She smiled. "Do you want to know?"

Did he? He wasn't sure if knowing would be more or less excruciating than wondering. "Yes," he said.

"Tomorrow night, you get a choice," Lois said.

"OK," he said as his curiosity soared.

"You can either take off your shirt and let me massage your chest and shoulders."

"Or?" he gasped.

"Or I'll take off my pyjama top, lie face down on the bed, and you can massage my back."


Part 24

~~ Sunday ~~

Lois smiled at Clark as he put a second cup of tea in front of her. He sat down again and returned her smile.

It was a stifled smile. Forced from the midst of distraction - as everything he'd done this morning had been.

The other side of the bed had been empty when Lois had awakened feeling refreshed and well rested. If Clark had had an unsettled night, he hadn't disturbed her.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked conversationally.

"I don't need as much sleep as everyone else," he said.

She smiled at his evasion. "Why didn't you sleep so well?"

He didn't reply, but he didn't need to. Lois knew the answer.

"Because of the choice I gave you for tonight?" she guessed. "Were you preoccupied with that?"

He lifted his cup, but just stared into the depths of the liquid. "It's pathetic," he said wretchedly.

"Do you want to tell me why this is so hard for you?"

"No."

"I feel like I missed something," Lois said. "I didn't realise ... Not really. Not until the beach."

"Maybe I hid it well," Clark said with a dejected shrug. "But it wasn't hard to ignore when I thought there was no chance of anything like this happening between us."

"I told you in the cell that I loved you," Lois reminded him gently. "Didn't that cause you to think about where this could end up?"

"I tried to believe you," Clark said, lifting his eyes from the tea to look at her. "But if you'd pushed me for the absolute truth, I would have said that you *thought* you loved me."

"OK," she said as she wrapped her hand around the warmth of her cup, hoping it would somehow aid her understanding. "But even that was probably going to lead somewhere."

"I didn't dare believe it was the sort of love that could lead to ..."

"I pushed too hard, didn't I?" Lois said as comprehension clunked through her brain. "I went too quickly?"

"No," Clark said. Neither said anything for a moment. He returned his cup to the table. "It's just the choices you gave me ... I can't imagine being able to do either of them."

Lois wanted to probe further and ask why, but she restrained her inquiring instincts. "Then we'll do something else," she said lightly.

Clark wasn't able to hide his relief. "Are you sure?"

"You can choose," she said. "Or perhaps we could do the back massage again. Would that be all right?"

His fingers tapped against the sides of the cup. "I'm sorry, Lois."

"Clark - we both need time. We both need someone to understand. We're here for each other. You don't have to be sorry."

"Thanks," he said. He stood abruptly and cleared his place from the table. "I'll be in the barn if you need me."

"Clark?"

At the door, he turned. "Yeah?"

"It's the weekend. Our first weekend in Smallville. Is there anything special you used to do with your folks? Anything you'd like us to do?"

"We used to go to church on Sunday mornings," he said evenly.

"Would you like to do that?"

"Would you?"

"I don't know," Lois said. "My family didn't go to church much. Christmas, sometimes - if my parents hadn't already had a fight by then." She subdued those memories. "But if you want to go, I'll come with you."

"The service starts at ten-thirty," Clark said.

"Would you like to take me to church?" she offered.

"Yes," he said. "I would like that."

Lois smiled to mask her slight disinclination. "Is it formal?" she asked. "What should I wear?"

"My mom used to wear a skirt or a dress. My dad and I wore nice trousers and a shirt and tie."

"OK," she said, mentally rummaging through her wardrobe. "It's a good thing we brought more of my clothes from Metropolis yesterday."

"Yeah." He opened the door. "I'll be in soon. Perhaps you should use the bathroom first."

"OK."

He went outside and closed the door. Lois sipped from her tea and couldn't help wondering about the specifics of what had happened in the cell.

As she thought about it, she realised that Clark's edginess was most likely the result of Moyne's abuse rather than Trask's. When Moyne had seized her outside her office at the compound, he had tried to scare her with threats that the alien would rape her. He'd said he would 'finish the job'. And when he'd come to the farmhouse, rape had again been his intention.

Imagine being helpless and alone with Moyne. Night after night after night.

Lois felt sick just thinking about it. "Aw, Clark," she whispered. "I wish I knew how to fix this for you.

She drained her cup and stood from the table. She was going to church. But the big question was - what was she going to wear?

||_||

Lois chose a creamy wool skirt with a matching jacket and a burgundy blouse that buttoned high enough to cover all but the very tops of the scratches. She added pumps the same colour as the blouse and looked into the mirror attached to Martha and Jonathan's dressing table.

Other than her date with Clark in the cell, she hadn't taken so much care over an outfit in a long time.

She looked all right. Probably a bit better than all right. But she wasn't sure if what she had chosen would be appropriate for a church service in rural Kansas.

With a deep breath, she left the mirror and walked down the stairs.

Clark was there - waiting for her.

She stopped.

And looked at him.

He was wearing crisply pressed black trousers with a white shirt. And a tie - a tie of cerulean background overlaid with dramatic white diamonds that almost jumped out from the subdued background of his shirt.

He looked amazing - even if the tie was a little bold.

"Wow," he breathed, before she'd managed to form words to express her approval. "Wow."

His blatant admiration bolstered her confidence in her choice of outfit. "You look fantastic," she said. "We should go to church more often."

"You look stunning," he said, slowly shaking his head as if he couldn't quite believe what he saw. "I ... I don't know what to say, and I couldn't describe what you're wearing, but I know it looks sensational."

"Thanks," she said.

Clark pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "How would you like me to introduce you?" he asked. "Ms Lane? Ms Lane, my friend? Lois Lane, from the agency?"

She thought for a moment. "Lois Lane," she decided. "Just that."

"OK," Clark said. "And if anyone asks about us, we remain vague?"

"It doesn't matter what we say," she said.

"It doesn't?"

"No," she said with a little giggle. "The way you are looking at me right now, it's not going to be too hard for anyone to guess the nature of our relationship."

Clark looked surprised, but then his smile began to unfurl.

"And the way you look, I'm probably not going to able to hide how I feel about you," Lois continued.

His smile broadened. "So you don't mind if people think we're together?"

"When you look like that, I want everyone - especially the single women - to know that you're with me," Lois declared.

Clark lifted his hand from his pocket and held it out to her. "Let's go to church, Ms Lane," he said.

"Good idea, Mr Kent," she replied.

||_||

Lois hadn't known what to expect from the church service, but the relaxed atmosphere and lack of ritual came as a bit of a surprise. The minister had been looking at them when he'd welcomed all visitors, but he hadn't mentioned them by name. The tunes of the hymns had seemed almost familiar, and the minister preached with quiet and sincere conviction about the wonder of God's grace. The people - both before the service and afterwards - approached them, chatted casually about a range of topics, and drifted away to join other conversations.

Clark didn't falter once in remembering the names and faces of the people of his community. Lois felt her heart go out to him as she realised how real these people must have been in his mind during the interminable days and nights of his imprisonment.

Clark introduced her as 'Lois Lane', but he did it with his hand tucked into hers and his eyes so full of love that it would have been impossible for anyone to miss that they were a young couple in love.

And, to Lois's surprise, that seemed to please the people almost as much as having Clark back in Smallville. They most often greeted Clark with "Welcome home," but many of them also expressed their delight that Clark had found someone who obviously made him so happy.

Maisie approached, and Lois mentally prepared her response in case the Smallville cafe waitress recognised her. "I'm Maisie," she said with a wide smile. "You must be Lois."

"Yes. Lois Lane."

"And you're *with* Clark?"

"Yes, I am."

"That's wonderful, love," she said with a wink of understanding. "I'm so pleased for both of you."

"Thank you."

Maisie moved on, and a tall, wiry woman came up to Lois. She was not particularly feminine, but she had a face that bore an enchanting smile.

"Hi," she said to Lois. "I'm Maggie Irig."

"It's good to meet you, Mrs Irig," Lois said. "I'm Lois Lane."

"Call me 'Maggie'," she said. Her eyes slipped sideways, and her smile blossomed as she looked at Clark. "Thank you for bringing our boy home."

Lois wasn't sure how to reply, but Maggie didn't wait for a response.

"We are so glad you're both here," she said. "It's a miracle, really, after all these years. Our son, Brett, is getting married next month. Your invitation will arrive this week. We'd be honoured if you could both come, but we understand if you don't feel you are able to."

"Thank you," Lois said. "And I know how much Clark appreciates everything you and your husband did on the farm while he was away."

"The Kents were my neighbours from the day I married Wayne," Maggie said staunchly. "We didn't do anything they wouldn't have done for us."

Clark turned from his conversation with Donny, and Maggie wrapped him in a big hug. She peered into his face, and Lois saw that there were tears in her eyes. "Welcome home," she said, and her voice shook. "I'm praying just as hard as I can for your mom."

"Thank you," Clark said.

"We would love to have you over for dinner," she said. "Or for a cup of coffee anytime. Whatever and whenever suits you."

"We're still trying to settle in," Clark said.

"There's no hurry," Maggie said with that smile of hers. "The invitation is there - anytime."

"Thank you."

Lois and Clark talked to a few more people and then walked from the church building. A touch of winter hung in the air despite the weakly shimmering sun. Clark turned to her. "There's a little creek that runs out of the town," he said. "After church, Mom, Dad, and I often walked along it. Would you like to do that now?"

"I'd love to," Lois said, hoping it wouldn't inflict too much damage on her pumps, but realising she didn't really care if it did.

Clark smiled at her response. "We'll leave the car here. It's not far."

Lois squeezed his hand and looked up to him with a smile. The smile she received back was as relaxed as she had ever seen from Clark. He seemed more peaceful, more confident. Perhaps he had been anxious about facing so many people and was feeling relieved that the first meeting had gone so well.

"I'm glad we went to church," Lois said.

"Thank you for coming."

"The people are very nice."

"Yeah. It wasn't until I went to college that I realised not everywhere is like Smallville. I was incredibly fortunate to be raised here."

"Do any of them know about you?"

"No. Mom and Dad told them that a relative had died, leaving me as an orphan. I think most people knew they had been hoping to start a family for a long time, so the overriding reaction was joy rather than curiosity."

"Just like now," Lois noted.

They reached the shallow, winding creek and began walking along the path that edged its bank. "I'm sure they would be curious about where I've been for seven years," Clark said, "but if Rachel told them what you told her, perhaps that was enough of an explanation for them."

"Did anyone ask for details about your mom?"

Clark smiled sadly. "A few people mentioned my folks. Some said how sorry they were to hear that my dad had passed away and expressed their hope that my mom will be home soon."

"No one asked any questions?"

Clark shook his head. "No."

The path took them into the shade of the nearby trees, and Lois leant a little closer to Clark. "It's obvious your parents are much-loved in this town."

Clark smiled again, although his sadness hadn't dissipated. "My folks are wonderful people," he said.

"Tell me about them," Lois encouraged casually.

He waited a few steps before replying, probably trying to arrange his thoughts. "On the outside, they were just ordinary people," he said. "Two farmers living a simple life. But they are so much more than that. They had an enduring love. They would speak their love; they would show it. Nothing meant as much to them as each other.

"And they loved me," he continued. "They drew me into that circle of love. They knew I was different. They didn't know *how* different I would be, but every time something new appeared - like the ability to fly - it didn't change anything. I was still their son." Clark smiled down at Lois. "My mom always used to tell me that being different was a good thing."

"It is."

His smile widened. "You remind me of her sometimes."

"I do?"

"She made up her own mind about everything. She didn't believe something just because everyone said it was true." His hand tightened around hers. "Just like someone I know who was told that an alien monster had viciously murdered two men, but she still walked into his cell - alone and unarmed."

Lois smiled at the memory. "Could you hear my heart thumping?"

"No," Clark said. "All I could hear was my heart thumping."

"*You* were nervous, too?"

"Intensely."

"But you must have known I couldn't hurt you. I didn't have a rod with me."

"I wasn't nervous about you hurting me. I was nervous about doing something that might scare you away."

Lois leant her head into his arm, and they walked in silence until they reached a sharp bend. They stopped and watched the clear water cascade over the glistening pebbles.

"Would you like to walk back on the other side?" Clark asked.

"My shoes aren't -"

Clark swung her into his arms and smoothly flew across the creek. "Your shoes aren't in any danger of getting wet," he said as he placed her gently back on the ground.

She grinned. "Sometimes, I still forget what is possible with you."

They began walking again, heading towards the town. "How are you feeling?" Clark asked.

Lois realised it was deeper than a casual question. "Most of the time, I feel all right," she replied. "The numbness has gone, which means there's nothing to buffer the pain of losing Linda. I miss her dreadfully. More than I ever have. But perhaps that's a part of the grieving process. I've begun to accept that she is gone. Forever. I'll never see her again."

"That's a hard thing to accept," Clark said.

Lois ran her other hand down the inside of his arm, finishing where their hands were connected. She wished she could give him some hope regarding his father, but her conviction was still strong that Reuben O'Brien had spoken with certainty about Jonathan's death. "It's harder than I ever thought it would be," she said. "I mean ... Linda and I knew the risks when we joined the agency. We said we understood, but I don't think either of us had really thought about it. We talked a lot about what we would do in a really desperate situation, but I think we both believed deep down that however desperate the situation got, we would be able to find a way out of it."

Clark waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he said, "What memory of Linda always makes you smile?"

Lois's mind filled with images of her friend. "Her laugh," she said after reflection. "It was the sort of laugh that you couldn't hear without smiling. It was totally infectious and never half-hearted. It was like a big neon sign saying 'Welcome to my hilarity. Please feel compelled to join me.'" Lois smiled. "I couldn't help it. Even when I was mad at her - which wasn't often - I had to laugh. When Linda laughed, the world was a better place." Lois felt a tear push through the curve of her eye and fritter down her cheek. She wiped it away. "I have so many wonderful memories," she said. "But what comes next always hurts so much - knowing that there will be no more memories."

"I think accepting that is a part of the process," Clark said. "Even though it hurts, it has to be faced if we are going to move on."

Lois took a steadying breath. "And, as horrible as her death was, at least I know for sure that she has gone. Perhaps that is easier than not knowing."

"Not knowing is like swinging wildly across a huge chasm," Clark said. "Sometimes I can *almost* convince myself that perhaps they are both all right. That perhaps they were taken somewhere safe and comfortable. That perhaps they were even lied to about where I was - told a story that I was helping national security or something like that so they didn't worry about me."

"That would be wonderful," Lois said.

Clark sighed. "But being able to believe that is rare. Even now, when so much has changed for me, it's hard not to think about how bad it could have been for them. I know that if my father has died, my mother's heart will be broken. And that's without all the other pain - worrying about me, having her life taken away from her, being forcibly removed from Smallville." His hand tightened around Lois's. "Sometimes ... *many* times in the cell, I just hoped and hoped that someone had killed them the night we were captured."

"That's what I would have been hoping," Lois said.

"Really?" he said, sounding genuinely surprised. "I felt so bad about hoping they were dead. They did so much for me. They found me. They took me in and gave me everything - a chance to pretend I'm normal, a chance to be like everyone else. They loved me so much, and I'm not even their son."

Lois stopped walking, faced him, and put her hand on his cheek. "I don't know your parents," she said softly. "But from everything I've heard about them, I don't believe they ever thought of you as less than their son."

Clark's cheek twitched under her hand. "You're right," he said. "To them, I was their son."

"And to you, they're your parents."

He nodded.

"I think we should go to Scardino today," Lois said, fired with sudden purpose. "We should find out everything he knows. I'm an agent. I'm trained to find people. With your extra skills and my experience, we will -"

Clark put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Lois," he said. "Slow down. I want to find my mom, but I'm not going to let you hurtle into another assignment. Not yet. You need time. I will keep looking for her. I'll keep flying over our country, listening and looking, and gradually working south. If we've found nothing in a month or so, we'll talk about going to Scardino."

"A month or so?" Lois gasped as her impatience erupted.

He nodded. "I want you to take the time you should have taken when you first got back to the US."

"I can start -"

"You can start your novel. You can rest. You can give yourself the time to come to terms with what happened to Linda. You can give me the time I need to work through some of the things that still haunt me. *Then* we'll start searching properly to find out what happened to my parents."

"Clark, it must be so hard waiting."

"It is," he said. "And I can't even think about what might be happening to her right now as we speak. But wherever she is, she's probably been there for seven years. A few more days isn't -"

"It might make a difference," Lois cut in before she'd thought about what she was saying.

His face darkened. "I can't think about that," he admitted grimly. "You need some time. But it's not just you. I do, too. I don't feel ready to find out the truth - not if it's bad news. I feel like my world has been spinning faster and faster, and ... " He looked at her, pleading for her understanding. "... and I just need some time to catch up."

Lois felt self-recrimination wash over her. "And I'm way too impatient," she said. "I've always wanted everything right now."

His smile flickered. "You're not too impatient," he said, running his finger along her jaw. "You're perfect."

"I'm sorry I put so much pressure on you about the bedroom thing."

His eyebrow quirked. "The bedroom thing?" he said. "That sounds ... intriguing."

"Perhaps we should call it 'bedroom therapy'," she suggested, wanting to ease the pressure from the situation.

"Bedroom therapy?" Clark said, smiling openly now. "How about tonight, you get the question - but it can't be about anything that happened in the cell - and I get to choose the 'activity'?"

Lois smiled. "I am looking forward to whatever *activity* you propose," she said.

She thought she saw a tint of colour infuse his cheeks, and it was confirmed when Clark cleared his throat. Lois stifled her giggle, but his half-smile made her think he'd discerned something of her thoughts as to what the 'activity' might entail. He turned, slipped his hand back into hers, and began walking. "What do you want to do this afternoon?" he asked nonchalantly.

This time, Lois did giggle, and Clark smiled. "I'd like to spend some time in the flower garden and then work on my novel," she said.

"Your novel?" Clark said with interest. "Did you start it last night?"

"I wrote a few notes," she said. "But I have the scene where they meet all fixed in my head, and I want to get it down in words."

"They?"

"She's a tough, independent agent who has gotten to the top of her field through a combination of brilliance and determination. He's new to the game, and to her great disgust, they have been partnered together on an assignment."

"Ouch," Clark said. "Poor guy."

Lois smiled. "Don't you worry about him. He's well able to take care of himself - and her, too."

"So she's going to realise he's not a pushover?"

"He's not a pushover at all. But it's going to take her awhile to catch on to that."

"Will you let her realise it before the last page?" Clark asked. "Surely, he deserves that much."

"Maybe," Lois said with a smile.

Clark answered her smile. "Do you mind me asking questions about your story?" he said. "Will you want to talk about it as you write it?"

"No, I don't mind questions. And it might be fun to have someone to discuss it with."

He grinned. "Do I get to read it?"

"Not until I've edited it at least five times," she said as they arrived back at the car in the now-empty churchyard. Lois took the keys from her bag.

"Lunch?" Clark asked. "Anywhere in the world?"

Lois chuckled. "You know what I'd really like? Hot soup and soft fresh bread at home."

"Are you cold?"

"Just a little."

"Hold still." Clark lowered his glasses, and Lois felt a blanket of warmth envelope her. "How's that?" he asked as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Wonderful," she said.

He took the keys from her hand, unlocked the Buick, and opened the driver's door for her.

"Thank you," Lois said. "And thanks for sharing your hotness." She watched him, waiting to see if he would react to her implied compliment. He paused for a moment and then shut the door. Lois chuckled again.

And then sighed. Patience had never been her strong point.

And she wanted a whole lot more from Clark than he was able to give just yet.

She would give him the time he needed.

She would.

But she didn't know how she was going to do it without dissolving into a puddle of arrant need.

||_||

As evening approached, Clark's thoughts turned frequently to their planned 'bedroom therapy', and each time, his nervousness cranked up another notch. It wasn't pure nervousness - more a combination of uneasiness and anticipation.

He'd decided on the 'activity'. Actually, deciding on it had been the easy part. Keeping the anticipation of it from overwhelming his mind had been the difficult bit.

The main contributor to his tension was the thought of having to answer Lois's question. What would she ask? He'd set some boundaries - nothing about the cell - but there was still plenty she could ask that would render him grossly uncomfortable.

Why haven't you kissed me yet?

Are you curious about my body?

Being Kryptonian, how do you differ from human men?

How far have you gone with a woman?

Of all of those questions, the last would be the most simple. The answer to the second was easy, but his face might get hot enough to cause Lois second-degree burns if she inquired how often he'd thought about her body.

He didn't know what she would ask - and that was a little bit exhilarating and a whole lot terrifying.

She'd spent the evening with her fingers flying on the computer's keyboard. He'd become mesmerised by the arrhythmic flow of her work. Fast at times, interspersed with frequent pauses that were often accompanied by deep sighs and then followed by sudden bursts of frantic energy.

Clark had watched her. Never before had he realised that watching someone do something as mundane as tapping on a keyboard could be so fascinating.

But it was Lois doing the tapping.

And everything about her was fascinating.

She stopped typing, checked her watch, and groaned. "Ugh," she said. "Sorry. I meant to finish up before now. I got caught up in my story."

"Have they met yet?"

"They met page one, line one," Lois said with a grin. "I don't think he's quite realised what has hit him."

"Are they going to end up together?" Clark asked. "Beyond the work partnership?"

"She wouldn't even consider it a possibility at this stage," Lois said with a grin.

"What about him?"

"He's already fallen in love with her," Lois said airily. "Page one, line two."

Clark chuckled. "You make sure you're nice to him," he said, trying to speak with ominous warning. "I feel for the guy."

Lois stood from her chair and stretched. "And if I'm not nice to him?" she challenged.

Clark stood as well. "Are you ticklish?" he asked.

She raised her hands towards him, fending him off. "Don't you even think about tickling me," she said, grinning despite her warning tone.

"I get to choose the activity tonight," Clark said. "Remember?"

"But not tickling," she said.

He paused long enough to let her think he was considering arguing the point. "OK," he agreed easily. "Do you want to use the bathroom first?"

"Yes," she said. "Give me about ten minutes."

Clark picked up the empty cups from their evening drinks. "See you soon." He watched her leave the living room.

Ten minutes.