Tank's pointed out a couple of times now that, in his opinion, I should have been writing a story for my own birthday. No comment! :p I suppose it would've had to have been a 40-page one, too... 
Anyway, I have written a birthday story, but not for my
birthday; this is for everyone else I know who has a birthday around this time of year.
So, for Nan, who shares my birthday; Tracey, who is the day after; and Jill and Kaylle, who are a couple of days after that; and RetroRose, whose birthday is today: this one's for you. 
Many thanks, as ever, to Kaethel and Yvonne for beta-reading, especially at such short notice! And to EvilEl, who demanded a somewhat different outcome for Lois. 
If I'd Lost YouHe wasn’t coming.
She’d yelled until she was hoarse, but there’d been no response.
Just silence. And the occasional flapping of wings as a flock of birds passed overhead in a hurried flutter.
Searching the skies once more, Lois couldn’t even detect the faintest speck of royal blue. He wasn’t coming.
It had finally happened. Clark had warned her often enough - and even Superman had taken her to task, grimly pointing out that he couldn’t be everywhere at once - that one day she would take one risk too many and that she would run out of luck.
Well, her luck had clearly been running on low all evening - and now the supply was empty. Gone. Not even the vapour remaining to offer her a shred of hope.
She was minutes, if not seconds, from death. And Superman was nowhere in sight - clearly nowhere within earshot.
The famous Lois Lane luck had finally run out.
It wasn’t as if she’d never imagined meeting an untimely end, she told herself as she fought once more, vainly, to free herself from the prison which threatened to become her grave. But her imaginings had tended to include getting caught by a stray bullet as she got in the way of an escaping murderer or fraudster. Or being tied up in a weighted sack and dumped in the Hobbs at dead of night.
Not tied up on a hillside counting the seconds as she stared up at a painfully sharp blade suspended about two feet above her head. Suspended directly over her throat, in fact, and held there only by a thin, fraying rope.
A rope which, by now, had to have been reduced to a couple of strands...
That was the idea, her captors had told her when they’d caught her nosing around the boarded-up warehouse where they conducted their business of supplying the rich and jaded something different to satisfy their palates. Exotic slave girls - young women, few more than teenagers, smuggled in from the Far East and Latin America, to become middle-aged men’s playthings.
Lois hoped that the phone call she’d been able to make to her contact on the Vice Squad would have been sufficient for the horrible trade in human beings for sexual exploitation to be stopped and the young women taken into safe custody. Unfortunately, she would never be able to find out for herself. One more second, and she would have been safe - but one of the slave-traders had driven up just as she’d let herself carefully out of the warehouse, and she’d been caught. Trapped.
And now she was tied and pinned to the ground some distance away from a very lonely road outside the city, with that blade dangling over her, suspended from a tree-branch. The rope, they’d told her, was far too thin and frayed to hold a blade of that weight - a butcher’s knife - for long. Maybe half an hour, they’d taunted. Maybe less.
But, just to help things along a little, one of her captors had held the flame of his cigarette lighter against the rope for a couple of seconds before he’d left.
She’d been yelling for Superman ever since. But he hadn’t come.
He wasn’t coming.
The tears she’d been fighting since the slave-traders had tied her to the ground and explained how she would die refused to be held back any longer. Lois’s eyes filled with tears and a large lump swelled in her throat.
She was going to die. Out here, alone.
And it was highly likely that her body might not be discovered for some time. Days. Weeks, even. After all, while her police contact knew that she’d been at the warehouse, no-one would have any idea where she’d been taken subsequently - even if her captors were arrested, she’d bet they’d refuse to say. It was hardly as if they could make any kind of plea bargain, given the charges they’d already be facing.
She would never see the Daily Planet again. Wouldn’t get to see her scoop about the slave traders in print, and bask in Perry’s admiration over another front-page story.
She would never see Clark again.
Would he miss her? They’d been fighting a lot lately, mostly over her friendship with Lex Luthor. She hadn’t felt quite as close to Clark lately; hadn’t felt quite as welcome to turn up at his apartment any time she wanted. They teased each other less frequently, and on a number of occasions she’d noticed him apparently catching himself before saying something to her. When had Clark - or she, for that matter - started guarding their tongues around each other? When had she stopped feeling that she could confide in him?
And now, it was too late to do anything about it. She was about to die.
It was useless. But she just had to try one more time...
Her voice hoarse, her throat aching, she yelled, “Help! Superman, help... please help...”
The scream turned into a fit of harsh, dry coughing. Lois closed her eyes, trying to squeeze the traitorous tears out. If she was going to die, she wouldn’t do it crying... she wouldn’t...
There was a sudden rush of wind.
She was abruptly, painfully wrenched away from the ground.
And her shocked gaze fell on the blade as it plummeted to the ground and embedded itself in the soil where her head had been seconds before.
Arms tightened around her. “Oh, god, Lois... Lois!” Her head was pressed hard against an unyielding chest.
She was, miraculously, suddenly, safe. Alive.
“Superman.” The tears flowed unrestrained, and she let him hold her.
********
It was probably only minutes later, although it felt like much longer, when Superman loosened his grip on her and held her a little way from him, still without letting her go. His brown eyes seemed to bore into hers and, to Lois’s amazement, they were glistening with moisture.
Superman, the strongest man in the world, was crying.
“Lois.” His voice, little louder than a whisper, was shaky, and so was the hand he raised to her face. The backs of his fingers stroked along her cheek for brief moments before he let his hand fall again. “I almost didn’t get here in time,” he said, in something more like his normal deep, commanding tones, but the faint tremor as he said ‘time’ told Lois that he was very shaken up.
Just as she was...
“Yeah, that was a close one,” she managed, trying to make light of things but knowing that she was failing. Then, before she could stop herself, she added, “I thought you weren’t coming...”
The brown eyes closed briefly as Superman winced. “I’m sorry... I - ” He broke off, inhaled deeply, then explained. “There was a landslide in Mexico - I’ve been down there for the past few hours... I never heard you calling until just a few minutes ago when I was almost back in Metropolis.” He gave a shuddering sigh. “I almost didn’t find you in time.”
Lois let her head fall to his chest again as the realisation of how lucky she’d been hit her once again. Superman had been thousands of miles away. Of course he hadn’t heard her. And if he’d been just a minute or two later getting back to the city, it would have been too late. He wouldn’t have heard her last, desperate cry for help - and she would still have been on the ground when the blade had fallen. She would have been guillotined.
She could feel the rise and fall of Superman’s breathing beneath her cheek; could hear the steady, slowing beat of his heart. She was aware that her own heart-rate was probably returning to normal as the initial shock of her near-death experience and rescue began to fade.
She was alive.
Impulse made her turn to look again at what had very nearly been her deathbed: the blade half-buried in the grass a harsh reminder of what she’d been saved from.
“Who did this? Why?” The harsh voice barely sounded like Superman.
She told him the bare details. His mouth tightened further as the kidnapped women were mentioned. “If the police don’t get them, I will,” he said, through clearly gritted teeth.
But Lois barely heard him. She was shivering suddenly, and her teeth started to chatter uncontrollably. She clutched at the arm holding her securely, unsure that her legs would hold her upright.
“I’m taking you home,” a reassuring voice said close to her ear. And then she was being lifted, held tightly against something warm and very solid, and the sensation of rushing air was back.
She was safe.
*********
Lois was safe.
She so nearly hadn’t been.
Clark fought unsuccessfully against the images flooding his mind, of his partner tethered to the ground, lying helpless beneath a lethal blade already starting to fall. Of what would have happened had he not got there just in time, without a second to spare. Of the woman he loved lying mutilated, bloody and lifeless, on the ground. Dead because he hadn’t been in time to rescue her.
He’d been shaking when he’d wrenched her up from the ground, not daring to delay even the extra second it would have taken to ensure that all her bindings were loose.
He was still shaking now.
He’d probably hurt her, dragging her up and away the way he had - but that was better than her being dead.
There were so many things he should be doing right now. Going after the ruthless thugs who had almost killed his best friend, for one. Making sure that their trade in helpless young women was stopped, for another. And... well, when he’d heard Lois screaming for him, he’d been on his way back to his apartment to get cleaned up and changed before heading to the Planet to write up the landslide story. As an interview with Superman, naturally.
But right now, he had no intention of leaving Lois as long as she needed him.
He’d never seen her so shaken up before. There’d been close calls before, of course; he’d lost count of the number of times he’d saved her life just in the nick of time. But this was different, somehow. Admittedly, it had been a lot closer than most of those other times. But also, this time there was the fact that she clearly had really thought he wasn’t coming. She’d been calling and calling for him... and he hadn’t come to her rescue.
Lois had thought that Superman had abandoned her, left her to her fate.
As if he could ever willingly do that!
But he had been somewhere else, out of earshot. And he hadn’t heard her. And because of that, she had almost died.
He’d almost lost her.
Just like so many people had died earlier because he hadn’t been able to save them, Lois could also have died.
Involuntarily, he took another deep, shuddering breath and held his precious cargo closer to him. Lois. Alive and breathing, in his arms. Safe.
She was still now, calm; the tears, he thought, had dried and she’d stopped shivering. She’d been suffering from shock, of course. He could help her with that if she wanted; a sweet drink, a shoulder to cry on, if she needed it, someone to listen. But then, he thought, perhaps she didn’t need any of that. Looking down at her, he realised that she was asleep.
It was probably for the best. She’d been through a horrible experience, and right now sleep was the best remedy for her.
Her apartment window was just ahead now; he approached carefully, freeing one hand to push it open before flying in and floating over to one of the sofas. He looked from her to it, hesitating. Those sofas really weren’t the most comfortable pieces of furniture around. Nor was either of them long enough for Lois to lie on.
He made a snap decision and headed for the bedroom, floating across the room and gently laying Lois down on the bed. She’d be comfortable there. He could cover her with a blanket and leave her to sleep off the traumatic experience.
And then he could come over -
Clark could come over - early tomorrow morning to see how she was. He could bring her breakfast. And do his best to heal the painful breach which had opened up between them in recent weeks. After all, if he’d been just a few seconds later tonight, she would have been lost to him for ever. What was his stupid jealousy over her closeness with Lex Luthor next to the thought that he might never have seen her alive again?
“Oh, Lois... if I’d lost you...” he murmured, gazing down at her as she lay still on top of the quilt, her dark hair tousled and her body curled into the foetal position.
She stirred. Her eyes opened and suddenly he was faced with two dark brown pools staring at him.
“Superman?” Her tone was anxious, and he hastened to reassure her.
“I’m still here, Lois.”
“You’re not leaving... are you?”
“Well...” He hesitated. “I was going to. I thought you were asleep.”
She stretched out a hand towards him, her expression pleading. He couldn’t look away from the remembered terror in her eyes. “Please don’t go. Not yet. Please.”
He couldn’t refuse her. He didn’t want to leave anyway. But still... “I... I really should leave, Lois... I’m filthy,” he said, gesturing down at his Suit, indicating the muddy splotches all over the Spandex. “And I should go and track down those... those
bastards who almost killed you...”
Her eyes widened at the swear-word, and he realised that Superman never swore. Too late. But then, these weren’t usual circumstances.
“The police can manage,” she said, and he could hear the hoarseness in her voice. “And do you really think I care about a little dried mud? Please,” she added, now pleading again. “I can’t bear to be alone... please, just hold me for a minute?”
If she looked at him like that, if she asked him in that tone of voice... how could he ever leave her side again?
And he needed to stay, too. The terror that had gripped him ever since he’d heard her petrified, hoarse scream still hadn’t left him. It had intensified once he’d seen what had been done to her, what had so nearly come of her. If he left now... If he went away now, how could he guarantee that he would not be haunted by his fears, by nightmares of what could have happened to her? Imagining her beloved face staring sightlessly, accusingly, up at him, as so many others had mere hours earlier - all those poor people he hadn’t been in time to save when the landslide had hit.
The thought that people had died because he hadn’t been able to get there in time was painful. The thought that one of those people might have been Lois was... torture. Even flying back with her to her apartment, he’d been tormented by waking visions of what could have been. If he left her now, he knew that those images would not leave him.
He could go, of course, do the necessary checking up, and then come back as Clark. He could stay with her as Clark in a way that Superman couldn’t without it looking very odd - Superman never stayed around, after all. But, he thought with an inward grimace, there was no guarantee at all that Lois would let Clark past her front door at the moment. Their relationship was in a very rocky stage.
But he needed to be with her now, just a little bit longer, to reassure himself again that she was alive and unhurt by her ordeal. No, Superman would have to stay.
He took the couple of steps required to take him to her bedside, then sat down beside her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently. “Whatever you want, Lois. I won’t leave you. I promise.”
********
He was staying. Gratefully, Lois curled her fingers around Superman’s and squeezed his hand. She really hadn’t been able to face the thought of being alone just yet. Not while she was still so shaken up.
She didn’t know what was wrong with her. This was far from the first time that she’d had a close call. But on those other occasions she’d picked herself up, brushed herself down - literally or metaphorically - and got on with what needed to be done, which was usually making sure that the bad guys got delivered where they needed to be delivered and that she had the story for the Planet.
This time, she was shaking. She was still panicky, unable to push her unpleasant experience behind her and get on with what needed to be done. Part of her brain was reminding her that there was a story waiting to be written - a big one. And she should be finding out what the police were up to: had they caught the slave-traders? Were the women safe? Was there an ongoing investigation?
She should have had Superman take her to the Planet so that she could dive right in and get the story written. She should be getting up right now and making the phone calls that needed to be made. The last thing she should be doing was wallowing, acting like a terrified rookie reporter who’d faced her very first dangerous situation - and run away like a coward.
By staying here, by making Superman stay with her, wasn’t she just a wallower and a coward?
And yet... She was still shaking. She was barely able to think straight. And all the time unwanted tears were threatening to spill. She had to pull herself together. Maybe if Superman would just hold her for a while, she’d soon feel better and she’d be able to get on with her job.
If he held her just for a while...
She shifted towards him, giving him another pleading look. He looked at her for a moment, seeming to be debating with himself, but then he moved so that he was lying on the bed beside her, head propped up against the headboard. Then, looping an arm around her shoulders, he tugged her to lie with her head on his chest, wrapping his arms around her warmly, offering the comfort of his embrace. Feeling much of her tension draining away at that simple gesture of closeness, Lois slid her arm across Superman’s chest, holding him close to her as he was holding her close to him.
“Better, Lois?” he murmured, his breath gentle against her hair.
“Much.”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, sounding concerned. Worried.
“Hurt me?” She tilted her head up to look at him.
“When I grabbed you. I don’t think all the ropes were completely undone, but there wasn’t time to wait.”
“Oh.” She tested her wrists. One felt a little sore, but nothing that wouldn’t go away within a couple of days. Compared to being decapitated... “I’m fine. Really,” she insisted as he showed signs of scepticism.
He nodded, accepting her assurances, then hugged her briefly, encouraging her to lie down again. She allowed herself to snuggle against him, needing the comfort offered by his presence, by his solid body holding her protectively. His strong arms around her seemed to give her permission to let a few tears escape, and she sobbed silently for several minutes, letting the panic and shock drain away.
It did feel better. Soon, she promised herself, she’d be her old self again and she could stop taking up Superman’s time. She’d let him go and she would get back to work. Maybe just another few minutes...
“I’m so sorry,” Superman whispered, some time later.
“Sorry?” She raised her head briefly to look at him, taking in the agonised expression on his face. “What do you have to be sorry about?”
“I so nearly didn’t make it for you,” he explained, pain evident in his voice. “When you said you were calling and calling and you thought I wasn’t coming... Lois, you have to know that I’d never not come when you need me if I could possibly help it!”
Did he think she’d believed... “Superman, I know you’d always come if you could! I... I didn’t know why you weren’t coming, but I know you can’t be everywhere at once,” she reminded him. “I... guess I’d just resigned myself to thinking that this was the one time you weren’t able to be there for me. Clark’s always telling me that it’s gonna happen some day... I guess he was right.”
His arm around her tightened again. “I can’t promise you that it’ll never happen, Lois. All I can promise is that any time I know or even suspect that you need me, I’ll be there for you.”
“I know. It’s what you do for everyone.” Lois gave him a grateful, if shaky, smile. “That’s what’s so wonderful about you.”
“I help when I can,” he said tautly, and it seemed to Lois that he was uncomfortable with the conversation. “But I was talking about you, specifically.”
And then the realisation hit her. She might be getting over the shock, but Superman wasn’t.
She’d made the assumption, without even thinking about it, that for him this was just another rescue, as they all were. Okay, this time he’d been saving the life of a friend, but he’d done that before. Of course he’d be relieved that he’d arrived in time and that she was okay, but for him it really would be no big deal.
She’d been wrong.
She probably should have worked it out sooner. What had he said, just before she’d asked him to stay?
Oh, Lois... if I’d lost you...“I’m... special... to you?”
It was a question she’d always wanted to know the answer to. She’d hinted at it before with him, trying to find out whether he cared for her in any way, whether there was any possibility that he might even in some small way return her feelings for him.
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t dare to ask it as a direct question. Under normal circumstances, she was well aware that if she did ask him something direct about his feelings for her he would leave. He’d done it in the past, on those rare occasions when he’d actually been around long enough for her to bring the conversation around to personal matters.
This time, she didn’t think he would leave. And she justified the selfishness of her question to herself by her conviction that Superman wasn’t his normal self. He needed to talk, just as much as she’d needed to be held.
For once, perhaps she could actually help Superman.
Her heart thumping, she waited for his answer.
His tone was ragged. “You need to ask, Lois?”
There was her answer. But still... Something in her needed to hear him say it. “I know you like me, Superman. I mean, we’ve talked, we’ve spent some time together...”
The arm around her tightened briefly again. “Lois, are you trying to make me say it?”
“To say... what?” Almost breathless, she stared at him.
He hesitated and, as she watched, closed his eyes briefly. She saw him swallow. Then he shook his head once. “No. I can’t, Lois. You know I can’t.” However hard she might have suspected that it was for him to say it, his tone was resolute.
He was refusing to tell her how much she meant to him. That had to imply, she realised, that she meant a
lot to him. Her breath caught.
Couldn't she tell him that she loved him too? That it was okay to tell her how he felt, because she felt the same way?
And then it hit her. “You can’t, can you? Because if anyone knew you cared about me...?”
He hesitated again. Then he gave her a wry smile. “Lois, people already guess that I care about you more than I should - more than I care about other people. Come on, how many times in the past few months have criminals tried to use you against me?”
“So you don’t show that you care,” she said; now it all made sense. “And it doesn’t help that I let people see how I feel about you, does it?”
He shook his head. “I’ve wanted to ask you to... well, be more circumspect,” he acknowledged apologetically. “But it wasn’t easy. It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up in conversation, is it?”
“Especially as we don’t talk all that often - well, other than when we’re both working,” Lois agreed. “I understand, Superman. I’ll try to do better. But... just between us...?”
“Lois.” Superman raised his free hand and drew the back of his knuckles over her cheek. “I care, okay?” His voice was gruff. “Just... don’t push me to say any more. Please.”
“I won’t,” she promised. He’d told her what she wanted to know, anyway. Okay, he was never going to act on his feelings, but... well, other than in her wildest dreams, she’d never imagined that she could possibly have a future with Superman. Even if he was willing - which he wasn’t - how could she have a relationship with someone who belonged to the whole world? Who could be in Mexico one minute and the Middle East the next?
But he cared. About her. And that was enough.
She would never tell him how she felt about him. He’d made it pretty clear that he knew, but still... as he was hinting, it was better not spoken aloud. Time to change the subject, as much for him as for herself, she thought - and she could remind him that, however much it bothered him that he’d only got to her in the nick of time, he
had got to her.
“Thank you for saving my life, Superman.”
He gave a faint shrug and what was almost close to a smile. “It’s my pleasure, Lois.”
Impulse warred with caution. If she did it, he might push her away and leave. He might not let himself be alone with her again. On the other hand, she was well aware that this - Superman staying around instead of rushing off to be somewhere else - was unlikely to be repeated in any case.
Impulse won. She leaned up and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Still. Thank you.”
As she drew back, he hesitated; then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I know I can’t ask Lois Lane to start being careful, but... if you
could possibly get into fewer near-death situations, you’d probably do my blood-pressure some good,” he teased as he pulled back.
He was looking a lot better, Lois realised. Less tense, far less tortured. And she was better - he had to be aware of that. Any moment now, he’d make his excuses and leave - and she didn’t want him to go just yet, even though she had things to do herself. She didn’t want this interlude to end. Right now, it felt as if they were truly friends - the way she and Clark were friends. Or, truthfully, had once been friends. But the illusion of friendship would end, she was sure, the minute he flew out through her window.
She wanted to persuade him to stay just a little bit longer, to make this little oasis in time, in which Superman was her friend as well as her hero, last as long as she could.
Lois tightened her arm around Superman, deliberately staying close to him. “Tell me about the landslide,” she invited. “What happened? Was it bad?”
********
...tbc
