Disclaimer: I do not profit from this fan fiction and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews. This is a story that's really close to my heart and I'm amazed that so many people have taken the time to get in touch with me about it. This chapter is short, and very angst-filled, but I thought I should post it and let you all make up your own mind. Thanks again and hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 4

She was cold.

Lois was fairly certain that she'd been cold for a while, because even the sheets around her were chilled, no warm body to heat them. Every limb, every muscle felt sore and heavy, but then she hadn't slept in so long that was to be expected.

And besides, she hadn't exactly gotten a lot of sleep last night, now had she?

She stretched out, feeling beside her. Something was missing and it took a moment to register what. There was no similarly warm, similarly tired, similarly happy person beside her, there was only cold air and freezing sheets.

She forced her eyes open. He was sitting in a chair in the corner of her bedroom, staring at her. The expression on his face told her that he wasn't pleased she'd woken up.

Her heart gave a jolt. Something was very, very wrong.

She self-consciously pulled the sheets tighter around her chest, fighting a wave of panic. "Morning," she said, relieved her voice came out steady.

He merely nodded. Maybe he couldn't trust his voice to be steady, she thought to herself.

Lois Lane, that's a crock and you know it.

"You're dressed." And he was. The full, three piece suit it had taken so much laughing and tugging to get him out of last night. He was even wearing his shoes. Planning on doing some walking, Clark? Yeah, right out the door.

The silence stretched out.

I will NOT make this easy for him.

"Lois, last night was…" His voice trailed off, and she bit the sudden urge to cry. You don't cry Lane, she told herself sternly. You make other people do that. "Last night was a mistake." He took a deep breath, seemingly forcing himself to say this. "I took terrible advantage of a situation, and let things get out of hand-"

Let things? LET THINGS? Do you think I'm some kind of adolescent? She wanted to scream.

"You have been such a wonderful friend to me Lois, and you deserved better."

I thought I got better. I thought I had you, and you were better. She heart lurched as the night played over in her mind. Nervousness, joy, pleasure. Relief that finally she had made a smart decision, that she had wanted someone healthy who wanted her. Two people in the dark. "Tell me with your hands Clark, what's in your heart," she'd told him. She thought he had.

And now he was dressed and ready for inspection, ready to troop right out the door like nothing at all had happened, like nothing at all had changed.

She could see the fear in him, damn near smell it: he was terrified, close to panic. The walls were going up again, because he truly couldn't imagine a life without them. He couldn't imagine how he'd get through the day out of control and happy, and so he was turning tail and running. She could practically hear the cogs of his mind working, telling him to run for cover. She wasn't enough to undo thirty odd years of emotional training, how could she be?

He was enough to undo thirty odd years of emotional training on you.

She could fight, she could push. He wanted this, she knew he did, and she could fight for him. She could force him, make him, persuade him. She didn't want to be alone in the dark anymore. She didn't want him to be alone in the dark anymore. There was nothing she couldn't do when she put her mind to it. She told herself that was the truth. And the truth can set you free.

You're not enough to undo this, Lois. You know you're not enough.

Her heart froze at the thought. Somewhere inside her, the fears and insecurities raised their head and began to regain ground. She had an out: she wasn't enough. She wanted him, but it wasn't going to happen, it was just one of those things. And the ache in her chest? That wasn't what it feels like to have a broken heart, she thought to herself. The ache of it, the pain. The feeling that everything she was would bleed out if she didn't pull the walls back up. No, she was being realistic.

They were both right, the walls were necessary. Thirty odd years of emotional stupidity couldn't be wrong.

She stared at him, summoning every ounce of self control she had. "You slept, didn't you?" she asked coldly. Funny how much self-control sounded like fear.

His eyes widened. "Lois, I-"

"This isn't Kansas, my father doesn't carry a shotgun." She got out of bed, forcing herself to dress in as business-like a manner as possible, as if nothing emotional had happened at all. Convince him, convince him, her mind chanted. "Things happen Clark; like you said you're a grown man." It was only with great difficulty that she stopped herself making a nasty crack about size and immaturity. "I'm gonna head out to get some breakfast, let yourself out would you?"

She picked up her keys calmly. She closed the door, not banging it. She bought a paper and a packet of cigarettes on the way to Rosalie's Coffee Shop three blocks away. And all the way there she whispered it, over and over in her head:

He's not the coward, Lane: you are…

A/N The next part allows Big Blue to wade into matters. Hope you liked this one and weren't disappointed.