Floating. Drifting effortlessly on a bed of air, wafting wherever the gentle breeze took them. Far below, the city hustled and bustled, the distant sounds of traffic filtering up through the clouds to create a pleasant background chatter.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmured in her ear, his warm breath fanning the side of her neck.
His strong arms holding her, solid and secure, warm and reassuring, under her back and supporting her thighs. A very masculine cradle in which to keep her safe.
“Yes,” she breathed. “It’s wonderful.”
“Lois,” he whispered huskily, his face looming over her, his dark brown eyes gazing intently down at her. She clutched at the warm, smooth skin of his neck as he moved closer, so close she could feel him breathing. So close that her breasts pressed up against his chest.
His lips closed over hers, lips she remembered so well from their goodnight kiss. Softly kissing, caressing her lips, endlessly kissing her until she was dizzy with pleasure.
“I love you, Lois,” he murmured.
“And I love you, Clark,” she replied.
***************
Except that she didn’t. Dreams were nice, she reflected when she awoke the next morning, but the reality was that she couldn’t love Clark. Wasn’t capable of love. There were just too many things expected of a person in love which she couldn’t offer. Intimacy, for one. Emotional support, for two – she was good at taking support, but not so good at giving it. Sex, for three. A man with Clark’s vast experience would expect sex. Oh, he’d be gentle and understanding about it; wouldn’t pressurise her into anything she didn’t want to do. But sooner or later, he’d want, quite understandably and legitimately, to make love with her.
She flashed on a typical scene from Brazzaville – the casual rape of a young girl. Quick and dirty, over almost before she’d realised what was happening, but no less violent and depraved because of its speed.
No, it would be a very long time before she could face lying with a man-
She rolled over onto her side and curled up into a ball. No, she shuddered. Not for a long time.
When her pulse had calmed down, she thought back to the previous night’s revelations. Curiously, the knowledge that Clark’s obsession for her was sparked by his feelings for her exact double from another universe was actually comforting. After all the horrors she’d imagined, this was a walk in the park.
He’d made it clear that he wanted her and not the other Lois, who, in any case, was married and living in another universe, so she’d didn’t feel like she was in competition with another woman. Also, she felt reassured that he hadn’t just picked her from her picture in the paper, or because of her reputation at the Planet – those were such shallow things on which to base his feelings. No, he’d met a flesh and blood facsimile of her, and had liked that person enough to go searching for his universe’s version. Hey, at least that gave her a head start, didn’t it?
On the other hand, he’d experienced feelings for the other Lois; he’d been very honest about that. He’d been convinced they were displaced feelings for her, and she’d tried to buy into that theory, but she was still left with doubts about his expectations. How similar to the other Lois would he want her to be? How much did he yearn for a ‘normal’ Lois, and not the flawed person he’d actually met?
But why should she worry? This would never be more than a close friendship. In fact, she shouldn’t have kissed him last night. It wasn’t fair to raise his hopes like that. Her concern should be helping him find the criminals with the red kryptonite, and making sure he was totally free from the addiction she’d helped cause.
****************
“Hey.”
He looked up as she set her breakfast tray on the table opposite him and sat down. “Hey,” he replied with a smile.
“You look better,” she observed.
He popped a piece of doughnut in his mouth. “And you look great,” he said enthusiastically.
“Thank you!” She beamed, unable to resist feeling flattered by his compliment. He’d mentioned before that he liked this top with these pants...not that she’d put them on for his benefit, of course. Still, it was nice that he noticed. She eyed his tray and shook her head in disgust. “Two doughnuts? Do you have to be so blatant about it?”
He gave her an amused smile. “About what?”
“About not having to worry about calories, of course,” she replied. “Or cholesterol, or rotting teeth. It’s just not fair on us mere mortals.”
His smile wavered a bit. “Hey, I did healthy, too,” he protested weakly, indicating the banana on his tray.
“I guess you did.” She ducked her gaze down to her food, thinking about that wobbly smile. She’d touched a nerve, she thought as she buttered her toast. He hadn’t enjoyed being set apart as a non-mortal.
She looked up to apologise, but he was busily cutting bad bits off his rather over-ripe banana. He didn’t want her apology, she realised. He’d just prefer if she didn’t do it again. No fuss. No big deal.
Okay, she could do that. “So, what leads do you have on these people with the red kryptonite?”
He shrugged, looked up from his banana. “They’re art thieves. They have a stash of red kryptonite.”
“Great!” she exclaimed, ignoring his lukewarm mood. “There’s lots to work with there. I remember you said they worked really quickly – knew exactly what they wanted. Which means they must be pros, and there can’t be that many pro art thieves around. Who’s your researcher at the Planet? Could you get him or her to dig up a list of art theft gangs?”
“I usually do my own research,” he replied, mashing up the hapless banana with a fork. “But there is someone I could ask, I guess.”
“Who?”
“She works at the DA’s office.” Now he was swirling the mashed banana around on his plate. “They’d be sure to have a list.”
“And she’d be okay giving it to you?” she asked, a little surprised that the DA’s office would co-operate so willingly with a journalist.
He piled the banana mess up into a heap at the side of his plate. “If I tell her why I need it, yeah.”
She frowned. Something wasn’t quite right here. “And you’d be okay asking her for it?”
He expelled noisily and dropped his fork onto the plate. “No, but it’s the fastest way for us to get what we need.”
“Well...okay,” she said. “If you’re sure. Um...just out of curiosity...who is she?”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Just a friend.”
No name. Not even a job title. And further questions were clearly not welcomed from the other side of the table.
Well, fine. If he had a source he wanted to protect, then she respected that. “Now, do you still have the packaging for that lump of kryptonite they sent you?”
“Probably, but I don’t see what use that will be. They could have sent it from anywhere,” he pointed out.
“Maybe, but it’s worth checking out,” she said. “How about we go around to your apartment after your appointment with George and take a look?”
“Well, okay. I guess I can tell work that I’m working on a story.” His mouth twisted. “My own story.”
“Exactly!” she said. “And while we’re there, you can call that friend of yours at the DA’s office.”
Not that she would eavesdrop, of course.
****************
Francine wanted to know one thing, and only one thing, that morning: why did Lois feel that she was to blame for everything?
Lois leant forward and buried her face in her hands. “I went through all this with George yesterday,” she muttered.
“I know,” replied Francine calmly. “But George didn’t get a chance to explore why you feel like this, did he? Clark interrupted the session, and then things went a little crazy for a while.”
Lois snorted. “For a while? We are in the funny farm for crazies, aren’t we?”
Francine sighed. “If you keep labelling yourself as crazy, Lois, we really aren’t going to get very far, are we?”
She bit her lip, recognising that she was being admonished for something Francine had been nagging her about for weeks. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Okay,” replied Francine. “So, I’m concerned, Lois. We’ve spoken before about your difficulty in forgiving yourself for what happened in the Congo, but this is the first time I’ve heard you take on the blame for Clark’s problems, too.”
She looked up sharply, took in Francine’s benign, patient expression, her tweed skirt and sensible shoes, the twin set and pearls, and was suddenly sick of the entire therapeutic process. Talk, talk, talk – that was all she ever seemed to do. That, plus stupid classes in subjects she wasn’t remotely interested in, like art and improvised drama.
“Well, that would be because I never told you before,” she snapped. “I don’t tell you everything, you know.”
“Of course you don’t,” said Francine patiently. So patiently, Lois wanted to scream. “But now that this is out in the open, let’s take it apart a little, shall we?”
“I tell you what,” she retorted, jumping up from her chair. “Let’s not, shall we?” she said, pantomiming a sing-song imitation of Francine’s words. “Let’s forget I ever said it, shall we?”
She strode to the door, paused with her hand on the handle. “I’m just so sick of all this, you know? I feel like all I do here is defend myself or get told off for thinking the wrong things. I’d much rather be doing something constructive, like helping Clark.”
“There are plenty of people here to do that-“
“See, there you go again,” she said. “Telling me I’m wrong. Well, newsflash, Francine – there aren’t plenty of people around to help Clark. In fact, you could count them on the fingers of one hand.”
“Maybe so, but-“
“He needs me, Francine.” She opened the door. “And I need him. Take that apart, if you like.” She stepped into the corridor. “But do it without me.” She slammed the door and strode smartly up the corridor towards the waiting room outside George’s consulting rooms.
******************
Clark needed her.
It was so obvious to her now, she didn’t know why she hadn’t realised it days ago. Weeks ago.
Of course, whether she was capable of providing for his needs was still open to question.
She looked up from her magazine as the door to George’s rooms opened. She smiled and rose from her seat when Clark emerged. “I finished early with Francine so I thought I’d wait for you here,” she explained.
“Oh.” He gave her a pallid smile. “Great.”
Funny, she thought he’d be more pleased to see her than that.
She was studying him, trying to figure out what was wrong, when she heard George’s voice from behind Clark. “Is that Lois I hear out there?”
“Yes,” she called. “Hi, George.”
The therapist’s rotund figure appeared behind Clark. “Hey, Lois. Can I borrow you for a minute?”
She looked questioningly at Clark.
“Sure. I’ll wait here,” he said, settling onto the chair she’d just vacated and picking up her magazine.
Puzzled, she followed George inside.
“I hear you’re both going over to Clark’s apartment to check out the packaging on that parcel he received yesterday,” George said once he’d closed the door behind her.
She frowned. “Yes. Is there a problem?”
“Nope, no problem,” replied George. “Just the opposite, in fact. I want you to keep an eye on him for me.”
“Huh?”
He shrugged. “I played a dirty trick on him and he’s still a little shell-shocked.”
Dirty trick?? Her mind boggled at the sorts of dirty tricks George might cook up. “What did you do?” she asked apprehensively.
George grinned widely. “Offered him some red K.”
“George!” she exclaimed. Yep, she’d been right to be worried. “That’s...that’s...”
“Inspired?” he suggested, his eyes twinkling. “I wanted to show him that he’s not as weak-willed as he thinks he is.”
“And...?”
“Worked a treat. He practically threw me and the box out the window,” said George triumphantly. “You know, I think maybe I should claim danger money,” he mused. “This is risky work.”
“Only the way you play it,” she said.
“Yeah, well, I don’t always do things by the rule book,” he admitted. “Anyway, he’s been on a bit of a roller coaster ride, emotionally speaking, so he’s a little spaced out right now. It would probably be a good idea if he didn’t do any Superman jobs for the next few hours.”
“You expect me to stop him if something happens?” she asked incredulously. “Me?”
He nodded. “He’ll listen to you.”
Oh, boy. “Well, I’ll do my best,” she said.
“Good.” He ushered her towards the door. “I like what you’re doing with this investigation, by the way. Should be good for both of you.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” she replied, then paused with her hand on the door handle. “George, can I ask you something?” He nodded, so she continued. “Before, you seemed to want us apart. You told Clark to leave me alone.”
“And now I’m pushing you together? Yeah, well, I figure if there was any damage to be done by letting you two get together sooner than you were both ready for it, it’s already too late. My indiscretion the other day put paid to all that,” he said with a grimace. “So I may as well just go with the flow and do what I can to make sure you’re both dealing with your own problems as well as with each other’s.”
Which all sounded very reasonable and enlightened, except Lois still had the distinct impression that Francine didn’t think Clark ought to be playing such a big part in her life. “Does Francine agree with you on this?” she asked.
He raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think she doesn’t?”
She shrugged. “Just a few things she’s said. Maybe you and she should talk.”
“I see,” he replied evenly. “Well, I’ll look into it.”
She searched his face for any clue that he might agree or disagree with Francine, but he’d slipped on his inscrutable therapist’s expression. Well, she wasn’t sure she cared, anyway. She nodded. “Thanks, George.”
*******************
