This is the 4th story in the series which began with
Weekend in Smallville and continued with
First Days in Metropolis and
Adrift. When I posted the teaser for this fic (at the end of Adrift), it was titled Answer Quest. As the story developed, I felt So Many Questions was a more appropriate title.
Disclaimer - Most of the characters are not mine, occasional lines, themes etc are not mine.
Posting Schedule - The fic is finished and beta'ed, so as close to daily as RL will allow.
Rating - PG 13
Beta - A few months ago, I realised having someone beta my stories would improve them massively. I PMed Iolanthe (simply because she had offered to beta for someone else) and managed to get myself the most wonderful BR. Thanks Iolanthe for your great ideas, honesty, and continuing enthusiasm. This story is so much better because of your input.
SO MANY QUESTIONS
Part 1
It was bitterly cold – the first ominous blast of the impending winter. Lois Lane thrust one hand into her coat pocket and looked down at her feet, wriggling her toes to ward off the encroaching numbness.
She felt an infusion of warmth penetrate her coat, sprawl across her shoulders and trickle down her body. A shower of heat cascaded over first her right foot and then her left.
Lois smothered the runaway smile that leapt for release. She lifted her head, plastered a look of absorbed interest on her face and fixed her eyes on the bank executive as he droned on. How long could he stretch out his bank’s gratitude to Superman for foiling an extremely-well-planned, but-for-the-intervention-of-Superman-almost-guaranteed-successful bank robbery? Did he really imagine the few hundred people assembled were here to listen to him? Lois was glad her tape recorder granted her mind the freedom to wander.
But maybe, without it, she would have been forced to pay attention and take notes. It would have given her something to do ... something to occupy her mind ... a much-needed ally in her battle with the temptation to slide her eyes to the left of the boring bank executive and feast on the hunk in blue spandex.
The lure was corroding her willpower, but she knew she had to resist. One glance to Superman, one connection between his eyes and hers ... and one of them would be in grave danger of relinquishing the flimsy hold on their charade of distance. Actually, both of them.
Lois could feel his presence. Visually, he was nothing more than a blur of blue and red on the periphery of her vision, but that in no way lessened his magnetism. She glanced at her watch and sighed. Three o’clock. At least another three hours before they could leave the Planet and she could have him to herself.
Assuming no one else needed him, of course.
The crowd broke into applause and Lois returned her attention to the makeshift stage. They shook hands as an oversized cheque passed from the bank-man in the business suit ... to the super-man in the spandex Suit.
Superman stepped to the microphone.
Now Lois had to look at him ... everyone was looking at him. He was ... magnificent. She knew exactly what every woman was thinking. She was thinking it. Except the difference between her and every other woman on the planet was as great as the gulf between reality and illusion.
That thought warmed her – from the inside out.
“Thank you, Mr Parkin,” Superman said in his deep voice. “Thank you for your kind words and very generous gift. The money will be given to the orphanage in Honduras which was destroyed by fire in September. They have new buildings; this will be used for the many other necessities ... teddy bears and games and skipping ropes and story books and footballs.”
The crowd cheered with genuine enthusiasm. The City of Metropolis had taken the formerly-unknown orphanage in Honduras to their hearts. It had been the catalyst for their burgeoning love affair with Superman. Somehow, it had melded the city and its hero together. Bound them and dissolved the final barriers of mistrust and difference.
The official part of the presentation was done, but Lois knew Superman would be besieged with questions and requests for his attention for at least another thirty minutes. If she returned to the Planet, she could get on with the story. She’d probably have it almost knocked into shape by the time Clark appeared.
She turned away. “Bye, farmboy,” she said, so low she knew no one in her vicinity could have heard.
But *he* would. Her farmboy.
<Bye, honey.>
She didn’t *hear* it, of course, but she didn’t need to hear it with her ears to hear it in her heart.
It was hard to walk away from him. Even though she knew she would be less than a mile from him; even though she knew he would meet her at the Planet as soon as he could ... it was hard to walk away. Every fibre of her being seemed to have developed an insatiable hankering to be with him.
Every minute, every second.
Lois determinedly quickened her steps. The story needed to be written.
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Nearly an hour later, Clark Kent felt the gentle thud as the elevator stopped at his floor in the Planet building. As he waited for the door to open, he listened for Lois’s keyboard and recognised her unique rhythm as her fingers danced out their story.
The elevator ‘dinged’ and the keyboard silenced. Clark grinned, sure she was listening ... hoping. He felt the familiar surge of excitement – the same surge he’d experienced so often since he’d met Lois Lane. But now there was a buoyant edge to that excitement, driven by the knowledge she anticipated his presence as joyfully as he anticipated hers.
He stepped out of the elevator and his eyes darted to her desk. He located the back of her head, making his fingers tingle with the desire to bury his hand into her shiny dark hair and merge his mouth with hers.
He arrived at her desk and pushed that thought to a far pocket of his mind, for later retrieval. She looked up and their eyes met and his excitement exploded into a million fizzing fragments. “Thanks for bringing me coffee,” she said, her smile rich with welcome.
Clark remembered the two cups of coffee in his hands. He offered her one. She took it and he knew the casual brush of her fingertips across his knuckles had been no accident.
Lois sipped her coffee and sighed with pleasure. “I guess there was a long queue.”
“Long enough,” he said.
“It’s cold out there today,” she said, her eyes pinning him. “You can understand people wanting to drink in something ... hot.”
The final word pulsated across her vocal chords, causing copycat sensations to rake across every single one of Clark’s nerve endings. “What about you?” he asked huskily.
“Oh, something ... hot ... warmed me,” she purred. Her tongue slid sensuously along her upper lip, ostensibly gathering traces of stray coffee. She looked up at him through her sweeping eyelashes. “Thank you.”
He‘d been about to sip from his coffee, but halted its progress to his mouth, not sure the simple act of swallowing was within his current capabilities. “How’s our story?” he asked, breathlessly.
“We’re nearly done.”
“Thanks.” Clark swept the newsroom with a furtive glance. He was well aware he and Lois had been the subject of much speculation since they had returned from Smallville four weeks ago, but at this moment, no one was taking any particular notice of them.
This was his opportunity. His heart pranced like an unbroken colt. There would be better opportunities – more private than the middle of the newsroom – but he couldn’t wait a moment longer for her answer. Clark took a deep breath, trying to smooth the knots from it. “Lois?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have anything planned for Friday evening?”
The extremities of her mouth twitched. “Nothing specific,” she answered.
“Would you go out with me?”
Her smile blossomed. “*Another* date, Mr Kent?” she teased. “If you’re not careful, a girl might get to thinking you’re pretty serious about this.”
“Oh, I’m serious,” he said gravely.
She studied him for a protracted moment and the thought occurred to him, only somewhat facetiously, that she may well have heat vision. She could certainly burn him. “I’d love to go out with you.”
He smiled, releasing his pent-up breath. “Dress warmly and bring a comfortable pair of shorts and a tee-shirt.”
“Where are we going?” Lois asked.
He leant across her desk, blocking out most of the newsroom, and swept his hand lightly across hers. “You’ll find out on Friday,” he murmured.
“What else should I bring?”
“Nothing,” he said, with a casual shrug. “I’ll see to everything else.”
Clark watched as her agile mind catalogued, sorted and speculated. He’d known his attempts at nonchalance would only provoke her curiosity. He steeled himself for her barrage of questions, shoring up his determination to give her no further information. “Do you want to read our copy?” she asked.
His eyebrows shot up.
Lois swivelled her monitor so he could read what she had written.
For a moment, he stared at her, unable to contain his amused surprise. Then he broke away while he still could, and swung his eyes to her monitor.
‘
Superman smiled as he received the check to the enthusiastic applause of the gathered crowd. He’s our hero and he knows it. He’s become comfortable around us and we’ve realized Metropolis wouldn’t be the same without him. The austere barriers of division and difference have evaporated.
We can only hope that one day soon, the Suit will too.’ Clark re-read the final line; sure he had somehow misread it.
He hadn’t.
His eyes whirled to Lois. Her hand covered her mouth, but she couldn’t conceal the little shudders of mirth that jiggled through her.
She wouldn’t print that!
*Would* she?
Clark was still trying to compose an appropriate reply when she spoke. “What do you think?” she asked, with laboured innocence.
He regarded her, applying tight control to his mouth that wanted to grin in response to the laughter emanating from the depths of her gorgeous eyes. “The last line needs work,” he said, with a gruffness he knew she’d see right through.
“Oh, I *know* that,” she replied smoothly. “Any suggestions?”
Clark cleared his throat, knowing he needed out. Now. “One or two,” he said. “We will discuss them Friday.” He straightened, picked up his coffee and escaped to his desk.
He sat down and turned on his computer before daring to glance across to Lois. Her eyes had followed him. He winked at her and her answering smile sparked a series of mini-explosions throughout his body.
Being with her was deliciously unpredictable. He loved it when she teased him, loved her wide-eyed comments that carried double-barrelled firepower, loved how she used her prowess with words in ways he had never expected.
It was like honeyed torture.
But he wasn’t sure how much more his body could take.
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Friday afternoon was the longest in the entire history of time. Lois regularly checked the series of clocks, high on the wall of the Daily Planet office, yet they refused to advance more than five minutes between each harried scan.
She glared at the one set to local time, willing it to speed through the next hour. She’d waited four weeks. Four weeks since she’d gone to Smallville and proposed to Clark. Four weeks that had stretched her patience almost to breaking point. And now, she felt like she was suspended between two ever-widening poles.
Because ... tonight ... it was going to happen. Clark was going to ask her to be his wife. She was sure of it.
Not that the four weeks hadn’t been wonderful. Clark’s courting of her had combined attentive chivalry with super-powered fun, leaving her breathlessly in love.
He’d brought her flowers, coffee, edible delicacies from around the world and little gifts – like a post card picture of the beach on Dirk Hartog Island – which had significance only to them.
He’d taken her on dates. The usual … a movie, a meal, a picnic in the park amongst the fallen leaves. The not-so-usual … watching fireworks – from above ... tobogganing – high in the Swiss Alps, when Clark pushing her up the mountain was almost as exhilarating as coming down it. Not quite though, because coming down, she had Clark close behind her, his body wrapped snugly around hers.
And throughout it all, he’d found numerous ways – a touch, a smile, a look, a word - to convey the surety of his feelings for her.
Four weeks of their love deepening daily. Four weeks of ever-growing certainty that a life apart was not a life at all.
Four weeks of barely-contained impatience. But tonight was the night.
For the past two days, she’d employed all of her investigative skills in an attempt to procure details about their date tonight. She’d asked him sneakily-camouflaged questions when she’d thought his concentration was elsewhere. When that had wrought a harvest of exactly zero information, she’d employed tactics she wouldn’t use with any other interviewee – kissing him voraciously until neither of them could breathe, tickling him until they had both collapsed, helpless from laughter.
But he hadn’t budged.
She was to dress warmly and bring a pair of shorts and a comfortable tee.
That was it.
For a date in Metropolis in mid-November!
With any other man, it would be beyond cryptic, it would be unfathomable.
But Clark Kent was different.
*Very* different.
Lois glanced in Clark’s direction. If he shared any of her jitteriness, he was doing a fine job of concealing it. His dark head came up from his desk and she jolted back to her monitor. If she met his eyes, the inner whirlwind of her emotions – a volatile cocktail of elation spiked with a solid dose of butterflies – would surely eddy out of control.
Late afternoon, the unthinkable happened. Clark sidled up to her desk. “I have to go out, honey,” he said, very softly.
Her disappointment flared. “How long?”
“Shouldn’t be too long. An airplane is coming into Buffalo with jammed landing gear.”
She found a smile for him. “OK.”
“How about you go to my apartment when you’re ready? I’ll meet you there.” He took his keys from his pants’ pocket and gave them to her. They still held his warmth and Lois cradled them, before putting them in her bag.
She laid her hand on the sleeve of his jacket. “Be safe,” she said.
“Always.” Clark turned away, one hand already loosening his tie.
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It took considerable effort for Lois to refrain from skipping as she walked to Clark’s apartment. Skipping like a five-year-old on her way to a party.
Would he be there already? She fervently hoped he would be. Patience had never been her strong suit and the past month had drained every last ounce.
He’d be there ... surely. How long could it take to land a plane, for goodness’ sake? He’d be there, with that secretive smile he’d been wearing the past two days.
Lois’s own smile unfolded as she imagined Clark’s welcome in just a few short minutes. She hugged herself with bubbling excitement.
Suddenly, a strong arm reached from behind her, abruptly halting her progress. She was wrenched back against a body and forcibly dragged into the shadows of an alley.
Lois tried to scream, but her assailant’s hand plugged her mouth before she could utter a sound.
She flailed, but he was strong and his grip was inflexible. She felt him ferret through the bag hanging from her shoulder.
Then, without warning or word, he released her and ran from the alley and out of sight.
Lois panted shakily and tried to calm her hurtling heart. She rubbed her mouth and cheeks, wanting to wipe away the memory of his hand on her. She opened her bag … cell phone, wallet, money, press pass, her keys, Clark’s keys, notebook. The vitals seemed to be untouched.
Lois zipped up her bag, adjusted it on her shoulder, gripped it firmly and marched out of the alley. There was no sign of anyone scurrying away; no one looking suspicious.
She scanned a few faces as people hurried by. Her impression was that her assailant was male, but she had not seen his face – only the back of his dark, shabby coat and woollen hat as he’d run out of the alley.
She continued towards Clark’s apartment, stopping occasionally to look in store windows, using the reflection to check for someone following her. She saw nothing unusual – no one acting strangely, no one wearing that coat and hat.
Lois arrived at Clark’s apartment, unlocked his door and entered, careful to lock it behind her. “Clark?” she called.
It was empty. Empty and silent.
Clark was still busy she realised, as her hope deflated.
Lois had never been alone in his apartment. She looked around - the books on his shelves, the photograph of him with his parents, the trophies from his college days - all representing facets of the man she loved. Yet there was no hint of the part of his life he’d shared with only her.
She wondered idly where he kept the Suits. She’d seen him spin into one of them, but had never asked where he hid them. When they were married, she would know.
Lois felt her spirits soar. When they were married.
She strolled through Clark’s bedroom and tapped loudly on the door of the bathroom. “Clark?”
Still no answer. No sound of water running. Nothing to indicate he was here.
She headed back towards his living area, pausing at his bed. There was a strange intimacy about being alone in his bedroom. She sat on his bed and imagined him here. Did he think about her as he lay here?
Of course he did.
Her last thoughts every night centred on him. He was her first thought every morning. It would be no different for him.
She dropped onto his pillow and inhaled the tinge of coconut aroma from his hair gel. Settling into a more comfortable position, she slipped her hand under the pillow and ran into something hard.
Lois lifted the pillow and saw a notebook - a journal. Clark’s journal. She hadn’t known he kept a journal. But he was a writer, so it was hardly unexpected. She stared at it, tempted to open it and read … just a snippet or two. What did he write? Story notes? Sources? Contacts? Or something more personal? His hopes? His dreams? How he felt about her? Was this the story of how he had fallen in love with her?
Resolutely, Lois covered the journal with the pillow and straightened it. Clark’s phone shrilled loud in the silence and she jumped.
The caller was female, with heavily-accented English. “May I speak to Mr Clark Kent, please?” she asked.
“He is unavailable at present,” Lois said. “Can I take a message?”
The voice hesitated. “My name is Louisa Sanchez from the IHNFA. Please inform Mr Kent I will call him on Monday.”
“The IHNFA?” Lois questioned.
“This is a personal matter. Thank you, Madam.”
The phone clicked as the line was disconnected. Lois replaced it, brow furrowed.
Clark had assured her there would be no more secrets. Other than his plans for tonight, of course, but that was different. So who were the IHNFA? And why had they contacted Clark?
Lois went to Clark’s computer and logged on, using his ‘chocolatecroissant’ password. She googled IHNFA. A little reading and she learned that the IHNFA was the organisation that dealt with the adoption of Honduran orphans.
Rosa?
Was Clark planning to adopt Rosa? The little girl he’d saved from the fire? The little girl in the photograph with Superman?
Surely that would be something he would discuss with her. A cold stream of uncertainty swamped Lois’s mind. What if tonight wasn’t about marriage, but about his plans to adopt Rosa? What if he’d already begun the process? Without telling her?
Lois flinched as the door from the balcony swung open and Clark burst in, dressed in the business suit he’d been wearing when he’d left the Planet earlier.
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Clark was already loosening his tie as he hurried into his apartment. He shut the door behind him and saw Lois rise from behind his computer. His breath hitched in his throat, as it did every single time he saw her. He strode to her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said softly. He kissed her lightly, relishing how good she tasted, but pulled away far sooner than he wanted to. “I’ll be less than a minute,” he promised.
“Clark?”
He was already in his bedroom when her voice stalled his progress. “Yes, honey.” His heart sank as he noticed her expression. He glanced to his watch. He wasn’t *too* late ... less than an hour.
“A call came for you,” she said.
He heard the cool distance in her voice and his anxiety intensified. “From whom?” he said, trying to keep his voice circumspect.
“The organisation that deals with the adoption of Honduran children.”
In a flash, he understood. Well, he understood her displeasure. He didn’t understand why they had called him, but he could comprehend how it appeared to Lois.
He sighed, hoping his explanation would be sufficient. “Did they say what they wanted?” he asked.
“No. Apparently, it’s *personal*.” Her tone with the final word confirmed Clark’s fears.
“Lois,” he said gently as he walked to within a foot of her. He thrust his hands into his pockets. She didn’t look like she would welcome his touch right now. “I can see you’re upset. And I can understand why. But please don’t shut me out. Please let me explain.”
She nodded tersely.
“After I left Metropolis … but before you came to Smallville ... I went to the orphanage most days and helped them rebuild it.”
“I know that.” Her unspoken accusation – that she *didn’t* know he’d tried to adopt a child without telling her – hung between them, threatening to explode.
“I visited the hospital a few times and spent time with the kids,” Clark said quietly. “I saw Rosa a lot and she seemed to like me.”
He paused long enough to scrutinise her face for a hint of what she was feeling. She remained impassive. He plunged on.
“I thought there was no chance of being with you and my life seemed so devastatingly lonely and without purpose, so I called and made some enquiries. As Clark, not Superman.”
He hoped she’d see that last bit as a joke and smile, but she didn’t. She just waited for him to continue.
“They told me it is against their policy to allow adoptive parents to choose a particular child. They also said that although the policy doesn’t discriminate against single people, realistically, the chances of a single male American being approved to adopt a three year old girl were small indeed.” Clark’s stomach clenched as he realised this was going to look like his motivation for marriage was to be able to adopt Rosa.
“What did you do?” Lois asked evenly.
“Nothing,” he insisted. “I accepted that it wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t completely sure about it anyway. I called them on a whim, one evening when I was just so lonely and I couldn’t see anything else for the rest of my life. Even before they answered my questions, I knew I couldn’t do something as monumental as adopting a child unless I was totally committed to it.”
“And were you committed to it?” she demanded. “Are you now?”
“Then, I was miserable and acted on impulse. I quickly realised a child deserves far more than being a balm for my emptiness. I thanked them and hung up and never thought about it again.”
“So why did they call you now? And how did they get this number?”
“This number is listed in the directory under my name. As for why they called, I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything from them since my phone call … my *one* phone call.” He took his hand from his pocket and tentatively placed it on her shoulder.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because for the short time I considered it, I didn’t think you were a part of my life and never would be again. And when you came back into my life, I had already decided not to pursue it, so there was nothing to tell you.”
Lois’s face seemed to soften. At least, Clark hoped it did.
“I didn’t try to hide it from you, honey,” he continued earnestly. “There was nothing to keep a secret.”
To Clark’s enormous relief, Lois smiled. She leant up and kissed him, flush on his mouth. “I thought you were going to be less than a minute,” she said.
“You’re OK?” he asked cautiously. “You’ll still be here when I get back?”
She laughed. “Of course I’ll still be here.” She kissed him again. “I was a little thrown when I thought you were serious about adopting a child and hadn’t told me. Now I realise it was nothing more than a misunderstanding.”
He wasn’t sure it could be this easy. “You’re sure you’re OK?”
“Clark,” she said. “You promised me there would be no secrets between us. I asked, you answered, no problems.”
Clark took his other hand out of his pocket and clutched both of her shoulders. “I’m sorry about what it looked like,” he said. “Thank you for not jumping to too many conclusions before hearing my explanation.”
“Thank you for answering me honestly.” They shared a smile and Lois’s fist thudded gently into his chest. “You now have less than half a minute.”
