From Part 15Clark lifted his head, again staring into space. "An airplane ..." he said softly, almost breathless and with a certain horror in his voice. "... it will crash." His eyes were clear again and he looked at me seriously. "Lois, I must ..." he trailed off, flashing me an uncertain smile. "I'm sorry."
"Go on," I murmured, relieved that I now knew why he kept disappearing. But I was also angry that each conversation had to end like that.
Clark turned and ran into the night, away from the hotel. Only moments later I heard the familiar "whoosh" when he soared into the sky. I exhaled slowly, not realizing until then that I had been holding my breath.
* * *
Only in my dreams
Part 16It was almost three o’clock in the morning when I finally returned to bed. I was tired - the day had taken its toll on me. But sleep was impossible. I had tried, really tried. The light was out, I lay under the blanket and looked for a comfortable position. Seven times I had already turned, but that did not help at all. Sleep would not come.
The thoughts kept tumbling in my head and came back to me every time I tried to push them off. Clark was Superman. I did not really know what this meant to me. Where was he now? Was he still saving the airplane? Or had he finally decided not to return? The uncertainty was agonizing. I had been looking for answers, but I had only found more questions.
Impatiently, I brushed the blanket aside. Waiting had never been my strong point, even less so now that I knew how to find Clark... The TV screen flickered on.
<... Reuters news agency reported.> the anchorman finished one report and turned his gaze towards another camera. The cameras focused on him again, showing him up front. I knew him vaguely from my short time at LNN. <A plane of AirAmerica barely escaped a catastrophe earlier tonight. The engines failed shortly before landing at the Metropolis airport. Superman was able to save the plane just in time and helped it land. None of the passengers were injured.>
The background image changed. The face of a pop starlet appeared, whose name I did not even know. There had been times when near-crashes of aircrafts had been worth more than a bottom note in a news magazine. But that had been before Clark had changed all our lives. I was still having trouble imagining my partner in a blue suit and a cape.
This lie superseded almost everything else. Clark had deceived me. Was that really worse than the weeks he had spent giving me the cold shoulder? I was not sure. Only that last betrayal was certainly more than I could bear. Had he actually used me? For sex? That was something I had not expected of him. Clark was different. I did not want to imagine that he could even be remotely similar to Claude or Paul. Sex had never played a role in our very complicated relationship. Until now. But what puzzled me most was that he had not gone the whole way.
Defiantly, I turned off the TV and cuddled myself into my blanket. I would just stay awake and spend the rest of the night giving Clark a guilty conscience.
But sleep came sooner than expected.
I woke up when Clark returned. The room was dark, but his silhouette stood out in the dim moonlight. My imagination added the smile to his face. Haltingly he came closer, and gingerly sat down on the edge of my bed. He did not move, just watched me and smiled. It was the most beautiful smile I had seen in ages. I longed to touch him, but I was afraid to drive him off. Our relationship had become so fragile. Perhaps he would leave as soon as he realized that I was not asleep?
I tried to breathe evenly. But it was hardly possible to deceive Superman. "Lois?" he asked warmly. His voice was quiet so that he would not accidentally wake me. "You awake?"
I opened my eyes. "You're late," I said softly.
"I know," he said guiltily. "I'm sorry, Lois."
It was like he was moving in slow motion. He gave me all the time to protest against his closeness. But I had no intention of sending him away. I had fought so many useless battles with him, almost losing him in the process.
"Will you be okay with this?" he asked me dejectedly and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
"With what?" I sat up in bed, so that it was easier to look him in the eyes.
"With the truth," he replied softly and swallowed hard. "With the fact that I lied to you, Lois. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have told you everything. I'm so sorry." His voice sounded strained as if he was barely able to stifle a sob.
Gradually he leaned forward and closed the distance between us. His kiss was gentle and yet restrained. He took his time and more importantly let me the time to decide whether I was going to respond. I had been almost certain that I could not forgive him. He had lied to me. Because of him, I had made a fool of myself . But when I felt his lips, both my intentions and my anger melted away. I lost myself in the sweetness of his touch. His warm breath tickled on my face as he covered me with a rain of kisses.
"I wish I could always be this close to you," he whispered and started to caress me. A rush of warmth filled me that spread through my whole body, from my toes to my fingertips.
"You can be with me, Clark," I replied breathlessly. I felt rather than saw him shaking his head.
"Only in my dreams," he said softly, and so sadly that I felt the lump in his throat as if it were in my own.When I awoke, the warm beams of sunlight lit up the room. I lay alone in bed. The sheets on the other side of the bed looked depressingly unused. I sighed involuntarily and pushed the blankets aside. For a moment, I was seriously tempted to just pull the covers back over my head. What could be out there that was worth getting up for?
As if someone had read my thoughts the scent of freshly brewed coffee permeated the hotel room and got stronger the further I moved away from my bed. Then someone knocked at the door.
"Lois? Are you awake?" Clark asked softly.
"You gotta ask?" I replied testily.
I yanked open the door, ready to put Clark at the receiving end of my anger. If anyone deserved it, it was him. How could he have lied to me for years, only to suddenly blurt out that he was Superman? Not to mention that ... Well, I did not even want to think about it. Growling, I stepped out of the bedroom.
Clark flinched and ducked his head, trying to hide behind himself. Even so I noticed that he was pale. He had dark circles around his eyes. Suddenly my anger was gone. I had never seen him quite so exhausted.
"Good morning, Lois." The cup of coffee he held out for me was a peace offering. His hands trembled. A faint smile flickered across his lips, just strong enough to lift the corners of his mouth a little.
"Good morning, Clark," I replied automatically, and accepted the steaming coffee. Confused, I followed him to the trolley with the breakfast.
On each plate lay a croissant, and I felt my mouth watering with their delicious smell. My resistance melted away and I almost felt guilty as I followed Clark's invitation to join him for breakfast. Whatever had actually happened yesterday, I was the clear winner of our fight.
Clark looked lost as he stood beside the tray, pouring me a glass of orange juice. His movements were erratic as he offered me even more pastry.
"Will you sit down?" I asked impatiently, as he didn’t make an attempt at sharing the breakfast with me.
"I ... but ... I do," he uttered incoherently and his gaze wandered back and forth between me and the vacant chair.
"What's going on, Clark?" I urged him to speak. "I thought we agreed that there would be no more secrets between us."
"I didn’t sleep very well, is all," he muttered and nervously ran his hand through his tousled hair. He took his glasses off his nose and rubbed his tired eyes.
"You didn’t sleep at all," I stated calmly.
"That's not true," he defended himself as he finally sat down. "I dozed off briefly and ..." His cheeks blushed and he cleared his throat self-consciously as he took the croissant from his plate. "You're right," he admitted after a while. "I haven’t been sleeping." The blush faded somewhat.
"For how long?" I wanted to know, and scolded myself that I paid any interest in him whatsoever.
He didn’t reply right away. Clark awkwardly dipped the croissant in jelly, took a bite and then moistened his mouth with a sip of the orange juice. The tremor of his hands had increased.
"How long haven’t you been sleeping, Clark?" I demanded to know and flashed him a Mad Dog Lane glance that would have easily turned Jimmy into a pillar of salt.
"Four weeks, give or take." His words were little more than a whisper, dying on his lips as he took another bite of the croissant. He was obviously doing that on purpose. I stared at Clark, aghast.
"What?" I gasped dumbfounded. Why had I not noticed? "Four weeks?"
"It's not like I didn’t sleep at all," he said defensively. Then restlessness took possession of him again. He got up hastily and moved over to stare out the farthest window he could find. Absent-mindedly, he continued to eat his croissant.
My mouth was quite dry and now it was my turn to cling to the orange juice.
"Do you have to ...?" the question died on my lips
The answer was obvious. And yet I became painfully aware of how little I really knew about Clark. I felt silly. Had I really confessed my love for him without even knowing about such fundamental things like whether he needed to sleep?
"Yes," he said feebly. " I can go with two ... three hours a night for a while..." he muttered and fell silent again. I did not ask him how long ‘a while’ was. But I had the distinct feeling that recently even sleeping those three hours had been rare."Lois, do we have to talk about that now?" he asked and then returned to his seat. Even that seemed to strain him.
"So what can we talk about, then?" I replied caustically.
Clark ignored my comment. "About the blackmailing?" He offered carefully.
"Blackmailing?" I tried to remember, but I was too distracted.
"The story," Clark replied patiently. "The conversation we overheard in the park. These two guys mentioned some IT guy they were blackmailing."
Stalling the answer, I grabbed my croissant. It was still warm. Heaven knew how Clark had pulled that trick. It took me merely a second to recall how exactly he did things like that.
"You didn’t fly to Paris to get them, did you?" I wanted to know, as I broke the pastry in half. The blush that covered his cheeks was answer enough. "Why?"
"A bribe?" Clark said softly. "So you’ll talk to me again."
"I am talking to you," I replied coldly.
"Whatever you say," Clark said with a helpless shrug.
He intentionally avoided looking at me which made me incredibly angry. Taking a bite of my croissant was the only way to keep from lashing out at him. The pastry melted on my tongue and spread its soft and comforting flavor, until I had calmed down a bit.
"If I may remind you, I'm not the one who started this," I added, defiantly.
Clark opened his mouth only to close it again. What could he say anyway? After all, I was right. But just as quickly as my anger had soared up, it faded again. How much easier would it be to argue with him! But Clark just gave up and that was even less like him than anything I had already experienced. Silently we ate our breakfast, because neither of us knew what to say.
to be continued...
