Part 45
He opened the door and stood aside. “Please, come on in,” he said, trying to sound casual and reassuring.
“Thanks,” she said, suddenly very much aware that she was here, at his apartment – with the intent of spending the night. Platonic as it may be, she still felt very awkward about the whole idea.
After she came in, she looked up over at him, and was startled to see him as Clark
“God. If I could change that fast… wow…”
“I have the added incentive of hating being dressed like that…”
“You said that once – and – I guess I understand. Why continue it, if you hate it?”
“Because – oddly enough, it helps me lead that normal life I crave. It really sets that part of my life away from this part of my life –the human part. People treat me differently – they actually mostly treat me like a normal person when I look like this – and I think it’s because I’ve separated these two worlds I live in by making ‘superman’ so utterly conspicuous.”
“So you hide in plain view – by dressing in such a way that you attract attention, you actually end up being better able to just blend into the crowd as Clark. Wow. It actually makes a strange kind of sense, and clearly, it does work.” She yawned widely. “Oh. God. Sorry about that.”
“Hey – you’re tired. It’s the middle of the night, and … late night yesterday too. Let me get you the things you’ll need, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He forced himself to sound casual and matter-of-fact. He didn’t want her to feel an ounce of concern that he had misunderstood her request to spend the night. He really wanted to offer her the more comfortable sleeping environment – the bed… but he knew that in this case, the couch really was what she wanted. She would feel bad about pushing him out of his space, and then there was just the very intimate association of sleeping in his bed. He desperately didn’t want her having nightmares.
“Thanks,” she said, suddenly shy again. “I really appreciate it.”
After he had gotten her the bedding she needed and laid it out on the couch for her, he looked over at her.
“I’m glad you … you felt like you could come here. If you need anything – don’t hesitate – okay? ”
“Thanks – thank you so much. I – I feel – really…safe here.”
He looked at her, struck suddenly with a realization. “You do? You feel safe? I know that… when you were here – after I lost my memory… I’ll never be able to apologize enough for that …”
“No. You don’t need to – you really don’t. And – yes, I really do feel safe here. I just… I just do. So thanks. I’ll probably get a better nights sleep than I’ve had in a long time.”
“Okay! Well… pleasant dreams, then.” He turned to go.
“Wait! Clark.” He stopped and looked at her inquiringly. She walked over, moving into his space, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She drew back and looked at him, a self-mocking smile playing on her lips. “Uh… good night.”
He smiled back at her, but didn’t make a move to repeat the contact. “Good night, Lois. Pleasant dreams.”
[TBC]
Part 46...
She was driven from deep sleep unwillingly by the sensation of someone shaking her awake. Consciousness evaded her, and she tried to shut the sensation out. She heard a voice - not loud, but definitely insistent… and elusively familiar. She tried to block it out. Just a few more minutes. Please. Just a few more minutes. The voice got a little louder, and a little more insistent, and in a shock of horrified recollection, she remembered where she'd heard that voice before.
Gasping awake, fighting off the layers of sleep, she sat up jerkily, not even noting how the man withdrew from her, startled by the abruptness of her motion. She saw him there, standing in front of her, and she knew he was angry, knew that he was displeased. He told me to wake up, and I didn't. He's going to be angry - and when he's angry... dear god - don't let him be angry
Even though her intellectual mind knew that begging for forgiveness would yield her nothing, she started, in a panicked and frantic voice, to appeal to him - to beg for him to forgive her momentary lapse of ... whatever. The words spilled out, hasty and frantic, and in her state of panic and not-yet-fully-awake confusion, she didn't notice that the man standing in front of her was looking at her in dawning horror.
He had debated long and hard about whether or not to wake her up. He was afraid to touch her while she was asleep, afraid of triggering a panic attack. At the same time, he knew that she would be upset with herself if she overslept, and if she knew that he had let his own fear of upsetting her stop him from waking her up, he could lose her. Maybe he wouldn’t lose her today, but if she felt he was handling her with kid gloves, she would eventually feel resentful and stifled in their relationship. Above all else, he knew that Lois would want to be treated like the very competent equal partner that she was.
It had been hard - she hadn't wanted to wake up. He knew that the last few nights had been low on sleep for her, and that she was probably in desperate need of another four or five hours - but he also knew that being late for their kind of job without a really good excuse was a direct path to doing cute little human interest stories. Lois would give up food and sleep before she would want that to happen to her career. He knew that. So he shook a little harder, and put a little louder/firmer edge to his voice, imploring her to wake up.
Her reaction had thrown him for a loop despite his mental preparations. She had been so sudden in her transition from completely asleep to … whatever this was. What threw him the most was that she seemed to be pleading with him… in Kryptonian. Like a ton of bricks, it hit him. He realized with a horrible flash of insight that she had been woken up before, countless of times, out of a deep and comfortless sleep. By him. By Lord Kal. I should have known that ... he would have done that. I should have known. I should have thought this through. What was I thinking? Was I even thinking at all?
She suddenly came fully aware. It was as if her conscious mind had suddenly woken up and realized that her body had beat it to the punch. As soon as awareness took hold of her, she stopped the outflow of words. Silence now filled the room, painfully.
She felt each second drag by, as if it were a minute, and knew that she had to say something. Anything - to break this really awful moment into two, and let something more pleasant trickle in. But what do you say to a man that you've driven into such a state of dismay? Had he even understood her words? What had she been saying? In the cold light of consciousness, she couldn’t even remember.
"Clark?" Her voice was much smaller than she had intended. Mentally she cursed herself for that weakness. "It's okay," she added, this time, her voice came out as she desired. Strong, and in control. Soothing even. "I’m okay. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that."
His brow was wrinkled with worry, and his eyes were broadcasting all kinds of distressful feelings. Shock, horror, sadness, guilt - it was all there, in his brown gaze, and she was driven to offer forth more comfort. She shook her legs loose from the coverings, and stood up, very carefully and slowly. She walked over to him, noting that he was now watching her with wary caution, and she very gently put her hand on his arm.
"You okay?" Her voice was soft and solicitous.
These words had an effect. He heard them, and the horror in his gaze made way for disbelief. Incredulity.
"You're asking me... if I'm okay?" He said these words in a disbelieving tone. "I mean.. my god... you're asking me..."
"Oh, come on," she said in a light tone that completely belied the feelings that she was experiencing on the inside. "Can't the shoe be on the other foot from time to time?"
"Lois," he breathed, unable to follow her into a place of lighter banter. He squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head, as if trying to shake the last ten minutes from his mind.
He stepped back away from her. Her nearness was too much for his shattered senses right now. He didn’t know what to do or say, and was absolutely terrified that he would somehow say something that would be as wrong a thing to say as possible. Words tumbled in his brain, and he clamped them tight. He did that to you? He came to you like that? He woke you like that? To force himself on you. He did that … and you couldn’t stop him. He stepped further away, and felt the couch against the back of his legs. Defeated, he just dropped down, holding his head in his hands, with his eyes still shut, trying desperately to erase the images from his mind. Don’t think about it. Don’t. Don’t visualize it.
She watched him, confused. What had her reaction done to him? What was he thinking, what was he imagining? She moved closer to the where he sat, and then, decision made, she dropped down on the couch next to him, her body nearly touching his. She reached out a hand, and put it on his arm again. She could feel the tension in his body – he was stiff and unyielding.
“Clark. Please. Talk to me,” she implored. “Please.”
The sound of her soft pleading brought him to his senses somewhat. She’s pleading. She should never have to plead.. He lifted his head, and looked at her, still wearing a tortured expression.
She looked at him directly, and he could see the tears still on her face, as she had been crying during her panic attack. No. Not a panic attack. She had been having a flashback. There’s a difference.
“Lois,” he said, trying out her name out loud.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to upset you like that.” Her voice was careful and even, as if she was trying very hard not to agitate him further.
That broke his heart even further. He didn’t want her to ever have to modulate her response around him, to worry about how he might react or take something.
He shook his head, still not having the right words, still not able to tell her what he was feeling. He didn’t want to hurt her by his own thoughts.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” he said hastily. “You didn’t do anything – there’s nothing to apologize for.” His voice was frantic and urgent, as if afraid that she might not believe him. She had to know that he wasn’t upset with her. She had to know that he wasn’t someone that she needed to worry about. You can say anything. Do anything. And it’s okay with me. Please don’t be afraid of how I’ll react.
“What happened,” she said quietly. “What… what’s wrong?” It seemed ludicrous to ask this question, but still – she felt like there was more going on here than just feeling guilty about triggering her reaction.
He shook his head. “Lois – I – I … I don’t want you to be late for work.” He grabbed onto that like a lifeline. She had to go to work. She had limited time in which to get ready and get there. She wouldn’t want to talk about this now once she realized that.
“I… I’ll go in late. It’s okay… I want to –“
“No! You can’t!! You can’t… you – you have to go in! You can’t be late… you - “ he trailed off, as he heard himself giving her what might sound like a directive. An imperative. A command.
“It’ll be okay – “ she urged on.
“I don’t want to be responsible for you losing your job – or losing your respect at your job,” he said miserably. “I’m sorry. But … I know your reputation and career mean a lot to you… and I don’t want to be the cause of that all falling apart for you.”
“You don’t want to talk about it, either.” She said shrewdly. “Although I believe what you just said about my job… you really don’t want to talk about this.” Her voice held bitterness and resignation.
“No – I do… but – it’s… it’s hard. I it’s too… much. And… it’s …”
“Do you want to… forget about… us? I mean – I know… I guess… I should have realized that… it was hard for you. To be… at the receiving end of all this… baggage. To have me react to you sometimes as if you were him. To a man like you – that has to be torture. And… I don’t blame you if you – “
“I don’t want to forget about us – my god – I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I could never forget about you – or give up a chance of being with you – I… I – I just… I just… I’m sorry. I lost it –there… I … freaked out on you, I guess – and… all I can say is that I’m sorry – and I’ll try really hard not to let it happen again.”
“Clark – I’m not angry at you – I’m not – I’m just trying to give you a way out of this – if that’s what you want. You don’t owe me anything. You didn’t do this to me – you are not to blame for what happened to me – and you don’t owe it to me to help me heal!” Her voice was intense and impassioned as she tried to let him understand that he had no obligations to fulfill as far as she was concerned.
“Lois,” he said, his voice holding horror again. “Did you actually – even for a moment – think that I was in your life like this because… I felt it was somehow my duty? To undo what he did? “
“Most of the time… no. But sometimes – when my insecurities get the better of me…”
“I’m with you,” he said as sincerely as he could, never breaking his gaze, “because I want to be. Because being with you is the only thing I want. Because being without you is unbearable now. Lois – I don’t ever want to end what we have. I would – if you wanted to – of course… but … I would never want things to end on my own. Do you believe me?”
His words were so stark and honest that she was tempted by habit to break the gaze that they were sharing. She forced herself to respond without any show of discomfort.
“I … believe you, “ she said.
He let out a relieved breath, making her realize just how worried he was about the fate of their relationship. She took a deep breath and resolved to lighten the atmosphere a bit. There was only so much intensity you could take at this hour of the morning.
“And… jI’m going to go to work – how about I get in the shower… and… you…” she said, slowly, teasingly, looking at him with some mischief in her eyes.
“Yeah…?” He couldn’t help but smile back at her change in attitude. He knew she was deliberately being playful and he was happy that she felt comfortable enough to tease like that even if he was also well aware that she was deliberately trying to make things more relaxed between them.
“Make some coffee,” she finished. “After all, you do it so well, it would be a shame to waste your talents.”
Your wish is my command. He bit back those words as soon as they came into his head. Don’t say anything so overtly stupid. “Coffee, it is. Is that all? Breakfast? I can – “
“No – I know you can make it fast – I can’t eat that fast. I’ll grab something at the office. But coffee will keep me alive until then. I… I… maybe a ride to the office too?”
“You want me to –“
“Discreetly, of course – you can drop me off a few blocks away – whatever – because I know that… if we were seen flying together…”
“Yeah. I hear you. Discreet.” His voice held an edge.
“I’m not – Clark… I’m not… ashamed or afraid of people knowing about us… the only… discomfort I feel in that area is all the attention – you know…”
“I do, I do.” He sounded happier. “I’m sorry. Lana was always so … she felt that … “
“I know. I think she regrets that – hurting you like that – if it’s any consolation.”
“I know she does. It’s okay. I understand – having your life a constant media circus is a pain in the neck.”
“Add thoughtlessness to the list of wonderful qualities I’ve shown you today.” Her voice was remorseful. “Of course you know what that’s like. I’m sorry – I’m being pretty selfish – and … rude. “
“You aren’t. I know. It’s okay. I agree – lets just keep this between us until we’re more comfortable with it all,” he said easily.
She nodded, a little unsure of how she felt by his response. Gathering up her bag, she went into the bathroom, and closed the door, preparing to shower.
As she stood under the hot water, she started thinking about their conversation on discretion. Part of her felt a strong wish to have him plead the opposing case – to tell the world that they were dating, to throw discretion out the window. His agreement that it was a good idea made her feel somewhat diminished and deflated, but then, she couldn’t argue with her own sound reasons.
Furthermore, what if it didn’t work out between them? She would always be the woman that Superman dumped. Even if she broke it off. Not that she would – she couldn’t imagine it being any other way than his dumping her – getting fed up finally with the sham of a woman that she really was. But if – or … when… she couldn’t bear to be the recipient of all the pity, scorn, even loathing that people would feel towards her.
Her shower was over, and she stepped out, and dried off. Throwing her clothes on, she took a few short moments to complete the rest of her morning routine, and then, she stepped out, feeling kind of shy and awkward again. I hope he thinks I look pretty.
He looked up as she came out, and smiled at her. She always looks so beautiful. How can anyone who works with her get anything done?
“I am really impressed,” he said, teasing her gently. “You got ready really quickly.”
“Not all women take a long time,” she gently teased back. “But don’t get too used to this. I reserve the right to be as slow as I want under other circumstances.” As soon as she said this, she flushed red, realizing that her words could be taken to mean something completely different.
“Okay,” he said, refusing to take the bait, especially as he realized that the bait had been held out unwittingly. “Thanks for the warning. But now you at least have some time to drink your coffee without…” Burning yourself. Oh god. I was really going to say that.
“Thanks for making it,” she said quietly, rescuing him from his awkward pause.
“Anytime,” he said. It seemed a big leap to him that she actually had asked him to do something for her – had done so without worrying about the inconvenience. He really hoped that they would one day reach that point of independent co-dependence that happy couples seemed to share.
He waited until she told him it was time to go, and then he spun into his traveling clothes.
“Not very discreet,” he said, feeling suddenly awkward. He was worried about scaring her like this – of looking too Kryptonian.
Her manner had changed slightly when he had done his changing act. The ease had slipped somewhat from her stance, and he felt that she was also feeling the same awkwardness that had seized him.
“Are… you okay?” He hadn’t really meant to ask her the question – to give actual words to the feeling between them, because he felt like she might be embarrassed by her own perceived weakness – her fear of being around him like this.
“Yes. Yes – I’m okay. I -… sorry….”
He shook his head. “No need.”
“I know. But I still am. “
“Still want the lift? I mean – a cab might still get you there in good time.”
She smiled at him slowly, and he felt his heart skip a few beats. “Trying to get out of it?”
“Yeah … nothing doing, right?”
“Yup – you aren’t backing out on me now.”
“Okay. Okay – I’ll get you there, and then I can come back here and be lazy,” he joked. “Are you ready?”
She smiled tightly. “Yeah,” she said, her voice revealing some of her nervousness.
He walked over to where she was standing, and reached out his hand to hold hers. She moved her hand into his, her eyes connecting with his all the time. He saw the mix of feelings in her gaze. He could feel that she was afraid, afraid that the contact would be disturbing to her, afraid that she would have a bad flashback – but also he saw the warmth, the friendship – and that something else that was defining their relationship as more than just friends. He gave her hand a very gentle reassuring squeeze, and he walked with her towards the balcony door.
For her part, she appreciated that he had done that – walked with her hand in hand. It made the closer intimacy of flying together easier to contemplate. She smiled as she realized just how hard he was trying to put her at ease. He was an unselfish and caring person. And he was hers. That was the biggest miracle of all.
“Okay. Ready?”
“Ready…” Why does my voice have to sound all breathless like that? I sound like a teenage girl. Yuck.
He let go of her hand, and slipped his arm around her waist – he did this quickly so that she wouldn’t have time to build up any anticipatory fear in her mind. Tightening his hold, he lifted off from the ground.
[TBC]
