Author's Note: The nfic version of this chapter can be found here. As always, the nfic version is the official version. This version has been edited to meet the standards of the board.Lois smiled sleepily, eyes still closed, as she woke slowly and became aware of the kisses Clark was pressing against her shoulder. She was curled up on her side, and he was cuddled up behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he whispered, kissing her again. “It’s almost nine.”
She held still, so perfectly happy in that moment that she didn’t want to disturb it. He kissed her again and trailed the back of one finger up and down her arm lazily.
“I know you’re awake,” he said with a chuckle.
She laughed softly, busted. “I don’t want to get up yet,” she confessed. “Keep doing that.”
He kissed her shoulder again and then her neck. “We don’t have to get up. I just wanted you to wake up. I missed you.”
“You missed me?” she asked skeptically. “While we were sleeping?”
“While you were sleeping,” he corrected her.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked, tilting her head further to the side in invitation.
He kissed her neck once more and then again, sending a little shiver of desire through her. “A while,” he said finally. “An hour. Or two.”
“You’ve been awake for two hours? Just laying here? Why didn't you wake me up earlier?”
“I got up and went to the bathroom a while ago. I thought you might wake up when I got out of bed, but you were passed out and didn’t move. I figured you must be tired, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Speaking of the bathroom,” Lois said. “I’ll be right back. Do not get up.”
She scurried to the bathroom where she relieved herself and then brushed her teeth hurriedly, eager to get back to his arms. Last night, after she had finally calmed down and stopped and sobbing, they had spent hours kissing and cuddling and whispering. He had been so heartbroken by her fear that he would leave her that he had spent most of the night telling her again and again how much he loved her, how happy she made him, how much he wanted a future with her.
It was overwhelming, but in the best way possible. She had fallen so deeply for him — had come to love him so much so quickly — that it felt both wonderful and scary. Knowing that his feelings were just as intense as hers went a long way toward assuaging her fears.
She walked back to the bedroom and found him still in bed, waiting for her. She smiled and hurried back, slipping under the covers facing him this time. She reached for him immediately, sliding her hands up his bare chest and sighing happily.
He smiled at her tenderly and stroked her cheek, then kissed her. It was gentle and tender and so so sweet. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and the little voice in her head wondered for the millionth time what she had done to deserve this man.
When he pulled away finally, there was a little crease between his eyes, a little furrow of worry. She reached up and traced her fingers over his face, watching the furrow deepen.
“What is it?” she whispered. “Why are you worried?”
“I should stay,” he whispered. “I can call work and tell them…I’m sick. Or…my flight was canceled. They can get a sub.”
Her heart leapt. She desperately wanted more time with him. But she knew he wasn’t just thinking of staying because he wanted to extend his visit. “For how long, Clark?” she asked gently. “Days? Weeks? Months?”
“However long it takes. However long until he’s caught. I can’t just leave you here.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. His agony was clear in his tone and his face. She ached for him, for the fear he was feeling. She knew how she had felt when she thought she was going to lose him to their fight. And she knew those feelings were multiplied for him, as he imagined losing her to Luthor. Last night, he had confessed that he couldn’t stop picturing it – all the ways Luthor could capture her, could hurt her.
She smoothed a hand over his cheek, smiling at the rough feel of his stubble. “You can’t do that,” she said softly. “Your students need you.”
“You need me,” he countered immediately. “That’s more important. You’re more important. You’re the most important thing to me.”
“I know,” she said. “But you can’t put your whole life on hold to be my bodyguard. I’ll be careful, I promise. Straight to work and back. No gym. No running in the park. No errands. I’ll have things delivered or get Jimmy to help. I’ll park in the deck at work. And I’ll call Henderson in a little bit, and we’ll see what he says about the search.”
He nodded, the worry still evident on his face. They had gone over all of this last night, but she knew he was still scared. She was scared too, but she was better at shoving that fear down and pretending she wasn’t.
“If something happens…. If you need me…I won’t even know. I’ll be rambling on about Arther Miller or running drills on the field….”
He trailed off helplessly and she could see his frustration building.
When they first met, in Miami, one of the first things she had been attracted to was his sense of duty. It was so clear how seriously he took the responsibility of his job. Not just teaching his students, but molding and guiding them, and helping them to better their lives. She had been charmed by his lifelong friendship with Pete and Lana, and the fact that he was godfather to the children of the little boy he befriended in kindergarten. And, of course, there was the fact that he was a teacher at all, not the globetrotting reporter he had planned to be. Because, as he had told her, his dad got sick and he had to go home.
Clark Kent was nothing if not responsible. And he held himself responsible for everything and everyone around him. It was an honorable trait, and one she adored in him. But it was also a terrible burden.
He hadn’t mentioned the gunshot versus car backfiring debate directly since ending their fight yesterday. But she knew he still believed someone had shot at her. He was confused. Obviously. No one had tried to shoot her. But he believed they had, and he was convinced it was only a first attempt, and that having failed to kill her on her front steps, Luthor was lying in wait to try again. And more than just that, he was convinced that he had saved her once and somehow he could save her again.
If he wasn’t so absolutely terrified for her safety, it would be a little funny, the way he believed he was somehow capable of protecting her against the incoming assaults he was anticipating. He wasn’t a cop or a soldier or a trained bodyguard of any sort. Why would he assume that he could keep her safer than she could keep herself? Surely she had been in far more life or death situations than he had been, and she had years of martial arts and self defense training to fall back on.
His overdeveloped sense of responsibility and duty had him convinced that he alone could protect her, and that by going home, he was leaving her vulnerable. He was wracked not only with fear, but with guilt too.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
“Don’t go there,” she whispered. “Don’t torture yourself. I’m going to be safe and fine. We’re going to live our lives, and we’re not going to let Luthor get in our heads.”
He looked at her skeptically, and she knew Luthor had taken up full-time residency in his brain already. She knew better than anyone how easy it was to slip into that obsession.
“Try not to think about him,” she said. “Don’t think about tomorrow or next week. Think about right now. Think about how much I love you.”
She kissed his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. This visit had been such a rollercoaster, but the high highs far outweighed the lows. She didn’t want to waste their last hours obsessing about her safety.
“Lois,” he whispered, his hands starting to roam her body. “I love you so much.”
“I know, sweetheart,” she whispered, scooting closer and hooking her leg over his, pressing their bodies together. “I love you too. Let me show you how much.”
Last night they had kissed and touched for hours, but their pajamas had remained on and their touches were meant to comfort rather than entice. These touches were altogether different, and she found herself gasping and clutching him, desperate to rediscover their intimacy of Friday night.
It was obvious he felt the same way. He slid her shirt over her head and then turned his attention to covering her body with kisses. She closed her eyes and ran her hands over any part of him that she could reach, sliding through his hair, gliding over his shoulders.
He pulled back, and her eyelids fluttered open to see what had distracted him, and found him gazing at her in wonder. His eyes roamed her body, eventually landing on her face, and he smiled when he found her watching him. “I want to look at you in the daylight,” he admitted. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”
“There’s more to see,” she teased breathlessly, her playful tone masking the desperation of her desire. She needed to feel his hands on her again.
He smiled, the first real, true smile she had seen on his face since their fateful run in the park.
“Make love to me like you did Friday,” she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded. “I trust you.”
His eyes closed and he took a deep breath, and she knew what her trust meant to him. She reached up and stroked his face, overwhelmed with love for him. He opened his eyes again, his gaze full of love, and she tugged him down for a kiss.
In the circle of their arms, she was able to forget for a while that her safety might be in jeopardy, that he had to leave in a matter of hours, and that it would be another month before she would feel his touch again. In that moment, in that bed, she was safe and loved in his arms, and that was all that mattered. He loved her with his touch and his words, and she returned every touch, every whispered declaration of love, with her own. And together, they banished the worry and sadness that had threatened to overwhelm them and delighted in the joy they brought each other.
*****
“Off the record, Bill. I’m not calling as a reporter. I’m calling as someone who might be in his crosshairs.”
She was standing at the phone on the living room end table, hoping to get some information from Henderson that might put their minds at ease. Clark paced beside her, clearly more in need of the reassurance than she was. She grabbed his arm on his next round, and pushed him gently toward the couch. He sat stiffly, giving her what she wanted but clearly wishing he was still in motion.
She turned and sat on his lap, resting her head against his chest. He took a deep breath and then sighed, some of the tension leaving his body. He curled an arm around her waist and hugged her tight. She tilted the phone so he could hear, hoping whatever Henderson could tell them would offer him some comfort.
Henderson sighed deeply. “I wish I had more to tell you,” he said, his usually gruffness softened slightly. “There’s still no sign of him. We’ve scoured the hotel. We’ve gone over every inch of security footage. Nothing. We found the truck a couple hours ago-”
Lois sat up straight, suddenly perked up, reaching for the notepad next to the phone. “What?! Can you give me that on the record?”
“Yeah, there’s gonna be a press conference in a couple hours, so why not? Found it about an hour out of the city. At an abandoned granite quarry in Marysville. It had been burned. CSI is still there, but they’re not likely to get anything. It was pretty charred.”
“Any word on the driver?”
“We’ve IDed him as Gary Jenkins. Twenty-seven years old. Metropolis native. He was a low-level employee at Luthor Tower before going to work at Emerson last year. Looks like he was employed by facility services and did a little bit of everything. We don’t know yet if he ever had direct contact with Luthor. He wouldn’t have in his official capacity, but…”
“But that’s a hell of a coincidence,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“Any clue about his whereabouts?”
“On the record? The search continues, and police are investigating multiple leads.”
“Off the record?”
“Hell if I know.”
Clark ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “Tell him about the gunshots,” he whispered.
She looked at him and sighed, not wanting to fight with him.
“Please,” he said.
She sighed again and nodded. “Yesterday…it’s possible someone took a couple shots at me.”
“What?!” Henderson exploded. “Why didn’t you-”
“I don’t think they were gunshots,” she said quickly. “I think it was a car backfiring. Clark was there. He thought it was gunshots. We…couldn’t agree.”
She heard the detective swear under his breath and mutter something about reporters who need to stick to writing stories and let police determine what was and wasn’t gunfire.
Clark raised an eyebrow at her, the corners of his mouth curling up into the hint of a smile, and she rolled her eyes at him.
“I’m going to talk to the brass, get ‘em to put an extra patrol on your apartment. Do me a favor and don’t be stupid. Stay-”
“-inside as much as possible. I know. Home and work. That’s it.”
“We’ll put an extra patrol on the Daily Planet too. We’ve already got the guys on that beat on alert, but we’ll put an extra car on duty, drive it by regularly and make sure no one gets any ideas. Actually, scratch that. I’m going to station an officer inside the building, at least for the next few days. He can patrol the lobby, watch for anything out of place.”
She looked meaningfully at Clark, and he nodded, relaxing just the slightest bit. She put a hand on his chest and stroked gently, his t-shirt soft under her hand.
“Thanks, Bill,” she said.
“And listen, Lane. You hear so much as a gnat fart, you call me. My guys will determine whether or not it was gunshots. Unless you suddenly got some academy training I don’t know about.”
Lois rolled her eyes again. “Fine. I promise,” she said, her eyes on Clark, the promise as much for him as it was for the detective.
“You got any sources at the feds?” Henderson asked. “FBI?”
Lois perked up again. “Maybe? Why?”
“You do, you might want to call them. I hear they’re busy using some sort of newfangled facial recognition software, looking at security footage from commercial airports.”
“They think he’s gone?” she said eagerly, looking at Clark encouragingly. “They think he used a disguise and a fake ID to get out on a commercial flight?”
“That sounds like a question for the feds,” Henderson groused. “You get any straight answers out of them, feel free to pass it my way.”
Lois laughed. “You got it. Thanks, Bill. Seriously.”
“You’re welcome. Do me a favor and don’t get yourself killed. Don’t be a hero. Call us if you hear or see anything.”
“I will. Thanks.”
She hung up and turned to face Clark. “You feel a little better?” she asked softly. “The feds think he’s gone. There’s no sign of him in Metropolis. And they’re going to assign an officer to the Planet building and do extra patrols of my apartment building.”
Clark nodded, but didn’t look any less worried. She darted a quick glance to the clock on the VCR. He followed her gaze, his arm tightening around her waist automatically. She curled up against his chest, letting him hold her, listening to the sound of his ragged breathing. One hour until he needed to leave for the airport.
“I’ll get a later flight,” he whispered. “I’ll take a couple days off work. I’ll-”
“Clark,” she said softly, tears filling her eyes. It was always so hard to say goodbye to him. But it killed her to see him so terrified, so obviously sick with worry for her. And even if she didn’t share his fear for her safety, it was breaking her heart to let him go after this visit. She had thought making love again this morning would help settle them, make them feel more connected. She hadn’t thought about the flip side of that – how much it would hurt to let him go after sharing that closeness.
After, she laid in his arms and gazed at him, unable to find words to describe what she was feeling. He stroked her face, her neck, her body with such gentle reverence that she could feel him memorizing every piece of her, and knew he was trying to find a way to hold onto this memory while they were apart. She ached for him already in that moment, anticipating the agony of being separated for so long.
They laid like that, touching and kissing and whispering, until finally her stomach would not stop growling, and they got up to shower and dress. He made her brunch while she was in the shower, and when she emerged, she found the fear and worry building in his eyes again.
They had eaten mostly in silence. He had only picked at his food, all of his attention focused on her instead. He held her hand, kissing her palm, stroking her arm, until she had finally given up on eating too and climbed into his lap so she could kiss his neck and stroke his cheek and soak in the last of their time together.
After brunch they had called Henderson, and now she knew he should be packing, preparing to make his exit. But she couldn’t drag herself out of his arms. She nestled her head into the crook of his neck and whispered his name again.
“I love you so much,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “I can’t leave you. I’m not strong enough. I’m sorry. I can’t. I need you. I can’t go a month without touching you. I can’t leave you here with him on the loose.”
Her eyes filled with tears again. “You can,” she said. “I’ll be careful. And I need you too. But we can be strong together. We’ll be so busy with work. The month will go quickly. And then we'll have five days again.”
His arms tightened around her. A month apart and then five days together. It felt like a cruel joke. So little time together after such a long wait.
They sat together silently as time ticked on around them, until finally she knew they had to move. “You have to pack,” she said. “And I need to go to work. I want to write up this story about the truck. And make some phone calls. I can drop you off at the airport on the way.”
“No,” he said quickly.
She lifted her head and looked at him, startled by the fear in his voice.
“I’ll come to work with you,” he said. “I’ll make sure you get there safely, and then I’ll take a cab.”
She hesitated just a second before nodding. “Okay. That’s a good idea,” she said.
“Call me when you get home tonight,” he said. “Please? If I’m not there, just leave a message on my machine.”
She nodded again. “Are you going to your parents’ for dinner?”
He hesitated and then nodded. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll probably go straight there, actually. I’m not sure how long I’ll be there. So just leave a message if you get the machine. I’m going to leave you their number too. And my work number. And Pete and Lana’s number. You should have all those anyway. Just in case….”
In case of an emergency, her brain finished.
Eventually she dragged herself from his arms and they did what had to be done. He threw his things haphazardly into his duffle bag and wrote out a list of emergency numbers for her. She checked her work bag for her files and her pager.
When they were ready to leave, she stopped him at the door, painfully aware that they wouldn’t be able to say goodbye privately at The Daily Planet, and this would be their last opportunity.
“I’ll keep my pager with me all the time,” she said softly. “I won’t go anywhere but work or home, but just in case…. If you call and I don’t answer, I’m probably just in a meeting or on the phone. Page me and I’ll call you right back. I promise.”
“Thank you,” he said, cupping her cheek.
“I’ll be careful,” she said. “I promise.”
He kissed her gently, then pulled back and gazed at her. “I love you,” he said simply. “This week…. This was the best week of my life. I can’t believe I have to leave you now.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I love you so much. I’m going to miss you-” The words caught on a sob, and she choked back her tears.
“I’ll call you every night,” he said softly.
She nodded, unable to speak. She wanted to be strong for him. She knew he was struggling. But she was suddenly overwhelmed with grief, unable to hold back the tears at the prospect of a month without him. There had to be some other solution. How long could they do this? How many times would she have to say goodbye like this?
“I know, honey,” he whispered, wrapping her in a hug, and holding her tightly while she cried into his neck. “We’ll look at our schedules, see what else we can do. Maybe we won’t have to wait until Thanksgiving.”
She continued to cry, and he stroked her hair and rubbed her back, whispering reassurances, one on top of another trying to stem her flow of tears. “We’ll figure something out. I love you so much. Don’t cry, honey. I’ve got you. I’m sorry. I know. I love you.”
Finally she lifted her head from his neck and wiped ineffectively at her tears. “I need to wash my face,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh. Her gaze went to his shirt, and the wet spot and smudged mascara by the collar. “Sorry.”
He smiled helplessly at her. “I’ll live.”
She washed her face and fixed her makeup, doing her best to cover the blotchiness from her tears and not bothering to reapply eye makeup.
The drive to the paper was quiet and sad. She held his hand the whole way, trying to offer him comfort as she watched his anxiety grow the closer they got to their destination.
She parked in the deck and turned to look at him, savoring this last moment alone with him. She reached over and stroked his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” he said. He kissed her one more time, and then they climbed out of her Jeep and rode the elevator up to the newsroom. He walked her to her desk, and she kissed him one last time, unable to bring herself to care if any of her colleagues could see them. And then he was gone.
She sat at her desk and fought back the tears. Thanksgiving seemed a lifetime away.
