Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Anchor: Part II -- Kal-El (7-8/49)

When I wake up, she is still there next to me on the bed. She’s underneath the white comforter now, and one arm is draped across my abdomen, reaching underneath the cape to touch my bare skin. She breathes quietly, but not regularly; she is not asleep. I open my eyes and turn my head toward her slightly. My head throbs, and my chest aches. But I smile as I remember that I’m alive. And I’m home.

She feels me move next to her, and she shifts carefully, tilting her head to look up at me. Her full lips are inviting, and I lean toward her and kiss her gently. Her fingers press lightly into my stomach as she deepens the kiss, and a quiet moan escapes her lips. The pain in my chest intensifies, however, and I pull away and lower my head back to the pillow, closing my eyes.

She rests her head back on my shoulder and scoots her body closer to mine. The material of the cape is thin, and I can feel her pressed up against me almost as though I’m naked. Oh, wait. I move my right arm under the cape, feeling along my side and then to my chest. I am naked. I laugh and immediately regret it as the discomfort in my chest spreads.

“Oh—ow—ugh.” I close my eyes.

“What’s funny?” she asks quietly. Her left hand caresses my stomach in a small circular pattern.

“I didn’t realize I’m not wearing any clothes,” I admit, choking back another laugh. It would hurt too much.

“Oh, right, well, he did pull you out of the Sun,” she giggles, stilling her fingers on my abdomen. I place my right hand over hers and close my eyes again. “You were wearing clothes when they…” Her voice trails off. I squeeze her hand in mine and turn my head to watch her. She snuggles up closer against me and buries her head into my bare shoulder. “Zara and Ching, they, um, they brought me to their ship, to you—to your body. They asked what I wanted to do. Bury you here or something else… I asked them to take you to the Sun. I didn’t want…”

“Another Superman clone?” I guess, my voice low. She nods into me. “So I guess whatever I was wearing probably burned up.”

“Right,” she agrees. Her hand moves up toward my chest, and I inhale sharply as a stabbing pain shoots through me. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, Clark.”

She pulls her hand away abruptly and shifts away from me a little, and a cold sensation washes over me. No, come back, Lois. Ignoring the pain, I move my left arm to wrap around her and pull her back to me. “Please, stay close. I need you,” I say shakily. She buries her head back in my shoulder.

A light knock at the front door jars us both. She doesn’t move right away, but she lifts her head off my shoulder.

“That’s probably him,” she explains. “He’s supposed to bring clothes and food.”

Food. My stomach growls at the thought, and I feel my cheeks turn red with embarrassment. I guess I’m hungry. “Food sounds really good. And clothes would probably be a good idea too,” I joke. She smiles as her eyes study mine, and then she sits up slowly, careful to not touch my chest.

“I’ll be right back,” she promises.

She brushes my cheek with one hand and then pulls away and pushes herself up off the bed. I feel cold again, uncertainty growing in the pit of my stomach. Please hurry back, Lois. I watch anxiously as she saunters out of the room, leaving the door open behind her. Then I close my eyes and try to slow my racing heart. Quiet voices echo from down the hall, and I can sense his presence. And smell…cheeseburgers? My stomach growls again.

She returns a short moment later, shutting the door behind herself. A large gray duffle bag is slung over her right shoulder, and I recognize it as one of my own. I push myself up into a sitting position, grimacing with the effort, and I swing my legs off the bed as she unzips the duffle and rifles through the contents. Nausea hits me, and I screw my eyes shut for a moment to stop the dizzying spinning of the room around me. Her hand gently touches my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is soft and low.

I nod. “Just a little dizzy,” I explain. The bed compresses next to me as she sits, and a gentle hand rests on my knee.

“If you’re not ready to get up, you can still rest. There’s no rush,” Lois tells me. She scoots closer to me, her arm wrapping around my shoulders. Her hand on my skin feels warm and comforting. I could just sit here all day; that would be fine. I lean into her. And my stomach growls again.

I suppress a laugh. “My stomach disagrees with you.”

I feel her tighten her embrace.

“Let’s get you dressed then, huh?” she suggests.

Her hands work quickly, but she is gentle and careful. Within a few minutes, I’m dressed in a plain gray long-sleeved shirt and black pants. My head still spins as she tugs a pair of plain white socks on my feet. When she is finished, she kneels in front of me, and I slowly open my eyes. She smiles up at me, a cheerful, optimistic expression brightening her eyes. I can’t help but smile back. Her eyes shift briefly to the long red cape next to me on the bed, and a flash of something I can’t quite decipher flickers in her expression. Before I can react, she stands and picks up the cape almost tenderly, and she begins to fold it meticulously, her nimble hands and fingers deftly working the creases out of the material.

Superman.

Will she love me less when I tell her I’m not Superman anymore?

I will never be him again.

I know this.

I drop my head into my hands and groan as a wave of pain flares through my chest. She is immediately at my side again.

“Sorry,” I mumble. I don’t like her worrying about me. It is just residual pain from…from when I was dead, I suppose. Her lips brush across my cheek.

“Here, let’s see if we can get you up, and maybe you’ll feel better after you’ve eaten,” she says. Her arm loops around my waist, and I nod weakly and lower my hands to the bed. “Okay, here we go.”

I try, I really do. But the pain intensifies with the effort, and I’m just too weak. My legs won’t work, and my arms are not strong enough. I cannot stand, even with her help. No cheeseburgers for me. After two attempts, I shake my head and close my eyes as I try to steady my breathing. “Sorry,” I repeat.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I hear the concern in her voice. She plants another kiss on my cheek. “I’ll go get Clark to help. I’ll be right back.”

Before I can protest, she jumps up off the bed and hurries out of the room, the red cape clasped in her hands. I close my eyes again, and my shoulders hunch as the throbbing pain in my head pulses insistently. Maybe I should just rest again. Maybe those cheeseburgers can wait. I sigh heavily. No, I’ve waited long enough.

Two sets of footsteps approach, but I don’t look up right away. I sense him and his feelings, although I keep my own thoughts carefully guarded. He’s as anxious as me right now. Lois sits next to me, and a comforting arm slips around my shoulders.

“Here we go. Are you ready?” Her voice is kind, as always, and she again leans into me as her lips graze my temple. She knows. And her silent interaction is imploring me to accept his help.

I swallow my pride and lift my eyes to him, clenching my jaw as I straighten up. Pain radiates from the center of my chest outward, but I control my expression as best I can. God, he’s me. But not me. Wow.

This other Clark—this other me—he stands in the doorway, clad in gray slacks, a white dress shirt, and a simple blue tie, as though he’d come from work. His dark eyes hide behind a pair of glasses, and his sleeves are rolled up almost to his elbows, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. He shifts uneasily as our eyes meet. I shake my head. This is crazy. This is…

“This is too weird,” I say, holding his gaze. He’s rattled, like me, but he hides it well. He’s used to hiding things. I understand that. In a quiet voice, I add, “You’re me. But not me.”

He gives me a half-smile and steps over toward me and Lois.

“Tell me about it.”

His voice is just like mine. Uncanny. But he is quite different from me. I can feel it. Something in his past. He drops his eyes to the floor and adjusts his glasses, almost like a nervous habit. The insight I’d gleaned a moment before is lost. I suppress a shiver.

Next to me, Lois shifts her arm from around my shoulders and clears her throat. I tilt my head slightly toward her.

“I think if you just help him stand up, I can support him the rest of the way to the kitchen.”

I can tell she really doesn’t believe this. I don’t even have the strength to stand; there’s no way I’m getting to the kitchen without much more help. But I love her for trying to make me more comfortable with the thought of having him help me.

How much has he already helped me? Besides just bringing me home from the Sun. God, he flew to the Sun for me. I’d never flown that far into space. And taking care of my world. And my fiancée. And maybe my job, based on how he’s dressed. I owe him a lot.

My shoulders tighten as he moves to my side, slides his arm under mine, and grasps my waist. I know he’s trying to be careful. They both are. But the pain as he hoists me to my feet is intense, spreading from my sternum outward. I forget for a moment to hold my thoughts in, and I feel him falter next to me as my pain transmits through our telepathic connection. Dammit, I can do better than that.

“Sorry,” I mumble as I force my mind closed again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says quickly, steadying himself and me again.

My feet tingle as my weight settles on the floor, and my knees feel weak; nope, there’s no way I’m holding myself up right now. I allow him to take most of my weight, and he understands. On my other side, Lois also supports me, though I think it’s more moral support than anything else.

He is strong. I can feel the power radiating from him, and for a moment, I remember the feeling—the feeling of having immense strength and energy. But his seems like…even more. More power than I’ve ever known. He is stronger than I ever was.

And then, as we move methodically, one step at a time toward the doorway and then down the hallway, I feel him opening up to me in his mind. What is it, Clark? An intense feeling of warmth and strength fills me, and my pain…my pain fades into the background. So deep I barely feel it. I can stand up straighter, and I can breathe easier. Sweet air. I inhale to fill my lungs completely and then let the breath out slowly. My chest expands and then falls without discomfort. It feels like magic.

“Oh, wow, that’s…” I’m at a loss for words. I know it is him. He’s helping me somehow through this weird connection we have that is more than just Kryptonian telepathy. But I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I take another long breath, again drinking in the air. “I didn’t know you could do that,” I admit.

“Me neither,” he says tightly. He is concentrating hard, I realize. Despite all of his strength, managing this connection is not easy for him.

My steps do become easier, however, and soon, we approach the kitchen table. Lois moves away from me first, hurrying ahead to pull out a chair for me, and Clark supports me for the final few steps. I reach forward and grasp the back of the chair wand then slowly sit down. As I settle in the chair, Clark moves away, and almost instantly, our connection is lost. Sharp pain flares up in my chest. God. I screw my eyes shut.

Guilt. It fills him as he backs away from me another step. I shake my head slightly. Don’t feel bad. But it hurts. I suck in another breath through clenched teeth as Lois sits next to me and takes my hand.

“Clark?” she asks with alarm. I feel her fingers rubbing the back of my hand.

“S-sorry,” Clark stutters. I feel his guilt again, overwhelming him. “It’s hard to—”

“It’s fine,” I interject. I squeeze Lois’s hand and turn toward her, opening my eyes. She studies me with concern, her lips pursed in a tight frown. No, Lois, it will be fine. Please, don’t worry. I force a weak smile and add as jokingly as I can muster, “He learns quickly, this guy.”

She is confused, and she glances at him briefly before looking back to me. But I close my eyes and drop my chin to my chest as I attempt to steady myself again. Her hand trembles slightly in mine. With a quick laugh to hide her unease, she lifts my hand to her lips and kisses me gently. She then raises her voice and states rather insistently, “You boys know I have no idea what just happened there.”

I open my eyes again and shift to face her.

“Sorry, hon,” I apologize. I manage another deep breath, which seems to be getting easier now, and I lean over and press my lips to her forehead. “He figured out how to take my pain away temporarily.”

Clark turns around, balancing three mugs of hot tea. The smell of mint wafts up as he places one cup in front of each of us and then sets his own across the table. Lois smiles up at him, and their eyes meet. Something passes between them, and I look away, down to my tea. They have some sort of connection too. Not telepathy, no. That is only possible between Kryptonians. But something else… I feel a flicker of jealousy. No, she wouldn’t have. Right? But she did think I was dead. Because I was dead. Her voice pulls me out of my introspection.

“Oh, that—that’s great. Good, Clark.”

She smiles at him again, a bright, brilliant smile that makes my heart skip a beat. But Clark seems to retreat. He nods stiffly and then turns around with the guise of serving lunch. He’s mad at himself. He shouldn’t be. No, that’s not right. He helped me so much, even just for a few moments. I clear my throat.

“I’ve never known anyone to use a telepathic connection to do that before. I didn’t know it was possible,” I admit. “Thank you again.”

He shakes his head as he turns back around toward us, a plate in each hand.

“I’m just sorry it was so temporary,” he says in a low voice.

“Even just that short respite… I’m very grateful.”

He moves closer to us, his eyes downcast, and his thoughts now more guarded. He does learn quickly.

I can’t hide my enthusiasm as he sets a plate down in front of me. Cheeseburgers. Oh, God. I feel my mouth water, and my stomach rumbles, albeit a bit quieter than earlier. Real food. Not plain, bland, tasteless, textureless mush. I let go of Lois’s hand and reach forward to the plate, forgetting any manners my mom might have taught me. The french fry tastes like heaven. Salty, substantial, and just so good. Next to me, Lois giggles, her hand moving to my back. I open my eyes sheepishly and glance at her and then him. They both look at me curiously. Yeah, I must look a bit crazy—rapture over a french fry.

I smile crookedly. “And I’m very grateful for this food. Oh, you have no idea how much I missed real food. Everything on New Krypton was so bland. No flavor, no texture,” I explain, shoving another fry into my mouth.

Lois laughs, and Clark steals a glance at her. His eyes tell more of a story than reading his thoughts probably would. Yes, he loves her. I suppose that is okay. As long as they never… No, she wouldn’t. He sits across the table from us, and I distract myself again, using both hands to pick up the massive cheeseburger on my plate. Oh, man. The burger seems to weigh a hundred pounds to my weak limbs, but I manage to lift it to my mouth and take a very satisfying bite. Oh, so good. I close my eyes for a moment and taste the flavors.

I feel him watching me, and I swallow the bite as I open my eyes again. He is concerned, I can sense now. He adjusts his glasses as we hold the gaze for a second. He worries that there is darkness in me.

I don’t want to talk about it now, Clark. You can feel that, can’t you?

I clench my jaw and look away, to my right, to where Lois sits. She takes a small bite of a french fry and grins at me. She is happy and relaxed. A smile grows on my lips. I love her so much. And even if he loves her too, I trust her. And I’m so glad to be home.

And that was all because of him.

I reach out and take her free hand.

“Mostly, I’m grateful that you brought me back, Clark,” I concede, squeezing Lois’s hand. If he hadn’t brought me home, I wouldn’t be here with her right now. Lois is smiling at me again, and my stomach seems to flipflop. She is so beautiful. Her expression softens a bit, and she looks at Clark for a moment, then back to me.

“You mean more than just physically flying you back from the Sun.”

I guess I do. She is perceptive, as always. “Yeah,” I agree, closing my eyes. I recall the confused state I’d been in, only hours before. For how long I’d been up there, I don’t know—it is all a jumbled mess of pain and confusion. But I remember being most at peace, even thinking I was dead, when I was seeing her through his eyes. I address Clark directly. “I think you being here, and near her, anchored me somehow. Our connection anchored my mind so that my body could heal. With my injury…it should not have been possible.”

I am careful to control my expression again, though I think he sees a bit of the wariness I feel as I can’t help but question the feelings he has for my fiancée. Possessively—although I’d never have thought I’d have reason to show possessiveness over her—I bring her hand to my lips, kissing her gently. She smiles at me, and I almost feel silly for even considering the possibility that they may have had a relationship more than just friendship. But again, she thought I was dead. No, I was dead. And I still don’t know for how long.

I shift my gaze back to Clark. He is staring almost aimlessly at his salad, poking at it with his fork. I narrow my eyes. Is he…? No way. He lifts his fork and takes a small bite of his salad.

“When did you first regain consciousness?” he probes hesitantly, raising his eyes to me.

I barely hear him though, as I’m staring at his right hand, which now hovers just over his plate. No way. I glance sideways at Lois, but she doesn’t seem to recognize the cause of my confusion. Shaking my head, I look back to him.

“You’re right-handed?” I blurt out.

And he laughs loudly. Swallowing the bite he’d taken earlier, he nods emphatically. “Yes, I am,” he replies, adding, “It’s a weird difference, I know.”

“He also doesn’t drink alcohol at all and prefers salads and veggies to burgers and fries,” Lois comments, biting into another french fry. I tilt my head toward her and open my mouth as though to speak, but no words come out. The alcohol confuses me. Does he know it won’t affect him? Lois just grins at me again and leans in closer, resting her hand on my back. In a teasing tone, her eyes darting mischievously toward Clark, she taunts, “And, he can cook.” She stuffs the rest of her french fry in her mouth.

I remember seeing him here, at her apartment, and watching her as she licked chocolate off her lips. He’d not only known to feed her chocolate, but he’d also made the dessert himself.

I carefully control my reaction and guard my thoughts. Lois is relaxed and at ease; I copy her, smiling at Clark and joking, “Well, then, maybe I have some competition now that I’m back. It seems you have none of my character flaws, Clark!”

Next to me, Lois laughs. She leans into me, her arm tightening around my shoulder. I feel her brush her lips against my cheek. Really, do I think I have anything to worry about? No, this woman loves me.

“Seriously, wait until you taste his chocolate cheesecake,” she says, licking her lips. “Mmmmm.” She flashes a quick smile at Clark across the table, and he grins back at her.

My stomach drops. There is something more there. How long was I gone? How long has he been here? I feel my hands start to shake, and I hide it by picking my burger up again. A painful throbbing in my chest also distracts me. I swallow hard against the pain as I chew my burger. The taste is gone, however, and the burger now seems cold and bland.

I feel Lois’s hand on my knee under the table. I tilt my head toward her. She sips her tea, her eyes watching me carefully as though she feels my agitation. I swallow the bite of burger and smile tightly at her.

“Empire State Building. Oh, man. Shoot.”

I look up sharply across the table. Clark is staring off toward the window, his eyes unfocused. He suddenly stands up.

“I have to go. Sorry.” Decisively, he backs away from the table and starts to spin, the muted colors of his work clothes morphing into bright blue, red, and yellow.

A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach hits me hard, and I lower my eyes to the table. I’m glad he’s here, I remind myself. Something at the Empire State Building must be serious, and he sounds genuinely worried. But seeing him gearing up to do my job—the job I’d come to think of as the one I was born to do—it stings a bit. Especially knowing I cannot be that hero anymore. Again, Lois senses my unease, and her hand shifts from my knee to wrap protectively around my shoulders as I hear his spin stop.

I lift my eyes to see Superman standing in front of me. It is an odd sensation. I’m almost looking in a mirror. At least a mirror reflecting who I used to be. The cape shifts slightly in the breeze created by the spin, and I absently wonder if that is his suit, or if he’s wearing mine. Not that it matters. It’s his now. I blink and drop my eyes back down to my plate.

His voice penetrates my thoughts, his tone reserved and a bit sympathetic. “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

He understands me in this instance. He has seen many of my memories of New Krypton, I remind myself. So he knows what I’ve done and what I’ve become. I’m no longer worthy of wearing that suit.

I don’t answer him; I can’t. I carefully guard my thoughts as I take another bite of my burger. Just pretend it’s fine. It’s all fine. I chew and swallow, my eyes focused intently on the plate in front of me. Lois says something to him. “Be careful,” maybe. She used to say that to me. Every single time I’d leave. In fact, she said those two words to me before I left for New Krypton as well. My shoulders tense. Sharp pain in my chest. I close my eyes and swallow the tasteless burger. Clark answers her, his voice low. He’ll be back later. He’s not sure how long. From his unspoken thoughts, I also gather that he’s worried; there are hostages. Lois embraces me as a gust of wind blows through the room and the window clicks shut after him. I set down my burger and push my plate out of the way before lowering my head to the table. I close my eyes. I’m tired. Being alive is exhausting. And painful.

Next to me, Lois shifts in her chair. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asks in a quiet voice. I feel her hand move lower on my back, and she rubs gentle circles as though to soothe me. How am I so lucky? I don’t deserve her. Maybe he does. He’s still worthy of the suit, after all.

I nod weakly. “I’m just tired,” I lie.

“Okay. Maybe you should go rest then,” she suggests. She continues to caress my back softly, and she leans over and kisses my cheek.

God, I hate myself. I’d promised her a long time ago, after she’d discovered my secret, that I’d never lie to her again. But now, I’m breaking that promise. I’m not being fair to her at all. I sit up, maybe a little too fast, and pain shoots from my chest and into my back and arms. It hurts so much.

I manage a deep breath and open my eyes. Lois has repositioned herself slightly and is now staring toward the window. I imagine that she’s expecting him to come flying back in, a smile on his face, with news that he’d saved the world.

Geez, what is wrong with me? She’s allowed to care about him. I do know she loves me.

I’m just so tired.

I move my hand to her thigh, just above her knee. The thin material of her skirt prevents me from touching her soft skin, but I imagine how it would feel. I want to touch her. I wonder if she will let me. She probably wouldn’t if I told her about the monster I’ve become. I don’t deserve her. He does though. He’s a good man—a good Superman.

God, I’m so tired. I close my eyes again as a wave of nausea hits, and I settle my head down on top of my hands on the table.

“He’s, uh, going to the Empire State Building,” I tell her, mumbling into my hands. “I think there’s a bomb threat.”

Wordlessly, she moves away from me, and a moment later, I hear the television click on to the news. She comes back and sits next to me again, her hand finding the same spot on my back and rubbing slow circles. In the background, the newscaster mentions that Superman has arrived on the scene and is speaking with the police chief. I don’t listen to the rest. I know he will save them. He’s a good Superman.

“Lois,” I say, letting her name roll off my tongue. It feels good. I laugh, making the pain in my chest flare up. I must be really tired. “Lois, I think I…” Her hand stills on my back as I force myself to sit up. The lights in the room and the light from the Sun peeking in through the windows dance around as my vision swims. Yep. I’m really tired.

“Maybe you should go lie down for a bit while I clean up here. How does that sound?”

Oh, how I love her sweet voice. I nod. “Yeah, good idea.”

I don’t know how we get to the bedroom, but it seems I blink and I’m lying on my back on the warm bed. She pulls the comforter up over my chest carefully, leans over me, and kisses my lips. I close my eyes as I feel her fingers trace along my cheek.

“You rest, and I’ll be back in just a couple minutes. Okay?”

Do you have to leave me? Can’t you just stay?

“’K,” I force out, allowing my head to relax into the pillow. I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep almost immediately.





Strawberries and chocolate and coffee. The combination smells so good. So familiar. My Lois.

A soft hand caresses my cheek, and then her lips touch mine. “Mmmm.”

“Mmmhmm,” she agrees, and her lips and warmth disappear.

“Mmm, no, get back here,” I growl. My eyes open, and I shift my arms around her small frame next to me and pull her back to me. I feel her bare shoulders, her soft, cool skin. She’s changed out of her work clothes and into a tank top. But she’s on top of the comforter, and there is too much material between us. I tug at the blanket as our lips meet again, more needy this time. She presses into me, smiling, giggling.

“Clark—mmm—”

“This is the best way to wake up,” I mumble into her, my lips leaving hers to trail kisses down her throat. “Mmm, you’re so soft.”

She wiggles around until she’s underneath the comforter with me and then presses her body up against mine. Much better.

I want to touch her. My fingers brush down along her arm to settle on her waist and then tease under her shirt. Her abdominal muscles tauten under my touch, and a low moan escapes her. I allow my hand to drift upward as my lips continue their path now along her collar bone.

I feel her fingers briefly trace along the waistband of my pants, eliciting a familiar tugging deep in my stomach, but then pull away.

“Clark,” she says quietly. Her hand touches my cheek and firmly pushes me back onto the pillow. I blink and look up at her. She smiles weakly at me, her lips still full and wet from our kisses. But something is wrong. Her eyes are concerned.

I breathe heavily and close my eyes. The pain in my chest is dull compared with earlier. But the aching distracts me long enough that I can get myself under control. She lies next to me, resting her head in the crook of my shoulder, and her hand drops from my cheek, running down my chest and stopping, palm open and flat, on my abdomen.

“Sorry,” I apologize, moving my right hand to cover hers.

She shakes her head and immediately shifts to embrace me, wrapping one arm around my waist and allowing more of her weight to rest on me as she leans in and kisses me again.

“No,” she breathes between kisses. “It’s just—you were pretty out of it earlier.” She pulls away and studies my eyes. I guess she’s right. I only remember bits and pieces of being awake. “I-I don’t want to rush your recovery,” she adds. I nod and close my eyes again, relaxing into the soft mattress.

“How long was I asleep?” I ask quietly. She presses her lips into my cheek again and then slowly down along my jawline. “Mmmm.”

“Not that long.” Her arm loosens from around my side and once again settles across my stomach. “Maybe a half hour.” Her lips close over mine, and I wrap my arms around her.

“Power nap.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I feel much better now,” I insist before I deepen the kiss. I don’t want to wait. We’ve already lost enough time. “This isn’t rushing. It’s part of my recovery,” I tease between kisses.

My tongue explores her mouth as though for the first time, and my hand moves from her back to cup her cheek. I feel wetness under my thumb, and I pause and pull back as I brush away the tear. Her eyes are tightly closed now, and she drops her head against my cheek with a sigh.

“Lois?” I lift her chin, and our eyes meet. Beautiful deep brown, just as I remember. My lovely Lois. But her eyes glisten with more unshed tears. “What’s wrong, hon?” I ask quietly. She drops her head against me, and I feel fresh tears wetting my shirt as she clings to me tighter.

“It’s nothing. I just…” She squirms a little and slides one knee up over my thigh, bringing us closer together. I brush my fingers along her cheek again and tuck her loose hair back behind her ear. She continues, her voice low, “I just missed you so much, Clark. I thought you were dead.”

“I was dead,” I say carefully, moving my arm again to wrap around her. I feel her shiver as she nods.

“I know, I-I saw your body. I saw…” She pauses and runs a hand very lightly over my chest, where the scar from my wound pulses. The dull ache increases a notch, but I don’t react. Her hand stops over my abdomen, and she presses her palm into me gently. “Zara and Ching, they told me that you died fighting Lord Nor. That you were brave and strong, and that your courage ended the war and saved many lives.”

I stay silent, but I can’t help the cynical thoughts that form in my head. I ‘saved many lives’? What about all the lives lost to my blade? Monster.

“And I…I’m so thankful you’re home now. I just—” She sniffles and wipes away another tear. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” I reply, pushing away my negative thoughts and projecting a steadiness and strength into my voice.

With effort, I shift out from under her and prop myself up on one elbow, tugging her underneath me with my other arm. She gasps as my knee pushes between her legs, and I bend down over her and suck gently on a sensitive spot at the crook of her neck, eliciting another moan of pleasure. God, I missed her so much. One of her hands ventures under my shirt, and I shiver as her fingers dance along my side. I trail kisses up along her neck and jawline, but her hand on my side distracts me, and I pause and groan as desire pulses through me.

“God, Lois.”

She becomes bolder, both of her hands pushing up under my shirt. My skin burns where she touches me, and my eyes close as she continues her exploration, her hands moving restlessly up my back. I lower my lips to her neck again and flutter kisses along her collar bone. Her shirt is in my way now. In fact, I think we’re both overdressed. Hmm.

“Sweetheart.” Her hands pause on my back, and I realize my arm propping me up is shaking.

She shifts out from under me and gently presses on my shoulders. I take the hint, and my arm can’t support me much longer anyways, so I allow her to help me lie flat on the bed again. The dull aching in my chest has grown to an insistent throbbing now as well, and I close my eyes to hide the pain. Lois again settles next to me, cuddling up against me as my arm wraps around her.

“Sorry,” I say quietly, kissing the top of her head. “I just—I missed you every day. It feels almost surreal to be home. It was all I wanted for three months—to touch and hold you again.” Her fingers, which had started tracing circles on the thin material of my t-shirt, become quite still, and I feel her shoulders tighten.

“Four months,” she corrects softly.

“Hmm?”

“For me, it was four months.” Her voice catches in her throat, and she shifts in my embrace slightly so she can look up at me. There are those tears again, edging at the corners of her eyes. I swallow hard. Please don’t cry, Lois. “You died a month ago,” she explains, her mouth twitching into a frown.

“Oh.”

A month. I had lost an entire month.

And she had been alone, not knowing if she had lost me forever, for four months. Well, that’s not entirely accurate, I suppose. She had been alone, not knowing if she had lost me forever, for three months, and then alone, or with him I suppose, thinking she would never see me again, for a whole month.

“God, Lois, I’m so sorry.”

She shivers and clings to me again, and I tighten my arms around her as well. And we hold each other silently for several minutes. Guilt fills me, and with it, the pain returns to my chest. I shift uncomfortably, and she scoots slightly away from me and props herself up on her elbow, watching me with concern. She lowers her eyes for a moment, and I sense that she wants to say something. Something important. But she doesn’t speak right away.

I hate that I’ve done this to her. And that she’s still having to worry about me. I force a smile onto my face and reach out to touch her cheek.

“I won’t leave you again, Lois,” I promise.

“You’d better not,” she replies, her tone somewhere between feisty and anxious. She sniffles and reaches up to wipe a tear from her other cheek.

I can tell she’s only half joking. I shake my head.

“Never again,” I say firmly. She leans in and touches her lips to mine. I taste the saltiness from her tears as I return the gentle kiss. My lovely Lois. I don’t deserve you. “I love you.”

A voice that sounds just like mine calls uncertainly from the living room. “Lois?”

I freeze and pull away from her. She laughs almost shyly as she wipes the last of the tears off her cheeks and then crawls out from under the comforter.

“Um, let me go check in with him,” she replies quietly. She leans over and kisses my cheek. My hand lingers on her arm.

“I’ll come with you,” I propose. Grimacing, I manage to push myself into a sitting position on the bed.

“It’s okay. You stay here, and I’ll be right back,” she says with a small smile. She touches my cheek again and then stands and heads out of the room.

As soon as she is out of sight, my stomach lurches and I feel my heart start to race. An overwhelming need to be near her forces me out of bed. I manage to stand, though shakily, and I ignore the pulsing pain in my ribcage as I stagger toward the bedroom door.

From the end of the hallway, Clark’s anxiety radiates off him in waves, and in a stuttering, unsure voice, he mutters, “Sorry to just… The window was still open, and I-I got back from New York, and I needed to talk to you two. It’s a-about the Kents.”

My parents. I lean heavily against the wall as I swallow hard. I picture my mom’s kind eyes and hear my dad’s deep laugh. God, I miss them. They must be okay or Lois would have mentioned it. Right? Burying my fear, I continue toward the two figures standing at the end of the hallway, my legs aching from the effort of holding myself upright. I feel Clark’s eyes on me, but I concentrate on Lois as the tugging in my gut pulls me to her. She glances up and back at me, a warm smile on her face, and I wrap my arms around her waist and force a smile in response.

“I told you to stay in bed, and I’d be right back,” she scolds. Her eyes study me for just a moment, and she seems to find what she is looking for. She moves in my arms until she can loop one arm around my waist, providing an extra bit of support. Can she tell how much I’m struggling? I thought I was hiding it pretty well. I adjust my smile again.

“And I told you that I’m fine and feeling much better already.”

My stomach is already settling and my heart rate slowing. The strength of this visceral reaction to her nearness terrifies me, but I bury those feelings and tighten my arm around her as she plants a light kiss on my cheek before turning back to Clark.

“You’re always welcome here, Clark,” she tells him assuredly. I feel his uncertainty grow as she adds, “If the window is open, come right on in, okay?”

He nods, but his hesitation is palpable, despite his attempt to hide his concern; I hear his thoughts almost as clearly as though he’s projecting the words right into my head. He never belonged on his Earth, but Lois has made him feel accepted and loved for the first time since he was a kid. Now that I’m back, he’s worried that things are going to change—that there won’t be a place for him here either. But Lois’s words help him somewhat, easing his anxiety.

Another thing is quite clear, as I’ve already seen, that is—his feelings for Lois are quite strong. He shifts his eyes to me momentarily, and my jaw clenches as I sense his conflict. He knows he shouldn’t have these feelings for her. I carefully control my expression as I sense the deep respect that he has for me. No, I don’t deserve that respect, Clark. You do. You are the more worthy man. I’ve seen it and felt it within you. I don’t let him hear these thoughts.

“What about the Kents?” Lois asks, interrupting my silent contemplations. Next to me, she seems to stand up a bit taller, and her face brightens as she grips my arm. “Oh, my, Clark, your parents!” She twists to look at me again, and I blink several times as I shift my focus to her, again forcing a smile on my face.

My parents. Right. They still think I’m dead. I mean, I think they still think I’m dead. Did they know I died? A sudden bout of nausea hits me as I realize how little I know about what is and has been going on in the lives of the people I love the most.

At the same time, another wave of anxiety rolls off of the man standing a few feet in front of us, and his gaze moves back to Lois. I feel him try to block his thoughts from me, but he’s not yet completely figured it out. Not when his emotions are this strong. His sense of belonging here—there is something specific about my parents accepting him that is almost more important to him than Lois welcoming him.

“Martha called me just a few minutes ago,” Clark says. His stutter is gone now, but he jumps into an almost incoherent rambling and shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “She had a favor to ask, so she invited me down later this afternoon, and I thought I could deliver the news to them in person. In person would be better than over the phone, after all. And then I could bring them here, if they want. I mean, of course, they will want to come. They are going to be so happy to see you, Clark. You have no idea. Okay, maybe you do—”

I can’t help my reaction. I feel a funny smile growing on my face, and I laugh inwardly. The emotion is almost foreign; I haven’t been allowed to smile and laugh in months. “I take back what I said earlier. He babbles just like me when he’s nervous. So he does have at least one of my character flaws.”

Lois dips her head into my chest, laughing softly, and Clark also laughs, his cheeks turning slightly red with embarrassment. He shakes his head.

“Right, sorry. I just…” He pauses momentarily and reaches a hand up to adjust his glasses. “I wanted to make sure you both are okay with that. I mean, that I tell them. And, Lois, if they want to come up immediately—is that okay? And is the guest bedroom still made up? Or should I book a hotel for them? Or…” He drops his chin and runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Sorry, I’m doing it again.”

Lois laughs again. I love the sound. So much. I tighten my arm around her waist, and she looks up at me.

A sharp pain erupts in my chest.

“It’s your call,” she says. The pain grows as she moves a hand to rest across my stomach, and my legs tremble as the weakness I felt earlier returns to my limbs. The smile on my face fades. “I think Clark has a point about it being a much better idea to tell them in person.”

He does, of course. A phone call to tell your parents that you’re not actually dead seems just a tad bit callous. But why not offer to just fly me and Lois down to Smallville? There’s some reason he wants to tell them himself. And maybe I could deduce that reason if my brain weren’t so foggy. I blink, trying to clear my vision, which has gone slightly blurry, and raise my eyes to his.

Why is it so important to you that you be the one to tell them? I communicate to him silently, projecting my thoughts in such a way as to mask my insecurity and discomfort. I immediately turn to Lois, who is watching me expectantly.

“I agree. In person is much better,” I concede as amicably as possible. Lois’s smile pulls me in toward her, and I lean in and kiss her cheek as my eyes shift back to Clark. I press him again through our silent link.

“I don’t have an agenda here,” he tells me, holding my gaze. Out loud, he adds, “I can’t wait to see their reaction. They’ve really missed you, Clark.”

He shifts uncomfortably as I study him, and he closes his eyes as a memory of his echoes in his mind. He is playing a game of Scrabble with his parents in the dining room of a farmhouse so much like my parents’ home. His mother, beautiful and young, with kind blue eyes and her loving smile, is so proud of him as he bests both of them with a seven-letter word to win the game. And his father, more jovial and carefree than mine, but with the same unrelenting devotion to his family, hugs him fiercely and ruffles his hair. The cheerful images are abruptly replaced with a horrifying scene, playing out almost in slow motion. He stands under the awning outside Smallville Community Library, and a white pickup truck drives toward him. Rain pounds down hard, reducing visibility. But he clearly sees the green sedan racing through the red light at the intersection. I feel his terror and hear his scream as he launches out from under the awning and sprints toward the intersection. But he’s only a young child; he’s not fast enough. The sedan smashes into the white pickup going much too fast. The pickup lurches sideways, the passenger’s side door collapsing inward, and the truck then twists and flips, tumbling over and over until finally coming to a stop upside-down. He races through the rain to the pickup, jumping over debris and screaming for help. The final image I see is his mother strapped into her seatbelt in the upside-down truck, her head bent at an unnatural angle and blood dripping down the side of her face.

With sudden clarity, I understand his motives. I lower my eyes as all the air leaves my lungs. God, I can’t even imagine how he survived that.

“It’s a fine idea,” Lois says enthusiastically.

She has no knowledge of the silent exchange that just happened between us. In fact, I’m pretty sure Clark is not even aware that I shared in his memory. God. My legs shake as the image of his lifeless mother flickers again in my mind, and I lean a bit too heavily on Lois to steady myself. Without hesitation, she shifts to better support me and addresses me again.

“Clark, is it okay with you if he goes to Smallville and tells them you’re home? Then he can bring them here? They were just here earlier in the week, but I’m sure they will be happy to come back. They are going to be so happy. I know I am.” I feel her eyes on me, but I keep mine lowered. Her hand presses gently on my abdomen and her lips lightly brush my cheek. In a low voice, she adds, “Maybe you should get back to bed, sweetie.”

I nod weakly as the pain flares up again in my chest, radiating into my arms and even down into my lower back. “Yeah,” I agree. I raise my eyes to meet his and add quietly, “And yes, I think it’s fine for you to go Clark. I look forward to seeing them.”

I try to smile, but I can only manage a grimace. The rise and fall of my chest hurts with every breath now, and I feel myself slipping deeper into the fogginess I’d felt earlier. An urgent thought crosses my mind, however, clearing my vision temporarily, and I send a hasty message to Clark.

Please don’t tell them about my injury. I don’t want to worry them. My dad…his heart is not good. The pain in my chest pulses again, and a brief flicker of discomfort in his eyes suggests that he feels it too. In my exhaustion, I’ve failed again to maintain the barrier blocking my pain from him. I shake my head as I refocus myself to protect him from the aching and then issue a quick apology as my vision gets fuzzy again. Sorry again. I’m getting tired, and it’s harder to control.

“Got it. I won’t say anything about your injury,” he promises. I sense he’s aware of my dad’s heart problems and has his own concerns as well. He quickly adds, “And don’t worry. Get some rest.”

Rest. Definitely. I think I could fall asleep standing up right here in the hallway. My eyes close briefly as Lois again tightens her arm around me.

“Great,” she says to him. Although she’s still smiling, I know she’s concerned for me. She clears her throat and steps slightly away from me to readjust her arm around my waist. Her eyes dart back to Clark briefly. “Thank you again, Clark. Let me get him into bed, and I’ll be right back. Hang on, don’t go anywhere, okay?”

She ushers me slowly back down the hall, allowing me to lean into her as I stumble along. When we reach the bed, my exhaustion overtakes me, and I almost collapse into the soft mattress.

“Sorry,” I grunt incoherently.

I curl up on my side as the pain in my chest turns into a disconcerting numbness. Lois mumbles something I can’t understand and tucks the comforter around me. My eyes close, and I feel myself drifting off to sleep again as her hand gently caresses my forehead. I hear a distant, “I’ll be right back,” and then her warmth disappears as I fall into darkness.

I fall deeper and deeper, the darkness growing blacker and blacker, colder and colder. Eventually, my falling slows, and I land hard on a rocky, dusty surface. A red glow emerges from far away, revealing a harsh landscape stretching out for miles in every direction. The cold is replaced by a scorching heat, and my skin begins to burn, flakes crumbling off my bare arms and chest and disappearing into the ground. A black sword, glistening with blood, materializes in my hand, and bodies rise up from under the earth ahead of me—lifeless bodies of Kryptonian soldiers. My blade vibrates and begins to glow. It then abruptly shoots forward, pulling me with it across the valley above the sea of dead bodies. I halt suddenly as the sword lodges itself into the chest of my doppelganger. Blood seeps out of the wound and down the front of the familiar red and yellow ‘S’ shield on his chest as his eyes widen in surprise. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. He falls to his knees in front of me. Lois appears at his side, tears streaming from her eyes. She looks up at me with pure hatred. “What have you done?” Her voice echoes loudly in my head as the scene fades from red to black, and I once again fall down and down and down into a cold, black abyss.

I sit up sharply as I wake into a darkened room. My chest, arms, and hands are numb, and I am alone. A terrifying dizziness hits me, tiny specs of color dancing around in my vision. I screw my eyes shut and call out, “Lois?” My voice breaks as I feel a coldness seeping into me, and I seem to be spiraling down an empty dark pit again.

Immediately, she is at my side, and the falling sensation stops. She embraces me carefully and whispers soft words into my ear. “Shhh, you’re home now, and I’m here, my love.” I cling to her, and her closeness steadies my shaking. My mind clears, and the room brightens as sunlight inches back into the room.

“Lois,” I mumble, burying my head into her hair. We stay in that position for several minutes, and my heart rate and breathing slowly return to normal. Finally, she pulls away, and her arms drop to rest on my thighs as her eyes shift restlessly, studying mine. I force out a laugh. “Sorry, again. Uh, I guess rising from the dead can mess with your mind a bit, because mine is quite…fractured still.”

“You weren’t asleep long, only maybe fifteen minutes this time,” she says quietly. Her hand reaches up and touches my cheek, and I lower my eyes. “Did you have a bad dream?”

I just nod. I suppose that’s all it was. A bad dream. Although it sure felt more real than that.

She doesn’t ask me what the dream was about; she can sense I don’t want to talk about it. Instead, she just pulls me back in for another hug. And it feels so good.

I don’t deserve this.

I don’t deserve her.

But I feel her sigh into me, and I kiss the top of her head as she holds me tighter.

“I love you.” Her tone is subdued and serious. “I’m here whenever you need me. Always.”

Oh, I definitely don’t deserve her.

I cling onto her as though my life depends on it. Because I think it does. I think it always has.