Hard Days Nightzs by Menolly     One at a time, it is the little things that do the most damage. When he found the perspective from which to look back, Clark could see each repetition accumulate, each unnoticed at the time, each stacked precariously on another until the entire house of cards collapsed. He struggled for that perspective on a cold afternoon in January, on a roof terrace high above Metropolis. Snow meandered in fat flakes through a frozen sky, falling onto icy roads devoid of the usual traffic. Below and around him, Clark saw a city 'cleaned' by the snow and frost. The phrase made him smile, a flicker of amusement in a bleakness to match the weather, as he recalled a young cousin's insistence that snow cleaned the world. But the bleakness crept back, unwilling to let him think of children just then. Clark retreated into his thoughts, the snow-inspired silence of the city giving a ringing clarity to his memories. Carefully he picked his way through the morning's events, trying to understand. Without trying, he could hear Lois crying in her sleep. The sound had etched itself into his mind, a background to his self-recrimination. How had he missed the house of cards Lois had been building in her mind? He knew it sometimes took him a little while to see things, to find relationships and causality. Lois had always been better at that, at the leaps that connected together the most unlikely pieces. But still ...! They were married - had been for years. By now he should surely have known his wife better.     Earlier that day The alarm clock sounded. And was abruptly silenced by the thud of a sleep-heavy arm as Lois batted in its general direction. Muttering softly in protest at the morning, she turned over to burrow against Clark. Already awake, he smiled as she tucked herself under his arm and shifted around until she was comfortable. He pulled her a little closer, his fingers whispering across the warm smoothness of her back. Lois' sleep-blurred voice murmured her approval as she fought to remain tucked in clouds of dreams. "Morning," he said softly, trying to hold the moment. Early mornings were special, cocooned in the comfort of a warm bed with Lois still sleepy and comfortable, before the workday kicked in. "Mmmf. So it is." A smile coloured Lois' less than enthusiastic response, and Clark's own smile widened in response. Lois' smiles had been in short supply recently - he thought Christmas had been difficult for her, with her parents spending a few days with them. Whilst Lois had grown less frenetic over the years, her family still had the ability to send her into a tense spin. She'd become visibly more nervous as Christmas approached, snappish and short even with him. Now with the New Year come and gone, she seemed far more cheerful. New Year's had been pleasant - the Kansas plains made a startling contrast to the previous year when they'd spent the holiday in a castle in Scotland. A second alarm clock sounded and cut short Clark's musing. Lois protested again, unwilling to let go the last remnants of sleep, but shrugged her way from under the covers. Clark watched her wince as her feet made contact with the cold floor. "Do you want the shower first?" he asked. Lois nodded, her hair tumbling in front of her eyes. She pushed it back impatiently and wandered through into the bathroom. Clark watched her, idly appreciating the sight. Moments later, as the old pipes began to creak with hot water, Clark forced himself from the bed and into the kitchen. The floor was a little cold, he noted absently. Maybe they needed to think about underfloor heating. With the economy of routine he ground coffee, measured it in a filter, filled the coffee machine with fresh water and flicked the switch. The soft hiss and gurgle of the percolator made an odd music with the occasional rattle of pipes at the other end of the apartment. Clark leant against the counter, thinking of nothing in particular. A few moments later the percolator's sounds became a little more demanding as the last of the water evaporated. Clark switched the machine off and reached for a couple of mugs from the cupboard behind him. He filled one and settled back against the counter, sipping slowly and gazing into the middle distance through the steam rising from the mug in his hand. He'd almost fallen asleep again when Lois padded through into the kitchen, a towel wrapped round her head and a bathrobe covering the rest of her. Barely. She hadn't bothered to tie it tightly; each step swung the terrycloth apart then back together, a swift display of towel-pinkened skin and the scent of her body lotion. Clark came fully awake with a start and found Lois grinning at him. "Shower's all yours," she said, brushing past him to grab the other mug. She didn't get very far, stopped by Clark's hand sliding between the lapels of the dressing gown. His swift caress was blocked as Lois abruptly twisted away from him. Clark's puzzled look was answered by a shrug and the admonition: "Go on, we have to get into work." Lois turned back to the coffee, lifting the jug and pouring with a studious concentration. Clark stood for a moment, watching her, then decided to save the question. He couldn't recall anything too pressing at work, but sometimes Lois' priorities and his didn't quite coincide. The shower was warm, scented with Lois;, and Clark loved it. He settled into the comfortable heat of the spray and let the cascade drum against his shoulders as he shifted away to run his lathered hands across his skin. The fogged glass shut out the world temporarily, and Clark's thoughts returned to Lois' brusqueness. She was probably just anxious to get on with the mystery they'd uncovered yesterday. Her single-mindedness was an object of admiration and concern, thought Clark. Concern when it narrowed too far, almost to the point of obsession. More often, though, he admired it - and occasionally wished for it himself, on those occasions when he couldn't force his concentration to the task at hand. He particularly admired her single-mindedness when it was directed at him. That night a couple of weeks ago ... he smiled at the memory. Her mouth on his skin ... for some reason Lois had decided retribution was in order for the mark he'd accidentally left on her neck once. She'd been laughing, for all her determination, knowing full well that she couldn't even begin to mark him. But that hadn't stopped her trying. Soft lips pressing on his inner elbow, where the skin seems thinnest. Strange that it had taken him almost forty years to learn that he had an erogenous zone there, an extremely effective one. The touch of her mouth, her skin glowing in the half-light of evening, sharply defined cheekbones over cheeks hollowed with effort. Her hair, trailing through his fingers as he touched her gently. All added up to a comfortable tension he could almost feel in memory. And later, the concentration on her face mixed with a wild delight as she leant over him and set a pace he was only too pleased to follow. He loved the generosity of her determination - heaven not only for her, but for him. No less would do. Heaven had been almost painful that night, with the force of abstinence. A couple of weeks of late nights, early days, and too much work. He'd missed her, he thought, even though she'd been there next to him almost all the time. The water turned colder, and Clark turned his attention to the here and now, rinsed himself down and tipped his head back, eyes shut, to let the water pour over his face and send the last of the suds scurrying down his body. The door opened abruptly and Clark peered, through eyelashes heavy with drops of water, at a blurred figure holding a towel out to him. "Finished communing with the water gods?" asked Lois, with a smile. "Come on, we need to go." Clark grinned, swiped the towel from her and rubbed roughly at his hair before lowering the towel. A few strokes caught the small drops that ran like streams over his chest, matting in the soft hair on his belly before tangling lower and flattening out over his thighs. Lois watched, caught with a fascination that hadn't faded with the years and arguments. Clark smiled at her, waiting for her to realise he'd stopped. "Come on, we have to get to work ..." he couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice, no matter how straight he tried to keep his face. The ease with which he could distract her was a reassurance to his vanity, he supposed; but it was nice nonetheless. Lois looked up at him with a self-deprecating grin. "I did say something about that, didn't I?" With that, she turned and left the bathroom. Clark followed her, a trail of wet footprints marking the tiles and floorboards before they dried. A black suit, white shirt, outlandish tie, and other sundry clothing later, he joined her at the front door, brushing his hair into some semblance of tidiness. Lois nodded her approval, collected her briefcase and handbag, and shrugged into the coat that Clark held for her. He opened the door, waited for her to precede him, then locked up as Lois went cab-hunting. She was still so much better at that, he mused. Seemed to conjure them up from thin air sometimes. True to form, there was a MetroCab at the kerb by the time he caught up with her outside the house. The ride to work was quiet. Clark wondered whether Lois was preoccupied with something. The papers she had propped on the case didn't seem to hold her attention. "Do you want me to talk to the doctor today?" he asked. Lois jumped visibly, her head snapping up at his question. "No! Uh …" Her voice was sharp, almost panicky as she stumbled for words, then shook her head as though to clear it. "No," and this time her voice was normal, "I think I'll go on out to the university later this morning and see what I can find. We need to get this written up and fast. Could you check in with the family?" she asked. Clark nodded. "Is there something you're hoping to find at the lab? I thought it was pretty clean when we looked into it." Lois just shook her head, her attention back on the papers. The double-edged phrase was deliberate. When Clark had accompanied Lois to the university the night before, he'd taken the opportunity to do some checking around a little more thoroughly than most could. A researcher at the lab had died in peculiar circumstances yesterday, in circumstances that could have been a parody of the detective novel stock item - a room, locked from the outside, with a corpse in it, and no method of exit other than through the door. No vents, nothing. And a corpse with strange injuries, some of his internal organs an unpleasant pulp but his skin intact. Not for the first time Clark had wondered why anyone would want to be a pathologist. There had been no indication that the door lock had been tampered with. Clark could find nothing to dispute the theory that the researcher had been quietly working in the lab when he suddenly collapsed. No-one had yet suggested that the death had anything to do with anyone else, but something didn't feel quite right to Clark. Perhaps the work the researcher was doing was involved? They hadn't been given the details of his experiments, these being deemed 'commercially sensitive'; as though the security hadn't been enough of an indication of that. Just that it was something to do with armaments. The contents of the lab hadn't given many clues, but Clark had found nothing that could cause the injuries he'd seen. He settled further into the corner of the cab seat and concentrated on the ribbing of the carpet on the floor of the cab, letting the pattern order his thoughts. Lois had taken the call, yesterday, from another researcher at the physics lab whom she knew. More accurately, had cultivated, mused Clark. Lois still tended to cultivate people she thought potentially useful, where another person might befriend them. Friends were a precious commodity to her, and scarce as a result. He looked up briefly. Her attention was wandering again, he thought, watching her eyes flick across the buildings around them. The cab was at a standstill, caught in the early morning traffic, in one of the canyons of Metropolis. Buildings rose on either side of them, non-descript chainstore fronts on the ground level, anonymous in their ubiquity despite the best efforts of designers and marketing managers. Above the bland profiles, where few bothered to look, decades-old architecture celebrated the Egyptian mania of the twenties, the geometries of Art Deco, and a myriad other styles in a glorious profusion of stonework. Clark wondered what the stonemasons did now, when architecture generally meant steel and cladding. The driver muttered, drawing Clark's attention from the sun-sprinkled granite, and inched the car forward. Clark took another look at Lois, a little more deliberately, and eventually caught her eye. "Shall we give up?" he asked quietly. Lois looked out of the window again, and nodded. The Planet was not far, and this traffic wasn't going anywhere. Clark checked, but heard nothing. No accidents, just commuter traffic too impatient to use public transport but willing to inch their way across town in a monocoque of sound, arguing with the morning DJ. He took a few notes from his wallet, it seemed more each week, and received a handful of small change from the disgruntled driver. Clark ducked carefully as he manoeuvred out of the cab after Lois; invulnerability didn't stop a crack on the head from being unpleasant. A few swift strides and he caught up with her, dodging the crowds intent on their own destinations. "Coffee?" he asked, gesturing towards a cart on the corner. Lois paused, earning glares from those trying to get past her on the pavement. A moment's hesitation, then she nodded. Clark annoyed a few more people as he wove through, Lois behind him, until they reached the cart. Two coffees, diametrically opposed. Clark sipped his, then quickly turned to Lois. "It's hot," he warned. "Thank you." A pause, then Lois launched into what Clark always considered her work mode. Somewhere between home and the office she gathered herself together, seemingly winding herself up for the day. He could almost see the energy begin to crackle around her like an aura. Momentarily diverted, he wondered what colour her aura would be. Probably burgundy, he thought, for no particular reason other than that it was a colour he associated with her. He drew his attention back to Lois before she noticed his reverie. "So, you'll look at the video tape, OK? It should have been delivered by now. I'll go to the university and check out .. what I need to check out." She stumbled over the words as she tripped on a paving stone, then carried on. "Get Jimmy to have a look at the tape with you, he's probably got some weird and wonderful gizmo for checking whether it's been tampered with." "Yes, dear" answered Clark drily. Lois glanced at him and grinned a little sheepishly. "Sorry. I got carried away with my own thoughts." Just then they rounded the corner to the Planet, striding in past the newsstands. Clark made sure he reached the door first and held it open as Lois passed through. The light touch of his hand on the small of her back connected them for a moment as she passed, and he caught a hint of her scent. It happened everyday, but it was moments like that which grounded him. They both said hello to the doorman as they passed. Clark followed the click of Lois' heels against the marble floors; the sound punctuated the mêlée that always swelled through the lobby in the morning, as shifts came and went. He slowed to scan the papers and magazines available, saw nothing of interest and jogged to the lift. The doors opened as Lois drew to a halt in front of them. Cabs and lifts. Somehow, they just slid into line for her. The trick hadn't yet rubbed off on him, despite his best efforts. The lift clattered upwards, the mechanism as old as the scarred wooden panelling. As always, it was full; and conversation was as stifled as the atmosphere. Clark found himself pressed up against Lois and felt her relax against him for a moment, curving slightly into his frame. It felt reassuring. The doors opened, and fresh air swept in as they stepped out. Clark paused for a moment, just watching the bustle. Endlessly fascinating, people moved intently in all directions, disjointed threads of conversation picked up and dropped as they passed each other and caught up on the overnight news. The overhead ticker churned on with a rolling story told in percentage changes and billions of dollars. Perry was gesticulating behind his desk, and Clark felt momentarily sorry for whoever was at the other end of the telephone call. All bark and no bite wasn't much comfort when all you had to contend with was the barking. He saw Lois already at the bottom of the stairs, head swiveling as she answered a question tossed to her in passing, aiming for her desk. He was jolted suddenly. "Sorry CK, couldn't see you," said a stack of boxes. Clark blinked, then recognised Jimmy's voice. "Need a hand with that?" he asked. At the enthusiastic response, he took half the boxes. They weren't heavy, just inconvenient when you carried more than you could see over. Some things never changed. He led the way down the stairs, cautiously checking the edge of each step, making sure that Jimmy followed easily. "Where do you want them?" he asked, as they reached the floor of the news area. "In the darkroom, over in the corner there. It's all photographic paper, I used up the last batch printing off the pictures you had me take of the lab yesterday" Jimmy launched into an explanation with gusto, "and the fundraiser for that children's charity took a lot of printing up, too. Parents always want so many pictures of their kids." Walking across to the darkroom, dodging a few oblivious people who wandered across his path too absorbed in the papers in their hands to pay attention, Clark's curiosity surfaced as he wondered when Jimmy slept. Or even if he slept. They'd been late at the lab last night, and he'd still found time to develop the pictures and be in early. Clark needed to have a quiet word with him about the concept of a social life. Perhaps he should take him out for lunch some time. Right now didn't seem to be the time to discuss it, so he simply asked, "Why didn't you just download the lab pictures, surely they didn't need printing? I thought you used a digital camera?" Jimmy nodded. "I do, usually, but I just thought you might need the extra definition of prints. The storage still isn't so great on digital; the compression always loses some details." "Thank you," smiled Clark, "that makes sense." "It's good enough for the paper," continued Jimmy, as they stacked boxes under a bench, "since by the time it's gone through publishing and out through the presses the definition is lousy; but if you actually want to see anything in the picture other than the overview, you need better quality. The digital Leica I finally got last month is better than anything I've had before but it's still nothing like the quality of film. You'd think with the way computer parts have been miniaturised, and memory is so cheap, it would be possible ... I've been thinking about pulling apart one of my older cameras now I've got this new one, to see if I can find some way of beefing it up. The compression should be improvable ... that new mjpeg standard I pulled down the other day ... hmmm." The monologue trailed off as Jimmy wandered over to the computer in the corner, lost in thought. Clark stacked the last box, a wry grin on his face at Jimmy's one-sided conversation - now carried on in mutters as he scrolled through files on a screen. He left the darkroom unnoticed. He exchanged pleasantries with reporters as he crossed to Lois' desk. She was sorting through her mail as he reached her, and he looked over her shoulder at the pile. "Anything interesting?" he asked, leaning on the back of the chair. Lois looked round and up at him briefly, smiling, and shook her head. "Not really, but the recording has arrived. Makes a change - they couriered it when they said they would. One less telephone call I have to make this morning, thankfully. Email's not particularly interesting either. Are you going to talk this through at the meeting this morning, or do you want me to?" "You go ahead" replied Clark. That question was less rhetorical than it had been. Lois had stopped insisting on leading everything they did professionally a long time ago, even before they were married; but it had taken more time for her to check her instinctive tendency to lead. Lois flicked through a notebook to find a clean sheet of paper, then began to scribble notes to herself, conferring with Clark. "OK, so we've got this story from the university. No great details, not likely to make front page stuff unless something else turns up on it. Pulped organs aren't headline news unless they start to happen to more people. The kick-back rumours are starting to solidify around the Mayor - again. When are we going to get one that isn't corrupt? Is there anyone in politics that isn't corrupt?!" Clark laughed at her mock indignation, earning him a wide smile as Lois carried on. "Did you get anything out of Bobby last week on the arsons?" Clark shook his head. "What did that lack of information cost, anyway?" "Two frappucinos, a chicken Caesar salad sandwich and a large slice of double chocolate torte." "I'm getting nauseous just thinking about it." Lois winced, rubbing her stomach. "OK, that's the concrete stuff at the moment, isn't it?" She was still rubbing her stomach. "Are you OK?" asked Clark, concerned. "I've felt better. Could you do the meeting? I think maybe I just need to get some fresh air. I'll go on out to the university. Maybe the distraction will help." Lois reached for her bag, apparently taking his acquiescence for granted, and stood up, going slightly pale as she did so. Clark reached for her and steadied her, one hand on her shoulder, the other at her waist. "You're not OK; you really shouldn't go out, Lois. Go home; go to bed, I can deal with this. Some rest won't hurt." "I'll be fine; don't worry. It's not like I'm going to do anything energetic - get a cab there, talk to people, get a cab back. Not exactly aerobics." Though the words faded to teasing, Clark knew the tone of voice. There seemed little point in pushing it. He'd just irritate her and she didn't seem too bad. He thought she looked oddly pleased, but maybe that was just getting out of the morning meeting. Who knew? It didn't seem to merit an argument, anyway. "Alright. Call me if you need anything." The double meaning still amused them both after all these years. He released her, sliding his hand down her arm as he did so. Lois nodded and turned to leave. Clark watched her go for a moment, then picked up the security recording from her desk and turned to go back to the darkroom. He knocked at the door, just in case Jimmy had torn himself away from the computer. A muffled "Come in". He opened the door and look round. Jimmy was still looking at something on the screen, a schematic drawing of some sort. The camera he was thinking of autopsying, supposed Clark. "I need your help with this." Clark said, "It's a recording from the lab last night. Should show what happened, but I need you to check it over and make sure it hasn't been tampered with, that sort of thing." "Sure. Drag up a chair and pass it over here. What is it, tape or CD?" "CD," replied Clark, "looks like they've upgraded their security system recently." "Excellent! I've been wanting to see what digital CCTV looks like. I can run it through this. Should indicate any splicing, anything odd. The computer'll process the picture as it displays it." He took the CD from Clark and fed it into the CD tray. The monitor flickered, and a new window appeared with the familiar stop-start motion of close circuit television. "Not bad," said Jimmy, "2 frames a second. What size is their storage capacity?" Clark assumed this to be a rhetorical question and concentrated on the sequence showing. The camera had to be in a corner of the room, angled downwards to capture almost all the room. The researcher was working at something on a long bench, a series of electronics feeding something that looked like a rifle. "Have you seen anything like this before?" asked Clark. Jimmy paused the playback and looked carefully at the picture. He shook his head briefly, but selected an area of the screen and closed in on the equipment. "No," he said after a short pause, "looks something like an amplifier, but that doesn't make a lot of sense." "OK, let's see the rest of it." Clark wasn't particularly hopeful of making more sense of the rest of the recording, but it was worth trying. The stop-start continued. For about ten minutes all Clark and Jimmy saw was the researcher, making adjustments, recording ... something. Perhaps measurements? Clark watched the time index and examined the images increasingly carefully as they clicked on, recording the last minutes of a man's life at 120 frames a minute. The picture changed abruptly. Clark and Jimmy both leant forwards, Jimmy reaching automatically to pause playback. The playback froze. The researcher was on his knees, apparently in some distress, one hand stretched up to the equipment that he couldn't quite reach. "Take it on to the next picture," murmured Clark, still watching the screen intently. A mouseclick later, and the next picture appeared. The man was on the floor. No sign of anyone else in the room, and the door had never opened. Clark looked puzzled. "Let it run on," he said, "see if anything else happens." Nothing much did. A little more movement from the man on the floor, then nothing changed. The playback stopped. Clark sat back. "So ... no one else in the room, but we still can't really see what happened to him." He was talking to himself, more than to Jimmy, running through options in his mind. "Pity there's no more detail, just the sudden changes. We can't even see exactly what happened to him, whether ..." Jimmy interrupted. "Yes we can. Well, a good approximation, anyway. These pictures are mjpeg, not the latest, but not bad. I can put them through the mpeg interpreter I've got on this machine - this latest version has bi-directional interpolation." Clark just looked at Jimmy. "And that means ...?" he asked "Mjpeg is the method used to compress the pictures, mpeg is a way of turning them into video playback. Means we can have a pretty good idea of what went on between those frames. Here, watch." Another window opened on the monitor, showing the playback now frozen a few seconds before the sudden change. Jimmy called up a menu, set some parameters. A few moments later, the playback began again from that point. This time, rather than the jerky motion of close circuit television, it seemed to Clark that he was watching it as though it was television, the movements of the researcher fluent as he adjusted something. "This is impressive. When did you get this?" he asked. Jimmy took a moment to reply as they watched the man fall again; the detail now showing him apparently buckling at the knees, one hand going to the equipment and the other to his chest. When he was on the floor again, Jimmy spoke. "Got it off the 'net a week or so back. This is the first time I've had a chance to play with it. 'Impressive' doesn't do it justice," he grinned. "Let's check this in a little more detail." The picture centered on the researcher and closed in, in response to Jimmy's commands. "OK, once more." The picture played back, slowly. "Poison?" wondered Clark. The toxicology screens hadn't shown anything though. "Looks like he's working on something to do with sound," said Jimmy, checking the equipment again. "Some sort of sound weapon? Like ... noisy laser?" he finished, his voice trailing off with a note of extreme doubt. "Sound ... is possible. You'd have difficulty directing it at only one person." Clark spoke faster as an idea occurred to him, "Wait a minute. Low sound frequency can disrupt internal organs, like high frequencies shatter glass. What if he was working on something that could do that, that could direct sound ... and if something went wrong. That's possible ..." He was interrupted again, this time by a knock on the door. "Come in" said Jimmy, turning to see who it was. One of the assistants, Patrick, poked his head around the door. "CK, I've got the university on the phone asking whether Lois is going to be there this morning. Something about her having an appointment?" Clark looked at his watch in alarm. "She went, oh, almost an hour ago. She should have been there by now," he said, rising from the chair and following Patrick to Lois' desk. He picked up the phone. "Clark Kent here. I gather Lois Lane hasn't reached you yet. What time was your appointment with her?" "Mr Kent, this is Professor McConnell here. I was expecting Ms Lane half an hour ago. I don't really have the time to wait for her any longer. That's why I thought I'd check to make sure she was still planning to be here." "I believe she was, but she may have been delayed by traffic. I appreciate that you're busy; perhaps we should reschedule the appointment for a later time?" asked Clark, desperately trying to keep his voice calm. The professor agreed, and they ended the conversation with a vague intention to meet the following day. Clark put the phone down slowly, his mind racing. Lois hadn't been well when she left, he should never have let her go ... he grimaced at the thought of Lois' reaction had he tried to stop her. It didn't stop the self-recrimination that he was often plagued with, when he was too late at an accident, when there were too many things to do at a disaster. The list was endless, and the greater part of it revolved around Lois right now. He called across to Patrick, "Lois left almost an hour ago, right? Did you see her leave?" Clark hadn't waited to see her enter the lift, perhaps ... "I think she went an hour or so ago. I wasn't really watching," replied Patrick, shrugging his shoulders. Clark nodded, distracted as he raced through options, places Lois might have gone ... he lifted the phone again, dialled her mobile, shoulders sagging in relief as it rang, only to tighten again as her voicemail picked up after the first ring. It was switched off. He tried their home telephone number, all the time listening on whatever wavelength it was that he usually connected with her. Nothing, at home or in his mind. A taxi ... maybe the doorman saw her get a taxi. Clark sprinted for the stairs, checking his speed as people turned to watch. Superspeed would be too complicated to explain. The lifts would be too slow, maybe he'd be lucky and no fitness-fanatic would be climbing the stairs. They weren't, and he became a blur as he sped down them. He slowed again as he reached the doors to the lobby and jogged back across to the doorman's station. "Joe, did you see which cab company Lois took when she left?" Joe shook his head. "Ms Lane hasn't been out this morning," he offered, apparently confused by Clark's question. "She left an hour ago; she was going to the university." Clark stopped before he started babbling, and turned to the news vendor. "Did you see her?" The vendor shook his head. "She hasn't come past, Mr Kent. Are you sure she's not just in a meeting room upstairs? I always notice her when she passes ..." The doorman's voice trailed off, a little embarrassed. Clark nodded, mind racing, putting the doorman's obvious crush on Lois to a corner of his mind where he could share it with her later ... God, Lois. Where was she? He pushed a hand through his hair in abstraction, torn between sense and sensibility. Sense told him to take this one step at a time, to think, to work out what he needed to do. Sensibility screamed at him to just get out there and look for her. Just as Joe wished him a good day, the lift doors opened and Clark ran for the lift before they closed again. Sense prevailed. He tipped his head back, alone in the lift, and exhaled deeply. Where was she? It was cold, not a day for wandering outside and besides, Joe swore blind he hadn't seen her pass. There was no other way she'd have taken, surely? A gentle tone, and the doors opened. Clark stepped out onto the landing for the second time that day, scanning the room again. This time he looked more closely into the rooms, just in case. He was intent enough that he didn't notice Perry until the editor called up to him from the floor. "Clark!" Clark looked down, and Perry beckoned him over. They met at the bottom of the stairs. "Patrick tells me Lois is late for an appointment, that you seemed worried. Is everything alright?" asked Perry. Clark shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Lois wasn't well when she left to go to the university, and that was an hour ago, and Joe swears she's not left the building. The only other exit is through printing, but I can't think why she'd take that." "Hmm." Perry seemed to be thinking back. "I saw her going off to the ladies' around about an hour ago. Didn't see her go to the lifts after that, though. Wait a minute, she took the stairs ... yes, she did. I remember seeing her and wondering whether the lifts were out again. I meant to check." "They're working fine," said Clark, answering automatically, thinking hard. The stairs only went down to the lobby, there was no other exit from the building down there. Actually, the only other place you could get to these days from the stairs was the roof. All the other floors were code-protected for security and they didn't have the codes. Clark turned suddenly, leaving a bemused and concerned editor behind him and ran for the stairs again, just in case. He listened harder, still hearing nothing, as he headed up the stairs this time. The door was cracked open when he reached the roof, as though it had been opened and left to swing shut. As he stepped outside, he noticed that the temperature had dropped again. The early-morning sun had disappeared and Metropolis was now covered in clouds, heavy with snow. The heating vents and funnels of the skyscrapers around seemed to feed the cloudscape, their plumes of steam rising almost vertically; there was very little wind and the air seemed to wait in suspense for something to happen. Clark slowed as he passed through the door, scanning through everything in his way. Then he heard it, a soft sob caught in the still air. He caught the direction and was there almost before the thought completed itself. Lois. She was curled in a small ball against one of the ventilation funnels, one of the older ones still covered in lead paint. She'd had the sense to bring her coat, thought Clark, then wondered - not for the first time - at the way inconsequential details always seemed to be the first things one thought of under stress. If she'd seen him, she hadn't acknowledged him. He approached, crouching next to her and gently, hesitantly, put a hand on her shoulder. "Lois?" A quiet voice, careful not to startle her. He bit back the automatic question; she was clearly not alright; it was pointless to ask whether she was. No response for a moment, then another soft sob. He tried to lean around, to see her face. Lois had tucked her arms around herself, legs drawn up under the coat, her forehead bent to touch her knees. A long shuddering breath, racking her, was the next sound; but still she didn't move. "Lois?" he asked again, more urgently. Snow started to fall, just one or two flakes at a time, melting brilliantly against Lois' hair. Clark brushed his hand over her head, smoothing the water from the silky softness. Finally, just as he was about to beg her to talk to him, she spoke. "Take me home." Her voice was rough, broken, and smaller than Clark could ever remember hearing it. He spun, scooped her up and wrapped his cape around them both before taking off into the sky, blurred with snow. Metropolis passed below them in a moment, and they were home and landing on the terrace. Clark opened the door with one hand, Lois still caught up against him, and headed for the bedroom. Just before he reached the room, Lois became agitated. "No, not the bedroom. Please. No." He stopped, chilled by the plea; his concern turned to a fear that twisted through him. He turned back and lowered her to the sofa. Her agitation hadn't abated. She curled back up, tucked into a corner of the sofa, head down. Clark spun back into his suit, took off the tie and threw it in the direction of the armchair by the fireplace. He looked at Lois, the fear coursing through him now. He tried not to hyperventilate, to calm himself down. Whatever Lois was going through, the last thing she needed was for him to fall apart. He switched the answerphone to take calls immediately and then turned the volume off. Heading back to the sofa he paused for a moment, then crossed to the fireplace and busied himself lighting the fire. The familiar routine, arranging firewood, dealing with the lighter, coaxing it to life, brought him closer to control. The flames licked at the wood, nibbling at it; and he returned to the sofa. He was about to sit down, but it suddenly occurred to him that Lois might want something to drink. She must have been cold on the roof. Perhaps some tea would help. "Lois, honey, do you want something?" Obviously the wrong thing to say. As abruptly as the collapse of the researcher on the tape, Lois gave way. The sobs came hard, wrenching through her physically. Clark froze for a moment, unsure how to react, then crouched in front of her; touching her shoulder, trying to put his arm around her, anything. Anything at all. And nothing seemed to help. No let up in the sobbing, and she was curled even tighter into herself, arms wrapped across her stomach. "Lois, please, please talk to me. Please. Oh God." He alternated between pleading with Lois and any higher power that was prepared to listen. Neither answered, and he grew more desperate, his imagination conjuring up horrors upon horrors. She'd fallen down the stairs; she'd been mugged on the stairs. She'd been raped. He hadn't heard anything. Why wouldn't she have come to him, called for him? Why? Why? She'd been ... she'd been ... his mind shut down as Lois' sobs tore at him. He picked her up again, holding her to him, needing the physical contact. He paced the room, rocking her, trying to calm both of them. "Shush; it'll be alright, we'll deal with it. Just talk to me; please just talk to me. I can't help if you don't talk to me. It'll be alright, I promise, I promise, I promise .." Meaningless words, no context, nothing. Just talking, distracting - himself as well as Lois. The sobs grew quieter, finally. Lois was tense in his arms, though, still wound up tightly into herself. "Talk to me ... Lois ... I love you ... talk to me. Is it something I've done? Something I haven't done? It must be ... please ... you'd talk to me if it wasn't me ... I've forgotten something ...what? ... Please ..." Clark buried his face in her hair, trying to calm himself with the scent of her, his babbling gaining an edge of hysteria. "It's not ... it's not you." Lois' voice was faint, and sounded strained, as though she was forcing herself to talk. "You haven't forgotten anything, you haven't done anything, you haven't not done anything. No-one's done anything. Nothing's happened. That's the problem." Her voice grew louder, until the last five words came out as a scream. Lois twisted out of Clark's arms, almost falling as he struggled to let her go without letting her drop. He reached for her hesitantly; and she spun away, coat billowing out around her. "Please talk to me." Now it was Clark's voice that was faint, the fear winning as he stood in the middle of the room, watching Lois launch herself into a furious pace, circling the room. She seemed oblivious to him, though, chanting to herself. "Nothing's happened. Nothing's happened. Nothing's happened." The cadence broke as she stumbled against the sofa and fell onto the cushions. "NOTHING'S HAPPENED!" she screamed again. "One lousy year, one year, twelve months, twelve times. Twelve times nothing happened. Now it's thirteen. And nothing's happened again." The scream echoed through the apartment. Clark was lost, completely lost, and too scared not to speak. "I don't understand, Lois ... please ... talk to me. Should I have made something happen? What is it? Please." He was on the verge of tears. His strength was irrelevant now, all his powers counting for nothing. Lois laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "You don't understand. Neither do I. Neither does anyone." She screamed again, a sound of pure fury and rage made incoherent by emotion. The fury swept out of her as suddenly as it had surfaced. Lois lay on the sofa, breathing deeply as she seemed to fight down what remained of her anger. Clark watched the tension leave her, replaced by a sorrow so profound he found himself crying now, the tears that had threatened for a while now finally spilling over. She shrugged out of her coat, finally, dropping it on the floor in front of her. She sat on the edge of the sofa, face in her hands. As she stilled, Clark finally moved. He knelt in front of her, and put out a hand. Hesitant again, fearful of upsetting her. He didn't speak, unsure what would trigger the tempest. Lois lifted her head and met his hand with her own. She drew their hands onto her knees, staring down as she rubbed her thumb lightly across the back of his hand. Clark measured time by her heartbeats as they slowed. In the winter mid-day twilight of the flat they sat, a tableau of pain, for a few minutes. Finally Lois spoke. "I thought I was pregnant." Clark looked up at her, a question hovering in his eyes. "No, it wasn't the thought of being pregnant that made me upset," she answered. "It's the fact that I found out that I'm not." "Oh, Lois, we can try again ... " Clark began. "No, you don't understand. It's been a year. It was snowing then too," she tried to explain. "In Scotland, we decided I wouldn't go back on the pill?" Clark nodded. "Well, I thought it would happen immediately." "It can take time, you know that." Clark wasn't following the explanation yet. Lois sighed, a half-sob. "I know. God, I know. But I thought ... one year. That we'd have a child this New Year, that ... I'd have a child. A family. Oh God ..." Another deep breath, and she started again. "I thought I'd set myself a deadline. Stupid, yes, it's not something I have control over, but still. A deadline. Twelve times I reminded myself of that, getting more anxious each time. The first time I was fine; it was when it happened over and over again. Nothing painful on it's own but I'd remember the month before, and the month before, and it would pile up and suddenly everyone else seemed to be pregnant, but I wasn't ... I'd look at children's things in stores and try not to remember how many months it had been; December was so painful with Christmas; all the toys ... and still nothing happened. But ... I was late this month; I was supposed to start five days ago." He should have noticed, thought Clark. But it just wasn't something he thought about. Just something that happened every month. "Finally. Maybe not to deadline, but not too far past. I was going to go to the doctor today, this morning, after the appointment at the university." "What happened?" asked Clark, quietly. "I went to the bathroom on the way out. And found out that I was just late. Not pregnant." Lois closed her eyes, her hand clenching around Clark's. "Lois, we can try again. I know we can." "I don't know. I just don't think this is going to work." Clark felt himself go cold all over, painfully so. It was a new experience; cold was something he measured, not felt; but this time it was visceral. The tears dried, he was too scared to cry. "Do you ... " his voice cracked. "Do you want me to leave?" Lois opened her eyes, brow furrowed, confused. "I thought you wanted to talk about this?" she asked. "No, I mean..." he swallowed. "If it's not working for you, do you want me to leave?" He shook; he'd never been this frightened in his life. Lois' hand tightened around his again, as she searched his face. Suddenly she shook her head. "No - no, Clark! I mean that our having children isn't going to work. I don't think we can; it's just not going to happen. Oh, Clark, please, no. I don't want you to leave!" The sobs, never far away, resurfaced and she threw herself into Clark's arms, slipping off the sofa and burying her face in his neck. "God, no, never." Clark drew her into him, holding her as tight as he dared, wrapping himself around her. His face resting against her head. Relief ... it was indescribable. The fear washed away, leaving behind the pain; and he suddenly realised he'd been holding his breath for the last ten minutes. He let the tears fall again, relief and pain mingled. He wondered whether the pain would ever completely go. He tried to speak, coughed, and tried again. "If you want a child, we can always look at other options," he said, his words muffled. Somehow, he couldn't lift his head from hers. Lois nodded, ruffling her hair against his cheek. "I know. But it wouldn't be yours ... and your family is so important to you." A half-sob. "I never thought I'd want a child, but ... it hurts that I can't have yours. Oh, Clark, it hurts so badly ... " "Lois, shush ... honey, shush. If we have a child - however we have it - it'll be mine, it'll be yours. Ours. And it doesn't matter if we don't; we're a family, just the two of us. We don't need a child to be a family. I've never known for sure that it was even possible. It's not something I've been counting on. It's like ... like ..." he stammered, looking for a metaphor, "... like fudge sauce on chocolate ice-cream. Just makes it different, doesn't make it better ... it couldn't make it better." Lois hiccuped, half sob, half laughter. "You're comparing our marriage to chocolate ice-cream?" she asked, looking up at him. Her smile was crooked, eyes wet and tears trailing down her cheeks. She was beautiful. Clark smiled back. "It's sweet, intense, a little decadent, we're both addicted to it ... and I've never counted on the fudge sauce, Lois." "But I have ..." sobbed Lois. He tightened his arms around her, unable to find anything to say. Slowly, details of the world around him sank in as he let his mind go blank. Then he remembered something, seeing a photograph on a wall. "Lois?" She snuffled an acknowledgement. "Talk to my mother. I feel so ..." Clark looked for the right word, found it and discarded it. "I can't begin to understand what you've gone through. All I can tell you is that I wish I'd been able to take the pain from you; I'd never want you to feel that. My mother's been through it, though, talk to her. Please." A pause, then Lois nodded. "And, Lois?" Now she looked up. "Please, please, please tell me if you ...." Clark trailed off, trying to work out how to phrase it, picking words more carefully than he'd ever done before. Nothing had ever been this important before. Almost nothing. "Please talk to me. Don't bottle things up, don't try to protect me, not when you're hurting ... a year. Oh God, a year. How did I miss it?" "You didn't miss it." Another shuddering breath. "You noticed .. the first month I got upset you asked if anything was wrong. I told you that I was getting PMS, because I was off the pill. I - I couldn't tell you. At first I wanted it to be a surprise for you, that I was pregnant, then ... then I just didn't want to put you through what I was going through. I was so convinced that it was going to work, as though I could just will it to work, that each time nothing happened I convinced myself again that it would work next time ... I wanted you to know ... oh Clark, I wanted so much to tell you, to be able to cry and put it aside, but ... each time I thought just once more ... just once more ... and it would work and there would be no reason to tell you anything but what I wanted to be able to tell you more than anything ... and that it would all turn out alright." Lois' voice shook as she spoke, Clark's disgust at his own obtuseness growing with each word. Clark stood up suddenly. "Doesn't matter ... I should still have known. Maybe I should go, I'm no use to you. Don't think, don't notice. Useless. I can stop planes falling from the sky, but I can't even tell when you're upset. You'd be better off without me." He only realised he was talking aloud when Lois stood in front of him, ashen-faced. Self-inflicted pain arched through him, and her tearful voice sparked it further. "Don't ... please don't. I couldn't deal with that, never. I couldn't ... please." Clark cursed himself, gathering her to him again. "I'm not going; it's alright, I promise; I'm an idiot. Beyond an idiot. I really don't know why you put up with me, but I'm not going anywhere." He felt Lois shudder against him. "I love you. That's why I put up with you. I love you, not an ability to read my every mood, not any single thing. Just you. All of you." At her words, it was his turn to shudder. "I really don't deserve you, but I'm so glad you put up with me. I love you ... so much." The room was quiet. The fire cracked and spat, and the odd hiccuping sob escaped the chaos that the maelstrom of emotion had left behind. Clark opened his eyes to stare at the snow falling thickly now, curving up the corners of the panes of glass in the picture window. Nothing else. The city was winter-quiet. His other senses released their grip on emotion; he picked up Lois' scent again and thought, for a moment, of his morning's shower. She'd been off kilter this morning, he thought, and he'd barely noticed. Certainly hadn't thought too much about it. He shuddered again, fear rippling through him at what he'd cost Lois. No matter what she said, he should have known. Should have noticed. She must have felt that shiver, because she drew back a little and looked up at him. No words, just the silence still taut between them. Lois lifted a hand to his face, curving her palm around his cheek, then sliding her fingers through his hair. A gentle tug. Clark lowered his head in response, following her demands. Whatever she wanted, it was hers. And this time, from now on, he vowed he'd pay attention. His chain of thought was interrupted at the touch of her lips on his. A touch he'd been terrified he'd never feel again. Another shudder, brushing his mouth involuntarily across hers. So soft ... Lois' tongue darted out and touched his lips, the damp touch like the brush of tears. He opened his mouth, suckling her lower lip as he felt her exploring. Almost as though they'd never kissed before. A gentle exploration, unhurried. Clark raised his hand to Lois' face, needing to touch her. At the touch of tears drying on her cheek he swallowed, breaking the kiss. He smoothed the tears with his thumb, looking first at the damp trails he was smudging, then into her eyes. Emotion ... almost too much emotion. The dying anger drowned in sorrow. Then Lois turned her head slightly, captured his thumb with her mouth and looked back at him. Ohhhh ... every sense heightened by their recent storm, he could feel every nuance of her as she smoothed the tip of her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Helpless, driven by instinct and desire - for Lois and to be close to her - he pushed it further into her mouth, as Lois set up a rhythm of stroking and sucking. Lois' head dropped back, the touch of her lips dragging sparks of arousal over him as his thumb slipped from her mouth. His hand slipped over her jaw, trailing down the length of her neck to rest at her collarbone. A sigh, with still a percussion of a sob in it, but Lois smiled as she brought her head forwards again. Her eyes were tired, set in bruised smudges; but she seemed lighter somehow. Clark's mood dimmed a little as he wondered how long it had been since she'd really been happy. Her single-mindedness ... painful and uncomfortable. His blinkers on relationships ... the same. He reached for her, gathering her into a hug that was pure comfort. He felt her arms around him, the contours of her back under his hands, the scent of her, her breath warm as she cuddled herself against him, all set in the background of her heartbeat. Contentment had never been this sweet, despite the edge of things still taut. Tension took time to fade, despite the explosive release. A log slipped; the fire sparked; and Lois jumped. Tension took a long time to fade. Quiet again, they stood wrapped in each other. A tableau once more, gently lit by the flames, now tempered with calm. Lois was the first to move. Clark was too relieved, the fear too recent, too raw, to even try to move. He felt her stir, then her lips again, this time on his neck, reaching up to him, rubbing her nose on the spot she'd just kissed. Then a touch of her tongue, still at the same spot. Her teeth, nipping at the corded muscles there. And another kiss. Each touch loosened the grip of his paralysis; each touch tipped him further over into arousal, the flip-side of his earlier emotions. Could she really want this, already? Wasn't she too tired? The questions receded as Lois kissed her way along his neck, soft and damp kisses that feathered over his skin. Finally he tilted his head, seeking her mouth with his own, blindly. He found it, felt the tears rise again at the gentleness of a sensation he didn't deserve, and poured his love for her into that kiss. Mouth firm against hers, slanting, sucking and pulling her lower lip in between his; teardrop kisses on the corners of her mouth; tracing her lips with his, just sliding, feeling. He felt the susurration of her breath on his mouth, almost a sigh. One more kiss. Just one more. He rested his forehead against Lois', looking at her closed eyes. Just waiting. Eventually, she opened her eyes and looked at him. "I love you." Three words, and her eyes closed again for a moment. "What are we going to do?" he asked. Too broad to be answered, he thought. She proved him wrong. "Love each other. There's nothing else that we can do if we don't do that." Another kiss, deeper than before; Lois' hands smoothed over his back, slipped under his jacket. Clark sank to the floor bringing Lois with him. Like a cat lazily rolling to land on it's feet, Clark slowed their descent just enough to turn and bring Lois into his lap as they settled in front of the fire. Another sigh, from one, or perhaps both; and they settled back together. Clark shrugged his jacket off, letting it drop behind them. He felt Lois' smile against his neck as she was given free rein to his back, running her hands over the broad hard planes of muscles, and the contours of his shoulders. A minute or so relearning his back, then she slipped her own jacket off. Clark took up the invitation, sweeping his hands over her back and bringing them up to gently massage her shoulders. A sigh became a moan of pleasure as he worked on the tension there. Seeking a closer touch his hands found their way between the buttons of her blouse, back to her shoulders. "Oh, that's so good," she breathed. He inched the straps of her bra across her shoulders to her arms; they were getting in his way. Concentrating on the muscles under his fingers, he was a little surprised when Lois' blouse fell away from where it covered his hands. He blinked, and realised she'd unbuttoned it completely and was slowly inching out of it. His fingers stilled as he watched, mesmerised by her skin, by the shadow between her breasts, barely hidden by the sheer bra she wore; only Lois moving her head distracted him. She was smiling, a crooked smile behind which the pain built over the last year lurked. "I love the fact that you get so focused on me. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?" she asked, her voice tender. Clark smiled. "I think I might. You aren't entirely lacking in focus, you know ..." His words faded into a wider smile as Lois laughed, delighted. She hugged him, a swift hard hug that would have knocked the breath out of anyone else. "Oh, I love you so much." Clark buried his face in her neck as he said this, suddenly overwhelmed by the flood of emotions, the horror of thinking he was losing her welling up again. Lois stroked his back, comforting at first. Then, as his awareness of her grew again with the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest, her caresses became more insistent; mapping the points where he was most sensitive, Lois finally slipped her fingers down his arms to the point just inside his elbow that she'd found a couple of weeks earlier. Now it was Clark's turn to moan, a guttural sound pulled from him by her touch. Lois smiled; his shirt buttons were her next target. Moments later her hands were on his chest. Her touch crept across his skin; it wasn't enough. A rapid flick of his fingers and what little obstacle Lois' bra provided was undone. Clark paused for a moment, then placed his hands on her, just below her collarbone. Exactly where her hands were on his skin. Lois' smile widened, and she rubbed the peak of his collarbone; he responded. Each movement of hers he mirrored, until he cupped her breasts, a thumb on each nipple, teasing the already raised nubs. His fingers fanned across the soft skin with a gentle pressure, kneading and moulding them with an unconscious touch. His eyes were fixed on Lois' face, watching the expressions flitting over her as she relaxed into the connection between them, her hands splayed across his chest and her concentration apparently gone, letting him wander at will over her skin. Just as she sighed his name he leant forward, kissed one of the nubs he'd raised then drew it into his mouth, eyes closed at the taste of her. Warm, like honey in chamomile tea. The sigh sharpened then trailed off into a soft exhalation. Clark blinked drowsily, settling into the contentment of arousal and letting the lassitude that always follows emotion steal over him. Looking up, he found Lois watching him now with a familiar heated drowsiness in her eyes mixed with a touch of wistfulness. He suckled a little harder and she breathed in sharply, then relaxed as he released the pressure. A trail of kisses led him across to take her into his mouth again, to another gasp from her as he curled his tongue over the already taut nipple. Clark tucked his face between Lois' breasts, revelling in the warmth of her skin there. He nuzzled at her, brushing his lips across the silk of her. She convulsed at that, gripping his shoulders. Clark smiled, and stroked with his tongue the point he'd just kissed. Lois shuddered again, and then yet again when he blew cool air across her wet skin. As her shudders subsided, Clark's hands wandered to the waistband of Lois' skirt, meandering across her ribs, her stomach. She'd lost weight. He'd think about that later. The button and zip yielded to his fingers, and he smoothed his palms flat over her hips. He felt a kiss dropped onto his head, looked up and blinked at the smile he met. "Turn about is fair play," said Lois, her voice a little rusty, breaking the silence they'd wrapped themselves in. He smiled back and sat up, drawing his hands up to her shoulders to give her access. He noticed Lois' fingers trembling a little as she trailed them down over his chest and stomach, rippling over the rise and fall of muscles. Now she leant forwards, pressing her mouth to his chest, scattering kisses across him; two swift, hard, kisses to his nipples and Clark found himself shuddering as well. He felt her smile against his skin; she drew back and smiled again before resting her head against his shoulder. Lois' fingers had reached his trousers; she drew the zip down excruciatingly slowly, he thought, tensing pleasantly with anticipation. The button she left until last, and she paused as he put her hands to it. A moment's breath, Clark wondering if it was too much too soon, if Lois was having second thoughts. She was entitled to but instead flicked the button through suddenly, letting the trousers fall open. The button on his boxers followed. As Lois lowered her head, Clark leant back onto his hands at the sensation of her mouth exploring him. "Ohhh ..." another moan, louder than before, and he tipped his head back. If he watched, saw her mouth on him, it would all be over too quickly for him, never mind her, he thought ... struggled to think as he felt the air cool where the warmth of her mouth had been; his boxers followed his trousers down his legs at Lois' urging. He toed off his shoes; she dispensed with his socks. Finally, he looked up when her touch left him and he heard a rustle of fabric. She stood in front of him, undressing. Her skirt dropped to the floor, and she stepped out of it. Pushing it to one side with her foot, Lois let her blouse slide from where it still caught on her elbows. It joined the skirt on the floor. Next, stockings. Clark knelt to help her, easing the sheer wisps down over her legs. Slowly, very slowly, he let his fingers trail down her skin. Smooth, long ... impossibly long, it sometimes seemed it him. But a perfect length, he thought, smiling. Lois lifted one foot, then another, and her stockings and underwear landed somewhere behind him. Clark knelt in front of her, still running a hand idly over her calf, massaging gently. "Mmm, that's nice." Lois' voice was a hushed murmur; Clark bent to kiss her knees and she shuddered, almost falling. As he steadied her, he looked up and stopped breathing again. The fire left her in shadows, framed with a liquid gold aura where the light touched her. A sight he'd never tire of seeing. He shifted his balance and reached out a hand to her. She bent to meet him and he tugged her down gently to sit on his stomach as he lay back on the floor. "I love you, always will," he murmured, "no matter what. I don't need anything else." His voice was rough, the pain still evident in it; and Lois blinked back tears. She kissed him in response, another softly hot kiss. He responded for a moment, then drew back. "Are you sure you want this? Now, I mean?" Lois looked at him, eyes lidded, and nodded after a short pause. "Deals with the cramps wonderfully," she whispered, a ghost of a smile passing over her face. Hands, mouths, souls melted together into one. Clark could never get enough of her, shifting under her to trace his way from her mouth to her feet, where she giggled. He was enchanted. The back of her knees were as sensitive as the front, maybe more so, and seemed to affect her the way that the inside of his elbows did him; then further up and she no longer giggled, but moaned when his fingers found the pliant nub between her legs. "Unhh ... don't stop." He had no intention of stopping. One finger, then another, sliding into the wet heat, further in. A rolling rhythm that began with her heartbeat and ended with his as Lois quickly cried out above him, another scream echoing into the apartment. For a very different reason. Clark felt himself tightening, rising, at the sound he'd created; thrilled by her response, and fired by her ecstasy, and always fired by her. Clark caught Lois as she slid bonelessly down to his chest; he kissed her, almost tasting her pleasure. Another moan from her, and Clark could feel her arousal building again, the shuddering tremors in her legs as they tangled with his. "Again," he thought he heard. The shift of her hips pushed against him, rubbing along his erection where it was trapped between them. Maybe he had heard her say, "Again". He rolled his hips, pushed back up towards her. Another shift answered him; Lois lifted her head to kiss him again. Another answer, the kiss was heated and deep, her tongue pushing into his mouth without request and needing no invitation. Her hands were busy, tracing the line where skin met skin as she lay on top of him, her hips rocking against his in counterpoint to the thrust of her tongue into his mouth. As Clark lay back, surrendering to the sensations, Lois slid up his body, never breaking the kiss. Now her rocking brought wet heat to the tip of his erection, withdrew, returned, withdrew. Clark groaned at the touch and thrust up to follow the dance between them just as the movement brought her back down to him. Somewhere in the back of mind he recognised that they were still both riding their earlier emotions; that fear and pain had fed into need and desire, had pushed their arousal faster and harder than their caresses alone. Surrendering to the moment, and with an accuracy he'd never find deliberately, another hard thrust brought him into Lois, the tight walls of her heat enclosing him abruptly. Almost too much; he struggled not to push harder and faster immediately. Lois had other ideas, it seemed, and flattened her palms on his chest and pushed up, breaking the kiss, sinking further onto him until he could feel himself buried in her to the hilt. She was still pulsing from her last orgasm, the sensation astonishing. Clark tried to focus, to look up. Lois was biting her lower lip, her hair swinging in front of her face as she rocked against him, circling her hips as he pulled out a little way then pushed in again. He repeated the motion, watching her as she rode the movement. Her eyes opened suddenly, and she bit a little harder as he lifted up further. Clark rubbed a finger along her mouth, trying to free her lip before she bit through it. Lois seemed to understand, sucking his finger into her mouth and biting on it. That was all it took. Another moan, and Clark lost restraint, the pressure enough to send him over the edge. He felt himself lengthen, filling Lois, and felt her tighten around him in response. He drove into her with a pounding need. He slid a hand between them and found the bundle of nerve-endings just above the point at which they were joined. He rubbed against the side of it once ... twice ... and followed Lois into firelit oblivion, spilling hotly into her. Later, he wasn't sure how much later, he woke. The fire was dying down; Lois was asleep on his chest, muttering indistinctly. Clark stretched carefully, trying not to wake her. He floated upright until he stood with her in his arms. He padded across the floor to the bedroom and paused, remembering her agitation when he tried to take her in there earlier. Perhaps he shouldn't ... but the bed was the most comfortable place for her to sleep. He hoped he was making the right decision. Lois slept on as he lay her on the bed and covered her with the sheets and quilt, peaceful despite everything. No-one deserved that sort of pain. He showered and dressed, no longer tired. Thoughts crowded his mind, memories of incidents he'd dismissed over the last year resurfaced, and his earlier self-recrimination flared again. Lois stirred; Clark held his breath, but she didn't awake. He contemplated sitting and watching her sleep but the need to move, to let his mind sink into his thoughts was too strong.. He was worried he would awake her if he found himself thinking aloud again, so he headed back across the living room to the roof terrace and settled on the ledge there. The cold bleak landscape suited his mood; the snow still fell, changing everything. Clark felt as though his world would never be quite the same again. So many things that he'd missed or misunderstood; so many things he should have seen. He began to sort through the weeks and the days in his mind, trying to find the perspective he needed; trying to understand what had happened. What stood out was the fact that, one at a time, it is the little things that do the most damage.     For those who prefer a happy ending, this story takes place a couple of months or so before Of All Dayzs. Thank you to my betareaders - Wendy, Ann, Kath & Dawn (in no particular order) - your input was invaluable! Written: January 1999-July 1999. Completed July 21st, 1999. See index page for disclaimer and copyright acknowledgements. This story, however, is my copyright and is not to be distributed without my permission.