From Part 12 ...
When Lois drew away, she couldn’t resist sweeping her hand across Kal’s cheek, allowing her touch to convey her love. “You were magnificent today,” she told him. “You were inspirational ... strong, compelling. Your people are fortunate to have you as their leader.”
“I was very anxious when no one moved,” Kal admitted.
“You didn’t look anxious,” Lois assured him. “You looked like you had absolute faith that your people would make the right choices.”
“How do you always know exactly the right thing to say?”
Lois chuckled. “Usually I don’t. I have said the wrong thing so many times in the past.”
Kal raised his hand and slowly slithered the ends of his fingers through her hair. “Maybe it’s just that you always know exactly the right thing to say to me.”
Lois grinned and pulled away. “I have an idea,” she said.
Part 13
Kal watched as Lois knelt in the middle of the bed. She smiled at him. “Come on, Kal.” She gestured to the space in front of her. “Come and sit with me.”
He was torn – torn between going to her and standing back so he could satisfy his yearning to gaze at her. After less than a breath, the pull of her smile was too much. He crossed the room and sat in front of her, but twisted so he could still see her.
Lois grasped the shoulders of his jacket. “Would you mind if I took this off?” she asked.
Before he had the chance to reply, she’d slipped his jacket down his arms and discarded it.
“Turn around,” Lois said. “And relax.”
Kal forced his attention forward. He didn’t know what she was going to do, but he did know he had never experienced such exquisite anticipation. Her hands gripped his shoulders; her fingers splayed along his collar bones and her thumbs pressed his shirt against his skin.
Then ... she began to move.
As her fingers worked towards his neck, they generated rippling streams of heat into his chest. Her thumbs delved into the upper slopes of his back - before meeting, eventually, on either side of the ridge of his spine.
Her pressure increased as her thumbs weaved a tingling journey down his back.
Her moving touch seeped through his muscles and into him – renewing him.
Kal’s eyes closed and his head dropped forward as her hands climbed the curve of his back.
For the first time since he had left her that morning, his mind was empty of his memories and free of his fears.
There was just Lois.
And her wonderful, restorative hands releasing hope and comfort and reassurance throughout his distress.
After many minutes, her hands edged upwards. With long, slow strokes, her fingers drifted up his neck. Then, they roamed through his hair with enthralling aimlessness.
Kal heard himself groan with the absolute pleasure of her touch.
He heard Lois laugh. “Feel good?” she asked.
“Better than anything I’ve ever felt.”
Her hands left his head and her arms draped over his shoulders. Kal allowed himself to be eased back against her. He felt her cheek against his.
He didn’t want to open his eyes.
He didn’t want to move.
He wanted to stay just like this.
With Lois.
Eventually, she withdrew and placed a soft kiss on his temple. “Better?” she asked.
Kal forced his eyes open and straightened. He turned so he could see her. “That was ... incredible,” he said.
Lois smiled.
He wanted to thank her. He would thank her. But somehow, saying two words just didn’t seem enough. She had done so much for him ... not only now, not only her hands on his neck and shoulders ... but everything she had done for him ... all the new things she had brought to his life.
“Lois ...” he said and faltered.
She smiled. “Yes, Kal.”
He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “There is so much in here ... and it’s all about you.”
“I feel that too,” Lois said.
“I ... there was so much I didn’t know ... so much I had never even thought of ... so much you have given me ... taught me ... shown me. I didn’t know I was so ... alone.”
“You have given me so much too, Kal.”
That surprised him. “I have given you nothing.”
Lois laughed, a gentle laugh, full of a softness that hugged his heart. “You have given me a home and food and protection. You treated me with respect and dignity when I was a stranger.”
“You never seemed like a stranger,” Kal said. “From the moment you lifted your head and looked straight at me ... it was as if there was something about you ... something ... “
“Special?”
“Yes ... but so much more than that ... as if ... I *had* to meet you. As if ... not meeting you would have been like ... never really living.”
Lois stood from the bed and turned away ... but not before Kal had seen her tears. He stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders as she had done for him. A little hesitantly, his fingers began to work gently into her flesh. “Did I say something wrong?” he murmured against her ear.
Lois shook her head.
“Then why are you crying?”
Lois turned to face him and automatically, Kal reached to collect her fallen tears. “Because you make me so happy and ...”
“And?”
“And I’m not sure what happens now.”
Something told Kal her words were not as simple as they sounded. She wasn’t talking about right now. There was another meaning ... but he wasn’t sure what it was. “We do the Disputes?” he asked.
From amidst her tears came a tentative smile. “Yes,” she agreed. “We do the disputes.”
Kal bent and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I want to give you reasons to smile,” he said. “Always to make you smile.”
Lois wiped the remainder of her tears from her eyes and smiled up at him. “I thought of something today,” she said. “I’d like to discuss it with you ... after we do the disputes.”
Kal took her hand and led her back to the bed. Then he pulled up the chair and sat, facing her. “The Disputes can wait,” he said. “Tell me what you were thinking.”
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Lois took a deep breath, still unsure how to present her idea ... and very unsure how it would be received by Kal. “How many people live on New Krypton?” she asked.
“Three thousand, five hundred, eighty-three,” Kal said. He looked away, his face clouding for a moment. “As of last night.”
His pain was still so very real. Lois squeezed his hand. “So not everybody was at the Reports?” she asked.
“No,” Kal said. “Farmers who live too far from the city, women with children, the sick or elderly – all are exempt from attending.”
“Those who don’t come – how do they find out what happened?”
“They get told by others.”
“Who were told by others?”
“I guess so.”
“Ever played ‘Telephone’?”
“No.”
“What if the telling changes each time?” Lois said. “What if by the time it gets to the last person, the story bears no resemblance to what you actually said?”
“I’ve never really thought about it.”
“But if the farmers are being told you said things you didn’t say, that wouldn’t be good, would it?”
“No.”
“That’s why you need a newspaper,” she declared, unable to keep the note of triumph from her voice.
“So everyone can read everyone else’s business?”
“No, so your words are reported accurately to all Kryptonians.”
“What are you thinking of doing?”
“I could write what you said. Then you could write it in Kryptonian and we could make copies and send them out to the people who couldn’t come.”
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Kal wasn’t sure about Lois’s idea.
But he was totally captivated by the energy in her face and the way her eyes were shining. “Can we do it?” she asked, a little breathlessly.
He wanted to say ‘yes’. He didn’t want the liveliness to fade away. “You write it,” he said. “I’ll read it and if I think it would be advantageous, we’ll try your idea.”
Her smile widened as she leapt from the bed and went to the desk. She came back with a piece of paper. “I’ve already written it,” she announced with a big smile.
Somehow, that didn’t really surprise him. Kal felt himself answer her smile.
“Can I read it to you?” Lois asked.
Kal nodded.
“Yesterday at the Extraordinary Report, the Supreme Ruler of New Krypton issued his people with a challenge - the challenge to choose life over death, peace over war, brotherhood over hatred.
“The people of New Krypton responded. It began as a few brave individuals who were bold enough to make a stand for what they believe. Quickly, it became an overwhelming demonstration of support for the unity of New Krypton.
“The Extraordinary Report was born from the tragic loss of life the previous day. That tragedy may well be remembered at the last vestige of a dead planet ... of a way of life that was always regrettable and is now unsustainable. The Extraordinary Report may be remembered as the true birth of a new people – a gallant and dignified and courageous people who, for the sake of their children, committed themselves to harmony.”
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Lois looked up from her paper, wanting a response from Kal.
He wasn’t smiling ... but he didn’t look displeased. “What do you think?” she asked, feeling a lot like she had when she’d handed Perry White her first ever story for the Daily Planet.
Kal’s smile broke free. “You’re good at that,” he said.
“Thank you.” Lois hurried on. “I’m hoping you will let me have a copy of what you said, so I can include that.”
“Get a pencil and paper,” Kal said. “I’ll tell you.”
“You have notes?”
“No,” Kal said. “I remember.”
“All of it? Word for word?”
“Yes.”
“Who wrote your speech, Kal?”
The question seemed to surprise him. “I did.”
“*You* wrote it?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Because I’m not the only one here who is good at writing. That Report ... you delivered it so well ... but the words themselves were ... perfect.”
“Thank you.”
“You could be a writer, Kal.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely.” Lois grinned mischievously. “You know, when I have this newspaper up and running and I’m the Editor-in-Chief, I may even give you an occasional by-line.”
Kal grinned. Lois knew he hadn’t understood all of her words, but he’d understood her tone and her amusement and her respect. And he’d responded to those.
Just as her heart responded to him.
Every time.
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Lois and Kal made the one sheet of ‘newspaper’. “Kal?” Lois said.
“Yes.”
“Can everyone write?”
“Most people can.”
“Is there anyone who could make more copies of this?”
“Anyone could.”
“Could I ask Jib? Or Mo?”
“Yes.”
So Kal *did* know their names. But, according to Jib, not their bodies. “Have you ever been into one of the concubine rooms, Kal?” Lois asked, pretending to be engrossed in reading her notes.
“No.”
So, unless there was some other meeting place, Kal didn’t sleep with Jib or Mo. Or his wife. Which left only Ard ... who entertained a night visitor.
Lois watched as Kal gathered the dispute folders. She moved to the bed, he moved to the chair close to the bed.
They worked on the disputes – but Lois found it impossible to concentrate.
Because each passing minute brought her closer to the looming decision.
The decision about where she would sleep that night.
Would Kal want her to stay with him?
Probably.
Should she?
Probably not.
Her fingers could still feel the hard contours of Kal’s shoulders ... the satiny softness of his hair ... the breadth of him as he had leant against her.
Every time she remembered his groan of pleasure, her insides rolled like the swell of the ocean.
No – she could not stay.
Not tonight.
He was a *married* man.
Not any night.
Lois swallowed down her tears before they ever reached her throat. “I’m tired, Kal,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”
He looked up from the judgment he was writing. “Where are you sleeping tonight?” he asked quietly.
Lois extracted herself from his gaze. “In my room.”
“Why?”
Why? Because you’re married. Because I’m in love with you. Because your body constantly and mercilessly reminds me I’m a woman. Because the thought of sharing with you in ways you seem to know nothing about is just too intoxicating to allow me rational thought.
And you’re *married*. “Because last night was ... different,” Lois said.
“Did you not like sleeping with me last night?”
“Last night was different,” Lois maintained. She could see his confusion. She knew her answer was unsatisfactory. She knew he deserved a whole lot more.
“Will you come here for breakfast?” Kal asked.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes. I want to be with you all the time.”
“I will share breakfast with you tomorrow,” Lois said as she stood. “Good night, Kal.”
“Can I kiss you before you leave me?”
He didn’t mean to drive an axe through her heart ... didn’t know his words carried the power to corral her into an impossible corner, facing an impossible choice.
Kal waited – waited for her answer.
“Yes,” Lois said after a long silence.
He stepped to her, put his hand on her shoulder and laid a kiss on her mouth. “Good night, Lois,” he said.
Lois turned and hurried out of his room – before her tears erupted.
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As she shivered in her bed, Lois realised she was listening.
Last night, she had heard Kal.
Tonight, she was listening again.
Listening for him.
Then she heard a sound. It wasn’t a groan, more a movement.
Lois shot from her bed, opened her door and peeked out. She saw a man coming from Ard’s room. The same man she had seen two nights ago.
Except this time, she saw enough before the darkness swallowed him.
Enough to see him limp away.
Lois gasped.
It was Tek.
Tek in Ard’s room.
Tek who was married with two children.
Tek, Kal’s employee, in the room with Kal’s concubine.
It seemed the more she learned about this planet, the less sure she was about anything.
Lois waited long enough for Tek to move away, then crossed the distance to Ard’s room and knocked on her door.
The door opened and Lois was again struck by Ard’s beauty. With the light of her room behind her, she reminded Lois of the pictures she’d seen of angels. “Hello,” Ard said.
Lois started. A Kryptonian had spoken to her! Without being coerced into it. “Hello, Ard, I’m Lois.”
“It’s late,” Ard said. “I should go to bed now.”
Was that Kryptonian for ‘please leave’?
Lois looked past Ard into her room, checking, she told herself, for any signs that Ard had been hurt by Tek ... or, she admitted, anything to confirm her suspicions. The blankets covering Ard’s bed were unruffled – it didn’t look like the stage for illicit activities.
Maybe Ard was compulsively tidy.
Then Lois noticed something else. Ard’s walls were covered with pictures – pictures of trees and grass and flowers – all drawn in a childish hand.
“I like your pictures,” Lois said.
Ard stepped back, giving Lois a better view.
“Who drew them?”
“I did.”
Lois didn’t believe her. They looked far too much like the work of a child. Lois stepped forward and peered at the pictures.
Yes, they had a childish simplicity, but on closer examination, they were filled with detail – and the simplicity enhanced their undeniable charm. “You drew them?” Lois said.
“Yes.”
“I like them.”
Ard pointed to the closest picture. “Do you like this one?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Ard pulled it from the wall and held it towards Lois.
“Are you giving that to me?” Lois asked.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
Lois could tell she didn’t understand. “I have to go to bed now,” Ard said.
“Good night,” Lois said.
Ard shut the door.
Lois took the picture to her room and examined it. It was simple – a picture of a field with a few flowers under a blue, cloudless sky. It contained only three colours – green, red, blue – with black and white for shading.
On the back, stuck to the four corners, were bits of what looked like dual-sided tape. Lois pushed it against her wall and it stayed there. She stood back, contemplating the picture, the artist and the visitor.
Kryptonian life was not as unsophisticated as she had imagined. She had sweet smelling face cream, given to her by Tek’s wife and a sweet picture, given to her by Tek’s ...
Mistress?
Lois climbed back into her bed and willed sleep to come.
It didn’t. It was thwarted by the image of Kal. Kal – alone ... and confused.
Twice, Lois pushed back the covers and started towards Kal’s room.
Twice, she sank back into her bed.
She knew she could not share Kal’s bed again.
Not without going further.
And he was married.
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Kal stared at the ceiling.
He had slept alone every night as far back as his memories stretched.
Except one.
His bed seemed big and cold and foreign.
Lois had said she loved him.
She’d said it when she was in bed with him.
Now she’d gone back to the Concubine Quarters.
Did that mean she didn’t love him any more?
He’d intended to ask her about love today. But then they’d made her story about the Extraordinary Report and done some of the Disputes and then she had left before he’d had the opportunity to ask.
But tomorrow ... he would ask.
He would find out exactly what ‘I love you, Kal,’ meant.
And then ... then he would work out what he could do so Lois wanted to stay in his bedroom again.
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The next morning, Kal ordered sweet oatmeal.
He dabbed a little of Tek’s cologne on his face.
Then he waited for Lois to come.
Determined ... absolutely determined ... that neither of them were leaving his bedroom until he understood exactly what she’d meant when she’d said she loved him.
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Lois’s heart tripped unevenly as she approached Kal’s room the next morning.
Would he be annoyed that she hadn’t stayed in his room last night?
Did he have *any* idea why?
Would he want to kiss her?
And if he *did* kiss her, how possible was it going to be to accept his kiss and then move away without giving in to any of the whole range of ideas that had taken up permanent residence in her imagination?
Lois knocked on his door and Kal opened it.
He stood there – his face giving her none of the answers she sought – his eyes inscrutable.
“Good morning, Kal,” Lois said.
She perceived a softening around his mouth, but he didn’t smile. “Thank you for coming, Lois,” he said, somewhat formally.
He stood back and gestured for her to sit on the bed.
As she passed him, she caught a whiff of an unfamiliar, but very pleasant spicy aroma. Was it Kal? Had he worn something? For her?
He sat on the chair with the bowl and two spoons. “What flavour is the oatmeal?” Lois asked.
“Taste it.”
It would be sweet. She knew from the expression on Kal’s face. She tasted it; she was right.
They ate without speaking. “How is the drilling going?” Lois asked when she could tolerate the silence no longer.
“Nothing yet,” Kal replied. “I will receive an update of progress today.”
“I hope it is successful.”
Again, silence fell.
Lois felt more uncomfortable than she had the first time they had eaten together. Then, she was dazed and still coming to terms with the enormity of the changes in her life.
She’d understood so little, she had eaten the cutlery.
A giggle broke free and Kal’s eyes shot to her face. “What?” he said, a sedate smile playing around his mouth.
“I was remembering how the first time we ate together, I –.“
“You ate the chop-stick,” Kal finished.
From the shared memory blossomed a shared smile.
“Then you laughed,” Kal said. “It was the most ... buoyant ... sound I had ever heard.”
“I have never heard you laugh.”
His eyes dropped to his oatmeal. Had he taken her last remark as criticism?
The discomfiture stretched again. They finished the food.
Lois searched for something to say, but she couldn’t muster the words to form a coherent sentence.
This was Kal, she reminded herself.
Kal – whom she ...
Trusted.
She had trusted another man once, but he had been unworthy of her trust and she had vowed never to trust again.
Yet she trusted Kal.
He had not demanded her trust ... nor expected it ... nor even asked for it. He had simply shown himself to be trustworthy.
Lois glanced up and saw his confusion displayed so eloquently on his face. This was her fault – *she* had kissed him, *she* had agreed to sleep in his bed, *she* had refused to stay the very next night.
“Lois?” Kal’s voice scythed through the silence.
“Yes,” she said, too quickly.
“I have questions.”
“I know.”
He placed the still-half-full glass on the floor and straightened in his chair. “When you were in my bed, you said you ...” Kal gestured to the centre of his chest “...me.”
“I said I love you.”
“Love,” he said haltingly. “Love. Did I say it correctly?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about love,” Kal said. “I don’t even have a word for it. It doesn’t translate. What does love mean to you? What does it mean to your people? I think it is important, but I don’t understand why or how.” He looked beseechingly into her eyes. “Please help me to understand.”
Lois took a deep breath.
How could she explain it? And how would Kal react when he understood the full implication of her declaration of love?
“You said it was something you felt in your chest,” Kal prompted. “When you said that, I didn’t understand.”
“But you know of love, Kal,” Lois insisted. “You love your people. I saw that when you were so grieved by the tragedies. I see it in your concern for their welfare.”
“That is duty.”
“Maybe it is duty – but it is also love.”
“It is not that love I want to know about – it is the love between a man and a woman.”
Lois had figured as much.
“How many people do you love?” Kal asked.
“Ah ... well, there’s my parents and my sister and Perry and some friends and –.“
“Me,” he cut in. “You said you love me.”
“Yes.” Lois took a deep breath, trying to ward off the tremors threatening to contort her insides.
“Do you still love me?”
“Yes.”
“But you wouldn’t stay with me last night?”
“No.”
His confusion intensified. “Is all love the same?”
“No. There is love for family ... and love for friends ... and love for one special person.”
“Tell me about *that* love.”
“It’s the love between a man and a woman,” Lois said. “A love they share with each other, but not with anyone else.”
“This special love ... it is felt for only one person?”
This was not the time to complicate things further. “Yes.”
“How do they get that love?”
“They meet, they fall in love, they –“
“Fall?”
“In some ways, falling in love is like jumping off a cliff,” Lois said. “You are no longer completely in control. The feeling is amazing and wonderful and the world is brighter and you feel like skipping instead of walking and laughing instead of smiling. He is all you can think about – you dream about him at night and think about him during the day. You want to be with him every moment and when you aren’t with him, it feels like you are hollow inside, because something vital is missing.”
Kal’s eyes were steadily fixed in hers. “What happens after they fall in love?
“Often, they will get married.”
“They choose to marry each other? They aren’t told they have to be married?”
“In some Earth cultures, the parents arrange the marriage,” Lois said. “But in my culture, the people choose for themselves.”
“What happens after they get married?”
“They live together in the same house, they share their lives, they –. “
“Do they sleep in the same bed?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happens?”
“Sometimes they have children ... they become a family ... a mother, a father and some children.”
“Like Tek?”
Hopefully not like Tek, Lois thought. “Yes.”
“What is it about a man that would make a woman choose to marry him?”
“At first, it might be how he looks,” Lois said. “But it has to be more than that. It’s his heart – whether he is caring and kind. Whether he is truthful. Whether he is trustworthy. Whether he treats her with respect. Whether he cares more about her than himself. Whether he loves her.”
“Do married people share everything?”
“Not *everything*.” Lois smiled, but Kal’s solemnity didn’t waver. “But they share all the important things.”
“Like secrets?”
“Yes.”
“They know everything about each other?”
“Ideally.”
“But they still love?”
“Yes.”
“Does a woman ever change her mind and not want to be married any more?”
“Yes,” Lois said. “That happens. Then they get a divorce.”
“A div...?”
“A divorce. It means the marriage has broken up and the people live apart.”
“Because they have no longer fallen in love?” Kal asked.
“Yes.”
“What would make a woman not love a man anymore?”
“If he lied to her. If he hurt her. If she discovered he wasn’t really the man she thought he was.”
“Hurt her ... you mean by hitting her?”
“That happens sometimes and is completely unacceptable,” Lois said. “But more often, he hurts her by lying to her ... or by telling her he loves only her when he loves someone else.”
“And that hurts?”
“Yes – it hurts so bad.”
Kal hesitated. “I know what you’re saying ... but ...”
Lois searched for a way to bring clarity. Then she had an idea; and it was also a way to discover if Kal’s questions were merely theoretical or if they were growing out of his awakening perception of their relationship. “Imagine this,” Lois said.
Kal nodded.
“Imagine you have been out dealing with a difficult situation. And you’ve finished and you’re tired and you’re coming towards your bedroom and you’re hoping someone will be here when you get here.”
“You,” he said decisively.
Lois smothered her smile. “Imagine when you get here, I am here, but I am in your bed with someone else, another man, I am asleep with him, hugging him. How would you –?”
She stopped as the hurt carved across Kal’s face. “I would *hate* that,” he said with such fervour, his voice splintered.
“Would it hurt?” Lois asked needlessly. She leant forward and placed her hand on his chest, right over his heart. “Would it hurt in here?”
“Yes,” he said, with a conviction that shook her world. His hand covered hers and held her there – against his pounding heart. “I didn’t understand hurting on the inside,” Kal said.
“You didn’t?” Lois questioned. “But you do now?”
“Yes.”
“Because of what I’ve explained?”
“No,” Kal said. “The first night you were in my room. When you thought it was your room and you got into my bed and I tried to sleep on the chair.”
“I’m sorry,” Lois said. “It was wrong to take your bed. But I really thought it was my bed.”
Kal shook his head. “Trying to sleep on the chair hurt on the outside. But when you left ... that hurt on the inside.”
Her qualms were slowly dissolving in the warmth of his guilelessness.
She loved him so completely.
“When two people marry, do they make promises to each other?” Kal asked.
Lois slipped her hand out from under his. It just wasn’t that easy to think clearly sandwiched between the softness of his hand and the firmness of his chest. “Yes.”
“What sort of promises?”
“That they will stay together, they will support each other, they will help each other, they will comfort each other, they will be faithful to each other, they will commit their lives to being together.”
“How do people show their love for each other?”
“By the way they speak, by touch, by caring, by being understanding of each other, by the way they act, by the choices they make.”
Kal’s barrage of questions stopped abruptly. He considered her solemnly for a prolonged moment and then smiled hesitantly. “I want to marry you, Lois,” he said.
