Note: The nfic version for these chapters is available here.20
Morning comes after a long, dreamless sleep, and when I awake, the house is already bustling with activity. From my spot in the bedroom, I feel Clark’s presence and realize he’s here to pick up my parents and take them back home to Smallville. Lois hurries out of the bathroom, smiles at me as she fastens the top button of her blouse, and heads out of the bedroom and down the hallway.
I sit up in the bed and run a hand through my hair, listening intently to the sounds from the hallway and kitchen—footsteps and hushed voices, mostly. And I sense a growing unease from Clark, but I try not to pry. I think it has to do with my dad, and I frown as I remember feeling his disappointment from outside the apartment on Saturday afternoon when my dad was being less than kind about his presence on our world.
Guiltily, I realize I should have made some sort of effort to explain things to my dad; it’s not fair to Clark that he’s had to deal with my dad’s stubborn streak. But explaining things to my dad would mean admitting a truth that I’m not ready to tell either of my parents yet. Hopefully, my mom will straighten him out. She’s always been able to before.
After another moment, Lois re-enters the bedroom, a bagel in her hand. She smiles at me almost nervously and halts a few feet in front of me.
“Your parents are ready to go. Do you want to say goodbye? I can send them in if you’re not ready to get out of bed,” she explains.
I nod and swing my legs off the bed. “I’ll come out,” I answer. My feet hit the floor, and I stand; for the first time since I’ve been back, the motion does not induce nausea or dizziness, and I feel relatively ‘normal.’ I quickly grab a shirt from the duffle bag, which sits next to the dresser, and slip it on over my head. Then, I step toward her with a tight smile, and she reaches out and takes my hand in hers.
“Uh, are you… You look like you’re ready to go, too…” I falter, stepping ahead of her and into the hallway. She follows a bit behind me, our hands still clasped.
“Yeah, I need to go to work today. Clark and I have a big story we’re working on. I’ll tell you about it in a minute,” she says as we emerge into the living room. Her reluctance is evident, but I don’t have time to question her about it.
From across the room, both of my parents turn toward me and Lois. My mom sets down her purse and hurries over, quickly enveloping me in her arms, and my dad follows. I close my eyes as I savor the incredible feeling of love from the embrace. I release Lois’s hand for a moment as I return the hug. My dad’s hand sets solidly on my shoulder, and my mom sniffles quietly and whispers into my ear, “I’m so happy to have you home, Clark. I love you so much.” She pulls back a bit and looks up at me, a wonderful bright smile growing on her lips.
“I love you, too, Mom,” I reply, my voice low.
“You be sure to take it easy and rest until you get all of your strength back, you hear?” she instructs, her voice taking on a more serious note. “Let Lois and Clark take care of you.”
I smile and nod, my eyes shifting briefly across the room where Clark stands, dressed in the brightly colored Superman suit, his arms crossed over his chest in a pose that I’m all too familiar with. Our eyes meet just for a moment, and he quickly lowers his gaze to the floor. He is getting better at shielding his thoughts from me now, but I can still feel his agitation.
Lois steps up behind me, her hand moving to the small of my back.
“We will take good care of him, Martha. I promise,” she tells the older woman. Her hand presses into me, silently communicating the sincerity of her words.
“Okay,” Mom murmurs. She tightens her arms around me again, and I laugh quietly and kiss the top of her head.
“We’ll visit soon, too, Mom,” I assure her.
She wipes tears from her cheeks as she steps away from me. My dad, who had silently watched the exchange, reaches out and shakes my hand. His firm grip carries as much meaning as my mom’s hug.
“Take care of yourself, Dad. Let me know how your appointment goes today, please,” I tell him. He hesitates for a second before nodding an assent.
“Sure, son, sure,” he agrees. His hand releases mine, and he adds, “And you get some more rest like your mom says. Your strength will be back before you know it.”
There is a certain undertone to his words, and I sense that he really means,
“Your strength will be back soon. Then you can be Superman again, and this replacement Clark/Superman can go back to his own universe.” But my dad has no idea; actually, I don’t think anyone knows the truth except for me and Clark. He cannot leave because I will never be Superman again. Not that he wants to leave. I’ve sensed that he has no desire to return to his world, although I do not know why.
I nod to my dad and then step back a bit. Lois’s comforting touch returns as she slips her arm around my waist, and my mom and dad move back toward where Clark stands at the window. Clark raises his eyes and looks to Lois, obvious tension growing in his expression. Then, he clears his throat, blinks a few times, and stands up taller, his apprehension now hidden under his commanding superhero visage.
“I’ll meet you at the Planet?” His voice reflects this same change in demeanor—strong and confident—though I know he feels anything but confident right now.
Lois’s arm tightens around my waist, and she nods. Clark tips his head in response and then turns to my parents. After a few words of explanation, he loops one arm around each of them and begins to levitate them off the floor and then out the open window. A moment later, they rise up and out of my field of vision, heading south toward Kansas.
“I’ve got to get going,” Lois says, shifting to stand in front of me. Her eyes lock on mine, and she seems to study me for a moment, an obvious reluctance in her expression. Finally, she breaks eye contact, lowering her gaze to the bagel in her hand, and adds, “Clark and I have been working on a big story on Lex Luthor. Do you remember him?”
“Yes,” I answer quickly. “He’s that billionaire philanthropist from New York.”
“Right, well…” Her voice trails off as she frowns and fidgets, turning slightly toward the kitchen before raising her eyes to meet mine again. “We managed an interview with him last week, but we still haven’t finished writing it up. We think he might be involved with Intergang somehow, but we haven’t quite found the connection. And the Churches are having a press conference today where we are expecting they will announce their expansion of Cost-Mart stores into New York City. They’ve already purchased several old warehouses and gotten permits to begin construction on multiple stores. And Luthor, well…”
As she explains the potential connection between Luthor and Intergang, I feel a smile growing. She is beautiful and brilliant and passionate, and I love her so much. I reach out and touch her cheek gently, my thumb brushing along her cheekbone. I step up closer to her, wrap my arms around her waist, and lower my lips to hers, effectively silencing her explanation. She moans slightly and leans into me, her arms sliding their way up my chest and shoulders. The kiss deepens briefly before she pulls away, breathing heavily.
“What was that for?” She feigns indignation, but then smiles broadly at me and leans in for another brief kiss. My heart seems to skip a beat.
“I love listening to you talk about work,” I admit. My hands linger at her waist, and hers slip down from my shoulders to rest on my chest. “And I love you,” I add in a low voice.
She smiles again, but then her smile quickly fades, replaced by a look of uncertainty. “I wish I could stay here with you. Are you going to be okay alone? I don’t want to leave you if you’re not sure you’ll be okay.”
Although I also have reservations about being alone, given the uncontrollable physical reactions I’ve had at times, I hate seeing her so concerned about me. So I give her the most reassuring smile I can muster up and rub her upper arms with my hands as I lean in to kiss her again.
“I’ll be okay,” I promise. “You go and get some work done and don’t worry about me. I’ll do some work myself. Catch up on current events, that sort of thing.”
I wrap my arms around her again, relishing in the feeling of her body pressed up against mine, and she mumbles something into me that I can’t make out. I reluctantly release her from the embrace, and then she says, a little louder this time, “I love you, Clark.”
My lips graze hers lightly, and she sighs and leans into me again, deepening the kiss. However, after a much-too-short moment, she pulls away, gives me a weak smile, and starts towards the door, adjusting her purse on her shoulder.
“Are you sure you will be okay?”
“Yes,” I lie.
No, Lois, actually, I’m not really sure. But I’m going to pretend. Because you need me to. “I’ll call you if I have any trouble. Promise.”
That seems to be enough to satisfy her, and she nods and turns toward the door. A moment later, I close my eyes and steady my breathing as the door closes behind her with a decisive click; I’m alone. And I almost immediately regret allowing her to leave. The temperature in the apartment seems to plummet, and my heart rate increases, accompanied by a flicker of anxiety building in the back of my mind.
I need a distraction.
I make my way into the kitchen to pour myself a fresh cup of coffee. As I take a cautious sip of the hot black liquid, I remember the folder she has with all of the articles describing Superman’s work in the last month, and I make my way to her desk, locate the folder after rummaging through one of the side drawers, and take it to the couch with me. I then flip on the television to the news and settle down to do some reading on my doppelganger and his heroic deeds.
Everything I read suggests that he is as dedicated to his Superman duties as I’d surmised. The photographs that accompany each article show a focused, in-control superhero exercising precision and immense strength to rescue victims and assist law enforcement. And I see how busy he’s been as well. He seems to devote much more time to being Superman than I ever did, and he keeps up a global presence almost every day. In fact, just a week ago, he apparently moderated peace talks between the Syrian government and a large group of rebel forces in conjunction with Russia, the UN, and NATO the day after he spent hours in California rescuing victims of a massive earthquake.
My world has truly been in good hands.
I rub my eyes, which feel strained from all the reading, and stand up to stretch as I close the folder, my muscles complaining. The pain in my chest is dull, but still present, and as I take my now-empty coffee cup to the kitchen for another refill, darkness clouds the edge of my vision. I blink several times in an attempt to clear my vision, but a familiar feeling of nausea and dizziness beings to grow as well. I lean heavily on the kitchen sink and try to steady my breathing. The air in the apartment suddenly feels stifling and stale, and on a whim, I decide that I should try taking a short walk to the park; after all, I haven’t been outside of the apartment since Clark brought me back from the Sun two days prior. Maybe the sunlight and fresh air will help me feel better.
I quickly change into a clean set of clothes; find an old baseball cap, tennis shoes, and coat of mine in Lois’s closet; and head out of the apartment. The walk to the elevator and then out the front foyer of the building is so familiar and yet so strange. Everything is colorful and bright. Not like the red-tinged, dusty, barren landscape or the sterile white walls of the palace on New Krypton. People walk casually down the street as I stand frozen on the stairs to the apartment building. One man walking a short, chubby brown dog smiles up at me and tips his hat, then continues on his way, and a mother and child march briskly hand in hand in the opposite direction. The child waves at me with a huge toothless grin and then jumps in a puddle giggling. Sights and sounds I thought I’d never hear again. I let out the breath I’d been holding, grasp the handrail, and step carefully down the stairs.
The park near Lois’s apartment is a small grassy area with a few benches set strategically under several American elm and Japanese cherry trees. The trees are bare this time of year, their leafless branches providing no protection from the bright morning sunlight. Squirrels chitter in the trees, and a group of pigeons pecks at the ground near one of the benches, where a boy, maybe fifteen years old, sits and tosses small seeds from a colorful plastic bag.
I find a bench in a sunny corner of the park and sit to rest in the sunlight. Immediately, I feel the healing power of the Sun working its way into my broken body. The aching in my chest fades, and my vision clears substantially. I close my eyes as I enjoy the feeling.
“Excuse me, Mister.”
The voice startles me, and my eyes fly open as I sit upright. The boy who had been feeding the pigeons stands in front of me, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his old coat. His black hair is hidden under a gray knit hat, and his cheeks are red from the cool morning air. There is something familiar about him, but I can’t place it. He pulls the bag of birdseed out of his pocket and offers it to me. Confused, I reach out and take the bag from him.
“The pigeons, they like this seed the best. My mom told me. She used to feed them here every morning, but she died a year ago,” he says. His eyes dart from mine to the ground and back again, as though he’s nervous to hold eye contact for too long. Before I can respond, he continues. “Superman tried to save her, and I’m grateful to him for it. She was in a car wreck, you see, and Superman, he pulled her out and got her to the hospital as fast as he could. But the doctors said her injuries were too severe.”
I stare at the bag of birdseed in my hand. I remember her. And now I also remember why the boy had seemed familiar.
“I’m so sorry,” I manage, my voice shaky. The boy sits next to me, and the pigeons congregate around us, eyeing the bag of birdseed expectantly.
“He saved me though, Superman did. I wish I could see him again to thank him, you know?” The boy pauses, and I feel his eyes on me.
I clear my throat. “Uh, well, I-I’m sure Superman knows.”
The boy stands again and thrusts his hands back into his pockets. “I hope so.” He backs up a step and shuffles his feet again. “I decided to be an EMT after that. I want to help people, like he does, you know? And today, I turned sixteen today, and I’ve been saving my money. So I’m gonna go downtown right now and sign up for the next training course. Do you think…do you think my mom would be proud of me? And Superman, he would be too, right?”
“Most definitely,” I reply without hesitation. I raise my eyes to look at the boy again, and a profound sense of hope overwhelms me as I realize the huge impact that moment—a simple rescue, the likes of which I had performed every day—had on this young man’s life. “They would be incredibly proud of you. I know it.”
He smiles at me as his face lights up. Then he nods to the birdseed.
“Can you finish feeding the pigeons for me, Mister? I have to get going. Mom always told me to never be late to anything important. And this is pretty important to me.”
“Of course. I’d be honored to help you,” I say. And I remember that he’s Sam; his name comes to me as the memory of his quick airlift to the hospital surfaces. He’d been injured badly, though not as badly as his mother, and I’d moved her first and returned to the wreck for him. Their car, an older Ford pickup, had been sideswiped by an eighteen-wheeler when the driver had lost control due to poor weather conditions. The pickup had flipped several times, landing upright but wrapped around a telephone pole. Five other cars had also been affected, and the seven victims had injuries of varying severity; his mother Rose had sustained severe trauma to her head, neck, and back, among other injuries. It was a pretty terrible wreck.
Sam gives me a crooked smile, winks, and then waves as he jogs off toward the bus stop. The pigeons move as a unit a few feet after him before realizing I’m the one with the bag of birdseed, and they then resume their cooing as they gather around me. I glance up again, watch as Sam boards the bus toward downtown, and then smile as I reach into the bag and grab a handful of the tiny seeds to toss to the birds. They flock enthusiastically around the bench, pecking up every last seed. I repeat the process again, throwing the last handful to the hungry birds, and then set the now empty bag of birdseed next to me and rest my hands on my knees.
The morning sunlight continues to bathe the park in a soft glow, and I lean back on the bench and breathe in the fresh air. It feels good. However, a moment later, a sudden sense of unease jars me, and I hear an urgent voice in my head.
“Clark, where are you?” Immediately, I sit upright as fear grows in my chest. I respond without hesitation.
What’s the matter? Is Lois okay? I just needed some fresh air. I’m across the street from her apartment at the park. I scoot to the edge of the bench as I glance around, suddenly feeling exposed and unsure. Anxiously, I adjust the baseball cap on my head.
“Everything is fine. Sorry, I should have led with that,” he assures me. A deep sigh escapes my lips, and I drop my head to my chest with relief as he adds,
“Lois wanted to come check on you, and she got worried when you were not here. I’ll bring her to you.”I shift on the bench and watch as a moment later, Superman floats out of Lois’s fifth floor window, holding my fiancée gently in his arms. She looks so small, so fragile, which is not a word I would typically associate with Lois Lane. I frown and inhale sharply as I see tears in the corners of her eyes. She wipes them away as Superman lands lightly a couple feet from me. I set my hands on the hard wood of the bench and begin to push myself up to meet her, but she quickly waves at me to stay put as she jumps out of his arms. Half a second later, she pulls me into a tight embrace and assaults me with frantic kisses on my jaw, cheek, and lips.
“God, Clark, I was so scared when you weren’t there,” she breathes, burying her head into my shoulder. I feel her tears wetting my shirt, and I kiss the top of her head reassuringly.
“I’m sorry, hon,” I apologize.
I hold her tighter and close my eyes for a moment as my hands rub her back. She is shaking still, nearly sobbing into my shoulder, and an incredible sense of guilt hits me. I raise my eyes to Superman, who stands with his arms crossed over his chest and a look of concern on his face.
Thank you, Clark, I tell him with a silent nod. He returns the gesture and moves a step back from us, glancing briefly up into the sunny sky.
“Tell her I’ll meet her at the press conference, whenever she’s ready.” His voice conveys his relief that I’m safe and that Lois is with me, her fears unfounded. And I’m again struck by his kindness, strength, and empathy. A tiny hint of jealousy hides behind these other thoughts, but he rejects it and begins to float upwards, his eyes on mine.
I nod again, grateful for his help, and then close my eyes as I breathe in the scent of Lois’s shampoo and place a light kiss on the top of her head.
“I love you, hon,” I murmur into her, and she holds me tighter as Superman’s familiar sonic boom rattles the branches of the trees above us.
“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, I just panicked. I—this isn’t me, really, I don’t panic like this, I—”
“Shhh, it’s okay,” I soothe, continuing to rub her back. “I’m okay. I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again. I promise.” It is the least I can do, to make her this promise. I owe her much, much more than just this, but for now, I know this is all I can give.
“I know, I know, I just—”
I cut her off with a kiss—not one of the many soft, gentle kisses we’ve shared in the last couple days; no, this one is deeper, stronger, more urgent. Her arms move up around my neck, pulling her closer to me, and her tongue pushes into my mouth, recklessly exploring. Breathless, she breaks the kiss and leans her forehead against my cheek. We sit together there in silence for several minutes.
The pigeons coo and peck around on the ground, impatiently waiting for more birdseed, and a cold breeze picks up, carrying dark, ominous-looking clouds to block out the sunlight. The pigeons seem to sense the change in weather and, as a flock, flutter their wings and launch up into the sky, heading toward downtown. Next to me, Lois shivers and pulls her coat tighter around her as she snuggles against me.
“Maybe we should head back inside. It’s getting cold,” I suggest, brushing my lips against her cheek. She nods, but does not otherwise respond, and then moves away from me to stand. I grab the empty birdseed bag, stuff it in my pocket, and follow her. My muscles feel strong and decidedly not stiff, despite the fact that I’ve been sitting in the same spot for quite some time. I reach toward her and grasp her hand, and she looks up at me, wipes the last of the tears from her eyes, and smiles weakly. “Come on, hon.” And I lead the way back to her apartment.
Once inside, she shrugs off her coat and helps me with mine. She then hangs up both coats on the rack near the front door and turns to me. I close the distance between us with a single step, and her hands slide up my chest and wrap around my neck as I remove the baseball cap and toss it aside. She leans into me, and we kiss again, gentler this time. Her fingers thread into my hair, sending pulses of warmth through me. God, I love this woman.
“Mmm, Lois—I—”
“Don’t talk right now,” she interjects, and her tongue again darts into my mouth. She tastes like coffee.
“Mmm. ‘K.”
I want to touch her, to make her feel good and loved and whole. My hands move to her waist, and I pull the hem of her blouse out of the waistband, my fingers sliding under the satiny fabric to tease along the smooth, taut skin of her abdomen. She shivers and moans into our kiss. I pull away from her for just a moment, and she initially whimpers in protest and then gasps as I loop an arm under her knees and lift her into my embrace. Her arms remain wrapped around my neck, and she captures my lips again as I carry her to the bedroom. She is light, or I’m getting stronger; either way, we make it to the darkened bedroom, and I set her gently on top of the comforter. She tries to pull me down with her, but I resist and stand upright, allowing my eyes to travel over her beautiful form. Her hair loosely frames her face, falling in soft curls on the pillow, and a bright smile lights up her expression as she watches me, desire reflected in her kind, dark eyes.
“Clark, I need you. Please touch me,” she begs, reaching out a hand toward me. I take her hand, kiss her knuckles softly, and release her again.
“I will, my love. I will,” I assure her.
I kneel down next to the bed and brush one hand up the outside of her right calf. She shivers again as my hand travels back down to her ankle, and I carefully slip off one shoe and then the other, placing them neatly on the floor next to me. I step out of my own shoes and socks and then climb onto the bed, kneeling at her feet. Her long legs entice me, and I reach out to touch her, as she wants, as she needs. With my left hand, I caress gently up the outside of her calf and then thigh, shifting my body upwards as I go. Soon, I’m propped up on my right elbow, lying alongside her; my left hand rubs up and down her arm, and I lean in and kiss her softly on the lips. I trail a line of kisses down her jaw and neck, finding that sensitive spot where her neck meets her collar bone, and I suckle gently, smiling against her as she moans my name.
Her hands become restless, running first down my chest and then up and under my shirt. The feel of her hands on my bare skin sends a shiver up my spine, and I groan into her and drop my own hands to her waist for a brief moment before sitting up and removing my T-shirt with one quick motion. She giggles at me, but then her face becomes quite serious as she stares at the middle of my chest.
“Sweetheart, your chest—the scar,” she comments, sitting up next to me and reaching out with a tentative hand. I lower my eyes to my chest and watch as she runs a hand lightly over my sternum. The angry red scar has faded substantially; it is still a visible, raised blemish, but the redness is nearly gone, and the thickness of the scar tissue has decreased.
“Hmm.” I place my hand over hers and raise my eyes to meet hers again. Her lips are slightly parted as she gazes at my bare chest. “I guess the sunlight helped,” I suggest, and I shift my hands to the front of her blouse, brushing my fingers along the exposed skin of her collar bone. I lean in and run my lips along her jaw and down her neck again, kissing and suckling gently as my fingers find and unfasten each small button. After I reach the bottom of the blouse, I push it back and off her shoulders, exposing a pink lacy bra covering her breasts. Her hands begin to reach behind her to unsnap the clasp of her bra, but I stop her.
“Please, let me.”
She acquiesces, dropping her hands back to her sides. I lower my lips to her collar bone and flutter light, wet kisses down to the valley between her breasts. My fingers trace parallel paths along her sides and then wrap around to her back.
“Oh, Clark, please,” she murmurs into me. Her hands move from their place on the bed and grasp my arms as I undo the clasp of her bra and slide the straps off her shoulders.
She is perfect, beautiful, full of life. And she is mine.
“Lois, you are so beautiful, my love,” I murmur, lowering my head to nibble at the soft skin at the base of her neck. She moans as I continue my exploration.
Four months. It’s been four long months since we’ve had this—each other. I wonder if she dreamed of this as often as I did. Almost every night, I dreamed of her. But this is so much better than any dream.
“Make love to me, Clark,” she whispers. Her hands grasp my cheeks, and she pulls me back up to her as our lips meet in a long, slow, needy kiss.
Oh yes, much better than a dream…
After our lovemaking, she lies still on the bed, breathing heavily, and I crawl up and stretch out next to her, pressing my body against hers. She groans with pleasure and curls up in my embrace. I kiss her forehead gently.
“I love you, Lois Lane,” I whisper, and I close my eyes and breathe deeply into her hair.
“God, Clark, I-I thought I’d never—”
“Shhh, hon,” I soothe, pulling her closer to me. A chill fills the cold, dark bedroom as raindrops begin to splatter against the window, and I tug the comforter out from under us and then wrap it around us to keep us warm.
“I love you,” she sighs, clinging to me and burying her head deeper into the crook of my shoulder. Her body trembles as she begins crying softly. I shake my head and breathe more kisses into her hair, holding her tightly.
“Please don’t cry, Lois. I’m so sorry,” I whisper. Guilt overwhelms me, knowing that I’ve done this to her. I’ve made her so fragile, so vulnerable. None of this has been fair to her in any way. I never should have left. My hand rubs her back, and I close my eyes again, forcing back my own tears.
We lie still for several minutes as her sobs gradually subside. She steadies her breathing and then pulls away from me just enough to raise her eyes to mine. Her tears still wet her cheeks, and I swallow hard as I reach up and wipe them away. Gentle kisses then trace the same path as my fingers, down her cheek and to her full lips.
“I’m so sorry to make you cry, Lois. I love you so much.” My voice falters as I plant a soft kiss on her forehead and then rest my forehead against hers. She touches my cheek lightly, the tips of her fingers making my skin tingle.
I place my hand over hers and tighten my other arm around her. It feels so perfect right here, right now, just the two of us—her naked body pressed up against mine. I feel warm and loved and complete. Our lips meet again, and I close my eyes and hold her.
And I think maybe this time I’ll just never let her go.
21
Exhausted from the emotional morning, she falls asleep in my arms after a few minutes. I continue rubbing her back gently, listening to the sound of her steady breathing, and my eyes wander over the delicate features of her beautiful face. Her lips remain slightly parted in her sleep and are still wet from our kisses.
Very softly, my hand moves from around her back and to her stomach, my fingers barely grazing her smooth skin. She sighs deeply, but does not wake, and I continue caressing her with feather-light touches, exploring her as thoroughly as I had the first time we’d made love. Finally, when I’ve touched most of her upper body, I still my movements, nudge one knee between her legs, and cradle her closer to me.
“My beautiful Lois, my love, I love you so much. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you,” I murmur into her ear. I place a light kiss on her cheek, still being careful not to wake her.
Next to me, Lois shifts slightly in her sleep and mumbles quietly, “Mmm, love you, too, sweetie.”
Outside, a light rain still falls, the raindrops keeping a steady rhythm against the window. With a start, I realize that’s another thing I’ve missed—rain. It did not rain on New Krypton; the composition of the atmosphere was substantially different from that of Earth, and precipitation just was not possible. In fact, there was no above-ground water at all. During my first week on the barren planet, Zara had explained to me that clouds did not form on New Krypton and that they harvested water from underground hot springs and filtered it to make it drinkable. So now, as I lie in bed, holding my beautiful fiancée tightly in my arms, I close my eyes and listen to the relaxing sound of rain falling, and a small smile grows on my face.
“Hmm, oh, um. Clark, what—?” Lois lifts her head off the pillow, blinking and rubbing her eyes. I reach up and tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear, allowing my fingers to brush along her cheek. “I fell asleep?”
“Yes.” I allow my fingers to trail down her neck to her shoulder, and I lean forward slightly to flutter kisses down the same path. “Just for a few minutes. Half hour, max.”
“Mmm, power nap?” she responds, a hint of amusement in her voice. Her leg slides up over my thigh, bringing our hips closer together. God.
“Mmm, yes,” I breathe. Does she know how much I love her? I’ll have to tell her and show her, again and again. “Lois, my love—” I kiss the tip of her nose— “my beautiful love—” I kiss her forehead, and my fingers brush down her arm— “my only love—” I kiss her full lips, gently tasting her with my tongue— “I love you, Lois.”
The raindrops continue to fall, a bit harder now, and the constant thrumming against the window mutes the sound of her soft moan. Her hands press against my chest, pushing me away from her slightly, and our lips part.
“Clark, I love you so much,” she says in a low voice. Her hands caress up and down my chest, my skin burning under her touch, and she leans into me for another kiss. Her tongue, her lips, her mouth—God, she feels so good.
A buzzing noise interrupts us, and Lois groans in protest. I close my eyes as she pushes away from me, turns over, and moves to the edge of the bed. I turn to watch as she rifles through the pile of clothes for several seconds. She then groans again as she pulls her phone out of the pocket of her skirt. The screen lights up with the words “DAILY PLANET” as it vibrates and buzzes loudly. She sighs and gives me a sympathetic look before answering the call.
“Hello?”
I breathe in deeply and rub my eyes. Next to me, Lois pulls the covers back up over her as she listens to the person on the other line. Mischievously, I slide one arm over her hip and down her abdomen, pulling her closer to me as she mumbles a quick, “Uh huh, yep,” into the phone. My hand skims lightly along the soft skin of her abdomen, and she swallows hard and mumbles again, “Uh huh, yep, okay. I’ll—” My fingers brush up along her arm, and I flutter gentle kisses on her shoulder. She pulls the phone away from her as she muffles a moan into her pillow. She then lets out a breath. “Okay, I’ll be there… Yep, okay, Jimmy, sure… Bye.” The phone beeps off, and she tosses it aside, somewhere in front of her on the bed.
“You are in so much trouble, buster,” she scolds. I groan into her shoulder as she presses up against me.
“I was counting on it,” I retort, smiling into her again. She twists around in my embrace, but her joking smile turns into a frown.
“I have to go back to work,” she laments, propping herself up onto one elbow. She traces circles on my chest with two fingers and bites her lip almost nervously. “Clark isn’t in right now. He’s probably dealing with traffic accidents or something because of the rain. And Jimmy said Perry is not in a great mood.”
Her eyes raise up to meet mine, and I give her a small smile.
“It’s okay, hon. I understand,” I assure her. I reach up and brush her hair back behind her ears and then kiss her cheek. “I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get home.”
“Right here?” she asks coyly, running her hand down my chest and pressing her fingers into my abdomen.
“Mmm, yep,” I say, covering her hand with mine. I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her palm. “Right here. Naked and ready to go.”
She giggles and leans over to kiss my cheek again. “Well, don’t get ready to go without me here,” she jokes. “That’s half the fun, after all.”
God, how I missed this.
She sits up and scoots off the bed, her long hair falling loosely down around her shoulders. My stomach flutters as I watch her gather her clothes.
So beautiful, my love. Almost as though she hears my thoughts, she glances up at me shyly and smiles. Her eyes look bright with a renewed energy, and I realize she feels the same as I do right now—complete, whole, loved, content. If only we could just have this forever. This wonderful feeling, not complicated by…anything else. I push the thoughts out of my mind to avoid clouding the moment.
“I’d better hurry in case Clark isn’t back soon. Jimmy sounded anxious,” she admits. Then she hesitates and frowns. “You’ll be okay here alone, right? I was so worried earlier, and—”
“I’ll be fine, hon,” I promise. I sit up, move toward the edge of the bed, and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her toward me so my head rests on her abdomen. “And if I go anywhere, I’ll let you know first.” Honestly, I have no plans to go anywhere now, not even explore outside. A small part of me wants to venture back outside and enjoy the feel of the rain, but I’m not invulnerable, and it is November; it’s quite cold outside, and the weather can turn worse without warning.
My answer seems to satisfy Lois, and she strokes my hair tentatively and then steps away from me toward the bathroom. I give her a weak smile, and she disappears through the door to get changed.
