Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Trusting Me, Trusting You 2:Bridge (13/?)

Lois walked up the stairs to her office, reflecting that it might be a good thing that she wouldn't see Shadbolt for a couple of days. If he were reporting back to someone, distance was a good thing.

She tossed the book into one of Trask's boxes and looked into the cell. Clark was combing his hair. Lois smiled at his efforts. He ran the comb down the back of his head to the limit of his reach. Then he removed the comb and started again at the top.

Clearly, when he had had a choice, his hair had been kept short.

Once the pet door was installed, a haircut might be possible.

His lunch lay near the door, untouched.

As she watched Clark return the comb to his tin box, Lois listened intently. Waited.

Finally, she heard the creak of the external door, and she looked at the clock. It was 1:51. She would wait until 1:55.

Four minutes. Four long minutes.


Part 13

While she waited for the time to pass, Lois checked the assortment of things she had bought yesterday. She had prepared well. She had known she would need some of these things ... she just hadn't thought it would happen so soon.

A sense of urgency pressed in on her again, and she thought of Clark.

If things happened quickly, how was he going to cope? Physically, he would be fine. Emotionally ...

How could she best prepare him?

Lois waited the four minutes, and then, with a smile she couldn't repress, she took her herbed roll, both of the yoghurts, and the bottle of orange juice from her bag. She glanced into the cell. Clark was still waiting.

She locked her office door and ran down the stairs. Her ankle hadn't given her any trouble at all. Clark's 'ice' had worked amazingly.

She stopped briefly in the staffroom to collect two spoons and two glasses, and then she unlocked the door.

As she stepped into the cell, she dropped low to add Clark's roll to her bounty. He was already halfway across the room. He stopped when he saw her, smiled hesitantly, and then hastened forward, his hands outstretched to help carry their lunch.

Lois's heart gave a little leap at seeing him again. "Hi, Clark," she said brightly.

"Hi, Lois."

His voice was so soft and so full that it felt more like an embrace than a greeting. It would have seemed so natural to step up to him, place a hand on his shoulder, and drop a little kiss on his cheek. That wasn't possible, so she made do with running her eyes across his face. "Your hair looks great," she said.

"Thanks. How's your ankle?"

She smiled. "It feels fantastic. Thank you for what you did for me yesterday."

"You're welcome." He shrugged slightly, and his eyes fell to the food they carried. "Shall we eat? I waited for you."

They sat on the mattress he had placed against the wall. "How was last night?" Lois asked as she removed the plastic wrap from her roll. "Did you sleep any better?"

"A little. The mattress and bedding didn't seem quite so unnatural."

Something told her that it was more than the unfamiliar bedding that had kept him awake. Could it possibly have been thoughts of her? Memories of her washing his hair, perhaps?

"Is something wrong?" Clark asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I ..." He winced apologetically. "I thought I heard your voice early this morning. I didn't hear anything that was said, but ... Sorry."

Again, Lois wanted to touch him - to reach across the small divide of the mattress and brush her hand on his arm. She smiled and hoped that would suffice. "You don't have to be sorry," she said. "I *was* here. Shadbolt called me in. And it doesn't matter if you heard because I intend to discuss it with you anyway."

His reaction - a little flicker of his eyelids and a ripple through the whiskers around his mouth - reminded her of how something as small as not being excluded meant so much to Clark.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Nothing that can't be fixed," she said.

"What happened?"

"Longford got a bit anxious."

Clark understood immediately - understood that the cause of the anxiety was something they thought he might do. Lois saw the pain streak across his face. How awful to believe that people always thought the worst of him - always thought he was capable of violent and brutal behaviour. "What are we going to do?" he asked.

Lois halted her herbed roll halfway to her mouth and gave him a lingering smile.

"What?" he asked, his puzzlement showing in the quirk of his eyebrow.

"You," she replied.

"Me?"

"I love that you asked what *we* are going to do."

Instead of smiling, he glanced around the room. "Realistically, there is very little I *can* do," he said sombrely.

"There's a *lot* you can do," Lois corrected. "You can discuss ideas with me. You have unique insight into Shadbolt and Longford and how they are most likely to act. I need you to help me decide the best way to do this."

It was true, but Lois's primary reason for her words was the need to counterbalance the little dip in Clark's spirits.

Instead of the reaction she had hoped for, a plague of questions flooded onto his face. He placed his roll on the paper bag and stared at it. "Lois," he said in a voice wrapped in anguished uncertainty.

"What's wrong, Clark?" she asked.

"Why are you doing this?" he grated hoarsely.

Lois smiled at him, but he didn't raise his eyes. "Do I need a reason?" she asked.

"Where do you see this ending?"

"Where do you see it ending?"

Clark lifted his head, torment burning in his eyes. "It can't end outside this prison," he stated doggedly.

His words hacked destruction through her plans. "Why not?"

"I can't leave here."

Lois studied him for a moment, perceiving the vast depths of his fear and hopelessness. She guessed it was fear for his parents and hopelessness for himself. She waited for him to raise his lowered eyes.

He didn't.

Lois put down her lunch and laid her hand on his right shoulder.

Under her fingers, he stiffened.

With her thumb, she traced the line of his collarbone - lightly skimming over the protrusion that could be felt under his shirt. The point of his shoulder curved forward. Lois raised her thumb, but didn't remove her hand.

"Because of that?" she asked.

His reply was a stunted nod.

"Clark," Lois said. "We are not going to let a little lump stop us from doing what is right."

His head slowly rose, and solemn brown eyes speared into hers. "I accepted a long time ago that I can't have a life outside of this prison."

"I *haven't* accepted that," Lois said.

"Lois," he said wretchedly. "They put granules of the poison inside me. If I go through the door, the lead shell bursts open, the poison spreads through my body, and I'll be dead within minutes."

"We'll bulldoze the wall if we have to," she said with quiet resolve. "We'll find whatever Trask put there to activate the poison, and we'll destroy it. We will find a way."

A slender thread of hope weaved through the despair so apparent in his face.

Lois gently curled her fingers into the hard slope of muscle. "But we don't have to think about that yet," she said. "We need to plan other things first."

Her hand slid from his shoulder.

Clark picked up his roll.

And Lois realised that she had just crossed the line from which there could be no return. She had planted hope. Acceptance of his situation probably hadn't come quickly or easily, and she had brushed it aside in a moment.

She had to nurture that hope. Protect it. She couldn't allow it to wilt or be uprooted. If she did, her cruelty would be greater than Trask's.

Clark had resumed eating his roll. Lois took that as a good sign. "I've been concerned about how Shadbolt and Longford will react to some of the changes we've made," she said, keeping her tone casual.

"Yeah, I've wondered, too."

"I figured we need a way to give them access to this room while limiting how much they can see."

"A small chute in the wall?"

Lois smiled. "That was my thought," she said. "But a pet door will work just as well."

Clark slowly chewed a mouthful of his roll and then looked at her. "What happens when the man is here to work on the door?" he said.

Lois grinned. "I have that all worked out."

A tiny suggestion of a smile pushed through his anxiety. "What?"

"In my office, I have a pair of coveralls."

"OK," he said hesitantly.

She grinned again. "I also have a pot of paint and a brush. You put on the coveralls; you paint the wall; you look just like another worker."

He couldn't hide the press of relief from showing in his expression.

"Clark!" Lois exclaimed. "What were you thinking?"

His eyes darted away. He didn't want to tell her.

But she knew. And was horrified. "Clark! You weren't thinking that I would bring one of the rods into the cell, were you?"

That was exactly what he had been thinking. It was as clear as a neon sign on his face. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Lois reached across the short distance between them and laid her hand on his for a tiny moment. "The rods are never coming back," she promised. "Not if I can help it."

"I didn't think you would want to," he said. "I just couldn't see any other way."

"As far as the door man is concerned, you will be just another labourer working on the renovation of this place."

He smiled. "Thanks."

She looked around the room. "After we've eaten, we should get rid of some of this stuff. It would be hard to explain tennis racquets and a mattress in a room being painted."

He suddenly looked downcast. "Did they hear me hitting the ball against the wall?" he asked. "Is that why they called you in early this morning?"

She nodded. "But it doesn't matter."

"It was the middle of the night," Clark explained. "I couldn't sleep, and I hadn't heard any sounds for a long time. I figured the guard was asleep. I hit the ball really softly, hoping he wouldn't hear."

"Maybe the acoustics in here are weird," Lois said. "Anyway, it doesn't matter."

"What did you tell them?"

"Not much," she said with a grin.

"I'm sorry," he said ruefully. "I should have realised. I didn't mean to make it more difficult for you."

"Clark, it worked out well. Shadbolt suggested the pet door - that meant I didn't have to."

"Why do you think Shadbolt suggested it?" Clark asked.

"I don't know," Lois said. "I don't know if he was trying to be genuinely helpful, or if someone has asked him to report back on how I run this operation."

"Does he know you come in here?"

Lois grinned. "Only two people know I come in here."

His answering smile began but was aborted before it acquired full strength. "Lois, you need to be careful."

"I am being careful," she said. "I'm avoiding all contact with Scardino and hoping he will forget about this operation again."

"Scardino?"

"The one above me in the chain of command." Lois picked up a sliver of cheese from where it was perched on the edge of her roll and slipped it into her mouth. "What do you know about Shadbolt?"

"They made him come in here and get the bodies."

"Did he have anything to do with the murders?"

"No. Nothing. But he was the one who had to clean up the mess."

"Did he seem affected by it?"

"Very. He had to run for the bathroom once." Clark's eyes clouded with a memory. "He is sure that I killed them."

Again, Lois fought the compulsion to reach forward and connect with Clark. There was such hurt in his eyes. Why was she noticing it so clearly today? Because of the topics they were discussing? Or because he was letting down his guard and allowing her to see his suffering?

Was he beginning to trust her?

Or had something happened to her that meant his pain had become her pain?

Suddenly, there was a flash of movement, and Clark was on his feet. "Someone's coming," he said. He swept her into his arms, and the next thing Lois knew she was at the doorway. She stepped into the staffroom and locked the cell door. She put her half-eaten lunch on the table and began pouring a cup of coffee.

A knock sounded on the external door.

She went to answer it. "Who is it?"

"Daniel Scardino."

Lois opened the door. "Come in," she said. She walked into the staffroom and left him to follow. "Coffee?"

"Ah, no. Thank you."

She turned, coffee mug in hand, and leant against the counter as she waited for Scardino. On closer inspection, he seemed nervous. She wasn't sure if that were good or bad. Why had he come to the compound?

Lois sipped from her mug and then could wait no longer. "Are you here for a particular reason?" she asked lightly.

"I've been summoned by a higher-up to answer questions about this operation," Scardino said.

Lois felt apprehension compress her heart. Her gut had been right - it was doubtful they were going to be able to fade into obscurity after the mayhem with Moyne. "With regards to what?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Scardino said. "But if I had to guess, I'd say that he wants to know about the changes you've implemented."

Lois took her key from her pocket and held it towards Scardino. "Do you want to go into the cell?" she asked.

He quickly shook his head. "No," he said. "But I'd like to go to your office and look through the window."

"OK," Lois said nonchalantly. She picked up her coffee and lunch and headed up the stairs, working overtime to keep her trepidation from noticeably erupting.

She entered her office and allowed herself a fleeting glance into the cell. Inside, she smiled. Outside, she crossed to her desk, set down her mug, and turned her attention to Scardino.

He stepped into the little alcove between her desk and the closet and peered through the window. Lois spun around and took the opportunity afforded by Scardino's turned back.

The cell didn't look significantly different from the first time she had looked into it. The thin camp mattress was lying in the corner. His tin box was placed near the door. Clark was sitting against the back wall, listlessly eating the roll.

She was sure that he had messed the front and sides of his hair.

Scardino turned to Lois. "You gave him a mattress."

"Yeah," Lois said as if it was what anyone else would have done.

"And he has clothes."

Lois dropped her head and rubbed her forefinger and thumb along the bridge of her nose.

"Are you all right?" Scardino asked.

As she looked up, Lois swept the back of her hand across her eye. "My partner was raped and killed," she said in a voice that shook. "I wanted him clothed."

Scardino visibly recoiled. "Sorry," he said. He intently scanned the cell, probably trying to give her some time to compose herself. "What other initiatives have you introduced?"

Lois indulged in a steadying breath. "I feed him - usually three times a day. I give him enough water so that he can wash."

"Anything else?"

"I've stopped the discipline sessions."

"Why?"

"Because his behaviour doesn't change whether he has them or not, and I can't justify the risk of sending the assistants into the cage when there is no benefit."

"You asked about his parents."

"Yeah." Lois picked up one of her novels from her desk and absently flicked through the pages. "I found something in Trask's notes - a couple of names. I figured they could be his parents."

"Why did you want to know?"

Lois returned the book to the desk with more force than was necessary. "Have you any idea how boring this job is?" she said. "I was sitting here with nothing to do except watch a man in a cell, and I was reading Trask's notes and came across two names. It seemed it would be interesting to find out if they were real names of real people. I'm an *agent*, remember? It's usually my job to find out information."

"I got the impression it was more than that," Scardino said carefully. "You seemed to care what had happened to his parents. It seemed to be becoming personal."

Lois pushed back a lock of her hair and took a deep breath. "It was personal," she admitted quietly. "But it wasn't about him. My own dad is really sick."

"I'm sorry," Scardino said. "If you need time off ..."

"Thanks," Lois said. "But for now, I want to work. It gives me something else to think about."

Scardino looked as if he didn't know what to say next. "I need to take Trask's notes."

"Good," Lois said. "Could you take his personal possessions, too, please? They take up a lot of room."

Instead of looking at Trask's pile near the door, Scardino's eyes skipped over the assortment of things under her desk. "Are they Trask's?" he asked.

"No," Lois said. "They're my dad's. I went to his home this morning. I didn't want to leave them in my Jeep in case they got stolen."

Scardino nodded. His eyes fell on the mirror, but he didn't comment.

She needed to know more about the meeting, but - being unsure what Scardino would say - she felt a strange compulsion to protect Clark from the details. At least for now. She gestured to the boxes. "Let's get rid of these, shall we?"

Scardino paused before picking up a box. "How's your ankle?"

"It's fine," Lois said. She picked up the first box and headed down the stairs with it.

A few minutes later, they had removed all remnants of Trask's presence from her office. Lois handed the pillow to Scardino, and he put it in his vehicle. "When are you meeting with the higher-up?" she asked.

"Tomorrow morning."

"Longford is doing my shift tomorrow. I have some personal stuff to do."

Scardino nodded. He didn't ask any questions about what she had to do. That saved her from having to lie.

"Should I tell him to expect you to visit?"

"I don't know," Scardino said. "I've been summoned to Menzies' office. I don't know if he'll want to actually come here."

Menzies.

The name alone was enough to dump icy trepidation onto her heart. "I thought he was on leave."

"He was."

Lois swallowed down the expletive and instead fixed chilly unwavering eyes on Scardino. "What possible interest could he have in this operation?"

Scardino looked at the ground. "Menzies is married to Moyne's aunt."

The ice burned gouges deep into her heart, and Lois steadied herself against Scardino's vehicle. By the time his head had lifted, her face contained - she hoped - no more consternation than would be expected. "What has Moyne said to him?" she demanded coldly.

"I expect that is what we will find out tomorrow."

"Any questions raised now will highlight the deficiencies of those who should have investigated this operation a long time ago."

Scardino sucked in a quiet breath, and Lois knew that her barb had hit home.

"Don't expect that I will move on quietly," she warned. "I need to be in Metropolis for my father. I'm not going to be forced to leave him because of someone like Moyne. Or Menzies."

"You wouldn't have to leave," Scardino said. "I would approve at least two months of leave with full pay."

"Perhaps you didn't understand the severity of my father's condition," Lois said frostily. "Two months is not going to be enough."

Scardino grimaced. "I'm sorry. I ... ah ... I didn't realise."

"I have done nothing wrong," Lois said. "And nepotism, sexism, and unlawful imprisonment make for a tantalising combination."

"Lois," Scardino cautioned quietly. "Threatening to go public will not help you."

Lois gestured towards the compound. "Was there anything else you wanted while you're here?" she said. "My coffee's getting cold."

"No. That's all."

"Bye."

Lois closed the external door and collapsed against it as she heaved in a long breath and tried to settle her jangled nerves.

Tomorrow. Scardino was meeting with Moyne's uncle. Tomorrow. She would be in Kansas.

Should she postpone her trip?

If she did, they would ask questions.

Would her presence be enough to protect Clark? If Menzies demanded to go into the cell, they would use the rods.

And Lois wouldn't even be able to protest.

Should they go? Her and Clark? Tonight? Now?

They couldn't.

She didn't know enough. Didn't know enough about how to disable the implant Trask had embedded in Clark. Didn't know what had happened to his parents.

Clark's best chance ... their only chance ... was if she kept this assignment for as long as possible.

At this stage, that had to be her highest priority.

On reflection, it might be better if she were in Kansas. If Moyne had talked to Menzies, and it was evident in Menzies' attitude towards Clark ... On numerous occasions, Linda had kept Lois's mouth from getting them both into trouble.

Now Linda wasn't here.

Lois opened the door and peeped outside. Scardino had gone. After locking the door, she returned to her office to collect the remains of her lunch. She paused and looked into the cell.

Clark had reduced his room to bleakness. He'd thought of everything. There was no sign of tennis racquets, or Winnie the Pooh sleeping bags, or jigsaw puzzles, or tubs of strawberry yoghurt.

If Scardino talked to Shadbolt and Longford, would he think they were exaggerating her amendments? Or would he think that the cell had been deliberately cleared for his viewing?

She'd had no warning of Scardino's visit. She could only hope that what he'd seen would carry more weight than what he'd been told.

But what Scardino believed was no longer the most telling consideration. Not with Menzies in the equation.

She rewound the tape, covered the camera lens with the black curtain, and pressed 'record'. She needed to be more careful about leaving evidence. She couldn't add credibility to Moyne's story that their scuffle had been because he had been trying to stop her entering the cell.

Clark was eating his lunch. He looked disconsolate, but not distraught.

Had he been able to hear what had been said outside the compound?

She reviewed the conversation. She would tell Clark about the meeting and hope that his questions would indicate whether he'd heard about Menzies.

She hated the thought of keeping information from Clark.

But Menzies had links with Moyne, and Clark thought Moyne had gone. Clark had made so much progress the past few days - she couldn't jeoparise that with the spectre of Moyne.

After locking her office, Lois used the time as she walked down the stairs to decide exactly what she would tell Clark.

And exactly what needed to be kept from him. For now.

||_||

Clark sat alone in his cell, eating his lunch.

It didn't taste as good now Lois wasn't here.

He knew he shouldn't have listened to what was being said on the other side of the door, but that would have required more self-discipline than he possessed. Particularly as he couldn't banish the fear that Moyne would return, seeking retribution.

He'd heard most of it - enough to know that the visitor was Scardino.

Enough to know that Lois was working without the support of those above her. Enough to know that questions were being asked by someone with a lot of authority.

From what she'd said earlier, she didn't have the support of Shadbolt and the other assistant either.

She was alone in this.

And he had no way of helping her.

When she came back, he needed to try to talk to her about minimising the risks.

He'd heard her disconsolate statement about her partner. Was that really why she had bought him clothes?

He'd heard the footsteps up and down the stairs before the few minutes when everything had gone silent. When he'd heard Lois's footsteps return alone, Clark had turned off his extra hearing. He would not track Lois. Not unless he believed someone was trying to hurt her.

But even then, what could he do?

He heard the click of the lock and jumped to his feet as his heart did a little dance inside him.

The door swung into his cell, and Lois entered.

He always found it hard to breathe in that first second when he saw her again.

He crossed the cell, revelling in the freedom to approach her without concern that he would frighten her. He studied her face. Despite Scardino's surprise visit, she didn't look unduly concerned.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She smiled, magically lifting some of the heaviness from his spirits. "We're OK," she said as she looked around the prison. "Where is everything?"

Clark pulled back the mattress to reveal the two tubs of yoghurt, two glasses, and the bottle of juice.

Lois laughed. "From up there, I didn't even notice that your mattress was a bit lumpy. Where's the rest of it?"

"Behind the little wall," Clark said. "Because of the angles, there's a bit of space that can't be seen from the window."

"You did an amazing job of clearing the cell," she said.

His worries receded further - unable to stand against the impetus of her approval.

Realistically, Clark knew that there was very little chance he could have any sort of life on the outside. He knew that those who had power on this planet knew too much about him to permit his freedom. They knew he was too different ... too alien ... too unacceptable.

But ... being with Lois made the impossible seem possible.

Being with Lois made him want to believe.

Impulsively - even though he knew her ankle wasn't troubling her anymore - Clark offered his hand to steady her.

Her responding smile set off fireworks in his heart. She put her small soft hand into his and tightened her grip as she lowered herself onto the mattress. Her hand slid from his grasp, and she collected the remains of their lunch.

Clark sat next to her, hoping she couldn't detect the tingling that was blazing across the skin of his palm.

There was something he needed to tell her. "Lois?"

She unscrewed the top of the juice bottle. "Yes?"

"I listened," Clark said. "When you were with Scardino. I listened."

She poured orange juice into both glasses. "Did you hear about the meeting?"

He nodded.

That's good," she said. "That saves me from having to repeat it all to you."

"When it is?"

Lois handed him a glass of juice. "Tomorrow morning."

"Are you concerned?"

She picked up her juice and sipped. "It could amount to nothing more than a higher-up getting puffed up with self-importance," she said. But there was a little crease on her forehead.

"What are you worried about?" Clark probed.

She sighed. "The meeting is to take place in an office, but Scardino doesn't know whether they will come here."

"OK."

"And if they do come here, it's possible they will come into the cell."

And that meant they would bring in the poison. Clark looked steadily into Lois's eyes. "That's OK," he said quietly.

Concern clouded the lovely brown of her eyes. "It's not OK," she said with a tiny tremor in her voice. "But I can't do anything to stop it. I'm still hoping they will forget about us again, but that's not going to happen if I remonstrate against something that was standard practice for seven years. I'll lock my office - and the rods will be in there - but I'm pretty sure Scardino will have a master key."

"It will be OK," Clark quietly assured her.

As Lois turned her head, Clark saw her blink away a pool of tears.

If she started crying, he was going to feel even more inept than he usually did.

But her being upset about something that might happen to him was infinitely better than her being upset by something he had done.

That thought strengthened him. He could take another dose of the poison if he knew that Lois -

His thoughts stopped and clattered around his mind.

If he knew that Lois cared about him.

Did she? That couldn't be possible. Surely.

"I'm so sorry, Clark," she said as she gazed at him with still-glistening eyes. "I wish there was another way."

"It's OK," he said. "With Moyne and Trask gone, it's doubtful it will be anything more than exposure."

The anguish blazed in her eyes. "But it still hurts, doesn't it?"

Clark shrugged. "Don't worry," he said. It wasn't the thought of exposure to the poison that terrified him - it was the thought that the meeting might result in Lois being taken away. He would gladly suffer hours of exposure if it meant that he could still see her.

"I won't be here tomorrow," Lois informed him quietly.

His fears surged.

"I'll be in Smallville," she said.

A medley of competing thoughts darted through his mind. His parents. His home. The farm. The neighbours. And a day without Lois.

"I'll try to find out whatever I can about your parents," she said.

"Will you be gone all day?"

"Most of it."

Clark felt like he was being tossed around in a violent sea. He had yearned for news of his parents, and now it seemed he was on the cusp of possibly knowing something of their fate. He knew it could be bad news. He knew it was possible that the tiny flame of hope he had nurtured for seven years would be snuffed out forever. Or it could be good news - maybe they had been allowed to return to the farm - perhaps believing him to be dead, but in all other ways untouched by Trask's savagery.

A whole day without Lois.

It would feel like a day of darkness.

Clark didn't know what to say. He slowly peeled back the lid from the tub of yoghurt.

When he raised his eyes, Lois was looking at him.

"I'll be back in the evening," she said.

"Will you come here?"

She smiled, and her fingertips grazed over his bare arm. "Of course I'll come here, Clark," she said. "I've swapped shifts with Longford, so we'll have plenty of time to talk about Smallville." Gloominess swept over her again. "And whatever happens if Scardino comes here."

From the din of blaring questions, one rose to ascendency. He had to ask. He knew the answer, but he had to ask. "What if they order you to go?"

She didn't answer for a moment, and Clark's heart sank as he figured she was trying to find a way to tell him that today could be their last day together.

Still, she didn't speak.

He couldn't fathom the expression on her face, but he knew it scared him.

But then, she held out her hand towards him in an unmistakable invitation.

Clark stared at her outstretched hand. It seemed symbolic. It seemed to convey so much more than inconsequential contact between two people who had been thrown together temporarily.

He wiped his hand on his shorts and then slowly edged forward to meet her. When they touched, her fingers closed around him. He stared at their joined hands.

When his eyes leapt to hers, he saw that she was staring intently at him. "Clark," she said in a steady voice. "I'm not leaving you."

A massive chunk of mixed-up hope and disbelief broke away and avalanched through him.

"Lois," Clark said. "I can't let you do that. You have a life. You're human. You belong on this planet. You -"

Her fingers tightened around his, and it choked his words.

"I'm not leaving you," she vowed.

He had to try again. He was being sucked into the swirl of hope by the unwavering certainty of her eyes, but he had to try to free her. "Lois. You've only known me for a few days. I'm an alien. I can't let you throw away your life on a hopeless cause ..."

Her thumb began to slide over his knuckles. "I'm not leaving you," she said again.

He stared at their joined hands. Stared at where her thumb was setting fire to his skin.

"I can't give you any real answers yet," Lois continued in a soothing, steady voice. "I don't know exactly how this will work out. I don't know what we will need to do. I don't know how much opposition we will face or the form it will take."

"Then how can you say so unequivocally that you won't leave me?" he said. The brusqueness of his question shocked him but it didn't seem to unnerve Lois.

"I made a deal with Scardino. His part is to leave me on this operation."

"Will he honour that deal? Will he be allowed to honour it if someone above him orders you off this operation?"

"I think Scardino will try to honour the deal," she said. Her hand tightened around his fingers. "I know this has to be incredibly unsettling for you, and as soon as I have answers, I'll give them to you."

She put her other hand on top of his, encasing him, and Clark was sure there was a good chance his hand was going to melt away and slither between her fingers.

"I need to ask you a question," she said. "And I need you to answer me honestly."

Her solemnity carved deep chasms through his hope. He nodded.

"I probably should have asked you this before now," she said with a shy smile.

The heat from her hands had climbed up his arm and parched his mouth.

Lois took a breath. "Is this what you want?" she asked. "If there's even a small chance that you can get out of here and go back to having a life on the outside, is that what you want?"

He wanted to be with her.

Lois.

But that wasn't going to happen.

A beautiful woman like Lois Lane would never choose to spend her life with an alien.

She had already committed to more than he had any right to expect by saying she would stay until she had procured his freedom.

Three times, she had said she wouldn't leave him.

Clark nodded. "Yes," he said. "For so long, I've believed it wasn't possible, but if you think there is a chance, that is what I want."

Her smile repaid him a thousand times over, even as his heart crumbled with the knowledge that his freedom from this prison would inescapably mean her freedom from him.

She had given him so much.

That would be his gift to her.

It would be the most difficult gift he had ever given.

But this was Lois ... and there was nothing he wouldn't do for her.

In reality, nothing had changed.

He'd always known that his time with Lois would be limited.

He wanted to enjoy every second, to store up every memory against the certain loneliness that was coming - whether he was physically entrapped or physically free, life without Lois would feel no less desolate than the past seven years.

But he would know that she was free.

He would gather memories as a farmer gathers wheat, and he would store them away for the famine that was surely coming.

Sweet memories of Lois - her smile, and her touch, and her blindness to all of his anomalies.

Memories so sweet and strong that whatever happened, he would always have the essence of her to carry with him.