Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish it was, because I'm poor.

Author's Note: So, I fail at being an authoress. Mostly, I blame the fact that my job saps the will to live from me, let alone the will to write but I don't have a great excuse. Here is part five, and I promise I will finish this. It might take me a hellacious amount of time, but I swear. I won't leave you hanging, dear people, if any of you still exist. Your reviews are life to me.

~Then~

"Lois?"

Clark turned in what experts would call a 'bemused circle.' Trust Lois to find a way to sneak off in the middle of an abandoned field. How? How could she? The moonlight, not to mention his -oh yeah- superpowers should have left her no recourse. Knowing Lois it was probably lightyears more nefarious then that. He started back towards where she'd tripped. More than likely, a time-travelling criminal from the future of an alternate dimension had appeared at this exact moment of existence to kidnap her in order to prevent her future self from writing the expose her alternate self would find and use to incarcerate the criminal.

In spite of himself, he started to worry.

Please be rational. She probably just got hungry. Yes! It wouldn't be the first time she hared off and stole apples out of the Warner orchard. No, the orchard isn't anywhere around here, but she's very fast and I was distracted….

He blushed, again. Focus. Maybe she's hiding deliberately, to teach me a lesson about taking her walking for a da- an outing. That would be just like her.

"Lois!"

He began expanding the scope of his vision, thinking that perhaps he just wasn't looking hard enough. He swept his gaze all the way to the Smith farm, which was, in fact, more than halfway to Granville, but found no sign of her. That's it.

"That's it! LOIS!"

She's doing this on purpose. "I know you're doing this on purpose!"

Just then, he tripped, himself. He looked down, blinking stupidly for a moment as the terror ate its way up from the pit of his stomach.

Or, she could be down there. He stared into the angry maw that signaled the rim of the massive sinkhole that was now pitting the road.

~Now~

On the bathroom side of the door, Lois had her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers tightly crossed. It was a risky gambit, to be sure, but the Clark Kent she knew was the cornerstone on which nobility was defined; his honesty was renowned (excluding, of course, during Monopoly because, really? Four times?). He wouldn't cheat.

She just needed to buy herself enough time to think of a way out of this. Vegas weddings happened all the time, if the tabloids were to be believed. All you needed to marry here were two valid driver's licenses and the spirit of Elvis to bless the union. This could be an extremely funny story to tell, in the distant… very… distant future years.

A scoff mixed with a growl told her that there was a clear disbelief on the bedroom side of the heavy oak door. Then, a sigh. If she was honest, it sounded like a huff, but, she told herself, you take what you get at this point.

"Alright, Lois. Panic for now, if you have to. I'm going to go get us breakfast, but by the time I get back, I want you-" his footsteps sounded faintly as they headed away from the bathroom. If she strained her ears she could hear the buckle clank against the denim of his jeans as he put them on, but the end of the ultimatum escaped her. She didn't allow herself the luxury of imagining the scene, too busy was she rewarding herself with an impromptu victory dance. This served to remind her that she was not nearly as young (or stretchy) as she remembered being. She started the hot water running full blast. Shower time! Hot, relaxing, idea producing, husband free shower time!

Something occurred to her. She thumped her fist against the wood.

"What?"

He was back- she could feel the immense, masculine heat of him sinking through the wood grain. "What, what?"

In order to smack him, you'd need to open the door. If you open the door, you're going to do things that will shame the house of Kent. "You were saying something, then you walked away. You want what?"

The low chuckle unnerved her, and without stopping to analyze what she was doing she flung the cold taps on as far as they would go.

"I want you- nothing. That was the end of the sentence."

Fuck. She thought, and scolded herself that it actually sounded more like a plea, in her head.