Table of Contents What\'s a Tank Ending? ~~~Part 29~~~
Elle eyed Lois nervously as she entered the waiting room. She didn't know what to say to her. There was nothing she *could* say to her. 'Hey, I've been lying in wait for you to return from the Congo for almost a year. Nice to meet you.' Yeah, that just wouldn't go over well. She'd just wait in silence to hear the news on Pete.
She took a seat on the far side of the waiting room, careful not to glance too much in Lois's direction. Elle could feel the woman staring at her, though. But that was okay. Elle was good at being silent. Sitting and waiting in silence was her specialty. Yup. Just going to sit there in silence no matter how much Lois was staring.
Elle caught a glimpse of white moving out of the corner of her eye. The doctor. Already. Her chest tightened; she really didn't like the look on the doctor's face. But they always looked like that, didn't they? All stern and serious. He was probably here to get Lois, anyway.
"Ms. Daly?" The man looked from Lois to Elle and back again.
Elle stood and stepped forward. "Um, that's me." It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how Pete was, but she stopped herself. She didn't want to jinx it or anything. After all, the man was only coming to tell her she could go in to see Pete now. No matter that Mr. Kent should have been the first out of surgery; Mr. Kent hadn't had a bullet in his stomach and in his thigh. Maybe the doctor had meant to ask for Lois...
His frown grew deeper, edged its way into the thick wrinkles of his face. An icy hand clenched in her gut.
"Mr. uh..." The doctor glanced down at his clipboard. Dead people didn't have clipboards still, right? "Mr. Romero asked that you be notified, as he doesn't have any immediate family here."
Notified of what? She wanted to ask, but her mouth wasn't cooperating.
"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, miss..."
No. Nonono. It wasn't real. Elle shook her head violently. It wasn't real.
"Severe blood loss. Intestinal damage. Internal bleeding. I'm afraid there was nothing we could do."
Oh, God. He was dead. It was her fault. She should have gone back sooner. He'd bled to death and it was her fault.
Elle couldn’t breathe. The fist of ice in her stomach was still there, sharp and cold. She barely felt the hand on her shoulder. Someone trying to hug her or keep her from falling or both. Her knees gave out and she collapsed to the floor.
Dead. Pete was dead. And it was her fault. If she'd just... If only...
"Ms. Lane?"
No. She wasn't Ms. Lane. He was confused. No, she was confused. The doctor was asking for Lois now. He was done with her. News delivered. Let the other woman go see her man. Not that Pete had been her man, but...
The doctor's words faded in and out, and she couldn't make out what he was saying. "... sorry... different blood... too late..."
Too late. Too late. He'd already said. He didn't have to repeat it, didn't have to remind her that she'd taken too long, that Pete was dead because of her.
A wailing sob pierced her ears. Lois was screaming. No, sobbing now. Talking through tears. "But he can't... he's... he's Superman. He can't die."
What? Oh, God. No. Superman had died, too. It... she... it couldn’t be. The doctor was wrong. All wrong. Elle looked up to give the doctor a piece of her mind. He was lying. It wasn't true. But he was gone. He'd left. He'd already left.
And there was another man in his place. A man with a gun. A man she knew all too well.
Nigel.
He shot Lois in the chest without even blinking.
Elle screamed as she watched Lois collapse. She turned to find the barrel of the gun in her face and a blurred image of an evil grin behind black steel. He laughed as he pulled the trigger.
***
Clark woke with a start and immediately winced. His shoulder. He'd been shot, and it hurt like hell. He tried to relax back into the pillows, but it was still increasingly uncomfortable. Once settled, he took a moment to look around the hospital room. Machinery. A television. A chair.
No Lois.
But that didn't mean anything. Maybe the doctors hadn't let her in just yet for some reason. Visiting hours were usually limited.
He wished he could see her, though. Maybe then the dull ache in his chest would go away. But he knew that was wishful thinking... that the pain in his chest was in direct relation to Lois's absence. It was just the stabbing sensation radiating out from his shoulder. He just wished it would go away.
The early morning sun was glaring at him through the window, mocking his pain, it seemed. It was finally morning. The night before had seemed to last forever, but it was finally over. All of it, not just the terrifyingly long day. Luthor was dead. The other man was in jail. The Kryptonite was... somewhere. But he'd make sure to track it down this time. It mattered this time. Lois mattered.
And he needed to be there for her just as she would be there for him. Everything would be all right now.
A nurse entered then and started flitting about the room, straightening things, fluffing his pillows, and marking things on his chart. She started clucking her tongue as she headed for the window, almost talking to herself.
"Oddest thing. They're still talking about it on the news. Did you ever hear of that famous reporter, Lois Lane, who disappeared all those years ago in the Congo? Turns out she made it back to Metropolis alive. Damned irony of it all is that she was murdered three days ago. Sad, eh? Happened right here in this hospital, actually. It's a wonder you didn't wake from all the commotion. Golly, it's bright in this room, isn't it, dear? Let me close the blinds here so you can get away from the sun."
The (Tank) End
