She gave him a soft smile. "Instead of feeling guilty about what is past, you could try to give me what I need most now," she suggested.
He released a long breath. "I probably should be able to work out what you need most - and whether that was a general comment or not ..." A shadow of his smile sprinkled joy through Lois's heart. "... but you're going to have to be specific, Lois. I'm horribly out of practice at this."
Lois chuckled as admiration and love welled inside her all over again. "I'd like you to hug me," she told him. "That's what I need."
She saw his surprise, but it was followed closely by a tiny, hesitant smile. His arms lifted, and she stepped into them.
Lois curled her arms around his neck and sank into the wide expanse of his chest. She felt his embrace tighten around her, encircling her. She felt his strength flow into her - strength she was sure he couldn't feel.
They stood for a long time, silent and unmoving, but taking vital steps forward in their journey.
Part 5
An hour after crossing the border into Indiana, Lois and Clark decided they had travelled far enough for one day. They stopped at a Chinese restaurant to buy a takeout meal, and not long afterwards, they passed a motel in slightly rundown condition.
"What do you think?" Lois asked as they whizzed by.
"The inside looks better than the outside," Clark said.
Lois hid her smile as she requested that Clark pass her the red wig from her bag. He hesitantly rustled through her bag and then pulled out the crimson creation. He stared at it with such abject bewilderment that Lois couldn't help laughing. "You're not the only one who wears a wig," she quipped.
"But the colour," he gasped. "It looks like someone dyed it in cranberry juice."
"Linda dared me to buy it." Lois pulled off the road and donned the wig. She turned to Clark to show him, and laughed aloud when the corners of his mouth turned upwards in response. They drove back to the motel, and Lois went into the reception area and paid, prattling non-stop about travelling to Ohio to visit her sister's new baby.
Their room was tiny and minimally furnished, but it was clean and in better condition than the exterior had forecast.
There were no plates or cutlery supplied, so preparations for their meal were as simple as removing the two containers and plastic cutlery from the bag. Lois waited at the tiny table while Clark finished bringing in the suitcase and sleeping bags from the car.
Impatience had chafed at her mind more than once today, but now that she had a moment to reflect, she could appreciate the progress of the past twenty-four hours.
Last night, she'd known that in terms of the practicalities, everything depended on her. Today, the balance had slowly shifted as Clark had begun to take an interest in their circumstances. As the day had stretched towards the evening, he had made a few comments about the scenery. He had taken out her dad's touring map and asked questions about their route.
And then there was the hug.
At the time, Lois had hoped it would represent a leap forward. Perhaps it had - but when they returned to the car, Clark's quiet introspective mood had continued to inhibit his smile, and she'd had to keep reminding herself that his recovery was going to be neither easy nor quick.
Clark placed the suitcase next to the bed, walked over to her, and put the car keys on the table. "I'll just be a moment while I wash up," he said.
"OK."
As Lois watched him walk away, she thought about his request that they leave 'the other stuff' for now. She had to respect that. She had to let him take the first step when - and if - he was ready.
As much as she longed to hear him say again that he loved her, she knew that it had to be founded on more than the fact that she had been the first person in years to treat him humanely. That motivation would be strong now, but it wouldn't be strong enough to sustain their love for years and years.
And that was what she wanted most.
She wanted to be with Clark - forever. She had found the man who completed her. The man who fulfilled everything she wanted in her life partner. She needed him, and she loved him.
Clark emerged from the bathroom and sat next to her. "Smells good," he commented. He wasn't smiling exactly, but some of the tonal warmth had returned to his voice.
"Are you hungry?" Lois asked.
"Yeah."
They began eating, and the silence stretched uneasily. "How's your shoulder?" Lois asked after a few mouthfuls.
"Fine. I hardly notice it."
"Could you feel the implant when it was there? Does it feel different now that it's gone?"
"Yeah," Clark said. "I got used to it being there, and it feels a bit strange now that it's missing."
"Has the wound knitted together?"
"Completely. There's nothing but a faint line. It'll probably be gone by tomorrow."
She wondered if he'd offer to show her, but he didn't. "And the exposure to the rods? Any lingering effects?"
"No. I can feel my strength coming back."
Lois hesitated to voice the next question that popped into her mind, but she really wanted Clark's extra abilities to be something they could discuss freely. "Can you lift off the ground yet?"
"I haven't tried."
"Perhaps you should."
"Now?"
"Why not?"
"Isn't it a bit weird to suddenly levitate during supper?"
"No," Lois said. "Not when there's just us." She looked down to her plate and slid her fork into the rice. When she looked up, Clark's head and upper body had risen six inches. She smiled.
He dropped down onto the seat with a quiet thud.
"I'm glad you're healing," Lois said, although she knew that physical healing was only a small - and relatively simple - part of Clark's rehabilitation.
The silence gathered again, and Lois wondered how they were going to fill the time until it was late enough to go to bed. She was tired, but going to bed before nine o'clock would only result in awkward sleeplessness - particularly if they were both there.
Her mind kept returning to the hug. She had sensed his initial reluctance, but once she had settled onto his chest, his heartbeat and breathing rhythm had stayed steady. She had drawn strength from his closeness, and she was convinced that human contact would play a vital role in his recovery.
He had been so isolated, and touch had been a solely negative experience for so long. In the cell, the ankle rubbing and hair washing had helped them connect.
But now, they had no racquets, and the bathroom was so tiny that she doubted there was room for them to be in there together.
What could they do?
When he had finished eating, Clark collected both containers and rose from the table. "I'll see to the clearing away," he said.
"I can help," Lois said, wanting to do something with him.
"You did it last night," Clark said. "It's my turn tonight."
"OK," she said, not wanting to argue with him.
"You must be tired," he said. "Go and relax."
The solitary tub chair didn't look particularly inviting. Lois picked up her bag and sat on the bed to clear out a few pieces of accumulated trash. In the bottom of her bag were the purchases she had made at lunchtime - from the store next to the pawnbroker. They were gifts for Clark. She had seen the store and not been able to resist. Was now the right time to give them to him?
Would she know when it was the right time?
She opened a side compartment of her bag, and her eyes fell on the paper airplane that Clark had made, but they had never flown.
Perhaps she could use it to try to reach him. It had worked in the cell.
Clark had gone into the bathroom. The door was open, and she could see him holding a cloth under the running faucet.
Lois found a pen as possible messages flitted through her mind. Stifling a chuckle, she quickly wrote: 'Tea please, milk, no sugar. Thank you.'
She refolded along the creases, pumped up the pillows on one side of the bed, and settled onto them, tucking the paper plane out of sight next to her body. She half-closed her eyes and assumed a posture of repose as she watched Clark wipe the table.
When he turned to deposit the containers in the trash, Lois seized her opportunity and fired the plane in Clark's direction.
The tip of it cannoned into the middle of his back.
Clark slowly turned. A small smile glimmered through his surprise.
Lois giggled.
He scrutinised her for a long moment. Then he stooped to pick up the plane, and with his thumb and forefinger, he straightened its crushed nose. "Did you fly an airplane at me?" he asked, trying - and failing - to sound baleful.
"Me?" Lois said. "I'm doing exactly what you told me to do - relaxing."
His left eyebrow jumped, which made his incipient smile even more enchanting. He unfolded the paper and read her words, and his smile widened. "Three minutes," he said. "And you'll have your tea."
"Thanks," Lois said.
"You're welcome. I owe you a few."
"You don't owe me anything." He looked set to disagree, so Lois quickly sat up and spread open her bag. "OK, Mr Ace Pilot," she said. "Land the airplane in my bag."
Clark contemplated the bag for a moment and then lifted the plane over his shoulder. He lobbed it forward, and it flew in a graceful arc and landed in the opening of her bag.
Lois's laughter, full of surprise and admiration, pealed through the room. She rescued the plane from the depths of her bag and tossed it back to him, not even trying to match his skill. He lunged sideways and caught it.
Lois took a clean tissue from her bag, folded it into quarters, and put the small square on the bed. "Are you game to try to land it on that?" she asked.
Clark's mouth pursed in acknowledgement of the difficulty of the task she had set him.
He launched the plane again. It landed just short of the tissue and then jolted forward onto its target.
Lois grabbed the airplane and leapt from the bed, pointing at Clark in laughing accusation. "This time, do it with your mouth *closed*."
Clark half-turned towards the counter. "I'm supposed to be making your tea," he said.
"Are you quitting?" she demanded.
"Of course not, but the tea ..." His smile had gone, but the lingering amusement in his eyes warmed her heart.
Lois grabbed his wrist before he could reach for the cups. She put the paper airplane in his hand. "Land it on the tissue," she said. "With your mouth closed." She couldn't help wondering if he would be able to fly the plane with such phenomenal accuracy while kissing her. *That* would keep his mouth occupied.
He threw it, and Lois focused her eyes on his mouth rather than following the flight path. She tracked the progress of the paper plane by the expression on Clark's face - concentration, hope, and then dashed disappointment.
She turned to the plane, and as she did, it lifted slightly off the bed and settled six inches further on - right in the middle of the tissue.
Lois spun to Clark. "You!" she exclaimed as her open hand landed on his chest. "You are a cheat."
He grinned - his first spontaneous grin since leaving the cell. It had taken a full twenty-four hours, but it was worth it. Lois chuckled, and suddenly they were standing together, grinning at each other as if they had just discovered something of great value.
Perhaps they had.
Then Clark broke away, stepping back so her hand fell from his body. "I ... I should finish up here," he said woodenly. He turned away and busied himself with making the tea.
Lois stared at his broad back for a short time before retreating to the bed. Disappointment settled on her. She picked up the paper plane and absently ran her fingers along its precise creases.
For a short time, it had seemed as if they had recaptured the closeness that had developed in the cell. But it had made Clark uncomfortable. Why?
Was it because he was unsure of her?
Because he was unsure of himself?
Because he was unsure of everything?
Or because - as he'd said - he needed some time?
This must be so daunting for him. To be expelled from the closed-in world where he had been confined for seven years. To be having to adjust to travelling with someone else. To be unsure of what the future held.
And - Lois hoped this was a factor - to, as a man, have to share a car and a room - and a bed - with a woman. A woman he had said that he loved.
Was he having second thoughts?
Or did he assume she was having second thoughts?
Should she go up to him right now and tell him that she still loved him? That nothing had changed? Would that reassure him? Or make him feel pressured into something he no longer wanted?
What *did* he want?
Realistically, he probably didn't know.
Lois sank into the pillows.
Clark walked over with a cup of tea. He stopped at the edge of the bed and looked down at her. "You look really tired," he said.
Lois nodded. She was tired. But it wasn't tiredness that was weighing heavily on her heart.
"Maybe you should go to bed after you've drunk your tea," he suggested.
That sounded wonderful. But what she'd really like would be to go to bed with Clark and have him hold her in his arms while she fell asleep.
He held out the cup towards her. "Thanks," Lois said as she took it.
Clark folded his arms across his chest. "Is ... What ... Have you realised that this isn't what you want?"
Lois shook her head. "No." She sipped from the tea.
"Then what's wrong?"
How could she answer that? She couldn't tell him the truth - that she was heartsick because she loved him so much, and it felt like he had slipped away from her. She had to find a way to reassure him. And it had to be convincing. "I'm tired," she said.
"But it's more than that. You seemed so happy just a short time ago when we were flying the plane."
She could give him a version of the truth. "Clark, I always knew that this would be incredibly difficult for you. I understood that - but being with you, watching you - it has shocked me to realise ..."
"You don't have to stay a moment longer than you want to," he said earnestly. "I'll understand if you want to go back and try to recoup what you can of your life. I'll be fine."
Was that Clark Kent selflessness? Or was he hoping she would accept his offer? And if he was hoping, was it because he thought that would be best for her? Or because he thought it would be best for him?
Lois couldn't tell him that she loved him and wanted to be with him forever, but she could make some things clearer. "Clark," she said. "I'm staying with you until you tell me that you want me to leave. And even then, I'm not going unless I'm sure that you want me to leave for your sake, not mine."
"Until when?"
"Until forever."
"Lois," he protested. "Lois ..."
"That's how it is," she said in a tone that didn't leave any room for dispute. She wriggled off the bed and walked to the suitcase to get her pyjamas. "I'm going to have a shower."
||_||
Clark looked from the half-full cup of tea that Lois had left on the table to the firmly closed bathroom door and wondered what had happened.
For a few moments, it had felt like it had in the cell. It had been fun. It had been possible to forget the pain of the past and the uncertainty of the future.
Then, suddenly ...
There was only one possible explanation - that Lois regretted her recklessness. That she had realised the enormous price she was going to pay for his freedom.
So why was she so adamant that she wasn't going to leave him?
Did she feel that she had forced him into this situation and she had an obligation to see it through?
Then he remembered.
In the chaos that had preceded the surgery, in the moments when she had burst in the prison with the mind-blowing news that they were leaving, she had said that she wouldn't leave him - because she had already left one partner.
He assumed that she meant the friend who had died. The one who had been raped.
When had Lois left her? Before her friend had died? When there was still hope? Or after, when all hope had gone?
Was that why Lois was so unwavering in her determination not to leave him?
Was this an attempt to find redemption for what had happened to her friend?
Clark picked up the paper plane and examined it as if it might miraculously hold the answers he needed.
He felt completely inept. Perhaps other men would know what to do. Perhaps other men would understand whatever it was that Lois was trying to tell him. But he was completely confused.
He didn’t know what she wanted.
He didn't know what she wanted from him.
And he had no notion of how to find out.
He'd tried - he'd asked her straight out what was wrong. And she'd answered. But everything within him believed that what she'd told him was not the complete truth. She was hiding something.
And the logical thing she could be hiding was that she wanted out of this disaster.
He understood that.
He'd expected it.
But he didn't know what to do about it.
And even if he did, he wasn't sure he could trust his own perceptions. Even if he thought he knew what Lois wanted, even if he thought he knew how to be what she wanted - he wasn't sure he could trust himself to do it.
The bathroom door opened, and Clark spun around.
Lois walked towards him - and past him. "Goodnight, Clark," she said. She looked at him and gave him a weary smile.
"Goodnight, Lois."
He gathered up his sweatpants and tee shirt and went into the bathroom.
||_||
When Clark came out of the bathroom, Lois was lying on her back in the sleeping bag. Her eyes were open, and she was staring at the ceiling.
Clark switched off the light and used a little levitation to slip into the Winnie the Pooh sleeping bag without rocking the bed.
The darkness and silence hung heavily between them.
They had to talk. He was floundering. But they couldn't leave things like this.
"Lois," he said. Her name - driven by desperation - was spoken before he'd decided what to say. "Lois, I need your help."
Immediately, she switched on the bedside lamp and turned over to face him.
The tightness that had masked her face seemed to have softened. "You know I'll do anything I can to help you," she said.
"I know you're upset about something," Clark said. "I have a few ideas about what it could be, but I think there's a good chance I'm misreading it. And even if I got it right, I have no idea what I should do."
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
"Tell me what you want me to do."
She brushed back a lock of her dark hair that had fallen forward onto her cheek. "I want you to believe me when I tell you that I'm not having second thoughts about this."
"OK," he said despite not being at all sure that he could do it.
"And I want you to stop believing that once I actually have the time to think about it, I will realise that I made a big mistake."
"I ... I can't see how it would be possible for you *not* to realise that."
She sighed. "I know Trask and Moyne told you a lot of things. I can see the damage they have done to you. I can probably see it more clearly than you can. It's there all the time, and it hurts me so much."
"I ... I'm sorry."
"You couldn't do anything about what happened in the cell," Lois said. "But now, they can't hurt you anymore ... unless you let them."
"I ... I'm not sure ... I ..."
Lois put her hand on his forearm. "Trask told you a lot of lies - they weren't true when he said them, and they're not true now. But if you believe them, you're allowing two evil men to continue the damage they did to a kind and caring person."
"I don't know how to ..."
"Choose to believe me," Lois said earnestly. Her fingers tightened on his arm. "Tell me something they told you ... something that you can't forget."
Clark felt the biting shame churn inside him. He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to remind her of the depravity of how he had lived - of how low he'd sunk. But this was Lois - and he would do anything for her. "They ... Trask said I was an animal. Not even human."
Lois stared directly into his eyes. "I'm telling you that you are a wonderful man. It is true that you are Kryptonian and not from Earth, but that doesn't make you any less than human."
Clark didn't know what to say.
"Think about what happened in the cell, and tell me who acted like an animal," Lois said. "Who killed? Who committed atrocities? Them? Or you?"
"Them," he muttered.
Lois smiled, and it wrapped comfort around his heart. "This is what I want you to do for me, Clark," she said. "Every single time you are torturing yourself with memories of things they said about you, I want you to tell yourself, 'Lois says that I am a fine man, full of integrity and with a good heart.' Then, you need to decide who you are going to believe."
"Is that really what you think? About me?"
She nodded, eyes solemn, face sure. "It's really what I think."
Clark's emotions threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought them down. "You ... you are amazing."
"Then it shouldn't be too hard for you to believe me," she said with a hint of her smile.
"OK," Clark said.
Her smile widened and lit up her eyes. "Have you noticed that I can occasionally be a little impetuous?"
That seemed like a perilous question. He nodded mutely.
"Good," she said. "Then this shouldn't shock you too much." She sat up, grasped his hand, and placed his arm on her side of the bed. Then she wriggled closer to him, laid her head on his shoulder, and put her arm across his chest. "Goodnight, Clark."
Clark looked down at the top of her head. He looked at her arm across his chest. This ... this was unexpected. Unwise. Unbelievable. But he couldn't ask her to move. He couldn't. He couldn't reject her. Not Lois.
And, anyway, he realised. He liked her being there.
He liked the feeling of her nestled into his side. Even the thickness of two sleeping bags couldn't diminish how good it felt.
He liked it.
A lot.
Clark closed his eyes.
Lois said he was a good man.
He tentatively placed his arm over the hollow of her waist and waited for her reaction. She snuggled closer. Clark wound his arm a little further across her body.
His mind darted back to when he had hugged her earlier today.
After the first few seconds of adjustment, it had been such a ... a comfortable hug. Of course, she was Lois, and nothing was ever going to nullify her beauty and femininity, but it had felt like the hug of a friend. He'd discerned a new depth ... a growing trust ... a solidifying foundation that he and Lois could be ... were already ... friends.
A few minutes later, her steady breaths and relaxed muscles told him that she was asleep.
It was unbelievable. That Lois would fall asleep - not only next to him in the bed, but touching him.
And ... Clark knew one thing with certainty. Having experienced this, he never wanted to spend another night alone.
He wanted to be with Lois. Always.
||_||
Daniel Scardino spent the evening at his office desk.
He arranged for a dawn start to the demolition of the compound behind the warehouse on Bessolo Boulevard. By tomorrow evening, there would be no physical evidence that the alien operation had ever existed.
The ashes - what remained of the combination of a skeleton that had probably belonged to Dr Samuel Lane and four rods of uncertain origin - were on Scardino's desk.
He had wondered - briefly - if the green stuff would explode and had asked the crematorium proprietor to set the furnace at the highest possible temperature. But nothing untoward had happened. And when Scardino had gone through the ashes looking for pieces of wire, there was nothing to indicate the presence of a possibly alien substance.
As he waited at his desk, pondering a day that had held more than its share of drama and surprises, Daniel's thoughts constantly meandered to Lois and the prisoner.
Where were they?
Why had Lois helped him?
Was it simply a case of righting injustice?
Or was there something more?
Tracey had called earlier in the evening with the information that Dr Lane was a resident in the South Grove Nursing Home. Scardino had called the home and spoken to a chatty nurse called Veronica who had assured him that when Lois called to ask after her father, she would pass on Daniel's carefully worded message.
It was after midnight when Scardino left his office to go home.
But he still hadn't received any news of Neville Moyne.
||_||
~~ Sunday ~~
"Clark?"
He awoke with a start and leapt to a sitting position.
Lois put her hand on his shoulder. "Everything's OK," she said quietly.
"Is it time to go?" he asked, dusting away the last vestiges of sleep. Lois was out of bed and dressed. Had he - while sleeping - done something wrong?
"No," she said. "It's early. But after spending all day in the car yesterday, I feel like going for a run. Do you want to come with me?"
"Sure," he said. "Give me a minute."
||_||
Lois watched as, in a blur, Clark was gone from the sleeping bag. She heard the sound of the bathroom door shutting, the suitcase lid closing, and the paper airplane as it fluttered to the floor from the bedside table.
Before she had time to process that, Clark was back, dressed in his shorts and a tee shirt. "Ready?" he asked.
"Whoa," Lois said, with a grin. "When you say 'a minute', you actually mean three seconds."
He looked bashful. "Sorry. I didn't want to keep you waiting."
"If you intend running at that speed, I am *not* going to be able to keep up."
"I won't," Clark said. "You can set the pace."
As Lois passed him, she laid a casual hand on the front slope of his left shoulder. "I was joking," she said with a smile. "But remind me *not* to ever do anything that might make you want to chase me."
She went out of the door and jogged towards the road in the pale pre-dawn light.
||_||
Half an hour later, they were back in the motel room.
Lois was puffing hard. Clark looked as if he'd been leisurely strolling. Even though it probably didn't qualify as a workout for him, she hoped that he had enjoyed it. Hoped that he had found it relaxing. Hoped that it was one step back into a normal life.
"You ... take the bathroom ... first," she said around heavy breaths. "I'm going to the public phone to call my dad's nursing home and make sure he's all right."
"Will you be OK?"
"I'll be fine. Even if they've found my dad and put a trace on the nursing home phone, I'll keep it short. It'll take time to trace the call, and we'll be gone in twenty minutes."
"I didn't mean that. I meant ..."
Lois stepped closer to Clark. "What did you mean?"
"Will you be safe? Or would you like me to come with you?"
Lois smiled and laid a hand on his chest. "Have you got your super-hearing back yet?"
He nodded.
"If I need you, I'll call for you."
"OK."
Reluctantly, she lifted her hand from the tantalising curves of his chest and took her purse out of her bag. She saw the package there - her gift for Clark. The right moment hadn't come last night ... perhaps this morning would work? "Clark?"
He looked up from where he was sorting through the suitcase for his clothes. "Yes, Lois?"
"I have a present for you. I bought it yesterday."
He looked shocked. She'd known, of course, that no one would have given him a gift in seven years. But it wasn't until she saw the complete incomprehension in his face that she realised exactly how foreign this must seem to him.
"Have your shower," she said. "I'll give it to you when I get back."
She saw his fleeting moment of disappointment and almost decided to give it to him now and not make him wait.
Except, she needed a few moments to prepare it.
"I'll be back soon," she said.
He nodded - although the look of wonder hadn't left his face.
Lois walked quickly to the public phone near the entrance of the motel. She dialled the number of her dad's nursing home, hoping that Ronny would answer.
"South Grove Nursing Home, Veronica speaking."
"Ronny," Lois said. "It's Lois. How's Dad?"
"Hi, Lois," Ronny greeted. "He's great. He's been working on the jigsaw puzzles, and his physiotherapist said he had recovered more strength in his good hand."
"That's wonderful, Ronny. I've had to go away for a while. Could you give Dad my love?"
"Of course. I'll tell him you called."
Lois needed to finish the call. "Thanks, Ronny."
"Wait!"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I have a message for you."
Lois's gut curled in alarm. "From whom?"
"A man called Daniel Scardino."
Lois's heart sank. "What is the message?" she asked, trying to keep her trepidation from sounding in her voice.
"Hold on," Ronny said. "I wrote it down so I wouldn't forget. He asked that I pass it on exactly." Lois heard the rustle of paper. "He said he knew you had gone away and he didn't want to interrupt your vacation."
Lois waited, her heart thumping an ominous rhythm through her chest.
"Ah, here it is," Ronny said. "The message is - Menzies satisfied with completion. His nephew might return following the death of his colleague on Friday."
