

“Where or how someone grows up shouldn’t have any bearing on their moral conduct,” he replied.

She hated when he tore down her arguments before she made them. “I’ve got a deal for you, Chuck. I’ll stop lying when you do.”

He smiled as if he had her. “I’ve told you my secrets, Lois. You’ve chosen not to believe me.”

“All of them?” she challenged.

He shrugged. “For the most part.”

Most part? How about, for the least part?

Clark went into his bedroom and returned with a blanket and pillow for the couch. Evidently, he wasn’t planning to invite her to his bed, which was good. He shouldn’t expect to pick up their relationship where it had ended several months earlier just because she asked to stay the night. It would be wrong to take advantage of her when she felt uncomfortable returning to her apartment. Actually, he had done a superb job of keeping his flirtation to a minimum all evening, more so than she had, she noted. He had hardly touched her, barely brushing her hand once when he handed her a glass of wine, bumping knees when she had kicked off her heels and curled up on the couch. She had only caught him sending her sidelong glances a couple of times during some of Marilyn’s scenes that were more ‘overt’.

As soon as they found Barbara Trevino, their little slumber parties would end, and they could go back to business as usual. She cleared her throat as a pang of disappointment washed over her. Still, it would have been nice if he had asked her before casting her out to the couch.

No, it would have been awkward. He was right in not asking her to his bed, especially since their relationship was more friendship and business partners now, than the romance it had once been. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her since… since… how long had it been? Since Smallville? No, that couldn’t be right. Certainly, he had tried to kiss her since then, hadn’t he?

There was a ever-growing part of her that wanted to say ‘yes’ to anything Clark might suggest, so she was glad he wasn’t asking her any ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions at the moment, as in ‘Can I hold your hand?’, ‘May I hold you?’, ‘Can I kiss you?’, or the biggy, ‘May I make love to you?’ Not that she would’ve said ‘yes’ to a kiss, necking, petting, getting naked, taking a long hot steamy shower… She shook these thoughts out of her head. She really wanted to say ‘yes’ to Clark. He had promised to make love to her, when she was ready, and she still planned to take him up on that, someday. Luckily, her brain was still in control today.

What were they talking about again?

Right, his penchant for lying, and the reason someday wasn’t today. “You say so many things, Clark. How am I supposed to know what to take as truth and what’s said in jest to cover up the truth?”

He stared at her for a while as if choosing his words carefully. “I don’t want to lie to you, Lois,” he admitted softly.

“Then don’t.”

“I’ll try, to the best of my abilities, to be truthful with you at all times,” Clark suggested, and that was exactly what it was ‘a suggestion’, not a promise.

Lois couldn’t believe him. “‘To the best of your abilities’?”

“Sometimes, I may have to lead you down one path safely, while the true path may be to one side or the other,” he vaguely explained.

“For my safety? I don’t want you protect me, Clark. I can take care of myself,” she told him proudly.

Confusion, streaked with disbelief, moseyed across his face. “What do you want from me, then?”

Everything else! “Is that all you have to offer?” she retorted.

“No!” Clark exclaimed, and then continued hesitantly, “Of… course… not…” It was as if the concept had never occurred to him before.

She patted his chest. “There’s more to you than a set of broad shoulders and a penchant for jumping between me and danger, you know, Clark.”

His eyes lit up as if she had told him that she loved him, heart and soul.

Lois didn’t know what to think. He seemed genuinely pleased by her words. His modesty didn’t seem false in the least. “You’re an odd one, Clark Kent,” she mumbled.

“You keep saying that. Am I that different from other men?” he asked, once more letting go of his self-esteem. The pleasure from her earlier words had already faded from his eyes. How could a man as kind and caring as Clark not know how wonderful a friend he could be? Well, when he wasn’t lying.

“Yes,” Lois replied, and as his face fell even more, she reassured him. “That’s not necessarily as bad thing, Chuck.”

“And you’re not like other women,” he said, returning the compliment.

“Damn straight!” she said. She picked up the blanket he had set down and gave a flick of her wrist.

“What are you doing?” Clark asked.

“I’m flying to the moon. What does it look like? I’m making up the couch,” she stated the obvious.

“I can do that,” he offered, reaching to take the blanket away from her.

“I invited myself over,” she retorted, pulling it away from him. “The least I can do is make my own bed, Clark.”

“But this is my bed, Lois, or where I’ll be sleeping. I want you to take my bed,” he insisted.

“That’s not necessary,” Lois said.

“Probably not,” Clark said vaguely. “But if you’re afraid someone is out to get you…”

“Barbara Trevino,” she admitted, setting down the blanket. “She called shortly after you left the office.”

“Did she threaten you?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Not in so many words. It was more implied,” Lois replied with a shiver, glancing away. “I’d rather not be alone.”

Clark enveloped her in his arms. “As long as I’m around, you’ll never have to be.”

She melted into his chest. There was just something about Clark that was so solid and made her feel safe. It probably had something to do with his ability to call Superman.

“You didn’t bring a suitcase,” he murmured into her hair. “Do you want me to swing by your apartment and…?”

“No! Don’t go,” Lois said a tad more forcefully than she meant to.

“Okay,” he replied, tightening his embrace slightly.

They stood like that for another minute. It felt good to have Clark hold her again as if his arms were a shield of armor to protect her from the evils of the world. Not that she needed protecting, as she had said, still it was a nice change from that vulnerable feeling which had permeated her last couple of days. The longer she stayed in his arms, the more his lies about his past didn’t matter. There was just something about Clark that made her think he could somehow help her recover from all the pain in her life. The longer she stayed in his arms, the less she wanted to leave them.

What in the world was she thinking?

Lois stepped out of Clark’s embrace, so that her mind could function clearly again. “You shouldn’t have to give up your bed for me,” she murmured.

“Are you suggesting that we share it?” he asked, his voice deepening, while having a sharp panicked edge to it.

Oh, no! That would be a disaster. That wasn’t why she had come to his place. “No, no, no, no, no,” she repeated quickly.

“I agree,” Clark said, exhaling in relief. “I will take the couch.”

She opened her mouth to protest further. He agreed?

“Lois, if you feel as if Barbara Trevino is after you, you’ll sleep better knowing that I’m between you and the front door.”

She had to concede that point; but would he be able to sleep on the couch? How would she be able to rifle through his drawers, searching for clues, if he couldn’t sleep? “I don’t want to deprive you of a good night’s sleep,” she answered.

He gazed at her in such a way she could almost read his mind. Do you think I’ll be able to sleep with you here, anyway? It seemed to say.

“And now for clothes,” Clark announced with a clap of his hands as if the previous matter had been settled. “Something for you to sleep in.”

“Really, don’t bother, Clark. It’s not necessary,” Lois said. “I hate that I’m inconveniencing you so much already.”

He made an odd strangled sort of noise. “Trust me, Lois, when I say clothes wouldn’t be a bother, no bother at all,” he said, and hurried into his bedroom. She followed.

“Pajamas are in the top drawer. T-shirts are in the second, and sweats and shorts in the bottom drawer. You’re welcome to wear anything you want,” Clark said.

“If I can’t find anything, I can always sleep naked.” The words came out of her mouth before she even knew they were forming.

“You’re definitely sleeping in my bed,” he retorted hoarsely. “But I’m sure you’ll find something, if just a t-shirt.”

Well, so much for the ‘keeping him from checking up on me because he thinks I’m naked’ plan, she thought wryly. Not that she would have actually been naked in Clark’s bed with him in the next room. She would have been in her underwear. She flushed, realizing that she really hadn’t thought that idea through before speaking it. “You’re right. Clothes sound good.”

He opened the top drawer. He closed it, just as quickly, and instead pulled out sweat pants and a t-shirt for himself from the other drawers, before excusing himself to the bathroom to change.

Lois wondered what that drawer dance had been all about. Was there something he hadn’t wanted her to see in that top drawer? She made a beeline to re-open it. Unfortunately, there was nothing unusual in it. She went all the way to the bottom and sides of the drawer, too. She shrugged, glad that Clark was taking his sweet time in the bathroom. She didn’t want to tempt fate any longer, and she should choose something to wear to bed before he returned.

Pajamas? Now, instead of looking for something hidden, she actually looked at the contents of the top drawer. He had said pajamas, right? She didn’t really see any typical pajamas, long pants and long sleeve shirts, flannel or otherwise, in that top drawer. There were silky shorts, some with matching shirts, some without. Did he wear the ones without a matching top with a t-shirt or shirtless? Did Clark only wear sleep shorts, silky sleep shorts, to sleep? Her thoughts buzzed with that possibility. In the dark recesses of her mind, she brought out a memory of Clark answering his door in that amount of undress one night – was it the night that Allie died? – when she had come by unexpectantly. No wonder Clark hadn’t chosen anything from that drawer. Much, much too sexy.

Her brow furrowed as she frowned. Why didn’t he want to tempt her by wearing so little? Why not? He liked her, right? He had told her so repeatedly, right? Had that changed? Or was he just being a gentleman, honoring her request for space? On the other hand, Clark could just be modest, embarrassed to have her see him in that much clothing, or little, as the case may be. No, he hadn’t seemed that modest when she walked in on him, when he was living at the Apollo Hotel, and he was only dressed in the towel. Of course, they had only just started working together way back then. Now, they had known each other for over six months… had it really been only six months since the Messenger explosion? Wow. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Lois pulled a pair of Clark’s silky sleep shorts and a matching button down shirt out of the top drawer. She would wait until she had the privacy of his bathroom to change. In the meantime, she opened his t-shirt drawer, and then the bottom drawer, searching for anything and everything hidden inside. Nothing out of the ordinary popped out at her.

Clark returned from the bathroom, wearing the sweat pants and t-shirt, and looking casual and yet, at the same time, distinctly uncomfortable, almost to the point of twitchy. “Bathroom’s free,” he announced. “I… um… your toothbrush is the red one. Were you able to find…?”

She nodded, draping her chosen nightclothes over her arm. “Thanks. I really appreciate this, Clark.”

“No problem, Lois. Anytime,” Clark said, and then cleared his throat. “I’m always here for you.”

Lois touched his chest and smiled. “That’s what I…” love about you. No, she couldn’t say that. “That’s great, Clark. I appreciate it. Thanks.”

*

Clark waited out on his couch. Tonight felt different from the night before at Lois’s apartment. It felt more intimate, more romantic, and more torturous.

Case in point, he heard Lois exit his bathroom and just the sound of her bare feet on his floor was making his blood rush.

She’s no longer mine, he reminded himself. She belongs to her Clark. His mind might know the truth, but his heart wasn’t listening. He couldn’t even fly off and give himself some relief without garnering Lois’s suspicions. Not that he would leave anyway, because she felt her life was in danger, which knowing Lois, it probably was. He was forced to stay here in his apartment with her constantly making innocent-sounding comments, which his mind and body were all too willing to read otherwise. It was the sweetest torture he had ever endured. Was she doing this to him on purpose? Or was she just being herself, blissfully unaware of the blatant sexuality in every little thing she did or said? He swallowed and, hearing a sound, glanced up from his clasped hands.

Lois leaned against the wall dividing his bedroom from his kitchen, staring at him. Did she really not know how alluring she was, wearing his button down brown silk pajama shirt with the teeny-tiny autumn leaves on it? The shirt clung to her curves more than cotton or polyester. The shirt provocatively revealed her bare legs all the way to her – oh, my! – upper thighs.

“The shorts were a bit loose,” she admitted.

That was a detail she didn’t need to state aloud. For one, he didn’t need it declared so baldly how little she was wearing. For two, he had already noticed. For three, now he had to use all of his strength to pull his eyes from starting at her legs and back to her eyes. That shirt, which he had only worn a couple of times, was now his favorite. Those sheets, she was about to bless with her body, with her bare skin, would never… well, okay, he admitted, he would have to wash them at some point, but not until he had seared every aspect of her smell into his memory.

Clark forced himself to smile and stand up. “Good night, then.”

Lois started moving towards the kitchen. “Don’t mind me; I’m just going to get a glass of water.”

His mind raced forward in time, anticipating that she would have to reach above her shoulders to get a glass, possibly even going onto her toes, raising that sleep shirt higher up her thighs to her… “Here! Let me,” he suggested, bolting from his position at the couch.

“That’s not necessary, Clark. I can get myself a cup of water,” Lois said, misinterpreting his motivations. Although, he would rather her think that, then his true intention.

“Of course you can,” he garbled, stopping behind her and allowing her to get her own water. Fortunately, he was now near enough that if he kept his chin tilted to a ninety-degree angle to the floor, he couldn’t see that far down her body. He couldn’t see her body, but it was as if he could sense her near body, almost to the point of touch anyway. His body reached towards her, each hair standing on end to be that much closer to her. He felt as if something from deep inside him could feel her, even if his actual self could not.

She turned back around as she sipped her water, blissfully unaware of what she was doing to him. Yet, she focused her eyes anywhere but on him, searching, looking, and examining his apartment with careful scrutiny. Was this as difficult for her as it was for him? He couldn’t see how it could be.

“Clark,” Lois said, and then stopped as if she were unsure if she should proceed. It wasn’t like her usual steamroller attitude. A moment later, she must have realized this and continued on, “You haven’t decorated your apartment for the holidays.”

He blinked and looked at his apartment as if through her eyes. “No, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

He normally didn’t. Sure, he would get a tree, a Charlie Brown type tree, like the one Lois had bought herself, but that was about it. This year, he hadn’t wanted to be reminded of the holiday. Clark shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just not the jolly elf type.”

“Oh, Chuck, you are sooo the jolly elf type,” she said with a smile. “You seem like the kind of guy who would not only love Christmas, but embody it.”

He frowned. “I used to love Christmas, but…” his voice trailed off. After his folks died, he had let the spirit of Christmas die along with them. Christmas with the Langs had always been more of a torment than a festivity. When he got the job at the Daily Planet, he used to volunteer to work Christmas Day just to get out of it.

Lois set her hand on his arm. “I never knew your parents, Clark, but I’m betting that they wouldn’t want to be your excuse for not living your life to the fullest.” She squeezed his arm with a reassuring smile and headed towards his bedroom. “Good night.”

He was stunned. She was right on so many levels. His parents would want him to go after his dreams. “Love me,” he whispered, almost to the point of pleading.

She continued through the archway without looking back at him. Had she heard him? He hoped not, being as he sounded pathetic and needy.

Clark wished he had taken the opportunity to zip across the room, take her in his arms, and press to her lips the kiss he so desperately wanted to give her. Moments like this showed him how clearly she was what he needed in life to survive. She was the breath of fresh air for his lungs. She understood him, like nobody else could. She was his soul mate.

With a sigh, Clark flicked off the light and lay down on his makeshift bed. Another lost opportunity. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered what he could count as he waited for the hours to pass until morning. The epiphany she had shown him behind door number three would surely keep him occupied for most of the night.

“Damn Superman for being right,” he heard Lois grumble to herself as she settled into his bed, tossing and turning as she tried to get comfortable.

Clark’s brow furrowed. He was right? That was news. He wondered if Lois would enlighten him on what.

“A kiss was like a potato chip. You can’t stop at one,” she said to herself.

A kiss? Lois wanted to kiss him? He smiled and scooted down into the blankets. She was as miserable as he was. His smile turned into a full-blown grin. She wanted him, and that was a step towards forgiveness. He didn’t know if it was a first step or a last one, but he knew it was in there somewhere. He started to formulate a plan on how best to tell her the truth about Superman, so that they could finally move on together with their…

His eyes pressed shut and dotted with tears as his heart shattered into fragments. He was leaving in two months. He and Lois would never move on together. She would move on with her Clark and he would return to his cold desolate life back in his home dimension.

***

Mr. Tracewski stepped towards Lois and wrapped his hands around her neck.

Thank God, her self-defense courses automatically kicked in. What happened next was kind of a blur. She fought her landlord tooth-and-nail. Literately. She had actually bitten the man. Was that before or after she had kicked him in the jaw? Suddenly, Clark was there. Talking to the man. Why was he talking to him? she wondered as the room went dark.

The next thing she could remember was that she was in Clark’s arms. He was on the floor, holding her and she was coughing. Breathing. More gasping for air than breathing. But Clark was there. Clark was there. Clark was there.

Lois reached up as well as she could and wrapped her arms around him.

“Clark.” was there.

“Clark,” had said he would protect her.

“Clark,” had said someone wanted to kill her.

“Clark,” had been right.

She felt Clark’s arms pull her against his chest, making her feel safer than she had ever felt before.

Safer than if she had saved herself.

Safer than with any man she had ever met.

Safer than with Superman.

Lois never wanted to leave.

Her eyes opened. Lois knew without looking at that clock that it was still the middle of the night. “Clark,” she whispered, her voice sounding hoarse, as if Mr. Make-Up’s strangulation had actually occurred. “He tried to kill me.”

“Who?” Clark asked, suddenly standing next to her.

“Mr. Tracewski,” she murmured, gazing up at him. Was Clark real? She had been so sure she would awake alone and that he would turn out to be only a figment of her imagination. She held out her hand to him. She had to touch him to make sure that she still wasn’t dreaming.

He sat down on the bed next to her, and her hand snaked around his arm. “No, he didn’t, Lois. It was just a dream,” he reassured her.

“No,” she told him, tightening her hold on him. “It wasn’t a dream. He was in my apartment. He had his hands around around my throat. I couldn’t breathe. You saved me.”

Clark moved closer to her and ran his hand over her hair. “Shhhh,” he whispered. “It was just a nightmare. You’re safe now.”

“Please, don’t leave me,” she pleaded, clutching at his chest. “Please, Clark. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Okay, I won’t,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest. “I’m here. I’m right here. I’m here.”

Lois leaned her head against his chest. “Thank you, Clark. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for being there. Thank you,” she whispered, still holding him tightly in her arms. She listened to his distinctive heartbeat, finally relaxing back into sleep with his warmth.

*

Had that just been a nightmare, part and parcel of her really bad week? Or was that a memory? A memory of her Clark saving her from the fake Tracewski?

He closed his eyes as he held Lois close to his chest.

It was the not knowing that killed him.

A tear dripped down Clark’s cheek.

How would he ever be able to leave her, knowing she needed him as much as he needed her?

***End of Part 66***

Part 67

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is a 1953 film starring Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell, screenplay written by Charles Lederer, based on a stage musical by Joseph Fields and Anita Loos. It was directed by Howard Hawks. It's my favorite MM movie and heartedly recommend it. (This is the one with MM's rendition of "Diamonds are A Girl's Best Friend".)

The Seven Year Itch is a 1955 film starring Marilyn Monroe and Tom Ewell, screenplay by Billy Wilder and George Axelrod, based on George Axelrod's stage play. It was directed by Billy Wilder. (This is the one with the famous scene with MM over the subway grate that blows the skirt of her white dress over her head.) It's set during a heat wave in NYC.

Charlie Brown is a comic character from the Peanuts strip, written and illustrated by Charles Schultz. His purchase of the wimpiest tree of on the lot comes from the 1965 film A Charlie Brown Christmas , written by Charles Schultz, and directed by Bill Melendez.

Comments , as always, are most welcome.