The plan, as it often was in those situations, was supposed to be simple: keep it a secret as long as possible.

They knew it would come out eventually, of course: after all, they did work in a room full of professionnal reporters. And it wasn't that any of them was ashamed of it or anything, really, but they simply didn't particularly want their relationship to be public knowledge, keeping it their own (other) personal secret for a little while longer.

There was already so much that was completely out of their control – having this, no matter for how short a time, only to themselves, was also a way to maintain some kind of hold on that Super ride that had become their life.

Plus, there was also the fact that a month ago, Perry, Lombard, Jenny and a dozen other people saw Lois kiss Superman, and that it would look pretty odd if she immediately started dating Clark Kent (who hey! isn't that weird?, looked a lot like him), right after he arrived, when she wasn't supposed to know him at all.

And so, they both decided to keep it lowkey for as they long as they could ("Plus, letting everyone know that you're taken would break a lot of hearts around the office - trust me," and he had rolled his eyes. "Right.").

And they managed it: for almost eight months, nobody knew – or at least, nobody knew for sure.

Of course, they had come close to being exposed a few times. There was the time where Jenny walked into a café where they were sitting together, and they had stopped their make-out session just in time. The time she answered Clark's phone by mistake when Perry called him, and she had to improvise an explanation as to why she was with him at ten on a Sunday morning. The time he casually bent over to kiss her hello as he walked in the Christmas office party, forgetting about the whole secrecy thing for a second (she had laughed at his eyes growing wide with horror as he realised what he just did, whispering that it was okay, that nobody saw, squeezing his hand briefly before pulling away).

In the end though, they managed it.

That is, until the day a maniac decides to hold the Daily Planet hostage, of course.

Wrongful accusations, he keeps yelling. "Bullshit! All you wrote about me was bullshit, nothing but fucking lies, and now you've ruined my life!" Lois hitches to tell him that he had managed that all by himself when he decided to let himself get paid off, but simply rolls her eyes instead.

Given that there's about thirty members of the staff in, it wouldn't be a problem, if he had been alone. But of course, he had thought it through and brought along three of his equally stupid and corrupted friends, who, much like him, had nothing left to lose.

All in all, an ideal situation.

It doesn't really help either that she knows for sure that Superman won't show up, given that, well, she's currently standing alongside him.

Three persons to her left, to be exact, but she can still see his mind racing as his gaze is fixed on the floor, eyebrows furrowed. He has glanced at her a couple of times, silently asking her if she was alright, but it's been almost an hour now, and no one had come yet, and the idiots – the armed idiots - are getting cagey and reckless.

Now, he's thinking of taking the four maniacs down, she knows it- and that's what truly terrifies her.

And he does. Of course he does, because that's just him: putting everyone else's safety first, even if it means revealing his identity to the world, even if it means saying goodbye to the normal life he's always wanted, to the stability and peace and balance he's finally found after all these years.

He looks at her for a few seconds, and she begs him, begs him with her eyes not to do it, because he just can't. He can't do that, he has waited so long, he's so good, he deserves so, so much more –

But despite all of that, he simply smiles at her, as reassuringly as he can, and despite her silent pleads, Clark starts to step up as she knew he would.

After that, everything goes fast - so fast.

Turning his attention back on the situation, he takes a step towards the closest assaillant. The man panicks, and points his gun at his chest. Lois' heart skyrockets. Perry yells something in the background, but she can't figure out what. Her eyes never leave Clark. His fly to her again, confused, then scared. Rightfully so, probably, because of course, that causes the maniac to panick again.

He fires. Had the bullet hit him, Clark's entire life – their life - would have been turned upside down again.

It doesn't.

The first thing she's aware of when she regains consciousness is how dry her mouth is. Her head kind of hurts, too, now that she thinks of it, her legs are sort of numb. She's thirsty, and pain's shooting through her side, and God, is she having trouble opening her eyes – when did that become a hard thing to do? After two or three fails, she finally manages to, and the world is blurry for a few seconds.

She can ear the sounds of the city outside as she takes in the medium sized room she's in. It's mostly dark, only a weak lamp throwing a dim light on the sofa on the other side of the room, her small bed and Clark, asleep on her right side in what seems to be a very uncomfortable chair.

Slowly, Lois starts putting the pieces back together, and suddenly, she gets it.

Oh, hospital. Right.

It's all very fuzzy, but she remembers enough to understand the pain – the pain, and the dark circles under his eyes, his two days beard and the frown he's still wearing, even in his sleep. He looks miserable, and a pang of guilt hits her as she realizes that in the year she's known him, she's never seen him like that. Her heart aches. As fine as she feels now – well, considering – she knows that it will take a long time to soothe him down, after something like that.

She'd have to remember to kick those self-improvised hostage takers' asses.

He's close enough for her to touch, and so, wincing as she moves to reach him, she brings her hand to his pale face, thumb on his temple and fingers travelling on his cheek. "Clark?"

As she predicted, he jolts awake instantly, eyes unfocused for a second before they land on her. The second they do, he straightens right up, and she gives him a smile.

"Lois," he says in a whisper, as if not quite believing it, and before she can add anything, he's up, eyes franctic and hands everywhere, anxiously making sure she's really okay.

Making sure she's really here, safe and sound and alive, she knows. "Are you okay?," he asks, voice hoarse, and Lois nods, fingers threading in his tousled curls to make him focus on her as he swallows, mind visibly still not at ease.

"I'm fine," she says soothingly. "Hey." Holding his face in place to make him look at her, she smiles again, "I'm fine." It takes him a few seconds, but she holds his gaze, and then chuckles slightly when he burries his face in her neck, and finally breathes again. Breathes her in, she realizes.

Heart swelling with tenderness, she runs her hand from his hair to his nape, nuzzling him and whispering sweet nothings to calm him down.

"It's alright, honey. I swear, I'm okay. I mean, I could probably use a drink," she smirks against the top of his head. "But otherwise, it's all good."

He pulls away, eventually, face inches away as he strokes her cheek, and she's pretty sure she's never seen so much worry in his eyes – which, for him, is saying something. She hates herself for doing that to him. He closes the space between them and kisses her, and, even if he's as gentle as ever, she can feel the urgency, the fear, the relief.

"Hi there," she smiles when they separate, trying to make his sad expression disappear. She's a bit relieved when he smiles back, even if it doesn't fully reach his eyes.

"Hey."

She pushes his rebellious curls away from his face, fingers traveling down and lingering on his jaw. "So, that's what it takes for you to cave and finally go with the sexy beard look again, huh?", and he chuckles a little.

"Yeah, well, I'll leave it if you like it so much, but let's not do that again."

She grins, but it quickly turns into a pained wince, and his smile falls. "I'm going to get a doctor," he says, but she grabs his hand before he can go.

"No, stay," and she can see the protest already forming on his lips. "Just a minute – I swear I'm okay." Clearly torned, Clark glances towards the door again, and, smirking, she weakly pulls on his fingers. "Come on: I've just been shot."

"Which is exactly why I should call your doctor," he comments reprimandly, but Lois beams at him when he stays anyway. "And I can't believe you're already playing that card," he shakes his head, half bemused, half chuckling, to her statisfaction. Baby steps.

Doing everything she can not to wince again – and wow, did that thing hurt – Lois tries to sit up, thankful when he comes to her rescue. Making sure she's comfortable, Clark then sits down again, dragging his chair even closer to her bed.

"So: what have you been up to, these days?," she tries to joke, playing innocent when he shakes his head at her again.

"Well, I still haven't finish my article, if you were wondering. But on the other hand, I had time to make friends with your nurses, so there's that."

"I've been out that long, huh?"

"Two days. Three in a couple of hours," he adds, taking a look at the clock before his eyes settle on her again. Exhausted, still sad. Guilt creeping in again, she reaches to run the tip of her fingers on the side of his face.

"What happened? I mean, after - " She doesn't dare to end her sentence, but he does it for her.

"After you lost consciousness, and I almost lost my mind?" There's no anger his tone, and she can tell he's not trying to guilt her even more. It just - comes out.

Most likely because that's exactly what happened.

Shaking his head slightly, he focuses back again, and looks at her, a gentle smile he has trouble mustering on his face. "The attackers panicked when the shot was fired, so Perry and some others took the opportunity to disarm them. It all went fast...Nobody else was hurt, and we got you into the hospital quickly. In time."

She wants to ask him, of course. Ask him if the ambulance took her there, or if Superman did - if, despite everything, his identity's been revealed.

He seems to read her thoughts. "I didn't fly you here," he explains, and she releases a small sigh of relief. "I almost did, but the paramedics arrived quickly, and I saw that I didn't need to interven or fly to get there faster. If anything, I think moving you the wrong way and flying you without support would have been worse."

By the look on his face, she knows how much it cost him not to be able to do anything, how helpless he felt. Probably still does.

On instinct, her fingers move down to interlace with his, and she squeezes before putting up a smile again.

"And I did make it. I told you I was tough, Kent. Plus, at least Perry will have to stop yelling at me for a while, now," and he snorts, amused.

"I wouldn't count on that, if I were you. He's been here a lot, and I caught him mumbling how he was going to give you some piece of his mind quite often – you're in for an earful," he warns, and she makes a face.

"Great. Well, at least I'm sure - "

"Yeah, I think my mom will make you pies, but you're not going to get away with her, either. She's pretty mad." Dropping her head on her pillow in defeat, Lois growls, and he drops a soft kiss on her skin. "She's at the apartment, by the way."

That gets her to open her eyes again.

"Really? She's come all this way?"

"Yeah. She arrived the day after," he explains. "I told her to go get a few hours of sleep."

Smiling gently down at him, her fingers leave his hand to travel on his face again, brushing his worried brow, the contour of his tired eyes, his cheeks, less warm than usual.

"When did you got any sleep?"

"I was taking a nap when you woke up," he simply shrugs, acting casual. She's not fooled.

"I mean really sleep, Clark," and he drops her gaze.

"I'm fine."

Before she can argue (and she wants to, because he looks so exhausted right now, and doesn't look like he's been eating, or recharching, or even seen the outside of this room for as long as she had), a nurse comes in.

A giant smile makes her way on the woman's face when she sees them.

"Hey, look who's up!" she laughs. Clark gets up to give her some room, and smiles when she happily shakes his shoulder. "See? I told you it wouldn't be long, handsome. So, how are you feeling?"

After that, the doctor comes to examine her. They ask him to leave the room for that, which he not so willingly does, and he goes to call everyone to tell them she's okay. By the time her doctor leaves, telling her that everything's fine and that she should be out in a couple of days, Lois is exhausted.

"This is ridiculous," she scowls, well aware she sounds like a complaining nine year-old. "I've barely been up for half an hour, and it feels like I haven't slept for days – which is all I did," she rolls her eyes.

"That's completely normal, " the nurse – Karen – reassures her. "You did take a damn bullet in your side, honey," she reminds her, eyebrows rising, and Lois growls. "Your body needs time to heal, pretty face."

Her grin is contagious, and greatful, Lois smiles. "Duly noted."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure of that," Clark promises, and they both turn to see him walk back inside.

"I know you will. And don't do that again: you scared that boy to death, you know," she turns back to Lois, gesturing towards Clark behind her. "I thought the poor boy was going insane."

As Karen gathers her pad and other other hospital things Lois can't name, he's still smiling at her, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and, even if she would do it all over again, she feels guilty about making him live through something like that.

Of course, she knows how it must have felt. It's written all over his face – and, even if it wasn't, she could guess just by imagining what she would have felt had their situation been reversed.

Insane, indeed.

Karen leaves them, biding them goodnight and threatening to make her eat that disgusting hospital rice they have is she doesn't get some sleep. Clark silently takes his place back at her side.

"You're mad at me," she states more than asks.

She knows he is, because of course he would be. Because it's Clark, and Clark would never – will never – be okay with anyone risking their life for his. Least of hers, she knows.

He's mad, and Lois can see it a little in his eyes, in the way he shakes his head after a few seconds, smiling up at her as he tries to hide it.

"We can talk about that later. You need to rest."

She reaches for him, fingers grazing his cheek and jaw. "It's okay - I know you are. And I'm really sorry I scared you."

"But you don't regret it," he immediately adds. She can feel the resentment there, only outgrown by the helplessness, the pain.

Smiling gently up at him, Lois opts for the truth.

"I don't." His jaw clenches at that, every part of him hating what he's hearing, but she won't lie to him. He wouldn't like that either, anyway. "And for the hundreth time, I'm fine, sweetie, so we can - "

"You're not fine, Lois," he cuts, a million emotions on his face. "You got shot."

"And in two days, I'll be back home, good as new."

"That's not the point."

"It kind of is."

"You can't risk your life like that. Not for this." Sliding down to his shoulders, her fingers hold on to his shirt, and she smiles again, tone as soft as she can.

"I love you, but you can't tell me what I can or can't do, Clark. And if by "this" you mean your life, then I'm sorry, but it's worth it. Completely."

Shaking his head, he sighs, frustrated. Tired. Scared.

"That bullet would never have killed me – you know that." He pauses, the words almost painful. "It could have killed you."

"It would have ruin your - "

"My life doesn't mean anything if you're not in it, Lo." His tone is almost hard now, his voice leaving no place for argument. He's not doing a grand declaration, he's not proclaiming his love. He's simply stating a fact.

Firmly settled on hers, his eyes soften slightly as he continues. "I can deal with people knowing who I am. I can deal with the consequences of that, I can deal with living through all I did growing up again, but – you can't do this to me." Swallowing down, he pauses for just a second. "Please."

And Lois wants to argue. She does, because it kills her than even now, he still doesn't understand that his life is worth as much at everyone else's, that he doesn't always have to be the one doing the rescue, that he's not the only one willing to give everything for the ones he loves. She does, and yet -

She messed up. Even if she doesn't regret it, and even though she'd probably do it again, she knows that he would never be able to live with himself if she had died, knows that would have probably had destroyed him. She knows he'll never, ever consider his secret worth her life. Maybe it isn't.

She doesn't know, really.

All she knows is that for two days, he lost sleep and appetite, never left her side once (almost like his whole world had been on pause, Karen had added) and that right now, he's pleading her not to make him live through that again.

Messed up real good there, Lane.

Hand moving from his hair to his face once more, Lois smiles at him. Defeated, it would seem – another thing she only let happen with him, and nobody else's. Kryptonian privilege only.

"Alright, Smallville: you win," and she sees his shoulders start to relax at that. "As much fun as it is – and really, I'm loving it right now," she ironically rolls her eyes to make him smile, and is glad when he does, "I promise: I won't put myself in danger like that anymore."

She's not a fan of that particular promise, but it's worth it when she sees the relief in his eyes, the way the corners of his lips slowly quirk up.

"Thank you."

"Although in my defense, it was more a reflex thing than anything," she argues jokinly as he takes her hand between his, and presses his lips against it (although to be honest, it was sort of a reflex). "So technically, I shouldn't get blame, or yelled at by Perry or your Mom."

"Somehow, I doubt that will stop them." She squints her eyes to his sparkling ones.

"And somehow, I think that you're enjoying that it won't," and he has the audacity to smirk.

"Of course not. Oh, and you lost the bet, by the way." It takes her a minute to get what he's saying. And then -

"Oh, for God's – Come on, it wasn't really me per say," she whines, knowing full well she's not going to win that one. Damn it.

"Nuh-uh," he resists, firm. Pursuing his lips not to laugh, she knows. "You were the one playing hero to save me, so technically, we got made because of you."

She pouts, and he beams. "Secret's out, miss Lane."