Oooh!!! Lookie!! I'm on time! How did that happen?! 
<shrug>
HUGE thanks to Paul for stepping in and saving the day <g> as far as little plot holes and continuity snags go. I would have had a *lot* to answer to otherwise. And a small apology to his comma bin for blatent overuse. 
~~~~Part 17~~~~
Later that night, Lois sat with Martha in the living room of the Kent farmhouse. Jonathan had gone to bed hours ago, but Martha, bless her heart, had stayed up to keep her company. Martha had tried to keep the conversation geared towards happier times, like Lois's first trip to Smallville. She had even made Lois laugh by reminding her that she had accused Jonathan of being a cross-dresser.
“Oh, Honey! You should have seen the look on your faces when I asked if you and Clark were going to share a room! It was priceless.”
“Martha!" Lois laughed in spite of herself. "Whatever made you think that in the first place? We’d only just met.”
Martha just smiled knowingly and shook her head. “I knew you weren’t sleeping together then, I was just trying to move things along a little faster. I could tell right from the start you were meant to be together.”
Lois smiled wistfully. “I wish I’d known then, too.”
“No, Lois. You needed time to get to know each other first. You two might have taken *forever* to realize the truth, but I think you needed it.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment.
“Martha?” Her voice was a bit shaky.
“Yes, Sweetie?”
“Do you think Clark will come home before the baby’s born?” Four months wasn't *that* long, but how much longer would it be before he *did* come home?
Martha reached out and gave Lois's hand a little squeeze. "I hope so, Honey."
Lois moved her hand down to feel the baby. “Sorry, Kiddo, I don’t know if Daddy will make it home in time, but I know he’ll love you anyway.” Lois felt a small movement against her palm. She was about to dismiss it as nothing when it happened again. “Martha! She kicked! Quick, feel!”
She took her hand and guided it to the spot where she’d felt the movement.
“There, did you feel that?”
Martha gasped. “Yes! Isn’t it amazing?”
Lois smiled and brought her other hand up to feel the small fluttering within her. “Yeah, it is.”
They sat together for a little while, just the three of them, lost in the wonder of the moment. Martha focused on Lois's belly, rapt. If this reminder of what she had never been able to experience caused her any pain, she didn't show it. Lois was a little sad that she’d never be able to share quite a moment like this with her own mother, but having Martha here was infinitely better. Martha, unlike Lois’s mother, knew exactly how she was feeling – so lost and alone without Clark, but at the same time, grateful for small miracles like this. Family. She knew what that meant now, and even with Clark’s absence, Lois still felt incredibly loved and at home.
After the moment passed, they got back to talking, but it wasn't long before Lois noticed Martha's poorly concealed fatigue. She knew that Martha wasn't used to staying up so late, and she, herself, was starting to feel the effects of her recent lack of sleep. Lois gently but firmly sent her adopted mother to bed. Then, reluctantly taking her own advice, she made her way up to Clark's old room and climbed into his childhood bed. They'd shared it once before.
She smiled when she remembered that night. He’d been adamant that they couldn’t, “you know,” as he’d put it. “Lo-is, my parents are in the next room!” She smirked at the memory. She’d agreed that they should wait, but hadn’t let *him* know that for some time. She’d teased him relentlessly before snuggling into his arms and settling in for the night. She’d always loved sleeping in his arms. There wasn’t a more comfortable place in the world. In his in his arms and in his heart.
Lois eyed her journal on Clark’s old nightstand. She’d brought it with her on a whim... well, on more that. Knowing that she’d be here after Clark left, she'd realized she’d need to write *something*, so she’d thrown it into her overnight bag. Lois wondered if she’d really let Clark read it when he came home, especially considering some of the things that were in it. Either way, it did help to at least *pretend* she was talking to him. It was comforting, somehow. She grabbed the journal and a pen, opened it up to a fresh page, and began to write.
The baby kicked for the first time today. I think she responded because I mentioned you. Your mom and I talked about baby names after that. You don’t even want to know some of the ones she suggested, though I’m pretty sure she was just joking. I mean, didn’t you used to have a cow named Mabel? Anyway, it took awhile, but we decided to name her after you. And before you protest, I know it’s a girl because I just know. Besides, even if it is a boy, we can still name him Clark Junior. What name did you finally decide on, you ask? It’s Kallie. Sort of a rendering of your Kryptonian name. Kal-el…Kallie. Your mom was thrilled with it. I’m pretty fond of it myself.
It was nice to have such a distraction after today; it was pretty emotional for us all. He left today. The other Clark. I hurt for him, Clark. There’s so much he’ll never have. He and I became good friends while he was here. I hate to see him leave, especially knowing that I’ll probably never see him again. I’ll never know if he’s all right. The only thing that lifts my spirits now is the fact that you’re coming home. Wells didn’t say when, but at least I know for sure.
He and I had to do something, Clark. Something that will make our lives difficult when you come back. We couldn’t think of any other way. We had to explain your absence again somehow. Clark, everyone thinks that I’m carrying Superman’s baby. True as that may be, everyone still believes that Superman and Clark are two different people. I’m not sure how we’ll handle it when you come home, but I know we’ll think of something. We always do. You and I together make a great team. We always have and we will again. But what on Earth am I supposed to do in the meantime?
***
Lois had had to buy a plane ticket back to Metropolis. She would have loved to stay in Smallville until Clark came home, but it just wasn’t feasible. She dreaded going back to work. The stares and the whispers would be harsh, but bearable... she hoped. She’d done the same thing before. Well, sort of the same thing. She’d endured the gossip and cruel things that were said when no one thought she would hear – back when the whole situation with Claude had happened. But this time it would be different. The harsh words would be *towards* her, not *about* her. Some people would surely hate her for what they thought she’d done to Clark. And then there would be the *other* reporters. The ones who were sure to call her, wanting to find out all the sordid details of her affair with Superman. What did she think about him leaving? Had he told her anything about when or if he was ever coming back to Earth? And how does it feel, Ms. Lane, to be carrying Superman’s love child?
Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go back to work. She’d call Perry. He’d know what to do.
In the meantime, she was going to stay here in her apartment and have some time to herself. She’d already emailed Perry from Clark’s parents’ house yesterday to let him know that she was taking a couple of days off. He’d understand. He’d probably want to know what the heck was going on, but he’d understand.
She wondered what the front page of the Daily Planet had been today. Perry wouldn’t have run the story, would he? Hopefully not. The whole thing was unsubstantiated in all actuality, but she didn’t know for sure what Perry would have done about the situation. The Planet had been sitting there in front of her door when she’d gotten home. She’d kicked it inside and left it there on the floor. She hadn’t had the courage to unfold it. She would, eventually, but right now, she didn’t want to even think about the mess she’d made for herself. Well, thinking about it was inevitable, but she sure didn’t want to know whether or not her name had been on the front page of the Planet without something *she’d* written beneath it.
The phone rang, startling her.
And she sure as hell didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. She silenced the ringer and turned down the volume on the answering machine. The light was blinking, almost screaming, at her. Thirty four messages. Lois whimpered. How many messages did the darn thing hold? There'd never been more than five on the blasted contraption, even when she'd been on vacation. On top of it all, she had an unlisted number for crying out loud! She wondered just how far her little "rumor" had spread. would The Dirt Digger, The National Whisper, and the Tattler have gotten a hold of the story yet? If they had, she was sure that more than a few of the messages would be from her mother, lecturing her on the evils of infidelity. Some from Lucy, too, screaming at how unjust it was to leave your *only* sister out of the loop on something as monumental as this. And the rest, she knew -- regardless of whether her family knew yet -- were reporters of every kind, crawling out of the woodwork and into her answering machine.
She wondered why there hadn’t been any reporters camped outside her door when she’d gotten home. She hadn’t thought about it in her relief to finally be home, but now that she did, she was a little worried – grateful – but worried. Though she wasn’t about to question her good fortune. Maybe the word *hadn't* gotten out yet. Or at least, maybe the reporters hadn’t been able to track down her home address yet. She was grateful for her good sense in making that information so inaccessible years ago.
Lois sighed heavily and looked around at her empty apartment. Why did it seem so cold and impersonal now? Empty. She was alone. What was she going to do all by herself?
And when was Clark coming home?
***
Lois awoke the next morning to the sound of heavy rapping on her front door. She groaned and pulled the covers over her head. Maybe she could get back to sleep. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.
The knocking continued.
Lois growled and threw the covers aside. It was just as well since her curiosity was getting the better of her anyway. She grabbed her robe and headed for the door. She was a bit anxious to look through the peephole given all the not-so-pleasant surprises she’d had the last few weeks. The person on the other side could be anyone. Her mother. Lucy. Reporters.
Clark.
Clark! It could be Clark! She rose quickly up to spy through the hole and saw a man standing on the bare edges of her vision. The man stepped towards the door and back into view, raising his hand to knock again.
tbc...
