Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Superman-verse ... I'm just temporarily messing with it. :)

Chapter Two: Springing a Leak

A, B, C, D, E, F, G …

Back and forth, back and forth—Lois wiggled the metal tab on her can of Sprite, reciting the alphabet in her head, playing that modern variation on plucking petals from a daisy and sighing, "He loves me" or "He loves me not."

Oh, the suspense! Who would the soda can declare to be her one true love? Would the tab break off at "R" for Richard? "S" for Super? "W" for White? "M" for man? Or would it be another letter entirely, some unforeseen romantic monkey wrench just waiting for his chance to clog up the works even further?

(And would counting the letter "M" as being representative of Superman be cheating?)

… X, Y, Z, A, B, C …

Lois found herself at the beginning of the alphabet again. She could feel the tab loosening. Any second now, it would snap off.

… G, H, I, J …

Pop! The tab came free in Lois's fingers—it had broken off at the letter "J." "J" as in Jason, she thought. She held the tab up and nearly smiled at it, so pleased was she with the results of her foray into divination. Because what better results could she hope for? Jason was, after all, the most important man in her life now—a fact that she would do well to remember.

Bringing the little piece of aluminum up to her eye, Lois slowly turned to her right so that, if she squinted, the hole at the end of the tab framed Clark's head as he came into view. He was in the midst of enthusing about how nice—no, how "swell"—it was that city officials opened up fire hydrants to help people cool down in the oven-like temperatures that Metropolis had been suffering through all week. And he had become so engrossed by the delights of fire hydrants (talking to his knees without making any eye contact—something that always happened whenever he spoke on a subject at length) that he didn't even seem to notice something as strange as Lois peering at him through a soda can tab.

Lois tilted her head to get a better view of him through the hole in the tab. She felt that she knew how hard it must be for a fire hydrant—to hold back all that water—all that pressure—and to do it without springing a leak. That was exactly how she felt now as she conversed with Clark, keeping her emotions in check, sitting on her secrets in the way you might sit on an over-stuffed suitcase, nodding and smiling as though nothing was wrong. Or at least, she had been nodding and smiling, up until—

"Um, Lois? May I ask … what exactly are you doing?"

Lois blinked. She was surprised to find that Clark had turned to face her, with his eyebrows raised in perplexed amusement, but she kept looking at him through the metal tab anyway.

"Acting like a teenager," she muttered in response to his question, thinking back to her game with the alphabet.

"I-I'm confused," Clark chuckled, and then squinted at her as though he was zeroing in on her pores. It took Lois a moment to realize that he was trying to see her through the frame of the Sprite tab as well now.

Lois fought the urge to grin. How many times have I done this with Jason? she wondered. Because it was from Jason that she had picked up this ridiculous act of staring at people through soda tabs. Jason wasn't allowed to have soft drinks, but for some reason, he loved to play with the metal tabs whenever he found them, holding them up to one of his blue eyes and exclaiming "I see you!" before dissolving into laughter. Lois would then do the same thing to her son, and they would go back and forth until they were both in stitches. It was their own private game—one of many—and she was shocked to find herself inadvertently sharing it with Clark Kent, as if he was a close friend and not just … her co-worker …

Well, we were close friends, weren't we? Before he went off on that trip to find himself? she mused. A lot of good that did him. Five years of traipsing through rainforests and bunking in hostels and he still acts like he's fresh out of the corn fields …

I see you, Clark Kent, she thought after another moment. But out loud, she said, "Actually, I'm acting like a four year old." She lowered the tab and rolled her eyes at herself, before explaining Jason's little game to Clark, who seemed genuinely charmed by the story. He sure is good at expressing polite interest, she observed to herself, and then dropped the metal tab into her Sprite. It landed in the half-full can with a splish.

"Lois, I, uh … are you sure that was a good idea?" Clark asked, frowning at the metal can in her hand. "You could choke on that thing, you know."

Lois shook her head at him in disbelief. "And today's public service announcement is brought to you by Eagle Scout Clark Kent—"

"Lois, I was never an Eagle Scout—"

"—concerning the dangers of foreign objects in beverages—"

"I was never even in the Boy Scouts—"

"Clark, stop worrying. You'll give yourself grey hairs," Lois shoved him playfully on the shoulder. "Besides, I always do this with my sodas. I'm not going to choke."

With that, she raised the can to her lips, ready to take a swig to prove her point.

"Just like you were much more comfortable with your heels on?" Clark gave her a meaningful look before glancing towards her swollen ankle.

"Oh," was about all Lois could manage to say. She lowered the can of Sprite, and before she knew it, she had burst out laughing. Clark was laughing, too, and blushing self-consciously like he always did whenever he gained some kind of victory. No one ever taught that boy how to be cool about winning, Lois thought, which only made her laugh harder.

It was a few minutes more before either of them had recovered from their laughing fit, after which an embarrassed silence settled between them, punctuated only by the occasional sigh or clearing of the throat. Lois wiped tears from her eyes, and wondered whether it was all of her pent-up anxiety that was driving her to the point of hysterics. She also found herself wishing that that moment of mirth could have lasted longer, because in that moment, she had completely forgotten about her troubles. Now that she was calming down, though—

"Gee, Lois, Richard … Richard's certainly t-taking quite a while, um, with that … with that phone call," Clark said as he adjusted his glasses. "I, uh … do you want me to go get him, so that you can leave?"

Gee, Kent, you certainly know how to bring me crashing back to reality, Lois sighed inwardly. About fifteen or twenty minutes ago, Richard had gotten an urgent phone call and had left to take it—which is to say, he had pulled his cell phone out of his pocket (his completely silent and motionless cell phone), and had studied it with an overdone look of concern before dashing back towards the stairwell with a mumbled "I've gotta take this."

Lois couldn't blame him. If she was in his shoes, thinking what he had to be thinking, she would find an excuse to get away from herself, too. And she knew that he wasn't really abandoning her—not wanting a repeat of this morning's breakfast confrontation, he had probably just gone off to collect himself, and would return when he was feeling more composed. That was just the way Richard was—if he could help it, he never liked to be around people when he was angry or upset, for fear that he would hurt them by speaking or acting rashly. No matter what the conflict was, he liked to face it with a level head. Something that I should learn to do, Lois thought ruefully, the other night with Superman flashing through her mind.

What have I done? Lois wondered suddenly, squeezing her eyes shut as if that could squeeze out all of the thoughts running through her head. Better yet, what am I doing?

"Uh … w-what are you doing, Lois?" Clark asked.

"Crap," Lois muttered, shaking her head at herself. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"Well …" Clark trailed off and began fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket.

There were all sorts of things Lois was ready to tell her partner: "Never mind," "It was nothing," "Consider it a rhetorical question, Clark," "You don't have to keep me company anymore, Clark, Richard will be back soon." She was ready to wave away her little slip-up with a flip of her hand and a roll of the eyes. But nothing happened. Nothing came out. She just found herself staring at Clark, his broad fingers twisting at the buttons on his sleeves.

Yes, Lois did know how fire hydrants must feel—containing such turmoil while maintaining such a stoic exterior. It was the story of her life. As a girl, when the General had pushed her to her limits, she had never broken down, not even in front of Lucy. When Superman had left, she had never let anyone know how much it hurt her, and had only expressed her pain indirectly through that blasted editorial. And now, five years later, not only had she driven Superman away, but she felt like she might be losing Richard, too—she felt like she might be losing her family—she felt utterly lost—and yet she still struggled to bottle it up inside. She might have asked herself how she had gotten to this point where, in a moment of crisis, she found that she had no one to turn to, but she already knew the answer to that question. She had friends, but reaching out to them meant reaching past her wall of self-sufficiency—something that even Lois Lane might not be capable of doing.

Okay, Lane, time to jump off this train of thought, Lois berated herself. Who are you going to "reach out to" with a secret like this? And what do you expect to get—a hug? Yeah, you'll get a hug, and when you're through crying your eyes out on someone's shoulder, you'll turn around and find that Jason's been hurt or kidnapped or … worse …

But she couldn't stop staring at Clark. Clark, who would've lain down in a mud puddle and let her stomp across him if he thought it would make her feel better. Clark, who had always been there for her, even when she brushed him off half of the time. Clark, who was probably the only person on the planet who had enough grace not to ask about what was going on between her and Richard, even after witnessing the tension between them. And before Clark had left to canvas the world, hadn't Superman confided in him nearly as much as he had confided in Lois (at least where the news was concerned)? If the Man of Steel trusted her partner, surely Lois could …

"Clark, normal people talk to their friends about their problems, right?" Lois blurted the words out before she could change her mind, propelling them through her teeth with such force that they emerged as a shout.

The way Clark jumped, you would've thought that she hadn't just shouted at him, but that she'd jolted him with an electric cattle prod, too. During the extended silence that had come before Lois's outburst, he had gone from playing with the buttons on his sleeves to fiddling with his glasses, moving them up and down as if they were smudged and he couldn't quite see through them anymore. He had lifted them halfway off of his nose as if he was about to remove them, but when Lois yelled in his ear, he clamped them back onto his face with both hands, and teetered in such a way that he probably would've fallen out of his chair had it not been for the arm rests on either side of him.

"Sorry, Clark," Lois smiled at him apologetically. "I'm not trying to make you go deaf, I swear."

"Th-that's okay. The hearing in my left ear is, uh … already a little fuzzy," Clark laughed nervously, still holding onto his glasses with both hands in a way that made Lois think of Jason clutching his security blanket. "But sure, Lois … of-of course people talk to their friends … about … problems …"

"Can I talk to you about something then?" Lois asked. She reached out and took his hand, just as he was lowering it from his glasses.

"Lois, I honestly don't … I'm really not the best person to talk to about … anything," Clark mumbled, standing up and letting her hand slip from his. He wandered away from her, passing the display of the model skyscraper, and came to a stop in front of the polished, brass-plated elevator doors.

"Look, Clark, I realize that you're trying to respect my privacy, and I appreciate that," Lois said, trying to keep her mounting irritation out of her voice. "But what I would appreciate even more is for … Clark, you've always been a good friend, and I just don't know what to do with my life anymore. Please—there's no one else I can talk to about this. I'm asking you for help—and you know I would never do that if I didn't need it. So don't make me feel like an idiot now for thinking I could count on you."

Clark flinched visibly at her words, a shudder passing through his broad shoulders, although Lois would have felt terrible no matter what his reaction had been.

"I'm sorry, Clark, I don't know what's gotten into me," Lois apologized.

"It's all right," Clark said, but he didn't turn to look at her, and simply returned to playing with his glasses.

"No, it's not all right," Lois insisted. "I shouldn't be taking out my frustrations on you."

Clark still didn't turn to face her, and he didn't say anything either. He was fidgeting with something, as usual—looking at his blurred reflection in the elevator doors, Lois could see that he had taken his glasses off, and was flipping them over again and again in his hands. After a long moment, he slid them back on, and finally turned around. He was a little paler than usual, but he gave her a sheepish smile nonetheless.

"What else am I good for, if not for that?" he asked, shrugging.

"Clark—" Lois began, scoffing at his self-deprecation.

"You can always count on me, Lois," he suddenly cut her off, in a tone so serious and deep that Lois felt both shaken and comforted—she felt like she would have believed anything he'd said at that moment. He gulped audibly before continuing, and his voice returned to its normal register, as if its previous drop had been nothing more than a trick of Lois's imagination. "Now, what did you want to, um … t-talk about?"

What did I want to talk about? Lois wondered to herself. Now that they had come to it, she found that her throat had gone dry and that her mind had gone blank. The only thing she could think of was that sharing the burden of her current relationship issues with Clark might not be such a brilliant idea after all. Which was why she was probably more surprised than Clark by the next words that came out of her mouth, which were: "Clark—Jason isn't Richard's son."

A/n: Sorry for a long chapter without much happening in it, but I know that this scenario is pushing it, so I wanted to show a lot of Lois's thought processes to make it as realistic as possible that she would actually tell Clark anything about her "relationship issues." As for the soda tab thing ... that was just my brain being weird. :-P

But anyway, before anyone starts freaking out over how much Lois is actually going to tell Clark about Superman (or about how much Clark is going to let her tell him ... or about how much she's already told him) ... all I can say is, just wait for the next chapter. As for what's going on in Clark's head during all of this, the next chapter will be from his point of view, so again, you'll find out then ... hehehe ...

And thanks so much to all of my reviewers so far! You guys (err, I should probably say girls ... are there any guys here? hehe ...) totally made my week!