The Memoirs

Jonathan looked from the box in his hands to the front porch.  He'd been sitting in the cab of the truck for the last ten minutes.  Everything else he'd unloaded, stacked in the barn, or carried where it needed to go.  This was the only other thing he'd bought, but now, he was... well, scared.  Sleeping alone in Clark's old room hadn't been bad, once he'd gotten used to it, but this... this was something different. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he got out of the truck, box in hand, and walked to the front porch.  He knocked on the front door, and then quickly opened the box, pulling out the dozen red tulips and roses, then hiding them behind his back.  "Martha?"

 

"I’m back here, Jonathan!" A call from the back porch, where the sun was streaming in over the wood floors from the open back door. She was sitting, a white gardener’s hat over her head, light yellow blouse and snug white jeans. She looked sixteen again, and the sunny smile she gave him matched her mood entirely. She was shelling peas and the oldies were playing from a small radio plugged into the porch wall. "You're back early; everything went alright?"

 

"Yeah, everything went fine."  He ducked through the house, and stood in the porch door.  "You, uh... you got a second?"  He shuffled his feet slightly nervously.

 

"Sure." She wiped her fingers on a dish rag in her lap and stood, flip flops slapping against the wood as she stepped inside. She took her hat off, red hair falling down her shoulders, and tucked it behind her ears with a smile. "The winter pea's are coming along... I decided to take advantage of the sun before it gets overcast for the blizzard. I heard in town that its coming through by Sunday."

 

"Want some coffee? And oh, get the peas? I think I’m done. I’m cold!"

 

"Sure thing, honey, but, uh, can you hold these for me?"  He handed her the bouquet with a quick grin, and ducked out behind her, snagging the large bowl of peas.

 

She blinked... blushed, and couldn’t help the smile at his back, rolling her eyes heavenward and setting them on the counter a moment to fetch a vase for them. Damn man. And when she was sure he wasn’t looking, she sniffed at them... buried her face in them and sighed softly. Always her favorite.

 

Jonathan grinned to himself at the happy sigh he heard over his shoulder.  "Got those for a special lady... think she'll like 'em?"  He put the bowl down, and gave her a small grin.  Usually right about here is where he'd sling an arm around her waist, pull her close, give her a kiss.  Now, though... now, he wasn't even sure what to do.

 

But she filled the gap with another smile, winking and setting them in the glass vase with a bit of water. "I'll keep them in water for her, so she wont get a bunch of wilted flowers." Another smile and she took the peas from him and put them under the water of the sink, running water over them for a few moments. "How is everything?"

 

"It's going good."  He sat down at the table, hands around the empty coffee cup sitting there.  "Got the extra rock salt, just in case, and a couple of extra bags of feed.  Also made sure I got kerosene, so at least we'll have the heater when the storm hits."

 

"No..." She didn’t turn her back, washing out the peas and draining them. "I meant...how are you?"

 

He'd known that’s what she meant, and he'd hoped to be able to sidestep the question.  "I'm makin' it."  His hands twirled the cup between his palms.  "Finally got used to the new bed."

 

"Surprised you got the old thing off the ground, after Clark broke the springs." A dazzling grin his way, and she set the peas in a new pot, filled it with water, and set it all on the stove.

 

"Wasn't anything a few nails and a hammer couldn't fix.  I don't intend to be fallin' out of the air on it."  He returned the grin despite the nervousness and awkwardness of the situation.  "Martha... I was thinkin'... since the storm's supposed to be coming... maybe you'd like to go out and have dinner tonight?  Save the food we got, just in case?"  Ridiculous and absurd excuse; between the grocery pantry and Martha’s canning, they had enough for three months backlogged.

 

Which she dismissed without another word, glancing at him and crooking an eyebrow. "I don’t rightly know, Mr. Kent. Where exactly were you planning on taking me?" Her voice was light and teasing as she accepted the invitation in her own way, watching him as she got the food ready.

 

"Well, I was thinking we'd go to that place in Metropolis.  Sandine's, with the little candles on the table and the guy with the violin that wanders around."  He met her eyes. 

 

Her eyes lit up but she smiled, brow raised and smile curving and tugging at her lips. "Well, I don’t know... I was waiting for Sancho to take me with him to the Virgin Islands... but if we must, we must." She winked. "Pick me up when you're ready."

 

"I'll pick you up at eight... and I'll even have the truck cleaned up and ready to go."  He smiled back at her.  "Less there's somewhere else you wanna go... I'll take you there, if there is."

 

"Nope." She grinned again and tucked her hair behind her ears, shutting off the stove and putting a lid on the pot. "Unless you have any other business tonight... maybe we can go see a show? I hear they’re showing the Nutcracker at the Majestic."

 

Jonathan dug in his back pocket.  "Damned impatient woman," he huffed.  "Can't wait for dinner for her surprise."  He dangled two tickets in front of her eyes.  "Got 'em from Ethan this mornin'.  He got 'em through the department and he give 'em to me."

 

Her eyes lit up with pure feminine giddy joy and she winked at him again, turning and grabbing her hat from the counter as she flounced past him. "I'll be ready at 7."

 

"I'll be here."  Jonathan turned and watched her flit up the stairs past him, and he shook his head.  No way he was gonna lose this lady, not again. 

 

~ * ~

 

At a quarter of seven, Jonathan was sitting outside in the truck again.  He'd washed it, polished it, waxed it, vacuumed the seats, and it looked almost like a new truck.  He carried the white rose he'd brought her to the door with him, and knocked.  The plastic corsage box rattled slightly in his nervous hands.

 

Little black dress. There was nothing better then one, and she arranged the tiny slip underneath better against her tummy. Slim, satin straps and a deep V that just showed her cleavage. The dress itself brushed about five inches above her knees, showcasing legs that hadn’t lost their beauty over the years. Hose, black velvet heels. Diamond earrings her mother had given her years before adorned each ear, and her red hair was tied attractively in back and curled, so her face was framed by auburn curls. She dabbed little fingertips of paloma picasso behind each ear, at the base of her throat, and between her breasts. Someone knocked downstairs and she grabbed her purse and wrap, walking down the steps with little clicks.

 

She pulled open the door, glanced up...and her painted, full lips spread into a smile at the roses. "Hello, stranger."

 

"Wow.  You look... beautiful."  Jonathan's jaw dropped.  He'd never seen her dressed up quite this much before, and he was suddenly glad he'd gone and rented a tux for the night.  "Wow."  He held out the box with the single white rose.  "This is for you."

 

She stepped back and offered him inside, taking the box and smiling at him again as she walked into the kitchen. "Well thank you, on both accounts. Would you like some champagne before we leave?" She motioned to the bottle she had atop the counter with the two glasses, as she opened the box with the rose...and turned away from him so she could sniff at it. Beautiful, and she put it in the same vase with the flowers he'd brought before, turning again to smile.

 

"Yeah.  Champagne sounds great.  Just one glass, though, cause I gotta drive."  He smiled at her as she slipped the rose in the vase.  "You really do look beautiful, baby."

 

"Well, thank you." A little wink and she poured him a glass of the champagne, and another for herself, offering him one and sipping as she leaned a hip on the counter. "Can’t say you don’t look rather good yourself, Mr. Kent. A tux." She clicked her tongue.  “I haven’t seen you wear a tux since the day we got married."

 

He shifted a little against the counter as he took the glass.  "Well... seemed like it just fit the special occasion.  First date, and all... decided to make sure everything's right."  He raised the glass and took a sip, looking at her over the rim. 

 

"Ah." And she almost couldn’t help the giggle, sipping it as she watched him. "First date, then...I should tell you my dad doesn’t like me staying out past eleven." She lowered her voice and leaned forward towards him, tapping the edge of her glass against his. "And mom says to tell you to keep your back straight." She mimicked her mothers voice with love, clicking her tongue. "Remember, Jonathan, a lady doesn’t like a sloucher."

 

"Well, your father's just going to have to get over it," Jonathan said softly, straightening his back.  "Because... I'm going to have you out all night long... dinner, a show, and a walk to the door."  He smiled, and returned the toast.

 

She laughed out loud, her cheeks flushing as she looked down. "My father walked in on us just as you said that… remember? He nearly had a heart attack." She pressed her curved lips together and glanced up at him. "However, tonight’s not a night for parents, right? So, to us." She clicked his glass again, and took another sip.

 

"That's right, he did... didn't think he was gonna make it for a while."  His eyes twinkled.  "Just us."  He sipped again, and then put his glass down on the counter.  "I won't let anything go wrong this time."

 

"You say that like things went wrong the first time." She set her glass down as well, and got her wrap, pulling it around her shoulders and lifting her hand bag.

 

"Date maybe didn't go wrong, but everything else did.  Won't happen again."  He moved to hold the door open for her.  "Your chariot awaits, m'lady."

 

She glanced up at him with her dark eyes as she walked past… shared a look with him, then looked down… and grinned. "Ah, look. I knew somewhere under the grime there was a red truck." She stepped down the steps, the frosty air immediately nipping at her ankles, and shivered. "Alright, its a little cold out here. Brrr."

 

"Heat's on in the truck, that'll get you nice and toasty."  He locked the door behind them, and then sprinted down the steps to open the truck door for her.  "Here you are.  Warm air, no waiting."

 

"A luxury in Smallville." She stepped in, shivering and bringing her skirt down a little as she breathed in the toasty air and he shut the door behind her. "Yes, well, Martha, wearing a short skirt was so intelligent of you." She muttered to herself, watching him move around the truck with a little kick in her heart. Maybe... maybe if she tried, this could... it could work. Maybe, right?

 

Jonathan hesitated at the back of the truck, swallowing hard.  Sitting in the truck seat beside his wife would be the closest he'd gotten to her since Christmas... maybe even a little before.  Pulling himself into the driver's seat, he gave her a grin.  "Our reservation awaits."  He put his arm on the back of the seat as he started to back out the long driveway.

 

He smelled so good. Always, always, but tonight he'd taken care to put on that sin in a bottle he'd gotten some time ago, and she couldn’t help it when she sniffed a little... then blushed, and looked away to the cold porch with the cheery outside light on. "I hope the snow doesn’t start till tomorrow."

 

"I kinda hope it doesn't start at all."  He pulled out onto the road, and pointed the truck towards town.  "We already got a lot of snow left over from before Christmas, and we're still trying to get thawed out from it."

 

"I miss you, Jonathan." And it was soft on her tongue as she spoke it, keeping her gaze towards the street as they drove. "Why don’t you put it on KROW? They've been playing Christmas music all month."

 

Jonathan's hand shook as he dialed up KROW.  He couldn't speak for a long moment, and when he did, his voice was rough.  "I miss you too, Martha.  So much... in here."  The hand not on the steering wheel lightly thumped his chest before returning to the wheel. 

 

She smiled a little, glaring mockly at him and hitting him on the arm as her eyes grew bright. "Don’t make me ruin my mascara, eh? It took me ten minutes to get it just right." She sniffled, then grinned as "Oh, Holy Night" came on, sung by a woman with a lovely voice. "So, the Nutcracker? Are you sure you can sit through it?"

 

"I'm sure I can sit through it."  His voice was still slightly rough, but firm.  "I know it's something you've always wanted to do, and.... and I thin I'd like to do it with you."

 

Her cheeks went rosy, and she mockly rolled her eyes. "Mr. Kent, if you fall asleep mid way, I promise I wont verbally assault you too badly."

 

Jonathan shook his head.  "I'm not going to fall asleep.  But I will probably watch you more than the stage, just to see how much you're enjoying it."

 

She wrinkled her nose at him and smiled, settling back in the long seat and setting her little hand bag in her lap. "They’re men. In tights. What’s not to enjoy, here?"

 

"Men in tights... while I'm sure there's a visual prettiness to it, the whole concept is just a little..."  He trailed off uncomfortably.  "I've just never given it a chance, I suppose.  There's a time for everything, and this my time for ballet."  He couldn't help, however, the grimace that crossed his features.

 

And she cracked up, eyes dancing as she laughed. "Oh, God, the knots in your stomach are squirming, aren’t they? Its just the ballet, Jonathan...not one of those bands Clark likes. Its going to be okay, I promise. And who knows? You might even like it, you know."

 

"If it were one of those bands Clark likes, I'm sorry, darlin, but you'd be goin' in on your own."  He flipped his blinker on, and made a turn onto the next street.  "I'd just sit out on the parking lot and wait."  He sighed.  "I'll try and like it.  I promise."

 

"We don’t have to go, Jonathan." She pulled her wrap tighter around herself, and glanced across at him. "We could just as easily go to a movie, you know."

 

"I want to take you."  He turned and looked at her as they drove.  "I want to take you somewhere we've never been before, something that you've always wanted to do."

 

Martha let a smile touch her lips and quieted, listening to the lovely music tinkling happily from the radio as they fell into a comfortable, soft silence. She pushed a ringlet from her eyes, idly making sure her earrings were still in place, and gazed out the window as the first tiny snowflakes began to fall, lit just barely but the truck.

 

It was only a few more minutes to the restaurant, and Jonathan parked near the front.  Taking the keys out of the ignition, he put his hand on her elbow briefly.  "Martha... thank you.  For coming out with me tonight."

 

"Thank you, for having me." She nodded at him, eyes shining, and tried not to jump at his hands on her. It had been so long, and she loved him so dearly, but she merely smiled and opened the truck door.

 

He let her go as he slid out of the truck, but as he came around to her side, he offered her his elbow.  "It'd be an honor--and a pleasure--if you'd let me escort you."

 

"Oh, Jonathan." She huffed it at him, but her face lit with pleasure, and she took his elbow, looking up from her black velvet and red curls, with the shining eyes of the girl she once was. "Just looking to get into a girls pants, aren’t you?" A mock huff at him, as she grinned.

 

"Just her heart will suit me just fine."  He covered her hand with his as it rested in the crook of his elbow, and walked beside her to the door.

 

The restaurant was crowded but so very elegant...the rich and famous out for a night on the town before the new years holiday. Women in gold and diamonds that must have cost a fortune, beautiful gowns and done hair and makeup. Men in tux's much like Jonathans, and Martha was glad to have dressed to the nines. She stepped in through the front door, smiling up at him shyly and blushing a little. It always made her unsure of herself when he took her to places like these, but now, she felt so comfortable and secure of herself.

 

Jonathan walked up to the maitre'd, who was staring at them with a slight bit of disdain, and the confidence of having the most beautiful woman in the world on his arm allowed him to glare the man down.  "Name's Jonathan Kent, made a reservation for two."

 

Another disdainful glance, but his eyes found their name on his list and sighed.  "This way."

 

"Thank you."

 

She grinned up at her husband, eyes dancing, and leaned up to whisper, "I love this. He's such a snob. That’s how you know you're in a nice restaurant."

 

Jonathan grinned at her.  "He can be a snob all he wants to be, long as he takes us to our seat."

 

She walked past some well known actresses, a politician running for the presidency and one of the head top designers in the united states before the maitre'd sat them at a lovely spot facing a window...where, if she would have known, Lionel and Dominic sat the night they'd come to Metropolis to Dominic's apartment the first time. She breathed in deeply, smiling at the man once more as she slipped her wrap off her nearly bare shoulders and smiled. "Oh, Jonathan. This is truly lovely."

 

"No lovelier than you are, and I wanted you to have the best... of everything."  He slipped off his tux jacket and slid it on the back of his chair.  "I wanted everything to be... wonderful."

 

"Its so beautiful." She gazed out the window beside them, where the snowflakes, large and fluffy, were falling from the night sky. "Just lovely. Thank you, sweetie."

 

"You're welcome."  He settled back in the chair, smiling to himself over the beautiful happiness that lit her face. 

 

"Hello. I villbeh yur wait'r tonigh'. Anythin can I get 'ou for to drin'k?" Came the slightly uppity, serious words of their waiter, a tiny man of no more then 5'2, hands behind his back.

 

"Do the honors, Jonathan?"

 

"We'd like... two glasses of champagne, a rose in the lady's glass, and then water for me and Cabernet for my wife." 

 

"'esir." He nodded, and set two velvet and leather bound menu's for them. "I sh'll beh back to take jor orders." And he disappeared.

 

She peered at the book a moment...then lifted it open, and glanced in at the light, beautiful script and the choices to eat. And noticed, right off the bat, that there weren’t any prices listed. "Jonathan..." She glanced up, shaking her head. "Maybe we shouldn’t..."

 

"Yes, we should."  He lowered his menu to look at her.  "Yes... we should."

 

"But...the bills, next month." She looked at him in distress, frowning as her brows worried in the middle.

 

"I've got it taken care of.  Dad... My father left me some money.  A long time ago, I guess, to make up for some of the things he said to me when I was a kid.  There wasn't nearly enough in the bond to make a big difference, but... it was enough to hold us over.  I cashed it in, and I put what was left in Clark's college account."

 

And she just stared at him. "..What?"

 

He sighed deeply.  "I'd meant to save the whole thing for Clark, but he's in good shape with what we've put aside for him.  There was about fifteen thousand in the old savings bond.  We... didn't always get along, and after... well, he threatened not to pay for my school.  I think that worried my mama, and she made him buy it in my name.  I never wanted to touch it, cause of what it meant.  But... I finally decided I wasn't going to let it stop me any longer.  We needed the help."

 

"Jonathan..." Complete. Shock. "Why didn’t you ever tell me?" She stopped, looking up at the waiter as he set down their glasses in front of them in frosted holiday glasses with the tiniest of carved bells on them, and waited until he left to speak again. "I almost... I don’t know what to say."

 

"It was basically my father's way of buying me away from Lionel.  I didn't want to touch the money, because if I did, that meant he'd won."  He looked up at Martha.  "But it doesn't matter anymore.  There's ten thousand dollars in the bank, and that'll keep us for a couple of months.  Five of it went straight to Clark."

 

She almost couldn’t breathe. It was like a weight, a horrid, heavy weight she'd lived with for twenty years had suddenly lifted, and oh, well, their went her mascara anyway. Twin tears tumbled down her cheeks as she rubbed her chest, shaking her head at him and swallowing, closing her eyes tight to calm herself. "Oh. Oh, God."

 

"Martha?  Honey?"  He got up from his seat at the table, coming around to kneel beside her, handkerchief in his hand.  "Honey, are you all right?"

 

She waved her fingers in front of her face for just a minute, shaking her head...and leaning in to wrap her arms around Jonathans shoulders, bringing him in tight and hugging him for all she was worth, a little laugh escaping her as she did it.

 

Jonathan wrapped his arms around Martha, holding her just as tight as he could, rocking gently.  "Martha, what is it?  You're ruining your makeup, honey."

 

She just shook her head, wiping at her eyes in embarrassment as the other people tried not to watch, and sniffed, smiling at him and shaking her head again. "It... its nothing, Jonathan, I... I... for so long, I was so worried about the farm, and the finances, and... ten thousand dollars." She choked again, pressed her fingertips to her mouth.

 

"I shoulda tapped it a long time ago, but I was being stubborn, prideful and selfish.  But I got a hell of a wake up call."  He didn't let her go, holding her as long as she'd let him.  "Did it the next day."

 

She shivered, waving a hand to her face and grinning self indulgently, and snagged her bag. "Let me freshen up? I'll be right back."

 

"I'll be here waiting for you."  He let her go and returned back to his seat, watching her go.

 

She escaped to the bathroom, so very glad that she'd gotten her makeup and lipstick, and walked in through the swinging doors after asking a waiter where the woman’s room was. She stopped in front of the marble counter and looked into the glass, at her reflection. Not so bad but not a spring chicken either, and worse now with makeup streaks. She quickly got out her compact and a tissue, starting to wipe away the mess, and sniffling.

 

Back at the table, Jonathan took the rose out of her champagne glass and rolled the thornless stem in his hand.  His thumb rubbed the outer petal, feeling how smooth it was and knowing that Martha's skin was even smoother.  He brought the rose to his lips, brushing it over them gently as he waited for her to come back.

 

He hadn't thought of Lionel all night.

 

She cleaned her face, fluffed her hair, smoothed her skirt, and walked back out, passing the same nice waiter and with a smile of thanks, walked up three steps to the dining room and walked easily back to their table...among rock stars and ex presidents, no less. She settled back in her seat, smiling across at him, and blushed prettily. "Alright, well. Sorry about that."

 

"No need to be sorry," he said, offering her the rose.  "No need at all.... I'm just sorry I made you cry."

 

"Why? They weren’t bad." She took the rose and sniffed it softly, setting it beside her purse and glancing at it every other second as she spoke. Her weak spot were roses, after all. "I’m so, so thankful, to your father."

 

"Good or bad... I just hate to see you cry."  He shook his head.  "I'm grateful to him for some things, and overall, I won't complain, but we had our problems."  Another shake of his head.  "Enough.  No more about the past.  All that matters right now is the now and the future."

 

"To the future." She nodded, smiled, and rose her glass of champagne in a toast. "Where our dreams will come true, the messes will work themselves out, and we're happy."

 

"Now that is something I can definitely drink to."  He raised his glass to meet hers, and the chime of their glasses rang out clearly over the table.

 

She took a sip of the frothy, bitter liquid, mmming softly in her throat, and set the glass down, linking their fingers. "You've made me a very happy woman tonight, Jonathan. My heart feels so light." And she knew, as he did, that she didn’t mean because of the money, squeezing his much larger fingers in hers.

 

Jonathan's hand closed tightly around his wife's.  "That's all I ever wanted to do, Martha... all I want to do with the rest of my life."

 

Her eyes were panicked but she hid it with a smile, waving a hand at him as she took her fingers back and opened up the menu once more. "Sweet talker. Have you looked through this thing yet?"

 

"No, but I know what I'm going to have."  He leaned in.  "Their house special tonight is prime rib, basted in pepper and au jus, served with horseradish sauce."

 

She grinned at him, wrinkled her nose. "Meat man." And she looked back down. "I think I’m going to try the swordfish in butter sauce. What do you think? Sounds good, right?"

 

"I'm simple, I'm easy to please, and I don't ask for much outta life except a nice chunk of red meat every now and then."  He nodded.  "It sounds very good, actually."  He consulted the menu.  "Steamed rice?  No, thank you.  Give me potatoes with my meat please."

 

"Jonathan!" She laughed it, shaking her head and leaning over their table, pulling his menu down to point at something near the bottom… consulting her own a moment before looking at his...and not really realizing her chest was showing quite nicely, thank you very much. "Look. steak with marinara sauce and cream dumplings."

 

Jonathan swallowed hard.  "Yeah... that looks great.  But I'm sticking with the prime rib." 

 

Before Jonathan could say anything else, a man in his early thirties came up their table.  "Excuse me, Miss... but don't I know you?"

 

She blinked, sat up once more....eyes shifting as she looked up at the man, and shook her head. "No, I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else." Apologetic smile.

 

The man made a considering noise in his throat.  "That's strange... I could have sworn I'd seen such a beautiful woman at least once before.  My name is Marshall Emrich."  He held his hand out to be shaken.  "You must be new to the city?"

 

Her lashes fluttered and a blush stole her cheeks, taking his hand because it was small town habit to shake a hand when it was presented to you. "Hello, I.... My name is Martha, its nice to meet you."

 

As soon as he had her hand, Marshall raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it.  "It's a pleasure to meet you... Martha." 

 

Jonathan cleared his throat, none too subtly.

 

Marshall used his free hand to pull out a business card, that he placed in Martha's hand.  "I run talent agency, mostly for print work and billboards, and I'd definitely be interested in talking to you about coming to work with me."

 

She would have laughed, if the man hadn’t looked so serious, and she took it, eyes wide as she glanced at Jonathan, then back at the man, and smiled again. "Well thank you,  Mr. Emrich, but I’m just a small town girl with bills to pay. Though thank you for approaching me." Another smile, teeth glinting.

 

"Don't thank me yet, Martha.  I haven't gotten you any magazine covers yet."  He winked back at her, and tapped the card.  "You can get in touch with me at any moment through my agency."  He kissed her hand again, and disappeared.

 

"Well... that was... interesting."

 

She waited until he'd left, before she burst out laughing. Looked down at the card, blush still in her cheeks, then at her husband, eyes twinkling. "What a bunch of shit." But it pleased her regardless, and she offered him the card to look at. "I forgot how forward men are in this city."

 

Jonathan turned the card over in his fingers, feeling the fine texture of the card, the raised print and the embossed company logo.  "That man... was hitting on you, Martha."

 

"Oh, please." An eye roll, and she took another sip of her champagne. "He was looking for business, is what he was doing. What’d he'd want with an old lady like me? Never know."

 

Jonathan nearly choked on the sip of tea he'd just taken.  "You really haven't looked in the mirror tonight, have you, honey?"

 

She smiled at him indulgently and would have spoken if the waiter hadn’t suddenly appeared.

 

"Meh ah take yor ordeer?"

 

Jonathan tapped his menu on the table.  "I'd like the prime rib special, medium rare, and a steamed potato.  And honey mustard dressing on the salad."

 

"And I'd like the linguini primavera, with toasted shrimp." She smiled and gave the man back her menu, shifting in her seat as he took them and left.

 

"You really don't know how beautiful you are."  Jonathan reached across the table and took his wife's hand.  "When we came in, I knew I had the prettiest girl in the world on my arm tonight."

 

And then to her husband. "I’m a fickle creature by nature. I should have stuck with the fish, but oh, well." She grinned. "Impulse is good."

 

"Impulse can be very good," Jonathan said, right before leaning over the table and kissing her quickly.  Nothing long and drawn out, just a quick, gentle press of his mouth against hers.

 

"Ah, but you know better then to say anything else." She teased it but accepted the compliment, lifting a strap as it slid off her shoulder and back in place with a little hint of embarrassment. And it fell, again, when he reached over the table and kissed her and she gasped, softly. He tasted the same. Months since he'd kissed her, and he still tasted like honey and male and sunshine of the earth.

 

She wanted more, but didn’t dare ask, just smiling, blushing, and grasping his fingers, squeezing gently.

 

Jonathan squeezed her fingers back.  He'd wanted to kiss her harder, deeper, longer, but was afraid to.  Not because he didn't think he could do it, but because he didn't want to move too fast.  He raised their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed hers instead, and smiled quietly.  "I love you, Martha."

 

"I love you too, Jonathan." And she met his eyes as he kissed her fingers, and felt tingles of sweet excitement and love race up and down her spine. "Its been a very long time since you've said that." She smiled, squeezed his hands. "Thank you."

 

"You're welcome."  His thumb rubbed over her hand.  "I always loved you.  But tonight... I can feel myself falling in love with you all over again."

 

She giggled at that, giggled for the love of God, and wasn’t ashamed one bit. "Its the setting. Two hundred dollar plates of food make you delirious." But she rose her own thumb, and rubbed it against his bottom lip to take away the lipstick she'd left there...and to touch where she'd been forbidden to for a long time.

 

Jonathan caught her hand and held it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the palm.  "It's not the setting, Martha... it's the company."

 

"Ah, well." She blushed again, looking away with girlish glee, and risked another glance up with a smile. "I have to say, I’m not in such bad company myself."

 

Jonathan's answering smile was huge and sunny as it spread across his face.  Leaning forward, he kissed her again, hand holding hers tightly as he pressed forward just a little, to see what he would be allowed.

 

And she hoped to hell she shocked him, when she laced her fingers through his and pulled him in close, meeting his mouth… opening hers... and asking him to kiss her, like he used to, without any words needed.

 

Jonathan was more than shocked when the silent invitation came, and he accepted it, pressing his mouth hard onto hers as his tongue pressed forward, tasting her.  A very quiet, almost unheard moan as he tasted her mouth for the first time in what felt like forever, and a shudder as a spike of something shot up his spine and lodged in the back of his neck.  His tongue thrust hard, teasing hers, hands finding her hair and holding her close.

 

And from afar they looked like two sweet lovers, kissing after one had been gone for a long trip... and to her, it was something much more powerful, and real. Her husband... was back. After a long, extended vacation, he was back, and she met his tongue with relish, sucking it into her own mouth and switching angles, brushing his nose with her own as she delved. Tasted… sucked... and her fingertips slid through his hair and held him close.

 

Jonathan pressed his forehead to his wife's, letting her have control for a moment as he sorted through the welter of feelings that swirled inside him, and in the end, in the span of a few seconds, his hands had moved from her hair to her shoulders, pulling her as close as the table would allow.  "I love you, so much," he murmured sweetly into her mouth.

 

"I love you, J… Jonathan, I love you, I’ve missed you so," Trembling whispers, as she skimmed her mouth, aching for him to just damn the restaurant, damn the table, haul her up and take her. Her fingers tightened for just a second, letting the fantasy run through her mind...and slowly relaxed her hand, sitting back just a little and clearing her throat. Trying, in vain, to calm herself.

 

Jonathan didn't let go of her hand, instead moving it to the taut muscles of his arm.  "I'm so sorry, honey.  I'm sorry for all the time I wasted with you, all the mistakes I made, but it's over now.  I'm here for you."  His hand reached out and skimmed across her cheek, tracing the flush.  "God, you're so... incredibly... exotically... beautiful."

 

She blushed harder, her cheeks going pink as she cast her eyes down...then shyly looked up at him through her lashes as her thumb gently stroked along a hard muscle, pressing her lips together and gnawing on her lower one. "You don’t have to be sorry, Jonathan, not for being yourself." She swallowed. "I..I just missed you, so much."

 

"I missed you."  He looked at her over the table.  "You won't ever be without me again, I can promise you that.”

 

"Oh. That... that’s so good to hear." She swallowed again, smiled...then started and blushed harder as the waiter came up to them, surprisingly prompt with their meals. She moved aside for him to set it in front of her and almost couldn’t believe the food she'd ordered...did she really think she could eat, with the butterflies in her belly?

 

And speaking of that, had she honestly thought she'd be in control of herself? With Jonathan? And in that moment she felt twenty again, and chuckled softly.

 

"Martha... you married me twenty years ago... would you do it again?" Jonathan asked suddenly.  "After the storm and the holidays get through, maybe over around February... would you marry me?"

 

At that she laughed, eyes dancing, and gave him a kick under the table. "Stop being so serious, Jonathan." Just as she always had, teasing him gently, and she couldn’t help grinning. "Of course I will."

 

He barely stifled the urge to do a very out of character victory shimmy, and instead, settled for a grin as he rubbed his shin.  "You've got a sharp foot, Martha... but you just made me happier than you'll ever know."

 

"Well, of course. And don’t you go and do something dumb like buy a sparkly rock, you hear me?" She scolded because damned if she didn’t know him, just as she knew he knew her, waggling her finger. And said, ever so sweetly, "Id rather spend a weekend in Edge City, making love and eating out the hotel."

 

A long-suffering sigh.  "Guess I better call Fordman's and cancel that order I put in." 

 

"Damn, I’m good." And she picked up her fork, looking at him with a smile as she wound her fork in the pasta.

 

"Yes, you are, but we already knew that."  Jonathan slipped his foot under the table, and rubbed his wife's ankle as he picked up his knife and fork.

 

Her breath stuttered, and she glared at him because she knew he knew what reaction she'd had. They had been married twenty years, after all. "You're a wicked man, Jonathan Kent." A bite of her pasta, chiding glance at him.

 

Jonathan deliberately didn't look up as he cut his steak.  Instead, he slid his foot a little higher, rubbing the back of her calf before sliding back down to the floor.  He was still innocently chewing his steak.

 

Alright. Two could play at that game. They were hidden by the table skirt, so she slipped off a heel and slipped her panty hosed feet up his foot... disappearing under the generous cuff of his pants, and rubbed right at the top of his sock, where it met leg. And sipped her champagne ever so sweetly.

 

Jonathan's fork clattered on the plate as he dropped it, and gave an evil glare to his wife.  Part of his brain couldn't believe what they were doing in one of the best restaurants around, but he didn't care.  He slipped his own shoe off, returning the favor as a socked foot inched up and his toes rubbed gently against her calf.

 

Who cared? Everyone was eating, no one paying attention to the couple in the corner, and she grinned at him... before her breath caught again as they were playing footsies for the love of God, and it was so sweet and romantic and she just didn’t care where they were. Her legs were much shorter then his, so she had no problem sliding them up his knee and rubbing against the back of it. "Everything alright, dear?" Another nibble at her pasta.

 

A deep growl in the back of his throat that caused his voice to come out husky.  "Just fine, darlin'."  The benefit of longer legs were that they were slightly easier to maneuver, and since he was hidden by the tablecloth, Jonathan's foot rose along the outside of Martha's leg, rubbing the side of his foot against her knee as his toes reached to tickle her thigh through the scratchy material of his socks.

 

Oh. Dear God, in heaven, help her. Her eyes widened as she watched him, keeping his eyes on her as he touched… and she let him see, as her back was to the dining room, how exactly that made her feel. Her eyes fluttered closed as her tongue slipped out to lick her lower lip...throat swallowing once before she reached for the champagne again.

 

Jonathan quietly scooted his chair closer to the table, not quite able to believe he was doing this but sliding his foot higher, and letting his toes rub against the inside of her thigh as his heel rested on her knee.

 

She gently crossed her arms across the table and shut her eyes, glancing up at him once...and let her foot travel up his thigh… and between them, gazing now at his expression with the look of a ballsy woman... No pun. "We... we could skip the ballet, Jon."

 

"Tickets... are good... for the whole run," he said as thoughtfully as he could as he tried NOT to thrust against her foot as it rested against him.

 

And her smile was absolutely priceless. She let her foot move a little against him, toes tickling his abdomen, and shook her head a little bit as she reached for a palm… gently sliding her fingertip over the back of his hand and she met his eyes as she moved to stroke the outside o his thigh...down his leg...and twisted her feet with his. "If… if this is too fast..?"

 

Jonathan shook his head.  "That's your call, Martha, not mine... I'm willing to wait, if that's what you want, because I know... I haven't really earned it yet."  He clasped her hand tightly in his as their feet twined together.

 

She peered at him, lips curved. "Jonathan... we haven’t had sex in over a year, sweetie. I was perfectly okay with not having it... but... now that you... are you..."  She swallowed. "Are you sure about us?"

 

Jonathan nodded.  "I am, Martha.  I've never been more sure of anything else."  He swallowed hard as he tried to find the words to explain it.  "There's... there's this feeling, right here, in the back of my neck," he said, rubbing it with his free hand.  "And I don't know how long it's been since it's been there, I just... I just know that right now, it's taking everything I've got not to throw you over my shoulder and haul you outta here like a cave man."

 

And oh, her laugh rang high and true in the little corner, eyes dancing bright. "I had that same thought about fifteen minutes ago." She wrinkled her nose at him, corner of her lower lip caught in her teeth as she stroked his own fingertips. "I never thought you'd… you'd ever want me again, Jonathan." And the pride in her heart that he did made her all but beam at him.

 

"You shoulda told me that fifteen minutes ago," he teased as he grinned.  Then he sobered for a moment.  "I was... a fool," he confessed softly.  "I was a fool not to touch you... I was an even bigger fool for almost losing you."  He looked up at her, meeting her eyes.  "I don't just want to touch you, Martha... I need it."

 

She smiled at him crookedly and turned her hand over so he could link fingers with hers, squeezing. "You weren’t a fool...you were having a midlife crisis. I understand, sweetheart, and I was going to stick with you regardless. I love you. I love you, so very much." And she raised a slim brow. "And you see, all this talk of touching, and no follow through." Click of her tongue.

 

Jonathan leaned over the table and kissed her again.  No waiting to see, no niceties, just a hard, deep kiss that told his wife exactly how much he wanted her right then.  Hungry strokes of his tongue, nips of his teeth, and a soft growl that vibrated her mouth.

 

She would have jumped at his growl if she hadn’t grasped his hair with both hands and kissed right back. All the hunger she'd felt, the nights that no vibrator was going to do it, when she'd ached for her husband to be her husband again...she poured all of that want from the last year into this kiss, and was nearly breathless when she broke away. "I-I..."

 

"Me too," was all he was able to answer.  The feeling he'd spoken of earlier was burning the back of his head and it nearly exploded in that instant.  Hot, hard, animal want.  For his wife.  Once acknowledged, it slid like molten lava from his brain to his cock, and he bit down on the moan that wanted to come out as he grew ragingly hard.  "M--me too."

 

"I...um..." She rose her hand and caught the waiters eye, nodding for the check, and looked at him as she squeezed her thighs and crossed her legs. "Lets rent a room, Jonathan. We can stay over on main avenue. Want to?" She caught her lip between her teeth again, unable to stop squirming and so very GLAD she'd worn a strapless bra, because the last thing she needed were overly perky breasts. "If...if you'd like to. With me."

 

"Absolutely.... I'd love to."  He pulled out his wallet in preparation for the check, and slipped his feet back into his shoes.  "I'd love it, Martha."  His fingers caught in her hair and gently ran through it as he discreetly adjusted himself under the table. 

 

And she couldn’t help it, she laughed in excitement and joy, her smile lighting her whole face and Martha dragged him close, kissing him again, then wiping at the lipstick she'd left on his face. "You're making me so happy. Jonathan..." The expression he had, boyish and beautiful, was what she remembered from all those years ago when they'd roll in the sheets and laughed till their sides ached with pleasure and fun.

 

"Keep telling me that, and you'll make me a happy man... not that you already don't."  He kissed her cheek as the waiter left the check on the tray, and he dropped two $100 bills into the tray.  Sliding his wallet back in his pocket, he picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, and slipped into it, not quite ready to stand up.  "Ready to go?" 

 

She grinned, broadly at that, and raised an elegant brow at him. "Having problems, sweetie?" Sugar sweet and she slipped back into her wrap, refusing to look at how much money he was spending for food they hadn’t eaten, and instead watched his face with adoration.

 

"Just a little... stiffness," he said, pushing himself to his feet with a final, quick adjustment.  He slipped an arm around her waist, as comfortable with her now as he'd been uncomfortable before, and held her close to his side as they walked out together.

 

Her heels clacked on the pavement, snuggling in close to him, and she'd never tell him, but in her heart she was so very, very proud of herself, and more importantly...of him. He'd faced amazing odds, and conquered them just by being his sweet, lovable self. And for that, she reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek as they neared the valet station. "Thank you, Mr. Kent, for that lovely meal."

 

"Well, Mrs. Kent, you're very welcome for that lovely meal."  He pulled her as close as he could and snuggled her against him.  "I got three hundred dollars left, think that'll get us a room for the night?" he asked in her ear, kissing it when he was done.

 

She shuddered once, against him, and couldn’t speak because the Valet had stepped up.

 

Tall, lanky boy of no more then 20, and Martha smiled at him in his little red velvet vest and black jacket. He had a thickened accent, distinctly from Wales, and he smiled at them as they walked close. "Hullo, good evenin', sir. May I get your car?"

 

"Red pickup, third row."  He dropped the valet ticket into the boy's hand and as he disappeared, he wrapped both arms around his wife's waist and hauled her in close to his body, pooling heat between them.

 

She laughed out loud, wrapping her arms around his chest and snuggled in, the top of her head just high enough to fit under his chin. Martha snuggled her cheek against him, listening to his heart beat and his blood sing, and murmured softly, "Sounds like there’s a bird in there, sweetie."

 

"There is," he said.  "Whole flock of 'em.... feels like this is the first time, all over again."

 

She wrinkled her nose. "It better not be. If I remember correctly, we broke the condom, fell off the couch, I hit my head and had a lump for two weeks, and I cried for an hour afterward because of the nerves." And she glanced up, and laughed again, eyes dancing. "God, we were a bunch of truly dumb kids."

 

“I remember."  He wrapped her tighter in his arms.  "That reminds me... I do need to ask you about that.  Do you want... protection?"  He kissed her face softly.  "It's your call, sweetie."

 

She tipped her head, watching him with an old sadness in her heart. "Theirs really no need for it. You haven’t done anything, I haven’t done anything. Theirs no chance of my getting pregnant..." Her face cleared, and those stormed eyes danced once more. "I say we have a whole lot of fun. What do you say?"

 

"I say... that sounds like the best plan I've heard lately."  He slipped his hand down, under her wrap, and gently squeezed her bottom as the valet pulled up with his truck.  Hand still on her butt, Jonathan guided her to the passenger side.

 

And she slapped it away, with a good ringing smack, wicked giggle escaping her as she flounced ahead of him. "Fresh." Then a kindly smile to the poor teenaged boy, and she handed him a tip. "Thank you, hun." She slipped into the door he opened and glanced at Jonathan with doe eyes. "Coming?"

 

"Horny," he answered, and that was something he hadn't felt in... too long.  He laughed as he took the keys, ruffled the boy's hair, and slid in behind the wheel as he cranked it up and turned on the heat.  There was a film of snow in the bed of the truck as well as on the hood, but both were melting as the car warmed up.  "Martha... I just... I wanted to say... thank you.  For everything."

 

She turned to grin at him, feeling frisky and alive, squeezing his hand tightly and shrugging a slim shoulder. "You don’t have to thank me, its me who should be thanking you. That...single bite I had was delicious." And she cracked up all over again, throwing her head back and laughing. "Oh, God! We just ate at a five hundred dollar restaurant and didn’t eat!"

 

"Hey, how many people can say they played footsie at a place like that, huh?"  Putting the truck in gear, he pulled out onto streets that had already been salted and slagged in preparation for the coming snowstorm.  Rock salt crunched under their tires as he leaned against his wife.  "We can have room service... later."

 

She'd told herself she'd be good. Really. But her fingers sliding down his side and in to cup the very inside of his thigh...then higher...well, couldn’t be helped. And it was like touching for the first time… just a light, shy skim and away...up to link her arm through his and scoot in close, lying her cheek on his shoulder so she could watch what she did to him. Another stroke...over his belly, all light and unplanned, and she sighed softly, letting her eyelashes flutter closed. "Missed you."

 

Choked noise at the gentle touches and he couldn't help the way his belly jumped under her fingertips.  "I missed you."  He rubbed his cheek against her hair, kissed it softly and breathed the scent of her shampoo.  "It was lonely... I can't imagine how you felt."  He kissed her hair again, letting his fingers lay gently over hers.  "I can't wait... to feel you tonight."

 

She bit her lip but didn’t touch more… she didn’t want him to walk into the hotel with a bulge, oh God, no. So she slid her fingers away, despite the pleasure it gave her, and gently nodded. "I was so lonely. There wasn’t anything that helped but Clark, and after he left to be with Lex… there wasn’t anything, for a while. And I knew, when I saw you in the house, how lonely we both were...but now, that you're with me again... we'll never be lonely again."

 

"No, we won't be."  He waited until the next stoplight and then kissed her lips again.  "I'm so sorry, Martha.  How I was lucky enough to have you... I'll never know, but I thank God for it every day."

 

"I’m nothing special." She kissed him back, gently stroking his tummy with her fingers as she licked softly at the edge of his lips. "You’re my gift in this world. I love you, so much."

 

"You are something special," he said quietly.  "And don't you ever think otherwise."  He caught her hand and pressed it to his stomach.  "You're the most special person I know."  He turned onto Main, and nodded towards the row of hotels.  "You pick the place, darlin'."

 

"I’m not the one with the pocketbook." She leaned in and licked his earlobe...blowing softly where she licked, before teasing the back just as gently, breasts pressed into his shoulder as she rubbed them against him. "But.." Soft, whisper. "Pick one soon."

 

Soon wasn't the word for it.  Jonathan looked at the string of hotels, grimaced at half of them, and pulled his truck into a mid-range hotel called The Pierre.  Not outrageously expensive nor outrageously cheap, it seemed just right as he pulled up to the front and was met by a valet.  Once more he surrendered his keys, and pulled Martha in behind him.

 

She was grinning as she scooted in behind him, fingers linked through his as she kept her wrap close, purse in hand, and her eyes twinkled as she walked beside him.

 

Their classy clothes got them a fast interview with the desk clerk, and after a bit of discussion and a hundred and ten dollars, Jonathan got a room key from the clerk and smiled his thanks as they headed to the elevators.

 

She stepped in beside him, glad the man hadn’t asked about their luggage, and tried not to laugh desperately as she clasped both her hands around one of his large ones, tapping her foot to the musical elevator beat as they traveled up it.

 

"You know, if we'd been in a place like this twenty years ago, I bet there'd been no broken condoms."

 

She burst into peals of laughter, nearly falling over, grabbing onto him as she laughed from her heart and her belly, pinching him in the hip. "You've got a one way ticket to hell for that one, Mr. Kent." She wiped at her eyes, still giggling as the elevator chimed, and looked up at him with a grin. "At least this time there wont be any grievous wounds to the cranial area."

 

Jonathan snickered at his wife's mirth, and yelped when she pinched him.  "Hey!  I didn't do anything!  Sheesh... one lousy comment and you're getting pinched for it!"  The grin just would not go away and it ruined the line of his pout.  "better not be, the carpet should be thick enough to protect your head... though, if you want... we can just start out on the floor so no falling?"

 

Her giggle was wicked as she pinched a little lower then his hip, getting a handful of sexy ass and gnawing on his shoulder blade as they skip walked down the hall. "You say that like we're not going to be about a second after you get the door open, Mr. Kent."

 

"Hey, hey, remember... old man here," Jonathan said, trying to defend himself.  314, and their room was only a few more steps down the hall, and he couldn't wait.  He picked up his wife around the waist and twirled her once, setting her back on her feet as he picked up his pace.  With one hand he held tightly to her, and with the other hand, put the key in the door and opened the room.

 

And she really was a feisty woman when she wanted to be. She pushed the door open, turned her back to it, and grabbed him by the neck of his tie, yanking him in as she dropped her wrap, purse falling to the ground, and met his mouth as every passion she'd had leapt up in her gut, screamed, and ached to be free.

 

She pulled him into the room, wondering exactly HOW old he was and really not giving a flying leap as she grabbed him by the shoulders and leapt up, wrapping both legs around his waist...and feasting on his mouth. Great mouthfuls of it, she kissed and sucked, laughing into his mouth in wicked joy and pleasure. "Too old, love?"

 

"I never said too old!"  Jonathan was shocked to be dragged into the room and he barely had time to slam the door shut before his hands were on her shoulders, sliding over her back and then on her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist.  He slid his fingers along her back, and held her up against him as he steered back towards the bed.  Had to get her to the bed, had to feel her soft, sweet skin, had to love her.  His mouth and tongue was frantic against hers as he walked, and then tumbled them both down.  "Martha... God.  I want to go slow but... not gonna happen.  Too hot for you, darlin'."

 

She didn’t even hear, not caring if this was a rental or not cause...oops. She just ripped the shirt buttons off. She tug and tore at time, yanking at his tie and jacket and little snippets of skin glowed from the white shirt...teasing her with glances as she scooted up and put his hands on her chest. "H...here, feel me, here, oh God, Jonathan, shouldn’t, but I don’t care and--" She leaned in and bit at his neck, his shoulder, her fingers sliding under his half undone clothes and down his back to drag her nails upwards, groaning heavily.

 

His hands cupped her breasts through the dress, then skimmed inside the neck to touch her skin, and then he cried out, arching into her nails and rubbing his half-naked skin against hers.  He slipped his hands down to her legs, over her thighs as he pushed the dress up, baring her stomach and then her bra as he slid it up her arms.  Leaning over, his mouth licked and kissed the firm swells, rubbing the stiff nipples through the lacy bra.

 

She wriggled and squirmed and alright, she'd worn the garter belt just in case, on the slim chance...and she looked up under her half-mast eyes, lashes fluttering as her skin was bared to the darkness of the room. He was in shadows, all black and white and sexy, and his soft grunts and noises were like music in her ears. Each rumble of his chest, the expressions that ghosted across his face, and she let her thumbs slide over his nipples...grasping and then pinching, tenderly but just enough.

 

He slid his hands down over hers, dragging off the shirt and throwing it to the side as he bared himself to her fingers.  "G--God.  Martha--feels so good."  He knelt over her, hands slipping behind her to open the strapless bra and free her breasts, kissing and sucking each tight nipple as it was revealed to him.

 

She arched, let out a cry as his mouth covered her… like a thousand times before, but right now, it was so different and good and she wailed, pushing, shoving...rolling them over so she was ontop. Her breasts free...heavy and not as young as they used to be but beautiful in their own right, the garter, and her panties. She sat on top of him for a few moments, watching...waiting...then leaned down and sucked one bared nipple in her mouth, sucking as one slim palm reached down and cupped him through his pants...hard. Her husband, her lover and her man. The love of her life. "L..let me...let me make you feel good, sweetie."

 

She felt his erection in his pants, hard against her palm as it tried to rise in the confines of pants, and pressed her heel in, thrusting it against him as her fingers streaked down his torso. Ribs...strong muscles...scars, from over the years, which she gently kissed.

 

Jonathan shuddered as Martha's hand touched him through his slacks, and he arched up hard into the touch.  "Yes... yes... anything you want, Martha, anything."  He pushed up against her hand again, his own fingers sliding over her naked chest and rolling taut nipples, pressing her breasts against each other and then letting go, kneading gently.

 

And grunts and moans were the only things heard from 314 for a long time.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

The private rooms of the hospital were quiet, deathly so. Night had crept up and the only movement were the nurses, checking in on patients and giving medication...turning patients in their beds every once in a while.

 

That is...their was no sound but for a soft, quiet voice, singing in a single one of those rooms. Quiet and thick, soft and melodious, like it came right from the past, tinkling with sheer male elegance and talent. "You can have diamonds in your hands, have all the richest in the land… but without love, you really don’t have a thing. What if someone cares that you're alive...what if someone trusts you with their life? That’s when you know you have all you need. You'll hold this world like the most priceless gift...the finest treasure that there is, and you can look back and know, you were loved."

 

He'd pitched a fucking fit. No one, NO ONE, took him away from his lover, even if Lionel was in his own room now, even if the damn Wall of China was tumbling down in chunks. And so it had been, talking and helping his lover eat, until they'd both fallen asleep for a while. And there Dominic was...pressed in behind his lover, spooned, holding him close and gently stroking his arm as he sang so, so softly into his ear.

 

Lionel was on the edge between sleeping and waking, lulled to a secure space in his mind by the sound of Dominic's voice singing quietly in his ear and the warm strength of his lover behind him.  "I love the sound of your voice," Lionel said quietly, so as not to disturb the song.  His eyes had closed and he left them that way as he leaned his head back against Dominic's shoulder.

 

"We all make a place in this world...we all want our voices to be heard. Everyone wants a chance to be someone. We all have dreams we need to dream...sweeter then any star you can reach. Cause when you reach and find....you've found someone. You'll hold the world as the most priceless thing...the greatest gift this life can bring, cause when you look back, you'll know, you were loved." Mostly whispers now, and he stroked Lionel’s hair from his eyes… sniffing it instead as he linked his fingers through one hand and kissed the back of his shoulders, twice, three times, and closed his eyes as he pressed his cheek into the crevice between arm and shoulder.

 

"I love you, Dominic.  I hope you realize that."  He tightened his fingers through Dominic's and brought them to his mouth, kissing the knuckles and the fingers as he felt Dominic behind him again.  "You never told me what you thought of your Christmas present."

 

"I’ve not opened it, beloved." Rumbling voice behind his ear as he raised his head and pressed a kiss to the back of his ear lobe...his neck, stroking the fingers in his as their molded, warm bodies were like one. He knew his lover, head to toe, and it was as natural as breathing to be touching him this way. "I adore you, my lover."

 

"Whatever are you waiting for?"  Lionel shifted slightly so that he turned onto his back, and he could slide his arm around Dominic's waist and pull him close.  "There... that's better.  I feel... more grounded, when I can touch you like this."

 

He shifted with his lover and grinned, pressing his cheek into a soft pillow and watching him. "Careful, sweetie. You'll tear stitches, again. And we've not to have another temper tantrum from the likes of you, so take care." But his voice loved, and he gently stroked a stubbly cheek, dragging the pad of his thumb over the rough flesh. "I was waiting."

 

"I won't tear anything again," Lionel sulked.  "I have been given the most dire of warnings and threats, and I value my life and my health.  I am being careful."  His hand found Dominic's on his cheek.  "Please tell me that this stubble does not look as bad as I believe it does."

 

"Oh, positively dreadful." His voice grinned and he pressed curved lips to a slim cheek. "But Lex has gotten the police to keep the press out, so you're not on the six o’clock news. And hey, that’s a plus, right?"

 

"Yes, it is.  I'll not have the world seeing me as a helpless blind man."  He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.  "So tell me, what were you waiting on to open your gift?"

 

That sobered him and he frowned, deeply at that, tracing his fingers across his face softly. "The world doesn’t think of you as helpless, no matter blind or mute or deaf." He kissed him again, setting Lionel’s hand on Dominic’s own chest. "Did you ever see me as helpless, when I was wounded? You better say no." Chastising. "Cross the bridge when you get there, lover." And he kissed him, twice more, before shrugging a little. "I was just waiting.”

 

"No, I never thought of you as helpless, no matter how much I may have treated you otherwise.  I didn't realize until I was stranded abed exactly how overbearing I must have been to you, and I am sorry."  He moved his hand so that it rested over his lover's heartbeat.  "Open it, and I'll give you the other half of your gift."

 

"You weren’t overbearing." He smiled again, shifting a little. "You were overprotective. Distinct difference, and I enjoyed every minute, thank you." He turned and sat up, back creaking as he climbed to his feet with a little "oomph", padding over in socked feet to the table loaded with flowers. "Is it in your briefcase still, love?"

 

"Yes, it is.  In the front pouch, a black velvet box."

 

He frowned, going into the briefcase on the chair, rustled a minute....and took out the box, walking back over and sitting...then laying back on the bed, on his back too. Toni had done good to get them a slightly wider bed, and they fit and cuddled comfortably. "Oomph. You’ve jabbing elbows. Move." He elbowed him back very gently, leaning over to grin into his cheek and kiss it

 

Lionel chuckled softly and adjusted his position so that his beloved had enough room to fit beside him.  "My apologies, Jiminy."

 

"You cant help it if you’ve got jabbing elbows, no more then I can help my thinning hair." But he was amused, and looked at the box in his hands as he set his head close to Lionel’s. "What is this?"

 

"Are you always so reluctant to open a present from a loved one?" Lionel asked.  His hand rose to Dominic's hair and carded through it gently.  "It's not thinning that much, you know."

 

A snort at his lover. "You say that to my bathroom drain." And he slowly untied the ribbon from around the box, carefully, so it wouldn’t rip, then set it on his belly. "This better not be extravagant."

 

"It's not a small country."

 

"I told you, if it ended in "island" we were going to have problems." He flashed a grin...and cracked open the box.

 

And gasped, hard.

 

Nestled inside the black box were three small platinum pieces of jewelry.  Handcrafted to Lionel's specifications, three little faces of Jiminy Cricket winked back at Dominic in the soft light of the hospital room.  Two were nestled together, obviously cufflinks, and the third had the cricket's cane as a bar behind it, showing it to be a tie tack.

 

Lionel's hand slid to Dominic's shoulder.  "Do you like it?"

 

He couldn’t help it--he laughed in pleasure, as softly as he could not to wake the other patients, and dragged his fingertips across the cuff links...then turned and wrapped his arms around his lover hard, kissing him at least ten times, chuckling and snuggling into his neck. "We've been working and seeing one another for twelve years, and somehow, you've still managed to shock me beyond words. Lionel, they’re utterly adorable. Thank you, so much."

 

Lionel allowed himself to smile.  "You're welcome; I commissioned them not long after your accident, and picked them up the day I went into Metropolis and had the piercing done.  They're crafted especially for you, Dominic... there's not another set like it in the world."

 

"And no one but us will ever know what they mean." And it was raw pleasure in that, bouncing right through his brain, and he hugged him gently, kissing him again… only not so chaste, dragging his tongue across his lovers and pouring his glee and joy in this into his kiss. He broke it with another laugh, peering at the platinum and looking at it closely. "They’re so beautiful. I’m truly your Jiminy, aren’t I?"

 

"Yes, you are.  You're my Jiminy.  You're my conscience... you go with me everywhere I go... and you've helped me to become a real boy, in a sense."  He returned the kiss as passionately as it was given to him.  "Now, if you'll turn off the light in the corner there, I'll give you the other part of your gift."

 

"Alright, baby." He moved to get up....and stopped, cold. Right in the middle of the movement, and he whirled, staring at his lover...and gasping, hard. "L..."

 

"Yes, love?"  As innocent a blink as he could possibly manage.

 

"Lionel. Say that again. Say what you said again."

 

"What you said again."  The smirk on his lips was blinding.  "I said, 'Now, if you'll turn off the light in the corner there, I'll give you the other part of your gift.'"

 

"The light. You can see the light?" The blood had just drained right out of his face, and he felt almost dizzy with giddiness, grasping his hand and choking. "Baby, you can see that light?"

 

"'Yea, let it be said, I have seen the light,'" Lionel quoted softly.  "I see it, Dominic."

 

"Oh, dear sweet mother of God." He nearly fell out of the bed, climbing to his feet and kissing Lionel’s hand in a rush. "Don’t move. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t do anything, I’m to fetch the doctor, I'll b-be right..." Alright, he couldn’t help it. He let out a whoop, leaning down to kiss him, and did a little dance he'd never do in other circumstances, you see. "Be right back, baby! Oh, God!"

 

"The doctor knows, Dominic." 

 

He stopped at the closed door, turned back to him...stared. "Sh...she knows? When… how long have you been able t..."

 

"For about the last eight hours.  I asked them not to say anything to you in case it worsened again.  But when it didn't go away, when I continued to be able to see light, I wanted to tell you myself."

 

"Oh, beloved." He padded back and got back on the bed, grasping Lionel’s hand in his and squeezing. "Baby." And as he lay next to him again, his voice choked and roughened as his chest grew heavy. "Beloved, you're going to see again."

 

"Don't get your hopes up," Lionel said softly, holding tightly to his beloved.  "The doctors said this was a good sign, but if it doesn't progress further by the end of the week... I will never see again."

 

"But you can see light. Baby, seeing light is better then seeing nothing." He swallowed deeply and turned on his side, getting close to him. "What else? Shadows?"

 

"I can tell where light is, and where it isn't.  And if something blocks the light, I can see the outline of it.  But that seems to be all."

 

"If you cant see by Friday’s time, are you going to leave me?" Softly, as he linked their fingers and watched Lionel quietly.

 

Lionel was quiet for a long time.  "I'd be lying to you if I said I hadn't thought about it.  I've nearly picked up the phones and arranged to make it happen."  He fell silent again.  "You're a young man, Dominic... and you shouldn't be burdened with a helpless old blind man."  He swallowed hard.  "But in the end, I am too selfish to let you go."

 

"You’re not helpless. Even if you cant see, you would never be helpless, Lionel. You’re not old and you're not helpless, and I’m sure as hell not young." Quietly, and he realized he was still holding his gift, and quietly snapped it shut and set it on the table behind him, before curling close to him once more. "That’s good and proper, because I’m too stubborn to let you think of even considering to do that."

 

"You are young, Dominic.  You've got the rest of your life ahead of you.  Thirty, forty, fifty more years left, and the thought of you spending them tied down to someone who can't see to dress himself in the morning is not the future I want to give you!"

 

The sudden outcry shocked him, and he looked into his eyes at the lance of pain his words brought, and refused to acknowledge it. He knew what Lionel was doing, and it wasn’t going to work. "I will give myself the future I so choose, Lionel. And even if you can’t see, you'll be able to do everything you do now except drive, and that’s not so much a loss as a blessing. You'll be fine, because I'll be there to help you, just as I always have. Love doesn't go away because eyesight does, beloved."

 

"I know it doesn't."  Quietly now.  "But you can't... you can't understand what it's like for someone who's had to depend on no one his entire life to suddenly face the prospect of being completely dependant on someone else for the remainder of his life.  Compound that with the fact that I despise pity, and add to that the fact that everyone I have done business with will jump at the chance to try and destroy me now, and it is not the world I want for you, Dominic."

 

He shrugged absently, pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I don’t really care. As long as we settle somewhere, have children, and live with one another until we die, I don’t care. I don’t care if you cant see, or if you need me to help you, or if your business goes belly up. I don’t care, because I don’t pity you any more then you pitied me a few short months ago. I'll still stand by you, Lionel, if I’m wanted or not."

 

"I always want you, Dominic.  That's never the question, believe in that if you believe in nothing else."  He raised his hand to touch his lover's face.  "I always want you."

 

"Well, then? Don’t complicate it. Don’t put your ego and your pride up with me, Lionel, because I'm your strength when you're weak, I’m your eyes when you cant see. Just as you, you are the courage when I’m sad, the ears to help me hear the angels wings. Baby, we don’t need anything else."

 

"I--you're right.  I'm sorry."  Lionel wrapped his arms around Dominic as tightly as his stitches would allow.  "I'm a horrible patient, so I've been told, and I'm crabby to boot, so Toni says."

 

"Of course I’m right. I’m always right." He smiled into a stubbly cheek and held him close, gently stroking his hair. "You're a rightly horrid patient, and crabby, and if Toni ever says it in my presence, woman or not, she's going down."

 

Lionel laughed softly.  "Why do you think she has you leave the room?  So she can scold me in peace and tell me what a cranky, uncooperative patient I'm being."  He relaxed into the soothing strokes of his lover's hand.  "She's a very fine doctor, though if you repeat that, I'll have to have you killed."

 

"She is, indeed. A nice woman, who cares a great deal. Even if she tells you things about your being crabby and such that she shouldn’t, because really, that’s not tact. I’ve enough family in town to hunt her down, you just give me the go." He nodded this, and gently tucked strands of his lovers hair behind his ear. "Lionel...you love Shane a great deal, don’t you?"

 

"Dominic... when have you ever known tact to work with me?"  He sighed.  "That young boy... his father is obviously not paying him enough attention if he feels that I am his best choice for surrogate father," Lionel groused, but he didn't mean a word of it.  "Where is he?"

 

"Graham’s at my apartment with him... after seeing you, he's quite mollified. He slept, and ate, and he's back to himself, actually." A little smile. "Graham's thinking of moving to Smallville. Mama's serious about living with us...but if Graham comes down here, she'll stay with him. He's..." A soft chuckle. "He's thinking about starting a carpet laying company."

 

Lionel made a thoughtful noise.  "Tell him to bring Shane back by tomorrow, and I will help him get his nap in."  He couldn't stop the roiling shudder that passed through him.  "I will personally finance Graham's home purchase as well as any company he wishes to start as long as that... woman is out of my home."

 

He snorted, trying to strangle the noise but not quite succeeding. "You really cant stand her, can you?"

 

"I am considering purchasing Riley's field, across from the plant, simply so that I have a place to hide her body."

 

His snort turned into a laugh, and he snuggled into Lionel’s cheek as he brought the blanket up tighter around him, arranging IVs and such as they settled comfortably. "If it helps, I only love her because its a moral obligation.  ...And she'd tear my intestines out of my nose."

 

"I suppose that insufferable sister of yours will also be staying, as she's underage?"

 

"Seventeen." He chuckled. "Once you get to know them, love, you'll understand their appeal. Shayla's a sweet girl...just a bit misguided at the moment."

 

“Misguided?  If she hit on me any harder I would have been bruised, and the child is young enough to be my granddaughter."

 

"Lionel... You’ve got remember, you’re the worlds sexiest man, and she's a seventeen year old girl." Dominic let the smile bleed through the sweet tone, grinning wickedly. "She’s a right to flirt, excuse me. You’re so devilishly handsome."

 

"Dominic... there is forty years age difference between me and the girl."

 

"So?"

 

A deep, heartfelt sigh.  "I'm afraid that the field will now hold two bodies."  He pressed a kiss to Dominic's cheek.  "Your mother and your sister."

 

"They’re exactly alike." He accepted the kiss, and his heart suddenly went warm and fuzzy. "As much as they’re loathe to admit it. Megan, fortunately, came out like me...if not a bit more willowy and annoying. Though that’s just me; everyone else seems to adore her."

 

"My son didn't seem too fond of her," Lionel noted.  "Though I find her quite... refreshing.  Lindy, however, is the one member of your family I find myself relating to the most, though her daughter, on the other hand... no matter how pretty the child is, I am not likely to forget Mr. Weirdy Pants."  His voice dripped with sarcasm for the nickname.

 

"Ellie." he gasped. "Lionel, don’t mess with my Ellie. I saw that child born into the world, when her miserable father stayed late at the office, and couldn’t make his first child’s birth. What man doesn’t have the time for their child’s birth?" A sad roll of his eyes, but he offered a smile. "She called Graham's wife "Ms. Ugly Hair Green Nose" for months."

 

"I will adore her for your sake then, though the first order of business shall be teaching her to say, "Lionel."  I will not go through my life as Mr. Weirdy Pants."

 

He smiled, softly, even as he got comfortable again and his eyes closed. "I saw your eyes when you saw Riley. Outstandingly alike, aren’t we?"

 

Lionel's fingers stroked Dominic's shoulder.  "I believed for a moment I was seeing double," he admitted.

 

"I see him sometimes, and think of him like… like he's what I would have been, if things had gone right. Children, house with the picket fence, bitchy, sweet wife. However… destiny took me somewhere else. Yet, s--" Yawn. "--some how, I still got stuck with a bitchy husband." He cracked one eye open, glanced at his love, grinned, and closed it again.

 

"I can feel you smirking, Dominic.  I am not a bitchy husband."  His hands slipped into his lover's hair and nestled him close.  "Will you settle for a mansion with a stone and iron gate instead of house and a picket fence?"

 

He yawned again, curling in closer and nodding a little bit. "Yup. As long as we get the family and the fights and squabbles and dinner time… I don’t care how its packaged." He settled his cheek against his lovers jaw, sighing softly. "Let our babies go to school and have runny noses and kool aid all over their backpacks." Soft sigh.

 

"I'd like to have a little girl," Lionel said quietly.  "A little princess to spoil."  He rubbed his cheek against Dominic's as he spoke.  "Blond hair, like yours, long and thick, like mine.  Stubborn as a mule, and smart as both of us."

 

"And my nose, thank you." He chuckled, fingers weak with coming sleep sliding through his lovers. "Lets talk to Lex 'bout it? Can we? When your well...when we're all wed and ready to go. Lets get it started."

 

Lionel nodded.  "Yes, of course.  Between Lex and I... he has the current knowledge and I have the degrees."  He squeezed his lover's fingers tightly.  "We'll start our family right away."

 

Softly. "Do you think he's going to help us?"

 

"He will if I ask... if for no other reason than to have me owe him something so dear to me."

 

"Things didn’t change." A moment. "While you were gone. Things didn’t change. In fact, the first time we talked since you'd left was in the helicopter on our way here a few days ago."

 

"I had hoped things would be better... but I am not surprised.  I had even hoped that this... situation would work to bring the two of you together, but again... I'm not surprised.  I know how stubborn my son can be."

 

Sleepy snort. "Yes, and I’m an innocent little blond lamb, right?" He let his eyes drift shut, listening to him breathe as he'd grown so accustomed to doing.

 

"Sometimes you are.... though it was so naughty of you to put the ketchup on his table like that."  A soft nuzzle.  "I will speak to him the next time he's here."

 

Oh, and the laugh from him was so evil. "It was worth it, to see his bald head pulse in fury. I’ve not seen it do that in some years...highly amusing."

 

"Not to mention the water rings, for shame, beloved."  Oddly enough, Lionel's tone was just as wicked as Dominic's laugh.  "If he is holding a grudge over ketchup and water rings, then someone needs to re-order his priorities."

 

"He takes his treasures seriously, you know that. The man doesn’t eat, to conserve his things. Me... I eat, write, scratch, watch TV...everything, over my desk. Easier that way. Life’s not so complicated...only if you make it so." And he was babbling, sleepy voice deep and sighing.

 

"Make love over it," Lionel reminded softly.  "I remember the first time I pushed you over your desk."

 

He chuckled. "27 years old. Id been getting you off for some time, but one day...stress, pushed me over my desk and fucked me half blind." A low smile. "Never came so hard in my life."

 

"You always managed to make me feel better after one of our... get togethers," he finally chose.  "In more ways than just the physical; your very presence was reassuring."

 

"Likewise. There’s something about you driving into me that feels...its like home." Softly, and he kissed bare skin...where? he didn’t know, but he kissed anyway, and grunted quietly. "Lionel, will you be alright i... if I nap a bit?"

 

"Of course I will; I won't go anywhere."  He squeezed the fingers twined in his.  "Rest, Dominic, you've earned it."

 

"Haven’t done anything." But he yawned, deeply, brought his arms around him...and smiled, muffling into his lovers neck, "If I snore, kick me."

 

"Don't worry, I will.  I can't abide snoring."  He nestled Dominic into the crook of his shoulder.  "I love you, Jiminy."

 

"Love you more, Lovely One." He yawned again...and settled....and a moment later, his breath evened out, slow and deep, as he fell asleep.

 

-fin-

 

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