Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Trusting Me, Trusting You 4:Highway (3/?)

Clark stared into the mirror in the bathroom.

His heart sank.

And sank further.

He closed his eyes. Opened them. Closed them again. Opened them again.

Nothing had changed.

He dropped his head into his hands and turned away from the mirror in utter despair.


Part 3

When she heard the sound of the running shower, Lois picked up her cell phone and dialled Daniel.

"Hi, Lois," he said just a few seconds later. "Is everything all right? Do you need anything?"

"Can you come here so we can talk privately?"

"I'll be there in two minutes."

Lois watched at the window, and when she saw Daniel approaching, she slipped outside. "What's happening?" she said in lowered tones. "Has the press conference happened?"

"Yeah, Menzies and Daitch have just finished it."

"What did they say?"

"Menzies said that Superman was found unconscious this morning and brought to the base. He said that he is going to need some time to recover and he would be staying for at least two or three days."

"So no one should be expecting him to leave today?"

"No," Daniel said. "Do you still want to leave quickly?"

"If Clark's OK, I want to leave as soon as it's dark tonight. What was the reaction from the press?"

"There were a lot of questions. Ruby Rhodes from the Daily Planet tried to suggest that it could all be a publicity stunt by EPRAD - that the asteroid was never a threat, and the government needed an excuse to allow a super-powered alien loose on society."

"How did Menzies respond?"

"Menzies didn't have to respond."

"Why?"

"She was shouted down by the rest of the reporters. Daitch and two other scientists vouched that the asteroid had definitely been there, had been an explicit threat, and that without Superman, we wouldn't have the luxury of arguing about whether it had been a hoax or not."

"You think the newspaper stories will be positive?"

"Extremely positive. But I should warn you that every reporter on the face of this planet wants to interview Superman."

She probably should have expected that. "It's not going to happen," Lois said. "Not until he has recovered his memory. Perhaps not even then."

"Menzies said that Superman was concentrating on recovering."

"Recovering from what?"

"He left it vague," Daniel said. "When they pushed for further detail, Menzies mentioned that an individual's medical records are not for public scrutiny."

"Did they accept that?"

"Yes."

"They didn't say that because he's different, his privacy doesn't matter?"

"No," Daniel said. "No one was thinking like that."

"OK," Lois said. "I should go in. Clark will finish in the bathroom soon."

"Do you need anything?"

"Yes. Clark needs more clothes. I know you gave me the bank account with the compensation down-payment, but I don't have an explanation for Clark as to why the US government suddenly decided to give him seventy thousand dollars."

"You need cash. How much? A thousand? More?"

"A thousand - in various bills."

"I'll have it within an hour. What would you like for lunch?"

Lois remembered how much Clark had enjoyed the hamburger she had bought for him their first morning on the road. "Hamburgers," she said. "And fries."

"Anything else?"

"A jigsaw puzzle," she said impulsively.

"OK," Daniel said without any discernable surprise.

"Thanks."

"How's Clark?"

"Confused," Lois replied. "Trying to make the best of a distressing situation."

"He'll be fine."

"How do you know?"

"He's with you," Daniel said. With that, he turned and walked away.

||_||

Clark hadn't emerged from the bathroom when Daniel returned twenty minutes later, carrying a jigsaw puzzle box. He put it on the table and handed Lois a stack of bills from his pocket.

Lois took Clark's wallet from her bag and put the bills in it. "Thanks," she said.

"Would you mind signing this?" Daniel asked, putting a receipt on the table and holding out a pen. "Sorry," he added. "Approved procedure is that cash has to be signed for."

Lois scribbled her signature.

"Thanks," Daniel said when she'd finished. "Call if you need anything else."

"I want to leave as soon as it's dark."

"OK. I'll make sure your vehicle is ready."

Daniel left, and Lois took out the folded piece of paper on which Clark had written his poem of hope. She lingered over it, inundated with yearning for the Clark who was so familiar. She heard a sound behind her and slipped the paper into a side compartment in her bag.

The bathroom door opened, and Clark walked out. At the sight of him - dressed in his own clothes and with his hair shining and unfettered - Lois's heart soared.

She smiled, but he didn't. "What's wrong?" she said.

"Ahh ..." Clark spread his fingers and thumb across his cheeks. "I ... ah ... tried to shave, but the razor broke."

Lois hadn't even thought about that. "The stubble looks good," she said. "It suits you." And it did. It gave him a slightly roguish appearance that filled her imagination with a parade of possibilities.

"I don't like it," Clark said shortly.

"I have some things for you," Lois said, trying to haul *his* mind from the broken razor and *her* mind from how much she'd like to conduct a thorough exploration - starting with the stubble and moving south. She rummaged through her bag for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary and took out his glasses. "These are yours."

His questioning look rose from the glasses to her face. "Mine?"

"Yeah."

"Do I wear them all the time? Or just for reading?"

"All the time."

He swung open the wings and put them on. He pushed them down his nose, looked over the frames, and then repositioned them. "They don't make much difference," he noted.

Lois decided to hurry on from that topic, too. "Here's your watch," she said.

He took it from her and looked at it for a moment before turning it over and checking the back. Then he wrapped it around his wrist and fastened the buckle.

"And your wallet," Lois said.

"Thanks." He put it into the pocket of his jeans without opening it or commenting on its bulk.

Something had changed. His appearance had improved, but his mood seemed to have deteriorated significantly. Had he remembered something? Perhaps the isolation of amnesia had stirred up deep-seated residual fears from the cell. "Are you all right?" Lois asked. She laid her hand on his arm.

He stepped back, causing her hand to drop. "Sure," he said. "The bathroom's free."

But he wasn't all right. She waited.

Clark gave her an unconvincing smile. "I'm fine," he said. "Really."

"Lunch will be here soon."

"Already?" He glanced at his watch. "Oh - I lost track of time somewhere."

"We had breakfast late," Lois said. She pointed to the jigsaw puzzle box on the table. "You can get started on that if you feel like doing something."

He glanced at the box, and Lois saw the shadow of displeasure darken his expression.

She held her breath. The jigsaw puzzle had been a risk. What if, instead of evoking memories of an activity shared with her, it reminded him of the oppression of the cell?

"I'd like to ask you a question," Clark said quietly.

Lois felt her eyelids drop. She'd blown it. He was remembering the cell. She opened her eyes and nodded, fearful of what he was going to ask.

"Were you my nurse?"

"No. Why?"

"Are you a hairdresser?"

"Are you remembering something?"

"Nothing concrete. But before, when you were checking for injuries, it just felt ... familiar."

"Good familiar? Or bad familiar?"

"I don't know." He gestured to the open bathroom door. "Go, have a shower."

"Will you be all right?"

He nodded tautly.

Lois went into the bathroom and shut the door. This wasn't working. They had come through everything - the cell, the escape, Moyne - by trying to be open with each other. They had always found ways to communicate. Back in the earliest days, they had each given answers when asking questions had seemed too perilous. She had always encouraged Clark to talk to her about his fears and doubts. He had been a supportive and sympathetic listener when she'd finally been able to begin to mourn Linda's death.

They'd overcome so much. And they'd done it by working together.

But now ...

Now she felt as if she were trying to evade him. As if she had abandoned him to grapple alone with the obscure cloud of nothingness.

Lois slumped against the door. He was pacing. She could hear him. Up and down the small room, his torment evident in every step.

She couldn't do this to him.

It was preferable to deal with the truth than to fear the unknown.

Dealing with the truth - they could do that together. Fearing the unknown - that isolated Clark and cheapened the strength of their bond.

She grabbed the doorknob and pulled.

Clark was there, hand raised, knuckles bent, about to knock on the door. His surprise at her sudden appearance wasn't enough to drive the anguish from his expression.

"Lois," he said desperately. "I need some answers."

"I know," she said, her heart breaking at his despair. "I was just coming out to talk to you."

"You were?"

"Yeah." She clasped his hand and squeezed it for a moment. "It's OK," she said. "We can do this. Let's sit down and talk."

At the table, he withdrew a chair and waited for her to sit. He dropped into the chair next to her and pushed the jigsaw puzzle box aside. He leant forward, elbows on the table, clenched fists forming a clunky peak onto which his forehead slumped.

Lois waited, wishing she knew how to make this easier for him.

Clark lifted his head. "I heard you tell Daniel that you want to leave as soon as it gets dark."

"Yes," she said, surprised at his words. "Is that all right with you?"

"And you want to go to your father's home?"

"Yes."

Clark's face contorted with anguish. "Will your father be there?" he asked.

"No," Lois said quickly. "He is away at the moment. It will be just us."

Clark stared at his knotted hands, looking like a man who had just been sentenced to death.

"What is wrong?" Lois asked. "Something is going on here, and I don't understand what."

His irony-laden look conveyed more than a thousand words could have.

"I guess ... I guess that's how everything feels to you," Lois said.

"I know you're not supposed to answer my questions," Clark said, "but this is killing me, Lois. Will you answer just one question for me?" His eyes found hers. "Please?" he begged.

She couldn't refuse those amazing brown eyes when they looked at her like that. "Or course I will," she said. "But one answer is probably only going to generate a hundred more questions."

"That's OK," he breathed. "If I know the answer to this, I can wait for everything else. But I ... I can't go on not knowing."

"Go on," Lois said. "Ask."

"Are you my sister?"

His *sister*? "Is that what you were thinking?" Lois asked.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Clark said. "I'm lost and without any memories, and they send for you - not as a professional but as someone who *knows* me. We *could* be just friends, but it seems more likely that you're either a family member or my girlfriend, because neither of us is wearing a wedding ring.

"You told me I gave you asters - not roses, but asters. You didn't deny that you'd done something to my hair. You touch me - affectionately, but not with the intimacy of someone who is *really* close. You have a jigsaw puzzle brought here - probably trying to rekindle memories of our childhood. And you plan to take me to your father's home - probably again trying to awaken some of those lost memories. And when I went into the bathroom, I looked in the mirror. I have dark hair - just like you - and brown eyes - just like you."

"I'm *not* your sister."

"Half-sister? Step-sister? Cousin?"

"None of them. We're no relation at all."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely positive."

His mouth fell against his fists, and his eyes slid shut. By the time they opened again, hope had replaced the devastation and his mouth was tending towards a smile. His hands dropped to the table, and he leant back in his chair.

His shoulders relaxed, and his grin erupted.

Clark stared at her, his eyes sending messages in rapid time. Messages that shot deep into her heart. Messages that made her want to cry and laugh and squeal and leap onto his laid-back body and hug him until neither of them had any breath left.

"Why do you ask?" Lois said with such composure that it eclipsed every performance she had managed in her entire career as an agent.

Clark's grin took on a trace of teasing. "I thought there was to be just one question," he said.

"I answered your question," she said, knowing her excitement was feeding an effervescent grin. "You owe me one. Why is it so important that you know whether I'm your sister or not?"

"Because if you were my sister ... that would be the *worst* thing in the world."

"How can you be sure about anything?" she asked, wanting to prolong this conversation, wanting to bask in the adoring warmth of his unveiled eyes.

"From the first moment I saw you, I knew. At first, I tried to dismiss it as a normal reaction to having someone - *any* one - come. Then I tried to convince myself that you were a social worker who had been assigned to help me. But I knew ... when everything else was a haze of uncertainty, I knew ... we have *something*. You and me. A bond - a strong and unbreakable bond."

Lois nodded. "But it's not the bond of siblings."

He grinned again, radiant with relief and joy. "You were right," he said. "About one answer breeding a horde of other questions. Can I ask more?"

"No, you can't," Lois said lightly. "You know you can't."

He grinned. "That is definitely not fair," he declared. "All I know is how I feel about you."

"That's all you need to know."

He nodded his emphatic agreement. "But what I can't even begin to fathom is how I can feel like this and not have done anything about it."

"How do you know?"

"You're not wearing my ring."

"You feel *that* strongly?" Lois asked in awe. "After just an hour?"

He nodded, and then his face folded with comprehension. He bit on his lower lip. "I get it," he said disconsolately. "You don't feel the same way. That's why nothing ... Did I ever tell you how I felt about you? Or did I suffer in silence?"

"I knew. But -"

"Please!" he cried, lurching forward in his seat. "I don't remember the first time you told me that my feelings aren't reciprocated, or if there was a second and a third time, but I am sure that I don't need to hear it again."

"I never told you," Lois said quietly. "Because it wasn't the truth. It wasn't the truth then, and it isn't the truth now."

His jaw dropped. "Did *I* know that?"

She nodded.

His expression was strung between hope and disbelief. Disbelief won. "No," he said, shaking his head. "That can't be right. I *can't* have known that I had a chance with you."

"Why?"

"Because there's something else I know. Something that made me sure you had to be my sister."

"What?"

"I know I've never kissed you. Not *really* kissed you."

"How could you know that?"

"Because if I *had* kissed you, I am sure that no amnesia would be able to block that memory."

Lois didn't know what to say.

"Lois," Clark said. "How can any man feel like this and not have even kissed you? I was thinking about kissing you within seconds of you walking into that room."

"You had good reasons for waiting."

"You were with someone else?"

"No."

"I have something wrong with me?"

Her heart fluttered with fear. "Like what?" she gasped.

"Cancer or something? Something that would make it unfair to you to ask you to get involved with me?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"*I* was with someone else? I was already committed to someone when I met you?"

"No."

He lifted his hands in abject frustration. "Then what is *wrong* with me?"

"You ... we *both* needed some time to work through some issues."

"No," he said, vehemently shaking his head. "Ever since I woke up, I've had issues - tons of them. But not one of them stopped me from knowing that my life isn't complete without you. Not one of them stopped me from wanting to hold you. Kiss you." His eyes flitted to the open bedroom door. "Be with you in a way that sickened me if I was your brother."

"You're not my brother. What you're feeling is perfectly OK."

He stared at her, cheek twitching. "I want to believe you. You can't know how much I want to believe you ... but I have to ask this, too. Are you just saying that because you think I couldn't cope if you didn't feel anything for me? I couldn't," he said desperately. "But it would be better than thinking we were together and finding out later that you were just trying to let me down gently."

"I wouldn't do that to you," Lois said.

"Lois," he breathed. "I don't know *anything*. I don't know what's acceptable for us. I don't know where we're at. I don't know why we stalled." He gazed at her, his eyes solemn. "And I am so scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Of assuming something is OK when it's not. Of barging in and doing something that upsets you."

"That won't happen," Lois said. "You are the kindest, most considerate man I know. You would never demand or take advantage."

"But I don't remember ... *anything*."

"Clark, don't worry about this," Lois said. "We can do this ... together."

"Have I held your hand? Have I hugged you? Have I told you how I feel about you?"

"Yes - for all three."

"But we haven't ..." His eyes swung to the open bedroom door. "No," he said as his cheeks coloured. "We haven't."

"Clark," Lois said. "I will answer any questions that are really troubling you, but I still think it's best if you remember things gradually." She gestured to the box. "Like a jigsaw puzzle - piece by piece."

"Will you stay with me? Will you help me put all the pieces back together?"

"Yes," she said. "I won't leave you."

"That's the most important piece in place," he said. His grin flashed suddenly, shaking off his seriousness. "You didn't correct me about never having kissed you."

"If you were to kiss me, you might discover that it's not that memorable."

He chuckled delightedly. "Lois," he said. "That sounds like an invitation."

"Does it?" she asked softly.

He nodded, his eyes locked in hers. "You don't seem against the idea," he murmured in a low voice that ruptured numberless nerve endings and set them atingle.

"I have a suggestion," Lois said.

A mischievous gleam lit his eyes. "You do?"

"Instead of obsessing about the past, let's concentrate on the present," Lois said. "Let's pretend we've just met. Instead of you worrying about the memories you've lost, let's make new memories."

He smiled. "I love that idea."

"Me, too," she said.

Clark stood from the table and extended his hand towards her. Lois took his hand and stood also. "Hi," he said. "My name is ..." He leant forward, his mouth to her ear. "What's my surname?" he whispered.

"Kent," she said.

He backed away, his smile vibrant. "Hi," he said, gently tightening his grasp on her hand. "My name is Clark Kent. It is wonderful to meet you."

"I'm Lois Lane," Lois said, suppressing her desire to giggle.

"Ms Lane," he said, his tone serious, but his eyes sparkling. "Would you mind if I called you 'Lois'?"

"I wouldn't mind at all, Mr Kent."

"Please call me 'Clark'," he said.

"Clark."

"There is something I would like to ask you, Lois,"

"There is?"

"Would you go out with me? Tonight? On a date?"

"Tonight?"

He nodded sombrely. "If we leave here as soon as we've eaten lunch, we'll have the afternoon to make preparations."

"What preparations?"

His hand was still holding hers, and the heat generated could have melted a significant portion of the North Pole. "I'd like to buy some clothes. And a razor." He grinned. "And the most beautiful bunch of asters I can find."

"I don't mind the stubble look," Lois said quickly.

"I do," Clark said. "It's scraggly and itchy. And ... I want to be clean-shaven for our date." He looked at her beseechingly. "If you will agree to go out with me."

"I would love to go out with you," Lois said. She was in danger of being swept away by the charm of a confident and gallant Clark, but it was time to remember some practicalities. "But I'm not sure going *out* is the wisest idea."

"Then we could order in," Clark said. "Would that be all right?"

"That would be wonderful," Lois said.

He grinned. "I definitely need to shave."

That was going to be problematic, but Lois didn't want to think about that now. "Why?" she asked lightly. "Are you planning to kiss me?"

Clark gently brushed back a strand of her hair. "I thought we'd agreed to limit our questions," he said.

"That applies to questions about the past," Lois said. "Future questions are OK."

His eyebrow lifted, seasoning his smile with a touch of banter. "So it's OK if I ask you for another date tomorrow night?"

"I think that would be perfectly OK."

Clark smiled. Then he seemed to remember that their hands were still clamped together. He slowly eased out of her grasp and gave her another mind-shattering smile.

Then he stood there and just stared at her.

Lois stared back, relishing the openness of his expression and the unshackled flow of love from his soft brown eyes.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, not sounding sorry at all. "But I have been trying not to stare at you all day."

"I ... I'm sure I don't look my best. I hardly slept all night, and I -"

"Was that because of me?"

Lois nodded. "I was so scared that I'd lost you."

"That I *am* sorry about," Clark said sincerely. "I wish I could have saved you from that."

"There was nothing you could do," Lois said.

"Was it only one night? Or was I missing for longer?"

"Only one night."

"And when you found me ... I didn't even remember you," he said with regret.

"You remembered the important things."

Clark acknowledged that with another stunning smile. "It's weird," he said. "I don't remember any detail at all. I can't remember doing one thing with you. I can't remember when we met. I can't remember what you were wearing the first time I saw you. I can't remember our first date ... I can't even remember if we had one. But ... from somewhere deeper than that, I *know* that I need to be with you."

Lois tried to smile, although her chin was not that firm and her eyes were not that dry.

"Now I've made you cry," Clark said. "Have I done that before?"

"No. Yes."

He smiled. "Which is it?"

"I have cried, but never because you were unthinking or inconsiderate."

"That's a relief," Clark said. "Because it would be easy to conclude that I'm really woeful at this."

"No," Lois said quickly. "That's not true."

"Ah," he said with a wink. "But we only just met, so ..."

"So we have memories to make."

His eyebrows lifted in interest. "Memories?" he said in a low voice that somehow turned that innocent word into something much, much more exhilarating. "Such as?"

A knock sounded loudly on the door, and Lois felt as if she had been released from a tightening cord pulling through her body. "Such as hamburgers," she said.

"Hamburgers?"

"You like them." Lois turned from him and walked to the door, straightening her hair and wishing there was an easy way to dilute the joy and excitement - and arousal, she admitted - from her eyes. "Evan," she greeted.

He pushed forward a tray containing three paper bags and a bottle of soda. "How is everything?" he asked quietly.

"Fine," she said. "Everything's just fine."

"Good."

"Could you tell Daniel that we'll be leaving as soon as we've eaten this?"

"You will?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Evan nodded. "Good luck," he said. "You both deserve the best of everything."

She had the best of everything. She had Clark. "Thanks, Evan."

He turned away, and Lois closed the door.

Clark was there - just a step behind her. He took the tray. "Wow!" he said. "That smells great."

"Do you remember the smell?" Lois asked as they sat at the table. "Could you have identified that we have burgers from the smell?"

He breathed in. "Maybe," he said. "Are there fries, too?"

"Good guess," Lois said.

He came to the table, pulled out a chair for her, and took two glasses from the cupboard. She sat down and pushed one bag towards him.

"Thanks," he said with a smile that was a velvet-gloved assault on her senses. "What do you have?"

"Same as you," she said as she opened her bag.

He looked up quizzically from where he was pouring the soda into the glasses.

"What's wrong?" Lois asked.

"Nothing," he said. "But I'm surprised that you have a hamburger, too."

"Are you remembering something?" Lois asked. She took a small bite of her hamburger to take the pressure off his reply.

"I don't know," he said. "Do you usually eat hamburgers?"

"No," she admitted. But today ...

He took a bite, chewed appreciatively, swallowed, and smiled. "This is great," he said.

"Have some fries," Lois said.

"Thanks." He took one and offered them to her.

"No, thanks."

"You don't usually eat fries?"

"No. But I thought you'd like them."

"Thanks."

They ate, and between bites, Lois snuck glances at Clark.

His hair was black and shining as it sat in gentle waves. Lois remembered how she had massaged it during their therapy.

*That* was what she would like to do this afternoon. Go to the bedroom with Clark, indulge in some therapy, and then fall asleep in his arms. But then, they had a date tonight. Who knew where that would end?

"What are you thinking about?" Clark asked.

"Tonight," she said, because that covered the date ... and beyond.

"Our date?"

"Uhm."

"Do you know a good place that delivers?"

"I know the perfect place."

"Have we used them before?"

She grinned to show him that she'd noticed his smooth slide into asking questions about the past. "Once or twice," she said.

"So we've eaten together before?"

"Stop it," she said, waggling her finger at him. "We agreed to one question - which I have already answered."

He grinned widely at the waggled finger. "You were the one who said that one question would lead to other questions."

"I didn't say I would answer them."

"What's your favourite food? Other than chocolate?"

"Pizza."

"Have you ever eaten pizza with me?"

"Yes."

"Did I know it was your favourite food?"

"Yes."

"Did I get it for you?"

"Yes." From Italy.

"Do I always bring you food when you're upset?"

"No."

"What else do I do?"

"You listen to me. You understand me. You comfort me."

"So I might have been shambling and inept and mind-numbingly clueless, but I did manage to get some things right?"

"You got a whole lot right."

"I must have," he said. "Because somehow you stayed around long enough for me to ..." Suddenly, he smacked his open palm into his forehead. "I have it," he exclaimed.

"You've remembered something?"

He chuckled. "No," he said. "But I have the most realistic scenario for how we ended up like this."

"You do?"

"Yes. I frustrated you so much with my dithering that you slapped me upside the head to knock some sense into me."

Lois grinned. "Well, it's working."

His humour dispersed. "Is this what you want?" he said gravely. "Is this really what you want?"

"Clark," Lois said. "I can honestly say that I have wanted this almost from the time I first met you."

"I can honestly say that, too," he said. "In fact, it probably happened twice."

She smiled. "Have you finished eating?"

"Yes." He stood, wiping his hands on the napkin. He held out his hand. "My past is gone," he said. "But my future is yours, and I would be honoured if you would share it with me, Lois."

She took his hand, smiling and swallowing down her tears. "Forever," she said.

"Let's go. Let's get out of here and begin making these memories."

Lois picked up her cell phone and dialled Scardino.

Clark watched her - smiling, happy, relaxed.

Free.