Things are good.

Well, as good as they can be given their situation, of course: having the man you love die, then come back only to find out he's under the spell of some alien maniac that made him forgot who he is and wants him to destroy the world isn't exactly how Lois would have wanted it to happen, but hey. She has him back, and that's everything.

He starts smiling at her when she walks in – small, barely visible smiles, not at all like the ones he used to give her, but it still feels amazing. Despite everything, she still tries not to get her hopes too high, too fast, and carefully stops herself from thinking it's because he's starting to care about her again.

It would be too painful if it wasn't true.

Still, they keep making progress, and that's all that matters to her.

"Someone looks grumpy today," she says, looking over her shoulder as the door closed.

"Apparently, he's having one of his 'obnixious billionnaire days', according to Alfred."

She raises an eyebrow. "There was yelling – I heard. I would have offered my shoulder to cry on, but that would probably have been a little suicidal."

"You're a wise man, Clark Kent."

They both smirk.

"Well, here's something you don't see everyday."

"Good morning to you too, Lane," he mumbles, and she smiles, gesturing for him to come in.

"Oh, I'm sorry: isn't this the reaction you get everytime you show at one of your reporters' door on a Saturday morning?"

"I wouldn't know that, because I never do that," he glares, and Lois shakes her head at him as she takes the bag of croissants he's handing her. He might call her a handful, but she's certainly not the only one.

As they head towards the kitchen, she notices his eyes subtely running on every surface of the apartment like the sharp investigative journalist that he is – or like a parent checking in on his kid, which right now, she's pretty sure is what he's here for.

Not that she's surprised: she's seen it coming for a while, now.

"So: to what do I owe the pleasure, Perry?," she asks anyway as she takes out a plate and two coffee mugs from the shelves.

Settling on one of the stools, he takes a piece of paper out of his bag, wiggling it before her eyes. "Court call this morning: we got authorization for the Lex Corps documents we were missing. I just picked it up," he finishes, laying it down on the counter.

"And that was so important the editor in chief himself comes here to give it to me?," she asks innocently as she pours them some coffee, not meeting his eyes because she knows she'd laugh. To his credit, he doesn't lose face.

"Since when does a story wait, Lane?"

Smiling, she takes her cup, facing him. "Perry, I'm fine."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"Oh, come on: the last time you came here, it was after the battle of Gotham," she reminds him, still not able to mutter the words 'Clark' and 'death' in the same sentence. "Cut the crap."

They stare at each other for a moment, and Lois defiantly raises an eyebrow at him. He snorts.

"I'm not going to kill myself or anything," she rolls her eyes, amused, but still touched. "You can relax."

"Yeah, well, the happy attitude could have fooled me," he says, and she suddenly realizes that he has actually considered she could do it. Apparently, it shows. "For your information, it's the attitude a lot of grieving people adopt before throwing themselves off a bridge," he mumbles, eyes briefly stopping on the ring on her left finger.

And they never do that. As close as they are – although none of them would ever admit it – Perry and her don't talk about their feelings, don't even ackowledge them, for the most part. When she lost Clark, he didn't even say anything to her: he just came by and drank whisky with her in front of the TV, not saying a word.

She knows he cares, though, knows he's genuiely worried. So, she takes a sip of her coffee, and smirks.

"Well, I'm not a lot of people. Plus, we both know the Planet would crumble without me."

Rolling his eyes, he snorts again, and she knows he's alright.

Looking up at her from the floor, Clark pushes up, an half intrigued, half mocking look on his face. "Do you need a hand with that?"

"I'm fine, thanks," she manages, a little out of breath, sending him a glare she doesn't mean. When all of this is over, she really needs to start working out more. "And stop making fun of me, mister Fitness: this is all for you."

"Yeah well, I'm starting to get a little crazy in here. I need to move any way I can," he says as she drops her heavy bag on on the small table in this room. There's no bitterness in his voice, though, none that she hears, anyway, and she clings on to that.

Still, she knows it must be hell for him, and it hurts to see him like that.

Not for long, honey – not for long, now.

"I'm sorry," Lois winces, and he shrugs.

"It's not your fault. And it looks like you brought some distraction," he adds with a smile, gesturing towards the bag as he comes to stand next to her. It takes all she has not to close the small, oh so small space there is between them.

"Uh, yeah," she says akwardly, clearing her throat and praying that he doesn't notice his effect on her. "I thought it wouldn't hurt to make that room a little less – "

"Unpersonal?"

"I was going to say boring as hell, but close enough," she chuckles, allowing herself to look up at him. It occurs to her that when she used to tell him he was the most handsome man she's ever seen, it was probably the most accurate thing she's ever said in her entire life.

Focus, Lane.

"Ready? So," she keeps going when he nods, opening the huge sport bag. "I brought your favorite books – Plato's The Republic is in there," she starts, handing it to him. "A computer with some of your favorite movies on it, a card game, a pie your mother brought me yesterday," she raises her eyebrows, looking up at him. "And yes, it is amazing."

"Is it the apple one you can't stop talking about?"

"Yep. There are no words, Kent," she only half jokes, and once again, can't help her smile when he laughs. "I also took some of the articles you wrote, two bottles of your favorite beer – don't tell Bruce that – and some clothes and shoes."

"My favorite ones too, I guess?," and Lois looks up to see his eyes on her, a small smile on his lips. Her heart skips a beat.

"Yeah," is all she can manage, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thanks, Lois. This is great," he says, sincere. "What's this?," he points to the only thing she hasn't talked about.

"Oh," she manages, and wow is she babbling today.

In her defense, this is the one item she has gone back and forth about, not quite sure whether it was a good idea to bring it. "Well, I didn't know if you wanted to see it or not but – it's a scrap book I made you for your birthday," and she watches surprise register on his face.

Picking it up, she hands it to me, and he abandons Plato to take it, hand travelling on the hard cover.

"There's pictures of your childhood I got and made copies of from your mom, the documents and photos I found when I was looking for you, after we first met. Some of your articles, and articles about Superman. And pictures of us, which can be awkward, so it's okay if you don't want to look at it now," she finishes nerviously, painfully aware of how rushed her words are.

For a few seconds that feel like an eternity, he doesn't say anything, and just goes through some of the pages. He takes out a photobooth stripe of them they made in New-York, and stares at it before closing the book.

"Thank you. Again," he chuckles, even though she can swear his heart isn't really in it.

His smile slightly fades, and for a moment, he just looks at her, as if trying to decide something. Lois pretends her heart doesn't sink when he seems to decide against it, and doesn't add anything else.

"You're welcome," she says, throat tight. "Well, I should probably go," even if it's the last thing she wants.

"Now?," he asks, and she can't help the butterflies in her stomach at the look on his face.

Maybe he does need this time with her, too, after all.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I have a meeting with a source – couldn't reschedule."

"It's fine," he smiles anyway. "Don't worry. If I need someone to talk to, Bruce is right behind that door, right?," he deadpans, and Lois chuckles.

"And he's dying to have an heart to heart with you," she smirks, playing along. "See you tomorrow, Clark."

For a moment, she thinks of kissing his cheek goodbye.

She wants to, has wanted to for almost two months now, and the way he's looking at her now, she's pretty he does, too. It vaguely reminds her of when they said goodbye in that military base as Zod came to take him. When afterwards, he saved her, and they stood, impossibly close, in a cornfield back in Smallville. When, months later, he took her home after his first day at the Planet, making it impossible for her not to lean in as he stood in front of her.

Not for the first time, though, Lois has to remind herself that it's not the same. It's not, not yet, and she doesn't even know what this is – what they have. All she knows is that whatever it is, it's still fragile, and she can't afford to take any chances.

So, smiling gently at him, Lois heads for the door, heart twitching when for a second, she sees the same disappointment she feels on his face.

"Lois?," he calls when she's at the door. She turns. "Thank you."

"Wow," she grins, heart beating a little faster at the sight of him. "You look really good."

His cheeks redden, and at this instant, it's him. Standing there in his dark blue jeans, brown boots and red flannel shirt as he looks away awkwardly at her compliment, it's him – her Clark.

"I don't know about that, but it's certainly more comfortable. Thanks again," he smiles, grateful.

"Don't mention it," she waves her hand as she takes a sit. "So, what did you do today?"

"So you found all of them?"

Diana smiles. "We did."

"That's great," she smiles as well, opening the door of her car. "Now we just need to find a way to kill a psychic alien monster, and we're good."

Smirking as she gets into her own car, the Amazon releases a rare chuckle.

"I've dealt with men for a hundred years: nothing scare me anymore."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What?" she snaps, immediatey regretting it. Closing her eyes, she frowns. "I'm sorry. And no, I don't."

"Are you sure? I feel like I'm a pretty good listener," he jokes, and smiles when she finally chuckles.

"You are," she shakes her head, looking into his eyes a second too long. "I just had to deal with a jackass after work today, that's all."

"Are you hurt?," he immediately asks, eyesbrows furrowing in worry.

"No, nothing like that," she smiles reassuringly. "A so-called reporter was waiting for me in front of the Daily Planet building – he wanted me to reveal Superman's identity, 'now that he's, you know, dead'," she quotes with her fingers, anger rising again.

"Oh."

"Yeah. He's not the first one, but it's been a while. Plus, Cat pissed me off again today, so I wasn't really in the mood."

"So, what did you do?"

She shrugs. "Nothing. But when he followed me to my car, he accidentally tripped and fell down on his face."

"Of course he did," he chuckles.

"Accidents do happen everyday. So, what were you up to?"

"Reading, mostly." He smiles, "I also went through your scrapbook."

"Yeah?," she says despite herself, suddenly feeling shy.

"Yes. It was amazing - although that picture of me falling off my bike in sixth grade wasn't particularly flattering," he reprimands her with a look, and she smiles.

"I didn't want to put it in there, but your mother insisted, you see," she responds, a serious look on her face. "A defining moment of your teenage years, apparently."

He smiles. "Sure."

"Hey, I brought Chine - Are you okay?," she frowns, worried, and drops her bags.

"Hello to you too," he tries to smile, but Lois doesn't miss the pained look that settles on his face for a second. He quickly regains control, but it's too late: she's seen it. "I'm fine. How was your day at the Senate today?"

"Clark, I'm serious: you don't look so good."

"I swear - everything's okay."

She doesn't believe him, not for a minute, but before she can add anything, he speaks again. "But I did have a pretty boring day, so I really need you to start talking. Plus, the food smells great," he jokes, not reassuring her in the least. He seems to read her mind. "Lois, I promise - I'm okay."

He looks at her with that look and small smile he always puts up when he wants her to think there's nothing to worry about, but after a few seconds, it's his time to frown.

"Are you, though?," and she tilts her head to the side, surprised. "You seem a little...sad."

"What? No, I'm not," she shakes her head, hoping he wouldn't notice her lie.

He does.

"Don't you want to talk about it?," he asks softly, and she looks up. The fact seems to pain him, just like every time he's seen her hurt or down before, and that makes her smile.

He's always been incredibly empathic, but with her, it's like it physically pains him, too.

"It's nothing. I just - I saw your mom today," she finally admits quietly.

"Oh" is all he says, immediately understanding. "Is she okay?"

"She is, yeah," Lois smiles. "Her boss is pissing her off lately, but otherwise, she's fine."

"I'm sorry you have to lie to her," he apologizes, sincere. "I know it must be hard – especially considering how close you two are."

"It's not your fault," she shrugs. "It's just getting harder, that's all. She misses you – a lot. She doesn't say anything to me; I think she wants to protect me or something. But she does."

She doesn't mention that time she arrived at the farm, and pretended not to notice his mother's red eyes as she came out to welcome her. She doesn't mention that when she comes to visit in Metropolis, she can see her from the corner of her eyes wandering about in the apartment, fingers ghosting over the photographs of her son settled all over.

She doesn't, because she knows that Clark cares again, and that knowing that the woman who raised and loves him would break his heart even more than it already is.

"Don't worry," she smiles, breaking his train of what she knows are guilty thoughts – something that, as painful as it is to see, is yet another proof that whatever grasp Darseid has on him is coming to an end. "It will be over soon. And until then, I'll look after her."

Looking at her with that look that turns her insides into putty, Clark smiles.

"I seem to always be in your debt, Miss Lane."

"Favourite colour."

"Blue."

"Beatles or Rolling Stones?"

"Beatles."

"Football or basketball?"

She rolls her eyes. "Neither," and he chuckles, amused "Despite your best efforts".

"Chocolate or strawberry?"

"How can you even ask something like that," she says, feigning disgust. "Chocolate, Smallville – always."

"Favourite director?"

"Mhm...I don't know, Scorsese?"

"Batman or Wonder Woman?"

Lois gaps for a second, and when he smiles, apparently proud of himself, she has trouble containing her own grin. "You know they can hear us."

"Hey, hate the game, not the player," he shrugs, cocky.

"Fine: Alfred. And yes, it is a valid answer – next."

Clark laughs, and the butterflies in her stomach wake again. Damn him and those stupid dimples.

"Favourite subject in school?"

"History."

"Favourite president?"

"Obama. And Washington, and Kennedy."

"Beer or wine?"

"Wine."

"Favourite co-worker." She gives him a blank look. "Second, then."

"Jenny."

"Thing you're most afraid of?"

"Lombard when he's drunk," she deadpans. "He turns into a hugger, and just – no."

"Favourite holiday?"

"Christmas."

"Favourite childhood memory?"

"Christmas with my mom."

"Thing only I know about you?" She shakes her head at that, doing her best to keep a smitten smile out of her face as he looks at her with that devastingly charming smirk.

"There's not just one of those," she says, rolling her eyes for show. "But I'm guessing you want one of the embarassing ones?"

"Of course," he nodds, faking seriousness.

Crossing her arms, she sighs.

"Fine: I love reality TV," she admits against her will. "And the first time you walked out on me watching it, you wouldn't stop making fun of me even though I jumped on your back and told you to cut it out. For days."

Which, of course, he does again, head thrown back as he laughs, the sound music to her ears – even though right now, there's no way she's letting him know that. "Oh, shut up, Smallville."

Smiling when he looks up at her, Lois takes a seat, arms crossed to shield her from the frizzy air.

"It looks like things went good today," he says softly.

"Yeah, they did," she nods, pit of her stomach warming like a teenager girl at the thought of his Kryptonian smile and sparkling blue eyes. "It's really him, Alfred," she admits, confident, and he smiles. "I know it is, and I'm pretty sure he knows it, too. Sometimes - "

Sighing, she shakes her head, frustrated. "Sometimes, I feel like he remembers. Maybe not everything, but there are more and more times when he seems like he's about to admit something to me, but always decides against it."

"Then he's simply not ready yet," he says wisely. "Give him some time: what he's going through can't be easy. And give yourself more credit," the old man adds, and she looks up at him. "You're doing everything you possibly can: whether we can achieve what we need to in time doesn't depend on you."

So suddenly it unsettles her, and for the first time in a while, now, Lois feels the need to cry.

She's not like that, certainly not in front of other people, but the comforting and reassuring words of Alfred, along with a pressure she carries despite her own will and the emotional weigh of it all – it's a lot, even for Lois Lane herself.

"I really miss him," she admits quietly, trying with all she has to swallow down the tears. "I know technically, he's right here," she explains, eyes on the small room at the end of the cave. "But I really need him to come back."

His hand comes to cover hers, and he smiles.

"And he will – thanks to you, he will. And then, we'll have to endure him and master Wayne bikering about every little thing," he rolls his eyes, and she laughs. "Now, do you have anything planned this evening, Miss Lane?"

"No, actually" she smiles as she wipes the corner of her eyes. "But I'm craving Italian, and it's about time I buy you dinner. Tempted?"

"Very. Master Wayne should be here any minute now: after that, we can go and talk about anything but superheroes and aliens threats."

Lois chuckles. "Deal."

"I uh – I read your new article today," he admits, almost embarassed.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It was really good."

She beams.

Eleven weeks in, and things couldn't be more different from when he was brought back to her again.

Not only does he talk to her, they have conversations about everything, from the upcoming elections ("I'm telling you, in this case, it's atually a good thing you have amnesia: the past of that jerk makes me want to throw up. I can't believe he has a shot of actually becoming President!") to Bruce perpetual scowl – something that he comes to find out, and unsurprisingly doesn't really like ("Thanks for taking my side in there, Lois." "Hey, don't blame me – smile more", and she sees Diana smirk at that).

He tells her about the books he's read, and spent an entire Saturday presenting her the theology studies and theories he was so interested in. They play cards – and, as usual, he kicks her butt. He waits for her to drink the beer, handing her the second one when she arrives, drained, a Friday evening. They bicker, they laugh, and sometimes, it's like before. She thinks he finally accepted that he had a life before all that, and that he was somebody else, somebody wonderful at that, and that all he was led to believe were just lies.

One night, they watch a movie together. He picks one they both really liked the first time they saw it, and Lois' dying to know if he did it because he remembers. She doesn't ask, though, because once again, she doesn't want to push him.

But she'll have to, eventually.

As much as she wants them to have all their time, and to do it on their own time, she knows that this isn't a simple case of memory loss: in the end, they'll have to figure out if Darkseid still has an hold on him. If he's still a potential danger, or if he can help them taking that atrocity down.

They'll have to figure out if Superman still exists – for his sake, and the entire world's.

For now, she thinks as she risks a glance at him sitting next to her, his blue eyes focused on the screen, she'll just enjoy being with him.

"What's wrong?"

He's pale. He always has been, ever since he's been down here, and after the incident that occurred before, he's been fine, but today, he seems worse – way worse. Forehead shining with sweat, his head is thrown back on the cushions, his eyes closed.

On instinct, Lois moves to sit next to him.

"Nothing, I'm – I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're white as a sheet, you're shaking," and she feels panic raise in her chest.

She moves his hand away from his forehead, and cups his face, her own hearbeat rising at the feeling: he's cold. So cold. "Oh, God – I told them the Kryptonite will do damage on the long term. We're getting you out of here. Now."

"Lois, it's okay - "

She's already gone though, opening the door they already unlocked as she leaps forward.

"Help me, we need to get him out," she manages, voice slightly shaking. The three of them are already walking towards her, grave expressions on their faces.

"We can't do that," Bruce says, voice tense. "You know it's too dangerous."

"I don't care! Just look at him," she gestures towards the room where Clark's still struggling, eyes closed and his entire body tense. "He's - "

"It's happened before," he hisses, and Lois's head snaps back towards him, surprised. Her eyes fly to Alfred, then Diana, and the fact that neither of them seems surprised by what he's just said wakes up a growing anger in her stomach.

Unphased, he continues. "He always end up feeling better, so just give him some time," and she glares at him before focusing on Clark again. She'll deal with them later – for now, his safety is all that matters.

"I'm not leaving him in here. He's dying, and I won't let that happen: I'm getting him out."

Furious, she moves to turn around, but he puts his hand on her arm, trying to hold her back. "Lois, no."

She shoves it back. "Get off me!"

"Bruce," she hears Diana say behind her, probably stopping him from intervening again.

Good. She knows it would probably worsen things, in the end, but if she has to slap him to make him see reason and save Clark, she'll do it – Bat vigilante or not.

She enters the room, and for the first time, doesn't close it behind her. Putting her arm around his chest, she helps him get up, and her panic only grows when he has trouble simply standing. She hopes he'll be able to walk, because as much as she wants to, she just can't carry him.

"Come on, Clark, it's not a long way," she whispers, and she can see he's really struggling to make it. "Come on."

As they go through the door, Bruce looks like he wants to stop her dead on her tracks again, but Diana puts her hand on his shoulder, soft but firm.

"Let her through."

"It's -"

"Master Wayne, he needs to get out."

He snorts, enraged, and turns his back as Diana comes to help them. She brings his arm around her neck, and Lois almost releases a sigh of relief.

He winces as they settle him against one of the cave's wall, far enough from his Kryptonite prison so he can properly breathe again, sweat perling on his face. His eyes are still closed, he's breathless, and Lois' about to go insane.

That can't happen. Not again.

Her fingers come to frame his face once more, and her thumbs gently run on his cheekbones before one of her hands move to his jaw, his neck. It vaguely occurs to her that she's subsconsciously doing what she used to do to soothe him, long before all that madness happened to them. "Just breathe," she whispers. "Breathe."

Eventually, his breathing finally slows down, and Lois feels him relax. She's so relieved she feels like an actual weigh has been lifted off her chest.

"Clark?"

A few seconds pass, and then he finally open his eyes, incredible baby blues looking up at her. "Hey, there," she chuckles.

"Hi," he weakly smiles, too, and she's never wanted to kiss him more than in this moment.

"Are you okay?," comes a voice behind them before neither of them can add anything.

His gaze turns towards Diana, but Lois' doesn't. He nods. "Good. Well, I guess we'll have to improvise from now," the Amazon continues, already deep in thought. "Alfred, do you think you could lower the doses even more?"

"I could, but I don't think they will be much use, then."

"Maybe we could alternate: one day with the Kryptonite, one day without."

Lois is so busy listening to what they're saying, eyes flying from Bruce to Alfred to Diana that she doesn't notice Clark's hand moving until he has grabbed her own, fingers slowly coming to interlace with hers.

Her head snaps towards him, his eyes closed again as he rests his head against the cold wall. He doesn't say anything, doesn't try to flee, or fight – though she doesn't think he would have the energy for it, anyway: he just stays there, hand tightly squeezing hers.

She squeezes back.

She doesn't listen to much of the rest of the conversation, after that, her gaze fixed on him, her mind unable of focusing on anything but his skin, his breathing, his face. Him.

Clark.

"What if he stays with me?"

Lois feels the eyes of everyone on her, but she only stares back as Clark looks at her, something close to confusion behind his eyes.

"What do you mean, stay with you?," Bruce asks, speaking everyone's mind.

"Home," she says, more to Clark than to him, before finally turning her eyes back to Diana as she gets up, facing them. "In Metropolis," and if the situation was any different, she might have laughed at Bruce's expression. It really wasn't a good day for his nerves.

"What - "

"Clearly he can't stay in this thing anymore, and in this case, all the security you have here is useless, so our apartment is as good a place as any. A better one, in fact: it's familiar to him. There's only two places that can help him remember, and this is one of them. This is certainly not helping," she gestures around them.

"And how exactly are you planning on stopping him, if he tries to escape?" The level of sarcasm is unreal.

"Well, I'm not exactly asking, Bruce," she says defiantly.

"I won't."

Gulping down the retort he was going to throw, Bruce looks at him. Everyone does – nobody talks.

Not without effort, Clark gets up taking support on the metal bars, and Lois lauches forward to help him stand. He smiles at her, then faces the two superheros in front of him. "I promise, I won't try to escape, or contact Darkseid – you have my word."

He keeps his word.

He doesn't try to escape – he stays with her.