From Chapter Seven: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?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Table of Contents Comments Chapter Eight: Homeward BoundClark lay on his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling.
The room was a far cry from the luxury suite he'd spent three nights in. It wasn't a flea-pit, the Planet ran to more than that, but it was very basic - a bed, a wash-basin, a phone. A bathroom down the hall.
It hardly mattered. He'd spent very little time here since he'd got to New York. He scarcely slept these days, and he couldn't risk doing too many Superman rescues here and having his presence linked to Clark's; so he spent a lot of his time patrolling Metropolis and the rest, when he wasn't actually covering the trade talks, sitting hunched in his cape somewhere in the Arctic.
He hadn't been back to Kansas. He'd told his parents that he'd had a fight with Lois, and they'd responded in a duly concerned fashion, but he couldn't risk their probing any deeper. They hadn't tried very hard to find out what the fight was about, which both relieved and surprised him... he had wondered if there was something odd going on between them. Dad had phoned him here one night, sounding lonely, and saying that Mom was out at some artist's studio. He was usually very supportive of Mom's efforts to express herself... Clark hoped there was nothing wrong.
Still, after a lifetime's experience, he trusted his folks to sort out their problems. Which was more than he was capable of doing for himself.
More than two weeks since they'd been together, ten days since he'd seen her as Clark, and he still couldn't get Lois out of his mind for more than a few minutes at a time. He was scarcely sleeping; he suspected he hadn't eaten anything for several days, either. He generally used his lunch breaks to sneak a quick visit to Metropolis, nervous that the city he'd placed under his special protection would have some sort of crisis while he was away. Or that Lois would go and get herself killed when he wasn't close enough to hear her calling him and rescue her.
So far the only incident of note, besides the usual petty crime and cats up trees, had been the discovery of an asteroid headed straight towards the Earth. Nightfall. He'd visited the observatory after reading about it in the Planet - he read the paper daily to keep up with the news from home - and been asked to help in destroying the asteroid. The scientists had cooked up some hare-brained scheme for him to smash into it and break it to bits, apparently under the blithe assumption that none of the bits would pose a hazard to the Earth. He'd listened courteously and then asked why he shouldn't just shift the thing off its present course and onto some harmless trajectory, preferably into the sun?
They'd hemmed and hawed a bit before admitting that they hadn't thought he could move something that big. His response, pointing out that it was in free fall and that, given an oxygen supply, he could spend anything up to several hours coaxing it onto the right path, caused some embarrassed shuffling of feet; and when one of the scientists came right out and asked him if he could move that amount of mass, his answer - that he'd never so far reached the limits of what he could move - caused a dead silence and a nervous exchange of glances with the army observer in the corner.
No doubt the army considered him a threat to national security, he thought cynically. Would they consider him more or less of a threat after today, when he'd succeeded in doing what he'd promised and set Nightfall on a new, non-hazardous course? He'd demonstrated his commitment to protecting the Earth by going out into space and destroying a threat no one else could deal with, but he suspected that his good will counted for little in the military mind against the awe-inspiring display of his powers.
It didn't matter. He cared little about what the military made of his abilities, as long as they didn't send another Trask after him.
He cared considerably more about the reactions of a single woman reporter he'd spotted at the send-off today.
She'd been in the centre of the pack of reporters, an unusual position for her: she was normally right at the front, pushing and shoving to hold her position, shouting out challenging, insightful questions.
Today, she'd looked scarcely aware of where she was. She'd been taking notes, but she hadn't asked a single question of her own. He hadn't even felt her usual admiring glance at him, and although in a way that was a relief, it made him wonder if she was all right.
But he had a shrewd suspicion he knew what was wrong with her. It was over two weeks since they'd been together... she must know by now that she wasn't pregnant. And, no doubt, she wasn't too happy about it. Maybe not too certain, even, what to do about it. He sure as heck didn't know what he was going to do.
But that was the reason he was lying here, staring at the ceiling, instead of patrolling the skies of Metropolis or looking up at the Northern Lights through several hundred feet of ice cap.
He'd seen her today, looking pale and withdrawn, and he'd wanted to fly over and sweep her into his arms. He'd restrained himself, of course, and gone about saving the Earth like a well-trained superhero, but he still felt that urge for some sort of meaningful contact with her.
Slowly, he reached out a long arm and picked up the phone. One by one, no need to look, he keyed in the digits of her phone number. His heart beat twice and then it rang. Once, twice. On the third ring, her answering machine would pick up.
There wasn't a third ring.
"Lois Lane."
He nearly slammed the phone down. What was he doing?
He cleared his throat. "Lois. It's me."
Great. Of all the lame starts.
"Clark?"
No, Lois, Superman. He lives in a hotel in New York.
"I called to find out..." How you've been. Whether you remembered my name. Whether you'd consider marrying me. "... if you've had the test result."
"I... yes. I have." She sounded strangled - evidently she was finding this no easier than he was.
"I assume it's negative?"
She drew a laboured breath. "Why do you say that?"
Stupid, Clark, stupid. Think, now. "Because if it was positive, I imagine you'd have let me know."
Silence.
She hadn't been going to tell him, either way. He heard the plastic creak protestingly and loosened his grip on the phone.
"So I would need to keep some time free, early next month, I assume?" he said jerkily.
Tell me to go to hell, Lois. Please.
"Yes." He heard her moisten her lips, had to screw up his eyes against the picture that presented in his head. He could be in Metropolis, outside her window, in seconds... "Please."
"When?"
"I don't know, exactly. I... I have a machine that measures my hormone levels, tells me when."
"So you'll let me know?"
"Yes."
"Okay." He desperately wanted to keep her talking, not to break this fragile link between them, but there was nothing more to say. "Good night, Lois."
He broke the connection.
He was insane. There was no other explanation for it.
He should have told her that hell would freeze over before he came anywhere near her again. Or else, given this was the first time he'd spoken to her in private since he'd left the Lexor, he should have told her he loved her.
He couldn't bear going through another weekend like the last. Nor could he dream up a shred of justification for it. She was quite obviously not going to change her mind about getting pregnant, and it was time he took himself out of the equation and let her get on with it. No matter what that did to his feelings.
As long as she didn't try to involve Luthor. Clark's mouth set grimly. That was the sticking-point he couldn't get past.
Maybe this way would work. Pretending he was willing to sleep with her again would, at least, guarantee him a private meeting with her, face to face. And then he'd confess, and implore her not to go to Luthor. Invoke Superman, if he had to - pretend to go in search of the superhero, and then come back in the suit and assure Lois that, although there was no proof beyond his word, Luthor could not be trusted.
And if she still refused to listen... maybe, he thought tiredly, he could just kill Luthor. Or kidnap him and take him to a desert island for a few months, till Lois gave up and found someone else to be the father.
That would kill two birds with one stone - ensure he himself was far away while it happened. Hopefully, he'd never even have to know who it was... or he might, some dark night, yield to the temptation to track down the miserable bastard and rend him limb from limb.
In fact, when he'd seen Lois and told her he couldn't give her what she wanted, maybe it was time to move on. Give in his notice at the Planet, and Clark Kent could get a job elsewhere... or maybe just disappear. He wasn't sure he had the stomach to start all over again somewhere else. He'd never stayed more than a few months anywhere before, but this time was different... this time he'd created Superman, and he'd thought he'd be able to stay longer without anyone getting suspicious. He'd thought he'd be able to stay near Lois... Now he just needed to get away.
Superman wouldn't be able to leave Metropolis at the same time as Clark, obviously, but he could keep patrolling from afar the way he'd been doing from New York. Especially if he didn't have to hold down a job at the same time. And in about six months he could announce that he'd decided one city shouldn't receive special treatment, or something. Become international, even. See the world again - from the air.
Leaving would solve Perry's problem. He'd called Clark into his office to give him the New York assignment, and in the process had wandered off into Elvis territory - a sure sign he had something he wasn't prepared to say outright. This time the anecdote had been about Elvis's time in the army, about keeping a good morale among the troops and the occasional need to split up a unit temporarily when there were personality conflicts. Clark had got the message: Perry expected the problem between him and Lois to be resolved by the time he came back. Lois didn't seem to be allowing the tension to affect her work, but Clark knew his own concentration had suffered badly; he also knew that the rest of the newsroom had been tiptoeing round himself and Lois all that first week, waiting nervously - or eagerly, according to their disposition - for the brewing storm to break.
Well, resolving the conflict and getting back to a stable working relationship with Lois was beyond his powers. He was sure losing one of his top investigative reporters wasn't what Perry intended, but it was the only solution Clark could offer. He hated the idea of leaving his dream job at the Planet with his tail between his legs... but it was better than staying and slowly dying inside as Lois went serenely on with her life.
Finally making the decision gave Clark a measure of bleak comfort. He rolled onto his side on the too-soft mattress and, for the first time in several days, dozed off.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Lois? What have you got?"
"The prosecution's winding up its case, Perry. Their evidence is all circumstantial, though. I have a hunch Laderman didn't do it, but if his lawyers don't produce something good, he's going to get convicted."
"Hmm. Well, you're going to need something better than a hunch to make that into a front-page story, Lois. Keep on it. Myerson, did you get..."
Lois tuned out the rest of Perry's query and Myerson's reply. She was only interested in one other person in the room, and he'd evidently had his say some time before she'd slipped apologetically into the room, out of breath from hurrying up the stairs. She only had an hour's court recess, and her taxi had got snarled up in the Friday lunch-time traffic.
She resisted the temptation to keep checking her watch, but she could feel the seconds ticking past as Perry finished checking on the reporters gathered around the long conference table and started to talk about sales figures. Sweat was starting to prickle on her forehead. She still had to get a taxi back to the courthouse, and before she left she absolutely had to speak to Clark.
He'd been back from New York for a few days already, but this was the closest she'd been to him in that time. He seemed to have developed a sixth sense for when she'd be in the newsroom, and a genius for making sure he was elsewhere at the time. She suspected he would have ducked this meeting, too, if he'd known she'd be here.
She sneaked a peek at him from under her lashes. He looked... exhausted, she thought with a pang of conscience. He didn't actually have rings under his eyes, but his eyelids were drooping, as was his posture.
As she watched, he looked down at the notebook in front of him and started to write something, and his pencil broke with a sharp crack. Lois actually saw a fragment of it whizzing off into the corner of the room. Clark started in consternation and clapped his other hand guiltily over the broken pieces, then looked up at Perry and gave a sheepish grimace. "Sorry."
"You be careful with Planet property, son. Now, advertising revenues..."
He looked as though he hadn't smiled for days, Lois thought, lowering her eyes as remorse gnawed at her. She hadn't dared question anyone about him, but from certain remarks Jimmy had let drop, she'd gathered that Clark hadn't been himself since he'd got back from New York. He'd always been so cheerful and laid back; now he was wound tighter than a watch-spring. All her fault.
It was up to her to make amends. If she could.
Perry wrapped up at last, and the reporters burst into chatter and started getting to their feet and filing out. Clark stayed where he was, apparently checking earlier pages in his notebook. Waiting for her to leave.
She pretended to search for something in her bag until the last few people were at the door. Clark had got to his feet now; she stood up and intercepted him as he approached the door.
"Clark, could I have a word?"
He nodded and looked at the knot of people at the door, some of whom looked as though they would like to stay and eavesdrop on what she had to say. They turned and hastened out of the room under his sombre gaze, and he closed the door behind them and leaned against it.
Thank heavens the blinds were already closed. She wasn't sure she could have done this with a dozen pairs of eyes glued on them.
"Clark..."
"I presume you want me tonight," he said abruptly.
"I... yes..." She could feel herself blushing vividly. "How did you..."
He shrugged. "Why else would you speak to me? Your place or mine?" His lip curled unpleasantly. "Oh, no, stupid of me - you wouldn't want me in your apartment, would you? My place, then. Seven?"
She couldn't believe the change in him. She stepped closer to him, trying to reach him. "Please, Clark..." She lifted her hand and laid it on his chest, beside the vivid orange tie, and at the instant of contact that familiar electric spark seemed to leap between them. That, at least, was still there.
He lifted his lids and met her eyes for the first time, and she could see the struggle for control in their tortured depths. Then he reached down and silently turned the key in the lock.
"Clark? What are -"
"That contract says 'days', doesn't it, Lois? Not 'nights'." His hands gripped her upper arms firmly and his mouth came down hard on hers.
She yielded instinctively, moulding herself against him, and he plundered her mouth ruthlessly. The gentleness she associated with his lovemaking was gone, but its effect on her was still the same. She arched her head back as heat flooded through her, and his mouth left hers and imprinted hard, heavy kisses down her neck to the curve of her shoulder.
Then he was lifting her, hands at her hips, and settling her on the edge of the conference table. His hands were fumbling at her clothes. She clutched at his shoulders, incredulous - were they actually going to have sex here, now, yards from their curious colleagues? Yes! She wanted it as much as he did.
She'd wanted him since the day she'd seen the pregnancy test.
But Clark seemed scarcely aware of her, focused completely on satisfying his own needs. Far too soon, he was pulling away from her. He'd straightened his clothing and he was tugging her to her feet, smoothing her skirt down. He hadn't looked her in the eyes since he'd kissed her; his face was blank, like that of a sleepwalker. She wasn't sure he knew quite where he was.
Then he took a step backwards, and she glimpsed the turmoil raging in his eyes. He tried to speak, swallowed and shook his head dumbly, retreating another pace. He turned to the door, unlocking and opening it in one swift motion. Then he was gone.
For a moment she considered going after him, grabbing him and... what? Dragging him into the storeroom till he satisfied her? Tempted as she was, the thought of the watching eyes outside stopped her cold. They might as well have sex in the middle of the newsroom.
But tonight...
She had to get out of here first, under the interested gaze of all those eyes. The eyes which had just watched Clark walk out and were no doubt trained eagerly on the doorway, waiting to see her face.
Lois took a deep breath.
She had just about enough time to get back to the courthouse before the afternoon session started. She could grab a sandwich from the concession stand in the lobby, and repair her lipstick in the taxi...
Mentally reviewing the morning's evidence to suppress any lingering thoughts of what had just happened, restraining her eyes from even flickering in the direction of Clark's desk, she walked calmly out of the conference room and across the newsroom to the stairs.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
What had he done? Oh, God...
High above the Pacific, well away from any commercial flight paths, Clark flung his arms over his face and keened in anguish.
He'd all but raped her. At work. On the table in the conference room, where she had to go practically every day and where she had to feel safe.
The fact that she hadn't uttered so much as a whimper of protest didn't alter his guilt. He'd seen her face afterwards, and the memory was seared into him. She'd been shocked beyond speech.
He'd never intended to lay a hand on her. He hadn't been able to stop the bitter words coming out of his mouth, but he'd had every intention of walking out of there afterwards; of giving her his carefully rehearsed speech tonight and then saying goodbye to her forever.
She just had to touch him and he lost all control.
Some superhero!
That was that... he couldn't be Superman any more. Truth and justice! Lies and sexual violence would be more accurate.
He'd have to retire Superman. Kill him off somehow... or say he had to go home. To Krypton. He'd saved the world from destruction once, from Nightfall - that would have to do. The world would do better without someone like him looking after it.
As for Clark... would she prosecute him for rape? Probably not. It would be too embarrassing for her, privately and professionally. Not that he'd contest the case, if she did. He deserved to be punished for it.
He'd make sure she never had to see him again, though. Hand in his resignation to Perry and leave at once. He couldn't even remember what he was supposed to be working on this afternoon, but it wasn't anything important. He could clear out his desk while Lois was at the courthouse...
What was he thinking? She'd just been raped - she wouldn't be at the courthouse!
But she would.
This was Lois, remember. She wouldn't let anyone guess what he'd done to her; she'd square those slim, determined shoulders and lift her gallant chin and carry on as though nothing had happened.
What if...
Oh, God.
What if she came to his apartment tonight? As though nothing had happened.
As though rape was just another part of the contract.
Unlimited sex...
Oh, God.
She'd been afraid of him, that first night - she'd expected him to hurt her. And now he had. The way he'd been gripping her arms, mauling her neck - with his strength, he could have injured her! In fact, how did he know he hadn't? No - surely she'd have cried out if he'd broken her arm. But she must be covered in bruises, at least.
He was as bad as whatever man it was who'd first hurt Lois - who'd caused the fear he'd seen in her eyes that first night. No, he was worse, because with his powers came the responsibility to keep himself, always, under the strictest control. If he couldn't control himself, no one else would be able to.
But Lois had taken him to bed in spite of her fear - to her, it seemed, getting hurt was less important than getting pregnant. And he had a horrible suspicion she would turn up on his doorstep tonight, even after what he'd done.
Perhaps, after he'd told her he couldn't get her pregnant, he should just provide her with some Kryptonite and let her get on with it.
Luthor probably had some stashed away somewhere, waiting for the right moment to get rid of his nemesis...
Self-pity wasn't going to help.
Nothing much was going to help, after what he'd done.
He needed to get back to the Planet and give Perry his resignation, and then... then he'd wait. Till seven. See if she showed up.
If she did, he'd abase himself. Apologise abjectly for what he'd done to her. Tell her he couldn't help her get pregnant, warn her about Luthor.
If he could, if there was a chance she would listen, try to convince her that she should never, ever allow anyone to treat her the way he'd done. That she was worth so much more than that. But coming from someone who'd abused her, it probably wouldn't make any sense.
And then, after she'd gone, he'd pack up his apartment and leave. He could drop off his stuff at his parents' place, but he wouldn't stay there - it would be a long time, maybe forever, before he'd be able to discuss this with them.
And if Lois didn't show up at seven - and he hoped, he really did, that she had enough self-respect to condemn what he'd done - he'd write her an apology before he left. He didn't know what he'd say, and she might simply destroy the letter unread, but he'd like her to know that he hated himself for what he'd sunk to. That he wasn't sneaking away because he was scared of reprisals, but because he knew she'd never want to lay eyes on him again.
Uncurling himself, Clark heaved a sigh and set a course for ho-- no, not home, not any longer. For Metropolis. He forced himself to fly at a steady pace, not hurrying towards his doom, but not allowing himself to linger, either.
He was halfway across the city when he heard the scream. He altered course automatically, then pulled himself up.
He couldn't. He didn't have the right to wear the Superman costume any longer - to sit in judgement over others.
The same voice let out a strangled gasp. "No, please!" A woman's voice. Elderly, frightened.
He couldn't stand by and refuse to help, either. Grimacing helplessly, he darted towards the source of the cries.
An old lady in much-mended clothing was huddled in the corner of an alleyway as he approached, staring hypnotised at the wicked knife-blade that a young man was pointing at her chest. He was busy rifling through her handbag with his other hand, cursing as his search turned up only a few dollars.
Clark landed beside him in a swirl of cape, plucked the knife from his hand and crushed it into a lump of useless metal. Then he reached forward to pick up the youth and fly him to the nearest police station, as he'd done a thousand times before.
He couldn't. He couldn't touch him. He couldn't trust himself not to hurt him.
He compromised by grasping the handbag and wrenching it out of the young man's grip, holding it out to the old lady. She seized it and clung to it, her lips quivering, and Clark thought he saw some of the same shock in her eyes that he'd seen on Lois's face earlier.
He whirled on the young man. "How dare you tyrannise a woman who's old enough to be your grandmother?" he demanded. "How dare you try to steal the last of her pension money, which she needs far more than you do? Have you ever thought what it's like to be held at knife-point, and wonder if you're about to feel it ripping into you, and die alone in an alley because some young punk wanted a few more dollars for drugs, or booze, or..."
He stopped with an effort. The boy - he was only about sixteen - was shrinking away from the fist being shaken in his ashen face. It wasn't one of the usual street gang that Clark picked up regularly in this area - it was a kid Clark had seen begging before, and once or twice washing windows, but never in trouble till now.
He lowered his fist.
"Please, sir," the boy babbled, terrified, "it wasn't for drugs or drink, sir. It's for my sister, she wants to go to college, sir, I don't want her to end up on the streets like me, sir..."
Clark stared narrowly at him, sizing him up.
It could even be true.
"Does your sister know you're trying to put her through college by mugging old ladies?"
The boy shook his head, wincing. "She don't know nothing about it, sir, I ain't ever done this before. Please don't put me in jail, sir, or she won't have no one to look after her..."
"What's your name?"
"Jonas, sir. And my sister, she's Marina, sir, she's real smart..."
Clark chewed his lip for a moment, made up his mind. "Here's what I'm going to do with you, Jonas. Take your sister to the Superman Foundation in the morning. It's on Hudson Way - you know where that is?"
"Two-three blocks up from Centennial Park, sir, middle of town?"
"That's the one. Tell them I sent you. If Marina's as smart as you say, they'll find her a college place, and they'll give her a scholarship to cover the fees and living expenses. As for you, I'll see if they can't find you a job. No, don't thank me - when you find someone who needs a helping hand one day, pass the favour along. And remember, I'll be watching you."
Detaching his hand with some difficulty from that of the boy, who was pumping it up and down with tears of gratitude in his eyes, Clark lifted into the air and flew off.
As he rounded the corner, he heard a quavering voice behind him. "You leave my shopping be, you young varmint..."
He'd completely forgotten the boy's victim. His judgement was going to pieces.
He halted in midair and wheeled, using his x-ray vision to look back through the building into the alley-way. The boy was on his knees, picking up the tins that had rolled away when the old lady had dropped her shopping and stuffing them back into the carrier bag. "Let me give you a hand, ma'am," he was saying in a reassuring tone. "This ain't a good neighbourhood, I'll pick up your stuff and then take you home. I'm sorry I frightened you before, ma'am, you don't haveta be scared of me n'more - Superman took the knife away, and anyway, I ain't gonna be doing that n'more, ma'am, I'm gonna have a real job now."
He stood up, swinging the carrier bag, and offered the old lady his arm. After a long, suspicious pause she took it, and the odd couple walked slowly out of the alley, the boy talking nineteen to the dozen about his sister and what she was going to be doing at college. Clark shadowed them back to the old lady's tiny apartment, then tracked the boy back to his own home, six blocks over in a marginally more respectable area of town, where a girl who must be Marina greeted him affectionately and listened in awe while he poured out the tale of how he'd "met" Superman and what the Superman Foundation was going to do for them.
Clark was frowning thoughtfully as he flew off.
Sometimes human nature could surprise you.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
.../tbc
