Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Mad dog Lane 8/15

I’m so sorry for the late post, work is claiming most of my energy and this chapter was the one I wasn’t really confident about.
This week I finally managed to make the last edits and now it’s ready to post.
As always, big thanks to JadedEvie for her BR and feedback it has helped me so much.

Now here’s the next part

Chapter 8

Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.

Cold, gray light seeps through the window, dragging me from a restless sleep. My body feels heavy, my throat raw - had I been crying, or was that just another dream bleeding into reality? The sheets are damp, twisted around me, as if I fought something in the night.

Memories flicker and blur, slipping from my grasp. Yesterday was a mess. Worse, I can’t tell if I’m forgetting the future or remembering things that never happened.

In my timeline, today was full of wedding planning - fittings, invitations, endless decisions.

All things considered, it seems Lex had already arranged everything before I even realized how trapped I was… not even considering the possibility that I would dare say no.

And now, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

Still tangled in the sheets, my counterpart dials Lex’s number with slow, deliberate movements. Her thumb hesitates over the last button. Doubt. Hesitation. Maybe my presence still lingers at the edges of her mind.

The diamond ring sits heavy in her pocket, a silent verdict waiting to be delivered. But I know Lex. He doesn’t take no for an answer.

She exhales, steadying herself. “Just a short conversation, to clarify.”

The phone barely rings twice before his voice slides through the speaker, smooth and practiced. “Lois, good morning my dear,” he drawls. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so early.”

She swallows. “Good morning Lex, I realized we didn’t actually discuss what comes next.”

“Of course, my dear. I assumed you’d need some time to align your thoughts. But you know me - I believe in decisive action. Shall I send my chauffeur?”

A pause. Not a question. An expectation.

“No, that won’t be necessary. I won’t be meeting you today.”

Silence. I picture him in his opulent office, fingers steepled, expression unreadable. “And why is that?” His tone sharpens, the warmth thinning.

“I’m not feeling well,” she says. “Something from the retirement party, maybe. It wouldn’t be fair to discuss our future while I’m under the weather.”

He scoffs. “Weakness doesn’t suit you, my dear. I assumed, given your call, that you’d had time to reflect and were ready to continue our discussion.”

Her grip tightens on the phone. “Plans change.” A beat. “It’s not like we set anything in stone.”

A hum of consideration, then, smoothly, as if amused: “Ah. I simply thought you’d want to finalize things sooner rather than later. But of course, I understand - decisions of this magnitude require clarity.”

A pause, deliberate. Then, lighter, almost indulgent: “You know, Lois, hesitation often stems from uncertainty. Are you sure you’re feeling unwell, Lois? You seemed fine last night. If something is troubling you, I’d be more than happy to put your mind at ease.”

Frustration flashes through me. Say something. Push back.

“I still need time,” she says at last, voice firm. “You can’t rush this.”

Lex exhales, slow and deliberate. “Time,” he muses. “A luxury you seem to take for granted.”

She closes her eyes. I can almost feel her mind turning, working through the unease curling in her gut. “You proposed,” she says carefully, “but that doesn’t mean I’ve said yes.”

“But you took the ring,” he counters, silken and knowing. “That’s as good as an acceptance.”

“It’s complicated,” she admits. “I need to be sure.”

His chuckle is dark, edged with something almost amused. Almost. “I trust you’ll make the right choice. But remember, Lois - I don’t wait.”

A beat, followed by a slight shiver. Then her voice, quiet but steady. “I’ll talk to you later, Lex.”

She ends the call. The weight of it lingers. Her fingers press into the sheets, tension humming beneath her skin. She felt it - something - the wrongness in his tone, in the way he expected her to fall in line.

I sink back into the quiet. How did I ever think I belonged in his world?

My stomach twists.

And what if what you want, Lex, isn’t what I want?

I already know the answer.

At some point, she rises, moving through the apartment with restless energy. Coffee. A simple enough task, but that doesn’t silence the thoughts creeping in. She may be relieved to have avoided Lex, but the quiet leaves too much space for reflection - on choices made, paths lost, failures that still sting.

She paces, sits in the loveseat, then stands again. Polishes the Kerths. Finds another task. Anything to keep moving.

By early afternoon, she dresses and heads out. And then, suddenly, we’re here - standing before the ruins of the Daily Planet.

The air is thick with memory. This place holds so much of me.

I see it all at once - my first interview with Perry, Jimmy’s eager grin, the quiet strength in Perry’s voice when he helped me pick up the pieces after Claude. Jimmy, laughing as he taught me how to boost a car.

Meeting you.

The thought alone sends a jolt through me. The moment everything changed.

This building was more than just work. It was home. A place where truth mattered. Where Perry, Jimmy, and - you - became my family.

Then, unbidden, a memory rises.

A conversation. Weeks ago. Eugene hiding in my apartment. You, insisting I call the police. You, standing firm on honesty. And me, pushing back, asking for your biggest secret.

You hesitated. Then told me about your mother’s possible affair. A safe truth, carefully chosen.

I remember how it stung. How I knew you were holding something back.

But now, standing in the wreckage of our past, I understand.

You aren’t like the others. Not like Lex, not like Claude. You never were.

~~~

"Clark," I began, studying you across the newsroom. "Why do you always insist on sticking to the truth, no matter what?"

You looked up from your desk, eyes steady, unwavering. "Because the truth matters, Lois. It's the foundation of trust. Without it, everything crumbles."

I exhaled slowly, the weight of your words settling over me. I had learned the hard way how easily trust could be shattered - Claude had made sure of that. His lies weren’t outright falsehoods; they were carefully spun half-truths, dressed just convincingly enough to pass as reality. He always said that bending the truth for the sake of a good story was just part of the job. And despite despising him, some part of me had absorbed that lesson.

Was there really a difference between telling the truth and telling the whole truth?

I cringed at my own history. I had stolen the first Superman story from you, justifying it to myself, but the guilt still gnawed at me. How many times had I blurred the lines, convinced I was doing the right thing?

Your expression softened, as if you could see the conflict in my eyes. "The truth isn’t always easy, but I think it’s necessary. We can tell it with empathy, with respect. And sometimes, yes, omitting a detail might be the right call - to protect someone, to safeguard a greater truth. But deception? That’s a different story."

I folded my arms, resisting the urge to pace. “But sometimes bending the truth does serve a greater purpose.” I thought of Sebastian Finn, how I had claimed to have seen his face just to lure him out. “If it helps stop a criminal, if it forces the right outcome - doesn’t that justify it? Isn’t there room for interpretation?”

You held my gaze, a quiet challenge in your expression. Then, you smiled, just slightly. “Storytelling is powerful. But it shouldn’t come at the expense of the truth.” Your voice was calm, assured. “We can craft narratives without twisting facts. It’s about balance - being honest, being responsible with the trust people place in us. Because once we start compromising, where does it end?”

I wanted to argue. Claude had made me question everything. But looking at you, listening to you… I realized that, deep down, I wanted to believe you were right.

~~~

I open my eyes, the memory fading, but the warmth of it lingering. Through moments like these we became more than just colleagues. We became friends. And now, more than ever, we need that friendship to survive to prevent the future that… sci-fi writer has shown me with the newspaper.

There is still so much to do, and I can’t afford to dwell on the past for too long. But for now, this moment of reflection gives me the strength to move forward.

And right on cue, my past self moves forward. I can only hope that she’ll take a path I would choose myself.

The direction soon becomes clear - your apartment is close by. Perfect. Maybe this will be my chance.

But the growing weight in my chest is impossible to ignore. With every step, the ever-present fear of failure tightens around me. Too often, I have stood helpless, watching as the future shattered before my eyes.

The path feels endless, the cold air sharp against my skin. The city in winter carries a distinct scent - exhaust fumes, damp pavement, the faint bitterness of something burning in the distance. It grounds me in the present, but my mind keeps slipping elsewhere, spiraling through scenarios of what might come next.

Finally, your building looms ahead. My heart pounds as I reach your door, my breath shallow. I raise my hand to knock, but hesitation coils in my gut. What if you’re not home? What if you’re not alone? What if you don’t want to talk to me?

If Perry, Jimmy, or Jack open the door instead, I won’t be able to speak. I can’t explain why I’m here - I barely know myself. And if I break down, how will I ever put myself back together?

A noise behind me jolts me from my thoughts. And then, suddenly - you’re there.

The sight of you steals the breath from my lungs. You look… drained. More than just tired - hollow, as if something vital has been stripped away. It takes only a moment for realization to strike like a hammer to my chest. The Series K field test.

Oh, God.

I should have listened. I should have investigated. I could have stopped this.

My lips part, but before I can speak, I feel the first drop of rain on my skin. As if in sympathy, the sky opens, a cold drizzle falling between us. I shiver and tighten my coat around me.

Your eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the world fades. The exhaustion in your gaze is unmistakable, but beneath it, tangled with worry and pain, is something even more overwhelming - love.

“Lois?” Your voice is hoarse, strained. “You’re going to get cold.” Even now, you worry about me first.

You step closer, and the warmth radiating from you - whether from your body or from a barely restrained flicker of heat vision - seeps into me. I close my eyes for a brief second, breathing in the familiar scent of your aftershave, grounding myself in you.

“Clark, I… I need to talk to you.” My voice barely rises above a whisper. The words are slipping, my thoughts foggy, as if I’m grasping at something just out of reach.

You nod, but I can see it - this night has already drained you. The burden of being Superman, the weight of keeping your secret, the effects of kryptonite - all of it pressing down on you alongside everything we’ve never said.

“Come inside,” you say gently. “Perry and the others…”

“No.” I shake my head, desperation threading through my voice. “Clark, this is private. It’s about Lex.” I falter. How do I even begin to explain the darkness looming over us, the memories slipping like sand through my fingers?

Your jaw tightens, a flicker of something unreadable passing over your face. “Lois, can it wait?” The weariness in your tone cuts deep. “I don’t think I have the energy to talk about him right now.”

The air between us crackles with tension, with everything left unspoken.

“No, it’s not what you think.” I struggle to force the words out, the urgency pressing against my ribs. “I don’t know how long I have left to say this. I… I remembered something. Or I think I did. It’s all so fuzzy.”

You rub your temples, wincing slightly. “Lois…” Your voice is strained, almost pleading. “Please, just say it.”

I swallow hard. “Lex… he asked me to marry him.” The words feel foreign in my mouth. “But I… I don’t…”

Why? Why wouldn’t I marry Lex? The answer is there, just beyond my grasp, slipping further away the harder I reach for it.

Your eyes close briefly, and when you open them, I see nothing but exhaustion. “Lois, I need to rest. Can we talk later?”

A part of me screams in frustration. Later might be too late.

“No, Clark! You have to understand. Lex wants to - he’s planning something.” My breath catches. “And I know you’re…”

But the thought vanishes before I can finish it.

Panic rises, icy and sharp. I know who you are. I know. But the truth is slipping through my fingers, leaving only fragments behind.

Your sigh is barely audible, but the emotion in it cuts through me like a blade. “You’ll figure it out, Lois,” you murmur. “Just… let me sleep. We’ll talk later.”

I watch, helpless, as you reach for the door.

“I’m sorry, Clark.” The words tremble on my lips, barely more than a breath.

You pause, hand resting on the handle. When you speak again, your voice is soft, raw with emotion. “I know.” A beat of silence. Then, almost too quiet to hear - “And I’d follow you through hell and back. Just… not today.”

I want to scream, to shake you, to force the words out of my broken mind before it’s too late. But I can’t. I don’t even remember why.

So I turn away, each step echoing the defeat weighing down my chest.

Out of sight, my legs give way, and I sink against the cold brick wall. The rain mingles with my tears, washing them away before they can even fall properly.

I’ve failed you, Clark. Failed us both.

And I don’t even know how.

T. B. C.

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