Tap. Tap. Tap.
Lana groaned and pulled the covers over her head. She had a flight to Tokyo in five hours and could not afford to be driven into insomnia by the storm that was unraveling outside of her Metropolis penthouse.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The tapping ensued and she was forced to grab her pillow and use it to muffle the echo of the rain drops hitting the glass doors that led to the balcony. She knew that she could have taken the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed her, but she didn't want to come to rely on them every time she wanted to sleep.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound grew louder as the wind howled outside, sheets of rain pounding against the windows. Lana threw the sheets off her body and sat up in bed, watching the storm through the glass. A clap of thunder startled her and she drew her knees up, leaning her head against them.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Clunk.
She straightened up, listening.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Clunk. "Lana..."
With her heart pounding, she squinted her eyes, staring out into the eye of the storm. There, she saw a lone shadow, hunched, his body against the glass doors. A flash of lightening illuminated the shadow and she audibly gasped. A red cape billowed behind the shadowed figure, the gust of the storm threatening to engulf it.
Lana hastily shot out of the queen-sized bed, pulling on the silk robe draped on the back of the sofa. She unlocked the glass doors and slid them open. The storm's fury raged inside the penthouse, filling it of moisture and damp air.
She resisted the urge to cry out as the shadowed figure collapsed against the floor, soaking the carpet with his wet suit.
"Superman!" She kneeled down beside him and rolled him over, onto his back. "Clark! Clark?"
Another flash of lightening brightened the room, giving her a glimpse of the scars of blood that ran down his face. Working quickly, she dragged him further into the room, allowing her to slam the glass doors shut.
She lowered the curtains, cutting the room off from the storm and everything else. It was only her and him now.
Lana returned to his side and pressed her head against his chest, listening. A faint heartbeat was heard.
Fighting back tears, she hurried to the kitchen where she grabbed a small pairing knife and some towels. From the bathroom, she took tweezers.
Ripping the red and blue suit open, she scanned his body, looking for the kryptonite. When she found none on his front, she flipped him over.
There, on his lower backside. A kryptonite bullet.
She pushed her hair away from her face, grateful that the bullet hadn't pierced his spine. Decisively, she didn't try to wake him. It was better this way.
With the knife held securely in one hand, she began to gently dig the bullet out. Biting her bottom lip, the knife was replaced with the tweezers. She became panicked when she couldn't seem to grab hold of it.
Three more minutes of intense concentration and it was out. Held like a prize in between the metal ends of the tweezers, Lana opened the glass doors again and stepped out onto the balcony. Sheets of rain poured onto her, soaking her to the bone. But she was numb to that, flinging the bullet into the storm where it was lost.
Returning to him, the doors locked, curtains still drawn closed, she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of his skin. The hole that the bullet had left had healed, and so had his other scars.
Not knowing what else to do, she picked up a towel and wetted it. She slowly sponged it over his wounds, cleaning the blood. Once that was done, she stripped him down, placing what remained of the red and blue material into a paper bag.
The rain turned into a drizzle and the wind lost its gale. Pink streaks of dawn gathered at the foot of the horizon.
Lana brought the mug of coffee to her lips as she sat beside the bed. She watched him breathe. Everything about this man seemed to captivate her. The curl of dark hair that grazed his forehead...the way his eyes moved under his eyelids, letting her know that he was dreaming...and his lips, once bruised from the kryptonite were now alive with a twinge of pink.
She bent down, her face close to his. She cupped his cheek, stroking the skin with her thumb. "Clark..."
His eyes fluttered open, rapidly blinking.
She leaned back slightly in her chair, the mug of tepid coffee resting on the nightstand behind her. She had been awake for quite some time. After heaving him onto her bed and making him comfortable, she had curled up the couch, finally getting some sleep. It wasn't too long before she awoke, though, as if her subconscious was reminding her of something.
Something like a flight that she ought to have cancelled. Something like having Superman in your bed.
"Lana?"
She smiled. "Hey, sleepy head. I was worried about you." She watched as he dragged himself up in the bed, his biceps bulging.
He rubbed his head, as if remembering something. "What happened?"
She licked her lips. "Well, I found you outside on my balcony. You were wet from the storm. So, I brought you in, took the kryptonite bullet out of your back, and got you settled in bed."
He twisted around, running his hand over his naked backside. "My suit..." he mumbled.
She pulled out a paper bag from under her seat and promptly dumped out its contents. "I had to get up early this morning for a flight."
Clark reached out and held out his costume. "Thank you, Lana."
She shrugged. "What's the use of being a fashion designer if you can't sew?"
He turned to her, catching her eye. "For everything, I mean. If it wasn't for you..."
She bowed her head. "Let's not go there, shall we?"
He nodded, but stopped, still feeling a little woozy. "Fair enough."
"What exactly happened anyway?" she asked quietly.
"I'm not exactly sure..." He shook his head. "Someone was screaming for help...there was an alley...these guys with kryptonite came up...and then I flew to your place."
She straightened up, alarmed. "Do you think that someone found out about your weakness?"
"I don't know..." He laid the suit out on the bed, running his hand over the 'S'. After a moment, he said, "I have to go back out there, Lana. There's something wrong...I don't know what, but I have to find out. If someone's found out about..." He paused, balling up his fists. "Someone's going to get hurt. I can't let that happen."
She lowered her eyes. "I know that you can't." She sighed and looked away. The pink streaks had given way to pale red and orange. Windows of tall buildings glinted under the first rays of daylight.
When she turned back, she saw that he was standing, fully clothed. "Clark..."
He turned back to her, a look of determination etched on his features. "Yes?"
"Be careful," she whispered.
He gave her a small smile. "I will. Goodbye, Lana."
"Goodbye, Clark." She followed him out to the balcony, her hair blowing in the aftermath of the storm. She watched him soar into the dead sky, his movements breaking apart the rain clouds, scattering light upon all of Metropolis.