LAST TIME...
Clark was still in the dark about what had happened, and he was afraid to ask Lois before she was ready to talk about it. Like his mom had said, it was best to just be there and be a friend to Lois when she needed him most. What he knew came together in a sort of puzzle with missing pieces; he ran it all through his head. She had been on the subway; she had been drugged, had very nearly been raped. Somehow Lois had been rescued, although she’d lost two days time, unconscious.
Clark had so many questions to ask her. Questions that would undoubtedly upset her a great deal. He decided to wait. There would be a time to ask her.
* * * * * NOW READ ON...
The following afternoon, Lois was discharged from Metropolis General Hospital. The doctor was convinced that the effects of the GHB overdose had passed. Now came the difficult part: mentally healing.
Lois had put on a brave front these past two days. She did not want anyone to see her hurting. Most of all, she did not want anyone to feel sorry for her. The doctor stressed the importance of counseling during this time. Ashamed, Lois was not interested in talking to anyone about the situation. Counselor or not.
‘After all,’ she thought, ‘this is my own damn fault. I should never have been there in the first place.’ Aside from all that, Lois had been very lucky. She had not been raped; she was saved in the nick of time. ‘Rape victims need counseling. I don’t,’ she mused.
Her mother brought her home. Lois simply insisted she wanted some time alone, and, try as she might, Ellen Lane found herself unable to change her daughter’s mind.
Truth be told, Lois did not enjoy being alone. Not now anyway. Tiny sounds made her jump a mile. Her thoughts were much more agitated when she was alone than when she had company. She considered picking up the phone and calling Clark. Maybe he’d want to have dinner with her...
‘No,’ Lois decided. ‘Clark’s done enough this weekend.’ She felt sheer embarrassment at the thought of him having to deal with her in this state. He’d held her as she cried, protected her while she slept, and worse, took care of her when she threw up. He had definitely paid his dues, and he certainly didn’t need to be bothered any more.
She set foot in her kitchen, which was just the way she’d left it before her attack. The sink still had a few dirty dishes in it. Grimacing, Lois picked up a bowl; the remains of oatmeal cemented a spoon to the bottom of the dish. Wearily, she pried the two apart and started them soaking in hot soapy water.
Unable to focus her energies on one activity, she strayed into her living room. She was afraid to look at another of the responsibilities she’d inadvertently neglected when she was hospitalized: her fish tank. She approached it hesitantly and flipped on the switch to light her small pets. Sure enough, two of the fish had died. ‘Of course they died,’ Lois thought sadly, scooping the small creatures from the tank with a net. ‘They haven’t eaten in almost a week.’ Lois deposited them in the toilet and flushed.
When she returned to the living room, the other fish were staring at her hungrily. “Here you go, fish,” Lois sighed, sprinkling a generous helping of fish food into the tank. She watched them eat ravenously for a few moments. Her mind wandered, and she began thinking about what had happened on the subway.
Now she was filled with anger. Why did it have to happen at all? And then, to be rescued by a homeless man? Where was *Superman* when it was happening? All along, she thought Superman was her friend. She wondered if he even heard what happened. Bitterly, she wondered if he even cared.
Lois felt the tears well up. She began pacing figure eights around her apartment, absentmindedly trying to wear off her extra energy. She clenched her fists, determined not to cry. She had done enough of that already. No, she didn’t want to cry. She wanted to scream! The desire to throw her head back and yell became all-encompassing.
Lois flopped down on her bed, buried her face in her pillow and screamed, muffling her sounds as best she could. She had to admit, it felt good! She sat up a little and threw a punch at the pillow--then another one, and another one. Working out her anger in this way, she managed to calm herself down a bit.
When she had exhausted herself, she picked up the pillow and hugged it to her chest. “Sorry,” she murmured. After all, the pillow hadn’t done anything to deserve the abuse. Lois took a deep breath, and started to lose herself in thought.
A knock on the door startled her. “Who’s there?” she called.
“It’s me. Clark.”
Lois had to smile. She got up and opened the door. There he was, bearing two grocery bags chock full of Tupperware containers.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Well, I thought you might like some company. For dinner.”
“You sure brought a lot of food!”
Clark smiled. “My mom sent me home with *lots* of Thanksgiving leftovers. I thought you’d enjoy it, since you didn’t really have a Thanksgiving this year.”
“Thanks, Clark! I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Lois replied, a little too eagerly. Quickly and awkwardly, she tagged on, “For dinner, I mean. I don’t have any food in the house.” She shut the door behind Clark as he set the bags of food on her table. She locked all of the deadbolts on her door carefully.
“How does it feel to be out of the hospital?” Clark asked as he removed the Tupperware containers from the bags.
Lois heaved a sigh. “Good,” she replied. “I mean, I’m just glad to be feeling well enough to be home. I don’t feel dizzy or sick anymore.”
“That’s good to hear.” Clark popped a container of mashed potatoes into Lois’ microwave. He could detect a hint of the jitters in his friend. She seemed to be evading the real problems at hand. He could tell she was paranoid about intruders because of the way her pulse rose when she bolted the door shut nervously. She seemed very relieved to have his company this evening.
Lois pulled out two plates and two settings of silverware from her cabinets. “I actually almost called you to see if you wanted to come over for dinner, but I figured you’d seen enough of me this weekend,” she said, laying the plates on two placemats. Clark was surprised to hear her admit it.
“You should have called, Lois. It’s okay,” Clark answered. He watched her setting the table carefully. She seemed to enjoy being engrossed in some activity that kept her mind off the events of the week. Lois placed a vase full of flowers--his gift to her!--on the table as a centerpiece.
While Lois was busy, Clark cheated a little; he warmed some of the food in the microwave while warming the rest with his heat vision. He brought out turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, yams, and green beans to the table.
“Wow! This looks great!” Lois exclaimed. “I haven’t had a *real* Thanksgiving in a long time.”
“Really? This is what our Thanksgiving is always like,” Clark explained. He pulled out the chair, inviting Lois to sit down. “My dad makes the turkey and the stuffing, and my mom makes most of the rest. Wait until dessert. Do you like pumpkin pie?”
Lois’ eyes widened. “I *love* pumpkin pie!”
Clark’s face lit up with a smile. “My mom makes it the best!” He sat beside her, and for the duration of the meal, he could tell Lois was feeling more and more like herself. For the first time since her attack, she was able to spend time *not* thinking about it. Lois was pleasant and chatty. Clark was happy that his idea to surprise Lois with dinner had gone over so well. She was definitely enjoying herself. He wondered if there was more to her enjoyment than simply having someone to eat dinner with. Could she *possibly* be interested in *him?*
Lois put on a pot of coffee when they had finished their dinner. “My God, that was phenomenal, Clark. Please tell your parents how much I enjoyed it! I’m stuffed. But I think I still have room for a piece of pumpkin pie!”
Clark was glad to see Lois acting more like herself. He wondered if she’d object if he asked her if they could watch a movie together. He had rented a video just in case, but he decided to wait until after dessert to ask if she was interested.
Lois emerged from the kitchen with a coffee mug in each hand. One, to Clark’s surprise, was blue with the familiar red-and-yellow Superman ‘S’ on it. The other was white and pink and said LOIS on it, along with a paragraph about what her name means. “Wanna be ‘Superman,’ Clark?” Lois asked, about to hand him the blue mug.
“Ooh, can I be ‘Lois’ instead?” Clark asked, jokingly.
Lois shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she laughed, taking the Superman mug for herself. “Lucy always gives me crazy coffee mugs. I think she’s trying to tell me something about my caffeine addiction.”
“Hm, this is very interesting, Lois.” Clark was reading the mug. “It says here, ‘Your name of Lois has created a practical, responsible, stable nature, and you desire to direct the efforts of others rather than to take order or ask permission. You have a determined, self-reliant, capable nature and resent any interference, although in your desire to help, you are inclined to become involved in the lives and decisions of other people. You like to make your own decisions and to be the master of your domain. You feel a limitation in your own expression when it is necessary to reach another through tact and understanding.’ That’s pretty accurate. Wow.”
Lois laughed. “Yeah, Lucy thought so, too. She said it was scary how accurate that mug was.”
Clark turned the mug over to see that on the other side, it said, ‘The name Lois means Battle Maiden.’ “Battle Maiden, eh?” Clark chuckled. “I’d say that’s pretty much on target. You’re a fighter.”
“Sometimes,” Lois answered, the single word hanging in the air uncomfortably. “Um... what do you say we break into that pumpkin pie?”
Clark truly believed what he said. Lois *was* a fighter. But he still regretted bringing her thoughts back around to the one battle she’d lost. He was glad when she changed the subject. “Sure, Lois. That sounds good,” he replied.
Clark peeled the plastic wrap off half of a perfect-looking pumpkin pie. He took a knife and sliced and plated two generous pieces. “Now,” Clark announced, “this is the best pumpkin pie of all time. Mom makes it only *once* a year. You cannot waste a single crumb of it, so I hope you’re hungry!” He scraped a fork over both sides of the knife, collecting the residual pumpkin filling. “Here, taste,” he said quietly, extending the fork towards her mouth.
Her lips closed softly over the fork. “Oh. My. God. This is *incredible* pumpkin pie,” Lois gushed. “You weren’t kidding. Give my regards to Mrs. Kent.”
“All right. I believe you’re deserving of this piece.” Clark laughed, offering her the bigger of the two pieces.
“You know,” said Lois, digging into the pie with gusto, “I can honestly say that this is the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” Clark smiled warmly.
“Well, on top of all of this *amazing* food, I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. As horrible as this whole week has been, at least I’m still here, right?”
Clark was surprised to hear Lois address the incident directly for the first time since it happened. “Yes, thank God,” he replied.
“And one positive thing that came out of it is, I know who my real friends are.” As Lois looked deeply into Clark’s eyes, she felt incredibly safe and loved. She even stunned herself when she continued, “I’m not so sure I want this night to be over after dessert. Maybe you can stay the night.” Embarrassed, she immediately drew her hand up to her mouth. “I, uh, didn’t mean it like that, Clark--I--”
“It’s okay, Lois, I know you didn’t.”
“I like spending time with you.”
“So do I.”
“And honestly, I know it’s really stupid of me, but I’ve been feeling pretty scared when I’m by myself,” she admitted. Ashamed, she broke eye contact with him and looked down at her plate, poking at what was left of her wedge of pie with her fork.
“Lois, it’s understandable. Of course I’ll stay.”
She looked up at him, surprised. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I even brought a movie in case you were in the mood to watch something,” Clark replied.
“Wow, you sure came prepared. You must have been a Boy Scout when you were a kid.” Lois smiled.
“I was. I’m an Eagle Scout,” Clark said proudly.
“I should have known. Now I know who to call when I need a refresher course in tying knots.” Lois grinned before taking a sip of her coffee. “So, what movie did you bring, anyhow?”
“Well, I thought you might like to see a classic. Have you ever seen ‘Bringing Up Baby’?”
“With Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn? And the leopard? I *love* that movie! I haven’t seen it in a while,” Lois rambled excitedly. She scraped up the last morsels of pie off of the plate, savoring them.
“Good. I was in the mood for a good old comedy.”
“Hey, why don’t you refill our mugs? The coffee’s over on the stovetop. I’ll get the VCR ready. Sound good?”
“Sounds great!” Clark took the plates and deposited them in the kitchen sink. He brought the coffee pot over and topped off their drinks, still amused by Lois’ Superman mug. He heard the TV turn on in Lois’ living room. Then he heard a light gasp escape from her lips.
“Oh. Oh, God,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. She sank into the sofa without letting her eyes leave the TV screen. Clark entered the room quickly, mugs in hand. Just then, he saw what Lois was reacting to.
“...the third victim, Amanda Byers, is described as a well-dressed 41-year old African-American female,” proclaimed the news anchor grimly. “She was found dead at four o’clock in the morning on the G train. The victim was given an overdose of GHB, a drug commonly used in date-rape situations. While unconscious, Byers was raped and left to die on the train.”
Clark had set the mugs down and stood, motionless, behind the sofa. He rested his hands on Lois’ shoulders gently.
The newsman continued, “The police have dubbed the attacker as the Hyde and SEEC rapist because he seems to strike between the Hyde Street stop and the State Environmental and Ecological College stop on the G train. The first victim was sexually assaulted last Thursday morning. Another passenger entered the train, preventing the criminal from committing the rape. The second victim was raped and found on Saturday morning around the same time. Both women survived. Because the victims were unconscious during the attack, it will be very difficult for police to identify the Hyde and SEEC rapist. If you have any information, or saw any suspicious behavior on or near the G train, please contact the Metropolis Police Department immediately.”
‘She died,’ thought Clark. His chest felt hollow. ‘Three victims... How could I make the same mistake more than once?!’ He felt immense guilt as the news program showed a photograph of a pretty woman with long braided hair and caramel-colored skin. Her smile shone brightly from the photograph. Clark wanted to die.
Just then, Lois’ sharp intake of breath stopped him from brooding; her shoulders shook beneath his palms as she heaved quiet sobs. Heartbroken for Lois and now Amanda Byers, Clark came up beside Lois and sat down, gathering her in his arms.
“I can’t believe it,” she muttered tearfully. “I thought maybe it was a one-time deal. But now, after *three*--” Lois stifled a sob. “Others are in danger, too!” Lois pulled back out of Clark’s embrace to look into his eyes. “And where has *Superman* been during all of this?” she blurted out, bitterly.
The words cut Clark like a knife. “I... I don’t know, Lois,” he stammered. He wished he could get up and leave; he wanted to fly to the middle of nowhere and scream. On top of hurting Lois so deeply, his lack of action had cost a woman her life. But tortured as he was, he couldn’t leave Lois. She was clinging to him again as her tears tapered off.
Sniffling, Lois continued. “I mean, I thought Superman was my friend. How could he let this happen? He’s always been there...”
“I don’t know what to say, Lois,” Clark muttered. “I’m friends with Superman, too. I don’t think there’s any way he would intentionally ignore someone who needed help.” It was getting difficult for Clark to keep his composure. How could he deal with the Superman’s pain and guilt about the situation, while, as Clark, offering unconditional support to Lois? Secret identities were complicated.
“I trusted him, Clark. I trusted him to keep me safe. I know that sounds stupid, but it’s how I feel. And right now, I feel very betrayed by Superman.” Lois spat the words like poison. Clark ached as if he’d been stabbed, and Lois kept pushing the knife deeper.
“But Superman can’t be everywhere at once. Maybe he was out saving someone else,” Clark suggested, in a vain attempt to bring Superman into a better light.
“But what could have been worse than this?” Lois was getting hysterical. “Wouldn’t Superman have chosen to save me, his friend, from being drugged and... brutalized? From having my clothes ripped off, and almost--”
Clark couldn’t take it anymore. “Lois. Stop.” His voice was firm. “Calm down, and listen to me. Superman would never have *chosen* for this to happen to anyone, *especially* his friend. Besides, maybe he couldn’t hear you. You were underground in the subway. You were unconscious; how could you have called for help?”
Lois was silent for a long time. She stared down at her hands in her lap, then finally raised her head, her eyes meeting his. Those eyes told him a thousand stories. She seemed to be searching for answers deep within him. At last she spoke. “Clark, you’re right. I don’t think I could have screamed. I don’t think he could have heard me. I just assumed he knew these kinds of things--like when a friend is in trouble. I don’t know. I am still having trouble trusting him again.” Lois shook her head. “At least I have you, Clark,” she murmured softly, nestling closer to him on the couch. “I feel like you’re the only person in the world I can trust.”
Clark Kent was elated to hear those words, but his Superman persona felt pain that only Kryptonite--and Lois Lane--could inflict. He was completely conflicted. Still, he embraced Lois. Wasn’t this what he’d always wanted? For Lois to want him for who he was--Clark Kent--rather than the idealistic fantasy of Superman? Now that he had his wish, he wasn’t so sure what to make of it.
“Of course you can trust me, Lois,” Clark whispered. “I’ll always be here. Always.” He was determined to keep that promise.
Lois would have loved to stay in Clark’s warm embrace. Instead, she yawned. “Turkey sure makes me tired.” ‘Stupid!’ she thought immediately. ‘Way to be romantic.’
“Well, if you’d like, we can save the movie for another night. You can get some rest. It would do you good.”
Another night?! Did he mean he’d stay over more than one night? “Hm. I think I’d like that,” Lois said, smiling. “Give me a minute, okay?” Lois disappeared into her bedroom.
Clark changed the channel until he found some “Leave it to Beaver” reruns. He settled on the couch, removing his sneakers and making himself comfortable.
When Lois emerged, she was wearing her pajamas: a baby pink tank top that left little to the imagination, and matching floral pants. Clark had to concentrate to keep his jaw from dropping. For the first time, he could appreciate her lovely figure. Sure, she was thin, but she was not lacking in soft, feminine curves or defined arm and shoulder muscles. She had a lazy smile on her face.
“I guess I was more tired than I realized,” Lois mused. She brought him a stack of pillows and blankets. “Here you go, Clark. Are you sure you don’t mind the couch?”
“Of course not. I’ll be right here if you need me for anything.” Clark grinned and wished her goodnight.
* * * * *
that very good keep going