From Part 4:
He looked out through the small window. The rosy and orange shades of dusk were colouring the sky over the trees surrounding the cabin. The single naked bulb wouldn’t provide much light once the sun set, but it would do. It couldn’t be worse than his first accommodation in Metropolis - if you could call the Apollo Hotel accommodation.
And he had books. Lots of books he had been meaning to read for months but hadn’t found the time to. Juggling two jobs had left him too little free time. On the other hand, he’d already spent most of the day flying around and doing minor rescues around the city, so maybe he wouldn’t spend much more than a few hours here. At least his life as Superman was useful to the city, and now that Clark was dead, he could patrol a lot more and make sure Metropolis’s crime rate decreased substantially.
His hearing picked the sound of a high-pitched scream. He jumped to his feet and less than a second later, a sonic boom could be heard over the northern hills.
*********
Part 5
So much for agreeing to Perry's idea to let Tyler Rogers tag along, Lois thought as she bolted her apartment door with a weary sigh.
The guy had been walking on eggshells at first, which had been just fine with her. He had agreed to pretty much everything she suggested: taking a cab to the harbour instead of her car, eating an egg-salad sandwich from a street vendor, then wandering the piers on the lookout for anything suspicious. She could have been on her own for all the difference having Rogers along had made, but she didn’t mind that in the least.
It was only after the restaurants and pubs had closed that Tyler had started to be a major pain in the... neck. Somehow he’d become more confident, and before she could protest, he was sharing - no, make that imposing his ideas on her: they had to melt in with the night crowd, hang out in one of the nightclubs, and worse! He had suggested they played the part of a couple.
At that point she’d thought she would kill him. She’d had to take a deep breath and slowly - very slowly - count to ten. All in all, his idea wasn’t that bad. And in fact it would have been exactly what she’d have done if Clark had been with her. But then, pretending to be a couple had become a routine for them. She had never feared that Clark would read more into it than a simple way to protect a cover. And okay, maybe, deep down, very deep and very down, a teeny tiny part of her had wanted to believe that there was more to it than pretence. Even back then.
Lois kicked off her shoes and padded barefoot to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of milk.
She wasn’t any closer to finding anything about those murders than when Perry had assigned this story to her. In fact, the night had been a complete waste of her time. And Tyler was a complete waste of space.
She would have to convince Perry that she had to go on her own and play the part of a potential victim. And if he insisted that she needed Tyler with her, well, she’d find a way to lose that annoying bug in the crowd.
After all, losing irritating co-workers was something she was skilled at. She'd had plenty of practice over the years. It had even worked with Clark at first, before he’d started to grow on her.
Clark...
Lois slumped onto her sofa and buried her head in her hands.
She would give anything to have Clark back with her. Anything - her Kerth awards, her job, even her partnership with him. If the devil himself appeared in front of her now and offered to let her trade her soul for Clark’s life, she wouldn’t hesitate. Not if it meant that she could see him walking through that door, a sunny smile on his face and words of love for her on his lips.
“Clark, I love you,” she whispered soundlessly as the tears began to fall again.
**********
Superman scanned the harbour area for the source of the scream. It had come from... yes, somewhere over there. He dropped down swiftly, then came to an abrupt halt, almost falling to the ground.
A young woman lay on the ground, face-down. Her clothes were disarranged in a way which suggested that she’d been raped.
She had shoulder-length dark hair, styled in a bob. She was slightly taller than medium height, and of slim build. Her shoes... oh, god, her shoes...
Lois’s shoes. He recognised that pair of black heels, he was sure of it.
His heart in his mouth, Clark crouched beside the body - she was dead, he’d already seen that. Her head lay at too unnatural an angle for anything else.
Was it Lois? Oh, god, please don’t let it be Lois...
Gently, he raised her head... and all of his breath rushed back into his lungs. It wasn’t Lois.
It was a woman a few years younger than Lois, judging by her appearance. Someone who’d been out for a night on the town and had ended up getting raped and murdered.
The bitter taste of bile filled Clark’s throat. Okay, it hadn’t been Lois. This time. But it so easily could have been.
He straightened, then concentrated hard. The scream hadn’t come all that long ago, and the woman’s body was still warm. That meant that her killer was probably still in the area...
Seconds later, he was gripping a man by the back of his collar and flying him to the nearest police station. “Here,” he said roughly as he dumped the man in front of the desk sergeant. “If you run tests on his clothing and the blood and skin under his fingernails, not to mention other DNA tests, you’ll probably discover that he’s the lowlife who’s been raping and killing young women by the harbour. And, by the way, you should send an ambulance to Thirtieth and Whittier - there’s another victim there.”
The officer, whose jaw was still slack, nodded and made a note of the address. “Dead?” he enquired.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Clark, feeling that he’d done enough, turned on his heel and walked out.
It hadn’t been Lois. Not this time. But it could have been.
And maybe one day it would be.
His eyes burning with tears which he refused to shed, Clark took off in a vertical motion. Not even pausing to consider where he was going, he found himself hovering outside Lois’s apartment window.
He had to see her. Had to know that she was all right. Had to see for herself that she was alive and well.
And she was there. Sitting on her sofa, alive and well...
...and crying. Sobbing her heart out.
With an inarticulate cry, he pushed her window open and rushed into the room, reaching for her and tugging her into his arms. She came, slumping against him and laying her head against his chest. Her tears soaked the front of his Suit, even as his own eyes filled with the moisture he’d been fighting back for so long. For too long.
She was safe. And, as long as she was safe, he could endure anything. Because he loved her, and always would.
**********
Lois didn’t know how long it was before the tears stopped and she raised her head. All she knew was that she’d been held in warm, strong, comforting arms. Arms which didn’t belong to the man she wanted more than anything else in the world - but which would suffice for now.
She didn’t even know when Superman had come in. All she’d known was that she’d been desolate, unable to stop crying, and suddenly he’d been there, pulling her into his arms, holding her.
She was grateful. But, at the same time, all the reasons why she didn’t want to be around him remained. Being close to him was too painful a reminder of the night Clark had died... the night when she’d desecrated his memory by having sex with Superman on the floor.
So she pulled back, escaping Superman’s hold, intending to thank him for his concern but insist that she was okay. And then she noticed the glistening in his eyes, and the words dried up on her tongue.
He’d been crying? Superman had been crying?
Hesitantly, awkwardly, she reached up and touched him just beneath one eye. Her finger came away moist.
“What is it?” she whispered.
He caught her hand, holding it tightly in hers. “Can... do you mind if we talk?”
Unable to refuse - the dark, haunted expression in his eyes reminded her too much of her own emotional state at the moment - she nodded and gestured towards the sofa.
“I - heard a cry for help tonight,” he began jerkily, once they were seated and she’d looked at him enquiringly. “Sure, I hear those all the time, but... When I got there, Lois, I found a dead woman. She’d been raped and strangled. And she... she looked just like you.”
“What?” She gasped and stared at him. “She looked like me?”
“From behind, yes. She was lying face-down on the ground. But her height and build, her hair... even her shoes were like yours. Lois, for a moment - the longest moment of my entire life! - I thought you’d been killed!” He shuddered.
Lois could only stare at him. It wasn’t the fact that the dead woman resembled her which shocked her. It was Superman’s reaction to it. She’d never seen him so distressed; not even on the night Clark had been killed.
<You might consider that I don't really want to lose two people that I care about in the same week>
His harsh words from a couple of nights ago came back to her, and she blanched. He really did care about her. And believing that she was dead had clearly affected him just as much as Clark’s death had affected her.
Superman cared deeply about her. And she’d been treating him like something the cat had dragged in.
So what if she was angry with herself for what she’d done the night Clark had been killed? That was no excuse for using Superman as a scapegoat.
Lois reached out for Superman’s hand, squeezing it comfortingly; he responded by gripping hers tightly in return. “I’m not dead,” she said softly. “I’m here. I’m alive and well.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I can see that. I just can’t help being afraid that... Lois, you take risks. And you told me the other day that you didn’t care whether you stayed alive or not -”
She had made him so terrified for her safety? “Superman, I’m sorry! You caught me at a low moment, okay? I didn’t mean you to think that!”
His gaze didn’t leave her face; his hand tightened around hers. “I’m glad, Lois. I can’t lose you too...”
Involuntarily, her hand reached up to stroke his face. “You’re not going to lose me, Superman.”
“I... oh, god, Lois...” And he leaned closer to her until his lips covered hers.
The strangled cry never made it past her mouth. In his kiss, she could feel the despair, the fear, and her initial desire to push him away quickly died away. She remained passive in his arms, letting his tongue trace the outline of her lips, granting him entry into her mouth, offering no resistance as he pushed her against the back of the sofa. She closed her eyes.
Her senses heightened, she could feel his hands caress the back of her shoulders and slide down her ribcage to rest at her waist. She could hear his breathing, coming in short puffs between his maddeningly sweet kisses. Her heart was hammering against her chest. Her fingertips tingled where she reached for him for support.
She felt the tight control she exerted on her self-control slip away; no matter how much she wanted to keep a clear head, Superman’s kisses were driving her to the brink of insanity. She had wanted him for so long. She had dreamt about his arms holding her close and his mouth trailing fire on her skin. She had fantasised about passionate nights of lovemaking...
It was all within her reach now. Superman was hers. He’d been hers a few nights ago, and he was giving himself to her once more. The gate was open; she’d taken a step in already. Was it too late to go back? Did she even want to go back?
His lips left hers for a moment, and she felt their moisture on the side of her throat. His hand supported her neck, and she shifted to lie fully on the couch until her head rested against the armrest. Superman was lavishing her skin with kisses, seemingly unaware of her restrained response.
“Lois...”
Her head fell back in surrender to the whisper of her name. She gave him full access, acknowledging that he would burst through the physical gate she was opening for him. Like every other man in her past, he would take more than she gave. Like a starving man, he would rush through those first moments of lovemaking to get what he wanted. He hadn’t spent a great deal of time on foreplay the other night - not that she had cared. She had been just as eager as he to get on with it and just get the whole thing over with.
“Lois, I - ”
Her kiss silenced him. She didn’t want to hear his voice. Somehow it reminded her of Clark, and she wanted to remember at all times that she wasn’t with the man she loved. She wanted to be strong and push him away; pull away from him and tell him they didn’t have a future together.
He knew they had no future together. He had incessantly rejected her before Clark had died. He had told her there were things about him she would never know, and which made any relationship impossible. They might be physically intimate, but he didn’t know her any more than she knew him.
She would not give in to the pull of her attraction to him. He might have been the man she had most wanted a few weeks ago, but her feelings had changed. She would not let him know how much his ministrations enticed her. He was not Clark. Clark was who she wanted. She would not surrender to her mad desire for him. She would not... would... not...
“ - need you...” he gasped before kissing her again.
Not...
Her whimper of protest dissolved in his kiss. She could feel his fear, his despair, and she wanted to soothe his distress away. He needed her. The words, blurted out so fast she’d barely heard them, resonated in her mind. He needed her, just like she needed him.
Her arms hooked around his waist, pressing his body to hers. She felt one of his hands sneak between them and tug at her shirt. She heard the buttons snap, then a fresh breeze caressed her skin, making her shiver and press closer to him. Gathering her in his arms, Superman rose to his feet. She saw the room move about them, and then she was lying on her bed, the dark shadow of her lover looming over her.
Her lover. Superman was her lover. She had to come to terms with what it meant and the consequences on her life. Their life. She had thought of their first night as a one-time thing. Something they both regretted and would never happen again. Now, though...
He was being tender with her, taking his time as he worshipped her body and whispered sweet nonsense into her ear. And she wanted to believe him. She wanted to give in to feelings she’d suppressed since Clark’s death. She couldn’t love Superman. She couldn’t be in love with a man who had failed to save her best friend. She couldn’t be in love with a man... and cry days and nights for another. She couldn’t be in love with two men at once. Every touch, every kiss felt like a betrayal of Clark. Every touch made it harder to pull away and deny her body the love it craved.
The love she craved...
But this wasn’t it. This wasn’t what she wanted... wasn’t who she wanted...
Superman’s lips met hers again, as his fingers trailed a fiery path over her body and towards where she most needed his touch. It would be so easy to shut her eyes, to give in again to the sensations, to let him take her to ecstasy... to allow him to possess her body once more.
To pretend that she loved him.
Yes, it would be easy... but in the morning she would regret it once more. And she would hate herself much more than before, because this time she knew what she was doing. This time her mind wasn’t clouded by grief and anger. This time, she was fully conscious of where she was and who she was with. Of who it was who was kissing her and touching her and... and making love to her...
“No!” The cry escaped from her almost without volition. But it was the right thing to do, and she knew it.
Her lover’s head jerked up; his brown eyes, so like Clark’s, met hers in passion-dazed confusion. “No?”
She dragged herself away from him; he let her go, rolling over and away from her without taking his gaze from hers. “Lois, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low.
“Oh, so I can’t say no without there being a problem?” she snapped at him.
“Of course not!” he exclaimed, sounding stung. “You should know that I wouldn’t... Look, it’s just that you look so... I don’t know... as if you were appalled. Did I do something wrong?”
No, she had... but then, she reminded herself, hardening her heart, he had too. Simply by being there. By being alive. By not being Clark.
“This is wrong,” she said flatly. “This. Us. You.”
He was sitting on the bed now, his Suit in perfect order - when had he pulled it all back into place? - and with a sombre expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Lois. I thought you wanted...?”
“Not with you,” she said abruptly, uncaring that he flinched at her words. “I love Clark. How can I be with you, Superman, when you’re not him?
********
He wasn’t Clark. She thought he wasn’t Clark.
Even as he got to his feet, even as the mask he was taking care to keep on his face to prevent her from seeing his feelings threatened to crack, a tiny, flickering light of hope dawned.
She loved Clark. Loved him. And that was why she’d just pushed him away. Because she thought he wasn’t Clark.
But he was! And all he had to do was tell her!
He rehearsed the words in his mind, vocalising them silently as if he needed to remember how to pronounce the name. As if it had been so long since he’d introduced himself as Clark Kent that he had actually forgotten.
<Lois, I am Clark>
<Lois, you can be with me - I’m Clark!>
<I’m Clark, Lois, and I love you too...>
And then, even as he opened his mouth to voice the words, painful reality struck him.
He couldn’t tell her. What purpose would it serve? If she found out now that he was Clark... well, apart from unleashing all the fury of Lois Lane at her worst upon him, and she’d be justified, what good would it do? Clark Kent was still dead.
There was no way that he could change that reality, no matter how much he wanted to. Dozens of people had seen him shot at point-blank range. Despite his body not having been found, he’d been declared dead by everyone who mattered - the police, the media... Lois.
So what good would telling her the truth do?
He felt his shoulders slump as he accepted that there was nothing he could do. At last, Lois loved him - but she loved the wrong him. It was ironic - for so long he’d wanted her to love Clark and not Superman. He’d been jealous of her feelings for his alter ego - so much so that he’d even occasionally made spiteful remarks about her interest in Superman.
And now, when she wanted her to love the only part of him which remained, she was only interested in Clark.
So he presented the mask to Lois and inclined his head. “As you wish, Lois. I’ll get out of your way. Goodnight.”
And he turned and walked towards her bedroom door, wishing that his pride wouldn’t insist that he move at normal human speed. That he could just fly out of there and be away from her in under a second, away and on his way to somewhere remote and lonely where he could weep in private for all that he’d lost.
Including Lois - for after this how could he ever seen her again?
**********
He was leaving. Walking out the door. In another couple of seconds, he’d have reached the window, and then he’d fly off into the night.
But wasn’t that what she wanted?
Lois stared at Superman’s retreating back, wondering why it was that, ever since Clark had died, she seemed to have no idea at all what she wanted.
But what she didn’t want, she was very sure right at this moment, was to lose the one friend she seemed to have left. And Superman was her friend. Once she pushed aside the memory of them sprawled on her bed, kissing frantically as he tugged at the buttons on her shirt and lavished caresses all over her heated skin, she remembered those moments in her living-room. When she’d been crying, and at exactly the right time he’d come to her and held her, and soothed away her tears.
When he’d shown her that he cared whether she lived or died.
When he’d shown her that she meant something to him... that he needed her.
And she’d just told him that she could never care about him, because he wasn’t Clark...
The look in his eyes as he’d told her goodnight would haunt her.
She closed her eyes, unable to bear the memory of the way he’d looked at her; and yet the pain, the hurt in his brown eyes, eyes so like Clark’s, stared back at her from inside her closed lids. And his voice reverberated inside her skull...
<I’ll get out of your way. Goodnight>
She’d told him that she didn’t want him. That he was in the way.
Suddenly appalled, horrified at the realisation of what she’d done, Lois scrambled to her feet and ran, slipping in her stockinged feet as she did so, out of her bedroom and into the living-room.
It was empty, the curtains swishing lightly in silent reproach to her. Superman had just left, probably mere seconds before.
How could she let him go like that? How could she let him believe that she hated him?
She leaned out the window. “Superman! Please, come back! I’m sorry!”
Silence greeted her call of his name.
She waited, hoping to see a streak of red and blue fly back to her window. Nothing. If he heard her, Superman was choosing to ignore her apology.
Her fists tightened on the windowsill, and she leaned down, looking at the street below. There was no trace of him, of course. Damn that superspeed! She had no chance of catching up with him, even if she ran down the stairs and searched the whole neighbourhood. He’d flown god knew where to nurse his wounds. Wounds she’d inflicted upon him. She’d hurt him. He was Superman; he was invulnerable; and she’d hurt him. He’d been there for her while she mourned for the loss of her best friend - their best friend - and now she was pushing him away, rejecting him so callously that he hadn’t been able to hide his pain as he flew away.
With a despondent sigh, she padded back to the bedroom and reached for the phone. Her finger started to dial a number she knew by heart and... and she jerked away just as quickly. Her eyes stayed fixed on the keys she’d pounded.
555 6142.
A number she’d dialled so many times before.
When she needed comfort...
When she wanted to share something...
When she felt like hearing his voice...
She curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. Unbidden, tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn’t fight them. Loneliness was taking its toll on her. There was no-one left she could turn to. Nobody to hold her while tears racked her body.
*********
tbc...
