From part 20...
Nigel nodded. "Their working theory is that this...Superman...came to earth as an infant in the space capsule. They had been tracking meteorite activity for a couple of weeks before the day they found the capsule, and found it had grown increasingly heavier until the time a few locals reported a flash in the sky and some UFO sightings. They went to investigate, and that's when they found the capsule and a large amount of glowing meteorites."
"Glowing?" Lex frowned. "Were they radioactive?"
"They appeared to be, which is what caught their interest in the meteorites at first. When the capsule was found, the scientists surmised the two could have possibly come from the same origin. If that's the case, they may have something to do with Superman."
Lex's eyes held a new gleam of interest. "Have these bits of meteorites been tested? Were they indeed radioactive?"
"Yes, but not strongly enough so to be harmful to humans. It does seem to contain an unknown toxin, however. The reports give the test results, and scientific opinion suggests the combination of radioactivity and toxicity could have been responsible for a planet's explosion."
"Which could explain why someone would launch a space capsule and possibly jettison a child off to another planet." Lex looked thoughtful. "And while the meteorite may not appear to be harmful to us..."
"...it might prove to have an effect on Superman," Nigel finished. "It is a possibility, sir."
Lex contemplated for another few moments, then resumed his task of putting his papers into his briefcase. "Nigel, pay them whatever they ask for pieces of this meteorite. I think we'll do a little testing of our own...firsthand."
**********
Now on to part 21...
**********
Lois frowned at the plate of food sitting on the table in front of her. She had been careful to follow the recipe exactly for the noodle casserole Clark had made for her when he was there. She was sure she had done it right.
But then why did it taste so awful?
She poked at the lumpy mass with her fork, watching it apprehensively. With the way it looked, she wouldn't have been surprised if it suddenly moved and slithered off her plate. Sighing, she picked up the plate and walked over to the garbage can, then ceremoniously dumped the contents into the bag.
*There's no way I'm going to eat that,* she thought grumpily, staring at the rest of the casserole sitting in the casserole dish on the counter. She shook her head. It was hopeless. Cooking just wasn't one of her talents.
The ringing phone was a welcome distraction. She wiped her hands off on a dishtowel, then grabbed the cordless phone from the kitchen counter. "Hello?" she answered grumpily.
"Hey, Lois. What's wrong? You sound upset."
Lois's mood brightened at the sound of Clark's voice. "Hey," she answered more cheerfully, giving the offending casserole one last glare before walking into the living room. "No, nothing's wrong. Well, unless you count the inedible casserole I just made. Yuck."
Clark's low laughter rumbled across the line. "Do I dare ask what you tried to make?"
"Just that casserole you showed me while I was here." She sat down on the couch and curled up into the corner, bringing her knees up beside her. "I have no idea what I did wrong, but it tastes awful. I'd rather starve than eat it."
"What exactly did you put in? Maybe I can help you figure out where you went wrong."
Lois recited the ingredients she used, and the steps she took. She was almost done reciting the process when Clark stopped her.
"What about the cheese? What kind did you use?"
"All I had was the individually wrapped kind, so I put a few of those on top."
"On top? You were supposed to mix the grated kind in with the soup and milk."
Lois groaned. "Mix the soup and milk? I forgot about that."
"You didn't mix them? What did you do?"
"I just opened the cans of soup and poured them on top, then added some milk and kind of mashed everything together over the noodles."
Clark laughed again, but his tone was kind when he responded. "Lois, cooking is a process. You can't just put everything on top of everything else and hope it turns out. It's not like making a sandwich."
Lois sighed and leaned her head back against the couch. "I'm hopeless. Why did I even bother trying?"
"Now don't get all sulky," he scolded. "It's just going to take some practice. Look at it this way. The next time you'll remember to mix the things together because you'll know what happens when you don't. The best way to learn is to keep making mistakes."
"You can keep making mistakes," she insisted stubbornly. "I'll keep going out for fast food."
He chuckled. "Not when I'm around, you won't. I'm going to see to it that you learn to cook, even if it's only simple things. You're going to die an early, unhealthy death with all that fast food."
"At least I'll die happy."
"Lo-is." He drew the word out, his tone lightly scolding. "You're being too hard on yourself about this. I hate to see you discouraged."
"Oh, I'm not discouraged," she said. Then she paused and made a face. "Well, okay, maybe I am. I was just so excited at the idea of cooking dinner for myself that it was such a disappointment when it turned out to be inedible."
"I understand. You should give yourself points for effort, at least," he said, trying to get her to look on the bright side. "A few weeks ago you wouldn't have even tried."
"I guess so."
There was a brief pause, then Clark let out a growl of aggravation. "Okay, that's it. What are your plans tonight?"
Lois's forehead creased into a look of confusion. "I don't really have any. Why?"
"This phone thing is driving me nuts. I hear your voice, and all I want to do is be there with you, so forget this. Can I come over?"
Lois's face split into a grin, and then she started to laugh. "Do you realize how funny it is to hear you say that and realize that you can?" She felt her heart warm at the idea of seeing him so soon after their flight home the night before, and she found herself nodding. "Yes, come over. I'd love to see you."
She could hear the smile in his voice when he responded. "Great! I'll be there in a minute."
The phone went dead without Clark saying so much as a goodbye, and Lois smiled and shook her head. Having a boyfriend with super powers definitely had its advantages.
Her stomach filling with butterflies at the thought of seeing him in a few minutes, she got up off the couch and looked around her living room. She hadn't cleaned up since that morning, and there was still a glass and cereal bowl on the coffee table from breakfast where she'd watched the morning news. The newspaper was also spread out along the loveseat, and her attache was still sitting on the floor next to the door.
She scurried about to clean up before Clark's arrival and was just putting the dishes into the dishwasher when she heard a knock on the sliding glass door leading out onto the patio. She peered around the corner in surprise and saw him standing there, a large brown bag in his arms, and smiling.
She hurried over to unlock the door and slid it open. "Hey," she greeted him happily.
He took a step to come in, but then stopped mere inches away from her when he realized she wasn't moving. At his look of surprise, she grinned mischievously and pressed herself up against his front, then stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him invitingly.
"Mmm," he murmured against her lips. He shifted the bag into one arm, then slipped his other arm around her waist and drew her closer. Their kiss deepened, and the intensity of it left them both breathless.
"Wow," Clark said when they finally pulled apart. "If I'd known that was waiting for me, I wouldn’t have bothered to call first; I would have just shown up."
She laughed. "Then next time you'll remember."
Clark grinned and leaned in for another kiss. "I certainly will."
As they walked inside, Lois took the bag from Clark eagerly. "I see you took pity on me after hearing about my cooking fiasco. What exotic location did you visit for dinner?" She reached inside and pulled out a can of cream of mushroom soup. She looked at it strangely. "What is this?"
With a smile, he took the bag back from her and carried it into the kitchen. "The exotic location I visited is called a grocery store. You should visit one one of these days. They have all these different kinds of foods and spices…. It's pretty incredible."
She smacked him on the arm. "I know what a grocery store is," she said, pouting. "But where's all that great foreign take-out you like to get?"
"Not in this bag." He set the bag on the island countertop and started pulling out items. "Tonight we're having that casserole you attempted, but this time you're not going to mess up." He set a block of cheese on the counter, then turned to look for a mixing bowl. He caught sight of the offending casserole congealed in the glass dish by the sink and scrunched up his nose. "I can see why you'd be discouraged."
Lois hit his arm again, making him laugh. "I'm just kidding," he assured her, taking a bowl down from the cupboard. He set it on the island next to the grocery store items, then gestured for her to step up beside him. "Come on; I want you to do this. I'm just going to supervise."
She rolled her eyes. "You're not going to let me off the hook about this, are you?"
"Nope." He shook his head. "I'm going to teach you how to do this if it's the last thing I do."
"It just might be if I burn down the apartment, and us with it."
A grin spread across his face as he leaned back against the sink and folded his arms across his chest. "Nice try, but you're not going to get out of this so easily. I'm invulnerable, remember? And I can put out any fires you may set without the help of the fire department, so you're safe, too."
"Great." Knowing she had no choice, she walked up to the cans of soup and grabbed a can opener from the drawer.
~*~*~*~*~
"This is great," Clark enthused as he put a forkful of the casserole into his mouth. "I don't know what you were worried about. You're a pro."
They were sitting next to each other at the table eating, and Lois had to admit, this second attempt was much better. She grinned and shook her head. "No I'm not, but I have to admit, at least this is edible." She put a bite into her mouth. "But don't tell Agnes. If she knew I was learning to cook, she'd quit bringing me all those wonderful leftovers."
He laughed. "It sounds like she takes good care of you."
"She does," Lois admitted. "She was actually the one who convinced me to get on that plane yesterday morning. She may not look it, but she's a real romantic at heart."
She suddenly remembered what her neighbor had said about how she'd let love slip away once, and Lois's curiosity returned about Agnes's past love. Had Agnes been as swept off her feet by her love as she had been by Clark? A surge of relief went through her that she'd been able to talk things out with Clark, and that he was solidly back in her life.
"So what did you tell her?"
Clark's question jerked Lois back to the present. She blinked and looked up at him. "What?"
"About you and me. You had to have told her we'd had a fight if she was the one who convinced you to fly to Metropolis to talk to me. Did you tell her we were back on speaking terms?"
"Oh. No, I haven't talked to her today. I kind of tip-toed out the door to work this morning because I wasn't sure how I would explain the fact that I was already back in town."
Clark grinned. "Welcome to my life."
But Lois didn't laugh. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and regarded Clark seriously. "When I woke up this morning, the fact that Agnes was probably lurking in her living room, listening for me to come home made me feel kind of guilty. I know she cares about me and wants what's best for me, but I knew I couldn't tell her I was already home…or how I'd gotten here. It kills me to have to lie to her, even if it is only a little white lie. But it gave me a little taste of what you must have to do every day. I know you're an honest, trustworthy person, and I can imagine all those little white lies you have to tell to maintain your cover must eat at you from time to time." Her voice grew quiet and compassionate. "Do they? Does it ever bother you?"
Clark sighed. "Yeah, I guess it does sometimes," he admitted. "But being who I am, I suppose it can't be helped. For the most part I try not to think about it. I rationalize it by telling myself that if I strive to be honest and trustworthy in all my other dealings, it will make up for the little white lies I have to tell to keep others from finding out about me."
Lois stared for a long moment into the beautiful brown eyes staring back into hers, and she found herself regarding this man next to her in a new light. Finally she shook her head. "I admire you, Clark. I really do. Your life is so complicated and complex, and I can't help but be impressed by how well you're adapting to everything. It's such a noble thing you're doing, and I'm just glad it's you who has those powers. Somebody else might prefer to use those for their own good, instead of for helping others." She reached over and covered his hand with hers. "I'd say you're parents raised a pretty amazing man."
He smiled slightly, though he looked a little embarrassed at her compliments. "Thanks," he murmured. He looked down at their joined hands for a long moment, then cleared his throat. "Oh, um, I almost forgot to tell you," he said, changing the subject. "Guess what happened to me at work today?"
Giving his hand one last squeeze, Lois took her hand off his and reached for her fork. "What?"
"I got this phone call today from this lady who was trying to get hold of Superman. She told me she couldn't figure out how to get in touch with him, so it occurred to her to call me, since I'd done the first exclusive with him…"
"Clark, you do realize you're talking about yourself in the third person," she interrupted, a slow smile working its way across her face.
He grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "Yeah, okay, it's a bad habit. But will you let me finish?"
"Sorry." She laughed. "Go on."
"Thank you. Now where was I…. Oh! Yeah. This woman was hoping I could get in touch with Superman to give him a message."
"What was the message?" Lois asked, suddenly intrigued.
"She's the organizer for Toys for Tots, a Christmas charity that helps needy children and their families in Metropolis, and she was hoping Superman would do some charity publicity for them this Christmas--be kind of a spokesperson, of sorts."
"Hey, Clark, that's great!" she said. But then she hesitated, and a frown creased her brow. "I think. It is, isn't it? Great, that is."
He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it is. It just surprised me and made me realize that I can help as Superman in ways I never thought of. Toys for Tots is a really good cause, and there are a lot of needy children in Metropolis. If I can do something to call attention to their charity, it would give me one more reason to be glad I decided to be Superman."
"I think it's great," Lois agreed. "What did you tell her?"
"I told her I would try to get the message to him. Anyway, Christmas is still a few months away, but I'll let you know what I hear from her." Clark leaned over his plate to take another bite. "So tell me how things went for you today."
She let out a long breath. "Good. Tiring. I was doing research on some companies for our investigation, and you know how wearing all that research can be."
"How *is* that coming?" His tone was apologetic. "I know I haven't been much help the last week or so. Perry's had me on a couple other things, so I haven't had any free time to look into that."
"That's okay," she assured him. "Mostly I've been concentrating on a corporation back east that seems to be linked to Mesopotamia, Inc.'s board members."
"Oh, that's right." Clark turned to her with interest. "You were going to tell me about that last week before everything happened."
Lois's stomach twisted at the memory of the trouble the story about Clark on her computer had caused. But she forced herself to remember that was in the past, and she needed to move on. Collecting her thoughts, she began to tell Clark what she'd found.
"When I didn't feel like I was getting anywhere going through the companies on the San Francisco shipping company's list of customers," she began, "I decided to try going about this from your coast. I looked through Jimmy's research that you sent me and found out that the Metropolis shipping company is owned by a conglomerate that has their hands in a bunch of different kinds of businesses--power and phone companies, a few retail chains…and get this--a few art and antique galleries, one of which is in France."
Clark stared at her blankly. "I guess I'm not seeing the significance."
Lois's voice became more animated. "Because it's the same dealer that had the antique vase up for auction, the same vase we suspect Mesopotamia, Inc. claimed they had stolen."
"You're kidding!" Clark exclaimed, his eyes widening. "So you think somebody with Mesopotamia, Inc. arranged for the vase to be stolen, collected the insurance money, then had this other subsidiary company auction off the vase for them in their art house overseas?"
Lois shrugged. "I know it's all circumstantial, but it seems like an awfully big coincidence that both shipping companies seem to factor into that vase. I suspect there's a crime ring here a mile wide--stolen antiques, false insurance claims, smuggling, dealing stolen artifacts…. It also seems coincidental that both these companies are linked to shipping businesses on opposite coasts. Such an arrangement would give them the means to transport goods to and from anywhere in the world."
"And the diamonds," Clark contemplated. "Whoever's behind this is probably dealing in smuggled gems, as well."
"I'm sure they are. Those diamonds bring a lot of money in the U.S. market, especially if you obtain them through illegal means from another country and sell them here in the States for a pretty penny."
Clark whistled. "I have the feeling you're onto something big."
"*We're* onto something big," she emphasized. "You say you don't feel like you've helped much, but you have. And you will. I know how busy you are, so I don't mind picking up the slack on this."
"But I mind." Clark shook his head. "I've really been looking forward to working with you on this, so I'm going to make the time. Besides, it just gives me one more excuse to spend time with you."
Lois smiled and leaned toward him for a kiss. "You don't need an excuse, you know."
Clark's lips lingered on hers for a moment, then he smiled back at her. "I know. And I'm glad."
It was quiet for a moment, and Clark reached for her hand. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of it, enjoying the look of surprise his gesture elicited. He scooted his chair closer and tugged gently on her arm. "Come here."
Setting her fork down on her empty plate, she turned slightly in her chair and leaned into Clark, snuggling up against him. He slid his arm around her and she dropped her head onto his shoulder.
"Okay, I'm never moving again," she said lightly, only half joking. "This is nice."
He chuckled, and her heart warmed at the low, rumbling sound she'd come to love. She sighed with contentment as he began running his fingertips lightly up and down her arm. It was quiet for a long time as they sat together, enjoying the moment of closeness.
Lois found herself soothed by the rhythmic motion of Clark's fingertips moving along her forearm. She was enjoying it so much that she noticed when his fingers paused on a spot near her wrist.
He fingered one spot in particular and asked, "Where did you get these?"
"What?" She stirred at the sudden lack of motion and lifted her head slightly from his shoulder. With dismay, she realized he was studying the tiny scars around her wrist and the couple further up her forearm.
She self-consciously pulled her arm away. "Oh, they're no big deal." She feigned a nonchalant shrug. "Everybody has scars from one thing or another."
Clark studied her for a moment, wondering why her scars seemed to be a touchy subject. For whatever reason, they really seemed to bother her. Hoping to tease her out of her abruptly changed mood, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I don't," he teased.
"Yeah, well, not everybody is lucky enough to be invulnerable like you," she snapped, getting to her feet. She picked up her plate and glass and took them over to the sink. She set them in with a clatter, then stared out the window over the sink at the glimmering lights of the city. Crossing her arms over her chest to ward off the sudden chill in the air, she didn't hear Clark's approach. She jumped when she felt his hands on her shoulders.
"Lois, what's wrong?" He turned her around to face him, noticing how pale she suddenly looked. "What's so horrible about them? You know everything about me, but I can't help feeling like you're hiding something. It hurts to think you don't trust me enough to tell me."
She licked her lips and averted her gaze. "It's not that I don't trust you. It's just too hard to talk about."
"What is?" He reached for her hands and noticed they were shaking. "Please, Lois. Tell me what it is about this that makes you so upset."
Lois's voice wavered with emotion as she responded. "It's just...it brings back so many bad memories, that's all."
"What does?" he prompted gently.
"My scars."
Clark's brow furrowed. "Why, Lois? Why do they bring back bad memories?"
Drawing in a shaky breath, she bit her lower lip, trying to stop it from quivering. "I got them in the car accident."
"What car accident?" His frown deepened as he tried to figure out what she was saying.
Her voice was a mere whisper when she responded, and if it hadn't been for his super hearing, he might not have heard her at all. "The one my parents and sister died in."
Clark gasped. She'd told him that her parents and sister had been killed in a car accident, but she'd said nothing about being in the car with them when it had happened. Why hadn't she told him?
His chest felt tight and he tried to bring his spinning surroundings back into focus. When he finally managed to pull himself together, he forced himself to focus on the quivering woman in front of him. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he spoke. "Lois, why didn't you say something? I had no idea..." His voice faltered, and he realized he, himself, was close to tears. "Lois, I'm--I'm so sorry."
She nodded wordlessly, obviously fighting to regain control. His heart went out to her. If she hadn't had a tough enough time dealing with losing her family in one fateful accident, she'd been forced to be a part of the dreadful experience. What was even worse was the fact that the scars only served as a constant, daily reminder of what she'd been through, making it impossible to erase the memory of the tragedy from her mind.
Without hesitation he reached out for her and took her into his arms. He felt her body shudder as her emotions threatened to overtake her, and she reached up to grasp a fistful of his shirt in her clenched fists. Pressing a feather-light kiss to her head, he hugged her tightly. "I'm here, Lois. It's okay. Go ahead and cry if you want. I won't think any less of you."
"I don't want to cry," she told him as she started to do just that. He could hardly hear her through her tears and the muffled sound of her voice against the fabric of his T-shirt. "I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of wondering why I lived and they didn't. I'm sick of wishing I'd gone with them..." Her voice broke, and her shoulders started to shake as her cries turned into silent sobs.
Clark steered her over to the couch and pulled her down beside him, cradling her against him. "Shhh, it's okay," he murmured, stroking her hair soothingly.
She cried for what seemed like a long time, and Clark remained silent. When her tears were finally spent, he felt her relax against him, taking comfort in the circle of his arms. He lowered his hand from the base of her neck and reached for her hand.
She settled heavily against him, and after a few minutes he began to suspect she'd fallen asleep. But then he felt her stir, and she lifted a hand to the front of his shirt, wet from her tears.
"I'm sorry," she whispered without lifting her head from his arm. "Your shirt's a little damp."
He smiled softly. "That's okay. I don't mind getting damp for a good cause." His fingers tightened around hers, and he asked the question that was in the forefront of his mind. "So what happened, Lois? Can you tell me about it? If you don't feel like you can, I'd understand, but I really want to understand what you went through. I want to be able to help you."
"There's really nothing you can do to help," she told him, wiping the stray tears from her cheeks. "There are just times when the memories are too fresh and too painful, even after all these years."
Clark's arm tightened around her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you remember something so difficult by asking about your scars."
"It's okay," she reassured him quietly. She breathed in deeply and let out a heavy sigh. "A lot of it is still a blur, to be honest. It all happened so fast."
Clark squeezed her hand encouragingly, and his closeness gave her the strength to continue. "My sister and I were in the back seat, and my parents were both in the front, with my dad driving. We were on the highway, going home from seeing a play in the city. It was late at night, and it was raining pretty hard."
Lois shuddered as the memory of that night played through the mind. Her throat grew thick with emotion as she went on, her voice barely a whisper. "The road was slick, and even though my dad was always a good driver, there was nothing he could do when the car in front of us tried to make a lane change too quickly and spun out of control. It clipped our front fender and sent us off the road. We rolled twice on the way down the incline, then slammed into a telephone pole."
She felt herself start to shake, and Clark's arm tightened around her protectively. "I don't know how long it was until the emergency crews arrived. I was in and out of consciousness. It was my side of the car that hit the pole, and the car's metal kind of crumpled around me, trapping me inside. I was in so much pain that I don't remember much, but I could tell from the urgency with which the crew worked that it was bad."
She reached down to trace the small scars near her wrist. "There was glass everywhere, and I ended up with a lot of stitches, a broken leg, a ruptured spleen, and some internal bleeding. The scar you saw on my stomach the other night was from the surgery I had the night of the accident. I was pretty beat up for a while there, but ironically, I was the luckiest. The doctors told me my parents died on the scene, and my sister died a short time after she got to the hospital."
"Oh, Lois, how awful," Clark murmured, his heart wrenching at the details. "How did you cope?"
"For a long time I didn't. I was a mess. I cried all the time, especially when I had to pack up my things and go live with my great aunt." She shook her head sadly. "My whole world had been turned upside down, and there were days when I honestly felt like I couldn't go on."
She took a deep breath and forced herself to regain control of her tender emotions. "But then I managed to get into the journalism program in my high school, and it gave me something else to focus on. It was kind of a lifeline, and I found myself taken with it. That's why I ended up majoring in journalism. I like to think journalism is what saved me, but it was probably more the fact that I found something to take my mind off my life. It was comforting to be able to investigate other people's lives instead of focusing on my own."
"I can understand that." Clark's voice was sincere and full of sympathy. He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Earlier you said you admired me, and was impressed by how well I was adapting to everything. Well, I can say the same thing about you. My life hasn't been a picnic, but I've never had to go through the trauma that you have. That you pulled through it and still managed to become the incredible woman that you are is simply amazing. I think you're the strongest person I've ever known."
She dropped her gaze from his as a flush of color surfaced on her cheeks. "No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are," he insisted firmly. "At least I've had my parents with me all these years to help me through the rough spots. You haven't had anybody. I think that's just inspiring."
The hint of a smile flickered across her face. "Well, thanks. That means a lot, coming from you."
A comfortable silence settled in around them as they were lost in their own thoughts. Finally Clark stood up, pulling her up gently to stand beside him. He took in her red eyes and pale cheeks, and reached up to stroke her face lovingly. "You look exhausted. Why don't you go to bed? I should probably be getting back, anyway."
Lois leaned into his chest, pressing her face against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. She sighed wearily. "I hate to have you go."
He slipped his arms around her and let his cheek rest against hers. "I hate to go," he told her. "But you look like you could use some sleep. I'd love to come back tomorrow, though. Are you going to be around?"
She pulled back and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be here. I'd love to have you come."
"Great." He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead, then stepped back. "I'll tell you what. Why don't we just hang around tomorrow night, and maybe go over the notes you have on the story? And I'll bring the rest of what I have from Jimmy. Maybe together we can turn up some new information."
She smiled and nodded. "I'd like that."
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then took her by the hand. "Come on. You go on to bed, and I'll clean up in the kitchen before I leave."
"I'd rather stay with you," Lois told him, clinging to his hand.
"I know you would, but I'll be back tomorrow." He released her hand when they reached the hallway leading to her bedroom. She turned back to look and him and he smiled encouragingly. "Go on. You climb into bed and I'll clean up in here super fast and be on my way."
That brought the first genuine smile since their abrupt end to dinner. "'Super' fast? I guess you would be handy around the kitchen."
"Absolutely. I'm a real catch," he joked.
She grinned back, but then her expression grew serious. "I know you are," she whispered. "And I can't tell you how grateful I am to have you in my life. For the first time since my parents and sister died, I feel like part of me is alive again. I have you to thank for that."
A single tear rolled down her cheek, and Clark's heart lurched. "Oh, Lois." He moved toward her and gathered her once again into his arms. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, because I feel the same way about you."
After a moment he chuckled, and Lois pulled back slightly to look up into his face. "What's funny?"
"Us." He shook his head. "We're a mess, aren't we? Well, at least we were before we found each other. But I think now that we found each other, things just seem to fit…like maybe we were the puzzle pieces that were missing in our lives."
She smiled at that. "I think you're right."
Their gazes met and held, then Clark finally shooed her off toward the hallway again. "Okay, enough stalling. Get to bed before I have to come in there and make you."
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Really? How would you make me, exactly? I'd love to see."
He rolled his eyes and groaned quietly. "Don't tempt me, Lois. I may be as strong as steel, but my control isn't iron clad."
She smiled, then wrapped her arms around herself as she lingered one last moment in the hall. "Goodnight, Clark."
"Goodnight, Lois. I'll see you tomorrow night, okay?"
She nodded. "I'll be looking forward to it."
He watched her disappear down the hallway and into her bedroom, then heard her shut the bedroom door softly. He smiled.
"Me too, Lois," he whispered to the empty room. "Me too."
**********
to be continued in part 22...
