A/N:
Well, here it is, the final part. I just want to say one last thank you to Carol for betaing this, to alcyone for helping with the earlier parts, and to everyone who has left me feedback. You guys are great!
*.*.*.
from Part Ten
“I love you too. Now go,” I commanded and with that he was gone. I just stood there, staring at the patch of sky where I’d last seen him, dimly aware that I had a sappy grin on my face and finding it hard to care.
I heard movement beside me and turned my head to see Henderson walking towards me. I wasn’t even aware that he’d been at the opening and was finding it difficult to work out the rationale behind his presence, but it didn’t alter the fact that he was now stood in front of me.
The Inspector looked at me for a moment, his silence and blank expression giving me no clues as to what he thought about what had just transpired between me and Clark. Then he finally he spoke and there was something like approval in his voice. “You know something I’ve just found out about you, Lane? You’ve got a beautiful smile.”*.*.*.
Part Eleven*.*.*.
The elevator doors pinged open and I hobbled out into the newsroom of the Daily Planet. I heard some mumbled whispers from small huddles of reporters clustered around the room as I made my way to my desk but as usual I ignored them.
“LOIS!” Perry’s voice bellowed across the busy room, sending the huddles scattering in all directions in vain attempts to appear busy. “My office, now!”
I hissed out an angry breath as I was forced to change direction, not an easy thing to do with my injuries and yet I still managed to make my way through the open door in good time. As soon as I was safe within the walls of his office, Perry slammed the door shut behind me and marched round so that he was sat behind his desk.
“Sit,” he barked.
I lowered myself into the chair opposite him and began to speak in a hurried rush. “Look, I know I shouldn’t be here yet, and I can’t argue that I’m not exactly mobile, but there must be some boring, desk-bound work I can do--”
“We can sort that out later, Lois, that’s not why I called you in here.”
“Oh.”
He pushed a photograph across the desk towards me. I didn’t reach out to touch it, in fact I kept my hands by my side, hidden under his desk and just looked.
It was a photo of me.
And Clark.
As Superman.
Kissing.
“News travels fast,” I mumbled, not quite sure how to react to the proof that I had just irrevocably changed my life, and feeling completely in the dark as to what my editor-in-chief’s thoughts on the subject were.
“I don’t really know what to say about this, Lois.” He sounded, if anything, sad and disappointed.
I looked up at him in surprise. “You always know what to say,” I told him positively, “and if you didn’t know what to say, why did you call me in here?”
Perry stood up and started pacing around the room, never coming any further forward than his desk. “You’re more than just a reporter to me, Lois, you’re like the daughter I never had, you know that right?”
I think I knew it. It still seemed shocking to hear him say it but it was the way I had seen our relationship as well, in my heart at least. “I think so. I mean, you’re like the father I wish I’d had but--”
He sat down again as he interrupted me. “So I’m not speaking to you as an editor right now, understand?” I nodded mutely. “I have always wanted nothing more than for you to be happy. I’ll admit that when Kent started here I saw a spark between you and I had hoped that he would be good for you. Not necessarily as a romantic partner but possibly as a friend. However, instead you chose to shun him and expose him.”
I shut my eyes and grimaced at his words. Yes, I had behaved abominably towards Clark and the whole world knew it.
“Lois, if you hadn’t written that article and no-one knew that Clark was Superman, I would be overjoyed at the two of you being together. But honey, Clark isn’t a reporter anymore; he’s the most famous man in the world. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
I looked him firmly in the eyes. “I love him.” I told him simply.
Perry smiled sadly at me. “Are you sure that’s enough? What about your safety? Clark’s invulnerable, you’re not. To control Superman, what better way than to threaten his girlfriend?”
I laughed. “Perry, look at me. I’m on crutches. I always end up in a hospital or the police station when chasing a story, and normally both. I won’t really be in any more danger than usual. In fact, I’ll probably be safer. Think about it,” I quickly added as he opened his mouth to argue back, “Clark would never let anything happen to me and anyone trying to hurt me would have to get unnoticed through a throng of fourth-rate reporters first.”
He sighed and leant back in his chair as he considered my argument. “Well, whatever I think, you’re going to do what you want to anyway.”
“True,” I replied in a small voice, like a child’s when they know they’ve done something wrong and are trying to apologise. “But that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t like your approval.”
Perry thought a little longer then laughed boisterously. “Lois Lane and Superman! Lord help us if you have kids, they’d be unstoppable!”
*.*.*.
It was strange. One kiss with Superman and I was suddenly being treated differently by the people around me. It wasn’t like people in the newsroom who usually spoke to me were avoiding me or anything obvious like that, I was never popular, but they had started to look at me with something close to awe in their eyes. Like *I* was Superman or something. I decided to ignore them as always and instead got down to the very tedious desk work Perry had assigned to me as punishment for coming back to work too early.
I noticed the hush that quietened the newsroom some time later; I just didn’t pay any attention to it. I then detected the presence of someone walking purposely towards my desk, then there was a quite thud as they dropped a file onto it. I still didn’t look up.
“I’m busy,” I told them.
“So you don’t want this story?” a cheeky voice asked me.
I started at their voice and I looked up at Clark, dressed in a casual suit and wearing glasses, who was smiling down at me, fondly. “I... I...”
“Haven’t changed?” he finished for me, then laughed at my incredulous and annoyed expression. “What, you think I’d forget an experience like working with Lois Lane?!”
My eyes left his face and fell hungrily on the file he had placed on my desk. “What is it?”
“Did you hear about the murder of Dr. Gretchen Kelly a couple of days ago, while you were in hospital?”
“Of course.”
“Henderson has brought charges against a woman called Mrs. Cox. Apparently she was Luthor’s Personal Assistant, and she really did assist him personally by all accounts. Anyway, Dr. Kelly thought she was in love with Luthor and Mrs. Cox decided to get rid of the competition. Henderson thinks that she may have been deeply involved in Luthor’s criminal activities, but for now all we know for sure is that she killed Kelly. However, I did manage to persuade him to let u... you have the story.”
“Really?” I hadn’t missed his little slip.
“Well,” his face creased up in confusion. “Actually, Henderson just gave it to me and told me to bring it to you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was just giving me an excuse to see you, like he was giving us his blessing.”
I laughed. “So is this just a passing visit?”
“I...” he trailed off; his face looked hurt as if I had just told him to go away.
“Because if you’re staying, you can go and get a chair instead of just standing there.”
“Oh,” I didn’t miss the smile on his face as he did as I suggested.
When he had settled by my side I opened a new document on my computer, then glanced at him. “I guess you’re a fast typist, then?”
“I have been known to destroy keyboards by typing too fast,” he sheepishly admitted.
I pushed the keyboard towards him. “Then you’re typing.”
Clark looked at the keyboard for a moment, then raised his eyes to look at me. “I’m not doing your work for you.”
“No,” I agreed. “But you miss being a reporter, don’t you?”
I watched him compose his face as he prepared to deny it. “Don’t lie, Kent, you’re no good at it.”
“Fine,” he huffed. “I never wanted to be a full-time superhero, I wanted to be a reporter and I miss my job. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” I replied. “And as it’s my fault so that makes it my duty to rectify it. So shut up and start typing, partner. I think it’s time the world got another Lane and Kent exclusive.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Your name *still* goes first?”
“Naturally.”
“But I’m Superman and the world knows it. Surely more people would read the article if *my* name was first?”
“Probably, but I’m the more senior reporter.”
“Can I use the alphabetical card?” he asked after a thoughtful pause.
“Nope,” I replied as I read through Henderson’s file.
He sighed. “I see. Don’t you think you ought to check with Perry before you hire new members of staff?”
“Don’t worry about Perry, I can handle him.”
From the corner of my eye I saw him roll his eyes at me and I couldn’t help but smile. I had a feeling that I was going to enjoy working with Clark.
*.*.*.
Or maybe not.
OK, so it wasn’t working with Clark that was the problem, I was beginning to remember why I had started tolerating working with him before. He had good ideas and the story was coming turning out slightly better than if I had been working on it alone, and certainly a lot faster and with fewer mistakes for Perry to edit. No, the problem was that I was finding it increasing impossible to ignore the electricity between us. It was hard enough to make sure I didn’t start indecently assaulting Clark in the middle of the newsroom without trying to get my head around the story as well.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus for the hundredth time. When I opened my eyes I noticed that every pair of eyes in the newsroom were studiously ‘not’ watching us.
“Did the Planet expand after I left?”
I looked up at him and saw him gazing out at the rest of the reporters with an angrily protective gleam in his eyes. I noticed what he had noticed, that there were a lot more people in the newsroom than there should have been.
I sighed in defeat, not wanting to cause the fuss needed to get rid of the interlopers. I’d leave that for Perry when he noticed, or Clark, considering the look he was giving them. “I don’t see what’s so interesting in us.”
He smiled at me and my insides melted. “I guess human interest stories haven’t grown on you.”
“We are not human interest stories, we are trashy magazine articles. I still can’t believe people actually read those things.”
“They obviously don’t have better things to do with their time like we do.”
Clark managed to entwine his fingers with mine and his voice had taken on a decidedly husky tone. He cleared his throat and shuffled in his seat. “So what do we write next?”
I tried to calm down my thoughts and return them to some useful practise, like work, not wishing the time away until we could leave the Planet and go somewhere a little more private.
*.*.*.
I sipped at my glass of wine as Clark cleared away the dinner table in the blink of an eye. I scowled disapprovingly at the pile of dirty plates and utensils in the sink. “You’re not going to do the washing up as well?”
He laughed and walked over to me, taking the wine glass out of my hand and placing it firmly on the table. He lifted me easily off the seat and pulled me close, pressing his lips to mine. I opened my mouth to allow his tongue the entry it sought and pressed my body firmly against his until I could feel his heart beating in his chest as well as I could feel my own. I reached out to cradle the back of his head with the firm intention of deepening our kiss but Clark must have had other ideas as I felt him catch my wrists and pull them down between us, drawing himself away from me.
I opened my eyes in confusion as I watched him breathing heavily. I tensed as I realised he had that look on his face again, the same one he had worn when he turned down my obvious request to go to my place after work and had instead suggested that he cook us dinner at his house. I had agreed, but as good as his cooking was, I still felt that I would have enjoyed my idea much more.
“Come on.” His arm snaked around my waist, supporting me as he walked me to the couch, practically carrying me as I struggled to balance without my crutches.
He sat down next to me, leaving a noticeable gap between us. “Can we talk?”
I pouted at him, “I’d rather be doing something else.”
He smiled at me. “I know, but I think we really need to talk first.”
“You mean *you* need to talk,” I smiled back at him, realising that I wasn’t going to change his mind no matter what I said.
The smile faded from his face as he took in a deep breath. “I don’t want to sleep with you,” he blurted out, thoughtlessly.
“Huh?”
“It’s just,” he reached out and grabbed my hand, gently tracing invisible patterns across my palm with his thumb. “Before, our relationship, such as it was, was all about sex. I’m worried that if we start being intimate again that we’ll go back to that. And it scares me. That’s not what I want from you.”
I could feel the tears forming in my eyes. “Was it really that bad?”
“No!” he exclaimed and pulled me into a fierce hug for a couple of minutes as he place a lingering kiss on the crown of my head, then he drew away slightly to brush the few drops that had leaked down my cheeks away with his fingers. “I’m not saying this right. Lois, I was being selfish. I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t *me*. I just took from you and I never gave. I want to start again.”
I gave a small, sniffley giggle, “I’ve heard that before. It didn’t work.”
“I don’t mean forget everything that’s happened and act like strangers. It’ll take time for us to learn to trust each other again after all the pain we’ve caused each other, I know we’ve still got a lot of issues to deal with. I just want to do this properly. I want to take you out for meals and win you toys at the fair. I want to send you flowers for no reason but that I love you and want you to feel cherished. I want to woo you, properly. Treat you like you deserve, like I should have treated you all along. I want to make love to you, when we’re ready and not just because our hormones think we should. And I don’t know if I’m ready to do that yet.”
His last sentence was little more than a whisper. I had a flash back as I remembered what he had said to me on that night we first slept together:
*.*
“I...” he seemed to find it hard to vocalise whatever it was that was bothering him.
“What is it?” I prodded gently.
“This isn’t right ... I can’t make love to you.” He was serious again, and starting to look angry.
I sighed, and wanted to roll away from him, but he still had me pleasantly pinned under him. “I can’t force you to.”
He shook his head sadly. “No. You don’t understand. If we continued, it would just be sex.”*.*
I reached out and swept his hair back from his face. His chocolate-brown eyes gazed at me and I could sense the fear in them. I wasn’t sure what he was frightened of, that I’d demand he sleep with me or I’d leave him, or that I’d laugh at him and tell him that real men didn’t think like that.
“Oh, Clark,” I whispered, amazed at the tenderness in my own voice. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll wait for you to be ready; I won’t push you to do anything you don’t want to. I want what you want, a real relationship.”
He pulled me into his arms again and I relaxed into his embrace, inhaling the comforting scent that was purely Clark. I heard him breathe my name into my hair and I closed my eyes, a smile on my face. This wasn’t so bad, being loved by Clark instead of merely sleeping with him. In fact, my heart told me that it was even better.
I rested my head on his shoulder and let out a contented sigh. “Clark?”
“Mmm?”
I pulled away so that I could look at him. “This whole ‘no sex’ thing. That’s just ‘no sex’, right?”
He pulled a face as he mulled this question over, “I don’t know, I hadn’t really considered...”
I slapped his arm playfully. “I don’t know what you’re thinking of, buddy, and I don’t know if I approve. I just meant, we can still kiss can’t we?”
“Sure.” His face lit up at the suggestion.
“Then why am I still talking?”
fin.
