Here's part 2. As you can see, it's grown a little. If I can't finish by tomorrow, you can expect the next part sometime next week. My "repair work" is being done Friday and I probably won't feel like writing for a few days. However, I hope you like this part.
Comments are welcome. Remember, I use comments from the message boards to help beta my stories, so if you have constructive criticism, please give it.
Part of the contents of this installment is due to Sheila Harper's fdk on the other boards.
Nan
Lessons: 2/3?
by Nan Smith
Lois turned over and adjusted her pillow for the fiftieth time but it still seemed to have more lumps than she could ever recall it having before.
She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to will herself to sleep. She really needed rest, but all she could think of was Clark, stretched out on a bunch of blankets on the carpet in her living room.
What was she going to do? What if he didn't regain his memory within a short time? Could Superman really have been injured by his collision with Nightfall? His radio transmission just before impact had indicated that the thing had been huge and even Superman must have his limits. He wasn't all-powerful. Even he had admitted that.
Not long after Superman's appearance, there had been an occasion when Clark had come into the newsroom pretty upset at something he'd encountered while reporting on a drive-by shooting -- she thought that was what it had been, although she wasn't sure. She'd been distracted and not listening much to him in her worry over Superman's disappearance. He'd said something that caught her attention, however -- something about if Superman couldn't be everywhere, what good was he? He must have been pretty bothered about it, she thought, especially in the light of her new knowledge. She'd almost blown him off, but she'd told him that what Superman couldn't do didn't matter. It was right after that that he'd sent her to the Sewage Reclamation Facility, but while she had been there, Superman had reappeared, so maybe he'd been going through more than she knew -- something besides her theft of his story. Now, she allowed herself to hope that maybe what she had said might have helped him resolve whatever the problem had been. Maybe it made up, a little, anyway, for the enormity of her behavior. He'd apparently forgiven her outrageous conduct, anyway. At least she hoped he had.
But now, Superman was in trouble. She didn't know if she could help him, but she had to try. It was just that she couldn't let on that she knew more than she was admitting. But maybe if she took him to a psychologist or a psychiatrist or something, they wouldn't do a physical exam. He was obviously physically okay -- it was just his memory that was on the fritz. How did one tell if someone had a head injury? She hadn't seen any bruises or anything during the rather thorough look she had gotten of him in the crater. The image of Clark, without a stitch on, looking like one of those anatomically correct Grecian statues that she'd seen in magazines -- only better -- was branded in her memory and wasn't going to fade any time soon, if ever. His invulnerability must have protected him from any obvious physical injuries, she thought. It was only his memory that was faulty.
Still, if he didn't remember anything by morning, maybe she should take him to see somebody. But maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe his memory would return and all this worrying would be for nothing.
Besides, what could have caused his memory loss? Hadn't she read something about complete memory loss having some kind of psychological cause? -- something about the mind forgetting because it didn't *want* to remember something? What could possibly make Superman not want to remember?
She turned over again. She really needed to sleep. A look at her little bedside alarm clock told her that she was going to have to get up in a couple of hours. She was going to be dead on her feet at this rate.
She sat up. Maybe the hot chocolate cure would do some good, like it had done that night in the Honeymoon Suite.
On the thought, she snatched up her dressing gown and tiptoed to the door of her room. The faint light from the window gave her enough light to see, so that she wouldn't trip over Clark, and she started toward the kitchen.
"Lois? What's the matter?" Clark sat up. "Are you all right?"
She stopped. "Yeah. I can't sleep. All the excitement this evening, I guess. Couldn't you sleep, either?"
"Not really. I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"No. I haven't been to sleep. I thought I'd make some hot chocolate."
"That sounds like a good idea," Clark said.
"Mind if I turn on a light?" Lois asked.
Immediately, one of the low table lamps blossomed to life. Clark had switched it on. Lois padded barefoot into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
As was normal, her refrigerator was sparsely supplied, but she'd picked up a half gallon of milk and a couple of deli sandwiches last night on the way home, and the carton was still mostly full. She got out two mugs, poured milk into them and put them into the microwave. While they were heating, she located the chocolate syrup and a couple of teaspoons, and a few moments later they were seated at her kitchen table, each with a mug of hot chocolate in front of them.
Lois blew carefully on the surface of the steaming milk. Clark tested his and took a big swallow. "That's good," he said.
Lois consciously refrained from staring. The stuff had to be scalding hot, judging by the steam rising from the cup, but it hadn't bothered him at all, so Superman was still invulnerable, all right. Cautiously, she sipped her chocolate. "How do you feel?" she asked. "Any better?"
"I feel all right," he said. "I just can't remember anything before you found me in that hole. How do you suppose I got there?"
"I don't know," she said, mentally crossing her fingers.
"What were you doing there, anyway?" he asked. "Don't tell me you were there by accident."
She had foreseen the question from him, sooner or later, and had the answer ready. "I was watching the sky, hoping Superman would show up, and I saw a fireball hit in that part of town," she said. "I came to see what it was. I hoped it was Superman, returning."
"A fireball?"
"Yeah. A really bright shooting star. It didn't burn up like most of them do. I saw it hit, and heard it, too. I expect it will be in the paper, in the morning."
"Did you find anything?"
She shook her head. "I found you. I guess that was probably a good thing, though," she said. "That part of Suicide Slum is pretty bad."
"Judging by those two guys you pushed out of the way, I'd say you're right," Clark said. "You're pretty incredible. Did you know that?"
"Incredible isn't quite the way I'd describe myself," she said, a little dryly.
"I would," Clark said firmly. He took another swallow of chocolate. "How long have I worked with you?"
"A few months," Lois said. "Perry partnered us up a few weeks ago -- on an investigation of a congressman who was selling out to a terrorist."
"What happened?" Clark asked.
"We caught the terrorist, but the congressman skated," Lois said. "At least nobody was hurt, and Superman saved the city."
"Superman again, huh," Clark said. "The guy must be pretty amazing."
"He is," Lois said. "Metropolis is lucky he decided to settle here. And, of course, he's been all over the news ever since he arrived."
"I guess he would be," Clark said. "I wonder why he decided to stay in Metropolis."
Lois wondered that, too. She took another sip of chocolate, mulling over the question. She had wondered that before but with her new knowledge of Superman's other identity the question took on more significance. Why *had* Superman decided to stay in Metropolis? If, as Clark had implied, he had traveled all over the world, what was the peculiar significance of Metropolis that made him choose it as his home base?
"I guess Perry's our boss?" Clark said, breaking into her thoughts.
Lois nodded. "He's our editor."
"How did I get hired at the Planet?" Clark asked.
Naturally, he would want to know. "You came in a few months ago, peddling some story about the mating habits of the knob-tailed gekko," Lois said. "I guess you'd traveled a lot before you came to Metropolis. You told me one time that you'd learned ballroom dancing from a Nigerian princess."
"Me?"
"Yeah," Lois said. "Knowing you, I believe it. You're a pretty interesting person, yourself, you know. Anyway, Perry turned you down, but you'd overheard me discussing some mood-piece that Perry wanted me to write, and you came in the next day with it. Perry decided you had what it took after all, and hired you."
"And that was when we met?"
"That's right."
"Did we like each other right away?"
"Well, we didn't *not* like each other," Lois said. "You liked me, but I was a bit suspicious of you. I learned better before long."
"And we're friends, right?"
"Sure, we're friends."
"Are we more than friends?"
"Well, we're partners. We're close."
"How close?"
She was watching him with a trace of surprise. It was obvious that Clark hoped that she would say that they were very close. Suddenly and unexpectedly, she recalled the admiring, almost dazzled, expression on his face that first night they had worked late at the Planet. She'd warned him against getting a crush on her at the time, but maybe that crush hadn't gone away entirely, after all. Was it possible that Superman really was interested in her?
Now wasn't the time to bring that up but maybe it was something to keep in mind later, after his memory was back in place. "Not *close* close," she said, "but close. You're probably the best friend I have." She put a hand out and covered his larger one with it. "Clark, I haven't had many good relationships with other people, especially guys. But -- well, that might change, someday. We haven't known each other that long, you know."
"Yeah." He smiled a little, looking down at his empty mug. "I guess so." He looked up again, meeting her eyes. "I just can't help wondering what it is you've done that makes me feel so good about you."
The simple remark nearly took her breath away, but she managed to hide the fact. "Well," she said, "I'm not anything special, but I guess friends don't have to be. I just want you to be all right. I've been thinking that maybe we should go see a doctor today, and see if he can help you figure out how to get your memory back."
"That's a good idea," he said quickly. "I guess we probably should."
"Then we will," Lois said. "When we go to the Planet, I'll tell Perry that I'm going to make an appointment for you and take you to it. All right?"
He nodded. "All right."
Lois finished the chocolate, and surprised herself by yawning. "I guess maybe the hot chocolate helped," she said. "Maybe I can get a little sleep before we have to head for work."
He nodded, and also yawned. "Me too," he said.
**********
But once back in her bed again, her mind wouldn't lie down and relax. Too many things to think about battered each other in her brain, like driftwood in a whirlpool, and at last she gave up. Perhaps if she just rested and considered each problem she would at least get a little relaxation. She was going to be a walking zombie in the morning, but sometimes nights like this happened. Well, she amended, there had never been a night quite like this one, but the principle still applied.
Superman was attracted to her. More than just attracted. That part stood out clearly, just from Clark's attitude. She had tried, ever since he had appeared, to get Superman's attention, but he had kept himself at something of a distance. He was friendly with her, but had always maintained a slight formality. Now why? It was obvious that he really liked her a great deal -- when his defenses weren't up. What was the problem?
She considered that, trying to put some journalistic objectivity into her ruminations. Why wouldn't Superman be willing to show his attraction to her?
And after considering for a moment, she realized that at least some of the answer wasn't difficult at all. Superman quite simply couldn't afford to let anyone see that he was interested in her.
What, after all, would the paparazzi do, if they thought Superman had a girlfriend? The same thing that they would do to him, if they knew who he really was. They would besiege her, harass her, follow her everywhere, intrude into the most private aspects of her life, and generally destroy any hope of privacy she might ever have. And not only that, she realized. Superman's fans would do the same, and, more importantly, it would bring her to the notice of anyone who had reason to wish him harm. A girlfriend would be a target for every nut, every extortionist, gang lord or petty crook who wanted something from Superman. He couldn't afford to let anyone see that he regarded her differently than any other casual friend.
So part of the riddle was explained.
But why hadn't he made any attempt to approach her? It wasn't as if she had made any secret of her attraction to him.
Only he *had* tried, she realized abruptly. Clark Kent had shown her in the beginning that he was interested in her -- and she had rebuffed him. Ever since, he had withdrawn a little, but only a little. He'd continued to treat her in a friendly way -- except when he'd sent her, very deservedly, to the Sewage Reclamation Facility -- and had tried to become her friend. He had been trying to get close to her another way, that sneaky....
Well, no, not really sneaky, she amended. But why hadn't he simply come to her and let her know that Superman was Clark and was interested in her? He must know that she wouldn't have rebuffed him once she knew.
Once she thought about that, the answer was obvious, too.
In college, there had been that computer nerd -- what had his name been? Randall Loomis, that was it. Randall had had a major crush on her and followed her around, practically drooling over her. She'd hated it.
Of course, it wasn't quite the same for her and Superman, but the principle applied. She could feel the flush rising in her cheeks when she considered that. Randall had driven her nearly insane for several months with his star struck adoration, and it wasn't as if he even knew her that well. Several of her friends had teased her about her "groupie", and it had been pretty annoying. Eventually, Randall graduated and transferred to MIT for his graduate work, and Lois had been glad to see him go, but looking back on it was an eye-opening experience.
She had treated Superman much like Randall had treated her, but she didn't treat Clark Kent that way. And there, she thought, was her answer.
Superman wanted her to like him for who he was, not what he was. He didn't want a groupie. He wanted a girlfriend.
Lois turned over and tried to knead her pillow into a more comfortable shape. No wonder she couldn't sleep. She was learning a number of things about herself tonight, and they weren't particularly gratifying things. But at least she could make some effort to correct them.
Getting to know Clark for who he was wouldn't be that difficult, after all. Clark was a pretty nice guy. In fact, he was one of the nicest guys she had ever known. Was that Superman's real personality?
She had speculated about that before, and now, facing some unpleasant facts about herself, she could see Clark with a new clarity.
She had looked upon Superman as the perfect love object, the perfect man, who possessed no flaws. But how realistic was that image? Like Randall's image of her, it couldn't possibly be real. No one was that perfect. Clark certainly wasn't, and if she thought about what she had known of Superman up until that night in the Honeymoon Suite, she really hadn't known very much. He was careful not to let anyone learn too much about him, and now she was beginning to understand why.
He had parents who didn't possess his abilities, who were as vulnerable as any other human being. He had friends that he cared about. If Superman was to be effective in what he did, the only safety for his friends and family was for no one to know who Superman really was. Which meant that Superman was actually Clark Kent, not the other way around. Superman was really the farmboy from Smallville, who somehow also possessed fantastic, super human abilities, who also had feelings, strengths and weaknesses like any other man. Superman wasn't perfect by any standards. He was simply a good man who was trying to do the best he could. And for someone with Clark's abilities, that best was very good indeed.
Well, now that she had a pretty good idea of what he was really looking for, maybe she could make a few changes, she thought, a little drowsily. She couldn't change who she was, but she could certainly drop the starry-eyed cheerleader role. Now that the Nightfall crisis was past, once Clark regained his memory, maybe she could treat Superman differently, and maybe, once she got to know Clark better, something more than friendship could begin to grow. That was the last thought she had before dropping into sleep, and the sense of something settled carried through into her dreams.
**********
Of course, Lois overslept. She awoke with the sun high in the sky. It was a ray of light through a chink in the blinds that woke her.
A glance at her bedside alarm clock told the story. She must have shut it off without consciously hearing it. The hour was so far advanced that she might as well take her time. Perry was going to be mad no matter what she did.
Clark was sound asleep on the floor. Well, *on* the floor wasn't exactly the right descriptor. He was hovering several inches above the carpet, and the sight was startling enough that she stared, riveted, for several seconds.
Quietly, she turned and retraced her steps into the bedroom. "Clark!" she called. "Are you awake?"
There was a soft thump in the living room and a moment later Clark's voice answered her, sounding a little ruffled. "Yeah."
"What was that crash? Are you okay?"
"Uh -- yeah. I guess I must have knocked something over, but I don't see anything."
"Maybe you bumped against the coffee table." She stepped out into the living room to see Clark standing in the middle of the room in his sweats, his dark hair tousled.
"Maybe," Clark said doubtfully. "Did you feel an earthquake?"
"I don't think so," Lois said. "I just got out of bed. We overslept. Perry's going to kill us."
"We'd better hurry," Clark said.
Lois shook her head. "Get dressed," she told him. "It's not going to make any difference if we rush. I'm going to make a call and see if I can get an appointment for you with somebody. She's a psychotherapist that my sister saw a couple of years ago. Lucy said that she really helped her sort through a lot of issues. While you're talking to her, maybe I can do a few interviews with people about their reactions to the Nightfall situation. It'll make a good excuse for being late."
Clark eyed her thoughtfully but went past her toward the bathroom, carrying his clothing. Lois reached for the phone.
But the lines were still jammed. That seemed a little odd, but Lois put down the phone with a sense of resolution. If she couldn't get through any other way, she and Clark would just go over to Dr. Friskin's office and walk in. At the very least, maybe she could get an appointment for Clark later in the day. It was kind of an emergency, after all.
Breakfast was Pop Tarts and hard-boiled eggs, washed down with more hot chocolate. Clark didn't comment on the cuisine, either because he was too polite to do so or because he didn't know any better. Lois didn't ask. They left her apartment some time later, and rode the elevator to the ground floor. Jimmy's car was still parked across the street and she and Clark got into it.
"I'll have to fill Jimmy's tank for him before we go to the office," Lois remarked. "I should have taken it back last night, but it was past midnight when we got back here, so it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway."
"Who's Jimmy?" Clark asked.
"The office gofer and computer guy," Lois explained. "I borrowed his car last night. He's a good kid."
"Oh." Clark was looking around. "Look. There's some kind of demonstration." He pointed. Lois followed his pointing finger to where a number of persons with homemade signs were gathered at an intersection that they passed.
"The End is Near," one of the signs read. Another announced: "Judgement Day -- Is Your Conscience Clear?"
"Huh," Lois said. "I saw a bunch like that yesterday evening, but it was because of Nightfall."
They passed the demonstrators and turned off of Carter Avenue onto Allegheny Boulevard. The traffic was oddly light, but another crowd of people was grouped on the next corner, sporting similar signs. A bearded man, wearing some kind of robes out of a Dungeons and Dragons game, as far as Lois could tell, had lit a brazier, and purple colored smoke was rising from it as he waved his hands over it. From the way his mouth moved, she guessed that he was chanting some sort of spell, or something.
"That's strange," Clark said.
"You see all kinds in Metropolis," Lois said.
However, as they traveled, they saw more and more of the strange little gatherings. Lois glanced at Clark, unwilling to voice her uneasiness for her companion's sake. Clark didn't comment, either, but he was obviously paying attention to the unusual sight.
The building where Dr. Friskin had her office had a large parking lot in the rear, but there were only a few cars present. Lois found a spot close to the building and she and Clark got out. As they approached the entrance, a tall woman, bearing a sign that advised them to repent approached. Lois shoved Clark hastily through the revolving door. "Dr. Friskin's office is on the second floor. Let's take the stairs. It's faster."
"Sure." Clark glanced back over his shoulder at the woman, frowning slightly, but he followed her up the stairs.
Considering the small number of cars in the lot, Lois half-expected the office to be closed, but it wasn't. A receptionist looked up from the task of filing her nails when they approached.
"We'd like to make an appointment," Lois said.
The woman laid down her nail file. "When would you like the appointment?" she inquired.
"As soon as possible," Lois said firmly. "It's an emergency."
The receptionist cocked her head, appearing to look Clark over, and then smiled. "Just a moment," she said. "We have an opening immediately, so if now is a good time --"
"Now is fine," Lois said quickly.
The woman thrust a clipboard with a sheet of paper and a pen dangling from it at Lois. "Fill this out," she said.
"Something's wrong," Clark said, as they moved to the sofa.
"You don't worry about it," Lois said. "I'll do some checking while you're talking to the doctor. Let's fill this thing out. Do you remember your Social Security number? No, what am I saying? Just fill out as much as you know. I'll help, but you can't expect to know a lot, since you have amnesia."
They finished within a few minutes, and as they did so, a blond woman stepped into the room. She looked questioningly at Lois and Clark.
"I'm Dr. Friskin. Which of you is the patient?"
"He is," Lois said. "He's lost his memory."
Dr. Friskin's eyebrows went up. "Why don't you come back to my office, Mr. --?"
"Kent," Lois said. She gave Clark a light push and a reassuring smile. "I'll be right here, waiting for you."
**********
tbc
