The Madmen Who Follow; A Man of Steel Fanfic.

Chapter Four

I wake up toasty and warm, I snuggle in closer not wanting to get up at all. Something shifts in the bed and a strong arm is wrapped around my shoulders. Wait, my eyes fly open and I see Clark's head laying on a pillow, his face relaxed and his eyes softly shut.

What happened last night, my head pounds with an on coming headache and I try to remember what happened. The new bar, Lex Luthor, and many rounds of alcohol. The rest is just a blur, I look down and see Clark's rugged chest. I look down at myself and see I'm wearing an oversized t-shirt, oh god please tell me we didn't do anything.

I wait until Clark turns and removes his arm before trying to get out, I get out of the blankets with surprising silence and collect my clothes before shoving on my coat and slipping outside. The apartment hallways are empty and I slide on my shoes, I hear movement in Clark's apartment and I hurry down the stairs.

Outside is freezing and I rush to the nearest subway and hide in the bathrooms, that was close. Hopefully Clark won't know or remember that I was there, I change back into my dress and shove the shirt (Clark's I am guessing) into my purse.

The ride home was silent and I felt like a mess, my hair was all frizzed up and my makeup was smudged. When I returned home I went into the bathroom and started up my shower, the heat soothing against my cool skin. I wash my hair throughly and clean my whole body, I groan as the water turns cold and I slip on my robe as I get out.

I braid my hair on my couch as I watch the morning news.

"Last night a young girl was saved from a burning fire by Superman, the girls parents are ever so thankful for the rescue and thank their hero Superman." The news man announced and I draw my eyebrows together in suspicion. Clark was late last night, his hair wind blown, and he did have the smell of ash on him. But something about him makes my mind lose focus, Clark Kent and Superman. No it couldn't be, could it?

I hear a knock on my door and I finish my braid, wonder who it is. I get up and open the door to see no one there, only a basket with something wrapped inside it. I pick it up and close my door with my foot, a gift basket?

I set the basket on my coffee table and unwrap it, I jump back and vomit pushes it's way up my throat. I run to the bathroom at the sight of my dead husband's head. The vomit burns as I lean over my toilet, I flush it and stumble into the kitchen. Tears rain down my face and my hand shakes as I dial 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" A woman's voice rings over.

"Send the police, I've been sent a dead person's head." I stammered and hug myself.