...and in a dark corner of the boards, a ghostly finger moved over the screen...
PART NINE
There are truck-loads of very useful and extremely precise adjectives contained within the rich diversity of the English language. Lois, sitting in front of her computer at the Planet, knew this very well and had indeed used many of them in her writing. However, at this precise moment in time, someone seemed to have sucked every single one of them out of her brain.
She glanced sideways towards Clark’s desk. Still there. Still, so far as she could tell, her husband. Well...all the other times she’d checked, he’d looked like he did now, studying his screen intently and occasionally rattling off a few words on his keyboard. So yeah, still her Clark.
He turned and smiled at her. She returned his smile. The exchange was becoming like a little routine between them. She almost wished the next switch would happen right this minute so that she could stop checking him and get on with her work. Almost.
“A word meaning unsure...uncertain of yourself,” she asked. “Ex-something, I think.”
He frowned for a moment. “Insecure?”
“Yes!” She slapped her forehead. “Why couldn’t I think of that?” She turned back to her computer and finished her sentence.
“If it happens, it happens.” He’d crossed the aisle to perch on the side of her desk. “There’s nothing we can do to prevent it.”
She closed her hand over his and looked up at him with a wan smile. “So I should stop worrying. I know.”
“We’ll get through this.” He turned his hand around to clasp hers. “The best thing we can do is to keep working on the information Dr Klein gave us.”
“Yeah. I just...I’m scared I’ll lose you again and I won’t have even hugged you this time because I can’t trust myself to stop there.”
He nodded. “Me, too. It’s crazy, isn’t it? We’ve both gone for years without any...well, without *any*, and now it just takes one night and we’re like...like...”
Rabbits on Viagra? Lois supplied silently. “Maybe it’s because we know we can’t,” she suggested.
“Probably.” He drew in a deep breath. “Anyway. Dr Klein. I’ve been thinking – you know he said he suspects Schulz’s device is actually doing something they’re not monitoring for when it fails to work as expected?”
She nodded. “He said the data didn’t make sense otherwise.”
“He also said he hasn’t been able to review any recent data because they’re not including him on the review panel any longer,” he said. “So here’s my thought – how about we get hold of some of that recent data for him?”
“Dr Schulz won’t give it to us, either,” she pointed out.
“I know,” he said, grinning mischievously. “I was kind of thinking we might take it.”
“Why, Mr Kent,” she exclaimed slyly. “You’re not suggested we steal it?”
He shrugged. “Just make a copy. Where’s the harm in that?”
“Absolutely none at all,” she replied. “The scientific community is all for collaboration, peer review and the sharing of information, isn’t it?”
“My point exactly,” he said. “We’ll be doing them a favour.”
She joined him in his grin. “I like your thinking, Mr Kent.”
He chuckled. “Likewise, Mrs Kent.”
****************
Clark hesitated at the doorway to his bedroom, uneasily watching Lois as she strode purposefully into the room. He didn’t feel comfortable here - the room contained too many memories, too many intimate hours of just him and Lana. Lois didn’t belong in the midst of it.
“She wouldn’t hide anything in here,” he protested. “She’d know I might find it by accident.”
“Really? When was the last time you rummaged in her underwear drawer?” She yanked open the top drawer of a tall chest and dug in.
“Probably never, but that’s not the point,” he said. “She doesn’t know I’d never look.”
“This is a waste of time unless we do it properly,” she replied, her hands deep in his wife’s underwear. “We have to look everywhere.”
She paused in her rummaging. She’d found something? No - one hand slowly extracted a brilliant red scrap of silk and lace. A bra. As soon as he recognised it, he cringed. It was part of a set he’d given Lana on their wedding night, hoping she’d be flattered by the pretty garment. He hadn’t realised she’d kept it.
“Very nice,” said Lois, holding it against her chest and peering down at herself. “Did you buy it for her?” Her face popped up to dart him a saucy smile.
A knife twisted in his gut. “Put it away,” he grated.
Her smile faded and she let the garment slide downwards in slack hands. “I’m sorry.” She turned and stuffed it quickly back in the drawer. “What was I thinking?” she muttered.
“It’s okay.” Lana had never worn the set, complaining that it was too scratchy and uncomfortable. She’d never even tried it on once for him. His ego suitably dented, he’d never ventured into the realm of lingerie again.
“No, it’s not okay.” She came over to his spot at the threshold to the room. “That was incredibly insensitive of me,” she murmured, reaching up to run her fingers over the side of his face.
He shrugged. “Just another example of how blind I was.” He gazed over at the bed. All those nights. All those words. All those lies. “How stupid I was,” he muttered bitterly.
Her hand came to rest on his shoulder. “She never wore it?”
“No.” He grimaced. “I didn’t know those things weren’t very comfortable to wear.”
She rolled her eyes. “They’re not supposed to be comfortable. They’re supposed to be sexy.”
“Lana doesn’t really do sexy.” Which was why he’d agonised for so long in the shop. In the end, he’d chosen the red set precisely because he’d thought it looked pretty and feminine rather than overtly sexy. “She’s...practical.”
“Well, practical can be important too, I guess.” She glanced around at where he was standing. “I notice you haven’t stepped into the room yet.”
“No. It...doesn’t feel right.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I thought you were going to get changed.”
“I was, but...”
“Come on,” she said, turning back into the room to continue her search. “You can get changed while I do this.”
He stood his ground. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I know,” she agreed. “It’s scary – you, me, a nice big bed...who knows what might happen?” She shook her head. “We’re adults, Clark. We can handle it.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered, stepping reluctantly over the threshold. “Okay, no peeking.”
“Scout’s honour,” she replied, pulling open another drawer and diving in with both hands.
Keeping an eye on her to make sure she was completely focused on her task, he crossed quickly to the wardrobe and selected a shirt, hanging it, hanger and shirt together, on the handle of the wardrobe door. His intention was to switch track-suit top and shirt as fast as possible, then complete an equally quick swap with his pants.
But no sooner had he dragged off his top than he heard Lois’s sharp intake of breath from behind him. A corner of his mouth curved upwards, kind of pleased that he had that sort of an effect on her. “I said no peeking,” he admonished, grabbing the shirt and quickly threading his arms through the sleeves.
Then she was behind him, lifting the shirt and touching his back with cool fingers. Oh, Jeez...he closed his eyes. Even here, right in this room, her touch was enough to evoke thoughts of that nice big bed just feet away. He could so easily sweep her into her arms and tumble headlong onto the soft mattress to make sweet love with her...
“My God, Clark,” she exclaimed in hushed tones. “What happened to you?”
With a jolt, he realised that her touch was actually clinical rather than sexual. She was methodically lifting up his shirt and carefully tracing around his body with her fingers, and when she prodded lightly, the dull ache he’d been endeavouring to ignore all morning flared up into sharp pain.
Damn.
He had bruises? He hadn’t noticed anything this morning in the shower, but at the time he’d been dopey from sleep and in a hurry to get ready for work.
“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “Nothing happened.”
Wordlessly, she steered him in front of the mirror. The edge of an ugly, bluish, yellowish bruise leaked out from under one side of his shirt. Heck, how was he going to explain that?
“Take it off,” she murmured, tugging at his shirt collar.
He dragged the edges of his shirt together. “It’s worse than it looks,” he protested. “These things always-“
“Take it off,” she insisted quietly.
He gave in. She’d already seen the damage, so there was no point pretending it wasn’t there. Silently, he did as she asked, revealing the full glory of the blotchy mass which spread all over one side of his chest. He had to agree with her appalled expression in the mirror – it did look extremely ugly and painful. No wonder he’d felt so stiff.
“I...I fell down the stairs,” he explained, avoiding the steely gaze she was directing at him via the mirror. “Wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“You don’t fall,” she said stonily. “You don’t bruise, either.”
He shrugged. “It’s this body-swapping thing. I...I get tired. Run down. I bet the other Clark’s just the same.”
“Even when you’re tired, you don’t bruise.”
She was right, of course, but he had no answer for her. He pulled his shirt on again, feeling chilly and very exposed under her piercing scrutiny. “This is different,” he muttered, fastening the buttons. “Nothing like this has ever happened before.”
“Too right, it hasn’t.” She grabbed his arms and pulled him around to face her. “Give me a straight answer, Clark. Did Lana do this to you?”
“No!” he exclaimed, producing a laugh that didn’t quite sound right even to his own ears. “How could she? You said it yourself – I’m invulnerable.”
He pulled away from her and crossed to the wardrobe to find a pair of pants. “I tripped and fell, that’s all. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine.” Charcoal pants and his maroon jacket – that would do. He dug out the pants and pulled them off the hanger.
“You’re not making any sense,” she said. “One minute you’re saying you’re invulnerable and the next you’re admitting you fell and hurt yourself. When did this happen, this fall?”
“Does it matter?” he asked, not wanting to answer the question truthfully and not wanting to lie directly to her either. “I told you, I’m fine.”
“Because maybe we should take you to see a doctor,” she said. “This body-swap thing might be hurting you in ways we don’t understand.”
“I can’t go to a doctor,” he pointed out, keeping his back to her while he stripped off his running pants. “You know that.”
“We don’t know that for certain. Maybe you’re just the same as anyone else, medically speaking.”
He snorted. “I doubt it.” He pulled on his suit pants, stuffed in his shirt and zipped himself up.
“Stop it, Clark.” Her voice was sharp, stinging enough to make him pause where he was. She came up from behind and wrapped herself tightly around him, trapping him in her embrace. “Stop lying to me.”
He nearly broke away from her, irritated by her forcible entrapment, but the warmth of her body quickly burned through to his skin, distracting him, making it difficult to be angry with her. “I’m not,” he protested weakly.
“You are,” she murmured in his ear. “You know you are. Tell me what really happened.”
But how could he tell her? What sort of a man let things get so out of hand? What sort of man allowed his own wife to attack him? He was tired of Lois seeing him as a victim.
“I...can’t,” he insisted.
“Wrong answer, buster,” she murmured. “Or have you forgotten the love thing we said we weren’t going to talk about?”
The love thing. Yes, he’d used it against her earlier and now, of course, she was using it against him. Playing dirty, just like he had. But would she still love him if he told her what he’d allowed Lana to do to him? What woman wanted a man who couldn’t even defend himself against his wife?
Heck, why hadn’t he followed his instinct and not come in here with her? He didn’t want to lie to her. Lies were what he and Lana did.
“Kryptonite,” he said. “She had kryptonite.” Then, because he remembered she wouldn’t know what it was, he added, “It’s a rock that-“
“I know. The other Clark told me.” Her arms tightened around him. “Go on.”
He cleared his throat. “We’d argued about the airplane rescue so I headed for bed early. I guess I thought she’d sulk downstairs awhile and then come and join me, by which time I’d be asleep...”
Once he got started, it became easier to tell the story. Especially with Lois holding him tight, reminding him that she was there with him but not forcing him to meet her gaze. He could speak with a certain detachment if she wasn’t watching him - as if everything he was describing had happened to someone else.
But then he finished and she didn’t respond. He’d been right, then. She thought he was weak and helpless. She was probably wondering why she’d let herself get involved with a guy who couldn’t even defend himself properly.
“Lois?”
Her only response was to turn him to face her and then wrap herself around him again, resting her head on his chest. Tentatively, he hugged her back. Her quiet calm was infectious, leeching into his soul and soothing away the jagged feelings that had reawakened with the telling of his story. God, how he loved her. Needed her - had craved her closeness for most of last night.
“I can’t believe she-” She moved slightly, finding a more comfortable position against him. “You should have called me.” Her voice was quiet, without rancour. “I know why you didn’t, but you still should have.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You could have been seriously injured,” she continued. “I might have lost you.”
“I didn’t want to worry you.“
“You worried me plenty this morning.”
He grimaced. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“No, you weren’t,” she agreed. “Next time, don’t think. Just call, okay?”
He hesitated. He had no intention of allowing this to happen a second time. And even if he did, would he call her? He wasn’t certain.
“Clark?” she prompted.
“Yeah, I’ll call.” Probably.
She sighed. “She’s sick, Clark. What she said to you...it doesn’t make sense unless she’s sick.”
“I know. I have to wonder if they brainwashed her or something.”
“Or maybe just years of living a double life have finally caught up with her,” she suggested.
“Could be.”
She raised her head from his chest and reached up to kiss him. A small kiss, her soft lips pressing gently against his. He barely had time to respond before she was withdrawing and gazing up into his eyes. “Make love with me, Clark,” she murmured.
Huh? “I...I don’t understand,” he stammered, thrown by her quicksilver change. “I mean, I’d like to, of course,” he added hastily, “but I don’t understand. Why now?”
“Because,” she replied, pressing her lips to his again. “Just...because.”
“I...I don’t get it,” he confessed, feeling more than a little doltish and stupid.
She sighed. “You need a reason?”
He nodded. “It’s just so sudden...out of the blue.”
“Okay - because you want to.” She smiled softly. “That’s why you were so reluctant to come in here with me, wasn’t it? You were scared you wouldn’t be able to keep things platonic and yet you didn’t want to make love with me...in the bed you share with your wife.”
He blinked. Was that the reason? He wasn’t certain. “Maybe so. But what makes you think I’d change my mind on that?”
“Because you need to,” she said. She craned forward to kiss the side of his neck, a soft caress that sent shivers down his spine. “Prove to yourself that she doesn’t control you any more. That she doesn’t matter to you any more. What better place to do that than right here?”
The ultimate destruction of his marriage vows: making love with Lois right where faithfulness was at its most sacrosanct. “It feels wrong,” he protested. “There are better ways to prove she doesn’t control me.”
“She nearly killed you, Clark!” she exclaimed softly. “Right here in that bed.”
He closed his eyes while she planted a trail of small kisses along his jaw bone and down the side of his neck. Stop that, he wanted to say. Let me think.
But he didn’t want her to stop, and he was, indeed, angry with Lana. In fact, when he recalled the telephone conversation he’d had with Lana earlier, when she’d tried to twist her actions around into some kind of crazy self-defence tactic, he was even more angry.
Was that a good reason to make love with Lois, though?
“Set yourself free,” murmured Lois.
It was so tempting. There was no denying he wanted her; his blood was already singing in his ears and his body was responding as it always did at the slightest encouragement from her. It must have been days – weeks? - since they’d last made love.
“Doesn’t it bother you,” he ventured, “that you’d be making love with me right where I...where Lana and I...”
“No,” she replied, her fingers running through his hair. “To me, it’s just a bed.” She kissed his lips. “I’d make love with you anywhere, Clark.”
Me too, responded a voice in his head. He’d make love with her on the top of Kilimanjaro, in the back of a pick-up truck, in the depths of the Amazonian rain forest...
He reached for her blindly and found her mouth, slanting his lips over hers. She responded immediately, kissing him back with a fervour that was exciting and provocative. God, he could so easily do this. Who cared where they were? He wanted her and she, from withdrawing from the physical side of their relationship for so long, now clearly wanted him-
He sheared away, breathing heavily. “Is this for you or for me?” he asked. “I need to know.”
“I...I’m not sure what you mean.”
“This proof,” he said. “Is it for you or me?” He didn’t add the next bit, where he accused her of trying to test him – to extract some kind of physical demonstration from him that his marriage vows didn’t matter to him any more. But that was what it felt like.
“Is that what you think?” she said. “That I’m trying to bed you to get you to prove something to me?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Boy, you like to skate close to the edge, don’t you?” she snapped. “Yes, I want to make love with you. Yes, I need to know that you love me and want me. Yes, I’d prefer if you left Lana right away - hell, what woman wouldn’t? But I believe you when you say you need to get closure with Lana. I even buy the whole deal of investigating her from within, I really do. It’s just that, actually, I do need some level of commitment from you if I’m going to put myself through hell and back while you stay with her. So maybe this is for me as much as it’s for you. Is that really so unreasonable? Is it so much to ask-“
He didn’t hear the rest of her sentence because he was too busy sweeping her into his arms and lavishing hot, urgent kisses on her. She was right. He loved Lois and she loved him and they wanted to make love together. His marriage was only a meaningless piece of paper.
“I love you,” he murmured.
And later...
“I love you so much,” he confessed hoarsely. “I can’t believe I ever doubted that.”
A frown creased her forehead and she reached up to touch his arm. “When did you doubt it?”
“When I found out about Lana and Skywatch,” he said. “I wasn’t sure I knew what love was any more.”
“Oh, Clark...” She tugged him down into the crook of her neck. “This is love,” she murmured into his ear.
Later still...
“Don’t hold anything back,” she whispered.
He faltered again. How did she know? How could she tell he always kept a little bit of himself back – his only means of survival through the lean, mean years of a fostered childhood? He couldn’t give her everything, not even if he loved her more than life itself. He needed to keep a small grain of Clark Kent to himself.
“That’s a lot to ask,” he murmured.
“I know,” she said, smiling against his neck. “But I’m worth it. Trust me.”
That was the crux. To trust her, just as he’d trusted Lana. To hand her everything he was, just as he had Lana.
His breath caught in his throat.
“Hey,” she murmured. “Lighten up. We’re making love here, not attending a funeral.”
He chuckled softly against her skin. “You really know how to puncture a mood, you know that?”
“Yeah.” She adjusted her hold on him. “Just free yourself, Clark. That’s all.”
And afterwards...
She settled her head onto his chest. “Oh, and by the way...don’t think I haven’t noticed you made me agree to let you stay with Lana before you told me what she did to you last night.”
He sighed. “I wasn’t deliberately trying to lie to you, Lois. I just...even now, I’m...what she did...what I allowed her to do...I’m...ashamed.”
God. That had been difficult to admit. Would she understand? Would she think he was a complete wimp?
She took her time answering, running an absent hand over his chest and shoulder while she thought. He closed his eyes. Her touch was soft and feminine, her palm warm and smooth as it slid over his skin. Don’t let me lose her, he prayed. Not now.
“Don’t be ashamed,” she murmured. “I understand why you think you should be, but I don’t think any less of you because of what happened. You did as much as you could under the circumstances.”
“Yeah?”
“You couldn’t have known she was going to attack you with kryptonite,” she insisted. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. The only thing you did wrong was not telling me, okay? So give me a promise that you won’t keep anything from me again and I’ll be happy.”
“I gave you a promise,” he pointed out.
She ran her hand down his arm and clasped his hand. “Give me another.” Her hand squeezed his. “We’re holding hands so this one’s binding.” She glanced up at him with a brief grin.
He smiled. “Okay,” he replied. “I promise.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I told you that all of me belongs to you, and that includes everything that happens to me.” He stroked his free hand over her warm, soft skin, tracing the graceful inward curve of her waist. “Can I have one in return?”
“One what?” she asked.
“A promise. That you’ll share whatever happens to you with me. That you’ll never keep anything hidden.”
Her head bobbed up. “Have I ever kept anything from you?”
“Well, I seem to remember working pretty hard to tease out what happened between you and Claude.”
She grimaced. “Okay, fair point.” She nestled back down onto his chest. “I promise. No secrets, ever again.”
He kissed her head. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her lips brushed against his skin, a gossamer-light touch that sent tingles down his spine. “Now, since this is such a nice big bed, I vote we make the most of it while we’re here.”
“Aren’t you forgetting we’re supposed to be at work?” he reminded her. “Perry will...”
She kissed him again, making him forget the rest of his sentence in favour of a low rumble of pleasure.
“You were saying?” she asked, grinning up at him.
“I was saying...” He gasped and flung his head back against the pillow. She definitely knew how to... “It’s a very nice big bed.”
She chuckled. “My thoughts exactly.”
**********
