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From Part 6 ...
He should tell her. She’d given him the perfect opening and he should just go in. He should say, ‘Lois, I do have a secret...’ But he couldn’t. Not when she was lying so snugly across his lap. Not when he felt closer to her than he ever had before. Not when he too well remembered the sting of her disapproval yesterday. Not when their banter was easing her mind away from the horrors she’d endured at Luthor’s hands.
Not when the woman he loved was so happy and relaxed.
Part 7
Lois’s fingertip traced around the hills and valleys of Clark’s knuckles. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said.
Uh oh. “Uhm.”
“How did the alien - *Superman* - know we needed his help? I know he had contact with Henderson, but how did that contact happen? How did he just happen to be in Metropolis right when we needed him?”
“Lucky co-incidence?” Clark offered lamely.
“Clark, there’s a common factor,” she insisted.
“There is?”
“Who knew there could be an alien and also knew about Luthor?”
Clark caught his breath and slowed his galloping heartbeat. “What common factor?” he asked, doing his best to sound oblivious.
“Think, Clark. Who’s the common link?”
“I’m too tired to think.”
“Hodge,” she stated. “Franklin Hodge. I think he knew there *was* an alien in the Sewells’ spaceship and somehow he found him and got him here.”
“Could be,” said Clark.
“Except Hodge showed no recognition when Superman arrived. And Hodge was sure we were going to die. So maybe he didn’t know.” She yawned. “But he thought we were bugged, so maybe he did know.”
“Try to get some sleep,” Clark said. “You have to be tired.”
She sat up suddenly. “If he *did* come in the spaceship the Sewells found, he might have grown up in Smallville.”
“Hodge?”
She playfully swatted his arm. “Superman.”
“Oh.”
“So did you ever see him?” she asked eagerly. “I mean, was there anyone else who didn’t have a birth certificate?”
“Lois, I don’t know what city kids do during their lunch break, but I can tell you we never sat around and discussed our birth certificates.”
She grinned. “Was there anyone … different … at your school?”
“We’re all different in our own way. Just some of us hide it better than others.”
“Flying to school is hard to hide.”
“I can assure you I never saw anyone fly to school,” he said, trying to hide his discomfort and sure he wasn’t doing it well.
But for now, Lois’s attention sat squarely with her theory. “Of course, he may not have stayed in Smallville.” She thought for a moment. “We don’t even know for sure he came in that particular spaceship. Or any spaceship. I asked him and he didn’t answer.”
“Lois?”
“Yeah.”
“He is so different that even though he says he has come to help, there are going to be people who don’t trust him, people who allow his differences to feed their fears.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if you believe he really is one of the good guys, maybe you … we … all of us at the Planet should encourage people to give him a chance.”
“By not focusing on his differences, but focusing on how he uses those differences?”
Clark nodded.
“What if we’re wrong? What if he really is here to harm us?”
“Could he possibly be more of a threat than Luthor?”
“I suppose not.” She met his eyes. “You think he’s genuine, don’t you?”
“I’m hopelessly biased,” Clark said. “He brought about the arrest of the person who had kidnapped you and was planning who-knows-what. Then he smashed into Luthor’s dungeon and brought you back to me.”
“It’s too late to recall my story.”
“Your story is fine. You concentrated on what you knew and left alone what you didn’t.”
“I could have been more grateful. I didn’t even thank him.”
“Your story was objective and factual. Exactly right for the situation.”
Lois was quiet for a few moments. “You’re right, Clark. We should realise that anything we print about Superman could have massive implications.” She stifled a yawn.
“You’re tired,” he said. “You should get some sleep.”
“I doubt I’m going to sleep on this sofa.”
“Try anyway.”
“And if I do fall asleep what are you going to do?” She grinned at him. “Just sit there until you cramp up?”
“No, I’ll put you in your bed and leave.”
A few minutes later, her fingers stilled on his hand and her breathing deepened. Clark didn’t move for a long time. Then he carefully stood and carried her to her bed. He placed the bedcovers over her and kissed her forehead.
He stood back and his eyes lingered on her.
He’d found her! All his life, he’d feared there would be no one for him. But he’d found her. And he loved her. *So* much.
It seemed possible ... more than possible ... that she had feelings for him.
He smiled at that thought.
He wanted to tell her. I love you, Lois, he mouthed silently. But was it fair to her to say those words before he said the infinitely more scary ones? I’m an alien, Lois.
His smile faded.
Their relationship – still so new and vulnerable – had a myriad of stumbling blocks and complexities.
Most of which Lois didn’t even suspect.
The wheels he’d set in motion couldn’t be easily reversed. Of everything he’d done, only stopping Luthor brought him any peace.
The rest remained a cesspool of apprehension.
And if he was honest – he couldn’t see any way how some of it could possibly work out well.
+-+-+-+
Lois woke and saw it was mid-morning.
She lay still and let her mind work through each astonishing revelation.
Lex Luthor was a criminal. A murderer, a kidnapper, a drug dealer.
An alien – possibly the Sewells’ alien - had come to Metropolis. He could fly and wore an out-there suit.
Clark could kiss. Boy, could he kiss.
And most surprising of all – Lois Lane was in love.
She showered and dressed and was about to leave for the Planet when a knock sounded on her door.
It was Clark, looking concerned for her well-being and unsure of how to greet her. She gave him a friendly hug.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Great, I slept really well.”
He brushed back the hair from her forehead and frowned.
“It’s much better,” she assured him. “Come on, we should get to the Planet.”
He pulled the morning edition from his jacket pocket. “We made Page One,” he said.
She chuckled as she skimmed their story. “I doubt there was any serious competition to a story involving the fall of Luthor and the debut appearance of Superman.”
“Perry can’t wipe the smile from his face. No other paper has even a sniff in their morning edition.”
“I love it when they have to play catch-up.” She considered him for a moment. “You did well, Clark, really well.”
He thrust his hands into his pockets, combining the movement with a small shrug. “Thanks,” he said.
“Luthor had the whole city convinced he was a hero.” She grimaced. “Even me.”
“I had fresh eyes. Sometimes that makes it easier to see clearly.”
“I guess this means Metropolis doesn’t get a children’s hospital.”
“Maybe we should talk to Sarah Crawford,” he suggested.
Lois smiled. “Maybe *you* should talk to Sarah Crawford. She seemed very partial to your beautiful brown eyes.”
“It isn’t Sarah I’m hoping to impress,” he said.
Lois determinedly looked away, knowing those eyes would melt all over her heart if she looked at him. She patted his shoulder. “Come on, partner. We have work to do. I’m sure there are follow-up stories waiting for us.”
He grinned. “Partner?”
“This time, I was glad to have a partner.”
“And next time?”
“That’s up to Perry.”
“But?”
“But I wouldn’t be completely against the idea.” She closed her fist around his tie and pulled him closer. “But if you *ever* push me out of a story again ...”
“I won’t,” he murmured, eyes on her mouth. “I promise.”
Her phone rang and they both groaned. Lois answered it. It was Perry.
“Lois,” Perry said. “Sarah Crawford wants to talk to you. Can you and Clark get over there now?”
“Sure, Perry.”
+-+-+-+
Sarah Crawford answered the door herself. She looked questioningly at Lois. “I asked to see Clark Kent,” she said formally.
“Lois is my partner,” Clark said quickly. “We work together.”
Sarah’s face broke into a shrewd smile which included both of them. “Lucky Lois,” she murmured.
They followed her and sat on her sofa. “I can’t face a press conference,” she said. “So I’d like you to announce that Metropolis will get its children’s hospital. It will be called the David Crawford Memorial Hospital.” She fought back her tears, masking them with a small cough.
“That’s wonderful, Mrs Crawford,” Lois said softly. “Thank you.”
“It will be a joint venture between the Crawford Family and the City. Off the record ...” She glanced at Clark. “Off the record ... the details are very complex and yet to be worked out, but it may be legally possible to use a large portion of Luthor’s dirty money to contribute to the building of the hospital.”
“Sounds fair,” Clark said.
“I’ll have my lawyer continually update you,” she said.
“Thank you,” Lois said.
“I’d like to thank *you*,” Sarah said. “*Both* of you ... and Superman ... for helping bring Luthor to justice. It doesn’t bring back David ... but it makes a difference. A big difference.”
Again her tears seemed close and Lois felt a surge of sympathy for Sarah Crawford. For what she’d lost. Impulsively, Lois leant over and briefly squeezed the widow’s hand.
Sarah looked shocked initially, but then smiled weakly at Lois. “Do you have any problems with a secret identity?” she asked.
“No,” Lois said, uncertainly.
“Maybe you and I could go out occasionally, have some fun. But I would have to be incognito. It just wouldn’t do for the Crawford Matriarch to be seen being frivolous.”
“I’d like that,” Lois said, realising with some surprise that it was the truth.
“Good.” Sarah stood. “I’m looking forward to the on-going relationship between the Daily Planet and the DC Memorial Hospital.”
“DC?” Clark asked.
Sarah smiled wistfully. “That’s what I called David when we were alone.”
As Lois and Clark walked towards the Jeep, she brushed the lingering tears from her eyes. “That is just so sad,” she said.
Clark put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Now who’s getting cut up by a story?” he teased gently.
“But she’s not a story, she’s a person.” Lois stilled as her words ricocheted through her mind. “Aggh,” she said in mock horror. “I’m turning into Clark Kent.”
“Don’t ever do that,” he said. “I like you just the way you are.”
+-+-+-+
Two days later, Lois approached a nurse in the men’s ward of the Metropolis Hospital. “I’d like to visit Franklin Hodge,” she said.
“We don’t have a patient by that name,” the nurse said.
“Has he been released already?” Lois asked, surprised.
The nurse checked the computer. “We haven’t had a patient called Hodge recently.”
“Oh.” Lois covered her confusion with a quick smile. “I must have the wrong name.” She leant forward and lowered her voice. “I was asked by a friend of a friend to visit him because none of his family live locally. Do you have a patient who has had very few visitors?”
“There is one man,” the nurse mused. “Other than a couple of police officers, he’s had no visitors at all.”
Lois smiled. “That would be him. Could you tell me which room, please?”
“Fifteen.”
Lois thanked her and headed for Room Fifteen.
Franklin Hodge was languishing on his bed, looking mind-numbingly bored. He started when she entered the room. “Lois,” he said, quickly straightening his crumpled bed covers with his left hand.
His facial swelling had mostly receded, but the bruising was an array of gaudy colours. She glanced to the name above his bed. “Luke Allen?” she said with a teasing grin. “Have we met before?”
He shrugged with a doleful smile. “Would you believe me if I told you that is actually my name? My real name?”
“No,” she said frankly.
“It is.”
She sat on the seat next to his bed. “No mysterious disguise? No spy –“
“I’m finished with all that,” he said tonelessly.
“You’re finished? Because of what they did to you?”
He shook his head. “Before I went into Luthor’s, I knew it would be my last assignment.”
That surprised her. “Why?”
“Partly because of the mess I made in Smallville. Partly because my heart isn’t in it anymore.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated, the fingers of his left hand fiddling with the cast on his right arm. “Because you reminded me what I’d given up.”
“Like a wife, a family?” she guessed. “A real life?”
“Exactly.”
She was taken aback that anything she’d said or done could have caused such a life-changing decision. “How did *I* remind you?”
Hodge stared ahead. “You put him before your story. I’d become so engrossed in the big picture, so proficient at the chess-master mentality, so good at convincing myself that as long as the king was protected, it didn’t matter if we lost a few pawns along the way.”
Lois recognised a trace of herself in his disillusionment and shuffled uncomfortably.
“And then there was Smallville,” Hodge continued disconsolately. “Those photos ... that was so unbelievably careless.”
“I guess photos of you on the front page of the Daily Planet would have destroyed the whole ‘Invisible Aide’ persona?”
“Invisible Aide?” His face broke into a sad smile. “I like that.” Too quickly, he sobered. “Those photos would have finished my career. First, we protect our cover. Even before our lives. Because if our cover is blown, it probably won’t be just *our* lives lost.”
He dropped into silent contemplation for a few moments. Then he looked up at her with a cheeriness she felt sure was solely for her benefit. “I’ve been reading the Planet. The arrival of Superman has been a boon for business.”
She smiled. “It certainly hasn’t been dull.”
“Do you think he’s the alien baby the Sewells claimed to have?”
“Do you?”
Hodge reached for the triangle above his bed and used it to reposition himself. “I don’t know,” he said, looking directly at her. “And that’s the absolute truth.”
“Did you know about Luthor?” Lois asked.
He shrugged. “I knew more than I was willing to say in the cell.”
“Thanks for letting me know we were bugged.”
He grinned and it seemed almost genuine. “When you started yapping about Clark Kent being sent here to bring down St John, I nearly had a fit.”
“But you caught up pretty quickly.”
“Yeah.” He looked at her, a little shyly. “We made a good team,” he said quietly.
Lois broke away from his eye contact. “I’ve been thinking about how you said I looked so assured that time in your hotel room,” she said. “Do you know why I came in so business-like and snappy?”
Hodge half smiled. “That’s just you?”
“I was stung when you said I only thought I had power. I was determined to show you I could play with the big boys too. Those photos gave me leverage. And I intended to show you I could use it.”
His mouth twitched. “But it wasn’t just that,” he asserted.
“What else?”
“I’m trained to observe people, Lois. To determine their real motivation, despite what they’re saying.”
“So?” she said, defensively.
“So you did it for *him*. For Clark Kent.”
“And his family too,” she stressed quickly.
There was a definite hint of teasing in his look. “But mostly for him.”
“Mostly for him,” she agreed.
A momentary grin flickered across Hodge’s face again, as if her admission was something of a victory for him.
“What are you going to do when you get out of here?” Lois asked.
“Visit my folks.”
She’d never thought of Franklin Hodge as being a part of a family. “That’s nice.”
“I haven’t seen them for ten years,” he said with a depth of regret which shook her.
“Why not?”
“When you never know if you’re being tracked, watched, followed - home is the one place you avoid.”
“They’ll be so pleased to see you.”
He sighed. “If they remember me.”
“I’m sure they will.” Lois stood. “I should get back to work.”
“Thanks for coming,” he said. She was surprised at the depth of appreciation in his eyes.
“Take care, Franklin.”
He grinned.
“Or should I call you ‘Luke’?”
“Franklin’s fine,” he said. “I like it from you.”
For a split second, she rested her hand on his uninjured one before walking out and leaving him alone.
+-+-+-+
Two weeks later, Clark sat at his desk, watching Lois.
Watching Lois.
He pulled his eyes back to his monitor with a smile. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d found himself watching Lois.
Without his ability to write very fast, he would have lost his job by now. Between watching Lois and being Superman, there hadn’t been a lot of time for other things.
The past two weeks had been like a dream.
He’d worked with Lois, which, had there been no other component to their relationship, would have been an experience in itself. Professionally, she was good, incredibly good.
He’d relaxed with Lois, a lunch here, a coffee there, occasional moments of closeness as they tracked a story together.
He’d kissed Lois. Not at the Planet, not when they were working. But after he’d walked her home, or when he saw her to her Jeep.
But it wasn’t enough.
He had the world, but he wanted more.
Two things more.
Two things he knew were contradictory. The more he advanced one, the less became the likelihood of the other progressing.
But he couldn’t tell her he was Superman in the newsroom, so …
Resolutely he sprang from his desk and walked, as casually as he could manage, to her desk. He pulled up a nearby chair and sat across from her. “What are you working on?”
She looked up with her trademark smile and his heart fell into a deep dive. She held up the front page of the morning edition of the Daily Planet. It was, quite literally, covered in Superman.
Four pictures, the largest - one of him lifting a de-railed train back onto the tracks - covering four columns, one major headline, three lesser ones – all about Superman.
“He’s made quite an impression,” Lois said.
“So it seems.”
“Perry wants me to write a story about the effect Superman has had on Metropolis in just two weeks.”
“Ouch.”
She grinned at him. “I can be nice.” She opened the paper to the classifieds. “Have you seen this?”
Clark glanced dismissively at the pages of small print.
Lois flicked through page after page. “Seven pages of Personal notices,” she said in amazement. “And only five notices start with a word other than ‘Superman’.” She rested her finger on a random spot. “How’s this one? ‘Superman, here’s my number, here’s my name, with your dreamy eyes, come and heat my flame.’”
Clark put his hand across his chin and watched her.
Lois put down the paper. “So do you think he does?”
“Does what?”
“Do you think he uses the notices like a phone directory whenever he wants … company? It’s not like he lacks for options.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why? He’s male. He has … assets. Why not take advantage?”
“Lois, some men *do* think with their brains.”
Lois grinned mischievously. “But is Superman one of them?”
“I’m sure there would be other considerations,” Clark said, desperately searching for a way to get the topic off Superman’s sex life.
“Such as?”
“Have you seen the front page of today’s Inquisitor?”
Lois laughed. “Ah, yes. At last count there were two women claiming their newborn babies were the result of a liaison with Superman two weeks ago and they’d had superpowered pregnancies, eight women claiming Superman is the husband or boyfriend or lover who walked out on them sometime in the past and thirteen women claiming they have spent at least one night in a ‘love nest’ with the Man of Steel.”
Clark rolled his eyes. “Do you believe them?”
“No. But that doesn’t mean I think he would never take what’s on offer.”
“Are you planning to interview him for your story?”
“Probably not.”
Clark raised his eyebrows. “You’re not?”
“The last time I interviewed Metropolis’s most elusive, most enigmatic bachelor, what started with breakfast in Nantucket finished with handcuffs and a dungeon.”
“If I remember correctly, it was Superman who got you *out* of the dungeon.” He smiled. “It’s not like you not to be chasing every angle.”
“The story is more about the impact he’s had, rather than him. Sort of a summary of his rescues, how he’s helped, what he’s done and the follow-on effects of him being here.” She grinned at him. “He lucked out seriously, didn’t he?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, from where I sit I’m about the only female in Metropolis under the age of eighty who isn’t panting after Superman. But he’s stuck with me writing the story.”
“Why exactly is that?” he said, with a wide grin.
“Because Perry told me to.”
“No, why are you the only –“
She leant over and squeezed his hand. A brief touch, but his response rummaged through his entire body long after her hand had left his. “I’ve wondered that myself,” she said, her eyes alight with teasing.
Clark stared at her, heart pounding. “Would you like to go out?”
She glanced at her watch. “Now? Where?”
“No! I mean ...” He leant closer, resolute. He looked directly into those beautiful jarrah-brown eyes. “Would you go out with me ... on a date?”
Her quick intake of breath petrified him. She hadn’t been expecting this. Maybe he’d read her completely wrongly.
“A date?” she breathed. “Like an official *going out*?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?” she said. She laughed, a little forced. “I probably don’t understand dating Kansas-style.”
“Dinner, somewhere very nice, taking a long time so we can talk and laugh and –“
“No, I mean ...” Her cheeks were tinged the prettiest pink. “Why? Why are you asking me out on a date?”
“Because you’re amazing and I’m very –“
“No.” She put her hand on his arm. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments. I’m trying to ask what you see happening after the date.”
Clark knew his face had deepened in colour. “Lois, I would never expect –“
“Not that either.” She was fully blushing now. “Maybe we shouldn’t even think about a date until we can actually communicate.”
“Maybe be we should practise communicating on our date.”
She smiled. “OK, let’s try again. I’m not asking for a life-long commitment ...”
<Why not?> Clark thought. < I would give it, right here, right now.>
“... nor do I expect you to know exactly how you feel ...”
<Why not? I do.>
“... I just need to know if you see this as the first of occasional outings between friends who work together ... or if you see this as the start of something ... significant ... exclusive ... life-changing.”
“I’m hoping for the latter,” he said earnestly.
“How many more Janet Thorps can you take before you realise Metropolis isn’t your city?”
“I’ll never be indifferent to people’s pain, but Janet Thorp’s death made me more certain than ever that my place is here in Metropolis.” With you, he added silently.
She considered him for a long moment. Then she smiled. “Yes,” she said on a decisive sigh. “I would love to go on a date with you, Clark.”
“Tonight?” he asked, hoping.
“Tomorrow.” She leant closer to him. “Tonight, I’m going to a movie with Sarah Crawford,” she whispered.
“OK.”
She put her hand on his arm. “Don’t be disappointed,” she said. “We’ll have the whole of tomorrow to anticipate it.”
“I’ll pick you up at 7:30?”
She smiled, unguarded and open, and it took his breath away. “I can’t wait,” she whispered.
“Neither can I."
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Tease for Story 3 – ‘ADRIFT’ – Estimated early May
Rating – PG - 13
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Clark stood there, hands buried in his pockets, shoulders box-shaped, giving no indication of what he was thinking. Or what he was hoping for. If anything.
There was no way Clark Kent, principled to the back teeth, was going to make a move on her after just one date.
No way.
So … if she wanted him …
Lois slipped his jacket from her shoulders and stepped towards him. She kissed him, but kept her hands by her sides.
He responded to her kiss, but his hands stayed in his pockets.
She reached for his tie, ran her hands up it to its knot and loosened it.
His Adam’s Apple leapt against her fingers.
“Do you mind if I take this off?” she asked.
He swallowed. “No,” he said, in not his normal voice at all.
She smiled up at him. She loosened his tie and undid the knot, laying both ends against his shirt. She reached up and unfolded his collar, then removed his tie and tossed it onto her sofa.
Her fingers lingered on his top button. “Can I undo this one?” she asked.
He swallowed again. He nodded.
She undid his top button and drifted her hands down to his second button. She reached up and kissed him.
His hands emerged from his pockets and he placed them over hers. He looked deeply into his eyes. “Is this what you really want, Lois?” he asked, his voice deep and raspy.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Aren’t you?”
He took a deep breath and cupped his hands around her shoulders. “I know what I want to do now,” he admitted ruefully. “But I don’t want to do anything that could jeopardise our future … our very, very long future together.”
“I won’t regret it.” Lois settled her fingers around his second button. “Can I undo this one?”
He stared at her and she knew the man Clark was waging war with the gentleman Clark. She needed to show him they could both be winners.
“I want this Clark,” she murmured. “I want this so much. I trust you.”
He grinned suddenly and she wanted to laugh out loud. “So can I?” she chirped, her fingers still poised on his button.
He nodded. “You seem very keen to get my shirt off,” he teased.
“I’ve already had a much-too-brief glimpse of what’s under here and it’s been driving me crazy ever since.” She moved a button lower. “Can I undo this one?”
He nodded. “Driving you crazy, hey?”
“Ever since you barged into my bedroom.”
“My memory says it was my bedroom,” he said, his voice raw.
“Maybe it was our bedroom.”
Their eyes met and for a moment, neither of them moved. Then his face crinkled with laughter. “You remember too?”
“I will never forget *that chest*. Can I undo this one?”
“*That chest*. Sounds like it made quite an impression.”
She undid another button and slipped her hands inside his shirt. His skin was warm and soft. His underlying tone was rock hard. “Such an impression, I made it my password.”
“Your password was my chest?” he squeaked.
“Thatchest,” she said. “One word.”
She’d rendered him incapable of speech. But his grin said plenty.
“After tonight, I’ll change it,” she said.
“I’m not even going to ask what you’ll change it to,” he said weakly.
“Good, a girl needs secrets. Can I undo this one?”
“You can undo all of them.”
“Thanks.” She grinned at him in delight. “What do you remember most?”
“About the moment I met you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I probably shouldn’t say.”
“You just want to preserve the whole Clark Kent boy scout persona.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I’ve admitted I thought about this so much, I made it my password.” She undid the last button, pulled his shirt from his pants and pushed it open. “Wow,” she said, with deep appreciation.
He coloured a little in response to her frank admiration. She could tell he was pleased, though.
Her hands glided over his ribs, luxuriating in the feel of him. “What do you remember most?” she persisted.
“Two incredibly shapely legs emerging from the pink satin shorts.”
“And?”
He blushed even more. His colour went way past his throat and to the upper reaches of his chest. “A tightly stretched vest which didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination,” he blurted.
“Wanna leave nothing to the imagination?” she asked casually.
Before he could answer, there was a sharp knock on her door. She glowered at it, not taking her hands from Clark’s chest. “Who could that be?" she said. "It’s after midnight.”
