Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Comments: Imbroglio 3

Instead of the hallway, he found himself in a place that he desperately tried to keep himself from remembering.

And in front of him stood Lois Lane.

He found his body moving of its own accord, slowly, as he pulled her towards him. Relief washed through him as he placed his lips on hers, grateful to find her alive. When he found the note, written in her own shaky handwriting, he had feared that whoever had taken her had planned on harming her.

There was something off, though. A movement of her body that did not feel right, the taste of her lips against his. Pulling away, he looked at her in confusion as she brushed away a strand of hair with her left hand.

“You’re-” Before he could finish his thought, his hands were at her throat, squeezing.

Her eyes went wide as she began to choke, eyes bulging as her lips began to turn blue.

It was then that he realized his hands were at his sides, and that there was someone else in the room-

Clark bolted awake with a scream before he crashed down onto the bed. His body was covered in sweat.

Shakily, he got up from the bed and ran his hand through his hair, trying to think. A flash of gold caught his eye, and he brought his hand back down to his line of sight.

“I think he’s been properly subdued, Ma’am.” A soft voice drifted towards her from behind, and she spun to face the newcomer. He was silhouetted by the light shining in through the mouth of the alley, but she could tell from where she stood that he seemed to favor the color black and ridiculously tight clothes.

“Yeah, well, I was just making sure he wouldn’t try it again,” she replied icily, warning him with her voice not to attempt the same.

She heard a slight intake of breath before he slowly moved towards her. “Who are you?” he demanded, accusingly, as he drew near.

“I could ask you the same question.” As much as she would have loved her voice to remain steady and calm, she could hear the nervous waver.

An instant later, the gap between them was swallowed up by an unknown source, and he had her pressed against the wall. His large hands were like two metal vices against her upper arms, and she could tell that she would have bruises tomorrow.

Lois felt the fear fluttering in her chest as her heart began to race wildly. This statue of a man, still shrouded in darkness, created by the light behind him, seemed immovable.

“Who are you?” he demanded again, though this time she could detect a hint of desperation in his voice. “Who hired you? Are you a trick? Are you real?”

It was just her luck that, on her first night out, she would run into a fellow escapee of a hospital. Mental ward, if she wasn’t mistaking. “Listen, buddy,” she growled as she brought her knee up sharply. He didn’t seem to notice her attack on his more tender region, and that, more than his hands, scared her. Still, she tried to act braver than she felt. “I don’t know who you are, or where you come from, but that does not give you the right to man-handle me. Now let go of my arms before you tear them off!”

His hands were off of her before she could even finish the sentence, and she took a moment to rub at her sore limbs. She was still surrounded by him, unable to flee, trapped in a situation that she really did not care to be in. Clearing her throat, she glared up to where his eyes almost seemed to glow in the absent light. “Now, if you will be so kind as to let me go, I promise I won’t kick your ass.”

He laughed softly, a shaking sound that barely reached her ears, and were it not for the gentle puff of warm air against her skin she would have believed to have imagined it. It was then that she noticed his shallow breaths and belatedly realized that his hands had been shaking when they had gripped her. “You…” he trailed off before brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek.

Lois was frozen, not sure if she should try to flee. Everything in her screamed to try, to run away, but her feet remained firmly planted on the ground. Even her hands hung limply at her sides.

She was still rooted in the same spot when he bent in to brush his lips against hers. It was soft, an ephemeral whisper before it was suddenly over. He pulled back, and she could just scarcely make out the bewildered expression on his face.

Then, without warning, his lips were devouring hers with a hunger that shook her to the core.

She had been kissed before when she didn’t want to be, and it was usually an awkward thing, all sloppy and wrong. But this, the desperation and familiarity with which he was attacking her, was more disturbing than any of those times. More troubling than that was the undeniable sense that if this continued, she would respond just as ardently.

Lois brought her hands up to the smooth, almost silky material covering his chest before giving a harsh shove. Her fingers scraped against the edges of a coarse design as he finally stumbled back.

Affronted, and finally free, she brought her hand back before delivering a resounding slap against the side of his face. She was almost surprised when he actually stumbled back.

“It's? not… it can’t…” he said in a frenetic whisper, gasping for breath. Then he growled, and she could feel the anger in his glare.

At the offer, Lois fidgeted for a moment, not entirely sure whether she felt comfortable with the woman’s offer. “If Clark is as in ‘love’ with me as everyone keeps insisting, then why isn’t he here? Isn’t that a part of what the whole married thing is about? Or so I hear?” She hated the resentment that she heard in her own voice.

Martha sighed wearily. “He doesn’t know about you yet.”

“Why not?” Incredulous, Lois found herself beginning to pace. “Shouldn’t he have been the first person that they called? Why hasn’t anyone told him?”

Guiltily, Martha held up a hand to stop the tirade. “I’m afraid that was my doing.” Ignoring Lois’ indignant expression, she pressed further. “You have to understand, dear, that when he found you dead, or, who he thought was you dead, a part of him seemed to go along with you. He loved you so much, and his heart just seemed to shatter before our eyes. If I had told him that it was possible that you were still alive, to have that hope come alive in him again, and it had turned out that it wasn’t you…” Martha gave a small self deprecating smile. “I don’t think my boy would have survived having his heart utterly destroyed.”