Oh, that was just intensely heartbreakingly tragic and beautiful and lovely!
Lois was there. She had been sitting at the foot his bed, but stood up as he came inside. On any other occasion, he would have been happy to see her. The past couple of days had been a revelation to him, giving him a glimpse of the woman he'd always been certain was hiding beneath the bluster. But right now, when he could barely stand up straight, he wondered if it would be rude to ask her to leave.
"I thought you might need a friend," she told him.
Poor Clark, he just can't deal with Lois right now... well, not the Lois that he thinks he knows. But the Lois who is waiting for him is different.
"I'm… sorry. I don't think I'd be good company right now." Clark was so tired that going back out into the storm seemed impossible, and yet he couldn't let her drive home when the weather was so terrible. "I'll fly you home..." Even to his own ears the words sounded slurred with exhaustion.
"You're not flying anywhere." Lois took hold of his hand and it was the first warm touch he'd had in hours. "Come on, come sit for a minute." She pulled on his hand, tugging him forward and Clark numbly lurched to the end of his bed and sat down.
Love it. Clark is still in dead-tired resistance mode. Lois is so... you know, I think she is like Martha here.
She knelt down and matter-of-factly began to unzip his left boot. It felt strange, to have her doing this for him, but the clinical detachment he had been effecting was still firmly in place and he could only watch, slightly dazed, as she removed first one, and then the other, of his boots. Then Lois stood up and touched her hand to his cheek.
Yes. She really is like Martha. How many times did Martha pull off Clark's wellies when he was little? And when she was done, she touched his cheek to show him how much she loved him.
Lois took hold of his arm to guide him towards his bathroom. "You're soaking wet, we need to get you warm or you'll never be able to sleep tonight."
And when her little Clark came in all wet, Martha gave him a hot bath.
Lois was undressing him, but it didn't feel at all erotic, it felt reassuring. It seemed as though the weight of the night's horror was dropping away from him as his suit was dismantled. Not since childhood had he felt this kind of simple security, the sensation of being cared for so completely.
Yes, because here and now Lois is taking care of him just like Martha did.
The bad memories did seem more distant now, but it wasn't because of the water. Again and again his thoughts went to Lois and her obvious familiarity with his suit. A momentary ripple of happy warmth went through him at the thought that she had done this before. What would it be like to come home to Lois, instead of an empty apartment?
She was still there, wasn't she?
And Clark just half-realizes that he desperately needs this Lois, even if he is a little slow on the uptake.
Lois was turning down the covers on his bed, but she turned around to face him as he came into the room. "Feeling a little warmer?" she asked.
"Yes, thank you for, uh--." He wasn't sure what to say next and he couldn't quite bring himself to say 'undressing me', so he changed the subject.
"You aren't leaving now, are you?" he asked quietly.
Don't leave me, Lois! Don't leave me! Don't leave me!
Lois took a small step towards him, then another, coming close enough that they were almost touching. She seemed to hesitate for a moment and then put her arms around him as she whispered, "Good night, Clark."
His response was automatic; his arms closed around her and his chin dropped, lowering his face so that it was buried in the fragrant softness of her hair. Her hands stroked delicately along his back, leaving a trail of warmth that seemed to penetrate all the way to the chill lodged deep inside him.
So beautiful. I can lose myself in a paragraph like this, reading it over and over.
"We should get you into bed, honey," she whispered.
Clark's arms tightened reflexively around her. He didn't want to let her go just yet so he tried to force himself to wakefulness. "Don't, not yet," he mumbled.
I love how you write Clark's intense need. I'm so moved by this portrait of a hero who has done so much for other people, but afterwards desperately needs to be comforted himself.
There was no hesitation before the comforting heat of her body was next to his. He heard a click as the lamp was turned off. His room was now painted in blue tones from the half-glow of the newly fallen snow outside. The sheets whispered as she pulled them higher; their gentle weight made sleep seem even more irresistibly inviting. Lois' arms went around him, cradling him against her. His head came to rest on her shoulder and he closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her. Her fingers tickled through his hair, soothing away the last lingering traces of stress.
I love how you paint this world of night and sleep as an otherworldly dimension of soft blue light, cottony snow, whispering sheets and a beloved woman known fully only in dreams, who cradles her loved one in her arms like a mother her child.
"I've missed your hair longer like this," she whispered.
Me too.
"Is this what it's like, being married?" he asked.
He could feel her grin against his chest. "Pretty much."
Well, I guess there is one thing left that they haven't tried yet!
"Next week, I think? Maybe the week after that? She was gathering evidence for a case. A scientist who used to work at STAR Labs. Uh, Stables or Gables…"
"Stanley Gables?" Clark asked. "The one who accidentally killed his co-workers with that virus?"
I just love this tiny little piece of realism. What was his name again? Stables or Gables? It gets even funnier when you think of the meaning of the names in English. Was kind of house-thing was it?
![[Linked Image]](http://www.triplemconstruction.net/stable_mate.jpg)
![[Linked Image]](http://www.nbc-2.com/Hurricane/images/gable.gif)
"Mayson isn't my girlfriend." Clark looked at her like she couldn't possibly be serious.
"Good luck convincing her of that," Lois said with a smile. "Although, if you think it will help, I'll come along when you talk to her and drape myself all over you."
"I'd never let Mayson take my cape off," he told her with a smile.
(But Lois, you shouldn't even joke about killing Mayson. What could she fantasize about doing to Mayson instead of killing her, though? I heard about an Arab curse somewhere, 'May the fleas from thousands of camels haunt your armpits'. Maybe Lois could get Star to utter that curse...?)
It was heartbreaking to read about how 1998 Clark heroically did whatever rescue work he could at a disaster scene where so many were already dead, and the reporter kept repeating that Superman was pretty useless because he couldn't revive the dead.
Lois went to the window that Clark favored when coming home as Superman. Despite the chill of the evening, she opened it wide. When he came home, she wanted him to feel welcome. She sat down on the couch, wrapped a blanket around her, and picked up a book. It didn't matter how late he got home, she was resolved that at least one person would acknowledge how much his kindness had cost him.
And Plois decides to be there for Flark, just as Flois had been there for Plark!
"Clark?" she called out softly.
No answer.
Lois bit her lip, debating what to do next. Then she pushed on the door to open it a few inches. Clark was there, sitting on the end of the bed in a towel, his shoulders slumped as he stared blankly across the room.
"Clark?"
This time he straightened up and half-turned his head to acknowledge her.
"Yes?"
For a second she hesitated, not wanting to disturb him when he was clearly tired and upset. The thought that he needed a friend propelled her into the room. Without a word, she stood in front of him and touched his cheek so he would look up at her.
"What you did tonight," she whispered. "It was amazing."
Beautiful. I love it.
Clark bowed his head and Lois moved closer, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug. His arms went immediately around her waist, holding her to the hug. Lois stroked her hands slowly over his back, marveling at the strength that lay just beneath his warm skin. Was she doing this right? Lois wasn't sure. Her cheek dropped to rest on top of his head.
I love how this scene mirrors the one with Flois and Plark. Unlike Flois, Plois doesn't know what Clark needs. And yet, she knows it.
Lois realized what he wanted now. He needed to reset the sensory memory of holding someone in his arms, to replace all those dead bodies with someone who could respond to him. She tightened her arms around him and kissed his cheek.
Beautiful. Lovely.
He rolled onto his side, spooning her body to his.
Flois was spooning Plark. Flark is spooning Plois. But in either case, Clark so needs Lois to stay with him.
"Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you for waiting up for me tonight. Thank you for trusting me."
Her hand covered his, lacing their fingers together. "Clark, do you remember when I was out of my mind on pheromones and came to your apartment to seduce you? You didn't take advantage of me that night and you easily could have. I've trusted you ever since."
Well, something good really came out of that pheromone episode!
His chest ached with how much he loved her.
Isn't this, well, heartachingly beauiful?
"You're my best friend, Lois."
"You're my best friend, too, Clark." Lois swallowed hard, choking on the words she wasn't sure she dared to say just yet. It seemed silly to keep them from him, especially since it was something he already knew, but she still hesitated before quietly adding, "I love you."
Clark pressed a soft kiss to the back of her head even as his heart lurched joyfully. The feeling was the same as the first time she had whispered those words to him.
First his heart ached with love. Now, when she loves him back, it lurched. I love it.
I love the sexiness of the alternative version, but on the whole I prefer the gentler and more poignant 'first' version. It's not as if there wasn't any sexual tension in the first version, but under the circumstances, Clark needed to receive comfort and Lois needed to give comfort in a way that made too much naked skin a distraction.
Ann
.
but doesn't have any better way to make the distinction...)
I haven't done anything with this story for a couple of weeks, except to let the changes I made to part 8 ferment at the back of my mind while I tried to figure out where I went wrong. My fear is that I'm changing the tone of the story and parts 9 and 10 will seem out of place. I apologize for making you wait while I dither, but I have very little time and no beta, so I'm not always very motivated and/or subjective about the writing process.
It was a nice kick in the backside to see this thread pop up again. I promise to try (harder) to work on the story in a more timely fashion.
