From Part 10She 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.”
**********
Part 11She’d so nearly died. Okay, it wasn’t as if that was anything new for her. But this time had been different. She’d almost died without resolving things with the man who’d once been her best friend.
As she’d lain there on the ground, waiting for Jay... the serial killer to rape her and murder her, all she’d been able to think of was Clark. And not just praying for him to come and save her, either.
Clark. In her life. Talking with her. Laughing with her. Working beside her. Taking care of her. Protecting her. Going places with her. Spending time with her. Holding her. Kissing her. Making love with her.
And how empty her life felt without him.
They had to talk. She had to find a way to get past everything that had happened. She’d come to that decision while she was being treated at the hospital and he’d stayed with her, holding her hand, reassuring her with his gaze the whole time that he was there and he cared.
Now, she knew that, whatever else he’d done wrong, he had never lied about one thing: that he loved her.
And she loved him. Surely nothing else mattered besides that?
So, her heart in her mouth, she asked him to stay.
He nodded slowly. “If you want. I... guess after what you’ve just been through you might not feel safe.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. I... Clark, we should talk...”
“...About what happened tonight?” he finished, guessing her intentions wrongly.
But, nervous suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to correct him. “I... guess so.”
“Lois, what were you
doing?” he demanded suddenly, agony vivid in his voice. And in that second he sounded so like Clark, even though he’d never looked more like Superman. In his fear for her, his obvious wish that she’d be more careful for her safety, he was every inch her partner.
“Getting a story,” she retorted defensively. “And, hey, I got it!”
“You almost got yourself killed!” he shouted.
About to reply angrily, she checked herself. He was absolutely right. And if it hadn’t been for him she would have been killed. The agony in his expression, in the way he looked at her - and the way he’d looked and sounded when he’d found her - also gave her pause. She remembered, too, the other time when he’d thought he’d stumbled upon her dead body.
“Yes, I know,” she said softly. “Clark, I’m so sorry that I scared you again.”
His expression softened; then he grimaced. “I guess now I’m experiencing exactly what you felt.”
She nodded. “Thinking you were dead was... the worst thing that ever happened to me.”
“So finding out that I was alive should have been the best thing,” he replied, self-disgust in his tone. “But the way I deceived you made it even worse.” As if he could barely look her in the eye, he turned away.
That was true. She couldn’t deny it. The way he’d lied to her and pretended with her still hurt like hell. But, on the other hand, he’d just saved her life. Didn’t that count for something? Didn’t it count for a lot?
She’d been through utter torment in the last few days. The worst of that torment had been knowing that, not only had she lost her best friend, she’d also lost the one person who’d been able to offer her any comfort at all. Oh, she’d told herself that the worst of it was that everything she’d known in the past year and a half had been a lie. That everything about
Clark had been a lie.
But that wasn’t true; she knew that now. The worst thing about it had been knowing that he was alive, but he wasn’t in her life.
And he wasn’t in her life because
she had told him to go. She'd said that she never wanted to see him again. She’d said that she hated him. That even if she were dying she didn’t want him to save her.
But, loyal as ever, he’d still been there for her. She’d rejected him, but she knew now that he would never reject her. He did love her. And she’d been so wrong - she did need him.
And she didn’t want to lose him again. So wasn’t that worth swallowing a bit of pride?
She stretched out a hand to him. “Clark... let’s forget all about that, okay? I... after tonight I don’t think I want to lose you again.”
He turned to meet her gaze again, looking as if he could hardly bear to hope. “Lois, I... I never wanted to lose you. But does that mean you forgive me for what I did?”
Did she? Her gaze dropped. No. As she’d just acknowledged to herself, what he’d done - pretending to be dead, making love to her in one of his guises without telling her the truth, hearing her declaration of love for both of his personas without telling her that he was Clark - still hurt more than she could put into words.
But that hurt warred with the need to hold onto the friend she’d thought was lost forever. Okay, so he wasn’t the person she’d thought he was. He wasn’t perfect - in fact, he was so far from perfect. But he did love her. And she still loved him, even if she could never trust him again.
And he’d saved her life.
“It doesn’t matter, Clark,” she said quickly. “Let’s just agree to forget about it, okay?”
**********
It was a very generous offer. Clark was very well aware of that. He’d done the unforgivable, and she was offering to forget it?
To forget it. Not to forgive.
He whirled away. “No, Lois. I can’t forget about it. And I can’t let you, either.”
“What?” She sounded disbelieving.
“Much as I’d love to accept your offer, I can’t. Lois, you can’t wipe out the past just because I saved your life tonight,” he said wearily, running a hand roughly through his hair and turning to face her. “Tonight’s one thing. You’re still in shock over what nearly happened. You almost died. But that’ll pass. And if we... carry on, say we’re friends again - or maybe more - then one day you’re going to remember what I did to you and it’s going to come between us. It’s going to make you hate me again.” He shook his head. “Unless you can forgive me for what I’ve done, we’re never going to be able to get past it.”
She met his gaze and, after a long moment, nodded. “You’re right. I... I’m not ready to forgive you yet.”
“I know. But I’ll wait,” he promised. “I’ll wait as long as you need, Lois. All I need to know is that... you want me in your life.”
“I do, Clark,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “I... miss you so much.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.
“I miss you at work too,” she whispered. “Nothing’s the same without you, Clark!”
That was a positive sign. It warmed his heart, making him think that perhaps there was hope after all.
“Yeah, I noticed that you have a complete moron as a partner,” he said dryly. “What the heck was he doing tonight while you were being attacked?”
Lois rolled her eyes, and he couldn’t help grinning at the sight. “He’s useless,” she said dismissively. “Anyway, he’s not my partner. I don’t
have a partner any more. Perry wanted to assign me someone new, but I... refused.”
Clark felt warm inside again, but then was assailed with guilt. This was something else his actions had done to her. He’d left her alone and unprotected - and unwilling to trust anyone else again.
He wasn’t sure whether he should offer to leave now or not. He wanted to stay, but what excuse did he have? Then it came to him. A slow smile curved over his face. “You have a story to write, don’t you, partner?”
Quick on the uptake as ever, Lois grinned at him. “You offering to help,
partner?”
“If you’d like me to.”
She took a step towards him and reached out to touch his hand, very gently. “I’d like
Clark to help me.”
Her meaning dawned. And the ice surrounding his heart melted just a little more. Stepping back from her, he spun, coming to a halt seconds later wearing clothes and glasses he hadn’t worn for weeks now - looking like the person he’d thought he could never be again.
*********
Writing the story wasn’t as easy as Lois had expected. Five minutes after sitting down at the table with her laptop, she was already restless and unable to concentrate. Clark had made her coffee, and he was sitting next to her, just like old times. It was as if the previous few weeks had only ever happened in her imagination.
But it had really happened. Clark had really been shot, and then he’d pretended to be dead even as she gave him everything she was. She’d opened up to him in ways she’d never had to anyone before. She’d trusted him. She’d loved him.
Still loved him.
The story. She had to focus on the story. Jay... Jay and his smooth-talking. Jay and the glass of champagne he’d made her drink. Jay and his life-story to soften her up. How could she have been so blind? He’d lied to her about who he really was.
He’d pretended to be someone he wasn’t.
She still loved him...
No, not Jay; that was someone else... wasn’t it?
The screen was blurry. She blinked. It came into focus again. Her memory was a bit fuzzier about what had happened after she’d left the club. Jay had told her he was staying at the Monarch, and she’d been debating whether to suggest that he might be better off taking a cab when... well, that was the part she couldn’t remember fully. She’d suddenly found herself pressed to the ground, and the nice guy who’d chatted her up at the bar had turned into a monster keeping her captive, sliding the blade of his knife against her neck, and breathing heavily over her... He was there, and she couldn’t move. None of her martial arts skills could throw him off her. He was there, and he would rape her, and he would kill her, and Clark was nowhere to be seen. Clark wouldn’t come. She’d sent him away. She’d told him she didn’t need his help.
“Lois?”
Clark’s voice jolted her back to reality. She opened her eyes. She was home. She was safe.
She was trembling. Her breathing was laboured. Something was pressing on her chest, making her suffocate. She needed some air. She needed to go out. Getting to her feet, she stumbled to the window and opened it wide. The air outside was cold, but the darkness was too oppressive. She shut the window again and pulled the curtains.
She felt Clark’s hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
She was okay. She was fine. She was home and perfectly safe. She’d spent enough time at the hospital, and the only resistance she’d offered was when a shrink had tried to poke around her mind. She was perfectly well. But, while she’d got rid of her torn tights, she was still wearing her short skirt and black bustier.
“I need to get out of these clothes,” she muttered, more to herself than to Clark. She had to get past this if she wanted to write the story and put it all behind her. Jay was a story. Nothing more. And, once she was out of clothes that reminded her of the night’s events, she would feel a whole lot better. A new woman. “I’ll be right back,” she said, heading to her bedroom.
She expected Clark to argue or fuss, but he didn’t. “I’ll run the bath for you,” he replied instead.
<And then we’ll talk>
He didn’t say the words, but the meaning was there. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about what had happened -
almost happened. After all, it hadn’t happened. Besides, it wasn’t her first encounter with death. Clark had commented often enough on her tendency to take too many risks.
A few minutes later, she was soaking in warm water and surrounded by foam. At last her muscles were starting to relax. The ache in her limbs was easing up, and her fingertips were warming up. The soft light of the bathroom was soothing her earlier disquiet, the familiar surroundings putting the evening behind her.
She could hear Clark moving about the living-room, washing mugs and tidying up.
And everything was fine in her world. Or so it seemed to be. She’d wanted to pretend everything was all right tonight. She’d been eager to work on the story, as if tonight had been just another stakeout. Years ago, she had accepted the idea that her own death was something that could easily happen. After Superman had appeared on the scene, though, she’d become sloppy with the precautions she normally took when investigating a dangerous case.
Perry had been right today; she had needed a partner. However, Tyler Rogers was about as useless as Ralph. The only partner who could have helped her was Clark. Without him, it had been very dangerous to play the prey to a serial rapist and killer. It was a wonder she was still alive.
And again, that was all thanks to Superman. How many times had he saved her life over the past year and a half? And because he was always there for her, she assumed that he would always be. To save her and... and to cherish her. To love her.
Just as she’d wanted to ignore what she’d gone through tonight, she’d also been determined to forget that Clark had ever been shot, that he’d ever lied to her, that he was Superman. She’d believed, albeit briefly, that putting it all behind them would erase it from her memory.
But, as Clark had gently reminded her, it had happened. He’d been shot, and he’d deliberately kept her in the dark. That he hadn’t lied about his feelings was one thing; it still felt as if he had played with her. And he was right: she wasn’t ready to forgive him yet.
And, at the same time, she needed him. She loved him. She couldn’t deny her feelings for him, nor did she want to. And he was walking on eggshells around her. If she hadn’t asked him to stay, he would have gone back god knew where to nurse his wounds all by himself. He wouldn’t have realised how much she wanted him to stay with her.
She heard him knock. “Lois, are you okay in there?” he asked through the door.
Clark. He was being his typical self, worrying about her and making sure she was okay.
“Yes, hang on.” She got out of the tub and wrapped a fluffy robe around her body. “Come in.”
His head peered through the door. His hair was slightly dishevelled, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses, but he was still her Clark. She felt his heated gaze travel down her body, and she wrapped her arms around her protectively. This was Clark, her partner, her best friend... the man who’d made love to her and knew every tiniest inch of her body.
It was so hard to reconcile the image of her sweet, gentle partner with her passionate lover.
Especially when he blushed. “I’m sorry, Lois,” he murmured, backing away. “I... didn’t realise you weren’t dressed.”
“I’m more covered in this robe than I was in what I was wearing half an hour ago,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, but...” She heard him sigh faintly. “You looked uncomfortable when I looked in - as if it bothered you to let me see you like this...”
That was just stupid, wasn’t it? They both knew that he’d seen her with far fewer clothes on than that bathrobe. But he was definitely treading very carefully around her, so unsure of his welcome. And, really, that was as it should be. He understood the magnitude of what he’d done, how much a betrayal of their friendship, their love, it was... And, of course, she knew Clark well enough to understand how his deep, passionate sense of ethics would make him feel about this.
He
was sorry. He deeply regretted what he’d done.
And, while she was the injured party, she was also the only one who could make the first move here. Swallow her pride? Easy, considering the alternatives.
“Clark.” She crossed the bathroom, walking towards him.
He turned back, still looking as if he would bolt any second.
“I said I missed you, remember?”
“Yeah.” His expression spoke volumes about his regret. For everything.
“You know what I missed most of all?” She stood a mere couple of feet from him now.
“What?”
“Being hugged by you,” she said softly, and waited.
“Oh, Lois...” Her name emerged as something between a groan and a plea. And then his arms came around her, holding her close the way he’d done so many times in the past. She clung to him, and the fear she’d felt that night, the horror of almost being raped, melted away. She was safe. She was with her best friend.
“I love you.” The words escaped without any forethought on her part. She hadn’t meant to say them. And yet, once said, she knew she didn’t want to take them back. It was the truth.
He hugged her tighter, and she felt his lips brush her hair. “I love you, too, Lois. But it doesn’t make it better, does it? It doesn’t... undo what I did.”
It didn’t. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t something to build on.
And, suddenly, she knew exactly how they could start. “Clark, if you could do it all over again, tell me what you’d do differently.”
*********
What he would do differently? A bitter laugh escaped him. “I’d never have pretended to be dead in the first place.”
He felt Lois stir in his arms, and she drew back to look up at him. “Yeah, and I’d never have demanded that you take me to that club in the first place. But... it happened.”
He nodded. She wanted to know whether, with the benefit of hindsight, he’d have been honest with her. And the answer to that was a no-brainer.
“Come on,” he murmured. “If we’re going to have this conversation, we should do it somewhere more comfortable.” Releasing her from his arms, he turned her gently and guided her out of the bathroom, intending to head for the living-room and her sofa.
She resisted, and he paused, giving her a questioning look.
“You said comfortable, and you’re heading out there?” A teasing light was dancing in her eyes, and he had to smile in response. Oh, he’d missed this so much... just being with her, laughing and joking and being easy together.
“True,” he acknowledged, smiling in return. “When are you going to get rid of those things and get something you can actually enjoy sitting on?”
“But if I did that you’d have nothing to complain about,” she deadpanned, before taking his arm and tugging him with her. “Come on. The bed’s much more comfortable, and I can sit with your arm around me while we talk.”
The bed. Where they’d lain only a few nights earlier and made delicious love... He swallowed, trying to banish the erotic images which came to him at the thought. Lois must’ve had the same flashback, he thought, noticing the flush which crept over her face.
He was about to suggest that the couch, uncomfortable as it was, would be a better option, but she gave him a determined look. “We’ve been lovers, Clark. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen. And... if I’m honest, I’m not sure that I want to anyway.”
A rush of relief swept him at her admission, as well as her open acknowledgement of what had passed between them. Maybe, just maybe, things would be all right after all...
His hand slid down her arm and caught her hand, holding it and linking their fingers. “So it won’t help if I say that’s one of the things I’d do differently?” he teased.
She blushed again, but raised an eyebrow challengingly at him. “You can’t say you didn’t want it.”
“No. I’d never say that.” Serious now, he faced her with a direct gaze. “But one thing I definitely would change is what happened out there - ” He nodded towards her living-room. “ - the night I was shot.”
Her expression sober, she nodded. “Me too.”
He didn’t wait for her to elaborate. “I took advantage of you, Lois. I still can’t believe that I did it. It was... you know, one second I was holding you, near to tears myself seeing you cry, knowing my whole life had just fallen apart and not having a clue what I was going to do. And the next... we were on the floor and I’d... I’d ravished you. I just didn’t know what to say to you - how to apologise, or how to make up for it. It did cross my mind then to tell you that I was Clark, but I thought that would probably only make things worse. When you told me to leave... I was a coward. I took the easy way out.”
Her fingers tightened around his. “There were two of us on that floor,” she whispered. “And I started it. I don’t know what made me do it. Like you, I can hardly remember how it happened... I just... I was devastated, I’d just lost the person who meant most to me in the world, and you were holding me and I knew that nothing could comfort me... I just wanted to forget. And... you know, now I wonder if I half-suspected all along?”
Puzzled, he asked, “Suspected what?”
“That it was you. Clark. I know I wasn’t thinking straight,” she elaborated. “But I do remember thinking in the middle of it all that he - Superman - even sounded like you. And I think maybe I was closing my eyes and imagining that it was you, not him, I was doing those things to.”
Clark grimaced. “I don’t have that excuse. It was wrong of me, Lois. The first betrayal, I guess.”
She dropped his hand abruptly, then shocked him by pushing roughly at his chest with both hands. “No! Stop that, Clark!”
He caught at her hands, confused.
“We’ll never get past this if you keep talking like that. You know, you’re worse than I am!”
“But... Lois, what I did was wrong. Cruel. I know that - ”
“Yeah, and you know what?” She gave him a belligerent stare.
“What?”
“I’m thinking that maybe I’m not the one whose forgiveness you really need. You can’t forgive yourself - and that’s the biggest thing stopping us getting past this.”
He was about to deny it, but the words froze on his lips. She was right. But still...
“Yeah,” he admitted. “You’re right. But you have to be able to forgive me too.”
“So do what I asked you, Kent, okay? Sit down and tell me what you’d do differently.”
*********
tbc...
