Part 8
Lois knew it would happen. Just like in the nightmares that had plagued her sleep since meeting Clark almost a year ago. She should have known better than to be in the public eye with Clark in front of all her coworkers again. Laughing bitterly to herself, she wished she had a nickel for every time that one of her female colleagues threw a dirty glance her way. Although they never actually said anything to her, she was sure it was because of the way she treated 'poor Clark'.
When Clark asked her to dance, she should have waved off the invitation with the understanding that she didn't want to do it in front of a crowd. Judging by her reaction from just being in the same room with him - heck, the same building as him - she should have known it would've been trouble to be in his arms, even for a brief dance. It was all his fault, anyway - why did he have to be so darn handsome? Was it even possible for her to hold a rational thought together while in his company?
Why did the memory of their one night together have to keep playing itself over and over in her mind? Even though they hadn't made love, sleeping nearly naked, skin on skin, had been so intimate. The memory was burned permanently in her mind and she'd never forget it as long as she lived. They had shared that near perfect night long ago and now she'd felt it once more; his arms had been around her and his lips upon hers. There was no turning back to the ordered existence they'd established in the newsroom - she wouldn't be able to hold it together anymore. One of them would have to leave or be reassigned - it was over. She would have to leave - Clark hadn't asked for this disruption in his life.
But it was Claude's fault! If only she had met Clark first, then she wouldn't have been put through the ringer with that self-absorbed, egotistical manipulator. She sighed and realized that for a city girl, raised in Metropolis, she had been very naïve. But the damage was done and she had to get over her insecurities and hang-ups or she was going to lose Clark.
She could feel his presence behind her, then his hand, warm and shocking, on her shoulder. A shudder raced through her body, and she immediately missed its touch when Clark withdrew it.
"Lois." His voice was low as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Can you please turn around and look at me?" When she didn't respond, he said softly, "I can leave if want you me too."
She shook her head slowly, with great difficulty whispered, "No, stay." It was hard to remain coherent when so close to him again. She wanted desperately to turn around and be kissed senseless by him one more time, but her old fears had returned, leaving her helpless to say what she was feeling. She was unwilling to face him, but she couldn't risk turning away from him again, not if there was a remote possibility that he returned her intense feelings.
She turned around slowly, and his face dropped with concern when he saw teardrops rolling down her cheeks. "Oh, Lois. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Clark was at lost for words, and completely frustrated that he didn't understand the circumstances that had made her run from him. He reached out a finger to stroke away a tear that was quivering on her face, threatening to join the others that were wetting her dress. Finding his voice again, he implored, "Please, forgive me; I had no right to kiss you. Now I've ruined everything."
The touch of his hand was almost unbearable in its tenderness as she unwillingly leaned toward it, seeking its warmth and gentleness. The expression on his face was so full of concern for her that she no longer wanted to keep shutting him out.
"Oh no! I'm not really sure why I'm crying. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm so messed up. Now I've got you thinking it's your fault."
"What is it? Please talk to me. I want to understand."
"I think I need you to understand. Oh, Clark! I've treated you so badly. It all started when I thought you were like him. I wanted you to be like him so I could take out on you what he did to me."
"Who, Lois?"
She turned away from him once more, placing her palms on the railing and leaning against it. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw him do the same, but at a safe distance of about a foot and a half away.
"His name was Claude Devereaux, and he was the top reporter for the Metropolis Star about a year and half ago. I think I've told you a little about him."
"Just start from the top. I remember the name. Didn't he win a Meriweather Award a few months ago?" Clark saw Lois' fists ball up as they lay on the top railing.
"Yes. With my story. The jerk stole my story and left me," she said bitterly.
"I'm sorry," Clark replied, holding his breath, only daring to stare at her hands as he hoped that she'd continue to open up to him.
"I thought I loved him. He was smart and handsome and very charming. I was the envy of the newsroom when he decided to take me, fledging news reporter, under his wing. We weren't exactly partners, but we worked together and helped each other out on our individual stories. I didn't have the juicy ones; they were mainly fourth and fifth page articles, but there was one story I was working on that I hadn't told anyone about. It was going to be my ticket to the big time. It was my chance to prove that I wasn't just another hack reporter trying to play with the big boys.
"I'd been working on it during my spare time and had finally pieced together the final bit of the puzzle and was going to nail this scam artist who was preying on the elderly - but I needed his opinion. I don't know if he suspected that I was working on this before he asked me to sleep with him, but afterwards, I guess my guard was down or I was blinded by love or something stupid like that. So I asked his professional advice on it." She paused and swiped at a stray tear running down her face.
"The next morning when I woke up, he was gone. So were my notes and any evidence I'd collected. He even managed to wipe out the related files on my computer; no one would question Claude Devereaux at my desk. He was at my desk all the time, mostly with me, so it was commonplace for him to be seen there. Maybe that's how he found out about the story to begin with. I don't think I'll ever know now. My editor didn't believe me. No one believed me. I hadn't told anyone. Claude must have finagled a way with him to keep me out of the office that day. The editor sent me to cover a dog show - can you believe it? - and when I refused, he threatened to fire me. Oh, Clark, I was so young then! I know it was only a year and a half ago, but I was so inexperienced! I should have fought harder for what was mine. Instead, I let that jerk walk all over me.
"When I finally collected enough guts to confront him that afternoon, the story was already out, and he was getting accolades for his great success. The streamers and balloons were the final straw that caused me to hit the boiling point. I exploded in front of the whole newsroom and made a complete fool of myself. Everyone thought I was jealous of his success because there was no way that Lois Lane could have discovered a story of that caliber."
"What did you do?"
"I went home, put on my schlumpy robe, ate ice cream, threw darts at his picture and cried. Basically, I wallowed. I hate wallowers." She managed a weak smile, then closed her eyes.
"There's more, isn't there?" Clark asked, as he observed her bottom lip quivering again.
She tightened her lips in an attempt to gather herself and nodded her head.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and tell me. I'm listening," Clark murmured, trying to will her the strength to finish her account. He covered her hand with his own, but she drew hers away quickly.
"No! Don't touch me yet!" she whimpered, his term of endearment accentuating the memory of the emptiness that swirled around in her heart at that time in her life. It had all come back again and she wanted to face it, but if Clark touched her, she would lose her composure. No. It was important for her to tell him everything; she was tired of running. Tired of letting her fears get in the way of her relationship with Clark. Inhaling a deep breath, she pleadingly looked up at him. "Let me finish first."
Clark just wanted to hold her, to let her melt against him and to comfort her. But he'd waited a whole year for her to completely open up to him about what had happened to her. He'd failed as her best friend to get her to talk to him, and now as Clark, he was at last about to hear what had caused her so much pain. And maybe even why she reacted so adversely to him that morning after Luthor had been arrested.
"I'd left something very important over at his place the night before. It was my grandmother's locket, the only thing from my father's side of the family that I halfway valued. Anything else, I would have forgotten, but I needed to get that back. So I got dressed and went over to his apartment, hoping I could sneak in, grab it and leave, but he was there. He'd been drinking, not much, probably in celebration of getting away with thievery, but I think he was a bit drunk."
"I walked in the door, and he put on the charm like nothing had happened. I tried to ignore him by heading straight to the bedroom to get my grandmother's locket, but I turned around, and he was blocking the doorway. It was obvious by the look on his face that he wanted to pick up where we had left off the night before. I told him to get out of my way, but he grabbed me and kissed me hard. Then I was thrown on the bed and he climbed on top of me..." A shiver ran through her body as she recalled the sordid details. "I guess that's why I flew off the handle the other day and panicked when you kissed me in front of the maid. The tripod poked me in the back and I remembered."
"Lois, he didn't... " Clark said grimly, not wanting to hear what was coming next.
"No," she replied quickly, sensing his growing fear at what the situation implied. "I kneed him in the groin and was able to get out of there. I left him cussing and sputtering, but not before I poured the rest of his bottle of wine over his head."
"Lois, he could've come after you. Why did you risk that?" Clark asked with a tiny twinkle in his eye.
"He wasn't going anywhere. My self-defense instructor trained me well. "
He chuckled and drew her head towards him to place a soft kiss on her temple. "That's my girl!"
"Wait..." she insisted, lifting his hand from her face and placing it back on the railing. Sighing, she continued, "There's more."
"More?" Clark said, resignedly. How much more did this man put her through?
"The next morning, I arrived at work on time. I was determined not to run anymore. Claude was already there with Cat Grant all over him like a cheap suit. He obviously didn't waste anytime in finding another willing participant in his little games. I wanted to ignore them, nobody was going to believe me anyway, but Cat blocked the way to my desk and then started accusing me of sleeping my way to the top in order to get a story. Claude joined her and loudly announced that he'd caught me going through his files at home, and that I was attempting to steal his story because I was jealous of his success. He then started telling the whole newsroom how much of a cold fish I was in bed, and what a lousy kisser I was. I couldn't face them anymore; it was too humiliating."
"Couldn't you have gone to your editor? He might have been able to do something. I can't believe..."
"That I would turn tail and run? Clark, no one would've believed me. Claude had everyone fooled, especially our editor. He could do no wrong. He was their star, and I was painted as an opportunist who slept her way around. I couldn't even deny that I had slept with him. I had to face the facts - the Metropolis Star was nothing but a bunch of bottom feeders, and I was their latest kill. So I left town and didn't come back for five months."
"You left everything, Lois! How horrible!"
"He's gone now. After he won my award, he accepted a job offer in Canada and married some poor girl named Marnie. I'd dearly love to rub his nose in our Kerth, that is, after we get it."
"I sure hope so, for you," Clark said wistfully, his anger on hold for now so he could pay full attention to Lois.
"Oh, Clark! Then I met you! You reminded me so much of him at first. Don't take offense, but that was how I saw you. My opinion of you was already formed before we even met - I thought you were Ralph, for Pete's sake - and we were after the same story." She paused thoughtfully for an endless moment, and continued in a whisper. "Then there was this thing between us. I felt it the moment we met but didn't want to accept what was happening. It was almost tangible, and it scared the hell out of me." She let out a breathy laugh. "It still scares the hell out of me, but... I want to get over being so scared."
"Lois..." Clark said huskily, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. Could she finally be ready for a relationship? He moved closer.
She held her hand up to stop him. "Not yet," she ordered, her eyes pleading with him not to come any closer. "Remember when we kissed in Luthor's office before we had even met? You knocked me for a loop that day, and it was wonderful, not that I wanted it to be, because you were the competition and I needed to be mad at you. But we had that magical time at the ball, in spite of that silly champagne episode and I was beginning to think you were different - one of the good guys. You were a hero to me." She paused, slightly embarrassed at her latest admission of admiration. "I began to get these feelings for you and it threw me off balance."
"Even the kiss at the ball was supposed to be in pretense, and I believed all the horrible things that Claude said about me were true, but most of all - the thing that terrified me the most - was that I was in the same situation with you again. I was terribly attracted to another top reporter, you had all the information about a story I had been working so hard on, and we almost slept together, but the clincher was when you disappeared the next morning with our story."
Clark threw her a puzzled glance. "But I thought..."
"I know what you were doing - turning in our story. That I understand. But Clark, what I still don't understand is why you stopped making love with me the night before. I was willing, yet you stopped. Was it me? Was I doing something wrong? I don't understand."
"Oh, Lois! There was nothing more I wanted to do than to make love to that night. But honey, I want more than a one-stand, I didn't want you to think that all I was after was sex."
"Like Claude," Lois frowned. "I guess I can see that."
"We never had a chance to talk about it, or anything else." Clark sighed. "But there's time to talk about that another time. Please, go on. The next morning..."
"Then the next day, I saw the headline on the paper, and my name was first in front of yours in the byline. I thought for sure you weren't going to give me credit for it, much less top billing. Then when you did, it floored me. My gut feeling told me that you weren't anything like that creep, but after I saw my byline, I knew it was true."
"You deserved that byline. We were partners, even if it were only for that story, you earned that credit."
She sighed, a shudder of regret shadowing her voice. "I was going to give you a chance. I was all set to make amends, but then Cat Grant started in on me in front of the whole newsroom."
"Just like at the Metropolis Star," he murmured as his mind put another piece of the puzzle together.
"There was no way I was going to let her little prophecy come true. Then you kissed me in the conference room, and that time, the only thing I felt was fear. Fear that I was going to drag your reputation down with mine. I couldn't do that to you. So I shut you out, then broke up with you. How was it going to look if the tart from the Metropolis Star went after another top reporter? Clark, I had to do this on my own. I had to prove that I was just as good a reporter as you without hanging on your coattails. Credibility was something that I needed if I was going to make it. I thought you were just mad at me, or fed up with trying to keep me from ruining your reputation."
She straightened up from the railing and smiled at him, setting her chin in a stubborn line. "But I've been making my own name lately. I'm better now."
She was doing it again. Her whole demeanor was changing; she was letting her emotions roll off her back and was preparing to close up on him. There was no way that he could allow that to happen yet, not like the first time at the ball when she'd mentioned that some reporter had stolen her story. He'd let her get away with distancing then, and when she'd turned him away that fateful morning at the Planet. But not this time. Not now when she was so close to letting down all her barriers.
"Are you really better, Lois?" He reached his hand out to touch her face and was startled when she pulled away from him. It was worse than he thought; he had to find some way to get through to her.
"Lois," he began, "I felt it too. From the very first moment I met you, it just happened. I didn't plan or think about it; it just happened. But do you want to know the real reason why I withdrew from you? Why I treated you so distantly? Fear, Lois. It was the fear I saw in your eyes after I kissed you. I never wanted to be the cause of that again. I couldn't trust myself to be around you, so I shut you out. Upstairs, a little while ago, I saw it again on your face and I wanted to die."
He grasped her shoulders gently and turned her toward him, his voice pleading with her now. "Please don't dismiss your feelings anymore. I'm not talking about anything that you might feel for me; I'm talking about all this bitterness and hurt that man caused you. Let it out. You've been fighting this hurt for so long. Please Lois, can I just hold you?"
Relaxing his grip, he let his hands rest on her shoulders as he spoke from his heart. "Lois, I'm not Claude. I'm not out for what I can get from you. There's so much I want to give you. I just want to hold you and wipe your tears away. I want to be there when you need me, and I want to make love to you every morning, not just when it's convenient."
They stood that way for several moments, neither one moving, as Clark waited for her to respond. Finally, she spoke, "I know you want this to be about Claude and what he did to me, but it's not. It can't be, not with you, not with the way I feel about you and I don't know if I can take this step." Swallowing noisily, she continued, "I'm so scared."
"I am too... of losing you."
She let out a small gasp as she looked into his eyes at last. They were suspiciously bright and shiny. "Really?" she said in a tiny voice. "Of losing me?"
He leaned his forehead against hers. "Uh, huh," he sighed. "It would break my heart, again."
Breaking eye contact with him, she swallowed hard and answered, "That's what I'm afraid of too, my heart breaking. I can't go through that again. I couldn't." Her voice broke again. "You're not just saying that."
"No, I'm not," he whispered huskily. His hands rose up to mesh themselves in her hair and he lifted her face slowly until it was inches from his own.
"Lois, don't be scared," he sighed against her cheek and tenderly kissed away the remaining tears on her face. When they were gone, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her to his chest in a warm embrace. "Just let me hold you." He released a ragged breath. "I just want to hold you."
As Lois felt his secure arms encircle her, the will to fight her tears disappeared. She felt so treasured that moment as Clark's mouth kissed away the moistness on her face. Her lips trembled slowly as her resolve to stay strong melted under his tender touch. Her head fell forward onto his strong chest and she wanted to burrow her face inside the shelter of his soul. She couldn't will her arms to leave her side; that would be the final act of surrender in a mysterious battle against Clark she wasn't sure why she was fighting anymore.
The fabric of his cotton dress shirt was soothing against her face pressing firmly into the hollow of his shoulder, and in the protective circle of his embrace, she had found a sanctuary - safe at last.
He stood that way, feeling his shirt grow wet from her silent tears. After long minutes, he felt one hand tentatively on his back, then another.
He kissed the top of her head, and began to slowly stroke her back gently, more as a comforting gesture than one of an intimate nature, and felt her lean hard against him as her arms enveloped his waist fiercely. He moved one broad hand up to cradle the back of her head and waited.
She finally released her grip and patted the wet spot on his shirt.
"I got your shirt all wet," she sniffed.
"The other side's dry if you need that one." He smiled gently at her as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her to a bench to sit down.
They watched the distant sailboats on the lake, their lights blinking red and green as the flap of their sails filled the night with crisp sound. Wind chimes sounded from halyards striking steels masts as the soft waves danced in time; their capricious crests were tipped with muted lights, disappearing when they ducked back into the water again, only to pop up and submerge once more into the shimmering bay.
She snuggled close to him, his arm still draped over her shoulders, his other hand entwined in her fingers. Words spoken between them disappeared; the intense rush of emotions was replaced by the quiet satisfaction of being in each other's arms at last, of both of them trying to absorb what had transpired between them just a short time before.
He stared out over the lake, his heart filled with a peace he had never known before - the peace of knowing his heart was complete, and that he had found what he was looking for - his soul mate. This revelation wasn't new to him, he'd known this since the first time he saw her, only now it appeared that it was coming true. At last, he'd finally broken through the barriers around her heart.
Only one more barrier, and a major one, he thought grimly, that stood between them - when he told her that he was Superman and that her best friend was the same guy who was in love with her. He needed to find the words to say that he had been in love with her the whole time they had known each other, and that he had long broken his promise to just stay friends. A small wave of panic swept through his body. Time was not a friend to him in that aspect - the longer he waited to tell her, the harder it was going to be for her to understand. But that was all about to end.
This was such a pivotal time in their relationship. Would it set their relationship back if he told her that he was Kal now? But he was in the wrong guise. It should be Kal who told her his identity. They did have a date in a couple short days for his confession, and that would give her enough time to prepare for the truth. If he caught her off guard by telling her now, he might lose the significance of their first meeting. She was just put through the wringer by revealing her past and was still emotional unstable. No telling how she would react to his news in her state of mind.
Lois stared down at his hand covering her own, his large fingers laced with her smaller ones. She hoped she wasn't dreaming, that she would wake up like so many times before, when images of Clark in her head were replaced by the pillow she was grasping. She was tempted to pinch him, just to make sure he was real, but didn't want to break the mood. She felt such a relief since her cry. All the bitterness and hurt from Claude's betrayal, the humiliation of Cat's accusation at the Planet seemed to have disappeared for the time being - because of Clark.
Memories of Kal filtered into her thoughts. She was on the verge of having what she wanted for so long with Clark, these feelings for Kal would have to be pushed aside. What exactly were those feelings? It was all a mute point; he had his own relationship to work out, and so did she.
She looked up at the man sitting besides her and found herself studying his profile. He was staring way across the lake, but his lips were twitching as he appeared to be deep in thought. Wow! His appeal was devastating. Even in the moonlight, she could see the contrast of his olive skin lying crisp against the whiteness of his shirt and that wayward lock of hair ruffling in the breeze, and it still caused her to catch her breath in awe. As she mentally caressed his qualities, being near him was making her senses stand on edge once more. The relaxed mood she felt a few seconds ago was quickly disappearing.
His fingers flexed in their grip on hers, and her heightened awareness of him at that moment made that simple gesture send a thrill of longing through her. It was time for someone to assume some action again, she thought with a slight smile on her face; he didn't appear to be taking the initiative anytime soon.
Clark could tell she was looking at him. The thought flashed through his mind that she might be starting to put two and two together and sum up that he and Kal were the same person. It had been becoming more difficult to separate his two personalities now that they were working together again. But at least he remembered to hold her hand differently, he thought as he squeezed it gently, reveling in the soft warmth of her fingers meshing with his own. They'd always held hands as friends, but this wasn't the contact of friendship - this was the more intimate hand holding of a couple in love.
But changing the way they held hands wasn't going to hide from her that Kal and Clark Kent were one and the same person. He was on borrowed time, and had to tell her everything soon. Here and now wasn't the time; they both needed a fresh day to face the strain that their relationship might have to endure. There was only forty-eight more hours until they met on the steps and he told her the truth, he reminded himself.
A small hand covered the side of his face, and he turned his head down to look at her.
"Clark?"
When he met her eyes, whatever ghosts were chasing her were gone. She was staring at him with the old Lois fire in her eyes, only this time it wasn't at him, it was for him. His heart accelerated rapidly.
"Clark, please." It was hard to lift her voice above a whisper as she longed to feel him touch her again.
He covered the hand on his cheek with his own, slid it down toward his mouth and pressed a lingering kiss into her palm.
"Please what?" he said teasingly, not afraid to show how he felt about her anymore.
"Kiss me again," she said with a tremor in her voice.
"Now why would I want to do that?" he answered, kissing her palm once more.
"Because... I think I'm in love with you."
The dark light of desire replaced the teasing glint in his eyes. His lips drew closer to hers until they were a hair's breath away. "I've never stopped loving you," he whispered against her lips. Her sharp intake of air was smothered by his mouth covering hers.
Light and easy as the breeze coming off the lake, his kiss was a soft caress, a feather-touching of his soul with hers. He brushed her lips slowly, then paused, allowing their breath to mingle together. The rush of air over the moistness of their mouths was a delicious sensation - the heat of their breath swiftly entwining with the coolness of the night air. Unhurried this time, he pressed his lips to hers again. There was a dreamy intimacy to their kiss now - a tender exploration, a strengthening of the thin cord of connection strung between them.
Clark's hand wound its way through her hair, his thumb stroking slowly the skin below her ear. Lois felt him smile against her lips and hers parted slightly in anticipation of his next intimate touch.
His tongue was warm and gentle upon hers, tracing her bottom lip delicately, tasting and tentatively exploring. She eagerly welcomed him, greeting his sweet invasion with her own, smoothing, gliding and dancing together. His kiss sent shivers of desire racing through her, and she returned it with a primal hunger that sang through her veins.
Fueled by her response, his hand in her hair tightened, tugging her closer, and his kiss became more insistent as passion flared between them.
Upstairs, Perry turned away to let them have their privacy, satisfied that his newsroom would never be the same again.
*****
