Table of Contents
From Part 1:Why? Why Lois?
He could fly. He could see far, far further than the human eye. He could hear over distances which would amaze scientists. He could outrun any vehicle ever invented. Yet in this situation he was helpless. Impotent. Left weeping, mourning, because he hadn’t been able to save her.
He was useless. A waste of matter, human or alien.
And, again, he was wallowing in his own emotions, ignoring what needed to be done. He had to get Lois out of the water, even though it was too late now to help her.
“Rest in peace, Lois - I wish I’d had the privilege of knowing you sooner,” he murmured as he flew to her, to pull her drowned body out of the lake.
**********
Now read on...She was cold. So very cold.
Her skin was wrinkled and tinged with blue, and she looked old, far older than the woman he’d walked and talked with only the previous afternoon. As he looked at her, taking in the corpse of the woman who had been alive only a few short hours ago, the hard lump which had been welling in his throat ever since he’d first seen the newspaper article refused to be contained any longer. A sob choked its way out of him, and his vision grew blurry.
He tugged Lois up, off the branch and out of the water, into his arms, cradling her sodden, freezing body, clad only in a thin cotton sleepshirt, against his chest, uncaring that he was getting soaked himself in the process. Then he hesitated; thus far he hadn’t thought beyond finding her. Deciding what to do now was another matter.
He could just fly her to the beach and lay her down in the sand by the water’s edge. That way it would look as if she’d been washed ashore. Though the problem with that was in ensuring that he wasn’t seen from the house. There was an easy solution to that, of course; he could take her to one of the other beaches - there were plenty along this stretch of coastline, and many of them were deserted or inaccessible by road. He could do something to ensure that the helicopter crew spotted her.
That was probably the best. Although... now that he had her in his arms, he was reluctant to let go of her too soon.
He cast a quick glance around. The helicopter was now heading in the opposite direction. He wasn’t in any imminent danger of being seen. All the same, he flew towards one of the small islands which lay scattered around the bay. Under cover of the trees, he paused in the air.
Looking down at Lois’s still form, he caught his breath. Even in the still coldness of death, even with wrinkled skin from her long immersion and her hair in soaked rat’s tails, she was beautiful.
Yesterday, he had wanted so badly to kiss her. He’d ached to complete that act. It had almost killed him to pull away. Now, he thought, there was no reason to pull away.
Shifting his grip on Lois so as to bring her closer to his face, he bent his head and placed his lips over hers. Surely no-one could begrudge him a kiss now?
His mouth moved gently over her cold lips... and he jerked away in shock.
His lips had encountered a tiny, infinitesimal breath of air.
Could it be... was it even possible...?
But her chest wasn’t moving. His gaze moved to the pulse-point at her throat; no movement there either. And yet... Again, he lowered his head to hers, and again he felt a very faint sensation of air moving. So faint that he felt sure that no-one without his powerful sense of perception would notice it.
He darted downwards faster than the human eye could see, heading for a clearing he could see through the trees. Laying Lois on the ground, he immediately dropped to his knees beside her and held the back of his hand over her mouth.
No, he hadn’t imagined it. Again, a tiny, barely noticeable puff of air escaped.
He lowered his mouth to hers again, this time not to kiss, but to breathe life into her. The irony of what he was doing struck him forcibly: how badly had he wanted to kiss her yesterday? How bitterly had he wished, when he’d seen the newspaper story, that he’d completed that kiss? And now her lips were beneath his, but only so that he could help her to breathe. So that he could breathe for her.
Her lips were soft, but cold, so cold, and blue-tinged. Remembering how chilled through her body was from its immersion in the lake, he added to the combination of breaths and chest compressions, sweeping her body over and over with gentle bursts of heat vision.
Seconds seemed to turn into hours. Minutes into... longer than Clark thought a human being could survive without breathing unsupported. The tiny spark of hope which had begun to ignite inside him started to fade away again, his heart becoming as cold as Lois’s body.
And then she coughed.
It was the faintest of coughs, yet to him it was the most beautiful of sounds.
Lois was alive.
Frighteningly cold, half-drowned, but alive.
Before he could speak to her, she turned her head to the side and coughed again, painfully, and began to spit out lake-water. Clark hurried to support her shoulders and pat her back gently.
“How are you feeling? What can I do?”
But she was shaking and coughing too much to answer. He could only hold her and try to warm her with his body and more discreet applications of heat vision.
After what seemed like hours, the shaking eased and the hacking coughs slowed.
“Feel... as if I’ve swallowed... gallons of dirty water,” she gasped hoarsely in between coughs.
“I guess almost drowning in one of the Great Lakes will do that for you,” he commented wryly.
But then she resumed coughing uncontrollably, hacking and choking as she tried to spit up more water. Feeling helpless, Clark could only continue to hold her and try to keep her warm. But he knew that he needed to get her to medical help as soon as possible. Quite apart from anything toxic or virus-laden which she might have swallowed, she could well be suffering from hypothermia. Despite his efforts to warm her, she was still shivering.
And there were other symptoms he should probably be looking out for too, he thought; he had some vague awareness that she needed to be checked over for any neurological problems or damage to her central nervous system. Plus, hadn’t she taken sleeping pills? She needed to be checked over fully by a doctor, as soon as possible.
Pulling down his glasses with one hand, he peeked at her lungs. His untrained eye couldn’t tell very much, but he thought that there wasn’t a lot of fluid still there. Not that he’d ever had any real first-aid training... but still, that basic medical textbook he’d read after the first time he’d tried to help a badly-injured victim of a road traffic accident had to have taught him something, he reasoned.
Okay. Lungs not looking too bad, as far as he could tell. And she was definitely awake and coughing, which had to be good. And she’d spoken, albeit punctuated by gasping for breath between coughs. But still, he wasn’t a doctor, and she needed medical help.
“Lois, I need to get you to the nearest hospital,” he told her, raising his voice so that she could hear him over her coughing. “I guess Thunder Bay would be better than Schrieber or Terrace Bay, right?”
“No!” she exclaimed, but any further explanation was lost in yet another coughing fit.
“Lois, you almost drowned!” Clark reminded her. “You need to see a doctor.”
She shook her head forcefully, at the same time pushing him weakly away from her. “No, I need to get - ” She halted, clutching her chest and coughing again. “ - away from here. And if you won’t - help me, I’ll - ” More coughing. “ - go on my own.”
Not understanding, Clark frowned. “I could take you back to the beach house instead - your husband’s there, looking for you.”
“I’ll just... bet he is,” Lois muttered, amid yet more coughs and a shiver.
“Lois, you can’t stay here! You need to get warm, and you need to be checked over by a doctor.”
There was one good sign, he told himself. She was fully conscious and aware of who she was. She knew that she was married, although he wasn’t sure whether her sotto voce comment about her husband might be a sign of delirium.
She was struggling to get to her feet, staggering a bit as she did so, and he caught hold of her again briefly to steady her. “Take it easy,” he warned. “You’re too weak for that yet.”
“Then... help me,” she retorted, in what would have been a snapped tone had she not had to catch her breath in the middle. But the expression in her eyes was scared, not reckless as he’d expected. Something was very wrong here, and he wasn’t just talking about the fact that the woman he loved had almost drowned.
She was frightened - of something or someone; he didn’t know what or who. But there was no way on earth that he wasn’t going to help her - even if his method of helping wasn’t what she wanted.
Everything in him longed to take her in his arms and hold her. He would hug her and promise her that he wouldn’t ever let anything hurt her. Assure her that she was safe with him. Remind her that he loved her and vow to take care of her forever.
But he couldn’t do that. She was married, he reminded himself with brutal sternness. Another man waited in a beach house not far from here, frantic with worry about his missing wife.
Except that Lex Luthor hadn’t looked worried...
Still. Lois was married. He had no right to hold her; no right to offer her protection. He’d saved her life, true; but now he had an obligation to take her to a doctor or return her to her husband. It was he who had the right to take away that scared look in her eyes and to tell her that she was safe with him.
Lois was swaying awkwardly as she tried to stand, and he got to his feet and offered his hand to support her; she swayed and almost collapsed against him. The thin T-shirt she was wearing, obviously a garment worn for sleeping in, was still wet, though not as sodden as it had been when he’d pulled her out of the lake. He risked another blast of heat vision to dry it a little more, then tried to decide what to do. Should he just ignore her wishes and fly her to the nearest hospital anyway? But what about the fact that he’d be giving away his secret?
Okay. First principles, he reminded himself. ABC all okay; airway, breathing and circulation all accounted for. But how alert was she? A vague memory from medical shows on TV returned to him, and he caught her gaze.
“Do you know who you are?” he asked carefully.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, you called me by my name a few minutes ago, so you know who I am, don’t you?” No coughing this time; that was a good sign, wasn’t it? Although her voice was still croaky.
“I do. But do you?”
She sighed. “If you insist. I’m Lois Lane...” She hesitated. “Lane Luthor. Jack Garner is the President. And, yes, I can count... 100, 93, 86, 79, 72 - ”
“Okay, okay. So you watched General Hospital reruns too.” Clark grinned. “Do you remember who I am?”
“Of course!” she exclaimed, then began to cough again. Some time later, she got her breath back and continued. “What I don’t understand is what you’re doing here, Clark. You left, didn’t you?”
Less worried about her health now, Clark refrained from doing as his instincts had been screaming at him to do. Instead of picking her up and flying her to the nearest hospital, he supported her until she found her footing. “Yeah, I left. But...” He hesitated, remembering that he needed to protect his secret. “...I didn’t go far. Then I saw the newspaper report about you.”
“It’s in the paper?” She looked startled, then shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”
None of this was making sense to Clark. But he saw Lois shiver again, and that took priority over his questions. “You’re cold,” he told her bluntly, wishing that he had something to give her to wear; unfortunately, he was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt himself, and his shirt was damp. “And you’re still wet, even if the sun - ” <yeah, right!> “ - has done a pretty good job of trying to dry you. Even if you won’t go to the hospital, will you at least let me take you somewhere you can get warm and dry?”
She looked wary. “Where?”
“Wherever you want,” he promised. “You don’t want to go back to the beach house?”
The frantic expression was back in her eyes as she shook her head. “No. Clark, I can’t go back there!”
Her husband, he realised in shock. She was frightened of her husband!
But why?
Then he remembered the coldly angry man he’d watched back at the house; the man who hadn’t appeared grief-stricken over his wife’s supposed death, but instead furious at delays which were preventing him from leaving Canada and getting back to Metropolis.
Had Lois always been scared of this angry man? Had he treated her badly? That would certainly explain why she’d seemed unhappy in her marriage, why he’d never gained the impression that she loved the man she’d married - or that she felt loved by him.
Was Lex Luthor an abusive husband? Yet there’d been no sign of bruises - then or now. A quick scan of areas covered by Lois’s nightshirt - shoulders, collarbone, hips, thighs - revealed nothing except wrinkled skin which was less blue than it had been.
Or perhaps, Clark thought, appalled, Luthor had somehow found out that Lois had been spending her afternoons with a strange man - a man who’d almost kissed her. Were the staff at the house loyal to their master or their mistress? Had Luthor threatened to punish his wife for her behaviour?
Anger coursed through him. He had been the one at fault, not Lois. He was the one who’d come back, day after day, knowing that his feelings for Lois weren’t appropriate, knowing that he wasn’t coming back just to spend time with a pleasant companion. He’d come back each time because he’d ached for her. Had needed to be in her company. Had spent every second of their time together memorising everything about her, so that he could relive the encounter each night in his dreams... only in his dreams he’d gone further.
In his dreams, as he’d leaned over to see what was on her laptop screen, he’d caressed her shoulders and run his fingers through her silky hair. In his dreams, when they’d walked side by side at the water’s edge he’d held her hand in his. In his dreams, when she’d stumbled and he’d caught her he’d pulled her into his arms, held her soft, fragrant body against his chest and kissed her. In his dreams, he’d kissed her again the following day and she’d invited him back to the beach house, into her bedroom, where the fact of her husband’s existence had somehow melted away into unreality and they’d spent all evening making beautiful, passionate love.
In his dreams, she was his.
No, he’d been the one at fault. Not Lois, who had just been very lonely and so much in need of company that she’d invited a man she barely knew to come back a couple of times.
“I have to get away from here, Clark!” Lois’s abrupt statement interrupted his self-flagellation. “And if you won’t help me, then get out of my way so that I can leave.”
She pushed at him again, the force behind her gesture stronger than it had been a few minutes ago. She was definitely recovering from her experience. Her tone was also more determined than it had been - but still the note of fear remained.
“I’ll help you, Lois,” he assured her. “Once you tell me what you’re afraid of.”
Once again he longed to tug her into his arms and soothe away her fear with his caresses. But once again he reminded himself that she was married. Even though the mere mention of her husband appeared to scare her at the moment, she still wore his ring. She’d still stood with him in front of an altar and recited marriage vows. For all Clark knew, whatever it was that had frightened her could be a temporary misunderstanding, to be resolved as soon as she and Lex Luthor had a chance to talk.
But he somehow doubted that; the degree of terror in her expression told him that. So, while he still ached to embrace her, he waited for her to answer his question.
She was backing away from him, shaking her head. “That’s none of your business. Look, thank you for saving me from drowning, but I don’t need you any more. See you around.” And she turned, walking away from him into the trees.
He followed her, not bothering to stop her, knowing what she would find in a matter of minutes - if she didn’t collapse from exhaustion first. Her stride was long, her steps determined, if a little wavering at times.
And then she stopped dead. “Okay,” she said, turning back to face him, seeming not at all surprised that he was close behind her. “Joke over, Clark. Which way is land?”
Clark looked past her to the beach, and the water lapping at the golden sand. The sky had lightened; apparently the storm had changed its mind about making its presence felt today after all and had changed course. From where he stood, he was aware of what Lois could see: the curve of the island’s shore, making it clear that she was almost surrounded by water.
“The mainland’s over there,” he told her, pointing across the lake to the cliffs almost a mile away.
“Not behind us?” She looked very confused.
“No - we’re on an island.”
She regrouped quickly. “Okay, then. Where’s your boat?”
The fear had vanished from her expression, and it was almost as if the sun’s reappearance in the sky had brought with it a return of the feeling of lighthearted fun they’d enjoyed each day on the beach. Clark’s concern for her vanished to the back of his mind as he grinned, considering his next response to her.
He was enjoying the game too much to want to stop and think, despite every instinct screaming at him once more to guard his secrets. It was clear that Lois was going to be fine, even if she did catch a chill from her immersion - and he would make sure that it didn’t turn into pneumonia.
So he just smiled enigmatically at her. “No boat.”
She stared in disbelief. “You
swam here? Dragging me?”
“No.” He paused, savouring the moment. “I flew.”
**********
...tbc
