Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Trusting Me, Trusting You 4:Highway (8/?)

"I couldn't stand it if you were hurt because of me."

Lois smiled, filling him with hope that he would be enough to keep her safe. "This is old ground, Mr Kent," she chided so very gently.

"I've worried about this before?"

"Yes," she said. "And we decided that if we're together, nothing can hurt us."

"Then we need to stay together."

"You got it," she said.

Clark's doubts melted away.

From somewhere he couldn't place, he felt the desperate compulsion to be what Lois needed. To protect her. Physically. Emotionally. To make her happy. To see her smile.

Lois believed in him.

She knew everything about him, and she loved him.

That was enough. *He* was enough.


Part 8

Clark drained his coffee. "Would you like another drink?" he asked Lois. "Anything else?"

"No, thanks," she said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. But if you're still hungry, go ahead."

He wasn't hungry. But he didn't feel inclined to return to the road. As they'd eaten breakfast, he'd relished the freedom from the constraints of driving - where one of them had to concentrate on the road. "I ... I'm just enjoying being with you," he said.

"You're *with me* in the car," she said with a smile that told him she shared his sentiment.

"I figure I should offer to drive," Clark said. "And that's going to restrict how much I can look at you."

Lois settled further into her seat. "What would you like to talk about?" she asked. Her grin flashed. "Or do you just want to stare at me?"

Clark chuckled. "I did notice that you seemed to be doing your share of the gazing," he said.

"That's because you're gorgeous," she informed him matter-of-factly.

"Ahh ... What would *you* like to talk about?" he asked, feeling more comfortable with that course than exploring the 'gorgeous' route.

"You choose," she said.

"But there's a problem with that," he said. "I don't remember enough to make good conversation - other than plying you with endless questions, of course. And my small stock of memories is full of things that probably aren't appropriate for a discussion that could be overheard."

"You still don't remember anything?" Lois asked.

"Nothing personal. Everything I know about my life, you've told me."

"Ah, Clark," she said, full of sympathy.

But it wasn't her sympathy he craved right now. He wanted to connect with her again, to add another strand to the bond between them. To do that, they needed to talk. But about what? "I have an idea," he said as sudden inspiration illuminated his mind.

"You do?"

"How about you choose the question? And then tell me the answer?"

Her gaze intensified - as if his suggestion had called forth memories. Memories they had made together. Memories he had lost.

"Have we done that before?" he guessed.

"Yes."

"What question did you answer for me?"

"I told you about my job," Lois said. "And my friend."

"The one who was killed?"

"Yes."

It still hurt Lois. And it was more than the grief of losing a friend. There was something else there - something dark. "I wish I had the words to help ease your pain," Clark said.

"You did," Lois said. "Once I was ready to listen, you said exactly what I needed to hear."

"The man who tried to kill you ... was he the one who killed your friend?"

"No."

"What question did I answer for you?"

"You told me a few things about your childhood."

"That's good," Clark said, again mourning the cavernous lack of knowledge of his parents. Had they known about his extra abilities? "With my folks having passed away and my memories gone, I wondered if all of that would be lost forever."

"I've thought of a question you could ask," Lois said.

"OK," Clark said, expecting she would direct him to ask something about his parents.

"You could ask me about your most surprising talent.'"

More surprising than floating? "What is my most surprising talent?" he echoed, trying to prepare himself for another revelation that further stretched the boundaries of believability.

"You write poetry," Lois said.

"Poetry?" He hadn't been expecting that. "Is it any good?" he asked dubiously.

"I've only read one piece that you've written," Lois said as she unzipped a side compartment of her bag.

Clark felt his anticipation rise, sure that he was about to rediscover another aspect of his relationship with Lois. A man who wrote poetry ... a man who was in love - yep, this poem was going to be about his feelings for her.

She carefully eased the piece of paper past the zipper and held it as if it were something very precious to her.

"Is that my poem?" Clark asked, hoping his question would prompt her to read it to him.

Her eyes lifted from the paper and slid into his. "This is possibly the most beautiful gift I've ever received," she said, a slight wobble in her voice.

This piece of paper was important to her. *His* poem meant a lot to her. "I gave it to you?"

She nodded. "But I asked you to keep it for me. It belongs in your wallet."

Clark slid his hand across the table and touched two fingers to side of her wrist.

"I'd offer to read it to you," Lois said. "Except I will probably cry."

"Would you prefer to give it to me in the car?" Clark suggested. "Or someplace where we're alone?"

"No," she said. "That might not be ..." She grinned suddenly. "I think the word you used is 'wise'. That might not be wise."

Her words and her smile pushed images through the sieve of his brain. Images that had to be expeditiously curtailed. "Would you read me the poem?" Clark said, yearning to hear his words carried by her voice. "Please?"

"OK," she said. "But if I cry ..."

"You said I've made you cry before."

Her damp eyes dropped to the paper and, on a steadying breath, she began:

"Hope blossoms in the blackness, splashing colour on the empty, threadbare canvas,
Hope shines in the darkness, bringing light where fear-filled shadows loomed,
Hope cradles promise, birthing life where barrenness reigned unchallenged,
Hope is beautiful, and her -"

"And her name is Lois," Clark said.

Lois's attention jolted up from the paper. "You're remembering something?"

"No," Clark said. "But there is no other possible way for that poem to end. It's obvious."

"Obvious or not," Lois said. "That's exactly how it ends."

"And I wrote it? I didn't adapt it from someone else's poem and substitute your name?"

"No. You wrote it."

Clark opened his hand. "May I keep it, please?" he asked. "I want to keep a little piece of you close to me."

"You were going to get a copy for me."

"I still will do that," Clark said. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to keep it in my wallet." He took the paper and stared at the words. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but the feel of the words tugged strongly at something deep inside him.

"Remember anything?" Lois asked.

"Not really," he said. "But it confirms what I had already surmised. That I was lonely. That I wasn't sure where I fitted in a normal world." He looked up from the paper. "That I need you."

"As much as I need you."

Clark read the poem again, absorbing each word, each line, allowing its rhythm and flow to seep into him. "When did I write this?" he asked. "Before I told you how I feel about you? Or after?"

"Before."

He grinned at the expense of the Clark Kent on the other side of the wall of amnesia. "I wonder how long I obsessed," he said. "Knowing how I felt, but unsure about encumbering you with all of my peculiarities?"

"I think that's normal for any relationship," Lois said. "There's often a time of uncertainty."

"How did I ever work up the courage to show you what I'd written?" Clark asked.

Lois hesitated.

"I didn't, did I?" he said with a wry grin. "Did you find it?"

"Yeah, I did," she said. "Before it was finished. When I admitted that I'd seen it, you showed me the finished piece."

"Lois," he said. "Was everything with me slow and painful? Did everything take a long time? Did you ever get tired of waiting?"

"I understood your caution," she said.

"Are you glad that I lost my memories?"

Lois studied her empty plate. "I could never be glad about *anything* that hurts you."

"But ... when we met ... it seems that certain things were already ingrained in my psyche. Things that probably meant I believed nothing like this was ever going to be possible for me. I figure you were probably trying so hard to make me see things differently. I figure I was probably being stubborn. Does that describe it fairly accurately?"

"Yeah," she said with a mellow smile. "That about covers it."

"But then, I forgot everything," Clark said. "I forgot you, but - perhaps more significantly - I forgot me."

"Clark, I fell in love with you very soon after I met you. You've always had such gentleness, such strength."

"But I also had such insecurities?"

"Some," she admitted.

"Which is why I didn't kiss you?"

"You offered to kiss me just before you left."

Clark rolled his eyes. "That was way too late."

"No, it wasn't."

"You obviously refused my offer," he said, grinning. "So you must have agreed with me that my timing was awry."

"We promised each other that as soon as we were together again ... after ... we would kiss."

"Instead, you had to wait again."

"Yeah," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But when we finally got to it ... wow!"

"It was *that* good?"

"It was better."

"It's your day, honey," he reminded her, keeping his tone casual in the hope that he didn't sound overly eager. "You can kiss me anytime you want to."

"I know," she said. "And I have plans."

The diner had heated suddenly. His heart was pumping gallons of blood, trying to assuage the light-headedness that was threatening to lift him from the seat. "We need to get out of here," he said.

"Yes," she said. But her eyes didn't release him.

He had to get up. Or he risked something inside him exploding. And who knew what *that* would mean for someone with his extra abilities.

Clark stood and offered Lois his hand. She took it, and they walked out together.

As they approached the Jeep, he realised something.

The doubts that had plagued Clark Kent for years were not only forgotten - they were gone.

He could face the world boldly - with Lois beside him - because her love made it possible for him to be the person she perceived him to be.

Lois.

Already, she had taken his blank canvas and painted it with strength and confidence.

He was different. Strange and odd.

But he wasn't alone.

||_||

Lois's eyes were closed, but she wasn't asleep.

She was indulging in replayed memories. Specifically, her file entitled 'Kisses with Clark'.

He had been driving the Jeep since they'd left the diner after breakfast.

As each mile had passed, she'd been conscious of her rising impatience. Driving steadily west to Kansas was too slow. Too restrictive.

A multi-day road trip had seemed like the ideal solution when she had assumed that Clark would need much longer to settle into their relationship. Information - getting it and protecting it - had been the foremost currency during her life as an agent, but she hadn't given much thought to the difficulties of being evasive with someone she loved.

The more she told him, the greater the chance Clark was going to notice the hole in his life.

Seven empty years.

Lois was determined to fill that void with good memories.

She wanted to *do* something with him.

Something more than sitting in the car as mile after mile passed by.

Something fun.

Something like the paper airplanes.

So much had happened since Daniel Scardino had arrived at the farmhouse in Smallville just two days ago. Before that, there had been the argument about the bedroom therapy.

And before that - Moyne.

But in between had been ...

An idea charged through her brain.

An invigorating idea.

It could backfire. But - as she'd already discovered - walking the minefield of lost memories was fraught with the risk of detonation.

But this idea ...

It would be fun.

It was something she really wanted to do.

Clark would enjoy it.

But there was a snag.

Not an insurmountable one. But significant enough that she probably should control her impulsiveness and at least try to think through the possible ramifications.

The car stopped.

Lois opened her eyes and sat up. They were parked in a busy street next to a row of stores. She scanned the area for displayed newspaper headlines.

Clark smiled across at her. "Did you have a nice sleep, honey?" he said.

"Yeah," she said, her eyes darting left and right. "Where are we?"

"Akron, Ohio."

She couldn't even remember that name on the map. But it was definitely bigger than anywhere she would have chosen as a stopping place.

"There's a branch of the bank where I have money," Clark said with a nod to his left. "Is that machine in the wall the automatic teller you mentioned?"

"Yes."

"And I can withdraw cash?"

"Yes. Do you need help?"

"No, thanks," he said with a smile that triggered some of her best memories. "It should be straightforward enough."

"OK," she said.

"Would you like me to buy us lunch? Takeout? Or would you prefer to eat in?"

Lois looked around, wary of the bustling crowds. "Takeout," she said.

"A sandwich?"

"Yeah. Ham, lettuce, tomato. Whatever they have. I'll come with you."

"No," Clark said. He looked pointedly to his right. Lois followed his gaze and noticed a sign pointing to some restrooms. "I need a few moments ..."

"Oh," she said. "OK."

"You just relax here," he said. "I won't be long."

"OK."

He got out of the Jeep and headed to the teller machine in the wall of the bank.

Lois watched him, admiring the way his jeans conformed to the contours of his butt. He turned around and waved to her as he put his wallet in his pocket.

Then he strolled along the sidewalk.

Lois felt her anxiety rise. What if ...

There was so much that could go wrong.

But she couldn't attach herself to him permanently.

She calmed her simmering fears. Clark would be fine. He knew enough about his superpowers to be able to deal with anything unexpected.

If he overheard a conversation about the asteroid, he wouldn't necessarily assume it was related to his amnesia. But even if he did ... Lois was confident that he had progressed far enough that that information no longer needed to be guarded so vigilantly.

He would be fine.

Lois closed her eyes again ... and drifted back to her plan.

She wanted to go to the beach.

With Clark.

Which meant that she had to determine the best way to introduce Clark to the concept of flying.

Even with superpowers, Clark couldn't drive and kiss at the same time.

However, the possibility of kissing while flying definitely needed some investigation.

||_||

Clark entered a random store. Once in there, he lowered his glasses and looked through the wall to the Jeep. And Lois.

She wasn't looking in his direction. Good.

He snuck out of the store and went into the one that had caused him to stop in this particular street. The vast display was a little disconcerting, but he forced himself to step forward.

Then he saw it.

A large photograph.

Probably taken from a newspaper.

Affixed to the wall.

And under it, the handwritten proclamation: 'OUR HERO!'

Clark stepped forward. The photograph - taken from the waist up - was of a man dressed in a shiny cling-tight suit. A red cape cloaked his shoulders. He was standing behind a microphone and appeared to be speaking into it.

He looked terribly tense.

It wasn't a particularly good photograph.

A little grainy, but -

"Sir?"

Clark turned to the voice of the assistant.

"How can I help you?" she asked.

||_||

Lois dragged herself from her plans and looked around. She checked her watch and was surprised that nearly half an hour had passed.

Where was Clark?

From amid the crowd, she saw him. He was coming towards her carrying two cans of soda and some bags that presumably contained their lunch.

Her immediate reaction was relief - but it was quickly overshadowed by the rush of appreciation.

Wow, but that man could look delectable.

And he didn't even appear to be trying.

The beach, she thought, returning to her plan. Imagine him on the beach.

In shorts.

And perhaps ... perhaps nothing else.

Would he do it?

Would he be willing to take off his shirt?

He hadn't seemed perturbed by his semi-nakedness when she'd found him in front of the mirror, checking for scars.

The beach.

She desperately wanted to go to the beach.

This afternoon.

Was this being impulsive?

Yes.

Was it a risk?

Yes.

But it was less hazardous than some of the other imaginings that had been tromping through her mind with ever-increasing ferocity.

A couple of hours walking along the beach - perhaps that would soothe her raging impatience.

It was preferable that Clark discover he could fly - rather than merely float - when she was with him. She could justify this. She could.

He opened the door and slid into the seat with a sunshiny smile of greeting. "Do you want us to drive while we eat?" he asked.

They should. Particularly if they were going to take some time out for a little beach trip. "Yeah," Lois said. "But I'll drive."

"I don't mind."

"No," she said firmly. "It's my turn."

"OK," he said agreeably. "I'll hand you your food."

After they had swapped seats, Lois backed out of the parking spot, and Clark directed her to the highway.

A few minutes later, they were travelling west again.

"How are you doing?" Lois asked between bites of her sandwich.

"Fine," he said, sounding a little surprised at her question.

"You are coping incredibly well," she said. "Discovering you'd lost your entire life, finding it again in little pieces and having to put them back together - that's a difficult thing to face."

Clark chuckled. "Falling in love with a woman I thought was my sister, finding out she isn't, desperately hoping she might feel something beyond friendship, realising she does despite some rather bizarre complications ..."

"Those *complications* were never a barrier," she said solemnly. "Not from my side."

"I'm sorry," he said.

The regret in his apology galvanised Lois into action. Seeing a densely treed wayside stop, she pulled into it.

She stopped the Jeep, taking best advantage of the trees to conceal it from the road.

Clark looked across at her. "Is everything all right?" he asked. "Do you want me to drive for a bit?"

"Everything's fine," she said, putting the rest of her sandwich back in the bag. "I just need to stretch my legs."

"Ah," he said. "I forgot that you stayed in the car when I got our lunch." He looked out of the window. "Would you like to walk with me? There's a bit of a track."

Lois sprang from the Jeep before Clark had the chance to open her door, feeling as if she were about to leap from the top of a cliff. That should be dangerous. But Clark was here, and therefore, jumping off a cliff would be exhilarating but with no nasty bump at the end.

She went to the passenger side, and when he was out and had shut the door, she put her hands onto his shoulders and pushed him back against the car.

His surprise quickly gave way to a grin as he caught something of her intention.

Lois gave herself one second to back out of her plan. What if it all ended badly?

No, she thought. It wasn't going to end badly - it was going to end at the beach.

She hooked her arms around his neck and leant into his chest. Clark's arms came around her and joined at the small of her back - one of the first places he had touched her after losing his memories.

It seemed like an omen. Encouragement to continue.

Lois reached up and kissed him, lingering just long enough for him to respond. Then she drew back and smiled. "I'd like to talk to you," she said.

"OK," he said. "But if you wanted to build up to it slowly ..."

She smiled at his hinted invitation and kissed him again, luxuriating in the feel of his mouth and the closeness of his body for a few moments but backing away before any real heat could be generated. "What I'm going to say might shock you, but -"

"Is it going to affect us? Our relationship? About how you feel about me?"

"No. It's nothing about that."

He shrugged as if dismissing whatever it was. Lois considered her options. She could try to ease into this or she could just announce that they were going to California.

"This whole experience must feel a bit surreal," she said, surprising herself by taking the less dramatic of the two options.

"Yeah," he agreed. "The startling disclosures ... the fogginess of amnesia ..."

"Are you doing OK?"

"Yeah," he said. His arms tightened a little. "Because every time I come close to freaking out, you're there for me." He kissed her forehead. "The more I think about all the decisions facing you yesterday, the more I am in awe of how you handled it." He grinned. "Even the shaving. I was *so* determined to kiss you during our date, and I was completely aghast at scratching you ... I mean, the razor broke ... what damage was I going to inflict on your face?" One arm released her long enough for the back of his forefinger to skim across her cheek. "But you found exactly the right way to make something so bizarre seem like it was no big deal."

She smiled, feeling more confident than ever that now was the right time to initiate flying.

"When you said that it is normal for us," Clark said. "That ... that meant so much to me. That was when I knew for sure that I wasn't alone. That I would never be alone."

"I'm so glad you feel like that," Lois said. "Because ..."

Clark grinned. "What new thing are you going to spring on me now?" he asked. "I'm guessing it will be something else that is totally unconventional - but you're going to present as 'normal for us'."

His grin and nonchalant attitude warmed every part of her. "I want to go to the beach," Lois said.

"The -" His mouth closed. Slowly, he began to nod. "The beach," he said as if considering that as a realistic possibility. "The beach."

She nodded.

"Today?" Clark asked.

"Now."

His smile was a little tentative, but he didn't look unduly concerned. "And I suppose you have a plan for how we are going to get there?"

Lois smiled at his tone. "Do you remember floating?"

"I remember kissing," he said. "I will *never* forget that."

"But when we finally finished kissing ..."

"I discovered my feet were no longer on the ground."

"Yes," she said. "But floating is just the tip of the iceberg."

Clark nodded sagely. "That had occurred to me."

"Have you experimented?"

"No." He grinned. "I figured you'd get around to telling me when you thought the time was right."

Lois laughed. "You show incredible faith in me."

"No more than you show in me." His hand was on her back again, moving up and down in a slow rhythm, his fingertips pressing gently into her sweater. "Have we flown together before?"

"Yes."

"I've carried you? In my arms? And flown?"

"Uh huh."

His grin escalated. "*That* sounds like fun."

"It is. It is the best fun," Lois said, caressing the strip of skin between his hairline and his collar. "Actually, it's the second-best fun."

"After kissing," he said gravely.

"Absolutely."

Their eyes met again, alive with memories, potent with anticipation.

"I'm relieved that you're taking it so well," Lois said.

"I'm shocked," he admitted. "About the beach."

"Why?"

"Well ..." His smile turned a little self-conscious. "I was imagining flying across a field."

"Oh," Lois said. "It's a *little* more than that."

His head lifted, and he looked around. "I don't think there are too many beaches around here," he said. "Do you have one in mind?"

"Yes. In California."

His mouth dropped. "How ... how long is it going to take to get there?"

"Five minutes. If we're leisurely."

"Fi -" He gulped. "*Five* minutes?"

She nodded.

Clark burst out laughing. "Then why are we *driving* to Kansas?"

"That is precisely what I was thinking," Lois said. "It was a good idea when I thought it was going to take days of being together for you to remember me, but now ..."

"Now," he said with smiling sternness. "Now, you owe me a few answers."

"OK," she agreed, realising that her mountains of apprehension had crumbled. If Clark could accept flying this easily, everything else - except for the cell - would be fine.

"What if I drop you?" he asked. "You could get hurt."

"Clark," Lois said, inching her fingers into his hair. "There's one thing I learned right about the time you caught that bullet."

"What?"

"That if you're around, I'm not going to get hurt. Not ever. You just won't let it happen."

His smile crashed over her again. "Wanna go flying with me now?"

"I'd love to."

"You mean ... we just ... take off ... and fly to the beach? Just like that?"

"No, not just like that," she said. "We have to negotiate first."

His eyebrows drew together. "Negotiate?"

This had been so straightforward that Lois felt as if she were flying already. "In return for me flying with you, you agree to take off your shirt when we get to the beach," she said lightly.

His grin was infectious. "What if I get cold?"

"You don't get cold. And even if you did ..." She unfolded from him enough to spread two fingers wide and point to his eyes.

"What are you going to wear?"

"What would you like me to wear?" she said, feeling emboldened by the exhilaration of having challenged the minefield and come through without detonating anything.

"I assume you *do* get cold?"

Nice dodge, she thought. "Yes, but your eyes ..."

Clark chuckled. "We could buy some beach clothes. Perhaps a pair of shorts for you, and ... I don't think women's fashion is something I've ever known much about ... a shirt ... blouse ... top ... of your choosing."

"We're going clothes shopping again?"

"Yeah. You need something for our date tonight."

"Clark, you don't have to buy me clothes."

"I want to. I want to get you something really special for tonight. Please, Lois."

"All right."

"I figure there will be lots of clothes stores in California."

"Lots," Lois said. "But we can't leave yet."

"Oh?" His eyebrows lifted with surprise, but his suggestion of a smile told her that he had an inkling of what she was going to say.

"My day is half over," she said. "And I know that kissing tends to get you airborne."

"You're going to have to give me instructions," he murmured.

"As I recall, you don't need no instructions," Lois drawled.

He smiled. "I meant for flying."

She nodded, deciding that the time for talking was over. She leant further into his chest, reached up to his mouth, and kissed him.

His response was soft and warm and replete with his love as they kissed an unhurried journey of rediscovery.

"I have another question," Clark said when they finally eased apart.

"OK," Lois said as she settled into the nook of his neck.

"What did I do?"

"Ah ... kissed me?"

"No. What did I do when I was dressed in the blue thing?"

Lois lifted her head. "You remember?"

"No. I saw a picture."

"Of you?"

"Well, no one else seemed to recognise me - but considering the gelled hair, the lack of glasses, and the blue suit, it wasn't that difficult."

"You saved the world."

He blanched. "I *saved* it? How?"

"There was an asteroid. Heading directly for us. The entire planet was doomed."

"And you knew that I could fly? *Really* fast? And I was impervious to bullets?"

She nodded. "You were our only chance."

"So, I dressed up in a disguise to protect our future ..."

"Yes."

"And? And did what?"

"Flew into the asteroid." Lois felt him tense. "Do you remember *anything*?"

"No. Nothing," Clark said. "But a lot of the fragments don't seem quite so disjointed."

"Such as?"

"The money in my bank account. Being at the EPRAD base. The media being camped at the front entrance."

"My scrambling efforts to keep you away from any newsstands?"

"I didn't really notice that," Clark said. He smiled. "But now that you mention it ..."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I don't see how else you could have done it. I was in no condition yesterday to deal with having saved the world by flying into space." He wrinkled his brow. "I'm guessing I wasn't in a rocket?"

"No."

"Who made the costume?"

"Evan's daughter."

"You told me that my abilities are a secret."

"The media named the blue-suited hero 'Superman'," Lois said. "That *he* has abilities is no longer a secret. But -"

"But that Clark Kent, farmer from Smallville, is the blue-suited oddball - *that's* the secret?"

Lois nodded, unsure what to say.

Clark smiled suddenly. "It seems as if you and I had it worked out pretty well," he said.

"We did."

"And this ... 'Superman'? Did he do anything else? Did he help out in any other ways?"

"No. Not yet. But we'd talked about it."

"Can Evan's daughter make another suit? To replace the first one?"

"I guess so. If that's what you want."

"Maybe. We'll think about it." Clark took his arms from her back and slid gentle fingers along her jaw. "For now, I just want to be Clark Kent, regular guy, who is hopelessly in love with Lois Lane, extraordinary woman."

"Not so much the *regular* guy," Lois said. "I want to go to California."

He grinned. Then, he broke their deal.

Because *he* kissed her.

On her day!