Today, I'm singing the song of The Wonderful BR Team (Wendy, Pam and Lynn) who responded to my panicky SOS with an alacrity and dedication to duty worthy of Superman. 
I think a rousing, celebratory rendition of the Hallelujah chorus is called for this time. 
Um...not that I've actually got any more buffer as a result, but at least there's now light at the end of the tunnel.Lois froze. Francine was playing dirty all of a sudden, moving their cosy chat into a distinctly un-cosy realm.
A chill ran through her. This was the dark side of Lois Lane. This was the woman who, in her bleakest, darkest hours in Brazzaville, had concluded that whatever happened to her was her own fault. That she deserved whatever they did to her. That she was worthless.
“Lois?”
She swallowed hard and shrugged.
“You’re not sure?” suggested Francine. “The jury’s still out on that one?”
She shrugged again. Shame prevented her from answering. Shame, because she knew her logic was stupid and flawed. Shame, because it was shameful to believe you were worthless. Shame, because she’d been such a pitiful, pathetic creature in that house.
And confusion, too. Memories were beginning to crowd in on her, like they always did the moment she allowed herself to think about Brazzaville. Swirling, half-remembered incidents, snatches of conversation, and barked commands from her captors.
She closed her eyes and put her hands to her temples.
“Do you want me to-“ began Clark.
“Sit tight, Clark,” instructed Francine firmly. “Lois is doing just fine on her own. She just needs a little time.”
Lois felt Francine touch her knee lightly. “Remember to focus, Lois,” she murmured. “You can do this.”
She nodded. Focus. Focus, focus, focus. What was the darned question again? Oh, yes, was she still to blame for Brazzaville? No, that wasn’t the question. Focus. Could she forgive herself for Brazzaville? That was the question.
She opened her eyes and raised her gaze to a kindly-looking Francine. “No, I can’t. How can I forgive myself when this is the result? If I hadn’t been so stupid then, I wouldn’t be like this now.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Lois,” said Francine. “You just said it yourself a moment ago.”
She saw Clark move restlessly in his chair. “You mustn’t blame yourself for what they did-“
“Clark,” interjected Francine sharply, keeping her gaze on Lois, “I’ll ask if I need your input. Lois, what about it? Everyone makes mistakes, including you.”
His fists were clenched and his mouth was a thin, taut line. Angry that Francine had shut him up, or angry at her own answers?
She dragged her attention back to Francine. “But their mistakes are little things,” she objected, “like forgetting to put the trash out or leaving the gas on. Not huge mistakes that land them in a house with rapists and murderers and child molesters-“
She bit off the rest of her sentence, knowing that if she let herself continue, all the filth and degradation would come spewing out again. She’d done that, didn’t need to repeat it over and over. Focus. She was breathing heavily. Focus and bring the breathing under control.
“Seems to me that leaving the gas on could have catastrophic consequences,” observed Francine mildly. “And when you were talking about past misdemeanours, I don’t think you were just referring to small things, were you?”
No, she’d been talking about Clark’s promiscuity. For him, and for her, that was a big thing. She shook her head. “But it’s easier to forgive other people than it is to forgive myself.”
“Why? Are you above them, that you have to live by these higher standards?”
“No.” She wasn’t better than Clark. The idea was laughable.
“Okay, so what’s the reason? Why can’t you forgive yourself as easily as you forgive everyone else?” asked Francine.
“I guess...because I’ve always held myself to high standards,” she said. “That’s how I got to the top of the class at school, or how I got to be the youngest woman reporter on the city desk at the Planet. Because I pushed myself - you have to if you want to succeed.”
That was her father speaking, she knew. He’d never allowed her to rest, had never let her be content with merely a good result. It had always needed to be the best result. Top of the class, top of the school, first at sports – the list had been endless.
“Don’t you also have to put your mistakes behind you if you want to succeed?” suggested Francine. “The person who sits and dwells on everything they ever did wrong very rarely gets to the top, do they?”
“So you want me to just put this all behind me and get on with life?” said Lois bitterly. “As easy as that?”
Her father had included that lesson, too, but somehow it had never sunk in as well as the lessons on driving yourself to the limit. That was what had stayed with her into adulthood; had driven her to push harder and harder to reach the top of her profession.
It was probably what had driven her to the Congo, she realised with a sickening lurch of her stomach.
“No, of course not,” replied Francine. “But a great first step would be to let yourself off the hook a bit. Stop blaming yourself for what happened and redirect all that negativity at the real wrong-doers here – your captors.”
Lois snorted. “I know they did wrong, believe me.”
“Good, so hold on to that and do what the successful people do – accept that you made a mistake and deal with the consequences. Okay?”
“I’m not good at accepting failure,” she muttered.
“Just give it some thought, Lois,” said Francine. “I’m not going to bang on about it any more now.” She smiled and looked down at Lois’s piece of paper again. “So let’s see what’s number three on your list...”
But she wanted Francine to bang on about it some more. Remembering all that stuff about her father, realising his legacy had played a part in making her force Perry into letting her go to the Congo – she needed to talk about all that. Especially as her father had driven himself into an early grave – had she inherited the same fatalistic streak?
Absently, she answered Francine’s questions, while wondering how to deal with this new self knowledge. If Francine wasn’t going to probe as deeply as Lois would have liked, then who would? Would George be willing to see her again? He was a high achiever like herself; she’d sensed that affinity with him almost from the day she’d first met him. Perhaps he’d understand her better than Francine, who was a lovely lady and surprisingly worldly-wise, but lacked the edge she and George shared.
She’d ask George’s secretary if he had any free time soon.
*************
Meanwhile, had Clark received her not-so-subtle message about forgiveness before Francine had twisted it into something bleaker? Lois didn’t have an opportunity to find out until he arrived a couple of days later to escort her to the Planet.
From the outset, the day felt like a replay of their outing to the park. She sat in the clinic foyer, turned out as smartly as she could manage within the limitations of her meagre wardrobe, waiting for Clark to arrive.
Doris, the receptionist, had smiled encouragingly at her when she’d arrived and was now deeply engrossed in her magazine.
She gnawed at a fingernail. A lot was riding on today. For one, this was her chance to make Clark her friend again. She didn’t expect any more than that – she understood that she didn’t fit his idea of suitable girlfriend material – but she didn’t want him to simply drift out of her life completely. As she’d told Francine, she needed a good friend.
And for two, this was her chance to test herself back on her old stomping ground. Since arriving back in Metropolis, she’d been completely isolated from her old life, so this was her first time re-connecting with the places and people she’d been familiar with before she’d left for the Congo. Not that there’d be anyone at the Planet whom she’d know – she’d already checked the bylines on the city pages and hadn’t recognised any of them.
So she was nervous. Very nervous.
The swivel doors turned and deposited Clark into the foyer. Quickly, she stood up and walked towards him, nerves making her stomach churn and her mouth dry. If he was as cool towards her as he’d been lately, she wasn’t sure she’d make it through the day.
But as soon as he saw her, his face lit up in a warm smile. Relief flooded through her. Everything was going to be okay.
***************
“...and this is the new conference room.”
Lois glanced into the long room, furnished with a good quality conference table and sturdy chairs. The far wall boasted a pull-down screen and some pretty expensive-looking multi-media equipment.
“Nice,” she said admiringly.
Clark grinned. “Aren’t you going to go in?”
“Oh, I didn’t realise...”
She stepped into the room. There was a man sitting behind the door, a very familiar-looking man who was rising out of his chair and coming towards her wearing a broad grin and holding his arms out wide in welcome.
Her heart flipped. “Perry...”
“Aww, Lois, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you,” he declared warmly as he enveloped her in a huge bear-hug.
She flung her arms around him and hugged him tight, happy tears already streaming down her cheeks. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed him. He’d been like a father to her in the old days, bolstering her up whenever she needed it or taking her down a peg or two when she got too stroppy. She’d received a lot more advice on life from Perry than she ever had from her real father.
“I hear you’re an important person these days,” she said, referring to his move from editorship of the Planet to mayor of the city.
“I’m more of a figurehead than a real policy-maker,” he replied gruffly. “You have no idea how frustrating politics is, Lois. Running a newspaper was a breeze compared to the hoops I have to jump through over at city hall.”
“Hoops, huh?” she said, running her eyes up and down his ample frame. “You must be in better shape than you look.”
“Hey, hey!” he exclaimed. “I get enough of that from Alice, without you chipping in as well.”
Lois smiled, remembering the long-suffering Alice fondly. She was a smart lady, in more ways than one, with an effortless elegance which didn’t stop her letting loose the occasional full-throated belly-laugh or using pretty colourful language to match Perry’s own. Lois had enjoyed the occasional dinners she’d attended at the Whites’.
They’d been good times, back when she’d worked for Perry and the Brazzaville thing had yet to happen.
“Alice got you on that diet yet, Perry?” asked Clark.
Perry harrumphed. “Let’s say we’re still in negotiations.”
Clark laughed and started telling Perry a story about Superman negotiating with his tailors – something about a reduction in their rate for making spandex suits.
Lois watched Clark as he told the story. Animated and enthusiastic, he told the tale with a wry wit she’d rarely seen him use, especially over the past few days. At a guess, she’d say that she was seeing the real Clark Kent as he entertained his old editor. Perhaps he, too, felt a bond with Perry which went beyond the formality of their former working relationship.
He’d been a model host today, too; pleasant and welcoming and eager to show her around. Really, she couldn’t fault him.
Yet something was still missing. For all his smiles and friendly chat, the easy informality she’d grown accustomed to for the past couple of months had disappeared. He was being too polite.
Clark wrapped up his story and for a few minutes, she and Perry exchanged reminisces about the good old days. Then Perry glanced at his watch and gave her a look of regret.
“Sorry, honey, but I have to leave. Got to open the new hall at a high school over on the South Side,” he said. “Look, why don’t you come over for dinner sometime soon? Then we can have a real talk about the old times.”
“Sure,” she replied, nodding. “I’d like that.” Okay, so that would be her next day trip away from the clinic, she mused. Francine would approve.
“Great! I’ll get Alice to suggest some dates.” Perry said. “Clark, good to see you, son.”
“I’ll walk you out,” said Clark, and left to escort Perry to the elevators.
Lois sighed and gazed around the room idly. Meeting Perry had really lifted her spirits. He didn’t come with baggage like Clark did, and he was a reminder that she had more friends on the outside than she’d imagined. What was more, he’d seemed genuinely pleased to see her. She smiled. He was good for her self-confidence.
Clark, though, was a different matter. He hadn’t allowed her any time to talk properly to him. They’d walked around the building, sat at his desk and admired the new computer system, met the new editor and a few of the other staff, and taken a look at the issue currently in preparation. Conversation had been confined to his explanations and her exclamations of fascinated approval.
“So what would you like to do next?”
He was at the door, apparently eager to move on to something new. She decided enough was enough. “Can we just sit here for a while?” she asked. “All this...” she gestured around her. “It’s a bit overwhelming. I need to take a few minutes to catch up.”
“Oh. Sure,” he said. Was it her imagination, or did he look just a little uncomfortable with her suggestion? “How about I get us some coffee?”
Anything to avoid sitting with her, no doubt. “Okay.” She’d make darned sure she took a long time to drink that coffee, though.
A few moments passed, and then he was back with two steaming mugs. “Here,” he said, handing her one.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a small sip. He was still on his feet, one hand thrust deep into his pocket and the other holding his mug. “Aren’t you going to sit?” she asked.
“Oh, okay.” He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, resting his arms on the table and giving her a tight smile.
“Thank you for arranging Perry’s visit,” she said. “That was a really nice surprise.”
He shrugged. “Perry’s been itching to see you for ages. This seemed like the ideal opportunity.” He took a sip of coffee, and for a moment, she wondered idly why he did that – why did he pretend that hot liquids scalded his lips and mouth, when everyone knew they didn’t? A week ago, she would have just asked him, but now, the question seemed like an intrusion into the personal life of a stranger.
“Oh,” she said. Well, it was nice to know Perry had been wanting to see her. Her self-confidence went up another notch.
But not high enough to confront Clark about what was really bothering her. She picked another subject at random. “So,” she said, “have you managed to find out what happened to the kryptonite the art thieves had?”
He shook his head. “No. I asked the police but they didn’t seem to know anything about it. I guess I could talk to the thieves who are in custody – see if they know anything,” he said. “I doubt they’ll tell me much, though.”
“So you just wait until it turns up again?” she asked. “Doesn’t it worry you that it’s out there somewhere?”
“Yes, but I don’t see what else I can do,” he said. “It could be anywhere.”
“I guess so.”
Okay, end of conversational gambit number two. What now? She took another sip of coffee. Well, maybe the direct approach was best. “Clark,” she began slowly, “there’s something I want to say to you, but...I’m not sure how to say it.”
Okay, so that was semi-direct, but at least it was a start.
“Oh?” he said. “Sounds serious,” he added, flashing her another tight smile.
“Well, it is, I guess,” she replied. She sipped coffee again, reflecting that her plan to make it last a long time was unravelling pretty fast. “I don’t think I thanked you for looking after me and making sure I got home the other day,” she said. “Um...that’s not the thing I want to say, but I do want to thank you for that.”
His eyes dropped to the table. “It was the least I could do,” he muttered.
He still blamed himself for what had happened? “Clark, it wasn’t your fault,” she exclaimed.
“No? You mean you’d have freaked out even if I hadn’t told you...what I told you?” he said, flicking his gaze up to her and back down to the table. “Seems to me you were fine until I ruined everything.”
“I was tired,” she pointed out. “I’d had to cope with a heck of a lot already that day. Probably anything would have set me off by that point.”
“Maybe,” he replied. “But we’ll never know, will we?”
“Exactly, so you shouldn’t keep beating yourself up about it,” she retorted.
His mouth twisted. “You sound like George.”
She flushed. He didn’t know that she’d seen George, and this really didn’t seem like a good time to tell him.
“George speaks a lot of sense,” she said carefully.
“How would you know?” He eyes bored into her until guilt forced her to bow her head. Gazing fixedly at the table, she felt her face flush under his scrutiny. “You’ve spoken to him, haven’t you?” he said. “What did he tell you? That I have a tendency to blame myself for everything?”
She bit her lip, recalling her conversation with George where he’d pretty much said precisely that.
“Oh, Jeez, Lois!” exclaimed Clark, springing out of his chair and pacing down the room. “What else did he tell you? I thought I could trust George.”
“He didn’t tell me anything, Clark!” she said, watching him stalk restlessly across and back the far end of the room, both hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I went to him to talk through my freak-out at your apartment, not to ask him about you! In fact, he refused to tell me anything else about you – said it would breach patient confidentiality.”
“Oh, so you did ask him about me,” said Clark, pausing in his stalking to shoot her an accusing glare.
“Only because you told me to!” she exclaimed. “Besides, you’ve been so distant these past few days, I was desperate to talk to anyone who really knows you.”
He snorted and began pacing again.
“I want my friend back, Clark,” she said desperately. She felt like she was losing him, like he was slipping away from her right in front of her eyes. “I want the guy who used to laugh and joke with me – play stupid games and make fun of my spelling.”
He stopped again. “He doesn’t exist, Lois. I made him up, just like I made up Superman. This is the real me.” He threw his arms wide, as if exhibiting himself for her benefit. “Not such an attractive prospect, am I?”
“But you are!” she said. “I don’t care how many women you slept with, or how many times you took red kryptonite to escape from whatever it was that was tearing you apart. All I care about is what you are now. Don’t you get that? Didn’t you listen to anything I said to Francine?”
“Huh?” he said, his face screwing up into a frown. “What are you talking about?”
Oh, boy, he was more obtuse than she’d ever imagined a person could be! “I told her I didn’t judge people on their past mistakes,” she said. “That I prefer to make up my own mind based on what I see before me today. Didn’t you realise that was all for your benefit?”
If he’d been hit by a speeding train, the effect couldn’t have been more dramatic. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head before his answer popped out, short and to the point. “No.”
“Well, it was,” she said. “I wanted you to realise that I still respect you. That I still like you...care about you.”
“Oh.”
“And that I understand how hurtful that whole episode must have been for you,” she added. “Those women used you, Clark. You said it yourself, but I wasn’t listening properly at the time. All they wanted, you said, was to find out what Superman was like in bed,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I can’t imagine anything much more degrading or humiliating.”
He turned away from her. “I got over it,” he muttered.
“Did you, Clark?” she said softly. “Seems to me you’re still hurting.”
He shrugged. “I’m fine.” His shoulder muscles flexed and bunched under the thin cotton of his shirt. “Look, can we change the subject?” he said over his shoulder. “I already spend too much time talking to George about this stuff.”
So he wasn’t fine at all. In fact, she felt like she’d only just glimpsed a fraction of the levels of hurt which Clark lived with, day to day.
“Sure,” she said, resigned to the fact that he was clearly unwilling to unburden himself on her. Yeah, well, they were almost strangers to each other these days, weren’t they? “But do you believe me? Or am I going to lose you forever?”
He swivelled sharply, revealing wide, panicky eyes. “No,” he murmured. “No, you won’t lose me. Ever.” He bowed his head and shook it slowly from side to side. “God, Lois,” he said, “I’m so stupid. I keep pushing you away, when all I want is to...“
He fell silent, shaking his head again.
Wanted to what? Those were such tantalising words, especially when she let herself remember his kisses on her shoulder, or his husky voice as he’d murmured her name. Yes, she’d told herself that the kisses didn’t mean anything, and that her attraction to him didn’t mean anything either, but still. Hope sprang. She couldn’t suppress it.
“What, Clark?” she asked, rising from her seat and walking towards him. “What do you want?”
