LAST TIME...
The silence that followed was anything but awkward. They ate quietly, but Lois erupted in giggles as Clark accidentally got cream on the end of his nose. Clark retaliated by making sure Lois also ‘accidentally’ got cream on her nose, too. They shared a sweet kiss, both still breathless from laughing.
* * * * * NOW READ ON...
The next few days were spent gathering all possible pieces of information about the four incidents. Lois and Clark enlisted Jimmy’s help in locating descriptions of the other three women who were attacked. There seemed to be no major similarities. The women ranged in age from 18 to 41 and were a variety of ethnic backgrounds.
The attacks all took place around the same time, anywhere from one o’clock A.M. to four A.M.
“We should go at midnight, Clark, and stay until we see him,” Lois announced, spreading out her research on the table.
Clark nodded gravely. He was not at all thrilled with Lois’ plan. It wasn’t so much that he thought the rapist had a chance of attacking her again. He was more concerned that being in the subway and possibly seeing the rapist might dredge up negative memories for Lois. Yet, try as he might, he could not communicate his feelings to her when he watched her--brave, focused, and determined--carefully researching and planning a way to stop the crimes from continuing. He could do nothing other than admire her, in awe of her strength. His heart swelled with respect for the woman before him.
“You’re sure about this?” he managed.
“I am,” she answered. “Let’s do this.”
* * * * *
Clark Kent sat in his living room waiting for Lois to finish getting ready. Clark’s attire consisted of a ratty knit cap, a flannel shirt, grubby jeans, and boots. He had a nappy old blanket as well, and his plan was to lay on a bench on the subway platform, a ‘homeless man’ seemingly asleep. He’d peer out from under the blanket and watch to see if anyone fit the Hyde and SEEC rapist’s description, or if anyone looked like they were after Lois. Then, he’d be able to spring up and seize the man before he and Lois could get on the train.
Lois emerged from his bedroom at long last, her hair hidden beneath a long reddish wig. She was dressed in a sweater and short skirt. “How do I look?” she asked.
Clark cringed a little. “Lois, do you have to wear a skirt?” She looked lovely; her long slender legs were enough to get anybody’s blood boiling. He hated the thought that the guy could get one iota of pleasure from seeing Lois. He didn’t deserve it.
She took a defensive stance, her hands on her hips. “Clark. I’m supposed to be the ‘bait’ here.”
“I know, but one of the other women was wearing pants; it didn’t stop him from--”
“Isn’t the object to lure the guy after a susceptible young woman?”
“Well, yes...”
“Then let’s go. End of story.”
* * * * *
It wasn’t as easy as they’d hoped. There was no guarantee that he’d show up at all. They spent three nights in a row waiting for the Hyde and SEEC rapist... to no avail. Clark was starting to doubt they would ever find him. Lois was determined not to give up, and Clark resisted the urge to stop her from doing something she thought was right.
The first time they went to the Hyde Street stop, Clark walked with Lois to the platform. He held her hand as they walked, and he didn’t need to use any of his super abilities to see that she was nervous. She gripped his hand tighter as they descended the stairs. She squared her shoulders as she did when she didn’t want to appear nervous.
“You okay?” Clark whispered, as they both passed through the turnstile.
Lois nodded bravely.
Once at the platform, Clark bundled up in his blanket and feigned sleep on the bench. Lois paced as though perpetually waiting for a train.
For four hours.
For three nights in a row.
And they had seen nothing. No sign of the rapist, no suspicious-looking people, nothing.
Clark had tried bringing up the fact that their plan might not work. Lois only felt more determined to succeed.
* * * * *
The fourth night was almost exactly like the previous nights. Clark very nearly fell asleep on the bench. Fortunately for him, Lois in a miniskirt was a very stimulating sight to behold and he couldn’t drift off entirely.
Four sleepless nights were taking their toll on Lois as well. She felt less alert than she had previously. She was just about to turn to Clark and suggest they call it an early night at 3 A.M. when an approaching sound made her change her mind. Clark, of course, heard it too.
The turnstile creaked as someone approached the platform. Then footsteps followed.
Lois watched the train tracks and paced a little. Clark peered out from under his shabby blanket. He saw the man approach, wearing a long trench coat. He had sandy blond hair and clear blue eyes... He no longer sported a beard and moustache, but he had a crooked nose, as if someone had broken it.
Clark tensed, poised and ready to spring up at any minute.
Lois pivoted on her heel to see who was behind her and her eyes locked with the stranger’s. And then, recognition! It was as if a thousand nightmares came flooding back to her. This man--this was the man! She would have known his eyes anywhere. Ian’s description helped fill in the gaps, but this man was the one. His eyes had haunted her for weeks now.
They stared at each other for what felt like hours. In actuality it was only a fragment of a second. Time slowed down for Lois, and she was hit with a wave of adrenaline that gave her a rush. She reacted so fast that the man didn’t know what hit him.
Lois, full of rage, threw a swift uppercut that hit the man across the cheekbone. Clark shot to his feet, shocked by how fast it had happened. The man stumbled backwards a few steps with a groan, and before he could steady himself on his feet, Lois lunged forward and caught him under the jaw with a fierce left hook. A knee to the groin sent the man back further where his head collided with the ceramic tile wall. He crumpled to the ground, limp.
Clark stood tense and motionless. He didn’t dare approach Lois yet. She had done this; she’d done it all herself. At first he couldn’t believe it. He watched Lois standing there, her fists still clenched at her sides, her every muscle still strained, her chest still heaving with the aftermath of the rush. She was looking down, still seething, at the crumpled, helpless man who had taken one life and altered three others irrevocably.
“Bastard!” she shouted at him, the word echoing throughout the hollow subway tunnel.
At long last, Lois turned away from the man and took a few shaky steps. She was starting to tremble. Clark was at her side in no time, and gathered her in his arms. He held her close for a moment before escorting her to the bench. He wrapped his blanket around her shoulders and took her hands in his. Such small hands had done monumental things tonight. He turned them over, kissing her knuckles softly--two on her right hand had split from the force of her punch and were bleeding a little. “That was incredible, Lois,” he said, his voice tremulous with admiration.
“Told you I could do it,” she whispered, smiling weakly. She raised her hands to her head and removed her wig, shaking her hair free from it.
Clark beamed ear-to-ear. He caressed her cheek with his palm, and brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “Sit tight for a minute, okay? I just want to check something.”
She nodded and watched as Clark walked over to the unconscious man--the Hyde and SEEC rapist--and gave him a once-over. He was out cold. Clark carefully untied the belt on the man’s trench coat and looked inside.
“Get a load of this, Lois,” Clark announced, beckoning her closer.
Lois rose and took a few steps closer to see what Clark was referring to.
Syringes.
The inside of the jacket had about four of them, filled with fluid and ready to go.
Lois was not surprised. “We’ve got him now,” she said softly. She cast a quick glance at Clark. “Should Superman take care of this?”
Clark looked at the man, then looked at Lois. “Nah. Let’s preserve the scene for the police. Besides, this was a job for Lane and Kent.”
Lois gave a wan smile. “You got it,” she said, pulling out her cell phone and dialing.
* * * * *
The police were on the scene in a matter of minutes, and an ambulance arrived shortly after. Lois and Clark both gave statements to the police, and then the rapist was taken away on a gurney. He was starting to come around, and Lois gave Clark a look that said, ‘Let’s get out of here.’
“Are we all set here, officer?” Clark asked.
The officer nodded. “Yep. Great work, you two.”
“You know where to find us if you need anything else from us,” Lois said, handing the officer her business card. She stifled a yawn.
“Come on, let’s get you home...” Clark said as she gently wrapped his arm around Lois’ shoulders. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours is closer,” Lois murmured tiredly. She yawned again, and Clark cuddled her a little closer as they walked back to the parking garage. She was very nearly stumbling, so Clark took her keys and helped her into the passenger seat where she fell asleep soon afterward.
Clark drove to his apartment in silence. Stopped at a red light, he gazed at Lois. He smiled softly at seeing her sleeping so peacefully. She deserved it. Her delicate features were bathed in light from a street lamp nearby, and Clark couldn’t help but admire her. He was disappointed when the light changed and he had to focus his gaze back on the road.
Five or ten minutes later, he pulled up to his apartment and parked her car at the closest space to his door. He stepped out of the car and opened the passenger’s side door. “Hey,” he said softly. “Wake up, sleepyhead.” God, she was so cute when she was tired. But then, she was cute when she wasn’t...
Lois opened her eyes groggily. “We’re here?” She unfastened her seat belt and let Clark help her out of the car. She half-sleepwalked up the stairs to his apartment, thankful for Clark’s arm around her shoulders, guiding her. Once inside, she shrugged out of her knit sweater, dropped her skirt on the floor beside the crumpled sweater, and practically collapsed on Clark’s bed in just her white cotton camisole and panties.
“Come to bed, Clark,” she murmured, her eyes already closed. Clark changed fast and slipped under the covers beside her. She reached out instinctively and held his hand loosely in hers--such a sweet and endearing gesture that it very nearly brought tears to his eyes.
“Goodnight, Lois. I love you,” he whispered.
She smiled softly, mumbling against his chest just before she drifted off, “Love you, too.”
* * * * *
