From Part 12:
I was still busy staring at the door through which Clark had left the restaurant, when a smiling waiter approached the table.
"With regards from the chef," he said exuberantly, serving a delicious smelling chocolate mousse. "Will your husband be back?" His smile was friendly, yet anxious and not quite genuine. Perhaps he was afraid Clark and I would ruin the success rate of their couples therapy. What would he say if he learned that we were not even married?
"No, I don’t think he’s coming back," I said with genuine regret. "He didn’t feel well." I wondered why I even started inventing excuses for him. Had I really sunk so low? "The food was really tasty," I said for good measure, before I dipped my spoon into the mousse. The waiter gave me a warm smile before he slipped away.
Finally, I was alone with this dream of chocolate. The taste was so comforting that all of a sudden I realized how unhappy I really was. Tears filled my eyes and another spoonful of dessert was the only thing that kept me from breaking down completely. I do not think I had ever needed chocolate as badly as I did now, not even after almost marrying Lex Luthor. Did Perry know what he had asked of us, assigning us on this story?
* * *
Only in my dreams
Part 13
Concrete had stuck on my clothes, my hair and my skin. I had not cared. Calling Superman had not been for my sake. Dr. Hamilton had naively committed some bad mistakes, but he was a good man, he had deserved a second chance. On the other hand, I had contemplated simply dying in the concrete. Had I really wanted a life without Clark? Lost and alone, knowing that I had not even told him how much he had meant to me?
But now my lonely life had me back and I had been embarrassed for even thinking about giving up. Clark had died to protect me. It was my duty to honor his gift of life. While I had stood there, covered in concrete, facing Superman, a shiver had run through me. I had vowed silently to be more careful.
"Is everything all right, Lois?" Superman had asked, worriedly and had looked at me with a strange expression. His eyes had been wide and he had not seemed to be sure whether he should stay or fly away. I had not been able to help but think that I had not had his undivided attention.
'Y.. Yes," I had replied softly, and then when I had thought about it, I had shaken my head. "No...I should have told Clark that... I don’t know if anything will ever be all right again," I had murmured sadly. But I had also felt a certain relief that I had finally told someone, that I had finally voiced my feelings for Clark. "Superman, I miss him so much." A familiar lump had built up in my throat, indicating that I had been barely able to keep from crying. It had never been more difficult than at this moment. "My best friend is ..." I had gone on, feeling that I could not acutally say it. "I miss him so much.." I had repeated depressed. My tears had begun to flow freely. I had not been able to stop them and I had no longer wanted to.
Superman had looked at me with a pained expression. I had known, or at least had suspected, that he had felt just as guilty as I had. His lips had parted, as if to say something, but instead he had nodded at me briefly. He had mumbled something and had flown up into the sky. I had assumed that he would have rather taken care of the bad guy than have engaged in this conversation. We both had suffered a loss and each of us had his own way to cope.
I had looked at a miserable Dr. Hamilton, who had been standing next to me, still busy with his sneezing fit. His clothes had been sticking to his body and he had shivered. He had also lost, his dream had been shattered. Superman had ensured that the clones he had created would cause no more damage. It had been a bad night for all of us. As a dark figure had appeared in the distance, I had been afraid that this night held more in store for us than even we had bargained for. Once Superman had left, the police would certainly show up. It had always been that way. Tonight would not be any different. The last few days had taken their toll on me and I had not had the strength to face another interrogation.
"I'm so incredibly sorry for what I did, Ms. Lane," Dr. Hamilton had sniffed and had looked at me ruefully. It had not been the first time he had raised the topic.
"Nobody could have guessed that it would turn out that way," I had tried to comfort him and had rubbed my eyes.
"I will never again experiment with genes," he had vowed. "As soon as I get back to my lab, I’m going to destroy all my records."
I had nodded. I had had no doubt that he would. Dr. Hamilton might have had committed a terrible mistake, but at least he had the opportunity to learn from it. I had been sure that I would never again get to know someone like Clark. The lesson I had learned, had come too late. Try as I might, I had not had the time to tell Clark I loved him, not anymore. Clark had been dead.
The distant figure had come closer. My eyes had been playing pranks on me, like they had so often in the past couple of days. The man who had approached us, had walked like Clark, had touched his glasses like Clark and had made my heart beat with longing. I had been seeing Clark everywhere since he had collapsed in the bar right in front of me. He had been the man on the street, the man in the café. And the hallucination had not stopped. The closer the man had come, the more I had been convinced that I had actually seen Clark. And finally, though I had known it could only end in embarrassment, I had run up to him and had hugged him, clung to him.
"Clark! Clark!" I had cried like a drunk. I had half expected him to push me away.
"Lois," he had answered quietly, letting me passionately embrace him.
For several minutes I had pressed my face against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent. It had not bothered me that I had still been caked with concrete. This dream was had been too good to let it be ruined by ridiculous concerns about clean clothes. My tormented mind had finally created the man I had so desperately longed to see. Everything had seemed to be genuine - his smell, the feel of his arms embracing me, the warmth that had emanated from him and the whiff of his breath on my hair. Even his voice had sounded like him, comforting me and taking away my pain.
Clark's presence had been probably just another sign that I had finally lost my mind. But having had him back had been all that really mattered to me. What I had thought to be just a brief moment of bliss remained. Clark had stayed with me, strong and tangible. His voice had remained as deep and comforting as it had used to be. I had stepped back and had looked into the sweet face of my partner, the man I had fallen in love with. Only his smile had not returned with him. He had been serious, almost grave, as he had told me how he had so miraculously returned.
I emerged from my memory and found myself sitting on the bed of our hotel room. Vaguely, I remembered walking back alone. The room around me was dark. I did not know how long I had been sitting there. For a moment I considered changing into something more comfortable, but I could not bring myself to get up again. The clock was right next to me, but I could not work up the courage to check it. The nightstand beside the bed and the lamp on it were no more than a barely discernable shape. I liked it that way. I was content sitting there, wallowing in self-pity. I waited for Clark to return from whereever he was now so that I would no longer be alone. Just as alone, as I had been when I had thought that I had lost Clark forever. The memory had come back to me, involuntarily, and with it the question that I had been asking myself for weeks now. Why had Clark come back? If it was so difficult for him to be close to me, why had he told me that he was still alive?
Before I really knew what I was doing, I grabbed the phone and dialed a number. The phone rang a few times before someone took the call. There was a brief moment of silence, then a cough and then ...
"Lucy Lane,“ my sister said. For a moment I was paralyzed. My tongue was tied. Why on earth had I called my sister? I did not even know her number by heart, and yet ... "Hello? Is anyone there? Lois, is that you?" Lucy asked with an instinct that kept surprising me.
"Yes," I replied weakly, wondering what I was going to say now.
"You’re calling late," Lucy remarked and a look at the clock told me it was true. It was past midnight. Had really so much time passed? "Is this about Clark?" Lucy wanted to know. She was curious, not hostile, as I would have been.
"He hasn’t come back yet," I said softly. "We ate together, then he got up and disappeared. And he’s still gone." There was silence for a moment. I heard Lucy breathing, probably pondering what to say. "We argued," I added, feeling that I needed to tell her more. "At least I think so." My heart pounded in my ears, once, twice.
"About what?" Lucy asked. "What happened, Lois?"
I told her about the dinner and the forced conversation about our so-called relationship, or what was left of it. Finally I got to that last question and to Clark’s reaction in particular. Lucy listened patiently while I poured my heart out. Slowly, I felt myself calming down, though not much.
"... I don’t know, Luce," I finally said. "Maybe he's sitting at the bar, getting terribly drunk." I had to swallow at the thought. I could not really imagine Clark drowning his sorrows in alcohol. He was always so in control. "I've never seen him drink more than a glass of wine," I added more to myself.
"Have you ever asked Clark why he keeps being so distant?" my sister asked. This time she was clearly the more sensible one of us. Her voice was calm. She sounded focused and patient, even though it was way too late for such a conversation.
"Yes," I replied quietly. "He won’t talk about it."
"Why?" Lucy asked, puzzled.
"He doesn’t want to talk about that either," I replied and suddenly got an hysterical fit of laughter. "You know, Lucy," I said breathlessly. "... that's funny. Finally, I’m willing to open myself to a man and then he clams up." I kept on laughing until tears ran down my cheeks and the laughter turned into violent sobs. Lucy endured this with patience. She said nothing, but I could hear her breathe. "I can’t take this any longer."
"I know, Lois," she said sympathetically. "Should I come to you? If I catch the next plane, I can be with you tomorrow morning." I felt more tears rolling down my cheeks.
"But... but... you don’t have time..." I said haltingly.
"And no money," she added. "But I can hear that you need me, Lois. You are my sister and I love you. "
"Oh, Lucy," I sobbed even harder. "This is really very sweet of you. But I don’t think it’s necessary. I don’t know why Clark is behaving so strangely, but I’m going to find out." Was I trying to convince Lucy, or myself? "Anyway, I'll be fine," I said softly, trying to speak despite the increasing lump in my throat. Then suddenly I heard a scratching noise at the door of the hotel room. "Lucy," I hastened to say. "I think Clark is coming back. Thank you so much for listening."
“I wish you luck,“ she replied encouragingly. “Goodbye, Sis.”
“Goodbye.” I hung up, wiping the tears away from my eyes.
Mesmerized, I sat on the bed and waited. The scratching grew louder, then I heard something that sounded like a soft curse. For a moment it was quiet, almost eerily quiet. I could hear my own breathing and my heartbeat thundered in my ears. Would Clark come in or did he want to spend the night outside the room? Or had I been dreaming and it was not him? The thought sickened me.
The scratching became a knock. It was hesitant at first but then got more determined. "Lois?" I heard Clark's voice call from outside. "Lois, can you open the door, please?" he asked hoarsely.
It took a while until feeling returned to my limp body. I realized that Clark did not have a key card. It had been in my pocket when he had so unexpectedly stormed out of the restaurant. I slowly got up from the bed and went to open the door. On the way, my mind raced. Desperately I tried to brace for the moment. How was I supposed to react?
I could not have been prepared for the sight of him, though. Clark's face was gray, tired and completely exhausted. The strong smell of alcohol added to my irritation. His shoulders were slumped, as was his whole stance complete with his tie hanging loosely around his neck.
"You've drunk," I realized in horror. My anger vanished into thin air.
"Yes, pretty much," he admitted frankly. "Didn’t help, though." He laughed, sounding almost hysterical and shook his head. "And why would it..." He sighed in despair, not addressing me. "Why would it," he repeated, disillusioned and looked at me openly. His gaze was amazingly clear, his back straight. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. "I think it’s about time to tell you a few things," he added uncertainly and ran his hand through his hair. "Would you let me in?"
"Oh, suddenly you want to explain?" I replied with a furrowed brow. I folded my arms across my chest in order to regain my composure. "What made you change your mind?"
Clark looked towards the floor, depressed. "I guess I more than deserve that," he remarked with a wry smile that flashed only for a brief moment in his mouth. "And you've got every right to be angry with me, Lois. But ... could we please discuss this inside? What I’m about to say…" He took a deep breath and slowly released it. "…is nothing we should talk about in the corridor."
Both reluctant and curious, I stepped aside and finally let Clark in. He looked at me gratefully and smiled with relief. Even now, though, sadness was engraved in his lips - a trait that had gradually turned into his constant expression. Gradually, it deepened. I closed the door and followed him to the sofas in the middle of the hotel room. Clark slumped down on one of them.
"I'm so sorry for everything I did to you, Lois," he said again, barely daring to look at me. "I keep treating you like… well pretty badly. But I really have no idea how... " He swallowed hard, falling silent.
I waited for him to say more. But he just sat there, defeated. He propped his elbows on his legs and buried his face in his hands. It took a while before he would move again. Strained to the utmost, I forced myself to sit down next to him. Almost immediately he moved away from me, looking back at me guiltily. He paused for a moment and slid closer again.
"Clark, what are you doing?" I snapped at him.
"Excuse me, please," he muttered unhappily. "This has become some stupid habit, hasn’t it? I shouldn’t be avoiding you. But you have to understand ... "
"What do I have to understand?" I asked bitterly.
My question remained unanswered. His eyes rested on me, staring at me more intently than he had in weeks. Mesmerized, he raised his right hand to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. His short, gentle touch made my cheek tingle.
"You're so beautiful," he said hoarsely, almost reverently. Running his fingers through my hair, he finally cupped my cheek.
I was a wonderful moment. I wondered whether maybe this was just another dream. Clark leaned in until there were only inches between us. Impulsively, I closed the distance, and suddenly felt his warm lips on mine. He kissed me tenderly and yet with an unexpected hunger. Our tongues immersed into a slow dance until everything around us was forgotten. What I had been yearning for for weeks, the fulfillment of my desires, was suddenly just in reach. I leaned against him while I explored his body with both hands. I felt his broad, solid shoulders, muscles and his heart beat. It was on the verge of bursting through his chest.
"Clark," I whispered breathlessly. "Clark," I moaned, hoping that this would never end. If it was just another erotic dream, I did not want to wake up.
His hands were everywhere, stroking me, caressing my breasts. He picked me up effortlessly and carried me over to the bed, gently setting me back down. It was odd that after everything that had happened between us, I did not mind being treated like that. But with Clark I felt absolutely safe. He watched me for a moment, as if to make sure that I did not object to taking the next step. As if I ever would... Then he slid next to me and kissed me again, this time slower and even more tenderly. He took his time, just like in my dreams. Although I could feel his hunger, his passion, his caress was nowhere near hurried.
"Oh, Lois, I shouldn’t have pushed you away," he murmured against my lips. "Forgive me. I thought there was no other way," he pleaded, and sealed my mouth with a fervent kiss, before I could reply. "But I was wrong..." he whispered hoarsely. "If only I try harder to make this work…”
This kiss deepened and his words melted away, disappearing into nothingness. It was just him and me. There was nothing more to be said. Clark belonged to me. He was there, without any doubt or hesitation.
This had to be a dream. But I did not care. Even if this moment existed only in my dreams, it was real enough. I had waited much too long to finally be with Clark. Tenderly, he stroked me, seduced me, until my whole body was burning with desire. And when I thought I was about to lose my mind, his gentle caress brought release.
to be continued...
