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Enough
Folc4evernaday
Chapter 1
A/N: Okay so this fic was born from screen-capping Resurrection and some discussions in Hangouts on why our characters never talked ....or acted like normal people do after traumatic events. So this is my take on it. Huge thanks to Vicki, Feli, Endelda, Queen of Capes, and Mouserocks for letting me bounce ideas off of them. Big, huge shoutout to Vick aka Deadly Chakram for helping me Beta this one through her plague, crazy insane weather, chaos and all.
Chapter 1<<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>>
<<“Lois, I'm sorry if it feels like I've been ignoring you lately, but…”>>
<<“I don’t want to die.”
“Lois, I would never let that happen.”>>
<<“Oh, Clark, I don’t care if he used ‘Crazy Glue’ you’re back!”>>
<<“Lois, I want you to go out with me!”>>
<<“To our almost first date.”>>
<<“But everything seemed to just...'work.’ That's why I can never see you again.”>>
<<“You slammed the door in my face last night.”
“That was a ….mistake.”>> Lois took a deep breath, allowing the water to drum against her scalp and wash away the suds. Her mind was still swimming from the day. The investigation into Mayson’s death had led both her and Clark into a strange scheme of supposedly dead prisoners rising from the dead. This was now twice that something strange had occurred at that cemetery. She was sure they were involved but trying to get Clark to see past his pissing contest with Dan Scardino was proving to be an uphill battle.
She didn’t understand him. It had been two weeks since their date, and he hadn’t said a word about it.
‘Two weeks since Mayson’s death,’ she recalled mentally pushing away the image of Clark’s distraught face as the paramedics peeled poor Mayson’s lifeless body out of his arms. It felt so surreal even now to think about.
How had they gone from sharing their
incredible first kiss to fighting off the demons and mental scars that continued to seep through night after night? The image of Clark cradling Mayson’s body on the curb of City Hall flashed through her mind. She shook her head, trying to push the memory out of her mind. Selfishly, she wanted more than anything to forget the haunting images and erase the pain on Clark’s face. Maybe that was why she so desperately sought out some reaffirmation from him, proof that everything they had shared that night hadn’t been lost.
<<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>>
<<“Lois, I'm sorry if it feels like I've been ignoring you lately, but…”>>She never
did get her answer from him. Like clockwork,, she found the intimate setting she’d attempted to set shattered with another intrusion. This time it had been Dan Scardino. If it wasn’t him, it was Perry or Jimmy or Clark himself having to run off and do…whatever it was he had to do. At this point, she wasn’t sure what to think of his need to run errands in the middle of important conversations.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped her towel around her, as she patted herself dry, reaching for the dark violet pinstriped pajamas.
<<“You'll be wearing something elegant. Not too dark…charcoal suit and I'll be dressed in deep violet.”
“Burgundy.”
“Burgundy?”
“Or violet.”>>
‘He didn’t know it was an important conversation,’ she reminded herself, recalling the distraught expression on his face when she’d attempted to talk to him about how he was dealing with everything the day after Mayson’s murder.
She hadn’t been able to sleep and had shown up at his apartment with coffee and donuts from his favorite bakery. Halfway through the conversation, he’d mumbled an excuse about needing to check in with Henderson on the autopsy report. It didn’t make sense given the average turnaround on those reports. Every time she found the courage to ask him how he was doing or invite him to a movie or a meal in hopes of distracting him from the events of Mayson’s tragic death Clark ran off.
She grabbed the hairdryer from the counter and turned it on, aiming it at her damp hair as she leaned over to dry it. The memory of how horribly their date ended flashed through her mind. What she wouldn’t give for a chance to go back and change that evening. It had been a wonderful evening and she had seen a glimpse of what was possible if she was honest with herself about her feelings for Clark. He wasn’t just her partner. He wasn’t just her friend. He had the potential to be so much more. If she was honest with herself, she knew he’d been more to her for a long time. She wasn’t ready to be honest with herself—at least not then. She hated how horribly she’d ruined the end of their first date and a part of her desperately hoped for a chance to make amends. But she never got that chance. Every attempt to reach out had been shut down by every interruption under the sun it seemed.
Now here they were stuck in this weird limbo, unable to move forward and unable to move backward. She and Clark were just stuck, and she didn’t know how to get out of it. She missed her friend more than anything, and her heart ached to reclaim what she had lost the night Mayson died.
She got halfway through drying her hair and the sound of glass shattering followed by a creaking noise reached her ears. She set the dryer down, clicking it off and reaching for the toilet plunger. She heard another creak and what sounded like footsteps coming from the living room. Someone was in her apartment. She lurked outside the doorway to her living room, seeing a figure move in the darkness. She tightened her grip on the end of the plunger and took a hard swing, knocking the would-be assailant to the ground and her couch in the process as she prepared to deliver a hard blow with the end of the plunger.
“Wait, wait, wait!” the familiar voice cried out, and the light flickered on.
Still holding the plunger in her hand, she stared at the familiar face in shock,
“Scardino?!” “Please, call me Daniel,” he corrected.
Anger flooded through her as she still held the plunger in her hands, “What do you mean, breaking into my house?”
A look crossed over him, and he looked down at the current position she was in, hovering over him with the plunger in her hands, “Lois, as much as I fantasized about being in this position with you, you're crushing my legs.”
Embarrassed and angry she took the plunger and jabbed it into his gut before standing to her feet. She felt a slight thrill of satisfaction when she heard him groan in pain. Her eyes caught sight of the broken glass by her back door.
“Look, I'm sorry. I rang the bell, you didn't answer.” He provided weakly.
He’d broken into her apartment. She glanced back at the broken glass once more and paced in front of him, uncertain where to even begin as she threw out a half-response, “I was drying my hair. I just got out of the shower.”
A look crossed his face, and he offered a quiet, “Yeah, I can see that.”
Finally finding the words she growled back, “I cannot
believe I
defended you to Clark. He was right. You are crazy!” She shook her head in disbelief, “I don't answer the doorbell, so you come from the
roof?”
“I was worried about you, okay?” Dan Scardino defended himself, “Sean McCarthy is an animal. For all I know he was trying to kill you.”
Frustrated with yet another man trying to step over the boundaries she’d clearly drawn and still reeling from her own self-doubt over the last few weeks she lashed out, furious, “Just what do the words,
‘I do not need you to protect me,’ mean to you?”
“Look, I already lost one woman I cared about to McCarthy. It is not gonna happen again. You got it?” Scardino snapped irritably.
‘Cared about?’ She wasn’t sure how to react to the tidbit of information he’d just shared. They’d only been working with one another for a few days. She’d picked up on the subtle flirting he threw her way. Two weeks ago she never would have given the flirting Dan tossed in her direction a second thought. Two weeks ago she would have shrugged it off. However, a lot had changed in that time. The isolation she found herself in left her desperate for reaffirmation; so much so that she found herself flattered by come on lines that never would have caught her attention before. She thought it had been innocent enough, however, Dan Scardino’s revelation hit her with a wave of guilt as she realized how awkward she felt with that knowledge. She had no intention of pursuing anything with him…did she?
‘Of course not!’ her mind shouted back at her. That didn’t help her guilt-ridden conscience as she caught the pained expression on Dan’s face. It mirrored the look on Clark’s face the night Mayson had died and she made a mental note that the two men might have more in common than they thought.
“Who was she?” Lois asked, finding her tone much calmer than it had been before.
“My partner, Jenna.” Dan looked down at his lap before letting out a deep sigh, “She was bright, sensitive. A little mouthy sometimes, but then I'm not exactly a monk.”
“And McCarthy was the bomber?” Lois asked, putting the pieces together with what information he’d given her and Clark in their first official meeting. Before he could respond, she heard a knock at the door. She glanced at the time, seeing how late it was. Who could be at her door at this hour? She gave Dan a quick, “Excuse me,” and went to answer the door.
She opened the door and immediately felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Clark. Clark was at her door. Dan Scardino was inside her apartment, and Clark was …
here. After two weeks of desperately wanting him to show up and talk about anything but work or the weather, here he was. He hadn’t visited her apartment since the night of their first date.
“Clark? What are you doing here?” Her mind quickly began racing as she struggled to act naturally. She was in her pajamas, hair still wet from her shower and Dan Scardino sitting in her ransacked living room. This was bad. This was really,
really bad. As innocent as Dan Scardino’s presence here was she knew how it would look if Clark found him here. Clark had made no secret of his distaste for Dan Scardino and if he found him here she knew it wouldn’t end well.
“I know it's late,” Clark said with an apologetic smile. “But I found out Albie Swinson works for a man named Stanley Gables.” His face was actually animated and happy. She hadn’t seen him like this in weeks. Panic began to rise inside her as she realized how much she missed seeing him like this. His eyes sparkled back at her as he prompted her to respond, “Ring a bell?”
“Gables. Yeah, that was the name on the file on Mayson's desk.” Lois acknowledged, trying to hold up her end of the conversation.
'Information about the story. That’s what he was doing here.' If it weren’t for her uninvited guest sitting on her couch, she would have opened the door and let him in. If it weren’t for her uninvited guest sitting in her living room, she would try to hang on to this brief moment of normalcy and try once again to pick up on the conversation that had been cut short again and again over the last few weeks.
“Oh, there's more. According to the prison sign-in sheet, Albie visited Big Buster, Martinez and McCarthy on the days that each one of them died.” Clark’s eyes sparkled as he delivered the news, confidence spreading across his features as he beamed back at her. “What do you think of that?”
Before she could respond, she watched his face go from confident, happy and animated with excitement over the major change in the case to numb. The reason for the change became immediately apparent when Dan Scardino spoke up, making his presence known as he stood behind her, “Fascinating. And well told too. Of course, you're a writer, so you're good with words.”
She wracked her brain for something—anything to say—as she stared back at the shattered expression on Clark’s face. His eyes filled with hurt and disappointment and he looked as if she had sucker-punched him in the gut, rendering him speechless as her mind screamed out, ‘It’s not what it looks like!’ But all she could muster up was, “Agent Scardino just dropped by to chat about the case.”
She watched his face change from numbness to shock and then to disbelief in a matter of seconds as his mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out and he backed away from her apartment, retreating silently down the hall. His heartbroken expression cut her to the core as she called after him,
“Clark!” She flung the door open and chased after him, not even bothering to close it as she hobbled barefoot down the hall to catch up to him, “Clark!”
<<“You know if you think about it, the only time people are really honestly expressing themselves is when they’re passionate...the polite veneer of society drops away…like when they’re fighting…”
“…or make love,”>>
<<“Fortunately there are no doors here tonight.”
“Fortunately…”>>
<<“Agent Scardino, you have to understand Clark was probably the only one in Metropolis that didn’t know that Mayson was madly in love with him.”>>
<<“Forget the date part. Maybe we could do it another time.”
“Well... maybe we could say it's our 'almost first date.' Kind of like a test run?”>>
<<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>> Clark stopped in the middle of the hallway, staring at the stairs in front of him then looking toward the elevator doors where a digital
‘2’ flashed above it. Lois felt a lump in her throat burning as she called out his name once more, “Clark!”
“What?!” Clark barked at her.
She visibly flinched at the power behind the one-word response. Even in some of their worst arguments, she’d never seen him like this. Still, she couldn’t let him run out of here thinking…
‘What?’ Her mind chided her. She quickly squashed down her inner doubts and reached for his arm, hoping to calm him down long enough to have a conversation.
She tugged on his arm, trying to get him to look at her as she called out to him, “Would you slow down a minute?”
The cold expression on his face caught her by surprise and her certainty on being able to continue this conversation quickly faded. She stared back at him, searching for a sign of her friend—the man that had been standing at her door animated and excited about the break in the case just moments ago—that had disappeared in the blink of an eye. She released her grasp on him, fearful of the drastic change in Clark. The temperature in the hallway felt like it had dropped at least twenty degrees and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing up. She searched his face for the familiarity she always found there but couldn’t even get him to make eye contact with her let alone look at her.
“What do you want, Lois?”
She felt an uneasy feeling wash over her as she heard the hollow tone escape his throat. There was nothing but emptiness as he spoke to her and leaned his head back against the wood-paneled wall. He wouldn’t even look at her. She felt the burning inside her threaten to become too much but pressed forward, still determined to finish a single conversation with him. No matter how ugly it may seem.
“Just come back inside,” she said, looking around the hallway, “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t,” he shook his head, still refusing to even look at her.
The venom seeping from his tone sent a chill through her and raising goosebumps on her arms and legs. She could feel the cold against her from the damp spots on her pajamas that were dripping wet from her hair that was still soaked from her recent shower. Still, she pressed on, “Yes, we do,” she responded, finding the confidence she needed to press on. “I can’t have you storming out of here thinking…”
“I’m
thinking this is a bad idea and I’m not having this conversation...” he said, motioning to the half-open door where Mrs. Beasley was standing in her open doorway trying not to be obvious about the fact that she was eavesdropping, “…especially not with half your neighbors peeking out the door trying to listen in.”
Lois glanced back toward her nosy neighbor, feeling anger running through her as she caught sight of her attempting to deny the obvious eavesdropping. “Mind your own damn business!” Lois called out, glaring at the doorway that quickly disappeared behind the slamming of Mrs. Beasley’s door across the hall.
‘Nosy old hag,’ she thought to herself before turning her attention back to Clark. The last thing she wanted to do was have it out with him in front of everyone, but right now she couldn’t even get him to look at her, “Come back inside,”
Clark shook his head, turning toward the stairwell that was a few feet away as he threw out a scoff, “Why?” She felt the lump in her throat burn from the acid dripping behind the harsh tone of his voice. “I’m not real crazy about your current
houseguest, and I think it’s best for everyone if I don’t see him again.”
<<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>>
<<“His two best friends need his help right now, and where is he?”
“If he could be here…”
He's in the mountains with Mayson Drake!”>>
<<“Fortunately there are no doors here tonight.”
“Fortunately…”>>The hard blow of what he was insinuating without coming right out and saying it hit her hard. After two years did he seriously think she would do something like that? Two years of friendship and he actually thought she would…
Furious, she lashed out at him with a hard scoff,
“Houseguest?” Her mind focused on the word he used as she took a step toward him, daring to close the distance an inch more and make him look at her. “You’ve got a lot of nerve!”
“
I’ve got a lot of nerve?” he scoffed, “I can’t go anywhere without that arrogant Mel Gibson wannabe showing up!” His arms flew through the air as he shouted back at her. “You can’t even give me enough time to process Mayson’s death before…”
“Before
what?! ” she challenged, poking her index finger in his chest, repeatedly jabbing him with it as she dared him to finish that statement.
‘Say it’ her mind screamed angrily. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. She knew he’d never come right out and say what the scene at her apartment had looked like. And she knew it looked bad. The
heartbreaking expression on his face was still etched into her brain as she shouted out desperately trying to hold on and make him talk to her, “I have been trying to be patient and trying to be understanding, but it’s really hard when you
won’t talk to me!”
“I
can’t! ” he growled back at her angrily. His eyes wandered toward her open apartment door behind them and added, “Especially not now.” Then he pushed past her to leave.
Everything was slipping away. She knew it the second he took that step to walk away from her. Images of the fights from last summer over her engagement and almost-wedding to Lex flashed through her mind. She’d almost lost him then. That coupled with the reminder of the all-consuming pain that overtook her when she thought she had lost him forever after Clyde Barrow had shot him hit her like a wave. Was she seriously going to let her pride win this round when even she knew how bad things looked? He needed an explanation. He needed reassurance not her own insecurities getting the better of her.
“He broke in,” she called out to him before he could take the second step. He stopped but didn’t respond. She could hear the strain in her own voice as she continued, “I was in the middle of trying to kick him out when you showed up.”
“Fine,” he said with a defeated tone as he spoke. “Scardino has boundary issues. I got it.”
“You could say that,” she said quietly watching as he turned to look back at her. Uncertainty covered his face as he finally met her gaze. The agonizing expression still filled his eyes, and she felt a pang of guilt wash over her with the knowledge that she’d unwittingly put it there.
“It’s not what you were thinking,” she said vehemently, tightening her arms across her chest as she spoke.
“And what
exactly am I thinking?” Clark snapped.
She could feel the eyes on her and turned to see the small crowd of neighbors at the end of the hallway. More than anything she wanted to get away from their peering eyes and ears and finish this discussion somewhere more private, but this was the closest she and Clark had come to having a real conversation that didn’t involve small talk or a story they were working on in over two weeks. She wanted so desperately to finish this exchange inside the safety of her apartment where she could finish drying her hair and not be standing here freezing from her still soaked hair and pajama top that she was sure would be soaked by the time this discussion was over.
“I really don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the hallway in front of all my neighbors, but if that’s what I have to do to get you to talk to me, I will,” she said, placing a hand on the arms he had crossed over his chest.
<<“Fortunately there are no doors here tonight.”
“Fortunately…”>>He seemed to be having an internal debate on whether he was going to continue this conversation here or inside her apartment. Deciding it was better to just continue the conversation and hope for the best she let out a deep sigh and acknowledged the obvious, “It looked bad.”
“Yeah,” Clark agreed, stealing a glance back at her.
The tormented expression on his face continued to tug at her heartstrings, intensifying the guilt she felt over putting it there. “I wouldn’t…”
“I know,” he said, cutting her off and meeting her gaze.
She felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of her as he stared back at her. He didn’t think she was capable of…
that. The tension that had been in the air dissipated and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. Why had it taken such a drastic turn of events for him to talk to her—
really talk to her?
She watched him run a nervous hand through his hair before asking, “Do you still have that box of
Lapsang Souchong?”
She nodded, recalling the box of tea leaves Martha had given her on her last visit to Metropolis. Clark had mentioned the tea was something his mom always fixed when he wasn’t feeling well. The mention of the tea brought a flood of emotions through her. She wanted so desperately to take away the events of this evening—the last two weeks really—and make the despair on his face disappear.
She reached out for his hand, taking it in hers as she responded, silently reveling in the physical contact she so desperately needed. “I’ve only made it twice,” she cracked a smile, “I can’t get it to come out right.”
His hand tightened around hers, “Maybe we can finish this conversation somewhere a little more private, and I can make us both a cup?”
A relieved smile crossed her face. More than anything she wanted to put an end to the tension that had been building between them over the last few weeks. This was the closest she’d gotten in the last two weeks. Holding his hand. She knew there were probably a thousand reasons why she should probably just be content with the small gesture but she couldn’t. Not after everything that had transpired tonight. She wanted—
needed—more. The distance between them was unbearable, and the only way to put a stop to it was to close the distance between them once and for all.
So in a split-second decision, she did. Her other hand moved to cup his cheek and capturing his mouth with hers, fully expecting him to pull away. She felt a thrill as he responded in turn, deepening the kiss with a need and desire that sent a flutter down her spine as the electricity between them quickly began to build.
***
Clark stared at the open door, uncertain how to react to the scene that welcomed him at Lois’ apartment. Lois’ hair was still wet. She’d obviously just gotten out of the shower and Agent Call-Me-Daniel Scardino was standing behind her with that arrogant, smug expression of his. His mind was already tormenting him with the disturbing images that explained the compromising position he'd found Lois and Scardino in. Everything leading up to his and Lois’ first date and subsequently Mayson’s death raced through his mind at what felt like slow motion as he struggled to process everything.
<<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>>
<<“I don’t want to die.”
“Lois, I would never let that happen.”>>
<<“Oh, Clark, I don’t care if he used ‘Crazy Glue’ you’re back!”>>
<<“Lois, I want you to go out with me!”>>
<<“I know you're a nice guy, Clark, and I don't want to seem, um, too forward... but I really like you.>>
<<“To our almost first date.”>>
<<“But everything seemed to just...'work.’ That's why I can never see you again.”>>
<<“You slammed the door in my face last night.”
“That was a ….mistake.”>>
<<“I won't ask you for an explanation, and I won't ask you out again, but if you want to ask me, I probably won't say no.”>> His guilt.
His anguish.
His confusion.
Everything raced through his mind over and over at hyper speed, preventing him from reacting as he heard Agent Scardino’s voice dripping with arrogance as he seemed to be silently boasting over him. “Fascinating. And well told, too. Of course, you're a writer, so you're good with words.”
‘No,’ he silently prayed, refusing to allow his mind to go there.
<<“Just because she's in love with you? You think that bothers me?”>>
<<“Fortunately there are no doors here tonight.”
“Fortunately…”>>
<<“I'm mad. I'm furious. It's always the same thing. Where is Clark Kent when anybody needs him?”
“Lois, I'm sure he…”
“He's supposed to be your friend, but is he here for you? For me?”
“I'm sure there's a rational explanation…”
“His two best friends need his help right now, and where is he?”
“If he could be here…”
He's in the mountains with Mayson Drake!”>>
<<“You know if you think about it, the only time people are really honestly expressing themselves is when they’re passionate...the polite veneer of society drops away…like when they’re fighting…”
“…or make love,”>>
<< “Things got left kind of up in the air between us...”>>
<<“She wrote some pretty steamy stuff in there, mainly about you. You holdin’ out on me, Kent?”
“Agent Scardino, you have to understand Clark was probably the only one in Metropolis that didn’t know that Mayson was madly in love with him.”>>
<<“What is with you? What is so bad about him?”
“What is so good about him?”>>
<<“So that’s what you’ve been hiding.”>>
<<“Forget the date part. Maybe we could do it another time.”
“Well... maybe we could say it's our 'almost first date.' Kind of like a test run?”>>
<<“The last thing she said to me was ‘resurrection.’”>>
<<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>> He heard Lois clear her throat nervously. Why was she nervous? What was there to be nervous about if this was just an innocent bout of bad timing?
‘There has to be an explanation,’ he thought silently as he heard the words escaped Lois’ lips. ‘She wouldn’t…would she?’ “Agent Scardino just dropped by to chat about the case.”
‘Yeah, I’m sure there was a lot of chatting with her in the shower,’ he thought bitterly.
The smug, arrogant expression on Scardino’s face coupled with the panicked expression on Lois’ was too much to bear. He wanted to throw back a sarcastic remark –something – anything, but he couldn’t even muster the mental willpower it took to deliver anything but a solemn expression as he tried to process everything in the nanoseconds after she spoke. It looked bad. Really bad. Her heart was hammering well over the normal range, and Scardino kept looking at him with that arrogant smile.
‘No, there’s no way Lois would…’ Were things that broken between him and Lois that he’d actually assume the worst? ‘
Or what’s right in front of you,’ his conscience chided him.
<<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>> He slowly backed away from the door, feeling the weight of the world press down on him as the images of Mayson’s brutal death and the many missed opportunities continued to push themselves to the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t do this. Not now. The guilt he continued to carry around over Mayson’s death was too much.
<<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>>
<<“So that’s what you’ve been hiding.”>>
<<“Fortunately there are no doors here tonight.”
“Fortunately…”>>
<<“His two best friends need his help right now, and where is he?”
“If he could be here…”
He's in the mountains with Mayson Drake!”>>
<<“Clark was probably the only one in Metropolis that didn’t know that Mayson was madly in love with him.”>>
<<“So that’s what you’ve been hiding.”>>
<<“Clark was probably the only one in Metropolis that didn’t know that Mayson was madly in love with him.”>> “Clark?” He heard the sound of his name coming from behind him but didn’t react to it, unsure if he’d be able to hold himself together long enough to hold up a coherent conversation.
He had to get out of here. He glanced down the narrow hallway in front of him, leading to the stairs. A couple was making their way up the stairs, and the elevator behind him was stuck on the second floor. He couldn’t escape without revealing himself to a hallway of strangers. That was the last thing he needed right now.
“Clark!”
Deciding there was no other escape he turned around to see Lois standing behind him in her half-soaked violet pajamas.
“What?!” he barked venomously, silently wincing at the tone that escaped his lips. The harshness that escaped his throat coupled with the escape of cold breath he was sure Lois and everyone standing around could feel.
‘This is a bad idea,’ “Would you slow down a minute?” she jerked his arm, pulling him back toward her. An uneasy tension remained between him and Lois as she looked back at him, silently searching for something in him –what he wasn’t sure.
“What do you want, Lois?” he threw his head back against the wood-paneled wall behind him. He saw her shiver from the drop in temperature and he could feel the heat behind his ears grow, silently cursing himself for losing control of his powers in such a public setting. If he hadn’t been so furious with her at that moment he might have offered her his coat, but right now he couldn’t even look at her right now for fear that the venom dripping inside him would seep out.
“Just come back inside,” she said, looking around the hallway, “We need to talk.” He could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
“No, we don’t,” he bit back, uncertain if he could hold back much longer as the image of her with Dan Scardino continued to plague his mind.
“Yes, we do,” she responded with more power behind her voice. “I can’t have you storming out of here thinking…”
“I’m
thinking this is a bad idea and I’m not having this conversation...” he said cautiously, motioning to the half-open door where the neighborhood gossip was standing nearby trying not to be obvious about the fact that she was eavesdropping, “…especially not with half your neighbors peeking out the door trying to listen in.”
“Mind your own damn business!” Lois growled at the eavesdropping neighbor. The slamming of the door across the hall followed, and Lois turned to him with an expectant glare, “Come back inside.”
Clark shook his head in disgust, turning away from her in hopes that an exit route had cleared up for him. He took a few steps toward the stairwell intent on getting as far away from Lois and the apartment building he was in as fast as possible. “Why?” he shrugged his shoulders, feeling the pressure building inside him as he lashed out, “I’m not real crazy about your current
houseguest, and I think it’s best for everyone if I don’t see him again.”
“Houseguest?” she scoffed, anger flashing through her features as she took a step toward him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve!”
“
I’ve got a lot of nerve?” he scoffed, “I can’t go anywhere without that arrogant Mel Gibson wannabe showing up!” He could feel the anger coursing through his veins as he shouted back at her. “You can’t even give me enough time to process Mayson’s death before…”
“Before
what?! ” she challenged, poking her index finger in his chest, repeatedly jabbing him with it as she shouted back at him. “I have been trying to be patient and trying to be understanding, but it’s really hard when you
won’t talk to me!”
“I can’t!” he growled back at her angrily. He threw a disgusted look toward her apartment, “Especially not now,” he pushed past her to leave.
“He broke in,” she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. He stopped but didn’t say anything.
‘He broke in?’ He silently went over the information she’d given him, trying to determine how to react. What was he doing there? The Lois Lane he knew never would have let someone break into her apartment and walk away without a scratch.
‘He broke in but she didn’t kick him out?’ His mind went over the information again and again trying to rationalize what he’d seen with what she was saying. He felt a mixture of confusion and relief wash over him as he desperately hung onto the rational explanation that had been presented to him. Fear continued to hold him at bay, preventing him from embracing relief or gratitude fully. Fear was his biggest enemy. The underlying fear that he was losing her right before his eyes. He didn’t know how to pull himself out of the drowning sensation of self-loathing and guilt that had consumed him, tripled with the grief that continued to haunt him.
<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>>
<<“So that’s what you’ve been hiding.”>>
<<“His two best friends need his help right now, and where is he?”
“If he could be here…”
He's in the mountains with Mayson Drake!”>>
<<“Fortunately there are no doors here tonight.”
“Fortunately…”>>He could hear the strain in her voice as she continued, “I was in the middle of trying to kick him out when you showed up.”
‘Bad timing,’ he rationalized her statements and felt some of the tension leave him. He hadn’t lost her completely, but he still couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look at her. “Fine,” he said softly, contemplating if he had the strength to continue this conversation. “Scardino has boundary issues. I got it.” He could feel his temper slowly simmering inside him. There were so many things he wanted to say but he couldn’t. He knew there was a very real chance that if he did lash out, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“You could say that,” she said quietly.
The tension hung in the air, thick enough that it was almost suffocating. He stole a glance toward Lois, uncertain what to do. He took a moment to recognize the small puddle around her feet from where her hair was still dripping wet on the floor. There was a lot that needed to be said, but he still wasn’t sure he could bear to make the trip back into her apartment where he’d found the arrogant DEA agent with her.
“It’s not what you were thinking,” Lois said vehemently, tightening her arms across her chest defiantly.
“And what exactly am I thinking?” Clark snapped, turning to look at her.
Lois glanced behind her, and he followed her gaze where he could see two of the neighbors crowded in the hallway, trying to not look like they were eavesdropping. She let out a sigh and turned back to him, “I really don’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the hallway in front of all my neighbors but if that’s what I have to do to get you to talk to me, I will.” She placed a hand on the arms he had crossed over his chest. He let out a shuddered breath and met her gaze, debating internally on what to do.
He could feel her eyes on him, piercing through him as the wave of emotions continued to course through him. A silence fell between them as he stood there, unable to move as the image at Lois’ door continued to run through his mind again and again.
<<“I need to know if I’m yesterday’s news.”>>
<<“So that’s what you’ve been hiding.”>>
<<“Fortunately there are no doors here tonight.”
“Fortunately…”>>
<<“Clark was probably the only one in Metropolis that didn’t know that Mayson was madly in love with him.”>>
<<“So that’s what you’ve been hiding.”>> Lois continued to stare back at him, expecting some kind of a response. He knew he couldn’t hold back much longer. He should probably just leave and give himself time to calm down but he couldn’t. Lois held a power over him that even he didn’t quite understand at times.
The image of Scardino standing behind Lois’ freshly showered figure haunted his mind, and he struggled to push away the many ugly scenarios of how that had happened. Lois said he broke in. But that didn’t explain why she was so nervous. That didn’t explain…
‘Stop it,’ he berated himself, trying to force the thoughts back into the mental box he’d buried the fears of what could have happened so many times. The fears and doubts that had plagued him for months as he came to terms with what had happened with Luthor and as he continued to battle his own guilt over Mayson’s death. If he let those fears out, he knew he wouldn’t be able to reel them back in.
The guilt that continued to gnaw at him for every bit of pain he held himself accountable had taken away his ability to fight any more. He was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of mourning. Tired of feeling like everything he touched was doomed to destroy itself. If he had just been a few seconds faster. If he had just been stronger. The power of the world of
‘if’ continued to haunt him in his nightmares.
He glanced up at Lois who was staring back at him expectantly. Did he dare go back into her apartment and talk through everything knowing there was a very real possibility that he might not be able to hold back if he did? Or did he walk away and possibly make things even worse between them?
All the lies.
All the deceit.
Still, here she was trying to reach out to him. That had to count for something, right?
He ran a hand through his hair for what felt like the millionth time in the last ten minutes and let out a defeated sigh. They needed to talk. They
really needed to talk. He still wasn’t sure how good of an idea it was to continue this conversation tonight, but given his choices, he knew it was the safer bet.
“It looked bad,” she acknowledged.
“Yeah,” Clark agreed. He felt a pang in his chest as he crossed his arms over his chest. The wave of guilt that he managed to keep at bay continued to press against the forefront of his mind, threatening to overtake him as she took another step toward him.
“I wouldn’t…” she began to say, but he cut her off not letting her finish.
“I know,” he said meeting her gaze. As bad as it looked in his heart he knew Lois and despite how things appeared, he knew she wouldn’t do that to him. Still, Scardino’s presence here tonight felt like the final straw in a series of bad timings and half-conversations that left him wondering how in the last two weeks things had become so broken between the two of them.
Relief washed over her face, and she cracked a smile at him. He let out a deep sigh, uncertain what to do or say at this point. He wanted more than anything to tell her how guilty he felt over Mayson’s death, but he couldn’t—not really. Not without revealing how he’d been deceiving her for almost two years. He knew he needed to tell her, but not tonight.
Not now.
Not on the heels of Mayson’s murder.
Not when he felt so out of control.
He caught the watchful eyes of now three neighbors that were watching him and Lois and let out another deep sigh. Despite his own reservations of returning to her apartment, continuing this conversation out in the open wasn’t ideal for either of them and Lois was shivering from the temperature drop he’d caused and her half-soaked pajama top and damp hair weren’t helping things either. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing toward her apartment.
“Do you still have that box of
Lapsang Souchong? ” he asked, recalling the box his mom had gifted Lois on their last trip to Metropolis.
Her face relaxed, and she nodded as she took his hand in hers, “I’ve only made it twice,” she cracked a smile, “I can’t get it to come out right.”
He nodded, tightening his hand around hers, “Maybe we can finish this conversation somewhere a little more private, and I can make us both a cup?”
She nodded, looking back at him with a relieved smile. The torment that had filled her eyes moments ago had disappeared. Her hand brushed against his cheek, and her lips touched his, igniting the electrical storm tumbling inside him. His hands moved to cup her face, instinctively responding with a passion that made the kiss they shared two weeks ago pale in comparison.
TBC...
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