From Part 5 ...
“If I’d printed those photos from Smallville,” Lois said thoughtfully, “This would be my fault.”
“If you’d printed those photos,” he said darkly, “I wouldn’t be here.”
She looked at him, aware of a disconcerting need to apologise, although she couldn’t have said exactly what she needed to apologise for.
Except being indifferent to how doing her job might affect other people.
But that was what made her such a good reporter – her fearlessness, her determination, her dedication to get the story and print it, no matter what.
But it was a fair bet Clark Kent thought about the implications of what he wrote.
Had thought, she corrected herself. Had thought.
PART 6
Clark flew to Lois’s street, found a deserted spot and put on his regular clothes. He called her from the pay phone.
His anxiety escalated each moment she didn’t answer. He replaced the phone and x-rayed into her apartment. It was empty.
Lois! Where was she?
Sharp anxiety plummeted into the pit of his stomach. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep her out of this. She was Lois Lane. She hadn’t become the city’s top reporter without some highly developed instincts for a story. And some less-developed instincts for danger.
Clark stepped back into the darkness and spun into the suit. He flew to the LexCorp building and x-rayed through the ground. He traced the tunnel through a couple of levels. He noticed an underground room to the side of the shelter.
Then he saw her.
Handcuffed to the wall!
A flood of pure rage surged through him and simultaneously, a corresponding appreciation for the outfit which gave him the freedom to openly use his powers.
Without it, he couldn’t rescue Lois quickly - not without subjecting Clark to a storm of questions.
With it, he could do the only thing that mattered.
“Thanks, Mom,” he mumbled as he torpedoed through the pavement.
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Hodge closed his less-swollen eye and Lois turned away, acidic comprehension blistering her insides. There would be no mercy from her captors.
Her tears welled like a tsunami and cascaded down her cheeks like drenching rain.
Then, with a thunderous boom, huge chunks of concrete crashed to the floor, leaving a jagged hole in the ceiling. Lois backed away. Through the hole came ... something. He landed as grey dust rose from the debris. His attention immediately focused on her.
He had dark hair.
And a blue chest.
Red ‘S’.
On a yellow background.
Blue sleeves.
Red briefs.
Blue tights.
Red boots.
Red briefs with a yellow belt.
On the *outside*.
What *was* this?’
He was beside her in two blurred steps and she backed further into the cold wall. She gaped up at him as he towered above her.
He crouched beside her. “Lean forward,” he said in a deep, authoritative voice.
She didn’t move.
“Lean forward so I can release your hands,” he said.
Lois leant forward because to obey required less effort than to coerce her addled brain to rational thought. She heard a metallic sound and felt the cuffs falling away.
He gently helped her to her feet. She stood unsteadily, rubbing her bruised wrists. He leant her against the wall, his hands hovering until he was sure she wouldn’t fall. Then he moved to Hodge.
The ... whatever ... whoever ... saw Hodge’s arm and looked around the cell. Seeing it bare, he reached for his cape and ripped a rough triangle from the bottom of it. Quickly - but given Hodge didn’t scream in pain, he must have both been skilled and gentle - he eased the broken arm into the makeshift sling. He then released Hodge’s other arm and helped him stand.
He glanced at Lois. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “The police have Luthor. You’re safe now.”
“Wh..what a.a.bout S.s.s.st John?” she asked, shaking uncontrollably.
“They have him too,” he assured her. “No one else will hurt you.”
He picked up Hodge and simply elevated off the ground and floated through the hole in the ceiling.
Lois slumped against the wall and tried to steady her still-quivering body. Could this possibly be the Sewells’ alien?
He broke through concrete.
He shattered steel.
He flew.
But ... he was someone else’s headline. She had no desire to ever write another story.
A minute later the ... him ... in the cape ... ripped cape ... was back. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she lied.
He stepped closer. “Did he hurt you?”
She refused to give in to the desire to shrink into the wall. “Do you know Clark K...?” Just saying his name brought burning renewal to her torment.
“He’ll be up there,” he said, indicating through the hole.
Visions of Clark's dead body blitzed her again. “They sh..sh ... shot ...” She couldn’t say it.
The stranger’s hand rested gently on her convulsing shoulder. “Clark’s fine,” he said quietly. “They didn’t shoot him.”
Her eyes rocketed to his face. “F..f...fine?”
He nodded. “Let me get you out of here and you can see for yourself.” Effortlessly, he lifted her into his arms. She stiffened as her body came into contact with his broad chest. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice low and deep. “You’re safe now.”
They floated up, through the hole in the ceiling and beyond, until they reached ground level. Then he placed her down as if she was exceptionally fragile. She looked around expectantly. She saw a few groups of police, but skimmed over them as soon as she realised Clark was not with them. “Where is he?” she whimpered.
“He’ll be here soon.”
She folded her arms tight against her chest, trying to suppress the whole-body tremor threatening to overpower her.
Suddenly she felt a wandering warmth slide from her shoulders to her feet. It seemed to be coming from *him*.
“Is that you?” she said with frosty suspicion.
“You looked cold,” he stated steadily.
“So you ... just ... emit heat? Like some flying nuclear reactor?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I turn it on and off,” he explained easily, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “It comes from my eyes.”
Now Lois was sure he wasn’t human. “Are you an alien?” she asked.
“I’m ... someone who has come to help.”
Her questions fell into line like well-drilled soldiers. “You’re staying?”
“I’ll be around.”
“Where did you come from?”
“Honestly?” he said. “I don’t know for sure.”
“Two scientists recently claimed they had found a spaceship and they had evidence there was a baby in it. Was that you?”
“I haven’t seen the spaceship they claimed to have. I do know they tried to use their claims to stir up fear in people and blackmail the government.”
“*Do* we have anything to fear from you?”
“Not unless you’re Luthor or someone else wanting to hurt others.”
“What else can you do?”
“I’m strong and fast and invulnerable.”
“Invulnerable to what?” she fired at him.
“Everything.”
“How long have you been here?”
“A while.”
“Have you helped before?”
“In other places. Where a stranger turned up and used his powers to help.”
“That was you?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes dropped the length of him. “I’d remember that outfit.”
“It’s new. I don’t want to be a stranger any longer.”
“What’s your name?”
Until now, he had answered impassively, but this question seemed to strike deeper. “Whatever you want to call me,” he said after a slight hesitation.
“You don’t have a name?”
“I don’t know what it is.”
She felt a hint of empathy, but pushed it away. “I’m a reporter,” she informed him, expecting immediate retreat.
He looked around. “Looks like you got yourself an exclusive.”
None of his answers had been less than mind-blowing, but this one stopped her cold. “So it’s OK if I run the story?” she asked, faltering. “I mean ... you’re not a secret or anything?”
He glanced down. “Do I look like I’m trying to stay inconspicuous?”
She stared at him blankly, her momentum exhausted. Insistent, brook-no-argument need consumed her. She needed Clark. And she needed him now. “Take me to Clark,” she begged.
He nodded behind her. “He’s just around that corner.”
She turned away from her rescuer, expecting to see Clark. When he wasn’t there, she paused, grimly fighting the shattering prospect that the alien had lied.
Then Clark rounded the corner and ran towards her.
Clark!
She cried out his name and used the final reserves of her energy to propel herself into his arms. He pinned her against the haven of his strong, warm body.
“Lois,” he breathed. “Lois.”
She clung to him for a long time – long enough for the cool night air to penetrate her light clothing. She unfolded her arms from his neck and slipped them around his waist, under his jacket. His warmth, so gloriously alive, permeated her body. She laid her head against his chest and listened to his heart beating strongly. Just because she could.
Fifteen minutes ago, she had thought she would never see him again. Never hold him again. A tear squeezed from her eye and ran down her cheek. His thumb brushed it away with such tenderness, her tears threatened again. “He warmed me too,” she said into his chest. “But this is so much better.”
Countless heartbeats later, he put his hands on her shoulders and eased her back so he could examine her. “Did they hurt you?” he asked. His tone was gentle, but she sensed a restrained river of rage.
“Not much.”
Clark took her arms from behind his back and examined her wrists. He frowned when he saw the bracelets of bruising left by the cuffs. He lifted her wrists to his lips and kissed them individually. He replaced her hands under his jacket and brushed aside her hair. He stared at her bump, then leant forward and caressed it with the lightest of lingering kisses. “Anywhere else?” he asked softly.
“Is there anywhere else I would like you to kiss me?”
He swallowed. “I meant, ‘Is there anywhere else you’re hurt?’” A little smile flirted around his mouth. “But I’m happy to go with ‘Is there anywhere else you would like me to kiss you?’”
She lifted her fingertip to her mouth. “Here?”
She heard his quick intake of breath. She saw his eyes converge on her lips and his tongue glide across his top lip. Slowly he leant forward and captured her mouth with his.
Clark moved back the tiniest fraction and then sought her again, more definite this time. One arm cradled her against his body, while the other hand massaged her neck, working in tandem with his mouth.
Lois’s world melted away. There was nothing but Clark. His broad body, his warmth, his gentle hands and his skilful mouth, invigorating her with delicious fire deep inside.
When he drew away, she collapsed forward onto his chest and his arms cocooned her again.
His heart was thundering, loud and fast.
Lois’s thoughts returned to the stranger in tights and relief washed over her. Now he was here, no one could suspect Clark. Lois tightened her arms around his waist. “Did you see the alien?” she asked.
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Clark Kent had kissed Lois Lane.
That, in itself, was amazing.
But the fact she had kissed him back, had encouraged him to go deeper into the sweet softness of her mouth, had even feathered the tip of her tongue along his top lip – that was what had blasted every rational thought from Clark’s mind.
After the timelessness of their kiss, she’d nestled into his chest. He knew his heart was thumping, knew she would know how cosmically this had affected him, but he had no interest in concealing it.
“Did you see the alien?” she asked.
His heart accelerated, but this time he did control it. He had seen no recognition in her face when he’d been dressed in the outfit. “Yes,” he said, carefully keeping his tone steady.
“He got me out of there. And Franklin Hodge, too.”
*He* not *you*. Clark didn’t know whether he felt relief or regret.
His hand rested on the side of her head, wanting nothing more than to keep her there forever. The thought of Luthor, or anyone, hurting her had caused a volcano of protectiveness to erupt inside him.
Reluctantly he distanced them slightly, loving how her hands remained on his chest. “I’m taking you home,” he said, looking for a cab.
“No, we should get the story.” She shivered.
Clark took off his jacket and put it around her. “I already have most of the story. You have some, too. The rest I’ll get from Henderson after I know you’re all right.”
“We need to get this in the morning edition.”
“We will,” he promised. “But right now, it’s either your apartment or the hospital.” He gently grasped her chin and raised it slightly, so he could look directly into her beautiful, tear-doused eyes. “Please, Lois,” he pleaded.
“My apartment,” she said with a meekness that sent a chill through his heart. What else had Luthor done to her?
He looked anxiously for a cab.
A police officer approached them. “Henderson says to offer you a ride.”
“Thanks,” Clark said before Lois could respond. He put his arm across her shoulders and shepherded her towards the police car.
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In Lois’s apartment, Clark insisted she sit on her sofa while he called Perry. After he’d hung up, he came over, his concern for her palpable.
“Clark, I’m fine,” she assured him, before he could ask any one of his barrage of questions.
He crouched beside her. “You were captured, hit, tied up, pushed around and that’s just the physical stuff. *Please* Lois ...” His voice quivered a little and his eyes behind his glasses were as troubled as she’d ever seen them. “Please Lois, I need to know for sure that you’re OK.”
A sudden awareness torched her consciousness. This had wounded *him* – and in no small measure. Right now, he needed her as much as she needed him. She groaned at her own lack of insight.
“Lois, what’s wrong?” he said quickly.
She shaped her hand along the contour of his cheek. He had the very beginnings of stubble, dark and thick. She’d never seen him other than completely clean shaven. She flexed her fingers so their tips could slide over his texture.
“Sorry,” he said. “Did I scratch you when I kissed you?”
“I didn’t notice,” she said truthfully.
“I’ll shave as soon as I can.”
“I like it,” she declared.
“You do?”
“I like your clean-shaven look, but this ...” Her fingers explored under his chin and along the ridges of his throat. “... this is kinda ruggedly cute.”
His eyebrows lifted and a questioning grin smoothed some of the anxiety from his face. “Ruggedly cute?”
She laughed and pulled her hand away. “Come on, Kent, we have a story to write.” She stood up and turned on her computer.
He was still regarding her with concern.
“When the story’s done, you can *look after* me,” she promised. “Deal?”
Reluctantly, he nodded. “My notes are in my jacket,” he said.
She slipped his jacket from her shoulders and handed it to him. He took two sheets of paper from its internal pocket and offered them to her. “How about you write the story and I’ll go to Henderson and find out the latest with Luthor?”
She looked at him in surprise. “You’re giving me your notes?”
“Lois, keeping you out of this was never about protecting *my* story. It was always about protecting you.” He looked away, his expression full of disgust. “Not that I succeeded in any way.”
“Clark, what happened to me was *not* your fault.”
“I should have realised I couldn’t keep you out of it.”
“Just know next time,” she said with a little smile. She took his notes. “Thanks.”
Clark put on his jacket. “Be back soon,” he said, with forced buoyancy.
She understood his dilemma – to part with a kiss or not? “Clark?” she said.
He turned too abruptly. “Yes?”
Whatever else, they had to work together. They had to find some normality in a situation overburdened with suspended questions and jangled emotions. “I don’t suppose you could bring back coffee?” She grinned. “And a *chocolate croissant*?”
He caught her loaded emphasis and stared at her, eyebrows lifted speculatively.
“My computer doesn’t work without a *chocolate croissant* either,” she quipped.
A look of sheer incredulity spread slowly across his face. “Did you ...?”
She giggled. “Just bring back the chocolate, Kent, and no one will get hurt.”
He pointed a long finger at her, aimed directly between her eyes, his expression stern, his eyes dancing. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Lane.”
She was still smiling long after he’d closed her door. She began reading his notes, wondering how it was going to be possible to work, when all she wanted to do was count the minutes until he’d be back.
Clark was alive!
And she loved him.
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Clark waited in the now-familiar interview room at the police station. A few minutes later, Henderson walked in. He looked ten years younger.
“Kent,” he greeted warmly, hand outstretched.
Clark shook his hand. “How’s it going?”
“Much of what we suspected has been confirmed. How’s Lois?”
“She’ll be all right, I think.”
“Tell her to come in and make a statement.”
Clark nodded. “Is there anything I can’t print?”
“Not about Luthor,” Henderson said with evident satisfaction. “The sooner his true character becomes public, the better I’m going to like it.”
“But?”
“I’m nothing more than the Metropolis Inspector who arrested Luthor, OK?”
Clark grinned. “You work undercover as a cop?”
Henderson contemplated Clark with an unfathomable look. “I just do what I do. Definitions can be dangerous.”
“Will Hodge be all right?”
“His wrist is busted pretty badly, but he’ll be fine.”
“He’s the man you sent in, right?”
Henderson nodded.
“So Luthor knew who Hodge was?”
Henderson sighed. “Luthor knew just about everything ... including things that never should have left this station.”
“I didn’t –“
“He knew way before I told you anything.” Henderson chuckled, his face clearing. “Luthor’s convinced you’re a spy working for an international agency. He thinks you’re in Metropolis tracking St John.”
Clark laughed. “I’m just a country reporter trying to make it in the big city.”
“Really?” Henderson said, in a tone that hovered just short of disbelief.
“Can you prove Luthor wanted VX?”
“No. But we can prove he’s done business with that particular terrorist group in the past. We found the munitions he smuggled in.”
“Can you prove he killed Janet Thorp?”
“We know her signature on the sale contract was forged. It’s going to take a long time to put together all the evidence.”
“And David Crawford?”
“We have iron-clad evidence that Luthor organised and paid for Crawford’s death.” Henderson stood. “I have a thousand things to do. There’ll be follow-up details coming out for days.”
“Thanks for your time,” Clark said.
“Thank you,” Henderson said. “And thank the ‘S’ man as well.” They shook hands again. “Will you be staying in Metropolis?”
“Absolutely,” Clark said.
Henderson seemed mildly surprised. “If a hick from Kansas ever needs the help of a Metropolis Inspector, you know where to come,” he said.
“Thanks,” Clark said, grinning.
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Clark couldn’t contain his smile as he neared Lois’s apartment, juggling coffees and two hearty hamburgers.
Lois opened the door with a welcoming smile and his heart did a perfectly-executed forward flip.
She eyed his plunder. “Where’s the chocolate?” she demanded, her shining eyes belying the seriousness of her tone.
“Hackers don’t get chocolate,” he said firmly. He handed her coffee and a hamburger. “But I thought you’d probably be hungry.”
“I’m starved. Thanks.”
“I would have brought you a croissant,” he admitted, half-apologetically. “Except there are no bakeries open at this time of night.”
She smiled around her first mouthful of hamburger.
Clark reached into his jacket pocket and offered her a Hershey’s Cookies and Crème candy bar.
She smiled again as she took the bar. “*You*... are something else,” she said.
It was vague and cryptic, but her words, combined with her smile, filled him with overwhelming joy and hope – better even than the moment he’d realised he could fly. “How’s our story?” he asked, knowing if he didn’t say something, he’d still be staring at her with a glazed look of rapture when the Daily Planet hit the newsstands in the morning.
Together they ate, read what she had written, discussed, disagreed, contended, reached consensus and crafted a story they both knew was outstanding.
“Lois?” he said, as she sent it to Perry. “I think you should also write a story about the ... one who rescued you. Sort of introduce him.”
“I don’t know that much about him.”
“You are currently the only reporter who has spoken with him. You should take advantage of that.”
Lois opened the candy bar. “How did he know where we were?”
“He was working with Henderson.”
“But how did he know precisely where we were underground? If he’d got it wrong, he could have killed us.”
“Apparently he looked through the ground and into the tunnels.”
“Through the ground? He can see through concrete?” She bit into the candy bar. “He didn’t tell me that. What else can he see through? Clothing?”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t take advantage of his ability,” Clark said quickly.
She smiled. “No Clark, *you* wouldn’t take advantage, but not everyone is like you.” She bit further into the candy bar. “He needs a name. We can’t keep calling him the alien.”
“Any ideas?” Clark asked.
“I wonder what the ‘S’ stands for,” she said.
“I don’t know.”
Lois offered him a bite of her bar. “Strong man?”
Clark hesitated, unsure if she really was OK with him biting from her bar. “Sounds all right.”
She lifted the bar is his direction, repeating her offer. “He did bore a hole through the earth and broke through a concrete ceiling. Super-strong man?”
He bit a piece from her bar. “Too long, maybe?”
Lois licked a stray chocolate sliver from her finger. “Superman?”
Clark cleared his throat. The sight of her tongue flitting along her finger had his thought processes in ruins. “OK.”
She smiled at him as she lifted the last piece of the candy bar towards his mouth. He opened obediently. As she popped it into his mouth, her fingers grazed against his lips. The candy was good, but her touch ... he was still recovering from that long after the chocolate had gone.
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Lois finished her story about Superman and asked Clark to read it, then sent it to Perry, shut down her computer, turned off the main light and turned on the lamp. She sank into her sofa and felt heavy fatigue infiltrate her body as the adrenalin seeped away.
Clark crouched beside her. “Show me your wrists. How’s your head? Do you need anything? A pillow?”
“A pillow would be nice.”
“From your bedroom?”
“No.”
He gave her a questioning look.
“You’d make a good pillow,” she noted conversationally.
Clark’s reaction was one she had begun to anticipate. It was part disbelief, part delight, part indecision – and she found it irresistible. Offering him her candy bar had got the same response. Twice.
She giggled with the joy of knowing she had time – so much time - to elicit exactly that look on his face – over and over again.
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Clark’s heart thumped at her unambiguous invitation. He sat next to her and she swivelled and leant back against him. Her head settled into the crook of his arm.
She took his hand in both of hers and looked directly at him. “Clark, I’m sorry I was so mean to you yesterday.”
“I’m sorry I tried to keep you out of the story.”
“Why were you so sure I’d get hurt?”
“I knew Luthor would be desperate. I believed he had killed before. I just couldn’t stomach the thought of you anywhere near him.”
Lois groaned.
“What?” he said, his anxiety surfacing again.
“My feature on Luthor. About how wonderful he is to fund the hospital. It’s in this morning’s edition.”
He relaxed. “It’s OK, Lois. Perry didn’t put it in.”
“Why not?”
“We both thought it would be wise, given what seemed possible with Luthor.”
She brought his hand to her mouth and dropped a soft kiss on the back of it. “Thanks.”
Clark dragged his mind back to their conversation. “Did Luthor threaten you?”
“St John told me they’d killed you,” she said flatly.
“Lois, I wasn’t the one in danger,” he rasped, again picturing her handcuffed.
She looked into his eyes. “I ...” Her chin quivered and tears sprung again. “I couldn’t ... “
Clark tightened his arms around her and held her very close. “You’re safe now,” he soothed.
After a long moment, she eased away from him. “It’s not *my* safety I’m crying about,” she said with a water-logged smile as she swiped at her runaway tears.
He grasped her implication – and her need to climb out of her emotional quagmire. He answered her smile. “You still haven’t told me exactly how you managed to *be* in Luthor’s tunnel.”
She squeezed his hand, wordlessly thanking him for understanding. “I investigated,” she said flippantly.
“You hacked into my computer,” he accused. “And found my map.”
“I didn’t *hack* in,” she defended with a giggle. “I deduced your password.”
“Is there a difference?”
“You bet there is.”
“How long did it take you?” he asked with an attempt at weary resignation. It was so unconvincing, the amusement glistening in her eyes intensified.
“Not long. Less than two minutes.”
He grinned, giving up on pretending he was anything other than captivated. “What else did you think of? And don’t even try to tell me you got it with your first guess.”
“Smallville.”
He snorted. “As if I’d choose that. It’s way too obvious.”
“Applepie, chocolate, threesugars.”
“*Lois!*”
“What?”
“Applepie was one of my passwords in Smallville.”
“Guess I just know you too well.”
“No fair,” he said, trying to sound offended. Except with that mischievous, gleeful look on her face, it was impossible not to grin back.
“I’ll make it fair,” she said. “I’ll give you three guesses at my password.”
“And if I get it, you’ll tell me?”
“Yep. But I’ll change it tomorrow.”
He thought for a moment. “Pulitzer,” he said.
“Nope.”
“Scoop.”
“Wrong track completely, Kent.”
“Give me a hint.”
“OK. I changed it three and a half weeks ago.”
“When you got back from Smallville?”
“Yep.”
“So it has something to do with the Sewells?” he said. “Or Hodge?”
“Nope.”
“It has something to do with me?” he said in disbelief.
Her expression confirmed that it did and Clark could do nothing but grin down at her and slowly shake his head, wondering how it was possible to be so enchanted by someone, so totally sure he wanted to be with her every moment for the rest of his life. “Hick,” he said. “Country bumpkin, yokel, backwater – “
“Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! You lose.”
“Farmboy.”
“No. And you’ve had your three guesses.”
“Tell me,” he demanded, knowing his expression diluted any possible seriousness from his words.
“A girl’s allowed secrets, Kent. You, on the other hand, are going to have to be a little less obvious. If you want any secrets from me, that is.”
He should tell her. She’d given him the perfect opening and he should just go in. He should say, ‘Lois, I do have a secret...’ But he couldn’t. Not when she was lying so snugly across his lap. Not when he felt closer to her than he ever had before. Not when he too well remembered the sting of her disapproval yesterday. Not when their banter was easing her mind away from the horrors she’d endured at Luthor’s hands.
Not when the woman he loved was so happy and relaxed.
