"Lois," Clark said, and her heart flip-flopped at the warmth seeped through his tone. "I think what you are hearing is rats."

"Rats? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Lois felt herself smile. Because Clark was only a few inches away. And because, for the first time in this strange future time, he was sounding almost like Clark. "That's what I thought," she said airily.

"You thought it was rats?" he asked with surprise.

"Well," she said, letting her smile leak into her words. "I thought it was one rat in particular."

She sensed he smiled at that, and cursed the darkness that kept her from seeing it.

He stood. "Goodnight, Lois."

The warmth in his words had been just a trickle, but it was enough to fill her heart with hope. She snuggled down between the covers. "Goodnight, Clark."

She heard him settle onto the mattress.

Outside of their haven, the scratches and scuffles continued.

But they didn't matter.

Because she was with Clark.


Part 6

Lois's first impression of the new morning was the prickle of annoyance that her bed had become narrower and harder. Her second impression soothed away her displeasure as the aroma of coffee wafted into her consciousness.

She opened one eye and saw Clark in the muted early-morning light.

He was facing away, standing in the small shaft of sunlight from the street-level window, dressed in the same jeans as yesterday and a black short-sleeved shirt. She opened both eyes and checked the length of his body for any visible signs of injury.

There was nothing.

But - and it wasn't as if she hadn't noticed this before - his shoulders were incredibly broad. His chest … well, that image of him wearing nothing but a towel would be forever etched into her imagination.

She'd worked so hard to suffocate every skerrick of physical attraction for her partner. She'd refused to give even a breath of oxygen to the acknowledgement that Clark Kent had a handsome face, a stunning body, and a gorgeous smile.

How she missed that smile.

She decided on her mission for today. Somehow, she would get Clark to smile.

Then, she would start to feel more at home in 1996.

Not that she intended staying.

There was way too much to fix in 1994.

Thoughts of her return prompted her second mission. She should make good use of her time in 1996. She needed to find out as much as she could about Luthor's activities in order to take that knowledge back to 1994. Knowing the exact details of how he had driven Superman from Metropolis would help her ensure it didn't happen.

But Clark … She ran her eyes down his body again … Clark seemed disinclined to talk.

Perhaps she should tell him the truth - that the reason she had no memory of the past two years was that she had never lived them.

Would he believe her?

He wouldn't; it would further erode his trust.

She waited for him to turn but he didn't, remaining motionless inside the small box of sunlight. Was he still in pain? Was he regretting his decision to come with her? Was he honing his plans for after they left the warehouse?

He didn't need to worry. Wells would be back, putting an end to this nightmare. But she had to be careful not to seem disinterested in their escape. If she did, she risked appearing unappreciative for all he had done for her.

And she wasn't unappreciative at all. She was overawed.

Lois adjusted her position, sliding a little further up the bed, and yawned loudly.

Clark's arms moved quickly, appearing to be buttoning his shirt. When he turned, he asked, "Want some coffee?"

Lois smiled brightly. "You got the freshly brewed stuff, Kent?"

She saw the effect of the light tone as his eyes darted from her to the cups and back again. "No," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Instant. With milk powder."

"Perfect," Lois said, sitting up and arching her back to stretch her arms high above her head.

Clark moved to the table, where the saucepan was already on the gas stove. He lit the gas and began spooning granules into the second cup. "Did you sleep OK?"

"Yes."

"No more rats bothering you?"

Lois burst into laughter - it was exactly something Clark would say. "No more rats," she said. "I'm done with rats."

He turned towards her, and finally, he allowed their eyes to meet, sending her heart scuttling into overdrive. She held her breath, waiting for his smile. "I'm glad," he said in a soft raspy voice that sent quivers through her stomach.

"Thank you," she said, so low that her words barely registered above a whisper. "Thank you for … everything."

He nodded and quickly swung back to the coffee.

Lois watched him as he made her drink, reflecting that Clark without his smile was a lot like life without chocolate.

After the water had boiled, he brought her cup to the sofa. Before taking it, Lois folded up her legs under the blanket and said, "Sit down. There's room here."

He eyed the vacant half of the couch before returning to the table to collect his cup. Lois followed his progress, silently urging him to come and join her.

When he turned, she smiled encouragement. He quickly covered the few feet between them and sat at the far end of the sofa.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Lois asked.

"Fine."

She lifted her eyebrow.

He accepted her unspoken question with a slight shrug. "Better than yesterday," he admitted.

"You were pretty sore yesterday, weren't you?"

"It was nothing."

"I'm sorry."

He stared at his cup, his face closed like a dusty book, full with secrets. "Please, Lois," he said. "Please stop saying that."

"That I'm sorry?"

"It … what happened … it's done. There's no point in re-hashing it. It can't be changed."

But it could be changed, and Lois intended to change it. "What would you say if I told you that we could go back to 1994? Back to how things used to be?"

Not even a tiny flicker of optimism diluted his mask of despair. "I'd say that dreams …" He stopped, swallowing loudly. "I wouldn't believe it is possible. Not in any real sense."

"But you believed in a man who could fly."

"Yeah," he conceded dully.

Lois leaned her head into the hard back of the sofa. "What happened with Superman?" she asked. "Did he talk to you about his decision to leave? Does he still help in other places?"

"It wasn't possible for Superman to stay," Clark said.

"Because of me?" It was a question, but Lois already knew the answer.

"Because of the threats that were being made and -"

"Threats to hurt Superman with kryptonite? Threats against me? Threats against you? Or threats against everyone in Metropolis?"

"All of those."

"Superman believed those threats?"

"He saw … he saw things that …" Clark rubbed his thumb around the rim of his cup. "He knew that Luthor would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. And he wanted Superman out of Metropolis."

And Luthor's marriage to Lois Lane had been the lever that had amplified his scope for evil. "I'm s-" Lois chopped off her apology. "Do you know where Superman is now?"

"I … It's best that no one knows."

Lois smiled a little. "You're saying that even if you did know, you wouldn't tell me?"

"If he thought you knew …" Clark's hand trembled, and the coffee sloshed half an inch up the side of his cup. "Just being with me … having spent time with me … He's going to think you know someth-"

"I wouldn't tell him," Lois declared. "Regardless of what he did. And anyway, I'm never going back."

"Lois …" Clark looked at her, piercing her heart with those deep brown eyes. "The medication he forced you to take … It affects your memory, right?"

"There's a lot of the past two years that just … isn't there."

"That's a good thing."

The pure relief is his voice scrawled grotesque images on the walls of her mind. "You said he told you I was happy."

Clark nodded. "At first, he did. But then …"

"You saw him hurt me?" Lois asked. "Or Superman told you?"

"Every time Superman … Every time he thwarted Luthor's plans … Every time he helped someone … there was a price. Always a price. And it was you who paid."

"You did, too," Lois said with awful certainty.

His nod was slight, but it said plenty. Lois stifled a groan with a slurp of the coffee. Her marriage had had such devastating consequences. For Clark. For Superman.

And for Metropolis, too.

She waited for Clark to continue, but he said nothing more. After a minute of silence, she said, "Do you have any contact with Perry? Or Jimmy?"

"Perry retired," Clark replied. "Fishing, I think. Jimmy left town. I'm not sure where he went."

"Jack?"

"Jack is in prison for bombing the Daily Planet."

"But he didn't do it," Lois stated, finally realising exactly who had been responsible for bringing down the iconic newspaper.

"No," Clark said. "He didn't."

"You couldn't prove it?"

Clark shook his head. "The prosecution had a top-shot lawyer. Jack didn't stand a chance."

"I wish … I wish I'd been there. I wish I could have helped."

In the context of 1996, it was a strange thing to say. She had chosen not to be there - chosen instead launch into life as Lex Luthor's wife.

But she did wish she had been there. She wished she had worked with Clark to right the wrongs; to expose and destroy Luthor's evil empire. She wished she had fiercely guarded the best partnership of her life.

Clark sprang to his feet and rinsed out his empty cup with water from their bottled supply. "We have eggs for breakfast," he said, his tone cool and informational. "I can't risk going out to one of the bakeries for those French pastries you like. Sorry."

"What will happen when you don't arrive for work?"

"I doubt they'll notice."

"You miss a lot of days?"

He paused from drying his cup. "Have you seen an edition of the Star recently?"

She nodded.

"Then you'll know that my contribution is minimal."

"Why do they -" Lois stopped her automatic question, fearing it would sound critical of his work.

"What do they keep me on?" Clark finished, his tone spiked with bitterness. "Because they still think there's a chance that Superman will return, and I - we - used to get all the Superman stories."

"There's no chance that he'll come back?" Lois asked sadly.

"No."

"Is he OK?" Lois asked. "Have you had any contact with him at all?"

"No."

The tone was clear. Clark didn't want to talk about Superman. As he took a bowl and egg carton from the closet, Lois was struck with sudden insight. Perhaps Clark felt abandoned by the superhero. After all, Superman had left; Clark had stayed.

Her appreciation of the enormity of the price he had paid for her mistakes increased a few more notches. Slipping from between the covers, she approached him from behind. "Clark?"

He tensed as she drew near, the tightness stringing across his shoulders and down his arms to his semi-clenched fists. "Go and use the bathroom, Lois. There's no shower. You'll have to do the best you can with just a basin. At least the water is warm."

The wall was still there between them. It hurt, but she understood. Her marriage had razed her warm and easy friendship with this wonderful man.

She didn't move for a moment, hoping he'd turn. Hoping he'd look at her again. Hoping for a moment of connection, however fleeting.

But he continued with preparations for their breakfast.

With a sad smile directed towards his back, Lois gathered up her towel and clothes and went to the bathroom.

~^~^~

As soon as he heard the bathroom door close, Clark unbuttoned his shirt and stood in the glimmering rays of sunlight.

Everything was different, but nothing had changed.

Two years of marriage to Luthor - the threats, the neglect, the imprisonment, and the cruelty - hadn't changed Lois. She was still, in every aspect, the woman who had shared the best year of his life. More than shared it - her presence had made it the best year of his life.

She said she didn't remember. Clark feared she had suppressed the memories - feared that, in the privacy of their home, Luthor had done such unspeakable things that she couldn't cope with remembering.

What did she remember of the time before her marriage? What did she remember about him? Obviously, she remembered enough to seek him out … to trust that he would help her. She had mentioned something about going back to 1994, and it had seemed as if there had been longing in her voice.

If not longing, perhaps a touch of nostalgia.

When she had run from Luthor, she had run to Clark. Even though she had never been in love with him … hadn't wanted to be with him in that way. Even though she had preferred Luthor.

Now, despite claiming to remember little, she was sure she didn't want to go back to her husband. She'd been adamant about that.

But not wanting to be with Luthor did not mean she wanted to be with him, Clark.

And that was something he needed to remember.

Needed to remind himself every time he looked at her.

Every time he felt his love squeeze from the tightly bound crevices of his heart and threaten to blow apart the barrier between them.

Every time he felt the tug of inclination to re-connect with her through a smile … or a touch … or words that evoked shared memories.

He couldn't bare his heart again. He wouldn't survive the anguish of her rejection a second time.

She had said she loved him. How those words had hacked through his soul. Lois loved him.

But not in the way he had loved her.

Not in the way he still loved her.

The way he would always love her.

After a quick glance behind him to ensure that Lois was still in the bathroom, Clark tried to lift himself from the floor. He rose a couple of inches and then lost power and dropped back to the floor.

His strength was returning, as it always did in the underground sanctuary.

But they couldn't stay here much longer.

Luthor would come. He would have teams out searching for them.

And if Luthor found them … together …

Clark swallowed roughly. He didn't even want to think about the price Lois would pay for having left Luthor and come to him.

She seemed surprisingly unconcerned.

She must know that Luthor would pursue her. She must know that he would be ruthless in his retribution.

Perhaps there was a degree of protection in the fog of mind-numbing medication.

Clark had no such protection.

He had tried to get her out. He'd tried multiple times once he'd understood that Luthor's 'love' for Lois was nothing more than a means to control Superman. Eventually, he'd had to stop. The reprisals had been too horrific. For him. But mostly for Lois.

And without his strength and speed … He'd had to live with the galling truth that he was powerless to stand against Luthor.

But now …

Now, they had a chance.

She had a chance, he reminded himself.

Because his dream … his dream was still nothing more that the pitiful yearnings of a man incapable of controlling his wayward heart.

~^~^~

When Lois stepped from the bathroom, Clark was again facing away, standing in the sunlight, and this time, she was sure that his shirt was open at the front.

She moved closer, tiptoeing on the wooden floor. "Will you do something for me, please?" she asked when she was standing just a foot behind him.

His arms moved, presumably to button his shirt, but Lois reached forward and put a restraining hand on his forearm. "I want to see your side," she said. "I saw the man kick you. I want to know how bad it is."

"Lois, there's no -"

"Please, Clark. I can't stop thinking about it."

His arms dropped to his sides.

Lois stretched up and slipped the shirt from his shoulders.

An ugly shadow billowed from his side and around his back. Lois took his arm and lifted it, revealing the full extent of the bruise that stretched across most of his ribcage. "Oh, Clark," she murmured.

He said nothing; he didn't move. His muscles remained taut through his biceps and forearms.

Was it her inspection that distressed him? Or her touch on his arm? Or merely her proximity?

Or was he embarrassed by the visible evidence of having been overpowered?

Very gently, Lois replaced his arm at his side and moved in front of him.

His upper chest had escaped damage.

Not only was it bruise-free, it was still …

… utterly magnificent.

Lois clamped down on her quickly indrawn breath and forced herself to continue to his other side. There were a few scratches on his shoulder and scattered clusters of bruises around his shoulder blade, but nothing that compared with his side.

How had he managed to hang from the balcony, taking their combined weight, when he'd been so badly injured?

"Are your legs OK?" she asked. "I know landing on the concrete hurt you a lot."

"My knee and ankle were sore. They're a lot better now."

"Really?" she said, sounding unconvinced.

"Really." His tone was suggestive of a smile. Lois quickly stepped around him, but if any smile had been there, it had faded quickly.

Her gaze rose to the wound across his temple. It had diminished considerably since yesterday. Lois longed to reach up and touch it. To touch him - and not just physically.

"The wound …" Her hand raised, but she stopped well short of his face. "… is looking better."

He nodded. "It'll heal. I'll be fine."

Until it happened again.

The words seem to hang audibly between them, but Lois pushed them away with a bright smile. It wouldn't happen again. She wouldn't allow it. "You said there are eggs for breakfast?"

Clark took his shirt from her and slipped into it, moving with greater ease than yesterday, Lois noticed.

"Yes." He began re-buttoning his shirt. "Is scrambled OK?"

"Scrambled is perfect," Lois said. "Need any help?"

The left side of his mouth twitched - she was sure of it. "You learned to cook?" he asked, looking up from his buttons.

"No," Lois admitted, grinning.

"Then perhaps you should leave the eggs to me."

"Good idea." She smiled at him. "I'll pack up my bed."

He nodded as he took the saucepan from the cupboard.

Lois watched as Clark lit the small gas stove.

I have been in love with you for a long time.

It would have been easy to believe he'd said it in a final, desperate attempt to keep her from making the stupidest mistake of her life.

But he hadn't.

His life since that day had proven the depth and resilience and legitimacy of his feelings for her.

He loved her then.

And he loved her still.

That knowledge should have scared her.

Yesterday, it had left her flustered and defensive.

But today … it flowed up from her heart and infused her with warm contentment.

And confidence, too. She was with Clark, and everything was going to be all right.

~^~^~

Clark stared as the egg mixture solidified.

When Lois had touched him …

His heart still thundered at the memory of her - so close, so concerned, so caring.

He stopped stirring, closed his eyes, and pulled in a deep, steadying breath. He had to help Lois escape from Luthor, but he must never forget that afterwards, her choice might be that he depart from her life. Although, it was more likely - and infinitely worse - that she would want them to continue as friends.

When he re-opened his eyes, the eggs were ready. He heaped them onto the plates. He'd deliberately made a large amount, conscious that once they left the basement, there might not be either time or opportunity to eat. However, there was no denying that the meals looked a little stark. "We don't have anything to go with the eggs," he said, turning to her. "But there are cookies if you're still hungry."

"Sounds wonderful," Lois said, shooting him a smile that burrowed deep into his heart.

He handed her the plate and a mismatched knife and fork. "It's probably not what you're used to."

"No," she agreed. "I usually eat alone in my lavish prison, with my mind barely cognizant because I've been force-fed medication."

"Lois." He sighed her name, wishing - for about the millionth time - that his superpowers had included the ability to undo the past.

"I am never going back to him," Lois said with steely determination.

Perhaps she remembered more than she was saying. Perhaps she was hoping to spare him the details. Perhaps she didn't know that Luthor had delighted in taunting Clark with regular updates of his mistreatment of Lois.

Clark couldn't stop himself from glancing into her face. As their gazes collided, his heart leaped at the smouldering recognition in the beautiful brown wells.

She remembered. She remembered him. She remembered them … together.

It was still there - this feeling between them … this connection that he had hoped might one day become love.

But it was friendship, he reminded himself. Nothing more. And the heartbreaking reality of that truth made it seem easier to turn the conversation back to Luthor. "He took so much," Clark said. "Your memory, your mind, the past two years."

Lois laid the knife on her plate and placed her hand lightly over his. "He couldn't take away me," she said. "I'm still here. I'm still Lois."

Yes. She was still Lois. And he was still Clark. And he still loved her with a love that completely overpowered everything else in his pitiful existence.

Clark diverted his eyes, wanting to veil any secrets that might be leaking from his heart into his face.

"There's a way out of this," she said. "And we will find it."

But before they could go forward, Clark needed to go back. He slid his tingling hand out from under hers. "What do you remember?" he asked. "About before?"

"Before I married Luthor?"

Those words still had the power to hurt him. Clark cleared his throat, staring past Lois. "Yes."

"I haven't forgotten anything important," Lois said.

What did she consider 'important'?

"The past two years are a blur," Lois said. "But everything before that …" A pretty dusting of pink rose into her cheeks. "Everything before that is clear. I could never forget our time together."

"I …" Clark gestured around the small room. "All this must seem creepy … like I'm some sort of deranged stalker … unless you remember …" He wanted to finish with 'us'. But there was no 'us'. There had never been an 'us' … except in the ethereal vacuum of his hopes and dreams.

Lois shuffled a few inches closer. "I haven't forgotten working with you," she said. "They are some of my best memories."

His heart thumped; his mouth went dry. "Mine, too," he said, his voice thin and crackly.

"They were the best of times," Lois whispered.

They had been. But the happy ending … the ending he'd dreamed about … had been denied them. He jumped from the couch, taking his barely touched plate of food. He put it on the table and rummaged in the closet far longer than was necessary in search of the cookie tin.

He heard the approach of her footsteps. He sensed her closeness. When her fingers rested on his elbow, it took all of his control not to flinch.

He stopped breathing as all his nerve endings concentrated on their small point of connection.

"I haven't forgotten the park," she murmured. "I will never forget what you said."

He jerked his elbow away and shoved both hands into his pockets, curling his shoulders inward like a barrier.

"You remember that day, too, don't you?" Lois said gently.

"I wish …" His voice was low, and his words sounded as if they had been dragged through a mangle. "I wish I could forget."

"Oh, Clark." He sensed her coming closer and then her temple pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

Clark didn't move; he couldn't move.

He closed his eyes and focused on the steady rhythm of her breathing as her closeness trickled into the pockets of despair strewn through his body.

When he could take the exquisite torture no longer, he stepped forward, tearing them apart. "We should plan," he said, crisp and abrupt and without looking at her.

"How long do you think we've got?" she said, her voice steady. "Until he finds us?"

"I think we should leave this afternoon."

"That soon? We can't stay until tomorrow?"

Clark slowly turned towards her, as beguiling temptation seeped through his carefully constructed plans. More time with Lois. More stolen moments with the woman he thought had gone forever. More memories added to the store. Except … "Lois, if he finds us here …"

"Where will we go?"

"I think our best shot is to go through the tunnels almost to the Port and then ride the ferry across the bay. We should try to time it so we're in the crowds of people returning home from working in the city."

"And from there?"

"A cab to the airport."

"You don't think Luthor will have all the cab drivers sewed up?" Lois asked.

Clark shrugged. "It's possible, of course. But I think it's a safer option than the train."

Her sudden smile lit the room. "We have nearly six hours," she said brightly. "What did you bring?"

"Bring?"

"What did you bring for us to do? Games? Cards? A movie?"

Her words, her tone, her smile, just her … their combined forces crashed through his dam of distance, and Clark surrendered. He couldn't be with Lois and not be with her.

He felt an answering smile spring to his mouth. He pulled it and dropped his eyebrows to a frown. "I brought Scrabble," he said, reaching to the top shelf of the closet to take down the box. As he turned, his eyes found hers, satiny and pliable as they enclosed him in their embrace. He smiled as he said, "And we are going to agree, right from the start, that there is no such word as 'chumpy'."