To Love and To Heal
Sara almost stumbles over her own feet as she is carrying another cardboard book that is too large for her.
"Bood, bood," she exclaims giddily.
Her smile is broad and infectious in a way that reminds me so much of her father. It's taking my breath away and makes me both sad and happy at the same time. My heart does a little dance inside my chest as Sara comes toward me. I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of one of my love-seats and wait for her. The little girl hands me the book, then turns around and flops down onto my lap, eager to have me read it for her.
Clark briefly looks over his shoulder and gives me a small smile, before he turns back and types away at his laptop. It's been a while since he has flashed me one of those brilliant smiles of his. Though he seems content with the blossoming friendship between his daughter and me, there is something sad and wistful about that smile that makes my stomach lurch with uncertainty.
He's come to Metropolis to visit me and give his editor an outline of his new book. But as I watch him run a weary hand through his hair every so often, I can tell that writing is not going well at the moment. He looks distressed and distracted in a way that I don't think has anything to do with his book. And I wish I could get up and lay an arm around him to give him a comforting hug. Actually, I would love to do so much more than just hug him. But I'm not sure he would welcome that.
I have no time to dwell on that thought, because Sara starts to nudge me with her hand. She points at the book that I'm supposed to read out. I turn to her and look at the book she's chosen. It's "The Very Hungry Catterpillar."
I turn the page and start reading. "In the light of the moon a little egg lay on a leaf…"
Sara listens with rapt attention, though I can tell by the way she's rubbing her eyes that she's tired. It's been a long day. Since it was my day off, we spent most of our time outside. Clark was running a few errands with his editor and when he was done, we strolled through Centennial Park. All in all, it could have been the perfect day, and pretty romantic, too. Only it wasn't.
Though Clark seemed cheerful enough, I could tell it was just an act. And I have no idea if that was for Sara's sake or for mine. More often than not, he was distant and brooding. I don't know if it's his new book that's making him so grumpy or if I am the problem. With a pang of sadness I inhale the scent of Sara's hair and enjoy the feel of her body leaning heavily against me. For a while there I actually thought we were making progress. He was even looking at me with those soulful, dark brown eyes that seemed to be gleaming with desire.
I was overjoyed when he told me he would visit me in Metropolis, with his daughter no less. I had been in Smallville several times and he had come to Metropolis, occasionally. But always alone. I know how much Clark hates flying in planes, and having to keep a toddler entertained the whole way had to have been a nightmare.
When I'm finished reading the book, I put it aside. Sara turns to the side and rests her head against my chest. My heart beats excitedly. I never thought I could be any good with kids. I never really wanted to. However, little Sara makes it rather easy to forget all the reasons why I was scared of becoming a mother one day. She looks up at me with huge chocolate brown eyes.
"Are you sleepy?" I ask her.
"Yeah," she mutters. Once more she rubs her eyes and her hand reaches for my blouse, her fingers closing around the fabric. "Lolo lullaby."
I feel my heart swell. Sara even lets me pick her up. Clark pushes back his chair and joins me. Quietly, he watches me as I get Sara ready for bed. Though he smiles at me the whole time, there is something strange about his expression that I can't pinpoint. Does he regret coming to me? Is he jealous of the way Sara seems to accept me?
When I've changed Sara into her pajamas, she insists that Clark carries her to her bed. He lays her down and kisses her cheek. Together we sit down next to her travel bed. I'm right beside Clark, but he could as well have been miles away. He seems lost in thought.
I sing the two verses of a lullaby and continue humming the melody for a while until Sara's eyelids start to droop. Elated by my success I smile at Clark. He winks at me and gives me a thumbs-up sign. It's testament to his subdued attitude that even that small sign of approval sends pleasant shivers
Slowly, I get up and place a kiss on Sara's forehead. "Good night, Sara. Sleep tight."
"Daddy," the girl whispers. She opens her eyes again and searches for her father.
"I'm here, sweetie," Clark replies. "I'll stay with you until you're asleep." He turns to me and blows a kiss in my direction. "See you soon."
As quietly as I can, I leave my sister's old room and close the door behind me. I wander through my living room and start putting the toy blocks back into their box. They are scattered all across the floor. While Clark was busy writing, I had spent the afternoon building towers with Sara. A warm and fuzzy feeling fills me as I remember how much Clark's daughter is warming up to me.
I just wish the same could be said for Clark and me. When we made up six month earlier, we quickly slipped back into our old friendship.
It was almost like putting on your favorite sweater, the one you had lost years ago and that was miraculously returned to you. Maybe it feels a little odd at first, because the sweater had been washed with a different brand of detergent. But eventually, you remember why that particular piece of clothing was your favorite.
It hadn't been that difficult to feel as comfortable around Clark as I always had. And I thought that he was feeling that way, too. But I'm not so sure that he really still loves me. He said so, six months ago, when he kissed me at the Daily Planet. He hasn't said it since.
Sometimes, I think that Clark and I will never be able to completely work through our problems.
The hardest part is that I'm falling for him harder with each day I see him care for his daughter with such endless patience. And frankly, I'm just baffled by the way this girl managed to worm her way into my heart. I feel myself melt into a puddle of goo when she sits down on my lap and rests her head against my chest. I want to hug her and never let go of this tiny bundle with the pretty brown eyes. Suddenly, I can hardly imagine my life without her in it.
That's scary in a way, because I'm not quite sure that I will ever be able to be more than Aunt Lois to her.
Sometimes, I think that Clark and I will never be able to work through our problems. It's been a little more than half a year since I met Clark in that bookshop in downtown Metropolis. We spent an entire night talking and coming to terms with what had happened between us. Before I knew that Clark used to be Superman, I had an affair with his alter-ego. And I broke up with Superman because I had fallen in love with Clark.
Red Kryptonite and a series of unspeakable misunderstandings had wreaked havoc in our lives and Clark had been so heart-broken that he'd played dead rather than to face me. And though he had said that we would start over and explore the possibility of a renewed relationship, I'm afraid that this illusion of bliss is going to be shattered very soon.
Ever since we met again, we've been seeing each other occasionally. But since Clark is still unable to fly, it's been a long-distance relationship at best. When he brought Sara with him, I was delighted because I thought that he was finally willing to move our relationship to the next level. I hoped that something was going to change, intensify, whatever.
But he's been here for a couple of days and has hardly made any attempts whatsoever. After all this time, all we ever do is kiss. Occasionally we cuddle. But we haven't made love yet. Not once.
I get that Clark wants to take things slow. After all, our first relationship unfortunately was too much about sex and too little about the things that really matter. I guess he doesn't want to repeat our mistakes and neither do I. But what we have now is so platonic it's driving me crazy.
There's a sexual tension between that is almost palpable. I can hardly breathe when I'm next to him. I see the fire in his gaze, I feel the sparks it his touch, but so far he's doing nothing about it. Or am I just imagining this? Is it all one-sided, or is this whole sexual aspect thing of relationships sitting in the room like an elephant? An elephant that Clark just choses to ignore while it threatens to suffocate me!
I don't know how much longer even our friendship can survive that much unresolved desire. And I don't know if I could stand spending my life as just his friend when I know that we once had so much more. The worst thing is that I know exactly what I'm missing out on. That makes the waiting so much harder.
When I'm done cleaning up, Clark still hasn't come out from the second bedroom. His laptop is sitting on my desk. He's forgotten to shut it down. I know that his new book is about the crazy times we went through. But so far, he didn't let me read his work, because according to him it's not nearly finished. My heart starts to pound in my chest as I sit down in front of the laptop. Before I know it, I'm drawn into his story.
Harry woke up to a soft hand stroking his bare chest, drawing small circles around his nipples until the gentle fingers trailed down towards his navel, following the thin line of hair south towards his more intimate parts. His breath caught in anticipation, but the hand stopped just in time, travelling back towards his pectorals and resuming its ministrations. A low growl left his throat and he pulled her warm body into half an embrace. He ran his hand across her back as the female next to him snuggled closer, her breasts pressing into his side, reminding him just how much he longed to touch them again. He wanted to suckle them until he elicited the small moan that had driven him crazy just a few short hours ago. Harry kept his eyes shut, committing everything he felt to memory, until the harsh light of day would irrevocably crumble this wonderful dream into dust.
The whiff of her breath tickled his ear as she started to kiss her way across his cheeks. Wet, hot lips teased his skin, leaving him aching to meet them with his own. Harry moved his head ever so slightly, inching closer to her voluptuous lips until he caught them in a deep and hungry kiss. Her mouth parted, slowly at first, but with each passing second the kiss grew hungrier, fervent with desire as his tongue moved forward in a pale imitation of their earlier mating.
"Jenna," he whispered huskily as she broke the kiss to gasp for breath.
His eyelids were still too heavy with sleep. But he didn't need to look at her to know that her beauty was breathtaking. He could drown in those dark brown chocolate pools of her eyes. He couldn't believe that she really was in his arms, so warm and inviting.
"Morning, handsome," she purred against his mouth. Her hand was following the pattern of his abdominal muscles until she found the evidence of his arousal. He quivered slightly as her fingers closed around his shaft, sheathing him in a gentle, yet firm grip that left no room for any other thought than the feeling of her warm hand on him. She ran her thumb across his tip in a slow circle, sending sparks of pleasure through his body.
For a moment, he just lay there enjoying the sensation of her fingers running up and down his length until he was no longer able to tell where he ended and she began. His breath quickened with each stroke as if trying to catch up with his racing heart. Just as he felt like he was about to explode, he kissed her again, using the distraction to gently loosen her hand, entwining her fingers with his. Slowly, he guided her arm upwards, turning them around until he was on top. His lips never left her skin, kissing inch by intoxicating inch of her face, down her neck until he reached the silky skin of her arm. Finally, he pressed his lips to her hand.
"It`s your turn," he muttered softly and smiled to himself. He still hadn't opened his eyes and somehow just feeling her made the experience all the more intense. Shifting his weight, he lifted his other hand to trace the lines of her face.
"God, you are so gorgeous," he said reverently.
"So are you," she whispered.
She drew another kiss from his lips. Harry eagerly complied, losing himself once more in the silky depth of her mouth as their tongues danced in a rhythm old as time.
His free hand roamed her body, following every curve. She moaned her pleasure as he cupped her breast and squeezed it lightly, drawing slow circles across her nipple until he could no longer resist the temptation to move a little lower. His lips took the place of his hand, starting to suckle at the tender bud. Her moan became a little more urgent and her hand restlessly searched for his as she tried to guide him towards her center that was already wet and ready for him. He felt himself harden even more, if that was at all possible.
Using all his willpower to keep from burying himself deep inside her right in that moment, he kissed his way along the insides of her thighs. Jenna's breath quickened with every inch that he moved closer towards her center. He let her soft moans guide his mouth along the mound of her sex, now and again brushing his tongue against her clit, as if by accident. Each intake of breath sounded a bit more urgent until it gradually turned into small hisses that in his ears sounded like approval.
Harry himself felt like he was about ready to explode, with all those sensations invading his mind: her smell, the feel of her silky softness, the taste of her. He had a hard time keeping himself from going over the edge right there and then, so far from the warm wetness of her folds that soon would encircle his member and irrevocably drive him to fulfillment.
"God," she whispered breathily. Her voice was hinting at the fact that she was feeling at least a fraction of the desire that was burning inside him, "oh, god, Harry, now."
He kissed his way back until he reached her face again. The tip of his erection was brushing against her center and he fought hard to retain control. His eyes fluttered open to take in her beauty one last time before he slid deep into her folds. The sight of the woman beneath him bathed Harry in a bucket of ice water. His head shot up and all of a sudden he was fully awake.
As he took in his surroundings, Harry realized with a start that he wasn't in Jenna's apartment. The woman he was about to make love to wasn't the woman he'd been in love with for the past year. He was in bed with Linda, a co-worker who had been hitting on him for the better part of said last year. There was no way this could be an elaborate erotic fantasy. Harry saw his discarded suit on the floor. A cocktail dress lay right next to it that was so bright red that Jenna would never wear it. She hated the color because it did not match to her beautiful copper red hair.
Vaguely, Harry remembered meeting Linda in a bar where he'd been waiting for his date with Jenna. But what had happened to him afterwards was fuzzy at best.
The short snippet of text has left me breathless. I didn't know that timid Clark was capable of writing something so erotic. His description is sensual and tender and…
I almost jump up in surprise as I hear the soft squeaking of the door. Clark is standing in the door frame and looks at me. A small frown creases his forehead. He closes the door behind him and walks up to me. Not for the first time today, I notice that his limp has gotten worse lately.
"You read my work?" he asks quietly. Though he doesn't exactly sound angry, I can tell that he's not all that thrilled either.
"It's good," I say hoarsely. "Very good. And pretty steamy, too."
A blush creeps across his cheeks. "It still needs some rewriting." He sounds uncomfortable and buries his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers. His eyes don't meet mine.
"Why? It left me absolutely breathless." I get up from the chair and close the distance between us. "The scene is perfect. Why would you want to change it?"
Clark runs a rand through his hair and starts to pace. "Harry comes across as the good guy. As if he was somehow tricked into that position."
I frown at him. "Wasn't he?"
He shakes his head. His distress is almost tangible. "I need him to be guilty. But I can't find the right twist."
My heart goes out to him, because Clark is still so caught up in his guilt. "Maybe that's because he's innocent?"
His smile is wan. "But I wasn't innocent. I lied to you, I..." He heaves a sigh. "I'm not sure I can continue that story. Actually, I'm not sure of anything right now."
His shoulders are slumped and now more than ever he seems to be in desperate need of a hug. I just wish I could give him that – and more. I want to kiss his pain away, I want to make him forget about his troubles and show him just how much I love him. But there is an invisible wall that he has put up around himself and I have no idea how to get past it.
"Please, keep writing. You're so good at it." I take a deep breath, gathering my courage for what needs to be said despite his resistance. "You make me wish that woman was me."
"Lois!" There is a look of pure shock on his face. Then he approaches me with uneven steps. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for that."
His hand reaches out for me to brush a strand of my hair back behind my ear. There's a yearning in his eyes so intense that I cannot help the impression that his desire for me is as strong as mine for him. But before I can call his bluff, he once again stares down at his feet.
"What's the matter with you, Clark?" My throat feels awfully tight all of a sudden. "If you can write something so passionate, why do you still shy away from me? It's not as if you're still a virgin. And it wouldn't be our first time either."
He winces and turns his back on me. What's radiating from him now is not anger exactly, though I have a feeling that the emotion currently rushing through him must come close. He resumes pacing the room restlessly. I can see the rippling of his muscles through his shirt, a barely concealed display of his immense powers. It's another sign of his distress that he lets them surface like that.
Then suddenly his bad leg gives out on him and he steadies himself against the backrest of my love-seat.
"Darn, I should have brought the cane," he says between clenched teeth.
Lines of pain crease his features and with difficulty he hobbles around the love-seat and sinks down on it. He takes off his glasses and sets them down on the coffee table. His arm trembles with the movement and there is something so meticulously controlled about his stance that his whole body seems to vibrate with his need to contain his feelings. I can't help the impression that he'd have loved to smash his glasses against the wall in frustration. Then Clark buries his face in his hands. Worry clenches my heart in an icy grip. I rush to his side and sit down next to him.
"I thought your powers were coming back," I mutter confused. "Your leg was better, wasn't it? What's going on, Clark?"
"My powers are coming back," he says sullenly. The he leans back and looks at me. "My superhearing returned the other day." He doesn't sound excited at all.
That confuses me even more. "But that's wonderful."
"No, it's not," he shakes his head. "I came to Metropolis because I wanted to look for a place to live. For me and Sara." He lowers his voice until it's barely a whisper. "Maybe even for the three of us if you'd want to." Once again he looks at me full of this yearning that I've seen earlier.
My heart starts pounding in my chest. It's the first time that he's even mentioned that he might come back.
"Clark!" I don't know what to say. The butterflies in my belly flutter excitedly. Ever since we've settled all the misunderstandings between us and made up, he's not once mentioned moving back to Metropolis, much less moving in with me.
He cups my cheek with his hand and runs his thumb across my skin. "I was hoping that we could finally take the next step." His voice sounds husky. Then he hangs his head. "And now I keep hearing all these cries for help. But no matter how hard I try, I still can't fly. Not one bit. The ability stays stubbornly out of reach. And now, I don't know how I could stay here. I can't hear all that and do nothing about it! Without the ability to fly, I'm pretty much useless. Even with my strength, how could I be Superman again? What would people think if Superman hobbles to the rescue?"
I lay my hand on his leg and squeeze it lightly. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Give it some time. The flying will come back, too."
He doesn't seem convinced. "What if it won't?"
I'm not willing to give up that easily. "If you don't want to move to Metropolis, I could always come to Smallville. Maybe the Smallville Gazette has an opening for me."
Clark gives me a weak smile and once more shakes his head. "I couldn't ask you to give up your life here."
I take his hand in mine and enjoy the feeling of his warmth against my skin. "But I'd gladly do it if it means that the two of us can be together."
"I don't want you to give up your dream because of me." He lifts up my hand and places a soft kiss on it. My breath hitches for a moment, but then he lets go of my hand again, leaving me with a distinct sense of loss. "How long would you be happy in Smallville? Sooner or later, you'd despise me for making you live in a small town where the annual corn festival is about the most exciting thing that ever happens."
I want to disagree. But before I can even say anything, I realize that his words might hold some truth. My heart sinks, because I get the distinct feeling that he'd already made the decision. I don't really know what to say. I don't want to lose him, not again. But I can't stand the idea of spending the rest of my life in a long distance relationship. That wouldn't be much better than being Superman's girlfriend. Perhaps, we're just not supposed to be together? We've missed the right time and now it's too late.
I try to stop the tears welling up in my eyes, but it's futile.
"Does this mean that it's over?" I ask desperately. "Again?"
"I don't know," he says quietly. His voice quivers slightly, as if he too is at the verge of crying "I wish I knew what to do. I love you so much and I don't want to lose you. But what if I can never be Superman again? I don't think I could stand to spend the rest of my life listening to all those people in need and be unable to help. That would destroy me just as much as living in Smallville would you."
"You will fly again, Clark. I'm sure of it." A choked sob escapes me. Tears start to roll down my cheeks freely. I can no longer hold them back.
"Please don't give up on us." I fling myself against him, pulling him into an embrace that is much more for my comfort than for his. "And if you don't fly we will find another way. Because we have to."
I don't want to let go, because I'm so afraid that he'll leave me again. There's a divide already forming between us that I have no control over. And as he wraps his strong arms around me, the urge to get closer to him becomes overwhelming. I desperately want to feel his tender skin under my fingers, want to trace every last inch of his body.
Before I know what I'm doing, I taste his lips. Their warmth and silkiness is just as intoxicating as it had been when he'd kissed me as Superman. I cannot help but moan as he gradually gives into the kiss, returning it with a passion that I hadn't quite expected. The world around me narrows to the brush of his tongue against my lips, to its gentle caress as he shyly explores my mouth. I feel his breath against my face and his hands on my back. My own fingers wander toward the hem of his shirt, tingling with the need to touch his skin.