Just to warn you, I don't write "just-fluff" pieces. I think I mentioned that once or twice before. So if you expect Clark and Lois to be together in this part, kissing each other passionately...Nahh, that won't happen in this part. It will, later. I promise!!!! 
From Part 7: “Can you tell me one thing? Did you save me from the first fire?”
“No, Lois, it was not me,” he answered and then turned towards the window again. “Good night,” he said softly and took off into the dark sky.
Her gaze followed him until he was out of sight.
Part 8:Clark cursed inwardly. What business did he have visiting Lois? He was breaking his own rules. What a hypocrite he was! Superman was the guy who flew around and saved people. There was no need for anyone to know more about him. And there he was, hovering in front of Lois’ hotel room and giving himself away. Lois was no fool, and it didn’t take much intelligence to assume that he hadn’t dropped by accidentally. Lois had to be aware of his interest in her. He hadn’t been in his right mind. He should have left the moment she had seen him, but that had proven to be impossible. Clark just had not been able to leave. He was far too distracted by his being so close to Lois. And she really saw him; she didn’t ignore him like she ignored Clark. It wasn’t the awkwardly polite relationship that the two of them had the rest of the time. Clark Kent couldn’t let Lois see how he really felt for her. She wasn’t the kind of woman he could introduce to Becca as a potential step-mother, as much as he wished that she might be.
Becca shifted her position in his arm, which really didn’t make it any easier for Clark to hold her. It was Friday evening and Becca’s school had had a little Christmas party. It had been an exciting day for Becca, but it had taken its toll on her. The teachers had read Christmas stories. They had had cookies to feed an army. Becca had been raving about the fruit punch with cinnamon. It was late in the evening when the party ended. Clark had known about that and he didn’t mind Becca going to bed late once in a while. She had had a lot of fun, but she was tired now and the way home was too long. When he had picked her up, she was hardly able to stifle her yawns. Her pace had slowed down increasingly. It was a cold night and Clark had decided that it was better to carry her. As soon as her head had touched his shoulder she had dozed off.
Christmas was on Sunday and Clark still had only a vague idea of what he was going to offer Becca as a Christmas present. He didn’t even know what he would give his parents. Christmas always came too soon. He had only two days left to think about the problem, less actually, because he needed to know before they flew to Smallville.
He wasn’t far away from the apartment when Becca stirred.
“Are we there yet?” she asked, drowsily as she lifted her head.
“In a few minutes, honey,” Clark replied and Becca leaned her head back on his shoulder, but she didn’t close her eyes again.
It really didn’t take long to reach the entrance of the apartment building. Clark set Becca back on her feet and started searching for his key. Becca yawned and clutched her arms around herself, trying to maintain her warmth. Suddenly, Clark heard screams. Someone near by seemed to be in danger. He didn’t usually fly around in the evening or at night. Clark couldn’t leave Becca alone, but the screams indicated that someone was going to be hurt or worse: killed. He couldn’t abandon this poor guy to his fate; that would be unnecessarily cruel and inhumane. Clark opened the door at super speed.
“Go inside, honey. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Lock the door behind you. Don’t open it to anyone but me and stay inside,” Clark said and headed in the direction where he heard the screams coming from.
It was just a short walk around the house to the back alley behind his building. As soon as he reached the place, Clark could see two dark figures fighting. The blade of a knife twinkled in the dark alley. One of the men held the knife in his hand; the other had his assailant’s arm in a firm grip. Neither of them seemed stronger than the other. Clark listened for Becca, briefly. He heard her steps on the stairs up to her room. She was safe. Clark breathed a sigh of relief. He returned his attention to the fighters. They still struggled with each other, both trying to dominate the other. There was determination written all over their faces and whatever reason they had for fighting, none of them was willing to let go. This wouldn’t end peacefully.
Clark lowered his glasses and focused on the blade. He only saw its shade and he didn’t want to burn any of the men accidentally. When he felt confident enough, Clark shot a beam of laser-vision towards the blade. It gleamed in bright red and the knife fell to the ground. It didn’t hurt anyone, just clanked as it hit the street. The fight continued, though. They didn’t even stop to wonder why the blade became so hot. Clark was worried. He knew that people didn’t need weapons to kill each other. It was no use to stay hidden. He didn’t change into Superman, because that would only increase the possibility that someone saw him. They weren’t armed. Clark checked on it with his x-ray vision. There was no reason why a regular guy shouldn’t be able to end the fight.
Clark stepped further into the alley. “Stop it!” he shouted confidently and approached the fighters. He was taller than the two men and even if it hadn’t been for his powers, he would have been stronger. They looked up, but only briefly. Afterwards they continued their fight, bickered with each other and battered their adversary. Clark was annoyed. He didn’t want to use his superior powers. A light headache built up behind his eyes. He really had enough of this violence. It was Christmas for Heaven’s sake. Couldn’t people love each other just once a year?
For some strange reason, Clark’s headache increased with every step he took. The pain spread from his head through his body, taking possession of his arms and legs. It became increasingly difficult to lift his feet and he staggered. Something was wrong! Clark felt limp; as if his legs weren’t strong enough to hold his body. It wasn’t anything he knew or would have been able to describe. Breathing became exertive, as if he had to work against a power that was pressing on his thorax. The place seemed to narrow around him. He didn’t see the men or the walls of his building. In fact he couldn’t see anything at all. Clark wasn’t sure if he had been blinded or if he had just closed his eyes.
His senses weren’t working properly, only two of them were left. Clark could smell the garbage in the alley. He was lying on the ground; his legs had given way without him noticing it. But the garbage was there, stinking and nasty. It wasn’t the worst of it; not compared to the pain that had rendered him helpless. He knew that he couldn’t get up. Clark felt nothing but hot, searing pain invading him, setting his body on fire. It was running down his spine and working its way through his stomach. Every cell seemed to scream in agony. And then it was over. Suddenly the world went black and every feeling stopped as Clark faded into grateful, comforting unconsciousness.
When Clark came to, he was alone in the dark alley. He was cold, but his muscles were too sore to tremble. The pain had receded and had left utter exhaustion. His body felt numb. Clark couldn’t tell if it was the cold or the remnants of pain. Would he be able to move? He didn’t know, but he had to try. How long had he been lying in this alley? Clark could only guess. Becca! The image of his little girl appeared in his mind and Clark felt the urge to get to her. She was alone, it was late and she didn’t know where he was. It had to be a nightmare for her. Clark groaned as he moved his sore limbs.
He tried to listen for Becca, but he only heard silence. That gave him another push. Getting up had never been more difficult. Clark had lost almost every feeling in his legs. He wasn’t sure if they could support his body. He seemed to have gained an immense amount of weight since he had reached the back alley. Clark tried to fly; he didn’t even care if someone was watching. But it was to no avail. He was grounded. Ages later, he stood on his feet, anything but stable. He reached out to steady himself on the wall. His progress was slow, the time it took, agonizing. Clark wanted to get to Becca. What was she thinking? Maybe, that someone had caught and dissected him. Well, Clark really felt like someone had dissected him. But he wasn’t injured, he just hurt all over.
Would Becca think that he had left her, like Lily had left her before? She didn’t really remember her mother, but there were times when Becca missed her. She was only seven and she sometimes thought that Lily had died just because she hadn’t *really* wanted to be with her. It wasn’t true, but those things were difficult to understand at Becca’s age. Clark wanted to get to her, as soon as possible.
* * *
Becca sat on the sofa in the living room and stared at the door, intensely. She mumbled incoherent words, which mostly consisted of ‘daddy’ and ‘come back’. She could read the clock and it wasn’t just a few minutes that had passed. When Becca didn’t watch the door, she turned her glance towards the clock. The minutes passed slowly. To make sure that they went by at all, she counted the seconds. Becca knew all the numbers to sixty, but she almost never counted that far. Her eyes returned to the door before that. She bit her lip. Why did daddy take so long to return?
When she had entered the apartment, Becca had closed the door. She had rushed upstairs to store her things in her room. It had taken her some time; at least Becca had thought so. She was tired, very tired. She would usually never have admitted it, but her bed looked very tempting, tonight. Becca dressed in her nightgown and shot the smooth pillows a longing glance. The urge to slip underneath her covers and the wish to go to her daddy fought within her. Finally, her daddy won over. He would be disappointed if she didn’t give him a kiss goodnight.
Becca padded downstairs on her bare feet and felt the cold metal of the spiral staircase. She shivered and started running to the sofa as soon as she had reached the floor. She jumped onto it and cuddled in a blanket that lay in a corner of the sofa. Becca felt a little warmer. She sighed and started watching the door. She was only a bit surprised that her daddy wasn’t already there. When he said that he would be back in a few minutes, he usually was back in only a few minutes. He rarely left her alone and when he did it was only for a very short time.
But, as more and more time went by, Becca started feeling uncomfortable. She didn’t like to be all alone. A few minutes were okay, but this was close to unbearable. Becca didn’t know what to do. Daddy had told her to stay inside and she had heard enough about the wolf and the seven little goats to take this advice seriously. So she kept staring at the front door, praying for her daddy’s shape to appear soon. Her glance wandered to the phone on the kitchen wall. She wanted her grandparents to call her so they could tell her what she should do. Becca whispered the plea into the empty apartment, hoping for someone to fulfill her wish. Nothing happened. Maybe she had to call herself? Becca decided to wait another couple of minutes, before she would go to the phone.
Becca didn’t need to wait any longer. She heard steps and someone coughing. Scared, she tried to hide under the blanket. She trembled. The steps came closer. Becca peeped out of the blanket, trying to see who was in front of the door. She regretted having thought about the big bad wolf. What if he came now? Another cough was heard, but it was even closer now. She could even hear ragged gasps. A huge shape appeared at the front door. Becca pulled the blanket even closer around her. She whimpered. Seconds dragged on as if each one lasted an eternity. Becca just wanted her daddy to come back to her. Why had he left her alone? She shivered violently.
“Bec…Becca.” A soft moan came from the front door. “It’s me.”
Becca recognized her father, but he sounded oddly weak. She emerged from under her blanket, struggling to free herself from the fabric that was tightly wrapped around her. She got to her feet and rushed over to the door. Becca desperately tried to not make any noise. What if she was mistaken; what if it wasn’t him? After all, he never sounded weak! She stopped her pace and watched the shape. It was trembling, leaning against something. Becca tiptoed closer to the door, and carefully avoided to be seen from the outside.
“Daddy?” she asked softly, her voice trembling as she leaned against the doorframe.
“Yes…pum…pumpkin.” He coughed again.
Becca was irritated. She hadn’t ever heard her daddy cough. But only he called her pumpkin. Becca was even surer that it was really her daddy in front of the door. Gathering all her courage, her hand wandered to the doorknob.
“Daddy!” Becca gasped, shocked, as she saw his pale face.
Clark stumbled inside and closed the door behind him. He clutched at the handrail as he stepped down the stairs and unsteadily took the last couple of steps over to the sofa, before he sank down with a groan. Becca followed him and kneeled down beside him.
“Daddy!” she whimpered.
“I’m okay, honey!” he managed to say.
to be continued...
