Title: Somniloquy
Author: Meret
Summary: Lois thinks about her relationship with Clark.
Category: Drama, Futurefic
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Fanon
Disclaimer: These characters are owned by Millar Gough,
the WB, and DC Comics. No profit is intended.
Archive: I'm sure I'll say yes, but please let me know so I
can visit.
Email: Feedback is hugged and squeezed and called George
at meret118@netscape.net
Web page:http://www.geocities.com/meretsv/
"Thank you" to my wonderful betas La Reina and
especially Tarchannon. The story was much improved
by their input.
Author's notes at the end.



Lois grimaced as he did it again. It was becoming more and
more frequent as their wedding got closer. Not that that
meant anything, right? So what if she and Chloe were both
reporters with a take no prisoners attitude and cuteness out
the yinyang. It wasn't as if he'd asked her to dye her hair
blonde or anything. He wasn't Jimmy Stewart, she wasn't
Kim Novak, and the closest Metropolis came to San
Francisco was the annual Gay Pride Parade.

He did it again, louder this time, and she rolled to her side
to stare at him in the faint light. His hair was sticking up,
probably from when they'd made love earlier, and his
mouth was open slightly in sleep. No, it didn't mean
anything.

She'd first met Clark at the funeral, but she'd heard about
him for years before that from Chloe. She and Chloe were
the only female cousins in the family, and being so similar
in age and interests, they'd always been close. Chloe had
told her when Clark had asked her out the first time, when
they first shared an open-mouthed kiss, when they first told
each other 'I love you', and when they lost their virginity
together. They had dated all through high school and had
both been accepted at Metropolis University. They had to
live in the dorms their freshman year, but they'd managed to
get assigned to the same hall, and Lois knew Chloe had
planned to ask Clark to get an apartment with her off
campus the following year.

She and Clark had hugged each other at the funeral and
expressed condolences, but Lois hadn't seen or even
thought of him again until years later when he started
working for The Planet. She certainly never would have
predicted they would end up engaged. They were such
opposites. His personality was so sunny plants leaned
toward him when he walked down the street, and hers . . .
wasn't. She was never surprised by the evils they reported,
while Clark could still be shocked by human depravity and
greed even after all this time as a journalist. They had been
friends for years before anything remotely romantic
developed.

That seemed to be a pattern with Clark now that she
thought about it. From little things he'd said, she knew he'd
been involved in another serious relationship his senior year
in college with a friend that had ended badly. He'd never
mentioned any details though, and since she had a pretty
good idea as to why, she hadn't pushed for once in her life.
So the fact that he moaned her dead cousin's name in his
sleep in a voice sexy enough to make the ice caps melt
didn't mean she was just a substitute for his first love. It
wasn't as if he'd ever said the wrong name while they were
making love.

That wasn't the worst of it anyway, she thought as she
rolled away from him, curling around the pillow clutched to
her chest. The worst was when he moaned Lex's name.

Chloe she could understand. She'd loved Chloe, but . . .
Lex? It wasn't the bisexuality that bothered her. Not once
she was past the initial surprise, anyway. But Lex . . . Lex
was everything she and Clark fought against. Lex was
megalomania, and greed, and power at any price and,
and . . . apparently Clark's lover at one time. She just
couldn't wrap her mind around it. Not for lack of trying
either. She wiped a tear away and hugged her pillow tighter.
If Clark could get involved with someone like that, even for
a while, then there was a side of him that she knew nothing
about. A side that maybe, just maybe, could marry someone
not for herself, but as a substitute for another.

He had hidden his tights-wearing alter ego so well, for so
long. At least he would talk about being Superman with
her. Normally he's the one who wanted to talk about their
feelings and their relationship. But he had big 'keep out'
signs on those doors labeled Chloe and Lex. He'd made that
abundantly clear the few times she'd mentioned Chloe, no
matter how carefully she brought up his past. She hadn't
even tried to mention Lex.

She felt like Bluebeard's wife. How many metaphorical
bodies were buried in those rooms of Clark's? What else
was he hiding? She'd always hated that story - a misogynist
lesson to teach the little woman not to seek knowledge.

Her instincts . . . her instincts were telling her to beat down
those doors no matter what, but would she survive what she
found there? She let out a shuddering sigh. She would
survive it. But would it be worth it? She had opened *all*
her doors to Clark. Only Clark. Well, all her doors but the
one containing these fears.

She got out of bed and padded to the sliding glass doors,
putting on her robe as she stepped out on the balcony. A
faint, warm breeze stirred her hair. Even at this hour of the
night, the light from the Metropolis skyline competed with
the light from the stars. And of all those myriad little lights,
natural and artificial, none held any answers for her.

She looked back at Clark asleep in the bed. His beautiful,
adored features were limned in soft gray through the glass
door. She watched his lips move and cried.



End


Feedback:meret118@netscape.net


Author's notes: In the movie Vertigo, by Alfred Hitchcock,
Jimmy Stewart's character remakes Kim Novak's character
into the image of a dead woman. It's set in San Francisco.

The story of Bluebeard as I heard it: Bluebeard brought his
bride home and gave her the keys to all the rooms in his
house. He told her she was welcome to go in any of them,
but one. Whatever she did, she must never go into that
room. He went off to sea, and at first she ignored that room.
Eventually, boredom and curiosity got the better of her,
and she opened the door. Inside the room were the bodies
of all his past wives. They had all opened the door as well.
While she stood there in shock and terror, Bluebeard barred
the door from the outside, shutting her in to die like the
others.