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Platonic
Part 3/?
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The pristine silence of the early morning was shattered by the loud and insistent ringing of a cow bell. Clark sat upright, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. He glanced at Lois or, more accurately, at the writhing bump buried deep inside her sleeping bag that had begun to groan.
"What in the heck is that?" she mumbled. Her sleep-tousled head appeared out the top of the bag and she frowned accusingly at him. "It wasn't just a bad dream. We're really here."
"Good morning to you, too," he said lightly.
Lois squinted at the top of their tent before crossing her arms over her eyes to block the light that was filtering in through the pale blue nylon fabric.
"I should have brought a pillow," she sighed. "I had no idea I would miss my pillow this much."
"You could just wad up some clothes," he suggested.
The sound of the cow bell was coming closer and Rich was beginning to sing out, "Rise and shine! We're burning daylight here!"
"I don't think I like Rich," Lois stated. "I've given it a lot of thought and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to kill him. Would you help me hide the body or are you going to make me lug it around by myself in the interests of equality?"
"Good morning, Sunshine! Up and at 'em!" Rich called out from just outside their tent, ringing the bell to punctuate each word. "Anyone alive in there?"
"We're awake!" Clark yelled back.
Rich moved on, still ringing the bell.
"What time is it?" Lois asked, unwilling to move her arms from over her eyes.
"It's almost six-thirty," Clark said after checking his watch.
"Really? It seems so much earlier than that."
Outside the bell stopped ringing. They both let out relieved sighs.
"Can you keep your eyes closed for a few more seconds?" Clark asked. "I'll just hurry and get dressed and leave the tent so you can get dressed."
"Sure. Fine. Take all the time you want, I'm not moving from this spot until Rich actually comes in here and drags me out."
She had barely finished speaking when she heard the zipper on the tent's flap opening. She moved her arms, propping herself up on her elbows to watch him leave. "Tell Rich I'm sick or something, won't you?"
"Ha," he said, grinning at her. "Don't be too long or I'll borrow that bell."
She laid there for a couple of minutes but the air was too cold to entice her to leave the warmth of her sleeping bag. Then the smell of coffee reached her and she weighed her options. In the end, the aroma was too delicious to ignore so she dressed as quickly as she could, pulled on her boots and went in search of some caffeine.
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"They're actually not that bad," Bob was telling Jenny as Lois took a seat between her and Clark on the oversized log they were using as a bench. "Give them a try."
They were dressed alike again. Both Bob and Jenny were wearing khaki pants paired with long-sleeved red shirts. Jenny was picking at a plate of scrambled eggs and she looked like her night had been every bit as miserable as the one Lois had just endured. Lois wondered if they had zipped their sleeping bags together and spooned.
"But they're powdered eggs," Jenny said and wrinkled her nose. "I don't think I can eat powdered eggs."
"There's ketchup," Clark said helpfully. "If you put enough ketchup on them they're not bad."
"You put ketchup on your eggs?" Lois gave an involuntary shudder as she eyed the sea of red on the plate Clark was holding. Had she actually kissed this man? With tongue? It was a darn good thing she was never going to have to kiss him again.
"I know what you mean. Debbie puts ketchup on everything," George said. "It's really kind of disgusting."
"This from a man who eats Oreos with salsa?" Debbie shot back. "That's more disgusting."
Everyone looked at George. He shrugged and said, "Hey, don't knock it til you've tried it."
"I have tried it," Debbie said. "It was revolting."
"Good morning, Lois!" Rich came over and held out a plate to her.
"Oh, um, I usually just have coffee in the mornings," she demurred. Like Jenny, she wasn't sure she could eat powdered eggs.
"Not out here you don't." Rich didn't look the least bit offended. "Out here it's imperative that you keep up your strength."
She took the plate grudgingly and looked over at Jenny. "You know," Lois told her, "when they said 'life or death situations' I didn't think it would come to this."
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"How did everyone sleep?" Dave asked cheerfully. "Today we're going to start thinking about the ways we communicate with others, especially our partners. I asked you to think about and compare your communication styles last night. Today, with that in mind, we're going to lay down some ground rules to work from for the rest of our time out here, okay?"
When they all nodded or murmured assent, Dave continued. "Conflicts can't be avoided. Differing opinions are just a fact of life. But you can actually strengthen a relationship if you know how to effectively communicate with each other. Think of these as the ground rules. Four little principles that are the tools you'll need to remain neutral and work towards a positive outcome."
Lois sipped her coffee. It was instant coffee and she was beginning to feel like a food snob. At least the coffee was better than the eggs had been.
"The first rule is that only one person speaks at a time. And the second rule is that we make a sincere commitment to listen and actually try to understand the other person's point of view before we respond."
Lois cleared her throat softly, risking a sideways look at Clark. He was watching Dave and his expression was carefully neutral.
"Third rule; anything we discuss is kept in confidence unless there is an explicit agreement otherwise."
In the corner of his eye Clark saw Jenny elbow Bob and shoot him a look. For some reason he felt a little better. Apparently he and Lois weren't the only couple here with issues.
"Fourth rule," Dave continued, "we support dissent. We attack the issues, but not the person with whom we disagree."
Dave looked around at the group. Jim and Brenda had been nodding pleasantly at each rule he had explained. Everyone else looked either a little chagrined or outright bored. He decided to let them off easy.
"So as we go through today I would like everyone to keep those rules in mind as we speak with one another. Observe how you interact with your partner, especially if there's a conflict. Usually a conflict has very little to do with our opinions so much as our fears. We all have core needs, something about us that is inviolate, and we react strongly when we feel those needs are being threatened. Pay attention today and try to discover what your core needs are. If you have a disagreement, try to pay attention to what you're really arguing about and if there are alternatives that would meet both of your core needs."
"Core needs?" Debbie asked. "Are you talking about the need to be loved and accepted or something more tangible?"
"Love and acceptance are core needs for everyone. They count, yes, but I'm also talking about the things that define a marriage, like trust and mutual respect. I'm talking about the experiences that color our perceptions and make us who we are. Do you share chores or does your husband consider laundry something only a woman does?"
George snorted out a laugh. "I'd be messing with my sex if I said that."
All the men snickered but Jenny furrowed her brow. "Messing with your sex?" she repeated in bafflement.
"Yeah," George said. "When I told Debbie that I didn't like her new dress I was messing with my sex. It was days before I got any again."
Debbie frowned at him. "Feel free to share, okay? Besides, you're the one who said I looked good in red."
"And you do," Geroge said smoothly. "Just not in that dress. It's too... I don't know, busy or something."
"Excellent!" Dave beamed at them. "George has managed to address the issue without attacking Debbie."
"And we've established that sex is a core need for George," Bob quipped.
"Not necessarily," Dave said with a grin. "Sex as a physical act is a temporary need. The trust and intimacy that can be expressed through sex are core needs. If the goal is merely the physical act then I doubt a core need is being fulfilled. Which brings me to the last point I wanted you all to consider as we go through the day. Chances are if you wanted to start an argument with your partner, you'd know exactly which buttons to push to get the ball rolling, yes?"
There were a few grins and nods.
"Today I want you to think about what your hot buttons are. Are you even aware of them? What behavior in yourself or your partner causes you to react in a negative way? How do you respond when those buttons are pushed? How would you like to respond?"
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"Has anyone here been orienteering before?"
Nobody's hand went up. Rich grinned and rubbed his hands in delight. He seemed in a much better mood this morning than he had yesterday. Lois wondered if the thin mountain air had suppressed the grumpy part of Rich's brain. Or maybe it was the powdered eggs.
"Great! Okay, how many of you have used a map before?"
Everyone raised their hand.
"See, this is going to be easy!" Rich held up a map that was made up of squiggly lines on a background of green, white and blue. "Who here has worked with a topographical map? Or maybe you call it a contour map or a topo map? Anyone?"
Clark, Jim and Debbie all raised their hands.
"All right! Let me explain how they work, just for everyone else. Topo maps conventionally show topography, or land contours, by means of contour lines. Contour lines are these curves that connect contiguous points of the same altitude." He ran his finger along a line on the map to illustrate. "In other words, every point on this marked line is at 2500 meters elevation above sea level. That's about 8200 feet above sea level. This next line is 2510 meters elevation, and 2520, and so on. These maps usually show not only the contours, but also any significant streams or other bodies of water. This blue line is a river, this blue area is a lake. Still with me?"
They all nodded.
"Green areas are forest, white areas are generally rocky. The spacing of these contours is like a one-dimensional picture. The closer the contours are, the steeper the terrain. When you see lines merge into one another it's a sure bet you're looking at a cliff. Take this cliff behind us, for example. This is it on the map here, see this series of tightly packed lines? Notice the ridge over here where the lines are still close, but no longer touching? And then this area here where the lines are widely spaced is the meadow we're standing in."
"Oh, I get it," Brenda said. "That's actually rather clever, isn't it?"
"Now let me explain the basics of orienteering and what we'll be doing today. Orienteering is a sport in which either individuals or teams use a map and compass to work through a pre-designed course. On your maps you find five circles, these are your controls points. At each control point you'll find a small flag. Each team will have a color. Find and collect all your flags and return to the end point. A triangle marks the start and there's a double circle for the end point. Each team will have a whistle. If you become lost, start whistling. We'll be doing a staggered start in twenty minute intervals."
Rich gave each team a map, a compass and a whistle.
"Today we'll be using a short-course of only about six miles, if you don't become lost moving between control points. Jim and Brenda, you'll be the yellow team and we'll have you start first. George and Debbie will be the green team, they'll go second. Bob and Jenny, you're wearing red, you can be team red and go third. Clark and Lois, you'll be blue and the last team to depart."
"We're starting last?" Lois frowned.
"We're going off of successful completion of the course and the shortest time. Each team is individually timed. So, even if you arrived last, if your time is the best, you'll still win," Rich said reassuringly.
"What do we win?" Lois asked.
"No chores this evening."
"Wow, is she competitive about everything?" Bob asked.
"Pretty much," Clark admitted. He watched as Lois stalked back towards their tent and mentally prepared himself for the coming challenge. A six-mile hike with Lois was one thing. But a six-mile hike with Lois when she had something to prove?
Heaven help them both.
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"Here's your chance, Clark. You can make up for yesterday." Her words were breathy. Rich had told her that, in competition, orienteering was done as a cross-country run and Lois had decided that they could run the course. After little more than a mile, though, it felt like her lungs were on fire. She told herself it was only the thinner air at a higher elevation and not because she was out of shape. Beside her Clark was maintaining the same even jog and she felt a surge of irritation towards him. It wasn't fair that he hadn't even broken a sweat yet.
"Lois, I'm not going to cheat." His speaking voice was unaffected by their fast pace, a fact that only irritated her more.
"Someday I'd really like you to explain the 'Rules According to Clark Kent' to me."
"If I were competing against you, would you want me to cheat?"
She didn't answer. She did, however, slow to a walk since they had reached a boulder field and she had no desire to break her ankle. Then again, if she broke her leg, maybe she'd get to go home early?
"So why would it be okay if I cheated against everyone else?" Clark persisted.
"Congratulations then, Clark," she huffed sarcastically. "Once again you're right and I'm wrong. And, if you must know, that's a hot button for me. You always think you're right and my opinion doesn't matter."
"Are you attacking me or the issue?"
She paused, leaning back against a large boulder and reaching for her canteen. "You are the issue."
"No, the issue is that you feel like I don't respect your opinions. You know that I do. There's just one time, one instance, where I insisted that we do things my way."
"Wrong! You make it sound like a little thing. It wasn't! It was a very big thing. Callously informing me that we're over without giving me a chance to say anything was wrong. You were wrong, Clark! Just admit it!"
"Wrong about what? How is wanting to keep you safe wrong?"
"It's wrong when you invent the lamest reason in the world to cover your fear of commitment! And to bolster your argument you said what if - and I'm quoting here, Clark - what if I was abducted by aliens and slipped and told them you were Superman? Then suddenly, in your delusional mind, bad guys would just pour out of the woodwork to torture me. So, gee, let's not get married. In fact, let's not even date. Oh, wait, I hear someone calling, bye now!"
She felt a little twinge of triumph when she saw he was now breathing just as hard as she was as they glared at each other.
"You're twisting my words." Hot button, he thought. That's a hot button for me. She deliberately misunderstands me.
"No, I'm not! I'm a reporter, Clark. I routinely memorize what people say. Trust me, on this one I took every little word to heart."
"Okay, I could have handled it better," he relented. "But I know I'm right on this one, Lois."
She didn't answer him. Dave had mentioned knowing exactly which buttons to push to start an argument. Lois knew very well that ignoring Clark was a very hot button to push.
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Lois was laying face down when Clark came into the tent. Through sheer dint of her will, they had finished with the best overall time. He had thought she'd be happier about winning but, released from having to do chores, she had gone back to the tent and hadn't emerged.
"You did good today," Clark said and hesitantly patted her ankle.
"Don't patronize me," she grumbled.
"I'm not. I wouldn't."
"Hmph." She knew she should have felt better about winning, but the truth was she had used every last bit of her energy running the course. Now, lying here and thinking about the day, she wasn't certain if she had done it to prove something to herself or to Clark.
"Your boots are muddy."
"I don't care," she mumbled.
Clark thought about pointing out that he did care, especially since she was lying on his sleeping bag. Instead he softly said, "Here," and lifted her foot to untie its laces and take her boot off.
Lois let out a little sigh - she felt so much lighter with the boot gone. He picked up her other foot, loosening the laces and removing that boot as well. He began to gently knead the pad of her foot with his thumbs.
"Mmm," Lois moaned. "I'll give you about twenty minutes to stop doing that."
Clark smiled, trying to ignore the deeper tug that her husky words had on him. He concentrated instead on her foot.
Lois relaxed into his sure touch. For the first time in weeks she felt the tension between them dissipating. She hadn't realized until just now how much she missed having him touch her. If only he'd apologize. She realized it wasn't just the physical exertion that was making her so tired. It was the effort required to stay angry with him. Just say you were wrong, Clark, she thought. Say you were wrong and let's talk about it.
Outside the cow bell began to ring.
"That's dinner," he told her, releasing her foot with one last little squeeze.
Lois rolled onto her back and sighed. "I wonder what culinary delight awaits us now?"
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After a dinner of beef stew, which even Lois and Jenny ate ravenously, the group sat around the campfire comparing stories about their adventures that day. At a lull in the conversation, Brenda turned to Lois and said, "So you said last night that you two are investigative reporters?"
"That's right," Lois confirmed with a nod.
"Wow. Have you ever gone undercover for a story?"
"Yes."
"Together?" Brenda asked.
"Yes," Lois said again.
"I guess maybe you've already learned how to depend on each other in dangerous situations then."
"I, uh..." Lois said, suddenly at a loss for words.
"Lois has saved my life," Clark said. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her. And not just me; she risked her life to save my parents a couple of months ago. She's the bravest person I know."
Everyone's head turned to look at her. Lois flushed and stared at her feet. "You've saved me, too." Her eyes closed and she felt a little dizzy as she realized just how indebted she was to Clark. No wonder he had such an overweening sense of responsibility for her safety. And yet how did all of that translate into their relationship being hazardous to her health?
"Is that part of the attraction?" George asked. "That she's willing to put herself on the line for you?"
Clark smiled and shook his head. "No. I admire her courage but most of the time she drives me nuts with her single-minded recklessness."
Lois frowned at her shoes. Single-minded recklessness? Did he honestly think that was a compliment?
"Reckless," Lois repeated slowly, unable to get past that word. She looked directly at Clark, but couldn't really make out his expression in the half-light from the campfire. "You think I'm reckless?"
"I'm in awe of your willingness to put everything on the line in pursuit of a story or the truth."
"Flattery is not going to get you anywhere," she sniffed.
"Ah, but a foot rub might," he teased in an effort to lighten the conversation.
"It might," she allowed, standing up to go to the tent. "But only if I was feeling reckless."
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Lois was only half-asleep when she startled awake to an eerie silence. For a moment she laid perfectly still, trying to figure out what was wrong. It was so dark, so quiet. Then she realized that was the problem. It was too quiet. She couldn't hear Clark breathing. She reached over and her hand found only empty space. Clark wasn't there. What cry for help could he possibly have heard from way out here?
This is what it would have been like, she thought, being married to Superman. She would wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone, probably on a nightly basis. Maybe even several times a night.
She felt around for her flashlight but the first thing her hand found was his glasses. Where had he gone without his glasses? Then she berated herself for being silly - it wasn't like he actually needed them to see. Her hand closed over her flashlight and she turned it on, directing it around the tent to confirm that, indeed, all his stuff was still here. It was only Clark who was missing.
Lois sat up and reached over to feel the inside of his sleeping bag. It was still warm - he hadn't been gone very long. She concentrated on listening, but there was no sound of footfalls or twigs cracking or anything to indicate that he was right outside the tent.
Perplexed, she simply sat there and watched the dust motes dance in the flashlight's glare. She knew, just knew somehow, that he wasn't anywhere nearby. Lois put her hand over the light, watching her backlit fingers become red and pink. At the sudden rasp of the tent's zipper she swung the flashlight's beam, aiming it almost directly into his eyes.
"Where have you been?" It came out much angrier than she actually felt.
"Home," he said, squinting against the light and then holding up a pillow to block it.
"You flew home to get a pillow?" Again, that sounded much harsher than she had meant for it to sound.
He held it out to her. "Not for me, it's for you. Your place was locked, so I brought one of mine."
Lois took the pillow from him. It was cold to the touch - from flying she realized. "You brought me your pillow?" she asked in confusion.
Clark closed the tent's flap and crawled to the top of his sleeping bag to get in. "I just... I thought you said you wanted one this morning."
"I did, uh, I do. I'm just... surprised, that's all."
As he climbed into his sleeping bag Lois switched off her flashlight and lay down on the pillow. It felt cool against her cheek and it smelled just like him. Or, rather, it smelled like he normally did. Right now he had more of campfire aroma to him. She propped herself up on her elbow and impulsively scooted a little closer to him.
"Thank you," she whispered and awkwardly patted his arm. She had meant to kiss his cheek but found she didn't quite dare. Suddenly flustered, Lois quickly moved away from him.
"You're welcome," he whispered. "Good night, Lois."
The soft way he said her name and the smell of his pillow combined to send a wave of longing through her. She snuggled deeper into the pillow, saddened by the realization that she couldn't kiss his cheek anymore. "Discover your core needs...," Dave had told them.
She just needed Clark back. She needed him to apologize for being so obtuse. She needed to find a way to tell him that she was willing to forgive him for being so obtuse. She wanted things to be the way they were before his idiotic decision. In the end, the only words she could find were, "Good night, Clark. Thanks again."
"Anytime," he whispered back. "If there's anything else you need, I can make another trip."
For a moment she let herself make a list. Chocolate, a thick pad instead of the thin foam mat beneath her sleeping bag, her winter coat, and a pizza. She had this sudden mental image of Clark shuttling back and forth between here and Metropolis, bearing gifts like an out-of-season Santa Claus and she rolled her eyes at the idea. Those weren't the kinds of personal needs that Dave had been talking about. She should be thinking about her long-term core needs, not temporary indulgences. Did Clark honestly think he could buy her forgiveness with a pillow? That somehow that little gesture could make up for breaking her heart so ruthlessly? Resentment, sudden and thick, shot through her.
She didn't just want an apology. She wanted him to feel bad. She wanted him to be as miserable as she was. That was why she had spent the past month ignoring him. And that had been relatively easy, since she only had to maintain her indifference during the day. Now, stuck with him full-time, she knew she wouldn't be able to do it. Maybe it was time to let a little of the hurt show through - time to truly show him what he had done.
"It doesn't fix anything, you know, bringing me a pillow or giving me a foot massage. It doesn't fix it, Clark."
He winced at the coldness of her tone. "I know."
"You were the last person I ever believed would hurt me. I trusted you."
His heart sank at her used of the past tense. "You don't think you can trust me again?"
"With my life? Absolutely. I'll trust you with everything but my heart."
"Lois, I'm sorry..."
"So am I. It's not enough."
The vehemence of her words stung. "What would be?"
His question made her realize that she had no idea. There was no way to fix this, was there? Even if he apologized; it would always be there between them.
"I don't know," she said sadly. "I honestly don't know."
For a long time they both lay there, staring into the darkness and acutely aware of each other's every breath and movement. Lois fell asleep first but Clark lay awake long after her breathing had evened out. She didn't trust him anymore. That knowledge hurt even more than breaking up with her had. She didn't trust him - maybe she never would again. His thumb stroked over the small box he had brought back along with the pillow.
Clark sat up and looked at the box in his hand for a moment. Soft blue light from the moon was dappled across the roof of the tent. What would it look like in this light? Unable to resist the temptation, he opened it and his breath caught in his throat as the ring inside sparkled faintly. He had meant to have her wear the ring to lend credence to the ruse of their engagement. But once he got back to the tent he had realized that he couldn't ask her to do it. That ring was a symbol of something that was meant to be permanent, not a temporary lie. It was all or nothing.
He snapped the box shut and pulled a clean pair of socks from his backpack, wadding them up with the box inside.
How could he explain to her the fear that had immobilized him when she had been hurt? Flying with her unconscious in his arms had shaken him to his soul. Nothing in his life had ever had been as frightening as that trip to the hospital. It had felt so potentially final. She could have died. It wasn't an acceptable loss. One little slip and the entire house of cards he had built would come crashing down - on her. He could face anything but losing her. Couldn't she understand that he loved her enough to let her go - to give her a chance for a real life?
Clark shifted onto his elbow and watched her sleep. Her face was relaxed, making her look so young and vulnerable. His entire body ached with the need to protect her.
Tomorrow, he silently vowed to her. Tomorrow he would find a way to explain his actions. She was right; he should have found a better way to explain that her safety - her life - were more important to him than anything else. He realized now that they might have salvaged their friendship much sooner and more easily if he had let her be part of that decision.
Tomorrow he would find a way to fix it. He would show her that he only wanted the best for her. He would find a way for her to trust him again. He bent over and brushed a kiss across her forehead.
"Tomorrow," he promised her in a whisper.
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End 3/?
