The Wedding

By Female Hawk <hawka3@yahoo.com.au>

Rated PG-13

Submitted June 2014

Summary: When Lois is invited to the wedding of a college
acquaintance, she is expecting an ordeal of romantic mawkishness.
Instead, she meets the man who changes everything she believes
about love.

Thank you to IolantheAlias, Lynn S.M. and Vicki for their betaing
contributions. Also thanks to GooBoo for editing.

***

Part 1

"All finished?" Perry White asked as his star reporter marched
into his office. He'd heard her footsteps approach his door, and
their clipped nature had alerted him to the fact that she was far
from happy.

Lois Lane slumped into his guest chair. "Yep," she replied. "I
just sent the story to you. It's all there. Quotes. Supporting
evidence. Specific details about how the Senator was skimming a
private slush fund from public monies, how he tried to hide his
trail, how he blackmailed two of his assistants to secure their
silence, a history of his gambling addiction, and a list of
associates I can prove were up to their ears in his shady
deals."

Perry gave her his brightest smile. "Lois," he said with
heartfelt admiration and more than a dash of gratitude. "You're
a gem."

"Thanks, Perry," she said glumly.

"You got the story," he exclaimed. "It will be all over the
front page tomorrow -- an exclusive, no less. Every other paper
in the country will be chasing the Planet's tail, which is
exactly how I like it."

Her return smile was too vapid to disperse the cloud of gloom
that clung to her like dandruff on a black velvet coat.

"You worked hard for weeks," Perry said. "You started with a
scrap of information that most reporters would have dismissed as
too vague to be worth investigating. You did all the leg work.
You probably did a few things I shouldn't know about." He
grinned to show her he was OK with that. "You got the story,
Lois. And that's what makes you the best."

"Thanks, Chief."

"It'll win you a Kerth," he said. "And probably a nomination
for a Pulitzer."

Even that prediction wasn't enough to melt her despondency.

"Are you all packed?" Perry asked, dropping his eyes to the
papers on his desk in an effort to appear casual.

"Yep."

"Early flight tomorrow morning?"

"Yep."

"Lo-is," Perry said with a little spurt of frustration. "It's
a wedding; not a funeral."

"I wish I hadn't said I'd go."

"Why not? The timing is perfect. You haven't had a day off
since the first whisper of corruption in the Senator's office,
and that was a month ago. You deserve a break."

"A break?" Lois said, sounding as if she didn't fully
comprehend that word.

"Relax a little. Have some fun."

"I can't see anything relaxing about travelling halfway across
the United States squashed into a tin can with three hundred
strangers," Lois said.

Her expression made Perry wonder if the words 'fun' and
'relax' had disappeared from her vocabulary. "Take an extra
day," he offered. "A couple of days. The entire week, if you
want."

Her upper lip curled. "And what exactly do they do for *fun* in
Des Moines?"

Perry had nothing to offer. "After the wedding, perhaps you will
have unwound enough to be able to appreciate a few days
vacation," he said, although he figured there was more chance of
Elvis walking into his office than Lois finding anything
enjoyable in her trip.

"If I were going on a vacation, the last place I would go is
Iowa," she said. "And the absolute last thing I would choose to
do would be to attend a wedding."

"Surely you're looking forward to witnessing your friend's
happy day."

"It's a wedding," Lois said with frosty disdain. "An
out-dated convention that is little more than an excuse for men
to drink and women to cry." She rolled her eyes. "I just can't
see any point in paying a fortune for hired clothes and making
public promises with the intention of keeping them forever, only
to conveniently disregard them a few short years later."

"Lois, not all marriages are like that."

"Name one that isn't."

"Alice and me."

"That's only because you're never home," Lois said.

Perry winced. She was right, but it said a lot about her state of
mind that she was willing to state it so openly. "Perhaps these
two people really love each other," he said, needlessly
shuffling some papers on his desk.

"Pfft."

"When was the last time you saw the bride?"

"Five years ago. She was in college with me. Same major, but she
was a couple of years behind me."

"You were friends?"

"Nope," Lois said. "That's the strange thing. I don't
actually remember speaking one word to her. But I get a Christmas
card from her every year. When I landed the job at the Planet,
she sent me a note, congratulating me and saying I had always
been her inspiration."

"There you go," Perry said. "She's trying to thank you by
inviting you to her wedding."

"More likely she doesn't have enough friends to fill up a
church in a hick town." Off Perry's stern look, Lois continued,
"Well, she's a mouse of a person, Perry. Quiet. Colourless.
Uninspiring. Meek. Eminently forgettable. I can't imagine how
she would ever get a story unless it fell into her lap. And as
for how she found someone who wanted to marry her ..."

"Maybe she has changed," Perry said, which was his
non-inflammatory way of saying that maybe Lois hadn't taken the
time to get to know the young woman.

"Her name is 'Jane'," Lois said. "And she's marrying Shane
McVane. Can you believe that? I'm surprised the wedding isn't
on the top of a crane in Maine, just to set everything off
perfectly." She scowled. "That's probably why I got an
invitation. It's the 'Lois *Lane*' that did it. Shoulda
changed my name before it was too late."

"Why did you say you'd go if you're so against the whole
idea?"

Lois snorted disgustedly. "In last year's Christmas card, Jane
mentioned that she was engaged to some guy she'd met at the
inconsequential country paper where she works. I sent her a
return card and doubled my usual output of words by adding,
'Congratulations on your engagement'. I thought that if I
didn't ask any questions, she would realise I wasn't
interested."

"I think it was a nice gesture to send you an invitation."

"You don't have to fight your way through the crowds at
Metropolis Airport tomorrow morning, tolerate two hideously long
flights in order to achieve the dubious pleasure of arriving in
Des Moines, Iowa, be condemned to two nights in a hotel possibly
infested by local vermin of either the human or animal kind,
maintain a smile through all the nauseating corniness of the
wedding ceremony, and pretend you're swept up in the fairy tale
of true love. Only to have to do it all again in reverse, just to
return to civilisation."

Perry grinned, despite knowing his amusement wouldn't be
well-received. "You could stay here," he said. "Run the paper,
try to squeeze something printable from Ralph's attempts to
emulate a second grader, negotiate with the suits upstairs,
answer a few million questions when the police want details of
evidence, and field threats of ligation from one very irate
Senator's office ... while I take Alice to Iowa for a
vacation."

"Don't tempt me," Lois said sourly.

Perry stood. "Go," he said, shooing her away. "Go, and have
some fun. Try to remember that you can't spend your entire life
chasing stories."

"Why not?" Lois fired back at him. "At least I'm good at
that."

"You need to be good at relaxing as well," Perry said. Lois
hauled herself from his chair with such abject misery that Perry
stepped closer to her and said, "You're all right? You'd tell
me if this is more than your aversion to anything that doesn't
involve a story?"

His best reporter managed a weak smile. "I'm fine, Chief," she
said. "I'm just tired and terminally grumpy. And I no longer
believe in true love or happy endings."

With that, she trudged from his office.

***

Metropolis Airport was as bad as Lois had predicted, made worse
because the cab she'd ordered failed to show up at her apartment
until after her third call. When she finally arrived at her gate,
boarding had officially closed, and only some quick talking and a
loudly stated intention to call management got her to her seat --
where she was rammed against the window, sharing the row with an
elderly couple who had to shout at each other to make themselves
heard.

When her second flight was delayed, Lois called ahead to Jane to
say she would get a cab from the Des Moines airport and go
directly to the wedding-eve party. Lois exaggerated the delay,
hoping to give herself an hour in her hotel room to recuperate
and prepare for an evening of fabricated excitement as she gushed
over the bride and groom.

Two further delays eroded her 'hotel-first' plan. When she
finally boarded the plane, she discovered she was seated next to
a balding man in his forties who seemed to think she would
appreciate his efforts to help pass the time by bombarding her
with his unlimited supply of sexist, ribald, and exceedingly
unfunny jokes.

Lois spent over half of the flight at the rear of the airplane
pretending to stretch out the bad back she had invented.

As she climbed into the cab in Des Moines, she would have given
half her Kerth awards for a quiet evening alone in her apartment.
Instead, she was a required guest at a wedding-eve party for a
bride she couldn't actually remember speaking to face-to-face.

Lois would know no one else.

That could work to her advantage.

She was required to put in an appearance, congratulate the bride,
meet the groom, and pretend to be heartily socialising with
people who would never mean anything to her, but if she snuck
away to her hotel room after a short time, there was every chance
her absence would go unnoticed.

She paid the cab driver and stood at the door of the hall,
groaning at the loud and bustling atmosphere leaking from inside.
She entered with more caution and greater trepidation than she
had when she'd broken into the Senator's office a week ago.
Standing at the door, feeling like an alien invader, she surveyed
the crowd of about fifty people.

They were carrying off the charade well -- laughter regularly
exploded from the steady thrum of manifold conversations. Lois
searched the faces for Jane and found a woman who seemed to
resemble her nebulous memories of the quiet girl she'd seen
drifting around the college like a grey shadow.

Jane was in a group of four, chatting with two other young women
and a -

Lois's breath jammed in her throat as surprise bubbled up like
shaken soda.

Standing next to Jane was the guy who had to be Shane.

He was gorgeous.

Breath-stoppingly, heart-racingly, muscle-vaporisingly gorgeous.

He was 'Tall, Dark, and Handsome' in the flesh.

How had No-Personality Jane snared herself a man whose looks were
sufficiently stratospheric to turn the head of every woman in
every room he entered?

Did Jane know what she was marrying?

Trouble, Lois predicted. The good-looking ones were always
trouble.

Shane was listening to one of the women in the little group, his
expression one of mannerly interest as a courteous smile hovered
on his stunning mouth.

Lois stared, transfixed. She knew she was being rude. That
didn't bother her much. However, the certain knowledge that she
was probably just one of many women whose brain had been reduced
to pulp by Shane McVane was less easy to swallow.

At least Lois now understood how quiet, shy Jane had managed to
lure so many young, female 'friends' to her pre-wedding party.

They'd come to ogle the groom!

Lois's lungs started to gripe, and she sucked in a hasty
breath.

As she did, Shane's head turned -- his smile still lingering --
and his eyes crashed into hers.

Lois groped behind her and found the wall, collapsing into its
comforting solidity.

No wonder Jane had sounded so happy.

No wonder she looked as if her cheekbones were in danger of
pressing into her eyeballs, so wide was her smile.

Shane was staring at Lois, his lower jaw adrift, his mouth frozen
to the shape of the bygone smile.

Lois swallowed. Breathed. Blinked.

He was still there. Still transfixed.

From somewhere outside the universe that had room for only him
and her, Lois heard a squeal of delight. "Lois! Lois! You're
here." Jane rushed up and encompassed her in a hug. "Oh,
Lois," she said. "You'll never know how much it means to me
that you came all this way for my wedding."

"It's ... it's a ... I was pleased to be invited," Lois
stammered, pinning her gaze on Jane's slightly flushed cheeks
because she didn't dare look at Shane again.

"You must meet my fiance," Jane said, pawing excitedly at
Lois's arm. She looked around the hall. "He was here a moment
ago."

Shane was at the drinks table. His jacket emphasised the breadth
of his shoulders. His grey pants covered his long legs -

"Ah, here is he," Jane said. "Shane, come and meet Lois, my
friend from college."

Lois reluctantly dragged her eyes away. A tall, lanky man with
springy blond hair and an intermittent moustache that looked as
if it would be well suited to a cartoon character had placed his
arm around Jane's shoulders and was smiling down at Lois.

"This is my fiance, Shane," Jane said with pulsating pride.

"*Shane*?" Lois squeaked. "Ah ... Shane. Of course. It's nice
to meet you."

"Lois," Shane said with a wide and cheesy grin. "Jane has told
me so much about you. How you blazed the trail for her to
follow."

"Have you eaten?" Jane said. She took Lois's suitcase from her
hand. "Shane, could you put this in the back room, please,
darling?" She gave Lois a smile that was probably meant to be
reassuring. "It'll be safe there."

"Ah ... thank you," Lois said as the groom walked away with her
suitcase.

"You must help yourself to the food," Jane said. "And you
don't have a drink yet."

"I only just arrived," Lois said.

"What would you like? Juice? Soda? Wine? A beer?"	

"Oh," Lois said with a fake laugh. "So many choices. I -"

"Would you like some punch?"

The voice was deep, whispering across her heart like silk
ribbons. Lois turned. He was standing just a few inches from her.
He smelled ... *amazing. *His smile fluttered -- a brief,
tantalising appearance that liquefied the ligaments in her knees.
"Ah ..."

"Lois," Jane said. "This is Clark Kent. He's a colleague of
ours at the paper. Clark, this is Lois Lane -- she was my
inspiration in college."

He wore glasses, Lois realised, but they didn't detract from his
looks. Instead, they drew her gaze to eyes the colour of rich
caramel.

Somehow, her hand found his. Or perhaps, his hand found hers.

His skin was surprisingly warm, considering he'd been holding a
cold glass a moment ago. His grip enclosed her hand, sending
flurries of sensation through her wrist and up her arm.

He recovered before she did. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Ms
Lane," he said. The pressure of his fingers increased slightly,
and then, his hand slipped away.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr Kent."

Her statement -- fumbling and inane though it had been -- earned
her a full-bodied smile, lobbed like a hand grenade from
dangerously close range. "Clark," he said. "Please call me
'Clark'."

"I'm 'Lois'."

"Would you like a drink, Lois?" He offered her the glass of
punch in his other hand.

"Thank you," Lois said, taking it. Her fingers butted against
his, igniting mini-explosions that skittered across her skin.

"Here's your drink, Clark." It was Jane who had spoken.

Clark took the glass without looking at either it or Jane.
"Thanks," he said.

"We should mingle with our guests, darling," Jane said to
Shane, who had reappeared at her side. "Clark, would you look
after Lois, please?"

"Sure," he said.

The almost-married couple faded away, leaving Lois with Clark in
a bubble of solitude that the noisy and crowded room couldn't
penetrate.

Caught in those incredible brown eyes, Lois could find nothing to
say, although her mind was abuzz with a warm flow of wordless
sentences.

"Hi," he said, breaking into the hum of silence. His smile
unfurled slowly, stretching to utter magnificence.

"Hi." Echoing him was about the limit of her conversational
abilities right now.

"I'm so glad you could come. Jane wasn't sure you'd be able
to make it."

"I ... I'm ... busy, you know? I have a full life."

Clark sipped from his punch, moistening his lower lip, which
inexplicably made her wonder how he would taste if he kissed her.
"Jane told me you work at the Daily Planet," he said.

"Yes," Lois said, dragging her mind away from the enthralling
prospect of kissing him. "You work with Jane?"

"And Shane. We're at the Des Moines Register."

"How long have you been there?"

"A couple of years."

"What do you write? Sports? Travel?"

"I like sports and travel," he replied. "But I'm a general
reporter."

Lois couldn't imagine what a general reporter would find to
write about in Des Moines, Iowa. "Crime? Environmental issues?
Local politics?"

"All of those."

"Really?" She'd tried to stifle her surprise, but realised her
failure immediately and held her breath in anticipation of a
stinging retort.

His smile made a fleeting appearance. "You ask a lot of
questions, Lois."

Her name floated from his mouth on waves of sound that caused an
answering flutter through her stomach. "I'm a reporter," she
said without a trace of the tempestuousness that usually
accompanied that statement. "It's what I do."

"I'm a reporter, too," he said, his eyes crinkling. "Does
that mean I can ask questions?"

"I guess so," she said, agog at what questions he might want to
ask of her.

"You're not wearing a wedding ring."

"That's not a question."

He grinned at that. "The question was implied," he said. "Are
you married, Lois?"

The solemnness of his delivery caused her heart to abandon its
normal rhythm in favour of a helter-skelter dash to
breathlessness. "No," she said. "No, I'm not married."

"Dating someone?"

"No."

A dazzling, no-holds-barred smile lit up Clark's face. "Oh,
good," he said.

"Good?"

His smile retreated. His eyes dropped before bounding back to her
face. He swallowed. His mouth opened. "Lois ..."

"Yes?"

"Would you go out with me?" he asked. "On a date?"

Part 2

His question was hardly unexpected, although it had come sooner
and more directly than Lois could have anticipated.

Certainly, her level of surprise wasn't great enough to prevent
the discharge of her primed and practised rebuff that had left a
destruction of wounded male egos in its wake.

But her customary response disintegrated, snagged in the deep
pools of earnestness glimmering from behind Clark's glasses.

"You hardly know me," she said. It was lame. It was
unconvincing. It wasn't worthy of Lois Lane. But it was the
limit of her capacity to articulate.

His smile appeared for a second. "That's why I'm asking you
out," he said. "I want to know more about you."

"Why?"

Clark slid one hand into his pants pocket and did a quick sweep
of the room with his eyes. When they settled on her again, he
said, "You *do* ask a lot of questions, Ms Lane."

"Don't you know why you asked me out within five minutes of
meeting me?" she challenged, lifting her chin for emphasis.

He didn't flinch. "I know exactly why."

"But you don't want to tell me?"

"I'm not sure you would want to hear."

"Oh, but I do."

Clark puffed out a little breath from slightly rounded cheeks.
"From the moment I saw you ..."

Lois's heart stopped, started, skipped, flip-flopped, shimmied.
"Uhm?" she prompted.

"... I couldn't think about anything except how much I would
like to go out with you."

Lois scanned his face, searching for duplicity, brashness, or
flippancy.

She found sincerity. Hope. And more than a sprinkling of
nervousness.

"I bet you say that to every woman you meet," she said.

Clark shook his head. "No," he said. "I've never done this
before."

"You've never asked a woman out?"

"I've never asked a woman out within ten minutes of meeting
her."

Lois had never said 'yes' to a man within ten minutes of
meeting him. "There's no time," she said. "The wedding is
tomorrow afternoon, and I leave on Sunday morning."

"Tomorrow morning," Clark said promptly. "Breakfast."

Lois had already allocated the hours prior to the wedding as the
perfect opportunity to catch up on a month of sleep deprivation.
Assuming, of course, that the hotel bed was reasonably flat and
free of things that crawl.

Now, she had a choice.

Sleep ...

Or a date with Clark Kent. Breakfast. Just him and her. Drowning
in those eyes. Basking in that smile.

Except ... she was Lois Lane. She didn't fall for balmy eyes.
And she prided herself on being imperviousness to charm in all
its many duplicitous expressions.

"I live in Metropolis," she said. "You live in Des Moines."

"We're both here now."

"Aren't there dozens of local women who would love to go out
with you?"

"I don't know," Clark said. "I haven't asked them." His
smile wavered with the cautious hesitancy of the newly risen sun.
"I'm asking you. Please, Lois."

She had to admit she was tempted ... which was exactly why she
needed to stop this right now. "I don't date," she told him
with crisp finality. "Ever."

Clark's head dropped in defeat. His hand lifted. His fingers
slid through the hair above the side of his glasses. "OK," he
said.

"I said -" The first of her ready supply of cutting remarks
fizzled to nothing as his reply registered. She searched for an
alternate end to her sentence, but gave up as latent exhaustion
swelled like a wave, devouring the warm streams that had been
revitalising her body since she'd first noticed Clark Kent.

She shouldn't have come to Iowa. She should have sent a generous
wedding gift and used the corruption story as her alibi.

"Can I get you something to eat?" he asked politely.

His tone accentuated their separateness, reducing them to two
people who had met by chance, would spend a few short,
meaningless minutes together, and would return to their different
lives and quickly forget.

Except Lois wasn't sure Clark Kent would be easy to forget.

"Are you hungry?" he said, filling in the space left by her
lack of reply.

"A little."

"Do you know anyone here? Other than Jane?"

"No."

"Would you like me to introduce you to some of her friends so
you can eat with them?"

The last thing Lois wanted was to be thrust into a group of loud
and giggly women, drunk on the frothy cocktail of romance, love,
and weddings.

"I'm too tired to be good company," she said.

"Have you eaten this evening?"

"No."

"Would you like to sit down and I'll bring you something? Or
would you prefer to choose for yourself?"

The thought of sitting down was way more appealing than it should
have been, considering she'd spent the day doing little else.
"I'll get something for myself," Lois said wearily.

Clark accepted her brush-off with a taut nod. "Excuse me, Ms
Lane," he said. "I hope you enjoy your stay in Des Moines."

He turned away, dejection rising from him like steam, twisting
Lois's heart and releasing a droplet of regret. "I would love a
cup of coffee," she called softly to his back.

He whirled around. "How do you like it?"

She doubted a wedding-eve party in Des Moines would be able to
supply her usually rigid coffee preferences. "Low-fat milk, if
they have it," she said. "No sugar."

"The coffee's out back." He removed his hand from his pocket
and gestured to a vacant table squashed into the corner. "Would
you like to meet there?"

Coffee. Food. Escape from the pandemonium of excited voices. A
chance to sit down. It was too tempting to refuse. "Yes," she
said. "Thank you."

Clark strode to corner, deposited his glass of punch on the
table, and continued to the back room.

Lois moved to the food and surveyed the vast array. It could have
been a picture on a billboard, extolling the abundance of country
living.

She put enough items on her plate to appease her hunger, but her
mind was elsewhere.

Who was Clark Kent?

What was it about him that had shaken her barricades with his
presence, carved chunks from her resistance with every smile, and
melted the icecaps of her heart with the heat smouldering in
those striking brown eyes?

He'd asked her for a date. He'd been quietly persistent until
she'd bluntly informed him that she didn't date.

He'd accepted her refusal.

But he hadn't abandoned her. Hadn't walked away in a fit of
pique. Hadn't resorted to nastiness.

She should have been relieved.

But it wasn't relief she was feeling. Surprise, maybe. And
perhaps even a few flakes of disappointment.

Clark was nowhere to be seen as Lois walked to the table where
his glass awaited her. Was he going to bring her coffee and leave
her alone? Or would he sit down?

She repeated the mantra that had been necessary in becoming a
successful reporter -- she didn't care a jot what anyone thought
of her. She certainly didn't care what the Iowan locals were
going to think if she sat out the evening like an aberrant
misfit, the one dissenter in the midst of exultant wedding
revellers.

But if she invited Clark to eat with her, his presence might
deter any other grass-seed guys who thought that a woman eating
alone was sufficient reason to inflict his presence upon her.
When she and Clark had finished eating, enough time would have
passed that Lois could ask him to call a cab, make an excuse of
tiredness to Jane, and flee to the sanctuary of her hotel room.

Clark appeared at the door, carrying two large cups of coffee,
and Lois's internal river of attraction leapt from dormancy and
resumed pulsing through her veins. His shoulders were impossibly
wide. The strip of shirt visible under his jacket hinted at a
chest worthy of further exploration. He exuded ... s*omething
...* Something she could neither name nor deny.

He placed one cup on the table. Lois inhaled, closing her eyes as
the aroma of fresh coffee massaged the knots of tension embedded
in her muscles. When she opened her eyes, Clark was still there.
Still standing. Still holding his cup.

Watching her.

"I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable, Ms Lane," he said. "I
shouldn't have asked you to go out with me."

"I thought we'd agreed that you would call me 'Lois'."

His jaw twitched. "Would you prefer that I leave you alone?"

"Have you eaten already?"

"Yes."

She needed to end this now. Because every moment with him
loosened her grip on the safety rail at the top of a very long,
very steep, very slippery slide.

And Lois Lane never surrendered control to anyone.

But when she called on her well-drilled defences, she found them
limp and lifeless, reduced to mush because Clark Kent was looking
at her. And had brought her coffee. And had apologised for asking
her out.

"OK," she said with brisk pragmatism. "If you get more food so
I don't feel self-conscious about eating when you're not and if
you stop calling me 'Ms Lane', you can share my table."

It was ungracious -- rude even -- particularly as his apology was
still reverberating through her conscience.

Clark placed the second cup across from the first. "Is there
anything else I can get for you?"

"No. Thank you."

He walked away, giving her an opportunity to study him from
behind.

Physically, he had it all.

Great body. Sure, she hadn't seen much, but her imagination had
eagerly filled in a few gaps.

Movie-star looks.

Sensational smile.

Natural charm.

In her experience, the presence of any one of those traits
guaranteed that a little digging would unearth an inflated ego,
an obnoxious personality, and a penchant for chronic dishonesty.

But Clark Kent ...

... was different.

He turned from the food table, and Lois wrenched her attention
back to the table. She picked up the cup and sipped.

The coffee was incredible.

Smooth. Creamy. Fresh. Perfect.

Lois took another mouthful as Clark slipped into the opposite
chair. "How's the coffee?" he asked casually.

She eyed him with suspicion. "Is there a coffee machine in the
back room?"

His gaze remained steady in hers. "No."

"It's the best coffee I've tasted in a long time," she said.
"Where did you get it?"

"Just a place I know."

"They sell take-out coffee in real cups?"

"No. I poured it into these cups."

"Why?"

He squirmed a little, shooting her a plea for mercy that was
stippled with a hint of amusement. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You didn't think I'd notice superb coffee?"

"I was hoping you'd enjoy it."

"But you didn't want me to know you'd gone to a lot of trouble
to get great coffee?"

"It wasn't a lot of trouble."

"But you did it."

He placed his plate on the table. "There's a lot of food
left," he said. "I hope everyone's going to be hungry
later."

Apparently, the subject of her coffee was closed. "Was Jane
expecting more people to come?" Lois asked.

"No," Clark replied, looking around. "I think she was
expecting about this many."

"Maybe there was a miscommunication with the caterers."

"The caterers?"

"The company that provided the food."

"A company didn't cater. I think Shane's mom organised it. A
lot of the local ladies contributed."

"Oh," Lois said, recognising this as a good opportunity to
glean some background information on Clark Kent. "Did your mom
bring something?"

"No," he said. "My folks live in Smallville, Kansas."

"Do you see them often?"

"Quite a bit."

"You fly over there? Or drive?"

"Fly, mostly."

"Any brothers and sisters?"

He dabbed his mouth with the napkin. "No," he said. "I'm an
only child. How about you?"

"One sister. My parents are divorced. My family is spread out to
all parts of the country. Deliberately so."

"I'm sorry."

Lois shrugged, pretending she didn't care. "Is your family
close?"

"Very close. My parents couldn't have children. I'm
adopted."

"Oh," Lois said. "I ... I'm not sure what to say."

"I don't usually divulge personal information so soon after
meeting someone," Clark said. "I'm sorry if I made you
uncomfortable. Again."

"I don't usually tell people my parents are divorced." She
picked up her glass and sniffed at the punch. "Do you think
someone slipped alcohol in this?"

She hadn't been serious, but Clark replied with, "No. It's not
alcoholic. I wouldn't give you alcohol without telling you."

Lois was pretty sure that what she was feeling couldn't be
achieved with alcohol. If it could, half the world would be
perpetually inebriated. She nibbled a little more of a sandwich,
searching for a topic that might facilitate easy conversation.
"How long have you known the happy couple?"

"I've known Jane for two years. She was already working at the
paper when I came to Iowa. Shane started about a year ago."

"Where did you work before Des Moines?"

"I travelled after finishing school, doing some freelance work.
This is my first real job."

"Were you there when they met?"

"I think so," Clark said. "Shane was introduced to all the
staff the morning he started at the paper."

"When did you first realise they were interested in each
other?"

"I think Shane was interested from the get-go, but I'm not sure
marriage was in Jane's plans for her immediate future."

"Shane wore her down?"

"Yeah. I think it took longer than he was hoping, but they seem
very happy together now."

"They say the course of true love never runs smoothly," Lois
said.

"Do you believe that?"

"I don't believe in love," she said flatly.

"You don't think there can be a 'happily ever after'?"

"I think 'happily ever after' is nothing more than a tired
phrase to stick on the end of a story when the writer has
realised that the readers are within one flowery line of gagging
on the unrelenting sentimentality."

"I think love is beautiful," Clark said. "Shane is always
smiling, and Jane -"

"Of course, he's smiling now," Lois cut in. "But what about
in five years' time when they're trying to juggle a home, a
couple of kids, and two jobs, and neither can remember why they
ever wanted to be married in the first place?"

"Some marriages are like that," Clark conceded, "but I don't
think it has to be that way."

"But that's the point," Lois insisted. "There are no
guarantees of forever, and without forever, it's an ultimately
futile exercise. Futile. Expensive. Painful. Depressing."

"I would gladly risk it all for a woman I loved."

Derision leaped up her throat. She swallowed. Her mouth went
dry.

Because she believed him.

Lois believed that Clark believed his bold and foolish
statement.

But as bold and as foolish as it was, it was also a bit ... just
a little bit ...

Inspiring.

Endearing.

Her eyes dropped before his did. They fell to the table. And his
hands.

He even had perfect hands.

Strong. Lean. Masculine.

Gentle.

She couldn't imagine those hands ever lifted in anger. Or
cruelty.

She was being silly. How could she possibly discern the character
of a man she'd known for less than an hour?

Feigning fascination with her food, Lois asked, "Have you been
caught up in all the preparations for the big day tomorrow?"

"Not really. I collected a few of Shane's relations from the
airport. Oh, and they asked me to do the reading tomorrow."

"What about Jane's relations? Do they live around here?"

"I don't know," Clark said. "Why do you ask?"

"Jane went to college in Metropolis. I wondered if she moved
back here to be closer to her folks."

"She's never mentioned any family in Des Moines."

Lois looked around the room, skimming over the faces. "I can't
see anyone with an obvious family resemblance to Jane."

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow when she walks down the aisle
with her dad."

"You're not in the wedding party?" Lois asked.

"No. Shane has four brothers. The wedding party is full."

So, unless Clark had a date -- which seemed unlikely -- he would
attend the wedding unaccompanied.

Perhaps she should suggest they sit together. Sitting together
could not be misconstrued as a date. She had to be at the
wedding, anyway. It wouldn't take up any extra time. And -- for
all his obsolete idealism and countrified values -- he wasn't
bad company.

"Clark?"

"Yes, Lois?"

"Would you -"

"Ladies and Gentlemen ..."

The young man holding the microphone was so similar in features
to Shane that he had to be one of the brothers. He announced --
with much fanfare and gusto -- that this was the opportunity for
tales about the bride and groom that might be considered a little
too risque for the wedding tomorrow.

The crowd laughed. Clark smiled. Sweet liquid warmth oozed
through Lois.

Shane's brother launched into the first story. Lois kept her
head pointed in his direction, but before he'd reached the
conclusion of his opening sentence, her eyes had returned to
Clark.

He'd settled back in the chair. His hands were resting on the
table.

His face was clean-shaven, without even a hint of shadow. The
curve of his jaw made her wonder what it would feel like to draw
her fingers down its ridge, to arrive at his chin, and then
meander up to his mouth.

His head swung. His eyes collided with hers.

And held her there.

Captivated. Entranced.

The warmth turned to heat, burning and scorching as
adrenaline-charged flames licked her body.

She felt alive -- more alive than she'd ever felt when chasing a
story.

She felt free. And joyous.

The maelstrom of those audacious new feelings couldn't be
contained, and Lois felt herself smile.

Clark responded with a smile, full and free, tempting her
forward. Panic seized her. *What was she doing?*

She was ...

She wasn't sure of anything anymore because Clark was watching
her with steady brown eyes that diminished everything else to
insignificance.

Lois slid her hand across the table, palm up. His hand inched
forward. The tips of his fingers landed on the pads of hers.

From the centre of the room, the stories rambled on, punctuated
with regular outbursts of laughter, but for Lois, there was only
Clark and the irrefutable awareness that she had finally found
the place she had been striving for her entire life.

The stories gave way to music.

"Do you dance?" Clark asked.

"Only with you."

His smile billowed like a sail caught by the sun-kissed breeze.
His fingers lifted from hers, and he stood, offering his hand.

Her hand fitted perfectly into his larger one. The tingly
sensation of shared touch radiated through her palm and into her
fingers.

They walked hand-in-hand to the floor and joined the other
dancers.

They stopped and faced each other. Clark released a breath. Lois
stepped forward as his arm rounded her body.

His hand on her back guided them into loose alignment. Her hand
on his shoulder cupped the crest of muscle under his jacket.

They began to move.

Within a few bars, Lois had relaxed enough to rest her temple
against Clark's chin and give herself over to the music. To the
illusion that the past and the future had faded away and nothing
existed except the present ... and Clark, his gentle arms, the
scent of his cologne, and the memory of his smile.

***

Clark felt as if he were floating.

He wasn't. He'd checked. Several times.

Dancing with Lois was better than flying.

The moment he'd first seen her was etched in his mind forever.

He'd glanced to the door where she had been standing, holding a
suitcase.

His heart had soared. His breath had quivered. His mind had
exploded with one truth.

*That's her!*

He'd watched as Jane had broken away from their little group and
rushed over to the woman he'd recognised as having been an
ethereal presence in every one of his dreams for the future.

He hadn't been able to stop himself from asking her out. It was
too quick. Too early. Too hurried.

Too important to wait.

She'd refused him.

She'd tried to ease them through from the awkwardness he'd
created, but he'd persisted, stopping only one step short of
forcing her to declare that she didn't want to date him.

But now, she was dancing with him. She fit so seamlessly against
him that it felt as if he'd been born to hold her.

Clark knew he'd been born to love her.

And he did.

From the moment he'd seen her, he'd loved her.

And his life could never be complete without her.

Part 3

The music faded. Their feet stalled.

Time, place, and other people encroached into their
world-just-for-two.

Lois straightened. Clark's hand slid down her back to the upper
curve of her hip. She ventured up, into his face, and saw her own
dazed wonderment and awed disbelief reflected in his eyes.

"Thank you, Lois," he whispered. "That was beautiful."

It had been beautiful.

Two people had come together to dance. The music had blurred the
distinction of individuality so thoroughly that her mind had
seemed able to direct his movements.

But perhaps it hadn't been the music. Perhaps it was *him.*

That thought was exhilarating. And petrifying. Lois took half a
step back. Clark's hands dropped from her body. She swayed.

He clasped her shoulders, swiftly, but with such gentleness that
she trembled under his hold. "Lois?" he said. "Are you all
right?"

She nodded and tried to smile. "I think I've just realised how
tired I am."

He rotated his arm, allowing him to glance at the watch on his
wrist without releasing her shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said
quickly. "I should have thought. You've had a long day."

"Would you mind calling me a cab?" Lois asked. "And I need to
get my suitcase."

"I'll get your suitcase," Clark said. "But ..."

"But?"

"There's usually a long wait for cabs on Friday nights."

"I'm staying at the Holiday Inn," Lois said. "Is that too far
to walk?" Anything further than fifty yards was going to be too
far.

"It's about three miles from here," Clark said. "Would you
let me drive you?"

That sounded blissful. Except ...

Lois had filed too many stories detailing the terrible
consequences of women leaving a public place with a stranger. "I
can't take you away from the party," she said.

"It will only take a few minutes," Clark said. "But if you
prefer, I can ask one of Jane's female friends to drive you."

He'd understood her qualms. And he hadn't been offended.

When he'd wanted a date with her, he'd asked.

With straightforward simplicity.

When she'd refused, he'd accepted her decision.

And although every alarm bell in her well-orchestrated chorus
should be clanging a warning, they had been silenced by the
guileless honesty emanating from those velvet brown eyes and the
most compelling smile she had ever seen.

But Clark was far more than a gorgeous face and a set of
spectacularly broad shoulders.

He hadn't tried to hide his eagerness for a date. And despite
his palpable disappointment at her refusal, he'd continued to be
considerate. He'd brought her exquisite coffee. He'd asked her
to dance.

He hadn't assumed that the best dance of her life automatically
earned him her trust.

"I'd like you to take me," Lois said shyly. "If it's not too
much trouble."

"I'd like that, too," Clark said with a smile that permeated
deep into her soul. "I'll get your suitcase and be right
back."

The music began again as he disappeared from view, and Lois
drifted through the whirl of dancers to a quiet spot on the
sidelines.

Her body was exhausted. But her heart ...

Her heart was soaring, still lost somewhere in Clark Kent's
arms.

Would he come into the hotel? He didn't seem like the type of
guy who would stop at the kerb to let a woman out and then drive
away.

Would he come into her room? To carry her suitcase perhaps?

If he did, would he linger?

Would he try to kiss her goodnight? They had danced together and
eaten together, but it hadn't been a date.

What would be standard for a date with Clark?

Would he open doors for her? Would he insist on paying? Would he
make it abundantly clear how much he appreciated her company?

He would.

Would she enjoy it? Or would it make her feel constricted?

Jane rushed up to Lois. "I'm sorry I haven't spent much time
with you," the soon-to-be-bride said. "But I could see that
Clark was looking after you."

"I'm really tired, Jane," Lois said. "Clark is going to drive
me to the hotel."

"The hotel, huh?" Jane said.

"It will only take a few minutes," Lois said primly. "Clark
will be back here before you've even noticed he's gone."

Jane looked abashed. "I'm sorry, Lois," she said. "I didn't
mean to imply anything. It's just ... Clark is a great guy. I'd
love to see him happy."

"I'm sure there are hundreds of Des Moines women who could make
him happy," Lois said, doing her best to ignore the passionate
protest marching across her heart like an army bent on defending
its territory.

"I thought that when he arrived," Jane said. "But as far as I
know, he hasn't had a girlfriend in the last two years."

Deciding not to comment on that piece of information, Lois said,
"Thank you for inviting me to your wedding."

Jane smiled, and her attention swung to Clark as he walked
towards them, carrying Lois's suitcase. "I don't think I'm
the only one who's glad you came," she whispered loudly.

If Clark heard her comment, he gave no obvious response. "I'm
driving Lois to her hotel," he said, addressing Jane. "Cabs are
hard to find at this time of night."

Jane nodded, her smile including both of them. "See you
tomorrow, Lois," she said as she hugged her guest. "Sweet
dreams."

"Goodnight, Jane."

Outside, the air was cool, and Lois clasped her arms against her
chest.

Clark removed his jacket and held it up for her.

"Won't you be cold?" she asked.

"No."

"OK. Thanks." She slipped her arms into the sleeves. His warmth
caressed her. His cologne wafted into her nostrils. And the
memory of his arm around her tingled across her skin.

"My car's this way," Clark said, pointing to the left, but not
moving until she did.

At his car, he opened the passenger door for her. Once she was
settled, he stowed her suitcase in the trunk and slipped into the
driver's seat. "The Holiday Inn?"

"Yes, please."

Clark eased the car out from the parking bay and drove sedately
towards a large intersection.

The contrast of darkness after the bright lights and the muted
purr of the engine after the merriment and loud voices made this
feel like a period of transition. The evening was over. The dance
had finished. The music had fallen silent.

Soon, Lois would be in the hotel room, alone with her memories.

Memories she would do well to banish.

She was a hard-nosed reporter from Metropolis who had
deliberately eradicated all traces of sentimentality from her
life.

But when Clark had held her as they danced ...

That hadn't felt like sentimentality. That had felt strong and
secure. It had felt real.

What if exhaustion had paralysed her jerk-detector?

Could any man be as flawlessly noble as Clark appeared to be? As
decent and honourable?

Lois had to know. And uncovering his real motivation was not
going to be difficult for the woman who had dismantled an entire
Senator's office in search of the truth.

***

At the hotel, Clark opened Lois's door and took her suitcase
from the trunk. He waited at a discreet distance as she checked
in to her room.

Lois accepted the key from the man behind the reception counter
and turned to Clark. "Would you carry my suitcase to my room,
please?" she asked with a sugary smile.

"Of course," he said evenly.

They located her room in silence. Lois unlocked the door and went
in. She put her handbag on the bed and turned to where Clark was
standing in the doorway. "Come in," she said.

He took a step forward and placed her suitcase on the floor.
"Goodnight, Lois," he said pleasantly. "See you at the wedding
tomorrow."

He walked out, softly closing the door behind him.

Lois stared at it. Clark had gone. He'd come into her room to
bring her suitcase. At her invitation.

He'd put the suitcase down and left. No delaying tactics. No
attempt to snatch a kiss -- or more -- as reimbursement for the
ride to the hotel.

She had no way to contact him. No number. No address. She would
see him at the wedding, but -

Lois grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.

***

Clark trudged away from Lois's room, his heart recoiling from
cruel truths he didn't want to accept. He would be in the same
room as Lois for a few hours tomorrow, and then the most amazing
woman on earth would walk out of his life forever.

"Clark!"

He spun around.

She came out of her room, holding his jacket towards him. "You
forgot this."

He moved forward and took the jacket from her. "Thanks." He
started to step away, not wanting to prolong the anguish of this
penultimate goodbye.

"Clark?"

He paused, his pulse racing, and turned back.

"About breakfast. I have to eat. You do, too." She shrugged.
"We could eat together."

His heart catapulted, and a torpedo of glittering possibilities
erupted across his mind. He swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn't
squeak. "What time?"

"Is seven-thirty too early?"

Any time would be fantastic. Any time. Any place. Any occasion.
"Seven-thirty's fine," he said. "I'll be here."

"OK."

"See you then."

"Thanks for the ride."

"You're ..." He dragged some oxygen into his lungs. "You're
welcome, Lois."

With a small wave of her hand, she stepped into her room and shut
the door.

Clark donned his jacket and managed to walk with sedate composure
until he reached his car. Then, his restraint shattered and he
shot up into the darkness, spinning and twirling in jubilant
celebration.

In less than nine hours, he had a date.

With Lois.

***

Lois checked her watch for the twentieth time. It was seven
twenty-six.

She'd been ready for fifteen minutes, waiting for time to dawdle
towards half past seven.

Despite her exhaustion, she hadn't slept easily. Slumber had
shied away from a mind utterly absorbed in one thing.

One man, actually.

Clark Kent.

She'd relived every moment they'd spent together -- rewinding,
pausing, and replaying her library of memories.

She would never forget the moment she'd first seen him. And
seconds later -- the first time his eyes had collided with hers,
forging a connection powerful enough to silence the strands of
cynicism woven through her heart.

She remembered the delicious shivers she'd felt the first time
she'd heard his voice. They were still echoing through the
corridors of her mind like a softly thrummed melody.

And that first fluttering, oh-so-devastating, smile.

His touch. The first time her hand had slid into his, adding
tactile memories.

Seven twenty-seven.

Their small talk had evolved into questions about her
relationship status. Flouting all the practicalities of time and
distance, he'd asked her for a date. He'd met her excuses with
gallant resolve.

When she'd rebuffed him with an unequivocal 'no', his civility
hadn't faltered.

He'd bought her superb coffee. He'd divulged personal
information about his family. He'd staunchly affirmed his belief
in love.

*I would gladly risk it all for a woman I loved.*

The speeches had interrupted their conversation, but not their
on-going communication. Lois couldn't remember one word spoken
about the bridal couple, but the messages that had flowed from
Clark's eyes were written across her heart in indelible ink.

And then, they had danced.

Seven twenty-eight.

His arms had felt like a sanctuary of excitement. And Lois, who
fervently guarded her personal space, had felt cocooned in
freedom.

Freedom to be the woman she didn't dare to be.

The music had finished, and Clark had reverted behind a shield of
polite and proper behaviour.

She'd had to know the truth. Was he real? Or was he a master at
playing the role most likely to deliver him the outcome he
wanted, knowing his looks provided him with a potent accessory?

He'd accompanied her to hotel room.

He'd said 'goodnight' and left.

And in that moment, she'd been forced to accept the unpalatable,
uncomfortable truth.

Clark Kent was different. His differences were not just a mask
donned to curry approval. He *was* different from any man she'd
ever met.

He'd dissolved a few more atoms of her scepticism with every
smile.

He'd thawed a few degrees of her frostiness with every look from
those clear brown eyes.

He'd peeled another layer from the hard crust of her heart with
every touch from his gentle hands.

He'd begun to turn her world right-side-up.

She'd known she couldn't let him walk away.

When she'd suggested breakfast, his smile -- bursting with
not-quite-able-to-believe joy -- had melted his slightly detached
manner, setting her heart ablaze all over again.

Seven twenty-nine.

He would be here soon. Actually, Lois was surprised he wasn't
here already. She wished he would hurry.

Because she missed him.

She'd been away from him for just a few hours, and she missed
him.

Which was ridiculous.

Because nothing could change the fact that tomorrow morning, she
was going to board a plane and return to her life in Metropolis.

Back to being the tough, successful, uncompromising reporter who
saw, revealed, and wrote but never emerged from behind a wall so
thick she didn't have to feel.

She would dive back into her work. Find another scandal. Follow
up every thread from the corrupt-Senator story.

But she feared that even the most enthralling story would not
drive away her memories of Clark.

She didn't want to forget him. She wanted to remember every
single moment with him.

She had to forget him.

She wanted to create countless memory-moments with him and
carefully catalogue them in the library of her mind.

Seven thirty.

Lois walked over to the mirror and checked her appearance again.
Her eyes were bright and her cheeks dusky pink. Despite her
restless night, all the tiredness from yesterday had vanished.
The grime from chasing stories in Metropolis's underbelly had
melted away, leaving her refreshed and invigorated.

How was Clark feeling? Had he gone to sleep thinking about her?

Had his sleep been laced with smiles as his subconscious had
played memories of their time together?

Why was he late? Had he changed his mind?

Had he realised the foolishness of continuing whatever had seized
them last night?

Or was he rushing around, trying to make everything just right?

Didn't he realise that she was in need of another hit of his
smile? Another touch from his hand?

Lois went to the window and looked out.

It was raining.

Not hard. Just drizzle, really.

Had he planned an alfresco breakfast and was now frantically
amending his preparations in deference to the weather?

Lois leaned forward and peered through the window, but she could
only see a small, damp garden and a fence that blocked her view
of the road.

Was he here already? Walking towards her room?

How was he feeling?

Nervous?

Excited?

Petrified?

All of those melded into a jumble of emotions that defied
definition?

Because that's how she felt.

Would he kiss her? Would he want to kiss her? Had he thought
about kissing her?

She'd thought about kissing him.

And every time she thought about it, a rush of anticipation
cascaded through her body like just-poured champagne.

How would he kiss?

Gently? Cautiously?

Maybe at first.

But after that ...

Once he knew she welcomed his kisses ...

Even then, Lois couldn't imagine Clark being demanding or
rough.

Seven thirty-one.

*He was late.*

That surprised her.

Shocked her.

Relieved her.

Devastated her.

Forced her to face the reality that a woman living in Metropolis
dating a man living in Des Moines was abject stupidity.

She shouldn't do it.

Not even once.

Because one date with Clark Kent was never going to be enough.

What had he planned for breakfast? Did he have a favourite cafe?
A quiet place where they could eat? And talk? Where she could
learn more about his life?

Would they be able to sit together during the wedding? Perhaps
there would be opportunity to dance at the reception.

*What was she thinking?*

Actually, she wasn't thinking. She was *feeling*. And, as Lois
had realised a long time ago, giving any ground to feelings was
akin to asking for a bomb to be dropped right in the middle of
your ordered, neat, and perfect life.

Except her life wasn't perfect.

It was lonely.

And isolated.

And empty of everything except her work.

But it was better to be alone by choice than to risk becoming a
blubbering globule of regret at having surrendered control to
something as flaky as feelings.

It was time to regain that control.

Seven thirty-two.

Lois went to the door and pressed her ear against it, listening
for footsteps.

There was only silence.

She was usually at her desk by seven thirty, already downing her
second cup of coffee.

But in Des Moines, it was different. Quiet. Calm. Sleepy.

Perhaps because it was Saturday.

Lois couldn't remember the last time she hadn't worked on a
Saturday. It had been before she'd started chasing down the
Senator and his secrets.

What sort of stories did Clark write?

Were there bad guys in Des Moines? Did Clark investigate
corruption? Misuse of authority?

Why had Jane chosen to leave Metropolis and come here?

Had it been choice? Or necessity, because this had been her only
job offer?

Where was her family? From the moment Lois had realised that the
hunk with the stunning smile wasn't Shane McVane, she hadn't
noticed much other than Clark.

She couldn't remember anyone from Jane's family having spoken
at the speeches. Clark had said he'd picked up Shane's
relations from the airport. He'd said Jane had never mentioned
any family.

Seven thirty-three.

He would come. He would. There was a reason he was late.

Traffic, perhaps.

There was an explanation. There had to be.

But whatever it was, Lois just wanted him to stroll down the
corridor, knock on her door, greet her with his smile, and remind
her just how wonderful it felt to be with him.

Lois Lane didn't believe in love. She didn't believe in
marriage. She certainly didn't believe in 'happily ever
after'.

But she was perilously close to believing in Clark Kent.

Seven thirty-four.

Part 4

Ten minutes later, Lois's limited reserve of patience had
dwindled to nothing. She picked up her handbag, slewed her jacket
over her shoulder, pulled open the door of her hotel room, and
strode down the corridor towards the reception area.

She was hungry, and she was going to find a cafe and eat
breakfast.

Alone.

When Mr Clark Kent actually bothered to show up, he would
discover that Lois Lane didn't wait around for anyone.

She marched into the reception area, propelled by steaming
indignation that she'd been stood up by a hick from Iowa. Or
Kansas, which was worse.

Her feet stalled, her jaw dropped, her throat withered.

Clark was leaning against the far wall, wearing jeans that hugged
his hips more tightly than his pants had last night and a
textured grey sweater that accentuated the vast plains of his
chest. He straightened. "Lois?" He swallowed. His smile
glimmered like a rainbow after a storm. "Lois. Good morning. You
... wow, you look great."

She advanced on him, using her stockpile of aggravation as a
blowtorch to obliterate her tumultuous reaction to his presence.
"Why are you waiting out here?" she demanded. "Why didn't you
come to my door? I thought you wanted us to have breakfast
together. Have you changed your mind?"

"No. No, of course I haven't." He checked his watch. "But
I'm hopelessly early."

"You're *early*?"

"Everything was ready," Clark said. He regarded her with eyes
that had lost none of their splendour overnight. "I couldn't
stay away any longer."

"You're late," she said, thrusting her watch under his nose.
"It's almost eight o'clock. You said seven-thirty."

Clark examined her watch, his mouth suspended on the verge of a
smile. "I'm sorry, Lois," he said. "I didn't realise we made
our plans in Metropolis time."

"Met-" Lois slammed her mouth shut and tried to pretend she was
oblivious to the heat flooding into her cheeks. She lifted her
chin and met him square on. "What time is it?"

"In Des Moines, it's a quarter to seven."

"Oh." A blaze of fresh comprehension swamped her embarrassment.
"You're an *hour* early?"

"No," Clark said with a little gush of defensiveness. "I was
only fifty-one minutes early." His smile trembled with
heart-tugging hopefulness. "Are ... are you ready?"

"I had decided I wasn't going to ..." Her planned announcement
that she no longer wanted to go out with him had held no
conviction, even at the beginning, and quickly petered out to
empty air.

Clark watched her, saying nothing, awaiting her verdict.

Lois closed her mouth, stunned by the galling realisation that
she wasn't capable of standing before this man and boldly
declaring that she would not be a party to something as
ridiculous as going on a date with someone whose future presence
in her life amounted to just a few hours.

Clark moved a step closer. "I feel like I'm stumbling around
blindly, too, Lois," he said. "I'm guessing what I should do
and hoping like crazy that I don't mess up anything too
badly."

"Really?" she asked in a small voice that was draped with
relief.

"Really," he said with a confirming nod. "But I do know how
much I want to have breakfast with you." He gestured towards the
door. "Please, Lois?"

There were hundreds of reasons why she shouldn't spend another
moment with a man so unconsciously adept at employing the arsenal
of weapons at his disposal, but right now, Lois, the master
wordsmith, couldn't have constructed a sentence detailing even
one of them.

She could do no more than nod silent acquiescence.

Clark's responding smile could have lit up a moderately sized
city. "Let's go then," he said. He strode to the door and held
it open for her.

As Lois passed him, she sneaked a glance into his face. She
wasn't subtle enough, and he caught her, responding with a smile
that wrapped around her heart like a shawl.

Lois fixed her gaze ahead and hurried through the door. Outside,
the drizzly rain had become a steady downpour. She pulled on her
jacket.

"Wait here," Clark said. He ran to his car, opened the
passenger door, and beckoned her forward.

She crossed the short distance and slipped into his car. When
Clark joined her, he pushed the key into the ignition and peered
out through the windshield. "This is not the weather I was
hoping for," he said.

"It'll be OK," Lois said. "We shouldn't get too wet running
between the car and cafe."

"A cafe was Plan B," Clark said, tapping on the steering wheel.
"But it's Saturday, and this is Des Moines." He turned to her,
his mouth hinting at a smile. "And -- as hard as this is to
believe -- cafes around here don't generally run on Metropolis
time. Although, they very definitely should, of course."

Lois felt herself smiling right back at him. "Are you trying to
tell me that nothing's open yet?"

"There's a diner out on the highway," Clark said. "It'll be
open, but the food is so awful, you'd probably never speak to me
again, and I'm not willing to risk that."

"How long until something opens?" Lois asked.

"Forty minutes. Longer for the nicer cafes."

"How about the place you got coffee last night? That was open
late. Could we go there?"

Clark shook his head. "I packed us a picnic," he said. "I'd
thought the park would be nice. There's a little gazebo ..." He
lifted his hand from the steering wheel in a gesture of
frustration. "I remembered *everything* except to check the
weather forecast."

"Is the gazebo covered?" Lois asked.

"Yes."

"Then we can probably stay dry."

"You might get cold."

Last night, it had been important to Clark that she had good
coffee. Now, he was concerned about keeping her warm on a chilly
morning.

"I just want you to have a good time," he said as if he thought
her silence necessitated an explanation from him.

Lois reached over and patted his hand where it was resting on the
steering wheel. The touch lasted less than a second, but it was
enough to send tingles through the pads of her fingers.

She glanced into his face and caught him swallowing.

So, he felt it, too.

This ... this *thing* between them. This connection. This feeling
of being inexorably drawn together by something stronger than
will or common sense or the impracticalities of living more than
a thousand miles apart.

It could only be a temporary thing, of course. No other outcome
was possible. But, for now ... Even Perry had said she should
relax and have fun. "Let's go and see if the gazebo has a dry
corner," Lois suggested.

"It doesn't have any corners at all," Clark retorted with a
grin. "But if you'd like to go and look ..."

For the second time that morning, Lois found she was smiling
simply because Clark was. "Corners or not," she said. "A
picnic in the park sounds perfect."

And it did.

Because she would be with Clark.

And that simple fact elevated her spirits and reduced everything
else, including the weather, to mere triviality.

Clark started the engine and pulled into the almost-empty road.
"You seem happy this morning," he noted.

She did? Her? Happy?

When was the last time she had thought of herself as being happy?
After an exclusive? No. That was satisfaction. Relief. And maybe
a little bit of professional pride.

But now, happiness had snuck upon her, enfolding her in its
clutches, permeating her threadbare heart, and infusing her with
vitality.

Could it really be possible that one person could change
everything?

"Are you?" Clark asked. "Feeling good?"

"Yeah," she said, although her reply was lacking in any real
conviction.

"Did you sleep well?"

"OK. You?"

He seemed caught unawares by the abruptness of her comeback
question. "Ah ... yeah. Your hotel room seemed nice enough. Was
it OK?"

Lois had taken so little notice of the room that she couldn't
remember one feature. Actually, there was one. "It didn't have
a clock," she stated with a playful glare at Clark's profile.
"You didn't steal it, did you?"

"No," he said, glancing her way with a smile. "But if I'd
thought of it, I may have been tempted."

"Why?"

"Metropolis time is good."

"Why?"

"Day starts earlier."

"And that is good because?"

He grinned. "You were right about asking a lot of questions."

"They call me 'Mad Dog Lane' because I don't give up until I
have the answers I want." For the first time ever, the 'Mad
Dog' tag didn't sting. Not here. Not with Clark. Not as they
drove to a soaked gazebo to share breakfast.

But Clark was no longer smiling. "Mad Dog?" he grated. "Do you
mind?"

"I'll tell you whether I mind or not if you tell me why you
wanted the day to start earlier."

"Because I had a breakfast date with a beautiful woman."

*Beautiful.* Lois had fielded a plethora of similar comments.
Usually, she dismissed them as insincere slush, used as a ploy to
bend her to the will of the speaker.

But this time, she wasn't so sure.

"You really think I'm beautiful?" she asked, because she had
to know, even though it sounded excruciatingly close to fishing
for a further compliment.

"Yes. I do."

His three words, spoken with quietly steadfast assurance, set off
a series of shock waves inside Lois. "I bet you say that to
every woman you date," she threw back at him.

Clark swung into the kerb and brought the car to a smooth stop.
He turned to her, his expression solemn. "You are the most
beautiful woman I've ever seen, Lois," he declared. "And I've
never said that to anyone before because it hasn't been true
until now."

She laughed. Short, brittle, embarrassed.

"I had been counting down the hours to seven thirty since last
night. Why wouldn't I be pleased about the day starting
earlier?"

"Clark ..." There was so much she wanted to say -- a churning
mass of scrambled feelings that were crying out for release --
and even more she wanted to ask. But speaking the words gave them
validity. And she might get some answers -- answers she wasn't
ready for yet. "Let's just go to the park, shall we?"

After another smile that lingered just long enough to melt
another couple of million nerve endings, Clark pulled back onto
the road and said, "Are you looking forward to the wedding?"

"I guess so." In truth, Lois hadn't given one thought to the
wedding since she'd stopped bemoaning her moment of weakness in
accepting Jane's invitation.

"Are you glad to have a day away from the paper?" Clark
continued. "A break from Metropolis?"

"Not really." It was the truth. Or it had been. But it sounded
petty and ungrateful. "I'm a little bit ... obsessed about my
work."

He nodded. "It shows."

"Really? How? Am I -"

"No," he said with a chuckle. "It shows in your stories."

"You've read my stories?" she gasped.

"Of course, I have. Jane often gets a copy of the Daily Planet
when you have the front-page byline. She's very proud of your
success."

"Oh." Lois wasn't sure what else to say, but some of her
attitudes towards Jane were no longer sitting comfortably in her
conscience.

"She thinks you're amazing," Clark said softly. *So do I.*

The final three words hadn't been spoken but they hung in the
air, as tangible as the rain sloshing down the windows.

"Ah ... that's nice of her," Lois muttered. Hurrying to change
the subject, she cast a glance out of the windshield. "I hope
the weather clears for the wedding."

"So do I." He turned off the main road and onto a smaller one.
"I wonder how Jane's feeling this morning."

"I can't even imagine," Lois said.

"I figure she's excited," Clark said. "Anxious. Nervous.
Ecstatic. Full of joy."

Yesterday, Lois would have spouted something disparaging about
the myth of true love. But this morning ...

The image of Clark waiting for her at the top of the aisle lodged
firmly in her mind. He would be dynamite in a tux. She could
imagine his smile ... his anticipation ... his radiating
happiness ... his eyes, brimming with love ... his -

"They were hoping to take the photographs outside," Clark said.
"But mud splatters can't be great for a white dress."

"You're looking forward to the wedding, aren't you?" Lois
asked, hoping he would discern the teasing lilt in her tone.

"Ah ..." He tossed her a sheepish smile. "I think it's nice
when two people love each other enough to want to be together for
the rest of their lives."

"Last night, you said you would risk everything for the woman
you loved."

"I would."

"You'd be willing to commit the rest of your life to one
woman?"

"Yes."

"What if your feelings were to change? What if you were to meet
someone else who is perfect for you?"

"My wife would be perfect for me."

His fervent declaration skipped across her heart, imprinting the
very sure knowledge that Clark Kent's wife would be a woman
enveloped in the unwavering love of her husband. "What about
having the freedom to go out with any woman?"

"I want the freedom to go out with one special woman," he
replied. "The freedom to love her openly. The freedom to affirm
publicly that we have chosen to be together. That she has chosen
to be with me."

Lois felt her throat thicken with tears. She had believed in
marriage once. She had dreamed of a man who would commit to
building a life with her. The desire to believe still flickered
weakly, but wanting to believe was never enough. She swallowed
roughly and tried to chuckle to disguise the inner turmoil. "You
are a very unusual man, Clark Kent."

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

"You're different from anyone I've ever met."

He flinched. Tried to hide it. Asked, with somewhat laboured
nonchalance, "Is that a bad thing?"

"No."

Lois's reply reverberated more strongly than she had intended.
It stated so much more than 'not a bad thing' and became 'a
very good thing'. Lois held her breath. Clark's eyes stayed
fixed on the road, but his throat lurched as he swallowed rather
loudly. Lois snapped her head to the right and stared at the
soggy landscape.

The deluge of attraction swept back, seasoned with memories.

Dancing with him.

His arm around her. The feel of his shoulder under her hand. The
firm velvet of his chin against her temple.

Clark turned off the road and pulled into a parking bay facing a
murky grey gazebo. As he killed the engine, the rain increased.
He groaned. "Perhaps this isn't such a good idea," he said.
"The wind is blowing rain into the gazebo."

Lois reached over and lightly rested her hand on the wrist band
of his sweater. His head jolted towards her. "We can't see into
all the gazebo," she said. "There might be an area that's
still dry. Over to the left, perhaps."

"Would you like me to go and have a look?" Clark asked
eagerly.

"Sure."

"Wait here."

He was gone before she'd opened her mouth to reply, sprinting
through the rain and leaping up the gazebo steps. Lois watched,
entranced. The man turned the simple act of running into
compulsive viewing.

And his jeans appeared to have been fashioned purposely to
emphasise a very nicely shaped butt!

Clark stayed in the gazebo only a few seconds and then dashed
back to the car, grinning at her before he'd even shut the door.
"There's a bit that's protected from the rain," he announced.
"If you really don't mind risking a bit of dampness."

Lois had never minded risking anything. Except for perhaps her
heart. And that worried her far more than a few drops of rain. Or
it should. "Let's get the food."

Clark touched her -- his fingers brushing lightly over her
knuckles and setting fire to them. "My coat's in the trunk. You
can use it to run through the rain. I'll get everything."

"You'll get wet."

He grinned at that. "Perhaps I can run fast enough to miss all
the raindrops," he said. "Stay there while I get the coat."

A few seconds later, he opened her door and held his coat up for
protection as Lois rose from the seat. She took the garment,
propped it over her head, and ran for the gazebo.

She stood on the edge of the dry spot and followed Clark with her
eyes as he rushed back to the trunk.

She was drawn to Clark Kent. Irresistibly. Overwhelmingly.
Undeniably. Alarmingly.

He felt something, too. She knew he did.

What was he thinking?

Had he wondered -- even for a second -- if she could be the woman
he was waiting to meet? The woman who could fulfil his dreams of
'happily ever after'?

He'd said he would risk heartache and disappointment for the
woman he loved.

Had that been merely generalisation? Or had his message had a
very specific intended audience?

He bounded up the steps and placed a loaded basket at her feet.
"I also have a few things to make us more comfortable," he
said. "Be back soon."

Lois crouched next to the basket. There were multiple containers.
She opened one, and her stomach leaped at the chocolate aroma
emanating from the crumbly pastry.

All it needed was coffee!

Perhaps Clark's favourite coffee shop would open soon and he'd
take her there.

Had he planned more than breakfast? Lunch, perhaps? Sitting
together at the wedding? Another dance?

He couldn't know that all of Lois's relationships had ended so
badly, she'd concluded that love and Lois Lane were two
divergent entities and therefore, completely immiscible.

Love? That word caused an earthquake through the landscape of her
thoughts.

Did Clark love her?

He couldn't. Not yet.

But there was something between them. Something Lois had never
felt before.

She was sure he felt something, too, but was he thinking they
would spend the weekend together -- two days that would result in
nothing more significant than memories when they returned to
their separate lives on Monday?

Or was he thinking so much more?

With any other man, a pleasant, ultimately pointless, association
would seem most likely. A little flirting. Perhaps some kissing.
Maybe even a night together. Then, their lives would reset back
to normal.

If that happened, Lois would fly to Metropolis tomorrow, throw
herself into her work, and resolve that she would never again
waste one moment thinking about her weekend in Des Moines.

She would do it, because she was Lois Lane.

But he was Clark Kent. And that changed everything.

He arrived again, carrying a pile of outdoor cushions and two
blankets, one thick and heavy duty, one soft and delicate.
"Perhaps you'd like to set it up the way you want it," he
suggested. "Or you can wait until I get back and we'll do it
together."

When he'd gone again, Lois spread out the thick blanket on the
dry concrete. She added some cushions, placing them against one
of the broad wooden support posts. She returned to the basket and
began -

Coffee!

The aroma, fragrant and full-bodied, surrounded her like the
embrace of an old friend.

Clark walked up the steps, more sedately this time, carrying two
steaming take-away cups. Lois moved forward to meet him. "I was
just thinking that all this needed was coffee," she said.

He handed her a cup. Their fingers brushed. "I hope it tastes
all right," he said. "It was brewed about half an hour ago, but
it's still hot."

Most of the coffee Lois drank at work was hours old and decidedly
tepid. She sipped. Swallowed. Sighed. "Great coffee," she said
appreciatively. "Just like last night. Perhaps we could go there
later."

Clark eyed the cushions she had placed on the rug. "This looks
wonderful, Lois." He hesitated a moment to offer a shy smile.
"Would you like to sit down?"

But instead of sitting down, she moved closer to him, her
attention riveted to the splatters of moisture that dotted his
sweater.

Lois slowly lifted her hand. With her fingertip, she touched a
single droplet. It trickled down her finger and into her palm.
She brushed him lightly, feeling the protrusion of his
collarbone. Her hand stalled at the point of his shoulder.

With her eyes, she traced the track her hand had left through the
fibres of his sweater. She realised he was holding his breath.
She tilted her head upwards. His mouth was there. Accessible.
Poised. Ready.

He didn't lean closer. He didn't move. Not even the twitch of a
muscle.

He waited, gifting Lois the freedom to choose.

She wrenched her gaze from his mouth. She stared at her hand as
it began moving down his arm, gathering speed as she flicked at
his sleeve and then continued with jerky strokes across his chest
to his other shoulder and arm.

When she'd finished, he breathed again, taut and shallow.
"Th...thanks."

"You're welcome."

Her gaze drifted back to his mouth, and she found he was smiling
-- a little shaken, a little tentative, but still with the power
to captivate her. "Would you like to sit down?" he asked,
offering his hand to assist.

She should run now. Because if she ever got within kissing
distance of that mouth again, her resistance would be about as
useful as tissue paper in a blizzard.

And kissing Clark Kent ...

Lois couldn't see how there could be any way back from that.

But she didn't run.

She took his hand and sat down. Clark began unpacking the basket,
and Lois sipped from her coffee, as inside her, trepidation and
euphoria engaged in a feisty battle for ascendency.

Part 5

"Bread?"

Lois stared at the chunky slices Clark had cut from the
two-person artisan loaf. Each new container they had unpacked
from the basket had escalated her surprise to new levels. But it
wasn't just the enormous variety of foods that had stifled her
flow of words. The extra touches Clark had included -- the small
blue vase holding a single stem that exploded into a circle of
creamy lace flowers, the thick white napkins, embossed with three
blue petals in the corner -- had catapulted her beyond surprise
and into the grip of astonishment.

"It's sourdough," he said.

"Thanks," Lois said, taking a slice and putting it on her
otherwise-empty plate.

"I ... I wasn't sure what you liked," Clark said, offering her
a small dish of butter. "I hope -"

"How did you get all this?" Lois asked, running her eyes over
the spread of cheeses, bite-sized quiches, thick slices of turkey
bacon, cranberry chutney, bratwurst, currant doughnuts, buns
draped in butterscotch sauce, plump juicy grapes, red cherries, a
mix of nuts with dried fruits, and a selection of chocolate
pastries. "You said nothing is open."

"I have a friend who owns a store. I went to see him last night
and asked for his help in putting together a picnic breakfast. I
know there's too much, but I wanted to make sure we included
something you'd enjoy."

Lois took the butter and picked up a knife. "It's amazing,
Clark."

"You like it?" he said with a hopeful smile.

"I ... I'm not sure what I was expecting, but this ..." She
gestured across the assembled multitude of pots and containers.

"So ... you like it?"

"Of course, I like it, Clark," Lois exclaimed. "It's just
..."

His smile died. "Too much?"

"No. It's ... " How could she say that it was the sweetest
thing anyone had ever done for her? And the scariest? "How could
I not like it, Clark? You ... This must have taken you all
night."

"Not really," he said, picking up the plate of assorted cheeses
and offering it to her. "I just wanted ... I hoped ..."

His hopes didn't need to verbalised -- they were being boomed
from every carefully chosen ingredient, every matching accessory,
every crevice of thoughtfulness. "Thanks," Lois said, taking
pieces of the camembert and havarti. Seeing that his plate was
still empty, she quickly added some bratwurst, a quiche, and a
handful of grapes. Then, she leaned back against the wooden
upright and sighed with what she hoped sounded like contentment.

Clark put some cheese and bacon on his plate. As he reached for a
slice of bread, he said, "I hear you broke a huge story
yesterday."

"The Senator story?"

"Yes. It sounds as if it's going to have far-reaching
ramifications. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Lois said, reflecting that a damp picnic breakfast in
Iowa with Clark was a long way from her usual celebration of
chocolate-fudge ice cream, eaten straight from the container as
she sat alone on the sofa in her apartment. "How did you know
about my story?"

Clark's grin was a little bit self-conscious as he said, "I
heard a radio news report this morning. They said the story had
been broken yesterday by The Daily Planet."

"My name was mentioned?" Lois asked with surprise.

"No," he admitted. "But I figured it was most likely your
story, so I took a chance."

"What if it hadn't been my story?" Lois asked. "What if my
biggest rival had written it? What if I'm annoyed that he got
the story and I didn't? What if that particular story is the
last thing I want to talk about?"

Her volley of questions didn't moderate Clark's smile. Quite
the opposite, in fact. "As I hear it," he replied, "Lois Lane
is the best reporter The Daily Planet has. The odds were solidly
in my favour."

Lois pulled her gaze from his mouth and rammed into his eyes. He
held her there, a willing captive, bobbing in the sea of his
unabashed admiration.

He blinked, releasing her. "Well," he said. "It's true,
isn't it?"

"Maybe," Lois conceded, although for the first time ever, being
the best didn't matter in the slightest.

When Clark Kent was looking at her like that ...

He plucked a few grapes from their stalks. "What made you
suspicious about the Senator?" he asked. "Why did you start
investigating him?"

This was easier ground. Lois leaned further into the upright and
nibbled on a piece of cheese. "Last year, his office was very
keen that we publicise their program to help disadvantaged
youth," she said. "The objective was to keep kids in school for
as long as possible through mentoring and providing funds for
books and other educational costs."

"Sounds like a great idea," Clark said. "But, in hindsight,
it's easy to wonder if all the allocated funds got to the
kids."

"Exactly," Lois said. "Last month, Perry sent me out to cover
a hold-up. Two days later, I got a tip-off that they were about
to make an arrest. I got there before most of the police and
managed to get a few words with the perpetrator. He was only
fifteen. I asked him why he wasn't still in school, and he said
there was no money for school."

"That was it?" Clark asked. "That was enough to make you
investigate the Senator?"

"The young burglar was a perfect candidate for the program,"
Lois said. "I wanted to know how he'd slipped through the
net."

"And you discovered the program was not as expansive as the
public had been led to believe?"

For a reporter who worked in Iowa, Clark was pretty adept at
connecting the scattered dots of an investigation. "With a
little digging, I realised that -- other than the kids who had
been featured in the original story -- it was impossible to find
*any*one who had been helped by the program."

"So you realised the money had gone somewhere?" Clark said.
With a grin, he added, "And you needed to find out where?"

Lois nodded, smiling ... because he was.

"How long did you work on the story?" he asked. "A few weeks?
A few months?"

Even fellow reporters sometimes assumed that the best stories
were mostly luck; that all the facts simply collated themselves
into order and were delivered as a neat package to the reporter
lucky enough to be on the receiving end of such gifts. But Clark
was different, it seemed. "A month," Lois said. "Every day,
after I'd filed my other stories."

Clark gave a low whistle. "That's a lot of dedication based on
the word of a kid. I don't think too many people would have
given it a second thought. But I guess the Daily Planet is big
enough that the editor could afford to give you some help."

Lois shook her head. "I work alone. Always. By choice."

His head jolted up. "Isn't that dangerous sometimes?"

"If you're worried about a few dangers, you're on a one-way
track to spending your life writing the obits," Lois stated.

"But you take precautions?" Clark said. "You let someone know
where you're going? You arrange back-up?"

Lois stared at her plate, tensing her muscles to keep from
squirming. She gathered all her defiance and looked up, ready to
launch her self-defence. "I do what I have to do to get the
story," she said in a cold, hard tone.

"I'm sorry," Clark said, his hand raised in surrender. "It's
none of my business how you get your stories. I didn't mean to
sound as if I thought it was."

"But it bothered you?"

He took a walnut half, examined it closely, and broke it into
quarters. "Yes," he admitted finally. "It bothered me."

"Why?"

"Because I care." He tossed the walnut fragments onto his plate
and looked across at her. "I care, Lois," he affirmed softly.
"I care about what happens to you. I want you to be safe. The
thought of someone hurting you ..." His eyes dropped. "I just
can't stomach that."

Right now, he was the person most likely to hurt her. Because
she'd allowed him too close. She'd let him affect her. She'd
let him lure her to the place where she cared, too. "It's
easier not to care," Lois said, unsure if she were directing her
words to Clark or herself. "And a whole lot safer."

"Easier," he echoed. "Emptier. Lonelier. More isolated."

"But caring always involves risk," Lois said.

"Of course it does."

"When you don't care, you can't be hurt."

Clark nodded sadly. "I suppose that if you don't want anything,
you can't be disappointed."

"What do you want, Clark?"

Her question echoed around the gazebo. He shuffled a little and
released a long breath. "Lois ..."

"Tell me," she said, leaning forward. "Tell me what it is that
you want."

"I don't want to scare you away."

"You asked me for a date within five minutes of meeting me,"
Lois reminded him. "Now, we're having breakfast together."

The crease between his eyebrows relaxed, making it easy to
believe that a smile was imminent. "Yeah," he said. "But I
came horribly close to blowing it."

"Tell me what you want."

He brushed at his fingernail with the tip of his thumb. "I want
... one day ..." His eyes levelled in hers. "One day, I hope
that you will be able to see what I can see."

"What do you see?"

His hand fluttered in the space between them. "That us ... that
we ... that this could be ... *incredible*."

She could see that already. She could feel it. The truth of it
hadn't stopped battering her heart and bombarding her brain
since the first moment Clark Kent had entered her world and
filled it with new awareness. "Clark ..."

"I'm sorry, Lois," he said. "I'm sorry for everything. I
know I shouldn't have asked you out so quickly. I'm sorry for
being so intense. It just ..." He lifted his hand as if in hope
it would express sentiments where words were inadequate. "It's
just ... this *is* intense."

"So you think I would prefer indifference?"

Her question drew a small smile. "I don't think it's possible
for me to be indifferent to you, Lois."

His compliments had a way of burrowing deep into her heart, as if
intent on finding a permanent home. "Has this ever happened to
you before?" she asked.

"No." He prodded at a chunk of bread. "You?"

"No!" she said with a gush of emphasis. "No. I didn't expect
this. I didn't believe this would ever happen to me. I didn't
believe it could happen."

"I wanted to believe," he said. He put his barely touched plate
on the floor and stared out into the gloom.

Lois copied his action, discarding her plate. She wriggled back
against the wooden upright. It was hard and uncomfortable. Clark
was sitting on the rug with his long legs crooked awkwardly in
front of him. She shivered and vigorously rubbed her arms.

He reached for the soft blanket and offered it to her.

She shook her head. "You must be cold. You keep it."

"I'm not cold."

Lois took the blanket. "Come and share it with me," she said.

Clark froze, shooting her a questioning look.

"Over here," Lois said, gesturing to the space next to her.
"Share the upright. You can't be comfortable with no support.
And you'll protect me from the wind coming from that side."

He scrambled to his feet and settled next to her -- close, but
carefully distant enough that they didn't touch. Lois handed him
one edge of the blanket and placed the other side over her lap,
tucking it under her thigh and using the action as a cover to
inch a little closer to Clark.

He tensed as her elbow brushed against his side. She leaned
slowly sideways until her shoulder ran into his arm. It felt like
warm steel. She waited a few breaths and when he didn't say
anything, she rested her head on the slope of his shoulder. "Do
you mind?" she asked.

"No." His reply was deliciously breathless. "Are ... you
feeling warmer now?"

"Yes. Thank you." After a few more seconds of silence, she
added, "You'd be a more comfortable pillow if you relaxed a
bit."

"Oh. Sorry." His shoulder dropped half an inch.

Smiling, Lois closed her eyes and let the melody of their
combined breaths wash over her. After just a few seconds, the
ghost of Lois Lane, Metropolis super reporter, rose up, barging
through the tranquillity with a torrent of incensed protests.

Spurning her, Lois nestled a little further into Clark's arm.

It felt so right, being here with Clark. Sharing time and place
and something that couldn't be seen or heard, but had a solid
presence whenever they were together.

The ghost slinked away in defeat, and Lois was left with the
staggering reality that she was enjoying herself*.* She liked
being with Clark. She loved how he made her feel. And the thought
of giving it up ...

"What are we going to do?" Lois asked, cautiously slicing
through the silence.

He took a breath before answering. "What do you want to do?"

She wanted unqualified assurance that this could be forever. She
wanted proof that this indefinable mass of feelings would be
strong enough to withstand the erosion of time. But Clark could
no more give her guarantees than she could promise him that her
feelings -- so wild and effervescent now -- wouldn't crumble to
dust. "I don't want to be vulnerable," she said. "I don't
want to do something I'm going to regret. I don't want to
believe in something that is impossible."

"Lois ..." His fingers tapped against his thigh. "I wish I
knew what to say. I wish ..."

"Do you wish you knew what to say to make me see what you can
see?" she asked, although, a little to her own surprise, there
was no hostility in her tone.

"No. Not really. I wish I could find the words to explain how
I'm feeling."

She wished for that, too. "Perhaps there is no explanation."

Clark turned to her, bracing his elbow against the upright to
provide support for her head in place of his shoulder. He cleared
his throat. "You're so very special, Lois," he said. "I want
... hope ... maybe ... if you felt the same, we might ... one day
... have a future together."

She lifted her head, facing him straight on. "Is that what you
want?"

He flinched. Recovered. Answered. "Yes."

"When did you realise this?"

He smiled, awkward and endearingly off-centre. "Is it corny to
say 'from the moment I met you'?"

Lois smiled, too. "Yes," she said. "Very corny."

"It's the truth."

"Clark ... I live in Metropolis. You live in Des Moines."

"That doesn't have to be a problem."

"I hate flying."

"I love flying."

"Are you saying you're willing to come to Metropolis to see
me?"

"If you ask me to come, I'll be there. As often as you want."

"That's going to get terribly expensive," Lois said. "And
there are no direct flights. You're going to waste hours waiting
at airports."

"Coming to see you would never be a waste of time."

"But the cost, Clark. Doing it once was OK, but regularly, it's
going to be -"

"The cost won't be a problem, either."

She searched his face for meaning. "Are your folks wealthy?"
she asked bluntly.

"Not especially so."

"Then how are you going to afford regular flights on a Des
Moines Register reporter's salary?"

"Please, Lois," he said. "Let's not worry about that now."

Lois had always needed to know how things were going to work out.
She always planned. Always organised. Always calculated.

She looked through the lenses of his glasses and into those deep
brown eyes. She found such warmth there. Warmth that draped
around her heart and chased away her fears.

She had become a successful reporter by trusting her instincts.
In matters of love, those instincts had failed her repeatedly.

But perhaps she'd never paused long enough to listen to her
instincts. Perhaps she'd run headlong into new, and ultimately
disastrous, relationships because she'd so desperately wanted to
fortify the hope that had been steadily dissolving since she'd
been forced to witness the daily decay of her parents'
marriage.

Perhaps Clark was different.

Her instincts were insisting that he was different.

Perhaps she could trust him without having to know all the
answers now.

She nodded, just a tiny movement. He responded with a soft smile.
"Thank you," he whispered.

A mere sliver of space separated them. "Have you thought about
kissing me?" Lois asked.

"Yes." His reply came without emphasis. Just simple truth,
unadorned.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you kiss me earlier?" she said. "When I brushed
the rain off your sweater?"

"I wasn't sure you wanted me to."

"You wouldn't kiss me unless you were sure I wanted it?"

"I hope not."

"What if you knew I wanted you to kiss me?"

"Do you?"

"Uh huh."

His eyes closed, his mouth moved forward, and his lips touched
hers. His hand followed, curling around her neck as his thumb
reached up to her cheek. His kiss deepened, moving with careful
thoroughness that searched out her strands of resistance and
brought every speck to panting glorious compliance.

Far too soon, he backed away. His eyes opened, looked up, and met
hers.

Lois slid down the contours of his sleeve, reaching his hand and
grasping it. "Well," she puffed. "That makes everything so
much more complicated."

"I think it makes everything clearer," Clark said.

"How so?"

"That was the best kiss of my life, with the most fascinatingly
beautiful woman I have ever met," he said, caressing her with a
smile. "What's complicated about that?"

His certainty washed over her in waves, razing the barriers.
"The best kiss of your life?" she questioned.

He nodded.

It had been the best kiss of her life, too. And as much as she
wanted to dwell on the memory, mere memories couldn't compete
with Clark ... right there ... available. "Kiss me again," she
murmured.

He came to her, both hands clasping her neck, holding her with
infinite tenderness as his mouth imprinted the story of his
wonder and fascination.

"Clark! Clark!"

Clark's frustrated groan rose from somewhere deep in his chest,
and he eased away before springing to his feet.

A woman Lois recognised as having been in the group with him last
night was running through the rain towards the gazebo. "Clark!"
she shouted. "We need your help. Shane's called off the
wedding."

Part 6

The woman hurtled up the gazebo steps and came to an abrupt stop
in front of Clark. "The wedding's off," she announced, pushing
the hood of her coat from her head and wiping her face with her
sleeve. "Shane says he won't marry Jane."

Clark pressed a brief touch to her elbow. "It's probably just
wedding nerves, Belinda," he said. "I hear that happens all the
time."

The woman shook her head vigorously. "No," she said. "It's
far more than a few nerves. Emma called Shane's home, and one of
his brothers answered. Shane wouldn't even come to the phone. He
has told all his relations to go home and forget that a wedding
was ever planned."

"Where is Jane?" Clark said. "Has she talked with Shane? She
must be distraught."

"She is," Belinda said. "She's locked herself in her bedroom
and refuses to speak to anyone. But we can hear her sobs through
the door, and it sounds as if her heart is breaking."

Lois took a step closer. "Has Shane said why he doesn't want to
get married?" she asked. "He must have given a reason."

"All he has said is that Jane is not the person he thought she
was," Belinda replied. "And he is adamant that there will be no
wedding."

"Does Jane know why?" Clark asked. "Has she said anything at
all? Has she talked to Shane? Does she want to talk to Shane?"

"It almost seems as if she half expected this," Belinda said
forlornly. "We told her it was probably just nerves, and she
burst into tears and said we didn't understand. When we offered
to take her to Shane's so they could talk, she said it wouldn't
make any difference."

"Was there an argument?" Clark asked. "Did something happen at
the party last night?"

"I was busy helping clear away the rest of the food," Belinda
said.

"But?" Lois prompted.

"Carol said that Anna said that Jane had received news that her
father wasn't able to come."

Clark adjusted his glasses. "Maybe it's none of our business,"
he said.

"If we don't do something, there's going to be no wedding,"
Belinda said flatly. "Is that what you want?"

"No," Clark said quickly. "But what I want isn't
important."

"What *they* want is important," Belinda said, "and I thought
they desperately wanted to be married."

"We all thought that," Clark said.

"Until this morning, and suddenly ..." Belinda raised her hands
in frustration. "Emma and I thought that if anyone could talk to
Shane, it would be you."

"Me?" Clark said, sounding surprised. "What about his
brothers? And his parents?"

"They're too close," Belinda said. "And they haven't been
able to do anything so far. They hardly know Jane. You know both
of them. They respect you. We think you are the best person to
find out if this can be made right."

"Of course it can be made right," Clark said. "They are
perfect together. Last night ... They just seemed so happy."

"That was last night," Belinda said. "This morning, Shane
won't budge and Jane seems to have lost all hope."

Clark swept his hand through his hair. "I don't understand. I
thought -"

"Which is why you need to talk to Shane." Belinda cast a glance
over the food dotted across the rug. "I'm sorry to interrupt,"
she said, giving Lois a rueful smile. "I know you're busy,
Clark, but we've been trying to talk to Jane for over two hours.
And Shane won't say anything to his brothers except that there
will be no wedding. We didn't know what else to do."

"How did you know Clark would be here?" Lois asked.

"Well, that wasn't hard," Belinda said with a small shrug.
"We all saw what happened last night. When Clark wasn't
answering his phone this morning, it seemed likely he was out
with you. None of the good cafes are open yet, so the obvious
place was the park. And it's raining; hence the gazebo."

"Oh," Lois said, wondering exactly what they concluded had
happened last night. "OK."

"Will you come?" Belinda said, addressing her question to
Clark.

"I'm not sure what I can do," he said doubtfully.

"Shane might talk to you," Belinda said. "Please try, Clark.
You're the one person who knows them equally. They both like you
a lot. If we can find out why Shane has cancelled the wedding,
perhaps we can try to do something to help."

Clark looked at Lois, his expression twisted with indecision.

"I think you should go," she said. "If there's a chance of
helping them, you should go and try."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Clark nodded and turned to Belinda. "You go back to Jane," he
said. "I'll drive over to Shane's house and see if he'll
speak to me."

Belinda's smile stretched to include Lois. "Thank you," she
said. "We have to try something. I really don't know what could
have happened. They seemed so much in love."

"They *are* in love," Clark said firmly.

"I'll wait at Jane's," Belinda called as she ran down the
steps and towards her car. "You know her number."

Clark turned to Lois. "I'm so sorry, Lois," he said with a
helpless wave towards the remains of their picnic.

They stared down at the food as disappointment skulked around
them like a dark cloud of dashed hopes.

"It can't be helped," Lois said briskly, crouching low and
reaching for the nearest container. She fixed its lid in place,
startled to discover that an unyielding wad of emotion had pushed
up into her throat.

She swallowed roughly, admonishing herself for being silly.

Shane and Jane would be all right. A solution would be found. The
wedding would probably go ahead, and this story would be told to
their children as a tiny -- even humorous -- glitch in an
otherwise perfect day.

But, if Lois were honest, the sudden knot of sentiment wasn't
just about the broken dreams of the bride and groom.

Belinda's arrival had shattered an exquisite moment with Clark,
cooling the atmosphere of closeness so completely that they were
now hastily clearing away the evidence of their date in silence.

The moment had been lost ... but it wasn't irretrievable.

It could be restored.

If Clark wanted it.

If she wanted it.

Did she? The possibility of never again kissing Clark Kent was
far more devastating than the prospect of them returning to the
wondrous moment when his mouth had caressed hers with such lavish
attention.

Lois stole a glance into his face. It was set ... a little closed
... as if he, too, was using the need to pack away as a shield
for his disappointment.

*I counted down the hours to seven thirty.*

He'd sacrificed a few hours of sleep to plan their date in
minute detail. He'd arrived at her hotel an hour early.

And just when everything had been going perfectly ...

Lois cleared her throat and smothered her uncertainties with a
dose of common sense. If this thing between them could be
side-tracked by a single interruption, it wasn't worth
pursuing.

But why had Clark gone so quiet?

Was he reconsidering?

Did he regret kissing her?

Was he backing away?

That thought hurt like a spike to the core of her heart.

Only one container remained. Lois reached for it, and her fingers
smacked into Clark's wrist.

"Sorry," he said, their hands hovering like two bees assessing
the same flower.

Lois snatched at the remaining container and threw it into the
basket. As she straightened from her crouched position, she tried
to muster a pretend-nothing-happened smile.

He slowly stood. "I'm so sorry, Lois," he said. "I can't
believe I let Belinda talk me into abandoning our date."

"But if the wedding never happens, wouldn't you always worry
that you could have done something?"

"That's better than worrying that I've blown my only chance
with you."

His apprehension glimmered from behind his glasses, curling
around her heart and melting more of its crusty edges. "You
haven't blown anything," she said.

He lifted his hand, ran it through his hair and left it perched
at the back of his neck. "Lois ..." She'd meant her words to
be reassuring, but it was clear they hadn't had the intended
effect.

"What's wrong, Clark?" Lois asked. "Everything was going
well. Nothing's changed. Maybe it's changed for Jane and Shane,
but that doesn't have to affect us."

Clark stared at his feet. "Right now, I would give anything to
go back to the moment before Belinda arrived, but ..."

"But?"

His hand dropped listlessly to his side. "But as much as I
enjoyed kissing you ..."

*He wanted more.* She gulped, not sure how she felt about going
beyond kissing. She scrutinised his face. Found comprehension
there. Breathed again. "It's not enough, is it?" she said.
"Not for you?"

Clark shook his head. "I was trying to ... I hoped ... but the
first thing comes along, and I ..." He grimaced. "I really
wanted you to know how important this is to me."

"You think I didn't get that?" Lois exclaimed sharply. "You
think I haven't realised how much this means to you?"

He shrank back half a step. "I'm sorry, Lois," he said. "You
made your feelings perfectly clear right at the beginning, and
-"

"I did?"

"You said you don't believe in love. You don't date. I am
trying to respect that, but then I look at you and ..."

"And?"

His gaze came steadily, potent with meaning. "And I can't help
wishing -"

"You said you wanted me to see what you can see," Lois said.
"I can see it. I can. Every moment I spend with you makes it
more difficult to avoid, but -"

"But nothing ... none of this ... changes that it's not what
you want."

His statement -- so cold and final -- shocked her into silence.
He stood there, watching her, his shoulders rigidly straight, his
expression cloaked in despair.

"Is that why you told me to go to and speak with Shane?" Clark
asked. "So our date can be over with?"

"No!" Lois shuddered through a long breath, calming her
rampaging heart. "No. If I didn't want to be with you, I would
just say so."

"You did."

His words felt like a slap to Lois's face. She recovered,
hastily dragged something coherent from the chaos churning
through her mind, and said, "I thought I didn't want this.
Actually, that's not completely true. I had given up on what I
really wanted because I no longer believed it was possible."

"If there's no hope -- I know you already tried to tell me
that, but you came with me this morning and you said you wanted
me to kiss you -- but if there's no hope of anything long-term,
I'd ..." He swallowed roughly. "I'd really appreciate it if
you'd tell me now, straight out."

Lois had said she was afraid of being vulnerable, but she'd
rarely felt as vulnerable as Clark looked now. It was as if he'd
placed his heart in her hands and ceded all control of it to her.
"I'm confused, and I'm scared," she said.

"Lois, I can't promise that I won't do something stupid,"
Clark said. "But I can promise that your happiness will always
be important to me."

His words drifted over her, loosening tightly bound shackles. She
rummaged through the commotion of her heart, looking for jewels
of truth. "I can't make any sense out of what I'm feeling, but
..." She moved closer to him. "But I'm drawn to you, Clark,
and I can't imagine getting on a plane tomorrow and going back
to Metropolis and forgetting you."

His smile came tentatively, flickering like a flame infused with
unexpected hope. He waited, saying nothing, allowing her to
direct the way forward.

Lois reached for her bag and took out her notepad and pen. She
quickly jotted down her address and phone number. She ripped the
page from the pad and held it out to Clark. "Call me," she
said. "When I get back to Metropolis, call me."

He took the paper. "That will be OK?"

"Will you call me?" she asked, hardening her tone so he knew
she was serious. "Or am I going to sit by the phone waiting
because your attention has moved on to something else?"

"What time does your plane land in Metropolis tomorrow?"

"Ten past seven."

"I'll call before eight o'clock," he promised.

"Des Moines time?" she asked.

He grinned at that. "Metropolis time." He carefully placed the
paper in his billfold and took the pen and pad from her. "Here
are my details. You can call me anytime."

"Thanks," Lois said, replacing the notepad in her bag when
he'd finished writing.

Clark looked through the rain to the car. "Would you like me to
take you back to your hotel?" he offered.

"Would you mind if I came with you to Shane's?" Lois asked.

"Of course you can come," he said, looking surprised. "If you
want to."

"It will save time. We can go from Shane's to the place with
sensational coffee. Or we can continue our picnic. There's
plenty of food left."

Clark's smile burst forth, warming her from the inside out.
"Perhaps it's just a simple misunderstanding with Shane and
Jane," he said. "Perhaps it won't take long. Perhaps there
will be plenty of time for lunch before we need to get ready for
the wedding."

"Is that what you really believe?" Lois asked. "That the
wedding can be saved?"

Clark's spurt of optimism drained away. "I ..." He shrugged.
"I don't know what to think."

*I would gladly risk it all for a woman I loved.*

From a remote corner of Lois's heart came the urge to beg him
not to give up. To plead with him to stand firm. To be strong ...
for her ... for them ... for Jane and Shane, too. "Clark ..."
She shuffled forwards.

And stepped right into his embrace.

She snuggled into the soft sweater as his arms enclosed her.

It felt like ... *He* felt like ...

Home.

He felt like home.

He felt like the place she had sought and never found in work or
stories or busyness or success or bad relationships with unworthy
men.

He felt like the answer to every lonely cry from her heart.

He felt like he was hers.

Now. In this moment.

And for a whole lifetime of moments in the future.

Lois regretted every one of her former relationships. Every
single one festered like a lesion on her scarred and hardened
heart. But, as she stood enfolded in Clark Kent's arms, the
realisation came that if she turned her back on this chance --
*this man* -- her regret at her lack of courage would far, far
outweigh her mass of regrets at her past lack of discernment.

Not trusting Clark would be far worse than trusting all those
other men had been.

He was different.

His head came down, and she felt the touch of a kiss to her
hair.

*It's not enough, is it? Not for you?*

A short fling would never be enough for Clark. He understood
there were no guarantees, but he hadn't allowed the potential
for heartache to deter his dreams.

She sighed.

"You OK?" Clark asked.

OK? She was a lot better than OK. She was enveloped in the strong
and gentle arms of Clark Kent. "Uh huh."

"I wish we had time to dance," he said.

"There's no music."

"I don't need music to dance with you."

His foot slid sideways. She followed.

And they danced to the melody floating up from a heart no longer
comatose.

***

The tide of questions lapped against the shores of Clark's mind,
but he diligently ignored them, determined to let nothing
diminish these moments with Lois.

Holding her in his arms, breathing in the flowery scent of her
hair, listening to the patter of raindrops on the gazebo roof --
it surpassed every one of his dreams.

*It's not enough, is it? Not for you?*

He'd guarded that truth for fear of upsetting her, but she'd
perceived it anyway.

And she hadn't run away.

He'd offered her a way out, knowing he would forever count it as
the worst moment of his life if she'd taken it.

But she hadn't.

She was dancing with him.

Close. Nestled against his body. She felt relaxed in his arms. As
if she wanted to be there.

He wanted nothing more than to dance with her for hours, but his
sense of responsibility was tugging on his conscience with
ever-growing persistence, reminding him of his promise to
Belinda.

Clark's feet stopped. "I suppose we should ..."

Lois inched away from his chest. "What do you think Belinda
meant when she said they'd all seen what happened last night?"
she said.

"I don't think they assumed we spent the night together,"
Clark said quickly. "I deliberately went back to the party so
everyone knew that I hadn't stayed with you."

"Belinda was sure you'd be with me this morning."

Clark chuckled, trying to hide his consternation at where Lois's
questions might be heading. "Lucky guess," he said lightly.

Lois fleeting smile soothed Clark's qualms. "It was more than a
guess," she said. "What did she see to make her so sure we'd
be together?"

He should have learned by now that evading Lois's questions
wasn't easy. "Maybe she saw a man helplessly captivated by a
beautiful stranger," he said.

Lois's smile expanded. Her hand slid from his shoulder to his
chest and stayed there. "You are an amazing man, Clark Kent,"
she said. "No one has ever touched me the way you do. You make
me want to believe again."

"Are you still scared?"

She nodded. "But I'm more scared of running away than I am of
staying."

"I am more scared of hurting you than you are," he said.
"Please believe me."

"I do," she said with a smile and a touch to his face.

His thoughts turned to kissing her again, but she backed away,
her attention moving to the remnants of their picnic.

He loved her. He'd loved her from the first, and he could feel
that love permeating his heart, layer after layer, advancing and
taking every part captive for the cause of loving Lois.

Of winning her love in return.

And of nurturing and protecting that love every day of his life.

Part 7

Clark picked up the basket and thick rug. "I'll get this stuff
into the car," he said. "You want to wait here where it's
dry?"

Lois nodded, stepping sideways a few inches so she would have an
uninterrupted view as he ran through the rain.

She shivered, and bent low to pick up the soft blanket, wrapping
it around her shoulders. As Clark reached the car, she diverted
her gaze for a few seconds to retrieve the two half-full cups of
coffee. He turned and ran towards her, sending a skitter of
sensation through her heart. As he leapt up the steps, Lois's
gaze became snagged on the fresh raindrops clinging to his
sweater. When she dragged her eyes up, she discovered he was
smiling at her.

"Want to brush them away?" he asked in a voice that came more
thickly than his smile had foreshadowed.

Yes, she did. But if she touched him again, they might never
fulfil their promise to talk to Shane. "You have a wedding to
rescue," she reminded him.

With a good-natured grin, he reached over to take his coffee from
her.

She jolted her hand away and smacked a kiss right on his
unsuspecting mouth.

Playful. Short. Startlingly good.

His grin made her want to laugh out loud. "What was that for?"
he asked

"Ah ..." Why *had* she kissed him like that? Without any
thought to the consequences or how he would perceive her actions?
"Did you like it?"

"Oh, yes."

His reply was thick with emphasis. Not knowing what else to say,
Lois mumbled, "I liked breakfast."

His eyebrow dipped, feigning disbelief. "It was cold, it rained
-"

"And we were interrupted at a most inconvenient moment," Lois
said, releasing a little spurt of laughter at the memory. "But
for all that, I had the best time."

His eyes were trained on her mouth. "Belinda's timing was
terrible," he murmured.

"Yeah," she breathed.

His hand slid across her cheek and dipped to curl around her
neck, exerting gentle pressure. His eyes closed. His mouth
settled slowly on hers.

His kiss was a tenderly issued invitation. To move forward. With
him.

The shadows lurked, full of all the things she had come to fear
most.

But Clark was kissing her. And she could feel his strength. His
fearlessness. His vision for their future.

She wanted to go with him.

She could no longer deny the truth.

Sometime during breakfast under a rustic gazebo in a rain-sodden
park in Des Moines, Iowa, she had released the safety rail and
was already hurtling down the steep slope towards love.

She drew away, reeling at the truth.

"You OK?" he asked.

"Yeah. I ..." She smiled. "I was just enjoying that a little
too much."

"Oh." His cheeks deepened a little in colour. "I'm sorry. I
-"

"I need you to answer one question."

"OK."

"Do you like living in Des Moines?"

"Yes," he said. "But if you asked me to move to Metropolis, I
would do so without a moment's hesitation."

He meant it. His belief in their future was so unshakeable that
he would willingly give up his job and leave his home and friends
to be with her. Lois glanced out of the gazebo. "I don't think
I could live in Des Moines."

"I'm not asking you to."

She swung back to him. "What if you hate Metropolis? What if you
can't get a job with a paper? You'd be further away from your
parents. How are they going to feel about that?"

"My parents want me to be happy," he said. "And I can't
imagine hating anywhere -"

"It's big. It's fast. It's impersonal. It's unjust. It's
crowded. It's lonely. It's -"

"*We* would not be lonely. And maybe, together, we can change
some of the other things."

"Clark ..." She stopped, torn. She *wanted* to believe. She
wanted so desperately to believe that being with Clark would be
different. That Clark would be different. That the future he
believed in could be their reality.

His hand rose, and the back of his fingers skated across her
cheek, coming to rest under the tip of her chin. "No one's
going to force you to do anything, Lois," he said. "I
promise." He took his coffee from her and picked up his coat.
"Ready to brave the Iowan rain?"

She nodded. He smiled. And the shadows dissolved in the
brilliance of his optimism.

Lois skipped down the steps and across the wet and shiny grass to
the car. Clark overtook her in the last few strides, just in time
to have her door open the moment she arrived. "Thanks," she
said, pulling the blanket from her shoulders and throwing it into
the back seat.

Clark slid into the driver's seat and shut out the drenched
world. His sweater was stippled with drops again. Lois's fingers
itched to brush them away, to slide over the contours hidden
under the soft woollen material.

"I don't know how long this is going to take," Clark said.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you to the hotel
first? I could come and get you as soon as I'm done."

"Is the hotel on the way?" she asked

"Not exactly."

She smiled inside, but tried to keep her face straight.
"Meaning?"

A tiny grin poked through Clark's earnestness. "Meaning it's
in the opposite direction."

"Then I'd like to stay with you," Lois said.

His hand slid down her arm to take her hand in his warm and
gentle grip. "I'd like that, too," he said, deep in tone and
extravagant with meaning.

One man. One very extraordinary man. A few short hours. An
on-again-off-again date with a stuttered start. A curtailed
picnic under leaking rain clouds.

And she had succumbed.

Not to Clark. But to her own heart.

A heart that beat with new vitality. Buoyant confidence. Fresh
hope.

And joy that bubbled over, making everything beautiful.

Should she tell him? That she was on the verge of falling in love
with him?

She couldn't.

It was too soon.

And they had promised to talk to Shane.

"We should go," Lois said. "Imagine if Belinda caught us
kissing? *Again*?"

Clark sighed overdramatically, his eyes glistening with fun. He
released her hand, slowly and sensually sliding his fingers over
hers. After a final lingering look, he turned the key in the
ignition.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say to Shane?"
Lois asked as they drove out of the park.

"Not really," Clark said. "Other than asking him why he
changed his mind."

"How well do you know him? Do you think he's likely to confide
in you?"

"I wouldn't say we're close friends," Clark said. "We've
covered a few stories together. He's a nice guy -- always
cheerful, not much rattles him. That's what makes his decision
this morning so hard to understand."

"Did you notice anything? Before today? Has Shane ever said
anything that made you think this might happen?"

"No," Clark said. "Not at all. I thought he'd wanted to marry
Jane since the first week he arrived in Des Moines. She wanted to
wait and give them time to be sure."

"I'm sorry this happened," Lois said, surprised to realise it
was true. "Jane must be feeling awful."

Clark shot her a smile. "Thanks for not saying, 'I told you
so'."

Before Lois had met Clark Kent, there was every chance she would
have said exactly that, embellished with a sneer for good
measure.

But today was a new day, and Lois could barely keep her eyes off
Clark. Everything about him fascinated her. Thrilled her.
Reassured her. Filled her.

And when he had kissed her ...

"Lois?"

"Uhmm?"

"If the wedding goes ahead, would you like to go with me?"

Lois suppressed her automatic acceptance, hoping to avoid gushing
too obviously. "Yes," she said evenly. "I'd like to go to the
wedding with you."

Clark beamed. "Great."

"And if the wedding doesn't happen," Lois said, "well, my
flight doesn't leave until tomorrow morning."

"Would you like to do something with me? A meal? A movie,
perhaps?"

"Yes. I would."

"I know a great restaurant," he said eagerly. "The food is
amazing."

"I'd like that," she said, although however amazing the food,
she doubted she would carry much memory of it back to
Metropolis.

But her memories of this weekend ... of Clark ... meeting him,
discovering, layer by layer, the sort of man he was ... learning
the nuances embedded in that smile ... dancing with him ...
kissing him ...

Those memories would live with her forever.

"Jane must be feeling terrible," Lois said. "She looked so
happy last night."

"I wonder what Shane said to convince her there was no hope,"
Clark said. "Jane usually isn't easily persuaded when it's
something she really cares about."

"Do you still think it's for the best that they marry?" Lois
asked.

Clark tapped a few times on the steering wheel before replying.
"I want to say 'yes'," he said. "But I guess that if
they've got doubts, they should wait."

It didn't sound like doubts to Lois. It sounded as if Shane was
sure that he no longer wanted to marry Jane and he wasn't
interested in anyone changing his mind.

How could that happen so quickly? How could the celebrations of
last night turn to the heartache of today?

Her well-drilled cynicism wanted to provide a few choice replies,
but Lois hushed them. Something had happened. And although she
would never write the story, the reporter in Lois really wanted
to know the answers.

It had to be something significant. Two people who loved each
other didn't ditch their wedding over something minor.

Did they?

Maybe unrest had been brewing for weeks. Maybe Shane had been
harbouring doubts. Maybe they'd had a huge argument last night.
Maybe -'

Clark pulled up outside a modest house with a plain and neat
garden. "Coming in?" he asked.

"Would that be all right?"

"Of course," Clark said. "It's going to get pretty cold in
the car without the engine running." He grasped the door handle.
"Wait there. I'll get your door."

"You'll get wet."

"I don't mind getting wet. In fact, as of this morning, I quite
enjoy it."

"Why?"

His smile evolved into soft laughter. "Can't you work it
out?"

Lois answered him with a smile that she hoped conveyed she knew
exactly why he liked raindrops on his sweater.

"Wait here?" he said. "Please?"

"Why is it so important that you open my door for me?"

"Because I was raised to believe that if a man has the privilege
of a woman's company, he should look out for her."

"I can open my own door," she said mildly.

"I know," he said. "But I like doing it for you."

"OK," she said, her grin breaking through her words. "You open
the door for me; I'll brush the rain from your sweater."

"Deal."

After he'd come to her door and offered her his hand, they ran
through the garden to the front porch. Clark didn't knock. He
waited, a half-smile loitering on that very kissable mouth.

Lois giggled and raised her hand, using the tips of her fingers
to brush away the lamentably few raindrops.

"Thanks," Clark said when she'd finished.

"You're welcome."

They shared a smile, and then Clark rapped on the door.

Half a minute later, one of Shane's brothers opened the door.
"Hi," he said. "You must be Clark. I'm Andrew."

"Hi, Andrew," Clark said, shaking his hand. "This is Lois
Lane."

"Pleased to meet you, Lois," Andrew said with a nod to her.
"Come in. Belinda called to say you were coming."

"I'm not sure what we can do," Clark said as they walked down
a small hallway and into a room where several men were clustered
around the open fire.

"Shane won't say anything except -"

Shane -- his face unshaven and his springy hair wild -- stormed
into the room, holding a half-empty beer bottle in his hand. "I
can speak for myself, Andrew," he snarled.

"Well, speak then," Andrew said, unmoved by his brother's
display of anger. He took the bottle from Shane's hand and
placed it on the coffee table. "Sit down and talk. Tell us why a
man who has been so excited for months about getting married
suddenly doesn't want the wedding to happen."

Shane slumped into the nearest chair and sank his face into his
hands.

"Shane?" Clark said, stepping closer to him. "Are you all
right?"

Shane dragged his hands down his face, distorting his features.
"No," he said. "I feel worse than I ever have before."

"Why?" Clark said.

"Because I know the truth."

"The truth?"

"The truth about Jane."

"You love Jane," Clark said. "Whatever 'truth' you found
out, surely it isn't enough to stop you loving her."

Shane collapsed back against the chair. "She didn't trust me,"
he said woefully. "All this time ... she didn't trust me."

"I'm sure she trusts you," Clark said.

"No," Shane corrected. "She didn't trust me. She wasn't even
going to tell me. We were supposed to be getting married today
and she wasn't going to tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"The truth."

"The truth about what?"

"The truth about who she is." Shane fired an angry look at
Clark. "Do you know her name isn't even 'Jane'?" he
demanded. "Her real name is Margaret." He flinched as he said
the name, as if it caused him pain.

"It's not a crime to prefer a different name than the one your
parents gave you," Clark said gently.

"She is Margaret Johnston," Shane said, his lip curling with
disgust. "But she wasn't going to tell me."

"Does her name really matter?" Clark asked. "Doesn't it
matter more that -"

Shane lurched from his seat. "Margaret Johnston," he said as he
paced away. He spun around before reaching the window. "Margaret
Johnston. Surely you know that name?"

Clark glanced to the other men, who all looked blank.

"I know who Margaret Johnston is," Lois said quietly.

Shane advanced on her. Clark shuffled closer to her. "Then you
must understand why I can't marry her," Shane said, stopping
only a few inches from Lois's face.

"I understand why she would change her name," Lois said.

"It's not that she changed her name!" Shane bellowed. "It's
that she didn't tell me. She was going to marry me without
telling me. She let me think her family would be coming to the
wedding. She let me think they were a normal family. She didn't
trust me enough to tell me the truth."

"What happened wasn't Margaret's fault," Lois said.

"Exactly!" Shane shouted. "It wasn't her fault. And if she'd
been open and told me the truth, I would have understood. But she
didn't! She didn't tell me. She didn't trust me." He leaned
into the wall, his arms high, his head buried in them.

Clark looked across to Lois. "Who's Margaret Johnston?" he
asked quietly.

"She was the little girl in a Metropolis crime family," Lois
replied. "It was huge news in the seventies. I studied the case
in high school."

"What happened?" Andrew asked.

"The Johnston family specialty was bank robberies," Lois said.
"The father and two almost-grown sons would enter a bank. They
would draw their guns and demand money from the teller. Once they
had the money, they would shoot at the little girl standing in
the queue with her mother. The girl would drop, everyone was
either too shocked to move or went to aid the little girl. The
men made a getaway. A few minutes later, the girl miraculously
recovered, mom picked her up, and they left, too."

"They shot at their little girl?" Clark asked in horror.

"They shot in her direction. She fell as if she'd been hit."

"Were they caught?" Andrew asked.

"Not the first two times," Lois said. "But the third time,
something went wrong, and Margaret was hit in the shoulder by a
bullet. A young man charged at the father and was shot and killed
by one of the sons. The mother took Margaret away, but a couple
of days later, the little girl was left outside a hospital. The
wound had become infected. When she was well enough to talk with
police, the things she told them enabled them to locate the
family. They were tried, convicted, and jailed. The papers
reported that Margaret had survived the wound, but never said
what had happened to her. It was believed she went to a foster
family."

"She did," Shane said scathingly from his position against the
wall. "She became Jane Jones -- new name, new life, new -"

"What is wrong with that?" Lois snapped. "Margaret Johnston
was only five years old when her family used her as a diversion
in three bank robberies. She was innocent, and she -"

Shane spun away from the wall. "Yes," he exploded. "She was
innocent. So why didn't she just tell me the truth? Why didn't
she tell me that her family is in prison? Why did she let me
think that they would be coming to the wedding? Why did she let
me think everything was normal? Why did she lie to me?"

"She said her family would be here?" Clark asked. "She told
you that?"

"No," Shane said sourly. "I assumed her family would be coming
to her wedding. That's reasonable, isn't it? She didn't
correct me. Didn't say a word. Just kept quiet and hoped that by
the time I realised the truth, it would be too late."

"Perhaps she was scared," Clark said.

"Scared of what?" Shane spat.

"Scared of how you'd react," Clark said. "Scared that if you
knew the truth, you'd feel differently about her. Scared that
telling you the truth would change everything."

"Telling me the truth would have proved that she trusted me,"
Shane said bitterly.

"When?" Clark said. "When should she have told you?"

Shane looked up, his mouth opened but no words came. "Definitely
before the wedding," he said eventually. "We were supposed to
be getting married today, and yet there was a whole part of her
life she was hiding from me."

Clark stepped closer to Shane. "I agree that she should have
told you before the wedding," he said, "but it's probably not
something she has told anyone before."

"I didn't know," Lois said. "I don't think anyone in college
knew that Jane was Margaret Johnston."

"See?" Clark said. "It isn't something Jane wanted to be
public knowledge. And for good reason. She couldn't help being
born into that family. She feared people would judge her if they
knew the truth. She wanted to be free to live just like everyone
else."

"OK," Shane said. "I get her not wanting it to be public
knowledge, but I was going to be her husband. What if one of them
escaped? Apparently, they've made threats against her because
she talked to the police. What if they found new evidence about
something and came to our home? What was I supposed to say? That
I had no idea I was married to Margaret Johnston? That my wife
didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth?"

"Jane probably wanted to tell you," Clark said. "She probably
agonised over finding the right moment. She couldn't tell you
before she was sure that your relationship was going to be more
than just friends. But when she realised she was in love with
you, she really, really didn't want to risk damaging that."

"We were engaged ten months ago," Shane said. "She had ten
months to tell me."

"She probably planned to tell you a thousand times," Clark
said. "She probably rehearsed the words over and over and
imagined every possible scenario for what happens after she's
said things that can never be recalled. And the longer she left
it, the bigger it got, and the more anxious she became about
losing the most precious thing in her life."

"I don't feel differently because she was Margaret Johnston,"
Shame said tightly. "I feel differently because she didn't
trust me. Because she kept a whole part of her life a secret from
me."

"And if she'd told you a month ago, would you have reacted like
this?" Clark asked. "Would you have called off the wedding
then?"

Shane dragged his hand through his hair, making it stand to
attention. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know what I
would have done."

"Then how can you expect Jane to know?" Clark said. "How can
you expect her to have faith in your feelings for her when you
can't say what you would have done? How can you expect her to
have known exactly the moment to tell you that wasn't too early
but was early enough that you didn't deem her silence to be a
lack of trust in you?"

Shane slowly shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I just
know that it feels as if everything we shared was pretence. As if
I never really knew her."

"You knew her," Clark said. "You knew the real Jane."

"She let me think she came from a normal family," Shane said.

"She was scared that telling you the truth would change
things," Clark said. "She valued your love so much, she
couldn't risk losing you."

"She could have told me."

"You know now."

"Only because I finally refused to be put off by her diversion
tactics. Last night, we were talking about the wedding and I
asked what time her father would be getting in this morning. She
said he wasn't able to come. I told her how disappointed I was
for her and asked what had happened to prevent him coming. She
said she wasn't that close to her father. This was news to me,
so I asked more ... about her mother." He glared at Lois. "Did
you know that her mother was killed by a fellow prisoner about
five years ago?"

"No," Lois said. "I didn't know that."

"I thought her mother was alive. I thought her parents were
coming to the wedding." Shane lurched for the bottle and took a
long swig. "I told her that a marriage involves trust and if she
was serious about marrying me, she needed to tell me the whole
story."

"Did she?" Clark asked.

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"I took her home. I came back here. I started to think about all
the times she'd lied to me -- not with words exactly, but by not
correcting my assumptions. By letting me think things were one
way when they were very different. And then I realised that I
couldn't marry someone who didn't trust me."

"She trusted you," Clark insisted. "She told you something she
has probably never told anyone before in her life."

"It was too late," Shane bellowed. "Much, much too late."

Clark stepped back, his face ashen.

"Are you willing to talk to Jane?" Andrew asked. "See if you
can work this out?"

"There's nothing more to say."

"I thought you were in love with her," Lois said. "I thought
love was supposed to be more resilient than this."

"I deserved to know a long time before now," Shane said. "I
can't help how I feel."

"What are you feeling?" Lois asked.

"Betrayed. Left out. Confused. Alone."

"There's one person who would understand that perfectly,"
Clark said, "but you've shut her out."

Shane looked up, surprise filtering through his resentment.

"I'm sure Jane feels betrayed by her family," Clark said.
"I'm sure she felt left out in the foster homes. I'm sure she
loved the idea of finally being a part of a family again. I'm
sure she was overjoyed to find someone who loved her for who she
is."

"I didn't know who she is."

"Maybe she hoped your love was strong enough that the other
stuff didn't matter."

"It matters," Shane grated. "She should have told me."

"She probably realises that now," Clark said. "She probably
knows she made a mistake. But I think you need to accept that she
never meant to hurt you. She has probably spent hours trying to
plan the right way to tell you -- the right moment, the right
words, the right amount of detail."

Shane shrugged. "I can't even get a handle on my own
feelings," he said. "I know Jane is upset, but what am I
supposed to do? Turn up to the wedding and make vows to a woman
who feels like a stranger to me?"

"No," Clark said. "But this ..." He gestured towards the
bottle in Shane's hand. "... this isn't helping."

"I'm not going to speak to her while I'm so angry," he said.

"What are you going to do?" Andrew asked.

"I'm going to bed," his brother replied. "Maybe this will
make more sense when I wake up."

"What about the wedding?" Andrew said.

"I've already told you," Shane replied. "There will be no
wedding." He marched from the room, taking the bottle with him.

"He means it, doesn't he?" Andrew said sadly.

"Yeah," Clark said. "He does."

Andrew walked Clark and Lois to the front door. "Thanks for
coming," he said. "At least you managed to get some answers."

"I don't think I helped much," Clark said. "People are going
to want to know why there will be no wedding. Jane's secret is
going to be all over town."

"I'll talk to my brothers," Andrew said. "We'll work out
something."

"Thanks," Clark said. "I'm sure Jane will appreciate that."

Clark took Lois's hand, and they ran through the rain to the
car.

He opened her door and then hurried to the driver's side. As he
shut his door, Lois turned to him.

"OK, Clark," she said. "What is the big secret that you're
hiding?"

Part 8

Lois's question had been part joke, part affable curiosity, but
Clark's smile had vanished. His expression had sealed to a
deadpan mask, his complexion had reddened, and his eyes were
fixed at some point behind her.

"What do you mean?" he asked with gruffly laboured
nonchalance.

Her interest flared, augmented by sudden flashes of panic. "In
there," she said, pointing toward the house. "You seemed to
know exactly how Jane would have felt. You understood her dilemma
immediately. You argued her case with vehement conviction. Either
you know her a whole lot better than anyone realises or there is
some other reason why you identify with her so closely."

"What happened to her is terrible," Clark said. "I can't
imagine any parents being so heartless to do that to their
daughter."

"It wasn't the little girl you were defending," Lois said.
"It was the grown woman."

"I didn't know Margaret. I know Jane. She's a friend; a
colleague."

The familiar waft of suspicion crept through Lois's mind like
pungent smoke. "What are you trying to hide?"

Clark took a breath and his mouth opened, but no words came. His
hand moved slightly, and the clink of his keys reverberated
loudly through the silence.

"There is something, isn't there?" Lois insisted. "Something
you don't want to tell me?"

His nod was terse. And he still hadn't looked at her.

"Why can't you just tell me the truth?"

He shuffled in his seat. "I'm not sure there will ever be a
right time," he said. "But I'm sure this isn't it."

"Why?"

"It's too soon."

"You asked me out after five minutes."

He lifted his head, moving in agonisingly slow motion until his
clouded brown eyes settled in hers. "You've known me less than
twenty-four hours, Lois. How can I ... I didn't plan ... I
wasn't expecting this."

"Are you married?"

"No." His denial, steadfastly stated, brought no obvious
reprieve to his distress.

"Wanted by the police?"

"No."

"You had an affair with Jane?"

"No!"

"Then what, Clark?"

He blinked a couple of times and said, "Jane waited too long. I
get that. But this isn't right either."

"It's right if you want to continue seeing me." Her words
carried the sting of threat, which hadn't been her intention.
Lois consciously softened her tone. "We've come too far to
pretend it's nothing, Clark. You've admitted you're hiding
something. How can I trust you when I know there's a bombshell
coming? Do you really think I'm not going to obsess over
something so big you're willing to risk driving me away?"

"It's too soon," he muttered. "You hardly know me."

"I know you're a kind and decent man," she said. "I know that
honesty is important to you. I know you're willing to be open,
even if it makes you vulnerable. I know you have decided you want
to be with me. I know -"

"I haven't decided anything," he said miserably. "I promised
you I would never force you into anything."

"You decided what you wanted."

"Yes," he admitted bleakly. "Yes. I did."

"Even though you knew this would come up? That this 'big
secret' would eventually be revealed?"

"I knew that if we continued seeing each other I would have to
tell you."

"Really? It sounds as if you were hoping to avoid divulging the
truth for as long as possible."

"I would want you to know," he said. "But actually saying the
words ..."

Lois took a breath and tried to squeeze a few drops of
appeasement into her voice. "Just tell me, Clark. If we're
going to be together, let's get this done now. Let's not be
like Jane and Shane and have it erupt at the worst possible
moment."

"I'm not sure there could be a moment worse than this one,"
Clark said. "I can't ... I just can't see any way forward
after this."

His despair stirred her heart, and Lois placed her hand on his.
"How bad can it be, Clark?"

"That depends on how you react."

"Have you done something you're ashamed of?"

"No."

She forced a rickety laugh. "It's probably not as big as
you're thinking. Once you've told me, we'll probably both
wonder what all the fuss was about."

"I really can't see that happening."

The certainty of his statement shivered down her back, pouring
dread through her heart. "Just tell me," Lois pleaded.
"Because as big as it might be, it can't be as bad as some of
the things I'm imagining."

He pushed the keys into the ignition. He stared out of the window
for a long moment, his face turned away from her. "I wasn't
born here."

"I know that," she said. "You told me you're from Kansas."

"I wasn't born there either."

Lois stared at Clark, trying to glean understanding from the taut
outline of his profile. "Are you trying to tell me you're not
American?" Another thought dawned on her. "You said you're
adopted. Are you saying that your adoption wasn't legal? That
your adoptive parents brought you here without permission?"

"They didn't bring me here. They found me."

He'd been abandoned by his birth parents. Lois squeezed his
hand. "Aw, Clark," she said. "I can see how that would cause
you a lot of pain, but it doesn't have to change anything for
us."

His hand clenched to a hard fist. "Even if they found me in a
spaceship?"

"A spaceship?" she echoed.

He turned to her then, his eyes blazing with an acid mix of pain
and trepidation. "When I said I wasn't born here, I didn't
mean I wasn't born in this country, I meant I wasn't born on
this planet."

Lois stared, her mouth adrift, her heart thumping as all her
hopes crumbled to dust. She tried to find words ... anything ...
but nothing came to fill the raging void of her mind.

"Say something," he begged.

"I ... I really don't know what to say."

He dragged his hand from under hers and clenched the steering
wheel, his knuckles white like glaciers.

"Did your parents tell you they found you in a spaceship?" Lois
asked.

He nodded tightly.

"And you *believe* them?"

He winced as her implication battered him. "Of course I believe
them. Why would they lie?"

Obviously, they'd had a reason. Perhaps they'd stolen him from
his birth parents. Perhaps they'd been given him by a young
unmarried girl and had promised to keep her secret. Whatever
Clark's parents' reasons for lying to him, nothing could
justify his blind belief in them. "Clark," Lois said as gently
as she could, "you couldn't have come from outer space. It just
isn't reasonable that a child would survive that sort of
journey. And alien life ... there's not a shred of evidence
..."

"You don't believe me."

His eyes dived again, but this time, instead of eliciting
sympathy, his action sparked anger. Lois had believed in him, and
he had ruthlessly trampled over her fragile strands of hope.
"No," she said harshly, "I don't believe you. Not for a
moment. But I can't decide whether you are deliberately lying or
you're delusional."

He swung to face her. "My parents don't lie," he said. "They
certainly wouldn't lie to me about something as important as
this."

"Did they ever offer you any proof? Have you seen the
spaceship?"

"I have always felt different from everyone else," Clark said.

"Feeling different does not make you an alien."

"I can do things ... things no one else can. I have ... unusual
abilities."

Boy, she sure knew how to pick them. Lois shook her head, reeling
at the sudden and complete disintegration of something that, just
a short time ago, had seemed so solid and durable. "Like the
ability to believe you're a spaceman?" she sneered. "That's
definitely unusual."

"I can fly."

It was time to get out. Out of Clark's car. Out of his life. Out
of Des Moines. "Take me to the hotel."

Clark started the engine. They drove to the hotel in frigid
silence. Lois used her fuming anger to quell the tears that
pushed up her throat. She would not cry. She would not let him
know how close she'd come to allowing him into her heart.

He pulled up outside the hotel. As soon as they stopped, Lois
opened the car door to prevent him from doing it for her.

"Lois?"

She stepped out of his car. "What?"

"Are you going to print this?"

She turned on him, propelled by a volatile mix of anger and
disappointment and shock. "Do you really think I would trash my
reputation with a fairy tale?"

"Thank you."

His civility aggravated the rawness of her emotions. "Don't
contact me," she hissed. "Don't call me. Ever." She slammed
the door and ran into the hotel.

Before she reached her room, hot tears were streaming down her
cheeks like lava spewed from an angry volcano.

She fumbled with the key, staggered into her room, and shut the
door on a world lost under the blanket of despair.

After hauling in a long and shuddery breath and sweeping away the
overflow of tears, Lois picked up the phone, and keeping her
voice flat and unfluctuating, she asked to be connected to the
airline. She booked the next available seat, not caring that it
would mean a wait of six hours for her connecting flight to
Metropolis.

She had to get out of Des Moines. She had to get away from Clark.
She had to expel this entire weekend from her memory.

She had to get back to where it was safe.

Back to the big impersonal city where her heart could hide in the
shadows of anonymity.

***

Perry White's pencil paused as he recognised the footsteps
approaching his door.

"Lois?" he called.

The door opened, and she entered. "Hi, Chief."

One hasty scan of her face told Perry all he needed to know about
the trip to Iowa. "I wasn't expecting you back today," he
said, striking out a couple of words from the story he was
editing. "I thought your flight didn't arrive until this
evening."

She sank into his guest chair. "They cancelled the wedding,"
she said with no more fanfare than if she'd been announcing what
she'd eaten for breakfast. "So I got the first flight back to
civilisation."

"They cancelled it?" Perry scribbled a note and looked up.
"Why?"

"They came to their senses just in time."

"They agreed? Just like that? No wedding?"

Lois picked at the arm of the chair. "Actually, the groom
realised it wasn't what he wanted. The bride agreed. And it was
pouring with rain."

"Lo-is," Perry said, allowing some of his exasperation to leak
into his tone. "You cannot tell me they called off the wedding
because of the weather."

Her mouth stretched, but it was too empty and vapid to be
considered a smile.

"I guess you didn't have a great time?" he asked carefully.

"It was exactly as I expected," Lois said. "A complete waste
of time and money. It would have been worse if I'd actually had
to attend the wedding. As things turned out, I only had to suffer
through the pre-wedding party the night before."

"The wedding was still on the night before?" Perry asked.
"When did they decide to cancel?"

"Yesterday morning."

"Oh," Perry said. "That's awful. How is your friend?"

"She's upset now," Lois said, "but in time, I'm sure she'll
see this as a lucky escape." She leaned forward in the chair.
"What's happening with the Senator story? What do you want me
to chase down? I read this morning's edition in the cab. The
story seems to be fading fast."

"It's Sunday. And you're not supposed to be here."

"Have you had someone dig into the Senator's past? Tried to
find the first indication he had a gambling problem? Have you
checked on his known associates from college? High school, even?
What was his first job? Have you had someone talk to his
colleagues? Uncover his credit history?"

"Yes," Perry said, a little peeved that Lois assumed he
couldn't do his job without her. "I've had a couple of
reporters researching his early life."

"And?"

"And, so far, they've found nothing."

Lois jumped up from the chair. "On it," she said.

She marched from his office, closing the door briskly.

Perry stared after her.

His best reporter was back.

She would get him a story.

Because she was Lois Lane. As a reporter, she had it all.

But ...

Perry sighed.

In the things that really mattered, she was destitute. And worse
than that, she seemed oblivious to her plight.

***

After leaving Perry's office, Lois immersed herself in every
detail of the Senator's life and refused to entertain even the
tiniest possibility that her efforts had any agenda except
getting the story. She succeeded so well that by the time she
fell into her bed very late on Sunday, she knew more about the
Senator's college days than she could remember about her own and
she was beginning to hold tentative hopes that Des Moines and all
its accompanying memories could be banished forever.

By Monday night, she had tracked the Senator's gambling problem
over twenty-five years and uncovered evidence of multiple illicit
activities.

At times, thoughts of Shane and Jane had slithered amongst the
pages of research. Lois couldn't help wondering if they had
talked. Whether Jane intended to stay in Des Moines. Questions
about incidental details such as what had happened to the wedding
clothes, food, and flowers floated through her mind at odd
moments.

Sometimes, those thoughts turned towards a tall man with
expressive brown eyes. Lois swatted them down, refusing to give
them even a breath of air. She had a story to write.

When she collapsed into bed on Tuesday night, she should have
been buzzing with elation because the front page of tomorrow's
Daily Planet would feature her in-depth, fully evidenced story of
a life devastated by greed.

She felt nothing but emptiness.

She didn't care how the Senator had lived his life. She didn't
care that the byline to the lead story would carry her name. She
didn't care that it would enhance her reputation as the best and
probably earn her nominations in all the top awards.

Exhaustion had stripped her of ability to pretend.

She missed Clark.

Her heart ached for him. Her mind yearned for him. Her skin
hankered for his touch. Her imagination replayed his smiles over
and over, sneaking up on her and eroding her conviction that her
life was perfectly fine without him.

Sleep wouldn't come, leaving her at the mercy of a tired mind
leaking memories.

The moment she'd first seen him. The moment he'd turned and
noticed her.

He'd felt it then. She had, too.

He'd repaid her rudeness with consideration. He'd been honest
about his feelings.

And when she'd pushed him into an untenable situation, he told
her his deepest-held secret.

There were only two rational possibilities -- he was lying or he
was delusional. Lois realised now that sometime over the past
three days, she'd dismissed the former. She'd been lied to many
times by many people -- her father, her mother, men, people with
something to hide who didn't want their lives splashed across a
the pages of a newspaper.

Over the years, Lois had developed the ability to identify a
liar.

And her gut was adamant that Clark Kent did not lie.

He believed he'd been born on another planet.

And that ... it just wasn't poss-

The coffee!

Perhaps he had an other-world recipe. It had been the best coffee
she'd ever tasted. Since returning to Metropolis, she had only
drunk coffee to provide the much-needed boost from the caffeine
hit. It had tasted rancid in her mouth and bitter with memories
in her mind.

She craved more of Clark's coffee.

More of Clark.

Lois shook her herself, impatiently flopping onto her back. She
needed to sleep. Tomorrow, there were more leads to chase, more
stories to write.

Clark was not a part of her life. He would never be a part of her
life.

Her life was full and busy. And way too stressful to even
contemplate the added complication of being with a man who
believed he was an alien.

Tomorrow, she would hunt down another story.

Something so big, there would be no time to think of anything
else.

It was how Lois Lane had become the best.

She was still the best.

And that was all she'd ever wanted.

***

The next evening, Lois entered her apartment a little after eight
o'clock, dropped her bag on the sofa, and dug a fork out of the
kitchen drawer.

She returned to the sofa and sat down, peeling back the lid of
her take-out. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed suspiciously.
It was supposed to be fettuccine pescatore, but it neither looked
nor smelled edible.

She put it down and sank into the hard unwelcoming embrace of the
sofa.

Her search for a mega-story had been fruitless. Her day had been
a series of frustrating dead-ends.

She just wanted to forget.

But forgetting today left an empty mind, and an empty mind was
easy prey to the avalanche of other memories.

Clark.

If things had been different, perhaps she'd be on the phone now,
talking to him -- telling him about her day and hearing about
his.

Perhaps she would be looking forward to a time when evenings
meant being with him, talking, laughing, sharing, drinking his
coffee. Kissing. Cuddling.

Lois sighed.

If only ...

She felt as if longing had gnawed a big hole through the middle
of her heart. Would it close over? Or would it remain a gaping
empty mess for the rest of her life?

The phone shrilled, and Lois's heart clunked somewhere low in
her stomach.

Could it be him? He hadn't called. Or if he had, she hadn't
been home, deliberately so. But now ... She gulped. Should she
answer it? She didn't want to talk to him. She couldn't talk to
him. She wouldn't have an answer if he simply enquired how she
was.

Unable to stay away, Lois rose slowly and walked to the phone.
Her hand hovered through several rings. Then she snatched at it,
put it to her ear, and squeaked, "Hello?"

Part 9

"Lois. It's ... it's Jane."

Oh. Jane. Lois's stomach rolled, but she couldn't have said if
her reaction was relief or disappointment. "Ah ... hi, Jane. How
... how are you?"

"I'm so sorry about everything," Jane said. "I'm sorry you
came all this way for nothing."

It hadn't been for nothing. It had been worse than nothing.
Better than nothing. It had been everything. "How are you?"
Lois repeated. "Have you talked to Shane?"

"A little. Lois, I want to thank you for not printing anything.
I thought maybe ... maybe you'd write the story of where I am
now, and the fact that I ruined my chance of happiness would make
it newsworthy. I've been checking the Daily Planet every day. I
appreciate your discretion."

"That's ... you're welcome," Lois said, startled that she
hadn't even thought about the potential for a story. "Does
everyone know why Shane called off the wedding?"

"I told my two closest friends, Emma and Belinda. People have
been really kind and not asked too many questions. Shane has
taken the leave we booked for the honeymoon, but I've gone back
to the paper. It helps keep my mind off everything."

"Yeah," Lois said, understanding completely. "Do you think
there's any chance of reconciliation with Shane?"

"No. He doesn't ... He can't ... You know?"

"I'm sorry, Jane," Lois said, realising it was true. "I wish
things had worked out for you and Shane."

"It's my fault," she said. "I knew I should have told him. It
was just ... I never thought a man like Shane would be interested
in me. Most people don't even notice I'm there. After ... after
I left my family, I was comfortable lurking in the background,
and I never quite worked out how to leave it ... until Shane came
to Des Moines. He noticed me. He asked me out. He proposed. When
I was with him, I felt just like everyone else. None of that
other stuff mattered. I couldn't believe he wanted to be with
me, and I just couldn't make myself ..." Her words ground to a
strangled sob.

"Maybe Shane just needs more time," Lois said. "If he truly
loved you, and I think he did, his love can't be wiped away by
something that wasn't your fault."

"It was my fault. I wasn't honest with him."

"It's the past, Jane. It doesn't affect who you are now. There
was no need to tell him."

"It does affect who I am now," Jane said sadly. "It affects me
everyday. I have no family. I have to watch everything I say.
When people ask normal questions about my folks, I have to be
vague, and I've become a master at changing the subject."

"Why did you tell Shane that your father would be coming to your
wedding?"

"I didn't. He assumed my parents would be coming. I almost told
him that my mother had passed away, but I knew he'd ask how she
died and I didn't have any answers for that without lying. I
asked Emma and Belinda to be my bridesmaids because I could
honestly say that I don't have any sisters. I tried to ask
Shane's father if he would walk down the aisle with me because
he only has sons, but he said that was a father's honour and he
couldn't let my father miss out."

"Surely Shane had questions when you didn't send invitations to
family members."

"Shane comes from a family of boys. They ... Weddings aren't
really their thing -- not the details, anyway. I sent the
invitations. I invited everyone I could remember from college and
even high school. You were the only one who accepted."

"Oh." Lois moved on quickly. "What about your foster
family?"

"There were seven foster families," Jane said. "I'm not close
with any of them. And anyway, just the mention of foster parents
leads to a whole new set of questions."

"You could have said that your birth parents had died when you
were a child."

"But that's not the truth."

"Jane, sometimes it's OK to make up a story to protect someone.
Even if that someone is you."

"Is that what you really believe?"

"Yes." *Unless the story involves a baby in a spaceship, and
then ...*

"I'm not very good at lying," Jane said. "Not outright. So I
just let people assume things about me and don't say anything. I
let Shane believe my father would be coming and hoped that when
the time came, we'd be so caught up in the wedding that my
father's absence wouldn't be a big deal. But it became a big
deal on Friday night when Shane demanded answers."

And when she had given those answers, Shane had reacted exactly
as she'd feared he would. "I'm so sorry, Jane," Lois said.
"I wish there was something I could do to help."

"You could give me your word that you won't write my story."

"You have it."

"Thank you," Jane said with a gush of relief. "I just want
everyone to forget that Margaret Johnston ever existed."

Lois fiddled with the phone cord, not knowing what to say.

"Thanks for taking my call, Lois. I know you don't really
consider me to be your friend -- I'm sure you have hundreds of
friends -- but I'll never forget that you came to my ... that
you came to Des Moines."

"I ... Goodnight, Jane. I hope you feel better soon."

"Goodnight, Lois."

Lois replaced the handset and slumped against the wall.

Her heart swelled with sympathy. For Jane. For the injustice she
had suffered. For a woman still paying for the selfish actions of
her parents.

And for Clark. Who had also lost his first family. Who also kept
a secret. Who also lived set apart from those he considered
'normal'.

Lois sprang to her bag and took out her notepad. She flicked back
a couple of pages and found where he'd written his details.

Looking at the page transported her back ... back to the gazebo,
to the cold and wet morning, to the best date of her life, to the
time when she had begun to hope that she'd found a man who was
different.

*Different.*

Clark Kent was certainly different.

She snatched the phone and dialled his number, her heart thumping
like a rampage of wild buffalo. As the call went through, she
hauled in a deep breath. The phone clicked as the connection was
established.

"Hello. This is Clark Kent."

His voice glided across her nerve endings, and they rippled in
eager response. Lois gasped. No words came. In panic, she slammed
down the phone.

Her tears surged, and she turned into the wall, hugging herself
as the ogre of indecision mauled her brittle heart.

Some time later, a knock sliced through her heartache.

Lois dragged her sleeve across her eyes and stumbled to the door.
When she opened it, the corridor was empty.

Except ...

A solitary cup of coffee had been placed outside her door. She
picked it up, recognising the take-out cup as being the same as
the ones Clark had brought to their breakfast picnic.

"Clark?"

His name echoed along the vacant corridor.

"Are you there, Clark?"

When no answer came, Lois closed her door, leaned against it, and
drank from the cup.

It was good. So very, very good. It was Clark's coffee.

From the 'place he knew'.

Or perhaps more accurately, 'the recipe he knew'.

Clark had been here. Outside her door. Perhaps able to hear her
sobs.

He had answered his phone in Des Moines just a short time ago.

*I can fly.*

*I love flying.*

"*If you ask me to come, I'll be there. As often as you
want."*

It couldn't be possible. Could it?

Human beings didn't fly. Not without an airplane. Not halfway
across the United States in a few minutes.

But Clark had declared he could fly. That couldn't be hearsay
from his parents. Either he could fly or he couldn't, and either
way, he had to know for sure.

Lois wandered to her sofa and sat down. She sipped from the
coffee, and each taste brought back another bundle of memories.

Clark.

The quiet table pushed into the corner at the party.

Dancing with him.

His arms around her.

The way he touched her.

The way he looked at her.

His sometimes bumbling, always charming, attempts to explain his
feelings.

His uneasiness as she had pushed him closer and closer to the
edge.

His refusal to succumb to the temptation to lie.

*I would gladly risk it all for a woman I loved.*

When the cup was empty, Lois's mind was full.

Full of the archive of memories she had thought could be
repressed.

With a sigh, she rose from the sofa, placed the cup on her
counter, and went to bed.

***

It was a little after 3am when Lois accepted that sleep was not
going to rescue her from the turmoil of a mind in meltdown. She
rolled from between her rumpled sheets and went to the closet to
pull out her boxes of keepsakes. Twenty minutes later, she found
the high school assignment she had written on the Margaret
Johnston story a decade earlier.

The details of the case had been background to the focus of the
study, which had been the agreement from all media outlets that
the little girl at the centre of the tragedy deserved the chance
to grow up away in anonymity. They reported she had survived the
gunshot wound, and then, despite clamouring public interest, had
resolutely refused to divulge even the smallest morsel of
information.

Lois read her essay, shaking her head at her young self's
vehement insistence that the public's right to know trumped any
individual's penchant for privacy. '*And when I'm the best
reporter in the country, I will always give the readers the whole
story, even if others in my profession fail in their
responsibility to keep the press free and open.'*

Lois rubbed her cheek, which had heated slightly, and ran her
eyes over her words again.

*I will always give the readers the whole story.*

Young Lois had dreamed of breaking the biggest story in world
history. Right now, older Lois had it. The story that would
change their world forever was sitting in the palm of her hand.

She'd told Clark she wouldn't print what he'd told her because
it would tarnish her reputation.

But now ...

The coffee.

How did special-recipe coffee get from Des Moines, Iowa to her
apartment in Metropolis, New Troy, in a matter of minutes?

*I can fly.*

He hadn't mentioned that he could fly super-fast. But then,
she'd hardly given him the opportunity to expound on his
claims.

If those claims were true, she could prove them. There must be
other instances where Clark had left fragments of evidence that
verified his ability to move around with extraordinary speed. If
they were there, she would find them. Then, she could write the
biggest story of all time and take it to Perry.

The story of alien life on Earth would establish her place as the
greatest reporter in the history of the news. She would have all
the fame and accolades she had dreamed of for so long.

She would ruin Clark's life.

Lois tore up her assignment. Tore it into tiny shreds and dumped
them in the trash.

She had been so very wrong. Some stories should never be told.

A little girl who had been thrust into the spotlight by greedy
and callous parents.

And a man who lived with an unbelievable secret.

The man Lois loved.

She loved him. But ...

Clark Kent was a very special man. He needed a woman who could
embrace his differences. A woman unwavering in her love and
support. A woman willing to go to whatever lengths were needed in
order to protect his secret. Someone he could trust implicitly.
Someone he knew would never leave him.

Lois wasn't sure she wanted to be that woman.

Wasn't sure she could be that woman.

Wasn't sure about anything.

Except Clark. And how every moment without him seemed desolate.

***

The alarm woke Lois just a couple of hours later. She moved
through her morning routine with mechanical indifference,
refusing to allow anything to lure her mind out of neutral.

But as she left her bedroom, the trash can caught her eye,
nailing her feet to the floor.

The scraps of paper seemed to speak of a life in tatters.

Clark must feel as if she had shredded his life and walked away
with callous indifference.

In her quest for clarity, she hadn't given much thought to how
Clark would be feeling in the days following the most momentous
weekend of his life.

Was he concerned she would print his story? Had he, like Jane,
been checking the headlines every day?

How many other people knew his secret? His parents, obviously.
Had he ever told anyone else?

It wasn't the sort of secret easily disclosed.

Telling her had been a huge decision. A decision that could have
far-reaching consequences.

His candour about his hopes for their relationship had left him
open to disappointment, but exposing his secret plunged him to a
whole new level of vulnerability.

Lois shivered.

He'd placed his life in her hands. She'd been so blinded by her
own raging emotions that she'd mercilessly stomped all over his
defencelessness and scorned him for his naivety.

A wave of shame crashed over her.

He must regret his trust in her. He must wish he had lied. He
must wish he had put his own wellbeing ahead of her demands for
information.

*I would gladly risk it all for a woman I loved.*

He had risked so much more than she had thought possible when
he'd uttered that statement. He'd risked his way of life -- his
freedom, his job, his friends, his tenuous grip on normality.
He'd risked it all.

For what?

For a chance to be with her?

Did that mean he loved her?

Would he understand her reaction? Would he understand that she'd
needed some time to come to terms with the reality of his life?
Would he give her the grace she hadn't given him?

He was still thinking about her. The coffee proved that.

Should she call him again? And this time, actually say
something?

Say what?

That she was close to believing he could fly?

And then what?

That she wouldn't print his story?

She'd already told him that.

And if his feelings for her had somehow managed to survive her
derision, a deeper question would be burning in his heart.

Could she ever love a man who wasn't human?

That question burned for her, too. Could she?

She did love him.

But would that love continue, day after day, for the rest of her
life?

Yes! The answer resounded through her heart, leaping up to deluge
her mind with a glorious dawn of confidence.

Her love for Clark was different from everything she had ever
experienced.

She wanted him. Wanted to be with him.

Wanted to be the person that shared his life.

Forever.

But what of Clark?

The past few days must have been traumatic for him. Had he
hardened his big soft heart? Had he allowed bitterness a
foothold? Could he forgive her?

Why had he brought her coffee?

How would he respond if she went to him and tried to explain?

Would he turn away, angry and hurt?

Did he regret his honesty? Had he vowed to never trust again? Was
he -

A new thought burst into her mind, freezing the flow of her
thoughts and transporting her back to the house in Des Moines.

Shane had been angry ... shocked ... disillusioned.

Clark had pleaded with him, begging him to go to Jane and show
her that love was stronger than any secret. Not for a moment had
Clark appeared to consider the possibility that Jane might spurn
Shane's attempt at reconciliation.

Clark had assumed Jane's forgiveness would be automatic. That
Jane would understand.

Lois wasn't sure that was realistic. Maybe not for Jane. But for
Clark ...

Would he forgive? Would he be able to trust again? Would he trust
*her *again? Would he allow her to share his extraordinary life?

Would he give her the second chance she so desperately wanted?

Was she brave enough to lay her hopes before him and risk him
rejecting her as she had scorned him?

Was she?

So many questions. So few answers.

With a sigh, Lois picked up her bag and went in search of a
story. The lives of other people had to be infinitely simpler
than hers was.

***

The phone was ringing as Lois entered her apartment on Thursday
evening. She dumped her bag on the sofa and hurried to answer it.
"Hello," she said. "This is Lois Lane."

"Lois." The female voice was breathless with excitement.
"Shane came to the office today. He says he stills loves me. He
wants us to get married on Saturday."

"This Saturday?" Lois gasped.

"Yes! It won't be the wedding we had planned, but we can get
married in Union Park and follow the ceremony with afternoon tea.
It will be small and informal, but that doesn't matter. I will
be Shane's wife."

"Are you sure about this?" Lois asked. "I mean ..." She
searched for gentle words. Finding none, she softened her tone.
"Shane called off the wedding because of something that wasn't
your fault."

"He loves me," Jane said wistfully. "Oh, Lois, he was so sweet
today. So sorry for the he reacted. He just needed some time."

"He told everyone your secret."

"Not everyone. He told his brothers ... I wouldn't expect him
to keep secrets from his family."

"He also told Clark and me."

"He thought ..." Jane gave a nervous laugh. "I told Shane you
were my closest friend from college, Lois. I know it's not
really true, but in another way, it kind of is. You were the only
one who came to my wedding. And Clark ... well, everyone trusts
Clark."

She said it as if it were an accepted fact. *Everyone trusts
Clark*.

Except Clark's life was encapsulated in an earth-shattering
secret.

"Are you sure about this, Jane?" Lois said. "You don't have
to rush into anything. You have time to decide what you really
want."

"I decided a long time ago what I really want," Jane said.
"Shane is the man who makes me feel as if nothing else matters.
I know it did matter for just a few short days, but it won't
ever matter again."

"Does he know how much he hurt you?"

"Yes," Jane said. "And he's very sorry. I'm just so relieved
that he knows about what happened and I don't ever need to be
scared of him finding out again."

Lois silenced her doubts. "I'm pleased for you, Jane," she
said. "You deserve to be happy."

"You are? Oh, Lois, that is such a sweet thing to say."

Lois didn't know what to say. 'Sweet' was not a description
regularly applied to Mad Dog Lane.

"I don't expect you to come to Des Moines again," Jane said,
"but I want you to know that you're invited to our wedding.
It's at two-thirty in Union Park. Under the trees near the East
Jefferson Avenue entrance."

"I ... I'm not sure about ..." ... *anything.*

"It's OK, Lois. I'm not pressuring you to come. That would be
asking too much. I just wanted you to know, and if you decided to
join us on our special day, we'd love to have your company."

"Thanks."

"Oh, Lois, I'm so happy. Happier than I've ever been. From the
first time Shane asked me out, I was so scared of losing him. And
now ... now, I can't believe he knows everything about me and he
still loves me."

Her joy bubbled across the miles, returning Lois's thoughts to
the one who didn't know if his secret had destroyed his chance
at love. "How's Clark?" she asked casually.

"Clark? Clark is ..."

"What?"

"Clark is smiling a lot, but ..."

Lois understood immediately. Clark was pretending. He'd probably
done a lot of that in his life. Pretended he fitted in. Pretended
he was just like everyone else. Pretended he didn't care he was
different.

"Did something happen between you and Clark?" Jane asked.
"Belinda said you had breakfast together in the gazebo."

Lois wasn't ready to admit anything. "I was in Des Moines for
less than twenty-four hours."

"I'm sorry, Lois. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have
asked about you and Clark. It's just ..."

"What?"

"Clark has been the most amazing friend to Shane since last
week. He took pizzas around to Shane's house on Sunday
afternoon, and they watched a game together. Shane says Clark
helped him understand the difficulties I was facing. We owe Clark
so much. I ... I would love him to be happy."

"Will he be at your wedding?"

"Yes."

Feeling compelled to give a response to the invitation, Lois
said, "I ... I'm not sure about coming ..."

"That's OK, Lois. I understand."

"Thanks for calling. I hope Saturday is everything you want it
to be."

"It will be," Jane said. "I'm marrying the most wonderful man
on the planet."

Lois slowly returned the phone.

She leaned against the wall and let the torrent of longing wash
over her.

She wanted to be with Clark.

Even if he could fly.

Regardless of where he had been born.

The man ... the heart ... she wanted him. Nothing else mattered.

But did he still want her?

After what she'd said? After her scathing disbelief?

She'd hurt him.

Horribly.

He'd dreamed of love, but all of his dreams must have carried a
caveat. For him, the chance of the dream turning into a nightmare
was greater than for anyone else.

Lois reached for the phone again. She paused.

Clark had practically demanded that Shane forgive Jane. He had
never given up on Shane's love for Jane. He'd been a friend to
Shane, even after Shane had rejected Jane.

He would forgive her.

Because he was Clark Kent.

And he loved her.

He did.

He'd shown it in every word, every action, every touch.

He'd shown it in telling her the stunning truth when he could
have lied.

He'd risked everything.

Lois's hand slid from the phone.

She needed to talk with Clark, but it wasn't a conversation to
be had over the phone. She wanted to be with him -- to see his
face, to linger in his smile, to feel his arms. To talk to him
and hold him and smile for him.

She wanted time ... time to help him see again.

See that they -- Clark Kent and Lois Lane -- that together, they
could be incredible.

"I'm coming, Clark," she muttered. "I'll be there on
Saturday, and then ..."

She chuckled softly as she imagined his smile.

"... and then, you'll never be alone again."

Part 10

It was a little before two-thirty when Lois climbed from the cab
at the entrance to Union Park.

She'd already been to the hotel to drop off her luggage, wash
away the grime of travel, fix her hair and make up, and change
into the midnight blue dress she'd bought yesterday morning,
right after calling the airline and booking her flights to Des
Moines.

It had been a painstakingly slow forty hours since her decision
to come to Clark, but now that she was here, the significance of
the moment loomed large.

Seven days ago, in a car a few miles from here, the statement,
'I wasn't born here' had changed Clark's life forever.

If she went to him now and spoke the words from her heart, there
could be no turning back. No doubts.

Lois searched for inner assurance.

And found it.

She wanted this.

She wanted Clark.

She wanted to share his life. His differences didn't matter at
all. In fact, she'd begun to wonder how she could have
considered a relationship with a man who *couldn't* fly.

Lifting her head high, she marched forward. Towards the man she
loved. And their life together.

The ground was damp underfoot -- her heels sank a little way when
she stepped from the track and onto the grass -- but the rain had
stopped and the sun was shining from between the cotton-candy
clouds that were scattered across the blue sky.

It was the perfect day for a wedding.

The perfect day for promises.

The lilting strains of music beckoned her forward. She rounded a
grove of trees and saw several dozen chairs -- most of them
filled -- facing away, towards the front where Shane was waiting
with his four look-alike brothers.

Lois scanned the backs of the heads, and her heart did a
pirouette when she saw the dark head that had been so prominent
in her thoughts and dreams since she'd left Des Moines forever
one week ago.

He was sitting in the aisle seat of the third row. All the seats
around him were taken, thwarting her plan to slip in beside him.
Lois edged past a young family and sat in a vacant seat in the
second to last row.

She wrenched her gaze from the dark head to scrutinise Shane. Did
he realise the devastating effects of his decision? Was he ready
to commit the rest of his life to Jane? As Lois watched, he
stepped across and said something to his brothers. Andrew patted
Shane on the shoulder, and the groom glanced towards the back of
the seats, from where his bride would come.

Lois's eyes dropped ... back to the dark head and broad
shoulders.

Regret stabbed at her again, laced with impatience, and she urged
Jane to hurry.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Family. Friends."

At the front, Shane was standing behind the microphone.

"I know it isn't customary for the groom to make a speech
before the bride arrives, but it also isn't usual for guests to
come to a ceremony a week after the set wedding date."

A subdued ripple of laughter echoed across the gathering.
Shane's head dropped for a moment. When he looked up again, his
cheeks has blossomed red. "I want to apologise to all of you for
the inconvenience I caused by cancelling the wedding last week."
Shane glanced sideways to Andrew, who nodded encouragement.
"Before she gets here, I want to tell you something about
Jane."

Lois gripped her handbag, as possible diversionary tactics
scampered through her mind.

"Last Friday, I knew that I was marrying the woman with the
biggest heart in the whole of the United States," Shane said.
"This week, I discovered her heart is even bigger than I'd
realised. Last Friday, I knew Jane had an amazing capacity to see
the best in everyone ... to overlook their mistakes. This week, I
really, really needed that quality in her."

He stopped. Breathed. Rubbed his thumb across his cheek.

The guests waited in heavy silence.

"I love Jane," he said in a voice that quivered. "I will
always love her. And I intend to spend the rest of my life making
up for what I did to her last week."

He pressed his hand against his mouth, looking down. Andrew
stepped closer to him, and the five brothers stood in a line of
solidarity.

The low purr of an engine whirred through the silence, followed
by the sound of closing car doors. The music burst through the
reflective mood with resounding celebration, and Belinda and
another woman appeared between the trees.

They walked past Lois, slowly and sedately, and then Lois heard
the soft murmur of excitement as the bride appeared on the arm of
an older man, who, inexplicably, reminded her of Perry.

Next to him, Jane -- quiet, fade-away Jane -- looked radiant.

The crowd stood. Lois shrank in behind the tall man in front of
her and sneaked a look forward. Clark was standing, his eyes
trained on the bride, his mouth moulded to a hollow smile.

Lois clamped down on her sob. She longed to see Clark's *real*
smile -- warm with sunshine and mulled with the bounty of his
heart.

The bride swept towards her groom. When she reached him, he
touched her elbow, looking down on her as if he couldn't quite
believe she had come. The older man hugged them both before
sitting down.

And the wedding began.

***

Clark stared forward as his friends began their vows, committing
themselves to lives of faithfulness, love, support, and unity.

*She was here.*

He'd hadn't actually seen her, but her presence was as real as
if she were sitting beside him.

He'd heard her heartbeat.

"Do you take this woman ..."

Why had she come?

She must have known he would be here.

Why hadn't she called to tell him she was coming?

" ... to have and to hold ..."

What was she wearing? She'd taken his breath away in jeans and a
sweater. What colour had she chosen? Bold red? Deep blue? Lush
green?

His first sight of her was going to be an explosive mix of
untameable excitement and profound regret.

The reading was going to be like navigating a minefield. He would
have to concentrate on the words. Keep his focus fixed on the
trees. Pretend he didn't see. Didn't know. Didn't care so
desperately.

"... for richer, for poorer..."

His always-simmering love for her bubbled up again, engulfing him
-- his mind, his heart, his soul, his being.

Did he dare believe that her presence meant there was hope? Would
she speak to him? Would they exchange pleasantries and slip from
each other's lives forever?

If that was what she wanted, he knew he would have to let her
go.

But it was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done.

To forget ... wasn't going to be possible.

To lament ... would be his daily burden.

To love without return ... would be his destiny.

"... as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

***

Shane carefully lifted the veil from his bride and bent low to
kiss her.

It was done. Simple. Meaningful. Beautiful, too. Two people had
promised forever.

They looked so happy. So complete.

So absolutely right together.

Lois slipped a handkerchief from her handbag and dabbed at the
corner of her eye.

The bridal party moved to the spare seats at the front, and the
minister announced that the reading was to be given by Clark
Kent.

Lois's breath wedged between two beats of her heart. Would he
see her? How would he react to her presence? With eager surprise?
Cold suspicion? Or blank indifference?

He stood, a Bible in his hand, and walked with steadfast purpose
to the front.

At the microphone, he turned. His eyes skimmed the crowd, missing
her. His smile was pleasant, engaging ... empty.

Anguish surged through Lois, sharp with the knowledge that she
had done this to him. She had sucked the life from his face, the
beauty from his smile.

He took a breath and began. "The reading is from the first book
of Corinthians," he said, steady, composed, vacant. "The
thirteenth chapter, starting at verse one."

Lois stared at him, adding to her shoal of memories. He stood,
tall and straight, wearing a black suit, white shirt, and oddly
geometric purple and gold tie. Her imagination had not done him
justice.

He was gorgeous.

He was everything she had ever wanted. Not just his physical
attributes -- although they had the capacity to reduce her
muscles to mush -- but all the other characteristics that made
Clark Kent ... his quiet strength, his refusal to stray from what
he believed was right, his courage to believe in his dream, his
generosity of spirit.

She loved him.

She needed him.

On the outside, he was flawless, but on the inside, something was
missing.

Her.

He needed her. He did. He knew he did.

But would he be willing to trust again?

"Love is patient, love is kind."

Clark had shown her such patience. And he'd always been kind.

"It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not
easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs."

The memory of her harsh words whipped through Lois's mind. She
had accused him of lying and then accused his parents, whom he
obviously loved, of deliberately misleading him.

"Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth."

She had demanded the truth, and his love had been too strong to
seek escape through deception. It had cost him everything.

Or so he thought.

If only he'd look at her ... allow her the chance to smile, to
connect with him, to begin to build the bridge of restoration.

"It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always
perseveres."

That is how Clark Kent would love. How Lois was determined to
love him. "Look at me," she murmured under her breath.
"Please, Clark, look at me."

Slowly, his head lifted, and his eyes crashed into hers, setting
off a thousand mini-explosions that cascaded through every part
of her body. He swallowed. He drew in a long staccato breath.
"Love never fails."

His image blurred as the well of her emotions seeped into her
eyes.

He stared, caught in the unseen bond that held both of them.

Lois pushed a faint smile through her tears.

He didn't respond.

She strengthened her smile, hoping to convey her love across the
crowd and directly into his wounded heart.

Clark's head dropped. He closed the Bible and returned to his
seat, his eyes down.

One of Shane's brothers took the microphone and sang a deep and
stirring rendition of 'Amazing Grace' while the bridal couple
and their witnesses signed the register.

As the familiar strains echoed through the trees, Lois stared at
the back of Clark's head, reliving every millisecond of their
fleeting encounter.

He'd seen her. His heart -- once so flagrantly accessible -- had
remained hidden behind his mask of stolidity.

His shoulders were taut and angular.

His neck ... her fingers itched to glide up from the strip of
skin above his collar and into the rich lustre of his hair.

But first ... first she had to re-earn the right to touch him.

After the last note had faded, the minister turned to the guests
and announced with gusto, "I present to you, Mr and Mrs Shane
and Jane McVane."

The small crowd cheered boisterously. Shane leaned down and
kissed his bride. Jane beamed up at her new husband, her face lit
with an elated smile.

The newly married couple began walking down the grassy aisle. At
the third row, they stopped and exuberantly hugged Clark. He
returned their embrace, treading right down the middle between
enthusiasm and woodenness, giving Lois no further clue as to his
emotional state.

Shane and Jane moved through the well wishes of their friends.

"Lois! You came!" Jane stretched her arms towards Lois. As they
hugged, Jane whispered, "Thank you. Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me," Lois said. "I appreciate it more
than you can know."

Jane smiled. "I think I know," she said.

After the bride and groom had passed, Lois stole another glance
at Clark. He was still turned away from her, talking to the man
who had walked down the aisle with Jane.

Lois joined the small throng of people following the bride and
groom. They moved through the trees and came to an open sunny
area where clusters of tables and chairs were dotted around a
long trestle loaded with food.

Lois took a position slightly adrift of the crowd and awaited her
moment.

Clark was one of the last to emerge, and when he did, he stood
alone, his hands in his pants pockets and his head fixed forward
as he watched the photographer arrange various shots of the
bridal couple.

Her time had come.

Lois inched towards him.

She stopped half a step from him.

He tensed. She could feel his awareness of her presence emanating
from a body held rigid.

With the outer tip of her smallest finger, she touched the small
ribbon of skin between his pants pocket and the cuff of his
shirt.

He flinched. Not in body. But somewhere deep inside where he kept
his hopes and dreams.

Lois waited, matching his forward stare, her whole being
concentrated on their tiny sliver of connection.

His elbow flexed, lifting his hand from his pocket and bringing
it to hang by his side.

Lois curled her pinkie finger around his.

His skin was warm. His hand soft.

His head turned to her, his eyes molten with confusion.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it without a
sound. He stared at her, snagged in the crevice of a thousand
questions.

Lois gathered all her unruly emotions and mustered them into a
cautious smile. He didn't respond, not overtly at least, but it
seemed as if the inscrutable outer layer of his protective veneer
softened.

"Lovely wedding," she murmured.

"Uhm." His reply sounded as if he had been ground through two
boulders.

Sensing he needed some space, Lois returned her attention to
where the photographer had positioned Jane in the midst of the
groom and his brothers.

Clark must be wondering why she had come. Why she had sought him
out. Did he welcome her presence? Her approach?

He hadn't run away. His finger was hooked around hers -- a loose
and flimsy connection, but significant.

She hoped.

Or was he just too polite to pull away?

She leaned closer and whispered, "Come with me? Please,
Clark?"

His head turned towards her, his expression slightly more
receptive. But it wasn't enough. She needed more than
speculative guesswork. She figured he probably did, too.

So she closed her finger more tightly around his and stepped
away. He followed, easily, but always half a step behind.

She led them into the grove of trees, out of sight of the wedding
guests. Ahead, she saw the gazebo, glistening in the afternoon
sun. She quickened her strides, eager now. When they reached it,
she climbed the steps, her heart hammering as they neared their
moment of destiny.

At the top of the steps, she turned and faced Clark square on,
careful not to dislodge the tentative connection their fingers.
"I'm not here for a story," she said. "I said I wouldn't
write anything, and I won't."

His expression didn't change. "You must have a lot of
questions."

"I do. But only one is important."

"Which ..." He coughed, glancing down to his feet. "Which
one?"

"Will you forgive me?"

His head jolted up, and surprise rippled through his features,
peeling away the mask to reveal the Clark of her memories.
"Lois, there's nothing to forgive," he said. "I ... I saw
you, my brain went into meltdown, and ..." He gently squeezed
her finger. "... and I just kept on getting everything wrong."

"You mean like bringing me here for the most romantic picnic of
my life?"

"I mean like asking you out within minutes, declaring my
feelings within hours, and dumping the biggest secret imaginable
on you within a day." His other hand lifted in frustration. "I
gave you no choice but to run away."

"I'm not running now."

"You came back to ask for forgiveness?" His eyebrow lifted.
"Just that?"

Lois felt her mouth twitch. "Not just that."

"What else?"

She stared into his eyes and saw the lingering layers of
uncertainty, as if he were preparing to defend his life ... his
world ... his decisions. She placed her other hand on the lapel
of his jacket.

"No raindrops today," he muttered.

She brushed them away anyway, relishing the texture of his jacket
... and the underlying firmness of his chest.

But ... her hand stilled. "I wanted to tell you that I believe
you," she said. "About everything."

"You believe my parents found me in a spaceship?"

She nodded.

"Why?" he asked. "Why would you believe something so
implausible?"

"Because you told me." She waited for that to settle through
his consciousness and then smiled softly. "That ... and the
coffee helped, too."

He groaned. "The coffee."

"Thank you for bringing it to me."

"I wasn't sure ... After I'd done it, I thought maybe you'd
be mad that I came to your apartment. But you called me and -"

"You knew it was me?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"I heard you breathe. And the little gasp. It was you. I knew it
was you."

"The coffee was wonderful," she said, sliding her thumb from
his jacket and onto the crisp cotton of his shirt. "It was
exactly what I needed. I'm hoping you'll make it for me
again."

"I didn't make it," he said blankly.

"Oh, that's right," she said, nodding sagely. "It was from
'just a place you know'."

His smile peeked out like the first rays of spring sun after the
cold of winter. "You kept on asking me to take you there. Next
time you ask, I will."

"Where is this place you know?"

"Italy."

"Italy?" she echoed.

"Yes."

"You can get from Des Moines to Italy to Metropolis in ten
minutes?"

"I had to wait for the coffee; they were just opening."

What had he thought about as he'd waited? And after he'd left
her apartment? "Were you hoping I would call again?"

He shrugged. Glanced into her face. "Yes, I was."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say."

"If you'd called, I wouldn't have known what to say either."

"You weren't sure? You couldn't see *us* anymore?"

"Lois, I will always be able to see us," he said with quiet
conviction. "But telling you *again* ... begging ... hoping ...
wanting ..."

It was true. He had been telling her from the beginning. Now, it
was her turn. "I can see," Lois said, sliding her hand from his
chest to perch on his shoulder. "I can see it, too, now. So very
clearly."

"See what?"

"See what you could see from the beginning. That you and I --
that *we* -- could be incredible."

"Lois, there's more ... there are things you don't know."

"I know everything that's important."

"No. No ... there's so much -"

"I know you're an honest man. A man of integrity and courage. A
man with enormous capacity to love. A man who -- as you said
before -- will hold no record of wrong. I believe that, in time,
you will forgive me. And when you do, I'll be waiting."

"Waiting?" he gulped.

"Waiting to spend the rest of my life with you."

His eyes slid shut for a moment, and when they opened, they were
damp and shiny and extravagant with joy.

His smile unfolded to spectacular brilliance. "H...how do you
know I'll forgive?"

"Because you're Clark Kent. Because you risked everything for
the woman you love. Because you won't give up."

His smile glistened like raindrops in the sunshine. "You think
you're the woman I love?"

"Aren't I?"

He chuckled. "I guess I didn't succeed in keeping that secret
either."

"No," she said. "That was pretty obvious, right from the
start."

"It was true," he said. His hand rose, and his fingers glided
through her hair. "From the first moment I saw you, it was
true."

"That you love me?"

"That I will always love you. That all I want is to be with you.
That you need to think this through before you -"

"I've thought it through."

"Lois, it's not just the flying. I can -"

She pressed her forefinger over his mouth to silence him. "How
about you surprise me?" she suggested. "One revelation at a
time?" She returned her hand to his neck. "And we'll celebrate
each one together?"

His eyebrow arched. "Celebrate?"

"You don't think being able to flit to Italy on a coffee whim
is something to be celebrated?" she asked.

He appeared to be reconsidering. "Perhaps ... if I had someone
to come with me ..."

"You do. You have. You will. Always."

"Aww, Lois. I ..." His words stopped, but his eyes continued
with wordless vows that burrowed deep into her heart.

She smiled. His arms lifted, surrounding her, pulling her
closer.

And Lois knew she had found her home.

***

Clark's mountain of fears had been reduced to just one.

He fervently hoped he wasn't dreaming.

She'd come to Des Moines.

She'd sought him out.

She'd apologised. Not that she had done anything wrong.

She'd said she believed him.

And despite knowing his secret, she was nestled into his arms.

She felt so good, so perfect. Clark would have been content to
hold her forever.

But, after about a minute, she eased back. She smiled up at him,
which mitigated the loss of contact. He slid his hand down her
arm to take her hand in his.

"We should probably get back to the wedding," she said. "There
are going to be questions if they realise we've gone missing."

Clark lowered his glasses and checked over his shoulder.
"Everyone seems to be concentrating on the bride and groom," he
said.

"How do you know?"

"I can see through the trees."

"Literally? Through them?"

"I can see through everything except lead." He held his breath,
awaiting her response.

She grinned. "When you come to Metropolis, you are going to work
with me."

"You said you work alone. Always."

"I also said I don't date. Ever."

His laughter felt sweet as he asked, "Has that changed, too?"

"Only a little. I date one particular man. As far as everyone
else is concerned, I don't date."

Her words and her smile and her hand on his chest emboldened him.
"Want to go out on a date with me?"

"Only one date?"

He nodded. "Only one. One very long date that lasts a
lifetime."

Her beautiful brown eyes sparkled with fun. "Is that a proposal,
Mr Kent?"

If she wanted a proposal, she could have it. Right now. "Of
course not," he said, unable to suppress his grin. "It would be
much too soon for a proposal."

"But that's what you want, isn't it? Marriage? Forever?
Risking everything for one person?"

"That's what I've always wanted. But until last week, I
didn't know who that one person was."

"Do you know now?"

He nodded. "I'm sure."

She toyed with his tie. "You are a very romantic man, Mr
Kent."

"I believe in love. I believe in being with someone forever."

"I didn't believe in love."

"And now?"

"I believe in us."

Clark cradled her chin in the curve of his fingers, tilting her
head until their eyes met. "I love you, Lois Lane," he said.
"I don't think it's possible for me *not* to love you."

"I believe you." Her eyelids fluttered over a film of moisture.
Her smile budded. "And I love you, Clark Kent."

His heart soared, and Clark drew her closer. He kissed her,
sealing promises made ... secrets shared ... love affirmed.

Forever.

THE END