Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Shape Of My Heart 3/7

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Previously on...

And now...

~@*****@~

Clark felt sudden terror snatch at his heart as the car further up the road caught them in the wash of its lights and suddenly accelerated, leaping forward towards them with a roar like a leopard on prey. Panic bloomed like a black rose in his chest.

He darted forward, giving up on the woods, shoving Lois backwards, back towards the car, aware that his grip on her arm had become suddenly bruisingly tight as he dragged her out of the path of the speeding vehicle that ploughed towards them. A sliver of pain darted up his wounded arm, but he ignored it. He had other things to worry about right then. Like not adding another bullet hole to the collection. A spray of muddied snow drenched them as the car swept past, missing his partner by too few inches for his heart to take.

Clark didn't stop at hauling her into the car. He continued on to the other side, and emerged from the driver's door, dragging Lois with him by one arm wrapped tight around her waist, gritting his teeth hard as the motion tore further at the bloodied muscle of his biceps. He heard metal ping sharply close by – way too close - and Lois drew in a startled breath.

"Are they *shooting* at us? Are they actually shooting at *us*?" she said incredulously. "With actual *guns*?!"

"You noticed!"

"*Why* are they shooting at us? What did you do, Clark Ken -"

"Lois – "

"Geez, you really know how to win friends and influence people, don't you? You were only gone half an hour!" The sharp whine of a too-close for his heart's comfort ricochet had her ducking her head with a squeak and she abruptly speeded up, giving up crawling in favor of scooting rapidly after him. A little thing like approaching death didn't interrupt her though, or, seemingly, deflect her attention one bit. "How can you rile so many people up in just half an hour! Well, I mean, that one's easy because you rile me up in less time than that every day of the - "

"Lois!"

"Okay! Okay!"

To his relief, she shut up and followed his lead in sliding out of the driver's seat and into a crouch on the other side of the car.

"Clark! Let's go!" Her hand clenched itself in his sleeve, tugging at him.

He shushed her with a quick hand. Up ahead, the car had slammed to a skidding halt, executing a reckless, sliding turn and narrowly missing the trees. Clark heard the sound of grinding gears and then it leapt forward, coming for them again. He hauled Lois to her feet, twisted her around, and gave her a hard push in the small of her back.

"Run!" he yelled. "Get into the trees!"

He turned to face the oncoming car as he heard her stumble onto the strip of undergrowth that separate road from wood and then was startled by a new jerk on his arm.

"Lois!"

"Clark, are you crazy? Come on! We have to get out of here!"

"Lois, just go, I'll - "

"What? You'll what?" Her face was terrified as he turned in frustration to view her. "My god, Clark, let's *go*! I'm not leaving without you! Don't you even think I am!" she added sharply, apparently seeing the protest already forming on his face, even as he formed the words.

Sighing, he let her tug him into a run. A bare moment later, he realized with a cold tingle of shock just what he'd been doing – getting into Superman mode, supremely confident of facing down a car full of gun-totting killers who couldn't possibly hurt him...

Except that this time they could. This time his powers weren't there. The harsh throbbing in his arm should have reminded him of that. Realizing just how close he'd probably come to being killed back there on that darkened road he broke out in a cold sweat. And he realized something else.

Lois had just saved his life.

He had no time to linger or ponder the folly of his actions, the ludicrous, dangerous arrogance it seemed that his becoming used to the Superman persona had bred in him, the recklessness that could have killed them both.

An instant later and that knowledge counted for nothing. Numbly, he watched their attackers' car slam to a halt just yards away from them and several dark figures spill out of it to take up positions in a line facing them. His head swiveled desperately towards the wood...so close...they were so damned *close*....

...but, still, nowhere close enough.

Clark's heart tightened, drumming hard against his ribs. His mind refused to believe this was happening. It was like a scene from every gangster movie he'd ever seen. Yet something in his head knew with certain cold clarity that this was real. In another moment he and Lois would be cut down in a blizzard of bullets and it would all be over.

It took less time to evaluate their situation, less time to let the reality of their peril settle in his mind, than it did to form the obvious conclusion as to what he had to do about it.

Without another thought – because if he thought he might falter – he grabbed for Lois, wrapping his arms around her and hauling her back tight against his chest. He whirled away from the shadowed figures, praying hard. He felt his muscles bunching, tight across his shoulder-blades, his one thought now that if his powers had failed him, if he was vulnerable here, if he could be killed, that the bullets wouldn't pass through him and hit Lois too. That she might survive. Even if he didn't. That he could, at the very last and very least, give her the precious seconds she'd need to get into cover and out of immediate danger.

He heard the guns begin to blaze. Time slowed, it seemed interminable minutes as he waited...

...for the first of the bullets to strike him in the back...

...for the impact to thump heavily between his shoulderblades...

....for the pain to hit...

...for...

...time to die...

<Lois...>

<Oh, god, Lois...>

It took him a moment to understand that the gunfire had stopped; the echoes of it still resounded in his skull. Clark prized open eyes that had been squeezed tight shut and felt the darkness close in on him momentarily as he turned dizzy with relief. The silence was broken by startled murmurs.

"What the - ?"

He didn't wait around for the shooters to recover from the shock of seeing their bullets bounce off the back of their intended victim. He had no time to stand and wonder – or to panic over what those men had seen and what they might make of it. Lois, thankfully, had been pulled so tight against his chest, her face buried in his shoulder by the hands holding her there in a death-grip, that she wouldn't have seen anything. He doubted she even knew what was going on; he suspected all of her attention was now on trying to make the trees in one piece. Right now, her blood was probably pounding too hard in her ears for anything else to penetrate, all of her instincts shrieking of survival and hearing nothing more, her usually sharp observations skills lost in the darkness and confusion.

He hoped.

He had to move! If Lois had been paying attention, as he fervently hoped she hadn't, then the time for dealing with the aftermath of his actions was later. If there was a later. If she survived to ask and he to...panic. The Lane and Kent luck was holding out, but it might fail at any moment – as could his powers. With a hard intake of breath, on trembling legs, he pushed Lois hard ahead of him and stumbled after her as she took the hint, needing no further encouragement to race the few extra leaps needed to burst through the thick foliage and into the trees ahead.

Clark hadn't realized he was holding his breath in tight until he released it in a relieved puff of white-clouded air as they hit the woods and pine-scented darkness closed in around them, concealing them, protecting them...

He glanced across his shoulder as he pushed his way through the branches. One of the men was leaning out of the car window as it swept past. Something whined past his ear and slapped into the trunk of the pine just ahead. He pushed through the thick, low branches and struggled as fast as he could after his partner, ensuring he was as close behind her as he could get, covering her with his own body as they ran into the dense cover. He heard her cry out and for a moment that blinded him with terror thought she'd been hit. Then he heard her cursing and realized it was only the brush getting in her way.

She struggled on through the deep snow ahead of him as he followed her. Behind him, came pursuing voices. Sharp and angry. He should be ahead of her, he thought frantically. The broken trail she was leaving in her wake made it much easier for him to move through the snow that clutched at his legs like molasses and tried to pull him down. If he was ahead, she'd be able to move faster, it would be less -

The snow.

The trail.

Oh, god.

Twisting himself sharply around, dismay filled him as he saw the clear line of tumbled snow stretching behind them. The voices were closer now.

Praying harder than he ever had before to any higher power out there that might want to listen to desperate superheroes, Clark drew in a breath and blew out hard. To his instant relief, the iced breath he directed along the trail quickly laid down a fresh layer of frozen crystals to cover their tracks.

Heart hammering, he turned back to where Lois was floundering in the knee-high drifts. Behind him, voices rose as he quickly caught her up, almost falling on top of her as he wrapped a quick arm around her waist and pulled her down with him to crouch behind a thick line of scrub. Running was no good. They were leaving such visible markers those pursuing them would track them as easily as rabbits spooked out of hiding – and shoot them with as little compunction. Or run them down as he delayed them while trying to cover the ploughed snow of their wild flight.

All he could hope for was that, with clear snow between them and no obvious sign of their prey, they'd lose the trail and give up. Lois was taut beside him as they huddled beneath their sparse shelter. He gave her a quick glance, enough to see how white her face was, and then his head snapped back to the edge of the trees as sharp voices rose there.

That wait seemed interminable. But, finally, he realized that the sounds of argument were fading. His muscles loosened as he listened. He couldn't make out anything other than the mutter of annoyed talk and then the cough of a car engine...not turning over.

"They have our car," Lois muttered. And it was only then that he became aware that he hadn't been hearing anything more than she had – the sounds carried on the still air, magnified by that trick of nature that occurred when deep snow surrounded you. He strained a little, but nothing more than that reached him. His powers had cut out again. He was suddenly aware of the seeping cold and the fact that his feet and legs were uncomfortably damp. Sensation – unwelcome feeling – rushed into him like a sudden torrent from all directions, all angles and he shivered violently, feeling like a man dashed against rocks as he clung against the roaring tide engulfing him. He stifled a quick gasp; he had never realized until now just how much his powers shielded him from, all the discomfort, all the small hurts and aches – he felt as though he'd been beaten from head to foot.

"Clark, who *are* they?" Lois whispered, turning to look at him.

He shrugged, dragging his attention back from its sour fascination with his body's distress and focusing on their immediate plight. "Our story," he surmised grimly. "I guess we asked one too many indiscreet questions back in town."

"I *knew* that diner waitress had shifty eyes!" Lois exclaimed in a soft hiss and then, "I told you we shouldn’t have stopped there for lunch."

Clark gaped at her. As he recalled, it had been her idea that they combine a little snooping around the town in their hunt for the smuggling gang Perry had sicced them on with refueling both themselves and the car. His indignation vanished as that last struck him. The car.... Had that gang disabled it somehow? While they were distracted? Having lunch? They had parked it in plain sight of the diner, but still...they hadn't been watching it all the time.

Well, it was a moot point now. Even if they'd been able to get it going again, there was no way back to the road from here with that gang prowling around waiting for them. He tapped Lois on the arm and jerked his head behind him. "Come on, let's go. Before we freeze."

"Go? Go where?" But she followed him even as she hissed the protest.

"This way."

"Clark..."

He looked over his shoulder at her as he struck out away from the road. He had no clue what the answer to her question was. All he knew was that they were out in the open, in what was shaping up to be another blizzard coming in hard from the north. Already the first flakes of it were settling on Lois's shoulders as he watched. He lifted his head to glance up through the towering branches overhead and into a sky moonless and weighted. Not even stars showed through the thick cloud. Moisture touched his face with feathered fingers. He dropped his head and put out a hand, watched the snow sink into his skin. How could something so delicate, so fragile, so beautiful be so dangerous? Deadly?

They had to get away from the road. They had to find shelter. The storm would be on them, he judged with the wisdom of years of experience, long before they could reach town. Best not to even think about that as a plan. They'd never make it. No. Find shelter. Find safety. And fast.

He glanced over at Lois again. She was watching him with impatience but that wasn't what caused a tingle of dismay. She was also watching him as though he had the answers. Of course, he thought wryly. She was out of her element – and into his. She probably thought this country boy spent his formative years building igloos. He sighed. Then squared his shoulders. Superman or not – he could still be her hero, couldn't he? He could still save the day.

Somewhat unexpectedly cheered by that notion, with the new realization that he had experience and knowledge that could help them survive a crisis, beyond his super powers. That he was still...viable. Useful. Worth something. The knowledge was...beyond warming. With Lois looking at him like that, full of trust, full of expectant hope...more than hope, quiet belief in him, that he would come through...and to realize that it was him – Clark – not Superman who was the recipient of that dark, bewitching gaze. That was something beyond heady, beyond intoxicating. Suddenly, powerless, he felt invincible.

Course...it would help if he knew what he was doing. The grin that had unconsciously spread itself across his face faded.

"This way," he said, turning deeper into the wood. The men back there behind them would give up on the car soon enough, and then they'd start coming after them. They had to get as far from the road, deeper into the woods, as quick as they could. Behind him, as though the thought had drawn it, he heard the sudden chatter of gunfire. His heart caught, but it was indiscriminate; they were firing into the trees in all directions, obviously hoping to hit them by chance. Clark hoped the infamous Lane and Kent luck was on their side and not their pursuers. That was machine gun fire back there. H&Ks? AK-47s? P-90s? Whatever they were, they'd been the trappings of choice of serious career criminals. Far from being the petty, smalltime tobacco smugglers Perry's source had led them to believe was operating in Haven. This was bigger than they'd imagined.

Much bigger.

Much more dangerous.

**********

Naturally, the snowfall intensified not long after they started their trek through the silent woods. A break from fate by this point was obviously too much to expect. Fat, thick flakes settled on them, quickly becoming a white curtain that froze on lashes, obscured vision beyond a foot ahead, and had them huddling miserably into their coats. By the time they'd been trekking for an hour, the blizzard was on them with all the savagery of a hunting beast. The trees provided some small shelter, but the wind had gotten up and was vicious like a spear, dashing flurries of ice against exposed skin, finding its way beneath clothing that had long since stopped being of any use as a defense against the chilling air, and slicing them to bone.

Their exertion had kept them warm for a time; it took effort to get them through the deeply drifted snow. But that advantage had long since been lost, along with any feeling in stiffened fingers and numb toes. For a time, as he'd struggled through the thick mire of the snow, that dragged at every step and clutched like ghostly hands at his legs, muscle heat in his back and shoulders had set up a furnace that had been some small comfort. He'd even begun to believe that perhaps his powers were returning; the chill didn't seem to have the bite he'd expect it would. At first. But the sensation had faded as the night wore on and now he worried that he could no longer feel even the chill. Sensation was gone, all feeling was gone, he might as well have been a walking block of ice. It was almost a blessing, he thought morosely. At least the myriad of distracting aches were lost to that chill now, along with the painful throb in his arm and the prickling pain in his extremities.

Lois was doing no better than he was. Worryingly, somewhere along the way she'd picked up a limp. It had started a few miles back. Or, at least, that had been when he'd noticed. Just a racked muscle, she'd muttered a grumpy explanation when he'd asked; she'd briefly gotten her foot trapped in a tangle of roots hidden beneath a drift, and wrenched her ankle tugging it free.

But she wouldn't stop to let him look and showed increasing impatience and irritation when he mentioned it, until he gave up. He hoped it wasn't broken. Her face was paler than it had been and her lips were tightening with every mile. She grimaced with each step, when she didn't think he was watching. But it was the way she smoothed her expression to something bland and taut when she became aware that he was that really convinced him of how much she was hurting.

They were reaching close to the end of their endurance, the cold and the struggle through the snow-caked landscape taking their toll. Lois was still shivering violently, seemingly unable to stop the tremors passing through her and that was a good sign, but he dreaded seeing her stop, seeing the signs that hypothermia were kicking in, when the body took comfort in false warmth and lost all sense of perspective in its surroundings.

Clark stopped, wavering a little as exhaustion welled up in him momentarily. He pushed it away and blinked out into the silent, swirling veil ahead, searching for his partner as his dulled thoughts sparked memory of her again. He'd lost her. Ahead of him there was only white, thick and dancing in violent swirls on the air. Then, just as panic blossomed in his chest, he caught sight of her, a dim shadow, a brief glimpse before the curtain descended again, cutting him off and sealing him into his white walled isolation once more.

He made a move to push on, catch up to her - getting separated in this didn't bear thinking on - and then paused. He turned his head thoughtfully to the dark behind him.

Her attention, like his had been, was all on making it another few yards, taking that next step, keeping moving. She wasn't going to notice if he slipped away. Just for a moment, he assured himself hurriedly. If he could just muster enough of his powers to get above the trees, hover there for just a few moments, he'd be able to get a much better idea of the lay of the land, get some bearings, maybe see a way clear of these woods....

"Clark?"

There was a quick tinge of fear underlying that soft hissing of his name.

"Clark!!"

Panic.

"I'm here," he said hastily, churning the snow as he moved up quickly beside her, abandoning his plans. He surveyed her anxiously as he got close.

Her jacket was thick enough, but it didn't cover much of her. City girl that she was, she'd paid lip service to the fact that they were headed into colder country than Metropolis at this time of year, but the jacket, though wool, was designed more as a fashion statement than for any true warmth or practicality. At least he'd been able to persuade her to switch the sturdy pumps she'd been planning on wearing for boots, he thought. It had been a hard won victory and, though she'd compromised on that one, she'd dug in her heels mule-hard when it came to changing the wool jacket for a full-length, heavy, down coat. She was going from warm airplane straight to warm rental car, she'd told him irritably. Why would she want to sweat in a heavy coat?

Why indeed? He couldn't feel too smug about having been proved right in the end though. Neither of them could have exactly foreseen that their story would turn around and bite them on the rump and that they'd end up in the dire circumstances they were now in. Still...maybe he'd just file this one away for future reference, leverage against future arguments when she refused to be sensible against all rational advice. Though, knowing his partner, by the time he felt able to bring this up again she'd probably have an entirely different version of how things had gone in her head and refuse to believe he'd been right at all.

The thought reminded him of his feisty, energetic partner. Who wasn't anywhere close to the miserable, hollow-eyed and waxen-faced woman who currently stood staring up at him, tremors shaking her slight frame. He made a small sound of distress. How could he be standing here thinking about gaining points in the long-standing, exhilarating war with her, when she was suffering like this?

"Here...put this over...your shoulders," he said hastily, the words coming out hoarse and breathless as he began to shrug out of his coat. Like the rest of his clothing it was soaked through and much of its heat value lost. But it was probably no damper than what she was wearing, and anything that added an extra layer would help. As much as anything short of finding shelter would help, he thought dismally. He stifled a small gasp as his stiffened shoulder protested his movements, the edges of the gouge in his flesh, which had begun to coagulate, catching against the rough material of his sleeve and tugging painfully for a moment, before he got himself clear.

Lois had taken to hugging herself tightly. But she shook her head, wearily. "Clark. You...can't give me...this. You...you'll freeze," she protested, but it was a little half-hearted.

"G-got...sweater," he reassured her, holding the coat out in offering. It wasn't a particularly thick sweater, but it was capable of keeping him warm just about as well as anything else he was wearing. She didn't move to take the gift, her eyes dark and pensive on his. To his dismay there was a visible tremor in his arm as he held the coat towards her, pushing it slightly closer in gentle hint. "Please, Lois. Humor me. Just put it on. Your lips are...turning blue." His own lips twisted wryly. "And my arm...is hurting already...just holding this out. Besides...arguing hurts..."

She hesitated a moment longer, then took the coat from him. She continued to grumble for form as she draped it over her shoulders and pulled the edges tight around her.

"H-happy n-now?" she asked tartly, when she was through. It might have sounded even more snippy if it hadn't been forced out through tight lips and almost chattering teeth, Clark thought. Or if he hadn't been able to see just how grateful she already was for its added warmth. The glance she gave him was in sharp contradiction to her words and tone and he gave her a small smile.

"No," he murmured, looking out around the clearing and straightening his stance slightly from the slouch he'd slumped into. "H-happy would be...getting out of...this. Somewhere warm." He muffled a sigh. "Okay. L-let's – "

Lois's sudden sharp gasp distracted him from completing the sentence. He looked back at her, startled. "Lois?" he asked, alarm spiking through him all at once as he saw the shock in her eyes, dark and wide with a new fear.

"Oh god! Clark!"

And then she'd darted out a hand that shook, laid it on the cream sleeve of his sweater.

Oh. Of course. In the dark, their flight, his coat dark enough to conceal the blood...she hadn't seen. But now –

"You're hurt!" She'd pulled back the hand with a jerk and was staring in fascinated horror at the crimson smear coating it. "Clark..." Her voice wavered, fading into shock before recovering. But it shook as she continued. "...you...did you get...did they - ?" Her tone escalated on each word and he could see panic take hold of her all in an instant.

"It's okay," Clark stepped up next to her hastily, before it could get a firm hold on her, taking hold of her arm in a steadying grip. Her face crumbled and with a small oath he pulled her closer, arms wrapping her in an embrace against his chest. She burrowed into his shoulder and his hand spread itself against the cold dampness of her hair as he said softly against her neck, "I'm okay. It's nothing."

She shuddered against him and he understood it was only half about his arm. The wound wasn't that serious, she could see that for sure. She couldn't think he was bleeding to death on her or anything. It was that they'd come to a halt. The first time they'd stopped for breath since beginning their frantic flight, since the night had exploded into terrifying, inexplicable disaster. Until this moment, all of their energies, all of their focus, had been on surviving the next instant, the next second, getting out of this. Now that they'd paused to take stock, it was catching up on them, adrenaline that had been pulsing through their blood suddenly releasing them, leaving them bereft. He felt tears prickle at his own eyes and knew it was simple emotional release, the last few hours finally coming home to roost.

But they couldn't give in to it. Not now. They weren't...out of the woods yet.

The oh-so-true thought almost produced a bark of wild laughter and he had to fight to choke it back, recognizing instinctively that if he let it loose it would quickly become hysteria and he might never stop. That out of proportion response more than anything else, told him how close they were to losing it here. They had to get moving. Before lethargy and exhaustion – both emotional and physical - got the better of them.

He pulled back from his partner carefully, putting a light hand to one frozen cheek for a moment before easing himself clear of her with a faint smile. He patted her against one shoulder. "We...need to get going."

"But...your arm..."

"Can't do much...for it...here," he told her firmly. "Like your ankle. Shelter first. It is okay. Really," he assured her. "Doesn't...hurt. Much. Besides...you can walk on that...ankle...I can walk on...this arm."

She looked at him askance for the quip, but he set out again, leaving her to follow, allowing her no chance to find another reason to linger. Besides, he hadn't been fooling about his lack of enthusiasm for arguing with her. His breath hurt in his chest and talking felt like pulling spears of ice into his throat. They couldn't go much further in this, he thought, almost frantically. They had to find somewhere. Now. Or they were going to end up having to find some shelter out in the open. An option which didn't bear thinking about.

Despite his appeals to the gods of good fortune, the starkly barren columns of the trees surrounding him didn't part, didn't open up to reveal sanctuary, granting his wish. The snow kept falling, the chilling whip of wind that had begun to pick up still found its way beneath the collar of his shirt and spread freezing fingers across his ribs. The universe still held a grudge against them.

No one was listening, it seemed.

Lois caught him up a few moments later, wading unsteadily to his side and breaking into the deepening bleakness of his thoughts. Half-moons of purple clung under her eyes, making the flesh look bruised and the lines of pain and exhaustion were etched starkly into a white face. He put out a hand and caught her under the elbow, helping her along. To his surprise she didn't shake him off or protest. They struggled on through the hip-deep snow for a few moments in silence, then she spoke, still sounding breathy as the chill and the exertion of the last few hours took its toll.

"You're seven ways...beyond being...an idiot...Clark Kent," she said, breath hitching out the words in puffs of white air. "Do...you know that?"

Blinking, taken by surprise, he looked down into the face upturned to view him. It had a scowl on it. The change from her sympathetic stance of a moment ago, her concern for him, into this leap of anger, bewildered him. <Geez, nice bedside manner, Lois,> he thought, slightly peeved at her new belligerence. <What happened to poor Clark?>

Another time, he might have amused himself with the disappointed pettiness of his reaction. But it had been too hard a night and his emotions were still too raw for commonsense. A little hurt that her concern had apparently only been temporary, and utterly confused by the annoyance he could see on her face, he couldn't work up the energy to speak. His expression must have registered the disorientation she had tossed him into though because she snorted, the sound shockingly loud in the thickened air.

"I...mean...what were you...thinking back there? Standing...right...in the middle of the road...that way? You...could have been...killed!"

Oh. That. Yeah. Right.

His mind went back to that moment in the dark, that kaleidoscope instant of fear and panic, the twister of emotion that had swept him up and into stark horror.

What *had* he been thinking? Well, he knew the answer to that. He'd been thinking that she was going to die. And that he had no way to save her. That in another moment they'd both be dead and there were too many things he regretted not saying, not doing, too much that would be left unspoken between them, that if he'd only tried harder, only spoken up louder, only made her see him, really *see* him, perhaps she might have understood, might have ---

But that hadn't been all of it. Had it, he was honest enough to admit.

He'd been thinking he was still invincible. Still the hero. Still –

"...not Superman...you know!" Somewhat impressively, given her lack of breath, Lois had continued her tirade, her words meshing with his thoughts and bringing him up short. He stared back at her warily. Knowing she was right. Trying not to provoke questions from her by showing how much that truth hurt. He wasn't Superman. Not right now. Not any more.

Would he ever be again?

He sighed.

"Nothing. I mean...I wasn't. Thinking," he added as she glared at him.

She gave him an exasperated look, grumbling beneath her breath, and pushed clear of him to take the lead. And for once he was glad his powers weren't online. He figured maybe he was better off not knowing. What he could make out made him wince. His gaze followed her and he frowned as he noted how heavily she was limping now as she moved further across the darkened clearing, struggling through the snow piled up against the trees....

...and came to an abrupt halt. Had she finally reached the limits of her endurance? <Not now,> he thought worriedly. Not here, out in the open, in the middle of this white, unforgiving desert, with no sign of shelter in sight and no seeming end to the black columns surrounding them or a lightning of the darkness. Heavily, Clark trudged his way up beside her, his face anxious.

"Lois, you oka - ?"

"Look..." She pointed out with a finger and he followed the move automatically. For a moment he saw nothing. Then the mass of shadows ahead resolved themselves into vague shapes. They'd reached the edge of the tree line, he realized. And beyond it...was that a building?

"Come on!" Lois grabbed at his sleeve, suddenly energized. Her renewed strength seemed to seep into him with her touch and he felt his own tiredness dropping away momentarily. He knew it would return, but the small hope bubbling up in him swamped it for now. Together, they made their way, stumbling, falling, to the last of the trees, and then Clark gave a cautionary tug at her shoulder, preventing her from crossing into the open.

"Wait..." he murmured as she looked the question back at him.

He surveyed what lay ahead of them cautiously. A small clearing, a sweep of what was probably lawn under its snowy mantle and to their right what looked like a vacation cabin, its windows black eyes watching them in the night. To his left, beyond the gentle, downward slope of the yard, he saw the frozen plain of a lake.

He matched glances with Lois and wasn't really surprised to see the mirror of his unease on her face. He shrugged.

There was nothing threatening about a lakeside cabin. In fact, it was just the shelter they'd been hoping for. Yet still, he hesitated on the edge of the trees, unreasonably wary about exposing them to what scrutiny might lie behind those darkly reflective eyes. He watched a veil of cloud pass across the glass of the upper windows, tried to shake himself out of the skitters of unease crawling like ants across his spine – and failed.

Intellectually, he knew it was highly unlikely that they'd blunder into the one lakeside cabin in the county that was the hideout of the gang gunning for them. Of course, there was the tree, he reminded himself. The tree should never have been across the road. The omens weren't good. And then there was the X factor, of course. Commonly and otherwise known as keeping company with Lois Lane. That edged the boundaries of the insane and deeply unlikely possibility nicely into the red. With Lois around they'd be lucky not to find themselves knocking on the door of the county's first and only serial killer with a nice collection of axes in the cellar, who just happened to be renting out rooms to every degenerate lowlife in twelve states. One of them no doubt named Norman, he thought morosely.

Okay, now he was getting ridiculous.

"This is...ridiculous," Lois hissed from beside him in echo of the thought. "What else are...we gonna do? Spend the night out...out...here and wake up as po...popsicles?"

Clark nodded agreement with the logic of this sentiment. Of course standing here in the cold when they could be warm inside was dumb. Silly and dumb.

Still, the ants didn't let up their conga up and down his backbone as he hauled in a small breath and stepped out onto the moon-tainted lawn. Nothing but silence greeted them. He hadn't realized how much he'd been expecting the still night to explode into spears of light in his eyes and angry yells – no doubt followed by machine gun fire – until he let his shoulders loosen out of their hunch. He met Lois's eyes and matched sheepish grins with her as he watched her come up out of the automatic defensive crouch she'd settled into.

"Okay..." he said softly. "Let's go meet...the neighbors."

tbc...