.

Manipulated

What woke Clark up that morning was neither lack of sleep, nor the sun's rays, nor even Lois' screams. No. What woke him up that day was something much more forceful.

Clark awoke from a kick in the ribs.

Of course, he didn't feel the slightest trace of pain, but years of practice deeply carved into his being made him shrink into a fetal position as he moaned miserably.

"Here, cover yourself, I don't want to see your…" Lois swallowed, "I don't want you to get hypothermia."

Clark accepted the sheets Lois threw him and covered himself with them in the Greek manner.

"I suppose you're wondering where we are. Well, you better not faint like a little girl when you find out, but we're dead. Can I turn around now?"

"Yes... wait, what do you mean, dead?"

Lois turned and pointed to the ceiling.

"Well, Totó, I don't think we're in Kansas," she said in a broken voice. "And I was here once before, when the plane I was on crashed."

Clark's heart skipped a beat. Ignoring his near-nakedness, he looked up and took in his surroundings. They were in the Fortress! In the Fortress! Lois was in the Fortress! How the hell could Lois be in the Fortress?

Memories flooded his mind, like waves crashing against a cliff, each one bringing with it a new layer of shame and guilt. He knew all too well how she had come to the Fortress. He had brought her.

Holy cow, not only did I bring her, I did much worse things!

"Follow me," said Lois, "I found an exit about a hundred yards in that direction."

"Did you explore this place before you woke me up?" he asked fearfully.

"I just checked that it didn't extend to infinity," she replied, moving forward without looking back. Come on, let's not waste any more time.

Clark followed her. Engrossed in his memories, he only looked up from the floor once, hoping he was wrong, but through the X-rays the sheets could not hide the bruises that adorned her thighs.

"Look Smallville, I want you to be honest with me... do you know how we died? The last thing I remember from last night was talking to you at the Valentine's Day party. I have nothing after that."

"I'm sorry, Lois."

"Really? You didn't offer to take me to a bar to drown my sorrows? Seems like something I would do, and overindulging in booze might explain why we died together."

"I don't drink, and I don't remember anything about yesterday's party either."

Lois grimaced in discontent and her mind was distracted by new theories.

Clark let out a sigh of relief. It was true that he didn't remember anything about yesterday's party, he hadn't lied, but he hadn't told her the truth either: the Valentine's Day party had been a week ago.

However, nothing abnormal had happened that night. No, the really strange thing had happened the next day, when Lois showed up at the farm with lips saturated in red kryptonite and dressed like a "slut." The word sent an electric current down his spine. He'd addressed her many times that way, and its very utterance made him conjure up all the things he'd done to Lois, and all the things she'd done to him.

"Smallville, we're dead. Get over it and stop squirming while you're walking, you're making me nervous."

Oh, that insufferable tendency to belittle him was the reason they were now in this trouble. All because of one of those remarks that got on his nerves.

There were so many things she could have said about him. She could have mentioned his inability to dance, his zero talent with women, the huge gap they had in urban knowledge, he would have even preferred she mention his eternal penchant for chasing Lana. But no, the lady had to compare him to Oliver. And it hadn't even been in personality or the amount of money they had in the bank, no, she had compared them in terms of where they would choose to consummate the night. He still remembered the sentence word for word:

"Clark, I don't care if our dates are a simple walk on the farm. I think it matters more who I share that moment with."

Sure, she said it unintentionally. But Kal was not someone who shone for his tolerance. He had to prove his superiority, and knowing that no matter how many ATMs he stole he could never get them a hotel room in Monte Carlo, he had taken her to a place a thousand times more exclusive, a thousand times more special.

Clark had spent the rest of the afternoon showing off his powers, enjoying the pure adoration in her gaze, so far removed from the fear of the villains on duty or the quasi-respect he'd experienced in his short stay in Metropolis. A look he had always wanted to see in Lana or, to be honest, in any woman.

Hours later, hiding from Chloe, they had gone to the Talon to pick up a couple of coats and a heavy suitcase from Lois' closet. A suitcase that inside held a dozen bikinis and rather daring pieces of lingerie. The same suitcase with which she had planned to go on vacation with Oliver and which now, ironically, would serve its purpose with another man.

He remembered that first night as if it had been yesterday: the wonder in her hazel eyes, the taste of sweet liquor on her lips and the pure joy in her laughter as they turned the last vestige of civilization into their private love nest. But, above all, the endless chain of sensations that had driven him to tangle with her for hours.

The first was achievement, a sense of immeasurable pride. It fed his ego so much to have that insolent woman who had always looked down on him, the one who had taken away his bed, his privacy and the hot water, biting her lip to keep from moaning his name as she writhed in pleasure beneath him.

Round after round he had devoted himself to taking revenge on her, to pouring all his resentment on her poor body. And she had accepted it with a beautiful smile on her lips.

Then, when the resentment finally seemed to be over, the purest and most repressed of lusts emerged. How could it not, if every Saturday he saw her walking around the house in those tiny athletic shorts, taking advantage of the fact that his mother was in Topeka to work out in the middle of the living room. A real martyrdom that had now found an escape.

But even the lust was over, and surprisingly that didn't stop him from continuing to make love to her.

It was another emotion that kept him hooked on her. Something more subtle, constant and lasting, different from the pleasure peaks of sex. Like a hot bath. Pleasant and with an enjoyment that could be extended limitlessly over time. Well, as limitless as it was until exhaustion finally overcame him and the last of the sensations flooded his mind: that of security.

Clark himself would never accept it, but the hurt he'd received from Lana had been far deeper than either his mother or Chloe could ever imagine. In breaking up with Lana he had been prepared to see her leave with another man, so that maybe, just once in a while, one of them could look back and imagine with a smile what might have been. But she had crushed the love they had grown through so many years and so many hardships by getting involved with Lex, with his greatest enemy, with the most despicable and false being there was; all the while accusing him of keeping secrets that were precisely protecting her.

"You never trusted me, did you? I don't know how I could have loved you."

With just one sentence Lana had chosen a monster over love.

But Lois was completely different. She adored him, clung to him even in her sleep, and had even been able to use her own skin as a canvas to prove it to him, a beautiful heart surrounded by thorns that marked her as his.

Clark remembered kissing that heart, bringing her closer to him and falling asleep with the assurance of never being betrayed by her.

The next day he had taken her to a nearby village, hardly a small cluster of log cabins, but one that had a well-appointed hotel and a beautiful panoramic view. They enjoyed a hearty breakfast and, as soon as they got an internet connection, called Chloe, almost certain that she would be hysterical about their disappearances.

And they weren't wrong. The little blonde had hit the roof as soon as she'd started the video call, demanding Clark to give her cousin back to her and Lois not to do anything idiotic. Clark had responded by taking Lois to the hotel bed and slamming the laptop shut with his foot.

And so a week had passed. Sometimes in a tropical country, sometimes in a hotel in Europe, and even sneaking around the barn while Chloe, Martha and Lionel discussed their whereabouts less than a hundred yards away.

From time to time they returned to the Fortress. Lois loved the place, especially after he fulfilled her whims of setting up a swimming pool, and bringing several pieces of furniture on which to indulge their most primitive urges.

One thing Clark didn't quite understand, however, was why Red Kryptonite hadn't brought out the worst in him. That is to say, yes, the sex with Lois was pretty rough and he was constantly taking advantage of her by making her do things she would never do in her right mind, but he hadn't gotten to the point of acting like a jerk and only thinking about his own pleasure. Nor had he abandoned her for another woman, something typical of Kal, and that he had had several opportunities. "I haven't finished enjoying her yet, we'll see if I still find her fun tomorrow," he remembered repeating to himself every night, only to seek out her body as soon as a new day arrived.

Only on the last night, when the lipstick had worn off completely, and he knew deep inside that his time was up, did Kal come to a conclusion.

Clark remembered it all too well. His counterpart had embraced Lois' sleeping, bruised body, and had proceeded to whisper his last words to the only other person who could hear him.

"Please Clark, don't take it away from us."