Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Shape Of My Heart 7/7

Previously in:

And now...the conclusion:


~@*****@~

Some time later, she emerged out of a doze, dimly aware of fingers stroking softly against her cheek.

<Lex....?>

She stiffened, the reflexive distaste a reaction she was too tired to analyze but which, nevertheless some small part of her filed away for later consideration.

But no. The gentle fingers that tangled themselves into her hair, brushing the strands away from her face, were somehow more tender than she could ever imagine Lex being.

Oh, he could be charming. Attentive. Even...passionate. But that wasn't really the same thing, was it?

That was partly why she had never seriously considered accepting his proposal after all.

She should have given him a straight answer there and then, on the plane. But he had come at her out of nowhere and she had been so shocked that he thought their friendship had progressed to that stage that she'd only really woken up to what he'd done when she closed her apartment door behind her, some hours later. They hadn't even kissed! Well, okay, maybe they had – a little. But it hadn't...meant...anything. Just a peck on the cheek, thanks for a lovely dinner, Lex, I had a great time...it hadn't been...an invitation to a wedding, for pity's sake.

The brief pulse of anger died. It wasn't fair to be angry at him, just because he'd interpreted things differently than she had. She knew it wasn't. But...how could he not have known how she felt?

As if sensing her growing tension the hands in her hair softened and, lulled by their light caress, she felt herself relaxing, letting the problem of Lex drift away, letting her thoughts drift with him....

<Thanks for a lovely dinner...>

Dinner...

Her stomach gave a little grumbling twitch, reminded that it had been a long time since it had been attended to. Hadn't there been dinner? Hadn't someone promised dinner?

There was a tantalizing scent in the air, just reaching her through the mists of sleep. Somewhat...familiar....she knew that smell...where?...where had she known that smell...?

"Venison soup..." she murmured. She'd had it before. Dinner at Lex's. The Penthouse. It had smelled just like that. Highland Game! Yes. That was it. No. That wasn't it. A small furrow puckered her brows. Hadn't been called Highland Game. Not Lex's venison soup. Had been called something...else. Something...French. Yeah, that was it. Something French. Expensive French. How could soup be that expensive, she remembered she'd thought at the time. It was soup. Not expensive. Shouldn't be expensive. How much did it cost to make soup, for heaven's sake? Put it in a pot, throw in vegetables...and...deer bits in this case...and voila. Voila. That was French too. Lex had made a point of telling her it was expensive. Right down to the dollars and cents and the cost of import taxes.

"It's okay. I switched it off. Guess you were more tired than hungry, huh?" a quiet voice answered her drowsy question. She mumbled something she thought might make up a response, although she wasn't quite sure what words she formed. The voice didn't seem to mind her incoherence. It sounded a little amused as it answered her anyway. "Go to sleep, Lois...."

Sleep. Yes. Sleep stomach. Sleep Lois. Dinner can wait. Dinner can be breakfast. Or...lunch even.

Sleep...

<Now I lay me down to sleep...because woods are lovely, dark and deep...>

No, wait, that wasn't right....

"Miles to go..." she mumbled, frown deepening, and felt that light touch against her hair pause.

"Lois?"

But she was already chasing sleep down the deep and lovely...dark and deep...tunnel ahead, and it would have taken far too much energy to answer.

~@*****@~

She awoke with a start to find the small room awash with stark winter light. Disoriented for a moment or so, it took her a time to remember the previous night's events and realize where she was.

Of greater disconcertion was the presence of a warm body pressed tight against her back. Lois pondered that for a moment, keeping her eyes closed as she decided what to do about it. Then a frown insinuated itself between her brows. Unless Clark had shrunk several inches during the night...

She sat up abruptly, eyes flying open, and muttered a disgusted, "Urgghhh," at her yellow companion. The dog blinked at her and then went back to sleep with an air that challenged her right to even suggest half the sofa wasn't his. Lois sighed. "Well...I've woken up to worse in the morning," she concluded. And then found herself wondering just what that said about her love life, if it were true.

Looking around, she was somewhat disappointed to find herself alone.

"Clark?" she called, tentatively, but there was no answer. Oh well. Wherever he was, he wouldn't have gone far, she thought, yawning sharply.

She sighed again, running a hand through her tangled hair. The action brought remembrance with it. A memory of the odd sensation just before she'd fallen asleep. A hand stroking tenderly against her cheek and someone murmuring her name...

...telling her they loved her....

What?

<Clark?> she thought, slightly startled.

<There was someone else you were snuggled up to last night, maybe?> a slightly amused voice in her head murmured knowingly.

Lois glanced at the dog. But given the choice of who it had been, he seemed an unlikely candidate.

Lois frowned. But Clark wouldn't...

Clark didn’t...

Love her.

Oh sure, he'd kissed her, but what did that mean? Truly. He was obviously attracted to her at a purely physical level – and, okay, maybe she was attracted right back, she wasn't dead after all and she could appreciate a good-looking guy with the best of the girls - but what did that prove? Back when she'd been in college, at a post-victory party, she'd been pushed up against a gymnasium wall and groped by the football captain as he tried to let his tongue discover what she'd drunk that evening. She didn't recall him declaring undying love for her. For her body maybe. And even that had only lasted until she'd gotten fed up with being so clumsily manhandled – which depressingly hadn't matched in any way, shape or form the type of experiences the heroines who lived between the pages of the battered paperbacks she took to bed each night encountered from men who desired them – and kneed him somewhere designed to instantly dampen his ardor. She was pretty sure that...whatever his name had been...hadn't even recognized her as human beyond the fact that she was female-shaped.

No, kissing didn't mean anything. And most especially it didn't mean anything when it was coupled with what she and Clark had shared the previous evening. Trauma, danger, cheating death by inches, the sheer, heady adrenalin rush of a chase through the dark, snuggling in a cabin in the woods in front of a roaring log fire and lost in a haze of candlelight... Now, that *did* match those romance novels and she knew exactly how a guy could let his hormones go raging out of control in those kinds of circumstances. Clark had probably regretted giving into temptation the moment that kiss was through, she thought miserably and then blinked in surprise at the emotion as it swept over her. What was there to be miserable about just because Clark kissed her and it didn't mean anything? She should be mighty relieved it hadn't! She didn't feel anything like love for him...

...so why did she suddenly feel as though she'd missed out on something...wonderful?

The voice had been telling her it loved her. She remembered now. Clearly. She had been drifting off to sleep and the voice had said it loved her. That she was safe. That it would never let anyone harm her. It had been telling her how scared it had been, back on that road, the car, the guns, the men who had wanted to kill her. And it had become dark, that voice, dark with remembered fear and hurt and then tender with...with longing...

<Now you *are* getting carried away,> she told herself with a small shake of her head. <You were dreaming, that was all.>

Had she been?

She settled back against the sofa and then the suddenly urgent calling of a full bladder stopped her wondering on it any longer. She got up and headed for the bathroom. The dog lifted its head sleepily to watch her go and yawned cavernously, showing yellowed peg stumps of teeth, before taking advantage of her absence to claim a greater share of the abandoned blankets.

As she emerged back into the living area, it clambered stiffly to the floor and followed her as she headed for the kitchen. Somehow, she had expected some enticing smells to be wafting their way out from there, but the room was silent and cold and empty of the man she'd imagined would be waiting for her. Given the disappointed look the dog cast her, he'd been expecting the same.

The kitchen was several degrees colder than the living room, still heated a little by the banked down remains of the fire. The tiles were chilling on her bare feet and she vaguely thought about going back for her boots. But it seemed like too much effort.

Holding back a yawn, she pushed a hand through her disordered hair as she drew herself a glass of water from the tap. The coffeepot was cold. Oh yeah, no electricity, she reminded herself. If there was any coffee on the go, Clark would have heated it on the camping stove. She sighed. She hated starting a morning without coffee.

Her eye was caught by the window, with its missing lower pane. Clark had taped card over it last night to keep down the draughts, but a thin layer of ice had still formed on the surrounding panes. She reached out an absent finger and etched a line on the crystallized surface with a fingernail, then shivered and leaned over the sink to peer out into the whitened world outside. Looked like the storm had subsided, at least. The sky was a washed out blue, laced through with early morning gold.

The snow was deep though – the thought of the trek that lay ahead into town was less than appealing. Even if they were starting out from a definite track and could follow the road straight in, rather than floundering around lost in the wood. She shivered as a cool gust of air circumnavigated the card on the window and found its way beneath the flannel of her shirt.

She grimaced. And, you know, it had been kind of...pleasant spending the night here. Maybe there was something to be said for lawyers after all. So - she glanced out into the yard again – maybe they shouldn't be so hasty about leaving just yet. The sky looked clear, but if she'd learned anything on this trip it was that the weather out in the boondocks could be as unpredictable as an editor in the middle of a middle-aged crisis. They could get caught in another storm halfway to town. They might lose their way, drift off the road, end up lost....

Yes, maybe it would be more prudent to just stay right where they were. Just for a day. Or...two. Clark could fix up the generator and they had the fire and plenty of food. They would be warm and...comfortable...and certainly the company hadn't been so bad, she thought with a smile. No, it hadn't been so bad at all....

Who'd have thought her partner could be so...resourceful? The smile faded. If it hadn't been for Clark, she knew pretty well that she would be dead out there. She'd never have survived once she got into the woods. He hadn't just known what to do, he'd offered her support and kept her going when she'd wanted to just lie down in exhaustion and forget about trying any more. A slight flush stained her cheeks. Something she didn't want to think about. Lois Lane didn't curl up and die just because a little thing like snow got in her way. But the unwelcome truth was that she'd been close to joining the ranks of dumb city tourists caught out by the weather and that was intolerable.

Clark had saved her from an embarrassing obituary and that was something to be grateful for as much as her life.

But he'd saved her life long before that, hadn't he? She mused. It had been lost until now, struggling to survive had a way of knocking all kinds out of your head until later. But now she remembered. She remembered Clark taking up a stand in the middle of the road, trying to give her extra minutes to reach safety. A look of absolute determination in his eyes that had terrified her at the time. And she remembered him shielding her, putting his own body between hers and their attackers. Beyond that, she had only vague recollections – most of it of a desperate race for the trees. It was fragments, shattered images, and it wasn't important.

What was important was that Clark had put himself at risk, in danger, more than once last night to save her. She swallowed hard over the sudden tightening in her throat as she took a moment to really think about what that meant. Not just that he had been willing to make that sacrifice. For her. But that he could have been....

He could have been killed.

The thought was a hammer-blow to her heart and for the first time, she understood just how dark the world would be without Clark Kent in it.

How dark her world would be.

She shook her head, brushing aside the moisture on her cheek. <Geez, Lois. One little night in the country and you're turning into a pile of sentimental mush,> she told herself scathingly in an effort to deny the power of those thoughts. But she couldn't shake them entirely.

She could refuse to think too deeply about them though. It was perfectly natural to imagine that she'd miss her best friend, the best partner she'd ever had, if something happened to him. It wasn't exactly an earth-shattering revelation....

At the corner of her eye, she became aware of what her idling finger had etched on the iced-over pane as her thoughts had meandered. Which was. Earth-shattering as all get out. Startled, she frowned. That wasn't right.

"That's ridiculous," she noted, scowling.

It was more than ridiculous. It was just...so wrong. On too many levels. And besides she didn't...she couldn't...that was just....

<How could I have done anything else but hate him?>

The whisper welled up in her head, accompanied by a sensation of being held in a warm embrace, strong arms. Of being safe. Wanted. Cherished....

<You don't know why I hate him? How could I have done anything else but hate him, Lois? He had everything I want. He had you....>

Cabin fever. That was it. That was what it was. Cabin fever. The result of being cooped up in close proximity to a very healthy male body and...it didn't mean anything. Of course it didn't. It couldn't mean anything.

Could it?

She snorted. "You've been reading too many bodice-rippers, Lane," she told herself and found herself flushing at that scathing tone. But, still, a smaller, fainter voice within her wasn't willing to let what was hovering way back in the still, small borders of her mind go. It was battering at her, trying to force its way in, even as she refused to acknowledge it. And it was growing stronger, louder, breaching walls she had built high long years past and had never wanted assailed again. It was almost loud enough that she couldn't ignore it –

It was almost a relief when she caught sight of movement through the small window. Thankfully consigning her subconscious to the depths again with the excuse of curiosity, she moved closer to the glass higher up the window and put up a hand to sweep clear the film of ice that had formed on the pane. Clark. Talking to a stocky man in the uniform of the local sheriff's department.

Uh oh...

Hastily, she turned away and then paused. She glanced over her shoulder at the gleaming message still showing, stark and glittering as the weak morning sunlight backlit its glass canvas. Hesitantly, she put up a hand to wipe it clear and then paused.

She had no idea why she let her hand drop. Why she turned her back on it instead and walked away. Why she left it there, glowing on the window. Perhaps, later, she'd examine that inexplicable choice. But not now. She wasn't about to touch that one now. And maybe not even later, she decided firmly as she headed for her boots.

By the time she reached the front door she had put it out of her head, refusing to think on it. Over the years, she'd found this ability to be a survival tactic and it didn't fail her now, forming armor as powerful and as protective against emotional danger as it had always been against the physical.

The two men standing on the lawn glanced over at her as the screen door banged to a close behind her and something lit in Clark's eyes as he spotted her that ignited a sudden flame in her chest. Well...maybe those walls and that protection weren't as strong as she'd thought they were after all. It was a dismaying thought. And yet, curiously, also one that made that flicker of warmth spreading in her chest brighten and flare up stronger than it had been before. It seemed to settle in her heart and, strangely, it wasn't unwelcome. She found herself breathless as she came up beside him and she glanced hastily at the sheriff, trying to subdue the hammering of her heart. What the hell was that all about? Her cheeks were reddening and that was intolerable. She gave the sheriff a winsome smile and watched him blink. She cleared her throat.

"What's going on?"

"It's okay," Clark reassured her. "Couple of accountants from New York are renting the cabin on the other side of the lake. Fishing weekend. They saw the light from the fire in the windows, knew the owner wasn't up here this weekend, and called Sheriff Castellano to come take a look. They've been having some trouble with local kids breaking into these vacation cabins; using them to party in. I've explained what happened."

His eyes flashed a warning at her, that she recognized with the ease of long familiarity with her partner. He'd told the Sheriff their car had broken down and they'd gotten lost trying to find their way back into town. He hadn't told him about the gang. She gave him a slight nod in return. She hadn't expected him to. They were still reporters after all and they clung hard to their story. Clark wouldn't give it up without discussing first with her exactly what they needed the Sheriff to know – and when.

"I'd have been up here earlier, ma'am," Castellano said, somewhat apologetically. "But the weather last night...wasn't a passable road in any direction for miles around, till we got the plough out round dawn."

"We understand," Clark assured him.

"If you can give me some idea of where you ended up, I can radio the location in to Jack Lawton back in town – he runs the gas station. He'll tow your car in for you folks. You know you were lucky you broke down in a way. Luckier than some, anyways. We got men down by Harper Lake; got a car down there, nothin' but the roof showing. Looks like they went off the bridge on their way into town. That bridge is the devil's own skating rink in this kinda weather. You hadn't given up on driving for the night, mayhap you'd be down there with 'em." He shook his head, missing the tight look that passed between the two reporters at this news. "Anyways, I can give you a ride back into town and we can sort out the details. If you're ready?"

"Best idea I've heard in a while," Lois assured him fervently. "Getting out of these backwoods won't come a minute too – " She trailed into embarrassed silence as she realized that Castellano's brows had risen, that she was insulting his town. She glanced at Clark and he cleared his throat, prepared to step in and rescue her, just like always – bless him.

A thump from behind them shattered the tense moment, as all three turned in unison. From the corner of her eye, Lois saw the sheriff's hand twitch towards his side as he did and then the sudden relaxing of his posture as they watched the yellow dog pause on the steps to offer them a few sweeps of his rat-eaten tail, before he dipped his head to gingerly negotiate the porch steps.

"Hey, Cougar." The sheriff hunkered down to pet the animal as it made its arthritic way towards him. "What you doing way out here, boy?"

"You know him?"

The man glanced up at her. "Sure. Mike Tenson's old mutt. He's always been a bit of a wanderer. These days he tends to forget he ain't as young as he used to be. Can't take in the miles." He smiled as he rose to his feet again. "Mike'll be grateful to you folks for taking the old fella in last night. It was colder than a witch's...um...that is weather reports said it was gonna drop below freezing before morning. I reckon this old guy would have been in a heap of trouble if you hadn't met up with him.

"Guess you two would have been too," he added, regarding them soberly before glancing over his shoulder to the cruiser behind him and pulling a pair of sunshades out of his jacket pocket. He shoved them onto his face as he added, "Well, I'll go wait in the car while you folks get yourself together."

He moved off, whistling Cougar after him. The dog followed, tail waving a happy banner, and jumped into the back seat of the sheriff's cruiser without protest.

Clark fielded Lois's glance and nodded, giving her a sardonic pat against the shoulder. "You can take the front seat. I'll share with Cougar," he said, before he loped on off across the clearing and up the porch stairs to vanish into the cabin's interior.

"Good call," Lois muttered before following.

Inside, the lounge seemed somehow oppressive and dingy, coming in from the stark early morning light outside. Clark was in the middle of folding up the blankets they'd used. He looked up as she entered and gave her a quick smile. "Your clothes are dry. If you want to get changed, I'll go put these upstairs."

Lois nodded silently. If he sensed her sudden withdrawal, her reticence, he didn't comment on it. But as he reached the bottom of the stairs, she felt the need to say...something.

"Clark!"

He turned back, eyes showing surprise at the sudden sharpness in that.

"I...I just wanted to say...thank you. For being here, for what you did last night...I mean..." She faltered, blushing as she remembered everything he – they – had done last night and considered how that might sound to him. "You saved my life last night, Clark. If you hadn't been there...I'd probably still be floundering around out there in the woods."

He smiled at her. "Guess Mr. Green Jeans comes in handy once in a while, huh?" he joked and then, as she felt herself color, remembering how rude she had been back then – and how unfair – and seeming to regret the embarrassment his levity had caused her, he sobered with a self-deprecating shrug. "You'd have been okay. The Great Survivor, Lois Lane? You'd have done just fine, Lois."

She bit fitfully at her lower lip. "Maybe. But...I'm glad I didn't have to find out how good I was with ice blocks." He frowned at her, confused by the reference, and she smiled back at him. "Never mind. Just...thanks, Clark."

He gave her an uncertain smile. Was he that unused to her being appreciative of him? she thought with sudden shame. "Any time, Lois." He glanced towards the door. "Uh...we shouldn't keep the sheriff waiting. I'll write out a note and leave cash for the window and get this stuff cleared up when I come back downstairs."

Her eyes followed him all the way up the stairs before she crossed the room to pick up the clothing that still retained a hint of the heat from the fire that had dried them out during the night. Her thoughts of the previous evening came back to her. How could she ever have thought that Clark might peek at her? A small smile formed with the idea. She had learned a lot about her partner during the night they had spent in this room.

She had learned a lot about herself too.

She sighed quietly and began to unhook the buttons on her shirt.

Maybe it was time to put what she'd learned to good use. Time for things to change. Maybe she didn't want to see surprise in her partner's eyes again when she thought to compliment him.

Maybe it was time to show him just what he meant to her and just how important he was.

~@*****@~


There had been something different about her this morning. An elusive, indefinable something that he couldn't quite pin down. All he knew was that his heart had turned over in his chest as she'd navigated the porch steps and come towards him, with that soft, shy smile that he saw on her rarely and which always seemed to him like a precious gift when he did. The one he liked to tell himself she reserved solely for him.

Clark folded up the clothes and placed them on the bed. Then he moved slowly to stand in front of the window. Leaning up against the wall, he took in the view; the lake, gray-ruffled under an azure sky.

Despite what he had learned the previous night, about himself, about living in denial and facing up to unpalatable truths, about...about Lois and how she really felt about him...he felt none of the loss and thwarted longing that he had last night. He had woken with a sense almost of...peace. Acceptance. Lois was still in his life and always would be. That hadn't changed. And perhaps it would never be as he wanted it, she'd never love him the way he did her, but life rarely bestowed on you the wishes you yearned for. You took what you had and you cherished it, if you were wise, and you made yourself content with that.

She had surprised him, down there in the living room. There had been something almost heartbreakingly pure in her eyes as she'd acknowledged that she had been glad not to face that ordeal last night alone. That more thoughtful side of his partner was rarely viewed, he saw it perhaps more than most, even when she tried to hide it from him and the world. He guessed he always had. Right from the moment he'd walked into the Planet and seen her for the first time he had somehow been able to pierce through the tough reporter veneer she wrapped herself in and seen it for what it truly was. The armor a vulnerable soul plated itself with to survive the world. He hadn't need x-ray vision to find the heart that beat beneath, trapped behind those walls that pushed people away before they got too close. The real Lois Lane had been visible to him all along. Strong and loving, smart and funny...beautiful.

And if she...couldn't ever be his --

Something crunched beneath his fingers and he jerked out of his musings with a start. Glancing down, he was at first mystified to see shards of wood clutched in his fingers and scattered on the floor and then his eyes widened as he took in the windowsill, it's edge crumbled into slivers where he'd been resting his hands on it.

He stood stock still for a bewildered instant, an ecstatic instant, and then he closed his eyes and...

"Yes!"

He punched the air with that soft whoop as he floated easily and smoothly up towards the ceiling.

They were back.

*He* was back!

Of course, his powers had been fluctuating in and out since the attack on him, a cautious part of him tried to rein him back from the overwhelming surge of relief and delight that swept over him. This proved nothing. They could wink out on him again at any moment, just like before and...

It wouldn't wash. It wasn't *like* the other times. He could sense it. He felt it. *Knew* it. He felt...right. Complete. Those other times, his powers had felt different even when they'd been online. Weaker, less potent. He'd felt like a man with flu, at half-strength. But this...now...this was...

This was him.

He laughed out loud as he spun in the air for the sheer joy of it and into the Suit.

"Clark?"

He jerked up his head and hastily spun back into his regular clothes and set his feet firmly back on the ground. "Uh...I'll be right there!"

"I'm going to take some of this stuff out to the shed. I'll meet you down by the car, okay?"

"No – no, wait, don't do that. I can – "

The slamming of the front door had him rolling his eyes. Women! They never listened.

He chuckled and moved towards the window, twitching aside the curtain to watch her hobbling progress through the snow towards the shed, her jaw tilted stubbornly at that angle he knew so well as she gamely traversed the uneven ground.

One woman who never listened. One very special woman. His smile turned soft and indulgent as he followed her until she vanished out of his view. And discovered something rather odd. He supposed, given the somber decisions he'd come to last night, while he'd watched her sleep in his arms, that he ought to be feeling a little more maudlin right now. Hadn't he wished for his powers to vanish? Hadn't he wanted the way to be clear for him to pursue her? And hadn't he just been considering that he since he probably couldn't have that he should give up that chase and accept...defeat?

He glanced down at the shattered windowsill. It seemed his subconscious had been more truthful with itself than he had been. He raised a brow. "Clark Kent...you are that idiot she thinks you are," he told himself softly. Give her up? Give up his dreams? What had he been thinking? The windowsill was proof it hadn't been anything he really wanted to hear. Or agreed with at all! It was nothing less than self-pitying, maudlin sophistry and -

The windowsill....

He winced. Uh oh. How was he going to explain - ? He sighed, picking up a wooden shard. Maybe Superman could fly in quickly and surreptitiously, do some quick repairs before the owner's next trip up? Or maybe not so surreptitiously, in the case of the window. The superhero probably owed this cabin and its owner a few favors, all things considered. He'd let Sheriff Castellano know that he'd be asking the superhero to help out with that – well with the kitchen window at least. No need to mention...this.

He found himself relaxing out of a tension he hadn't been aware he'd been carrying. And, yet, now that he'd become aware of it, it seemed like he'd been laboring under its weight for the longest time. Superman was a part of him. Always had been, always would be. What was he going to do? Spend the rest of his life alone? Deny that part of him that was human and longed for a life, a home, family? Shut himself away, keep himself apart, until there only was the superhero, the rescues, the crimes, the criminals, nothing else? Because he couldn't give any woman one hundred per cent of his time?

Who could?

Superman didn't have the exclusive on that. He just had a little more to challenge him in organizing his time. So, okay, he couldn't give her all of his day, every day. But he could give her his heart. His soul. He could give her every moment he could spare, everything of himself he could.

He had stopped running from that bleak, lonely future a long time ago. He'd made his stand then, made his decision then. To let himself be Clark Kent first and foremost. He had stopped traveling the world, never staying longer than a few months here, a week or so there, afraid to let anyone get close in case they found him out. Yes, he had realized the folly of that, the danger of that, a long time ago and he couldn't – he wouldn't – go back to it now.

His life in Metropolis had rescued him from that. Lois had rescued him from that. And he wasn't about to give up on her. He couldn't. Might as well decide to give up breathing. Give up living.

Lois had given up Luthor because he couldn't commit to her one hundred per cent. But there *was* a difference between them – one he'd failed to consider last night.

Luthor didn't love her. He couldn't. Even Lois didn't believe he did. All Luthor wanted was the convenience of a wife as a corporate asset.

*He* loved her. He wanted her for herself. For no more reason than she made his days begin and end and being beside her for the rest of his life was all he'd ever wanted since he'd seen her in Perry's office that day. To be with her and her alone.

Luthor couldn't give her that. But he could.

And, surely, that counted for something? In among those occasional nights in a cold bed and ruined dinners, surely being loved and loving in return meant something.

How could he have considered for one moment that he had nothing to offer her? That love was nothing at all?

Superman was a huge part of his life. But he wasn't everything. And for Lois he could work to make sure that he never took over their lives.

For Lois...

...he could do anything.

Even not give up on her. Not give up on them – on the idea of them, of the hope of a future with her. Somehow, he'd make his dreams come true, he thought, a new resolve growing in him, sinking its roots deep into his heart. You were never too old to keep wishing on a star, after all, and if he had lost sight of that, for just a time there, he hadn't lost faith for long. Like his powers, it had returned, now, stronger than ever. He would make her see him – truly see him – if he had to spend the rest of his life showing her.

His lips twisted in something that was as much smile as grimace. If nothing else, life was about to get very interesting. The smile won out. At least...as interesting as he could make it.

Things had changed between them since they'd left Haven so many hours before. Changed in ways that had been inevitable perhaps, in ways he couldn't even begin to truly understand. But there had been that something...that mysterious something in her eyes. He couldn't pin it down, precisely, but it gave him hope, somehow. Hope for something more. His heart closed up fierce and hot around that small, weak flame of expectant faith, sealing it in tight, so he'd never forget.

And there were other things he'd never forget, too. Like how it had felt to draw her to him, to drop his lips to hers, to taste the sweetness of her mouth against his own... He knew he should regret that weak moment, and yet he couldn't in truth. It had meant too much to him. He just hoped it didn't seed any awkwardness between them once they got back home. She'd been a little pensive down there, when they'd come back in. But she certainly hadn't seemed to be harboring any anger towards him for it, he considered thoughtfully. Which was a hopeful sign. Maybe he should try talking that one out first chance he got....

Maybe that was the truest lesson of all, the lesson that gang had taught him, back there on that roadside, back there in those woods. How easy it would be to let himself say nothing at all, do nothing at all, let his feelings for her ride...and maybe never get the chance to tell her what she meant to him. He had almost lost that chance last night. It was a miracle they'd both survived for him to kiss her at all. How could he regret it, given that?

For a moment, not regretting anything at all, he lost himself in the soft wonder of that small collection of memories, feeling the warmth suffuse him as he recalled how ardently she had responded to his touch...

His eyes sought out the view again. The sun was rising higher over the lake now, sending tendrils of gold across the white expanse. A dark arrow swept lazily across the sky and then broke up into a swirl of feathers. He would almost be sorry to leave, he thought wistfully. If it hadn't been for what they'd been put through he'd almost have found the last few hours with his partner...idyllic. Under different circumstances, he might even have enjoyed every moment of it. Romantic atmosphere, candlelight and the aroma of woodsmoke. Peace, quiet, Lois all to himself. So far removed from the frantic pace of their lives back in Metropolis, time to spare, time to...love. He had kissed her. Slept with her in his arms....

It could all have been so different. He might have had cause to curse it, rail against it, despair when it turned against them, but there were times when that Lois Lane luck came through for them in a blaze of glory. Not just ensuring they escaped with their lives, with barely a scratch, but how much more badly might things have gone last night if they'd never found their way here, to a cabin that was well ordered. A night spent in a tumbledown lean-to or some skinning cabin might have seen them freezing to death in the night. They might never have been found at all, if they hadn't found shelter. Of course, lakeside cabins were common in this part of the country, but still...whichever angel had marked Lois out as their own had worked double time last night.

This place would be beautiful in summer, he found himself considering as he lost himself in the view and, a small time later, in a fantasy of coming back here with Lois, when they could laugh over their brief adventure, share cool tall drinks by the lakeside, snuggle in front of the fire as the evenings grew dark and the shadows stretched across the water....

She'd look up at him, those dark doe eyes lost in him as he pulled her close, as he caressed the soft skin of her face, as he kissed her, deep and...

She was soft and welcoming in his arms, her voice a sigh in the darkness. She was electric heat and sharp desire against his skin. She was –

-- heading back to the cabin, he thought with a frown, jerked abruptly out of the fantasy as he caught the movement below him. Why was she heading back to the cabin? Why wasn't she headed to the car?

His jaw dropped. She was coming back for another load!

Unbelievable!

He started upright, fantasies and musings evaporating abruptly as the reality of life with Lois Lane intruded.

"Lois!" he bellowed the protest into the room's empty air.

He whirled around and headed for the stairs, determined to stop her before she damaged that ankle permanently.

<Business as usual,> a small voice said inside him and its tone was nothing less than pure satisfaction. <Rescuing Lois Lane.>

He grinned as he took the stairs two at a time and confronted his startled partner as she came through the door.

~@*****@~

Behind them, the cabin began its day as it usually did, basking in the weak spring sunshine as the sun rose over the lake. The light gilded the snow piled up against its boards and on its roof and sparkled off the blank eyes of its windows as the cruiser slowly pulled out down the track and was swallowed up by the trees that guarded the cabin's seclusion.

Eventually, there would be a thaw.

But, for now at least, a delicately-etched heart glistened on an ice-coated window pane, like a promise of something wondrous and new.

LL
L
CK

Lois Lane loves Clark Kent.

It was - as they say - a beginning.


LabRat © 2004
No infringement of copyright intended. Written entirely for play not pay.


Whose woods are these, I think I know
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost