Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic The Butterfly Legacy - Lois's Chapter

I have to give a lot of credit to Roger for nudging me ever so gently, which caused me to open up a dusty file and finally finish this story once and for all! Thanks to all of you who have waited so patiently.

Too, thanks go to my fabulous BRs LabRat and CC Aiken who turned it around on a dime with questions and ideas that helped me flesh this out when I was feeling it was kind of skimpy. I'm sure they are as happy as I am to see the tail end of this puppy. And thanks, too, to Wendy for giving this a final polish-check for those things that always manage to slip through the cracks. She's saved some poor GE a lot of work.

For those of you who haven't read The Butterfly Legacy (or here ), this segment won't make a whole lot of sense. It's what I've called one of two Lost Chapters, something I wrote to tie up some loose ends and to also answer the questions several readers had posted. While BL was told entirely from Clark's POV, the two lost chapters deviated to give you a glimpse inside Gillian and Lois's minds, respectively. This is Lois's turn in the spotlight.

Thanks for reading! Whew. Glad to be done.

L.

The Butterfly Legacy - Lois's Chapter
by Lynn M

~§~

“You want some coffee?” Lois called over her shoulder, waiting for Clark’s nod before filling the pot with water from the tap.

Nearly ten o’clock, it was pretty late for coffee, but after their walk from the movie theater back to her apartment, the late February chill had seeped deep into her bones. She needed something to warm her from the inside out. She didn’t hesitate in her process even as she asked, “Decaf OK?”

“Sure,” he said absently.

She scooped the coffee grounds into the filter and swung the contraption into position, giving the brew button a sharp jab. Within seconds the sizzling first drops landed in the carafe, sending the moist, heady smell of coffee to swirl about her.

While it brewed, she pulled mugs from the cabinet and spooned the right amounts of sugar and non-dairy creamer to their specific individual preferences, enjoying the pure domesticity of the moment with no small amount of surprise. She was making a late night coffee for her boyfriend. Maybe even her more than a boyfriend.

Sparing a glance from the periphery of her vision, she saw Clark sit down and shift about trying to get comfortable on her fashionable yet unyielding loveseat. Usually they went to his place where his overstuffed sofa provided a cozy place to snuggle. But the only place in town showing the movie he’d wanted to see had been the second run dollar theater a few blocks from her place. Which meant they’d do little snuggling that night. Next time maybe he’d let her pick the movie. Something first run instead of last summer’s leftovers.

Coffee finished, she grasped each mug and walked like a beauty contestant into the living room. With a smile of victory over not spilling a single drop, she extended Clark’s cup in his direction, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the dark liquid rolling dangerously close to its edges. When he didn’t immediately relieve her of the hazard, she frowned slightly and looked up from the mug.

He held the remote in his hand, but the television screen remained blank, the set still turned off. Completely unaware that she stood next to him holding two steaming mugs, he stared ahead, watching something that only he could see.

A disquieting uncertainty crawled down Lois’s spine, a sensation that had plagued her all too often since Clark’s return on Thanksgiving Day three months earlier. This happened a lot, these mental absences of his. His body was there, sitting on her sofa, but his mind was someplace else entirely. Someplace she’d never been.

“You okay?” she asked. “Is it someone calling for help?”

Clark started and looked up at her, blinking as if to bring his mind back in communion with his body. It took a couple of seconds, though, for the haunted look to flitter from his dark eyes and be replaced with a warm recognition as he offered her a sheepish grin of apology.

“Oh, yeah. Uh...I mean, no. No-one needs help. Sorry,” he said as he took the mug from her. He waited while she lowered herself to the sofa. Intentionally, she sat close enough so the length of her thigh pressed against his, hoping if he remembered what was right next to him, he’d be less likely to zone out again. After she was settled, he offered explanation for his most recent lapse into his own world. “Guess I’m still reeling over the thought of driving a bus through the streets of Los Angeles at 55 miles an hour. What a great movie.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t see it when it first came out,” she said, blowing across her coffee and pushing away her unease with iron determination. “Everyone was talking about it. Speed, the runaway summer hit of 1994, no pun intended.”

Clark took a long mouth-searing swallow before commenting. “I didn’t get out much last summer.”

“Oh?” she asked, trying to sound interested yet casual. Every nerve in her body prickled to life, his mere mention of the past summer sparking hope in her chest.

They were entering dangerous territory. Every time the conversation neared the six months Clark had been gone, he closed up tighter than Fort Knox. Not only did he refuse to talk about it, she could almost see a physical tightening of his entire body, as if he were drawing up inside himself like an armadillo. His eyes would take on a glassy shine, his mouth set in a firm line that surprised her with its fierceness.

So extreme was his reaction she’d suppressed every natural inclination as both reporter and girlfriend to get to the bottom of it. Especially since, in every other respect, he’d been the model of a perfect boyfriend. Loving and attentive, never stingy with caresses and murmured words of love, when Clark was with her, he was with her. She’d vowed to hold back and give him time to come clean on his own.

Besides, the more openly she asked him about his missing time, the more completely he shut down. Falling back on the old reverse psychology technique, she’d tried to keep her curiosity low-key, hoping he’d let information slip out without even realizing she’d been prodding.

But now Clark didn’t say anything, failing to pick up on her “Oh?” as an obvious invitation to elaborate. Lois resisted the urge to scream. Yes, she’d determined to be patient. He’d talk when he was ready. But, as the weeks passed and he remained silent, her efforts at casual were starting to wear on her nerves. She was getting pretty tempted to revert back to the patented Lois Lane direct approach which worked wonders with reluctant sources.

Instead she decided to stick with the safe topic of psychopathic mass murders, buses and explosives, trying to work it from a different angle. “Too bad Superman wasn’t around last summer. The people on that bus could have used him big time.”

Clark laughed. “I don’t know. Looked to me like Officer Jack had things pretty well under control.”

Damn. He didn’t bite. What was it going to take to get him to open up? A subpoena?

“I suppose,” she said, letting the petulance she felt descend on the innocent characters in the movie. “After all, how much does it really take to just drive around a big bus? Even I could do that. No big deal. Of course, my hair might have gotten a little more messed up than the heroine’s did. What was her name?”

“Annie,” he supplied as he set his mug on the coffee table.

“Yeah, Annie. I mean, she was looking pretty pulled together after nearly getting blown up not just once but twice.”

“She didn’t look all that great,” Clark said with no hard conviction in his voice and a broad grin on his face.

“Oh come on,” she chided with a snort. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think Sandra Bullock was the perfect girl next door? All cute and perky like that! I caught you staring a few times.”

His mouth opened in a gape of mock shock, then he turned the tables. “I didn’t notice you looking away when Jack was flexing those muscles of his.”

She laughed appreciatively. “Wellll...there is something about a man who’ll let himself be dragged under a bus.”

“I knew it,” he said with an exaggerated shake of his head. “You’re going to leave me for Keanu Reeves.”

“Now, why would I even bother with his puny little self when I’ve got all this right here?” she said, placing her hand on top of one steely arm. So big around, her spanned palm only encircled half of it, and she caressed it softly, marveling still at the pure perfection of his body.

Clark laid his own hand on top of hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for sitting through it again with me. I know it’s kind of a guy flick.”

Lifting her gaze from his arm and their hands, she caught him staring at her. The breath hitched tight in her chest, and all remnants of the earlier chill she’d felt dissipated completely to be replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the coffee she’d consumed.

Clearing her throat, she released his arm and settled back against the stiff cushions, needing a bit of distance to cool her flushed face. She was starting to regret their decision to keep the physical side of their relationship on the slow track. They’d decided to save such intimacy for later, after they’d gotten to know each other again. But ignoring the electricity between them was getting more and more difficult. Especially when her blood heated with just a lingering glance, not to mention what his kisses did to her heart rate.

“I didn’t mind. For a mindless action movie it was pretty good. Something for everyone, you know. Car...or...bus chases for the guys and true love for the girls.” Lois paused a second, thinking. “Actually, that’s kind of where they blew it.”

Clark glanced over his shoulder at her. “Blew it? What do you mean?”

“That whole Jack staying with Annie in a doomed subway because he loved her deal.” When he continued to stare at her with his brows lowered in question, she explained. “They should have stuck with him just being a hero cop instead of trying to make us believe he did it because he cared so much. That would have worked better because it’s his duty and calling and all of that. Like Superman.”

“You don’t think he really loved her?” He turned around, sitting sideways so that he could look at her better.

“After knowing her all of, what, two hours?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“You’ve got to know someone and spend a lot of time with them to love them that much. Build up trust. Do the holidays together.” She took another sip. “Nobody falls in love that fast. At least not the kind that’ll last forever and tempt you to throw yourself in front of a train for the other person.”

“You don’t think they could have developed feelings for each other after all they went through together?”

“Lust, yes. But real love? The kind that makes you give up anything – even die – for somebody else? Nope. I’m not buying it.”

“It happens,” he said, turning back to face the coffee table.

She leaned forward. “What? Did you say it happens? To who?”

He didn’t answer. His shoulders pushed forward as if to create a physical barrier to reinforce the emotional one he’d just erected in point three seconds flat, a personal best record. His head bowed to study the half-empty coffee cup sitting on the table in front of him, his hands clasped tightly, elbows resting on his knees. He reminded her of a dejected turtle.

“Clark, what is wrong with you?” she asked, bewildered by the way he’d suddenly closed her out so completely.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” he said, the answer he’d given her every single time she’d asked for the past three months.

She knew immediately that it was all the reply she would get. A reassurance and a manufactured smile. Sometimes he’d laugh off her concern or dismiss it with a firm kiss. But none of his efforts quite reached the very depths of his eyes. And his laugh held no real humor nor his smile any true reassurance that he meant what he said. Something fundamental was missing. Some spark. The very essence of the man she’d fallen in love with, replaced with a despondency he always denied.

It seemed almost as if he’d aged dramatically over the past year, and not in the physical sense. That some of his child-like wonder and pleasure with the world had been taken from him, leaving behind a more cynical view closer to her way of looking at things. She wouldn’t go quite so far as to call him jaded, but for certain he appeared to have found the bottom of his bottomless well of optimism.

Almost as frustrating as his elusiveness was her reaction to his melancholy and her complete helplessness in the face of it. In the past, the feelings of others had rarely had the ability to affect her own moods and temperament to any great degree. But Dejected Clark made her feel more than simply sympathetic. It made her heart ache. She wanted so desperately to help him, to bring him back to a place where he truly felt the happiness he professed. She loved him more than anything, and his pain had become her pain. The only problem was, she didn’t know where that pain originated from so as to put an end to it.

Even worse, she had a nagging fear that she was the cause of it. Maybe he hadn’t meant it when he said they’d started fresh, all of her mistakes with Luthor forgiven and forgotten.

“You don’t seem fine,” she pushed.

“Well, I am,” he said. He shifted his weight forward to the very edge of the loveseat. “Listen, maybe we should call it a night. We need to get an early jump on that – ”

“No.” She reached a hand out to grab his arm, to pull him back before he could fully stand up and walk away from her and from a conversation long overdue. “Clark, I gotta know.”

He hesitated for a moment, then let himself be pulled down to sit again. “Know what?”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Mad at you? Why do you think I’m mad at you?”

He sounded genuinely surprised, which gave her hope. “Because half the time I’m around you look like you’d rather be pretty much anywhere else.”

“That’s crazy,” he objected immediately. Then, more softly, added, “I’m not mad at you.”

“Yeah, crazy.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied his back, a flicker of anger gathering fuel in the pit of her belly. This passive-aggressive denial stuff was getting tiresome. And since she’d opened the proverbial can of worms, better to force his hand once and for all. She felt a need to air some of her frustration, and since he was the direct cause of it, no reason not to let him know her thoughts on the matter. “I think I know what’s bothering you, and I think it’s really small of you to hold a grudge like this.”

He laughed. “I don’t hold grudges. You’re the one who holds grudges. I’m not holding a grudge.”

She ignored his denial and especially his remark about her holding grudges. “You’re still ticked that I almost married Lex.”

“No, I’m not.” He turned just a little to give her a narrow look and just as quickly turned away. “Haven’t we already covered this?”

Gathering her momentum, she kept going, scooting up to the edge of the sofa so she could glare at his profile. “You’re punishing me for telling you that I didn’t have those feelings for you. You want to make me pay now by playing hard to get.”

“Lois, we have spent nearly every waking hour together since I got back,” he said. “If that’s playing hard to get, we’d be joined at the hip if you actually ‘got’ me.”

“We’re together but we’re not. You’re either zoned out staring off into space or looking like someone just shot your favorite dog.” As soon as she said it, she winced. She’d forgotten about the dog Luke, who now lived on his parents’ farm but only after his landlord had threatened to revoke his lease if he brought a pet onto the premises. When Clark wasn’t with her or on some rescue someplace, she suspected he was with that dog.

“That’s not funny,” he said, reacting as she’d feared he would.

She placed a hand on his arm in a wordless apology. “I’m just saying that something isn’t right with you. You’re...different. Every since you got back, I just feel like a big part of you is still gone.”

“I’m right here. With you. See?” He waved his free arm around, encompassing himself and her and the entire room. “I’m not zoned or angry. No grudges. Just us, drinking coffee and talking about movies.”

“That’s another thing. We don’t talk about anything,” she said, then amended her observation when he looked ready to object. “Or, you don’t talk about anything.”

“We talk. I talk. I don’t know what you expect – ”

“I’ve told you everything about what happened while you were gone. All the crap that happened after Lex died and what I did all the time you weren’t around,” she said.

Heaven knows they’d talked that subject to death. As part of her effort to make it up to him, she’d gone nearly overboard in telling Clark just how big of mistake she’d made and how many hours and days and weeks she’d spent wishing everything could be different. He could have no doubt at all about her regrets, that was for certain. And she hadn’t even made him ask. In fact, she’d volunteered the information even when he didn’t really seem interested in hearing it, hoping that he’d return in kind.

Since he hadn’t, now was as good of a time as any to expand on her earlier “oh?” She was on a roll; no reason to stop pushing. “You never talk. At least not about the important stuff. Like, you’ve never told me about your time away from Metropolis.”

His silence filled the room. Like a shroud descending, she could see it, the tensing of his body, the beginning of his withdrawal. But this time, she didn’t yield to it. There was a price to pay for moving forward. Risks that she was going to have to take. As much as she’d tried to ignore the situation, hoping that it would just fix itself, her comfort zone had become increasingly smaller. Now, it appeared, they stood smack dab in the middle of the bullseye. Without pushing, without getting the answers she needed to help her understand his odd mental absences and the dimming of the normal joy he’d always taken in life, they’d never be able to move beyond where they currently fumbled. The time for waiting had ended.

Problem was she’d never gotten this far without him bolting out the door on some emergency or other excuse, and she didn’t know exactly how to proceed. She wished she’d thought to rehearse. Too late for that. So she dove in head first, not quite sure she wouldn’t hit bottom at two feet.

“You have to admit I’ve been pretty good...well, great actually, about not asking,” she said.

He gave her a sideways glance. “Yes, and I appreciate it.”

She ignored the tone of finality in his voice. “Yeah, well, except since you’ve been back, something isn’t right. I mean, it’s not just that you won’t even talk about where you went or what you did for six whole months. Which believe me, not knowing is just about killing me,” she admitted before going on. “I don’t know. You seem so...sad. And if you really aren’t mad at me, something must have happened. To you. While you were gone.”

Part of her wished he’d turn around to face her directly, the other part terrified by what she might see in his eyes. She closed her own for a second before plowing ahead. “I’ve tried really hard to be patient and give you some space. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. But I’m starting to think that might never happen. So I’m asking you to just tell me whatever it is I need to know that’ll explain why you seem like you’re half here and half someplace else.”

Then, pulling out her last heaviest-hitting arsenal, she took a deep breath. This time, it was all or nothing. Even though her words were soft, the power they contained was mighty. “We promised each other no secrets, remember? So I need to know if I’m the reason you’re so unhappy. Do you regret coming back?”

He’d taken all of it in without breathing a word, and she stared at his back with growing fear. If he wouldn’t talk, even after that, what would she do? Was she ready to call this whole thing off? It would kill her not to be with him. But at least it would be swift. As things were going now, the end would be the same but only after a prolonged, torturous dance that would destroy them both.

“Do you remember that earthquake in Colombia almost a year ago?” he asked softly, still not turning to face her.

She held her breath and nodded even though he couldn’t see it, grateful he was talking and afraid he’d stop if she broke his tiny momentum.

He must have guessed that she remembered because he went on. “I flew down to help out. Remove victims. Make sure buildings were safe. The usual stuff. Except, instead of coming back here when I was done, I stayed.”

“In Colombia?” she said, already stunned with just this tiny bit of information. What in the world possessed him to hang around drug cartel-infested Colombia, of all places?

“Yeah. There was a little town near Popayán that got completely flattened by the quake. Over a hundred families left homeless.”

She winced, imagining how rough that would have been for him. He never walked away from such tragedy without carrying at least a small, lasting remnant from it, usually as another nick on his heart. “A lot of casualties, huh? Kept you there a long time?”

He did turn then, sliding away to lean his back against the arm of the sofa, putting himself perpendicular to her. Her thigh no longer touched his, and she felt an odd sense of loss. “Actually, the casualties were amazingly low. I stuck around to help the people rebuild their houses. The whole town, in fact.”

She struggled for a moment, trying to grasp what he seemed to be telling her. He spent six months building houses in some remote Colombian village? This was the big mystery he hadn’t wanted to talk about? No involvement in some satanic cult? No super-secret undercover spy operation involving world annihilation? Maybe he’d started his own drug cartel.

Since that didn’t seem likely, she went for support instead. “Well, that was awfully nice of you. Kind of pushes that helping people thing to a new level.”

“Wish I could say I was that noble,” he said with a short laugh. “I never planned on staying.”

He paused and looked down at his hands. For a minute, Lois feared he’d finished talking, leaving her no better off than she’d been ten minutes earlier. Finally, with a hard swallow, he continued. “This one...person...kind of challenged me. Said if I was really interested in helping people, I’d stick around and help rebuild the town. The homes and businesses. Said it was easy enough to swoop in for the glamorous rescue stuff but a lot more work to dig in and get my hands dirty.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “You always swoop in for the glamorous rescue stuff and then move on. It’s your thing. Swooping.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, this time I didn’t really have any reason to move on. So I agreed to stay. Spent the better part of half a year learning how to make adobe bricks and build houses. I know more about stucco than any person north of the Rio Grande,” he joked.

Lois frowned, certain there was something missing from the picture. It couldn’t be that simple. He’d decided to play Boy Scout for six months and that was it? No reason she could see to keep that a big secret. “So you just hung around Colombia. Learned a new trade. Then what? Finished the job so you decided to come back to Metropolis?”

“I had no plans to come back to Metropolis,” he admitted.

He hadn’t planned to come back? At all? She let that one out. “At all?”

“Nope.”

“But, wait, even if things between us hadn’t worked out...what about Superman? You would have just stopped being Superman?”

“I was being Superman,” he said. “I just wasn’t being Superman in Metropolis.”

Lois rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I was helping people. No, not the way I had before,” he admitted at her pointed look. “And believe me, I felt bad about it. Really bad. But those people needed me, too. Just in a different, smaller-scale way.”

“You might have been helping those people, but everyone in Metropolis just figured Superman was on some kind of extended vacation. And you saw what some people thought about that,” she said, indicating the secretary that housed her saved newspaper clippings from the Lost Months, as she’d coined the time without Superman. “If you’d never come back and then all of the sudden showed up on the news from a new home base in Bogatá, I can only imagine what the editorials would have been.”

“Metropolis doesn’t own Superman, Lois. I can fly to a rescue just as easily from Tokyo or Paris or Katmandu, for that matter. Geography is kind of inconsequential for me.”

“I know that.” Actually, the prospect was horrifying. What would have happened if Clark had chosen someplace other than Metropolis to settle down? What if he’d chosen The New York Times or Le Monde as his paper of choice? She shuddered, needing reassurance and quickly. “But you have to admit it’s kind of expected that this where you hang out. It’s your home.”

“Metropolis is Clark Kent’s home,” he clarified. “But Clark...I...didn’t have anything left here. No Daily Planet. No future. There just wasn’t any home to come back to, I guess.”

“So you were just going to fall off the radar? Stop being Superman and disappear into the jungle somewhere?” Dear god. In almost marrying Lex, she might have been responsible for costing the entire world a superhero. Talk about a major guilt trip.

Clark shrugged. “I don’t know. I just...needed a break. Becoming Superman…” He shook his head. “I can’t regret it because it means I’ve been able to help so many people. I don’t know if I could ever stop doing that. But so much happened that I never expected. Being two people...it was just so hard. And then you not knowing and falling in love with Superman. Do you have any idea what it’s like to actually be jealous of a part of your own self?” He looked away and issued a dry snort of disbelief. “Talk about surreal.”

“I’m sorry.”

His head snapped around to look at her. “I’m not looking for an apology. It was my fault for not telling you right away when I saw what was happening.”

It was her turn to snort. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Remember that grudge-holding thing?”

“Sorry,” she said, meaning it. Sort of.

“Anyway, it was just a lot easier while I was gone. Not having to hide anything or put on a costume just so I could help somebody. I didn’t have to wonder if people liked me or my powers,” he said, and even though he’d phrased it in a broad, generic sense, she couldn’t help but squirm because really, he meant her. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to come back to Metropolis and do that anymore.”

“So, why did you then?” she asked, finding it hard to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Come back, I mean.”

“Because I found out Luthor had died.”

“But he died in April. You didn’t come home until October.” She blinked, the timing of events not meshing properly. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I didn’t find out about Luthor’s death until a couple days before I showed up here.”

“You’re kidding?” She couldn’t believe it. How was it possible that he hadn’t known? Lex’s suicide had been the front page story for days on every paper in the country. Heck, maybe even the world.

“There weren’t any phones or televisions where I was,” he supplied, knowing her next question instinctively. He looked at her with a sad smile. “I didn’t really go looking for news. Kind of avoided it on purpose, to be honest. You gotta remember, I thought you were marrying Luthor. Last thing I needed was to read in the paper all about the Luthor-Lane wedding.”

Being so out of touch with the world for such a long period of time completely escaped her ability to comprehend. “But your parents? Surely they would have told you what was going on.”

“I never went home.”

“You didn’t talk to your parents at all for six months?”

“Of course I did. Well, a couple of times, anyway,” he said, and she thought she detected a trace of guilt in his voice. He sighed loudly. “Listen, I didn’t really want to talk to anyone, not even my parents. I wanted...needed...to divorce myself of all things Clark Kent for a while. Just become this anonymous Peace Corp-type volunteer.”

She let out a long, slow breath. “Wow.”

Somewhere in that admission, she took a small measure of comfort. He hadn’t only avoided her during those long six months. He’d cut himself off from everything and everyone. Even his parents. A complete, cold turkey withdrawal from the world. He hadn’t been punishing her by staying away. He hadn’t even known what she’d been going through.

But with that comfort came another helping of guilt. She’d done this to him. Forced him to become a recluse because even reading about her had been too painful.

“So it wasn’t until I talked to Perry that I found out about the Planet and Lex,” Clark was saying. “I came home a couple of days after I talked to him. You know the rest.”

The rest. He’d come to see her. She’d confessed that she’d figured out he was Superman. God, what a moment that had been when she’d put two and two together and came up with infinity. She’d told him she loved him and hoped he still loved her. He’d agreed to stick around to see if they could work things out. Things had seemed great. And then not so great.

Because he’d been miserable ever since.

“That’s not all, is it, Clark? You just bumming around Colombia until you figured out where to go next since it obviously wasn’t going to be here.” Lois waited, but he didn’t say anything. She’d gotten this far, might as well go for broke. “I need to know.”

He looked at her, studied her as if gauging her ability to handle whatever it was he might tell her. She pulled up a little straighter and lifted her chin. What could he possibly have to say that she couldn’t handle?

“The person, the one who convinced me to stay in San Pablo?” Lois nodded, remembering that part. He went on. “She was pretty special.”

“She?”

He nodded.

Okay, he’d just said possibly the one thing she might have a problem handling. “Special?”

He nodded again. Lois thought she might strangle him. She didn’t want nodding. She wanted him to talk and to talk fast. Good thing he stood up and moved away before she could act on her impulses.

He further saved himself by elaborating while he paced. “At first we didn’t like each other very much. She was kind of...blunt. And she didn’t think too highly of the superpowers – ”

“She knew you had superpowers?”

He stopped and shoved his hands in his pant pockets, his eyebrows lowered with confusion. “Well, yeah. I was lifting walls off people. Moving mountains of debris away at superspeed. You know. Superman rescue stuff.”

“Oh, sure.” It made sense, of course. Still, it stung. She swallowed against the bitterness filling her mouth.

“After a few weeks, we got to be friends.”

“Friends?” she said hopefully. Nothing wrong with making friends. “Friends is good.”

“And then...more than friends.”

“More than friends?” The uncomfortable prickle that had started somewhere around the base of her spine raced over every inch of her body. “You mean as in, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

His face scrunched as if he was searching for just the right word to describe what more than friends meant. “We got to be very...close.”

“Close,” she repeated slowly, trying to absorb this carefully so she wouldn’t jump to any conclusions. Right at that moment, jumping to conclusions was the thing she really didn’t want to do. Except he hadn’t said no to the boyfriend/girlfriend question. Which was leading her to jump to a very big conclusion. “When you say, close, how close do you mean? I mean, there’s ‘close’ as in let’s-be-pen-pals-forever ‘close’, and then there’s ‘close’ close.”

He glanced away, then licked his lips before setting his mouth in a grim line. “Not the pen pals kind of close.”

“Okay, there’s close close, as in you shared a milkshake at the ice cream shop, and then there’s close –”

“Lois.”

He was looking at her. Pointedly. Too pointedly. Because he’d been the kind of close that involved more than sharing a milkshake. Much more...

“You slept with her?” she whispered, holding her breath in fear of his answer. She’d jumped to conclusions. Hadn’t she? Please? “Did you...did you sleep with her?”

Without flinching, he delivered the staggering blow. “Yes.”

“Oh, god!” The force of her words sent her to her feet.

No. Worse than ‘oh god.’ More like bloody effing hell.

She turned away from him, not quite certain if the coffee she’d drunk would remain in her stomach or reappear in a black mess right on her Persian rug. Her heart felt like it had been torn from her chest and lay bleeding on the floor. How he could he do this to her?

“I...I thought...we...I mean you,” she stammered, try to make her brain and mouth form sentences. “I thought you loved me?”

“I do love you.”

“But...but you...you you you…” The word wouldn’t come. “...with another woman?”

“Yes.”

That was it? Just ‘Yes’? Unacceptable. “How could you sleep with another woman when you loved me?”

He didn’t even blink. “You almost married Lex, yet you say you realized you loved me even then.”

“So that’s what it was? You getting back at me?”

“No! Of course not,” he said emphatically. A little too emphatically.

“Because I could understand that,” she said, offering him a door to walk out of. “You were hurt after I told you I didn’t love you. You wanted to hurt me back.”

Even as she said it, she realized how stupid it sounded. As a way of hurting her, there were about a dozen more practical things than having a fling in some back-assward Colombian village in the middle of nowhere. Ways she would have easily discovered rather than relying on the off-chance he’d have an opportunity to rub her face in it. Granted, maybe those ways wouldn’t have caused a fraction of the pain she was currently feeling. So her hypothesis had more holes in it than Swiss cheese. But she needed a reason to understand how he could sleep with another woman. A reason other than the one that scared her to the very core of her existence.

“God, Lois. Do you really think I’d intentionally try to hurt you that way?” He sounded disgusted and she couldn’t blame him. “You married Lex. Or at least I thought you’d married Lex. Did you expect me to sit around for the rest of my life pining over you?”

“Yes!” she cried. “At least for a little while. You didn’t have to go out and sleep with the first person you met before our relationship was even cold!”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice suddenly very tight. “Listen, you and I didn’t have a relationship. You told me that yourself after I told you how I felt about you. As far as I can see, that meant you had no claims on me any more than I did on you. What I did after I left Metropolis or who I did it with is really none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is,” Lois said, her hurt morphing to anger. How the hell could he have done this to her? To them? “If you think I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you walking around in some kind of funk because you can’t get over some rebound woman you hooked up with for a forget-Lois fling, you’re crazy.

Like lightening his expression hardened, his eyes flashing so darkly they resembled chunks of coal. A muscle along the line of his jaw twitched. She’d never seen him look so angry, at least not when such heated emotion had been directed toward her. She gasped and took a small step back.

“Maybe I’d better leave,” he said, low and hard. “We can talk about this when we’ve both had a chance to cool down.”

He turned and headed for the door. The jerk was leaving! Just walking out like he always used to do. Was still doing. “Yeah, go ahead and leave! I’m sure she’ll be happy to have you back.”

Clark stopped. “Lois, I’m asking you to stop. Now.”

“Is that where you went?” she went on, too angry and hurt to listen to him. “When you left here to tie up those loose ends did you go back for one last hoorah?”

“I went back to tell her good-bye,” he said evenly.

“It took you three days to say good-bye?” Three days he’d spent with her. Three days kissing another woman and touching her and lying naked next to her. She was going to throw up. “Guess you wanted to let her down easy, huh? How did she take it? When you said good-bye to her – a courtesy you never afforded me, by the way – how did she take it?”

“I didn’t tell her.”

“Didn’t tell her?” she echoed. “You spent three days not saying good-bye? God, I don’t want to know how long you’d have taken to say hello.”

He grabbed his coat off the coat tree and shrugged into it. “I told you it was over, and I meant it. I’m going to take a walk.”

Lois strode to the door, her voice shrill with near hysteria. “Yeah, you told me. But obviously you didn’t tell her. So what happens if one of these days she shows up, knocking on your door? Wanting to see if you’re free again?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know? If it were me, I sure as hell wouldn’t be giving you up without a fight.”

“Lois, don’t do this – ”

“She could show up here in ten years with some kid, claiming he’s your long-lost son.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s enough.”

Enough? Hardly! “Maybe you didn’t tell her on purpose because deep down inside you still want to be with her and you knew if you – ”

“Gillian died,” he said, his voice as hard as the muscles of his body. Hard and distant and icy cold.

“Huh?” The word slipped out before her mind could register what he’d said over the indignation tearing through her brain.

“She’s gone,” he snapped, his eyes glittering. “So you don’t have to worry about her showing up and expecting anything from me. I’m all yours, Lois. I chose you!”

With that, he jerked the door open and left, slamming it behind him before she could get past the shock of his words still echoing through her apartment.

~§~

She waited only long enough for her anger to return full force before she grabbed her own coat. If he thought he was going to make her the bad guy in this scenario by dropping that little bomb on her and then leaving, he was out of his mind.

How dare he come back to her just because his…girlfriend up and died. God! And she’d bought all that crap about him loving her and wanting to spend his life with her. He’d probably planned to come back to Metropolis just to rub it in her face, that he had another woman. Then she’d died so he’d decided he’d see if old Lois might still be hanging around, desperate now that Lex was out of the picture. And she’d fallen for it. Like a fool, she’d let herself fall in love with him without even asking the right questions.

Oh, god. Clark had met someone else. He’d made love to her. He’d shared things with another woman that he’d never shared with her. The kisses he’d given her were only the beginning of what he’d done with someone else. The thought of Clark touching and holding another woman made her so dizzy she had to pull the Jeep over for a minute and roll the window down, letting the cool air wash away the wave of nausea.

Why had she never thought something like that might happen? In all those months he’d been gone, why hadn’t she suspected the reason was someone else? Why hadn’t she prepared herself better for this betrayal? Would it have hurt any less? It certainly couldn’t hurt any more.

Even with her nerve-calming stop, it took Lois less than ten minutes to drive to Clark’s place and only another five to find a parking spot. But she waited over an hour – an hour full of agony and fury and complete despair, all three dominating her heart and mind in turns – before she spotted him walking down the street. Actually walking. She’d been checking the skies, expecting an overhead arrival. She resisted the urge to run down the steps and pound on his chest with all the force of her misery and confusion. Damn him for putting her through this!

He stopped when he saw her waiting for him, then climbed the stairs slowly. She didn’t give him a chance to say a word. “Why did you come back here, Clark?”

“I told you. I came back because I found out Lex was dead.” He unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter. “It’s probably better for us to continue this inside.”

She lifted her chin but walked past him into his apartment. She waited until he’d taken off his coat and hung it up, declining his offer to take hers. If he didn’t answer her questions the way she wanted, she wouldn’t be staying long.

“So Lex died. Why would that matter after I’d told you I didn’t love you that way?” she said, injecting a healthy dose of challenge into the question. “You admitted yourself that you hadn’t planned on coming back at all.”

“I wanted...I wanted to tell you I was sorry about everything.” He had the grace to stammer a bit, his answers not so quick and easy anymore. “I don’t know. I guess I needed to see for myself that it didn’t matter if he wasn’t in the picture. You didn’t love me regardless – ”

“So you weren’t that serious about her?” she said, wanting him to say yes. Practically begging him to say yes. “You just slept with her to forget about me?”

“No, I didn’t sleep with her just so I could forget about you.” Once again that night, his denial was a little too emphatic for her current state of mind. “I made love to her because she and I shared something...a lot of things...and at the time, what we did was right for us. I can’t...don’t regret it and I won’t apologize for it. I’m sorry if that hurts you. But, like I said, I’m not really sure how it’s any of your business...”

“I’m in love with you, so that makes it my business,” she hissed. It did hurt. It hurt almost more than she could stand. But it didn’t hurt half as much as the wrong answer to her next question was going to hurt. “I need to know the real reason you came back. Was it because she died?”

“What?”

“That other woman...Julie – ”

“Gillian.”

“Gillian. You said she died,” Lois said, then took a shaky breath. “Was I your consolation prize?”

He knew immediately what she suspected. She could tell by the way his eyes widened, then narrowed. But it took him a few minutes to answer, and when he did, he said his words very carefully. As if he’d taken that time to pick them specifically so she’d understand. “I made the decision to come back here before Gillian was killed. I didn’t even know she’d died until I went back to Colombia before Thanksgiving. I didn’t lie to you when I told you I went back to tell her good-bye. I was just too late.”

Lois allowed herself to breathe normally for the first time since he’d utter the words “more than friends.” He’d put her greatest fear to rest. Because, despite all he’d put her through, she knew he’d never lie to her. He’d come back to her and had stayed with her because he’d wanted to, not because he’d had no other choice. Which meant maybe he did love her as much as he claimed. Although none of it excused him sleeping with someone else. Or rather, she wasn’t ready to allow him what he’d actually had every right to do.

Because him having done it – she had no intention of putting words to it, even in her own mind – meant that he wasn’t the guy she’d always thought he was. Yeah, he’d nailed that innocent wholesome-farm-boy act down pretty good. All those times he’d acted so baffled by Cat Grant’s come-ons, all those Friday and Saturday nights he’d chalked up to quiet reading alone in his apartment. She didn’t know anymore how much of that had been her own blindness, her willingness to ignore the obvious so he could remain unique. She’d placed him apart from other men because he was the only man she’d ever known who didn’t seem to be ruled by parts of his anatomy south of the Mason Dixon line. Come to find out, he was far more normal than she’d suspected.

“Was it just one woman?” Lois asked, needing enough details to ease some of the worry but not wanting too much to fuel her vivid imagination. “I don’t need names or anything...”

“There was just Gillian.”

“And were you with her the entire time? All six months?”

“Yes.”

“In Colombia?” Gads, what if they’d come to Metropolis and she’d bumped into them?

“Yeah.”

“She was there to help with the earthquake?”

“No. She lived there.” He swiped a hand over his eyes. “Listen, I’m not sure why you want to know – ”’

“I never slept with Lex, you know,” she blurted.

Clark shook his head, as if he thought he might have had something in his ears and that’s why he hadn’t understood what she’d said. “What?

“I never slept with Lex,” she repeated carefully, watching his face for some kind of reaction.

Amazement. Relief. Disbelief bordering on skepticism. They were all etched across his face. He frowned his confusion. “I don’t get it. You two were engaged.”

“A lot of people wait until they get married, Clark,” she said.

“A lot of people aren’t Lex Luthor.” Clark crossed his massive arms over his chest in an almost self-hug. “I imagine he can be pretty…persuasive.”

“Oh, he tried. I told him I wanted to wait for our wedding night. To make it more special. He wasn’t very happy about it – ”

“I can imagine,” Clark said with a snort.

“But he agreed. Thing was, it wasn’t until later I realized why I made him wait. I mean, it’s not like I was some kind of virgin bride – ”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, lifting a hand to stop her. “I get it.”

His unwillingness to hear details about her prior sex life gave her a tiny sense of vindication. Served him right. She ought to list all the guys she’d known in that way. All three and a half of them. But that wasn’t the point of telling him about Lex. She wasn’t aiming for jealousy. She wanted him to understand why his betrayal hurt so much. That it meant she couldn’t cast him in the same perfect light as before.

“Anyway, I lied to Lex about wanting to wait,” she said. “Except I didn’t even realize I’d lied until after I’d called off the wedding. I didn’t want to sleep with him. At all. Not before we were married or after. I just couldn’t do it because I wasn’t in love with him.”

Lois released a long, slow breath. Her recitation to Clark had taken only seconds, but it had taken her days to become so enlightened. And after she’d realized the truth of it all, how many nights had she lain awake thanking every magnificent god in the known universe for allowing her subconscious to rule her mind in saying No to Lex? How much deeper would her regrets have been had she slept with the man only to discover afterwards how wrong it had been on so many levels?

Clark, for his part, didn’t seem shocked by her admission. In fact, for someone who had just admitted to having an affair, he seemed surprisingly un-sheepish. He should at least be blushing for his failings in light of her good-faith admission.

Since he didn’t seem to understand that he should be apologizing or at least acting awkwardly humbled, she laid it flat out. “So I think the my real problem now is I’m disappointed.”

At that he did at least blink and frown quite substantially. “Disappointed that you didn’t have sex with Lex?”

“No. God, Clark!” She wanted to smack him. “You! I’m disappointed in you!”

“Me?” he said, incredulous.

“Yes. I just told you how much sex means to me. It’s a lot more than just a physical thing. It’s personal and intimate and...and a sign of love and commitment. It means something to me...a lot to me. Obviously it doesn’t mean the same thing for you. I’m disappointed that you can take it so casually.”

He studied her for a second. “It sounds like you’re suggesting that I'd sleep with someone without being in love with her.”

“Exactly!” she said, her hand punctuating the air. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “I just always figured you for one of those old-fashioned kind of perfect guys who wouldn’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said carefully.

Back to being obtuse, was he? “Well, obviously you would because you did.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head slowly as if she were the one being obtuse. “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t? But that would mean...” Why was he now nodding his head? He was nodding his head. Her frustration and confusion and the hint of relief she’d achieved only seconds ago got trampled by a cold realization. “Oh my god. Did you...were you...were you in love with her?

“Yes,” he said after zero hesitation. Zero. No time needed to contemplate and decide. It was something he knew for certain. “I loved her. Very much.”

“Oh,” she said, the air in her body and the hope in her heart draining simultaneously.

Without thinking, she lowered herself down to the couch. “That’s why you didn’t tell me about her. You were in love with her.”

He didn’t deny it. “There were lots of reasons I didn’t tell you about her. This not being the least of them.”

“This?” she echoed numbly. He’d fallen in love with another woman.

“Yes, this,” he said, waving between the two of them. “All the doubts I know are running through your brain right now. Come on. Tell me now that you know I loved someone else you aren’t all worried it means I love you less or maybe not even at all.”

“No...” She said it with so much uncertainty they both knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

He sat down next to her but didn’t try to touch her. “Lois, I came back...nearly ran back...to Metropolis the minute I found out Lex was dead. I tried to tell myself it was just to prove I was over you. But deep down I knew it was because I still loved you so much. That tiny ember of hope never burned completely out, and if there was any chance in hell of us having some kind of future together, I had to see you again. Because in all that time, I never stopped loving you. Even after that day in the park. I just couldn’t stop, no matter how much I wanted to.”

“You say that,” she said, “and I really want to believe you. I can’t tell you how much I want to believe you. But I just don’t understand how you could love another woman and still say you loved me at the same time.”

“Because love is not a limited commodity.”

He studied her, as if trying to find a way to make her understand. She hoped he could because she wanted so desperately to understand. She wanted so much to go back in time, to the minutes before she’d pushed, insisting on knowing what he’d been doing all those months away from her. She’d just learned the true meaning of the phrase ignorance was bliss. She just hadn’t realized how blissful she’d been until now.

“The love I had for Gillian came from a different source than the love I have for you,” Clark continued, apparently having found a way to explain. “The six months I spent with her didn’t diminish by one drop the bottomless pool I feel for you now. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Tears stung the back of her eyes and she blinked hard, willing them to stay contained. She wanted to be angry and hurt. She needed to be the injured party. But what he was saying was making sense. “I’m so confused.”

“You have to know it’s only because I honestly believed you and I had no chance of a future together that I could even think about another woman,” he went on. “I didn’t run out looking for this. It just happened. I’m not sorry that it did because what Gillian and I shared was something really special and important to me. We needed each other at that point in our lives, and she gave me so much. But me needing her never stopped me from wishing things had been different between us. And me loving her doesn’t make me any less glad that I have you now.”

“My brain understands what you’re saying,” she said. “But I guess my heart just wants to keep thinking that all those months you spent away from here you were missing me as much as I was missing you. Come to find out you were having a grand old time in Colombia.”

“I told you, it wasn’t like that. She wasn’t like that,” Clark said. “You know, she’s the one who sent me back here. I was ready to stay with her, but she told me to go home.”

“She told you? You just said you came running back the second you heard Lex was dead?”

He sighed, a weary, dejected sound. “I wanted to be over you. God knows how hard I tried to be over you. I’d even thought I’d moved on with my life. Gillian called me on all that garbage. She made me see how stupid I’d been. I’d kept all these secrets from you but expected you to love me anyway. She knew I’d never be happy until I told you the truth and settled things with you one way or another. She knew even if I didn’t that I wanted to come back.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” Lois admitted. “You’re telling me I should be grateful to the woman who basically stole you from me.”

“God, Lois, she didn’t steal me from you. Hell, she gave me back to you. She knew there was a good chance I’d never come back to her, but she told me to go anyway because she wanted me to be happy. So I left. And she was killed soon after that.” He laughed once, hollow and empty. “In a twisted way, she gave up not only me but her life as well.”

The anguish in his voice cut through her own self-pity. If it was possible, he actually was hurting worse than she was. “I’m sorry she died. How...how did it happen?”

“She was killed by paramilitaries when she went to a guerilla camp looking for...” He stood and raked a hand through his hair. The haunted look filled his eyes and he made no effort to hide it. “Look, it doesn’t matter. She lived in a violent place. I tried to tell her something like this could happen, but she was more than a little stubborn.”

The reason for his heavy sadness now became crystal clear. Lois hadn’t given any thought at all as to how this woman’s death might weigh on him because of who and what he was. The burden of guilt he probably carried. If he believed he could have prevented it, he’d never forgive himself.

“So that’s why you’ve been so sad. Like part of you is always some place else,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. Of course. He’d been grieving, but it went deeper than that.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just not over it yet,” Clark said.

Was still grieving...

“You don’t blame yourself for her dying, do you?” she said, a new worry taking hold. “You know that it’s not your fault, right?”

“No? If I’d stayed, she’d still be alive,” he choked, and Lois nearly fell to her knees when she saw he raw agony in his eyes.

Would always be grieving...

“You don’t know that,” she said, desperate to stop the guilt she now saw was eating him alive. It would destroy him the same as kryptonite could. “Surely you couldn’t have been with her every minute. She never could have expected that. I know it, Clark.”

“I told her if she needed me I’d be there. All she had to do was call for me.”

His voice had shaken when he said it, so she forced her own to remain rock steady. Calm and in control. Ready to talk him off this ledge before he jumped and took her with him.

“Yeah, well I’m sure she told you you were crazy. Just like I would have. I don’t expect you to get me out of every mess I get myself into. You know as well as anyone that I never listen when you tell me to be careful or not to do something. If she chose to live in Colombia, of all places, I imagine she did pretty much what she pleased. Including going to places where she might get killed.” Her voice started to tremble with the force of her fear. She took a breath and steadied it. “Think about it, Clark. Think of all the times you kept me from getting myself killed. Do you think if ever you might not have been able to make it and I…do you think I’d blame you? I make my own choices and I accept the consequences. Gillian did the same thing. She doesn’t blame you. I just know it. You have to stop blaming yourself.”

He didn’t answer, and her own tears threatened to flow freely as panic crept over her. She stood and went to him, putting her hand on his arm. Forcing him to look at her. “Clark, listen to me. You said she sent you back to me because she wanted you to be happy. Do you think it would make her happy now knowing that you blamed yourself? That you were miserable and devastated by guilt?”

When he shook his head slowly, she continued, unrelenting. She’d come too close to lose him now. “She gave you a chance to be happy. You owe it to her to be happy. With me. Without me. No, hear me out,” she said when he started to protest her implication. “We have a chance for something good to come out of all of this. Something that could last forever. Isn’t that what she would have wanted?”

“Yeah, it’s what she would have wanted,” he said, his eyes so bright they looked like black marbles.

“So if I can bear knowing that you loved another woman, surely you can forgive yourself and get past this,” she said. “Because if you can’t, then she died for nothing.”

She held her breath, waiting for him to pick up the gauntlet she’d tossed down. She’d given him everything she had to give, and he couldn’t know how much it was costing her. Letting go of her hurt would be close to impossible, but she’d do it. She loved him enough to pay any price if it meant she’d get him back whole. All of him.

When he nodded at last, she covered her face with her hands, needing the false privacy. Relief and something she couldn’t explain flooded into her chest. She wanted to be happy, to be satisfied with his assurances. She wanted to start forgetting. To help him start the process of forgiving himself so they could face the future with a clean slate.

There was still something she needed to know.

Swiping the last tears from her cheeks, she looked at him. “Would you have ever told me about Gillian? I mean, if I hadn’t pressed?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “What happened to me in Colombia...it’s personal. Something that’s hard for me to share. Even with you.”

“That makes me sad. I though we could tell each other everything.”

“It’s not about being able to tell you. It’s about wanting to tell you,” he clarified. “Talking about Gillian with people who didn’t know her is really hard. I don’t want people to have the wrong idea about what happened between us or why. She was too important to me to be thought of as some fling I had when I was off on some wild adventure.”

Lois didn’t know what to say. She’d thought exactly that. And suggesting as much had made him angrier than she’d ever seen him. Despite the fact that it loathed her to admit it, Lois could see that Gillian had changed Clark in ways that were fundamental. Loving him and sharing his life was going to mean respecting Gillian’s part in forming the man he now was. She didn’t have to like it, but she was going to have to find a way to deal with it.

“I also didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be really hurt,” he went on. “I never wanted any of this to hurt you, and I know how much it has.”

She certainly couldn’t argue with that. “Don’t you think sharing you with a ghost would have caused me some pain?”

“I guess I was hoping it would get easier. It wouldn’t hurt so much after a while and I’d be able to put Gillian in the past and get on with my life with you.”

“Your plan didn’t seem to be working too good,” she said.

“Maybe I wasn’t ready to let go yet.”

Lois digested that information, forcing herself to remain outside her own feelings. “Is that why you’re still wearing that bracelet? Because it reminds you of her?”

“I don’t need any reminders,” he said softly. “I won’t ever forget her.”

Wow. Okay, that one really hurt. She smiled weakly. “Gee, thanks.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely contrite. He reached across the space that separated them and lifted her hands into his, emphasizing his apology.

“I know. I guess it’s going to take me a while to wrap my brain around this,” she said. Then she laughed, the sound too high and forced. “I mean, for a long time I thought I was the only center of your universe.”

Clark smiled and pulled her close to his chest, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. She took in a shaky breath and closed her eyes, appreciating his presence even more now that she realized how close she’d come to losing it forever. Closer than she had ever imagined.

“You are the only center of my universe,” he said into her hair. “And it’s going to take me a while, too. To get a handle on it all. I hope you can understand and give me just a little more time.”

Now that she understood the reason for his sadness, she couldn’t begrudge him his time to grieve. This wasn’t about her. Not if she believed what he'd told her; that he loved her. And she did believe him. She nodded against his chest, afraid she’d start to cry again if she spoke.

After another minute he eased her away from him. “You okay?”

She nodded, swiping a hand across her eyes and giving him a shaky smile. “I will be now.”

He studied her for a second, then smiled. “I think I have a way we can start getting over all of this.”

She took off her coat and sat on the edge of the sofa while he went to the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with a pair of scissors. Taking care to shield the blades, he handed them to her.

“I’m ready to start putting the past behind me. Will you help me do it?” As he said it, he held out his arm. The brightly-colored bracelet slid down his wrist, coming to rest at the top of his hand. A peace offering. The biggest one he had to give.

Without speaking, she reached for the bracelet, spinning it until the knot faced up. Gingerly she slipped the point of the scissors between his skin and the colorful thread. The thin rope snapped with only a slight bit of pressure, releasing them both from the past.

Clark caught it before it fell to the floor, tucking it into the pocket of his pants. She thought to ask what he would do with it then realized it really wasn’t any of her business. Yes, Gillian owned a part of his heart and a part of his past. But he’d made it clear that it was she who owned his future. That was all that mattered now.

He joined her on the couch, sinking back into the cushions and holding his arm open in invitation. She snuggled deep into the crook of his elbow, reaching across her body to grasp his hand in hers and pull his embrace tighter. Her head fit perfectly in the space between his neck and shoulder, and when he rubbed his cheek against her hair, for the first time in almost two years she felt the beginning of contentment.

They sat that way for a long time, letting it all digest. Lois had to admit that it still hurt. A lot. What she’d learned that night was like a deep bruise on her heart. For a long time it would be a tender spot, causing her to wince whenever it was probed or disturbed. But, like any bruise, it would heal with time. Just like Clark would heal. He might never forget Gillian, but he’d get over her. She’d make sure of it.

“So, why don’t you tell me about her?” she asked after nearly half an hour of listening to his even breathing, letting it soothe her.

He tilted his head forward to give her a quizzical look. “Gillian?

Lois nodded, looking down at their entwined fingers. “Yeah. I mean, if you loved her, then she must have been pretty special.”

She’d gotten him talking, and a part of her feared if she didn’t keep him talking, he’d withdraw again. Back into his own world where Gillian resided and she didn’t. If this woman had been so very important to him, then she was important to Lois, as well. Helping Clark make peace with his relationship with Gillian and her death could bind them together, but he’d said that talking about Gillian with people who hadn’t known her was hard. Which meant Lois needed to know everything about her so he would be able to talk. Well, almost everything.

Besides, she found herself wanting to know what kind of woman could have been strong enough to give up the love of a man like Clark Kent. She knew she certainly wasn’t.

He thought a moment, then squeezed her hand before answering softly. “She was. Very special.”

“Was she Colombian?” Lois asked, picturing a dark-haired beauty with black eyes and tan skin.

“No, she was an American. From near Detroit.”

An American? “Was she a Peace Corps volunteer?”

“A nurse,” he said.

“What was she like?”

He thought a minute. “Stubborn. Smart. Funny.”

“Yeah?” Lois said, snuggling deeper into his arms.

“She could take apart a motorbike all the way down to the last nut and bolt and then put it all back together again,” he said. “She could beat the crap out of me in Gin Rummy, but I think she cheated."

Lois laughed but said nothing, letting him go on. “She liked Chilean wine and black licorice. And the music from the movie Grease. She hated buses.”

“Why?”

“Long story,” he said, then smiled and shook his head. Remembering quietly.

But this time, his silence was relaxed. Not the shutting out he’d done over the past months, but rather a quietness of peace. As if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. This time, if she asked the questions, she knew he would answer them. And she didn’t need to be afraid of those answers anymore because he’d chosen her.

“So, why did she hate buses?” Lois asked, quite fine with hearing a long story as long as it was told while he held her tightly in his arms.

“Listen, you know what? Maybe another time,” he interrupted. She felt his lips brushing firmly against the top of her head, lingering, then f