This is a great thread, Irene!
I went hunting for my favorite 'moment' but to tell you the truth, there are so many it's very hard to choose one in particular. Finally, I settled for this one:
Lois relaxed against him, secure in the cradle of his arms, and waited for the pain to die down after all the moving around. Clark didn't press her to talk but contented himself
with nuzzling her hair and face. After the horror of seeing his wife shot, it seemed little short of miraculous that he could still hold her and touch her silky hair and soft skin with his lips. "I love you, Lois," he murmured against her hair.
"Oh, Clark." His tenderness made her want to cry. Being loved by him was the most wonderful thing that had happened to her; how could she bear it if-- But she couldn't voice her real fear yet, not even to herself. "I don't know how I can keep being a reporter if I'm in a wheelchair."
He answered as if he had spent some time thinking
about it. "Honey, it's that clever, quirky, dogged brain of yours that makes you a brilliant reporter, not your legs... Your legs are--pretty spectacular, but you don't write with them."
Her expression lightened a little at his compliments. "But what about our undercover stuff?"
"You'll still do some of it. And I'll do what you can't." He felt her protesting movement and continued, "That's what we've always done anyway. 'I fight the bad guy; you write the
story.' Remember?"
"That was a long time ago."
"Back when you used to like being on top?" he added, pointedly looking at her lying on him.
Remembering that first assignment with Clark, she
smiled. "I'd almost forgotten that." She turned her face toward his shoulder and whispered, "We've done so much together... Clark, what if you--if you--get tired of a wife
who... can't walk?"
"Oh, no, no, Lois--" He saw that no protest would convince her, and he managed a quick smile. "Lois, I don't mind that you can't fly. Why should it bother me if you can't walk? Besides--" he kissed the side of her neck-- "it gives me a good reason to hold you."
Instead of smiling, she was quiet for a long moment. "I never thought of it that way. To you, all of us must seem--" She gestured toward the wheelchair. "You're so strong. And fast. Physically perfect. And I--I can't even feel anything below my waist. Clark--" Her voice broke into sobs, and she covered her face with her hands. "I don't think I can do this."
Clark held her and let her cry, and his heart broke for her even while his buried rage blazed up. What could he say to fix the unfixable? When her weeping finally died away, he said, "Sweetheart, you're the bravest, most competent woman I've ever met. You'll do what you have to. And I'll be there--I'll *always* be there for you."
Lois raised huge, tear-drenched eyes to him and
smiled tremulously, her breath shuddering on little sobs. "Smartest, loveliest--now bravest and most competent, too. No wonder I married you. You think I'm perfect."
He closed his eyes and hugged her, moved to tears by her gallantry, but he couldn't refuse the gift she gave him. "Perfect? I don't know," he teased. "'Headstrong' and 'foolhardy' aren't on *my* list."
In this fragment of Sheila Harper's thrilling story 'A shot in the dark' Lois and Clark have to deal with the fact that Lois might never walk again after being wounded by a gun-shot.
When I first read this I loved it that Clark told Lois: 'I don't mind that you can't fly, so why should I mind that you can't walk?'
This is so typically Clark Kent. I think Sheila managed to capture both Clark's and Lois's spirits in this gripping tale. Highly recommended!
