From Chapter Three:It was eleven o'clock -
eleven? She never slept this late! But then, she never spent half the night making lo... having wild sex, either. They must have been at it till after four, at least. So now she only had to find some way to occupy herself - which shouldn't be difficult in a luxury hotel - and Clark would be back in about eight hours.
She'd be ready.
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Table of Contents Comments Chapter Four: The Dangling ConversationTraffic statistics.
That was where his attention was meant to be. Checking the background behind the city council's decision to widen the Eisenhower Bridge over the Hobbs River and rename it after the mayor.
Not sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye at his partner's desk, trying to reconcile her normal singleminded career focus with her absurd decision to become a single parent. Not straying to the honeymoon suite at the Lexor and wondering what she was doing now.
And definitely, unequivocally, not reliving intimate moments from last night.
Clark had always prided himself on his self-control. Ever since it had become obvious, as a child, that the strange abilities he was developing were something more than natural, he had worked on controlling them. More than that: he had worked on controlling his own natural reactions to any situation so that his abilities would never be suspected, and certainly never become a threat to any of the vulnerable humans around him. Over the years his control had become such an integral part of him that it was hard even to imagine being without it.
Today, his self-control was nowhere to be seen. He'd been sitting for hours poring over the piles of computer printouts in front of him, and not a single fact had actually gone into his brain.
But then, it wasn't just today. His self-control had deserted him last night, when he'd walked into the bedroom and seen Lois lying on the bed in that pose, that wisp of black silk... his pulse rate still leapt every time he recalled the sight.
"What did you say, CK?"
Clark blinked himself back to reality. Jimmy had paused curiously next to his desk, holding a brown paper bag and a soda can. He must have groaned aloud in response to his thoughts, Clark realised in dismay.
"Uh, nothing, Jimmy... I just... I think I must have eaten something that disagreed with me."
"You're looking a bit grim," Jimmy said, scanning his face. "Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off? The Chief won't miss you - he's busy fighting with Marketing about the new front-page ads." He gestured with the paper bag. "This is the third time he's sent me out for fries - his blood pressure must be sky-high!"
"I really ought to..." Clark started to respond automatically.
But at that moment, the door of the Editor's office opened and a roar of "Where's my food, Olsen?" issued forth. Jimmy shook his head at Clark and scurried off with Perry's comfort food.
Jimmy had a point, Clark conceded. He certainly wasn't earning his salary in his current state. And grim didn't even begin to describe the way he was feeling.
He'd spent his first ever night of passion with the woman he'd been in love with for months. And instead of joy and fulfilment, all he could feel about it was despair and a sick self-disgust.
His conscience had woken up with the morning, and it was gnawing savagely at him.
How could he just have leapt into bed with her like that, without making the slightest effort to change her mind? And not just once, but twice now he'd succumbed to lust when he should have been reasoning with her. If she ever realised how he'd been using her, she would kill him. And he'd deserve it.
It didn't matter how many times he told himself that she had intended to use him, too; that he couldn't have told her the truth about his infertility and let her go to Luthor instead; that she had been the one making the running in the middle of the night. At an emotional level, none of that mattered beside the fact that he was being dishonest, when he claimed to stand, among other things, for Truth.
It wasn't just guilt that was eating at him, though.
While the physical act of love had been more amazing even than he'd anticipated... he'd always expected something more when he finally took that final step. Which was why he'd never chosen to do so before. He wanted an emotional connection as deep and strong as the physical one, and infinitely more enduring. There had been plenty of strong emotions last night, but none of them had had anything to do with the commitment he craved.
Alone, now and forever. That was his lot.
Now he was getting morbid, and he still wasn't getting any work done. Clark stood up and reached for his coat in sudden decision. Maybe his evening patrol would clear his head a little, even give him some inspiration for dealing with Lois. It was a bit early still, but maybe he'd catch some of the bad guys napping...
He was out of luck, though, in more ways than one. The bad guys, like the rest of Metropolis, seemed to be sheltering from the bright, frosty January weather, while the view of his city from several hundred feet up only served to deepen Clark's sense of isolation.
He'd daydreamed, sometimes, about bringing Lois up here and showing her his favourite sights from the perspective only he and a few hot-air balloonists ever gained. Now that fantasy was further from reality than ever. Lois had no interest in Clark the man, only in his supposed ability to reproduce on one hand and his flashy powers on the other; and he had no desire to share himself with someone whose interest didn't even go skin deep.
A car skidded on an icy patch of freeway below, and Clark arrowed down to catch it before it could collide with the vehicle in the next lane. Between fright and awe at Superman's intervention the driver was completely tongue-tied, and Clark delivered himself of a few stern words about driving more carefully until the gritting trucks had been out to treat the roads, then took off again.
After a few more sweeps of the city, he headed for home. He needed a few things if he was going to spend another night in the hotel with Lois - and if he couldn't talk her out of her scheme, that was what he was going to have to do. The dishonesty and the emptiness might be hard to bear, but the alternative was worse.
The phone rang as he was stuffing clothes into an overnight bag. He reached for it automatically before halting with his hand on the receiver. He knew the only people likely to be phoning him on a Saturday evening, and he couldn't cope with the usual friendly chat with his parents. Nor could he ever tell them what had happened, or what he'd done - the very thought of confiding in them turned his stomach.
He fetched some toiletries from the bathroom, adding the shaving kit he'd bought after his encounter with Kryptonite in Smallville with a grimace of distaste for the deception. Then, leaving the phone still shrilling, he exited his apartment at super-speed to conceal the unusual sight of Superman carrying an overnight bag and headed for a quiet alley near the Lexor Hotel.
It was still some time before seven when he let himself into the honeymoon suite, and the room was empty. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. The confron... no, conversation with Lois would need to wait a little longer. She was probably out shopping, or enjoying the hotel facilities... and he might as well do the same while he waited for her to get back. Maybe a shower would help him relax.
The water was hot and soothing, and Clark washed his hair and his body at normal speed and then experimented with the various settings of the high-tech shower head. He was standing with his eyes closed, enjoying a gentle flow after a stinging massage setting when the click of the bathroom door roused him from his trance.
"Mind if I join you?"
He panicked. For a moment he contemplated flying out of the shower at super-speed, getting dried and dressed in the other room, pretending he'd left the water running by accident... but even if the wind of his passage didn't rouse her suspicions, she must have seen the shadow of his body in the shower cubicle already... and yet, standing here waiting to be discovered, his glasses nowhere in sight, his hair slicked back with the water...
The cubicle door opened, and Lois stepped in.
He needn't have worried. Her eyes barely flicked to his face before they sank to skim avidly over his chest, closely followed by her hands.
He reached out and gathered her closer, tucking her head under his chin so that she couldn't take a second look at his face. She smelt faintly of pool chlorine and a cocktail of unfamiliar chemicals - a visit to the hotel beauty parlour? Then his body caught up with the sensation of hers, wet and pliant, pressing deliciously against it, and conscious thought was once again smothered in a tide of physical desire.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
She'd never expected this.
Oh, she'd known Clark had a good body - she'd seen him once in nothing but a towel, and although the baggy suits he wore to work did nothing to flatter his figure, she hadn't forgotten. She'd seen bodies as well-built as his in the gym, though, and while she was capable of appreciating an attractive male, the sight had never done much for her.
She'd never anticipated that, given free access to her partner's body, she simply wouldn't be able to keep her hands off it. Yet the minute she'd arrived back in the suite and realised he was in the shower, the idea of joining him had leapt into her mind and refused to leave again. She'd fought it, reminding herself once again that she had to work with Clark on Monday and that she had to keep what emotional distance she could from him... yet here she was, once again mother naked, renewing her acquaintance with those broad shoulders and bulging biceps, the narrow hips, the firm pecs and abs without an ounce of spare flesh anywhere, the skin that was smooth and soft, hairless except for the trail that led downward from his navel...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It was happening again. They'd coupled in the shower and then, with his glasses safely back in place and his hair towelled into a more Clark-like style, they'd somehow ended up making love again, slowly but no less intensely, on a heap of towels on the bathroom floor.
And he'd still made no effort to talk her out of it. They'd barely even exchanged half a dozen words since she'd walked into the shower. Somehow, as soon as her body came near his, his brain seemed to cease functioning completely.
It was foolish of him to call it love-making, Clark knew. For Lois it was just sex; not even important for itself, merely a means to an end. And yet, in his head he could call it nothing else. He wasn't capable of shutting down his emotions, and he still loved her. Every touch, every movement he made expressed that love in a way he'd never be free to do in words. Even now, as Lois came slowly back to life, he was savouring the feeling of her head pillowed on his shoulder, the curve of her hip under his hand, her breasts shifting subtly against him as she breathed.
If he succeeded in talking her out of it, he'd never experience this again.
She was shifting away from him now, rolling over and reaching for the luxurious terry robes provided by the hotel. He caught the one she tossed toward him, sat up and shrugged into it as she belted hers around her.
She scrubbed with her sleeve at the mirror and then combed her fingers through her hair. He caught the embarrassed glance she flicked at him in the glass. She drew a breath.
"How was work?"
He nearly laughed before the full irony of the question caught him somewhere near the solar plexus.
How do you make small talk with someone who, outside the physical task he's performing as a favour to you, is not a boyfriend or a lover, or even a friend... just a colleague?
"Okay, I guess," he said. "I spent most of it checking the background for the Eisenhower Bridge project. Not even a Superman res... uh, story to liven up the day."
Her brows had drawn together at his words. Clark rolled to his feet, cursing himself mentally for the slip; he needed to stop merely reacting and start thinking, for more reasons than one.
"Are you hungry?" he asked. "We could get room service."
Her face cleared, to his relief, and she nodded. "There's a menu in the living room," she said, leading the way out of the bathroom.
Truthfully, Clark wasn't that hungry - there was a knot in his stomach that only the anticipated talk with Lois could dispel - but he picked a sandwich almost at random off the menu. Lois placed their order and then excused herself to go back to the bathroom, and Clark was left listening to the sound of the hair dryer and wondering awkwardly whether he was meant to get dressed. She came back out still wearing her robe, though, and he relaxed a notch.
He couldn't think of anything to say. He didn't want to start talking about her plans and then get interrupted by the arrival of the food. After an uncomfortable pause, it occurred to him to offer her a drink, wondering whether a little alcohol might make her more receptive to his arguments. Selecting and opening a bottle of white wine from the mini-bar occupied the next few minutes till the food arrived.
Once they were both seated with their plates, Clark on the couch and Lois in an armchair, he cleared his throat. She looked at him enquiringly.
"Lois, have you thought..." he began, then shook his head and backtracked. "Well, no, obviously you must have thought about this idea of having a baby, thought a lot about it, I mean..."
"It's not a spur-of-the-moment decision," she said quietly. She was looking down at her chicken salad and he couldn't read her expression.
"Well, can you tell me why you decided to do it? I mean, you seem so focused on your career, now suddenly you've decided you want to be a single parent... it seems cra--" Her lips tightened, and he caught himself. "It just doesn't seem to add up. Can you explain it to me?"
She continued to stare at her plate for a while, frowning, and Clark began to wonder if she would answer. At length, though, she looked up and said, "I never really thought I'd want to have kids, you know... The way my parents brought us up, or rather left us to bring ourselves up - it wasn't exactly a good role model."
He nodded. She'd never said much about her family life, but it wasn't the subject he wanted to pursue right now. "What changed?"
"You know Amy Valdez? The kid from the orphanage, during that Mentamide business?" Clark nodded again. "Well, at first I thought I wouldn't be able to cope with her at all. Having a strange child staying in my apartment, messing with my things - actually, at first I could cheerfully have strangled her. But when I got to know her... you know, Clark, she's a good kid, and she was trying to do the right thing in a tough situation. She reminded me of me, really, trying to bring up Lucy. It made me think..."
She took a sip from her wine glass and savoured it reflectively before swallowing. "I've never had any contact with kids since Lucy was little, and I wasn't much older. It's easy to think of kids as being almost a different lifeform. Getting to know Amy... it made me realise that kids are just people, only they're still working out how to do stuff right."
"And that made you want to have a child of your own?"
"I guess so. I mean, I actually missed her after she'd gone. It even crossed my mind to apply to the orphanage to adopt her and her sister, but, well, two kids in my apartment... and they'd never consider someone like me as an adoptive parent, anyway."
"So what makes you think having your own baby is a good idea?" It was only as Lois shot a startled look at him that Clark realised how sharp the question sounded. He took a deep, calming breath. "I mean, the reasons an orphanage would have for turning you down - single parent, long working hours, a risky job - won't they be just as much of a problem if it's your own baby?"
"Clark, it's not as if I haven't thought about this..." Lois's eyes flashed warningly at him.
He shrugged. "Okay, so tell me what answers you've come up with."
"Well, first of all, I've realised that it's important to me to have my own child. Not just adopt someone else's. It's hard to say why... to carry on the family, I guess. And because I've got more chance of understanding someone who's like me."
Clark shifted uncomfortably, taking a bite of his unwanted sandwich. If there'd been any chance of having his own children, he'd have felt just the same - and he didn't want to feel sympathy with Lois's reasoning.
"So I really want this baby. More than I want a Pulitzer, even." She gave a half-smile, but he looked away, refusing to share the joke with her. "Enough to cut back on my hours as far as I need to. The Planet's got a good daycare facility, though, so childcare during office hours won't be a problem. And as for risks... well, Perry will almost certainly give me the less risky stories once I tell him I'm pregnant, anyway, whether I like it or not."
He swallowed, shaking his head. "Lois, I can hardly believe you're saying this. You're about the most ambitious, career-driven person I know! You may think now that having a baby is more important than your career, but what happens when you wake up one day and realise that having this kid has ruined your chances of ever getting that Pulitzer, or even another Kerth? Aren't you going to resent it?"
Lois had gone pale, but she was still regarding him levelly. "Weren't you the one telling me last night how good a reporter I am, Clark? You're singing a different tune now. Was that just a line you were spinning to get me into bed?"
"No!" Clark looked down at the barely touched sandwich in his hand, dropped it on his plate and shoved it aside. "You are good, Lois. You're the best damn journalist I know. But one of the reasons you're so good is that you never let anything, or anyone, stand in your way. How are you going to do all-night stakeouts, or go undercover in an auto theft ring, if you've got a kid to worry about?"
"Clark, you can't seriously believe I haven't thought about all of that." Her voice had risen. "I'm well aware that I have a choice between having a child or being the best in my career, and I've made that choice. And while we're talking about choices, I thought you'd made yours when you signed that contract. You agreed to help me get pregnant. Why are you so keen to talk me out of it now?"
He hitched himself to his feet and walked to the window. "I meant to talk to you about it last night, Lois, but you... I... things got out of hand." He turned to fix her with a pleading look. "Lois, it's obvious you think all men are rats when it comes to taking responsibility, but I care about what might happen to a child of mine. A child of anyone's for that matter. Being a single parent... it's hard, Lois. There's no one to help out when you're sick, or it's just too much for you. It isn't something anyone should take on lightly. What happens when -"
"It's not something I'm taking on lightly, Clark." She was on her feet too and was squaring up to him, her hands on her hips. "I've been trying to explain that to you, but you won't listen. And it's not your call, Clark. At the end of the day, it's my body and it's my child and it's what I decide to do that counts."
"It's my child too, Lois."
"Oh yeah?" Her lip curled. "You signed a contract that says it isn't."
He opened his mouth to reply, found nothing to say and shut it again. She smiled derisively.
He turned back to the window, gazing at the darkened offices opposite. After a moment he said in a low voice, "What happens when your child asks who her father is, Lois? And why he didn't love you, or her, enough to stick around?"
There was a pause before she answered. "I tell her the truth. That her father wasn't important to me in that way. And that it takes a man and a woman to make a baby, but sometimes it's enough just to have one parent to love you."
"And what if I'm still around? What if she guesses it's me? What if it's a boy and he looks like me, have you thought about that, Lois? I'm not going to take the blame for you, you know. Are you going to tell the truth then, tell him it was you who refused to let me have anything to do with him?"
She didn't answer immediately, and he turned to stare at her. She was paler than ever, but her chin was tilted obstinately. "In that case I'll lie. Say it was someone else. Someone who left, or died."
"But
why?" He flung his arms out incredulously. "Why are you so determined to do this the hard way, Lois? Why the hell can't you do it the usual way, find some guy you like who wants a family, get married and have kids together?"
Her lips stretched in a bleak smile. "I don't know if you've caught up with my reputation on the office grapevine, Clark, but my record with guys is less than stellar. All my relationships have been federal disasters - I just don't seem to have what the good ones are looking for. I don't imagine that's going to change just because I've decided I want kids. And marrying some loser and then having a messy divorce five years down the track wouldn't be doing the kids any favours."
"Have you even dated anyone since Claude? Seriously, I mean?"
She hesitated, her lips compressing, then shook her head.
"Why don't you give it a chance? You never know what'll turn up, Lois. What's the hurry - you're several years short of thirty, aren't you?"
"Twenty-seven." Her voice had gone husky.
"Well, you're not exactly an old maid. Why do you have to rush into this now?"
She looked down at her hands, twisting them nervously together, biting her lip. She seemed to be hesitating on the brink of saying something... hurtful?
His temper snapped. "You're just not willing to give any man a real chance, are you, Lois? We're all just pond scum, not worth your time. You can't be bothered to give a guy like me the time of day, can you? I'm just 'Mister Green Jeans' or 'Farm Boy' to you, and a 'hack from nowheresville'. You don't have the guts to admit that any man could be as good a journalist as you, or that any man could have any decency or integrity. Well, that's your loss, but when it comes to wrecking a child's life -"
Lois had turned several different shades from red to white while he was speaking; now she burst out angrily, "What gives you the right to tell me what a child needs, Clark? It takes more than just being handsome and good in bed to raise a family right! My father obviously has that sewn up, the number of mistresses he's been through, but when it came to his family he -"
Someone screamed.
There was a screech of tortured tyres and then the dull crunch of metal on metal. Glass shattered. Someone was moaning in pain.
Lois was still shouting at him, her words a meaningless roar of sound. Clark shook his head, screwing up his face against the onslaught.
"I'm going out."
His own voice hurt his ears. Belatedly he tuned down his super-hearing, feeling the sounds of the accident fading like a fist releasing his heart. He glanced down, realising he couldn't leave the suite wearing just a hotel robe; nor could he spin into something else. He turned and made a beeline for the bedroom door, panting with the effort to hold himself at normal speed.
"You're
what?"
He couldn't spare the time to answer. He ripped open his overnight bag, dragged out the first clothes that came to hand, threw them on haphazardly.
"Where do you think you're going?" Lois had followed him as far as the bedroom door.
"Out. Away." Was he shouting or whispering? He couldn't tell. There were more screams now, a whole choir of them, and more screeching brakes. Two more impacts... three... He blinked at Lois, moved her out of his path. "I don't think that contract gives you the right to know my movements."
"Clark, I haven't finished with you! Come back here and face me, buster, or..."
The door of the honeymoon suite banged shut behind him. There was no one in the corridor. He shifted thankfully into super-speed and vanished down the stairwell, spinning into the suit on the way.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
.../tbc
