Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Trusting Me, Trusting You 3:Trail (12/?)

"I'll be going," Wayne said. "Come over whenever you'd like to - you're always welcome, and I know Maggie'd love to share a cup of tea with you."

"Thanks. And ..." Clark lifted the books. "... thanks for everything."

With a smile and wave, Wayne climbed into his pickup and drove away.

Clark opened the bankbook. Four thousand, eight hundred, seventy-two dollars and twenty-six cents.

It wasn't really his. It belonged to his parents. He flicked to the front of the book and saw that it had been opened seven months after his capture. Clark was sure that his parents also had a bank account. He would have to look for the paperwork. When he went into Smallville, he probably should visit the bank.

There was so much to do. So much to think about.

But for now, he just wanted to have lunch with Lois.


Part 12

It had been a good day.

Clark stirred through the chunks of steak as they sizzled in the pan.

A good day - a day of constant activity - both physical and mental.

For so long, there had been no outlet for the tumult of thoughts that plagued him. In the prison, he could do nothing - so they had piled up, twisting and churning to create a fragmented mass of confusion.

Even in the car as he'd travelled with Lois, there had been no way to take positive action to deal with his fears and uncertainties.

But today ...

When he'd seen something needing attention, he'd located the necessary tools and done the job - quickly, efficiently, satisfyingly.

And being active with his hands had unshackled his mind.

After the first twenty minutes or so, he'd settled to working at close to normal speed. He'd still called on his extra strength, and more than once, he had levitated instead of taking the time to collect a ladder - but the steady pace and growing list of accomplishments had brought him a kind of peace that he hadn't experienced since the day Trask had invaded his home.

Clark's mind buzzed with plans. Some of them were new and some were those he had discussed with his dad - ideas that were now surfacing from the dungeon where they had lain dormant for so long.

He wanted to do this. He wanted the fulfilment of watching things grow. He wanted to be able to express faith in a future by implementing plans and seeing them come to fruition.

He was sure that he was capable of successfully working the farm. He had the foundation - all the years when he had followed his dad, listening, learning, copying. There were areas where he would need to catch up - the bank, the insurances, the markets, and new products and machinery that were available - but Clark was confident that he could do it.

That confidence filtered into the backlog of turmoil in his mind and made it seem more manageable.

Clark added the chopped vegetables to the steak and continued stirring.

Re-capture was still possible. Would one of the people who knew he was an alien - Shadbolt, Scardino, Menzies, Longford, Moyne - decide that he constituted an unacceptable risk to humanity?

But Scardino had lied for him. Menzies thought he was dead. Moyne was in Metropolis.

Nothing changed that he was an alien. He still didn't belong.

Except ...

Rachel, and Wayne, and Dave, and Donny had seemed eager to welcome him home. Even after seven years of absence, they seemed to accept him as one of their own - one of the people of Smallville. They appeared glad that he was home - and willing to put aside their curiosity in deference to his need for time and space.

In their eyes, he was Clark Kent, son of Jonathan and Martha.

Perhaps ... perhaps it was possible to belong - here, in Smallville, even if that didn't extend to humanity as a whole.

Clark took out another spoon and stirred the gently simmering rice before returning his attention to the larger pan.

Then there was Lois.

And in that ... he still had no answers.

Lois. He loved her. He loved her with the love of a man for a woman. A love that drove him relentlessly to dream impossible dreams.

She had said she was sure of her feelings.

In *every* other thing, he trusted her.

In *this* thing, he trusted that she *thought* she was sure about wanting to be with him.

But how *could* she be sure?

How could she know that he could be what she needed? Forever?

Clark added a handful of cherry tomatoes that he had found among the weeds in what had once been his mom's vegetable garden.

His fear - the fear that he had not been able to conquer - was that he would not survive if Lois left him.

There it was - the plain truth.

He was scared.

Scared of being with her and failing her.

Scared of losing her.

It was true what they said about fear having the ability to paralyse. That was what he had been - paralysed.

Did he have the strength to overcome it?

He had to. He owed it to Lois.

But knowing he *had* to do it didn't guarantee that he could. He'd *had* to protect his parents but -

Lois entered the kitchen and came to stand beside him, freshly showered and smelling delectably of sweet apple. "Wow," she said, inhaling deeply. "You weren't kidding about being able to cook, were you?"

"I hope it tastes as good as it smells," he said.

"I'm sure it will," she replied. "Where do I find the plates?

He directed her to the cabinet, and she began to set the table.

Lois - could she *really* be happy with an alien?

Today, one thing had become clearer. If the future were his to decide, he wanted to live on the farm. It was a way to honour his parents - to build on their legacy.

Lois - could she *really* be happy with a Kansas farmer?

He missed her, he realised.

Not only last night when the bed had seemed huge and empty ... but during the day, too. Yesterday. Today. Ever since he'd fractured something in their relationship by making a stance about getting work.

In the cloud of his fears, he had tried to push them apart. She had accepted it, and despite still being friendly, she had backed away.

He missed her.

He missed the closeness. Not just the physical - the constant little touches to his arm, his shoulder, his chest - but even more, he missed the emotional connection.

"What are you thinking about?" Lois asked.

He grappled for a reply that would pay heed to the truth without risking a barrage of questions from her. Nothing came to him. "You," he said, suddenly not caring that she might perceive the depths of his longing for her.

"Me?"

He should just nod. He should claim that their meal was ready. He should serve it out and hope that her first taste was sensational enough that she would forget they had been on the verge of diving into a hazardous conversation. But he didn't. "You," he said, more emphatically this time.

"Do you want to elaborate?"

Yes, he did. He wasn't confident that he would be able to express the anarchy of his thoughts, but he was sure that he wanted to try. He met her eyes and knew that - whatever his answer - she would accept it without pressuring him for more. "Specifically - us."

"Us?" she said with a little smile of surprise.

"Yeah. Us."

She held out her plate for him to load with rice and beef stir-fry. "Let me know if you reach any conclusions," she said.

Clark smiled. "That's all you're going to say?" He filled his plate, pulled out a chair for Lois, and then sat down beside her.

"Sometimes we need to work out what we think before sharing it with anyone."

"But perhaps sharing it is the best way to achieve clarity."

"That's true." Lois put her loaded fork in her mouth, and Clark couldn't help holding his breath as he awaited her reaction. She chewed, swallowed, smiled. "Wow," she said. "It tastes even better than it smells."

Clark felt relief first, but it was closely followed by pleasure. Lois had done so much for him. Giving something back realigned the balance - just a little. Clark wasn't sure that an entire lifetime would be long enough to be able to repay Lois for what she had done for him, but this little step felt good.

They continued eating, and Clark knew he could drop the subject of his contemplation. Or he could pursue it. Lois would accept either.

But the night was coming - and that meant parting from Lois and going to the big bed alone. He knew, of course, that nothing he said now was going to change that, but if he could feel that he had forged a small connection with her emotionally, he could take something of that with him, and perhaps it wouldn't seem so lonely.

"The past few days have been pretty confusing," Clark said.

Lois chuckled softly. "That is probably the biggest understatement I have ever heard."

"But you never seemed confused," he said with wonder. "You always seemed to know what to do; you always seemed sure of what you wanted. You didn't waver once."

"I didn't waver in what I wanted," Lois said. "But I wavered many times in trying to decide the best way to help you."

"And I was completely useless."

She looked at him with understanding vivid in her eyes. "You always did the best you could," she said. "When we left the cell, I knew it was going to take time."

"I tried," Clark said. "But going out yesterday morning and looking for work - they were the actions of a desperate man."

"I still don't really understand what changed."

"I just can't get past that this cannot be forever."

Lois chewed slowly, staring at her plate. Then she looked up. "If we were two regular people who had met somewhere, there would be no guarantees that it would be forever."

He nodded. "But the odds seem stacked against us."

"You said that about getting out of the cell."

Yeah. "And I said that about staying free."

Lois smiled at his admission.

"But forever is such a long time," Clark said.

"It is," Lois said. "But it comes in little bite-size pieces - one day at a time. No one has to deal with forever; we just have to deal with one day."

The foremost fear in his heart reared up and took possession of his mouth. "But what if - one day - you realise that you don't want to be with me?"

"What if - one day - you realise that you don't want to be with me?"

"That is *not* going to happen," he said emphatically.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because you're ..."

"I'm ...?"

As Clark tried to gather his thoughts, a picture formed in his mind - a clear and precise picture. "I feel like I'm on a rock in the swirling sea that is humanity," he said. "I don't even know if I have the right to be on this rock, and it is so small and unstable. I see you on another rock - a large and sturdy rock - and there is a fragile connection between us. I see other rocks between you and me - rocks that could perhaps get me closer to you, but I'm so scared that if I step onto the wrong rock, it will sink."

"And you will drown?"

"No, I will break the connection with you."

She pushed her hand across the table and slid it onto his. "I believe that the connection between us is indestructible," she said earnestly. "Unless one of us chooses to deliberately break it."

"That is what you really believe?"

"Yes," she said decisively.

He had to know exactly what she meant. "Together ... how?"

Lois shot him a look that bordered on laughing disbelief. "I guess one of us is going to have to spell it out," she said.

Yeah. And, cowardly though it was, Clark was hoping it wouldn't have to be him.

"OK," Lois said. "Together as two people who are in love and are committed to each other."

He could feel the heat rising into his cheeks. "M ... Marriage?"

"I can't see why not."

He could. He could see an overwhelming number of reasons why not. "Lois ..."

"Clark," she said. "I get that you think I might change my mind. There is nothing I can do now to convince you of how I will feel in the future. All I can say is that I have never felt like this before - so settled, so decided, so sure."

"You're *not* leaving, are you?" he said, still grappling to believe it.

This time, she did smile. "You got it."

"What if you're unhappy? What if I can never be what you need?"

"What if I can never be what *you* need?"

"Lois," he exclaimed. "You are *everything* I need."

She just looked at him - letting the love in her eyes do the talking for her.

"But I'm ..." he faltered.

"Not human," Lois said. "That's good - I like men who can fly."

He couldn't allow himself to be lured into the promise that lingered in her beautiful eyes. "What if they won't *let* me marry? I don't have a birth certificate. I wasn't born here."

"What's marriage?"

Was that a trick question? All he had to offer was the obvious. "Ah ... the official commitment between a man and a woman that they will love each other for the rest of their lives," he ventured.

"The important words are commitment and love."

"I ..." Clark could feel himself blushing. "I ... I know it's old-fashioned, but I was raised to believe that ... marriage is important."

"It is," Lois agreed. "It is very important. But if we can't get married - simply because of where you were born - then we could still make a lifelong commitment to love each other."

He couldn't believe that he and Lois were discussing marriage - even an 'unofficial' marriage - as if it were a real possibility.

"I have a question for you, Clark Kent," Lois said. Her serious tone sent a series of shivers down the crest of his spine. Surely ... surely, she wasn't going to propose.

"OK," he said, trying not to sound totally flustered.

"Let's say we decided that we wanted to be married, but it wasn't possible, so we decided to make promises to each other and live by them ..."

He nodded. It didn't sound quite like a proposal.

Lois continued. "In that situation, would you be any less committed to me than if you were married to me?"

"Of course not. I would give my word, and nothing would ..."

He stopped as triumph lifted her smile.

"Lois," he said. "It's not just the official stuff."

She sobered immediately. "What else?" she said.

"A husband has to be many things ..."

"Yes?"

"And I'm not sure ..."

Lois gazed at him with disconcerting intensity. "This is one of the things that has been troubling you all along, isn't it?"

His throat was too tight to permit speech, so Clark nodded.

"What do you think I need? Specifically?"

He remembered the warm dampness of her tears on his chest. He remembered the way her body had quivered with anguish. He remembered the images that had stormed his mind. "Lois ..."

She leant closer. "Don't stop now," she pleaded. "You have that look on your face - the same one you had when you came into the motel room after you'd been out looking for work. Just say whatever it is that is worrying you."

"Did Ivica or Elan rape you?"

Her jaw dropped. "*That's* what has been worrying you?"

"Lois ... I don't think ... I can't ... *Did* they?"

"No," she said, grasping his hand tightly. "Elan said he was coming back for me, but I got out before he did."

Clark was hit by a surge of relief. But also bewilderment. He had been sure there was more to her story. "How did you get out?"

"Linda had loosened the knots around my feet," Lois said. "While Ivica was ... was raping her, I tried to shut out the noise of it, so I worked on the knots around my wrists. By the time he'd ... he'd finally finished, my wrists were almost free.

"I managed to release my hands just a few minutes after Linda died. I scrambled over to her in the dark - she had no pulse, and there was so much blood. I found a large flashlight that Ivica had left next to her and used the pick from my bag to unlock the door."

Her memories brought pain. Clark waited, despising his inability to ease her suffering.

"I slipped out," Lois said. "It was suppertime. I could smell their food, and I could hear the laughter and talk from where they had gathered to eat. I met one guard - a young kid they had left on duty. I jumped on him from behind and knocked him out with the flashlight. I took his jacket, his gun, his knife, and his ammunition." She stopped, swallowing roughly, and heavy silence fell.

"Lois?" Clark said quietly a few moments later.

She startled at the sound of his voice. "I ... I found the front door, got out, and ran into the hills."

"They never found you?"

"No," Lois said. "I headed away from the truck. Perhaps, if they chased me, they assumed I would head towards it. I ... I found a cave in the rocks and ... and stayed there until darkness fell."

"I'm so sorry," Clark said.

He wasn't sure that she'd heard him. "I should not have left Linda's body with them. I should have -"

"Lois," Clark exclaimed gently. "You couldn't have done anything for Linda. Taking her body with you would have only made it more difficult for you to escape."

She nodded slowly as she stared forward. "Yeah," she said. "But I promised her I would never leave her."

"Is that why you're so determined not to leave me?"

Her eyes snapped into his. "I won't answer that," she said.

"You ... won't?" he gasped, feeling the rock begin to sink.

"I can't say for sure that there isn't some truth in what you say, but if I admit it is possible, you will think the only reason I want to stay with you is to try to earn redemption for what I did to Linda."

"You didn't do *anything* to her. *They* did."

She stared at him for a long moment. "Is that what was worrying you?" she asked. "That I had been raped? That I would need ... I don't know ... a particularly loving husband?"

He managed a stilted nod.

"I *wasn't* raped," she said. "And I believe that you would be the most loving of husbands."

"I don't know how you can believe that," he said. "I'm not ... I haven't ... ever ..."

"You were strong enough to survive what they did to you," she said. "I *know* you will be strong enough to heal."

"But I couldn't heal," he said miserably. "I just couldn't believe you. You told me. You told me over and over again, and I just couldn't make myself believe you."

"Do you believe me now? Do you believe that I won't leave you?"

"Yeah," he said, although his tone was far from joyous.

"When did you start believing it?"

"Today."

"This is your fifth day of freedom," Lois said. "And you've reached the point where you are able to trust someone from this planet - despite what others did to you. But you *still* think that you'll never be able to love me properly because you're damaged?"

When she said it like that, it didn't make a whole lot of sense. "I ... I don't think I've been thinking too straight."

"Clark!" she said. "You were imprisoned for *seven* years with no hope of recovering your former life. You were tortured, neglected, in pain, mad with worry about your parents - and you are down on yourself because you don't think you're quite ready to be a perfect husband yet?"

"I ... I ... I know it's silly, but I want ... I think respect should be a part of love."

Lois looked puzzled. "I *know* you respect me," she said. "So I can only conclude that you don't think I respect you."

"No. Yes. I think you've ... seen ... you know ... too much. I don't think you will ever be able to forget ... how I was."

"And you think that will diminish my respect for you?"

Just thinking about it made him feel sick. The squalor. The depravation. The dirt. The humiliation. The utter powerlessness. And Lois seeing all of it. "I don't ..." He gulped down stupid tears that wanted to flood into his eyes. "I don't think you will ever be able to forget."

"I won't," Lois said, cutting stripes through his heart. "But where you see weakness, I see strength. Where you see disgrace, I see dignity. Where you see shame, I see courage. Where you see defeat, I see tenacity."

"There is nothing dignified about being forced to live like an animal."

"OK," she said, full of resolve despite the little tremor in her voice. "Let's stop circling around what we are both thinking and get it out in the open, shall we? Do you find me attractive?"

He only had the truth. "Yes."

"Do you find me sexually attractive?"

His shock crammed into his throat, stupefying his vocal cords.

But Lois wasn't finished yet. "Do you ever think about being intimate with me?"

"No! Yes. No." He took a ragged breath and tried again. "I try not to."

Her smile blossomed, and for the first time ever, its appearance hurt him.

"Please don't laugh at me," Clark said.

She pulled her smile a little. "Clark," she said. "When a woman has been lusting after the man she is in love with, and that man has shown minimal interest, she is going to be happy when he admits that he has considered her in that way."

"Lois. Lois. Trask kept telling me I was an animal. Thinking about you like that feels so *wrong*."

"I've already told you that you have to decide who you are going to believe," Lois said. "Trask told you things. I'm telling you things. I know Trask had seven years, and I've only had a few weeks - but you have to decide who is more trustworthy."

"I ..."

"Do you think I would lie to you?"

"No."

"OK." She hauled in a deep breath. "Here's the truth, Clark. I am seriously attracted to you. I am in love with you, and a part of that is physical. I love your body, and I think about what it would be like to be with you."

His throat leapt in a series of spasms.

"Think about it," Lois said. "And please stop believing that there is anything wrong in what you are thinking."

"I don't have the *right* to -"

"I'm giving you the right."

"Are you *trying* to drive me crazy?" he demanded.

"If that's what it takes to break down some of the barriers ... yes."

He stared at her in utter disbelief. "I -"

"We had an agreement, remember?" Lois said. "I'm still waiting for you to kiss me."

"I ... I ..." Clark picked up the knife and fork that had somehow been discarded onto the table. "We should finish eating."

Lois also picked up her cutlery. "What are you going to do this evening?"

Was this a new topic? Or was this related to their previous topic? "I hadn't decided."

"I think you should go flying," Lois said. "I think you should begin to look for your mom."

Did Lois have any reason for her suggestion? Did she want some time away from him?

With a couple of quick mouthfuls, she finished the food on her plate. "I think I'll have an early night."

"Are you tired?"

"Pleasantly tired," she replied. "Some of my muscles are doing a little complaining about actually having to work today."

He should tell her that she shouldn't have spent so long in the garden. He should know what he could offer to help ease her aches. But after their just-finished conversation, he was sure that anything he said risked sounding suggestive.

"Actually ..." Lois turned from where she was placing her plate in the sink. "Would it be all right if I had a bath? I'd like to soak in the tub for a while."

If she was having a bath, he was definitely getting out of the house. "Sure," Clark said, sounding a whole lot less edgy than he felt. "You'll be all right if I go out? I'll lock all the doors before I go."

"I'll be fine." She smiled. "Goodnight. I might be asleep when you get back."

A sudden feeling overwhelmed him - a longing for her to reach over to him. To lay her hand on his arm as she smiled at him.

But she didn't.

She'd hardly touched him since she had fallen asleep after crying on his chest two nights ago.

"Goodnight, Lois."

She walked out of the kitchen, and he tracked the sound of her footsteps up the stairs.

Clark cleaned the kitchen, checked that both doors were locked, and lifted into the darkness of the night sky.

||_||

Lois stepped from the bath and wrapped the towel around her. It had been a good day. Tomorrow would be a good day, too. They would go into Smallville. She was confident that Clark would be able to cope with whatever attention he received.

Although, if today had been typical, the people of Smallville were going to play a crucial role in Clark's recovery. Her gut had been right. Home was where he needed to be.

This evening ... this evening had been wonderful.

Oh, Clark had been uncomfortable at times. In truth, she had been, too. But they had dragged some hidden things into the open.

He had noticed that she was a woman!

Not a guard. Not a friendly human.

But a woman.

That was progress indeed.

Lois chuckled as she remembered his shock when she had told him that she was attracted to him. If he knew some of what had transpired in her mind, he would probably be dumbfounded.

After drying herself, she moved from the bathroom and into her bedroom. As she closed the door, she thought she heard a sound coming from below. She opened the door and peered down the stairs.

They were empty. She waited, her ears straining for any further sounds.

Silence reigned. Lois returned to her room and continued listening as she put on her pyjamas.

Until now, she hadn't noticed the quietness. It was strange how being alone exaggerated sounds that normally went unnoticed.

Lois slid between the sheets. There was a slight chill to them - a reminder that winter was approaching. She sighed and wondered how cold the farmhouse would be in winter. There was a fireplace downstairs; would that warmth reach the bedrooms?

Perhaps, if things progressed with Clark, it wouldn't be a problem. A cold bed would never be a problem when it was shared with a body that hot.

Or ... perhaps, failing that, he wouldn't mind using his eyes to warm her sheets.

That would solve the cold problem ... but not the lonesomeness.

She wanted to be with Clark.

Even if all they did was sleep, she wanted to be with Clark - during the day and during the night, too.

A muffled noise sounded again, and Lois's body tensed.

It was probably an animal outside, she told herself.

Then why didn't you hear it last night?

Because I was so tired, I fell asleep straight away.

No, you didn't. You lay awake and thought about how much you wanted to be with Clark.

But I wasn't listening for sounds. I knew Clark was just across the landing.

The house buzzed with silence, and slowly, Lois's tension ebbed away.

Then it came again - from below. Not directly below. Sideways. About at the top of the -

Her door flung open. Moyne stood there with his gun aimed directly at her. "Lois," he said. "How lovely to see you again."