This is my very own version of 'jumping in without checking the water level' :p As I anticipated, I didn't have nearly enough time to work on this this week... so what you're reading is brand new and [gulp] not even my betas have seen it.
Hope this works. Really hope this works. If there's anything I've overlooked or anything that doesn't fit, let me know! 
Part Thirteen"Don't do that," she said tightly, a vein pulsing in her forehead. "Don't walk away from me and pretend I'm unimportant, or that you can't hear me speaking to you. We're going to talk, whether you like it or not."
He stared at her with what she could only describe as stunned disgust, before snorting, turning around and stalking to the window, where he looked out at the golden fields as a caged bird looks at the sky.
"What do you want to talk *about*?" His voice was calm, but his body gave him away. From her side view of him, his hands were shaking uncontrollably and his face was tinged with pink.
She gestured in the general direction of the bathroom. "What happened back there? We were doing fine, and suddenly you - you changed."
He was quiet, mutinous, like a small furious boy who'd had his toy train confiscated.
"You've been so distant, this past while," she said, unable to keep the quaver out of her voice. "I don't like it. I didn't expect it to be so..."
"You can't expect me to snap back into being your best friend," he interrupted, his voice bitter, his eyes still staring out the window.
"I don't want that -"
"Yes you do."
She fell silent for a second, contemplating.
"Okay, maybe I do, but I don’t see what's so bad about that."
"You don't have any consideration of me, do you? Did you ever? Have you ever stopped to think, 'Gee, I wonder how Clark feels about me doing this' -" His words were furious, but his voice was still calm, quiet - she looked at him, a stranger with her in the room.
"I know I hurt you..."
"Don't!"
"Clark, this hasn't exactly been a bed of roses for me either, you know. I've suffered just as much as you have!"
"Yeah, well, I tried to prevent that, both before and after. But no, Lois, it wasn't good enough, was it? You wouldn't listen to me, your best friend... and now you expect me to roll over and drool when you deign me worthy to spend time with..."
"I've said I was sorry, for Pete's sake." She was growing angry now. "I know I was a fool, before the wedding, but after..."
"After you were *worse*!"
"After I *had* to be worse!"
His jaw clenched. "I didn't need protection, Lois. Your husband hadn't taken my powers at that stage. I needed you to *listen*."
"Stop it! Stop trying to make this entirely my fault -"
"Oh, so I was the guilty one, was I?"
She shook her head, confused. "Stop a minute. Wait..."
"Wait. Yeah. I'm used to it, by now."
She closed her eyes, kneading her temples. She had blocked these faces and these events out for so long, the guilt threatening to overwhelm her, and now it was pouring on top of her - all at once.
<Do you know what can happen, Lois? Would you like me to tell you?>She shook her head, rebelling against Wife inside her. She wasn't anymore, she wasn't!
"You're judging me," she said slowly, "without knowing all the facts."
He was back to staring out the window. "I know the most important ones."
"You have no idea," she said accusingly. "No idea at all, of what he's capable of."
"I can imagine," he said darkly.
"You *can't*. You didn't live with him for a year and a half."
He was silent; the smallest of victories, and it gave her courage.
"You didn't share a bed with him, didn't lie staring at the ceiling as he raped you, waiting for it to be over. You didn't consider suicide when you figured out you were pregnant with his child." The faintest flicker of emotion passed over his face, like leaves waving against an impassive cliff, and she blundered on recklessly. "You didn't absorb his crap about how you were weak, worthless, undesirable, didn't start to believe it. You didn't drive your family and friends away on purpose so that he wouldn't kill them. You didn't... you never felt responsible for the death of someone, the death you aided and abetted. You never..."
"But I *did*!" he exploded, finally saying something real. "It was my fault, all of this was my fault, every single thing we've suffered. If I had acted differently, if I'd investigated him instead of lying around feeling sorry for myself, if I'd refused to let you go, if I'd never left Borneo..."
"For Pete's sake! I thought we'd been over this already, Clark -"
"We haven't. You have," he said dully. "You've decided I shouldn't feel guilty over you. Whoop-de-doo."
She fell silent, watched him very carefully.
"This - this isn't the real reason," she said slowly, weighing her words. "You're hiding something from me. I know it."
A long pause. She looked at him in desperation - this wasn't supposed to be like this, this wasn't supposed to be happening...
"I'm scared."
It came low and soft, so much so that at first she thought she'd imagined it. She stared baldly at him.
"Of what?" she asked, exasperated.
"What happens if we go back there, Lois? What happens if we go back to being best friends, sharing everything, laughing and joking and being together -"
"We get happy. I think." Then again, what did she know? She also thought it was simple, and by the way he was shaking his head, it obviously wasn't.
"But what happens then, when you have your baby? You can't hide forever, Lois - what happens when somebody figures out you're alive? What happens when Lex finds out?"
She was silent. She hadn't allowed herself to dwell on tomorrow, pouring all her energy on surviving the here and now.
"What if you leave again?" he whispered. And then he turned to face her. Against her will, she felt a tremor of compassion at the waves of emotion rolling off him. She sighed.
"How did we mess it up so much, Clark? Why does it still hurt so badly?"
"What if you leave?" he said again, more insistently. "What would there be left of me, then? I don’t think I could survive you leaving again, Lois, not if I let myself... if I let us..."
"This is completely beside the point, Clark - I'm not planning to leave anytime soon, and I really think you're -"
"What if Lex finds you?" His eyes were huge in his head; he was moving closer to her. "What if he finds you and the baby? What would you do then? What would *I* do then?"
She swallowed. "You'd do what you did before."
"What, run off to London and spend my time trying not to think about you?" His voice was incredulous and spiteful, and she swallowed again. Was that what he'd been doing? Hadn't he been happy?
//You know he wasn't... hadn't been... you know...//
The idea that he hadn't been happy without her was too scary to contemplate, and so she let it slide.
"I haven't thought about what I'm going to do after the baby is born," she said helplessly. "I haven't been able to get past that."
"How long do you think you're gonna be able to hide here, Lois? How are you going to support yourself and your baby? There's no way, not when the whole of America thinks you're dead..."
"I don’t have a magic solution, Clark. I don’t *know* what we're - what *I'm* going to do. I have no idea..."
"Then I can't help you." His face was closed and stony, looking out at her. "I can't be any more welcoming, or friendly, or attentive than I have been. Don't you see, Lois? If I let myself... if I let myself and you left, again..."
"I think there's a slight difference between me leaving you to marry Lex and me leaving if he discovers where I am -"
"But there's not. Not to me. Either way, I still lose you. Again."
Despite herself, she felt tears welling up in her throat.
"I don't... I can't it's only a matter of time, Clark, before he finds me..."
"Maybe you *want* him to." The bite in his voice. Painful. "Is that what this is about, Lois? Moonlight around here for a while, then toddle off back to your husband... maybe the two of you were planning this all along, how am I supposed to know..."
She could feel the blood leaching from her face. Something in her must have alarmed him, because the animosity drained out of his eyes and he took a hurried step forward.
"Lois...?"
In very slow motion, she turned, but he had other plans. Two more steps and he was directly behind her - she could feel his presence, very solid at her back. A hand caught her shoulder, turned her around, and suddenly she was being encircled by strong arms and then she was sobbing softly into the hollow at the base of his neck.
"I'm sorry," she heard rumbling over her hair, she thrilled at how tormented he sounded - maybe this meant that he cared about her. Maybe this meant that he regretted what he'd just said. "I'm so sorry... god, Lois, please don’t cry... that was cruel, I'm so sorry..."
She felt tears rolling down her neck; she didn't know if they were hers or his.
Keeping her arms around him - she couldn't let him go now, it would have been cruel to expect that of her - she drew back slightly and frowned up into his face. He was Clark again, vulnerable, edges raw, able to feel. Not the starched stranger anymore. How strange his life was, that he could be the polar opposite of himself like that.
"Why did you say that?" she asked, in a half-sob-half-hiccup. Her voice, small and very meek - like a shy kid on her first day of school. "When you know what I've been through, how could you say that..."
His eyes were skittering around her face, and she drew a hurried breath. How they seemed to drink her in - bliss.
He half-coughed, she heard the catch in his throat, swallowed words. He shook his head, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly, goldfish-like.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I never meant for this to happen... I didn't want this to happen..."
"You didn't want what to happen?"
"I was such a coward," he mumbled, looking at her mouth, her hair, her chin - anywhere but into her eyes, it seemed. She shook her head.
"I'm not following, Clark."
"I promised myself that it would be different, that I wouldn't get too close to you, that I wouldn't hurt you - but it hasn't worked, has it? It hasn't helped a bit. I hurt you so badly, all over again..."
"We've both messed up."
"But I was worse. I was - *I* was worse. You are so much stronger than me. You've always been so much stronger than me."
She shrugged. "Doesn't matter -"
"Yes, it does. It does, Lois."
She watched him struggle in agony. It was hell, seeing him drown, unable to throw a lifejacket at him. He had to save himself this time. She thought of a line from a book she loved - 'you save yourself or remain unsaved'.*
Finally he lifted his head, met her gaze, and his eyes cleared.
"I'm sorry. I won't do it anymore," he said, softly.
Now... now she was getting somewhere with him. "Do what?"
"I won't hurt you. I don't want to hurt you -"
"That's not going to work, Clark." The clouds had cleared from her mind and suddenly she could see exactly what he was doing. He was pushing her away, desperately keeping her at arms length, because he was terrified of hurting her. "You can't try to keep from hurting me. By doing that - by pushing me away, by being polite, by being *fake* - that's hurting me in itself. Please, I just want us to be..."
"To be what?" His voice held a tone of... what? Warning? Hope?
She bit her lip, met his gaze. "I want to go back," she said softly. "I want it to be the way it used to be. Don't you see, Clark, how perfect it would be if..."
"I'm not sure if I can do that, Lois."
"Why not?" She was desperately curious. *What* was preventing him from being her friend again?
He wasn't looking down, wasn't bowing his head.
"I don’t know... if I forgive... either of us, yet."
She quirked an eyebrow at him.
"You... you *did* marry him, Lois. Even though I asked you not to -"
"I know, Clark, you've no idea how much I -"
"- both as Clark and as Superman," he carried on, his voice riding determinedly over hers. "And that... that hurts. I can't help it, it does."
She closed her eyes, suddenly remembering... so long ago. How he'd begged, how he'd pleaded with her to see sense. How he'd...
Her eyes snapped open.
How he'd told her he loved her - to stop her marrying Lex.
She met his gaze, blinking. "Clark... do you..."
"I don't," he said. "I don't forgive myself either. Not at all." She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again then examined him, standing in front of her. His arms were still around her, his eyes still looking at her.
If he'd loved her... if he'd loved her, all this time, he wouldn't be able to do this. He wouldn't be able to stomach her, her pushiness, her downright gall. He wouldn't be able to stomach her - she who'd stayed with a monster because it was easier than facing up to her mistakes. He wouldn't be able to stomach her, pregnant with Lex Luthor's child and demanding his friendship back - even though it was her fault she'd lost it in the first place. He'd moved on from that.
He didn't love her anymore. She could see it in him, in every tiny way he was reacting to her. She felt a strange sense of sorrow flood through her.
"I don't - can't - forgive myself for doing what I did to you, what I put us through. If I'd just... Lois, if I'd just trusted you the first day, told you I was Superman... if I hadn't rejected you, that night when you told me you loved me..."
She flinched, awash with guilt and shame and horror at her own stupidity, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.
"...if I'd refused to give up, to give in, if I'd stayed in Metropolis... none of this would be happening right now."
"I wouldn't be pregnant."
He nodded. "Right."
She looked at him. "How do you rationalise that, Clark? How do you make it so it would have been better if I'd gotten out of there months before I did?"
He was staring at her, confusion looming in his eyes. "I thought -" he began.
"Sure, it would have been better in some ways. I wouldn't be so scared now. But... Clark, *you* would have rescued me. And I... I would have lived for the rest of my life, thinking I was foolish and weak and not worthy of your..." She paused, aching, "...friendship."
He was shaking his head. "Lois..."
"I needed to do that - for me. I got out of there, all on my own. And Clark..." She lifted her chin defiantly. "If I could change anything - I wouldn't. I wouldn't change being pregnant now. It's strange, to admit it - but it's very possibly the best thing that's ever happened to me."
He looked at her, his eyes very bright.
"You're incredible, Lois Lane," he said hoarsely, and there was something else about him now, something... indefinable. He looked almost... healed.
"Look who's talking," she said lightly, smiling at him.
His hand came up, and she almost-recoiled. An instant later she felt him cup her cheek in an achingly sweet caress. They stayed like that for a long time, her eyes closed, leaning into his hand, their foreheads touching.
Finally, his voice broke the spell. "You know, we still have to do something about... Lex."
She shivered despite herself, then forced herself to nod. "You're right. When he finds me..."
"*If* he finds you..."
"Don't be naïve, Clark, he's *going* to find me sooner or later - ever hear the phrase 'the best form of defence is offence'? If we're prepared..."
"If he touches you, if he lays a finger on you, I'll kill him... I swear I'll kill him... superpowers or no damned superpowers..."
He was shaking, she realised belatedly, crazily grateful for the tense muscles in his neck, for the pulse thrumming furiously in his temple. She took strange comfort in his fury...
But no, it wasn't right, this wasn't healthy. She had to get him to stop doing this... her hands on his chin, forcing his eyes up and into hers...
"Promise me," she said forcibly, making him jump, "that whatever happens... no matter what he says or what he does... you *won't*."
"Won't what?" He looked endearingly afraid.
"Won't touch him." She was very definite. "Won't harm him. It won't do anybody any good..."
"It'll do you good. It'll do me good. Heck, it'll probably even do *him* good."
"'Always remember others may hate you but those who hate you don't win unless you hate them. And then you destroy yourself'."
"Richard Nixon."
"A tad hypocritical in my opinion, but true enough. Clark, if you hurt him... if you killed him... you'd never get over it. He would haunt you for the rest of your life..."
He shook his head. "I don’t know how you can do this - how you can rationalise his death away. He doesn't deserve any more than..."
"Clark, you're scaring me. Stop this. This is completely wrong for you."
He sighed, bowing his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I just... what he did to you... to us..."
She touched her forehead to his. "There are worse things than death," she whispered. "He'll get what he deserves."
"So if I can't forcibly leap on the guy and strangle him with my bare hands -"
"Clark!"
"- kidding, kidding - how, exactly, are we going to get rid of him?"
"I haven't really been thinking about this, but... the guy... the guy that was supposedly Superman."
"Yes?"
"Well..." she paused. "He... *he* was stabbed. And he died, he definitely died. So did the mugger and the victim. So... do you think..."
"A lookalike?"
"I've been checking around a little online -"
"Ah, so you *have* been thinking about this -"
"- and there are a couple of agencies in Metropolis... I don’t know... do you think maybe Lex could have had something to do with it?"
"I *definitely* think Lex had something to do with it! I'll check with a couple of my sources - I think they're still around, and a few owe me favours..."
"Perry," she said, her eyes glowing, she could feel them glowing. "We could get Perry to help."
He nodded, a smile quirking his mouth as he looked down at her.
"We'll be ready," they chorused.
~&~
~One Week Later~Strange things started to happen when you got older. Bones and joints that had once carried you without protest started complaining. Skin sagged and lost its vibrancy, hair turned dull and eyes blurred.
As with everything in life, these physical actions had equal and opposite reactions. Martha Kent knew she was lucky in that she could see this. She wasn't panicked at the thought that the years were slipping away - because she could see the benefits of the years gone past. She could see how everything she'd been through - every single wish and thought and dream and mistake and regret - had shaped her into the person she was.
Wisdom fought for, wisdom earned, paid for with laughter and with tears. Wisdom she dearly wished she could bestow upon her son and honorary daughter.
So many stops and starts. So many problems. So many mornings when she'd woken to find Lois firmly seeded in the kitchen, a mug of cold coffee clasped in her hands, brooding. So many nights when she'd rushed into her son's room to shake him awake, when she'd held him and stroked his sweat-soaked hair, when she'd banished his demons.
Stop and starts, unbearably frustrating - but growing less all the time. She could see the shadows diminishing in both of them. They'd been snarled by a deadly plant, but the roots were withering away and dying off. Sometimes - when Lois's baby made its presence known, the look in Clark's eyes as he watched her elaborate delightfully on the tiny fists and feet that kicked at her womb - she thought maybe there was a chance.
Other times - when they teased each other, when they laughed together, when they comforted each other - she *knew* there was a chance.
Gentle trading back and forth. One more flare of nightmare banished. One more seed of hope sown. A little at a time, taking it slowly, taking care not to overwhelm each other - and constantly reaching a little further, knitting together a little more.
Oh, they were nowhere near being fully healed yet. But... with a couple more weeks... and a bit of patience, of course Clark had that in spades...
She smiled and dabbed the last soapsuds off the cup she was drying. Taking two steps out into the direction of the living room, she froze as...
"Remember the day Metropolis had a power cut two hours before deadline?"
A soft, feminine giggle. "I honestly thought Perry would have a seizure. I was poised to dial 911."
"And Jimmy was terrified. I don't think he'd ever seen him like that."
"Hey, he wasn't the only one, buddy. I seem to recall a certain hack from Nowheresville making some oh-so-concerned comment about how Perry should really watch his blood pressure..."
"And he gave me a thirty minute lecture on how Elvis never talked back to the Colonel..."
The air rang with the sound of their laughter.
Martha swallowed and grinned, retreating back into the kitchen. Let them have their haven, their stolen moments.
The odds were increasing all the time.
~&~
~Two Weeks Later~"I don’t know how you think we're going to get away with this," she said, watching her fingers twist frenetically around a flier she'd found in the glove compartment. "They're still airing that picture. Somebody's gonna recognise me."
"Nobody will be expecting you to suddenly reappear, heavily pregnant, and on the arm of a handsome young man such as myself," he said with patient light heartedness, his eyes fixed on the road. His eyes behind his glasses. Funny that, he hadn't had them on before. When had he replaced them?
She bit her lip. "You're crazy. What if they *do*?"
He shrugged. "Then we run like hell."
"Clark!"
He paused. "Then we run like hell, call Perry, fly to Metropolis, gather all the leads we have and have him down at the station giving prints before he can say Hey That's My Wife."
"Better." She grinned, suddenly feeling somewhat optimistic. He was right; they did have a couple of leads. Nothing concrete yet but that would surely come.
Perry had been a huge help. A wide grin stretched itself across her face as she remembered how her editor's deep voice had rumbled across the phone from Graceland. Clark had put him on conference call - he'd been so happy to hear from Clark, he'd admitted how peaceful and stress-free and coma-inducing he was finding retirement, he'd asked Clark worriedly if he'd heard anything about Lois's disappearance in the time he'd been back.
And then the long pause when she'd announced her presence. A pause in which she'd panicked, wondering if it was too late, wondering if Perry would forgive her, would speak at all.
And then the voice of her surrogate father, thick with tears, asking her if it were really true, if she was really alive. His absolute euphoria when he'd heard how she'd seen the light at last. His anger with her husband for what he'd done. His pride, when he'd heard how they were trying to bring Lex down. Most of all, his understanding - for her reasons in pushing him away, for her huge stupidity, for their calling him instead of meeting him in person; sensitive of the need for them to keep a low profile. And how he'd agreed at once to return to Metropolis and dig around for information about Lex. That had been a definite plus.
"So do you think you're going to get much bigger?" Clark's voice snapped her out of her reverie. She looked at him askance for a few seconds before his euphemistic circle-gestures penetrated her brain.
"Oh!" She glanced down at the mound of her stomach. "After eight months? I'm not sure - I think this is it. I *hope* this is it. If I get any bigger I won't be able to get out of bed in the mornings. You'll have to slide a stick under me and press down."
She paused while he laughed helplessly.
"That conjures up some pretty graphic mental images," he choked helplessly, his shoulders heaving.
She grinned, then continued. "My back is constantly aching. I'm eating like a horse. I've never been so uncomfortable in my life. And I look like a beached whale."
He threw a glance at her, all hilarity suddenly forgotten. "You look beautiful."
He said it matter-of-factly and her brief moment of hope flickered out. He was being a brother, a concerned friend, nothing more.
"You lie."
"Do not."
"Do too."
"Do not."
"Do too. Clark, remember I have a younger sister - I can keep this up all day long."
He sighed. "Remind me, Lois - have I *ever* won an argument with you?"
She watched the road. "Nobody *alive* has ever won an argument with me."
//Except for Lex,// she added silently, she didn't need to voice the words. She knew that he knew, and she knew that he knew that it was unnecessary to add it on. He was so sensitive to her feelings - somehow he understood her need to feel like Mad Dog Lane again.
"Here we are."
She was aware of a couple of things - the car coming to an abrupt halt, the clang of the handbrake as it was pulled up, the hiss of his seatbelt as it was sucked back into the holder - but she stayed seated there, watching the sunlight bounce off the Chevy in front of them.
He must have sensed her uneasiness, because the next thing she knew, a blast of air, hot and dry as the heat of an oven, was slapping against her cheek and she was being helped out of the car.
"Ready to go shopping, Mrs. Clarkson?" he asked cheerily as he folded her hand into the crook of his arm. She smiled weakly, suddenly feeling a whole lot better now that she had his shoulder to lean on.
"Ready when you are, *dear*."
They moved towards the front of the shop. "Wedding ring in place?" he murmured under his breath. She fingered the clasp of cool gold. How different Martha's felt to her own. How much less destructive.
She nodded, "Check," and paused to point at a plastic doll, dressed in a babygro patterned with pink-and-white rabbits, in the shop window.
"Oh, look, sweetheart," she gushed in a piercing falsetto that made passers-by stop and stare. "Wouldn't our son look just adorable in that?"
She could sense him trying to keep a straight face. "He'll be the envy of the nation, darling. The playground will never be the same again."
Their charade over, they moved, still linked, towards the double-doors of the department store.
"Darling?" she murmured under her breath. "Darling? Darling has four-wheel drive and freshwater pearls and goes for weekends in the country with the dogs and the horses."
"My apologies. I'll stick to more suitable endearments next time," he whispered back.
Somehow she'd managed to get all the way inside the door, but there her supply of false bravado ran out. She stopped. Ground her heels into the floor and refused to move. Her heart beating a million times a minute.
"Hey," she heard him whisper concernedly, "you okay?"
She swallowed hard. What was she thinking? Was she really venturing into a busy store with her face still circulating through the evening news? Was she really risking her cover being blown, and all for the sake of getting a couple of romper suits?
"Lois." She knew that he'd figured it out; could tell by the gentle determination in his voice. "This is stuff you *need* for the baby. We can't go back without it."
She kept her eyes on the floor. "Not worth it," she mumbled, feeling the walls spin around her.
The grip on her arm tightened.
"Dammit, Lois, he's already taken so much from you," she heard him murmur fiercely. "Don't let him take this. Come *on*, you're stronger than that, I *know* you are!"
Stronger. Stronger than Lex. She wished she could tell him how wrong he was, but she didn't have the energy.
She shook her head, lifted it up, squared her chin.
"Which one's the baby floor?" she asked in a clear voice. She felt him squeeze her arm reassuringly, and they started walking again.
She was still terrified to the point of freezing up and refusing to go *anywhere*, but... there were no alarms sounding, no buzzers buzzing, no iron bars descending.
She was okay. They were okay. In the busy department store, they looked like any other husband and wife, out to pick the baby's things. No odd looks, no unusual gestures, no whispers.
"I don't know," he said with a frown. "Let's just... get on the escalator and eventually..."
"What *is* it with men and asking for directions?"
"I just don't want to draw attention to ourselves." He steered her over to the moving stairs and to her great annoyance manoeuvred her successfully onto it. They took two steps onto the next floor.
"All I need now is for you to say 'I know exactly where we are'. Male code for 'nobody will ever see us alive again'."
Her shoulder bumped against his. She pushed him a little, annoyed at the lack of reaction. "Earth to Clark! What's wrong?"
"I think we've found it," he said faintly.
She looked around - and gasped.
Avenue after avenue of pink and white and blue. Street after street, an arsenal of cuddly toys. Mile after mile of cots, strollers, mobiles and playpens. And the equipment! Bottles and pacifiers and baby thermometers and baby baths and diapers and bibs and booties and cute little shoes...
"Does this place come with a map?" she asked weakly.
"Can I help you?" a voice chirped from behind them. As a unit they turned, and were assaulted by a blouse that was so ugly Lois was sure she felt the baby squirm inside her. Purple and polka-dotted. Somewhere near the neck a bright orange button screamed that the woman's name was Betty and that she was very pleased to meet them.
Clark cleared his throat, looked down at her nervously. "My wife... my wife and I are expecting," he said with not a little hesitance, and she felt an involuntary shiver run through her. "And... we just... needed to get some... things. Like... diapers and maybe a romper suit or two and..."
Lois saw the light of battle in the other woman's eyes and groaned inwardly. She knew this woman was on commission. She just knew it.
"Of course." The assistant nodded and somehow managed to move them in the general direction of the cash register. Lois had a sudden, striking image; she was the sheepdog and they were the sheep. She hated to do it, but...
"Honey-bun, I'm gonna have a look around by myself for a little while." She smiled at Clark, ignoring the glance of terrified desperation he threw her. "I'll just be a second. Why don't you just stay here with Betty and..."
~&~
Droplets of rain hurled themselves against the windshield. Ahead in the distance, forked lightning split the sky. They were halfway between Friend and Smallville, and as Clark Kent looked out at the dismal weather, he felt his spirits drop.
//Bad metaphor for mood,// he said dully to himself. //Perry would have a heart attack. 'What, are we inside a Wordsworth poem here? Get to the *point*...'//
He threw a glance at her sitting in the passenger seat. He was worried; she hadn't said a word since they'd left Wichita.
"You okay?" he asked softly. No answer.
A flash of white in the rear-view mirror caught his eye and he grimaced at the sheer amount of *stuff* loading the back seat. All that for one baby.
//When in an interview, ask your subject questions that relate directly back to what's important to them,// he recited mentally. Journalism 101.
"Are you happy with what you got?" No answer.
//Ask questions you think you'll get a satisfactory answer to.//
"You must really be looking forward to the baby coming, huh?"
No answer.
//Avoid using statements - the subject may not agree with you.//
"I wouldn't worry about labour, though, my mom says the first... one..." He glanced at her mid-sentence. Big mistake. "...is always... ahm..."
"How would your mom know?" she asked quietly and menacingly. "Have you read the pregnancy books I have? Have you *seen* the diagrams? I know that *in theory* it's supposed to work, but..."
He felt his cheeks flame. Then looked over at her, at her thinly-pursed lips, at her defensive posture.
Clark Kent had never been much of a revolutionary figure. Mild-mannered at best, he tended to blend into the background, although he had been known to argue passionately and at length for subjects he held strong opinions about. Lois Lane had sparked off a deep caring in him, and she sparked it off now.
He pulled over onto the grassy verge. Felt her eyes bore into the side of his face. Didn't care. Did. Not. Care.
"What do you think you're doing?" Her voice like pinpricks of panic working their way under his skin. He swallowed nervously. Okay. Maybe he did care.
"I want to talk to you." He forced his voice to be as calm as possible.
She folded her arms and stared defiantly out at the storm. He took her sullenness in his stride and sat back, unwilling to upset the moment. The rain beat rhythmically against the car, and in the strange, bluish half-light the storm had brought, her face shone like a piece of porcelain. He concentrated on her face, concentrated on the curves and contours, the perfect planes, alive with passion and strength and courage.
He felt the giddy sensation again but this time he didn't fight it, didn't dare fight it. He was the luckiest man in the world; to fall for the same woman twice.
For once in his life, he was letting himself plunge freely, no safety net, no magical powers to catch him. And he was learning how blissful it was, those moments when he could think of nothing else but her and the way she made him feel.
He'd hit the ground sooner or later, but what the hell. This was the closest he'd ever come to completion in his life, these days with her, and he wasn't about to ruin it.
"What do you want to talk about?" Her tight voice brought him back to the present, and he tried his hardest to snap out of his daydream. How heartbreakingly sad that daydreams were all they were, and all they could ever be.
"Why you've zoned out. Why you've stopped talking. Do you know how weird that is, you not talking?" He teased her lightly, trying to get a response.
"The woman in the shop, when I was paying, said she hoped we'd be very happy together," she said flatly. A warm spark jumped to life inside his chest, and he fought to remain calm, impartial.
"Oh?"
"Yes. And she said it was as plain as the nose on your face that you adored me. Also, she thought you'd make an excellent father, and she thought me lucky to have a husband like you."
He chose his words carefully. "I guess... I guess that's a good thing, then?"
How could she know. How could she know how he'd unlocked that secret part of his heart, decided to let himself love her again.
//No,// a little voice whispered snidely in the back of his head, //not again. You never really stopped.//
She turned to stare at him, her eyes like two coins sitting on a china plate. "A good thing?" Her voice dead and flat.
"I mean, that she believed us," he explained hurriedly. "Makes us... less prone to suspicion."
"Do you?" Her voice totally without emotion. He could see her struggling to remain calm, in control.
He swallowed.
"Do I what, Lois?"
"Adore me."
He looked at her for a long moment, then bowed his head. The bottom was coming, he could feel it, he could see the ground beneath him now and his parachute wasn't opening.
"I thought you knew," he said, his voice low. "I thought it didn't matter."
She was back to staring out the windshield. "It matters."
"Evidently."
A long, long pause.
"But it doesn't have to, Lois."
She turned back to look at him. He watched carefully, and *yes*, there was something in the pit of her eyes now, something struggling to break through.
"I don't know how you can say that."
"It never mattered before. It doesn't have to now. I'll be your friend, the same as I've always been." He felt a pierce of pain go through him at every word, but he didn't care, couldn't care as long as she stayed with him.
"I don't understand how you can do that."
He watched her very carefully, trying to gauge her reaction, what could he say that would take the pain away from her.
He chose the simple approach. "There are a lot of things I never thought I could do. Loving you was just one of them."
A glistening of tears was appearing now, and still that fathomless emotion straining for release.
"You've done so much for me," she said, her voice croaking. "How could I not love you? How could I not? But Clark, I..."
//Here it comes,// a voice murmured drearily inside him.
<I love you... like a brother.>"It doesn't matter," he said bleakly, watching the hammering rain. "Just forget it; forget what that woman said, forget what I said, forget everything I've ever told you. I've wrecked it, I know there's no chance -"
"But -"
"- please, Lois, don’t tell me you think I'm great, don't tell me you love me like a best friend or like a brother, please don’t tell me -"
"I don't deserve you."
He froze like a small animal in the glare of a set of headlights.
"What?" he said, his voice tiny.
"I don't deserve you."
His neck snapped around and he looked at her, stared, goggled. How twisted her logic was. It was the other way around - had always been the other way around.
Her head was bent, her dark hair shrouding her face in shadow, and her eyes were downcast too. Suddenly, desperately, he needed to tell her.
"That's nonsense. *I'm* the one who doesn't deserve *you*," he said, his voice despairing. He could hear his own need, how he despised himself at that moment. With one hand he caught her chin gently, turning her face upward.
"I've failed you - us - in so many ways, Lois. I was constantly pushing you away, then grabbing at you. I should never have left, I should never have given in -"
"Clark, you couldn't have known -"
"But I *did* know." He was very definite. She couldn't take this away for him - this was something he had to face up to. "I *did* know that there was something wrong. You were less than convincing, Lois. I just wanted so badly to hurt you -"
"And you're *entitled* to that -"
"- but I never wanted... this. I never wanted this."
She shook her head. "Clark, this is ridiculous. I can't believe you still feel guilty over that -"
"Not only that." He overrode her, determinedly. "If I'd told you I was Superman - and let's face it, there were thousands of opportunities - none of this would have happened either."
She fell silent for a minute. He watched her, he could see the wheels turning, her eyes clouding over and then becoming clear.
"I'm not going to lie to you," she said at last, "that does sting. It stings that you didn't trust me enough to tell me -"
"- trust had nothing to do with it -"
"- and it stings that you let me go ahead and marry Lex, when you *knew* what a monster he was, and when you *knew* if you told me this properly and not like you were trying to score points, I would listen to you... and if I didn't, I would listen to Superman. But I can understand why you did it, Clark -"
"- that's no excuse!"
"- but for goodness sake, you're only human."
He fell silent.
//But I'm not, Lois. I'm not human.//
How could somebody like him ever have a future with her. She was everything he wasn't. He was an alien. A creature.
<Caged like the animal you are...>"And a huge chunk of this is my fault, remember." Her tone turned bitter. "I don't understand how you can even stand to be around me, never mind -"
"I can stand it because I love you, Lois," he interrupted.
She looked at him, her eyes sad.
"And what about my baby?" she asked quietly. "Can you stand that it's Lex Luthor's child I'm carrying?"
"Lois..."
"The offspring of your greatest enemy coming into your house. The man who nearly killed you, the man who took away your powers - his child will be in your house in a couple of weeks."
"But..."
"You're looking at this through rose-coloured glasses, Clark. Can't you see how easily that could destroy you? Your hatred becoming personified - literally."
How *did* he feel about it?
The son of Lex Luthor. Lex Luthor's son. The son of the man who'd nearly taken everything.
Nearly. Taken. Everything.
But hadn't.
How did he feel about that...
Well, it was simple really, wasn't it?
"Lois, this child is a part of you."
"And equally a part of Lex."
He shook his head. "Your biological parents don't determine the person you'll become. My mom and dad aren't my 'real' mom and dad, and yet they've been the ones who've shaped my personality, not Jor-El and Lara..."
"Who?"
"My birth parents. There was this globe... anyway, I'll tell you later." He drew breath, needing to make this matter, needing her to see it as he saw it.
"Your child, Lois, will be the luckiest girl in the world... because she'll have you as her mother."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "How do you know it's a girl?"
He sighed. "I don't. Work with me, okay?"
She said nothing, and he took this as agreement.
"You have this fire, Lois. You don't see it, maybe you don’t feel it, but it's there. You have this quality in you that drives people to become better - to become more than they think they are. Look at what you've done for me. Without you, I would never have been Superman."
He knew this must be another revelation to her, but she was quiet.
"Any child of yours won't have a choice but to become special, to overcome all and any obstacles it's faced with. It's the old nature versus nurture argument - trust me, Lois, nurture wins hands down."
"How can you be so sure?" And there was real fear in her hushed voice, real doubt in her eyes as she turned again to face him.
"Because you're the best there is," he said, quietly.
She shook her head. "I am less than nothing."
"Don’t ever say that about the woman I love."
She closed her eyes, shook her head infinitesimally.
"I *love* you, Lois Lane, and I'll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. I've tried to stop... how I've tried to stop. I know you don't feel the same way, and that's okay, but I can't lie to you, I can't *exist* another second without telling you. I realise that this is probably the worst time imaginable to admit it, but I can't hide it any more..."
Tears were pouring out of her eyes, each drop tearing another hole in his heart, but she was relaxed in his embrace and she still hadn't said anything. Hardly able to believe his own daring, he leaned slightly forward and kissed the pearls away, her cheek, the bridge of her nose. He kissed her as a lover and not a friend, hoping his emotions would bleed through the fleeting contact.
Still she didn't move. Still the rain went on and on and on. Little things that didn't happen - the ground didn't crack open, the earth didn't flip upside down, she didn't push him away.
"Lois." He said her name like a prayer; more sacred than any place of worship he'd ever been to. She swayed towards him a little, her eyes closed.
"Clark," she murmured, "I'm afraid."
How his heart broke. Surely the depth of his love for her would split him in two. He gathered her to him, rocked her gently, nuzzled his cheek against her hair.
"You don't ever, ever have to be afraid of me," he whispered.
"The way I feel when you touch me, Clark... it's..."
He stilled, his chest seized up with choking hope.
A sigh. "I haven't ever felt like that before."
Could she mean... could she possibly mean...
"I don't ever want to lose that feeling, Clark... I don’t know what it is, but I don't want to lose it... I don't ever want to lose you..."
"You'll *never* lose me," he promised rashly.
"...but," she continued resolutely, "there are complications this time that there weren't before." Ruefully, she glanced down at her stomach and back up at him again. "And... I really, really need a friend right now, Clark, but I don't know if I could handle another relationship, so soon... and especially not with *us*... if it all went sour... I can't lose you again, Clark."
"You'll never lose me," he repeated, even as he knew what an impossibility it was.
"And... I need to feel like I'm *me* again. Like I'm standing on my own two feet. I can't be a part of somebody else, and I definitely can't belong to somebody else - not any more."
He shook his head. "You would never *belong* to me. You never did. You're too -"
"No, Clark," she interrupted, her voice rising. "I don’t mean like... like a possession... like I belonged to Lex. I mean... that if we... if I let myself... if I let us... we *would*. Belong to each other. And I can't handle that -"
He nodded, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I understand, Lois. I knew, when I told you, that it wouldn't mean anything to you..."
"Oh, but it does!" she protested, looking up at him, and he caught his breath. Her eyes were luminous, hypnotising. "It does, Clark... it means so, so much. And... I just don't know. I have feelings for you. Very strong feelings. But I *am* still a married woman... after Lex... I don't know if I can handle it. I'm not saying you're anything like Lex -" she hurried to clarify in response to his violent flinch, " - but I'm just not ready for anything."
He didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.
"What I'm asking you to do is wait, Clark," she told him shyly. "Until the baby is born... until everything is more... concrete. And until we deal with Lex. When we're both sure... when I feel... more secure...
"So," she continued, still looking at him, more than a little fear in her eyes, "can you do that? Can you wait for me?"
He closed his eyes, swayed forward, and tightened his grasp on her. "I'd wait forever for you, Lois." Truer than anything he'd said for months and months.
"Oh, Clark," she choked, her arms going around his neck in a fierce hug, somehow she managed to hug him fiercely, hampered though she was by the seatbelt and by her stomach. "If I could say more... I would. I would. You... you have to know that."
He nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak. She drew back slightly, though her hands still lingered around his neck - a final point of contact.
"Think we could start driving again?" Her eyes, questing, afraid, her voice quavering, and yet he caught the hint of light-heartedness, the effort on her part. How he loved her.
"Yes, Lois," he said, and then he smiled at her. "We can start driving again."
If he'd been living in a fairytale, in a love story, in a fantasy land, the rain would have stopped and the sun would have suddenly cracked through the clouds, illuminating everything with beauty and hope and love. But it didn't, of course; the wind still howled, the rain still splintered and battered against the roof of the car.
It was okay, though. He'd finally accepted that it was okay. Fairytales were well and fine, but he preferred love to be real. He preferred *life* to be real. Perfect dreams belonged in books; they were insubstantial as dandelion fluff.
And above the clouds, the sun was still shining - even though he couldn't see it.
~&~
To be continued...*'You save yourself or you remain unsaved', direct quote from one of *my* favourite books; "Lucky", by Alice Sebold.
