Lois laid her head on the curve of his back, just behind his arm. She said nothing, but words would have diluted the poignancy of her gesture. Clark sat, unmoving, as her understanding and support slowly infiltrated his cordon of isolation and pain. The pain of being different. The pain of being found lacking. The pain of losing everything he had loved.
Lured by her closeness, her warmth and tangible acceptance, his hand crept across his lap and found her hand where it was lightly gripping his side.
Her arm pulled him closer, huddling them together under the blanket.
He wasn't strong enough to break away.
All his life, he had searched for a place to belong.
And now, he'd found it.
With Lois.
He could see so clearly now. Everything he'd had with Lana had been superficial. Pretence, born of desperate hope.
But this …
It would only last a short time. Five minutes … perhaps ten. And then she would stand, smile, and remind both of them that he was a stranger and she was a married woman.
He would accept it. He would be grateful.
And he would always remember that, for a few moments, it hadn't mattered that he was the only Kryptonian living on this foreign planet.
Part 13
Lois's arm curved around Kent's broad back. Her body was tucked into his side. Her hand was encased in the gentle grip of his fingers. Her leg rested against his hip; her knee pressed into his thigh. Her head nestled in the shallow dip below his shoulder blade. Her cheek had warmed a patch on the velvety skin of his back.
Their closeness was far greater than mere physical connection. She belonged here. By his side.
This morning, his arms had been wrapped around her. Now, she was the one surrounding him, but the sense of two halves coming together was just as strong.
Such intimacy brought pain, too. His pain.
It was more than empathy or imagination. She felt his pain as the tumult of his emotions battered her heart.
His humiliation. Embarrassment. Shock. Misery. Confusion. Hopelessness.
She understood his need to run. To hide. To desperately seek isolation as an antidote.
She hoped he could feel her heart with the same clarity. She hoped her presence brought comfort. She hoped he felt her readiness to share the whole gamut of his experience - even the bits that ripped at her heart.
How could Lana have left him?
How could she have even looked at another man when she was married to Kent, whose love was so palpable? So all-encompassing? So selfless?
Did she have any idea how much she had hurt him? Did she know he had come to Africa? That he had wanted to die?
That he'd cared so little about his safety, he had been in an explosion that could have killed him?
How could she have left him, knowing her desertion would destroy a good man? Had she known she would be hammering a heart so soft, it had no means of self-defence?
Or had she not known him at all?
How could she have lived with Kent, shared his life, his heart, his bed, and still not understood the essence of the man?
But Lana didn't matter now. She would never matter again.
Whatever Lana had done, she, Lois, medicine woman, could undo.
Just as she had freed his body from the green rock pieces, she would free his heart.
To relish life again.
To belong again.
To trust again.
And to be loved again.
~|^|~
It lasted longer than he'd dared to hope.
Her deeper-than-normal in-breath warned him the end was coming.
"Are you all right?" she said.
Ending the silence snapped a few strands of the invisible cords binding them together. Lois lifted her head from his body, severing a few more. "Yeah," Clark said, shuffling away to make the break clean and quick. "Thanks."
She turned to him, her face moving into his vision. "I know you're hurting," she said. "I know it feels as if that chapter of your life has closed forever, and it probably has, but the page will turn and a new chapter will begin."
He hadn't wanted that new chapter. He had tried to extinguish it before it could begin. Now, he could glimpse the next page. And the one beyond that. They were filled with Lois.
Medicine woman.
Married medicine woman.
Her marriage had been his shield - his guarantee that they would never get close enough that losing her would destroy him.
She'd listened to him. She'd sat with him. She'd held him. And, in less than half an hour, the shield had crumbled. Her marriage was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.
She could never offer him anything more than friendship. Or tainted love. And that would cause pain just as acute as Lana's deception, but it would last interminably.
"Back in my old life, I loved a man called Claude," Lois said. "He wasn't worthy of either my love or my trust."
"He left you?" Clark said.
"No," Lois replied. "I left him. But only after he'd stolen my work and passed it off as his own."
"Were you able to prove it was yours?"
"No. I was young. Naïve. And way too trusting. I shared everything with him. My dreams. My work. My body. He betrayed me in all three."
Her pain melded with Clark's. "He slept with another woman?"
"Not just one. Many." She sighed. "They were meaningless. I thought he was the love of my life, but to him, I was just one of many."
Clark could not imagine how any man could relegate Lois to such a lowly position in his life.
"I thought my life was over," she said. "I couldn't see any reason to want to continue living."
But she had found reason. She'd come to Africa and met Matymbou.
"How did you find out?" Lois said. "About Lana?"
"She told me. I thought everything was great. And then …" He grimaced as her words - I'm leaving you, Clark. It's not yours - assaulted him again. "… it was finished, she was gone, and I had nothing."
"Oh, Kent." Lois covered his hand with hers. "I'm so sorry."
He shuffled a few inches away, but her hand followed him.
"Did Lana leave you to go to the other man?" Lois asked. "Or was she already with him before …"
She'd been with him. Sleeping with him. Sharing her body. Sharing the joy and promise of the child they had made together. "She didn't wait."
Lois's head rested on his shoulder again, enveloping him like a shawl of belonging.
Clark tensed.
He couldn't belong with another man's wife.
"Moving on won't be easy," Lois said. "But you will be all right."
On the outside, maybe. Clark was a master of appearing all right.
But on the inside … Lana's rejection continued to rot away in his heart.
Except …
Lois - a woman he'd known for just three days - had given him something Lana never had. He'd hoped, he'd pretended, he'd waited … but Lana's 'love' had always made him feel more alienated, not less.
But Lois …
"Don't think too far ahead," she said. "Don't try to foresee how your life will be in a month, a year, five years, twenty years. Just think about tonight. And tomorrow."
Tonight had been incredible. All of his life, he'd known something was missing. Tonight, he'd found it. Or perhaps, it had found him as he'd sat alongside a young, attractive American Bangala medicine woman who was married to the tribe's chief.
"What are your plans for the truck tomorrow?" she asked.
He knew what she was trying to do, and he was grateful. "The basic shape is there. I need to chisel away more of the cabin to give it better definition. One of the wheels keeps getting stuck, so I have to take a bit more off that."
"When do you think it will be ready to oil?"
"About lunchtime tomorrow, if everything goes well. Do you know how many coats it will need?"
"Two, I think. Being oil, there is a long drying time. I'll ask Romaric to check with Clyde, but I think you should plan the second coat about sixteen hours after the first. It will be hardened and ready to use about twelve hours after the second coat."
"I didn't realise it would take so long. By the time it's finished, Diddi will have forgotten all about the wild hog."
"But I won't have forgotten your kindness."
Her comment drew them forward, into a future Clark wasn't ready to contemplate. He stood, needing to get away. To be alone. To relive the moments when his sentence of exile had been temporarily lifted. To think about her. To try to understand how this woman had touched him in ways no one else had. He went into the hut and got the lantern, stopping at the fire to light it. "I'll … uhm … I'll go first," he said.
"OK."
He walked away. Away from the warmth and light of the fire.
Away from the only woman who had ever made him feel as if he belonged - a woman who could never belong with him.
~|^|~
Lois stared into the flames, her mind blank, her heart tumbling over individual moments dotted along Kent's journey of loss.
The moment when Lana had told him their marriage was over.
The moment when he'd discovered she'd been sleeping with someone else.
The moment when she'd walked out, never to return.
What was he feeling now?
Had he realised how much she, Lois, had longed to ease his suffering? Had he sensed their closeness?
Or was he still too numb to feel anything?
Lois hoped not. She hoped he had come far enough to believe he could heal.
How long before he would be able to trust again?
Lois sighed. It was going to take time.
She longed for him to be happy. Free from his wounds. Free to be the strong and loving human being she had glimpsed under the mountain of anguish and insecurity.
What did he need most? How could she be what he needed?
The flickering light of the lantern advertised Kent's return. "Goodnight," he said, putting the lantern beside her.
"Kent … if you want to talk … about … about anything …"
"There is one thing …"
His tone - suggesting he'd been mulling over something - caused an instinctive spurt of panic. Lois smiled, smothering her concern. If he asked, she just had to stick to the story she'd told for five years.
Except, if she wanted his trust, how could she consider lying to him?
She would have to. Because she had given her word.
"How did you know Lana's name?" Kent asked.
Lois leapt to her feet, propelled by a wave of relief. "Show me the truck, and I'll tell you."
His initial look of shock diffused in the beginnings of a smile. "You don't play fair, Lois," he said.
She laughed with delight at Kent's smile. His light tone. His use of her name. "The first night, you spoke in your sleep."
"I did?" he said, looking aghast.
"You said, 'No, Lana. Please don't leave me.'"
"Is that all I said?"
"Yes."
"Oh." He gestured behind him. "Do you want to see the truck now?"
Lois laughed. "No. I can wait until it's done." She moved to within touching distance of him. His eyes dropped away. She held out her arms towards him.
He didn't move.
"I'd like to be your friend," Lois said. "If you're willing to give me a chance, I won't betray your trust."
"I'd decided I didn't need friends," he mumbled.
"Everyone needs friends. Particularly you."
"Why me, especially?"
"Because you've been hurt. Because you ran away and got into more trouble with the explosion. Because you can't live the rest of your life alone." Because you were born to love.
"I've always been -" Whatever he'd been going to say was lost as he cleared his throat.
Lois took him into her arms. She squeezed briefly and then stepped back with a smile. "Goodnight, Kent."
"Goodnight, Lois."
She picked up the lantern and moved towards the amenities, her heart skipping with anticipation. She was looking forward to seeing the truck. She was looking forward to the moment when Kent gave it to Diddi.
But most of all, she was looking forward to spending tomorrow with Kent.
~|^|~
"Kent! Kent, wake up."
Clark pulled himself from sleep and prised his eyes open. In the dim light, he saw Lois bending over him. "Whatisit?" He swallowed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. But we didn't bathe yesterday, and if we go now, we'll beat the animals."
Clark struggled to a sitting position. "You want to go and bathe now?"
"Yes. The insects that congregate near the river overnight will have left, and the diurnal animals won't be stirring yet."
"OK." Clark hauled himself from his bed. "Is it going to be cold?"
She grinned at his question. "Probably." She shoved a towel into his hand.
"Oh. Thanks."
She turned and left the hut.
He followed her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Are you there, Romaric?" Lois called softly when they reached the gate.
The answer came instantly. "Ozali, Lois?"
"Yes. We're just going down to the river to bathe. Go back to sleep."
"Malamu."
They went out the gate and through the jungle, accompanied by the swinging light of the lantern in Lois's hand as the crisp air singed blanket-warmed skin.
The darkness, the passing of a few hours, the separation of sleep - none of those factors had diminished the bond forged with Lois last night.
It had been easier to understand when they'd been huddled together under the blanket.
Now, they were hurrying through the jungle, dealing with the practicalities of life, but the bond was still there.
Unquestionably there.
Kent had imagined that married life would be like this - that the wonder and romance would continue for years, infiltrating mundane tasks and making them special.
He'd been wrong on both counts.
His marriage had lasted less than two years, and almost from the start, the 'special' moments had felt mundane.
Not that he'd been willing to acknowledge that then.
They were within a few hundred yards of the river when a low rumble arose, echoing among the trees and giving the impression they were surrounded.
Lois stopped and put out her hand, clasping Clark's arm. "That's the kiboko - the hippos. They've been out feeding all night, and now, they're returning to the water." She cast an anxious glance towards the sky. "They're late, though. I wonder what held them up."
"Is their presence going to affect us?" Clark asked.
"No. Their territory is downriver from where we bathe." She let go of his arm and began moving forward again as the rumble died away. "They are the most dangerous mammals around here."
"More dangerous than lions?"
"We don't see lions much. They prefer the open plains, not the rainforest."
"Oh," Clark said, feeling as if he should have known that without asking.
"The hippos are ferocious. They are huge and strong and very territorial. A human rarely survives entering their water."
"Do the nets keep them out of the bathing area?"
"No, because they could easily come onto the bank and re-enter the water."
"Can you see them in the water?"
"Not easily," Lois said. "Mostly, they're submerged."
They arrived at the sandy river bank, and Clark peered through the murkiness, searching for irregularities in the water's surface.
"Inhale deeply," Lois said, doing as she had advised him to do. "What do you smell?"
"A whole range of things," he answered, not adding that the one most prominent was Lois's cinnamon fragrance. "I can't identify most of them."
"Can you smell something vaguely minty?"
Clark sniffed. "Yes," he said cautiously.
"Padou puts Sylva's mint oil in the river upstream. Male hippos mark their territory by defecating into the water. They don't like the mint - or perhaps it smells to them like another animal's territory, so they stay away. Once you've smelled hippo territory, you'll never forget it. So breathe in before entering the water. Near the village, a slight minty smell means you're safe."
"Thanks," Clark said. "I didn't realise hippos were so dangerous."
Lois smiled, choosing not to say what they were probably both thinking - that this was another example of the dangers he would have faced if he'd ventured into the African jungle alone. She scampered to the water's edge and dipped her toe, turning to him with a wide grin. "Think it's gonna be a quick swim today," she said as she turned off the lantern.
"Cold?" he said.
"Yep." She pointed to her right. "You look that way, and I'll look the other way. Then, neither of us will have to wait in the water."
Clark was willing to wait if it avoided an embarrassing situation, but before he could speak, Lois had turned around and begun peeling her shirt from her upper body.
He spun around and waited, not wanting to run for the water at the exact moment Lois did. When he heard the squeak of her footsteps on the sand, he quickly stepped out of his clothes and made a dash for the water, keeping his eyes down until he was waist deep in the cold flowing water.
A high-pitched squeal floated from over the wall. "Ahh, this feels like ice."
"Yeah," he replied.
After a few moments of vigorous splashing, she said, "Here's the soap."
He met her at the partition. She rose to hand him the soap. He kept his eyes lowered, but he couldn't complete block out her creamy shoulders and graceful neck as they filled the background of his vision. "Thanks," he muttered.
"I'm going to rinse off quickly and get out."
"OK." He heard her leave. Heard the splashes change as she moved through the shallower water. Heard her feet on the sand.
Stood like a statue as the truth hit him like a giant wave.
He was fighting temptation. He wanted to look at Lois.
He couldn't remember the last time he had felt such strong desire to look at a woman.
With his extra vision, he'd become adept at controlling where he looked and what he looked through.
He'd faced all the usual temptations during the time he and Lana had been dating. But for other women … he'd felt little that wasn't quickly shut down by either habit or conscience.
But now …
He wouldn't look - but the fact that he wanted to shook him.
"Come on, Kent," she called. "You'll freeze."
"Are you turned away?" he asked, hastily rinsing off.
"Yep."
Clark peeked up onto the bank. Lois was wrapped in a large towel, covering her from shoulders to knees.
He no longer had x-ray vision. And even if he did, he wouldn't look through her towel. He wouldn't allow his mind to form images. He wouldn't -
Clark quickly ran through the water and up onto the sand. "OK," he said when he'd secured his towel around his waist.
Lois turned to him. "Let's get out of here," she said. "We can dress back at the hut. Then, we'll get the fire lit and the coffee on."
The coffee sounded good. Although he wasn't cold, the fire sounded good. Being with Lois sounded …
Wonderful. Because she was Lois.
But hazardous, too. Because she was a beautiful woman.
A beautiful woman who had turned his yearning to belong into yearning to belong with her.
A beautiful woman who was married.
Clark followed her along the path through the jungle trees, wondering how she felt about last night.
When he'd returned from the amenities, she'd said she wanted to be his friend.
Already, Lois was the closest friend he'd ever had. She'd saved his life. She'd accepted him without demanding he provide explanations. She helped him when she'd known nothing about him.
But last night … that had felt like more than friendship.
Perhaps she'd been warning him. Don't make more of this than there is. We're friends. Nothing more.
Lukewarm relief mixed with dragging despair swept across his heart.
As much as he longed to experience that exquisite feeling of closeness again, he couldn't allow it to happen.
He would have to pretend.
All his life, he had pretended. Pretended to be just like everyone else. Pretended he hadn't minded being a family-less, heritage-less, home-less, and anchor-less alien in a foreign world. Pretended his marriage had mitigated the need to pretend.
Lois turned to him, her smile glimmering in the pale light of dawn. "You might be able to work on the truck before they send breakfast."
The truck would give him much-needed distance. An excuse to avoid deep and searching conversations. An opportunity to set the tone of their association to superficially affectionate. "I'd like that," Clark said.
They walked through the gate and into the sanctuary they would share for another three days.
But Clark was no longer sure whether it was a sanctuary or a snare.
