Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic The Long Road Home 14/?

From part 13...


Sinking down onto the couch, a feeling of depression started to sink back in. Where could he be this of night? It wasn't *that* late, she realized, but he hadn't exactly seemed like the party animal. He seemed like the back-home-early kind of guy. 'Maybe he's out doing Superman stuff,' she reasoned.

She brightened a little. She supposed that was possible. Hadn't he mentioned something about liking to fly over the city at night?

Her gaze drifted over to her darkened balcony, and she found herself drawn to it. Standing up, she crossed the room and slid open the glass door, then stepped out onto the cold cement. She looked up at the star-filled night sky and smiled as her heart skipped a beat. She stared up at this same comforting night sky from her balcony hundreds of times over the past few years, but this time it looked different...*felt* different. Somewhere in the dark there was a man sharing her night sky in a way she'd never imagined possible. Suddenly, her sky seemed to hold new possibilities, new meaning.

With a smile and a warm heart, she turned and went back into her apartment. She and Clark may have been three thousand miles apart, but strangely enough, the thought wasn't quite as depressing.

She went through her apartment and turned off the lights, deciding to take that hot bubble bath she had planned on. It was getting too late to try Clark again tonight, but she decided to try him again tomorrow. One way or another, she was determined to make their long-distance relationship work.

**********


Now on to part 14...


**********

Clark flew in through his open loft window and touched down in the quiet apartment. It was almost ten-thirty and it was the first time he'd been home since early that morning. He shook his head wearily. 'Superman' was in high demand these days.

When he thought about the new name Lois had given him in her article that day, he smiled. Since her article had been carried on the AP wire, the name had caught on like wild fire. Just like the first time she had mentioned it during their first meeting, he realized how arrogant it sounded, but suddenly he didn't mind. Every time he'd heard a bystander shout it out at him, it only succeeded in bringing a smile to his face because it reminded him of Lois.

Lois.

His heart started to beat faster. It was only seven-thirty her time. Was she home from work, or was she out doing something? She had been on his mind all day, but as much as he longed to hear her voice, he'd never found a spare minute to call her. But he had a minute now, and nothing sounded more appealing than talking to her. With a surge of impulsiveness, Clark walked briskly across the room to his phone.

He picked up the handset, then glanced up at the bulletin board above it where he'd tacked the piece of notebook paper she'd torn out and scribbled her phone number on at the airport using his back as a desk. He smiled at the memory. But as quickly as the smile had come, it faded as he felt a tinge of sadness thinking about how much he'd missed her the last few days. He'd never heard from her Saturday when she arrived back home, but he hadn't dared call in case she'd had a hard trip home and needed some time to recuperate. Then Sunday and today had gone by in a blur with Superman duties, so he had no idea if she'd tried to call. At times like this he wished he had Caller ID.

He dropped his gaze back down to the phone to dial, but the blinking red light on his answering caught his eye. His heart skipped a beat. There was a message. Could it be from her?

Daring to hope, he pushed the 'play' button eagerly. But instead of Lois's voice, the sound of his dad's voice came out of the speakers. His hopes deflated like a balloon. It wasn't that he wasn't glad to hear from his dad, but it hadn't exactly been the message he'd been wishing for.

Deciding to try Lois first before returning his dad's call, Clark dialed the number listed on the notebook paper, then leaned back against the counter as he waited for his long distance call to connect. His heart lurched as he heard the click signaling the successful connection, but then, to his disappointment, he got a busy signal. With a sigh, he clicked the phone off, then back on again so he could dial his parents. He knew it was a little late, but knew they wouldn't be asleep just yet. With harvest over, they were staying up later at night and sleeping in longer in the mornings.

His call was answered on the second ring. "Clark," his mother greeted him cheerfully from the other end of the line without so much as a 'hello.'

Clark grinned. At least somebody had Caller ID. "Hi, Mom," he answered. "Dad left a message for me earlier saying he needed help with something. What's up?"

"Your father's out in the barn or else I'd let you talk to him, but he was putting some of the harvesting equipment away for the winter and needed a hand," she explained. "He called Wayne and they got most of the easier things done this afternoon, but he was hoping you could pop over in the next day or so to help with what's left before the weather gets bad. Do you have time?"

"Sure, Mom," Clark replied easily. "I'll see if I can fly over tomorrow during lunch or something, if that works."

He heard his mom chuckle. "I always knew those powers of yours would come in handy. Thanks, dear."

Clark laughed. "No problem. Tell Dad I said hello."

"I will, sweetie," she responded with a smile in her voice. "How's Lois?"

With a sigh, Clark switched the phone to his other ear, then walked over to the couch and sat down. "Busy, I guess. At least her phone was when I tried her a minute ago."

"You haven't talked to her since she went home?" His mom's voice reflected her surprise.

"I haven't. But I'm sure she's been as busy as I have been. I know she's been working; she did write up that interview I gave her."

"I saw that," his mom replied. "You told us you trusted her not to expose you, and you were right. Knowing the pressure she's certainly up against, I'd say that says a lot about her character."

Clark leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. "I guess so."

Martha picked up on the tone in her son's voice. "You guess so? What does that mean? Were you worried that she would after all?"

"Oh no, it's not that," he hurried to clarify. "I guess I'm just...I don't know, uncertain about things. She hasn't called, and her line was busy when I finally got up the courage to call her a few minutes ago. What if she's thought it over and decided that being part of my life with all these secrets wasn't what she wanted? What if she's decided that some normal guy in San Francisco would be easier? I can't say that I would blame her..."

"Oh, Clark, I don't think--"

"No, Mom, listen," he cut her off, his frustration building at his seemingly overwhelming situation. "Even if she decided to give this thing between us a try, what am I supposed to do then? I haven't been home long enough these last two days to even try to call her. If I can't even find time to call her, how am I supposed to build anything substantial with her? I'm putting so much energy into doing my job at the Planet *and* trying to be Superman that I haven't had time to breathe, let alone focus on her. How's that going to bode for a new relationship?" He shook his head despondently. "I just don't see how I could make it work."

Martha's voice was full of sympathy when she responded. "I know it probably seems hopeless right now, but don't give up just yet. When you do get a chance to talk to her, tell her what you just told me. She'll know what you're both up against, and she can decide for herself if she wants to give your relationship a try. I'd hate to see you give up entirely on that connection you seemed so sure of the other night if there's a way to make this work."

Clark thought about that for a moment and decided his mom was right. Instead of dwelling on the 'what ifs,' he should have a heart to heart talk with Lois. That was the only sure way to know if she was willing to give what they might have together a try.

As the week progressed, however, Clark realized that finding time to call Lois was proving to be far more difficult than he had expected. Each day seemed to be busier than the last, with his investigation on the Mayoral scandal heating up, and his unplanned--and often inconvenient--Superman duties. He hadn't gotten home before midnight every night that week, and he found himself uncharacteristically tired.

And depressed.

In his efforts to call Lois, he still had no idea if she'd even tried to contact him. There were no messages on his answering machine, but he knew that didn't necessarily mean she hadn't tried. He kept hoping that maybe she would email, but there was never anything from her. He had tried to call her once from work, crossing his fingers that he wouldn't get in trouble for the long-distance personal call placed from work, but all he'd managed to reach was her voice mail. Not knowing what to say, he hung up.

He groaned in frustration. How was he supposed to talk to her if their schedules never meshed? This was impossible. His life was so busy he could hardly manage to keep up with it, let alone be a boyfriend to somebody. The phone thing simply didn't seem to be working.

Suddenly a new option entered his mind. Why not just fly out to see her?

As quickly as the idea came, however, he dismissed it. It was tempting to drop by for a visit, but surely that would be too much too soon. What if she had indeed changed her mind about wanting to keep in contact with him, and suddenly a red and blue clad superhero showed up at her door? How unsettling that could be for her, knowing there was a man out there who could fly, and track her down practically anywhere she went? His superpowers added an entirely new element to the word 'stalker.'

The 'dropping in' idea rejected, he found himself deliberating about whether or not to try emailing her. Each time he brought up a blank email, though, he chickened out. His insecurities always managed to get the better of him, and he couldn't help thinking how devastated he would feel if he learned the reason he hadn't heard from her was that she had changed her mind about them, that she'd decided trying to have a relationship with a very busy superhero was simply too much trouble.

As much as he wanted to talk to her, though, he also knew that he was afraid. The idea of having a relationship had always seemed unattainable for him, but now that the possibility loomed on the horizon, he knew how much he stood to lose. What if he was right, and he discovered that having a relationship was too much for him to handle? There would be, in all truth, three people in the relationship, two of which he would be responsible for. The odds weren't good. If either one of him screwed up, he stood to lose the first woman he ever wanted to love. And he wasn't sure he could handle that.

Clark sighed heavily. It was a lot of pressure. He only hoped he could find a way to make it all work.


**********

Lois unlocked her apartment and hurried inside, hoping to hide away before anyone could see the tears filling her eyes. She shut the door soundly behind her and leaned against it. What a week this was turning out to be.

It was only Thursday night, but already she found herself wishing it were the weekend so she could have a couple days off. For the first time in years, she found herself seriously considering calling in sick tomorrow.

The week had begun with Jim yelling at her and accusing her of losing her edge, then telling her he was disappointed in her. Then Agnes had agreed with her editor that she was performing below par. She hadn't said as much, but her implication had been clear when they'd had dinner together Monday night.

But if the notion that she'd let down the two people whose opinions she valued the most wasn't bad enough, Jim had set out to make sure she never "disappointed" him again. He had assigned her to cover the Miss San Francisco pageant, then further humiliated her by assigning her to cover a small museum opening, as well as a myriad of other society related stories that she knew were well beneath her. Frankly, she was embarrassed to even have her name attached to the fluff pieces she'd had to write.

And things just continued to get worse. Randy, the biggest jerk at the Chronicle, a weasel of a man who seemed to take immense pleasure in making everyone else miserable, went out of his way to scratch at her already raw nerves. Every time Jim assigned her another humiliating story, Randy seemed to know, and made sure to make a snide comment about still being in their editor's doghouse. Lois tried to console herself with the knowledge that he was probably just jealous of the career success she'd had, and that he was possibly even eyeing the now vacant--though hopefully only temporary--spot of their editor's favorite reporter. It was little compensation, however, when it felt as if he was rubbing salt in open wounds.

What hurt the most, though, was that it had been a week and she still hadn't heard from Clark.

She had really hoped to talk to him on Monday night when she'd returned from Agnes's dinner, but the only time the phone had rang after she'd tried to catch him at home had been shortly after she'd climbed into the bathtub. She remembered how her breath had caught in her throat at the sound of the ringing phone. She had leaped out of the tub, hastily threw a towel around herself, and made a dash for the phone, leaving a wet, sudsy trail behind her. When she'd picked up the phone on the fourth ring, it had only been a solicitor offering to saver her money on her long distance. With sinking disappointment, she had declined and hung up. Then she'd gotten back into the tub, this time taking the cordless phone with her into the bathroom where she might be able to reach it should Clark decide to call. But the phone never rang again, and she had groaned, thinking it would just figure if Clark had picked that exact moment to call.

The disappointment she had felt that night continued to build over the week as each day went by without so much as a phone call or email from him. It was impossible not to wonder if he'd changed his mind about how he felt about her. In an effort to hear his voice, to try to reassure herself that she hadn't been imagining the connection they seemed to share, she'd tried phoning him several times over the past week. Each time she got his answering machine.

It occurred to her that he was possibly avoiding her. Why else would he have gone a week without calling? She knew he was busy; she had looked through the papers every day for news about his latest rescues, and she knew there had been many. But surely that didn't make him to busy to at least leave her a message on her answering machine? Or jot her off a quick email? Anything would have been better than nothing. Even a note or message saying he'd been thinking of her but would talk to her as soon as he got a chance would have bolstered her wavering confidence.

Lois wiped at the tears on her cheek as she pushed off from the door walked into the kitchen. She dropped her attache onto the floor in the entryway, then opened the freezer door in search of chocolate ice cream. Seeing there wasn't any, she slammed the door shut in her frustration and plopped into one of the barstools at the island. Propping an elbow on the cool counter surface, she dropped her chin into her palm as she contemplated the argument.

As she continued to dwell on the possible reasons why he hadn't contacted her, a new possibility worked its way into her mind. What if she *had* read too much into things? What if she had only imagined that they had the beginnings of something special?

She thought back to the air crackling with electricity whenever they were close, and that incredible, heart-stopping kiss they'd shared at the airport. That hadn't seemed fake. But then, Clark's alter ego was, in fact, a big fake. What was to say the rest of the man wasn't a fake, too? What if 'Clark Kent' was every bit as much an elaborately and carefully constructed identity as Superman to throw people off track? Maybe he liked fooling people; maybe he liked the satisfaction that came from making people think one thing, while doing another.

The thought made her stomach turn. What if he had been playing her, pretending to be the kind, gentle man she'd come to know him to be, in a mere effort to convince her not to reveal his secret?

'But you've always been such a good judge of character,' she consoled herself. 'He didn't seem like he was being insincere.'

'Yeah, well, he's obviously fooled a lot of people,' the skeptical voice in her head argued back. 'What's to say he wasn't trying to fool you into thinking he cared for you in order to keep you from writing the story?'

Lois paled. That couldn't be true...could it? He couldn't have been using her, manipulating her emotions to keep her from exposing him, could he? Lois's chest grew tight, making it hard to breathe. It would certainly explain why she hadn't heard from him, not even a quick email saying 'thank you for not exposing me' after seeing the article she had written about him. But there had been nothing, not a single phone call, not a single email.

In that instant, she knew. She had been played for a fool.

Lois sat numbly, barely aware of the tears coursing down her cheeks. She'd never felt so strongly about someone before, and the first time she had, he had used her to get what he wanted. The thought made her heart ache, and she let out a week's worth of frustration in the form of tears.

A long time later, when all her tears were finally spent and the ache in her heart went numb, she wiped away the remnants of tears from her cheeks and climbed up from her barstool. What was she supposed to do now? She supposed she should get on with her life and forget all about a certain superhero, but the thought made her heart ache even more. Her life had felt different--*she* had felt different--since meeting Clark Kent, and even the realization that she had been manipulated and played for a fool didn't make it any easier to want to go back to a loveless, empty life.

Lois felt her stomach rumble, reminding her she hadn't eat since breakfast, but the thought of eating didn't sound as appealing as it had before. She knew she should eat something, however; she often got nasty headaches when she went too long without food.

Halfheartedly, she walked back to the fridge and opened the door, searching its meager contents. All she had was a stick of butter, a slice of moldy cheese, and some ketchup. She shut the door in frustration and opened the freezer door back up. Not only was she out of chocolate ice cream, the freezer was just as bare as the refrigerator. There wasn't even a TV dinner to microwave, and she knew she was out of bread in the cupboard and couldn't even make toast.

She suddenly remembered Clark's comment the morning they'd shared breakfast that two ingredients and a toaster or a microwave didn't count as cooking. At the memory, she slammed the freezer door in disgust. 'Clark can just take a leap off a pier,' she thought unkindly. But then she realized such a feat wouldn’t even hurt him. She rolled her eyes. She couldn't even make a threat stick in her mind.

"I don't really care," she muttered as she headed back to the living room. "I don't care what he does, because we're through. He can't treat me like that, making me think we had the start of something great. I deserve better than that. How dare he do that to me!"

Her heartache starting to turn to anger, Lois stomped through the kitchen entrance, snagging her foot on the strap of her attache and nearly falling. She managed to catch herself on the entryway and looked down to see the strap looped on her foot. In a flash of anger, she kicked at her bag, sending it skittering across the floor and banging against the leg of her coffee table with a thud. Her big toe started to throb, and she limped into the living room and dropped onto the couch.

She lifted her foot and began to rub her toe in an effort to relieve the pain, becoming angrier by the minute. "I've been listening to people tell me this week that I'm losing my edge," she muttered to the empty room, "that I'm just a big failure, and for what? Some guy who is giving me the brush off, who tricked me and manipulated me into keeping the story quiet? Who does he think he is? I'm practically ruining my reputation for him over here, and he doesn't even have the decency to call and thank me."

In a sudden burst of adrenaline, she stood up from the couch and stalked over to her computer. "I'll show him. *Nobody* uses Lois Lane and gets away with it."

Sitting down at her computer desk, she flipped on the switch and waited impatiently as the computer started up. She'd show everybody she hadn't lost her edge. She'd write the story of the century, exonerating herself in her editor's eyes and winning the Pulitzer Prize in the process. It's what she'd set out to do in the first place. Her first Superman story hadn't exactly been spectacular, but this time she wasn't about to make the same mistake.

With fiery determination, she began to write.

**********

Lois stared at her computer screen. The story was definitely better. In fact, it was great. It was finally a Superman story worthy of her byline. She stared again at the headline that would definitely catch everyone's attention:


Superman Exposed!


She read back through the details, making sure she had her facts straight. He was raised by Martha and Jonathan Kent of Smallville after his space pod crash landed in a farmer's field not far from their home. His powers started developing from a young age, and by age eighteen, he discovered he was able to fly.

The article continued on about his college schooling, his work abroad as a journalist, and how he finally settled in Metropolis when he was offered his dream job at the Daily Planet. It wasn't long after that when he decided to take on a disguise in order to help people, and still maintain a somewhat normal life as a "regular" person.

The story went of to tell everything else she knew about him, and Lois knew her editor would be ecstatic with her story. It was exactly what he wanted. He would tell her it was what he had been expecting of her, what he knew she was capable of. Apparently, it was what Agnes expected of her and knew she was capable of writing, too.

But if that were true, then why did she feel so guilty?

Lois sighed and dropped her chin into her hand. Now that her anger had worked itself out and diminished to a dull ache, she found herself staring at her computer screen for what seemed like forever. The story was all there. She'd put it all together and she honestly felt it was her best work ever. But did she really want to do this? Did she really want to expose Clark?

'Come on, Lois; after the way he treated you and made you think there was something between you? He lied to you, manipulated you, and made you risk your reputation as a journalist who always got the great stories. You don't owe him anything. Besides, you were able to get this story by being in the right place at the right time--the sign of a great reporter. Because of it, you nailed the story of the century. You deserve this for yourself.*

But even as Lois considered this, she knew there were other consequences of the story to consider. An image of Clark's parents in the picture he'd showed her came to mind. Clark was invulnerable, but his parents were not. She knew Clark was right--they could very well become a target if someone knew the truth about his identity. She didn't know them at all, but they seemed like good people. She would hate to jeopardize their safety for a story, even a Pulitzer Prize winning one.

'How do you know there really is a Martha and Jonathan Kent?' the argumentative voice in her head jumped in. 'If Clark lied to you about himself and played on your emotions to keep you from writing the story, how do you know if his so-called parents really exist?'

Lois lifted her chin from her hand and leaned back in her chair, contemplating. She supposed it was possible they didn't even exist. Perhaps the 'once a liar, always a liar' philosophy applied here. Could he have made up the story of having parents in an effort to give his made-up history more punch? If this Martha and Jonathan Kent didn't even exist, it just made it all the easier to run with the story.

Launching into investigation mode, Lois went online and found a white pages website. She typed in 'Jonathan and Martha Kent' in the search field, and told the computer to look in the Smallville, Kansas listings. She waited anxiously as the computer searched. After what seemed like an eternity, a new webpage flashed onto her screen with the found listing, giving her the address and the phone number.

She stared at the screen for a long moment. Okay, so there was a Martha and Jonathan Kent. That didn't necessarily mean they were indeed his parents, or that he hadn't been trying to manipulate her, but it did put a little nagging doubt in her mind about the possible consequences of printing the story.

Her mind continued to go back and forth over the pros and cons of printing the story for a long time. Finally a new consideration entered her mind. What if she turned out to be wrong about Clark's motives? What if he hadn't been lying to her and trying to deceive her? What if there *was* another explanation for his apparent lack of interest in her? Did she really want to expose him because she'd felt hurt and betrayed over a miscommunication?

Lois crossed her arms and sighed, contemplating the story on the monitor in front of her. What was she supposed to do? Should she hand in the story that would expose Clark and make her an overnight success? This story would do that. But it would expose Clark and potentially ruin his way of life--and that of his parents and close friends--forever. In spite of what she felt he had done to her, could she really do that?

'Lois, as a reporter your job isn't supposed to be worrying about the consequences of a story; your job is to report the story. That's it. Besides, what is he to you? You spent a total of what...three days together?'

Lois shook her head. Only three days. Strangely, it felt like much more than that. It was three days...and one incredible kiss at the airport. And then there had been the deep, meaningful conversations they'd had that had left her feeling a connection to him that she'd never felt with any man before. At least, she thought she had felt it. At this point she couldn't be sure of anything. Yet while she knew he very well may have used her, manipulated her, and tricked her into keeping his secret identity a secret... did she really know that for sure? As much as she hated to admit it, she did still have feelings for Clark, and revealing him would ruin any chances they had at having a relationship. Was she really willing to risk that if even the smallest chance remained that he was really who he said he was, and that they could possibly build something together?

As she continued to work things out in her mind, she forced herself to consider a new viewpoint. What if she hadn't felt a connection to him, hadn't kissed him, hadn't become so attracted to him, but had still found out about his secret? She may very well have listened to his explanations and ultimately decided she understood his reason for his secrecy, and respected keeping it as part of the greater good.

Lois looked back at the article on the screen and her stomach tightened. She suddenly realized that her decision to write the story had more to do with lashing out in anger than it did with needing to tell the world everything about Superman. Being angry over feeling jilted in love didn't justify betraying someone she considered a friend. Hopefully she wasn't far off in her consideration of him as such.

She felt herself start to waver. The story was great. It was everything she had planned for it to be, in fact. But as she weighed the many options in her mind, she found herself reconsidering. Whether or not Clark had betrayed her, she felt uncertain enough in her mind about whether or not it should really be printed that she couldn't bring herself to send it to her editor.

Reaching out for the mouse, she closed the file, disappointed in herself for being so easily tempted by the need to feed her ego and rebuild her own battered confidence that she would consider writing a story she had promised not to. She stared at the 'articles' folder still open on her desktop and found the one she'd labeled "Superman." She moved her hand on the mouse, moving the cursor on her monitor over the file, then reached for the delete button. Her hand paused. She knew she should delete it and move on, but the reporter in her refused to do it.

She groaned in frustration at her indecision. If she was so certain she didn't want to expose him, then why couldn’t she bring herself to delete the article?

Feeling too tired and mentally exhausted to read too much into it, she closed her articles folder without deleting the story, deciding to analyze her feelings later. Right now, she needed chocolate ice cream. And lots of it.

She shut down the computer, pushed her chair back from the desk, and stood up. Agnes. She would have ice cream. Her neighbor always had some on hand for times like this when Lois found herself needing a friend. And right now, a friend was exactly what she needed.

**********

Clark climbed in through his loft window on Friday morning just before dawn. He was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. When he'd been getting ready for work the morning before, he'd heard the neighbor's radio air a report of a hurricane ravaging several remote Caribbean villages. Knowing that the victims needed Superman more than the Planet needed Clark Kent, Clark decided to call in sick. He had felt a stab of guilt at lying to Perry, but he knew he could make up for the time off.

Trying to prepare himself for the disaster he knew he would face, he flew to the hurricane-ravaged villages and spent all day Thursday working with rescue teams and the Red Cross, helping the devastated hurricane victims.

By the time he finally stumbled back into his apartment before dawn that morning, one thing became obvious. He couldn't keep doing this alone.

With a despondent sigh, he dragged himself into his bedroom to get out of the Suit. More than anything he longed for someone to talk to about the distressing things he'd seen, someone to remind him why he was giving up so much of his life to do things that often didn't seem to make a difference. More than ever he realized he needed Lois, needed the source of strength she unknowingly gave him, and the brightness of hope he felt when she was around. He had no idea whether or not she needed him, but at that moment, all he knew was that he needed *her*.

With a firm set to his jaw, he walked into his kitchen and pulled out the phone book. He found the number he wanted in the yellow pages, then picked up the phone and dialed. As he began to talk to the person on the other end of the line, he was determined to make sure Lois knew he hadn't forgotten about her.

**********

Lois dragged herself in to work the next day. Usually Fridays were one of her favorite days of the week, but today she just wanted it to be over. It had been all she could do keep herself from calling in sick that morning, but she had forced herself to swallow her pride and come in to finish the stories Jim had assigned her. Then she could go home, lock herself in her apartment, and wallow over the weekend.

She walked the long way through the newsroom in an effort to keep from being seen by her editor in case he decided to torment her further with another mindless story assignment, then sighed with relief when she reached her desk unnoticed. She had just sat down and turned on her computer when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Apprehensively, she looked up. Her eyes widened when she realized it wasn't her editor, but a delivery boy holding a gorgeous flower arrangement with pastel-colored lilies, chrysanthemums, and myrtle.

"Lois Lane?" the delivery boy inquired. When she nodded wordlessly, he held out a clipboard. "Sign here, please."

Lois scribbled her name on the delivery sheet, then took the large vase the delivery boy handed her. "Thanks," was all she was able to mutter before he hurried away.

In shock, Lois set the arrangement down on her desk and reached for the white envelope tucked into the front of the flowers. With shaking hands, she opened it and slid the card out. Her heart leaped into her throat as she read the words.


Lois,

I've tried calling you a few times but haven't been able to catch you. Apparently you've been as busy as me. I read your article. Thanks. I owe you one.

Would you still mind if I called you sometime? If you've changed your mind about that, I would understand. Let me know.

Your friend,

Clark


As Lois finished reading the note, a feeling of warmth started in her heart and worked its way out from there. Soon she felt warm all over. So he did still want to see her. At the thought, a smile played across her lips. All her worrying had been for nothing.

Suddenly he smile slipped. Just last night she had been considering printing the expose she'd written in a fit of anger.

What if she had?

Instead of flowers, she could very well have been holding a newspaper with the truth about Clark splashed all over front pages around the world. She turned to the flower arrangement on her desk, a sick feeling in her stomach. Luckily she had come to her senses last night and decided not to run with the story.

She thought of the article still sitting on her computer at home. The story was bold, insensitive, and blatantly truthful. She hadn't pulled a single punch. And it made her sick. He was too good a man to be stabbed in the back by somebody he considered a friend. She didn't deserve his friendship, let alone his interest.

Angry and disgusted with herself, she read the card once again, her thoughts lingering on the request in his last paragraph. He still wanted to call her. She knew she should feel thrilled that a man like him was still interested enough in her to want to purse something more with her, but instead she felt awful. Guilty and awful.

She tucked the card back into the bouquet and tried to turn her attention to the puff piece Jim had given her to write. But as hard as she tried to concentrate, her gaze kept drifting to the flowers beside her monitor. It was a constant reminder that Clark was waiting to hear from her.

She did want to see him again; that was a non-issue. But could she face him again, knowing she had gone as far as writing the expose she had promised him she wouldn't? How could she ever look at him and forgive herself?

After several minutes of debate, Lois decided that if she wanted to see Clark again, she was going to have to put her guilt aside, forget it ever happened, and move on. People made mistakes. And when they did, they learned from them and moved on. Lois decided that was exactly what she needed to do.

Her mind made up, Lois reached for her phone and dialed his work number. When there was no answer, she hung up without leaving a message. This was one time she was not going to be satisfied with leaving him a message. She reached for her PDA and pulled up Jimmy's number, then dialed.

"Daily Planet, this is Jimmy."

Lois smiled at the sound of his voice. "Jimmy, this is Lois Lane. How are you?"

"Lois!" he exclaimed, a grin evident in his voice. "It's great to hear from you! What can I do for you?"

"I'm trying to track down Clark. Do you have his cell phone number handy?"

"Sure do. Hold on a sec." There was a pause, then Jimmy's voice came back on the line. "Here it is."

Lois jotted down the number on the note pad beside her keyboard. "Got it. Thanks, Jimmy. Do you know what he's out doing? I don't want to interrupt him if he's in the middle of something."

"No, I think you'd be fine," he told her. "He was out tracking down leads for a story he's working on. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you."

"Okay, thanks," she told him, hoping he was right. Then she remembered he might very well be out performing Superman duties and had used the 'tracking down leads' as an excuse. If that was the case, surely he wouldn't have his cell phone on him. She groaned inwardly. Getting hold of him could be even trickier than she'd hoped. Deciding to cover her bases, she told Jimmy, "Would you mind telling Clark I called just in case I can't get him on his cell? He can call me on my cell number if he needs to. Let me give it to you." She recited the number, and he repeated it back to her.

"I'll tell him, Lois. Good to talk to you again."

Lois smiled. "It was good to talk to you, too. Be sure to let Clark know I'm trying to get hold of him, will you?"

Jimmy promised he would, then they said their goodbyes. She hung up the phone, waited for a moment, then picked it up again, this time dialing Clark's cell phone number. Anxiously, she waited for him to answer. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings. Discouraged, she was just about to hang up when Clark's voice came across the line.

"Hello?"

She felt her breath catch in her throat at the sound of his voice. "Clark?" she asked tentatively. "It's me, Lois."

"Lois!" His voice reflected his surprise and delight at hearing her voice. "How great to hear from you! How are you?"

"I'm good," she responded, hoping that it wasn't a complete lie considering the emotional, roller-coaster-of-a week she'd had. "I called Jimmy to get your cell number, but I hope I'm not interrupting you while you're working. If I am, I can try you back later--"

"No, no, no, you're just fine," Clark insisted, sounding unwilling to let her go. "I'm thrilled you called. Considering the fact I've been trying to get hold of you all week without success, I dare not hang up."

Lois grinned as she leaned back in her chair. Her gaze drifted to the beautiful flower arrangement next to her monitor and she smiled. "I've been trying to get hold of you, too. But I'm glad I finally got hold of you this morning because I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful."

There was a pause on Clark's end of the line, and she could picture him smiling. It was evident in his voice as he spoke. "I'm glad you like them. I just feel bad that we haven't been able to talk. I've been thinking about you constantly, but I've been so busy with work and trying to be--" He paused and lowered his voice a bit. "Well, you know. It's been really hard trying to keep up."

"I imagine it has," Lois replied, remembering all the reports she'd read that week about all his Superman appearances and rescues. "I'd ask you about everything you've been doing, but I suppose that's probably not wise on the phone."

The statement hung heavily on the line, and when Clark responded, his tone was wistful. "I know. What we really need to do is find a second to get together. Then we could talk about...everything."

Lois wondered if she'd heard the pause, or if she'd just imagined it. "Getting together sounds great," she admitted, "but I doubt I can get time off anytime soon. I'm kind of in my editor's doghouse. Long story," she hastened to add. "Anyway, I wish I could come out there to see you, but I don't know that I'll be able to in the near future."

"Lois..." Clark interrupted, chuckling a little. "There's no need for you to come out here. With my...'advantages,'" he grinned at the word, "I can be out there to see you in only a matter of minutes."

A blush crept across Lois's cheeks. "Yeah, I guess you could. I just didn't think...well, I didn't know how that worked," she rambled sheepishly. "I didn't want to assume...and then have it turn out to be an imposition, and...well, you know."

Clark chuckled again. "Yes, I know." He grew quiet, and when he spoke again, his voice was husky and gentle. "And you could never be an imposition."

Lois let those words burrow in and entwine around her heart. Suddenly everything that had happened to her that week seemed like a distant memory. Feeling happier than she'd felt in days, she clutched the phone more tightly to her ear. "I'd love to have you visit."

"Great," he answered happily, but then he paused and she heard him sigh. He lowered his voice again as he spoke, as if not to be overheard by anyone around him. "I'd love to plan something definite, but every time I do, something seems to come up, if you know what I mean," he said, clearly hinting at his alter ego's duties. "That's why I've had such a hard time calling you this week. With everything I've had to do lately, the schedule thing is pretty much out the window."

"I understand," Lois answered reluctantly. "Well, let's just play it by ear. If you can pop by, great; if not, I understand. But in case you do get a chance to drop by, let me give you my address." She waited for him to pull out his PDA and write down the information she gave him, then said, "I'm going to be around pretty much all weekend, so if you get a chance, I'd love to see you."

"I'd love to see you, too." Clark's voice was soft and sincere, sending the butterflies fluttering about crazily in her stomach. Then he added, "Thanks for understanding about my crazy schedule, Lois. I wasn't sure that you would."

Lois felt a momentary stab of guilt. She was just glad he didn't know how little she *had* understood this past week, and the consequences that had almost come from that. Deciding to leave that in the past, she said, "I'm just glad you decided to tell me about it. It's hard to know what you're going through if you don't tell me."

"I know. I promise I'll try harder in the future."

"See that you do," Lois pretended to lecture, "or I'm going to have to come out there with that duct tape."

Clark laughed again, and the sound warmed her heart. It was so good to hear the sound of his laughter again, a sound she had already come to love. "Thanks for the warning," he said.

He paused again, but this time when she heard Clark's voice again, he sounded rushed. "Lois, I've got to go. I hear something--" He broke off, suddenly aware of his public surroundings. "I've got to go and...you know."

"I got it," Lois assured him, knowing he meant he had to go be Superman. She smiled. Why did she have the feeling that being with Clark was never going to be boring? "Go and do whatever it is you have to do. I just wanted to thank you again for the flowers. They made my whole day."

"You're welcome, Lois," his deep voice came again, leaving her insides tingling. "I'll hopefully see you this weekend."

"I'll look forward to it."

Clark said a hasty goodbye, but Lois didn't mind. She knew what he was off to do, and she knew it was important. But their phone call also told her one other thing: *she* was important to him. And that meant more to her than she could ever say.

She hung up the phone and turned back to her computer feeling like she could fly. Instead of looking forward to a weekend locked in her apartment wallowing in misery, she had something incredible to look forward to. *Somebody* incredible. And she could hardly wait.


**********


to be continued in part 15...