I still remember the taste of my tears

The day I watched you drift away

And I remember before you disappeared

I started hoping for the day

When I'd see your face

And look in your eyes

Feel your embrace

And we'd never say goodbye

—Steven Curtis Chapman, "The Heartbeat of Hope"

It was late when Clark drove the rental car up to the airport terminal. Lois looked weary as she got into the passenger's seat and leaned her head back.

"Are you all right, honey?" Clark asked, squeezing her hand. Her fingers were cold, making him realize, guiltily, how chilly it really was in Kansas in December. It would only get colder before spring returned . . . before the baby came.

Lois, however, smiled bravely and squeezed his hand back. "I'm okay. On to Smallville—and for Heaven's sake turn up the heat in this icebox. I'll be glad to burrow under some of your mom's quilts tonight."

"What that really means," Clark teased as he manuevered the car out of the airport, "is that you'll steal all the quilts and wrap yourself up like a little burrito."

She laughed. "Well, it's not like you'd get cold even if I did steal the covers. Have a little pity on your pathetic human wife."

"You, Lois, are anything but pathetic," he said, lifting her hand to his lips. "And there's no shame in turning yourself into a little burrito. I think it's cute."

It was nearly midnight when they reached Smallville, but all the lights were on at the house when they drove up. Just as he killed the ignition he saw his mother stepping off the porch, hugging herself in an old coat of his father's against the icy wind.

"Hello!" Martha called, her teeth chattering. "How was the flight?"

"Uneventful," Clark said.

"Exhausting," Lois blurted out.

"I should imagine—it's an ungodly hour to be on the road." Martha clicked her tongue. "Why didn't you take a flight for tomorrow like I told you?"

"The sooner we got out of Metropolis, the better," Clark said, darting a significant look at Lois. She bit her lip, no doubt remembering the unnerving events earlier in the day, but she still managed a smile for Martha, who put an arm around her shoulders and escorted her into the house. To his relief, the anxiety of the past two months start to slip away from Lois' face as soon as she stepped into the warm farmhouse.

Here there'd be no danger. He hoped she'd be able to unwind in the freedom of safety.

"Clark, hang your coat up," Martha ordered, jerking her head towards the rack behind the kitchen door. "And you, Lois, take off that bulky thing and let me see you."

Lois smiled and unbuttoned her coat. To Clark's surprise, she was no longer wearing the too-big sweater she'd been in earlier when they left Metropolis. Instead she now wore a pretty, form-fitting sweater that accentuated the growing roundness in her stomach. She met his bewildered eyes with a soft laugh.

"Changed in the bathroom at the rental car place," she said. "I wanted your mother to see it as soon as I got here."

Martha looked like she was trying to hold back her own delight: she had her hands on her hips and a questionable attempt at sternness on her weathered face. She cleared her throat.

"Well," she said, drawing out the word.

Lois ran her hands over the bump. "What do you think?"

Martha pressed her lips together, but even that couldn't hold back a smile. She held out her arms. Lois walked straight into them; Martha rubbed her back, gazing over her copper head at Clark with motherly affection.

"I think," she said, "that I'm the proudest and happiest woman in the world."

The week passed all too quickly. There was a blizzard the day after Christmas, leaving the prairie covered in several feet of hard-packed snow. When the sun came out the next day, Lois, Clark, and Martha ventured out with the dogs.

Lois was bundled up to her ears and still felt cold. Seeing Clark, however, without coat or gloves recalled memories of Ellesmere Island and gave her an eery sense of dejá vu. He stood atop the mound of snow that completely covered Martha's compost pile; the sun was behind him and his eyes were slightly narrowed against the glare. Even in a simple pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt, he looked magnificent.

I love him. The truth, long believed but somehow more powerful today, hit her like a punch in the gut. I've always loved him. And I don't want him to leave me and this baby.

Well, some nasty little voice in her head retorted, he wouldn't have to leave you behind if you had just been more accurate with your baby-prevention steps, like you agreed to do back in March. If you had both just kept your heads screwed on, you might not even be pregnant.

She blinked. The accusation hurt, and she tried to distract herself from it by watching the dogs scamper about when something suddenly struck her in the back of the head. She whirled with a gasp, saw Clark grinning at her with his hands behind his back.

"Did you just—?" she began, but before she could finish his hand shot out and another small, neatly-packed snowball hit the very top of her head. Martha let out a laugh as Lois grabbed a handful of snow.

"You challenged her to a snowball fight?" Martha demanded, backing away. "I'd think you'd have learned not to mess with her. She's full of applesauce and vinegar."

"True, but I know how to handle her," Clark teased, tossing a second snowball.

"Oh yeah? Take that!" Lois laughed, hitting him full in the face with her own missile. He brushed the snow from his eyes and hair with a loud, hearty laugh, and soon the two of them were racing around the yard in an epic snowball fight.

It was that kind of playful activity that kept her dread from increasing too much, too fast. The Ross family came to visit; she went to church with Martha and Clark; she and Martha looked at maternity clothes online. One afternoon her mother-in-law sat down with her to discuss how they would pass the next six months.

"There'll be plenty of household work to keep us busy, of course," she said, sitting with Lois by the roaring fireplace. "And I understand you're . . . well, let's say, 'culinarily challenged.' "

Lois winced. "Clark told you?"

Martha smirked. "Nothing to be ashamed of. All young wives are allowed to scorch a few meals here and there."

"Well, I set off the smoke alarm one day," Lois admitted, turning red with embarrassment.

Martha's smile deepened until there were crinkles at the corners of her eyes. "I did that once myself, if it makes you feel any better. I can help you work on that, though. You'll be needing to set an appointment with one of the local midwives, too, I'm sure." She cocked her head slightly. "I'm assuming you'd rather stay away from the, umm, medical establishment. Like Jonathan and I did, when we had Clark."

Lois nodded in agreement, looked at her hands.

"Anything else bothering you?" Martha asked.

Her voice was quiet but pointed, as if she guessed there was something else. Lois hesitated. If Clark hadn't been in town today, she might not have the courage to confide in Martha for fear he might accidentally overhear the conversation. She didn't want him to know everything that had been going through her mind lately.

But she had to tell someone . . .

"I have no idea what this baby is going to be like," she began in a hushed voice. "It's a—a—a hybrid. What if you can tell just by looking at it that something's wrong or different? And what if—" she gulped "—what if it can't survive outside of me, thanks to that difference? If it dies it'll break his heart."

Martha said nothing, she merely leaned her elbows on her knees and a look of gentle concern crossed her weathered face. She was listening—really listening.

"We weren't supposed to have this baby until he was out of danger," Lois added, her voice sounding bitter to her own ears. "It's all my fault. If I'd been more careful, if I'd watched the calendar—"

"You know, there is such a thing as human error there," Martha said with gentle humor. "And if Clark is chasing you around the house—which I suspect he does—it's probably hard to watch the calendar with one-hundred-percent accuracy."

In spite of herself, Lois laughed and blushed, as much from relief as from embarrassment. "Well, I guess that's true. It's just that ever since I tracked him down from Ellesmere Island I've made his life more complicated. "

"You've also gained an excellent reputation for injecting some much-needed happiness into his life," Martha said firmly. "You need to remember that. You've changed him in ways I never could."

Lois drew a breath, encouraged. She ran her hands over her stomach. "Thank you. And you're right: I'd rather not go to a big hospital or be around doctors who don't care about my . . . my situation. Do you know someone who'd be able to handle this well?"

"I know a few people," Martha said confidently. "It's just a matter of you deciding which one you'll see. I'll even come with you if you feel uncomfortable the first few visits."

Lois shook her head. "I still can't believe everyone here is so willing to keep Clark's secret. He told me they weren't always so accepting."

Martha laughed. "No, they weren't, but only because they didn't understand him. They're a well-established community. They don't like change or phenomenons. But it didn't take any time for them to figure out Clark was . . . what do they call him, 'Superman?' "

"Shh," Lois whispered, smiling. "He hates that name."

Martha put her finger to her lips with a confidential look. "Anyway, now that they understand, they're more than willing to keep it all under wraps. They don't want their town under scrutiny—and they're happy to see one of their own lead a halfway normal life, too, when he needs a retreat. The people of Smallville are good folks, Lois . . . they'll protect you and the little one as surely as you'll protect Clark."

Leaving Lois behind was the hardest thing Clark had done in a long time. He and his mother said their goodbyes the evening before—"So you and Lois can be alone in the morning," Martha explained. He was thankful for her considerate gesture when, well before the sun was up, he and Lois stood together in front of the screen door.

He was in his suit, and she in the sweatpants she'd taken to sleeping in on these cold Kansas nights. In spite of her warm clothing she still hugged herself, her folded arms outlining the growing roundness of her belly. Clark, unsure of what to say, got down on his knees in front of her.

"What are you doing?" Lois asked, startled.

Clark didn't answer. He leaned his forehead against her abdomen. His arms slid around her. He felt her lay her hand on his head, run her fingers through his curls, and knew she was remembering, just as he was, the last time they stood like this.

They'd come a long way since that day.

He drew in a long breath and unwrapped his arms from around her, planting his hands firmly on her hips. With his forehead still against her stomach, he honed in his vision. Suddenly he found himself no longer staring at the pink of her sweatshirt, but the small, translucent embryo inside her.

It was the first time he'd allowed his vision to veer into her since he found out she carried their child. It took his breath away. The baby was still so small, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was a baby—his baby—and those were arms, legs, hands and feet, a head and distinguishable facial features, and a heart that beat with surprising steadiness and strength.

This little baby, this precious little baby, was half him, half Lois. Half Krypton, half Earth. His biological father's words came back to him like a thunderbolt.

You can be the bridge between two peoples.

Clark blinked hard and the baby was gone from his sight. Lois was still stroking his hair. He could hear the baby's heart if he focused on it, but the loudest sounds in the room, he realized, were his and Lois' heartbeats. And hers was racing.

"Did you see it?" she whispered.

He stood with an effort and looked her in the eye. "I saw it. It's beautiful, Lois."

She smiled shakily and wrapped her arms around his neck. Clark buried his face in her hair and blinked back the sudden burning of tears.

"I'll miss you so much," she murmured. "Please be careful, Clark . . . watch out for Luthor."

"I will. I'll have my eye out for him all day, everyday—and I'll make sure he doesn't find out where you are."

"You'll keep an eye out for my mother, too?"

"Yes."

She pulled back, a spark of humor lighting up her eyes. "If she's in any trouble you'll help her, no matter how she fusses and chastises you or criticizes the color and style of your suit or the way you cut your hair?"

Clark laughed. "I'll tune her out. She's safe with me. And you'll be fine with my mom. She loves you, she'll take good care of you, you know that."

"Of course I do." Lois gave her head a sharp, quick nod, and he gazed at her in wonder. He knew she'd been anticipating this farewell with dread, and yet here she was being downright courageous. Just as she always is, of course. I've never known her to be cowardly. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I married quite a woman, you know that?"

She brought her hands up to touch his. "Of course you did. And I married quite a Superman."

"Stop it." She giggled and he kissed her smiling lips, gently at first, then more firmly. She returned the kiss with equal fervor, and though her eyes were teary when he pulled back her gaze was steady and resolute.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too. And I'll see you this weekend. I promise."

He unwound her from his embrace, not trusting himself with another kiss, and stepped away. She squeezed his hand as he opened the screen door. Then she let go and didn't try to follow him. She was still standing at the door, waving, as he soared away.

Okay, hopefully that was satisfactorily romantic, in spite of the chapter being rather short ;) Give me some specifics, though, readers! There are some things where I'll draw the line (i.e., I don't write explicit scenes), but I definitely want the romance, too. I was a little surprised by the recent reviews because I thought I still had the romance (especially in Chapters 17 & 19), so I'd like to have some specific criticism. What has the showing/telling of the relationship lacked for the past couple of chapters? Or has the problem with Luthor simply dominated the story and this chapter kinda brought it back into focus?

I want to be a good writer with relatable characters, regardless of whether I'm writing a fanfic or my novels, so input is welcome :)