Nightmare by Alicia U. Rated PG13 Submitted October 2004 ___________________________________ This story was originally written as an nfic, so if you are of age and are so inclined, I recommend you read that version. However, I don't think the story has lost much in conversion. ___________________________________ "Oh, oh, Lois," Clark moaned through clenched teeth. Her fingers traced a winding path down his chest, and he desperately tried to keep his eyes open. She had come to him, seduced him, and practically thrown herself at him. He wasn't sure why she'd changed her opinion of him so quickly, but he hadn't questioned her motives. Yes she had thrown herself at him, but it wasn't like she had done the dance of the seven veils for him! It had all happened in a flash, but there was no question that he had been more than willing. This was his wildest erotic fantasy. She was in his bed, and he finally had the freedom to make love to her and her to him. "Don't stop," he whispered. Her touch was almost too good to be true, and more than he had expected. If this was a dream, he wanted to sleep forever. His heart melted when she grinned at him with passion like he had never seen in her eyes. Lois Lane loved him, Clark, not Superman, maybe as much as he loved her. Tonight, he had become a new man with his soul enlightened by Lois Lane's love. She was amazing. Beautiful. Wonderful. Sensual. Perfect. More than he had dared to imagine. He brushed his right hand against her side, stroking up and down, too timid to venture too high or too low. She shivered slightly against his touch. He wasn't sure if he should pull away, but knew he couldn't if he tried. Her skin was so soft, so warm, so inviting. He needed to touch her so badly; he tentatively extended his other hand and she grasped it. She moaned softly, sweetly. "More, Clark," she softly pleaded. After letting go of his hand, her fingers worked their way down his chest and stomach, sending sparks of ecstasy through his body. He couldn't stop a deep moan from escaping his lips. His heart raced furiously, nervously awaiting her next touch. Everything about her gave him an intense high. The man who felt no pain when slammed by bullets or cars now felt every little sensation when small fingers lightly brushed against his skin. So many powerful emotions coursed through his body: unparalleled pleasure, absolute bliss, utter amazement. He'd never imagined he'd ever have the chance to share this experience with anyone. Especially not with her. He gazed at her lithe form leaning over him, her mouth inching ever closer. Her warm breath against his cheek made him shudder in anticipation, driving him crazy, making him want her all the more. Everywhere she touched was on fire. He'd never known he could feel so much and so little all at once. He didn't want to miss one second. The pleasure, oh the pleasure, was almost unbearable Everything about her overwhelmed him and sent his mind reeling. Yet he wanted to etch the memory of every moment into his mind forever. Her ivory skin. Her full, red lips. Her large, brown eyes. Her dark, silky hair. Her. She was incredible. He was so lucky to be with the star of his wildest dreams. Their bodies came together in a surreal ballet. He had wanted her for so long, and now he was finally with her in ways he had always imagined. "Lois," he gasped. "Oh god, Lois." He let the pleasure completely overwhelm him. She was his reality. Their bodies melded together as one, and the satisfaction reached levels surpassing any he had imagined. It was so real, so intense, so mind-boggling. "I love you," she whispered. From this moment, their lives would be intertwined as one. He kissed her softly before he finally pulled out of her. His head sank down to the pillow, and he wrapped his arms around her. "I love you, too." He had never imagined hearing those beautiful words leave her lips and that he would get the chance to say them in return. Morning, sweet morning, would bring another day to bask in their finally requited love. Since they had shared something so amazing, their lives would never be the same again. Tonight was the beginning of the res toftheirlives. ********** "Morning? Already?" Lois groaned, her voice heavy with sleep. The bright light streamed in through the small break in the curtains drawing her out of her blissful slumber. She cringed, trying to fight the assault on her senses. "Where am I?" she whispered, unable to find her voice. She sighed deeply and tried to roll over to block her eyes. "Why does it hurt so much?" Rolling over wasn't an option. She took a deep breath and grimaced at the sharp rays of light that felt like tiny spears assaulting her poor eyes. "Ooh!" she moaned. She immediately closed her eyes again, trying to ease the pain. "Oh god." She took a deep breath. Why did it hurt so much? Why did everything feel so strange? "This has to be some kind of dream," she muttered. Everything was rough where she was used to smooth, hard when she wanted soft. She shook her head slightly and winced at the pain. "What happened to me?" All her muscles ached, making it virtually impossible to sit up in one fluid movement. Throbbing, pounding, pulsating pain. "I don't have to sit up," she said to herself. She allowed her head to fall back onto the pillow so she could concentrate without the drums pounding in her ears. "God, what happened to me?" Her whole body hurt so badly that all she wanted to do was fall back to sleep and let all her pain dissolve. Plus she was talking to herself. She had to be going crazy. What was her problem? She had no idea where she was, but all she wanted to do was go back to sleep? That was so counterproductive. Slowly, she tried to force her eyelids to open. "Stupid light. Stupid morning." Who had turned the sun on without her permission? "Stupid nature," she added for good measure. Body aches, headache, sensitivity to light. A hangover. What else could it be? "How much did I have to drink last night?" She considered it for a moment. "I have to stop talking to myself." Violating her order, she whispered, "Did I drink last night?" She closed her eyes and tried to conjure images of the night before. "I don't remember. Anything. What happened last night?" She sat up sharply in bed, ignoring her body's protests. "Oh god, what happened?" Nothing came to her no matter how hard she tried to force her memories to take shape. It was like she had missed an entire day. She shook her head quickly; she had to remember something. A day couldn't have vanished from her memory. Work. She had been at work and had gone to a staff meeting. There had to be more than an early morning staff meeting. What about mid-morning, afternoon, evening, night? "What happened?" she moaned. She opened her eyes again and allowed herself to survey the room. Why was it so familiar? Blue pillowcases. A white comforter with blue stripes. Large, muddy athletic shoes thrown in the corner by the closet. A suit jacket and tie scattered on the ground next to the bed. She knew this room. She knew the man who it belonged to. The bright-colored tie alone was enough to give him away. Clark's tie. Clark's suit. Clark's shoes. Clark's bed. Clark's leg against hers. She was sleeping next to Clark Kent. Her partner. Clark Kent. "How drunk was I?" she whispered. "We couldn't have done anything. It all has to be an innocent mistake." She took a deep breath. How could it have been innocent? The evidence was far too incriminating. She lifted the blanket, and felt like she wanted to cry. Naked. Of course. Sex. Hung over. Naked. Clark. Sex. "Oh god. Clark!" she whispered forcefully, almost hoping to wake him. They needed to talk. She needed answers. Still, it was almost too embarrassing. Maybe she didn't want to wake him. If they'd slept together in a drunken love fest, she'd never be able to look at him in the same way. Not like a colleague. Not as a friend. Not again. How had she let it happen? How could she be in bed with him? Hadn't she learned from what had happened with Claude? Hadn't she vowed not to let it happen again? Hadn't she promised herself never to let this happen with Clark? He was her partner, maybe even her friend, but a lover? Impossible. It had to be a dreadful nightmare. She wasn't attracted to him. Not in *that* way. Okay, if she really stretched, maybe she was slightly attracted to him in the 'he's a man; I'm a woman' sense, but nothing more. The thought of having sex with Clark of all people was crazy. Beyond that, it was breaking one of her cardinal rules. Unfortunately, rules were made to be broken. Especially her rules. She had been too strong for too long; she had become complacent. But Clark was better than Claude. He wouldn't have taken advantage of her. She could not be naked in Clark's bed. He wouldn't have let it happen even if they both had been unable to make their own decisions. Could this be a dream? In a few seconds, would she wake up in her own bed? She grabbed a large piece of skin at the bottom of her arm and pinched it hard. "Ouch! Damn it!" She sighed deeply. "It's not a dream," she moaned. She closed her eyes momentarily, giving her time to reconsider her situation. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. It wasn't like she never did that. Was it really Clark next to her? She opened her eyes, turned her head and sighed. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. Smooth skin. "Clark," she breathed. "Of course it's Clark." But Clark was Mr. Boy Scout. He would never take advantage of her. Even if she had been drunk and had come on to him, he would never let her go through with it. But what if he had been drunk, too? Would either of them have had the willpower to stop? She pulled the blanket up, needing to know for sure if he was naked, too. "No. I can't do it." She dropped the blanket before it revealed more than his bare back. She couldn't bring herself to look any farther, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his already-exposed skin. "Wow," she breathed appreciatively. His shoulders were amazing. He was so muscular, far more so than she had ever realized. She had to fight the urge to brush her hand against his skin and feel the muscles that lay beneath. Almost like it was happening in slow motion, she grabbed the blanket again, ready to expose her partner. She pulled the blanket completely off of him in one fluid motion. "Wow," she breathed again. She wasn't sure what to feel. Indignation? Fear? Anger? Lust? Should she scream at him? Or maybe should she ravage him with kisses? Again, her hand reached out to touch his skin, wanting to feel the texture of those hard muscles under her hand. She felt almost guilty for staring at him like this, but he was so much more than she had ever given him credit for. "Wow," she repeated, not pulling her eyes away from his nude form. She'd never imagined Clark was so well defined and . . . so . . . wow. Wait. What was she doing? Ogling Clark? She wasn't supposed to be attracted to him. Her world was inverted before her and all she could do was drool over her partner's good looks. Was she the most superficial person in the world? She had to consider the important questions. How had they ended up like this? What had they done, drunk an entire bottle of tequila in five minutes? What else could make her do something so stupid and forget about it the next morning? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She wanted to scream as she squirmed away. How embarrassing. She pulled her hand away, not wanting to do anything to awaken him. Yeah right. If all of that talking and moving hadn't woken him, surely taking the blanket away had! She couldn't face him. Not yet. If he'd been as drunk as she had been, maybe he wouldn't remember either. So if she slipped out of bed quickly, he would never know. Then she wouldn't even have to move to a city far, far away. The 'Planet' had a London bureau. What about a Beijing bureau? She could learn Chinese if that was what it took to forget this happened. Before Lois could hop out of bed and run away, something halted her progress. A hand. Squeezing her leg. Too late. She couldn't run, couldn't hide. A hand behind her head, pulling her close to him. His lips against hers. A feeling of belonging, of contentment. Almost kissing back. Oh, she wanted, no needed, to kiss him senseless. What the heck? She abruptly pulled away, and was ready to give Clark Kent a piece of her mind. Presumptuous bastard. He had some nerve kissing her like that, making her want to kiss him back! But why had she responded so eagerly? "Good morning," he said sleepily with a large, sappy grin. "I still can't believe we're together like this." He reached up to stroke the side of her face. Stunned, she gasped at the sound of his voice, and jumped away from his hand invading her personal space. She stared at him, unable to pull her gaze away from his eyes. Those deep brown eyes. Soulful. Mysterious. Familiar. "Your not . . ." her voice trailed off, shocked, hurt, dismayed. She had been terribly mistaken. Those large brown eyes weren't Clark's. She'd know them anywhere. "Oh my god," she whispered, almost inaudibly. "It's you, Superman." She had been in bed with her hero. She was going to throw up. His eyes shot open. She had called him Superman. Was it his imagination, his paranoia? What a wake up call. Clark had expected drift awake blissfully kissing and caressing his love. But he had been so wrong. "Wha-what?" He was frozen, unable to do anything but stare at her dumbly. "You heard me, Superman," she said icily. "What?" he said again, this time more clearly. He shook his head, trying to understand what was happening. Superman? Had she called him Superman? She knew? How could she know? He slowly reached a hand up to his face. No glasses. They must have fallen off in his sleep. No, he had taken them off last night when Lois had asked him to. He had wanted to let her figure out his secret. "Lois," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I knew . . . know . . . I should have told you. I can't let our relationship keep going without you knowing everything about me." He ran his hand through his hair, ashamed he had surrendered to the moment without telling last night. Was one night of passion more important than honesty? His dream night had happened under a cloud of deception. He wasn't good enough to call himself human, let alone Superman. He saw a tear in Lois's eye and he wanted to reach out to her. At the same time, a small part of him wanted to run away and never return. "Superman," she whispered. Lois stared into his eyes, unable to look away. Her mind whirled and her words came out in an incoherent jumble. "Your eyes." They were Superman's eyes. "Your voice." Clark's voice. "How?" They were in Clark's bedroom, and she had immediately assumed she was sleeping with Clark, but those steely muscles had to belong to Superman. She reached out to touch his hair. His dark, thick, silky, sleep- mussed hair. Superman could get bed head? "Your hair. It moves. I thought it was stuck to your head." He flew at speeds faster than a speeding bullet without one hair falling out of place. "Bed head. How can you get bed head?" She shook her head wildly. Then she abruptly stopped, surrendering to the pain coursing through her skull, stopping her thought process. "But Clark. Clark can get bed head." She blinked, trying to merge the images of two separate men into one. They eyes. The hair. The body. The voice. Everything began to fall into place. Clark and Superman. Superman and Clark. Each man was someone she knew so well, but didn't know at all. Or did she know them both all too well? "Oh my god," she breathed. "You're Clark. And Superman." And she needed to get out of there. She was humiliated, frightened, betrayed, yet intrigued. With him so close, she had no time to digest everything that had happened in the last few seconds. "Lois . . ." Clark stared at her blankly, frozen in place. After staring at her speechless for what seemed like an eternity, he found his voice. "Yes," he said simply in a voice no louder than a whisper. "I am Clark. And Superman." Her heart pounded and she was shaking. "Clark, you can fly. And Superman is from Kansas. And Clark, you save the world. And Superman is my partner." Two men. One man. "And you fooled me for so long. What an investigator 'Mad Dog Lane', tenacious reporter, the woman who could look everyday criminals in the eye and challenge them mercilessly, the woman who could solve any mystery thrown at her really is. I couldn't even figure out that the two men most important to me were really the same man. What an idiot. How blind was I? You can't be that brilliant. A simple blue spandex suit and a pair of glasses were all it took to fool Lois Lane. I should have seen right through it. But I didn't. I knew both of you, and I didn't know." She looked down at the sheet covering her body. "And you can probably see right through this. Not that you haven't seen it already. . ." her voice trailed off, ending her babbling diatribe. Lois's words felt like daggers through Clark's head. Lois knew. Lois knew. Lois knew. He was a fool. Why hadn't he had the guts to tell her himself? "Lois, I've never . . ." He let his voice trail off. She was right. "You can't tell me you've never." "Okay, Lois, yes, I can see through the sheet. It would have to be lined with lead for me not to be able to see. Is that what you wanted me to say? I can see through anything you wear if I really want to." He took a deep breath. "But I don't do it. I can control myself, Lois. I'm not a voyeur! I will only look if you want me to look." Looking at her now, he sighed and said, "And I can see that is not going to happen for a long time." She pulled the sheet around her more tightly. "How do I know you're not looking now?" He sighed. "I don't know what to say." What was happening? How had everything changed so quickly? "Lois, you've been so close to my secret almost since the moment I met you, and lately I've been so lax around you. I wanted you to know, but I couldn't figure out how to tell you. And I'm sure I've ruined any credibility with you . . ." Especially after sleeping with her last night without telling her the truth. "I'm so sorry, Lois," was all he could bring himself to say. She visibly jumped back. "Why?" she said simply, her voice straining not to break. "Why didn't you tell me?" Clark took a deep breath. He had been expecting that question, but wasn't entirely sure how to answer. "I don't know." He shrugged. "No, I do know. Lois, I am so sorry. I guess I am nothing more than a liar." Shaking his head woefully, he looked down into his hands, unable to keep her gaze. "I guess I am afraid of telling anyone about my," he paused, almost unable to go on, "differences." "Scared of me?" she asked, her voice almost shaking. "What could I possibly do to you?" His humiliation grew. Why was he such an idiot? Hearing her voice made him realize how stupid he sounded. "I don't know." He sighed deeply. "I've never told anyone, so I really don't know. Turn me in to the authorities so they can dissect me like a frog?" Did he know how absurd he sounded? "Dissect you like a frog? They couldn't even cut your skin." She couldn't believe they were having this argument. "My dad always said," he let his voice trail off. "I've never told anyone so I'd never have to find out what would happen. Come on, Lois, how many people want to know that the guy they work with is an alien? That your neighbor has special powers? That their best friend is Superman?" She almost wanted to reassure him, but she knew he was right. "I don't know. How did you know I wouldn't think it was cool? I mean, Superman as a partner?" If she had known that from the beginning, maybe she would have been a little nicer to him. Or not. Instead of going the argumentative route, she decided to ask, "You've never told anyone?" She wasn't surprised, but it kept their conversation going. "No one. My parents are the only people who know. But, Lois, you are the only person in the world I would tell. You helped me create Superman. You gave me an outlet to use my differences to help." "Why didn't you tell me then, Clark? Superman?" He interrupted, "Clark, Lois. Clark is who I am, who I always have been. He's the only person I've ever been or ever will be. Superman is a character you helped me create to hide my true identity. He's a one-dimensional enigma with special powers." The more he talked, the more it hurt. She sighed deeply. He was almost insulting her by saying Superman wasn't real. She knew Superman. She loved Superman. He was real. "But you didn't answer my question, Clark." She made a point of deliberately pronouncing his name. "Why would you keep it a secret from me? I thought I was Superman's friend. And Clark's friend." She angrily brushed a tear from her cheek. He felt his cheeks reddening when faced with her accusation. Why did he want to fly out of there far, far away? It didn't even matter that he was completely naked. He needed to escape. "Lois," he said softly. "I was, am, terrified of you. You didn't see yourself when I first met you." She shot him an angry look. "What do you mean?" He shrugged knowing he would regret what he was going to say, but not knowing how to stop his words. "The Lois Lane I met was only out for her own glory. Can you tell me you wouldn't have run with the story of Superman's true identity? Would it have bothered you that it would have ruined one man's life if you had gotten a Pulitzer?" "No. I mean yes. I mean, you're wrong. I would never do that," she said instantly. Her voice trailed off because she knew he was right. The elusive Pulitzer; she would have stopped at nothing to get one. The story of the century, Superman's true identity. How hard had she tried to find out the truth? It had been right in front of her the whole time. She looked down at her hands, cowering at the truth. "I was stupid," she whispered. "You were *not* stupid, Lois," he declared. The distance that separated them seemed so long. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to comfort her, but he needed to help himself first. All he could add was, "You're passionate. And I love that about you." She half-smiled. "Thank you." Then her smile faded. "But why didn't you *ever* tell me?" She took a deep breath. "After we got to know each other, I mean. We both knew that I would never tell anyone. I thought we were friends!" Friends. Maybe she had been mistaken. He sighed. She had picked up his biggest weakness. His caution might have ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him. The words wouldn't come. He hadn't rehearsed this important soul-bearing revelation scene yet! "I was going to tell you, Lois. I wanted to tell you so badly." "Then why didn't you?" she challenged. Everything was happening so quickly; she wasn't sure if she was angry, upset, sad, scared, or numb. A tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. She didn't want it there, but she didn't want to make the move to brush it away. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I've known I had to tell you the truth about myself almost since the day I met you. I was just," he let his voice trail off for a moment, trying to find the right words, "waiting for the right time." Lois shook her head. "Right," she muttered almost under her breath. "You only told me because I caught you." Clark inhaled sharply. Maybe she was right. "I am so sorry, Lois. I guess I was scared." What a lousy excuse. What kind of man was he? "Scared?" she repeated. "Scared? You were scared?" She wasn't sure what else to say. Some writer she was! She couldn't even come up with a good snappy retort, the one thing she was supposed to be good at. Her idealized image of Superman had shattered before her. He wasn't pure, wasn't wholesome, wasn't perfect. He was Clark Kent, her flawed, scared, human partner. He ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I'm such an idiot," he muttered. "I can't believe I let this happen." He took a deep breath. "Lois, you have to believe me. I was going to tell you. I didn't mean for this to happen. Not this way. I am so sorry. I should have told you before," he let his voice trail off. "Before?" she asked sharply. Suddenly, everything about their situation came rushing back to her. She was naked. He was naked. They were in his bed. "What happened, Clark?" She knew what had happened. Now she needed confirmation. "Last night," he answered sheepishly, almost afraid to put it into words. "I should have never let it happen without telling you about myself. I don't know why . . ." "So we did!" she interrupted. It felt like her entire world had crashed down around her. She wiped a stream of tears from her cheek. Her whole body went numb. Before, the idea had just been hypothetical. Now it was so painfully real. She couldn't deny it any longer. "Oh my god." He looked at her, confused. She seemed shocked, like she almost didn't remember what happened between them. "Lois?" "We slept together?" she croaked. Instantly, her mouth had gone dry, and she almost couldn't say the words. "So it's true." Suddenly, she shivered and tightened the sheet around her. She was scared. She was numb. She was exposed. This was a nightmare. "Lois?" His heart fell. "Don't you remember?" He wasn't sure what to do or what to say. It felt like his world was crashing around him. "Remember?" she asked sharply. "How do you expect me to remember? Who knows how much I drank last night!" They must have gotten completely wasted. But Superman, no, Clark couldn't get drunk. If he couldn't get drunk and she could, one conclusion came to her mind. "Did you take advantage of me?" The words sounded so strange coming out of her mouth. "You're the one, two, men I've always thought would never hurt me." "Lois," he said, almost in shock. "You weren't drunk." He took a deep breath. "We weren't drunk." After a moment of consideration, he added, "You don't remember last night?" "Did you get me drunk?" she asked, her voice shaking. "Did I get you drunk?" He stared at her, unable to think of anything to say to defend himself. In a matter of seconds, his whole world had changed so dramatically. "Lois, you weren't drunk. What are you talking about?" "I don't remember." She subconsciously tightened the sheet around her. "I don't remember anything." How had this happened? "I had to have been plastered, Clark. What else could make me forget? Where did we go? What did we do? And you slept with me? Even knowing how drunk I was?" "What?" He inched back from her accusation. "You weren't drunk. You couldn't have been." His heart fell. Could it get any worse? "What are you trying to tell me?" Was he trying to make her forget that she had been drunk? Could this be some kind of elaborate scheme? She wouldn't have believed either Clark or Superman capable of anything flowing through her mind, but after finding out he had lied to her since the moment he had met her made almost anything seem possible. "How do I know you're not lying now?" She shuddered, unable to believe the thoughts circulating in her mind. She threw her hands up in exasperation. "I thought you, both of you, were so honest, so noble, so good, so trustworthy. I can't believe you . . ." He knew it sounded stupid, but he said, "Lois, please, you have to believe me." "How do I know you aren't some kind of criminal? How can I be sure you don't use Superman to woo innocent women to fall for you, like I did, and then you use some Kryptonian evil magic power . . ." "Lois!" he exclaimed. "I don't have any magical powers!" He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, not caring that he was no longer clutching the sheet covering him. How could she not remember the most magical night of his life? "And if I did, I certainly wouldn't use them to take advantage of anyone." "Okay, maybe not magical powers, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't remember anything! I woke up in bed next to you and that's all I remember." She looked down at her body, and instantly felt her nakedness. All that covered her was a thin, white sheet. Did it even matter? Clark could see through anything, and maybe had since the moment they met. Suddenly, she felt so exposed, so dirty. Before she had time to consider that horrific thought, she decided to deal with the issue at hand. She stared at him icily as she said, "Why did you do it, Clark?" "Do what?" Clark pulled the sheet to better cover himself, to shield his body from her angry stare. This was the last thing he had expected after their night together. How could she think their experience had been anything other than amazing or any other superlative? She took a deep breath, and started at him angrily. "How could you take advantage of me? I trusted you." "I what?" It felt like all the air had left Clark's lungs and he was unable to breathe. "I trusted you, Clark." She wanted to run away. But something was making her stay. Everything she had held true about the world's goodness had been so cruelly shattered in a few mere seconds. She needed time to process everything that had happened. At this point, she might have been making matters so much worse. She needed a clear picture of what had happened to her. And that wasn't going to happen here sitting next to him in bed naked. "Lois, are you okay? I don't know what you're talking about." He stood up, and reached out to grab her arms. "You came to me. You seduced me. I thought you wanted me." "I what!" she exclaimed. "I couldn't have. I don't remember," she let her voice trail off, and tried to associate this revelation with what she knew about herself. "Clark, I wouldn't have come to you. But I don't remember," she admitted. Was it smart to tell him that she had no recollection of an entire day? Would he be able to shape her memories to what he wanted? Could Clark have done something to her to make her forget? "You don't remember? What don't you remember?" His stomach dropped even further. It had been a fantasy. "Anything, Clark. Not last night, not yesterday." She took a deep breath. "All I know is that I woke up completely naked, next to you in your bed." Did she want to ask him the question lingering in the back of her mind? She had to. "You didn't give me anything, Clark? Did you?" He couldn't have given her rufies, right? Maybe something Kryptonian she'd never even heard of? Would he tell her if he had? "Did I give you something?" He took a deep breath. "Of course not." Not only did she know his secret, she was practically accusing him of raping her. He felt tears prickling at his eyes. "You don't remember anything?" Her heart melted when she saw the tears in his eyes. There was something almost scary about Superman crying. But maybe it was a ploy. "I figured out your plan, Clark Kent." She looked him straight in the eyes with her gaze unwavering. "What plan?" "Don't play innocent with me. I've figured it all out. You want to populate the earth with little Superbabies so you and your army can take over the world." Did that sound as absurd to him as it did to her? She couldn't take it back, though. "What? Lois, please, can we look at this rationally?" He didn't even want to dignify her wild suggestion with an answer. How could she even think . . .? "Rationally?" She stared at him, unable to understand what he had said. She was looking at the situation completely rationally, especially considering the situation. "You don't remember anything from yesterday, Lois?" "No. You should know how your drugs work better than I do." God, she was jumping into the deep end now. How had she gone from waking up naked with Clark to waking up naked with Superman to waking up with Clark and Superman? Now suddenly she was thinking about rape and drugs? What was wrong with her? Clark sighed deeply. "I don't have any drugs!" He took a deep breath and repeated, "I didn't drug you." There was no way she could turn back now. "Then . . ." He interrupted, "But I think something must have happened." He ran a hand through his hair thinking. He should have known. Lois couldn't have meant her declaration of love. "Do you remember anything?" "I remember . . ." her voice trailed off as she strained to remember any part of yesterday. "You remember," Clark prodded. "Morning. After the staff meeting . . ." She remembered it vividly as the images and emotions rushed back to her. " . . . the bug story," Clark finished. Lois closed her eyes and let her mind drift to her last memory before her mind had gone completely blank. ********** "Perry, you've got to be kidding!" Lois shifted in her chair angrily. Sometimes talking to Perry White was like talking to a brick wall with an Elvis obsession. Her editor wouldn't know a good idea if it bit him in the butt! She took a deep breath trying to calm down to keep her professionalism. "Lois, I know what I'm doing." He smiled at her, and said, "You can put some zing into that fruit fly story." What was he talking about? Obviously, she was the only one with sense. This was completely unacceptable. How could Clark have gotten the big dockworkers' strike, and she had gotten a stupid story about fruit flies? "But, Perry," she let her voice trail off not wanting to sound like she was whining. "Are you sure Clark is the right reporter for the dockworkers' strike?" She wanted to ask if he knew how crazy he was. How could he assign Clark, a newbie, a greenhorn to the biggest story in weeks? Insanity was the only possible answer. Anyone with a healthy mind would see how stupid that was! If he wasn't mentally ill, then maybe someone had brainwashed him. Hey, it had been known to happen! It wasn't like Perry had never been brainwashed! And she was pretty sure who had brainwashed him; it was probably someone whose name began with a 'C' and ended with a 'lark'. Come on! Like Clark could cover the dockworkers' strike as well as she could. Yeah right. Who was Perry trying to kid? Did he want to compromise the integrity of the paper? "Lois, give me some credit. We both know I didn't get to be editor of the Daily Planet because I can yodel." She wanted to roll her eyes and say something gripping, but she held her tongue. With these current assignments, obviously Perry White did not want to produce the best possible stories. He needed to give his best reporters the best assignments to create the best final product. Shouldn't that be obvious? Her skills would be better used on the strike story rather than the stupid fruit fly story. She knew it. Perry knew it. Clark knew it. "But, Perry, aren't all assignments negotiable?" She wasn't sure if saying that out loud was a good idea. From the look on Perry's face, probably not. "You're jealous, Lois. You can't stand another reporter getting a better story." She rolled her eyes. "Jealous?" The word sounded funny coming out of her mouth. "Of Clark Kent?" As if that could ever happen! Maybe Perry really had become editor-in-chief of the world's greatest newspaper because he could yodel. It obviously wasn't due to his wonderful instincts. Could he be any more misguided? "If I'm jealous of Clark, then fruit flies are interesting." She waved her hand spastically in anger, unsure how to validly reflect all of her feelings. "No, if I'm jealous of Clark, pigs can fly with the stupid fruit flies! If I'm jealous of Clark, then fruit files are really pigs with wings!" Perry grinned at her smugly, probably coming up with some kind of Elvis story -- probably about jealousy with a moral at the end. She continued, unable to stop, "I'm trying to help him, to protect him. I'm looking out for his best interests." He raised his eyebrows, and said in his deep southern drawl, "Oh you are?" She knew he was riding her, and they both knew how stupid she sounded, but she couldn't stop herself. "Absolutely. If I'm not there to help him, he'll fall flat on his face." In fact, he'd end up like a Clark-shaped pancake! And no one wanted that to happen to poor Clark. "He needs his senior partner's help." "You don't even want a partner." "I know," she said sheepishly, unsure of an appropriate response. "Lois, you don't have enough faith in Clark. You've taught him well." He was trying to give her an ego boost, trying to get rid of her. She knew he wasn't going to change his mind, but something inside of her made her keep talking to him. "Of course I have faith in him." After all, he did have the best teacher. "But he's still so green. He's not ready for such a large responsibility." Perry was wrong in expecting so much, in putting too much unnecessary strain on such a new employee. It could all be alleviated so easily! Now the fruit fly story . . . that was right up Clark's alley. He would do a beautiful story about, well, something about fruit flies. He would write it in a way people would find interesting and captivating. He'd done it before. Like in some story he had written a few years ago that had won some sort of wilderness award when he worked somewhere weird in the middle of nowhere. It was about lizards, or Gila monsters, or geckos or something. "Now fruit flies," she continued, "would be perfect for him." They should switch stories. What a great idea! Maybe her best ever. "No, Lois, the fruit flies are your story." Perry wouldn't budge. "Clark can handle the strike. Story assignments are not negotiable." Lois rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. Perry had completely unrealistic expectations for the other reporters. Not everyone could live up to Lois Lane's high standards of excellence! Clark Kent was undoubtedly in over his head. He had never covered anything as big as the dockworkers' strike in his few months at the 'Planet'. At least he hadn't done any story of this caliber without her help. She was sure he'd never come upon a story like this working at the Smallville Smallpaper or the Borneo Gazette. Clark needed help. More specifically, he needed *her* help! Instead of working on this stupid bug piece, she should be helping him. The city's best reporter should be on the city's juiciest story! She was at her best when she sunk her teeth into the juicy stories. Her true potential could never be reached if she was stuck with stupid stories about bugs! And Clark, well, he liked bugs! Perfect! But no-o-o. Perry couldn't see the obvious if it bit him in the face. Too bad stupid fruit flies couldn't bite him in the face right now. He seemed to think it was a "rule" that reporters had to write whatever story he assigned. Yeah right. How often did she follow that rule? Why did she have to start now? Perry started lecturing her, but she wasn't really paying attention. It all sounded like, "Blah, blah, blah, turn over a new leaf. Blah, blah, blah, give Kent a chance. Blah, blah, blah, Kent's perfectly capable of doing it himself. Blah, blah, blah, fruit flies." Whatever. She wanted to answer, 'Blah, blah, blah, this story will *never* pan out!' "Get to work, Lois," Perry said in a demonstrative tone that made her stand up and walk out the door. "Yes, Chief," she said as she shut the door. She would get to work, but not on the bug story. If Perry wasn't going to switch the stories himself, she would have to bypass higher authority and go straight to the source. Clark would listen to reason even if Perry wouldn't! Clark was nothing if not dependable and easily convinced. She looked out over the busy newsroom and trying to locate her target. Clark would see how right she was! Nothing to worry about. He was over by the coffee and donuts, pouring sugar into his coffee mug with two donuts in his hand. Sugar and caffeine were a 'Planet' employee's two staple foods. Clark especially. He was a notorious sugar addict. Where else would he be? He looked up from his mug, and Lois locked eyes with him. Her eyes never left his as she stormed across the room towards him. He was trapped like a deer caught in headlights. Look at how wide his eyes were. Good. It was going exactly the way she had planned. When she was close enough to touch him, she put a hand on his arm and said, "There you are! I've been looking for you, partner." She flashed her most brilliant smile. He obviously had no idea she was about to throw him right in the middle of an ever- exciting story about -- bum da dum dum -- fruit flies! Clark looked at Lois like she was crazy. He'd known something was up as he had watched Lois stride towards him. He had picked up some of her random muttering at Perry's door. She'd looked like a wildcat waiting to pounce on her prey. That maniacal look in her eyes was unmistakable, even though she was trying to hide it behind her smile. He was in trouble. Clark gulped when he felt her hand on his arm. She was trying to butter him up. He had to resist the sparks of pleasure coursing through his body at the mere feel of her hand against his skin. No! Resist. He had to resist. He couldn't think about how beautiful she looked in that . . . No! He had to listen to her words rather than focus on her actions. She was trying to fool him, to appeal to his primal side. She certainly was one tricky woman. And he was a crazy, lovesick fool. What a wonderful pair! Okay, now what did she say before he started wallowing? Oh right. Partner? Lois Lane had never willingly admitted that she and Clark were partners. She wanted something. Unfortunately, he knew what it was. That was the problem with having superpowers. His enhanced hearing had accidentally locked on Lois's conversation with Perry after the morning staff meeting. He hated eavesdropping, but he had heard his name, and couldn't stop listening even when he knew he didn't want to hear any more. He should have forced himself to stop listening because he hadn't heard anything good. Lois had tried to convince Perry to let her hone in on his story. It was his story! How dare she! It was like she thought he wasn't good enough! No, she was jealous. She had a story she hated, and he had an interesting story. Jealous. Clark stared at her incredulously, eyebrows raised skeptically. "Partner?" he said in a challenging tone. He wasn't going to let her win so easily! This was going to be a fight to the death, and he was planning to win! Go team Kent! It was bound to be a tough battle, but he was going to emerge victorious. Lois was the toughest opponent he'd ever faced. "Well, yeah, partner." Trying to keep herself calm, she grabbed a cup and poured herself some coffee. Changing the subject to throw Clark off the scent, she exclaimed, "Eew! This stuff tastes like raw sewage!" "Raw sewage?" Clark shook his head. Partner, raw sewage, yeah, those things were related. He needed to roll with it. This was obviously some kind of ingenious ploy to get him to think about something else. He took a sip of his coffee and muttered, "It tastes bad, but not like raw sewage." "Have you ever tasted raw sewage?" She raised her eyebrows and stared at him; she'd actually had the raw sewage experience not so long ago. This coffee tasted pretty similar. When he shrugged, but failed to offer any other response, she added, "I could make better coffee than this." "Really, Lois? Have you ever tasted your own coffee? Believe me, sewage tastes better." That was a low blow. He didn't usually act like this, but his instincts were taking over. She had insulted him! He wasn't going to tell her how wonderful she was, especially not after she had told their boss that he was inexperienced and too green to handle a story like the dockworkers' strike! Lois rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Anyway, partner, why don't we get started on that strike story? You can get me up to speed on everything you have so far." She tugged on his arm to get him moving towards his desk. Lois guided him towards his desk, and Clark stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait a second, Lois." "Hmm?" She looked at him trying to pretend she was completely innocent. He would buy it. Of course he would. Clark was that gullible. "Why don't WE get started on the strike story?" He looked at her with innocent eyes, trying to hide his slight unease. Shoot! He didn't buy it! The ambush tactic had failed! "Well, we are partners, aren't we?" Clark shook his head incredulously. So this was how it worked. They were partners when it benefited Lois in some way. He wasn't going to let her push him around. At least not this time! "Wait a second. Didn't Perry give you a story?" Lois rolled her eyes again in frustration. Details. "Oh, that stupid fly story. The flies can fly away." She made an agitated flying motion with her hand. Clark laughed at her frustrated, erratic motions. She was really upset, but he wasn't going to cave. "Flies?" he asked innocently, playing her game. If she was going to play hardball, she was messing with the wrong guy. He could play the game right along with her. "Right, fruit flies." She brushed the subject away, saying, "I guess there's a big infestation in the suburbs or something and I'm supposed to cover the spraying and the possibly dangers of the pesticide, whatever it is." Hmm, Clark's eyes had lit up a bit when she mentioned fruit fly infestation. Maybe he would bite on her scheme. She had given him the perfect bait. It had all of the perfect elements for him: bugs, human interest, and farmland. Ideal for a man from a town called Smallville. He would actually be interested in something like that! Lois continued, "Oh, Clark, I think you'd really be interested in this story. It's a real . . . page turner." She stifled a yawn. "Perfect for you," she added. Clark knew he had slipped. Lois had seen his weakness, an actual interest in her story. Whoops. He needed to back out of this . . . quickly. He had something Lois wanted. For the first time in the months he had known her, he controlled the situation. Now he needed to correct his mistake. He couldn't let her see weakness. The solution was avoidance. It was time to change the subject. "I know you don't like your story, but you know as well as I do that we're supposed to write whatever stories we're assigned, whether we like it or not." That was great! He had effectively changed the subject and gotten the attention away from his interest in her story. He smiled at her. "I guess I lucked out this time." Lucked out. Yeah right. He was positively smirking at her! Oh, now the smirk was gone. Maybe she was being paranoid. Time for step two. "But, Clark, we're partners. That means we work together." "In what way?" "Well, I help you with your story." Clark finished her train of thought, "And I write your story for you?" "Exactly." She nodded enthusiastically. Yes! He got it! "No," he answered simply and proceeded to take a bite of his chocolate cream donut and chew it slowly, deliberately. What was that strange word coming from Clark's mouth? Were her ears playing tricks on her? She thought she heard it, but she didn't believe it. "No?" He swallowed his donut and said, "You heard me. I'll be perfectly fine with the dockworkers' strike on my own. I think it's time for this greenhorn to spread his wings and fly like a fruit fly." "Ha. Ha. Very funny." Clark was probably the least amusing person she'd ever known. "I know you don't like your story, Lois, but sometimes we have to write stories we think are dumb when there is nothing else to write about and we need to fill the space." "This is Metropolis. How could there be nothing else to write about?" "If there is so much to write about, why are you trying to move in on my story?" "What?" Oh no! Clark had turned the tables on her! How had he done that? He shouldn't be able to do that! It had always been against the rules! "You're jealous!" Lois was jealous of him! It was an interestingly satisfying feeling. "I am NOT jealous!" Lois sighed audibly. Why couldn't anyone see that? It was completely obvious! She added, "I'm trying to help you!" "Help me or steal my story?" Clark calmly took a sip of his sludge-like coffee and a bite of the maple frosted donut and waited patiently for Lois's answer. He found the whole process almost amusing. She should have known step two was way too easy. Even though it was painfully disgusting to think about, she had to try step three, her last resort. Clark was slightly attracted to her. She knew it. He didn't know she knew. She could exploit her feminine charms. If he wouldn't give in to rational Lois, he would have to surrender to sexy Lois. It was nature's way. "Come on! Please? Pretty please?" She took a step closer and put a hand on his chest. "You know you do these sappy mood pieces so much better than I do. I can't even do them justice." She smiled, and laid on the sap. "Not like you can." Clark's pulse quickened when he felt the soft pressure of her hand on his chest. Oh, the torture. Lois Lane was an evil genius! He took a step back and said, "Mood pieces? A story about the weekly malathion spraying to stop fruit fly infestation is a mood piece?" "See, you even know the pesticide's name." She took a step closer again and softly covered his hand with her own. "You'd be perfect." "Lois! It isn't a mood piece." Well, okay, then it's a boring, useless piece." She sighed in frustration. That didn't help her cause at all! She needed to keep her temper in check if she was supposed to entice Clark to take this story, not repel him away forever. "Oh, so it's a bad mood piece?" He smirked at her, knowing he had made a bad joke, but wanting to hear her response. It wasn't a useless piece; it just wasn't the kind of piece Lois often did. Perry must have had a reason for assigning it to Lois. Right now, Clark sure wasn't going to bail her out. So what if he thought the piece had some potential. After what Lois had told Perry . . . What right did she have to waltz into their editor's office and demand to be put on a different story . . . Clark's story? How dare she say that he needed her help because he couldn't handle an in depth story on his own! Of course he could handle this, and any other story Perry assigned him. And he was going to prove it. "Ha. Ha." She glared at him menacingly. "Hey, I thought it was funny." "You're lucky I didn't throw this coffee on you." "Go right ahead," he said softly, anger getting the better of him. He regretted his words almost as soon as they left his mouth. He had just bought this nice, crisp white shirt. It definitely didn't need a coffee stain! Though, it would keep the drycleaners happy. She was tempted to throw the coffee in his face, but decided to try a different tactic. Instantly, she was hit by another stroke of genius. It wasn't her usual approach, but in this case, it might work! Flattery. "No, I'm not going to do it," she said sincerely. And maybe he bought her sincerity. "Clark, seriously, you have a talent I really envy." Yeah, butter him up! "You can make the mundane interesting." She paused momentarily, then looked up into his eyes and said, "Partner." "Lois, did you hear me before? I am not switching stories with you." Maybe if he hadn't known her true motives, he might have fallen for her devious tactics. What was his problem? He was worse than Perry! He didn't listen to reason! "But the dockworker strike is so much more interesting. I mean fruit flies? Come on!" Begging. Stooping to begging? What was she? Desperate. That's what she was. She took a stop closer to him and brushed a hand over his arm. At this point, it was a battle of wills. She wouldn't stop until she got him to crack! It was her mission. "How many times do I have to tell you 'no'?" He was immune to her charms. The feel of her beautiful hand touching his arm . . . no! He couldn't succumb to her devious tactics. "Come on, Clark. Switch with me. You know this is my specialty." "Dockworkers' strikes are your specialty?" "You know what I mean. Hard investigations are my specialty." He decided to give her a little credit. She was right. Lois Lane was the best reporter in the city when it came to hard investigations and big stories. She didn't deserve to be on a story about flies. Then again, the strike was his story! She had no right to try to get in on it so underhandedly! "I know, Lois, but this is my story." Pouting, she added, "Please. Perry kind of suggested . . ." "Perry couldn't have told you to switch with me." "Okay, he didn't exactly tell me to switch with you." Clark raised his eyebrows, and sighed. "He must have assigned us these stories for a reason." "Well what does he know?" she muttered under her breath. It was pretty obvious that no one knew what they were doing any more. They whole paper had gone to hell in a hand basket, and no one seemed to notice but her. She was the only sane one in the asylum! "More than you know, Lois," her editor's loud booming voice echoed through the newsroom. How had he heard her? He didn't have Superhearing! "Aren't you late for that interview with the Pest Control Division?" Lois sighed audibly. She wasn't going to get out of this. Clark had really screwed her over this time. How could both Perry and Clark expect her to write such a mundane story? Clark checked his watch and realized that he was running late, too. He couldn't help but gloat. "Have fun, Lois." He had won! For the first time in the entire time he had known Lois, he had won! Lois stomped back to her desk and flopped down onto her chair in a huff. Maybe she could follow Clark to the arbitration hearings and show him how much he needed her help. "Lois, get a move on! I need your story for tomorrow morning's edition!" Or maybe not. Her master plan was foiled, yet again, by none other than Perry White. Drat all the stupid fruit flies! "I hope they all die," she muttered under her breath. "What was that, Lois?" Clark said teasingly. "Argh!" Lois exclaimed as she made her way out of the newsroom in a huff. If she had to do this stupid article, she had better suck it up and do it well. She was going to make *sure* hers ended up on the front page while Clark's was next to the obituaries! Now, how in the world could she find something interesting, groundbreaking about a stupid little bug? Well, she was Lois Lane and she could do anything. The answer would come to her eventually. She stormed into the elevator and the doors closed, leaving the newsroom in her wake. "The glasses," she said, and reached out to feel them. "I can't believe a pair of wide-rimmed glasses can make such a difference in your appearance." ********** "And that's all I remember," Lois said. It was as if the elevator doors had closed on her every memory. There had to be more to the day, though. Time couldn't have magically skipped from one morning to the next. "That's all you remember?" Clark took a deep breath before he continued, "You don't remember anything that happened after that? Lois, you didn't come here until after seven pm." She squeezed her eyes shut again, hoping and praying that she would instantly recall anything that had happened after she had boarded the elevator. "I can't . . . I can't . . . The doors closed. And then it's blank." "Lois, you don't remember anything after you got on the elevator?" "I remember," she said softly, "waking up in a strange bed. Your bed. I remember remembered finding out you are Superman." She took a deep breath. "I can go forwards, but not backwards. Of course I remember things that happened a few minutes ago." "Is there anything I can do?" Clark asked. He ignored her comment about his being Superman. They had already belabored that point so much. She tilted her head back and shook her head. "I don't know. I need to remember on my own. I have to fill that time gap between the elevator doors closing and waling up in your bed." "You don't remember going to interview the pest control division?" When she didn't say anything in response, Clark continued, "You really don't remember coming to my apartment last night?" "Not at all," she said softly. She almost felt bad for thinking he could hurt her. But how did she truly know he was innocent? "You don't remember coming to my apartment?" he asked again. "You don't remember the Chinese food?" "Why do you keep asking me the same question over and over? It's like you think repetition is going to do something." She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He sighed deeply, and ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I'm hoping something will jog your memory. I can't believe you don't remember last night. It was the best night of my life." "Well, why don't you tell me what happened?" she asked cautiously. It was against her better judgment, but the words came out anyway. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. She wanted to go to the police and report a rapist. But something was making her stay. "Okay," he said slowly, deliberately. Clark shook his head. One thing he knew was that it wasn't doing him any good to stare at her. The images of last night floated through his mind as he saw her wrapped in a thin blanket. Only a blanket. His blanket. God, he was an animal. He scrunched his eyes shut and took a deep breath before he said, "Why don't we get dressed first? I'll make some coffee . . ." Lois interrupted, "Good idea." Even though he was Superman and could see through anything, she would certainly feel a lot less exposed and vulnerable with real clothing covering her. "Where are my clothes?" she asked softly as she scanned the bedroom, unable to locate anything of hers. "In the living room, on the floor around the couch," he said softly. . She practically ran out to the living room, blanket wrapped around her, and gasped at the strewn pile of her clothes. "How they get like this?" Clark, who had dressed at super speed, stood before her fully dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He took a deep breath before he said, "I, uh, don't remember. It got kind of, well," he let his voice trail off, in search of the right word, "passionate." Lois scrunched her nose distastefully. "Passionate?" She wasn't sure how to react. Instead of waiting for his response, she quickly gathered all of her clothes and stomped into the bathroom. She wasn't going to give him the pleasure of watching her get dressed! Clark Kent, Superman, whatever, whoever, was so full of it. Passionate? Whatever. She fastened her bra and pulled on her underwear. Did he really think repetitively urging her to remember last night would somehow make her pretend to remember something? She put on her pants and then her shirt, shivering involuntarily as she thought of Clark. What had they done? Clark wouldn't have taken advantage of her. Superman wouldn't have taken advantage of her. But why was her mind stuck on the idea? It had been a passionate night? So intense her clothes had been strewn all around the apartment? And all this had happened voluntarily? She took a final glance in the mirror and stared at her reflection. Strange. She didn't look any different than she had yesterday morning, but in one short missing day, her life had changed so profoundly. Lois opened the bathroom door and slowly made her way back out into the living room. When she left the bathroom, her eyes rested on the image of Clark, Superman, slumped dejectedly on the couch, head in his hands. This was an uncharacteristic, vulnerable position for him, especially as Superman. She sighed deeply and purposefully stepped towards the couch. He was sitting there. The thought made her want to run to the door. But she had to give him a chance to tell his side of the story. Besides, he remembered what happened last night. But she had to remember that he was a liar. She had to make sure she didn't believe another one of his lies. However, she owed him a chance. He had done so much for her in the few months she had known him. She flinched when she realized he was watching her. At the sound of her footsteps, his head had probably jerked up to watch her. Undaunted, Lois stared into his bespectacled eyes. "Amazing," she whispered. "What is?" "The glasses," she said, and reached out to feel them. "I can't believe a pair of wide-rimmed glasses can make such a difference in your appearance." He shrugged self-consciously. "I know." "It's like a metamorphosis." No wonder he had fooled so many people. No wonder he had fooled her. She took a deep breath. "Before you were some kind of weird Clark/Superman hybrid. It scared me. Now you look like Clark." And Clark didn't scare her. He shrugged. "That was Clark, too, Lois. I am Clark. I'm always Clark." "You're Clark," she said softly. "You're Superman, but you're Clark." She ran a nervous hand through her hair. "Why would I think to question either one of you?" The only way she could ever see the two meld into one was by seeing him naked. And she was supposed to be the best reporter in the world. "You weren't supposed to question me." He tried to crack a smile, but found it too hard. "My parents and I engineered the disguise so no one would find out that I am Superman." Before she had a chance to ask any more questions, he asked, "Do you want to sit down?" "No, I don't want to sit down." She exhaled quickly before she added, "But I will anyway." He scooted over on the couch to create a space for her to sit, and she reluctantly sat down next to him moving as far away from him as she could, sinking down into the far corner. They sat in silence staring at each other for what could have been a few seconds or an eternity. Finally, Lois sighed deeply, and said, "I can't stand this silence! All this quiet is driving me crazy! Look, tell me what happened." "What?" Clark was taken aback. He was having trouble coping with the whole situation, and he felt like he needed a few moments to collect his thoughts. And that was so hard to do with her sitting so close to him. "Go ahead; tell me your story. Tell me what happened." Clark sighed deeply. "Why? You're not going to believe me anyway. Right now, I'm not even sure if I believe myself!" He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the other, both nervous habits at once. If he had seen himself, he would have marveled at how ridiculously flustered he looked. Before giving her time to reconsider and subsequently rescind her offer, he decided to suck it up and start from the beginning. It was a long story, but he had to try to tell her. He couldn't get her to remember any other way; he had no other choice. "I left the newsroom a few minutes after you did yesterday to try to get to the union press conference." "Mmhm," she muttered. Or he left the newsroom to follow her to the MPCD so he could take her back to his lair and have his way with her. Either way, he probably had left the newsroom shortly after she had. At least that much was the truth. Clark glanced at her before continuing, "Like I was saying, the union and management were at a complete stalemate, and they were about to enter federal arbitration." He paused for a moment. "Anyway, that isn't really important." She nodded, urging him to continue. "Anyway, I rushed out of the newsroom after you did, still pretty angry about how you had treated me . . ." ********** Clark walked through the revolving doors and out into the fresh air, reveling in the feel of the cool day's soft breeze against his skin. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly trying to release some of the tension that had encompassed him. Glad to be free of the newsroom and especially of a certain Mad Dog Lane he felt a spring come back into his step. Mad Dog Lane was right. Lois had really gotten under his skin back in the newsroom. She had been awful to him! Then again, he hadn't exactly been a saint either. He had let his emotions get the better of him, and he had almost lost control. For once he hadn't been able to control himself and he had stooped to her level. He should have been able to control his emotions. It wasn't her fault he had heard her conversation with Perry. He shouldn't have been listening in the first place. Of course she was out of place telling Perry that he needed help on his story. Yes, she was wrong to belittle him in front of the entire newsroom, but that didn't mean he had to stoop to her level. That was the way Lois behaved. Everyone . . . put up with it. She was the paper's best reporter. It wasn't even a contest. But when she had treated him so poorly . . . Still, that didn't mean he had to treat her equally poorly in return. It was disgraceful! Right now, his personal problems didn't matter. He needed to focus on the story, especially if he was going to prove Lois wrong! They both knew he could handle this story on his own. She probably even realized how jealous she was, even though she would never admit it. He quickly glanced at his watch and realized that if he was going to make it to the press conference, he had to hurry! Lois would never let him live it down if he missed an important press conference! Luckily the press conference was being held only a few blocks away, so he didn't even need to fly. He was able to walk at a leisurely pace, enjoying the feel of the cool breeze against his skin. By the time he arrived at the press conference, it was very crowded. In fact, he fully expected to see Lois in the front row! ********** "You're telling me you went to the strike press conference and tried to seduce me there? That is low!" She knew everything she was saying was irrational, but she was starting to regret agreeing to hear Clark's side of the story. Clark sighed deeply. "No, Lois. I went to the strike press conference because it was my story! I thought I'd see you there after the way you had treated me yesterday morning. I didn't expect you to let it go and thought for sure you would ignore Perry's assignment entirely and try to butt in on mine again!" Lois shrugged. "Okay, maybe I believe you there; I actually had considered doing that! I'm sure it probably was more interesting than interviewing a pest control representative." She remembered something else. The thought of blowing off the PCD and butting in on the press conference. Yes, she had had considered it; she remembered those thoughts vividly. Clark gasped. She remembered something. Could that mean her memory was returning? Clark wasn't sure if he dared to hope. "Do you remember anything about your interview?" he asked, a hint of guarded optimism in his voice. "You remember it being boring?" Lois shrugged. "No. But if I had gone, I'm sure I would have found it mind-numbingly boring. I mean, come on, the MPCD?" She waved her hand flippantly. Spirits slightly crushed, Clark argued, "It couldn't have been as boring as my press conference." "Believe me. You have no idea." She rolled her eyes at him. "No. Believe me. The union spent over an hour arguing about a 0.05% raise that was the one remaining sticking point. And then the management came out with a detailed budget detailing exactly why they couldn't afford the raise. Now they're going to a federal mediator to straighten it all out. The worst thing is I'm really not sure how to approach the story." "So what are you trying to say?" She rolled her eyes knowing he wasn't necessarily telling the truth about anything. Aww, poor Clark playing the sympathy card. He wanted her help. What had she said yesterday? "I was bored silly. After the long press conference, a six-car pile up on the expressway that Superman, uh, I, helped clean up, and then coming back to see that the negotiations were going nowhere, I went home to go through all of my story notes and . . ." ********** Clark threw his notes for the strike story onto the coffee table in frustration. He leaned back on the couch and rubbed his eyes in frustration. Why was it so hard to finish this stupid story? He had to be giving it more time and energy than it deserved. He had been trying to make sense of his notes for the last hour or more, but there really wasn't a good story anywhere to be found! Although he wasn't really affiliated with either side, he did sympathize with the dockworkers, so he wasn't sure how he could possibly write a truly fair and unbiased story with so little information to work from. Nothing was conclusive except the little he'd heard at the press conference. Maybe Lois had been right. He probably would have been happier writing the fruit fly piece. Aah, but he would never give her the satisfaction of knowing that she had, indeed, been right. Never. He couldn't do that to himself! The strike negotiations had gone on well into the evening, and after the two sides broke for the night, Clark didn't see any point in going back to the newsroom. He had known that he would be able to work on his story from home a lot more readily than from the newsroom. His thoughts tended to flow a lot better and more freely when he was alone. No outside distractions other than the usual ones for Superman. Distractions? AKA Lois. Above anything else, he didn't want to have to face Lois again. Not tonight and definitely not until this story was finished and he would finally be able to prove her wrong. She would undoubtedly take pleasure in the fact that he wouldn't be able to make deadline for this story. He wasn't sure if he would be able to take it without saying something back to her like he had this morning. But she had to learn that he wasn't a doormat that she could stomp over whenever she pleased. Plus, he was frustrated that the story wasn't all that interesting. When he added the fact that Lois would be pressuring him to let her help him and belittling his skills, he wasn't sure what he would do. Boy, had he made the wrong choice! Even the story about the fruit fly spraying was sounding better than the dockworkers' strike right now. He stood up angrily. Why couldn't he make the words flow from his hands onto the computer? Stress. He had wanted to prove Lois wrong so badly that he was trying way too hard. He needed to look at this story completely objectively. No, it wouldn't be a Kerth-winning story, but it was one of the only bits of hard news out there this week. He had to give it the attention it deserved. No stupid fight with Lois should interfere with the story. Filled with a new resolve, he picked up a page of notes again, sure that this time he would end up with a story. A good, solid story. He stared blankly at a page of notes, and realized this newfound resolve wasn't helping him concentrate at all. Declaring strong intensions was far different from actually physically following the declaration. He couldn't write the story if he couldn't even concentrate. He put the notes back into the stack on the coffee table and stood up. He stretched, trying to loosen his stiff muscles. There had to be something to steer his mind in the right direction so it could totally focus on this story. A few laps around the world? Nah, he wasn't in the mood tonight. Sure it would burn off some of the excess stress, but it wouldn't help him focus on the story. A cup of tea? Exactly. Once he had his tea, he would be able to write. Tea really gave his muse a kick in the rear end. He would be able to write an exceptionally inspired story one he finished his tea! Besides, he needed something else to do. The more he thought about the story, the harder it became to write. He needed to keep his mind occupied. He went into the kitchen and placed a full tea-kettle on the stove. While he waited for the kettle to whistle, he fleetingly wondered why he had decided to use the stove instead of his heat vision. Obviously he had chosen the stove because it took longer and it would mean more time away from the story. At least making tea gave him something to do other than sitting on the couch like a bump on a log staring blankly at notes for a story that wasn't cooperating, and certainly wasn't writing itself. Just as the kettle whistled, there was a strong, insistent knock on the door. He quickly took the kettle off the stove, and turned off the burner. Then he pulled his glasses down his nose and stared out the door. Of course. Lois. Who else had he expected? It was only natural that if he hadn't gone to Lois, she would have to come to him. And she was holding a large, brown paper bag. He almost didn't want to find out what it held! The one thing he knew for sure was that he was in for a very long night. ********** "You've got to be kidding." Clark shrugged. "Do you really think I could make something like this up? I'm not that creative." "Obviously," she said under her breath. He sighed deeply. "Obviously." Why did he deserve this? He was a liar. So maybe he did deserve her doubt. For the last few months, especially since they had gone to Smallville together, he had thought that they were growing closer. He would have even called them good friends. Now he knew how mistaken he had been. Lois obviously didn't know him at all. And she had no reason to believe he was anything more than a dirty liar. "You're saying *I* came to see *you* last night when you were innocently working on your story and making tea?" She stared at him incredulously. "Well, yeah." He wasn't sure what else to say. It was the truth. He couldn't change what had really happened. "I *was* working on my story and I *was* making tea!" Lois looked at him pointedly, anger raging through her body. She wasn't sure if she was mad at him or mad at herself. Regardless, she said, "I don't believe you, Clark Kent. Why would I have come to your door voluntarily? To apologize?" Right. Like she would do that. Uh huh. Obviously. Clark sighed deeply. "I don't know *why* you came to my door. I know you *did*. I thought you had wanted to take over my story, and at that point, I was almost ready to let you have it." At her stunned look, he added, "The story I mean." "How can all of this be related to the story?" She was already almost regretting what she had said to him before, but she couldn't take it back. "I don't know. After the argument we had yesterday morning, I was pretty sure everything that happened yesterday would have something to do with the story." "You're really telling me that you were making tea and working on your notes when I came to your door?" Clark started at the table where his t-shirt covered the notes he had been working with yesterday. If she didn't believe his words, maybe she would believe the evidence right in front of her. He moved his shirt off of the table and said, "Look, here are my notes, right where I left them last night." He took a stack of papers and handed them to her. "See, notes from the press conference." Then he took another stack of notes and waved them in front of her face. "And these are from the interview with the union rep." He held up a few highlighters and pens, showing her that he had been working "So what?" She was trapped. The evidence was before her, but she couldn't admit that she might be wrong. "Nothing, I guess." He sighed deeply. If she wasn't going to believe the truth, he wasn't sure what to tell her. "And if you look on the stove, you'll see the tea kettle, probably still full of water that never made it into tea." Lois glanced over her shoulder and into the kitchen. Maybe he was telling the truth. A tea kettle was sitting on the stove. She had no idea if it was full or not, or even if it was actually for tea. Still, through the fact that the notes were still on the table and the kettle was on the stove, he had to be telling at least a partial truth. "Okay, so you say I came over on my own to try to get your story?" Maybe that was reasonable. It did seem like something she might consider doing. Clark knew her well, maybe too well. "Well, yeah," Clark said simply. He decided to go on with his story, regardless of whether she believed him or not. When Lois made no move to say anything, Clark continued, "Like I said, I seriously considered not opening the door. After the way you treated me yesterday morning, I certainly didn't want to see you, and I really didn't want you to see how much I was struggling with the story." Lois shrugged in response deciding it would be better to remain silent and not start yet another argument over something completely unrelated to the issue at hand. She figured that the more cooperative she was, the sooner she could go home. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration before he continued, "But you kept knocking, and I knew it was rude to leave you out there . . ." ********** Clark took a deep breath. He wasn't going to let her win. Easier said than done. He stood in front of the door, one hand on the doorknob ready to turn the handle. He didn't want to face Lois; not right now. If only he could have a few more hours to work on the story alone . . . But that wasn't going to happen. He had to open the door to let her in. It was rude to leave her standing out there. His conscience wouldn't let him do it. Why was he always so nice to people? He didn't have the heart to be deliberately mean to anyone without being provoked. Stupid Kansas upbringing. Maybe his parents had made a mistake teaching him such wholesome values. Even if he would have had no qualms about leaving her out there, she had to know he was home. All of the lights in the living room and kitchen were on, and he wasn't being especially quiet. She probably had seen him walking around the apartment. Before he had a chance to reconsider, he turned the handle and pulled the door open. She was standing right there before him looking as she had when she had left the newsroom that morning: same clothes, same expression, same maniacal look in her eyes, but she was holding a large, brown, paper bag that carried the strong smell of Chinese food. "Lois?" He paused for a second wondering if he dared ask the obvious question. Did he really want to know the answer, to have his suspicions confirmed? Probably not, but he asked anyway, for lack of anything else to say. "What are you doing here?" "Oh, I brought you dinner." She shrugged and then pushed by him to get into the apartment, and stomped into the kitchen. "Come in," he said softly after she had already brushed by him and was well into the apartment. He shrugged, knowing he couldn't stop Lois when she had her mind set on something. He had to ask the other obvious question, although he could probably guess the answer. "Why did you bring me dinner?" He gazed warily at the large bag and asked, "It *is* dinner, isn't it?" It wasn't all that unusual to find Lois standing at his door unannounced, but it was a bit unusual for her to be there bearing food after they'd had such a horrible fight. "It isn't poisoned," he asked in a voice too soft for her to hear. "Yes, silly. Of course it's dinner." She shook her head slowly, deliberately. " What did you think it was, poison?" She laughed softly. "Anyway, I wanted to apologize," she said contritely as she proceeded to take different cartons of Chinese food out of the bag, "for the way I acted this morning. It was completely uncalled for." Clark's breath caught in his chest, and he stared at her slack- jawed, unable to speak. It seemed impossible. Lois Lane had come to his apartment, bearing food of all things, intending to apologize to him? Was he hallucinating? She was *sorry*? "Really?" he asked, voice laced with doubt. There had to be an ulterior motive somewhere in her mind. Lois Lane was never nice like this without a reason, and he had a good idea what she was after this time. She smiled at him coquettishly from the kitchen. "Well, and I was also wondering how your story was going, and if you needed any, you know, help." Finally. Her true motive. He'd known it was coming, but he had fallen for it. Almost. She was cunning, conniving, and brilliant. He groaned, "Lois! I told you I don't need any help. Really. I don't need your help." If that sounded as convincing as he thought it did, he would never be able to get rid of her. She had to sense the fact that the story was driving him crazy. He was such a bad liar! She put the carton she had been holding down onto the counter and took a few steps towards him. "Clark, I know you can handle it on your own. You're a great writer, and I'm sure you'll write a great story, but I wanted to see if you needed any help, any help at all. I'm not here to take over." She put her hand on his arm and smiled at him. He looked at her hand, then into her eyes, and he wasn't convinced. Skeptically, he said, "Why don't I believe you?" She looked down at the ground and then back up into his eyes. "You don't have any reason to believe me," she said softly and shrugged. Clark took a deep breath. She sounded almost genuinely sincere. Either she was serious or she was an incredible actress. At this point, he was sort of leaning towards amazing dramatic thespian. These couldn't be her true feelings. To her, he was a stupid no- talent hick from a small town in a state she hated. To her, he would never be a great writer; he would never be able to write a good story on his own. If the story was this important to her, he'd give it to her in a second. "Clark Kent, has anyone ever told you what beautiful eyes you have?" She batted her eyelashes at him and squeezed his arm again. "What?" he said instantly. Was she flirting with him? Seriously? She had to be trying to brainwash him! Step one, bring him dinner. Check. Step two, compliment him. Check. Step three, steal his story. It was brilliant. No, she was brilliant. And beautiful. Those eyes. That face. That body. That voice. She had to know exactly what she was doing to him. She was so sexy with an aura that radiated around her and sucked him in. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and right now he was willing to do anything she asked of him. She had to be enjoying every second of this. All he wanted to do was gather her in his arms and kiss her senseless. He knew exactly what she was doing, yet it was still so hard to resist! He loved her, and a small part of him hoped, prayed, begged that she loved him back in some little way. She would never love him the way he loved her. To her, he would always be her professional rival, her sometimes partner, and her occasional friend. She probably didn't even realize the depth of his feelings for her. Lois Lane was the first woman to ever sweep him off his feet. Lois didn't return those feelings. Oh, she did, but for Superman, not regular old farmboy Clark Kent. The look he saw in her eyes was genuine when she was with Superman. A part of himself questioned how she could feel one way towards one part of his life, but a completely different way to the man he wanted to be. He didn't want to deal with that question right now. It was hard enough without even bringing the dreaded S-word into the equation. Her hand moved up his arm, and she squeezed his bicep appreciatively, softly moaning, "I never realized his good you feel." Clark sighed. "Thank you," he responded weakly, for lack of anything else to say. Lois deserved an Oscar or an Emmy -- some kind of award. She was so good at this game, although she had never gone this far before. On several occasions, she had stooped to shameless flirting to get a story before, but always from a source, never to take a story away from another reporter. She took a step closer and put a hand on his other shoulder. He shuddered at the feel of her warm breath on his skin. Torture. How he longed to take her into his arms and hold her for eternity. He shivered involuntarily as her other hand lightly brushed against his chest, finally resting on his other shoulder. It was all he could do not to lose it completely when she pressed her body against his and stared up into his eyes with a passion he had never seen. His breath quickened, and his entire body aroused to her touch. No one would normally act this way for a story. Not even Lois. It wasn't even like the dockworkers' strike was huge news. Could Lois be trying to prove a point with him? But what kind of point could it be? That she would get the story from him in any way possible? That wasn't like Lois. Even though she hated admitting defeat, she would never stoop to this level. Her sense of professionalism would win out in the end. "What are you doing, Lois?" He wanted to say something mean to her, but he couldn't make the words come out of his mouth; he couldn't believe this was all about his story. She blinked, drawing her eyes away from his, and looked at the position of her two hands. Momentarily appearing confused, she said, "Oh, um, apologizing." "Apologizing?" His jaw practically dropped in shock. "Really?" "Really, Clark," she said sweetly, and brushed a hand against his cheek. "I feel bad about what I did this morning, so I brought dinner as a peace offering." She shrugged and said, "Didn't I tell you this already?" Clark's heart pounded, excited about the feel of her hands on his body, but scared of what it meant. He had so many questions, but he didn't want to ask for fear the mood being broken. The only words that came to his mouth were, "What did you bring for dinner?" Luckily, those simple words caused her hands to drop from his shoulders as she turned back to the kitchen. She answered him as she began spooning various foods onto two plates. "Your favorites. Moo goo gai pan, sweet and sour pork, chicken fried rice . . ." She kept naming the various boxes of his and her favorite Chinese foods, and Clark followed her into the kitchen, still staring at her and shaking his head in shock. He couldn't believe all she wanted was an innocent dinner. He interrupted, "You're really here for dinner?" Lois turned her head up with an expression of innocence. When her eyes met his, she said, "Well, yeah." A little hint of doubt crept into her voice. "And maybe a movie? If you'll have me." Maybe he was taking this too seriously. What if she really was trying to apologize? It wasn't like it had ever happened before, so he had no frame of reference. He smiled at her as a gesture of peace. "Okay," he said softly, and grabbed two plates from the cabinet to help her serve dinner. If she was going to be nice to him, he had better enjoy it while it lasted. ********** "You're lying," she said resolutely. "I would *never* act like that for a story. It sounds more like one of your crazy fantasies." She ran a hand through her hair agitatedly. "I know," Clark said quickly. "That's why I was so confused. And you can believe whatever you want. I am telling the truth, Lois. You don't have to believe me, but I knew you wouldn't act like that for a story, so that's why I was so taken aback." "But really, I brought you dinner? And I *served* it to you?" "I told you, Lois. You completely threw me for a loop. I had no idea what to do." He took a deep breath and watched the expressions on Lois's face. She didn't believe him, and made no secret of that fact. Well, if she didn't believe him now, she would never believe the rest of what happened. He was starting to wonder if he was imagining it himself. "So I helped you serve dinner and we sat down to eat." "Okay," she said softly. "Clark, I wouldn't have done that." She shook her head. "I couldn't have done that." "I know! That's why I thought something was wrong! I *do* know you, and that's why I was so scared. I knew you wouldn't seduce me like that for a story." "Yet you're telling me I did." She ran a nervous hand through her hair. "No, I'm not saying that." He took another deep breath before he continued. "That's why I was so reluctant to believe what you told me last night." "What do you mean?" "I reluctantly agreed to eat the dinner you brought, but I was wary the entire time. I wasn't sure what you were up to, and I didn't want you to take advantage of *me*." "How could I take advantage of you? You're Superman." She stood there emotionless, eyes fixed with his. Her words felt like daggers through his heart. Yes, he was Superman, but he was still a man. He could overpower anyone physically, but emotionally, he was as vulnerable as any man, and right now, his heart was breaking. Lois's words were more painful than any kryptonite exposure. He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The pressure was building up, making his head feel like it was going to explode. He was too trusting, too accepting. Too stupid. "You knew how much I loved you, how I would do anything for you. I thought you would use that to your advantage to get something, anything, from me. You know I'd do anything for you." He took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "Chinese food?" she said, changing the subject stupidly, purposefully ignoring everything he had said. His words hurt her too badly. Love. Yeah right. Without saying a word, Clark walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. On the top shelf, there were five white cartons with Chinese characters written on them. Chinese food. "Oh," she said softly. He tried to get the conversation back on track. "Lois, I didn't want to believe you were there to seduce me for the story." "I don't believe it either," she repeated for what seemed like the fifth time. He shrugged, unsure of how to continue. She obviously didn't believe him now, and probably never would. "So why don't you tell me what happened next? We sat down to eat, and," she trailed off, coaxing him to continue. Clark looked at her, surprised she actually wanted to hear more. "Well, the food was really good, so we ate almost in complete silence." He looked at her, unsure if he should tell her what had happened the rest of the night. "And as we ate, you sort of, um, played footsie with me." "I WHAT?" He knew she wouldn't believe it. "Somehow, as we were eating, you had slipped both of your shoes off and . . ." ********** "Lois! What are you doing?" Clark jumped almost out of his chair. That was her foot. Against his ankle! He dropped his chopsticks and let the piece of chicken that had been nearly in his mouth drop onto the plate. She looked up at him with an innocence he had never seen. Yet she wasn't innocent at all. A piece of sweet and sour pork dangled from her chopsticks and she slowly licked her lips before the piece of meat entered her waiting mouth. Clark shivered involuntarily. God, why was she doing this to him? She slowly chewed her food, obviously ignoring his question, and made a show of deliberately licking away a tiny drop of sauce from the corner of her lip. "Lois," he breathed. "What are you doing?" He wasn't sure if the words made it out of his mouth. His heart beat erratically, and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. It was like she was begging him to kiss her, hoping he would take that small bit of sauce from her lips. Did he dare? Her foot slowly traveled up his leg and at last rested between his thighs. Clark pushed his chair back and stood up. This was getting way too personal. What did she want from him? If she didn't want his story, maybe she wanted him. Through rough, dry lips, Clark managed to croak, "Really, Lois, what are you doing?" Besides torturing him. She blinked quickly as if to think about what he had asked her. When she closed her eyes, Clark couldn't help but stare at her long, luscious eyelashes. Was he wrong? Could she be seducing him? Everything she was doing seemed so deliberate. "What do you mean? What am I doing?" She stood up and took a few steps towards him. He couldn't bring himself to take another step back, so she reached out a hand, and slowly teased his shirt and worked her hand down his chest. Their eyes met, and she grinned coquettishly. "This?" she purred. Clark gulped audibly. "Yes," he managed to whisper. He was overcome by the intense desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Her pouty lips were so moist, so inviting; he wanted to taste them so badly, if only for a split second. He took a step away from her, trying to clear his mind. Thinking was impossible when her hands were touching him. Her deliberate motions drove him crazy when she let her hands softly trail against his shoulders and chest . . . She frowned in protest when he stepped away. "Clark, what are you doing? Can't you see I'm trying to seduce you?" He did a double take. "What?" "Seduce you. Now get back here so I can do it properly." She took a step towards him, and he stepped back again. "Wha-wha- why?" he sputtered. Here was the woman of his dreams standing before him, telling him that she was trying to seduce him. And he had the audacity to question her motives. She blinked, and stared into his eyes. "Because I realized today . . ." When she trailed off, Clark jumped in, "Realized what?" The tension was killing him. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile, and he knew she was enjoying every moment. She averted her eyes and looked at the ground before she said, "That I think you are the most handsome, most generous, most wonderful man I know." She took a deep breath and continued, "And I think you feel the same way about me." "How? How did that happen?" She had thrown herself at Superman, but she had never come on to him this obviously. It was him, Clark, not him, Superman, who Lois was throwing herself at now. "Are you saying you *don't* feel the same way about me?" Her shoulders visibly sunk. He had hurt her. "No, no, of course I feel the same way." He took a deep breath, almost knowing he would regret what he was about to tell her. "Lois, I've loved you since the moment I saw you when you came into Perry's office during my interview." Had he just made the biggest mistake of his life? She smiled slightly. "I love you, too, Clark." "You love me?" He wanted to do barrel rolls in the sky. "How did you? When did you? Why?" Lois shrugged. "I have no idea. I think it was something that had built up for so long; I guess it finally hit a crescendo and exploded in my heart finally letting me see my true feelings." "What about Superman?" Superman. He always had to bring up Superman. Why couldn't he enjoy the knowledge that Lois loved him even for a second? Lois shook her head. "Superman who? It's *you* I want. Clark. My friend. My partner." She reached out to touch him again. Clark took another step back. He was great until she said 'partner'. He probably would regret it for the rest of his life, but he said, "Go home, Lois." She put both hands on his chest and moved her face so close he could feel her hot breath against his skin. Her lower lip jutted out into a sassy pout, and she whispered, "You don't really want me to go, do you?" He shivered when he felt her warm breath against his cheek. God, he wished he could tell her to stay. He wanted her so badly. "Clark," she whispered into his ear. "Lois," he answered in a voice so soft, he couldn't believe Lois could hear it. Their lips were lips mere millimeters apart. He ached to feel her lips against his. "You don't really want me to leave, do you?" she repeated. He shook his head slowly, deliberately. What he really wanted to do was kiss her. Why couldn't she love him? It was what he had wanted for oh so long, needed oh so badly. For once in his life, he had to forget his inhibitions, to let his instincts take over. Lois had told him she loved him, and he had told her how much he loved her. They should raise the roof in celebration. He shouldn't have to question her every motive. They were two people in love. He was filled with a sense of euphoria, unbridled by anything he had ever experienced. "I love you, Lois," he whispered. "I've always loved you." Lois's lips turned into a grin as she whispered, "I love you, too." She licked her lips quickly and inched ever closer to him. He closed his eyes and waited for her lips to gently touch his. She tilted her head, and brushed her nose against his before her lips softly brushed against his. After pulling back slightly, she ran her lips against his again, this time letting them linger even longer. A jolt of electricity soared through his body as he surrendered to the feel of her soft lips against his, to the pure torture created by friction between their lips. He wanted to kiss her harder, more completely. These intensely wonderful tiny kisses weren't enough. He wrapped his arms around her back, allowing one hand to tangle in her long, silky hair as his other hand ran its way up and down her back. Clark's head swirled when he felt her cool hand against his stomach. Today, he wasn't wearing the Suit. He had taken it off, planning to be at home anyway and could change at a moment's notice. Sometimes having a secret identity sucked. He would have to tell her the truth about Superman eventually. He'd do it in the morning, or later this week, or sometime next year. No, he would do it in the morning. All he wanted to do was revel in the feel of her sweet kiss and soft touch. He never wanted their lips to break, and hoped this moment would last forever. Tonight, he would forget about Superman all together. Just for one night, he wanted to be normal. Right here, right now, he was Clark Kent. And he wanted Lois Lane. He let his mind focus only on the physical sensations of the kiss, ignoring everything else in the world. This was their first real kiss as two people in love, and he wanted to savor it. The pleasurable friction of their lips melding together and the shocks sent through his body when she brushed her nose against his were the most amazing feeling in the world. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. Before he knew it, Lois had worked her hand completely under his shirt and was exploring his stomach. He shivered involuntarily, still not sure how he would be able to cope with all of the new sensations she was giving him. She pulled away and whispered, "I love you, Clark." He moaned slightly at the feeling of abandonment when he no longer felt the pressure of her lips against his. Instead of kissing him again, she reached up and caressed his cheek, saying, "I can't believe I never knew." "Knew?" "How right this would feel. How much I've been missing. How much I love you." "This *does* feel right, Lois. So right." He pulled her hand to his mouth and planted a series of soft kisses on each of her fingers. "I love you, too." He let go of her hand and leaned down to kiss her again, missing the feeling of her lips against his. He wanted to suck her lips until they could no longer breathe. It had taken so long for them to finally admit their feelings for one another; he wasn't going to miss another second! He laced his hands through her long, silky hair and again lost himself in their kiss. He needed to sit down. She was so intoxicating. Her kisses. Her caresses. It was amazing. He was the strongest man in the world, yet one touch from Lois Lane could transform him into a weak puddle of goo. He melted at the feel of her body against his. He was powerless in her presence. She shivered slightly, and Clark said, "Are you okay?" "I'd be even more okay if you were closer to me," she whispered. She reached up and put a hand behind his head, gently guiding him towards her mouth to kiss her again. "Clark, I need you," she whispered against his cheek. "I need you so badly." "Oh, Lois, I need you, too." "Let's take this to the bedroom." He swept her into his arms and took the few steps into his room. He wanted her. He needed her. He let his lips capture hers again before he set her down on the bed. When their kiss broke, Lois whispered, "I love you, Clark." He grinned at her, saying, "I love you, too." Then he softly put her down on the bed, ready for anything that would happen. She put her hand on his shirt, and pulled him down on top of her, and then moved her hand to the waistband of his pants. He put his hand on hers, halting her motions. "Oh god, Lois. Wait." She ignored him completely, and continued to work her hands around the top button of his jeans. "Wait, Lois, there's something I have to tell you." He sat up slightly and put his hand on top of hers. She looked up at him quizzically, not moving her hand from his pants. "What is it, Clark," she whispered. "I'm, I'm . . . Oh god, Lois." This was so hard to say. "I'm . . . a . . . virgin." "A what?" She abruptly pulled her hand away from his pants and jumped back slightly. He felt his cheeks reddening. Of course she didn't believe him. How many twenty-seven year old men were virgins? "A virgin," he repeated, almost silently. Her shocked expression turned into a wide, diabolical grin as she said, "Well, we're just going to have to change that, now aren't we?" ********** "What?" Lois exclaimed animatedly. "You told me what?" That was the last straw. She couldn't listen to this insanity any more. Clark Kent sure was a great story teller. Too bad she didn't believe a single word he said. Lies. All lies from a world-class liar. He was a virgin? Yeah right. Impossible. Okay, maybe not completely impossible. There were some men his age who kept their sacred virginity. Yeah, like priests and monks and really nerdy guys who went to engineering schools in the Midwest and were afraid of girls. Not men like Clark. "I am . . . was . . . a virgin," he said softly. "Last night was my first time." It had seemed like the right choice to lose his virginity last night, but now he was beginning to wish i thadneverhappened. "And you expect me to believe that?" "It was my first time," he repeated. "And it was amazing." It had been the best night of his life. The woman he had loved with all his heart for so long had finally admitted she returned that love. She was the one woman he had been willing to love. For almost thirty years, he had waited for her. It had been too good to be true. He whispered, "I can't believe you don't remember." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Please remember." Lois sighed. She wished she could remember. Even if she had come to him, she still had a major problem with everything he had told her. "How could you sleep with me without telling me about yourself?" "About myself?" He had a feeling he knew exactly what she meant, but he wanted to delay the inevitable conflict. "That you are Superman." She angrily spat the name, her voice filled with absolute contempt. He was a vile, superpowered rodent liar. He gasped at the shear anger in her voice. "It was a mistake. I was wrong. You're right. I never should have done anything with you before you knew the truth about me." She narrowed her eyes in anger. How dare he play Mr. Innocent! He had told her the biggest lie in the entire world. In fact, he had a history of lying. She had known him for HOW long as two separate people? He had a secret identity for god's sake! "Damn right." "I admit, I was a fool not to tell you about my being Superman before we made love, but . . ." He trailed off, not exactly wanting to complete his sentence. "But what?" she demanded. "You said . . ." ********** "Take off your glasses," she whispered. His heart raced. "My glasses?" "Take them off. I want to look into your eyes." Without a second thought, Clark removed his glasses and set them on the nightstand, happy to do anything his lover asked. He knew the consequences of removing his disguise. Without his glasses, Lois was sure to see that he was Superman, but that didn't matter. He had to tell her the truth about himself before anything else happened. Lois smiled widely. "I don't think I've ever seen you without those before." He shook his head. "No, you haven't," he said through gritted teeth. "Has anyone every told you how much you look like Superman?" she whispered, as she brought her head up until her lips were just inches away from his. "Lois, I have to tell you . . ." He trailed off, forgetting what he was going to say entirely, as her lips captured his again. She pulled away for a second, and said, "Every woman in love thinks her man looks like Superman." He pulled away from her kiss, and whispered, "I am Superman." Their bodies melded together as one, and his mind went almost completely blank. The only thing he could think was that this feeling was better than anything he had ever imagined ********** "Lois," Clark breathed, "I hadn't planned to go all the way. It happened. You were on top of me, and the passion took over. I don't know how I ended up inside you, but I did. And it was amazing." "Oh my god," was all she could say. He ran a hand through his hair before he continued, "You came to my house, practically undressed me yourself, and then we made the most incredible love." "Didn't you realize I wasn't myself?" He took a deep breath, the pain growing in his heart. "I thought you had finally fallen for me, like I'd hoped and prayed you would for so long. I've been in love with you from the first moment I saw you. You have no idea what it felt like to have to say those words to me." She shook her head, unable to listen to anything more he had to say. Men. God, she certainly knew how to pick them. For someone so smart, she certainly had a horrible track record. They were all after one thing. Sex. She'd thought Clark Kent was different. And he had the audacity to call what they had done 'making love'. Lois had never 'made love'. Everything including last night had been pure, raw sex where the man wasn't emotionally involved, and she was incredibly emotionally involved. This time, it was different. Both Clark and Superman had been the only men in the world she had trusted implicitly. But they he had done something unthinkable. Not only had the two men she had trusted turned out to be one horribly deceitful scumbag, but he certainly wasn't the safe, purely good man she had envisioned. She hadn't been herself or in control of any of her decisions. And he had taken advantage of her. "Clark, you don't understand. I wasn't myself. I didn't consent. You *knew* what you did was wrong, yet you still did it." He put his hand on top of hers and said, "Lois, you *did* consent. You came on to me. You invited me into the bedroom. You made love with me . . ." She pulled her hand away and began pacing around the room, her dismay growing with each step. "Stop saying 'made love'. We didn't make love, Clark. You had hot, wild sex with a drunk or drugged android." The words didn't sound right coming out of her mouth, but she couldn't stop herself. She took a deep breath and said, "You raped me." "I what? How?" "You raped me. You took advantage of me when I was in a compromised state." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Lois, you seduced me!" "Define seduction. I didn't know what I was doing." He threw his hands up into the air. "Lois, you were the aggressor." She stopped in front of him and said, "I wasn't myself." He took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. "Lois, how could I know you weren't yourself? I'm not a mind reader." She squinted her eyes at him angrily. "How do I know that, Superman." "Believe me, I'm not. Lois, you came to my house, fed me, and came on to me. Other than that, you seemed normal. I didn't notice anything wrong. I thought this was what you wanted." She threw her hands up into the air. "How could I have wanted this, liar?" she hissed. "Maybe you should go," he whispered, voice shaking too much to speak any louder. He was so hurt and so angry at the same time. How dare Lois say those things about him. "You aren't going to follow me?" She stood up and took a few steps towards the door. He shook his head, unable to say anything to challenge her. When she was finally at the door, he said, "You really don't remember anything?" "Nothing," she said as she walked out the door, out of his life forever. His life was ruined. The love of his life had accused him of an unspeakable crime, and now he had no idea what to do. He knew he hadn't raped her, but he had no idea how to tell her that . . . and have her believe him. Maybe he hadn't noticed any of the signs. What if he had been so enraptured by the thought that she finally loved him that he had ignored the fact that she had seemed different? What if he really had misread her signals? It had seemed like she had wanted him just as much as he had wanted her. If he had done what she'd said he had, he should be locked away for years. And Superman was dead. He had no right to claim to be the world's hero. What he had thought was so right, so meant to be, had turned out to be a horrible mistake. ********** She was free. Lois took a breath of fresh air, her lungs no longer constricted by fear, but her mind racing uncontrollably. That was a bit melodramatic. If she really though about it, Clark hadn't been keeping her prisoner exactly. He had seemed willing to let her go. She tried to listen to his story with a dispassionate ear, but he had struck a cord with her. At points it had seemed like he had been imagining a horrific story, but at other times it had seemed like he was almost telling the truth. As long as she had known both Clark and Superman, he had never lied to her. Well, other than the biggest lie in the world. Once a liar, always a liar. She couldn't believe he hadn't told her he was Superman before he had slept with her. What kind of louse was he? Plus, she didn't believe that Clark or especially Superman was a virgin! He was a good liar, but with this one, he had gone too far over the top. She couldn't believe she wasn't more upset that he had been lying to her almost since the moment he met her. What she was upset about, actually, was the fact that he had thought she had come over to his apartment and practically begged for sex! Like she would *ever* beg for sex with *anyone*. Even if he thought she would instantly sleep with Superman if he had merely offered, he was sorely mistaken. The reason she had fallen so hard for the superhero was that he was someone she could never have. If he would have returned the same interest, she would have probably ran and hid. Her past relationships had been such disasters that she guarded herself very closely. Not even Superman could have penetrated her fortress of solitude. The slightly chilly breeze brushed against her face, and she shivered involuntarily. She picked up her pace and almost jogged the few blocks home. She believed at least part of his story. He probably hadn't been the one who had drugged her. That didn't fit with what she knew of both Clark and Superman. It seemed against his character for him to turn so evil so quickly. However, he had to have known she wasn't herself, and that was still rape. He knew her better than that. She would never come to his apartment with dinner in exchange for sex! He didn't find that a little odd? She hadn't been in any state of mind to consent. Therefore, he had forced himself on her. It didn't matter if she seemed like she was asking for it. Rape was a power issue, and maybe he had wanted to prove that he wasn't the sissy she was always walking all over. After all, yesterday morning hadn't been fun for him. She had told him repeatedly that he was a sub-par reporter, and that he was more worthy of a stupid story about bugs than real hard news. He probably wanted to prove something to her. And what better way to show her that he could dominate her in at least one area of life. But again that didn't seem like the Clark or the Superman she had known. Now that her head was clear, she could really focus on what had really happened. It would help if she could remember anything from yesterday at all. She also couldn't let Clark's story influence her memories. This she needed to remember on her own. She approached her apartment quickly, and was overcome with an urge to run inside and take a shower to get all of the dirty, disgusting feelings off her body. Her eyes drifted down to the paper resting on the doormat. Aah, comfort. The "Daily Planet". At last something familiar. She picked it up without looking at it, and she began turning each of the locks sequentially, and the door swung open. Home. After a hot shower and a change of clothes, and a strong cup of coffee, maybe she would be able to think. She entered her living room, and tossed the paper down on the couch unable to look at it yet. Her eyes drifted to her coffee table which was covered by a stack of papers. Notes from an interview with Gale Jensen at the PCD. For the fruit fly story. . She tossed the papers down onto the table and leaned back on the couch. The tension that had built up behind her eyes was almost unbearable, and her headache from before hadn't really dissipated. It wouldn't go away until she figured out this whole mess. When she leaned back on the couch to put her head down for a moment, she felt the paper under her head. She pulled it out and looked at it. Her jaw dropped in shock. "What the hell?" On the 'Daily Planet' logo, all of the a's and o's had been turned into bright red hearts! Even worse, there were little cupids down either side of the front page, and the leading story was titled, 'Love Wins Out!' "What!" She shook her head slowly. "Is this a joke?" Even worse, was this actually the real 'Daily Planet'? Lois quickly grabbed the phone and dialed her editor's office. After three rings, Perry's gruff voice came over the line. He breathlessly said, "Talk to me, I'm your hunk-a hunk-a burnin' love." "What?" she exclaimed. "Perry, it's Lois. I saw the morning edition, and . . ." "Wonderful, isn't it. Olsen designed the new logo and the graphics people made those cute little cupids. And Ralph turned in a masterpiece of a leading story!" "What! You led with a story about a couple who had been reunited after fifty years apart? By Ralph?" "Rahelia!" the editor exclaimed, and the phone went dead before Lois could do anything. "Perry, Perry, are you there?" When her only answer was a dial tone, Lois sighed and hung up the phone. Something was going on in the newsroom, and needed to find out what it was. As much as her head still hurt, she knew she needed to get in to work as soon as possible to figure this out. But first she needed to shower and get dressed. She still felt so dirty after everything that had happened. She stood up, ready to take her shower, her eyes rested on her blinking answering machine. With great trepidation, she pressed the button and Lex Luthor's voice filled her room. Oh god, she'd completely forgotten about him! "Lois, darling, I'm calling to confirm our dinner reservations for tomorrow night." Then the machine had continued to record after she had picked up the phone. "Lex!" she heard herself exclaim. "Just the person I wanted to talk to. I was about to call you." "Oh really?" he drawled, sounding very proud of himself. "I can't have dinner with you tomorrow night." "Oh," he said, his voice tinted with surprise. "Might I ask why?" "You see, I can't have dinner with you because my heart belongs to someone else." "Someone else?" "Clark Kent." "Kent?" he hissed, irritation evident in his voice. Seemingly oblivious to his displeasure, she continued, "There is only one man in the world for me. I am completely, utterly, undeniably in love with Clark Kent." "Kent?" he hissed again, his obvious displeasure growing. "I want to spend the rest of my life with him, so I'm really sorry, but I can't have dinner with you any more. That would be like cheating on Clark." "Kent." "Exactly, Clark Kent, my love, my lover, my dreamboat." She paused for a second before she continued, "Good bye Lex. I'm sorry. The heart works in mysterious ways." Before Lex could respond, the answering machine cut off. Lois felt her cheeks redden and her jaw drop considerably. She had broken up with Lex Luthor and had told him that she was in love with Clark? God, she had sounded so brazen, so inconsiderate, so completely set on the fact that Clark Kent was her dream lover. No wonder Lex had sounded so taken aback! It was like she had lost all of her manners, and her every sense of common courtesy! She closed her eyes and ran her hands through her long hair in frustration. How on Earth had this happened? When she opened her eyes, she inadvertently glanced down at the notes scattered on the table. "Oh my god," she found herself whispering. On the top page of notes, she saw doodles in her own handwriting, large hearts with arrows through them reading 'LL + CK 4-ever!' and 'Lois Loves Clark!' and, even worse, 'Lois Lane Kent'. What had come over her? It was like she had been possessed by a completely different person for the last day! It looked like everyone she knew was possessed by the same psychopath. What if Clark had been telling the truth? ********** Clark closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep to forget about what had happened in the last twelve hours. Most of it had been the most wonderful time of his life. But then it had all gone to hell as quickly and as unexpectedly as it had begun last night. Rape. Superman. Lois. Rape. Didn't she know he would never do anything like that? What if she had gone to the police after she had left his apartment? Why hadn't he followed her? What if she had told someone about him? Was his world about to come crashing down around him? If she didn't remember anything that had happened yesterday or acknowledge that his version of the story had been true, how could he blame her for at least some of the assumptions she had made? Logically, they worked, but if she examined her logic, she would see that it was ludicrous. Clark floated a few inches up from his couch, and sighed deeply. How had he gotten into this situation? He had made the mistake of loving Lois Lane and letting those feelings become all- consuming. He hadn't questioned her enough. He hadn't doubted his own emotions. Regardless of what he had done wrong, the only thing that was important was that he hadn't raped her. She had been a more than willing participant. He rolled over in the air and covered his head with his hands. How had it come to this? Even though she had accused him of a heinous crime, he was still cursed to love her. It was completely irrational, but there was that undeniable force pulling him to her, no matter how badly she treated him. At this moment he didn't really like her, and he couldn't respect her skills as an investigative journalist here; she hadn't looked at any of the facts objectively. Yet he couldn't hate her, as hard as he tried. And oh, he had tried. He wasn't a masochist. He crashed down onto the couch and put his head in his hands, fighting the urge to scream in frustration. Why had he been cursed to love Lois Lane? Why was he such a spineless fool? He loved her even though she hated him with an unrivaled passion. That love was unconditional and never-ending. Why did he want her so badly when she kept treating him so horribly? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force himself to stop loving her. She had called him stupid, a hick, a sub par reporter, and far worse on a daily basis ever since the day he'd met her. Although she had a tendency to be somewhat controlling at times, and often had unfair double standards, he knew it was a defense mechanism. Deep down, she was loyal, supportive, and, dare he say, loving. On those rare instances when she let her guard slip, she let him know that she cared for him, too, even if only for a moment. In her life, she had been hurt so often and so deeply. She found it hard to open her heart to anyone. He knew that she knew the pain he had felt all his life so intimately. They were kindred spirits, alone in the world, destined for each other. From the moment he first seen her, he had *known* that she was the woman he was meant to love. But now he wasn't sure. Maybe he had been horribly wrong thinking she could love him. Maybe he really was a masochist. Nothing in the world could hurt him except Kryptonite and Lois Lane. He was insane. However, maybe he was in the wrong, too. He had known how much other men in her life had hurt her. And he had gone and done the same thing. In fact, his own crime might have been far worse than anyone else's. Deception. He had portrayed himself as someone she could trust someone who would never hurt her. But he had done that as two separate people. He had convinced her he was both Clark and Superman and he had let that go on far too long. But it had been so complicated. He had always known that he *needed* to tell her, but he had never been exactly sure *when* to tell her the truth about himself. He kept putting it off until it was too late. Now he had to face the consequences. Oh god, it kept getting more complicated by the second. He had no idea how to get everything back to normal. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar numbers and waited as it rang. ********** "Come on," Lois grunted. "Why can't I remember?" She put her head in her hands, desperately trying to make the memories spool back into place. God, she needed to know what had happened yesterday. Almost more importantly, she needed to find out what had caused her to lose her memory of an entire day. Although she had initially suspected Clark of getting her drunk to have his way with her, as soon as she was able to think clearly she had realized that she had been wrong. He couldn't do something so horrible; he didn't have the capacity. He had been her friend, and even though he had lied to her since the moment she had met him, she couldn't believe he was a serial rapist with a stock of Kryptonian magical rape drugs. Something had made her fall madly in love with Clark, though. There was enough evidence of that in the doodles she had made on her notes. Maybe it had something to do with whatever was happening in the newsroom. But why would she have recovered and they still seem to be crazy? It all started with remembering what had happened last night. Yes, she needed to figure out what was happening at work, but she really needed to remember what she had done last night. Forcing her memory was never going to work. Believing Clark's version of last night wouldn't work either. After all, she couldn't deal with the fact that she might never remember. It wasn't going to happen. She was going to fight this. Okay, she needed to start off slowly. She couldn't push herself. So what did she remember? All the signs point to the fact that she had been to the PCD. Plus, at some point yesterday after the pest control division, but before she had ended up at Clark's she had broken up with Lex Luthor. God, Lex Luthor. Now he confused things even more. She needed to forget about him for a minute. He wasn't that important. It wasn't even the fact that she had broken up with Lex. Strangely, that didn't even matter to her. She didn't really like him sure it was flattering to have the third richest man in the world for a boyfriend, but he was a slimy jerk when she really thought about it. Something was a little weird about him. No, that wasn't the point. Lex Luthor was insignificant. She needed to focus. Now that her head wasn't pounding quite as badly and she was no longer hearing the drum line of the Metro State Marching Band in her ears, she had better concentrate. "Clark," she whispered. "Superman." Saying the two names together didn't make it seem any more real. Clark Kent was Superman. Superman was Clark Kent. Dwelling on that point didn't make her remember anything about yesterday. Yes, he was Superman. Yes, he had lied to her. Yes, she had slept with him. "Clark," she whispered, as tears began to fall down her cheeks, melding with the hot water from the shower. "How did you let this happen? How did I let it happen?" She closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall and let the hot, soothing water run down her body. She remembered waking up next to him, scared of what they had done. She remembered admiring his muscular shoulders and well-sculpted body. She remembered looking into his eyes and wanting to kiss him senseless. She was alone, and more importantly she was safe. Her door and windows were locked, and no one, except maybe Superman could get in. Superman. That brought her back to Clark. "Clark," she whispered. "How could you do this to me? I trusted you." Water trickled down her body down her face, dripping onto her shoulders, down her chest, stomach, and legs; a shiver raced through her body as the water droplets followed a path Clark's fingers had last night. Déjà vu. Pleasure, a feeling she'd never thought she'd experience again. She remembered. It was almost like she felt. They were real. His warm kisses. His lips softly pressing against her skin. The soft trails of kisses on her lips and face. God, his lips were so soft, had felt so good against hers. She remembered tasting a small hint of fried rice when their lips had come together as one. Fried rice. Chinese food. Clark hadn't lied to her about having Chinese food last night. But that wasn't the only sobering revelation. She had *wanted* to kiss Clark Kent. Wanted it desperately! She had enjoyed his kisses. The soapy water trailed a winding path along her body, and she realized that she could almost feel his lips against her skin. And she had liked it. Pleasure. Intense desire. She had wanted it, needed it, loved it. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she tried to remember. His lips. His kisses. His tongue. She remembered, oh so vividly . . . ********** Their lips melded together; and their hands explored areas never before privileged to touch, evoking and experiencing pleasurable sensations neither had even imagined. She had never expected Clark Kent to be such a good kisser. Running her hand up and down his back, she marveled at the well- defined muscles that lay beneath his thin t-shirt. Clark sure hid his physique well! Wow! Those were some hard muscles. She slipped her hand under his shirt's hem, reveling at the feel of his smooth skin under her fingers. At the same time, she shivered when his hands brushed against her sides, and she moaned slightly against his kiss. "Don't stop," she whispered against his lips. She wanted him so badly. No, she *needed* him. It had been a long time since she had been with a man. Too long. She couldn't remember the last time. Maybe it had been with Claude? Claude. God, he was someone she never wanted to think of again. That experience had made her so guarded, so closed off around men especially men she liked. She'd given herself to him fully, but all she'd gotten in return was a stolen story she had worked so hard for. But, no. Clark wasn't Claude. She couldn't compare the two. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them, she finally saw Clark for what he truly