I've Got This Friend By Supermom Rated: PG-13 Submitted: October 2003 Thanks to my faithful critique partners, Ann and Wanda, for their undying faith in my ability, their support and suggestions, and their belief that my muse would return. You helped make writing fun again. All rights to these characters belong to Warner Brothers and DC Comics. No copyright infringement is intended. Prescott was too far from Metropolis to travel by taxi and too close to fly - at least by commercial airline. Clark could have flown there as Superman in a heartbeat. But he'd have had to explain to Perry and the accounting department at the Daily Planet why he didn't rent a car; and with everything else going on in his life right now, he just wasn't up to the trouble. So here he was, driving on a dark stretch of rural highway, a full moon illuminating the sky, and nothing but the radio to keep him company. And it wasn't doing a very good job since the mountains had interfered with reception and the best station he could receive was a scratchy, static-ridden one broadcasting a high school ball game. It was just him and his thoughts. And his thoughts weren't very comforting tonight. His thoughts were filled with Lois. She was beautiful. Gorgeous actually in that earthy, all-woman, big eyes and curvy body sort of way that old movie stars had been. Clark had been smitten when he'd first seen her in Perry's office. He'd fallen head over heels sometime during the following weeks as they'd worked side by side. Now he was besotted. Bewitched. Captivated. She had him by the heartstrings, and she didn't even know it. But he loved her all the same, and it was eating at him bit by bit knowing that while he dreamed sensuous fantasies of her at night, she thought of him as a brother at best. At worst, he was a rookie, a competitor, and a threat to her standing at the Planet. He'd never meant to fall in love with her. He'd learned long ago that under the circumstances, attachments could be complicated. Thorny. Dangerous. His secret had required a certain degree of detachment from society, and through the years this detachment had taken its toll on his emotional well-being. Sure, Clark Kent was probably as well adjusted as anyone, but deep inside he harbored the same basic need as everyone else - to be cared for and about. To be needed. To be appreciated. To be loved. His parents cared for him. And they needed him and loved him. And though the world didn't know that he was Superman, it appreciated him for the good he did. But he needed to be loved for who he was inside -- the man who loved his mom's brownies, watched the stars in a dark sky at night, and listened to the frogs after a rain. And now after months of denying it both to himself and his parents, Clark realized that he wanted Lois to love him too. He needed her to love him so that he could return all the love he had inside. After the Nightfall incident, she had made it pretty clear that her feelings were purely platonic. Yes, they'd shared a few kisses that were pretty terrific for him. But they were under the guise of work - to throw Trask off, to fool a maid. Yet to him they were very real. He could still feel the sensation of her lips next to his, soft and velvety like morning dew on a rose. He could recall the scent of her soap and shampoo. It was clean and fresh and natural and all Lois. And if he taxed his memory, he could summon up the texture of her skin, smooth and warm and supple. And if he remembered any more he might drive himself mad. Or at the very least he'd spend the rest of his nights in a state of heightened arousal followed by a cooling dip in the upper Atlantic. He sighed and wondered why the fates had tossed him into this situation. He was the Man of Steel. He could outrace a bullet and lift rockets into orbit with one hand. In his superhero persona, he was admired worldwide. But one woman had the ability to quadruple his normal production of stomach acid and leave him tongue-tied whenever he was in her presence. What a deal. He jabbed the radio's scan button again, hoping that the last fifty miles traveled had brought him into range of a decent radio station and something to take his mind off Lois. The numbers on the digital readout whizzed through the FM range, pausing briefly on several weak signals and then... "Hello and good evening. Do you have a story to tell? Is something heavy on your heart? Are you in the throes of true love or the depths of despair? I'd love to hear from you tonight. If you're in listening range of this station pick up the phone and call me at 1-800-RAMONAH. I'll play a song for you. We'll laugh together. Or I'll lend you my shoulder to cry on - proverbially speaking, of course. This is Ramonah. And I'm here til midnight." The smooth sounds of a pop ballad filled the car as the wheels covered more highway and edged its passenger closer to home. Maybe I'll hear some poor sap who has it worse than me, and I can feel better by comparison. The song ended and the honeyed voice of the disk jockey filled the air again. "This is Ramonah. Who's this?" "Ramonah, this is Jim." "And what's on your heart tonight, Jim?" Clark listened as a young man recounted his struggle with alcohol and the detrimental effects it had on his family. He told of the embarrassment he had caused his parents and the emotional turmoil he'd created for his wife and children. His story had a happy ending though. He'd conquered his addiction, his parents had forgiven him, and his wife and children had welcomed him back with open arms. And Ramonah segued straight into Journey's "Open Arms." Clark quickly picked up on the format of Ramonah's show. Whatever the situation, Ramonah had a song to play. A musical balm for whatever ailed you. A lyric to match your mood or situation. A melody to lift your spirits. A caller. A story. Commiseration, congratulations, or sometimes chastisement. A song. Pop or country, fast or slow, the songs were a welcome solace. As he traveled closer and closer to Metropolis, he shared in the joys and sorrows of Ramonah's listeners, finding himself drawn into each story, wondering what had caused their situations, how they'd found strength to carry on, or why they'd tolerated as much as they had. And with each story, Ramonah's soothing voice, empathy, wit, and concern healed another soul out there somewhere. "Is your heart heavy tonight? Does the one you love not love you back?" Ramonah's words pulled Clark from his ruminations. No, she doesn't love me back. "The lines are open. Call me at 1-800-RAMONAH and let's talk." He never knew what made him reach for the cell phone. Perhaps it was an unconscious desire to admit that his heart was breaking. Or maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction to the happiness he'd heard from the other listeners. But he found himself pulling the phone from its clip on his belt and punching the appropriate numbers. Before he could chicken out and hit the "End" button, the voice on the other end said "Hello, this is Ramonah." What now? Hang up in a fit of embarrassment? Or tell the audience his pitiful tale. Ramonah couldn't have that many listeners, could she? What were the chances that anyone he knew would hear him? "This is Ramonah." "Uh... hello Ramonah." "Who's calling tonight?" Real name? Fake name? Think quickly Kent. "This is CJ." "How are you CJ?" "I'm... look, I've made a mistake. Sorry to have bothered you." * * * * She had missed him at work today. In some totally out of character fashion she missed not having him to tease and badger. When you got right down to it, Kent really wasn't that bad. Sure he had an annoying habit of editing her copy. And there was the "we" thing. Almost daily she repeated her mantra: There is you. There is I. There is no we. Or was there? The memory of the kiss at the Lexor still troubled her. Why did she remember it so vividly? And why, when Clark leaned over her shoulder at her desk, did she automatically close her eyes and breathe in the scent of him? He smelled like something spicy and sexy with a dash of outdoors mixed in, and it made her toes curl when she got a whiff. Why did his smile make her want to smile back? And why had she missed him so much today? She pulled the plug on her bubble bath and watched the soapy water swirl down the drain. That's what her life had felt like lately - murky water spiraling down to who knew where. Was she losing her edge? Had she been in the newspaper game so long that its appeal had vanished? Or had a certain man from Kansas insinuated himself into her life in such a way that the paper no longer held the top spot on her "life's most important things" list? She stepped from the tub and dried herself with a fluffy towel. Grabbing her clean nightshirt from the wicker stand by the tub, she spied a dog-eared novel she'd been trying to read for... how long had it been? She tugged the garment over her head, padded barefoot to the vanity, and removed the clip holding her hair off her neck, fluffing the silken strands with her fingers. In the bright light of the bathroom, her reflection stared back at her from the mirror over the sink. What would he say if he saw her like this? Remember? He's seen you like this. At the Lexor. And he didn't run screaming from the room either. She'd seen him at his worst during their stay at the Lexor too. And if that was his worst, what on earth could his best be? Those couple of days cohabitating had been awkward, sharing quasi-intimacies and banter. Yet there had been a warm familiarity too that had left Lois longing for more. Especially after that kiss - a kiss that still left her aroused when she allowed herself to think about it. She could close her eyes and picture his face above hers, his dark eyes focused on just her. His hair was the color of bold, rich coffee, and an unruly lock often fell across his forehead. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she battled daily with the desire to reach out and brush it back, hoping he'd bend his head and kiss her again. Get a grip, Lane! The likelihood of being on the receiving end of a kiss from Clark was about as good as... as... Well, about as good as Elvis returning from the dead. Lois straightened up the bathroom and made her way to the kitchen for a cup of something hot. She needed something to help her unwind, but given her mother's history with alcohol, Lois didn't want to start depending on that for relaxation. After preparing a cup of her favorite imported Swiss cocoa, she retrieved the novel she had spied earlier and propped up in bed. "Stop! Don't!" she cried out as his mouth slanted over hers. He held her face between his hands, her pouty, ruby lips quivering between his thumbs. He kissed her gently at first, waiting for her to return his passion. When she felt her soul beginning to merge with his, she broke the embrace, sure that if she gave in to him, she would lose herself. But when his dark eyes darkened more, and his breathing turned to panting, she knew that her destiny was set. He gazed into the depths of her eyes - the entry to her soul. Then dipping his head he nibbled her neck. He worked down the column of her throat, down, down to where the V of her silken chemise ended. Her skin was flushed and enticing. Reaching underneath, he stroked her delicate skin with his callous-roughened fingers and heard her whimper in response. Her body reacted and he grinned at the power he held over her. Grabbing the garment, he pulled until it ripped; and he bent to trail kisses down her ample bosom. Though she wanted to scream "No!" she heard herself moan instead, fueling both the fire in herself and the inferno in him. He pulled her against him and she felt his swollen..." "Oh please," Lois groaned and arced the book across the room toward the wastebasket. Reading purple prose was NOT the way to unwind after she'd been fantasizing about her hunk of a partner. Hunk? Was that how she viewed him? She turned off her bedside lamp, set the alarm button on the clock, and then pressed the "sleep" button to turn on the radio. Maybe music would help her drift off and stop these infernal thoughts of Clark. The last few bars of a ballad played and then Lois heard a woman's sultry voice. "Who's calling tonight?" "This is CJ." "How are you CJ?" "I'm... look, I've made a mistake. Sorry to have bothered you." * * * * "CJ, I don't believe that there are any mistakes in this world. Everything happens for a reason. There's a reason you are listening tonight. And a reason you picked up the phone to call. What's on your heart tonight?" "Can you give me a second to pull off the road? It's kinda hard to drive and talk on this cell phone at the same time?" "Sure. Take your time. I'll play another song while you find a safe place." Another tune played as Clark searched for a place to pull off the road. He finally found the deserted parking lot of a country store and parked under the sole light that had attracted not only him but a variety of insects and even a couple of stray cats. "I've stopped." "Okay, let me put you back on the air." Clark heard a soft click and his next words echoed back at him from the dimly lit dashboard. "No. Wait. I'm still not sure about this" "Sure about what?" "Calling you. My thoughts. My feelings. Her." Ramonah chuckled. "A woman, huh? Has she got you wrapped around her little finger?" "Yes," he admitted, reluctant to voice his situation. "No!" he recanted quickly. "Maybe..." "And this is what you aren't sure about? Whether there's anything between the two of you?" "Yeah. Actually, I know how I feel but it's her that I'm not sure about. The whole deal is kinda one-sided." * * * * The voice sounded familiar. Too familiar. But who? Lois listened as the man spoke with the disk jockey, wondering what kind of dope would spill his guts like this for the world to hear. "How do you know this woman, CJ?" "We work together." "So you're with her every day?" "Uh huh. Long days too. Our work doesn't always lend itself to a nine-to-five day. Or a five-day workweek. There are times when we're together almost constantly." "So you're spending hours and hours with a woman you care for and she doesn't have a clue?" * * * * "Not that I can tell. She tolerates me, I suppose. Some days she's even pretty decent to me. But generally she makes it pretty clear that she's in charge and I'm just... just... oh, I don't know what I am to her." A note of resigned defeat sounded in his voice. "Is there perhaps another man in her life? Maybe that's why she keeps the relationship so professional." "There was once. She was even engaged to him. But he turned out to be not so good so she didn't marry him after all." Lex. How could Lois have ever considered the man? Why had she said yes to him? Because I drove her to him with my callous remarks. The incident had strained their relationship considerably but after Lex's nosedive from his balcony and the re-building of the Planet, things began to look up. The old Lois seemed to return, and the playful banter between them resumed. But there was still a distance between them. Lois kept him at arm's length, unwilling to let anyone past the wall she'd built around her heart. "So she's been hurt. That could explain a lot, CJ." "Yeah. She's been hurt a lot. And every time she closes off just a little bit more. And I'm standing there watching it happen, in love with her, and not able to do a thing about it. It's just so frustrating." "She's protecting her heart, CJ. If she doesn't let anyone into it, then they can't break it. You realize that, don't you?" "On a philosophical level, yes. I see exactly what she's doing. At times, I've done it to a degree myself. But if she'd just open her eyes and take a good look at me, she'd see that I've never done anything to hurt her. I'd never do anything to hurt her." "If love is blind, CJ, then fear is even more so. Mix some hurt into the equation and you have distrust." Clark knew all too well the ingredients of Lois's psyche. First her father had made it all too clear that he was disappointed in her simply because she wasn't a son. Then the guy she and Linda King had both pursued had left her a little worse for wear. Claude had driven in the final nail, leading her to believe he loved her, bedding her, leaving her, and stealing not only her story but also her belief and trust in herself. It was a testament to Lois's inner strength that she'd been able to go on at all. A lesser woman would have shut herself away from everyone and not had the nerve to deal with her peers in the face of such humiliation. In a way, however, Lois had shut herself away. She arrived at work every day, and he would be the first to admit that she performed her job magnificently. But she had roped off her heart. She'd wrapped it in bubble wrap, secured it with duct tape, and made sure no one ever got close again. "CJ, how long have you been in love with this woman?" How long, indeed? "I've been in love with her since the first time I saw her. I was in the middle of a job interview when she stormed into..." * * * * Sleep eluded her as she'd listened to the voices on the radio. Twice she'd been tempted to change the station. And twice the emotion in the man's voice had stopped her. He sounded so sincere, as if he really cared about this woman. His confessions were so intimate that Lois almost felt as if she were eavesdropping on a private conversation. But something about his voice had piqued her interest. His accent. The way he used words. The reverential tone of his declaration of love. Why didn't anyone speak that way about her? Why did she spend her days absorbed with her work and her nights immersed in sappy television dramas or sensual romance novels, vicariously searching for her Prince Charming? "...in the middle of a job interview when she stormed into the office and commandeered the room. I still remember what she was wearing. It was a black suit with a pin- striped skirt, slit on one side. The jacket had a large plaid and her blouse was black with a flowery design. Her eyes sparkled bright with excitement. And her movements were decisive but graceful. She was in her element, caught up in the chase and hot on the trail of something. Something about her reached out... related... . Ramonah, I can't put it into words but we connected. Or at least I did. I knew at that moment that she was the one." Lois sat up as the caller described a day she remembered well. She'd barged into Perry's office after Samuel Platt's visit to the Planet. Clark was there. He'd risen from the chair when she had entered the room. This was her partner she was listening to. The man she'd worked beside and whose shoulder she'd cried on and whose declaration of love she had rebuked. And yet here he was, announcing to the world that she was the one. She knew he cared. Clark cared about everyone. He was the single most thoughtful person she'd ever met. He opened doors for women, helped little old ladies across the street, and was kind to furry animals. His integrity was beyond reproach, and aside from sending her on a wild goose chase to the sewer reclamation facility, he'd always treated her with respect. She long ago accepted that she'd deserved that prank, and she'd developed a high respect for Clark afterward. He wasn't afraid to go head-to-head with her. Of course he cared. But love? He loved her? It was a sobering thought at the very least. It was also a thought that made her pulse skip a beat and her palms feel sweaty. And it made her smile -- really smile -- for the first time in forever. * * * * Clark smiled in the darkness. "Silly, huh? To fall in love with a total stranger." "It's not silly at all. I think it's very romantic, and most of my listeners would probably agree." Ramonah laughed heartily before continuing. "I'd be willing to bet that thousands of women are listening tonight and wondering where they can find you." "Right." Clark's neck warmed and his cheeks flushed despite the chill in the night air. "Oh... here you go. My producer just passed a note to me. Since you and I started talking, there've been twelve calls from women asking for your phone number. They want you, sweetie." He leaned back against the headrest and exhaled on a sigh. "That's flattering, Ramonah, but there's only one woman who could ever hold my heart. I don't want them. I want her. I love her. I just wish that she loved me too. I want to walk hand-in-hand with her in the park. Have picnics by a lake and watch the clouds float across the sky. I want to tell her all my secrets and have her tell me hers. I want it all, Ramonah." "I can tell that you do, CJ. But you know, love doesn't always happen overnight. And relationships develop at different paces for different individuals. Maybe this woman has some feelings for you too but she's just not ready yet to admit them to you. She may not even be ready to admit them..." * * * * "... to herself." The revelation that her partner and best friend was in love with her jolted her soul. She'd never looked upon Clark as "boyfriend" material. Sure, they'd kissed a few times but it was under pretense. Part of the job. But truth be told, she'd enjoyed it. The man definitely knew how to kiss. He knew how to treat a woman like a lady, too. Even when Cat Grant was on the prowl, trying to lure him into her bed, he had refused with a polite civility that she'd never managed when an unwanted advance had come her way. Lois used the S-I-N-G method -- a jab to the solar plexus, a stomp on the instep, preferably with a very thin spiked heel, a fist to the nose, and a knee to the groin. It not only put unwanted suitors in their place, it insured they never came within fifty nautical miles of her again. I want her. The words repeated in her head; and with each repetition, a piece of the armor around her heart began to fall away. I want her. Tears pricked her eyes. I want her. And a lone tear left a salty track down her cheek. I love her. "I love you, too," she whispered to the darkness. * * * * "... to herself. But even if she isn't, it sounds like she still needs a good friend, CJ. Maybe you should just keep on being her friend - the very best friend she could ever want - and if you're lucky, one day she'll open her eyes and see what's been right in front of her all this time." "I guess you're right. It's not like I have any other choice, do I? There's no other woman for me. No point looking because I knew in my heart from the moment we met that she was the only woman I'd ever love." "Do you have a song you want me to play tonight?" Clark thought for a moment but nothing came to mind. "Why don't you pick one? I'm sure you'll find something good." "I'll do that, CJ. And remember to keep smiling. And keep on being her friend. Drive carefully, okay? Do you have much further to go?" "I'm about thirty minutes from home. Goodnight Ramonah. And thanks." He clicked the disconnect button and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him. Putting the car into gear, Clark eased back onto the deserted road and waited to hear what song the disk jockey had selected to symbolize his dilemma. Clark listened as the dulcet tones of a piano played, followed by the melancholy sounds of a guitar. A woman's clear voice filled the car's interior. I've got this friend who is lonely She's afraid she'll never find her one and only A little shy but she can be fun If the right guy came along Would you know someone * * * * Lois moved closer to the radio, concentrating on the lyric. Lonely? Yes. Afraid? Absolutely. Did he think she was fun? She laughed softly. That might be a stretch. The tune continued as a man's voice joined in. I've got this friend and it sounds crazy But he's been feeling that way too a whole lot lately And interested, oh I'm sure he'd be I can almost speak for him He's that close to me * * * * "I'm interested all right," Clark mumbled as he reached to turn the volume up and concentrated on the lyrics. I've got this friend Yeah, I think I know her My arms can almost feel the way he'd hold her It's like he's here when you describe him And if he's anything like you I'm sure she'd like him * * * * Lois pulled her knees up and rested her head against them as the last of her defenses melted. Maybe in each other They might find the lover They've been missin' until now They'd trust the judgment of Two friends like us who care so much Can we get them together Can we get together... I've got this friend It was, as Ramonah had suggested, right in front of her. It had stared her in the face for quite some time and because of past hurt and present cynicism, she'd overlooked it. But was she brave enough to take the next step and act on it? Could she let Clark know that she'd heard his broadcast confession and most importantly, that she felt the same? She glanced at the clock and realized that she had about half an hour until Clark arrived at his apartment. She had half an hour to decide what to do. And she had to hang onto her sanity somehow until she did. * * * * Clark could hear the telephone ringing as soon as he parked the rental car down the block from his apartment. Who would be calling at this hour? His mother had his cell phone number and if it was an emergency, surely she'd have called on that line. Someone from the Planet? Maybe one of his basketball buddies calling to cancel their game tomorrow? He jogged the last few steps and juggled his overnight bag, briefcase, and keys. At last the stubborn lock gave way and he rushed inside to the jangling phone. "Hello?" Her courage vanished and Lois hesitated. "Hello?" he asked again, wondering if this was another prank played by drunken Met U fraternity boys. "Clark?" "Lois? Is something wrong? It's so late." "No. Nothing's wrong. How was your trip? Did you get the goods on Archie Danvers and his investment scam? Clark scrubbed a hand across his face and then raked his fingers through his hair. He was relieved that nothing was wrong yet mildly annoyed that her late interruption was only a concern for business and not for his personal welfare. He'd planned to turn in as soon as he got back home. While his body didn't tire like a mortal's, his mind was exhausted from his conversation with Ramonah and the thoughts that had battled in his head afterward. "Yeah, I believe I got enough to get the Federal Trade Commission to take a look. I just hope they can recover all the money he stole from those unsuspecting folks. They're farmers, Lois. People like my mom and dad. And he charmed his way into their lives and took every penny they had. I want to see him pay." Lois heard passion in Clark's voice that she'd never heard before. It was tinged with a touch of rage as well. She supposed it was transference - putting himself or his parents in the place of the victims he was writing about. She knew it was a common occurrence, especially among reporters with a heart. And Clark's was as big as the full moon she'd been staring at from her bedroom window as she waited for his return. "That's good, Clark. Really good. I'm sure those people will appreciate your persistence. You didn't answer me about your trip. Did you have a good drive?" She was stalling and she knew it. Go ahead and tell him. "It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. No problems. Look, Lois. I'm really beat and I need to get some sleep. Was there anything else you needed to ask me?" "Well, no. Yes. Actually I don't have anything to ask. I already asked you. But there was something else I wanted to say but if you're too tired I can always..." "Lois, it's way past the babbling hour." She closed her eyes, took a deep, cleansing breath, and swallowed hard before continuing on a shaky breath. "Clark, I've got this friend." The End Marilyn L. Puett 2003 mpuett@knology.net The song referenced in the story is from Faith Hill's first album. The title is "I've Got This Friend" and is a duet with Larry Stewart. You should listen to it if you have a chance. The melody is sweet and the first time I heard it I immediately thought of "The Hottest Team in Town." I've Got This Friend Performed by Faith Hill and Larry Stewart Written by Faith Hill, Bruce Burch, and Vern Dant I've got this friend who is lonely She's afraid she'll never find her one and only A little shy but she can be fun If the right guy came along Would you know someone I've got this friend and it sounds crazy But he's been feeling that way too a whole lot lately And interested, oh I'm sure he'd be I can almost speak for him He's that close to me Maybe in each other They might find the lover They've been missin' until now They'd trust the judgment of Two friends like us who care so much Can we get them together somehow I've got this friend Yeah, I think I know her My arms can almost feel the way he'd hold her It's like he's here when you describe him And if he's anything like you I'm sure she'd like him Maybe in each other They might find the lover They've been missin' until now They'd trust the judgment of Two friends like us who care so much Can we get them together Can we get together... I've got this friend