Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found
HerePart 88Part 89*******************
Jonathan and Meena*******************
Clark continued to lie in his semi-dark hospital room. Apparently, full darkness was a no-no in hospitals, even when one was trying to sleep. When one wasn’t allowed visitors, television, radio, reading, or communication with the outside world, sleep really was the only option left open for him. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He was allowed
a visitor. Thank goodness. Inspector Henderson had stopped by a little while earlier. He had brought Clark a bag of clothes and another pair of glasses.
When the room was dark like this, and he took off the sunglasses, Clark could see just fine, so he wasn’t quite sure why needed glasses. Not that he had anything to look at in this room. There was the heart rate monitor, the IV bag, the closed curtains of the window, the door to the bathroom, and one – he had decided after hours of staring at it – hideous landscape. It was of some mountains and valley, and even though he had no recollection of ever visiting such a place, he felt that there was something off or
wrong about the picture, but he had no idea what.
Inspector Henderson had said that he wanted to try something that might jog his memory. Then he had pulled out a mirror.
It had never occurred to Clark that he didn’t know his own appearance. First, he had gazed in the mirror with the sunglasses on, but he didn’t recognize the man he saw, so he had taken off the sunglasses. That man hadn’t seemed any more familiar. He had brown eyes, tan skin, and other than that, looked pretty average to him. It looked like he had a bit of food stuck between his teeth. He examined it, just to make sure he didn’t, and then gazed at the inspector.
“I’m sorry,” Clark had said.
“You don’t usually wear a cap,” Henderson had replied.
Yes, the white hat with a big fluffy ball at the top had to go. Removing it caused his dark brown, almost black, hair to stick up in a most fluffy manner. Clark glanced at Henderson skeptically, but the man had merely pulled out a comb.
As Clark had tried to tame his wild locks, Henderson had gone into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water, and suggested that Clark dip the comb in the water.
Clark was hopeful for some sort of recognition; therefore, he didn’t mention how the doctor probably wouldn’t recommend this for someone he had spent all day warming up. The slicked back locks were an improvement to the fluff, but still hadn’t felt like him.
“Anything?” asked Henderson with a catch to his voice. Clearly,
he remembered Clark looking like this.
Clark shook his head, which loosened this stiff style, causing a curl to fall to his forehead. Something tugged at his memory. He pulled down another curl on the other side to frame his face.
Yes, that seems better, he thought with a nod.
“Shall we try the glasses?” Henderson said.
“I can see fine without them,” Clark admitted.
The inspector stared at him before saying, “But you usually wear them; maybe you have astigmatism.”
Clark had no idea what that was, but guessed from the context that it was some kind of eye disorder requiring glasses. He shrugged. “Okay, let’s try them.”
When Henderson pulled out the glasses from the side pocket of the bag, a piece of paper fluttered out. The inspector scowled, muttering something under his breath that sounded like ‘Bane’, but probably was ‘insane’.
“What?” Clark asked, but the man shook off the comment as unimportant. Not to be deterred, Clark pointed at the paper. “What’s that? Is that for me?”
Henderson glanced at the note, raised an eyebrow, and passed it to Clark. “You tell me.”
Chuck,
I wish I could see you, but it’s up to me now to save the world. Perry, Jimmy, and I miss you. Okay, Cat does too. Take care and come home soon.
Love,
MeenaClark looked at Henderson with confusion. “No, this isn’t for me,” he said, sighing with disappointment. “It’s for some guy named ‘Chuck’ with kids and a cat. Meena must be his wife.” He looked down at the note again, running his thumb over the word ‘love’. How he wished the note could be for him, and that someone out there missed and loved him. “I don’t have a family, do I?” he asked.
“Not that I’ve ever heard of,” Henderson replied softly.
“Oh,” Clark murmured. He could have disappeared into the bay and nobody would have missed him. This thought tugged at his chest.
He glanced down at the glasses case and decided he might as well get this over with, maybe he would remember something and could finally move on with his life, not that it was a life he much liked at this moment. He didn’t know what ties Clark Kent used to have to the world, but he would like to make some now. He hated the idea of being alone, of nobody missing him when he had disappeared. He flipped open the glasses case, pulled out the frames from the cloth they were wrapped in, and set them on his face.
His vision seemed to be the same with the prescription as without. Perhaps the inspector was right, and he needed them for some eye disorder. Clark glanced at his image, but didn’t recognize it any more than he had without the glasses. He shook his head. “Sorry, Inspector. I’m still a blank,” he said.
“That’s okay, Kent. These things take time. It’s only day one,” Henderson replied, but Clark could hear the disappointment in his tone.
“I appreciate all the help you’re giving me,” Clark said, trying to bolster the man’s spirits. “I’d be going out of my head with boredom, if it weren’t for you.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Henderson said. “Doctor’s orders.”
Clark had glanced at the clock on the wall and had seen that the nurse was due at any time to check his vitals. He decided that for the time being the sunglasses were the safest option for his ailing eyes. As he returned his new glasses to the case, he saw something down at the bottom, a picture and a key. “Inspector?” he said, palming the picture and handing over the key to the man.
“What’s this?” Henderson asked, examining the key.
“It was under my glasses,” Clark said.
As he suspected, the inspector took the glasses case to see if there was anything else inside. Meanwhile, Clark glanced down at the drawing in his hand. It was of a woman with short dark hair. She was beautiful, yet sad. Something about the eyes, he thought. He knew that whoever she was, she must have been special to him, if he kept a picture of her in his spare glasses case.
“Looks like a house key. Your apartment was broken into last week. It’s possible that you kept a spare deadbolt key with your glasses at work, in case you somehow lost both at… once,” Henderson’s voice faded, before he coughed slightly. “Do you mind if I check to see if this works on your apartment?”
Clark shrugged. It wasn’t as if he’d recognize the place himself. No skin off his nose.
After the inspector left, the day nurse came in to check his temperature – thankfully, by mouth this time – heart rate, blood pressure, and to introduce his night nurse. Every three hours, the day nurse had come in to check on him today. Actually, it had started out every hour, and then as his temperature rose, every two hours. Now, it had been three hours since he had last seen her.
He wished he could say that her company thrilled him, but she usually turned the lights up without warning, woke him up from a sound sleep, did her check, and left, turning the lights back down. He knew she was just doing her job, but he couldn’t see how all these interruptions to his sleep were supposed to help him recover faster. It also meant that he had to keep these infernal sunglasses on at all times, even while he slept. It was darn uncomfortable, but better than the pain, which accompanied the nurse turning up the lights on him.
Luckily, Clark had been awake during her visit after Henderson had left. The day nurse had introduced his night nurse, Michelle, a perky, middle-aged, curly-haired blonde, who looked like the type of woman who would wake him with a smile, before poking and prodding him and leaving. Well, the smile would be an improvement, he thought with an optimism he really didn’t feel.
“The doctor said that you need to get up and walk,” Michelle had told him. “So, if you need to use the bathroom, press this button here on the side of the bed to page me, and I’ll assist you. No more bedpans or hot water bottles for you.”
She moved her hand under his covers and removed both deftly and, thankfully, without touching him. He wished this hospital gown gave him a bit more coverage. He wouldn’t miss the bedpan, but the hot water bottle had felt nice.
“The first time can be tricky maneuvering with the IV. You need to unplug it here,” Michelle went on, demonstrating. “Loop the cord here and then roll it along with you. Then when you come back, plug it back in here.” She demonstrated again. “If you need help, just call me on the button. There’s no need to be modest. I have a husband and two sons. I’ve seen it all before.”
That may be, Michelle, Clark retorted in his mind.
But you haven’t seen mine. He kept this thought to himself.
Another voice, a female voice, inside his head told him that ‘if he couldn’t say something nice, it was better not to say anything at all’.
“Do you need to go now?” Michelle asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. He’d rather not have Miss Perky Nurse attend him in the bathroom.
“Sure you are, John,” Michelle said, not believing him.
“My name isn’t ‘John’,” Clark corrected.
“I know, but that’s what it says on your chart,” Michelle said. “‘John Doe’.”
His stomach churned unpleasantly at that name. “Please don’t call me that,” he requested.
“It doesn’t only pertain to dead bodies, you know, as it does on TV,” she told him. “It also works for those of us with no memories.”
“Still I’d rather you didn’t,” he said.
“Well, I’ve got to call you something,” she said.
Henderson had told him that someone had tried to kill him, and because of that, he wasn’t sharing Clark's real name with hospital staff. As far as they knew, he still didn’t know his true name. The inspector didn’t want the killer to find Clark and, frankly, neither did Clark.
“How about ‘Joe’ or ‘Jack’ instead?” Michelle went on.
“Jonathan,” he said, grabbing a name out of the air.
“What’s the difference between John and Jonathan?” she asked in a teasing tone.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. There just is.”
She shrugged. “Jonathan, it is, then.”
Clark was happy when Michelle had gone. He had enjoyed enough perkiness for one night… or at least, another three hours.
He pulled out the drawing of the brunette woman, once more, and wondered who she was. He hadn’t asked Henderson about her. Clark knew he should have, but he had wanted something new to think about that was just his: wrong or right. He hadn’t wanted the inspector to tell him the truth just yet, if the man even knew. For tonight, Clark hadn’t wanted the possibility of her to be ruined for him. Clark would ask Henderson in the morning.
Tonight this woman would be his.
Tonight he wanted to pretend that he was her world, and she was looking for him.
Tonight he could be her ‘Chuck’. She could be his ‘Meena’.
They could be in love, married with two kids: a daughter named Perry and a little baby son named Jimmy. They could live in a big house in suburbs with a yard and a cat. She could be an environmentalist… no, a super heroine, who often flew off, literally, to save the world. Her costume would be a blue shimmery bikini top with an attached gauzy skirt and shiny golden briefs. His eyes started to drift shut, behind his sunglasses, with images of her seducing him with a tray of cupcakes. As fantasies went, he didn’t think it was half-bad.
He heard a whoosh sound, and a cool breeze blew into the room, causing him to force open his reluctant eyes. There standing before him in the darkened room was the woman from the drawing. Meena. Her hair was a bit longer, and windblown, and her cheeks flushed from the cold, but she was every bit as beautiful as he had hoped, despite the fact that she wasn’t wearing her uniform. He didn’t move. He didn’t even want to blink. A part of him was afraid if he breathed she would disappear, or he would wake from this dream.
He watched as she closed the window behind her. She glanced around the room briefly before focusing her attention on him. She stared at him for a long minute, taking him in as he studied her just as thoroughly. She was wearing a pair of slacks, a white blouse, a vest, and a maroon business jacket. Maybe she was an environmentalist after all, or
perhaps it was her day job. She had flown in through the window after all. This fantasy was getting better and better.
“You would be asleep,” she grumbled. “And with sunglasses on. Do you always sleep with your glasses on, Chuck?” She went to remove them, but then stopped herself. “I forgot. I bet you’re wearing them because the light hurts your eyes. I’ll leave them on.”
He didn’t nod or respond, only continued to stare at her. How could he not be in love with her? She was the most singularly beautiful woman he had ever seen. Okay, the most beautiful woman he had seen
today. He was sure, though, that as he traveled through the world, he would never find anyone else so appealing.
She reached up and caressed his forehead, brushing back a lock of his hair. “One curl, not two.”
Her touch felt like an angel’s, cool and feather light. Had she come to visit him from heaven?
Clark felt bereft when she stopped running her fingers through his hair, but then she took hold of his hand and squeezed it as she sat down next to him on the bed. It felt like his heart exploded from the touch. She must have noticed because she glanced over at the machine keeping track of his heart rate.
“Miss me?” she teased.
Heart and soul, he responded in his thoughts.
“I was going out of my mind with worry since I got your message last night,” she said, running her free hand down his cheek. “Everyone kept telling me that you’re a big boy and that you could take care of yourself, but who was right? Me!” She sniffled, and then poked him in the chest. “Stop making me hate being right all the time.” Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.” Leaning down, she kissed the spot on his chest that she had poked.
He didn’t mind. Really, he hadn’t. She could poke him anytime, if it meant she would also kiss him. His lips needed poking too, Meena.
“You’re a hard man to track down, Chuck,” she said with a slight chuckle and another squeeze of his hand. “You’ve got to stop breaking your promises. ‘No more dying’, remember? Number one on your New Year’s Resolution list this year. Do you know what was number one on my list? I bet you don’t,” she murmured, leaning forward and softly kissing his lips. “Kiss you more.”
He closed his eyes and melted into the gentle heat of it, feeling warmer than he had all day. He decided that he was going to switch that to number one on his list too.
“Let’s add ‘no more disappearing’ to that list,” she suggested between kisses. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you for good. Perry and Jimmy are worried too, of course, and Cat is beside herself.”
The cat must be
his cat. Poor fellow.
She was practically lying in bed with him now, only there wasn’t room for the two of them, so most of her was on his torso and one of his legs. He didn’t mind. Her body was hot and inviting, and warmed him more than all the treatments he had received for his hypothermia.
He couldn’t passively allow her to kiss him anymore. His mouth opened, and he moaned her name, “Meena.”
Clark was afraid she would disappear into a mist as suddenly as she had arrived, but she did not. She let go of his hand and started running it through his hair again. Pressing her body against his, she deepened the kiss.
This kiss made him feel like floating. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach like a fireball, which radiated to his entire body.
The heart rate monitor went haywire again, and she giggled, laying her head against his chest. “I better stop doing that or your nurse will think you’re having a heart attack,” she warned. “Then we’d both get into trouble.”
No, he didn’t want the nurse to come in either, and catch him in this erotic dream.
They both lay there quietly, catching their breaths, which he found difficult as she continued to draw patterns on his chest. Having her warmth pressed against him made him drowsy again, which was strange. Could one feel tired in a dream? He guessed he could. His eyes drifted shut again, as her hand slowed, and her breathing became more regular. She both stimulated him and relaxed him at the same time.
“So, I guess, I woke you up,” she said softly.
Clark tightened his arm around her shoulder and scooted over slightly to accommodate her on his twin-sized hospital bed. “If I were awake, you’d be gone, and my nightmare day would continue. I’d rather stay in this pleasant dream, making love to you, thank you very much,” he replied, speaking for the first time.
“Oh, you want to make love to me now, Chuck?” she asked.
He couldn’t imagine ever not wanting to do that. “Yes, please. I hear it’s the best cure for being cold.”
“Really?” he could hear doubt in her voice. On the other hand, was she merely teasing him?
“Yes, the nurses were talking about it earlier, when I arrived in the E.R.”
“Are you feeling cold now, Chuck?” she asked, laying her entire hand on his stomach.
“Actually, no,” he answered. “Your kisses made me break out in a sweat.”
“Pity. I was hoping you wanted me to warm you up,” she cooed into his ear.
His eyes widened, and he sputtered his reply, “Don’t let anything I say stop you from making love to me, if that’s what you really want to do, Meena.”
She laughed softly. It was the most enticing sound in his memory. He could listen to it forever. “I always do what I want,” she informed him. She glanced over her shoulder towards the door. “But it’s probably best not to tempt fate, with a policeman just outside,” she murmured. “Only…”
She caressed his cheek for a moment, before pressing her lips against his again.
Clark glided his hand over her hair. It felt like ribbons running through his fingers. He took hold of the back of her head and pulled her closer, opening his mouth. She tasted like a mixture of coffee and deli meat with a hint of mustard, sweet and tangy all at once.
He found kissing her brought forth confusing memories. How did he know that was how she tasted if he couldn’t remember drinking coffee or eating a sandwich with mustard? How could he know what to do to make her moan just so and yet have no recollection of kissing her before? How could he get her to moan like that again?
A low moan rose from the back of her throat. She ran her hands down his chest in a most delightful manner. He didn’t need any memories to know that he liked how she was making him feel.
His hands skimmed down her neck to her shoulders, where he pushed her jacket off. She pushed herself to a sitting position, next to him on the bed, and unbuttoned her vest, tossing it off as well.
He had thought she had looked nice before, but the simplicity of just her blouse and slacks heightened just how sexy she was. Perhaps it was how her blouse clung to her chest. With each breath she took, he could feel it tight and low across his belly. Was it how without her jacket he could see in the faint light the curve of her bottom in her slacks? It could have been, perhaps, how the vest had hidden her dainty waist.
She truly was a delectable creature. He wanted to kiss every inch of her body. His hands shook as they went to her waist and pulled up the soft material of her shirt, just to touch the skin there.
“Nervous?” she asked, her voice low and husky with desire. “Or cold.”
He nodded. “A bit of both,” he replied honestly. How could he ever lie to such a woman? “I’m not sure that I remember how to do this.”
“How about I help you?” she asked, sliding off the bed.
He had no idea how she could help him. He heard the ka-thunk of her shoes hitting the floor, and then gulped as he heard her unfasten the belt at the waist of her pants. His whole body was shivering now with anticipation and fear, and the infernal machine started beeping again. It was as if this was his first time all over again. Was it his first time?
She leaned over and pulled the heart rate monitor gauge from his index finger. “No heart attacks,” she told him.
“No guarantees,” he replied, his voice cracking as he stared at her bare legs. It already felt like his heart had exploded. A heart attack would be nothing in comparison.
She untucked the blanket from her side of the bed, and slid herself under it and over him. “I hope you don’t mind, but I like to be on top,” she said, tucking his blanket back around the two of them.
He shook his head. He had lost the power of speech.
Her hips shifted, and he found her straddling him. His arms wrapped around her waist, but when she leaned forward to kiss him again, his hand slid down to her bottom. That was when he realized it was bare.
He cleared his throat. Only his short hospital gown was between them now.
She sat back down, landing on his hands, and his eyes rolled back in his head with the ecstasy of the feeling.
“Too much?” she asked.
“Never,” he was able to croak out, making her smile.
She tugged on his wrists, until he reluctantly let go of her bottom. She shifted his hands up to her chest, under her blouse, using the scenic route. “Which do you want to be in charge of?” she inquired. “Buttons or bra?”
His eyes widened.
Buttons or bra?
Buttons or bra?
Buttons or bra? It was the most difficult decision of his life, thus far, he was sure.
Truthfully, Clark didn’t think he could handle either. The buttons were so small and his hands so large. “Bra?” he said hesitantly.
“Good choice,” she replied.
A few moments later, her shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a white lacy bra with a front clasp. Two seconds later, he pushed both articles of clothing from her shoulders, but he had lost the power of speech again. Luckily, his hands and mouth didn’t need words to express how he felt.
Leaning forward to kiss him again, she pushed his hospital gown up his chest. “Mmmmm,” she whispered, as she followed her hands with her lips.
“Ooooh,” he responded. That felt nice.
Then she lay down once more with her chest against his, and nice just didn’t cut it anymore.
All the while, he was kissing her and keeping up his side of the bargain, but they both knew she was in charge. Clark didn’t mind it one bit. He had pretty much decided by this point, she could say ‘jump!’ and he would ask, ‘how high?’ If she said, ‘to the moon’, he’d find a way to get there, just to tie a red ribbon around it for her.
***
Clark jerked upright. The heat and pleasure that had overtaken his body, causing it to spasm, had been overpowering. He blinked his eyes in the bright light. He must have dislodged his sunglasses while he slept, because they were tilted on his face, letting in the light. He straightened them, feeling better back in his self-imposed shadow. The light hadn’t been so painful this time, just sudden and intense. Did perky nurse Michelle have to come at this exact moment? When he was at the best part of his dream?
He groaned in disappointment that Meena hadn’t still been in his arms upon waking. He could still feel her, rubbing his body with her hands and warming him with her mere touch. It had felt so real, her skin soft, and her lips fiery hot. He hoped Meena was real, was his and real. Perhaps they
had made love before, and he was just remembering it. Maybe they would do so again. He hoped so, but by the bright hospital light, he knew the truth. Meena had only been his fantasy. He didn’t have children, a house in the suburbs, or even a cat. He wasn’t married, and certainly not to the hot super heroine, who made love floating him into the air. He wasn’t Chuck. He was boring old Clark Kent, reporter and loner.
“There’s no need to grumble at me, John,” Michelle said, sticking a thermometer into his mouth. “I hate waking you up too, but we’ve got to check that you haven’t died, or gone into cardiac arrest, or something.”
“Heaven,” Clark mumbled.
“What?” she asked, lifting up his arm to put on the blood pressure monitor.
“You woke me up from a visit to heaven,” he said, pulling the thermometer from his mouth.
Michelle tsk-tsked him and put it back with a sharp look. “You took off your heart rate monitor as well, I see,” she said, snapping it back on his index finger. “You don’t have to keep it on. I know it can get uncomfortable. Now, shush.”
Clark stared at his finger. Meena had taken it off when his heart rate had accelerated at her touch, causing the machine to beep. No. No, she hadn’t really been there in the room. It had only been a dream. Just a dream. A dream he swore he would never forget, even if he lost what was left of his memories.
Michelle held his wrist as she studied the blood pressure gauge. A minute later, she pulled it off and pulled out the thermometer. “You’re almost back to normal, John,” she said with a smile. “Must have been one hot dream.”
He flushed and glanced away, clearing his throat. “Jonathan.”
“Right, sorry,” she mumbled, pulling off the heart rate monitor. “Well, since you’re awake, how about we take that walk to the john, Jonathan?”
Clark glared at her. He wanted to go back to sleep and return to his dream.
“No?”
“No,” he insisted.
Michelle bestowed him with a large grin and started tucking him back in. “That must have been some dream, your sheets are all over… and wet. I think you’ve had an accident. Come on. Into the bathroom with you to clean up.”
“I’m fine,” he said embarrassed. He really didn’t want to discuss this with her.
“You’re not fine, and I’m not letting you sleep in a wet bed or a wet gown. It’s no big deal. Accidents happen, especially here. Come on, take my hand and pull yourself into a sitting position,” Michelle said, holding out her hand. “Either way, I need to change your sheets and gown. It would be easier if you were in the bathroom.”
“I’ve got this,” he grumbled, pulling himself to a sitting position.
She unplugged his IV machine and draped the cord over the top. Then she went into the bathroom and turned on the light. “We should really give you a shower as well. I don’t think you’ve been bathed since you were admitted.”
“I’d really rather go right back to sleep,” Clark said.
“Well, you’re up already. This would be the ideal time for a walk, while everyone else is asleep. Use the toilet, and then I’ll help you take off your gown,” Michelle suggested.
“I can handle it,” he said.
“No, you can’t. I need to unfasten it here in the back to get around your IV,” she said, holding out her hand to him. “Come on.”
“I’ve got this,” he said, refusing her hand and taking one shaky step, and then another. He groaned in frustration at his slow progress.
“Your body has been through a lot today, Jonathan; not to mention that you haven’t gotten up all day. Give it time to recirculate your blood and get used to standing again. I’m sure it will all come back to you by morning. Actually, I’d be surprised if you weren’t well enough, medically speaking, to be released tomorrow. You’ve made amazing progress.” She followed him into the bathroom.
“I can handle this myself,” he persisted, not wanting merry Michelle in the shower with him. Thanks very much, but no.
“Okay,” she said, holding up her hands. “I don’t know what it is about men. Always stubbornly insisting that they can do everything themselves, even when they need assistance.” She pulled a new gown out of a drawer and set it by the sink. There was a towel already hanging from the towel rack. She pushed back the shower curtain. “There’s a seat here, if you want or need to sit down. Turn this knob like so and the showerhead is also removable, if you need to take it down. I’ll be right outside this door. If you need me, just call. It would be better to have me help you, than for you to fall down and hit your head again.”
He nodded and shut the door, happy to be finally alone again. He dropped his face into his hand out of humiliation.
*
Lois cracked open the closet door and watched as the nurse changed Clark’s sheets. She was thankful that she had decided not to hide in the bathroom or shower when she had woken to the sounds of the nurse talking to the policeman outside the door.
The nurse picked up something off the floor, glanced towards the closed bathroom door, and set it down on the table beside the bed. Lois wondered what it was, and hoped she hadn’t dropped anything. She had barely time to pick up her jacket, vest, and shoes and dart into the closest before the nurse had entered to check Clark’s vitals. Would Clark be able to convince the nurse to let him go straight back to bed, or would he be forced to go on a walk? Perhaps the walk to the bathroom and the shower would be enough to satisfy her. Lois wished the woman would just leave already, so that she could finally talk to Clark.
Why had the nurse kept calling Clark ‘John’? Why had he corrected her with the name ‘Jonathan’ instead of ‘Clark’? Henderson must have him here under an alias to protect him, she decided. She was once more impressed at the lengths the inspector was going to keep her partner safe, but enough was enough. She needed Clark.
Lois needed her partner, off whom she could bounce ideas. She had missed that give and take that they had. Not that she would admit it to anyone, but she had felt lost without him today.
Lois needed Clark to hold her as he had when they had cuddled on his bed. Even in his sleep, he had automatically wrapped his arms around her, as if he had been dreaming of her. Clark had mentioned to the nurse that he had dreamed he was in heaven, so maybe he had dreamed of her. Of course, he hadn’t
really been asleep at first.
Lois hadn’t meant to fall asleep either, or turn him on. She especially hadn’t meant to spill the last of his cold tea onto the bed when she had bolted for the closet. She felt a little guilty that the nurse thought that Clark had wet himself.
She had only broken in to reassure herself of his safety and well-being, not to kiss Clark and certainly not to sleep with him. He just seemed to have that effect on her. He kept drawing her in, pulling down her defenses, and bringing out a side of her that she hadn’t thought existed anymore. Perhaps he only thought he was dreaming because when he awoke she had been gone. Either that or he was covering for her. Yes, he must have been covering for her. The way his hands had touched her… no. He must have been awake, because if he could touch her like that while he was asleep… Lois felt her face warm as naughty thoughts crossed her mind.
She needed to protect Clark. He made her feel protected, even when she knew he was the injured one, and she was the well one. She felt the need to keep him safe as well, which was why she needed to get him back with her. She knew nobody would protect Clark as well as Mad Dog Lane. She hadn’t taken all those years of karate just for kicks.
Lois needed Clark to contact Superman, so that he could save the Earth.
***End of Part 89*** Part 90 Hint: Only Lois's memories are reliable.
Comments ?
