Starwood In Aspen 
By Lynn M <mccreadie67@hotmail.com> 
Rated: PG 13 
Submitted: November, 2002

Author's Notes:

Thanks to all of the FoLC's over on the LCFic MBs for all 
of their positive feedback. With their encouragement, I was 
pushed to add the epilogue which I think was a nice 
finishing touch, tying up a lot of loose ends.

A big thank-you goes out to my GE, Wendy Richards, for her 
patience in putting up with my continual refusal to use 
commas properly and mangling of speech tags. Also, if not 
for her, Lois and Clark would still be staring at each 
other because I would have had no idea how to show more 
within the PG context <g>.

This story is set about two months after the "Lucky Leon" 
episode. However, this story takes a look at how things 
might have gone after Lois and Clark's first date if Mayson 
Drake had not been killed in a terrible car explosion, and 
even more importantly, if Clark and Lois had never had 
their walk and talk after the unfortunate door slamming 
incident. It's all about having something you don't want 
and wanting something that you don't have.

Standard Disclaimer applies: all characters from "Lois and 
Clark" are the property of Warner Brothers and DC Comics. 
The song "Starwood In Aspen" (music and lyrics) written by 
John Denver. The story idea is mine, and no infringement on 
anyone's copyrights is intended.
 

 Starwood In Aspen

 When the elevator doors slid open with a mechanical grind 
and a retractive jerk, Lois took an almost imperceptible 
step to the right, moving just enough to dislodge Dan 
Scardino's arm from its comfortable perch across her 
shoulders. The offending limb fell heavily, and he gave her 
a sideways glance. She stared straight ahead, lips pursed, 
pointedly ignoring the stare he'd fixed on her cheekbone.

His gaze failing to receive the desired reaction, Dan, a 
danger-lover by nature, gave voice to his suspicions. 
"Lois, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying 
to hide something."

"Dan, we've been over this," she interrupted over her 
shoulder as she exited the elevator. "I'm not hiding 
anything. It's nobody's business what I do outside of the 
office."

They'd discussed it before, her aversion to public displays 
of affection at the Daily Planet. Dan saw nothing wrong 
with a peck on the lips or an arm draped possessively 
across her shoulders as the entire staff watched and took 
notes while she inwardly cringed and suppressed the urge to 
crawl under her desk. With a determination that she 
suspected was born more of her own irritated reaction to 
the discussion than any real opinion on the matter, Dan 
persisted in trying to convince her that it made her appear 
more, well, human, to her fellow coworkers if she were seen 
engaging in, well, actual human behaviours.

After several rounds of point/counterpoint, she'd played 
the it's-MY-place-of-employment trump card, insisting that 
he just respect her wishes. Mad Dog Lane would be reduced 
to Puppy Love Lane quicker than Perry White could snatch up 
a banana cream donut if she was seen engaging in hugs, 
kisses and hand-holdings.

Besides, it went against every fiber in her independent 
being to attach herself to a man in such a public fashion. 
Strolling along the street holding hands wasn't a sign of 
affection. It was an annoying display of self-absorption as 
some dewy-eyed couple took up too much room across the 
sidewalk. Kisses that turned into make-out sessions on a 
park bench, hands placed intimately in a mate's back 
pocket. This was stuff that the MPAA deemed inappropriate 
for kids under seventeen, so why should she have to watch 
it? Her particular pet peeve was the freakish sight of a 
couple smashed together on the driver's side of a pick-up 
truck, the asymmetrical silhouette of bodies weighing down 
one half of the cab as if a piece of chewed gum made the 
passenger's seat uninhabitable. What kind of needy, sex-
starved people were these hillbillies, anyway? Boyfriend or 
no, she wasn't about to become one of them.

Lois's eyes swept the expanse of the bullpen, barely 
lingering on the desk set a scant ten feet from her own. 
Empty. 

Duly noted by her subconscious, she relaxed slightly 
and turned to give Dan an apologetic smile, placing her 
hand on his arm as added balm to soothe the sting of her 
rejection. "Thanks for lunch."

"Don't thank me yet," he said with a wide grin. "Service is 
door to door." He gestured down the stairs toward her desk, 
placing a hand on the small of her back and giving a gentle 
nudge to propel her forward.

His easy forgiveness warmed her heart and confirmed her 
suspicions that her public display of indifference really 
didn't wound him very deeply. Dan Scardino loved life too 
much to waste energy on small annoyances. Other than the 
criminals he encountered in the line of duty, there was 
very little about the world that could generate negative 
energy in the man. It wasn't that he had no passions. It 
was simply that he was fine with the old adage "live and 
let live." Dan felt no need to convince anyone that his 
view was the right one. He knew who he was and had the 
confidence not to care what others thought of him, nor the 
desire to convert anyone to his way of thinking.

As she journeyed to her desk and opened the bottom drawer 
to deposit her small clutch, Lois tried to remember if 
they'd quarreled at all in the eight weeks they'd been 
dating. Nope, never a disagreement that she'd term a bona 
fide argument. Debates and animated discussions, certainly, 
but nothing with a volume over five to be sure. They got 
along just perfectly, as it should be.

"So, about tonight," he started as she picked up the short 
stack of phone messages sitting atop her inbox. "Pick you 
up at five?" He poked at the crisp grayish-green leaves of 
the dead ivy lingering on the corner of her desk, another 
casualty of Lois's brown thumb. "Plant's dead."

"Mmmm, yeah," she murmured, her attention on the blue and 
white message forms. Her dentist office, confirming her 
appointment for next Tuesday. Lucy. Wonder what that's 
about? Bobby Big Mouth returning her call about the...she 
jerked her head up. "No, wait. Better make it six. Or maybe 
even seven."

Like clouds rolling in to cover the sun, Dan's expectant 
smile was replaced with a scowl. "Lois, it's gonna take at 
least two hours to get there. More if there's weather."

His complaint bordered on petulant, and she struck away the 
annoyance that bit at her. It made sense that he would be 
disappointed. They'd been planning this weekend for a 
month. It meant a lot to him. To her, too. Yes, of course, 
it was important to her. And she was disappointed, just 
like Dan.

But this was the call she'd been waiting on for nearly two 
days. The last check before she could sew up the Senator 
Steinman bribery expose. The familiar tingle of 
anticipation fired in her chest over the prospect of 
meeting with Bobby Big Mouth and having all of her facts 
confirmed. It was the thrill that she lived for, that drove 
her. Weekend plans or no, this was just too important. 

"I'm sorry. I have to meet with this source. It's already 
after two, and by the time I track him down and get all of 
the food." She explained the time math as gently as she 
could. A twinge of guilt plucked at her stomach, and that 
fact irritated her more than the unplanned delay. "This is 
going to take some time."

"Can't it wait until Monday?" Dan asked, like a child 
hoping that his parent would relent and give in on the 
extra hour before bedtime.

She shook her head. "Nope. If I don't catch Bobby today, 
we'll miss the chance to run in the Sunday edition. By 
Monday, this'll be old news." 

She hated the fact that she had to justify herself. She 
was a reporter, and the story came first. It certainly 
wouldn't be the last time they had to postpone plans. 
The sooner Dan came to understand that reality, the better 
off he'd be.

Dan sighed, out of arguments and resigned. "I was hoping 
we'd be up there in time for an early dinner. Some wine. 
Maybe some dancing. A little...you know."

Lois felt her face flush. "Dan! Shhh!" She glanced around 
to see if the Planet's ears had perked up. "I don't want to 
be today's fodder for the gossip column."

He followed her eyes around the pen, his frown twisting 
upward into a devilish grin. "What? Are you trying to tell 
me you've got a reputation to protect? Lois Lane, hard 
hitting journalist, sacrifices all for the story. Doomed to 
remain forever sex-less."

"No!" she protested with a hiss. "I just don't want every 
ninny in this place whispering at the copy machine about 
how I ran off for a weekend just to get some...some...peace 
and 
quiet."

Dan reached for the hand she used to pluck the miniscule 
bits of gum residue from the pre-padded telephone message 
forms, stilling it until she lifted her eyes to his smiling 
face. 

"Lois, I'm sure these people have more interesting 
things to talk about than your..." He dropped his voice to 
an 
exaggerated whisper. "...sex life. Or should I say, lack 
thereof."

The subtle stress placed on his final words caused her to 
redden and look away from the eyes that now held an 
expectant heat. It was another point of...debate...that 
they'd 
touched upon gingerly over the last eight weeks. More so 
recently as the planned weekend approached and with it all 
of their mutual expectations.

For reasons she couldn't explain to herself and translated 
into lame excuses offered to Dan, their relationship had 
remained several notches below intimate. There had been 
deep kisses and many caresses that threatened to lead to 
more, but always she'd backed away with a gentle press of 
her palm against his chest and a murmured "Not yet." Dan 
had been patient, but even she had to admit that enough was 
enough.

This weekend away held two purposes. By booking the cabin 
for two nights, the intention that finally they would take 
the giant plunge to the next level was clearly understood 
by both even if still left unspoken. Days spent together 
would lead to evenings spent together and then nights spent 
together. *All the way* together.

So together that she'd visited Victoria's Secret and picked 
up a new black teddy, intentionally resisting the urge to 
buy the matching robe. With a forced smile, she'd assured 
the sales girl three times and herself several more that 
she wouldn't need it. 

Not this weekend.

The second agenda, known only by Lois's inner workings, was 
less physical but no less important to her. After eight 
weeks, she'd mentally accepted that Dan was her boyfriend. 
They dated. They called each other at work. He knew that 
she liked coleslaw on her pastrami-on-rye and hated walking 
around 
in wet socks. His number was programmed into her cell phone, 
and she'd met his dog. She accepted his dangerous job and 
he accepted her stubborn insistence on paying for dinner at 
least half the time. All of the details had been covered.

There was only the matter of this last, little chore and 
then her heart would accept him as well. The last item on 
her list could be checked off with a flourish. When she 
returned to the Planet on Monday, she felt certain that she 
would glow with the aura of a woman truly in love. And she'd 
hopefully be a little bit more relaxed, tensions relieved 
in ways that they hadn't been in far too long, she 
admitted to herself ruefully.

Now, desperate to regain control of a conversation veering 
far off the rails of her comfort level for such a public 
place, 
Lois ignored the intended slight. "Dan, this is just a 
delay, 
not a catastrophe. If we leave here by seven, we'll arrive 
in time for a late dinner. Or we can pick up something on 
our way out of town."

"I know, Lois," he admitted with a wicked grin, his hand 
squeezing hers. "It wasn't the dinner and the dancing I was 
looking forward to, anyway. Guess it doesn't matter if 
we're late for - "

"Late for what?"

Lois jumped when the familiar drawl sounded right behind 
her. She felt an uncontrollable tightening in her stomach, 
her shoulders involuntarily pulling back to stiffen her 
spine. Drat! She'd hoped Dan would be gone so that she 
could avoid this.

"Kent." Dan nodded at Clark, his boyish grin narrowing to a 
smirk that held none of its former warmth.

"Scardino," Clark replied. Still at her back, Lois couldn't 
see his face, but his voice held derision. As if a male 
lion entered the domain of a rival, the air filled with a 
sudden electric menace. 

"Late for what?" he asked again.

"Nothing - " she started as Dan's words fell on top of her 
denial and smothered it.

"Lois and I are going away this weekend," Dan answered with 
what Lois thought was more than a small amount of 
boastfulness. "A few hours later than planned, so it 
seems."

She turned around to explain and nearly crashed into Clark's 
broad chest. She hadn't realized he was so close, and she 
took
a jerking step backwards in reaction. He reached a hand out 
to 
steady her, then quickly removed it when he was assured she 
wouldn't land on the floor in an undignified puddle. The 
heat from his hand where he'd grasped her arm lingered, as 
if she'd been burned through the fabric of her black 
cashmere sweater. She resisted the urge to place her own 
hand over the spot in an attempt to trap that warmth and 
keep it from fading.

"Bobby Big Mouth called," she said, trying to fake some 
semblance
of composure. "He has time to meet this afternoon. I need to 
show him the photo of Nelson and confirm that he's the same 
guy that Senator Steinman paid to buy off Charles Dormann." 

She prayed that Clark would be so distracted by her news 
that he wouldn't expect details about her weekend. 
She hadn't told him she was going away with Dan. After all, 
it was 
none of his business. Not anymore.

"I can do it. Meet with Bobby," Clark offered in that 
friendly, helpful way that for some reason irritated her 
more than usual.

"No. It's OK." She pasted a smile on her face. "You don't 
need to do that." 

"Really," he said, "I don't want you to get a late start 
on your...weekend." 

His offer sounded magnanimous, but Lois detected the hint of 
sarcasm that she'd come to know well. Her fury mounted as 
he winked at her, his eyes snapping in a knowing way while 
he tried unsuccessfully to hide the smile that tugged at 
the corners of his mouth. He was mocking her!

"That's big of you, Kent." Dan grinned, clearly pleased that 
Clark was offering a solution to the problem that moments 
before 
had been insurmountable.

"No, Clark, I think I should meet with him," Lois protested 
again, a little more vehemently, although she kept the 
bright smile for Dan's benefit. "I wouldn't want this to 
fall apart now."

Clark rolled his dark brown eyes. "Lois, I'm perfectly 
capable of talking to Bobby by myself. I think I've 
advanced past the point where I need a babysitter."

Lois clenched her teeth, resisting the urge to scream. She 
took a deep breath and applied her I'm-a-consummate-
professional approach. "I still have some finishing touches 
to put on the story. I was just waiting to meet with Bobby, 
so really, I should stay to finish this up."

Clark's brows lowered in exaggerated confusion but the 
knowing twinkle still shimmered in his eyes. "Geez, Lois, 
it almost sounds like you're trying to come up with - "

"No, I'm not!" she shouted. Noticing that several people 
had stopped their work to watch the scene unfolding at her 
desk, she lowered to a strident whisper. "It's just, I've 
put a lot of time into this, and I don't want to leave it 
hanging. It's my name on the by-line. I should be the 
one to put it to bed."

She added a sharp glare at Clark as she bit out the last 
words, daring him to cross her. Clark gave Dan the I-tried-
to-help-you-out-pal shrug, and Lois glanced at her 
boyfriend, blinking at the confused amusement on his face. 
She offered him a weak smile, suddenly embarrassed by her 
vehemence. Following his gaze, she realized that, during 
her exchange with Clark, she'd crumpled her phone messages 
into her tightly clenched fist. With a disgusted snort, she 
tossed the blue and white paper ball onto her desk and 
crossed her arms defensively.

"So, where are you two going, anyway?" Clark shoved his 
hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth from his 
heels to his toes, apparently not satisfied with the havoc 
he'd already caused. Lois flashed him another glare, trying 
to shoot daggers from her eyes and straight into his thick 
skull.

"Skiing," Dan supplied, still looking at Lois with a 
bemused expression. Then he turned his attention to the man 
who wouldn't get the hint. "There's a little resort a 
couple of hours north of here. It's no Aspen, but there's 
about a dozen runs and some great views. You ski, Kent?"

Lois laughed out loud. "Dan, Kansas isn't exactly known for 
its skiing."

"I've skied," Clark stated, ignoring her pointed jab at his 
home state.

"You have?" Lois gaped her surprise. 

The thought of Clark swishing down the slopes was hard to 
imagine. 
He did have a muscular physique, she acknowledged, but the 
actual 
participation in athletic activities didn't seem to be very 
Clark-like. He just wasn't competitive enough. Clark took 
the phrase "good-sport" to a new level.

"Yep," Clark affirmed. Lois and Dan stared at him in 
stunned silence. He nodded slowly, looking at them as if 
they were addled. "Alps. Pyrenees. Andes. You know. 
Skiing?"

"Mostly bunny hills, then?" Dan guessed with a snort.

Clark released a single laugh. "Yeah, right."

Lois felt the tension again, the heavy air of two rams 
about to butt their horns together in a display of supreme 
male stupidity. She almost expected them to whip out 
their...skis and compare lengths.

"Well, after the Alps, I'm sure the place we're going is 
pretty tame," Dan speculated.

"I know the resort. Not bad skiing for this area," Clark 
noted agreeably, then added with a wink, "Of course, it's 
nothing like Kansas 
skiing." 

"Maybe you should come along," Dan suggested, and 
Lois gaped at him in horror. What in the world was he 
doing!? "There's plenty of room in the place. It's actually 
a double cabin that shares a living room and kitchen. Been 
there a couple of times with some of the guys on the force. 
Lois tells me she can ski, but I have my doubts. It'd be 
nice to have someone along who can tackle the black 
diamonds."

Lois stared at Dan, amazed. He was serious. "Dan, I don't 
think Clark wants to go with us. Do you, Clark?" she 
stammered, searching desperately for a way to undo the 
idiotic thing that Dan had done. "I mean, you probably have 
plans this weekend. Or...or...maybe your parents are in 
town?"

Clark looked up into the air as if consulting an imaginary 
calendar. "Nope. No big plans."

"There you go." Dan gestured at Clark, proud of his 
accomplishment. "Of course, I gotta warn you, Kent. Once 
the sun sets, you're on your own for entertainment. Lois 
and I got big plans."

"Dan!" She was surprised that he didn't give Clark a big 
wink and a heavy nudge. This was going from bad to worse, 
and she was powerless to stop it. Turning to Clark, she 
nearly pleaded for him to catch her barely veiled hints. 
"Clark, really, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Why not?" Both Dan and Clark asked in unison, and she 
suddenly felt as if the two had planned this whole thing 
from the beginning. It was some sort of conspiracy to drive 
her crazy.

She took a deep breath and tried to sound reasonable. 
"Well...well...he's going to feel like a third wheel. You 
know, 
ski lifts are made for two, and I wouldn't want Clark to 
have to ride up by himself all the time. And I'll bet the 
cabin doesn't even have a TV. I mean, what's he going to do 
when it's too dark to ski?" With a slight incline of her 
head, she leaned toward Dan and lowered her voice. 
"Besides, I thought that this was our chance to get away. 
Alone," she stressed.

"Hmmm. Yeah. You got a point," Dan conceded, and Lois felt 
a momentary wave of relief. Finally, he was coming to his 
senses and would retract his offer. "So, Kent, you got a 
girl?"

Lois froze, disbelieving that this conversation had taken 
another tragic turn. Not only had Dan invited Clark to come 
along, now he was telling him to bring a date? She tried to 
remember how many drinks Dan had had at lunch. Anything to 
explain his sudden loss of any kind of intelligence.

With a flash, she saw a way out. Clark could never manage 
to get a date this late in the day. She grasped the 
lifeline, 
shaking her head sadly and clicking her tongue in mock 
disappointment. "Yeah! Too bad you can't get a date. So 
last minute and all."

"I can get a date," Clark supplied.

"Clark, it's almost three. Who would you get on such short 
notice?" Lois asked, incredulous.

"I can get a date," he insisted, and she wasn't sure but it 
looked like he puffed out his chest.

"Great!" Dan's enthusiasm almost matched Lois's building 
panic. "Call her up. There's plenty of room. It'll be fun. 
Besides, I've been telling Lois here that we should spend 
some time with her friends. She's starting to give me a 
complex, keeping me hidden like I have two heads or 
something."

Both men laughed like two fraternity brothers contemplating 
a great keg party, and once again, Lois wondered if this 
whole thing hadn't been prearranged. It was pretty close to 
her worst nightmare. A weekend with Clark and his...date.

"Clark, really, you don't have to." She tried one last time 
but all of the fight had gone out of her. Short of an 
avalanche or a sudden heat-wave, they were all going to go 
skiing. Together.

"No. I'd love to join you." His comment was directed at 
Lois, and this time he didn't try to control the dazzling 
smile that showed nearly every one of his perfect teeth. It 
was a grin of victory, and Lois felt thoroughly defeated.

Dan was speaking, and Lois forced herself to tune in. He 
was probably offering to let Clark and his girl share their 
bedroom. "I'll tell you what. I'll head up there now. I 
just need to check in at the office, and then I'll try to 
beat some of the traffic, maybe get in a couple of runs." 
He turned to Lois. "You and Clark and..."

"Mayson," Clark supplied.

Lois winced at the sound of the assistant D.A.'s name. Of 
all the people she least wanted to spend five minutes with, 
much less an entire weekend.

"Right...Mayson," Dan continued. "You three can come on up 
when you're finished with your source. That way you don't 
have to ride up alone."

"Um...well...I guess," Lois stammered.

Happy with the way things had turned out, Dan's smile was 
wide and genuine. "Sounds like a plan. See ya tonight, 
Kent."

"Scardino," Clark repeated his greeting of earlier, but 
this time it held no sarcasm. She wanted to smack the goofy 
smile from his face and clenched her hand into a tight fist 
to resist the urge.

Lois walked numbly with Dan to the bottom of the stairs. 
What had just happened? In less than five minutes, her 
romantic weekend away with Dan had become the double date 
from hell with Clark Kent and Mayson Drake. A flash of 
anger filled her and she directed it all on the man 
grinning at her like he'd just arranged a nuclear 
disarmament treaty. 

"Dan! Why'd you invite Clark? I thought this weekend was 
About...well, you know."

"Lois, the cabin has two huge bedrooms separated by a lot 
of space," he said, trying to placate her. "And unless 
you're 
trying to tell me that you're incredibly loud..."

"No, of course not!" she fumed, flushing yet again in 
embarrassment. "But I don't know if I'm going to be feeling 
very...romantic...with my partner and his...partner...in the 
room 
down the hall doing what it is that we're supposed to be 
doing."

Dan took a step back and study her face thoughtfully. The 
same bemused expression that he'd worn earlier during her 
volley with Clark brought his eyebrows down, but he 
maintained the sly grin. "Why would it bother you if Clark 
and Mayson are doing what we're supposed to be doing? I 
mean, he's just your work partner, right?"

"Of course he's just my work partner," she said. "And I 
don't give two hoots what he and Mayson do when they're 
together. They can hang from the ceiling for all I care."

"Good. Then it shouldn't be a problem." Dan sighed and put 
his hands on her upper arms, rubbing them lightly in a 
reassuring gesture. "Lois, I think having another couple 
along might lessen the pressure a little. Get the focus 
off...well, you know. You need to relax. You do know how to 
do that, don't you?"

Lois crossed her arms, still angry although she was no 
longer sure who she was angry with. "I know how to relax. 
But there's a time and a place for everything, and this 
weekend isn't about relaxing."

"It's not?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. "Well, you know what 
I mean."

He gave her arms a squeeze then dropped his hands. "Listen, 
give me a call when you get on the road so I know when to 
expect you."

She hesitated a moment, as if she might be reconsidering 
the entire weekend. Finally, she relented. "OK."

"Lois, we're going to have a great time. Trust me." With a 
brotherly chuck under her chin, Dan gave her a dazzling 
grin then took the stairs two at a time, waving at her 
before the elevator doors shut and took him out of sight.

Lois stared at the elevator doors for a moment, then turned 
with a huff and marched directly to Clark's desk. The anger 
that she'd directed at Dan but had not been completely 
spent now found its outlet on the man setting his phone 
back on its cradle. "Way to go, Clark!"

At the sound of her strident reprimand, Clark looked up. 
"What? What'd I do?" he asked, his mask of innocence 
fueling her anger until it regained its earlier intensity.

"You know very well what you did!" She placed her hands 
akimbo on her hips and tapped her foot on the linoleum. 
"You're horning in on my weekend with Dan, trying to ruin 
it."

"Ruin it?" Clark repeated. "Hey, I didn't invite myself up 
there. It was your boyfriend who suggested it."

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to be so agreeable," she shot 
back. "Geez, you practically drooled at the chance to bring 
Mayson along. What a coup for you, scoring a great weekend 
away with your girlfriend."

"Exaggerate much, Lois? In fact, it seemed to me like it 
was Scardino who drooled at the prospect of us coming 
along." He stood, placing his hands on his hips, meeting 
her challenge. "Maybe you want to think about why he felt 
compelled to invite another couple on your weekend getaway 
in the first place."

Lois gasped. "And just what are you implying?"

He paused for a split second, letting the momentary silence 
speak volumes. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought." She glared at him.

"Fine!" He crossed his arms and glared at her in return. 
Stalemate.

The silence stretched over a few minutes and neither one 
would break the icy glare passing between them. Lois fumed 
at Clark's implied conclusion that Dan felt the need for a 
buffer couple. How dare he suggest that Dan didn't want to 
be alone with her. Of all the nerve! If only he knew how 
badly Dan wanted to be alone with her!

Finally Clark released a big sigh. "I don't know why it's 
such a big deal if we come along. Dan didn't seem to mind."

"Dan's a nice guy. He wouldn't want to hurt your 
feelings," Lois explained. Feeling petulant, she didn't try 
to hide the pout that tugged on her lower lip. She didn't 
much care if she was a professional or even a grown up. 
"This was supposed to be a big weekend for us, and now it's 
ruined thanks to you."

"A big weekend?" Clark's eyebrows went up and again a smile 
tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, a big weekend." Lois looked away, unable to meet his 
mocking brown eyes. "Dan and I...well, we haven't...and this 
weekend we're going to..."

"Build a snowman?" Clark choked as he held back a laugh.

"No, Clark! You know very well what people do in ski 
cabins." Why did she even feel that she needed to explain 
anything to this contemptible man!

"What, ski?" If he tried to look any more innocent, Lois 
thought he'd qualify for sainthood. It disgusted her.

"You are thoroughly obnoxious, do you know that?" With a 
snort, 
she turned and stalked back to her desk. Pulling out her 
chair, 
she dropped into it with a toss of her head. "You think 
you have everyone fooled by that nice-guy act. But I know 
the truth."

Clark had better be prepared to be really embarrassed, she 
determined with a smug grin, because she and Dan were going 
to be all over each other. Maybe they wouldn't even leave 
the cabin to do any skiing. Maybe she'd do a little 
screaming after all and leave no doubt whatsoever in 
Clark's mind how much Dan was enjoying his weekend!

Clark didn't even bother to humor her, letting the deep 
laugh pour out. "Yeah, Lois. You know the truth. Just like 
I know the truth about you."

Determined to get the last word, she remembered her brief 
hope that Clark wouldn't be able to find a date on such 
short notice. Feeling a bit more optimistic, she moved some 
papers from one stack to the next, clearly showing him that 
the topic no longer held any importance for her.

"Besides, I'm worrying for nothing. I mean, what's the 
chance that Mayson is just waiting for you to call and 
invite her away for the weekend." Lois laughed. "I mean, 
honestly, I don't find her that attractive, but I'm not a 
man and you men seem to have some funny ideas about what 
you like. So I doubt she's the kind of woman who just sits 
around her apartment all weekend waiting for someone to 
call. And even if she did, she'd have to be pretty 
desperate to accept such a last minute invitation, like she 
was waiting for you to ask her - "

"I've already spoken to Mayson," Clark interrupted. "We're 
picking her up after we meet with Bobby."

"Oh." She exhaled, her last hope deflated. She wondered if 
the weather service was predicting any kind of sudden hot 
spell. A quick glance out the massive windows showed a 
light snow falling, dashing that one last grasp.

Resignation tinted with a heavy confusion washed through 
her. It wasn't in her nature to make lemonade out of 
lemons. That was what she had relied on Clark to do. But 
now he was the lemon, so to speak. She couldn't decide if 
she was more upset by the fact that Clark was coming or 
that he was bringing Mayson.

Mayson Drake annoyed the hell out of her. She felt no guilt 
about admitting that fact, knowing that she inspired the 
same feelings in the tall blond. It was a mutual dislike 
that they both accepted. Of course, neither woman had been 
put through the test of spending a weekend together, and 
really, it was above the call of duty that they should have 
to endure each other's company just because their 
respective boyfriends felt the need to bond over especially 
challenging ski runs.

Lois refused to venture into what would happen once each 
couple disappeared into their separate bedrooms. How could 
she and Dan ever consummate anything when another couple 
was doing exactly that with only the protection of a few 
thin doors to block out any sounds? In her experience, such 
as it was, Lois had discovered about herself that to even 
come close to enjoying sex required very precisely 
controlled circumstances, and the cries of another couple's 
enjoyment of each other was not on her list of approved 
atmospheres. She'd never be able to lose herself in the 
moment. Her imagination was simply too active, and even 
without auditory confirmation, she'd be wondering what they 
were up to, no pun intended.

It didn't help that one half of that couple was a man whom 
she'd not only dated but had actually enjoyed dating. 
Knowing that Clark...her Clark...was with another woman, 
even 
one she despised, was about as romance-inspiring as a visit 
from Sister Agnes Roberta, the nun who had taught Lois's 
sixth grade gym class. Of course, the Clark that was coming 
along might very well be the one she'd dubbed Mayson's 
Clark, so it might not be as pain-inducing as she feared.

The Clark she had known before, slow to show anger and 
frustration, had changed. No longer willing to hold back, 
he often let loose with his hard-nosed opinions in direct 
defiance with her own views. Unwilling to compromise merely 
to please her, it was as if he were actively trying to find 
reasons to dislike her. But beyond the general annoyance of 
having someone disagree with her, she found herself oddly 
attracted to this new side of him.

She refused to blame herself for his change in attitude 
toward her. After all, he was the one who kept 
disappearing. What kind of relationship could they have had 
if every time she tried to talk to the guy, he decided it 
was the best time to replace the batteries in his smoke 
detector? As the days after their first and only date 
passed by without any opportunity for her to explain her 
feelings, she'd decided it was probably for the best that 
she'd slammed the door in his face. It served as both a 
figurative and literal closing on any possible relationship 
they might have had save a professional one. Sadly, even 
that partnership had suffered a near-fatal blow, and it 
remained in critical condition, touch and go.

She missed their easy friendship. Since that night, a 
tension existed between them that they just couldn't manage 
to dispel. Their interchanges swung between a rigid 
politeness and a heated anger with absolutely no degrees in 
between. It made for long work days, and the joyous 
enthusiasm with which she had looked forward to arriving at 
the Planet every morning over the past year had waned 
considerably.

It didn't help matters when Lois was constantly reminded 
that although she had been the one to put a full stop on 
the forward motion of their budding romance, Clark had 
apparently had no trouble redirecting his love train in a 
different, more easily traveled direction. Mayson appeared 
at the Planet at least twice a week for lunch, and nearly 
every Friday night Lois knew that he met her after work for 
dinner and...whatever. It wasn't that she intentionally 
snooped. She was a professional reporter and knowing things 
just came with the territory.

If he thought that Mayson Drake was the kind of woman that 
he wanted, then Lois was more than willing to step aside. 
She'd be darned if she would fight for his attentions. It 
wasn't dignified, and in her whole life, Lois Lane had 
never stooped to fighting for a man. Besides, she had Dan 
now, and he was a whole lot easier to handle than the 
intrepid Clark Kent.

The man himself walked around his desk and came to perch on 
the edge of hers. She tried not to notice how the fabric of 
his pants pulled tight against the hard muscle of his 
thigh. Maybe she could imagine Clark skiing, she mused 
absently, then banished the thought from her mind and 
reminded herself that she was still angry with him.

"Lois, you're OK with this, aren't you?" he asked, his dark 
brown eyes searching her face carefully, his anger of 
moments before gone. She wasn't surprised. Even with his 
new willingness to express his darker side, Clark still 
didn't believe in holding grudges.

Lois, on the other hand, held no such trepidation and took 
the form of sulking to a new level. "OK with what, Clark? 
You and Mayson coming along on what was supposed to be a 
romantic weekend with my boyfriend?" she replied 
sarcastically. "Sounds like...fun."

"No, I mean, you're OK with me and Mayson?" His voice held 
a gentle concern that unnerved her, and for a brief moment, 
she thought of saying no. 

No, she wasn't OK with it. 

She squelched the urge immediately.

"Oh. Well, yeah. Sure. Of course I'm OK with you and 
Mayson," she stammered. Then, realizing how it might sound 
to him, she gathered herself together. With a confidence 
that didn't quite reach her heart, she lifted her chin and 
forced herself to meet his steady gaze. "Why wouldn't I be 
OK with it? I mean, like I said, I don't really see what 
all the fuss is about with her, but if you like her, then I 
guess that's all that really matters, right? Yeah, I'm OK 
with it."

"Good. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable." He 
stared at her, unblinking, and she squirmed uncomfortably 
under the scrutiny. Why did Clark always make her feel like 
he could read her mind?

"Nope." She smiled brightly. "I'm perfectly comfortable 
with it. Perfectly."

He looked away and his voice held a sudden coldness. 
"Great."

"Great," she echoed. As an uncomfortable silence settled 
between them, she looked around her desk, trying to find a 
suitable distraction. The phone message from Bobby. The 
whole reason she was in this mess in the first place. She 
snatched it up, thankful to turn her attention back to 
work. "So. I guess I should give Bobby a call."

Clark nodded, and as he returned to his own desk, Lois 
picked up the phone and began to dial.

***

Clark watched Lois as she spoke in low tones into the 
phone. It would take her several minutes to confirm that 
Bobby Big Mouth had the information they needed and to set 
up a convenient yet secure meeting location, and he was 
glad for the time. He needed to settle his whirling mind.

What in the world had just happened? he asked himself with 
a bewildered shake of his head. In less time than it took 
him to change into his suit, he'd gotten himself into a 
situation so horrifying it belonged in a Wes Craven movie. 
He was looking at spending two days, and more importantly, 
two nights, in a cabin with Lois. And Dan Scardino. And 
Mayson Drake. It was a mixture that spelled disaster any 
way you looked at it.

He hadn't been able to help himself. For so long he'd 
played the part of modest, self-deprecating good guy. But 
when Lois had suggested that he couldn't ski, something 
snapped. He'd opened his mouth before he could stop 
himself. Then he'd topped it off by insisting that he could 
get a date. Where had his mind gone during all of that?

It wasn't a complete mystery. For the last two months, his 
ability to control his anger and frustration had been 
sorely tested. He seemed to be walking around in a 
perpetual funk, and such a state was so foreign to his 
generally good-natured personality that he knew of no 
effective way of combating it. He'd found himself frowning 
more, and once, in a display that mortified him immediately 
afterward, he'd actually snapped at an unfortunate research 
assistant whose only mistake had been to take the last cup 
of coffee from the pot just as Clark approached the machine 
looking for a jolt of caffeine. Sincere apology not 
withstanding, he still felt uncomfortable every time the 
poor girl and he crossed paths.

Luckily, the worst of his foul temper tended to find its 
outlet on Lois, who was more than equipped to handle it, 
armed with verbal assault weapons that could slay the 
harshest tongue. In fact, he almost reveled in the moments 
that they argued, the release of the pressure building 
within him like that of Yosemite firing at regular 
intervals. The resulting calm acted like a drug, and he 
wondered if perhaps the past year of being kind wasn't 
maybe the worst approach he could have taken. If Lois felt 
no compulsion to hold back, maybe he should let his own 
inner most feelings, no matter how dark, have some chance 
to see the light of day.

It didn't help that there was just something about Dan 
Scardino that brought out the worst in Clark. It was as if 
Scardino presented a constant challenge that begged to be 
countered. Had they existed centuries earlier, Clark had no 
doubt that he and Scardino would eventually find themselves 
counting paces with pistols drawn as an early morning mist 
swirled about a lonely English field while seconds looked 
on in morbid anticipation.

His whole life he'd suppressed any competitive urges he'd 
had, knowing that, with his abilities, there would be no 
such thing as an even playing field if he were on it. By 
the time he'd reached college, he'd eschewed athletic 
endeavors that involved spectators and genuine competition, 
satisfying his love for all things sports with friendly 
games of touch football and one-on-one that never contained 
the drive for victory at any meaningful level.

However, Scardino ignited within him an overwhelming need 
to win. He wanted to best the man in every way possible, 
and he wanted to do it without the aid of any of his super 
powers. For that reason, he found it impossible to back 
down from any challenge, implied or real. If Scardino could 
ski, Clark determined he would ski better. And if Scardino 
could take his girlfriend away for the weekend, Clark would 
have the time of his life as well. Of course, Scardino 
still held the trump card that ensured ultimate victory.

Clark didn't even attempt to delude himself to the real 
reason he felt so combative with Scardino. No matter how 
hard he tried, Clark would never win the only game that 
mattered. Scardino had won in the pursuit of Lois.

Now his arrogant need to show Lois how wrong Scardino was 
for her had put him in a fine mess. Sure, he might be able 
to smear Scardino's butt across the slopes, but at night, 
when the ski boots were hung up, Scardino would be the one 
holding Lois in his arms.

A bubble of joy had exploded and traveled the neuro paths 
of his body upon Lois's admission that she and Dan had not 
yet consummated their relationship. For whatever reason, 
after eight weeks of dating, Scardino hadn't crossed that 
particular finish line, which meant that Clark wasn't 
completely out of the race.

Perhaps that was another reason that his brain had failed 
to keep him out of this ridiculous situation. He believed 
he still had a chance. But his more sensible self, which 
had finally shown up many minutes too late, pointed out his 
faulty reasoning. His presence this weekend would make 
absolutely no difference to Lois and Scardino when they 
found themselves alone, which was bound to happen at some 
point. Eventually, the ski lifts would shut down.

The thought of the two of them together twisted Clark's 
stomach painfully. Until fifteen minutes ago, he'd been 
blissfully unaware of their getaway. Now he'd give anything 
to remain so ignorant. Not only was he aware of their big 
plans, he was now an intricate part of them. Instead of 
torturing himself by imagining what might be occurring in 
some remote ski cabin miles from Metropolis, he'd be mere 
feet from where the reality was actually happening. Dear 
god, he'd probably even be able hear them.

At that thought, Clark leapt to his feet, unable to sit 
still. There was no way he would be able to stand by 
knowing that Lois and Scardino were together in every sense 
of the word. It would kill him, sure as a kryptonite 
bullet. He'd have to leave. Just fly away and pretend that 
it wasn't happening.

But then there was Mayson. With a feeling of overwhelming 
helplessness, he sank back into his chair, resting his head 
in his hands. He couldn't fly away because of Mayson.

It was the flip side of the coin of hell he'd managed to 
forge. Not only did he have to face the blossoming of 
Scardino and Lois's relationship, he'd now have to deal 
with the reality of his own relationship with Mayson. And 
by inviting her away for the weekend, he'd implied that he 
and Mayson were officially a something. He'd announced it 
to Lois, to Scardino and, even worse, to Mayson. With a 
simple phone call, he'd insinuated that he and Mayson had a 
future and one that held much more than he was sure he 
could give.

When Lois had chosen Scardino, Clark had instinctively 
turned to the blond assistant D.A. He'd needed her open 
adoration of him, the confirmation that an attractive woman 
found him desirable, a necessary bandage on his wounded 
pride. As Scardino became more and more of a fixture in 
Lois's life, Clark countered with increased involvement 
with Mayson.

Often he worried that he wasn't being fair to the woman. He 
knew that his feelings for Mayson weren't those of love, 
but he did have a deep affection for her. She interested 
him intellectually in ways different than Lois did, and he 
enjoyed Mayson's insights on the things that were happening 
both in and around Metropolis. More open-minded than Lois, 
he found his discussions with the assistant D.A. much more 
of a give and take, where with Lois conversation tended to 
have the feel of kill or be killed.

Additionally, Mayson's open disdain for Superman presented 
him with a challenge he found refreshing. Most dates 
included at least one conversation that consisted of 
Clark's attempt to turn her opinion on Superman around and 
her dismissal of the topic as a matter of course. With 
Mayson, he never had to wonder if she cared for him or for 
his amazing abilities. He kept his secrets from her for a 
whole different set of reasons although they were no less 
impossible to overcome.

In response to his guilt, Clark always held back with 
Mayson. Not just on a physical level, which he insisted 
remain fairly tame by the standards of most men his age. 
Indeed, Mayson must have thought him some kind of modern-
age monk because it was always he who put a stop to their 
heated exchanges before they passed a certain point. He'd 
come to know that, even if he never declared undying love 
and the prospect of marriage to Mayson, she'd probably 
still be willing to share his bed, happy for the time and 
intimacy offered by even a strictly physical relationship. 
She wanted his love, but he suspected she'd be happy to 
have his body if it was all he was willing to give.

He'd toyed with the idea. Considered it carefully on 
several occasions, usually at the end of a long day when 
Scardino showed up at the Planet to take Lois to dinner. 
How easy it would be to turn his frustrations into pure 
sexual energy and unleash them with the willing Mayson. But 
always he turned back before crossing the point of no 
return. It was part of what he held back. No matter how he 
looked at it, he couldn't forget the fact that sex for him 
meant so much more than the physical sharing of bodies. It 
was the one part of himself that he couldn't share with 
Mayson that kept him from sleeping with her. He couldn't 
give her his heart. That part of his body was already 
taken.

As he stared blankly at the blurry type displayed on his 
computer monitor, he realized that he was going to have to 
overcome that particular hangup, and pretty quickly. He'd 
just called Mayson and invited her to spend two nights in a 
ski cabin with him. There was a slim possibility that she 
might believe that it was a purely platonic weekend, but 
the speed with which she had agreed to come with him left 
little room for that hope. And once Scardino and Lois 
disappeared into their own bedroom, he'd be faced with an 
expectant Mayson and no excuses. Talk about performance 
anxiety!

He groaned, dropping his head on his desk. He felt sick. 
Why had he been so stupid as to let Scardino goad him? Of 
course, he'd never imagined it would lead to an invitation. 
But Lois had given him ample room to back out. He'd just 
been so idiotic as to ignore her offered excuses and, like 
a locomotive completely out of control, he'd plowed ahead 
toward inevitable disaster.

And why, exactly, had he ignored them, he wondered. Was he 
just some kind of masochist who liked to torture himself by 
putting himself in the same place as the woman he loved and 
her boyfriend? Whatever the reason for his temporary 
insanity, he now possessed a front row, nonrefundable 
ticket to the Lois and Dan Scardino horror show, complete 
with a bucket of Lois's heated anger.

He glanced over to where she sat, nodding her head 
emphatically and jabbing her pencil into the air as if 
trying to make a point to Bobby Big Mouth despite the fact 
that he couldn't see her through the telephone wires. His 
breath caught as she smiled suddenly, a sight that even 
after a year never failed to cause his chest to tighten 
painfully. She was just so incredibly beautiful. And he'd 
come so close. So close but not close enough.

They'd had one date. One perfect, magical date. And up 
until she'd slammed the door in his face, he'd thought he'd 
finally succeeded and his dreams were about to come true.

When Lois started to date Scardino in little over a week 
after that night, he'd blamed her completely. Anger filled 
him as he stewed, feeling as if he'd been tricked or 
cheated. She'd led him along, never intending to give their 
elusive romance a chance. Why, she'd slammed the door in 
his face, for crying out loud!

As his anger receded and he forced himself to take a cold 
hard look at the situation, he saw that he had to shoulder 
a lot of the blame. On several occasions the days following 
their date, Lois had tried to talk to him. Unfortunately, 
he'd been called away to save the day, offering her limp 
excuses and a weak smile while she gaped after him, 
disbelieving that he'd just walk away while she was trying 
to explain. He had to admit that she most likely was trying 
to apologize or at least explain her behaviour, yet he 
hadn't taken the time to hear her out.

By the time Scardino's flowers arrived on her desk, Lois 
had turned a frigid shoulder in Clark's direction, and he'd 
despaired of ever thawing her attitude. With Scardino on 
the scene, any hope Clark had held was all but decimated. 
He'd had his chance and he blew it. All that was left was 
to sit back and watch as she moved on without him. Of 
course, he'd never imagined that through his own stupidity, 
he'd have a close-up view of the event that haunted his 
worst nightmares.

With a satisfied bang, Lois hung the phone on its cradle 
and turned her wide smile in his direction. "We're all set! 
Four o'clock in the alley behind Fortino's Bar and Grill."

Clark nodded silently. Lois stood and retrieved her purse 
from the drawer. "So, do you want to get the cheese steak 
sandwich or the double fudge layer cake from Henley's 
Bakery?" she asked as she waited for him to shrug on his 
charcoal suit coat.

Her anger was gone, replaced by the excited glow she always 
got when she was on the trail of a hot lead or an 
undisputed source. He was glad. He didn't think he could 
bear an entire afternoon of her accusations. Kicking 
himself was punishment enough.

"I'd better get the cake. You remember what happened last 
time you got that," he teased. 

"Clark," she retorted, outraged that he would remind her 
of the incident. "I hadn't had lunch yet. Besides, there 
was plenty left for Bobby."

Clark laughed, happy that for at least a couple of hours, 
he could forget about what was going to happen at the end 
of the day and how he was going to handle the giant mess 
he'd managed to get himself into. For the moment, he and 
his partner were simply on the job.

***

"Dan?" Lois called out, smacking her hand along the wall 
just inside the door until she located a light switch. 

She flipped it upward, and the cabin flooded with light. 
Yanking the key from the lock, she muttered an expletive 
under her breath, wondering why Dan would have locked the 
door in the first place when he knew they were coming. 
Thank god he'd given her the extra key at lunch. She would 
have been mightily put out if she had to stand outside in 
the freezing cold, pounding on the door. It had been an 
unbearably long drive. An unbearably long night, and she 
had no patience left at all.

Standing in the small flag-stone entry, she took a moment 
to let her eyes grow accustomed to the light, then looked 
around. She gasped, delight at their accommodations 
overcoming her weariness momentarily. Now this was a cabin!

In front of her was large living room, sunken a few steps 
below the entry level. The room, although easily twenty 
five feet across and as many feet deep, was warmed by the 
massive stone fireplace taking up nearly the entire wall 
opposite the front door. A large couch and a couple of 
overstuffed chairs were clustered in front of the hearth, 
suggesting cozy nights spent in front of a roaring fire 
with a warm cup of hot chocolate. A round table with four 
chairs sat on one side of the room, a nice place for 
breakfast or a game of cards.

To her right was a powder room and to the left, a darkened 
kitchenette. All of the walls were of rough hewn logs 
giving the whole place a woodsy smell. It was a cabin all 
right, but it was Lois's type of cabin. Modern, clean, and 
supplied with electricity, hot showers, and a flush toilet.

On opposite sides of the vast living room, she noted two 
closed doors and imagined them to be the bedrooms. Dan had 
been right. There was plenty of space for two couples. 
Under different circumstances, she could actually imagine 
being glad to have the company. Of course, they would have 
to be radically different circumstances.

After her initial appraisal, she swept the living room 
again, frowning when she didn't see any sign of Dan. No 
lamps had been clicked on, nor was there a fire in the 
fireplace. She'd expected a warm welcome, or at least some 
kind of welcome. Could he be asleep already? A glance at 
her watch revealed that it was just almost eleven, way too 
early to end the night.

Lois moved down the steps and into the living room. At that 
moment, Mayson entered the cabin and stomped her boots on 
the welcome mat, dislodging the snow collected from the 
path to the front door. Clark followed behind, carrying all 
of their luggage with amazing ease considering there were 
five full bags.

"Wow!" Mayson exclaimed as she scanned the space. "This 
place is great!"

Lois opened one of the closed doors, confirming that it was 
a bedroom. "Dan?" she called softly into the darkness, but 
as her eyes adjusted, she saw that the bed was neatly made. 
He hadn't gone to sleep without her. At least not here.

"Where's Scardino?" Clark asked as he placed the luggage on 
the floor and came to stand next to Mayson at the top of 
the stairs. He issued a low whistle of appreciation. "Wow, 
nice."

"He's not in that bedroom," Lois supplied, crossing the 
space and repeating her search behind the second closed 
door. "Nor this one," she added when her scan revealed a 
another bed also neatly made. Confusion wrinkled her brow. 
Where could he possibly be? She'd left a message for him 
when they left nearly three hours earlier but he hadn't 
returned her call. She'd assumed he'd been skiing.

"Maybe he's still skiing," Clark conjectured as he accepted 
Mayson's coat and returned to the front door to hang it up 
along with his own. "In the dark," he added with a laugh.

Mayson had moved down into the living room and stood next 
to a small desk, looking for a scrap of paper that would 
solve the mystery. "No note. The light on the phone is 
blinking. Maybe it's a message."

Lois crossed to the desk and picked up the phone. The 
directions for retrieving messages were neatly printed and 
laminated on a handy card, and she quickly punched in the 
appropriate numbers, suppressing a massive yawn that 
threatened to split her head apart.

As she maneuvered through several phone menus, Lois watched 
Mayson and Clark from the corner of her eye. They murmured 
to each other, Clark's dark head bending down to touch 
Mayson's blond one in a sharp contrast. They were like salt 
and pepper.

The generic voice of the phone-prompt lady came on, 
announcing in her neutral, accent-free tone that there were 
two unheard messages waiting. Lois listened, surprised when 
the first message was delivered in her own voice.

"Hi Dan. It's me, Lois. I've just finished up the story. 
It's going to be great! Really, I'm glad I stuck around to 
meet with Bobby Big Mouth. This expose's going to blow 
Senator Steinman out of the water. That man'd better look 
into a trade school `cause his days as a politician are 
over. Anyway, it's almost eight, and we're leaving the 
Planet now. Should get us up there around ten or so. See 
`ya then."

While her message to Dan played out, Lois noticed Mayson 
gesture to one of the bedrooms. Clark nodded. He picked up 
his and Mayson's luggage, leaving Lois's two bags standing 
starkly alone in the entryway. Abandoned.

When he disappeared into the darkened room, followed by 
Mayson, Lois fought down a wave of nausea. Suddenly Dan's 
voice came on the phone, offering a blessed distraction.

"Hey Lois. This is Dan. Listen, I'm really sorry, but I 
won't be able to make it up there until tomorrow. OK, calm 
down! I can imagine the look on your face. Anyway, I was 
walking out of the office, and Sergeant Walker caught me. 
There's been a break in the Hobbes Bay drug case. Our 
informant finally...well, it ends up we got the bust planned 
for three a.m., and I gotta be here for it. I tried to 
catch you before you left but you didn't answer your phone. 
Glad I gave you that extra key. I hate to do this, but 
it's only one night. I'll be there when you wake up, I 
promise. Or at least in time to hit the slopes in the 
afternoon. Geez, I feel really bad about this. Hope you 
understand. It's work...Hey, try to get a good night sleep 
and I'll make it up to you tomorrow night. I promise. Well, 
I better go. See `ya tomorrow."

Lois slammed the receiver down, not bothering to erase the 
message. "Damn!" she muttered. Damn! Damn! Damn!

"What's wrong?" Clark had emerged from the bedroom in time 
to see her slam down the phone.

Lois looked away from his concerned frown, not wanting to 
tell him what had happened. For some odd reason, she felt 
embarrassed. Basically, she'd just been stood up.

For a brief minute, she wondered if she could fake it. 
Pretend that Dan was in the bathroom all this time and 
couldn't come out of the bedroom because he was...undressed 
and...exhausted. With a sigh, she realized that sooner or 
later Clark would figure out that something was wrong. 
Especially when Dan failed to show up for breakfast. Or 
lunch.

"Dan's not coming up until tomorrow. He had a break in a 
case he was working on and had to stay in Metropolis." She 
tried to sound upbeat but it came out a little more on the 
shrill end of things.

"Oh. Hmmm." Clark shoved his hands in his jean pockets and 
looked very uncomfortable. "Well, do you want to go back?"

Lois thought for a minute. What she really wanted to do was 
throw something across the room. If the gods had conspired 
to plan her worst possible weekend, they couldn't have done 
a better job. First the whole double date fiasco. Now Dan 
was standing her up. For work! How lame was that?

The thought of another two hour plus ride back to 
Metropolis with Clark and Mayson nearly brought tears to 
her eyes. Despite the frustration she felt building 
underneath her skin, she forced herself to sound 
reasonable. "Uh, no. No, that's crazy. It's already eleven 
and besides, why go back just to turn around and drive up 
again tomorrow. No, I'll be fine."

Mayson chose that moment to emerge from the bedroom. 
"What's up?" She looked expectantly from Clark to Lois and 
back again. Lois resisted the urge to scream.

"Dan can't make it up until tomorrow," Clark explained, 
talking very slowly as if Lois had received news of some 
tragic accident and required very gentle handling. Mayson 
gave him a perplexed look. "Work," he added with a nod.

"Ohhh," Mayson said, sudden understanding lifting her blond 
eyebrows. She looked at Lois with a tinge of what Lois 
thought might be pity. "Wow, that really sucks."

"That's one word for it," Lois muttered, crossing her arms 
tightly across her chest.

She caught the sideways glance Clark and Mayson shot at 
each other and it served to fuel her mounting rage. Here 
she was on what was supposed to be a romantic weekend away 
with Dan, suddenly finding that she had become the biggest 
third wheel since the invention of the tricycle. Her anger 
bounced from Dan and his stupid drug bust to Clark for the 
smug smile she thought she'd seen him give Mayson, then 
back to Dan for inviting Clark in the first place.

A heavy silence filled the air while Lois fumed. Finally, 
Mayson gave voice to what they were all feeling. 
"Yeah...this 
is kind of awkward."

Lois started abruptly and marched up the stairs to where 
her luggage sat. Grabbing a bag in each hand, she turned to 
face Clark and Mayson who watched her with wide eyes. What, 
were they afraid she was going to have a meltdown?

"I think I'm just going to turn in. It's been a long day, 
and I'm really beat." She beamed like a beauty contestant 
and walked down the steps, heading for the vacant bedroom 
that had just become her own private suite.

Clark stepped forward, reaching a hand out as if to stop 
her. "Lois, are you sure you're all right?"

She smiled so wide her face hurt. "Yep. Fine. Just great. 
See ya tomorrow." She nodded at Mayson. "`Night."

"Night," Mayson replied. Both Clark and Mayson watched her 
silently as she crossed the room, and she felt like 
somebody's poor, ugly cousin who got dumped on prom night.

She reached the door and a new, horrifying thought crossed 
her mind. Just because she and Dan wouldn't be getting any 
action didn't mean that Clark and Mayson would refrain. The 
fireplace was in that great big living room, and what if 
one thing led to another...she felt a blush creeping up her 
neck.

"Um. I shouldn't need anything out here so you can 
Just...well, I'll be in my room, and I won't come out unless 
it's really, really important so I shouldn't see anything. 
I mean, if you two are...I wouldn't see it so...don't worry 
about me." With every word she spoke, her mortification 
multiplied, and she silently prayed that a giant hole would 
just swallow her up right then. "I'll be fine and just see 
you in the morning. Tomorrow. Morning."

With a click, Lois closed the door and leaned against it 
heavily. This was it. She was in hell.

***

Clark stared at the closed door, his heart pounding. It had 
worked. By some magic, his very presence at the cabin would 
prevent Lois from consummating her relationship with 
Scardino. Had his powers surpassed the boundaries of the 
physical world and moved into the ethereal where dwelt such 
wish-granting creatures as leprechauns and fairies? If so, 
he was going to have to rethink this whole altruistic 
attitude. It could get out of hand.

In truth, he felt sorry for Lois. She'd looked so dejected, 
a state he couldn't quite reconcile when it applied to his 
partner. Disappointment he would have completely 
understood. Anger had been more than expected. But Lois 
looked as if she'd lost her best friend. Did she really 
care so much for Scardino?

The prospect that she held such strong feelings sent a 
stabbing pain through Clark's heart. Had she really been 
looking forward to spending time alone with Dan? That 
reality hurt almost as much as it would have had Scardino 
been waiting to greet her with open arms and a bottle of 
chilled champagne. Almost.

Besides, he knew that Scardino's delay only meant avoiding 
the inevitable for a few extra, blissful hours.

He'd never personally had the experience, but he'd seen it 
in action. Apparently, removing a band-aid slowly was far 
more painful than ripping it off quickly, in one violent 
action that occurred so fast the shock overpowered the 
pain. Instead of facing it head-on and getting it over 
with, Clark was going to be forced to stew a good twenty 
four hours, knowing what was to come. And the knowing was 
almost worse than the doing. Almost.

"Clark?"

Clark blinked, pulled from his thoughts. He offered a 
sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"Just that I feel kind of bad for her. Do you think we 
should do something?" Mayson wondered, glancing back at the 
closed door.

He shrugged. "I don't think there's anything we can do. 
Besides, she'll get over it. If anyone should understand 
sacrifices made in the name of one's job, it's Lois."

"He's DEA, right?"

"Yeah." Clark sighed.

He'd always suspected that part of what Lois found 
attractive about Scardino was his exciting career. It was 
one line of work that offered as much danger and intrigue 
as her own. Now Clark thanked heaven that Scardino's job 
had been the thing to keep him away. Maybe if it provided 
enough inconveniences, she'd decide he wasn't worth it. 
Lois tolerated such annoyances from her own professional 
life but he doubted she'd be so understanding when someone 
else tried to offer the same excuse more than a couple of 
times.

Mayson retrieved the purse she'd left sitting on the desk, 
carrying it to the large round table where Clark stood, 
leaning against the high back of a chair placed around it. 
"How'd Lois get hooked up with a DEA agent?" she asked as 
she began to search through the various pockets and 
compartments of the black leather bag.

"He was investigating a car bomb that we connected to a 
story we were working on. Had to do with the Resurrection 
Pill and a guy named Stanley Gable," Clark offered by way 
of explanation, wondering what she might be searching for. 
Women's purses always offered such mystery to Clark, full 
of the odd bits and pieces that made the whole sex so 
intriguing.

"Gable. Gable. That name sounds kind of familiar." She 
stopped rummaging in her bag, looking ahead with slightly 
squinted eyes as she tried to place the name. Her face 
brightened when she made a connection. "Was he an ex-STAR 
Lab guy?"

Clark nodded. "Yeah. Gable was smuggling this Resurrection 
Pill to some prisoners to get them out. The pill made it 
seem like they were dead. He was behind the car bomb that 
killed a security guard who we think was about to confess 
that he'd helped smuggle the pills in or knew what was 
going on. Turns out the explosives expert who made the car 
bomb killed Scardino's partner a few years back."

"I remember, now." Mayson started nodding, placing one hand 
on her hip. "About two months ago, right? I almost got that 
case but the DA assigned it to another assistant. Didn't 
this Gable guy try to release some kind of deadly virus all 
over town?"

"That's the one," Clark confirmed.

"And our old pal Superman stopped him just in time." She 
chuckled under her breath, a short derisive bark that made 
Clark shift uncomfortably.

"Superman helped out a little," he admitted, offering no 
specifics. He knew she wouldn't appreciate them regardless 
of what this particular rescue had entailed.

"Man, I don't know how we all got along without him. It's a 
wonder that Metropolis managed to function before he 
dropped into town and..." She paused, looking up with a 
small smile of contrition. "Sorry."

Clark smiled his acceptance of her apology, but he didn't 
think her spoken sentiment was completely heartfelt. Mayson 
simply refused to see any good in Superman. No matter how 
many times he pulled off some kind of miraculously heroic 
effort, she always found the thread to unravel the whole 
thing, making Clark feel somewhat stupid and quite often a 
bit like a glory hound. He did his best to avoid the whole 
topic, having determined that he might never be able to 
tell this woman who he really was.

Mayson looked upward and stuck her tongue out of the corner 
of her mouth as she allowed her hand to do a deep sea 
exploration of the darkest depths of her handbag. "So, 
why's he still in Metropolis?"

"Who?"

"Dan," she clarified, then pulled her hand out with a small 
object clutched tightly in her fist. "Ah-ha!" she shouted 
triumphantly, showing him a black tube that he guessed was 
a lipstick. "I mean, those DEA boys are a pretty wild 
bunch. They don't usually stick around too long after a 
case is wrapped up."

"Yeah, well, this one stuck," he muttered. Stuck like 
chewed gum sticks to the bottom of your shoe.

Mayson had removed the top of the tube and was carefully 
stroking a deep red crayon of color across her lips, 
confirming Clark's guess that what she'd found was 
lipstick. His satisfaction in his accuracy was quickly 
replaced by an odd sensation in his stomach, the way that 
she was applying the cosmetic making him feel a little like 
a teenager looking at a forbidden magazine. It was such a 
sensual thing, so female and so intentional in its 
implication.

He looked away and cleared his throat. "Do you want some 
tea?" he asked, his voice still slightly scratchy.

Mayson stopped her application and looked at him. 
"Uh...yeah. Sure."

"I think Lois brought some groceries." He told the lie 
easily to probably one of the few people in Metropolis who 
would believe it flat out. Mayson had no knowledge of 
Lois's aversion to all things domestic. He started for the 
door, calling over his shoulder as he grabbed his coat. 
"They're still in the car. I'll go get them."

Mayson stared at him, her lipstick poised in mid-air. He 
gave her a big smile as he closed the door, exhaling loudly 
in the frigid darkness.

He figured he had about three minutes to fetch the tea, so 
he took his time flying back to his apartment, letting the 
night air cool his heated face. While there he gathered a 
tin of cookies his mom had sent as well as a bottle of wine 
and some cheese and crackers. Enough for a picnic.

By the time he touched back down in front of the cabin, he 
felt much more in control. He took a deep breath and 
entered with the brown bag of groceries clutched tightly in 
his arm.

"Whew, I think it's getting colder," he remarked, a bit too 
jovially.

As he moved into the cabin's small kitchenette, he glanced 
out to the living room to see Mayson bending over a small 
cabinet. She stood when she heard his voice and smiled.

"I put on some jazz," she called out, gesturing at the 
cabinet which he assumed held a stereo. "Is that OK?"

"Yeah." He listened for a moment, the soft Miles Davis 
filling the room. "Sounds nice."

Clark grabbed two mugs from a mug stand sitting on the 
counter. The kitchenette was small but included all the 
necessary equipment for an easy meal.

"This place is really great," Mayson observed 
appreciatively as she explored the living room. "That 
stereo is state of the art. I think there must be speakers 
hidden in all of the walls."

"It is nice," he agreed, filling the mugs with water. He 
decided against using his heat vision and placed the mugs 
in the small microwave. "How'd Lois find this place?" she 
asked.

Clark studied the control panel on the microwave, wondering 
how long it would take to heat up the water sufficiently. 
"I think it belongs to a friend of Dan's at the MPD. He 
mentioned coming up here a couple of times," he explained 
absently, deciding that three minutes was probably long 
enough.

"Geez, I didn't know the guys at the MPD made such good 
money. This place must have cost a fortune."

"Too rich for my blood, that's for sure." He'd moved to the 
door of the kitchenette and watched Mayson make her tour of 
the living room.

"Maybe there's a story there," she mused, picking up a 
brass bookend that was shaped like an eagle and examining 
it closely.

"You think?" At that moment, the microwave beeped, and he 
returned to place the tea bags in the perfectly heated 
water. Locating a spoon, he allowed the tea to steep, then 
removed and discarded the bags.

"This must be the guy. Here in this picture with the two 
kids." Mayson held up a framed photograph that showed a man 
and two teen-aged kids dressed in full ski gear, smiling 
happily at the camera as they leaned on upended skis, 
surrounded by snow-covered trees.

She put the photo back in its place on the top shelf of the 
bookcase and accepted the mug he handed to her. "Thanks."

They both took a tentative sip of tea, and Mayson smiled a 
little. Clark smiled back, totally unprepared for what came 
next.

"Clark, I was kind of surprised when you called to ask me 
up here. You've always been so...hesitant before..." She 
trailed off, watching him closely.

Clark swallowed hard, a big gulp that would have surely 
scalded his esophagus had he been a normal human. "I know. 
I guess I was just waiting to...make sure," he stammered.

"And are you sure now?" She took a slow sip, looking up 
from the mug through her eyelashes.

He paused for a minute, thinking how he could answer the 
question honestly. "As sure as ever."

"I'm glad. I really like you, Clark. I mean, I *really* like 
you." She set her mug on the table and placed her hand on 
his chest lightly.

Clark tightened his grip on his own mug, stopping just 
before the ceramic handle was crushed. He suddenly felt 
like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming Mack 
truck.

Before he could respond to her declaration, she continued. 
"It's been great these past few weeks, getting to know you 
better and all. But, I don't know. It just felt like 
something was missing. Like you were holding back."

As she made her observation, Mayson ran a slender finger 
down the center of Clark's flannel shirt, slipping it 
between the overlapping edges and brushing the wooden 
buttons with a perfectly manicured fingertip. It was a 
thoroughly intimate gesture, and Clark felt his chest 
tighten. She'd touched him before, but this was the first 
time he had no reason to stop her.

He coughed away his discomfort and stepped back, glancing 
around for a suitable distraction. His gaze lighted on the 
massive fireplace and the neat stack of logs ready for use. 
"Uh...maybe I should build a fire."

Mayson gave him a small smile. "That would be nice. Then 
maybe we could work on making a little of our own heat."

His eyes widened and a warm flush crept into his face. 
Trying to hide his embarrassment over her bold statement, 
he quickly turned to the cold hearth. Retrieving her mug, 
Mayson followed behind and curled up at one side of the 
deep, chenille-covered sofa, tucking her feet beneath her. 
She watched him as he placed logs onto the grate and 
arranged them with more care than an entire troop of Boy 
Scouts working on a merit badge.

Clark took deep breaths, trying to quell the panic that had 
settled into his stomach. This was it. The moment he'd 
waited his entire life to reach. It couldn't have been more 
perfectly arranged, either. A cozy ski cabin. Fire burning 
in the fireplace. Attractive woman eyeing him beneath her 
long lashes. It was the stuff of romance novels and late 
night cable movies. So why wasn't he running to take 
advantage of the situation?

Unlike it might for most men his age, Clark's virginity 
didn't cause him a lot of inner turmoil. Perhaps it was 
because he knew that this state was purely a result of 
conscious choices he'd made and not a lack of opportunity. 
He didn't suffer doubts about his desirability that would 
serve to hack at his confidence. As modest as he was, he 
didn't try to deny the fact that his well muscled body was 
an asset. There had been women in his life. Willing women. 
And when the time was right, he didn't believe he'd have a 
problem ending his self-imposed celibacy.

At first he'd avoided intimacy because the unpredictable 
nature of his burgeoning powers had proven too frightening. 
He'd lacked the ability to control his strength and 
responses under the most ideal of situations. Adding the 
lethal mix of teenage hormones and high sexual energy 
wasn't something he wanted to risk, so he'd ended nearly 
all of his high school dates with some lingering kisses and 
a tight hug or two. It had been the beginning of his nice-
guy image, one that had caused him to blush in the locker 
room but had kept him out of trouble.

By the time he'd reached college, Clark had gained control 
of his abilities but a new fear took up residence in his 
mind. Becoming physically involved with a woman would mean 
allowing her into his world, possibly exposing his secrets 
to someone who might, intentionally or unintentionally, 
hurt him. Trust became paramount, and the more he saw of 
the real world, the more tightly he'd held that virtue to 
his chest. It would take a special woman to break through 
his carefully constructed defenses, and until he met her, 
he would wait.

In truth, he'd never considered the one night stand as an 
option. There was the little bit of the Midwestern moral 
upbringing that lingered, stressing the importance of sex 
as part of a loving relationship. Not quite sold on the 
absolute of marriage before sex, he had no unwavering 
conviction that drove him to wait for his wedding night if 
the right woman and the right moment arrived fortuitously 
into his life. However, in nearly thirty years, he'd never 
felt so strongly about a single person that he'd had to 
give much thought to the choice of whether to "do it" or 
not.

More importantly, the thing that had held him back from 
meaningless relationships based on a purely physical 
attraction was the iron-clad bond between Clark's body and 
his mind. Because his body was the source of all that made 
him different, he could not divorce his emotions from it. 
He'd spent a lifetime melding his mind with his muscles so 
that he could control the powers that were both his gift 
and his curse. He could no more imagine separating the two 
so that his body could experience the pleasures of the 
flesh even if his mind held no such connection than he 
could imagine putting his brain on a shelf.

It wasn't that he had never experienced desire or the urges 
natural to any healthy man. He'd just learned to control 
them, as he had learned to control his extraordinary 
strength, his heat vision, and his ability to fly. For 
Clark, sowing his wild oats had consisted of many heated 
kisses, caresses and the occasional grope, but nothing that 
would land him anywhere near the Stud of the Month column 
in a skin magazine. The ladies in his life had never minded 
his hesitancy or lack of experience. He had never dated any 
one single woman long enough for it to become an issue. 
Until Mayson. And after two months, it had become an issue.

Now, as he struck the match against the tinder and placed 
the small flame to the kindling, he knew that his reasons 
were gone. He had control of his strength, and his fear 
that he might hurt Mayson was nonexistent. They'd been 
dating for a while. He knew that he could trust her. She 
cared about him and he cared for her. Neither of them was 
going anywhere, and theirs was a relationship that had a 
future if he chose it. The time was right.

Standing up, he brushed his hands on the front of his 
jeans. Taking a deep breath for courage, he turned around. 
He was ready. Ready!

"That should do it," he said, trying to cover up his 
nervousness. He noticed the way Mayson relaxed against the 
sofa, so comfortable and trusting. She certainly didn't 
seem to be feeling any nervousness.

"It's kind of late for a fire, actually." He glanced at his 
wrist as if consulting a watch, but the fact that he wasn't 
wearing one only emphasized his discomfort with the 
situation. "I mean, if you're tired, I understand. We don't 
have to...I mean, it's OK if..."

Mayson smiled and patted the spot next to her, and he moved 
stiffly to join her. Perching on the very edge of the sofa, 
he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while he 
watched the flames take hold of the perfectly stacked logs. 
Yep, he was ready. Oh, so ready.

He just wasn't quite sure how to start. Should he just kiss 
her? Or maybe he should ask her if she wanted to go to the 
bedroom and change into something more comfortable. Or 
maybe he should go change into something more comfortable.

Suddenly, Mayson's hands gripped his shoulders from behind, 
squeezing in a gentle massage. He jumped at her touch. 
"Geez, Clark. You're really tense," she noted as she 
kneaded the hard muscles between her fingers and thumbs. 
"You need to loosen up."

Yep, loose. He need to loosen up because he was ready. Rea-
dy! Closing his eyes and leaning his head back slightly, he 
tried to let the rhythmic motion of her hands lull him into 
a relaxed state. Instead, as her fingers moved lower to 
stroke the upper edges of his pectoral muscles, the 
fluttering in his stomach increased to the intensity of a 
small hurricane.

"So, do you think she's asleep yet?" she murmured softly.

"Who?" he croaked out, startled by her question.

"Lois."

"Um, yeah. I guess so. She seemed pretty tired," he offered 
feebly as she kneaded the muscles of his arms and then 
moved back up to his shoulders.

"I feel kind of funny about this," Mayson remarked, her 
voice huskier than Clark could remember it ever being. "You 
know. I mean, before...when I thought that she and Dan would 
be...well, now it seems kind of weird for us to...you know."

He nodded absently. "Yeah. I know what you mean." Weird 
didn't even come close to describing this situation.

"Well, if you think it would be better, I suppose we 
Could...wait. Or...something." She paused in her massage, 
and 
he could tell by her tone that she wanted him to disagree 
with her.

The sad thing was, her words filled him with an odd relief. 
A second miracle had occurred, and he had been presented 
with an open door he could use to make an easy exit. With a 
simple word of agreement and an expression of sympathy for 
his partner's bad luck, Mayson might understand his 
reluctance. He could postpone indefinitely taking the final 
step that would make his break from Lois complete.

He felt a twinge of guilt. "Yeah, I suppose that would be 
the nice thing to do."

She took his neutral comment for what she hoped it would be 
and resumed her massage, which was becoming more of a 
caress. "Of course, it's a shame if all of us had to suffer 
just because Dan got caught up at work. I mean, after all, 
we wouldn't expect her and Dan to sit around playing cards 
if one of us got called away."

"Mmmmhmmm," he agreed with a squeak as her arms wrapped 
around his neck and she unbutton the top button of his 
shirt, dipping her hand down his now open collar to brush 
across the center of his chest.

Having perfected the supreme awareness of his body and its 
reactions as he'd needed to do, Clark turned his attention 
to the sensations spreading throughout his belly. This 
wasn't nervousness. It wasn't fear, he determined. What he 
was feeling was...desire. Good old fashioned, red-blooded 
male desire.

Because why wouldn't he feel desire in such a situation? A 
beautiful blonde was using her hands to massage his chest, 
her warm breath caressing the back of his neck. If that 
didn't inspire desire, then he had problems way bigger than 
he'd ever imagined.

Twisting around to face her, he pulled her close, kissing 
her tentatively. Mayson gasped with surprise, then wasted 
no time. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him 
down with her as she reclined into the cushions of the 
sofa. 

"Mmmmm, Clark. This feels so nice."

He took her encouragement and deepened his kiss, sending 
his tongue on an exploratory search of her welcoming mouth. 
He'd certainly gotten to this point before. No uncharted 
territory here. He could handle this. No problem. The 
churning in his stomach stilled a bit, and he focused on 
what he was feeling. Overall, he had to say he felt...nice. 
Yes, this definitely felt nice.

Mayson was warm and soft beneath him, moving seductively 
and pressing herself into all of the right spots. Her 
fingers stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, then 
moved forward to the top of his shirt. Deftly, she undid 
the rest of the buttons, sliding her cool hands inside the 
soft cotton fabric and around to caress his bare back. 
Whoa! This was definitely something new. He was far from 
naked, but suddenly, he felt very exposed.

Clark focused on the sounds around him, trying to still the 
twitch that resumed somewhere near the region of his 
stomach. There was the pounding of his heart, which he was 
pretty sure that Mayson could hear even without the aid of 
super hearing. For her part, Mayson's heart was beating 
quickly, like stiletto heels on a tile floor. The sound had 
an almost urgent quality, driven by anticipation. Her 
breathing was rapid as well, and he thought he heard a low 
moan from somewhere deep inside her chest.

Around them, the room was full of familiar sounds. The fire 
crackled and sparked. The refrigerator issued a low hum 
from the kitchenette. The vanity in the powder room had a 
slow drip. Across the room, something was thumping slowly. 
It was slightly muffled, as if it was coming from inside 
the bedroom.

Momentarily distracted, Clark stopped mid-kiss and lifted 
his head. Who or what could be thumping on the wall? 
Scanning the length of the room, he didn't see anything 
unusual. He frowned, trying to determine the source of the 
odd sound.

Before he could use his x-ray vision to search inside the 
bedroom, Mayson looked up at him. "Clark? Is something 
wrong?"

He gave a small shake of his head, and she leaned up to 
recapture his kiss. Trying his best to ignore the odd sound, 
he found he just couldn't. The reporter in him had kicked 
in. 
He had to know what was making that thump.

It was a steady, slow and rhythmic. The pulsing was 
oddly comforting, an almost familiar tempo awakening 
memories of warmth and safety. Mayson had moved from his 
lips and was gently nibbling at the side of his neck. 
Tilting his head slightly, he honed in on the beat, tuning 
out every other sound around him. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. 
Thump-thump.

It was another heartbeat. 

Lois's heartbeat.

He felt a gasp erupt in his chest and held it back before 
it could escape. He could hear Lois's heartbeat. No wonder 
the sound had been so familiar. It was a rhythm he heard 
subconsciously nearly every day of the week and dreamt 
about every night. It seemed to be calling to him, asking 
him to remember that she was only a few yards away. 
Reminding him that there was something left undone.

It was at that moment when he realized how he'd managed to 
find himself in this place. Honestly, there had been at 
least twenty ways he could have gotten out of the 
invitation, but he hadn't really tried that hard. And the 
excuses he'd given himself on the long drive up were just 
delusions, distractions from the real reason he had placed 
himself within hearing distance of anything having to do 
with Lois and Dan. The reason he'd invited Mayson when it 
would have been an easy white lie to say that she already 
had plans without even making a single phone call.

Clark needed to see Lois with Dan. Needed to know that she 
had made the choice to be with another man and actually 
witness it with his own eyes, at least as far as something 
like that could be accomplished respectably. Only by 
forcing himself to look the ugly truth directly in the face 
would he be able to move on himself. He just didn't know 
how else to let her go. Like a red hot poker placed against 
a gaping wound to cauterize it, it was a drastic measure 
that was far from pleasant, but in the end, an effective 
way to heal a wound. If you survived the procedure at all.

In one night, the final cut was supposed to have been made. 
By sharing themselves with other people, they were 
declaring a mutual surrender to the fates conspiring to 
keep them apart. Now, one of them had reneged on the 
bargain, albeit unwillingly. The romantic umbilical cord 
connecting them had failed to be severed cleanly, the 
remaining attachment strong enough to send a shared pulse 
back and forth between them.

Lois's heartbeat was strangely slow, and he imagined that 
she must be sleeping. He'd seen her asleep before, and the 
image of her dark hair contrasting with the white pillow, 
her thick eyelashes fanned in a crescent on her creamy 
cheeks made his own heart quicken. The sheets would be 
draped across her, molding to her curves like a gentle 
caress. When she slept, Lois lost every edge that the alert 
woman prided herself on. She became soft. All woman. His 
stomach contracted sharply, and he felt a stirring that had 
yet to occur with Mayson's touches.

Dear God! He was kissing one woman while he was thinking of 
another. What kind of man was he? He was using the image of 
Lois to generate the passion he needed to be with Mayson. 
This was just so wrong on so many levels, and he felt 
furiously ashamed.

Forcing thoughts of Lois from his mind, he shoved Mayson to 
the front. It wasn't silky dark brown hair that he was 
stroking. It was blond. And those weren't dark brown eyes 
that were lidded with desire. They were clear, bright hazel 
ones. The responses of his body were the direct result of 
the gentle caresses and heated kisses that Mayson was 
trailing along the bare skin of his neck and chest. And she 
deserved nothing less than his full attention.

Besides, Lois's failure to meet the unspoken terms for the 
permanent dissolution of their non-existent relationship 
was temporary at best. Soon she would pay her part of the 
tab and they would leave the restaurant. Partners at work, 
yes. And hopefully, friends. But lovers, never. He didn't 
need to hear Lois making love with Dan Scardino to know 
that now.

Lois was a dream. Mayson was real. Warm and receptive and 
real. With a fierce determination, he wrapped his arms 
around Mayson's slender frame and drew her against his 
chest. She pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, her 
own full of questions at his sudden fervor, and he lowered 
his mouth to hers with a new forcefulness, sinking them 
both deeper into the plush cushions of the sofa.

He was tired of waiting. He was ready.

***

Sitting up slightly from where she reclined against the 
headboard, Lois reached for the bottle sitting on the 
bedside stand and noted that over half of the liquid in it 
had disappeared. Had she drunk that much wine? She must 
have because a painful pressure in her abdomen indicated 
that she had to use the bathroom in the worst way.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she ignored the 
slight spinning of the room. She wasn't drunk or even 
tipsy. It wasn't dignified to get drunk alone. She'd just 
figured it was stupid to waste the wine, still slightly 
chilled from its day spent in the trunk of her car, tucked 
next to the new black teddy which, unlike the wine, 
remained wrapped in her suitcase. Too bad for Dan that 
there wouldn't be any left for him. He'd better bring his 
own bottle.

Hitting the light inside the bathroom, she groaned when she 
noticed a piece of brown cardboard attached to the closed 
toilet lid with some pieces of silver duct tape. Squinting, 
she leaned down and read the words scrawled in thick black 
marker. "Toilet broken. Please do not use." A plunger stood 
next to the commode, an exclamation point of warning in 
case she doubted the plumber's diagnosis.

With a heavy sigh, she leaned against the sink. Man, she 
didn't even have the luck to pick the bedroom with a 
working toilet. With a frown, she recalled that Mayson had 
taken dibs on the other bedroom. Therefore, it was that 
woman's fault that she couldn't even pee. In fact, this 
whole miserable weekend was Mayson's fault.

Well, it wasn't Mayson's fault that Dan hadn't shown up, 
she admitted grudgingly. But it was her fault that Lois 
felt so miserable about it. Mayson had her man and Lois had 
her...wine. Or was it because Mayson had Lois's man and Lois 
had...nothing? It was just too hard to figure out. Just 
leave 
it that Mayson had someone and Lois had no one.

She had no one, and she was stuck in this room with nothing 
to do but think. She wasn't sleepy. She'd endured the 
endless drive up to the cabin, curled in the back seat of 
the Cherokee feigning sleep so that she could keep her eyes 
closed against the sickening displays of affection between 
Clark, who drove, and Mayson, who flirted. Mayson reaching 
across the seats to finger the well-trimmed hair at the 
back of Clark's neck. Clark's low chuckle at some clever 
bon mot from Mayson. It had been enough to turn her 
stomach.

Now she was paying for her defense strategy. Pretending to 
sleep had resulted in an actual half-hour cat nap, enough 
to give her a second wind which she had planned to use up 
with Dan. The extra energy along with the adrenaline boost 
from her anger at...well...everyone conspired to make sleep 
impossible for at least a couple of hours.

She'd made several laps of the bedroom, and while more than 
adequate in size for its intended uses, it was far too 
small a cage for her. She'd opened every empty drawer, 
examined the five framed prints scattered about the room, 
and tried to discern why anyone had ever thought that the 
brown and gold bedspread was attractive. A glance behind 
the two closed doors revealed a walk-in closet and a 
darkened bathroom.

Fetching her cell phone from her purse with the intention 
of returning Lucy's call, she'd rolled her eyes in disgust 
when she'd discovered the battery was dead. No wonder Dan 
hadn't been able to reach her. She was sure that somehow, 
it was Clark's fault that she'd failed to charge the 
battery the night before but she couldn't quite work out 
the actual connection.

Briefly, she'd thought of doing a little work, but that 
option was preempted when she encountered the bottle of 
wine while digging through her bags looking for a pen that 
actually contained ink. The bottle held one of her favorite 
Napa Valley merlots, and she'd packed it thinking that she 
and Dan would enjoy a glass or two. Now she viewed it as 
survival rations.

Lois had made neat work of the cork with her handy Swiss 
army knife, glad for the millionth time that she had 
purchased it instead of the souvenir cuckoo clock on that 
post-college graduation trip around Europe. Solving the 
problem of a glass had proven to be more challenging, and 
eventually she gave up the ghost, deciding that it was only 
her germs after all as she began swilling directly from the 
dark bottle.

Of course, now she was paying for her over-indulgence. She 
glanced around the bathroom, taking in the various options. 
She could try to ignore her bladder, but that idea was 
quickly discarded. In fact, if she didn't do something 
soon, the whole point would be moot, and she'd be standing 
in the middle of an embarrassing puddle. She glanced at the 
shower. She hadn't done that since she was four, and she'd 
be darned if she'd stoop that low now.

Pursing her lips in thought, she remembered the powder room 
just to the right of the entry. Leaving her room might mean 
she'd run into Clark and Mayson. Her bladder pinched 
painfully, and she returned to the bedroom, glancing at the 
clock sitting next to the bed. 12:30. Surely they'd 
have...left the living room by now? Really. It had been over 
an hour since she'd slunk away in mortification. And if 
they weren't gone, well, it served them right!

She pressed her ear to the door, listening. For what? 
Voices? Heavy breathing? Moans of passion? She snorted with 
disgust. That was all she needed. For Mayson to be a 
screamer. The distance between the two bedrooms was well 
over twenty feet and two thick log walls offered sound 
insulation, but if she heard even the tiniest whimper, 
she'd lose it.

With a determined sigh, Lois cracked open the door and 
peered out carefully. No one in sight and the door to the 
second bedroom directly across from her was tightly closed. 
A bright fire burned in the hearth giving the room a warm 
glow that, although pleasant, was surely some sort of fire 
hazard, she noted with a frown. It wasn't like Clark, the 
original Boy Scout, to leave a fire unattended. Maybe they 
were so carried away by their passion that they had 
forgotten to put it out. The thought twisted her stomach 
painfully, and she turned away from it. Let the place burn 
down for all she cared.

Even assured that she was alone, she tiptoed across the 
space and up the four short stairs to the small powder 
room. In short order, she relieved the painful pressure in 
her bladder and washed her hands, all without the aid of 
light. She didn't want to risk catching a glimpse of 
herself in the vanity mirror, her redden eyes and splotched 
face evidence of her misery that she didn't need.

A mere five steps from the safe haven of her bedroom, she 
heard the rustle. With a panicked jerk and practice born of 
many a night raid, she pressed her back against the wall, 
flattening herself into the shadows cast by the flickering 
firelight. Focusing all her energy on slowing her breathing 
so the rapid rise and fall of her chest would not give her 
away, she glanced toward the menacing sound. It came from 
the space in front of the fireplace, blocked by the low-
backed sofa that faced the crackling flames. Damn! How had 
she not noticed that spot, perfect for an intimate 
interlude in front of the fire?

Terrified of what she might witness, she stared transfixed 
as Clark stood, looking down on what she guessed to be 
Mayson lounging on the sofa. His blue flannel shirt was 
untucked and, it appeared, unbuttoned. With the fire 
burning behind him, his features were darkened, but she had 
no trouble imagining the firm expanse of smooth chest that 
Mayson was most likely admiring. Lois suddenly felt 
cheated, as if someone had taken the last cookie from the 
jar leaving only the sweet aroma behind to tease her.

Extending his arm downward, Clark pulled Mayson up from the 
sofa. Lois exhaled inwardly, grateful to see that the 
blonde still wore her own sweater and was not showing Clark 
the same amount of skin that he felt no compunction about 
showing her. Her relief was short lived when Clark gave a 
gentle tug and Mayson stood only inches from him, her head 
tilted back in open invitation.

Lois cringed, desperately wishing she were any place but in 
that room. She'd rather spend a month alone on a deserted 
island with her mother than be watching this. Or a year 
covering dog shows and bar mitzvahs. Anywhere but standing 
against the wall while Clark and Mayson kissed right in 
front of her.

Lois shuddered. What had she been thinking? When this whole 
tragedy was constructed, why hadn't she put her well-shoed 
foot down? This was supposed to be her romantic weekend as 
much as Dan's, and she should have insisted that they leave 
the...horny teenagers...in Metropolis. For crying out loud, 
when had she ever led someone railroad her like this? She 
was Lois Lane, for Pete's sake!

Unless, of course, some deep part of her had wanted Clark 
to come along. She tossed that idea out the window 
immediately. It was ridiculous. Beyond considering. Why in 
the world would she have wanted Clark to come with them? 
Clark along on a romantic weekend with Dan was like rain on 
a picnic. Sand in your ice cream cone. Anchovies on your 
pizza. He would have made it completely impossible for her 
and Dan to do what it was they had planned on doing, 
sucking every romantic impulse out of her. Then her list 
would have remained incomplete, the final item unchecked. 
Instead of her woman-in-love glow, she would have shown up 
to work on Monday with nothing more than a raccoon tan from 
her ski goggles.

Besides, even if she ever did admit that maybe she might 
have possibly in some small remote way wanted Clark to come 
along, which of course was completely ridiculous, there was 
absolutely no way she wanted Mayson there. It was bad 
enough watching the woman throw herself at Clark every day. 
Lois certainly didn't want to watch it on her romantic 
weekend away.

The minutes stretched until Lois was sure that she'd been 
standing in the shadows for an hour, yet Clark hadn't make 
the final move. Finally, Mayson placed her hands on his 
shoulders and lifted up on her toes, placing her lips upon 
Clark's. He placed his hands on her waist, and their kiss 
deepened.

As Lois watched, she felt the heavy lump that had settled 
in her stomach split into smaller pieces, one of which 
traveled upward to stick painfully in her throat. The back 
of her eyes started to burn, and she blinked hard, forcing 
the sting to recede to the back of her mind. A bitterness 
spread across her tongue, and she swallowed hard against 
it.

Their two bodies cast in silhouette by the firelight looked 
exactly like the cover of a romance novel, two lovers 
embracing, totally lost in each other and oblivious to the 
world around them. Lois vowed at that moment that she would 
never read another romance novel again. Or at least one 
with such an image on its jacket.

Thankfully, before Lois could catch a glimpse of a rogue 
tongue or any other intimate gesture, Mayson broke their 
embrace. She stepped back, trailing her fingers down the 
length of Clark's arm as she walked slowly away, toward the 
closed door of the bedroom that Lois now knew had not yet 
been used. Lois held her breath, afraid that the blonde 
would see her hiding out in the open as she was, but the 
door shut with a soft click, leaving Lois alone with Clark.

Clark stared at the door, still motionless after Mayson's 
seductive departure. When finally he moved, it was to turn 
to face the fireplace, his thick arms reaching up to grasp 
the mantle as he leaned against it heavily, his head 
dropping slightly.

Lois watched him as he watched the flames. She took deep 
breaths, a tentative calm replacing the near hysteria of 
seconds earlier. Feeling a bit more in control, she felt 
her muscles relax, an odd sensation as she hadn't realized 
they'd seized up in the first place.

<What's he waiting for?> she wondered bitterly. Mayson 
probably had divested herself of that sweater by now. If he 
didn't hurry, the woman might slap him with some kind of 
contempt order or something. Lois suppressed a laugh, 
imagining Mayson's argument in front of a judge. "I'm 
citing him for failure to provide services in a timely 
manner."

Come to think of it, Lois mused, what was she waiting for? 
Clark's back was to her and she could slip into her room, 
finish off the bottle of wine and try to forget the sight 
of Clark and Mayson standing in front of the fire, melded 
into one being.

Instead, she remained where she was, fixated on Clark's 
broad back. The firelight created a halo that surrounded 
him, putting his body in high contrast silhouette. She 
admired the way his wide shoulders tapered into his trim 
waist and hips. She wondered if his skin would feel warm 
from the fire burning so close to him. If she were to run 
her hands across the length of his arms and down his back, 
would he feel as solid and hard as he looked? Was his dark 
hair as thick and silky as she imagined it would be if she 
were to run her fingers deep into it?

For a moment, she felt compelled to go to him. She even 
took a step forward before she realized what she was doing 
and slammed back against the wall. She must be drunk.

Suddenly, Clark turned and looked at the door to Lois's 
bedroom. She held her breath, praying that he hadn't seen 
her standing like some kind of voyeur. That was all she 
needed, to have Clark think she was some kind of sick-o who 
got her jollies watching him and Mayson just because her 
own boyfriend was too busy to make it up to giver her some
action of her own.

Her luck held and he looked away, across the room at the 
door where Mayson had disappeared. He raked a hand through 
his dark hair, and Lois felt her pulse quicken. Hadn't she 
just imagined doing that herself? Even concealed by the 
dark, she could feel her face turn red in embarrassment, as 
if she'd been caught peeking through his window to watch 
him undress. That thought made her gasp. If he took off his 
shirt, she would certainly give herself away when she 
landed on the floor in a heap.

Thankfully, he didn't remove any clothing. Instead, he 
leaned down closer to the flames and, with some rustling 
that she couldn't make out, the light from the flames 
dimmed. She smiled to herself. Yep, the Boy Scout hadn't 
forgotten about the fire. Safety first. Even before sex.

With a sigh so heavy that she could hear it from where she 
stood, Clark walked to Mayson's closed door. He paused in 
front of it for a long minute, and Lois thought that his 
shoulders drooped slightly. It was almost as if he didn't 
want to go into that bedroom, and she felt a strange surge 
of elation pass through her. Then he softly turned the 
handle and pushed the door open. He closed it behind him 
silently.

Lois felt herself sliding down the wall to the floor, a 
movement made painful by the rough logs abrading against 
her sweater-clad back. She bit her lip and focused on the 
pain, welcoming it as a distraction from what she had just 
witnessed. Only a half hour ago, several doses of wine had 
finally stopped the tears that now coursed down her cheeks 
once again. This time, she didn't fight them.

***

The front door shut firmly, and Lois paused in her pacing, 
looking up expectantly. Clark took the time to remove his 
snow-covered boots and placed them neatly on the boot mat, 
adding fuel to her irritation. Pushed way beyond her 
patience threshold, she waited only until he turned to see 
her standing there before she launched her attack. "Where 
the hell have you been all day!?"

Accustomed by now to Lois's random accusations, Clark let 
her words roll off his back. "Uh...skiing. This is a ski 
resort. Seemed like the appropriate thing to do." He 
shrugged out of his red ski jacket, the paper lift ticket 
swinging from the zipper testament to his claim.

Hanging the garment on the hook placed conveniently for 
such a purpose, he walked down the four steps to the living 
room, blowing on his reddened hands as if to warm them. 
Lois tapped her foot impatiently, and he readied himself 
for a tirade of undetermined origins. It had been one long 
day, but it wouldn't be complete without a fight with Lois.

His calm, lazy pace infuriated her. All day she'd spent 
waiting, a pastime that she hated more than anything. Lois 
Lane had absolutely no tolerance for unfilled time. Lines 
and delays were unacceptable and to be avoided at all 
costs. And now he just waltzed in after a day of skiing, 
completely unaware that she'd just wasted an entire day of 
her life waiting for him to return.

"Well, I'm glad you were enjoying yourself. Didn't you 
wonder why you never saw me on the slopes?" she accused 
heatedly. "You didn't even come to check on me! I mean, I 
could have fallen off a cliff, and you wouldn't even have 
known I was missing until my body was found frozen solid 
under two feet of snow. Would it have killed you to pick up 
a phone?'

Still unaffected by her outburst, he smiled wryly. "Geez, 
Lois. It's a pretty big place. I just figured you were on a 
different run. Besides, it's not like you were all alone." 
Glancing about the room, his thick brows lowered in 
confusion. She was alone. "Where's Scardino?"

"Not coming. He's not coming!" she cried, throwing her 
hands in the air dramatically. "He called this morning and 
told me that the bust blew up all over the place. Can you 
believe it! Not only are those jerk drug dealers peddling 
drugs to little kids but they've totally screwed up my 
weekend!"

Clark fought back the urge to laugh, knowing that such a 
response would only get him in more trouble. Leave it to 
Lois to make such a comparison. He crossed his arms over 
his broad chest and stared at her with an amused glint. 
"Yeah, can you believe it? How could they stoop so low?"

"Watch it, Kent. I'm in no mood," she warned, her voice 
dropping dangerously.

That morning, Dan's phone call had pulled her from a deep 
sleep, starting her day badly. It had since dropped to 
downright ghastly. She had a pounding headache from the 
wine, and the aspirin she'd taken was starting to wear off. 
If Clark didn't take care, he'd find himself the target of 
every evil thought she'd nursed as she fumed the hours 
away. Of course, since most of those thoughts revolved 
around him anyway, it was a pretty sure bet that he'd hear 
about them at some point.

"I've been waiting all day for you to get back so we could 
get out of this place, and now it's already dark. I just 
hope it doesn't start to snow again or we'll be on the road 
for hours!" Lois stormed to a set of French doors that led 
out to a wooden deck, glancing up into the dark sky to 
check for ominous clouds. If it snowed and they had to 
creep home at five miles an hour, she just knew she'd go 
mad.

Clark took a deep breath, ready to deliver the death blow 
that would knock Lois completely over the edge. He started 
to speak, then paused to listen. Music was playing softly 
throughout the room, pumped through the sound system that 
he knew also played a pretty mean jazz. He concentrated, 
trying to decipher what it was he was hearing.

<It's a long way from LA to Denver 
It's a long time to hang in the sky 
It's a long way home to Starwood in Aspen 
A sweet Rocky Mountain paradise 
Oh, my sweet Rocky Mountain paradise>

"John Denver?" he determined quizzically, placing the 
folksy strains and easily recognizable voice. "You're 
listening to John Denver?"

"Yeah. So?" Lois replied as she leaned her forehead against 
the icy window pane and peered heavenward. She felt a bit 
better when she saw stars twinkling above in a cloudless 
sky. Didn't look like it was going to snow.

"You like John Denver?" he repeated, mystified. He would 
have thought her tastes ran more along the lines of a Carly 
Simon or that new singer, Alanis what's-her-name. The angry 
one.

She turned back to Clark with a defensive shrug. "There's 
not much of a selection in this place, you know. It was 
either this or some eighties hair band I've never heard of. 
Besides," she said, "he relaxes me."

She moved to the table where she had been working on the 
start of her follow-up to the Senator Steinman expose. 
Quickly gathering the few papers and notes she'd spread 
about, she felt buoyed by the knowledge that at least she'd 
be able to wake up in her own bed the next morning. She'd 
read the Sunday Planet and maybe get in a couple of hours 
of work on the follow-up. Perhaps she could salvage 
something from this horrible weekend.

"Man, I can't wait to get back to Metropolis. Those drug 
dealers don't know what they're up against now. I mean, 
it's one thing to mess with the DEA but it's far more 
dangerous to mess with me," she threatened, her mind 
already buzzing with angles. Shuffling the papers into a 
semi-tidy pile, she glanced over her shoulder at Clark. "My 
stuff's already packed, so you and Mayson better hurry up."

When Clark remained standing in the center of the room, 
watching her gather her papers, Lois frowned. "What are you 
waiting for, Kent? An engraved invitation? Tell Mayson to 
get her stuff and let's get out of here..." She glanced 
toward the entryway, searching for Mayson. She'd been so 
caught up in her tirade against Clark she hadn't seen the 
blonde follow him in. "Where's Mayson?"

"What?" he asked, still trying to imagine what other kinds 
of music Lois might find relaxing.

"Mayson?" Lois repeated.

Blinking himself back into the discussion, Clark looked 
away from her, staring blankly in the general direction of 
the fireplace. "She's not here."

"I can see that, Clark. I'm a reporter, remember? So, where 
is she? She's not still skiing?" Lois guessed, incredulous. 
"Oh, that'd be just like her. Trying to prove what a hard-
core skier she is, getting in one more fabulous run before 
the lifts close down."

"Mayson left this morning," he clarified, "before you woke 
up."

"What?" She'd been so exhausted when she finally fell 
asleep that she doubted a bomb outside her window would 
have awakened her. Still, it was hard to believe that 
Mayson had packed and left without Lois even noticing.

"She went back to Metropolis." Clark held his voice 
carefully neutral, devoid of emotion. He'd spent the entire 
day reliving what had occurred between him and Mayson, and 
he still wasn't ready to share it with anyone, least of all 
Lois.

"Why? Wait, no, let me guess. Something about a case that 
she had to deal with. Not a drug bust?" she asked, 
momentarily distracted from her impatience to leave what 
she had now named the Cabin of Hell. Oh, this was too rich. 
Both she and Clark ditched on the same weekend because 
their significant others had to go back to work. Some kind 
of poetic justice in that, she had to admit.

"Yeah, she decided she'd better get back. It's a long 
story." Clark sighed loudly. This was going to get ugly. 
Really ugly. "But I'll have a lot of time to tell you about 
it `cause we're not going anywhere."

"What do you mean?" she asked warily, sure that she wasn't 
going to like his answer.

"Mayson took the Jeep." He shoved his hands in his pockets, 
bracing himself for the shriek he knew was coming.

"She what!?" Lois shouted.

"She took the Jeep." Clark walked over to the fireplace and 
crouched down in front of it. He took the black poker and 
jabbed at the burning logs, sending sparks flying up the 
chimney. "I figured I could ride back with you and Dan 
tomorrow, so I let her take it back."

Lois strangled on a laugh. "This has got to be a joke! You 
mean you and I are stranded here?"

He finished adjusting the logs to his satisfaction, 
brushing his hands together as he stood to look at her once 
again. "Looks that way," he offered with a small smile.

"Oh, this is just great," she fumed, pacing again. "First 
my boyfriend invites my partner and his girlfriend to join 
us for our romantic weekend away. Then he doesn't even 
bother to show up. And not only does he ditch me, he leaves 
me stranded with..." She gestured at Clark with her hand, so 
flustered she couldn't speak. "...you!"

"Don't hold back, Lois." Clark's smile faded into an 
annoyed frown. "Let me know how you really feel."

"How could you let her take my Cherokee? That car's my 
baby, Clark. And you just let a stranger drive away in it." 
The witch took her car! Wasn't taking Clark enough? "What 
if she drove it into a ditch?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "Mayson's not a stranger. I wouldn't 
have let her take it if I didn't trust her. Besides, you've 
been talking about trading it in, so I know your 
sentimental attachment is temporary at best," he noted 
pointedly, ignoring the accusing stare that she'd fixed 
upon him. "The Jeep'll be fine. She needed to get back, and 
it was the only practical way."

He walked over to the table where Lois had abandoned her 
efforts to tidy her papers. He picked up the top sheet, 
skimming the notes she'd started about Senator Steinman. 
Looked like she had a good start on a follow-up, and he 
nodded absently as he read what she'd written. If Lois was 
done with her lecture about his irresponsibility, maybe 
they could get something worked up for the Monday edition.

She watched him reading, only slightly mollified by his 
obvious approval of her work so far. What did he know about 
how she felt about the Cherokee? So what if she'd already 
made arrangements at the dealership for a new 95 model?

And now, because of him, they were stuck up in this god-
forsaken place. "Why didn't you go back with her, anyway?"

Clark glanced up from the page, taking in the defiant flash 
in her eyes. Even if he could have told her, something 
obstinate inside him would not have allowed him to admit 
that he himself had driven the Jeep to Metropolis and 
delivered Mayson to her apartment before flying back to the 
resort. He'd only returned at all because he worried about 
her being alone in the cabin, but he'd planned on leaving 
as soon as Dan showed up. He'd been trying all day to come 
up with a plausible excuse as to why he wouldn't be needing 
a ride back to the city, but so far the best he'd been able 
to manage involved a fellow skier named Jim who could give 
him a lift.

"I didn't want to leave until Dan showed up. It's a good 
thing, too. You'd really be stranded." He waited for her 
expression of appreciation, and when it was not 
forthcoming, he put his hands on his hips, her page of 
notes clutched in his hand. "You don't have to thank me."

"Good, because I'm not going to. This is all your fault 
anyway," she muttered.

"My fault?" his eyes widened, brows shooting up in stunned 
surprise.

"Yes, your fault," she insisted. "If you hadn't gotten 
yourself invited up here in the first place, Dan would have 
waited to ride up with me. Then he would have cancelled 
before we left, and I'd be in Metropolis right now."

"Oh, I see." He threw the paper on the table. Her logic was 
baffling. "Now it's all my fault that Dan ditched you. For 
his job, no less. Something you of all people would never 
understand."

It was his turn to be accusing. "If you would have just let 
me handle the meeting with Bobby Big Mouth in the first 
place, you and Dan would have left on time, and he would 
have missed the bust all together. But once again, you 
couldn't let it go. Lois Lane had to keep her finger on 
every little thing."

"I'm a professional, Clark," Lois explained heatedly. "I'm 
not going to walk away from a story just because I want to 
get a little..." She flushed, unable to finish her sentence. 
She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Flushing. It was 
getting kind of ridiculous.

"A little what, Lois?" He couldn't resist teasing her. She 
had turned such an attractive shade of pink, he almost 
forgot that she was accusing him of intentionally 
sabotaging her plans.

"None of your business!" 

She marched past him, returning to snatch up her notes. 
With an impatient jerk, she grabbed the crumpled page 
he'd been reading, adding it to the stack. He made her 
so mad! No one could send her blood boiling like Clark 
Kent. And the fact that he enjoyed her anger just made 
her more furious.

"Definitely not my business, that's for sure," Clark 
muttered under his breath. Somehow with Lois, he could 
never win. He'd thought he'd been doing the right thing by 
sticking around to make sure Dan arrived, and now he just 
wished he'd stayed in Metropolis and phoned in his excuses. 
Leaving her up here would have served her right.

Giving herself a moment to cool her heated face, Lois 
geared up. She'd spent the day shining her armor and 
preparing her verbal bullets, all of them now targeted 
directly at Clark. Whirling back to face him, she launched 
her jabs with increased vigor. "Boy, didn't this just turn 
out great for you. I'm the one who planned this whole 
romantic weekend and instead, you're the one who got to get 
a little action."

Unbidden, the image of Clark and Mayson melded into an 
impassioned embrace floated into her mind, and she stomped 
on it with increased fury. "Ha! I'll bet you and Mayson 
just laughed out loud all night thinking about me sleeping 
all alone."

Clark folded his arms across his chest and gave her a smug 
grin. "We didn't do much laughing, Lois."

"I don't want to know what you did!" she shrieked, holding 
her hands up to her ears. "Spare me the details, please."

She stalked away from him, heading up the stairs to the 
kitchenette. She needed some wine, but since there was none 
of that left, she'd settle for tea.

"Why?" Clark followed right behind her. "Would it bother 
you to know what happened between us? To know that we spent 
the night doing things that you wish you could have been 
doing? Are you jealous?"

"Of course not!" Lois started opening the cabinets, 
searching for a coffee cup. "You're crazy, Kent. Me, 
jealous? Of what? The fact that you and Mayson spent the 
night in a romantic cabin, kissing and...hugging 
and...kissing!? Really, you flatter yourself, Clark."

Since there were only two cabinets in the small 
kitchenette, she'd opened and closed each one several 
times. Finally yanking a black ceramic mug from its place 
on the stand resting on the Formica counter, she whirled to 
face Clark. The closeness of the space put him only a few 
inches away, and his unexpected nearness was unnerving.

"Besides," she continued, trying to ignore the heat 
radiating from his chest, "I would have been doing what you 
were doing if Dan hadn't gotten hung up. And believe me, I 
would have done it much better."

To make her point, she jabbed her mug in the general 
direction of the cabin. "Who do you think planned this 
whole weekend? Me, that's who! Just because it was supposed 
to be me and Dan and it ended up being you and Mayson, I'm 
not jealous. I could have been doing what you were doing. I 
was going to do what you were doing. And when I get back to 
Metropolis, I'm going to do it. I'm going to march right 
over to Clark's place and do it. I'm going to make up for 
lost time. No more waiting for the right moment or planning 
for romantic weekends away - "

"What did you say?" Clark's eyes narrowed.

"What?" she asked, her rant interrupted.

"What did you just say?" he repeated. He knew what she had 
said, but he needed her to say it again. Just to be sure.

"I said no more waiting for the right moment or - "

He shook his head. "No, before that."

"I'm not jealous."

"Between `not jealous' and `no more waiting'."

She sighed loudly, humoring him. "I said that when I get 
back to Metropolis, I'm going over to Dan's, and we're 
going to make up for this weekend. We're going to do 
everything you and - "

"No, you didn't," he interrupted. She hadn't said Dan's.

"Clark, what are you talking about?" Maybe all of this 
fresh mountain air had addled his brain because he was 
making absolutely no sense. Or worse, maybe it was lack of 
sleep.

"You said Clark's."

"I did not."

"You said Clark's," he insisted. "You said when you got 
back to Metropolis you were going to march right over to 
Clark's place."

"No, I did not," she protested a little more loudly. Had 
she really said Clark's? No, he was crazy.

"Yes, you did," he argued back.

Turning her attention to the drawers, she opened and 
slammed each one. "Clark, you've lost it. I know what I 
said."

Clark grabbed her hand, stopping her before she could shut 
the same drawer for the fourth time. "So do I. You said 
Clark's. My hearing's pretty good, Lois." He reached in and 
picked up a spoon, holding it out to her.

She snatched the spoon from his hand and waved it at him. 
"Believe me, I did not say Clark's. The last thing I would 
have said was that I was going over to Clark's. You just 
wish that I said that, so you're imagining that I did. 
Really, Clark, I think it's you who's jealous." She slammed 
both the mug and the spoon on the counter and shoved past 
him, back down the steps.

Once again, he was close on her heels. He'd known for a 
long time how stubborn she could be, but this time it 
actually got to him. "Oh, now I'm jealous. And why would I 
be jealous?"

"Because I'm dating Dan, and this was supposed to be our 
weekend. And you thought you had the perfect revenge by 
bringing Mayson up here to flaunt in my face. But now she's 
gone so your plan is all falling apart." Lois gestured 
widely to the empty room. She'd moved to stand in front of 
the fireplace, and her eyes landed on the sofa where Clark 
and Mayson had lain together. With a sneer of disgust, she 
crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from it.

"Lois, you've been sniffing something, haven't you?" Clark 
guessed, incredulous. She was something else. He collapsed 
onto the sofa, completely at a loss as to how to deal with 
this irrational creature. "You really think that I 
masterminded some grand plan to get Dan Scardino to invite 
me up here skiing with you just so I could invite Mayson 
and rub it in your face that I've met someone great who 
actually wants to be with me?"

Lois nodded emphatically. "Sounds about right. You never 
miss a chance to shove her in my face. It's sickening how 
you let her throw herself at you just to make me jealous."

"I don't let Mayson throw herself at me, and I certainly 
don't shove her in your face," he snorted.

"Oh, yeah? So why is she always showing up to take you out 
to lunch and meeting you at the Planet so you can have 
dinner after work?"

"We're dating, Lois. Lunch isn't out of the question, and a 
lot of dates include dinner," he replied mildly.

"And Jimmy told me about the weekend you went to meet her 
parents. What was that all about?" She regretted the words 
almost as soon as they left her mouth. For crying out loud, 
she did almost sound...jealous.

"You need some hobbies," Clark chuckled. "You're far too 
absorbed in what goes on with me and Mayson."

"I am not!" she denied heatedly. She grabbed a throw pillow 
from the sofa and squeezed it mercilessly, venting some of 
her anger on the unfortunate object. She was losing too 
much ground in this argument for her comfort. "I just hate 
to see you make a fool out of yourself, that's all."

Her comment intrigued him, and Clark momentarily forgot his 
growing frustration. "Why is dating a wonderful woman 
making a fool out of myself?"

"Because obviously you are only dating her because I'm 
dating Dan," she asserted breezily. It was so obvious, she 
couldn't believe he thought he'd fooled anyone, least of 
all her. She sniffed out falsehoods for a living.

Clark laughed out loud. "Lois, does anything in the world 
not revolve around you?"

"You're mad because I chose Dan over you," she stated. It 
was a fact, even if he didn't want to admit it.

He leapt to his feet, unable to stay seated during such an 
accusation. For weeks now he'd been festering, and she'd 
just lit a match to his already short fuse. "And why would 
I be mad about that? I mean, you and I went on what seemed 
to be one really great date. I thought we had a chance at 
something. The next thing I know, I'm staring at the wrong 
side of your door, and Dan Scardino's taking you to 
dinner."

"We weren't dating exclusively, Clark," she retorted, 
feeling a small tickle of guilt that she quickly turned 
into indignation.

"Oh, I see. And did you slam the door on his face, too? I 
would imagine not since he sent you flowers," he speculated 
hotly. "I wasn't quite sure what the proper etiquette was 
for our special situation."

Clark had taken several steps toward her and she moved to 
close the distance. "And what about you, Mr. Indecisive? 
One minute, I'm hearing rumors all over the Planet about 
Your...crush...on me, the very next you're running off to 
lunch 
with Blondy." Her voice had steadily increased in volume, 
and she was nearly shouting as they stood face to face.

"Lois, you slammed the door in my face! What was I supposed 
to think? That you wanted to get married? You made it 
pretty clear that you weren't really interested in having 
any kind of relationship with me outside of friendship and 
the occasional shared by-line." This wasn't the way he'd 
imagined this conversation would go, but now that they had 
started, he didn't seem to be able to stop himself. He felt 
like a boiler with the pressure valve opened for maximum 
release.

"I don't know how you'd know that. You never stuck around 
long enough for me to explain what I wanted." Oh, he had a 
lot of nerve! Blaming her for the fact that he didn't have 
a clue.

"Are you telling me now that that's what you want?" He 
shook his head, correcting himself. "Wanted?"

"What I wanted then is a lot different than what I want 
now." They'd moved so close to each other she could see the 
fire flashing behind his glasses, his dark brown eyes wide 
with the anger that he'd unleashed on her for weeks now.

"Well I've always known what I wanted," Clark shouted back, 
his frustration mounting to an unprecedented level.

"Yeah, well Dan knew what he wanted, too, and he took it," 
she snapped, satisfied with the stunned expression that 
crossed his dark features.

Clark gaped, disbelieving. "Are you telling me that the 
only reason you're with Scardino is because I didn't 
bulldoze my way into your bed?"

"You know what they say, Clark," she threw over her 
shoulder as she whirled away from him, heading for the 
steps and the front door. "You snooze, you lose."

"Then I won't be sleeping tonight!" Clark growled as he 
reached for her arm, halting her retreat.

Before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her. 
He'd spun her around and hauled her up against him, his arm 
wrapped around her waist to keep her from pulling away. 
Although surprisingly soft, his lips were unrelenting as 
they slanted over hers, demanding a response from her that 
she was helpless to deny.

As the initial shock wore away, a tingling heat ignited in 
her belly, sending waves of electric current down her legs. 
She felt off balance, as if her whole sense of equilibrium 
had been upended. If his kiss had been unexpected, her 
reaction to it was inexplicable.

His intention had been to shock her, but as Lois responded 
to his kiss with a surprising heat, Clark's exasperation 
swiftly disappeared to be replaced by an even stronger 
emotion. Desire. His free hand moved upward, and he 
entwined his fingers in her hair, holding her head still as 
his assault on her lips grew bolder. Never had he imagined 
that she'd taste this sweet. And never had he imagined that 
his own reaction to a simple kiss could be so strong.

Lois dropped the throw pillow and lifted her arms upward, 
her hands coming to rest on Clark's chest. Through the soft 
cotton of his shirt, she could feel the heat and strength 
contained just beneath her fingertips. He did feel just as 
hard as he looked. And just as warm. As his thumb stroked 
small circles in the sensitive hollow beneath her ear, she 
felt her knees weaken, and she clutched handfuls of plaid 
flannel, trying to steady herself. Clark responded by 
tightening his grip around her waist, holding her upright. 
She felt a moan rising from deep in her chest, settling in 
the back of her throat where it became a pleading whimper.

Her fingers were driving him mad, stroking his chest in a 
way that he guessed was completely instinctive. Nothing 
intentional could have felt so good. He splayed his hand 
across the small of her back, pulling her tight against him 
and reveling in the feel of her length pressing along his. 
She fit him perfectly, like he had always suspected she 
would. He felt an overwhelming need to know every inch of 
her. To taste every millimeter of skin, to explore every 
curve and valley, to trace every freckle until he knew her 
body like he knew his own.

He broke away from her mouth, trailing small kisses along 
her cheek