[Chapter 2: Demoralizing]Lois woke, glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It was 4:23am. It was still dark, but her vision was sharp enough to see around her bedroom, and she was more than awake enough to make out the quiet, steady breathing beside her.
The red and blue uniform was draped across the dresser on the opposite wall. The cape was on the floor.
She was afraid to turn her head. Afraid to look upon the one sleeping beside her.
The hours before had been the most sensual experience of her life. All previous expectations she had had about Superman and being with him had been completely blown out of the water. As amazing as she had envisioned it all (and she had envisioned a lot!), it had been even better. Superman, Kal-El, had been better.
Though, how could he not be? He was Superman!
But other things had also been very different from what she had expected.
He had been so gentle, almost nervous, despite all his strength, and while he demonstrated his super advantages throughout the night, he also revealed how some of his abilities could be exploited into . . . vulnerabilities. Who knew his super sense of touch could cause him to become severely short of breath? So much so that she had actually become concerned . . . before . . . !
But all of that was secondary to one fact.
She had been his first.
At the time, she had felt honored, blessed. . . .
Special.
But now. . . .
Now the reality of what had happened and what she had done was settling upon her.
Superman hadn't been in his right mind. She could try to deny or convince herself otherwise, but that wouldn't change the truth.
She had taken advantage of the situation.
She had taken advantage of Superman. Kal-El.
How could she have done that?!
She had done exactly what the men she hated did.
But her self-flagellation paled in comparison to her fear of how Superman would feel once he woke. How he would react.
But there was nothing she could do now but wait.
Wait and wallow in despair over what she had done as she tried not to imagine what the fallout would be.
She didn't go back to sleep.
O o O o O
He woke up with his head pounding and instinctively dreaded what the day would bring. He shifted on the bed and was instantly aware of the fact he was wearing no clothing. He opened his eyes and squinted up at the ceiling.
He wasn't in his apartment.
What happened? Where was he?
He slowly sat up and immediately spotted his uniform lying haphazardly on the dresser against the wall and his cape on the floor in a heap.
The pain in his head was instantly secondary to the alarm that suddenly seized his heart as he also realized he was not alone.
Lois.
He was with Lois . . .
Alone and bare . . .
Unquestionably as Superman . . .
In her bed.
This had to be a nightmare. He had to still be sleeping! How could this be real? How did this happen?
He sat up and held his head, trying in vain to get a hold of the situation.
The last thing he could remember clearly was feeling strange when he had returned to the Planet after handling Miranda. And then all but fleeing Lois for fear of doing something to offend her, but then things began to get murky. The only other thing he could recall with any confidence was . . . flying toward Lois' apartment and tapping on her window.
Oh Lord.
There wasn't a curse word strong enough for this situation.
He could hear Lois' heart beating wildly, and he knew she hadn't moved an inch since he had woken. Almost as if she was . . . afraid.
His mind went through a dozen scenarios and his heart clenched in fear at the thought of what he might have done while under the pheromone's influence.
There was no doubt how
far they had gone, but
how had they gotten there?
Had he . . . forced her?
Had he hurt her? The fear of losing control was one of the many reasons why he had never crossed that particular threshold before. Could he restrain himself at all in that state?
He quickly turned his attention completely on her, scanning for any sign of injury. Any bruises, any physical signs of harm. There were some areas of inflammation, a few of which would have made him blush if he wasn't so concerned. But he could detect no bruises. No sprains or broken bones. He felt a fraction of relief, but he was still afraid.
"Lois? I -- I don't know what happened. Please, I'm sorry if I hurt you. Did I hurt you? I--The last thing I remember is Miranda's airplane and snippets after I landed. Everything after is . . . fragmented. Please, I'm
so sorry! Please forgive me," he said, his words bleeding with regret.
"Kal-El, S-Superman, you didn't hurt me," she interjected, but her voice was strained.
"I'll leave Metropolis if you want. I can't believe that I did this to you. I'm so sorry!" he continued, not processing her words as he scrambled out of the bed and away from her while covering himself with a sheet to spare whatever shred of dignity he had left. "I would never consciously force---"
"You didn't force me!" she cried, appalled he would think himself capable of such an act.
"I--I didn't?" he asked, hesitating to hope.
Lois quickly shook her head even as tears filled her eyes.
He slowly frowned, processing what she had said while silently asking . . . 'Then how did we get here?'
"Wait," he whispered.
He knew he hadn't exposed her to the compound. When he had sent the chemical back at Miranda, he had been careful to clear off any remaining residue with his ice breath into the atmosphere.
So that meant. . . .
"I'm sorry, Superman, I know I shouldn’t have–” she began, but his entire awareness snapped in on itself so hard he couldn’t make out her following words.
She had let him. . . .
His relief at learning he hadn't hurt or forced her was instantly replaced with confusion and disbelief.
Had she even tried to stop it? He knew how infatuated she was with Superman, but surely she respected him enough to not let him cross that line when he had no control over himself, right? Apparently not.
But he had to be missing something. It couldn't be as bad as it appeared.
How long had he been out of it? How long before she gave in? Surely more than one day. He, himself, had withstood over two days before he had caved. Considering the circumstances, if it had been more than a day, he felt he could at least understand. Sure, it would still be bad, but it would be understandable.
“What day is it?” he asked, interrupting her tearful pleas.
“Saturday,” she answered swiftly.
“The third?” he asked, making sure it had only been a day as his emotions began to churn.
She nodded tearfully, surrendering to her fate.
Less than a day, less than twelve hours, technically (according to the clock near), and likely far less than that when the hours they must have slept were excluded.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" she wept.
Her fear and trepidation suddenly made sense to him.
His pain morphed into fury, if only because it hurt a little less.
"I can't believe this. Did you even try to stop things? If you did, how long did you try? Maybe a few hours? An hour? Was it less?"
She wilted, and his heart shattered even further for what it meant.
"It was less. Half an hour? Fifteen minutes, five?! I was beginning to trust you. I was hoping to---after everything?! You knew I--” He was so angry and hurt, he started shaking. He couldn't even talk straight. His voice cracked. “I don’t even--why? I--no, I don’t even want to--”
In less than a breath, he snatched his uniform and cape up and disappeared.
His sonic boom echoed violently behind him.
O o O o O
He wondered for a split second if he should go to his parents as he shot up into the stratosphere, but then he decided he couldn't. Everything was too raw and embarrassing.
Demoralizing.
Besides, he wouldn’t even be able to voice what had happened. Wouldn't be able to explain how he felt. Heck, he couldn't even completely identify his current emotions to himself.
He was certainly stunned and hurt, mixed with varying degrees of anger, disappointment, disbelief, and sorrow, but it didn't end there.
He knew he was feeling ashamed, but what troubled him most there was that he didn't quite understand why.
He felt so exposed, vulnerable.
He closed his eyes as he floated as high as he could while still staying low enough in Earth's orbit to breathe. Now nearly weightless, he couldn’t help but think back to the few things he had heard Lois say before he furiously fled.
Lois had said his name. His Kryptonian name. He must have told her at least a little about himself before. . . .
He had had no control and he had told her things, but he couldn't remember any of it!
And that scared him.
What else had he told her?
All he could remember were extremely . . . well, he'd rather not think about it.
He'd rather not think about any of it or what it now meant.
His chances with her were now over. How could they ever get together now after this? Everything was broken.
He wasn't sure how long he drifted, but when he returned to his apartment it was early afternoon.
He was so emotionally spent he just fell into bed, trying not to think about Monday, when he'd have to see Lois again.
O o O o O
It was over. Everything was over.
She had never felt so guilty. So broken and self-disgusted. So demoralized.
She had hurt him.
She had seen it in his eyes and heard it in his voice.
She had no doubt that his declaration of love from before had been true. It was why her actions had hurt him so much.
If only he had reacted like other men! After all, how many men would have been perfectly fine with what had happened? Even proud!
She quickly shook herself, reprimanding herself even more.
She felt the way she did toward him exactly because he wasn't like other men. Wishing he had responded differently was wrong and even if he hadn't been upset it wouldn't have changed how wrong her actions had been.
She desperately wished she could go back in time. Change what she had done.
Why hadn't she been stronger? She had just thanked Clark for having self-restraint and not taking advantage of her after 48 hours, FORTY-EIGHT HOURS, of relentless advancements from her and she couldn't even do half of that for Superman!
Superman was right to be angry.
She was angry with herself.
But as angry as she was with herself, as full of self-loathing, her despair was heavier. More suffocating.
How could she make this right?
Was there a way to make this right?
She would do anything.
But everything told her there was nothing she could do.
She had utterly, irreparably, messed up.
O o O o O
Monday finally came.
Clark trudged into work, forcing himself to keep his emotions buried. He couldn't reveal a hint of how torn apart he felt.
He glanced around and was relieved it seemed like everyone around him was oblivious.
And actually, everyone seemed rather subdued themselves.
Considering the previous week, it wasn't a surprise, now that he thought about it. No one had come out unscathed from Miranda's toxic disaster. Everyone was coping with their own personal fallout and too concerned with their own lives to pay much, if any, attention to anyone else. Small mercy.
Still, even now he was tempted to quit, so tempted.
But then he'd have to explain his reasons to his parents and Perry -- or come up with a valid excuse, since he obviously couldn't tell them what Lois had done to Superman.
He supposed he could use the pheromone as the reason, and he wouldn't be lying. However, almost everyone in the newsroom experienced something horrible during it, and his experience, as Clark, was actually pretty tame in comparison.
There was also the risk of Lois trying to figure out why he was quitting.
He could not have her figure out the truth on top of everything else!
Granted, there was just as much risk with that in staying.
How was he going to keep working alongside her?!
But he had to stay, for the simple necessity of financial needs. His rent would not pay itself, and he had just finished paying back his parents so he had no emergency fund yet -- and he wasn't about to ask them for another loan. Thus, he had no buffer to allow him time to immediately quit and start yet another job hunt. He needed to keep working.
And so he would. He would force himself to act as normally as he could. Hopefully people, including Lois, would assume any difference in behavior was due to what happened with the pheromone and not inquire further.
O o O o O
Lois went to her desk and risked a glance at Clark's back as he went to the storage room. He had kept to himself for most of the day after mutely giving her a cup of coffee, which had become a part of his routine in the mornings.
She looked away, not wanting to risk catching his gaze.
She felt extremely self-conscious and was certain her guilt was as blatant as a bright red stamp on her forehead. Part of her was glad Clark seemed to be off that day and not striking up conversation, but then it also caused her to sweat even more than she already was.
Had Superman talked to him?
Did he know what she had done?
Of course, it wasn't like she could ask. And a large part of her didn't want to know.
The day passed extremely slowly, but at least the work was easy, and she wasn't the only one going through the motions in a daze. Even Perry was subdued, although fortunately Rahelia had dropped the sexual assault charges.
Lois wondered how long she would feel like this. How would she ever not feel this agonizing guilt and despair?
And how was Superman . . . Kal-El doing right now?
O o O o O
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