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Despite herself, she jerked back several paces, swallowing hard over the sudden tightening of her throat. And then he blinked, like a man emerging from a dream - or a nightmare - and that glow faded, winking out so abruptly that it was hard to imagine it had ever been there at all, had ever been anything more than a figment of her imagination, brought on by anguish and terror and the stress of everything she had suffered here. And he was Clark again. Just Clark. Her Clark. Here.

He was here.

"Lois...?" he whispered, as though she was the last person in the world he had expected to see, and her heart almost broke in two at the hitch of pain in his voice.

Heedlessly, he dropped Archer, the man sprawling to the ground in an ungainly heap as he was discarded. The soldier rolled over clumsily to his hands and knees, retching as he recovered lost breath, then, prudently, scrambled shakily to his feet, turned tail, and ran. He didn't look back as he vanished out of sight around the corner of the hallway.

Lois forgot him in the same instant that she met the eyes of the superhero. These eyes she remembered. Full of joy and relief and love. A twister of emotions blazing out at her with a heat and intensity that made her dizzy all at once.

"Lois..." he said again, as though he couldn't quite believe that she was there, and then she was running. Running the small amount of space, the intolerable space, that existed between them. He caught her as she barreled into him and she was swept up into his arms as he dragged her close and hard against him with a hoarse, inarticulate cry...pulling her into his embrace and holding her tight till she couldn't breathe.

The scent of him surrounded her - that familiar, longed-for scent that she would have known anywhere and which had lately haunted her dreams. It permeated the very soul of her and she closed her eyes, a moan escaping her as she buried her face against a solid shoulder.

She felt him tremble against her, heard the breath expel itself from him in a shuddering sigh, and then he angled his head slightly, pressing his cheek against the crown of her hair. His hand came up to cup at the back of her head, applying gentle pressure.

"Lois..." he murmured, a sigh of shaken breath against her ear, and she heard the sound of tears, thick in those words, that were almost a prayer. "Oh god, Lois..."

~@*****@~

The phone rang. After a second's startlement, Clark drifted to the floor and crossed the room to answer it. "Lois Lane's apartment."

Curious, Lois moved closer, trying to hear who was on the other end of the call.

"Well, I'm a colleague of hers ... nice to meet you, Alan."

Lois rolled her eyes, but then brightened as she realized that she'd finally found the upside to being dead -- at last she could rid herself of the Clueless Wonder. She leaned in closer, and though Clark shivered a bit he didn't shift positions. Ah, now she could hear Alan.

<<...like to know what you're doing there -- has she come back from her trip yet?>>

Clark's reply was soft and full of sadness. "No, I'm afraid not." She waited to see if he'd elaborate, but apparently he preferred to leave it at that.

As always, Alan missed the nuance. <<Then why are you there? I must protest -- you know she and I are practically engaged.>>

Lois couldn't help herself; she snorted laughter. "Hardly."

"Hardly," Clark echoed, then looked up in shock, staring straight towards her. He didn't quite know where to focus his eyes, but he certainly seemed to be aware of her.

<<Excuse me?>> Alan was demanding, <<What do you know about it?>>

"Well, she, ah..." Clark foundered.

Hardly daring to hope that he'd hear, Lois fed him the answer. "I could never marry anyone so anal-retentive."

Clark's eyebrows rose, but he gamely relayed her message. "She could never marry anyone so -- never mind, it's really none of my business. I'll, ah, let her know that you called."

Alan was still sputtering when Clark hung up the phone.

There was a long moment of silence, then Clark reached a tentative, trembling hand towards her. "Lois?"

Clark carried her the last few steps. His strength was slowly returning, but he knew that she had almost reached her limit of endurance. He put her on his bed and tried to gently loosen her fingers away from his shirt. She came to with a start.

"Don't leave me!"

He knelt down beside the bed. "Lois, I won't leave you, I promise. I'll be close by, sleeping on the sofa. If you need anything, just call me."

"No, I don't want to be alone. Please stay here with me, or let me be with you on the sofa. Please, Clark. It's been such an awful day, and I thought I'd lost you again, or maybe that you ... "

"Of course, I'll stay with you ... Here, let's get this coat off of you ... and the shoes so you can be comfortable. That's good ... Here's a tissue ... better blow your nose. Now, get under the covers ... there you are. I'll be right back. I just want to take a quick shower and get on something dry to sleep in. It won't take long, I promise."

His almost "fatherly" manner had a calming effect on her. He went to take his shower, wondering if she'd be asleep when he got out, but she wasn't. The hot water had eased the
soreness in his muscles, and it was really great to be in clean, dry clothes again.

He came back into the bedroom. He had put on his spare pair of glasses and an old, soft T-shirt and sleeping shorts. He turned off the lights, slid into the bed and held out his right
arm to her. She moved over until she lay next to him. He put his right arm around her back, while she rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. He brought his left hand up to stroke
her head. They lay like that for a long time their eyes adjusting to the soft, rose-colored light given off by a nearby neon sign. He could feel that she was slowly beginning to relax, and release the tensions of the day. If she could do that, she'd sleep better.

"I thought for a while today that I might never get to hold you again," he said quietly. "I don't think I've ever been so scared in my whole life."

"Me either ... or more ashamed."

"You are the smartest and the bravest woman I know. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh, Clark, I don't think I'm very smart or brave. I couldn't figure out how to get away from him and he made me so scared and then he laughed at me. I felt so humiliated." She
shuddered, thinking about the bathroom incident. Clark knew about that, too, and he just held her more tightly. "He kept telling me that I was to blame. And you know me, Clark, it's true that I never even stop to consider the consequences of my stories. I'm so intent on getting there first that I lose sight of everything else. Superman tried once before to get me to think about consequences ..."

"Lois, nothing that happened today was your fault. If Whitehurst hadn't broken the law, if he had run a legitimate business instead, there would have been nothing for you to write about. *His* actions started this whole chain of events, not yours."

"I know, Clark, I know that what he was handing me was just a lot of garbage. It wasn't just what he said, but the way that he said it and the way that he kept hounding me with it ...
that and the fact that I was terrified that Superman would show up at any second, and there were several times there when Whitehurst seemed like he was going to just kill me for the heck
of it. I was so tired of being cold and afraid, that there was a point where I started crying and then he was gloating because he thought he had me. I was just crying, though, because I wanted him to shut up, and for a while anyway, he did."

Clark chuckled to himself. That sounded like the Lois that he knew, the one that could always give him a run for his money, the one that kept him on his toes, the one who could entrance and infuriate him at one and the same time. As he lay there holding her and stroking her head he could tell that she was still upset about something, though. He couldn't imagine what it could be. There had been a look on her face that he couldn't interpret when she'd seen him get off the elevator. He was going to ask her about it when she said in a much more subdued tone of voice, "That's not why I feel ashamed."

He moved his head a bit to try and see her face, but she obstinately kept it buried in his shirt.

"Lois, what ... ?"

"I ran away, Clark, and left you there. After you pushed me into the hallway, I should have stayed and tried to help you, but all I did was put my tail between my legs and run (or rather, crawl) for the elevator. I never would have believed that I could be such a coward. Oh, Clark, I feel so guilty for going off and leaving you with that madman. Maybe between
the two of us, we might have done *something.* What you must think of me!" She was crying now, softly and rather desperately.

"No, Lois, it's OK ..."

"He, he had said that he'd take away something that was dear to me. I was afraid that maybe he had ... that maybe you wouldn't feel the same way about me anymore. I ... I was afraid that you wouldn't want to have anything to do with me again. I mean, we're supposed to be best friends, partners, and C-Clark that means so much to me and I ... and I ... if you knew how relieved I was when you got off the elevator, and I saw the look on your face ... that you were glad to see me ... that you still ... "

"Lois, Lois, what are you talking about!? Of course I was glad to see you! I've never been so happy to see anyone in my whole life! Listen! You did just what you were supposed to
do, what I wanted you to do. I knew that you couldn't be in very good shape after the day you had had. That's why I did what I did -- to try and distract him, to give you some extra time to get away. I didn't plan on getting caught, I can tell you, but when I was caught the only thing that kept me going was knowing that you were safe. I love you more than anything on this earth, Lois."

She lifted her head now to look at his face. There were tears glistening in her eyes. She reached over and took off his glasses. He took them from her and laid them on the bedside table. She lightly touched the bruises on his face. He watched her expression as she took in the scrapes that he had received when he had been dragged across the floor. "Even more than your own life." She smiled tenderly at him. "My poor Clark, what you went through for me. You don't even look like my Clark right now."

He smiled at her, "I like the way that sounds, 'your Clark.' " He raised his head to kiss her -- just the touch of a kiss.

Clark had to concentrate to keep from floating as they walked the short distance to Lois' apartment. Since the moment he had met Lois he had wanted to take her out. He wanted to have a chance to get to know her--not as just a
friend, but a woman he could potentially spend a lifetime with. Despite their initial nervousness, it hadn't taken them long to start talking and sharing things they had never before revealed to each other. They had spent hours
talking and enjoying each other's company, revealing childhood hopes and dreams.

Lois walked close at his side, commenting in awe, "Clark, it is such a beautiful clear night. Look at the moon and stars."

He glanced upward briefly, following her gaze. It was indeed a clear night for the city, and had he been alone, he might have enjoyed stargazing for a time. But all he could see tonight was the amazing woman who walked by his side. "So beautiful, Lois," he murmured, taking her hand
in his.

Lois blushed at his obvious meaning. "Did you ever just wonder about things in the universe, the beauty of it? Wonder what's out there?" she asked, trying to turn his attention back to the sky.

"All the time, Lois, especially as a child. Growing up in Smallville, I saw a lot of nights like this, nights with so many more stars," he said as he gazed upward, lost in thought. He thought of all those nights as a teen when he
wondered who he really was, why he was so different, and if he would ever find out the answers to his questions.

Lois chuckled. "Of course, I almost forgot. I remember when we were there investigating Trask. It was amazing to me how many stars you could see when you're away from the city lights. It was so beautiful there in the country." Lois squeezed his hand in hers.

Clark looked at her in surprise. "I thought you hated it there." Clark recalled how much she had complained and teased him. Although she did seem to enjoy herself eventually, once she gave it a chance, he thought with a smile.

Lois smiled. "It was different. But in a good way," she replied. She glanced down shyly. "I loved it a lot more than I let on," she said softly, leaning into him.

Clark chuckled as he slid his arm around her waist. "Will wonders never cease? I learn new things about you every day."

As he turned his head to the other side of the room, he quickly
noticed that he wasn't in bed alone. He sat bolt upright, a move his
head regretted immediately. There was no mistaking the petite,
beautiful brunette lying next to him in the queen-sized bed. Lois had
her back to him, but he'd know that fantastic body anywhere. The way
her dark silky hair fell across her creamy shoulders, the way...
Clark shook his head trying to clear it. What was he thinking? What
was he doing here? And more importantly, what was Lois doing here -
with him!

He watched as Lois mumbled something in her sleep and began to roll
over toward him. In a near panic, Clark looked around for his
glasses. Finding them on the nightstand next to his side of the bed,
he quickly put them on. He barely had them in place when Lois' eyes
opened.

At first her sleepy face was arranged in a pleased, contented look.
As her eyes began to focus, Clark could see the changes take place as
first confusion, then recognition took hold. Her eyes got real wide,
then her head snapped around, taking in their surroundings. She too
sat bolt upright, a move that Clark imagined didn't feel any better
for her than it had for him.

Holding the sheet up close to her chest Lois stared accusingly at
Clark. "Where are we? What did you do?"

"Lois, I have no more idea of why, or where we are than you do!"
Clark waved his hand around in a gesture of futility. "Last thing I
remember is being at the Planet trying to write a story on the
mayor's budget."

Clark could tell that Lois didn't entirely believe him, but he
shrugged again for her benefit. She reached over to the nightstand on
her side of the bed and, grabbing the remote, clicked on the
television. Both Clark and Lois paled as they listened to the news
report. Lois quickly turned off the set.

Lois turned to Clark, genuine fear in her eyes. "Clark? Did we really
lose two full days?"

Clark knew his own expression was one of complete confusion. "I don't
know. It appears so."

Clark glanced about the floor trying to locate his shirt and pants
when a shriek from Lois commandeered his attention. She was holding
her left hand out in front of her. Her voice was shaky.

"Ohmigod! what did we do?" She was staring at the third finger of her
left hand.

Clark felt his heart skip a beat as his own eyes were drawn to the
beautiful diamond ring adorning Lois' finger. Fearfully, his gaze was
forced down to his own hand. Surrounding the third finger of his left
hand was a simple, tasteful band of gold. When he brought his gaze
back up to Lois, he could see that she was looking at his hand also.

Unmindful of his near total state of undress, Clark tossed back the
covers and wandered over to the table set in the far corner of the
room. He'd spied a piece of paper lying there. Once there, a quick
read confirmed his suspicions. Holding the paper tightly in his hand
he came back and sat on the edge of the bed.

Lois' voice had regained some of it's strength. "What is it? What does it say?"

As he turned to look at Lois once again, Clark couldn't help but
smile. His dream had been answered. He held it out in front of her so
she could see it.

"It says we're married, Lois."

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."

"Well, I'm sure that my habit of being extremely protective about my secret contributed to the situation. If I'd just admitted to you sooner that I wanted to talk to you about something, maybe ..."

"Maybe I still would have gotten upset, I don't know. We could play this 'maybe game' all day, Clark."

"Mm," Clark replied introspectively, as an unexpected thought occurred to him. "How about this for a 'maybe?' Maybe I should have tried for a job at the 'Daily Planet' instead of the 'Dispatch.' If we hadn't met at a convention, we might have avoided some of these problems, and ..." He grinned at her. "... maybe we'd even have our first Pulitzer by now."

That idea brought the sparkle back into her eye. "I like that! A Pulitzer for the writing team of Lane and Kent sounds really great."

"Waaaait a minute! What about Kent and Lane?"

She put her hands on her hips. "Don't be ridiculous, Clark. My name should go first."

"Oh, really!" he said with amusement in his voice.

"Why?"

"Because I'm the senior journalist."

"'Senior journalist,' huh?"

"Certainly," she retorted, in an and-don't-you-forget-it-tone. "So, for the immediate future, junior partner, once we've started working together, I mean, I think you should follow my lead."

He moved closer to her and put his arms around her, hugely entertained by Lois's competitiveness, drive and sheer bull-headedness. "I do have *some* experience in the field of journalism myself, you know. I'm not exactly a novice at this."

"Clark! This is the 'Daily Planet' we're talking about here, not the 'Smallville Post.'"

"'Press,' and I can take care of myself, Miss 'Senior Journalist.'"

"Good. Because ..." Lois looked down to confirm what she suspected -- they were leaving the floor behind again. She was determined not to let this distract her, however. "... because I did not work my buns off to become an investigative reporter for the 'Daily Planet' just so I can
baby-sit some hack from ... Smallville."

Clark had leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose, and that along with the increasing altitude, had nearly caused her to forget herself
and repeat a phrase from the story Doris had told her.

Clark didn't seem to have noticed her near slip of the tongue. "Really?" he asked softly as he kissed her forehead and ran his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck.

"And another thing," she said, doggedly determined not to let him <wow, that feels good!> distract her. She cleared her throat. "I'll call all the shots, I'll ask all th-the ... questions."

"Yes, ma'am." His voice got even softer as he kissed his way down to her neck.

"You are, uh, low man ..."

"Hm-mmm." He kissed her shoulder and ran one hand down the length of her arm until he'd captured her hand.

She watched, fascinated, as he raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed her palm. She was so tuned into what Clark was doing with his hands and lips, that she could barely remember what it was she wanted to say. "I ... I'm top banana, and ... and ..."

"Mmmm?" he murmured lovingly as he briefly kissed her mouth while he brought her hand up and held it against his chest.

"... and that's the way I like it." She could feel the beating of his heart through her fingertips, but she dragged her mind kicking and screaming away from such tantalizing sensations and forced it to focus on the rest of her speech. "Comprende?" she asked faintly. There! She'd had her say, and --

A very wicked light glittered in Clark's eyes as he said, matter of factly, "You like to be on top. Got it." In the next moment he'd flipped onto his back, bringing Lois with him.

She lay on his chest, clinging to him and gasping at the abruptness of this change in her circumstances, but she quickly realized that he had her, and there wasn't any danger of falling. Covering almost immediately for her show of surprise, she tossed her hair back with a flick of her head, and told him, "Nice to see that you can follow orders."

Clark looked up into her face with its adorably smug expression and laughed out loud. "Touche, Lois."

"Of course."

Now that she was comfortable again, he put his hands behind his head, looking as relaxed as if he were lying in a backyard hammock.

Not to be outdone by his nonchalant display, she rested her forearms on his chest and made a point of glancing around her casually before returning her attention to his face. She had another sassy remark all primed and ready to go, but the look she surprised in his eyes forestalled her.

He'd accorded her love and respect; shown her friendship and understanding, all of which she'd deeply appreciated, even reveled in. Now, she saw desire, too.

This was something new and thrilling. She had wondered if he could, well ... feel what human males felt; if he ever got the old "itch," for lack of a better term. After all he *was* an alien, and that uncertainty had been among the things which had made her doubt that a life-long relationship with him might be possible.

Now, in the instant before he could hide it, she'd seen for herself that he ... desired her. The knowledge of that made her love him even more. Because he'd always been such a gentleman, always considerate of her feelings and willing to follow whatever pace she'd set for their relationship, she'd underestimated the breadth of his feelings. Devotion of that caliber was unknown to her; the ability to set aside one's own wants and needs in order to accommodate a loved one hadn't been much in evidence in the Lane household.

She'd seen it now, however, and, he knew she'd seen it. His cheeks grew dully red, and his eyes were wary again. She had to let him know that it was all right, that she'd had "interesting" thoughts about him, too, but in such a way as to not embarrass him further.

She stabbed his chest with one slender finger and grinned at him provocatively, "In fact, 'junior,' *that* was nothing. You are way out of your league, Kent, and you don't even know it."

He was smiling again, and his eyes were once more alight with love. She tapped the end of his nose with that same finger, then winked at him. "If you're a good boy, though, I might show you some of my other tricks."

He gave her a look that was both full of gratitude and brimming with mischief once again. "I plan to be a very good boy, then," he told her as he took his hands from behind his head and reached to cup them on either side of her face.

She watched his face grow serious as he looked into hers. "I do know that I love you, Lois Lane," he said finally, and very sincerely, then he brought his head up for a kiss.

All the feeling that he put into that kiss both humbled and exalted her, affording her a taste of the passion for her that was inside him. "I love you, too, Clark Kent," she told him as soon as she was able to speak again.

Lois laid her head down on his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was lovely to float in the air with him like this, and she had a feeling this particular activity was one in which she could happily participate for the rest of her life. "If I'd have known you guys from Krypton were so much fun, I'd have started dating one long ago," she informed him contentedly, and had her reward as his laughter echoed around the room.

She loved his laugh.

For the first time, Clark noticed another stone in the Kent family plot, this one smaller than his father's, which hadroom for his mother's name and dates when her time came.
But he was sure the simple gray stone hadn't been there the last time he'd visited the cemetery some twenty years ago.

And no stranger would be lying in that spot, between his father and his grandfather. He frowned, and moved to read the stone.

Clark Jerome Kent, it said somberly. 1966 - 1996. Beloved son and husband.

Incredulous, he turned. "Me?"

His mother nodded. "It was your father's idea. Lois needed... we all needed... some closure. Some end to the part of our lives that had you in it. So that we could go on."

"Oh." He didn't know what to say to that. He'd had to go,
but going had hurt the people he loved. He turned back to
the stone. "Husband?" he asked wistfully.

"Lois insisted. She didn't want the stone at all, but once
she knew we were determined... she asked for that. She said
you'd made promises, both of you, before you left."

"We did."

"She waited for you, Clark. For as long as she could, and
even longer. But there just came a day..."

"I know. I wasn't coming back. She had to go on. I know."

His mother's hand, warm and comforting, slid over his wrist,
gripped his hand. "If you get a chance, you might tell her
that. It worries her to think you might believe she was...
fickle."

His smile was sad, but genuine. "I'd never believe that.
Not of Lois." He looked around and found Lois on the slope
near the river. As he watched, young Clark climbed into
sight, dirty and disheveled... and holding a fistful of
wildflowers.

Clark hadn't been under the influence of a yellow sun long
enough for his powers to have returned, so he couldn't hear
what she said to her son, but the two of them turned and
came across the grass.

"Here, Grandma," young Clark announced. "I got you some
flowers for Grandpa's grave." He carefully divided his posy
in half.

Martha accepted the flowers gravely. "Thanks, sweetie," she
said, and went to kneel in the soft grass beside Jonathan's
stone. Her lips moved silently and she closed her eyes for
a moment. Then she laid the flowers at the foot of the
stone and stood up, brisk again.

"Here, Mom." Young Clark pushed the rest of his flowers
into his mother's hands. "Here are yours."

Lois looked flustered, and glanced toward the elder Clark,
who was watching curiously. "Clark, I don't think..."

"You always put flowers on," he insisted. "Don't you want
them?"

Obviously embarrassed, Lois looked at the flowers for a
minute, then sighed and stepped past Clark and Martha. To
Clark's surprise, she went not to his father's stone, but to
the one with his name boldly engraved on it. She bent
quickly and placed the flowers on the grass. As she
straightened, she trailed her fingers across the sun-warmed
granite, a tender gesture her self-consciousness couldn't
hide.

And this time, he was close enough to hear her whisper. "I
love you," she murmured, almost under her breath, before she
stepped over to Jonathan's grave to lay a single daisy
beside the flowers Martha had put there.