From Part 4 ...
Lois closed and locked the balcony door. She leant against it, her mind threatening to spiral out of control. With steely determination, she shut down the barrage of questions and forced herself to think clearly.
It seemed most likely Clark, as Superman, had left his apartment in a hurry. Possibly from the balcony, forgetting to close the door.
But that didn’t explain why he hadn’t contacted her, nor how his actions had managed to evade every news service in the known world.
Lois searched the fridge and the cupboards – unsure exactly what she was looking for, but hoping there would be something ... anything ... to give her a clue to Clark’s whereabouts. There was nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to give her the slightest hint of where he might be.
She pulled her cell from her bag and dialled his cell number. Seconds later she heard his ring tone from his bedroom. She hurried in and opened the top drawer of the chest next to his bed. There was his cell, along with his keys and wallet.
Wherever he was, he was there as Superman.
Lois shut down her call and closed the drawer. Back in the living area, she found a blank piece of paper and a pen and scribbled a note.
Clark, darling.
Could you contact me as soon as you get this? Thanks.
I love you.
Lois.
She put the note on the table where he couldn’t fail to see it and left his apartment.
Part 5
The rest of the afternoon crawled by, each passing minute further tightening the tension in Lois’s stomach and blunting her ability to think competently. Every time the elevator opened, her head spun around and her heart missed a beat.
But Clark did not come.
Lois tried to work on a story, but could concentrate for only a few minutes before surrendering to the compulsion to refresh the pages of the news sites.
The world was alarmingly serene.
There was nothing that needed Superman.
But she needed him. Now.
Late afternoon, Perry’s voice cut across her private turmoil, summoning her. Obediently, she stood and trudged into his office.
“Where’s Clark?” Perry said, before she’d even shut the door.
Lois folded her arms across her chest. “I’m ... I’m not sure.”
“Has he contacted you?”
“Not recently.”
Perry’s eyes narrowed. “Should I be worried? Are *you* worried?”
“No,” she lied. She wanted to leave it there, but Perry’s expression told her more was expected. A lot more. “We heard a whisper about Superman,” she added reluctantly. “We figured we couldn’t both disappear, so I agreed to stay while Clark went to see what he could find out.”
Perry’s eyes narrowed further. “That’s not like you, Lois.”
Lois shrugged, forcing a hollow laugh. “It’s a man-thing,” she said, knowing exactly how lame that sounded.
“That’s never stopped you before.”
“I’ve never had a partner before.”
Perry contemplated her for a long moment. “Lois, I’ve watched you and Clark these past few weeks and, against my better judgment, I’ve said nothing. I’ve seen the doting looks and the little touches you thought no one would notice. I’ve seen how you glow whenever he walks into the room and how he simply can’t keep his eyes off you.”
Lois matched his stare, saying nothing.
“And Lois,” Perry continued. “All along, I knew it could only lead to trouble – knew that when the crash came, it would disrupt the running of this newspaper. Now I’m one reporter down, and have another one next to useless.”
It was true; other than the foiled bank robbery story, Lois hadn’t come close to having anything for Perry all day. “I’m sorry, Chief,” she said. “But it’s not what you think. Clark and I haven’t *crashed*.”
“Then *where* is he?”
Lois wished she knew. More than anything, she wished she knew. But she didn’t. And she needed Perry off her back. So she gave him the one thing she had. She pulled her hand from its hiding place and displayed her ring.
Perry’s face underwent a slow transformation from badgering to bewilderment. “You and Clark?”
“Clark and I,” she confirmed.
“Engaged?” he said, looking dazed.
She nodded. “We’re getting married.”
Perry rose slowly from his chair. “I’m happy for you, Lois, really I am, but ... I’m going to ask this just once. Are you sure?”
“Completely positive, Perry.”
He crossed from his side of the desk. “Congratulations, Lois. You two don’t waste any time, do you?” He gathered her into his arms and gave her a fatherly hug.
It was over too soon. It would have been so easy to cling to him and let her worries spill onto his broad shoulders.
But that wasn’t an option, so Lois fabricated a smile and said, “Thanks Perry. Your invitation will arrive soon.”
“Thanks.”
“The wedding’s in Smallville,” she said blithely. “In four weeks.”
“Four weeks?” he gasped.
“We’re sure about this.”
Perry smiled, but Lois knew him well enough to know he wasn't sure about it at all. "I’ll be there, darlin’,”
“I’m sorry about today,” she said. “There’s a lot on my mind.”
He patted her shoulder. “Just ensure Clark gets back here with a Superman exclusive and everything will be fine.”
“He will,” Lois said, shushing her fears. “He’ll be here soon.” She opened Perry’s door.
“Lois?”
When she turned, Perry was gazing intently at her, his face unreadable.
“If Kent hurts you,” he warned sombrely, “He’ll be answering to me.”
Lois set another smile on her face. “I told you, Chief, it’s not like that,” she insisted. “Clark wouldn’t do that.”
She shut his door with relief and made a beeline for her desk, but was thwarted by a high-pitched, sniggering voice. “Hey, Lois.”
She sighed as Cat swaggered towards her.
“Nice ring,” Cat said with a smirk.
Lois pushed her left hand into her pocket.
“It’s highly interesting,” Cat mused, “That you’re wearing what looks like an engagement ring the very day the target of your rather primitive attempts at seduction goes missing.”
“I *haven’t* seduced anyone,” Lois spat. “And Clark *isn’t* missing.”
Cat’s immaculately shaped eyebrows lifted expressively. “So what’s *your* explanation for the absence of a certain hot body in the newsroom today?”
Lois had no explanation and that was precisely the problem. Her tears swelled sharply. She vehemently repelled them and turned away, knowing Cat’s speculative eyes followed her. At her desk, Lois closed down her computer, thrust her arms into her coat and stormed to the elevator. The door slid shut, finally shielding her, and her control crumbled. By the time Lois reached Jeep, her tears were coursing uncontrollably down her cheeks.
She needed Clark.
She needed him physically – needed his arms around her, his chest to sink into.
Needed him emotionally – needed his quiet, reassuring voice to calm her and his steadfast eyes to restore her equilibrium.
And most of all, she needed to know he was safe.
Lois drove without any conscious intent. Ten minutes later, she realised she was outside Clark’s apartment. She got out of the Jeep and went to his door.
His apartment was still empty. Untouched.
Her note was on the table, exactly where she had left it. She hurried through his bedroom and into his bathroom, calling his name. The panic in her voice echoed through the emptiness and compounded inside her.
She stilled and was deluged by the silence - the eerie silence broken only by the serrated aftermath of her tears.
Lois sat at Clark’s table and dropped her head into her hands.
She could no longer believe Superman was caught up in a major rescue. Anything big enough to require his presence for almost a day would have found its way onto the internet. The world just wasn’t that fragmented anymore.
Had he been hurt?
Had someone taken him?
Neither were possible.
Superman didn’t get hurt and no one could hold the strongest, fastest man on earth.
A blistering horror birthed inside her.
Martha and Jonathan.
If they had Martha and Jonathan ... they wouldn’t need physical strength to hold Clark.
Lois sprang to Clark’s phone and began dialling the Kent number in Smallville. She stopped, mid-number.
If someone was holding Superman and using Clark’s parents as leverage ... Lois closed her eyes, her heart hurtling. She pushed away the too-awful-to-contemplate conclusion and continued dialling the number.
“Martha Kent.”
Lois’s pent-up breath escaped with a whoosh. “Martha,” she managed.
“Lois, how lovely to hear from you.”
“I ... I just wanted to thank you for a lovely weekend,” Lois said, her mind spinning. She should have planned what to say. Should she tell Martha her son was missing?
“It’s our pleasure, honey,” Martha said. “We are so very, very happy that Clark has you.”
In a split-second decision, Lois decided not to tell Martha. Not yet. Clark would be back soon ... by tomorrow at the latest. Why worry his parents unnecessarily? “Thank you.” In any other circumstance, Martha’s words would have warmed her heart. But now, it was so cold, nothing could thaw it except Clark himself. “Is Jonathan there with you?”
“Yes,” Martha said, “Would you like to speak with him?”
“No, thanks.” Lois knew she was incapable of maintaining a normal, breezy conversation. “Martha, I have to go. Sorry this is so short.”
“I’ll talk to you soon, honey.”
“Bye Martha.”
Lois hung up the phone and slumped against the wall. So they didn’t have Clark’s parents.
They didn’t *have* them, but were they *threatening* them? Lois reached for the phone again. Should she tell them?
Tell them what?
This was about Superman – Clark was wearing the Suit. He wouldn’t want his parents involved in this.
And yet ...
Lois felt her tears rise again as she wrestled the burden of lonesome indecision.
She moved away from the phone. Clark would be back ... tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.
But *where* was he?
Her mind whirled along the already-much-travelled tracks, faster and faster, driven by fears spiralling helplessly out of control.
Abruptly, Lois slammed shut her eyes and rammed her mind into neutral. She couldn’t give in to her fears. She had to think.
Seconds later, she rushed into Clark’s bedroom and crouched next to the chest of drawers. She opened the bottom drawer.
It was filled with undershirts, the middle drawer contained briefs and socks and the top drawer held his wallet, cell, keys and two pens - exactly as she had left them.
She frantically searched under his bed, then rushed into the bathroom, scoured every inch of it and then opened the cabinet.
No glasses.
Where were his glasses?
If Clark was wearing his glasses, why wasn’t he wearing shoes?
And if Superman was wearing the Suit, where were Clark’s glasses?
Did he hide them somewhere ... maybe in the same place he hid the Suits when he wasn’t wearing them?
So many questions.
And most frustrating of all ... why, whenever she thought of something new, did it just multiply the number of questions that had no answers?
Should she inform the police?
She couldn’t. What if she reported Clark Kent as missing, and they found Superman? And if she reported Superman as missing, they were never going to take her seriously.
Until she knew more, she couldn’t trust anyone ... nor ask for help. But how was she going to find out more?
Lois walked slowly back into Clark’s bedroom, scanning, thinking, searching. Her eyes fell on his bed and her heart thumped.
The top sheet and blankets stretched from where they were tucked into the bottom of the bed, to where they draped over the near side of the mattress and onto the floor.
If Clark had got out of bed, even hurriedly, he would have pushed back the covers.
But the position of the sheets strongly suggested someone had been pulled from the bed, trailing the bedding part-way with him.
A chilling river of ice surged through her. He hadn’t gone as Superman.
They had come here and taken Clark from his bed.
But who? And how?
He must have been unconscious ... or pretending to be unconscious.
Which explained why he wasn’t wearing shoes.
Lois stood back and stared, imagining Clark’s motionless form on the floor. What had happened next? Had they dragged him across the floor? There was no detectable trail through the carpet.
Lois dropped to her hands and knees and searched the floor. Nothing. Not even a strand of hair.
But did Clark’s hair even come out?
She didn’t know.
She knelt lower and sniffed the carpet.
Was that a trace of coconut?
Or were her senses toying with her?
Lois shuffled forward to the little ridge that separated the carpet in the bedroom from the timber flooring in the living area. She hunkered low and breathed deep.
Coconut.
She was almost sure of it.
Had they wanted Clark?
Or Superman?
If they’d come here for Clark, the secret may still be safe.
But why hadn’t Clark used his powers to escape? Why had he let them take him? He would have heard them approaching; would have seen them before they even entered his apartment. Why not just fly away?
Lois’s mind jangled as the improbabilities competed with the impossibilities until she felt like she was hopelessly lost in a gigantic maze.
The only thing she did know was that she wanted Clark and she wanted him now and the temptation to dissolve into a puddle of screaming, thoroughly panicked, totally useless pulp was almost stronger than she could bear.
Resolutely, she stood and again surveyed his bed. The bottom sheet was not flat, but had telltale undulations. The longer Lois stared at it, the more sure she became that someone had been forcibly dragged from the bed.
Clark.
But that was incomprehensible.
Mindlessly, Lois straightened the sheets and tucked in the blankets. She felt under the pillow and found Clark’s journal. She hugged it against her chest, wishing it was him she was clinging to.
He would be OK.
He *would* be OK.
Back in the kitchen, Lois put the journal on the table and opened the fridge. It was almost empty ... he hadn’t re-stocked since coming home from their weekend away.
She found something that looked like frozen vegetable soup in his freezer. She decided to heat it in the microwave.
There *was* no microwave. Of course.
Lois rustled through the cupboards, found a saucepan and defiantly tipped in all the soup. Any moment, Clark would fly through that window and there would be enough for both of them.
She turned on the heat under the saucepan and sat down at the table – waiting.
The silence was overpowering.
Where was he? Where was Clark?
The soup boiled and she was still alone. Lois ladled some into a cup and sipped it, vaguely aware that the warmth was soothing ... but knowing the harrowing constriction of her heart could only be assuaged by one person.
She wanted Clark.
Needed him.
Suddenly she lurched from the table and picked up the phone. She dialled her own number. He was probably at her apartment, probably making a meal for her ... waiting for her, wondering what had kept her.
Her phone rang out.
She dialled again.
It rang out again.
She replaced the phone and crumpled against the wall, as she was engulfed by yet another onslaught of fear.
+-+-+-+
The evening hours crawled by. Lois waited in Clark’s apartment. She spent long intervals on the balcony staring into the darkness, willing him to come home. At every sound, she jumped, sure it was him. It wasn’t. Over and over again, she refreshed the news pages on his computer. Nothing. Nothing requiring Superman. She fought the frightening images that crowded into her mind.
He *couldn’t* be hurt.
But, until today, she had believed he couldn’t be taken from her.
It was past eleven o’clock when she stood, thinking she should go home.
Instantly, she realised that wasn’t going to happen. If she couldn’t be with Clark, she needed to be as close to him as possible. She was staying here.
She raided his closet and found an old tee-shirt and some sleep shorts.
She went into his shower and lingered there until the water had turned her skin a glowing red. The thought came fleetingly that he showered here ... but she wearily pushed it away.
She dried, using his towel, and put on his clothes. She brushed her teeth with his toothbrush.
Then she turned off the lights and slipped into his bed.
Lois curled herself around one of his pillows, wishing it was his warm, protective, perfect body next to her.
Would she ever cling to him again?
She would. She would. She would.
He was the strongest person in the world.
He would find a way to get back to her.
She had to believe that.
But it couldn’t prevent her tears from forging a damp patch on his pillow.
Lois assembled her memories – sweet memories of their moments together – from him, half-naked, arriving unannounced in his bedroom in Smallville, through Dirk Hartog Island and to the endearing sweetness of his island proposal.
For a time, the battle was evenly fought, each tendril of memory standing firm against the creeping cobweb of apprehension. But slowly, the dark side inched forward, and choked all the good memories, leaving her rigid with fear.
Lois glanced at the clock. It was ten past two.
She padded to his computer and checked the news sites again. There had been a collision between a train and a bus in France and a shooting in a doctor’s clinic in China, but neither story mentioned Superman.
Lois picked up Clark’s journal from the table and brought it back to bed with her. She left on the main light in the living room – total darkness was a rich breeding ground for fears - and slipped into the warmth of Clark’s bed. She stared at his journal, aching for a connection with him.
Would he mind?
If it was him yearning for her, she would be fine with him finding comfort in her writing. Finding comfort in anything.
With trembling fingers, she opened the journal to the most recent entry. It was dated Sunday, November 17 – two days ago.
Lois stared, allowing the words to blur, deliberately not reading them. Not yet. Just his handwriting gave her a sense of peace. She closed her eyes and slowly swept her fingertips over the writing, letting his presence seep into her.
Then with a shuddery sigh, Lois opened her eyes and began to read.
November 17
Lois is going to marry me. Lois is going to marry me. Lois is going to marry me.
I am so happy. I can’t wait.
I can’t believe Lois said ‘yes’.
Four weeks.
Four short weeks.
Four impossibly long weeks.
I love you, Lois. I always will.
You’re my world.
And I’m the luckiest guy in the world.
Lois closed his journal, clasped it to her chest and wiped her moist cheeks.
On Sunday night, Clark had come here after leaving her apartment. He’d written in his journal, maybe as he lay here in bed.
Then he’d ...
What?
What had happened to him?
Lois turned off the bed lamp and shuffled into a comfortable position, determined to sleep, determined to give herself a chance of waking tomorrow, rested, refreshed and in the best condition to help Clark.
Her determination lasted less than thirty seconds. Questions, speculation and trepidation swamped her, filling her with mind-numbing dread. She needed to find a place of peace, even temporarily.
She thought of Clark’s journal, still in her hands.
His words could calm her. She remembered back to the night her parents had died. The night she had gone to bed, tense and shocked and numb. The night Clark had come to her and his words and his touch and his love had soothed her.
Now she only had his words. But it was something of Clark. Something she could cling to. She turned on the lamp and opened his journal, flicking to the day she had met him.
August 3
Today I met Lois Lane, famed reporter and the Daily Planet’s brightest star ... in my bed!
I came out of the bathroom - with only a towel between me and a level of embarrassment I’m fairly confident would have been fatal - and stormed right into my room, never suspecting a beautiful woman would be in my bed.
But there she was ... and oh my ... let there be no mistake ... she is beautiful.
I can’t get her out of my mind.
August 5
Lois went back to Metropolis today.
I miss her. There’s a massive hole in my heart. A hole that can only be filled by her.
I always knew she would go home, of course. There’s nothing in Smallville to keep her here.
But there is something ... someone ... a small-town reporter ... here ... who’s in love her.
Will always be in love with her.
The weekend was mind-blowing, in so many ways. I wonder, does upheaval follow Lois? Or does she find it? Anyway, the most extraordinary aspect of the weekend is this – how could it have taken me thirty-two hours to admit that I am in love?
Seconds after I met her I knew. My fate was sealed. There could be no one else. Not for me.
But she must have a hundred guys to choose from. Sophisticated city guys. Why would she even take a second glance at a Kansas farmer?
I called Mr White today. Just to ask if he had received my résumé.
I don’t really know why.
A job in Metropolis? Working at the Daily Planet? With Lois?
You’re dreaming, Kent.
August 25
Mr White called me today.
He asked me to go to Metropolis tomorrow to interview for a position.
I’m trying not to get too excited about the prospect of working at the Daily Planet. It’s an interview, nothing more.
But I can’t help getting very excited about the prospect of seeing Lois again.
Will she be happy to see me?
Will she smile at me? Just once? Just one smile to add to the catalogue in my mind of every single time I’ve seen her smile.
Has she missed me?
Has she expended even one significant thought on me since she left Smallville?
Realistically, I doubt it.
Realistically, I know I yearn for the impossible.
She’s a beautiful, talented, independent, successful woman.
And I’m a hick from Nowheresville.
No chance, Kent.
But tomorrow, I’ll see her again, and that thought brings the sunshine to my life.
August 26
Clark Kent, Daily Planet.
Woooo-hoooo!
August 28
Lois, Lois, Lois.
My mind, my heart, my soul is filled with Lois.
I went to Janet Thorp’s funeral today ... and Lois came to find me. She held my hand and I thought my heart was going to catapult out of my chest.
We had lunch. Together.
I walked her home and she wore my jacket – my clothes have never looked so good.
We arrived at her apartment and she invited me in.
Lois likes me!!!!
She admitted she likes me and it has blown every brain cell I possess into orbit.
She has reservations about my ability to cope with the harshness of the city ... but one thing I am sure of, harsh or not, I have to be where Lois is. I have to be with her. As much as she’ll let me, anyway.
I love her.
Lois re-read the last three words over and over, her tears streaming down her cheeks. Clark had loved her from the beginning.
An overwhelming desire for him burned though her. She wanted him so much. Wanted to hold him. Wanted to tell him she loved him. Wanted to quell his uncertainties and assure him what he yearned for was possible – more than possible.
It was his destiny.
Their destiny.
She stared at Clark’s writing, wanting to turn the page and greedily consume more. But, like a stranded survivor on a deserted island with just one bar of chocolate, she needed to conserve.
Clark *would* find a way to come back to her ... she had to believe that. But the longer he was away, the more desperately she would need his words.
Resolutely, she closed the journal.
His words had given her composure, had lifted her from the quagmire and given her the ability to see from a new perspective.
She would logically consider all the possibilities and work from there.
The first possibility - his own people had come to Earth and taken him back. Lois had shuddered when he’d said “I wonder if they watch me.” What if they *had* been watching him? What if they wouldn’t allow him to marry an Earth woman? What if their engagement had precipitated this?
With sinking dread, she realised that if Clark’s people had re-claimed him, the unpalatable truth was that she was powerless. She had no doubt Clark would try to get back to her, but it may not be possible. Maybe they could change his mind ... change his heart.
A shoot of pain tore through her at the thought of him living without any memory of her.
But it was preferable to him hurting like this.
Would aliens need to physically remove him from his bed and drag him along the floor? Surely they would have ... other ways.
Lois forced her thoughts onwards. The second possibility - that humans had taken him.
If that had happened, he wasn’t unreachable. But ... she had so little to work with.
And whatever she did, protecting the secret had to be a consideration.
But he was Superman – how could anyone overpower him?
The third possibility - Clark had left her.
She dismissed that immediately – if Clark had changed his mind about marrying her, about being with her, he wouldn’t walk away with no explanation.
It was something he just wouldn’t do.
The last possibility - he was doing Superman work, somewhere so remote the world’s news services hadn’t yet caught on. It was possible, she supposed, but realistically, very unlikely after this amount of time.
And it didn’t explain why his glasses were missing.
And, she was confident Clark would find a way to let her know he was all right. For him, a flying trip to Metropolis – from anywhere in the world – would take less than a second.
So – two possibilities.
Aliens had taken him.
Humans had taken him.
Given Clark’s powers, the former seemed most likely. Which filled her with piercing despair.
With a body-rattling sigh, Lois slipped from Clark’s bed and went to his kitchen to make herself a hot drink. Perhaps it would help her sleep. As she reached for the tea caddy, her arm brushed against her bag and it toppled, its contents strewn across the floor.
Lois scooped up her cell, keys, purse, notebook and pens and carelessly dumped them back in her bag. A small piece of paper remained on the floor. She picked it up and unfolded it. It read - in hand written, stilted block letters – PERSONAL CLASSIFIEDS FISHING ADVICE.
