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"Okay, I'll give you that one. It's not the most popular choice but it's technically correct." A gentle smile rewarded her before she leaned back to rest her hand on his shoulder again.

Her hands froze as she desperately wanted to give him a shoulder rub but didn't know how to begin. The big guy didn't seem very tense. As a matter of fact, the only time he'd ever seemed tense was when *she* was in danger or challenging him in regard to her safety. Clark seemed to thrive on their other disagreements. He would invariably end up with a silly smirk on his face no matter what the outcome of the argument. At first it had annoyed her -- she always ended up madder at him, particularly when he was right -- but lately, especially the past few days, she had given in a lot sooner than normal. It wasn't worth all the fuss to be at odds with Clark, not after the devastation she'd felt when she thought he had died.

Now as her hands lay on his shoulders, the warmth of his flesh beneath the smooth fabric seemed to be keeping them there like a magnet. Still, it was hard to take the next step. A neck massage was way more intimate than bringing someone coffee or leaning over their shoulder, yet he did that for her all the time and she never complained.

A tentative squeeze to start, then another and soon she was working her way along his shoulders up to his neck. His head dropped down in relaxation, exposing more of his well-groomed and heavily-muscled neck to her.

She worked her way lower down his back, until she could feel him tensing up once more. She must not be doing a good job... this was supposed to be relaxing. Now she could feel him sucking in his breath as she lightened her touch in response. Biting her lip in frustration, she couldn't believe that she was making him tight when he had already been relaxed, but she couldn't give up on showing she cared now.

She slowed her massage to just rubbing the back of his neck, then patted his shoulders before withdrawing her touch.

"All done," he said, smiling, after sending their story to Perry a couple of minutes later. He shut off his computer and twirled in his chair to look at her. His dark brown eyes softened at the sight of her and he regarded her curiously. She returned his gaze with a shy smile, then glanced downward, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

Tempus had managed to work his way to within a couple of feet of Lois... and the gun. Clark closed the distance between them and Lois pointed the gun back and forth from one to the other. “Stay back!” she cried.

“You can’t trust him, Lois. He’s evil,” Clark tried to reason with her.

“I assure you that you can trust me, Ms. Lane. I want out of here as much as you do,” Tempus said smoothly, trying to corrupt her with his words. Clark could see why he kept trying to be a politician, he was good at it.

Clark was beginning to feel panicky. He had to get that gun away from her and it didn’t look like she was going to relinquish it, no matter how hard he tried to reason with her. She didn’t trust him and she had no reason to... she didn’t know him. But he couldn’t just let her walk out of here with Tempus, and he couldn’t let Tempus get his hands on that gun.

He realized what he had to do. He was going to have to physically take the gun away from her. He hated it. Hated the thought of pitting himself against her.

She would hate him for it.

He sighed. This was the woman he wanted to love, the woman he had searched for, and she was going to despise him.

Walking slowly along the road leading to Lois's apartment block, Clark silently asked himself, for about the thousandth time that week, just what almighty powers he and Lois had managed to offend. Surely no two other people could have had such a run of bad luck - no, a disastrous run of catastrophes - as the two of them. They should have been married now, and just back at work after their honeymoon in Hawaii. Instead, they were definitely *not* married, and were still trying to come to terms with the consequences of their wedding-that-wasn't.

Within fifteen minutes, Clark had managed to carry all of the passengers of the bus and the truck driver safely to the paramedics without any loss of life. As he righted the tractor- trailer, he breathed a sigh of relief that he had managed to arrive at the scene in time.

Placing the badly damaged potato chip truck on its wheels and out of traffic's way, he turned his attention to the bus. This would be more complicated. People's belongings had been scattered across the cabin and before moving anything, he wanted to make sure he did not cause any further damage to anyone's luggage.

At superspeed, he cleaned the compartment and safely stowed all of the bags and boxes. It wasn't until he was sliding a powder blue carryon into the upper compartment that he slowed to a stop as his eyes focused on a picture laying further up the aisle, almost hidden by the seats.

The world froze as he stepped slowly towards the photo, in awe of his apparent discovery. Bending to pick it up, he realized his first glance had not been mistaken.

Lois Lane was in this picture, smiling back at him. Her hair was longer than the Lois he had known, though he knew from her personnel file that she favored longer hair. She looked so happy, so relaxed that for a moment, he was sure he would be powerless to stop any tears that elected to show themselves at this moment.

Lois raised a hand to touch his face, as if to satisfy herself that what she was seeing was real. "You don't look a day older than my Clark."

Her Clark. His past self, who was her husband, who at this very moment was assisting with the cleanup operations around Japan. The Clark who was the father of her baby.

He had been that Clark, once, but not anymore. That Clark had belonged to Lois -- still belonged to her. The Clark he was now belonged to Lori.

Everybody in the family has a story on how they found out about
Dad. Mom isn't really quick to relate hers to us kids, except to say
that it was wonderful and scary at the same time. I suspect it was a
very private and emotional thing for both her and Dad, so I don't pry.
My brother told me how he found out once. He was pretty traumatized by
it - he caught Mom and Superman in bed, I guess, and put two and two
together when Mom called Superman "Clark" in a fit of passion. Let me
just be the first to say that looking in on my folks IN BED is not
something I would ever imagine my brother doing, but I give him points
for admitting to it. My sister just found out the family secret last
week, and I'm not really sure how that went down since I was here in
Gotham at the time. The list goes on.

Oh no. She'd recognized him. His wild dreams of playing the anonymous hero, finally able to use his powers in the open, had been dashed at his feet. "Better explain yourself
quickly, Kent..." he thought to himself. "Well, I, uhm... that is...." Clark stammered, confused and off-balance, frantically trying to come up with a reasonable explanation.

"Well, Lois, to tell you the truth, this isn't dancing."

"It's not?" There was laughter in her voice, along with a little disbelief. What in the world had he meant by that statement?

"No," he emphasized, still smiling. "*This* is."

And then she was floating--not just metaphorically this time, as she had when he'd kissed her, but quite literally! Both of her bare feet were a good six inches off the floor, and she wiggled them experimentally, her confused mind wondering for a split second just how he had managed to pull off a trick like this.

She looked down at her feet, then back at him in complete amazement. "Clark!" This was no trick at all! They were really floating in mid air, right in the middle of her living room! Her jaw dropped as everything fell into place, and although she tried, her thoughts were not turning into coherent sentences. "We're...we're...and you're...you're..."

"Yeah," he answered, somewhat sheepishly, and he looked like he was bracing himself for something. "I am."

"But...but..." Oh, this was just no good at all! How was she going to talk to him if she just kept repeating the same words over and over?

He seemed to understand her dilemma, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Lois, I've dreamed of dancing with you like this for so long. Just finish this dance with me, please?" he pleaded softly. "Then we can talk." He nipped gently at her earlobe. "I promise."

The child looked at him in astonishment. "It's a
waltz! Don't you know how to waltz?"
Clark shook his head. "I only know what I learned back
in Kansas."
"Kansas? What kind of dances do they do in Kansas?"
The child seemed genuinely interested.
"Well, mostly line and square dancing," Clark admitted.
"Square dancing!" The little girl's eyes flashed with
excitement. "You know how to square dance? Can you teach
me? Please!" She grasped his hand and started to pull him
toward the dance floor.
Clark gently resisted her insistence, so as not to hurt
her. "This isn't the right kind of music."

[who still wishes she were around more than once every couple months]

I *DID* send a fic to the archives this afternoon...

Omigod! She'd killed Clark!!

Lois leaned out the window as far as possible to take a good look at Clark as he lay face down on the ground. To her relief, she saw his legs move, and that was all she needed to prompt her to try to climb out the window and get down to him.

"I'm coming, Clark!" she yelled as her legs dangled over the ledge. "Don't go anywhere." The drop was straight down three stories and Lois caught herself just as she was about to jump.