Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic On the Long Way Down (59/65)

Trigger warning, for the spoiler inoculated:

Chapter 59:

Lois heaved a sigh and slumped against him. His breath brushed against her hair, his hands drifting down from her hips to the mattress below. A quick grin cracked across her face at how spent he was... the idea that she could wear out the Man of Steel was intoxicating and a little bit heady. She nuzzled against his chest— his flawless, perfectly smooth skin, taut over his Adonis-like musculature. She huffed against his skin— because thoughts like this were exactly how they'd ended up like this, and she had serious things she wanted to address.

As if he could sense her shifting mood, he ran a hand down her spine soothingly. "What is it?"

She bit her lip. This would change the direction of their relationship, and she liked where they were at right now. Physically speaking, she really liked where he was at right now, but that was neither here nor there. "I don't want to ask," she finally confessed, a quiet murmur of words into his heart. She pressed her lips over his chest, as if sealing her words there for safe keeping.

"You want to know, don't you?"

His words tickled against her ear hotly, and she shuddered. There he was again, blazing across her conscience, slumped against the wall, blood pouring from where she'd shot him. "No. The less I know about Nigel, the better."

A breath of hot air washed across her cheek on an amused chuff, and he tightened his grip around her waist ever so slightly. "No, that's not what I meant."

He didn't clarify, but for the first time in her life, she didn't need him to. They laid together in silence, the room filling with it, as they came down from their mutual high, legs intertwined, sheets twisted around their bodies.

It had been five days. She'd finally started to come out of her stupor yesterday, and she'd been well enough to check in with Henderson. No sign of Nigel yet (good news), Lex appeared to have vanished into thin air (bad news), and they were making progress on mounting a case against Lex Luthor as the Boss— the mysterious man responsible for running half the crime in Metropolis.

She'd also been well enough to participate in other... more strenuous activities.

They were in a mostly good bubble. Things were finally looking up, slowly but surely. And though she would always be haunted by the ghost of Nigel St. John, for the first time she'd realized she could move on beyond it.

He wanted to pop their bubble.

She slid off him and cuddled against his side as a distraction. She pulled his arm around her and snuggled into him tight, hoping he'd take the hint that she wanted rest and end the conversation.

"Lois."

His tone was austere, and she shut her eyes against it on another sigh. This was ridiculous. She wanted to know what he meant when he said he understood what she was going through. She did. But she also knew that curiosity killed the cat, and something ominous in the back of her mind was telling her to let sleeping dogs lie. What more did he want from her?

"Please."

"You ever hear those stories," she began off-topic, pulling an unrelated thread and trying to make a point of it. "About these wives. And they have these picture perfect little families, right out of a j-crew catalogue, and the big house and the fancy vacations, the two and a half kids and a yippy dog to boot. And then the story comes out, and turns out their husband cooked the books for the mob, or laundered money, or covered up a politician's sex scandal or murder. And they always, always pretend they didn't know."

His hand skated up and down over her bare skin, at a maddeningly slow pace, but he let her say her piece without interruption. She shuddered. "I used to hate those women. I'd think, how could they possibly not know? Were they that self-absorbed, or maybe that distanced from their husbands, that they didn't know there was something going on? I mean, the guy would be like, a bank teller, or run a Radio Shack. Where was all this influx of money coming from?

"But you start to get a few of these cases, and it clicks into place. It's not that they didn't know something was fishy. It's that they didn't want to know. And it's not like it was even for their own personal gain, or selfishness— although there was some of that, too. It's that they didn't want anything to change." A hiccup lodged in her chest with the emotion, and she felt the tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She rolled over and looked into his eyes searchingly. "Please, Clark. Can't you let me be a mob wife?"

His face fell at her request, and she knew that she wasn't going to like the answer she got. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, and her eyes fluttered shut.

"I know you, Lois. And you don't mean that. I even hate those women." Her heart started pounding. "Besides, if I wanted some mob wife, I could have been with just anyone. I want to be with you."

She dragged in a shaky breath. There was no going back after this. It was time to let the chips fall where they may. "Just... tell me a story."

His eyes held an immeasurable amount of sadness when he finally moved, a slight smile on his face. He took his time getting her situated beside him, turning her so she was cradled against him, and he stared up at the ceiling blankly. Absentmindedly— maybe even in a self-soothing gesture— his hands skated across her skin, drawing inane patterns. It was just shy of sensory overload. She breathed his scent in deeply and cozied further into his side. The motion of his hands and the rhythm of his heart beating underneath her ear where she laid almost had her lulled into a state of drowsiness. It was intoxicating, peaceful. She never wanted this moment to end.

His roughened baritone struck through the silence, but she didn't mind because of how it vibrated against her in all the best ways. "It was spring. I had just turned seventeen. Things were finally turning around in my life, or so it seemed. It's funny. You're so... Naive as a kid. Even if you've seen things, or been through things... You still think you can rule the world one day."

Lois nodded, her hair tangling slightly as she moved against his bare chest. She hardly dared to move any more, instead letting him get this off his chest.

"I was staying with the Lang's. I'd known their family my whole life. We'd been friends growing up. They had a daughter who was my age. Lana. She was the prettiest girl in school, and the sweetest. She never took any of my crap, called me on all of my antics and shenanigans. She was good for me." He paused for a beat, then looked down at her with a smirk. "You're a lot like her, actually."

He nudged her arm good-naturedly. Lois snorted, trying to inject some humor into the situation. She didn't want him to spiral into depression. "Yeah. See how much crap I'll take with you talking about another woman in my bed."

She waited for an answering laugh but only got the emptiest smile she'd ever seen. "Girl."

"Hmm?"

"She died too young to be called a woman."

The words sucked the air right out of her lungs, and she stiffened next to him. "Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Hey," his hand brushed up and down her arm soothingly, easing her back onto the mattress. "Don't. You didn't know."

Lois lowered her eyes, somehow still feeling guilty anyways. She should have figured. This was why they were talking about this in the first place. It wasn't just going to be some unrelated story. She glanced up at him when she'd realized he wasn't talking still, diving deep into his thoughts. She had to say something to keep the conversation going. "What happened?"

Clark pursed his lips and fiddled with the edge of his sheets distractedly. "Her family... Look, I know I'm not the best person. I wasn't the best person, especially back then. I got into a lot of trouble, bounced in and out of foster homes. When the Langs took me in, it was more for them than for me. It was 'the right thing to do,' helping a troubled teen who they'd watched grow up. But it was made very clear that I wasn't wanted. Especially by Mr. Lang. He hated me. Probably just didn't like me being so close to his daughter."

"I don't know many fathers of teenage girls that would like a teenage boy hanging around."

A small smile pulled at his lips; a bit forced, but better than nothing. "Lana was my saving grace. I actually wanted her to like me. And she actually did, I think. Eventually. In spite of everything everybody else said.

"We got close. She was my best friend, and then she was more. It was a great, fun, wonderful couple of weeks. Just us, nobody else in the world. Sneaking around, stealing kisses, going on tame little adventures. Always home in time for curfew, and it stopped there. It was... innocent."

Lois couldn't help but compare their stories in her head. They had similar tones— forbidden romance, disapproving figures, the one woman who kept him on his toes and didn't give an inch. She wasn't blind. Briefly she toyed with the idea that maybe she was just his type. Just like her type was emotionally damaged men she felt she didn't deserve but she had to fix. She'd been to therapy enough to admit that.

But then she glanced across their forms, loosely draped in his sheets and each other and nothing else, and noted where the similarities ended. Their relationship could hardly be classified as innocent, and considering the circumstances of how it started, she didn't think he would call it that either. No one was blameless here.

He shook his head quickly, as if to dissolve the memories before his eyes. "It didn't last long. Scott caught us kissing under the stairs at the library— Lana's older brother, that is. He hated me more than her dad. He threatened to turn us in, told me to stay away from his sister or else. I tried, actually, even if Lana didn't try very hard. She insisted her brother wouldn't dare. But of course he did.

"I'd mostly cleaned up my act, but a reputation is a hard thing to shake. Nobody thought twice when Scott turned me into the school and said I was dealing drugs. Miraculously I was able to prove him wrong before I got expelled, but not in time for the Lang's to see it. They kicked me to the curb without a second chance, especially when they found out about me and Lana. We kept dating for a couple more weeks, but it's hard when you're between places. And then I got word that my dad died."

His words hung heavy in the air, loud and clumsy in the silence that followed. Lois had to look up to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep or anything, with how quiet he got. Instead she found him deep in his head, his expression unreadable, his eyes faraway. She gave him his moment of silence, trailing her fingers along his pectoral soothingly, before questioning softly, "How did your dad die?"

Clark didn't make eye contact, zoning off into the distance as he recalled the memory. "He was stabbed. Bled out. In a penitentiary in upstate Missouri."

Lois jolted at this information, but quickly reigned in her reaction, smoothly turning her attention to the black silk around her instead of looking at him too hard. Her mind spun at this information. She'd known his father had been in prison, but somehow she hadn't done the math. She supposed it added up— foster homes, only talking about his mother, dropping out of school...

"You're really not gonna ask?"

She looked up into his eyes and found a twinge of amusement twinkling back at her. "I didn't want to push."

"You? Lois Lane, investigative reporter?"

Her eyes rolled and she crossed her arms stubbornly. "I wasn't sure it was on the table to share. You'll tell me when you're ready. Just like this." She also wasn't sure she wanted to know.

His eyes darkened as they darted down to her chest and a spark flared in her heart. He licked his lips. "You're a much better person than me. So, so much better."

Lois shot up to fuse her lips to his passionately. His arms lifted her gently and re-positioned her over him. A tingle spread throughout her limbs, and that spark began consuming the rest of her body again, before the memory of what they were talking about struck through her mind once more.

She wanted the story more right now.

She put her hand up between them and pushed him down to the mattress once more, leaving him looking dazed for a moment and blinking at the ceiling. "So you're out on your ass..."

He huffed a slightly annoyed laugh, but pressed a kiss to her temple. "Yeah. I spiraled real quick. Here I was practically homeless, barely hanging on in school, and with no friends or family to speak of... and yet nobody in Smallville gave a damn about me. They said the lines they had to— platitudes about how sorry they were to hear about my dad. And these women— I don't know how it's possible, but somehow all these middle aged women would say that thing about 'if you ever need anything' and then trail off before actually offering any help. Nobody meant a word of it. Otherwise I wouldn't have been homeless.”

Lois hummed sadly in the back of her throat and pressed a soothing kiss to his hand where she had it clasped between hers.

"But as bad as those patronizing adults were, school was worse. Everyone else had this bright future ahead of them— looking at colleges and moving out and getting jobs or even getting engaged. And none of it was an option for me. I had quite the little record for all of seventeen. Nobody was gonna hire me, I wouldn't get any scholarships, academic or otherwise. And my classmates... Kids are the worst. Because adults are fake but at least they can look at a kid lashing out and see it for grief or whatever, throw you a little rope. The only rope a high schooler gives you is one to hang yourself with."

His eyes slammed shut as he said the words, pain furrowing his brow at the memory. Lois pushed his hair back from his forehead, soothing away the wrinkles as she did. Her heart wrenched for him. She wished he would just spit it out, so she could help him shoulder the burden. But the other part of her didn't want him to go through the pain of telling her.

He released a long, tight breath through his nose, and continue his tale with his eyes closed. "Three kids, maybe, told me they were sorry about my dad. One being Lana. Everybody else just gave me hell. And then, somebody got to Lana too. She started to distance herself, make excuses of homework and studying and keeping up her extracurriculars... touring colleges. And I had nobody left. I couldn't take it anymore. There was nothing for me in Smallville, no point in living there. So I made the decision to kill myself."

Lois stiffened, hand hovering just above his brow. Her heart sped up as the chill settled into her bones, and her breathing came faster at the thought. This was just a story, he was alive, there was blood running through his heart, same as hers. The reminders weren't doing a bit of good in beating back her panic at the thought of Clark commiting suicide.

His eyes flickered open hesitantly, and the fear she saw reflected in them steadied her. He needed her to be strong for this. She brushed her hand through his locks again soothingly, pouring all her empathy out of her eyes and into his soul. He swallowed before continuing. "I almost did for real, actually. With the... the Kryptonite. I had some, I kept it... But I couldn't... I knew there were things I was put on this Earth to do. So I faked my own death. My suicide. Got away with it too. And so many of my problems just... vanished. Juvie record, gone. Academic record, gone. Foster families and judges and paperwork... There was nothing left that could tie me back to Smallville. That's part of why I laid low for so long. I didn't want to risk anybody finding out about me, particularly when I got rich. Then I started to realize there just wasn't anybody left in Smallville who cared."

"What about Lana?"

His eyes dropped down again. "That's my biggest regret. I should have told her, before. What I was planning, what I was doing. I didn't think it'd be so hard to just leave her behind forever."

"I'm sure she wouldn't have taken it well if you did."

"No," he agreed solemnly. "She didn't. About four days later, I couldn't take watching her grieve for me anymore. They had a small funeral and everything. Lana was so sad... worse than my mom."

"Your mom wasn't as sad as your girlfriend?"

"She was confused, mostly. How it was possible for me to be dead, when she knew her son was... special. She didn't even know I could fly yet, though, so the pictures must have really confused her. Not to mention her mind wasn't all there anymore."

"I'm sorry, Clark. I'm sure she was devastated."

He grimaced tightly, apparently not wanting to address that issue right now. She let that part drop, for now. "So I snuck into Lana's house late the next night, and told her I was alive." He shivered and tugged at his right ear. "To this day I've never heard anyone scream so loud in my life. She completely freaked. And of course, I couldn't let anybody else see me, so I fled.

"I tried again during the day. And again, whenever I could catch her alone. I should have told her before. But I didn't tell anyone anything. I didn't want anyone to talk me out of it. And if anyone could have, by God, it would have been Lana."

Lois felt her throat start to close up as a sense of dread came over her. "Clark..."

He shook his head vehemently, words flowing from him faster than he could control. "I didn't realize how hard it would be to convince her I wasn't really dead. I didn't think... I didn't know it would drive her crazy. She thought she was seeing ghosts. I did everything I could think of to prove to her otherwise. I told her things that only I would know, I touched her, kissed her, begged her to believe me. She tried to tell people what was going on with her. Nobody believed her. And like I said, kids are cruel."

The inkling of an idea started to form into a fully shaped vision, and Lois' heart started pounding.

"I finally left her alone out of frustration. A week later, I hear that Lana Lang slit her wrists. On April fool's, for Christ's sake. I hardly thought it was real, until I saw the pictures."

"Oh God." She brought a hand up to her mouth to keep her lips from trembling. He hadn't really done all this, he couldn't possibly think that it was all his fault... Lois turned and watched a tear roll across his cheek, and pulled herself together for him. She brought a hand up to cradle his face and wiped at his tears with her other hand. "Oh, Clark," she whispered hoarsely. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe... I'm just so sorry."

Her hands soothed through his hair again, and he shut his eyes. "Not more sorry than I am."

"No, I'm sorry that you've had to carry that around with you for ten years."

His eyes flew open at her sympathetic words, and her heart broke as he searched her expression for any hint of a lie. His eyes welled up with tears and he broke eye contact with her before he broke down completely. She brushed back his hair soothingly again to calm him down, and after what felt like an eternity, it finally worked. He wiped at his face before he caught her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss, and a flicker of doubt or some other emotion crossed his expression as he continued on. "Don't be too sorry." He cleared the emotion from his throat heavily before resuming. "I learned some very valuable, very powerful lessons that day."

She understood his need to move on from the topic, and let him draw the conversation in a new direction. "Like?"

"I learned... I learned what the word bloodguilty meant. La—" a knot of emotion garbled the name, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "Her blood will always be on my hands. Her death changed my life. But it didn't have to be meaningless. I think, with time, you'll understand much the same with Nigel."

She shot him a quick smile, but her heart wasn't in it. He massaged her hand in his, focused solely on the task, and his expression darkened. "I also learned another lesson... that if I was responsible for Lana's death in any part, then I wasn't the only one accountable."

"What?"

He looked up at her finally, determination in his calculating brown eyes. "Just like Nigel's death isn't only on you. It's on Lex, for getting involved. It's on me for not being able to save you—"

"—No, that's on Lex, too. The kryptonite—"

"I know. But it's still a piece of blame I have to share in."

"Clark—"

"And a lot of it's on Nigel himself.” Anger started to color his tone, and his face clouded over. “He kidnapped you. He hurt you. Against direct orders."

Lois cocked her head at that turn of phrase. "Direct orders?" He didn't respond right away, and a bad feeling started eating away at her insides. Suddenly the room felt smaller. Her senses sharpened around him. All she could see was him, the black silk only a backdrop for his frame, shadows casting a sharp relief over his skin, darkness smudged under his eyes. He smelled like sin and sex and heady masculinity— and she came to the halting realization that she didn't know much about the man she'd been sleeping with. "Orders from you?"

His eyes flashed up at her and they locked gazes unflinchingly for a solid minute. Lois felt her heartbeat pick up again. His eyes were dark, pupils wide, and there was something hard, something stubborn and defiant that he didn't try to hide shining back at her. No sparkle of humor, or wit, or charm to cover it up. It was honest. It was frightening. It was the closest she'd ever been to knowing the real Clark Kent. "Clark... Why would Nigel take any orders from you?"

Silence followed her question, and it became crystal clear that she wasn't going to get an answer she liked.

"Because..." his voice cracked a little on the word before he steeled himself. "Because I first met Nigel in the Congo in 1987."