From Chapter Six:"I don't think we have anything to discuss," she said coldly. She hesitated, conscious of the listening silence around them. "All the information we need is in that... letter we got on Friday."
He didn't respond. She didn't dare look at his face; she checked her watch instead. "Anyway, don't you have to be at the courtroom in a few minutes for the Trevino trial?"
She pushed past him without waiting for an answer, and walked on wooden legs back to her desk. When she sat down and shot a covert glance around the room, he'd gone.
She should have felt relieved. Instead, she had to bite her lip hard to stop herself bursting into tears.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Table of Contents Comments Chapter Seven: Bye Bye LoveEven breathing hurt, without her.
Clark strode moodily along the sidewalk, eyes fixed on the paving, restraining the urge to kick a discarded soda can into orbit. The few other pedestrians braving the icy wind in downtown Metropolis gave him a wide berth.
He ached, every minute of every day, for want of her. The ability to touch her, talk to her, smile at her. The touch of her hand on his. The feel of her eyes resting on his face.
She wouldn't even look at him.
He'd tried. She'd refused to talk to him that first morning; but, he'd reasoned, she could just have been mad at waking up and finding him gone. He'd raced back to the Planet at lunchtime to see if she'd let him buy her lunch - and she'd been out. He'd raced back again as soon as court had adjourned for the day - and once again she'd cold-shouldered his attempt to talk.
He'd watched her from the sky as she'd made her way home, then flown to his own apartment and called her. He'd got the answering machine. He'd left a message, pleading with her to talk to him... no response.
He'd written a letter. "Lois, We can't let it end this way. Please let me talk to you. I promise not to touch you, but please, we have to talk. Yours, Clark" He'd pushed it under her door.
He hadn't sunk quite so low as to watch her reading it, but he'd listened to her opening the envelope, unfolding the single page. Her breath had caught, and for a moment he'd permitted himself to hope. Then he'd heard the sound of ripping paper.
During his patrol next morning, he'd found a man tied up at the waterfront, staring dully at the sea; as he'd released him, the man had babbled that a tidal wave was coming. Bizarrely, it had turned out to be quite true, but Superman had had little difficulty stopping it by digging an underwater trench across its path. Returning to the waterfront, Clark had questioned the man - who had turned out to be a crooked congressman, now repenting of his misdeeds - and had been able to find and apprehend the evil genius behind the tidal wave, one Thaddeus Rourke, waiting in his boat offshore for the destruction of Metropolis to finish.
Clark had returned as himself to speak to Congressman Harrington, and had persuaded him to tell his story not to him, Clark Kent, but to star reporter Lois Lane. He'd thought that working together on a story would allow him to get past Lois's defences.
He'd been quite wrong.
Lois was every inch the professional reporter while interviewing Harrington, and while writing up the story with him. At least on the surface... Clark could hear her heartbeat jump whenever he made a sudden move, and knew she was aware of him physically in a way she'd never been before. But he couldn't draw any comfort from it. She'd obviously made up her mind to freeze out any hint of a connection between them beyond the professional one, and he couldn't find a single chink in her armour. In public he couldn't say much, and she deflected any attempt he made to talk to her privately; at her desk, out of earshot of their co-workers, she'd simply taken to affecting deafness when he addressed any non-work-related remark to her.
It had crossed his mind to stand in front of her desk and say, in a loud voice, "I love you, Lois, and I want to marry you." See if that would persuade her to give him a few minutes in private. The thought of her scornful laughter prevented him. She'd made her feelings plain enough, after all - he'd have stopped trying, stopped hoping, if it hadn't felt as though that would kill something inside him.
He'd even considered going to her as Superman, tapping on her window. She'd let her hero in quickly enough; then he'd spin into Clark and, while she stared at him speechlessly, tell her he loved her. And then...? Would she throw him bodily through the window, or fall into his arms?
He couldn't bear it if the only reason she accepted him was his superpowers. And he had to swallow the bitter truth... she'd spent three nights with Clark the ordinary man, in the most intimate possible circumstances, and she wanted nothing more to do with him.
He couldn't fool himself any longer. He'd been hoping against hope, all weekend, that if he invested all his heart into making love to her, a miracle would somehow occur and she'd fall in love with him in return.
Some hope. She'd enjoyed every minute of it... well, nearly... but it just didn't mean that much to her. And now it was over.
He was surely the world's most pitiful fool.
Clark walked through the doors into the front lobby of the Planet building, exchanging a nod with the doorman, and headed for the stairs. The Trevino trial had finally ended in the expected conviction, conveniently early for the weekend, and he'd walked back rather than fly or take a taxi. Walking ate up some of the lonely, painful minutes.
Four and a half days since he'd left Lois's bed for the last time. A hundred and seven hours. Six thousand, four hundred and sixteen minutes, give or take a few seconds.
Seven thousand, six hundred and eighty-four minutes since they'd made love.
He had to stop this, or he'd go crazy.
Pushing open the stairwell door on the newsroom floor, he flicked an automatic glance at Lois's desk, and his heart constricted painfully. She was there.
He walked across the newsroom to his own desk, exchanging greetings with various colleagues on the way, and hung his coat up next to his chair; but he couldn't sit down. He picked up his coffee mug, turned and walked a few steps.
"Can I get you some coffee?"
Her pulse skittered, but her gaze remained riveted to the screen. "No, thanks - I have some already."
She picked up her mug and took a swallow, as though to prove it. He saw the flicker of disgust on her face as she registered the temperature - he could see the scum of cold artificial creamer on the surface from where he stood - but she put down the mug without comment and typed a few words on her keyboard.
He'd set himself up - he had to visit the coffee machine now, or the gossips whose eyes he could feel watching them would have just a little more to go on.
They'd been watching avidly all week, ever since Lois had first stonewalled him on Monday. Clark hoped he'd been giving them very little reward, but sometimes it was almost impossible to keep the impassive mask in place in the face of Lois's obduracy. Just as well he'd had hours of practice as Superman, or he'd never have managed it.
He was adding the usual three sugars to his mug when a feminine arm snaked around his shoulder. If he'd had less control over his reactions, there'd have been coffee all over the newsroom.
It was the wrong scent, of course, the wrong shape. The wrong response in his gut.
"Hello, Cat."
"Aw... I thought I'd surprise you." Her voice was amused. As he put down the sugar spoon and turned to face her, she ran a seductive hand up his tie. "Or were you expecting li'l ol' me?"
Odd, he thought. A week ago he'd have been intimidated by her advances, panic setting in as he cast about for some way to head her off without being rude. Now, her manner roused no more than a tired chuckle. "I'm sure you pride yourself on being unpredictable, Cat."
Her eyes widened a little, and she looked suddenly... knowing. It unsettled him. "So it happened at last," she purred. "You and Lois."
He felt his face go stiff. He scanned the area with his super-hearing, even as he locked eyes with her and tried to look uncomprehending. There was no one close enough to have overheard, thank God. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, and with an effort managed to raise a questioning eyebrow.
Cat laughed. "Very good, Clark... not good enough, but full marks for effort. But it didn't work out, did it? So I was wondering... you've been brooding all week, and I'm sure you're ready for a little... relaxation." Her hand had left his tie and was wandering across his shirt front. He intercepted it with his own, lifted it away from his chest. "You took a raincheck once before - how about cashing it in tonight, and I'll show you the sights of Metropolis?"
He smiled at her. "I appreciate the offer, Cat, but - you do know it's never going to happen, don't you?"
Her smile widened a little, Clark guessed for the benefit of the onlookers, but he saw disappointment and a grudging respect in her eyes as she absorbed his honesty. She studied him for a moment, her head on one side. "You know, I hope she's worth it," she said.
"I happen to think she is," he returned softly, and released her hand. "I hope you find what you're looking for one day, Cat."
She drew a sharp breath, then turned away with a silvery laugh. "Later, then," she said more loudly, and strolled off.
He couldn't help but grin at the calculated innuendo. Then, as he set off for his desk, he looked up and caught Lois's eye.
It was like swords clashing in mid-air. He almost fancied he could hear the sound reverberating through the room. He felt himself break stride as their gazes held...
... and then she looked away, back at her computer screen, her mouth curling contemptuously.
Blood pounding in his ears, scarcely aware of his surroundings, he made his way back to his desk and sat down to write up his final report on the trial.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
She'd been telling herself all week that she was doing the right thing, the only possible thing. Following her original plan to the letter. She'd come so close to breaking down, at times, and letting him talk her into continuing their affair. Ignoring his letter had just about broken her heart, but she'd clung to her conviction that it was for the best.
She couldn't afford to make the same mistake her mother had made... get involved with an idle charmer who would let her down when things got tough. Let her child down.
Her child, the baby she hoped she was carrying, had to be her top priority now. She'd told herself that over and over, at work, in her empty apartment in the evenings, in her cold bed when she'd woken in the night, tears running down her face, reaching out for him.
Her reaction just now, when she'd looked up and seen him flirting with Cat, told her just how little she'd really believed it.
It was over - the struggle to prevent herself calling him and suggesting he come over, or simply flinging herself into his arms in the middle of the newsroom. He was moving on. As she'd known he would.
It hurt even more than she'd expected.
Not least because it was playing out in front of her eyes. Apart from that first fling with Cat, Clark had always conducted his private life away from the newsroom. Now he'd decided to go for a second bite at that apple. To punish her, rub her face in his defection? To tease her with the implication that some women got more than one opportunity for a fling with him? At the very least, to make sure she got the message. That he was moving on.
Damn him. Damn him to hell for putting her through this, in front of the curious eyes of the newsroom. Because every breath she took felt like a knife in her chest, and her eyes were burning. In a minute she'd...
No. She was not going to burst into tears at her desk.
Lois got to her feet, picked up her purse and walked at a carefully casual pace to the ladies' room. Her one sanctuary from him, which she'd used more than once over the past week when things had got too much for her. And, thank heavens, it was empty and she could grab a couple of tissues and hold them carefully to the corners of her eyes, making sure the tears now spilling out irrepressibly didn't damage her makeup.
She'd invested in a new set of cosmetics earlier in the week, but even the best waterproof mascara wasn't completely impervious to tears.
Her eyes had dried and she was finishing her running repairs when the door opened. Lois gathered her dignity ready to face the newcomer, but a gasp escaped her as Cat's eyes met hers in the mirror. She swung around, closing her mouth on the ugly words that had shot to the tip of her tongue.
"Big date tonight, Lois?" Cat stepped up to the mirror and inspected herself with an air of preening satisfaction. She hitched her skirt round a little on her hips, then turned sideways to admire the flat line of her naked midriff.
Lois didn't answer. She was fighting off a sudden compulsion to rake her nails down the side of Cat's face. She closed her hands into fists to ward off the temptation.
"So how's Clark... in bed, I mean?"
Lois's jaw dropped in shock. Had the woman no shame?
And then she was submerged in images. Clark's eyes, so dark they were almost black, watching her as she moaned with pleasure... those same eyes closing in bliss as their bodies moved together... his solemn face, moving worshipfully over her body, quirking into a brilliant smile as he glanced up and found her watching him in awe...
"That good, huh?"
She came back to reality to find Cat watching her in the mirror, her eyes narrowed in... envy?
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she croaked.
Cat smiled sardonically. "Save it, Lois," she advised. "Clark did a far better job of denying it, but I didn't believe him, either." She pinched her cheeks and looked at the effect critically. "I just hope you know what you're doing, turning him away. He won't stick around for ever, you know."
She turned, laughing as she saw Lois staring at her, dumbstruck. "Got a reception to attend... can't hang around here talking," she said breezily, and actually patted Lois on the arm before sashaying out of the ladies' room.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It didn't make any difference.
Lois paced her living room. Back and forth. Up and down.
She couldn't rely on anyone but herself. She couldn't make her mother's mistake all over again. She couldn't trust him.
She'd said the words so often to herself that they were starting to lose all meaning.
And the meaning rang hollow.
She wanted Clark, so badly she could taste it. She wanted his arms around her, his presence soothing the ache inside her, filling up the void in her soul.
Twice she'd sat down and grabbed the phone, on the verge of calling him. Once she'd punched in half his number before resolution had deserted her and she'd slammed the phone down again.
He wasn't busy swinging from the chandeliers with Cat. Lois couldn't mistake the message the other woman had been giving her - had, she suspected, come to the washroom purely to give her, in a fit of generosity Lois would never have thought her capable of.
Clark wasn't with Cat... but that didn't mean he wasn't moving on. He might be out at a bar or nightclub or wherever he usually met girls. The thought tore at her heart.
But Cat had given her more than one piece of information. Her first question... the envy in her eyes... Cat hadn't slept with him at all.
Clark had said as much, plaintively, the morning after he'd been home with Cat - while Cat herself had been spreading scandalous rumours about what they'd been doing. "Nothing happened, Lois." And she, like everyone else at the Planet, had chosen to believe Cat's version of events.
She'd said she didn't care what he'd been up to... and in a way she'd been relieved, because it had allowed her to categorise him not only as the sort of man who would have a one-night stand with someone as shallow as Cat, but as the sort who would lie about it afterwards. A handsome, unreliable playboy, unworthy of a second's consideration. Just like her father.
She'd judged him from the outset and found him wanting. Just as he'd accused her of doing. And she'd been completely wrong.
Lois cast herself onto her loveseat, chewing at her lip.
How much else was she wrong about?
He'd told the simple truth about Cat. What if everything he'd said to her was the simple truth?
Starting with his confession, on their ill-fated date, that he was in love with her - that he'd been in love with her as long as he'd known her. She'd dismissed his words as just another ploy... she hadn't even been aware, till now, that she remembered them so clearly.
He hadn't even been trying to get her into bed at the time, she thought hollowly. She'd invited him to bed, and he'd demurred... "We don't have to, you know." Then, when she'd questioned his desire for her, the confession of love. Which she'd ignored, intent on leading him up her primrose path.
No wonder he'd been so angry when her hidden motive had become clear to him. At the thought of the pain she must have inflicted, Lois whimpered.
Memory after repressed memory unspooled in unrelenting procession. His shock when she'd told him she wanted to get pregnant. His revulsion... "Five minutes of mindless pleasure, and then I'll just walk away without a backward glance?"
"Did you think I was going to fall in love with you, and that we'd get married and settle down in the suburbs?"
"That's exactly what I hoped would happen, God help me."
"Oh, God..." She found herself groaning the words aloud. What a fool she'd been... if it was true. And she had little doubt that he'd been sincere. His cold anger, that had lasted until they were in bed together. The contract, that insane contract, that had been his way of getting back at her - that she'd accepted with barely a second thought, because it put her exactly where she wanted to be, in bed with him, with no strings attached.
She'd taken everything, his love and his lovemaking, and offered nothing in return. Nothing but herself as a willing bed partner, special offer for three nights only... and if he wanted her to love him, that must have seemed like the last word in cruelty.
And yet he'd stayed. Not because she needed him... he didn't understand why she wanted to get pregnant at this point in her life, and she hadn't had the decency to explain. But because, he'd said, he couldn't help himself... and because she'd threatened that if he turned her down, she'd go to Lex.
Her cheeks flamed.
No wonder he'd stayed. No wonder he'd hated himself, despised himself for staying. No wonder he'd been so bent on talking her out of it.
It didn't explain why he'd run away in the middle of their fight... but perhaps his feelings had just become too much for him. Perhaps he'd been tempted to hit her, and he'd walked out instead... Or something. She couldn't know. Maybe she owed it to him to let him explain himself.
Because she did know one thing. Both times he'd walked out on her, he'd come back within a matter of hours, and both times he'd tried to pick up where they'd left off. Both times it had been she who'd refused to discuss it any further.
Her father had never done that. After a fight, it had sometimes been days before he'd come home again, and never - to the best of her, admittedly imperfect, knowledge - had he so much as acknowledged there'd been anything wrong. He'd simply breezed back in and proceeded as though everything had been completely normal.
The point was... did it make a difference?
Did it make enough of a difference? Did it warrant her risking her emotional future - and that of her child - on the chance that she could, after all, trust him?
Because he might not have slept with Cat, but he was still pretty darned experienced in bed. And that meant.. he moved on. She wouldn't be able to bear it if she took a chance on him now, and then he moved on.
"Only you..."
What had he said, the last time they'd made love? She'd thought him a silver-tongued liar, but she owed it to him to reevaluate her judgement.
Of course. She'd been embarrassed, resentful, at how easily he could arouse her desire for him, and she'd tried to cover by asking him about a previous lover. And he'd said, "Shadima's virtue was closely guarded, I assure you. I'm learning this from you... only you..."
He couldn't have.
Could he?
She couldn't have been his first. He'd seemed so self-assured...
... but now that she thought about it, she wasn't so sure. She'd been too aroused, too confused by the fact that he wasn't satisfying his own needs first, to pay much attention at the time, but she seemed to remember a bit of uncertainty now and again. And then, the first time... he'd been selfish, as he called it, and he'd been pretty embarrassed about it...
How could she have forgotten that?
Because everything after that had been quite wonderful, was the answer. And now that she was letting herself remember every detail, she recalled his surprise that he was ready again so soon. But it wasn't a fluke, as he'd proved repeatedly after that - so he should have known, unless...
Unless he'd been completely inexperienced.
Curled in a foetal ball on her couch, Lois buried her face in her hands and moaned.
She'd been wrong about everything, from beginning to end. She'd been wrong about herself and her motives, and she'd been even more wrong about Clark. She'd hurt him unmercifully... she'd have been well-served if he'd turned out as brutal and selfish as she'd feared, that first night. Instead, he'd given her the gift of his love, a weekend of lovemaking such as few women - if she read Cat's envy accurately - ever experienced, and he'd even stuck around afterwards trying to patch things up while she'd trampled his hopes and his ego in the dust.
Oh, God.
She didn't deserve him.
Could she trust him?
Could even she face him, after what she'd done to him? The prospect terrified her.
It would be easier to ignore what she'd realised... to let him get over her, as he surely would, and realise that she wasn't worth it. That way she'd never have to face him and admit what she'd done to him, apologise for the way she'd treated him.
She could do that... ignore what had happened, as she'd been doing all week, and get on with her life. The prospect of the empty days and nights ahead was bleak, but surely it was better than raking over the agony again with Clark, apologising for the hurt she'd inflicted - as if apologising could ever undo what she'd done - and then having it all fall apart a few months or even years down the line?
Because it would fall apart, eventually. She didn't have what it took to be a good wife, she knew that, and Clark deserved nothing less. He'd find someone else one day, someone who deserved him. And she... she'd have his child to love and to look after.
Because surely, if there was a merciful God in heaven, she was already pregnant and she'd never have to call on Clark to spend another night with her.
She just had to carry on pretending nothing had happened, and in time it would sort itself out. Given enough time, these issues always went away.
The thought sustained her through the weekend, while she covered some press conferences and a pet show and saw practically nothing of Clark. She was aware that Perry had noticed the constraint between them and was assigning them to different stories to keep them apart; the pet show was his way of showing that he blamed her for the problem. He didn't miss much.
It sustained her through Monday, when she came to work to find that Perry had sent Clark to New York to cover the international trade treaty negotiations going on at the UN. It sustained her through the ensuing days, while she discovered that, much as it hurt to see Clark at work every day and ignore him, it hurt a hundred times worse not to see him at all.
It sustained her right up until the day she'd designated, back when she'd first drawn up her plan, for the fateful pregnancy test. Until the moment when she sat looking at the test strip, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She had to see Clark again. She had to feel his arms around her again, make love with him.
Her heart was breaking.
How ever was she going to tell him?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
.../tbc
