Here's a new story from your resident evil duo.
We're still writing and we don't really know how many parts it's going to be, but we're making fast progress on it now, and so we figured it was about time we started sharing.
This story is going to be blamed on Kathy Brown, who mentioned the idea that started this back when we were writing our previous collaboration.
Please let us know what you think.
Wendy and Kaethel
~ Whisper from the Dying ~ by Wendy Richards and Kaethel
How had she got into this? Lois wondered in irritation. She’d been busy minding her own business, keeping an eye out for the supposedly resurrected gangsters, until that innocent-looking - hah! - old lady had stolen her bucket of nickels. And, of course, Capone and his associates had chosen just that moment to walk in.
And then, before she’d had a chance to ask any of the questions she’d come here to get answered, that sleaze Dillinger had put the moves on her. She sighed. She didn’t particularly want to get his back up - not if she and Clark were to get what they’d come for. On the other hand, the guy was getting persistent. He was starting to paw her now.
And suddenly, Clark was between her and Dillinger, telling the guy to back off.
Protective as always, and it was sweet of him... but not very sensible in the circumstances, she thought in faint exasperation. She’d have to talk to him about that later.
But what was...? A glint of metal caught her gaze. That was... Clyde Barrow, wasn’t it? And he was holding...
Oh, god, he was holding a gun!
He was only threatening to shoot, wasn’t he? Trying to frighten Clark into backing off? After all, her partner was looking pretty intimidating with his fist raised towards Dillinger.
Wait... He’d taken the safety off...
He wasn’t going to shoot! He wouldn’t... he couldn’t!
The explosion of gunfire shook her to the core. Appalled, terrified, she turned to Clark. Surely the bullet wouldn’t hit him? Clyde wouldn’t possibly have shot to injure or even kill, would he?
She grabbed at Clark’s arm even as she saw him clutch his chest. A look of pure shock was on his face. And he staggered.
Clark had been shot! Her partner, her best friend, had been shot.
She fell to the ground beside him, catching at his hand, his chest. He was okay, wasn’t he? He had to be okay. He couldn’t be...
He couldn’t be dead. No. It wasn’t possible.
He couldn’t be dead.
Suddenly, his hand covered hers, and she felt a rush of sweet relief flood her. He was okay! He was alive! He’d be fine.
“Lois.” His voice was thready. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she bent closer, bringing her face to his.
“Clark! Clark, you’re okay, aren’t you? Tell me you’re okay! Please... Clark, you can’t die on me!”
His voice came as a whisper. “Lois, I love you.”
And then there was silence. His head fell to one side. And his hand slid away from hers.
There was no heartbeat. Nothing but silence.
Clark was dead.
He couldn’t be dead. There had to be something she could do, something to revive him. Her hands fumbled against his chest. No pulse. No pulse! Her face close to his, she could feel no breath against her lips. Nothing. Oh god, he needed help. She needed help! She screamed, but the crowd around her took a collective step backwards. Cowards! Load of cowards!
<Clark, come back to me!>
Her hands framed his face and slid down to his throat, looking for his pulse, his warmth, a sign that he was still here with her, that he hadn’t abandoned her...
“You moron! What did you do that for? Let’s get out of here. And take the stiff. I can’t afford to be linked to a murder.”
She rose to her knees to look at Capone through blurry eyes. He wasn’t paying attention to her. He was gesturing towards Clark and already Barrow was leaning down to grab her partner by the ankles. What were they doing? Her grip on Clark tightened. They would not take him away from her! Not when there was a chance he might be saved, somehow. There had to be a way. There had always been a way. They’d been in near-death situations countless times, and luck had always been on their side. Tonight wouldn’t be different. Tonight had no reason to be different.
Barrow ignored her protests and kept tugging Clark’s body until she had to let go. Let go. Give up on the one man who had ever... She couldn’t even face the truth.
She collapsed to the dirty floor of the club and watched the gangsters drag Clark away from her and out of her sight.
Out of her life.
The only man who had ever really loved her was...
Gone.
*********
Clark tried to remain as still as possible as Capone and his goons carried him outside. Inside he was boiling, torn between his wish to go back to Lois and his need to protect a secret that had suddenly become too heavy to carry.
He was dead. Clark was dead. And because no-one knew the truth about him -
could know the truth - his life had just been ruined entirely.
He’d had no choice but to ‘die’.
And the realisation was slowly sinking in. He could never go back. The Daily Planet, his life in Metropolis, Lois... his life as Clark Kent
anywhere, for that matter - were all lost to him. Forever.
He would have to move on, as he’d done a dozen times before. Only this time it would be different: he would have to change his name, his identity, and ensure that nothing remained to connect him with the man he’d once been.
And he had to leave Lois behind.
Lois, the woman he loved. Lois, the only woman he’d ever loved. Lois, the only woman he would ever love. Now, he could never have her.
He remembered her frantic sobs, her pleas to him to be okay. She really cared about him. But then, he’d known that. They were best friends. Had been best friends for at least a year now, despite a few hiccups along the way. Hiccups he’d long ago forgiven her for, just as she’d forgiven him for those he’d caused.
And Lois now thought that her best friend was dead. That was why he’d said it - told her, once more, that he loved her. Knowing that he would have to pretend to be dead, that Clark Kent could never again be anywhere near Lois Lane, he hadn’t wanted his last words to her to be anything else.
Honesty, then, at the last second, as his parting gift to her. Whether or not she wanted to hear it, whether or not she returned his feelings, he loved her and he wanted her to know the truth.
Pretending to die, after that, had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Especially as he’d seen her tears, had even felt the moisture splash onto his face. But he’d had no choice: no human could have survived being shot at that range, and allowing himself to be exposed as Superman was simply not an option.
Clark allowed himself a silent sigh, taking great care again to make no movement at all. He listened in to the conversation at the front of the car. Capone and Barrow were arguing; Bonnie was losing patience with both of them. He carefully opened an eye; Dillinger was there, too. Okay, so no-one had stayed at the club. With a bit of luck, the police would be there any minute, and Lois would be all right.
The car screeched to a halt and his body moved forward, violently hitting the front seats. He felt a rush of cold air, a pair of hands seizing his arms, and then the hard ground beneath him. The sound of tyres announced the departure of the car. Silence again.
He opened his eyes at last, making sure he was alone before he got to his feet and brushed down his suit. Well, at least they hadn’t thrown him into Hobb’s Bay or tried to cut him down to pieces. That was something. He reached down inside the hole in his shirt to retrieve the bullet that had hit him. At least the good thing was that his clothes had prevented it from bouncing off and maybe hurting someone else. Maybe hurting Lois...
Oh god. Lois. No matter how much he told himself that the truly dangerous crowd had left with him, he’d still left her in an illegal gambling club, surrounded by people who were barely worthier of her trust than Capone and his gang.
Spinning into the suit, he took off full speed towards the South side. Finding the club was easy – it was surrounded by police cars. Lois... Where was Lois? Handcuffed members were being led away. He scanned the crowd of bystanders: people in their pyjamas, probably from the buildings around. Lois! He wanted to call her name. The club was empty, bar a forensic officer who was examining the floor where a body had so briefly lain.
His body.
Standing next to that scene was a woman in red, wrapped in a blanket and in Henderson’s arms.
Without thinking, he walked into the club. He heard an officer call to him, but ignored it. Lois was there. Lois needed him.
She looked up at him as he approached. Her cheeks were tear-stained. Her eyes were bright. Her lips were trembling. “What are you doing here?”
Her voice was cold. Colder than he’d ever heard. Colder than he’d even imagined. He froze.
“You’re too late, Superman. Too late!” She pushed herself out of Henderson’s embrace, letting the blanket fall to the floor. “He was the
only man who ever mattered to me, and he’s
dead! Dead! Do you understand that? Dead! Clark’s dead! And you didn’t save him! You saved me countless times, but when it truly mattered, you weren’t there!”
Her fist connected with his chest, then he felt her pummel him repeatedly. She’d lowered her head so he couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her sobs as she kept on hitting him. He grabbed her hands and pulled her against him, trying to give her comfort in an embrace that was obviously not welcome. She struggled out. He let her go.
“You weren’t there!”
“Lois, even Superman can’t be everywhere at once.” The dry tones, laced for once with sympathy, of Inspector Henderson drew Clark’s attention.
“So what was more important than saving Clark’s life?” Lois demanded, her voice shaking.
“I... uh...” Clark stopped abruptly, realising that he was behaving in a distinctly un-Supermanlike manner in front of Lois. But then, she was behaving in a way she never before had to the Man of Steel. She’d never before treated him with anything other than respect verging on awe - along with, of course, liking and even flirtatiousness. She’d never questioned him. She’d never challenged his priorities. She’d never accused him of putting anything before saving a life.
But then, she’d never seen her best friend shot dead in front of her before.
“Lois, I’m sorry,” he said softly, catching and holding her gaze. Fresh tears were falling from wet brown eyes; her lashes were damp as she stared back at him.
“Sorry isn’t going to bring Clark back!”
“I know,” he acknowledged. “Lois, if I could change anything about what happened here tonight, don’t you know that I would?”
She continued to stare belligerently at him, but after a few moments she bit her lip and her gaze fell. “You... He was your friend too, wasn’t he?”
Feeling like a hypocrite, Clark just nodded.
Behind Lois, Henderson shifted slightly, and Clark seized on the opportunity. “Inspector, is there anything I can help with?”
The policeman shook his head. “As you can see, it’s all over. The suspects had left the scene long before we got here. There’s an APB out on them and officers are scouring the city. Oh, and they took Kent’s body with them. So obviously we want to recover that too. Chances are they’ll have dumped it.”
“Him!” Lois exclaimed. As both Clark and Henderson turned to look at her, she added, “Clark may be dead, but he still deserves respect. Don’t call him ‘it’!”
“I’m sorry, Lois.” Henderson’s tone was soft, his manner completely unlike anything Clark had witnessed previously from the laconic, hard-bitten detective. It was a mark, Clark thought, of the genuine respect and liking he had for Lois. And probably for himself too.
“I could help with the search,” Clark offered. He should have thought of that anyway - Barrow and the others needed to be apprehended before they caused any further damage or injury. They were all very dangerous criminals and, while Capone hadn’t been at all happy with Barrow for killing someone, it was clearly the fact that the murder had been committed on premises owned by Capone which had angered him. A murder which couldn’t be traced back to any of the gangsters wouldn’t trouble him at all.
He’d expected Henderson to agree that Superman’s help would be very welcome. But instead the detective glanced discreetly, but somewhat pointedly, at Lois. And Clark realised that he wanted him to stay with her.
There was nothing he wanted more, of course. Lois was upset and grieving, and he’d considered it his prerogative over the past year to comfort her when she need it. But that was as Clark, not as Superman. Clark could never comfort her any more. Wasn’t it time he started getting used to that? And anyway, regardless of his own inclinations, what was the best use of Superman right now?
There were other people Lois could call on. There were other people she’d prefer to be with, no doubt. He touched her arm, and she glanced up at him again. “Lois, can I take you somewhere? Or call someone for you?”
She shook her head and took a step backwards, bumping into Henderson. “Superman will take you home, Lois,” the detective said. “Make sure you drop by tomorrow morning, but tonight I think you’ve had enough questions and it’s time you got some rest.”
Clark extended his hand towards her. She ignored it. She watched Henderson leave the room, then she lowered her head, and he watched the tears trail down her cheeks. He wanted to close the distance between them and take her in his arms. He wanted to take the pain away, tell her everything would be okay.
Nothing would be okay. Nothing would be okay again. He was dead. Clark was dead. There was nothing he could do to bring him back, nothing to comfort his best friend and partner. The truth? Could he really tell her the truth, when Clark was well and truly gone, when there was no way to bring him back? Maybe he owed her the truth... Maybe –
“Let’s get this over with.” She was standing in front of him, determination on her face, coldness in her eyes. “Take me home.”
Wordlessly, he wrapped her in his arms and took off.
*********
Lois had never thought she wouldn’t enjoy a flight with Superman, but tonight there was nothing she wished more than for it to be over. She wanted to push him away; his closeness was unbearable. She wanted to yell at him, insult him, tell him about the pain scorching her heart because of him... he’d let her down when it counted most. He’d let Clark die. He might just as well have killed him.
Her muscles were hurting from the tension she felt, and she was aware of the worried glances he gave her now and then. He cared, didn’t he? He cared about
her. He didn’t care about Clark. He had never cared about Clark. He had claimed to be a friend to both, and he had saved her too many times to count. But the one time Clark had needed him, he hadn’t been anywhere in sight. He had let the man die...
<He had let Lex die, too.>
A shudder ran down her spine. No matter how much she had hated Lex, no matter how glad she was that he was dead, part of her had always wondered where Superman had been while Lex had jumped off the LexCorp building. She’d always ignored that nagging question, especially during the campaign led against her superhero, but tonight...
Tonight, in reflection of Clark’s death and Superman’s conspicuous absence, she couldn’t help but wonder why Metropolis’s Man of Steel hadn’t been there to save either man.
She didn’t care about Lex. He could rot in hell for all she cared. But Clark... Clark had meant everything to her. He had been her partner. He had been her best friend. He had been... She didn’t know if he had been more than that. She hadn’t had enough time to find out.
Superman pushed her window open and let her slide to her feet. She didn’t linger in his embrace. Pushing him away and murmuring a ‘thank you’ she didn’t mean, she started towards the bedroom, only to feel a steel grip around her arm. She froze.
“Lois...”
Not that voice. Please, not that voice. Sometimes he reminded her of Clark. But if she turned around, her best friend wouldn’t be standing there. Instead would be the man who had let him get shot. Instead would be the man responsible for his death.
The grip on her arm softened, and she realised she was shaking.
<Lois, I love you>
That voice. Clark’s voice. Clark’s last words.
Clark had loved her.
How dare Superman speak to her in anything like Clark’s voice?
“Lois, you shouldn’t be alone.”
That was more like it. It was Superman’s voice. She turned her head, knowing that she would see the man in the Spandex. But the expression on his face...
She had never before seen Superman look like that.
Bleak. His face was drawn, pale - almost grey, even. And his eyes...
He looked like a man who had just lost his best friend.
How could she have thought that Superman didn’t care? He obviously cared. He was hurting a great deal. And, she realised, it was probably far worse for him because he could have saved Clark, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t been there.
He was blaming himself. Just as she was blaming herself for having dragged Clark there to the club in the first place. And for having attracted Dillinger’s attention to herself, leading to Clyde pulling the gun.
“Superman.” Her voice was shaky, but it was the best she could do.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed you. It wasn’t your fault either.”
He blinked. “Either?”
“I... I’ve been blaming myself...”
“You?” He looked appalled. “How could it have been your fault? Lois, you can’t - ”
“Can’t blame myself? You mean I shouldn’t wish that I’d never insisted we go to that club? I shouldn’t wish I hadn’t - ”
The hand on her arm slid up, and then he was cupping her shoulder. With a gulping sob, Lois threw herself into the willing, waiting arms. They closed around her and she cried, bitter, heartwrenching tears for the loss of her friend.
The man who had loved her. The man... she had loved.
“That’s right, Lois. Cry,” Superman encouraged gently. His head lowered until she could feel his cheek resting against her hair. And she cried until there were no tears left.
A long time later, she drew back, looking up at Superman through eyes blurry with tears. “He loved me, Superman. Clark. He loved me.”
“I know.” Again, the hero’s voice shook. “I know, Lois.”
“He told me,” she said jerkily. “That was the last thing he said to me. He... he was lying there... he had to have been in pain... he was dying. He knew he was dying. He... he held my hand and he told me... he loved me.”
“Clark always loved you, Lois.” He released her and stepped back, though still remaining close - close enough to touch.
Superman sounded so very sure. And Lois supposed that he would know - because, no matter what crazy ideas had been occurring to her earlier, the two men had been friends. No doubt they’d talked about her.
And, yes, Clark had loved her. She’d always known that, somehow. Even though he’d taken back his declaration of love last summer - and that had hurt - she’d been aware that he still had deep feelings for her. She was the one who had been unsure...
Not unsure. Afraid.
“I wasted the best chance I ever had, Superman,” she said miserably.
“What do you mean?”
“Clark. I... I did love him too, Superman. But I was too scared to tell him. And I thought we’d have all the time in the world... I thought I’d never lose him. And now... now he’s dead and I’ll never know what it’s like to be loved by him.”
“Oh, Lois...” A groan escaped Superman, and he gathered her close to him again.
Held tightly in his arms, Lois gazed up at him. There was such tenderness in his eyes as he looked down at her; such care and consideration. They were both grieving, of that she had no doubt. And, despite her insistence earlier that she didn’t want Superman anywhere near her, now she knew that there was no-one else she would rather be with right now.
The distance between them was narrowing; she had no idea whether it was her doing or his. But, suddenly, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to raise her lips to his. And for him to dip his head to meet her.
And then they were kissing. Deeply, madly, passionately, as their tears mingled and they shared their grief for the loss of their friend.
********
tbc...
