From Part 9:
Feeling ready to crumple, Lois managed to drag herself upright and, with shaking hands, repaired some of the damage to her appearance. Then she headed back to the newsroom and informed Perry that she was sick and was taking the rest of the day off.
He gave her a concerned look. “Lois, honey, you know I’m worried about you. If you need some time... You know I can get you some compassionate leave - ”
She shook her head immediately. “No. I just - just have a headache, okay? Tell Rogers I’ll see him at Hartley’s tonight at nine. He’d better not be late.” And she turned and walked out of the office.
*********
Part 10
Clark was pacing up and down his one-room cabin, wishing his super-hearing would turn in and inform him of a cat that needed rescuing or a tree that needed trimming... anything to keep his mind off what had happened with Lois.
He hadn’t been able to fight the need to check on her a couple of times over the past three days. Seeing her was as essential to him as breathing, even if he couldn’t approach her. At times he felt like a stalker, and he ached to land in front of her and force her to talk to him. Fear of rejection kept him out of her sight. He couldn’t bear to hear her harsh words a second time.
She seemed to be getting on with her life, too; she was going to work every morning and, even though there was the faint trace of sleeplessness under her eyes, her make-up was applied skilfully enough for it to be barely noticeable. Lois Lane. Ever the professional.
In the meantime, he was a mess. Physically, he was fine. Unfortunately, his metabolism made it impossible for him to find some peace in sleep. Emotionally, though, he was a wreck. Lois had just about killed him a second time when she’d told him to get out of her life.
But could he blame her? He’d purposely pretended to be two men, and the fact that he’d never meant to hurt her was irrelevant. She hadn’t wanted to know why he hadn’t told her he once was Clark anyway. She hadn’t cared. All that had mattered to her was that her superhero had feet of clay, and she couldn’t bear an imperfect man.
He sank onto the old, battered sofa with a sigh. Lois had known Superman wasn’t perfect. She had seemed to accept his vulnerabilities. She had let him cry in her arms. She had offered him comfort... and love. She had loved him. He was certain that her feelings had been sincere three nights ago.
But, again, did that really matter? She had obviously moved on. She hadn’t made any attempt to get in touch with him. He had hovered over her neighbourhood over the past three nights, hoping she would open the window and call him, but the window had stayed stubbornly closed, and no sound had filtered from the apartment - he had fought the urge to break through her privacy, too scared to find out how much he’d hurt her. Seeing her cry tore at his heart; knowing that he was the cause of her sorrow was too much to bear.
He needed her. More than ever, he ached to feel her slender body cuddle up to him, her arms wrap around his shoulders, her lips close to his cheek, her words of reassurance. He needed her. She completed him in every way; she soothed his fears and dried his tears.
He wished he’d never made love to her. What was he saying? Of course he didn’t regret those moments. They would be memories to cherish for the rest of his life.
In the meantime, he had to get out of here. Sitting in a squalid room was not helping, and he would not wallow in self-pity. Lois was dealing with their fight and moving on, and he would do the same. No. He knew he would never move on. He would never love another woman. He would never trust anybody else with his secret. But he could at least pretend that he was all right. He could fight. He could use his abilities to make the world a better, safer place. All the time he didn’t spend as Clark could be optimised to fight criminals... and help... and maybe give a meaning to his one-sided existence.
He got to his feet and spun into the Suit, wondering idly why he even bothered dressing as Clark when he was in his lair. He would never be Clark Kent again, and it didn’t really matter. There had to be people around the world who needed Superman. He could probably spread his feats outside Metropolis. If he spent his entire time as Superman, he had no reason to spend his entire time in New Troy. He could broaden his horizons and help fight crime in Chicago, New York and Seattle. Maybe the Los Angeles police department would welcome his help tonight; he could be back in Metropolis on time for an early morning patrol. If he felt like it. No reason why he had to come back, actually. Nothing tied him to Metropolis. In fact, it was about time he moved on and searched for another place to live, a place with no memories, with no Clark Kent and no Lois Lane.
Less than a second later, he was airborne and flying westwards, feeling his heart sink with each mile he put between himself and Lois.
*********
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Jolted out of her careful scan of the crowd, Lois turned to the man settling beside her at the bar and took in his appearance: expensive business suit, neatly styled dark hair, blue eyes twinkling with wit and good humour. Temptation to send him away died on her lips as he ordered champagne for the two of them. This one was lucky she was undercover and intent on staying discreet, or else he’d be the first man travelling around Pluto without a ship. Just because he wasn’t too bad-looking, that was no reason to impose himself on her.
He would ruin her plan, too. She’d spent enough time as it was studying the profile of the man’s previous victims. The women had all been in their early or mid-twenties, alone and looking bored. They’d all worn black outfits that left little to the imagination, quite like the bodice that hugged her curves, the skirt reaching only halfway down her thighs, and the silk covering her legs. She was the ideal prey.
Or she would have been, if she hadn’t been disturbed by the man now pushing a glass of champagne towards her. She took a sip and smiled sweetly. Once he figured out she had no conversation whatsoever, he would leave, and she’d be free to wait for her would-be rapist.
She gave a quick glance towards the other end of the bar. Either her wig of long, black hair and heavy make-up was really effective, or else Rogers was even more stupid than she’d thought. He was walking through the crowd, obviously looking for her. Damn Perry for forcing her to work with him! If she had to have a partner, at least let it be one who wouldn’t blow her cover within a minute.
Clark would have... no. Clark wouldn’t have been any better than Rogers anyway. He’d have said that her plan was entirely too dangerous, and he’d have been overprotective. And she’d have secretly loved it.
She pushed the unwelcome thought away. She was here to work. Tonight, Kent was out of the picture. Not just tonight, actually. Kent was out of her life, and it was much better this way. She didn’t need him in order to be happy. She didn’t need him, full stop.
Her gaze returned to her pathetic new partner, and she shook her head. Well, she would not make herself noticeable to him. He was even more likely to ruin things than the guy hitting on her.
As if hearing her thoughts, Rogers looked up towards her, and she ducked her head, feigning sudden interest in the man sitting next to her.
“You come here often?”
“Now and then,” she lied.
“It’s my first time here,” he said, obviously unaware that she didn’t care. Or maybe he chose not to bother taking her opinion into account, just as with the drink he’d ordered for her.
“Yeah?” she responded, her tone bored. Then, seeing out of the corner of her eye that Rogers was heading in her direction, she summoned a wide smile and turned it on her companion. “I’m Lola,” she informed him.
“Jay,” he responded, raising his glass as if to toast her. “Nice to meet you.”
She nodded, pretending to return his interest while at the same time attempting to scan the bar for any sign of the man she was looking for.
“I know you think I’m hitting on you,” Jay continued. “I swear, I’m not. I’m from out of town - been here a couple of days on business. And - ” He looked sad suddenly, and extended his left hand towards her. “I’m married,” he announced. Sure enough, she could see a gold band. “I just miss my wife,” he added quietly. “And you look kind of like her. I just wanted someone to talk...” Getting to his feet, he gave a resigned shrug. “I understand. You’re not interested.”
Jeez. What did he think she was? His own personal hotline to Delilah?
Then she sighed. Oh, what could it hurt? It didn’t look as if her man was going to show up anyway, so why shouldn’t she have a drink with this guy? It was better than going home to an empty apartment where she’d only end up brooding yet again over... him.
So she smiled at Jay again. “Oh, sit down!”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself...”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Quit bleating and get me another drink, then you can tell me what you’re doing in Metropolis.”
Jay was actually an amusing companion, Lois realised after a while. He kept her entertained with amusing anecdotes about life as a travelling representative for an academic publishing company - even if, as jobs went, that one appealed to her about as much as working at a McBurger joint. He also didn’t seem to require much input from her, so she was able to glance around from time to time to see if there was any sign of her target.
Nothing. It was looking as if her tip-off was a bust.
At least Rogers was leaving her alone; she spotted him at one point propping up the bar next to a stacked blonde. Typical, she thought. Just like a man. She had no need to ask where he kept his brains!
“Lola?”
She turned back to Jay, ready to decline the offer of another drink. “Uh-huh?”
“Look, you’re going to think I’m an idiot...” he began.
She rolled her eyes. God, why had she ever taken pity on the guy? “What?”
“I need to get back to my hotel - I promised my wife I’d call before eleven and it’s almost that now. But - see, I am an idiot - I know my hotel’s in walking distance, but I can’t remember which way. Would you mind just walking out with me and showing me?”
Lois shrugged. She should get home herself - it was very clear now that the serial killer wasn’t going to show. “Sure.”
Outside, she asked Jay what hotel he was staying at.
“The Monarch.”
She frowned. That was more than just a few blocks away. “That’s... oh, wait, I suppose it is in walking distance if you don’t mind half an hour’s walk.” Hesitating for a moment, she pondered the best route. “Okay, I guess if we walk around the side of this place I can point you in the right direction.”
He gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Lola. You’re a doll.”
A doll. She rolled her eyes as they set off. If anyone in the newsroom heard that, she’d never hear the last of it. At least she was never going to see this guy again once she’d sent him on his way...
“Aah!”
The scream escaped her as she felt the scrape of a knife against her throat. “Shut up!” Jay’s voice hissed, harsh now, containing no hint of the light, friendly tone he’d used for the past hour while they’d chatted.
With a sinking heart, she realised her mistake. Why had it never occurred to her that the rapist could be smooth, charming, well-dressed and attractive?
<Stay cool, Lois. You know how to handle this>
Taking deep, steady breaths, she drew on her inner reserves of calm. Then, striking out at her captor with her elbow, she twisted her body at the same time. In the very next moment, she hooked her ankle around his leg.
But he didn’t let her go. This guy knew martial arts. He caught her and, within seconds, his grip on her was even stronger, one arm like a steel band around her chest and arms, and the other hand holding the knife straight across her throat. “That wasn’t so clever, was it, Lola?” He laughed. “Just for that, I’m going to cut you into little pieces before I kill you.”
<Oh god>
She was going to die. She just knew it. Whatever she did, it didn’t matter any more. She was going to die...
“Help! Superman, help!”
The cry escaped her before she even remembered that she’d told him she didn’t want him to save her ever again. Oh, how stupid had that been! Of course she wanted him to save her!
“Shut up!” Jay yelled, and his knee crashed into her lower back, making her grunt in pain. The knife against her throat sliced against her; she felt a warm, sticky trail running down her neck.
He was going to kill her... he wasn’t even going to bother raping her first.
<Oh, Clark, please come! Please... I forgive you everything, just please come!>
Tears choking her, she frantically searched the sky as much as she could without turning her head. But there was no sign of a red-caped Superhero racing to her rescue.
He’d taken her at her word. He wasn’t coming.
*********
Clark hadn’t got to LA. He hadn’t even got as far as Ohio.
He’d just suddenly started to wonder what the heck he was doing. Going to LA? He really couldn’t see himself - even as Superman - setting up in LaLaLand. Or anywhere else in California, for that matter.
And anyway, if he left Metropolis he really would be giving up all hope that Lois would ever forgive him. Which was something he just wasn’t ready to do. Not yet.
Maybe not ever...
He knew Lois, after all. And, okay, he deserved her anger and her contempt. And she was known for holding grudges longer than Methuselah had lived. But still... while there was any possibility that she might one day be ready to listen to him, he wanted to be near her.
He was finished with running away. He would convince Lois to listen to him. He would apologise to her and explain to her why he hadn’t told her his secret before. She might not want to have a romantic relationship with him again, but maybe she could at least agree to give him a chance to rebuild their friendship.
He hovered outside her apartment. The windows were closed, as they had been over the past three nights. No light was filtering through the curtains. A quick scan showed that Lois not home. She was probably still at the Planet, burying herself in her work to avoid thinking about how much he’d hurt her. His heart sinking, he realised that he didn’t have that kind of escape any more. The disaster of his relationship with Lois had been on his mind constantly since she’d thrown him out of her life. What few Superman rescues he had performed hadn’t been enough to stop him obsessing.
Lois at least looked like she was handling things better than he was, he mused as he flew towards the Daily Planet. She was probably moving on, pushing him out of her memories... Her determination to stick to her resolve made him pessimistic. She wasn’t showing any sign of wanting to get in touch with him; even yesterday when he’d spent some time fixing a gas leak in a building three blocks away from the Planet, she hadn’t shown up when members of the press had rushed in to ask him for a couple of quotes.
He landed on the Planet roof and sighed in resignation. Maybe what he was doing was pointless. Maybe she really didn’t want to listen to him. Maybe she didn’t care any more. He was sure that he now ranked as bad as Claude in her list of federal disasters, and he couldn’t really blame her.
A quick check of the building was enough to determine that Lois was not here either. He’d flown over the road she took to drive home, so he was sure he hadn’t missed her. Where was she? Perry would know.
Making his way into the newsroom was not as easy as he’d hoped. He had always made it a rule not to walk in the Daily Planet premises as Superman; the connection to Clark might have been too easily made. It didn’t matter any more now, but the event was rare enough for his former colleagues to raise their heads from their computers and gape.
There was one part of his role as Superman that he’d never enjoy; while the suit had been very effective to protect his identity, it made him stick out in a crowd. The weight of his lie was even worse now that he knew how much he’d hurt Lois by not telling her the truth. Those people had learned about his death. He’d had a good working relationship with them as Clark; they’d probably been affected by what had happened to him. But he was still alive and well, at least physically.
He hurried inside Perry’s office and closed the door behind him.
“Superman!” His former editor rose from his chair and shook his hand warmly. “What a surprise to see you here! Please, have a seat. Can I get anything for you?”
“Mr White, I need to see Ms Lane.”
“Lois? She took the afternoon off.”
“She’s not home.”
“Of course she’s not. I’d have her head if she was. She had a lead about the harbour rapist and she went down there to check it out.”
“And do something reckless!”
Perry blinked at the force of his voice. “She’s a reporter,” he countered defensively. “A good one, at that. Granted, she sometimes takes things a bit too far, but she was taking care of herself long before Clark and you came along.”
“Mr White, she can’t take that risk! She can’t get killed.”
“And she won’t. Rogers is with her. I refused to let her go by herself, much as she hates the thought of working with anybody else after... well, after Clark.”
“Where is she?”
“Hartley’s bar, at the intersection of Kennedy and Wilson. There was a tip-off our man would try to strike there tonight.”
*********
Clark was there immediately, scanning the area while trying to quash the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Whatever Perry said, Lois was not the kind to take all the necessary precautions when she was on a stakeout or even undercover. Even she admitted that she was the kind not to think things through before she jumped into trouble.
<If I get in trouble, I don’t want you to fly to the rescue>
The weight on his stomach got heavier. The beating of his heart was loud enough to cover the noise of the streets below, and...
It wasn’t his heart.
Lois!
It took him under a second to locate her. She was lying prone on the hard ground of a dark alley, a shadow holding her wrists behind her back and straddling her legs to keep her from struggling. Her cheek was pressed to the concrete; her hair had been pushed back, and a small ray of light coming from a distant streetlamp caught the reflection of the sharp blade resting against her neck...
Blood was trickling down her skin.
He grasped the man holding her and pulled him to his feet. It took all his strength not to send him flying to the other end of the alley. Within a few seconds, the guy had the nearest lamppost wrapped around his body - Superman would have to apologise to City Hall later - and he could return to Lois.
She hadn’t moved.
She wasn’t... she couldn’t be. She couldn’t have died!
He could still hear the racing beating of her heart. She was alive. He knelt to her side and reached for her.
“Lois? Lois, it’s me.”
Her shoulder felt tiny and fragile under his hand. The cut on her throat looked serious, but a small burst of heat vision sealed the worst of it. A thorough X-ray of her body showed him that her back and legs were bruised, probably from her struggle to get free, but her clothes hadn’t been torn; the rapist hadn’t had time to do his brutal business.
Where was her damn partner, anyway? That idiot Rogers should have been with her. He should have been looking after her. What the hell was he being paid for if he couldn’t even take care of his partner...
His partner. Bile boiled up in his throat. Lois was his partner. If anyone should have been looking out for her, it should have been him. If she’d insisted on going to this club tonight, he should have been with her. Would have been with her, if only Barrow hadn’t pulled that blasted gun on him... Or, if only he’d told Lois the truth himself before she’d found it out for herself, she would have told him where she was going and he’d have been able to keep an eye out for her. Perhaps even accompany her in disguise.
Instead, she’d had to rely on an incompetent no-hoper like Rogers.
He stroked her hair gently, then her face. Her skin was cold. He detached his cape and laid it over her. She didn’t react.
“Please talk to me. Please, tell me you’re all right. Lois...”
At last she looked at him. Eyes that had once shown nothing but determination were now brimming with tears and pent-up terror.
“Oh god, Clark, you came...” Her voice was rusty, hoarse. And she winced as she spoke, as if talking was painful.
“Lois, of course I came! I’m just sorry I took so long...” Then the implication of her words struck him. Had she thought he wouldn’t come? Could she really have thought that of him? She had to know, surely, that he would never fail to be there if she needed him?
“He... he... I thought... just... nice guy...”
“Shh. Please, don’t talk,” he urged. Gently pulling her into his arms, he tried to make sense of her words. The rapist had been chatting her up, had he? Had Lois been... interested? The thought cut through him with the intensity of a Kryptonite blade.
That didn’t matter now! he told himself. He had to get Lois to a hospital. And ensure that someone remove that piece of garbage from the street. He hesitated. Despite his frantic worry over her, Lois wasn’t badly hurt. And the last thing he wanted was for the rapist to escape. So he took off, flying first for the precinct where Inspector Henderson worked, hoping that the man was on duty. Of course, he could deal with anyone else, but he trusted Henderson to ensure that things were handled properly.
The inspector was alarmed to see Superman’s burden, and even more concerned, Clark noted, that Lois was just lying still in his arms, silent and unmoving. Clark, however, wasn’t interested in putting anyone else’s fears to rest; in a couple of staccato sentences, he informed Henderson where the rapist could be found and said that he was taking Lois to the emergency room.
Back in the air, he studied her, worried. “Lois? Are you okay?”
<Talk to me. Tell me you forgive me. Tell me you miss me Tell me you love me>
She nodded. “Just... hurts to... talk.”
“Don’t talk, then,” he said gently. “Just rest. I’m getting you to help.”
Half-disappointed, half-relieved, he accepted that any conversation was going to have to wait until she was feeling better. Seconds later, he walked into the ER at Metropolis General and instantly drew the attention of several nurses. It was some shred of comfort to him that, when Lois was placed in a wheelchair ready to be taken through to a treatment room, she gripped his hand and refused to let go.
It shouldn’t comfort him too much, he knew. She was overwrought. She’d almost been violated and murdered. Once she got over that - and, knowing his Lois, it wouldn’t take long - she’d be back to normal. And back to being furious with him.
He stayed with her throughout her treatment, which didn’t take long: an X-ray to confirm what he had already told the medical staff, that she had no broken bones. The cut at her neck didn’t need stitches, but it was cleaned and disinfected and she was given an anti-tetanus shot before being released.
And then he flew her home.
She seemed to be feeling better by then, he’d noticed; she’d talked to the hospital staff when necessary and without any sign of pain. Perhaps she’d be ready to talk to him?
Or... perhaps she’d never be ready.
Again, after agreeing with him that she should wait until she’d rested before going down to the precinct to make her statement, she was silent on the flight home. That convinced him that, while she was relieved that he’d saved her, she didn’t want to talk to him. But, once he set her down in her living-room, she looked up at him. His heart in his mouth, he looked back.
“Clark... don’t go.”
**********
tbc...
