from Part Four:

“Don’t,” he growled harshly, interrupting my pointless babble. “Lois, please don’t. I don’t want to talk. We have nothing to say to each other.”

I nodded, bit my lip and looked down at my feet. I felt his warm touch on my chin as he lifted up my head until I was gazing into his eyes. I was lost from the second we made eye contact.

His head bent down to give me a brief kiss on the lips. I opened my mouth to his and raised my hands to the back of his head, pressing my tongue deeper into the sweet depths of his mouth. His hands went to my waist and he lifted me up so that he didn’t have to bend down to kiss me, but we never broke apart as he walked us into the bedroom.

*.*.*.

Part Five

*.*.*.

I was annoyed with myself by how much I wanted him. I spent the whole of the next day wondering when he’d next come to my apartment and partially wondering whether I’d dreamt our encounters.

As far as I could see, he was still very much Superman and very possibly in a relationship with another woman. I couldn’t quite believe that the beacon of virtue would come to my apartment purely for illicit sex; yet the man I had slept with had been nothing like Superman for all that he was the same person. He was dark, brooding and angry, not the sort of figure you’d expect to find plastered all over children’s lunchboxes. But then, I reasoned, no-one could be that good and kind all the time. Maybe when he was with me he could release not only his sexual frustrations, but also his inability to be anything but Superman.

Still, whatever his reasons for his behaviour towards me, he returned the next night. This time I didn’t jump when I heard him enter; truth be told I’d been listening out for him for hours. I was busy working on my computer and I didn’t look away from my work.

“I’ll be finished in a moment,” I told him, amazed that I had managed to keep my voice neutral, “you can wait for me in the bedroom if you like.”

He didn’t answer me but I heard him walk across the floor and then pause. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him reading my article with a wistful look in his eyes and I wondered how much he missed his chosen vocation. I knew that I would hate it if something forced me to give up journalism, but that wasn’t a question I could easily ask him for all my curiosity. There were lots of things I wanted to know about him that fell under the ‘it’s my fault’ category and I could never bring myself to ask him for fear of the repercussions of bringing it up. The moment passed swiftly, however, and he had soon vanished into the dark depths of my bedroom.

*.*.*.

We lay together in the darkness, panting. This time it felt as if it had been more for pleasure than to work out our frustrations, although, as Clark had warned me on our first time, it had still fallen short of making love.

I felt my body tense as it prepared itself for Clark’s patented quick, farewell-less exit. He let out a sigh and rolled slightly onto his side so that he could see me. I fought the temptation to copy him so that we were facing and kept my sight trained on my dark ceiling.

“Lois,” he began hesitantly, as if unsure of the response he was about to get from me. It was the most Clark-like voice I had heard him use since my article was published. “Can I stay the night?”

His question did surprise me and at that I had to roll over to see him. His eyes were pleading with me to acquiesce.

“Sure,” I replied, not quite able to keep the surprise from my tone.

He closed his eyes, then snuggled down into a more comfortable position. I followed suit, moving so that my back was to him. I closed my eyes to go to sleep and was rewarded by the light weight of one of his arms coming to rest possessively across my waist as I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck.

*.*.*.

I had made a breakthrough.

Somehow, after getting used to sleeping with Clark in the following few days, I managed to start concentrating on my work again instead of daydreaming about the superhero and what we did together. I contacted Henderson, although a little voice did remind me that I’d most likely see Clark that night and I could tell him instead, but I reminded that little voice that no-one knew about our rendezvous and that was the way Clark wanted it to stay. I wasn’t sure that I wanted everyone to know about it, either.

The next day I went to the police station where I was met by Henderson. He led me into a side room, where Clark and Drake were already sat.

Jealousy coursed through me as I watched my secret lover laughing with another woman, one who was busy flirting with him and touching him with such an obvious familiarity that it made me wonder if he was sleeping with her as well. I quickly realised that if he was, I didn’t want to know.

“Lane, are you going to sit, or are you just going to stand in the doorway?” Henderson asked me from within the room as he pulled out a chair for himself.

I apologised and quickly seated myself beside him, opposite Drake. They had gone to great lengths to keep me and Clark as far away from each other as possible. I could sense the animosity in Clark from the moment Henderson had made him aware of my presence, and the happy man who had been talking with his girlfriend had been replaced by my own lover. His change in persona hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other two. It had led to an obvious tension in the room, but no-one mentioned it.

“You said you had an idea about Intergang,” Drake opened the conversation, her tone as cold as her manner.

“Yes,” I said animatedly, pulling out my file of work. “Look at this.” I pulled out some maps and graphs. “Everywhere that Intergang has a foothold, there’s a Costmart.”

“Also a McDonalds and a Starbucks,” Henderson pointed out. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not hard proof,” I agreed, my optimism falling in the face of his negativity and their dubious looks. “But if I had hard proof this wouldn’t be a meeting. This would be me telling you to arrest Bill Church.”

“Bill Church?” Drake spluttered in disbelief. “How can you think that? I used to work for him; he’s like a father to me. There’s no way he’d be the head of Intergang.”

I watched her reaction with interest. “I never said he was. I said I thought Costmart might have something to do with Intergang, then mentioned his name as he’s the head of Costmart, you were the one who made the leap.” Her expression reminded me of our previous encounter, when I had accused her of not liking her boyfriend. “But it was a leap I also made.”

Henderson sighed in something almost reminiscent of irritation. “We need proof, Lane. We can’t work from instinct.”

“Sorry, Perry,” I complained, and was rewarded with an extremely small and brief smile from Clark. “I don’t have any proof, yet. But I do have this.” I placed a photograph on the table for them to look at.

Drake was the first to snatch it up and she promptly threw it back down onto the table in disgust. “That means nothing.”

“Nothing? Are you so bad at reading people?” I exclaimed and was surprised to see Clark flinch beside her. Did he think I was hinting about our relationship? Just how stupid did he think I was? “Look at the way they’re looking at each other. They are not two business men working together for the good of the community; they are enemies.”

Clark reached out and picked up the photograph, which captured a meeting between Church and Luthor. “She’s right,” he said after a moment of contemplation. “They certainly don’t look like the best of friends. If nothing else, it’s a link between Luthor and Church.”

He passed the photograph to Henderson, who immediately placed it on top of a large pile of paper that I assumed was their leads on Intergang.

“Am I the only sane one here?” Drake exclaimed, probably more annoyed that Clark had agreed with me than anything else. “We have nothing linking Church with Intergang, or Luthor with our current gangs for that matter. Nothing here will stand up in court.”

“Which is why we’re still working on it,” Henderson told her patiently. “And let’s not forget that Luthor has practically admitted to Clark that he’s the one behind crime in Metropolis.”

That was news to me but I decided not to say so. I was still reeling from Clark backing me instead of Drake. Despite trying to get an interview with him for years, I had learnt next to nothing about Luthor and had still considered him to be the generous philanthropist he appeared to be until Clark’s explanation of our captivity. OK, so we had gone on two dates, but he had lost interest in me pretty quickly. I think it was my spark that had drawn him to me when I forced my way into his acquaintance at his ball, and that had vanished before our second date took place as the fallout from my Superman article had settled by that point. In fact, now I thought about it, he had spent a lot of that date complementing the article. I had spent a lot of the date drinking in silence, wishing I hadn’t written the article.

“What about my uncle?” I asked Henderson. “Have you heard anything more about his case?”

He nodded. “That’s interesting. The arsonist, Baby Rage, is being represented by Martin Snell, who works for Church. He’s also had words with Clark about his involvement in the Southside.”

I risked looking at Clark, who nodded. “If I appear in the Southside, a bullet will implant itself in either Mayson or Henderson. There’s no guarantee that I’d be fast enough to stop it.”

My first thought was to ask him if he’d considered a disguise but as I opened my mouth to suggest it, I realised that was a fast track way to getting a bullet implanted in myself. Or steel hands wrapped around my throat. One or the other. “So Intergang are funding the Skins as well?”

For a moment Henderson almost looked tired. “Intergang are everywhere, in the gangs, in the police force...”

“How do we know that Lane isn’t part of Intergang?” For some reason, Mayson Drake really seemed to have it in for me. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but it was as annoying as a persistently itchy mosquito bite and I was getting fed up with it.

“How do we know you aren’t?” I bit back. “After all, you’re the one with a connection to Church. If anyone’s a mole in here, it’s you.”

Drake looked like she was about to get up and slap me, until Clark’s hand came to rest soothingly on her shoulder. I tensed as I watched his fingers lightly massage her, calming her. I couldn’t believe that I felt like crying as I witnessed his tenderness towards Drake and I found it hard to not yell at him for touching her like that, to lay claim to his touch as mine. I could only imagine what sort of reaction that would get. Drake probably would kill me and Clark would most likely help her. At least I seemed to be learning which of my impulses were likely to get me killed, and not following through with them as a consequence. I needed to get a grip. My nightly interactions with Clark meant nothing, to either of us, and he had certainly never showed me any of the affection he was currently giving Drake.

Drake settled back down and shot Clark a grateful and admiring look. That was my undoing. I could cope with knowing that Clark only wanted me for sex, but I wasn’t about to have his loving relationship rubbed in my face while I fought to pretend that nothing was going on between us.

I stood up abruptly and strode to the door. “That’s what I think anyway. About Church,” I amended, seeing the heated look reappear in Drake’s face, although I still wasn’t convinced the woman was on the level. “Take it or leave it. If I discover anything else, I’ll let you guys know,” I said, including all of them in my words although I was looking at Henderson.

“Likewise,” he agreed and I could hear a slight amusement in his voice and a questioning glance at my quick exit. I didn’t bother looking at Clark. I was so annoyed with him, with myself, that I firmly closed my window as soon as I got home, with such force that I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that the three of them had heard the resulting bang from the police station.

*.*.*.

Two days later Perry sent me to investigate a hotel fire. It had burned out during the night.

OK, so truth be told, Clark had put it out during the night. It was hard to work as a journalist in Metropolis and *never* cover a story involving Superman but so long as he’d done his bit and left the case it was safe for me to cover.

I was sifting through the rubble, watching Jimmy taking some aftermath photos. As I followed his movements I realised that I hadn’t really had much to do with the youngster since I wrote that article on Clark. I remembered that Jimmy had tried to speak to me the next day, only I hadn’t wanted to listen to him, so I pushed him away instead. Since then, our friendship had faded to the point where I only spoke to him to ask for research, and he only spoke to tell me what he had found. I didn’t even know what he had wanted to say to me that day.

I was contemplating possibly broaching the subject with him, and possibly getting one of my old friends back in the process, when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I turned to see Henderson watching me.

“I thought this was an accident,” I said defensively, although I had no idea why I felt I had to be on my guard.

He glanced down at the rubble. “I believe it was,” he returned, “although it has nothing to do with me. I was just speaking to a subject down the road when I saw you.”

“Oh, well, can I help you with something? Has there been a breakthrough? Is there a problem with my uncle’s case?”

“No.” He looked a little uncomfortable as he took a breath before asking me, “do I want to know why I was asked to check that you were all right?”

My eyes widened in surprise, then I quickly looked away to hide whatever my face might betray. So Clark had been past my shut window then. “Probably not.”

“Didn’t think so. Are you?”

I snapped my head up. “What do you think?”

“*You* seem fine.”

Interesting emphasis. “Who doesn’t?”

“He’s just been different recently, especially since our meeting. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Clark. There was no-one around but it still wasn’t safe to say his name out loud. The fact that we knew him would draw the press around us, hoping for some inside information. “Why would I know anything about it? It’s not like I’m on the top of his Christmas card list.”

“No,” Henderson mused. “No, it’s not.” He gave me one last curious look, then he turned away and disappeared around a corner. I tried to breathe a sigh of relief but I couldn’t. Did Henderson know?

*.*.*.

After work I opened the window for Clark again. A part of me didn’t want to, it was worried about the affect this affair was having on us but I couldn’t have him worrying over me just because I didn’t like the idea of him being with another woman. I wasn’t convinced I’d sleep with him when he arrived but I’d put his mind to rest at least. Assuming Henderson hadn’t already.

He came in, as expected, a little later.

“I don’t appreciate you sending the cops out looking for me just because I wanted to take a break from our arrangement.”

“Sorry. I only asked Henderson if you were OK because you left the meeting quickly.”

“Did you ask before or after you found the window closed?”

I was sitting on the couch, watching the TV and I hadn’t looked at him once since he had arrived. I sensed him draw nearer to me. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He took in a deep breath. “After.”

I turned to look at him. “I didn’t realise I had to keep it open indefinitely.”

“You don’t,” he quickly corrected me. “Really, I just wanted to make sure that it wasn’t closed because you were ill or being held captive by a madman or something.” He paused, then asked in a softer voice, “Was it me?”

“It’s just,” I paused, not wanting him to realise how much it had bothered me, not quite realising until that moment how much it bothered me myself. “I don’t want to be the other woman, Clark. My father used to cheat on my mom and I always swore that I’d never--”

“You’re not, Lois. I’m not with Mayson.”

“Sure looked like you were from where I was sat.”

He sat down beside me, careful not to touch me. He gazed at his clasped hands that he had placed in his lap. “I like her a lot. I mean, I do care for her, but not like that. I didn’t mean to make you feel like the ‘other woman’.”

“What else am I supposed to feel like, Clark?”

“For you to be the other woman there has to be a first woman, which there isn’t.”

Exactly, I thought, not sure I was making sense to anyone but myself and quickly deciding that was a train of thought I didn’t want to follow.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked after a while. “I take it you only opened the window to assure me that you were fine, so I’m not expecting... anything.”

“Do you want anything?”

He snorted. “Constantly.”

I allowed myself a small smirk. “So are you staying?”

“Unless you want me to go. I won’t force myself on you.”

I reached out and touched his cheek, before leaning in and kissing him, gently at first. He pushed me down into the couch as the kiss grew in passion, and then I heard something on the TV.

“A volcano has erupted in the Pacific, threatening the lives of hundreds of islanders whose homes are at risk from the lava flow...”

I didn’t need to hear anymore and tried to ignore the blissful sensation of Clark’s kiss. Obviously he was too preoccupied to pay any attention to the disaster but I was not about to allow *me* to be the reason Superman was too busy to rescue people. Neither of us could live with that guilt.

“Clark.” Unfortunately my voice was too husky and he misinterpreted my cry as he whispered my name in response. I tried again. “Stop. TV.”

“Huh?” He pulled away and sat upright, looking at the news report. Then he gave me a brief longing look, before he flew away.

Seconds later he was gone, halfway across the world. I leant back onto the couch, wishing it was actually comfortable. It was a peculiar experience, to watch Superman saving lives and being hailed as a hero when only moments earlier he had been here, kissing me senseless. I could only hope that when the danger was over, he would return and we could carry on from where we had been interrupted.

To Be Continued...