-Chapter Two-
Some Months Later.
Silently, in the dark, with rain lashing at the windows, Lois turned a small unlit penlight in her hands and considered the omens. A delayed flight. A diversion to Kansas City. Having to hire a car and hitting the storm head-on coming the other way. There was no service on her cell, there was nothing waterproof either on her person or in her luggage, and the inside of the sedan reeked of burning rubber.
At least she had been able to get to the safety of the verge. The two-lane highway was arrow straight and edged on either side by a narrow, dirt, shoulder. Allowing for the way the car had fishtailed to a standstill and now listed awkwardly to the right, she guessed the strike had blown a set of tires.
She waited until the last roll of thunder had passed five minutes ago and then waited another five minutes on top, just to be safe. Then she clicked the penlight on, hunched her shoulders to stretch her little woolen shrug up and over her head, took a fortifying breath, and thrust herself out of the car.
The sensation and the weight of cold water hitting exposed skin made her gasp and before she had rounded the front of the sedan, the cotton dress she was wearing was clinging tight against her body and the soles of her espadrille slingbacks were soaked. Having succeeded only in restricting the movement of her upper arms, Lois pulled her sweater off her head and back down onto her shoulders again so she could properly ascertain the damage to the vehicle. The meager beam of the penlight picked out the raggedy remains of both right-sided tires and a closer inspection back at the front of the car revealed a thin plume of smoke escaping from underneath the hood.
Touching to test, she found the hood was cool enough to open. With the flashlight between her teeth, Lois's fingertips fumbled for the manual release. Eventually she found the catch and lifted the hood clear, holding it open with her right arm while her left went to brush her fringe out of her eyes. Reaching across, the heel of her hand knocked the end of the penlight and it dropped at her feet.
"Oh, come on." She lowered the hood again, and went to pick up the light. In the dark she failed to give herself sufficient room and as she bent she glanced the right side of her temple on the headlight trim. A string of expletives were swallowed up by the night as she retreated back inside the car, her hand pressed against one side of her face. She could feel sticky heat where she had drawn blood and irritably she pulled off her sweater and rolled it into a bandage to hold at her head.
Swapping hands she picked up her phone from the passenger seat, saw that there was still no signal and tossed it down again. As she sat catching her breath, she reassessed the situation. No electrical systems, no road map, and she had lost GPS with the car but she was fairly certain of her location. The last road sign had said forty miles to town and there must be some kind of civilization before that. A gas station or telephone, at least.
The rain continued to hammer against the car. She was soaking wet and cold, with a throbbing headache, and a bag packed for a weekend of golden fields, big skies, sunshine and barbecue.
She looked out the windshield, and then out the back, and grimaced. With the exception of a semi roaring past in the opposite direction, the last vehicle she had even seen had been at a set of lights almost an hour ago- a real slowpoke that she had been glad to burn off. There had been no sign of anyone since.
She sighed. Before she turned back around her attention was caught by the dress she had hanging from the backseat grab-handle. More specifically, by the plastic dry-cleaning bag that encased it.
...
Every time Lois took a step, the soles of her feet unsuckered themselves, briefly, from her sandals before squelching back down into place again. The affect had the dubious distinction of being a deal more pleasant a sensation than the sound it produced. The soles of her feet were wet. Her legs were wet- the entire front half of her body was wet. The top of her head and her back were a little more protected because she had unzipped the dry-cleaning bag, tucked her shoulders inside, and was now wearing it, like a snail shell.
She had been walking for about twenty minutes. Without visible landmarks it was difficult to gauge exact road speed but Lois reckoned on going about as fast as anyone in heels, in a storm, towing a travel case and with a head wound, could reasonably expect.
The rain fell vertically. It no longer felt cold, she had become immune to it, but every so often the wind picked up and when that happened the chill over her body made her suck in a breath.
Unexpectedly, a dappling of yellow suddenly illuminated the air and the individual rain drops around her. More light, stronger light, appeared on the road. She turned to see two headlights transfiguring themselves from fuzzy Van Gogh halos into distinct shapes and quickly flicked on her penlight to wave. She only truly believed salvation had arrived and this was not some sort of trick of the mind or reverse-mirage when a loud beep beep cut through the noise of rain on tarmac and the vehicle passed her before rolling to a halt on the side of the road just ahead.
She offered a prayer of thanks upwards, adding, "And I wasn't kidding about the smoking thing," before shrugging off and underarming the dress bag and trotting across the road, over to where the car was waiting. The passenger door opened for her as she approached, and now that she was close, Lois noticed the car was also a rental- the same company and model as hers.
She was going to mention that until she reached the door and looked inside.
Behind the wheel, there was a man. A mop of thick jet black hair was side-parted and swept back unfussily off his face. Beneath a pair of dark eyebrows, two clear blue eyes sparkled up at her. The man had a lovely smile, warm and honest. Between that, and the squareness of his jaw, and the way stubble darkened his chin and the dimple just below his bottom lip, Lois was momentarily disarmed.
The man shouted over, "Hi!"
She couldn't help the smile back. "Hi!"
Lois took him in. His shirt was open at the collar and his sleeves were rolled to the elbow, but an overall casual scruffiness was undercut by the rest of his appearance. No tie or jacket, but his dress shirt and trousers were immaculately pressed, she could see. He looked well put together. Clearly a businessman or respectable professional, she decided. Her age, maybe a little older. He was obviously a big guy because the car wasn't small and he was taking up a lot of space. When he lifted his hand to thumb backwards, the muscle in his forearm flexed and his shirt pulled tight over a round shoulder and thick bicep.
"That your car, back there?"
"Yeah!" Her purse slipped off her shoulder and she repositioned the strap.
"Engine trouble?"
Unable to help herself, she told him, "No, I just thought I'd take a walk."
He raised an eyebrow but she was already waving her hand in apology. "The electrics. I think. And both my right-side tires were blown." A finger pointed upwards, "I was hit by a lightning strike."
The blue eyes darkened and his eyebrows leveled. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just a little wet. The car's fried, though."
A few seconds passed while neither said anything, they just looked at each other wearing similar, expectant expressions. She was still in the rain, ducked down, peering into the car.
The man said, "Do you want to get in?"
Her instincts had her hesitating. No, that wasn't true. The opposite was true.
So she scrunched her nose. "Do you have any I.D. I can see?"
The man looked surprised and leaned over, "I'm sorry?"
"I.D.?" Lois repeated, a little louder. "Do you have any I.D.?"
The eyebrows lowered back into a frown, and he seemed unsure, unclear whether he was offended or amused. Lois remained as she was, one arm holding up the dress bag, the other braced on the open car door. Droplets of rain washed over her face, ran off her nose, the tips of her hair, her chin. She couldn't have been more wet if she'd just climbed out of a pool. But she was waiting and unflinching, and perfectly serious.
The man tried out a smile, "Is there some kind of a problem, officer?"
She returned the smile in kind, cupping her hands to gesture with her fingers first towards him, then at herself, "You're a random stranger. I'm defenceless and alone on a deserted highway," she explained for him. "I would just feel better about things if I could see some I.D."
Squinting, he followed her logic, "So when I bundle you into my car to kidnap you, at least it'd be on a first-name basis?"
Well, well, Lois smiled; a smart ass. She pulled out her useless cell phone from her purse and wiggled it, "I know people," she bluffed. "I can run a background check."
The man shook his head, a half-smile playing at his lips. He looked back up at her and made her wait another moment. Then he reached behind to the backseat to feel for his jacket. There he unclipped some credentials and held them out for her.
Lois took the tags from him with a look of triumph and a generous side of that wasn't so hard, was it? In a flourish, she straightened and flicked on the penlight, tucking the hair out of her face so she could read the details on the square of laminated plastic. The driver was leaning over, looking up. She could feel his attention on her.
Her eyes crinkled to concentrate, and then her face fell. With difficulty, Lois managed to say, "Clark Kent?"
A smile tugged one corner of his mouth as he quirked his head in easy confirmation.
"You're Clark Kent?"
This time he nodded.
"The Clark Kent?"
"Yes."
Blinking rain out of her eyes, she held up the tag to show him, "From the Gazette?"
He frowned, looking completely earnest. "Would you like to see my credit cards?" His bottom lip curled, "Some dental records?"
He was rewarded with a thin smile as she jutted back the tag, threw her purse after it and closed the door. As she dragged the case around to the back of the car she heard him buzz the passenger-side window down and call out, "Perhaps an identifying birthmark?"
She popped the trunk and ducked underneath the hatch, grouching darkly, "I take it back about the smoking." At last afforded some shelter from the rain, she threw in the dry-cleaning bag and with a heave and a swing, the travel case followed. Unzipping it she began to root around for whatever was still dry and clean. She pulled out the dress she had removed from the dry-cleaning bag earlier and laid it to one side while she began to peel off one shoulder of the dress she was wearing. Suddenly, she stopped. She called out, "Hey, can you see me back there?"
Above the sound of the rain she heard a muffled, "Say again?"
Lois shouted back, "I said, can you see me?"
In the front, Clark checked his mirrors, then turned and strained to catch sight of her. No matter how he moved all that was visible was the angled lid of the sedan's trunk. "No, why?"
"Are you sure?"
"Ma'am?" Clark yelled, both hands surrendered uselessly in the air.
"I'm going to get undressed," came a testy by-way-of-explanation. "I just want to make sure my decency is protected!"
"Oh." She heard him yell after a beat.
As quickly as possible, Lois worked herself into her last dry items of clothing. Closing the trunk she skipped back round to the front and slid into the car. She dropped her purse and kicked off the soggy sandals into the footwell, settled back and allowed a sigh to escape her- it was so good to be out of the rain and into some warmth. Realizing he had switched all the heaters on full, and directed them at her, she glanced across at Kent. His eyes were tight shut.
Lois knew lots of successful reporters, and they shared certain common traits. They were ambitious, driven. Sometimes sweary, sometimes sweaty. Almost always in a kind of ticcing, nervous, perpetual motion. And here was Clark Kent, the best of them all- this year, anyway. He looked so at ease, so comfortable sitting there. It was all very annoying. He had usurped her. The least he could be was short-tempered, a little grouchy, a little ugly and careworn and conforming to type. Not so well-mannered and considerate. And still patiently waiting for her. Despite herself, she was touched. "You can look now."
Clark's eyes flickered open. "Oh."
Under his gaze Lois was suddenly self-conscious, "What?"
"Nothing," he said quickly. "You look..." Now he was the one who looked a little unsure of himself. He re-established eye-contact. "It's a beautiful dress."
"Oh." She could feel a blush creep up the back of her neck. "Thank you." It was a beautiful dress. Deep purple chiffon, and strapless, it didn't quite manage to make it to her knees. A little more glamorous a traveling outfit than perhaps had been anticipated, she explained, "My last dry change of clothes." Her lips twitched, "It was this or my tigger pajamas."
He smiled. Then she watched something new come into his eyes. Carefully, she said, "What?"
He was giving her a look. "I was just wondering if we've already met? I mean, before?"
Her lips pinched. "I don't think so."
"Are you sure?"
With confidence, Lois informed him, "I'd remember."
Clark's fingers lifted off the top of the steering wheel as he stared out. "Well, I would too." He turned to her again, "But it's just that you seem kind of annoyed with me." He smiled, "Usually it takes people a lot longer to get to that stage."
From the passenger side there was a beleaguered sigh and wilting of shoulders, as if she was disappointed in them both that it had come to this. She lifted her hands to the nape of her neck to tie her hair back. In self-explanatory fashion, Lois said, "I'm Lois Lane."
A warm glow of professional pride, and something less identifiable that came and went before she would've been prepared to admit to it, flared when a big toothy grin spread across the man's face. "Daily Planet?"
She wiped her palm dry off her hip and offered it to Clark. He enclosed it within the warmth of his own as they cordially shook hands.
"Lois Lane," he echoed. Sitting back with a crooked elbow and his hand on his thigh, he gave the general impression that this was basically the best news he'd heard all day, maybe ever. "What are you doing on a Friday night on a highway in the middle of Kansas?"
Reaching forward to flip down the sun visor, Lois countered, "I could ask you the same question."
"I'm visiting family."
"Me too."
He tilted his head at her. She was preoccupied, checking out her appearance in the mirror on the visor. Just on the one side of her face though. She had lifted her fringe away on the right side of her forehead and was taking a closer look. When her fingers touched just above the eyebrow, she sucked in a breath, "Ow."
"Are you okay?"
"It's nothing," she said. Angling the mirror some more, she tried moving closer to see the reflection. "I bashed my head on the car."
"How?"
"I was taking a look at the engine. Inspecting the damage." Ticking her head, she amended, "Trying to."
"Let me see."
With polite assurance, she said, "It's okay, it's just a scratch."
Clark leaned to get a better view. "Let me see- I'm field medicine certified by the US Army."
A sharp look found no evidence of bragging in his expression- instead there was only an attentive frown of concern on his face. Whether it was something about the blue of his eyes, or because they were holding such a singular focus, under it, Lois faltered. "I'm sure it just needs a band-aid, really."
He held up his hands. They were huge. A traitorous corner of her subconcious couldn't help noting there was no band on his third finger.
"I'll be gentle, I promise."
She gave in and Clark popped his seatbelt so they could both twist round into a better position. She shifted forward towards him, lifting her hair out of the way.
He flicked the car light above them on to its brightest strength and touched his fingers to her chin so he could adjust her to his satisfaction.
Lois found herself eye-level with his jaw and looking directly at the unbuttoned V of his neck and collar- very much closer to skin and to the smell of him than one would necessarily have expected on just becoming acquainted with a man who until five minutes ago was not only a stranger, but a rival.
He was tan, there, on his neck, but only where the sun could reach. He smelled sweet and clean, like soap. She caught herself before she took a deep, indulgent, sniff and then was suddenly and uncomfortably aware of how close they were, of the sound her own breathing was making in this enclosed space.
A strand of hair escaped, fell across her temple and he automatically pushed it away again with the tips of his fingers. A prickle traveled over her scalp and down her nape and for the first time that whole night she was grateful for the rain and the noise of it on the car as it masked her ragged intake of breath.
Clark regarded the swollen gash just above the line of her right eyebrow. "Hmm. I don't think you'll need stitches." With a note of caution, he said, "Looks pretty deep, though. You'll have to be careful it doesn't get infected." They both leaned away back into their seats. "Give me a sec- I've got a first aid kit in the back."
"No, really, no. It's-" But he was already on the move and slamming the door behind him. Her hand remained swaying in the air, then dropped, "okay."
The car rocked as the trunk was opened and closed. In a moment, he was pulling open the door and climbing back in behind the wheel. "That's some weather out there," he told her cheerfully and unnecessarily as he pushed damp hair back off his face.
Something about his manner was infectious and Lois found herself shaking her head at him. Along with a small plastic box, he had returned with a hooded grey sweatshirt. He offered it over, "And I've got this."
"Oh." She pulled the sweatshirt into her lap. "Thank you." Wrapping it around her shoulders like a blanket, it engulfed her. It made her smile. A smile that only widened when she glanced over to where Clark had lifted the catch on the first aid box and now had it laid open on his knees.
She could see a roll of gauze, a tube of antiseptic cream, a small vial of saline, a packet each of sterile dressing pads and sticking plasters- even a little pair of scissors. Every item was carefully packed and wedged into its own space.
She swayed towards him, watching while he picked over the contents. "That come with the car, or is that yours?"
"Mine." He didn't need to catch her look. "What?"
"Nothing." There was a pause while she adjusted the sweater. "Ever in boy scouts?"
"Of course."
She made a smug contented little "Mm" sound.
He unrolled what turned out to be a pair of disposable gloves, eyes widening, "Like you can talk."
She met this with a frown.
In a tone of disapproval, he said, "Poking around underneath the hood of a car in the first place." His eyes flicked to the windshield and the deluge beyond, "In this."
She smiled, explaining, "I was just taking a look."
"What were you going to do? Jump-start the thing with your curling irons? Repair the motherboard with some tweezers and a nail file?"
Ignoring his baiting, Lois's eyes narrowed, "I grew up an army brat. I know my way around a car engine."
Clark was pulling on one of the gloves, shaking his head, "Not anymore. Cars are computers. There's nothing you can take out and replace." Absently, he said, "These days, no one wants to get their hands dirty."
A moment of electricity for Lois passed, unseen by Clark.
"Now," he said, the gloved hand holding up a folded sterile wipe, "this might sting, just a little."
Fighting off a smile, she told him, "Try not to enjoy it too much."
His eyes sparkled as he gave her his best solemn look, "I'll try."
She turned her head and leaned over to him again, prepared to flinch whatever the case, but Clark's touch was light and extremely tender. With a minimum of fuss he had the wound cleaned. She watched him busily squirt some of the antiseptic cream onto the pad of a band-aid and lift it up to her. His thumbs made the merest contact when he ran them over the edges to apply it.
He deposited the used wipe and glove into the spare glove, then tucked that away into the box. "There we go. Good as new." He inspected his handiwork, and, looking at her, he seemed to reconsider. Quietly, he said, "Almost."
Her eyes met his and, embarrassingly, she could feel herself blushing again. "Thank you."
"We better get this show on the road." Tossing the kit behind him, he buckled his seatbelt back on. "So, Miss Lane. Where can I take you?"
"Uh, it's a town just up ahead, I think. Smallville?" Without much confidence, she squinted, "You know it?"
Clark put the car into drive, a playful smile pulling one corner of his lips as they pulled away, "I've heard of it." He glanced over, "It's where I'm going."
"Smallville?"
He nodded.
"You have family in Smallville?"
"I grew up there."
The biggest grin was forming on Lois's face, half-wonderment, half-disbelief. "I take it you won't be at the Sheldon tomorrow night, either?"
"This is my first time back in the country in a while." He confided, "I'm spending the weekend at my mom's."
That provoked a wry, surprised laugh.
He looked confused. "What?"
"Nothing," she answered, honestly. She regarded him while he drove. "You're nothing like I expected."
Brow still lowered, he said, "I think I'm flattered you expected anything."
She wasn't fooled. "You just took first prize in journalism's most competitive popularity contest. Yeah, I expected something."
For a long moment there was only the sound and the rhythm of the wipers. After a while he glanced over again, "So is it a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Is what a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Me. Challenging your expectations."
The smile dimpled her cheeks. "I haven't decided yet," she lied.
"What did you expect?"
She mulled it over, enjoying the opportunity to admire and just soak in his appearance. "I don't know," she said. "Someone older, maybe." Her nose scrunched, "Someone a little more grizzled around the edges."
"Oh." He squinted one eye, "Well, I haven't shaved in a couple of days." He wiped his right hand over the stubble on his chin, mock-lamenting, "But I'm afraid this is about as grizzled as I get."
She chuckled.
"You're not exactly like I expected, either."
Interested, she propped her elbow against the window frame. "What did you expect?"
His forehead furrowed as if he was thinking hard. "I don't know." Feigning innocence, he said, "Someone older, maybe? Someone a little more grizzled around the edges?"
This time she let out a laugh that was full-on and throaty. "I haven't shaved in a couple of days, either." Mimicking him, her hand rubbed across her face, "But I'm afraid this is about as grizzled as I get."
He was grinning, gently shaking his head.
"So," she said. "Smallville, huh?"
"Yep."
"Not a big town."
"By name, by nature," he agreed.
"You wouldn't happen to know the Sullivans, would you?"
...
As soon as her phone was back in range, Lois placed two calls, one to the rental company and one to her aunt and uncle to assure them they didn't have to wait up. When her aunt found out it was Clark Kent that was bringing Lois home, she shrieked and it took an awkward couple of minutes of explanation, and then insistence, to establish that she had only met Clark by coincidence and en route.
The rest of the way, they laughed and talked. Clark's flight out of Gotham had been diverted too and they guessed they could only have missed each other at baggage claim by minutes. They worked out their paths must have crossed before afterall- once- at Clark's fifth birthday party. Clark asked after General Lane whom he had run into during a press briefing early on in Afghanistan. Lois explained that her father was stuck in D.C. over the weekend which was unlucky because it was rare for her family to all be in one place. She explained that she was not a regular visitor to Smallville. Clark had arrived in the States a couple of days ago, but this was his first time back home in over a year.
They moved on to shop talk and exchanging war stories. Clark was trying to play it cool. Until an hour ago, Lois Lane had been only a name and a reputation to him. Right now, at this precise moment, he was feeling many things; admiration, horror, and, with her wind-swept cheeks, beat-up forehead, and apparent nonchalance over the threat of bodily harm, straightforward and uncomplicated attraction.
"You dangled him. Head-first?"
"I hoisted him."
"Head-first?"
"I set the rig up and tied the knot myself," Lois explained in offhand fashion. "He was perfectly safe."
Clark kept his eyes on the road but she read the unconvinced look that passed across his face. There was a matter-of-fact shrugging of the shoulders, "To nail the guy, we needed the picture."
"I think I'm beginning to see a pattern emerge."
One sleeve of the sweater Lois was now wearing was raised in the air, "My motto is 'Reckless is only reckless when a loss of limb is involved'."
"Catchy. Your own, or somebody else's?"
"Somebody else's motto, or somebody else's limbs?"
"Limbs!"
"Oh, Clark," she chided. She had a way of saying his name like she'd known him forever. "This is about the driving, again."
"No harm, no foul, as a survival technique," Clark pointed out, not unreasonably, "just seems like it would only be successful in an after-the-fact kind of way."
Both sleeves went up, exasperated, and there was a waggle of her head, "I apologized, didn't I?"
"And your photographer? Did you apologize to him?"
"Jimmy?" Lois poo-pooed. "Jimmy lives for that stuff. Besides." She paused. "His eyebrows grew back." A longer pause, "Eventually."
"I can't believe that was you back at those lights."
"And by that you mean-"
"Not only can I absolutely believe it was you, but I'm surprised you didn't airhorn me Dixieland on the way past."
Lois stared out the passenger window. Clark couldn't see but he knew she was rolling her eyes. She looked back over. "The old lady that lives across from me drives faster than you, and she has one good eye, and she has a cane," she teased.
"Unlike some, I regard traffic laws as a legal limitation, not a baseline standard. And it's a good job, too- otherwise you'd still be back there, double-timing it, only dreaming about making it home for breakfast."
Her eyes glinted mischief, "But if I hadn't overtaken you, you wouldn't have been behind me in the first place."
One eyebrow flicked, "If I drove like you, I wouldn't have been behind you at all."
Suddenly she straightened and beamed at him in delight; "'That which produces is the cause of that which is produced.' The Metaphysics." A sleeve flip-flopped between them excitedly, "What we have here is an event paradox."
"What we have here is sensible road habits making up for bad ones."
"Clearly we balance each other out."
"Maybe you're just lucky," Clark suggested.
Lois was appalled, "I was hit by lightning!"
"In some cultures that is lucky."
"...What cultures?"
"...The ancient Greeks."
Lois pffed her lips at him.
He told her, "You're the one that brought up Aristotle."
"Maybe it was fate."
He checked his mirrors and the car began to slow, "This is us."
With surprise Lois realized the unremitting and blanket darkness of the highway had given way to houses and streetlights. They were back in suburbia, and it had stopped raining. She was almost sorry.
They made a left turn onto a wide avenue with grassy lawns either side and pulled up in front of a split-level that had her sister's freelander sitting in the drive and the porch light on.
Clark turned off the engine.
Lois had pushed her sleeves past her elbows and retrieved her purse which she was now fishing through. "Um, I've got like two dollars and half a stick of gum on me right now, so I was thinking if you could give me your details and I-"
"Oh, no, no," he stopped her mid-ramble when he realized what she was doing. They looked at each other. "I don't want your money."
"Please." She shook her head. "Give me your address, then- for some flowers? Or a six-pack?" Off his face, she pleaded, "A fruit basket- for your mom? Or whatever?" Lines creased the corners of her eyes, "As a token of my appreciation?"
He shook his head no. "It's not necessary- I was in the right place, at the right time." In the dark of the car, his eyes shone, "Like you said- it was fate."
Resigned, Lois closed her eyes and sang, "Please don't make me send something directly to your office." When there was no response, she opened her eyes. "Fine," she pointed, wanting to be clear, "but it'll be anonymous. And if anyone asks, ever; I'll flat-out deny it, and I'll take that information with me to the grave."
He tipped his head that in the circumstances that was fair enough.
She sighed at him, dissatisfied. "I feel like I should invite you in. Offer you a coffee or something?"
He smiled crookedly, "That's okay. It's pretty late." Then he cleared his throat and nodded in the direction of the house, "You can tell Moira and Gabe I'll catch up with them tomorrow night."
Her head tilted slowly as the grin unfurled itself on her face. "Reneging on the Sheldon, but a barn dance- you'll go to?"
"You've clearly never been to a barn dance in Smallville," he deadpanned before squinting at her. "And I find it interesting that you would ask me that question without a hint of irony in your tone."
"I'm here under duress," she reminded him huskily before reaching to pick up her sandals and stepping out onto the street. The movement and the standing up made her head throb, and she let out a woozy, "Oo."
"Oh, let me help." Clark jumped out and they met round by the brakelights of the car. He opened the trunk and she gathered up the empty dry-cleaning bag while he lifted her travel case out and settled it on the ground for her, "Here."
"Thanks."
He closed the trunk and then there was nothing more to do. They stood facing each other, and he was able to really see her for the first time. She was quite a picture. Her cheeks were still flushed from the weather and tresses of dark, wavy, hair, stiff from the rain, fell down over her shoulders. She had tucked her fringe back and it half-covered the rectangle of band-aid, and eyes that glinted almost black. Even without heels she was taller than she'd seemed sitting in the car. A pair of long, sleek legs disappeared underneath his sweatshirt which was just hanging off her. It fell past the hemline of her dress, and, underneath it, standing barefoot in the middle of the street, for all the world she could've been naked.
"Oh, your sweater," she said, looking down and inspecting herself.
"Keep it. Until tomorrow."
She nodded, tucked the strand of hair back behind her ear. "So."
"So," he repeated, equally awkward, but not wanting to have to stop looking at her face.
"Thank you. Again." She pointed to her head, to the band-aid, smiling. "For everything."
"It was nothing," he said. "It was my pleasure."
After another pause her eyes flickered as if she had finally decided on something. She stuck out her hand. "It was nice meeting you, Clark Kent."
They shook on it. "You too, Lois Lane."
"Bye."
"Bye."
Ridiculously, the moment she walked away he felt the ache of her absence beside him.
"Lois." Before she had reached the drive, she turned to him. He moved a shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow night, then?"
She raised an eyebrow, looking almost cocky. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
He couldn't see because she had turned away again, but the grin stretching wide and bright across his face was matched exactly by her own.