Stepping back into the dining area, Lois felt surprisingly uneasy. The evening had gone well so far; the fact that her sister had left shouldn't have any bearing on how she felt about the date. Clark Kent had been a perfect gentleman, despite the way he enjoyed bragging about all the places he'd been. Even if he didn't continue to be a gentleman, Lois knew she'd be able to handle herself with him. She was hardly going to allow herself to be alone with a man she'd only met this evening.
Relaxing, Lois stepped forward to the table. She was surprised to see that the waiter had already brought the food; usually the service was slow. Only a certain cultural masochism made the place popular; the food was good, but the prices were high and the service was poor. Lois supposed that subconsciously, she'd been testing Clark Kent. If he'd been a chronic complainer, she'd have been vindicated in thinking him a loser. If he allowed the waiters to intimidate him, he'd have been a wimp.
Instead, he'd spoken to them flawlessly in their own language and somehow won them over. The man had sidestepped that trap just as easily as he'd sidestepped all the others she'd laid for him.
He smiled and rose to his feet as she came around the table. Lois was surprised at the effect he continued to have on her. She'd thought that Claude had burned any last thoughts she'd had about spending time with attractive men completely out of her mind.
She sat slowly, and found herself returning his smile. They ate in companionable silence for quite some time, and Lois was surprised at how comfortable she was with the silence. With anyone else, she'd have felt compelled to fill the void with a stream of thought babble about any subject that came to mind.
With Clark, however, she felt immediately comfortable, as though they'd been old friends who'd only recently fallen back into their old roles.
She couldn't help but be suspicious of it. She wondered if this was what Lucy felt with each new boyfriend. An instant attraction burgeoning into an insane conviction that this person was some kind of soulmate. Lois had seen how Lucy's affairs always ended up- in heartbreak and disappointment.
Clark spoke, finally, saying, "I'm not sure I've ever enjoyed a dinner so much."
"After eating in all the great cities in the world, I'd hardly think that this was the best of them all." Lois frowned. "The food here is good, but it's not THAT good."
She looked at him suspiciously. He'd probably been lying about all the traveling he'd done just to impress her. She felt a moment's disgust. He probably hadn't actually had anything published either. Men would lie about anything to get into a woman's bed.
Clark shook his head. "It's not the food...It's the company."
Lois froze. The compliment was so unexpected, especially in the middle of her mental tirade that she couldn't help but stop. Heat rushed to her face, and she hated the way that her face immediately lit up into a pleased smile.
The best con men were always flattering. Still, Lois couldn't help but feel a small rush of pleasure. She'd been nothing but Mad Dog Lane for the last two years, and she couldn't help but respond to compliments about something other than her skill as a journalist.
Clark Kent really seemed to like her, and there was something almost irresistibly attractive about that.
"I haven't been having a horrible time," Lois admitted slowly. "The food is good, and the company has been...nice."
"Just nice?" Clark grinned. "I don't think my ego can take it."
Grinning, Lois said, "If you are like the other men I know, you'll have your ego reinflated in no time."
Leaning forward, Clark said, "I'm not exactly like the other men that you know."
Of that, Lois could believe. If Clark had been like the other men she knew, Lois wouldn't feel this off balance. She wouldn't be tempted to reach out and touch his hand, to allow that physical contact to lead to other, more intimate things. Clark Kent was a temptation that she didn't need.
"That's what they all say," Lois said, her voice sounding off kilter and nervous.
"How did you get to be such a cynic?" The tone of Clark's voice was nonjudgmental.
If someone who'd known her as Mad Dog Lane had made that comment, she would have taken their heads off. Clark, however, seemed genuinely curious. Lois realized, to her surprise, that she didn't want him to see her as Mad Dog Lane. She wanted to see her simply as Lois, a woman.
"Live in Metropolis for a while and ask me that again," she said quickly. "An idealist is really just someone who hasn't been around long enough to know better."
Clark frowned. "You don't think it's possible to maintain ideals?"
"We live in the real world, with real problems," Lois said. "Ideals are for dreamers."
Shaking his head, Clark said, "I think that's sad. Just because people can't always live up to their dreams doesn't mean the dreams don't have value. We wouldn't live in the world we live in if people hadn't struggled to make their dreams a reality."
"Crime, pollution, war, terrorism," Lois said. "If this is the world that dreams have left for us, then I'm not sure I see..."
"What about freedom?" Clark said. "What about happiness and joy?"
"What about them? You can't think that we've accomplished them." Lois asked. There was something about Clark's face as he spoke, a certain sincerity that was almost overwhelming.
"Ideals set a goal for us to strive for," Clark said. "And even if we don't always reach them, the fact that we try moves us much closer to our dreams."
Lois nodded slowly. "I suppose I can see that. Without something to dream about..."
"Right." Clark touched her hand, and for a moment, Lois felt as though she'd been struck by lightning. "Haven't you ever had a dream?"
Looking away from Clark was almost impossible. Lois felt as though she was hypnotized, her entire consciousness focused on his hand touching hers. There wasn't any way that she'd tell him the truth. The white knight she'd dreamed about when she was thirteen had been the fantasy of a young girl desperate to escape into fantasy.
She'd wanted a man who was as tall and strong as her father, a handsome, intelligent man. Unlike her father, however, this prince would love her. He'd never turn away from her, drowning himself in his work. He'd love her and only her, and they'd have a love that would last forever.
It was the typical romantic nonsense of a young adolescent girl. Lois had given up that dream long ago, as her experiences with men led her into disappointment after disappointment. Claude had laid the final nail into the coffin of her prince, and Lois had given up on the idea of romance altogether.
Even watching soap operas and dreaming impossible dreams had become too painful for her. Lois had learned to sublimate her desire into her work, and she'd been happy.
Clark stared at her with his deep brown eyes, and Lois sighed. She hadn't been happy. She'd been miserable.
It took her a moment to realize that Clark seemed to expect some sort of answer. She fumbled for a moment before saying "I may have had some when I was younger, but I don't remember them now."
The look of mild disappointment in Clark's eyes wasn't nearly as bad as telling the truth would have been.
The prince she'd dreamed about when she was thirteen had been remarkably like Clark Kent.
**********************
The woman was a cynic. She didn't believe in dreams, she refused to admit to ever having any, and she was continuously suspicious of him.
Clark thought he was in love.
Lois Lane was impossible, infuriating, and dangerous. She was also beautiful, intelligent, and despite her tough veneer, she was enticingly vulnerable. When she'd talked about dreams, he'd seen a sort of desperate longing in her eyes, as though she wanted to believe but just couldn't.
Now she was staring at him as though he'd grown a second head. She looked down at Clark's hand on hers after a long moment, and said, "I suppose that love is a kind of dream."
Clark found himself nodding. "Love is the only dream worth having. Everything important comes from it. Honor, integrity, altruism...it all comes from love."
"Integrity comes from love?" Lois asked, her expression doubtful.
"Where else? Integrity comes when you love yourself enough to do what's right, even if you have to face consequences."
"Love yourself?"
Clark sighed. "When you see someone else doing something wrong, does it make you think less of them?"
“I suppose…” Lois said.
"So why should it be any different when you see yourself doing something wrong?" It took Clark a moment to realize that his thumb was moving slowly over Lois's hand as he looked her in the eye.
"We can lie to ourselves," Lois said. "Make up excuses."
"It never really works, though," Clark said. "In the end, you know the difference between right and wrong, and eventually you have to face the truth. In the end, Integrity is all about love."
Clark saw Lois glancing down at his hand on hers. "And what about romantic love?"
******************
After all his talk of honor and integrity, Lois expected Clark Kent to segue smoothly into talk about romance. In her experience, men who had to talk about honor and integrity were the least likely to have any of their own. Those who had it rarely needed to talk about it.
Instead, Clark simply sat and stared at her for a moment before speaking. “I really wouldn’t know about romantic love.”
“Surely you’ve dated,” Lois said. “You haven’t exactly been in a monastery all these years.”
Unaccountably, Clark Kent flushed. “I’ve dated, sure. I just haven’t ever been in love.”
“Men seem to confuse lust and love,” Lois said. “At least as far as I’ve seen.”
“I don’t,” Clark said flatly. “I remember what my parents had, and it bothers me to see just how rare that sort of relationship is. Finding the right person isn’t easy.”
“The next thing you’ll be telling me is that you believe that there’s only one ideal person out there for each of us.” Lois couldn’t help the cynical tone in her voice. Who did he think he was fooling? Men weren’t great romantics.
Clark seemed to consider the question seriously for a moment. “I’m not sure I’m willing to go that far…but I do believe that the number of people with whom we can find true, lasting love is really limited.”
That seemed reasonable to Lois. In a city the size of Metropolis, Lois had yet to meet an available man who wasn’t some sort of loser or creep. The thought that she might be sitting across from the one exception was vaguely unsettling.
Clark Kent was too good to be true, and Lois felt an almost moral obligation to prove it.
“You know,” she said casually, “I’m a bit worried about my sister. Her boyfriend isn’t exactly a good influence on her, and he’s taking her to a rave this evening.”
“So you want to drop by and check on her?” Clark asked. “That sounds fine with me.”
He was too accommodating. Lois wondered what he’d do if she asked him to drop everything right at the moment. After the amount he’d spent on dinner, most men would be irritated to say the least at the prospect of leaving most of it on the table uneaten.
She didn’t ask, however. She was still hungry, and the food suddenly tasted really good.
“I managed to get the address. Why don’t we drop by after dinner.”
*****************
Clark stepped out onto the curb, his hand outstretched to hail a taxi. He was still wincing about the final price of dinner, but luckily, Lois hadn’t been looking when he finally saw the bill. It was a good thing that he didn’t actually HAVE to eat, because it would be a couple of weeks before he got his first paycheck from the Planet, and much of the money from his travel guide sales would go into making the first and last months rent on an apartment.
He glanced over at the woman beside him. It had been worth it though. He hadn’t been sure, at first, but the longer they’d talked the more certain he’d become. She was the one.
The initial reaction of infatuation had only grown the longer he’d talked with her. She was stubborn and opinionated, cynical and yet had flashes of deep vulnerability. She was nothing like the woman he’d imagined himself as eventually falling for, and yet now that he knew her, he couldn’t imagine falling for anyone else.
He’d have to be careful. Women didn’t like men who were obsessed with them, and at this stage, he suspected that the best he’d do by revealing his feelings would be to frighten her away.
A battered yellow cab stopped in front of them, and Clark quickly ushered Lois inside. He followed her, and listened as she gave the cabbie the address.
In the confines of the cab, he was more intensely aware than ever of the fresh, clean scent of her. She intoxicated his senses, excited him, and aroused feelings that he thought forever dead. He’d thought that there was something about him that was innately uninterested in earth women. He’d feared that he’d always be lukewarm to every woman he met, that he’d always be alone.
The thought that he’d never find a love like his parents had shared had always been a bitter pill to him, but he’d become resigned to it. Lois gave him hope that it wouldn’t always be the case.
When he was with her, he could ignore the horrible odor of the cab, the fumes from the street, the cries of countless people across the city shouting and laughing, loving and dying. When he was with Lois Lane, the world seemed to shrink until only he and she existed.
It took him a moment to realize that he was holding her hand. When he realized that she wasn’t objecting, he felt a small rush of pleasure. Touching her was a privilege and a gift, and somehow, holding hands with Lois Lane felt more intimate than all the evenings he’d spent in Milan and Paris.
Before he even realized that it had started, the trip was over, and Lois was shoving money into the hands of the cabbie. Before Clark could protest, she’d pulled him from the vehicle to the end of a long, abandoned stretch of road near a warehouse. Other than a few vehicles parked on the street, there weren’t many signs of what was going on.
Clark, of course, could hear the pounding beat of the music already, and he grimaced. Listening to loud, painful music wasn’t his favorite experience; it was almost infinitely louder for him than it was for anyone else, and it left him feeling off balance.
Of course, he could still hear better than any human, even in the middle of all the noise and confusion, but compared to what he was used to, he was effectively deaf.
Nevertheless, he followed Lois as she quickly made her way down the alley to the single doorway at the end. She pounded on it, and he could tell that even her human ears could make out the music by now.
It took only a moment for them both to be ushered into the cavernous warehouse, which was packed with bodies. The music was a pounding, driving rhythm, fast and furious, sexual. Flashing lights illuminated the scene as a series of stills. Young girls in baby doll dresses, young men in baggy pants and tight shirts, couples in corners doing unspeakable things to one another.
Clark could see Lucy near the impromptu bar that had been set up at the other end of the warehouse. She looked as though she was arguing with a large, bald, tattooed man. Not being able to hear what they were saying was frustrating. Being forced to struggle through the crowds of drunken teenagers was even more so.
Lois had obviously seen Lucy as well. She was forcing her way through the crowds like a linebacker on a mission. Clark hurried to catch up. It wasn’t easy; the crowds closed behind Lois almost immediately.
The pungent smell of marijuana wafted through the crowd, and Clark could tell from the glazed looks on the partygoer’s faces that at least half the crowd was stoned out of its collective mind. Nearby he saw an older man passing something to a young teenager. Around the room, he could see several teenagers who weren’t dancing, but who had a hardened, almost predatory look in their eye. They were watching the crowd carefully.
Feeling distinctly uncomfortable and out of place, Clark quickly pushed his way through the crowd. Someone in the crowd groped him, but after checking to see that his wallet was still in place, Clark didn’t look to see who had done so. Being groped by a young girl who was dressed to appear even younger than she was would be bad enough; being groped by one of the young men would be even worse. All in all, Clark preferred not to know.
Pushing his way through the crowd, Clark could see that Lucy’s argument with her date had grown more vehement. Lois had seen it as well, and she was moving more quickly.
Clark recognized several of the tattoos on Lucy’s date as being prison issue, made by amateur tatooists using needles made from sharpened staples and home brewed ink. Clark hadn’t spent any time in prison, but he’d had foster siblings who had, and he knew that the tattoo patterns spelled out nothing but trouble.
He could hear them now, shouting at each other over the din.
“My sister was right about you!” Lucy’s face was flushed and her eyes were slightly unfocused. “I can’t believe I defended you to her.”
“I’m sick of hearing about your sister. This isn’t about her…this is about us.” The bald man was more in control of himself, though Clark could see that he too wasn’t completely sober.
“You knew this was the one thing I wouldn’t tolerate, and you did it anyway.” Lucy’s swaying grew more pronounced, and Clark realized that she was more than just drunk. Her face was sweaty and she seemed as though she was having trouble concentrating.
Before the older man had a chance to reply, Lois reached him. She grabbed his arm and tried to swing him around to face her, but the big man didn’t budge. Seeing that he was barely paying attention to her, she stepped between him and her sister.
“What have you done to my sister?”
Lois had obviously seen the same thing Clark had, and come to the same conclusion. Lucy had been drugged.
The big man put a hand on Lois’s shoulder. “Get lost. This is between me and your little sister.”
The music came to a sudden halt just as Clark clapped a hand on the other man’s arm.
“Take your hands off her,” Clark said quietly. “Or I’ll do it for you.”
