Okay, I'm now singing the song of the shrinking buffer. It goes like this (to the melody of that famous Beatles tune): Help! I need to write! Help, not just any writing! He-e-elp! 
She was crying again. Oh, well, what was new?
“Here.”
She looked up through tear-blurred eyes to find George looming over her with a box of tissues. Plucking out a couple, she dabbed at her wet cheeks and blew her nose noisily.
“You’ll get used to this,” she sniffled. “I seem to have very leaky tear-ducts.”
George chuckled. “It’s a bummer, isn’t it? I have the same problem with my stomach – it’s constantly demanding more food.” He settled his ample girth back onto his chair and dumped the box of tissues on his desk. “So what happened next?”
“After he told me I’d never see him again and walked away from me?” she asked. “Pretty much this,” she said, indicating her wet face and the bunch of tissues in her hand.
She hadn’t meant to tell George all about her last conversation with Clark. This session was supposed to be about her meltdown in Clark’s apartment, but when George had made an innocent remark about a rescue Clark had performed later that same day, the whole sorry mess had come pouring out of her. She was pretty certain she hadn’t made much sense, but George had very kindly just listened and prompted her now and then with interested grunts.
“Tell me again what he said earlier,” said George. “Something about blame, wasn’t it?”
“He said the fault was all his,” she said. “I don’t understand what he meant by that. I mean, I was the one who got all these crazy ideas about him.”
“Crazy ideas?”
“Yeah, I thought...” She laughed nervously. “I thought he was going to hurt me. Stupid, huh? I mean, Clark would never intentionally hurt anyone.”
If she’d hoped George would confirm that, she was wrong. He merely said, “When was this?”
“At his apartment. When I took him home that day.”
“Ah, is this the thing you couldn’t talk to Francine about?”
She nodded. “Yes. Although considering what he said afterwards about everyone knowing, I guess that was pretty naive of me.”
George sucked his teeth; something she was already learning he did a lot of when he was thinking. “Okay, something tells me we’re going at this backwards and I’m in danger of misconstruing the whole thing. Let’s start with you at Clark’s apartment just before you had the panic attack Francine mentioned. What were you doing?”
“Um...eating dinner,” she said. “Clark was feeling much better by then and had cooked us some pasta.”
“Yeah, I hear he does a great Amatriciana sauce,” said George. “I’m still waiting for him to give me the recipe. So what were you talking about, other than his great cooking?”
She shrugged. “Nothing much. But then I made this stupid remark about his girlfriends, and he thought I meant the gossip you hear about him on TV – you know, the stuff about Superman and his women – and that was when he told me.”
“Told you what?”
“That...that it was all true. That he’d slept with lots of women when he was high on kryptonite.” She snatched a glance at George to confirm that none of this was news to him. His face was implacable, just like Clark’s had been, but he nodded at her to continue. Surely he must know – Clark had more or less told her so.
“He said he slept with them because he didn’t have to think when he was with them,” she continued. “He used them for sex, just like-“
She caught herself just in time. She’d nearly done it again – accused him of rape, or as near as dammit.
She dabbed at her face with a trembling hand, her tissue now a shredded mess.
“Just like what, Lois?” asked George.
She shook her head violently. “I don’t want to say it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not fair to Clark,” she said. “He’s not like that.”
“Lois, this is about you, not Clark. Just like what?”
“He...I...I got confused. I do that when I panic. Everything gets jumbled up. It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”
“No, you’re not,” said George. “You’re a highly intelligent young woman. Shit, you may even be smarter than me, and that’s saying something.”
She smiled. George was okay.
“So tell this dumb old psychologist what you were thinking,” he continued. “Maybe you thought he was like someone else?”
She nodded. It seemed like George had figured it out anyway, so there was little point in denying it. “I...I thought he was like the men from Brazzaville. I totally panicked, practically ran away from him. Got it into my head that he was one of them – that he was going to attack me. R...rape me.” She shrugged. “I told you. Stupid.”
“Will you quit telling me you’re stupid?” he exclaimed. “I’m the one with the psychology degree, not you. I get to tell people when they’re stupid, not you. Okay?”
She smiled weakly. “Okay, got it.”
“Fine. Jesus, why is it my patients always think they know more than I do? Clark’s the same, you know,” he said. “Anyway, back to you in his apartment. You think Clark’s one of your captors. Why?”
“I...I don’t know,” she said, although she knew perfectly well why. She remembered making the connection. He used women for sex; so did they.
“Oh, I think you do. You said it yourself just a few moments ago.”
“I did?”
“Yup. And let me warn you, I’m dangerously close to calling you stupid if you don’t get this right.”
She chuckled in spite of herself. “Okay. It was because he used women for sex, just like they had.” God, she couldn’t believe how easily she’d told him that.
“See, I knew you weren’t stupid. But let me ask you this – what makes you think Clark used women for sex?”
She frowned. “He said so.”
“Did he? What were his exact words?”
“He said he slept with a lot of women when he was high. That having sex stopped him needing to think.”
“Okay, and why do you think he took drugs?”
She frowned. “He never said.”
“Sure, but in general, why do people take drugs? Why do they need that high?”
“As an escape? To get away from reality?”
“Exactly. So, in Clark’s own words, he had lots of sex to stop himself thinking about stuff, and we think he probably used drugs to escape from reality. Basically, for Clark, sex and drugs was all about escape. Sound reasonable?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Okay, so if we want to accuse Clark of being a user, what would we say he was using?”
“Sex and drugs.”
“Ah, ha,” said George triumphantly. “Not women?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s a fine line you’re drawing, George.”
“Sure, but I’m building a case here. Next question – why do you think all these women were willing to sleep with him?”
She frowned. “Because he’s an attractive guy, I guess.”
“Yes, but word gets around, doesn’t it? Most women don’t want to sleep with a man who appears to be bedding anything in a skirt, do they?”
This was true. She certainly wouldn’t. But a certain kind of woman might. “You’re not saying he used prostitutes?”
“Not so far as I know. My guess is that they were women at work, or women he met at functions or in the course of his Superman duties,” said George. “So try again. What’s so special about Clark that women might want to have sex with him even though they know he’s sleeping around a lot?”
She felt her eyes go wide – she’d just never considered that angle herself. “Because he’s Superman? He’s an alien? He’s got...” She blushed. “Superpowers?”
George nodded. “All of the above. So now who do you think was doing the using?”
Oh, God. Poor Clark. All those women going after him when he was vulnerable; only wanting one thing from him.
“And, by the way, he’s well aware of that,” added George. “He knows they were only interested in him because of Superman. Clark Kent, in his view, would never have attracted the same interest.”
She put her hand up to her mouth. “And I told him he ought to apologise to those women,” she murmured. “It’s really the other way around, isn’t it?”
“Well, he ain’t no saint, Lois,” said George. “Let’s not lose sight of the fact that he could have turned them down. And really, the purpose of all this isn’t to make you change your opinion of Clark. What I want you to understand is the difference between Clark’s behaviour and what your captors in Brazzaville got up to.”
She nodded. “I get that...knew it before, really. It was just that in the heat of the moment, my head made this illogical connection between the two.”
“And that’s the other lesson I want you to take away from this,” said George. “Understand yourself a bit better. Know that at the moment, you’re so sensitive to danger that you make these weird connections. You can’t just switch off the sensitivity like a light, but you can use your intelligence to temper it a little. Next time you feel under threat, ask yourself if you just made one of those weird connections that doesn’t make a lot of sense. Think you can do that?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know until it happens, I guess. But I’ll try to remember.”
George grinned. “Think of it as the Clark-is-a-monster syndrome. Any time you feel the panic setting in, ask yourself if this is a monster Clark situation.”
She laughed. “I like that. Monster Clark.”
“Just don’t tell him I coined that for you.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”
“Loads, but I suspect you’d have to break patient confidentiality with Clark to answer me,” she said.
George shrugged. “Try me.”
“Well, I still don’t understand why he said the fault was with him when he walked away from me the other day,” she said. “Surely I’m the one to blame? I made the stupid remark about girlfriends, and I threw the panic attack. Not him.”
George chuckled. “If there’s any blame floating around, then Clark’s sure to grab onto it and make it his own. The boy’s got a guilt complex the size of New Troy. In this case, I’d guess that he’s blaming himself all over again for sleeping with those women, because of the consequences for you.”
“But that’s crazy!”
“Nope, it’s Clark,” said George with a grin. “Anything else?”
“Well, he told me to ask you this one himself, so I guess it’s okay...what he did when he was addicted...the women...that’s not the real Clark, is it? He doesn’t usually sleep around like that?”
George sucked his teeth. “Okay, this one’s sailing a bit too close to confidentiality. I can’t really disclose the sexual habits of another patient to you. Better if you reach your own conclusions on that one – sorry.”
“But he said to ask you!”
“Yeah, well, I refer you to my previous remark about qualifications.”
She sighed. “I guess you’ll say the same if I ask you why he got addicted to red kryptonite in the first place.”
“Yup. You need to talk to him yourself, Lois.”
“I would, except I’m not sure he wants to talk to me,” she said gloomily.
George chortled. “Okay, I’ll give you this one for free, Lois – he wants to talk to you. He may not act as if he does, but believe me, that’s all it is. An act.” He sobered a little and leant forward. “But take a little advice from an old pro – don’t let yourself get sucked into anything you’re not ready for. Clark’s a likeable guy and a very eligible bachelor, but you’ve still got some healing to do. You need to be surer about yourself before you enter into anything with Clark – or anyone else, for that matter. Make certain you’re setting the pace, okay?”
She nodded. “I will.”
In fact, George’s advice was reassuring. She had been feeling a little out of her depth with Clark, and it was good to know that she was right to feel that way – also, that there was someone else who thought she shouldn’t rush into anything. Hopefully, that would give her the confidence to deal with Clark’s expectations regarding sex. If things ever developed that far, of course. Right now, despite George’s reassurances, it seemed that Clark wasn’t the least bit interested in any kind of relationship with her, platonic or otherwise.
******************
She hatched a plan of campaign. She, Lois Lane, erstwhile investigative reporter and scourge of the criminal underworld of Metropolis, sat in her room at the mental health clinic and drafted a scheme to get Clark back.
Well, not that she’d had him in her grasp in the first place, but you were allowed a little poetic licence when you were crazy.
And she wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to do with him once she got him back, but, hey, the plan was the thing, wasn’t it? Or was that the game’s the thing? Shakespeare had never been her strongest subject in English lessons.
Anyway, it gave her something to do, this plan, and she really did want to make Clark her friend again.
He was upset. That much she’d figured out. Not only that, but he wasn’t actually upset with her – which was a big relief – but was upset with himself. George had given her the clue when he’d said Clark was probably feeling guilty all over again about his sexual relations with all those women. So not only did he still feel guilty about how he’d used them, but he now also felt guilty that, by confessing his sins to her, he’d brought on that stupid panic attack in his apartment. She had to convince him that there was nothing to feel guilty about, and that she didn’t really think any less of him because of how he’d behaved in the past.
Now, that was a challenge, because crazy women weren’t renowned for their ability to help other people with their personal problems. Still, she was going to give it a try.
Oh, and there was another thing. She needed to know this new Clark Kent. Find out how much she really liked him. Which meant spending more time with him.
***************
Step one of the plan was to let Francine know that she definitely wanted Clark to attend her next session – maybe even the next couple. She really wasn’t sure if she was ready to manage alone yet, she told Francine. Yes, she’d coped perfectly well on her own with George, but that had been a one-off, whereas Francine’s sessions were part of a long-term programme and she needed the consistency that Clark’s presence afforded.
Francine’s eyes twinkled as she absorbed this highly logical argument. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Clark’s a darned handsome young man, would it, Lois?” she asked when Lois had finished her presentation.
Lois blinked in surprise. “I hadn’t noticed. Is he?”
Francine laughed. “If I was twenty years younger, I’d probably be after him too.” She sighed. “But, Lois, realistically, I’m not sure if this is a good idea. Clark’s not a qualified practitioner, and while he was a great help when you weren’t talking, I’m finding it hard to find a good clinical reason why he should be here now that you are.”
Lois pouted. “What about the happiness of your patient? Isn’t that reason enough?”
“Sure, your happiness is important to me, but I have to look at the longer term as well as the short term,” answered Francine. “Frankly, I worry that any kind of relationship you might establish right now will just confuse you.”
“I don’t want to start a relationship with him, I just want to win him back as a friend,” she objected. “It can get pretty lonely in here, Francine. I need a friend like Clark. Someone who’s not a counsellor, or a nurse, or another patient...well, okay, he is, sort of, but he doesn’t live here. He’s my friend on the outside.”
Francine raised her eyebrows. “Is that what it feels like? You’re stuck in here while he’s free as a bird on the outside?”
Lois nodded. “Sometimes. I feel like I’m in a cage – it’s a very nice cage, with nice people and good amenities – but it’s a cage, nevertheless. Clark’s my contact with the outside. With reality.”
“Okay,” said Francine, looking thoughtful. “So if I let Clark sit in on our next session, how is that going to make him your friend again?”
“I think maybe he’s feeling a bit like he’s been used and then unceremoniously dumped,” said Lois. “You should have heard him when he asked if we’d need him any more – he sounded really sad.”
“Well, you know, it’s really George’s job to help him deal with that, not yours or mine,” pointed out Francine. “We’re here to get you well, not Clark.”
Lois sat up straight, crossed her arms over her chest, and fixed her therapist with a firm, no-nonsense look. “Look at it this way, Francine. If Clark’s happy, then I’m happy. If Clark remains my friend, then I’m happy. If I’m happy, then I’m well.” She shrugged. “Seems to me that it’s your duty as my therapist to help Clark.”
Francine burst out laughing. “Oh, boy, but you’re good! Okay, in the interests of a quiet life, and completely against my better judgement, I’ll invite Clark to our next session.”
Lois grinned. This self-assertion business was getting easier every day.
*************
Step two in the plan was to accept the Daily Planet’s editor’s invitation to visit, with Clark acting as her guide and host. This was even scarier than step one, but hey, she’d done rescuing a sick man from a park and heating soup in a strange man’s apartment – visiting her old place of work should be a breeze for an old pro like her.
Not.
It was a lot more complicated to organise, for starters. Did she pick up the phone and call Clark at work? “Hi, Clark, it’s that crazy woman you visit from time to time at the clinic. I’d like to visit you for a change – at your workplace. Okay?”
Or did she phone the editor again and ask him to appoint Clark as her guide for the day. “Hi, it’s that crazy woman who rang you the other day, Lois Lane. You know Clark Kent, the guy you’re irritated with for his constant absences from work? Well, I’d like you to give him some more time off work to show me around the Planet.”
No. She’d have to wait until Clark was next at the clinic and somehow bring the topic up then.
*****************
“So, Lois, now that you’ve had a chance to talk over that incident at Clark’s apartment with George, how do you feel about things?” asked Francine. “I know George gave you a couple of suggestions for coping strategies – how well do you think they might work for you?”
A few days had passed since Lois’s talk with George and she was at her regular bi-weekly session with Francine. Clark sat to one side, a silent observer under instruction to keep quiet unless required.
Remembering the title of George’s coping strategy – Monster Clark – Lois tried valiantly not to catch Clark’s eye before answering. “It’s difficult to say until I’ve had a chance to put them into practice.”
Francine nodded. “Fair point. Any suggestions on how you might set yourself a little test?”
Lois nearly laughed – this was almost too easy! “Well, actually, I do have an idea. Clark’s editor invited me to visit the Planet when I phoned him the other day. I think that might be a good test. I’d like to see the old place, but I also know that it’ll be pretty stressful going back there. If anything happens...” She shrugged. “I can give it a try.”
“Good idea!” said Francine. “Yes, I think that’s a good plan. Day visits are a nice half-way stage between living here full-time and moving out to your own place. Gives you a taste of real life while retaining that security of knowing you’ll be back here at the end of the day.”
Lois nodded. “That’s what I thought. So I wondered...” She turned her gaze to Clark, who was sitting quietly studying his fingernails. “If it’s not too much trouble...? Clark?”
His head bobbed up and he gave her a weak smile. “Sure. I’ll take you.”
She’d hoped his inclusion on this session might thaw him a little, but all the evidence so far was pointing to a pretty frosty, distancing Clark. Was he mad at her? She kept coming back to that, despite telling herself that he was upset and mad with himself and not her.
No, Monster Clark, she told herself. Just because he was out of sorts didn’t mean it was her fault; didn’t mean she was the target of his moodiness. She was imagining aggression towards her where none existed.
Then, recalling how, a couple of weeks ago, she’d mistaken his illness after red kryptonite exposure for a similar moodiness, she ventured silently, <<Are you all right?>>
<<I’m fine.>>
Don’t dig, that reply said. Keep out of my head and don’t ask questions.
Flinching from his rejection, she snatched her gaze away from him. The pattern on the carpet suddenly seemed a lot more interesting than anything else in the room.
“Lois?” questioned Francine. “Is everything okay? You seem a little upset about something.”
“I’m fine,” she said, not missing the irony of her reply, just moments after Clark had snapped the same thing to her. Funny how those two words seldom meant what they were supposed to mean.
Francine sighed heavily. “You know, this arrangement was made against my better judgement, and I really do wonder-“
“It’s fine,” interrupted Lois. “I need him here.”
“Actually,” said Clark. “Maybe Francine’s right. I’m not contributing much here, so maybe I should just leave. I don’t want to be in the way.”
“No, please stay!” blurted Lois. “I want you to stay. Really, Francine, I’m fine. Let’s just get on with the session.”
Francine gave her a long look, under which she was pretty certain she was supposed to squirm, but she just gave Francine a long look right back: she’d made up her mind to invite Clark to this session, and he was darned well going to stay right to the end, moodiness or no moodiness.
“Okay,” said Francine heavily, breaking their eye-lock and thus apparently placing her reservations to one side again. “So for the rest of this morning, I want us to talk about self-worth. Did you bring me that list I asked you to write? Five things you like about yourself?”
Lois dug into her jeans pocket. “Yeah, although you might not agree with some of them.”
“Lois!” exclaimed Francine with a touch of exasperation. “It doesn’t matter if I agree with them or not. It’s your list.” She held out her hand expectantly. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
With a touch of reluctance, Lois handed over her crumpled scrap of paper.
“Number one,” read Francine. “I have nice ankles.” She looked up at Lois with a grin. “Okay, tell me all about your nice ankles.”
Oh, boy. This had seemed like a clever and cunning plan when she’d written the list, but now that she was faced with the reality of telling Clark...erm, Francine...about her good points, she wasn’t so sure.
“Well...” she began.
She couldn’t help it. She looked at him. Found him studying the area in question with some interest.
She snatched her gaze back to Francine and held it there resolutely. “They’re not too bony, for starters. They’re quite slim. They...um...look nice when I’m wearing heels.” She shrugged. “That’s about it, I guess. What else can you say about ankles?”
Francine smiled. “Okay, let’s try number two. I don’t hold people’s pasts against them,” she read. “What does that mean?” she asked, looking up again.
Don’t look at him, she instructed herself. Francine is much more interesting to look at. “If someone has done something wrong, I don’t necessarily hold it against them,” she explained. “Especially if they make it clear that they regret whatever it is they did. I don’t believe you should pay for your past mistakes with the rest of your life.”
“A person can redeem themselves, you mean?” suggested Francine.
“Kind of. I prefer to get to know them for who they are now, rather than make pre-judgements based on the past,” she said. “I make my own decisions on whether they’re a good or bad person.”
“And why is this something you like about yourself?” asked Francine, which was kind of an awkward question, since this one had been for Clark’s benefit alone, not for Francine’s list. Lois hadn’t really considered why this trait was supposedly a good thing.
“Um...because I think a lot of people do prejudge based on the past,” she replied. “And that’s not fair. We all make mistakes, but it doesn’t necessarily make us bad people.”
Francine raised an eyebrow. “Very true. So does the same hold true for you?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve talked before about how you blame yourself for getting trapped in that house,” said Francine. “How you made a stupid mistake no rookie reporter would ever make. Are you able to forgive yourself now for that stupid error?”
Lois froze. Francine was playing dirty all of a sudden, moving their cosy chat into a distinctly un-cosy realm.
