I loved the metaphors here. Lois is baring herself to Clark, mentally and physically. She is trusting him to undress her, gently and undemandingly, and she is trusting him to see her down and depressed and being able to be there for her. At first, he doesn't understand what it is she is really showing him. He doesn't know how to deal with her weakness, because she is the light he needs to guide him:
"But your pilot light, your Lois Lane-ness, was always lit, and all I had to do was be there while you made your way back to it. But tonight... it's like that flame has gone out, and since that's the light I live by, I can't see well enough to help you reignite it."
But he is what and who she needs in order to find her light again:
"You keep my pilot light burning, Clark. Before I met you, I ran on fear and anger and righteous indignation. You made the fear disappear. The anger and righteous indignation come back when I need them," she says with a smile, "but, mostly, you keep me going."
So lovely. What a tribute to him and the love he gives her.
And then in a second, she turns naughty and happy, full of energy and desire:
She picks my hand up again and presses a kiss into my palm. "So, evenings like this one, I come home empty and you..." She pauses for a moment and a wicked grin spreads across her face. "Fill me up."
I adore this, Lisa.
Ann
