Table of Contents
From Part 1:He was hurting so much. She wanted to comfort him. To take him into her arms just as he always did when she needed him. To hold his hand and stroke his hair and tell him that she was there for him and that she’d make the pain go away.
Except that he couldn’t see her. Or hear her. Or even feel her. To him, she wasn’t here at all. And it was killing her all over again to see his pain and be unable to do anything to comfort him.
“Oh, Clark,” she whispered. Tears trickling down her cheeks again, she fell to the sofa and simply sat watching him.
*********
Now read on...His mom was speaking, but Clark was no longer hearing her words. All he could see was that split second in the club. Over and over again, it played in his mind. He scrunched his eyes closed, but still couldn’t rid himself of the gut-wrenching, nightmarish image.
The fight. The gun. And Lois shoving him out of the way. Placing herself in the firing-line.
Lois stepping in front of a bullet - for him.
Why would she do it? Why would she be so stupid - so
reckless?
Why would she have done it? he corrected himself mentally, dully.
It was such a crazy thing to do! Apart from anything else, if the bullet had hit him he wouldn’t have been hurt. Wouldn’t have died. He was invulnerable, for heaven’s sake!
Though Lois didn’t know - hadn’t known that...
His fist clenched around the receiver again, and he became aware that his mom was calling his name.
“Clark? Are you still there, honey?”
He inhaled deeply. He was crying again. He had to stop that. “Yeah. I’m just... I’m not sure I can talk about this any more right now.”
Her sympathy and concern for him was almost tangible through the phone-line. “That’s understandable. Do you want to come out here?”
Did he? It was tempting. Physical and emotional comfort from the two people who knew him best, whom he could actually talk to about why he couldn’t help but blame himself for Lois getting killed. He
should have been able to save her. He should have been fast enough to do something. Whatever else, he should never have let her push him aside. He was
Superman, for god’s sake! How the hell had she been able to make him move?
What use was he if he could let his best friend get killed right in front of him?
But moping around in Smallville wasn’t going to help, and certainly not when there was still something he could do for Lois.
“Thanks, Mom, but I won’t. Not right now, anyway. I feel like I want to do something, you know? And it’d be more useful if I tried to track down Lois’s killers.”
“That makes sense,” his dad said. “But, Clark?”
“Yeah?”
“We know you. Don’t start blaming yourself, you hear? This wasn’t your fault.”
“Oh, no?” He couldn’t stop the bitterness leaking into his tone. “I should never have let her push me out of the way. Hell, I should have got her out of there before Barrow even drew his gun.”
“And just how would you have done that without letting everyone in the room know that you’re Superman?”
His dad was right, but still... “Maybe that’s what I should have done.”
“You know all the reasons why that would’ve been a bad idea, honey,” his mom pointed out.
“Yes, and even if you’d got Lois out of the way someone else might have been killed.”
“Okay, I’m obsessing.” Clark sighed heavily. “I
know that. But there has to be something I could have done...”
“Hindsight’s a wonderful thing, sweetie.” Her voice was gentle, offering the comfort he wasn’t ready to accept. “You can’t keep torturing yourself.”
He shouldn’t. But he probably would. At any rate, he couldn’t see himself getting any sleep at all tonight. He knew that as soon as he closed his eyes he’d start reliving the scene in the club over and over, each time despairing as he failed to save Lois. Each time dying a little himself as he saw her body jerk with the impact of the bullet and then tumble to the floor.
Why had she done it? Why let herself be shot instead of him? He still couldn’t understand it. Of course, she hadn’t known that he was Superman. Hadn’t known he was invulnerable, that he couldn’t be hurt by a simple bullet. If she had known, then...
He should have told her. It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about telling her - she was his best friend and his partner, and there were so many reasons why it would have been useful to have her know. Yet there had never seemed to be a right time - or, perhaps, he’d never quite had the courage to tell her. Now, because he hadn’t told her, she was dead.
“Look, I’m going to... get on with a few things,” he told his parents. “Thanks for the talk, okay?”
“You’re welcome, sweetie. You call us tomorrow, you hear?”
“I will, I promise.”
He ended the call, then raked a hand through his hair again. Talking to his parents had helped a little, but the feeling that he’d lost an essential part of himself just refused to go away. Because he had. Lois had meant everything to him. She was the bright star in his life, the person who could make his heart beat faster just by smiling at him.
And now she was dead. Gone forever.
Soon, he would go out and try to find Capone and the other gangsters. The police were looking for them, too, but Superman could help. And it would give him something useful to do.
But first... He crossed through his bedroom and went out onto the balcony. It was well after midnight and few of the city lights remained bright. Street-lights and traffic signals shone dully, while most of the surrounding buildings were in darkness. It was a cloudy night and, in the absence of stars and any sight of the moon, the sky was dark, dull and cold.
A gloomy, chilly night, with even some rain in the air. It just suited his mood.
He leaned on the balcony rail, staring ahead yet unfocused. Lois was dead. It wasn’t fathomable. Even though he’d seen it happen with his own eyes, he couldn’t come to terms with it. How could such a vibrant, energetic person be dead? How could it be possible that he would never see her again? That he’d walk into the newsroom every morning and not find her waiting for him, tapping her fingers impatiently on the surface of her desk because she needed him to listen to her latest idea
right now?
That she would never again grin at him in absolute joy because a story had just come together? That she would never again call him ‘Farmboy’ in that half-teasing, half-scathing way she had whenever he did something to irritate her? That he’d never hear that quicksilver laugh again, or see her eyes sparkle the way they did when she was happy or excited.
He would never again have her touch him in the affectionate way he’d become used to from her: a hand on his shoulder if she was standing behind him reading his screen, or her palm against his chest when she was telling him something. Or linking her arm with his when they walked. If they were walking home together after a pizza or the movies, the way she’d butt her hips against his to reinforce her superiority in whatever they were arguing about at the time.
And she would never again arrive on his doorstep unexpectedly, demanding to watch movies with him or because she had a
brilliant idea which she simply had to share with him, or just because she wanted to talk. He’d never again get to sit beside her on his sofa, wrapping his arm around her shoulders because she was sleepy and wanted to lie back against him for support.
In one lousy second, he’d lost his partner, his best friend and the only woman he’d ever loved. He’d been standing right beside her. And he hadn’t been able to save her. What use was he? What use was Superman?
“Oh, Lois, how am I going to live without you?” How was he going to bear the agony? “I love you so much,” he whispered. “I will always love you.”
*********
He
loved her?
A lump in her throat again, Lois stared at Clark. He was leaning his elbows on the balcony rail, gazing out into the night. Somehow she knew he wasn’t seeing anything in front of him.
Now the full depth of his pain made sense. He wasn’t just mourning his best friend. He wasn’t just feeling some sort of crazy farmboy-with-a-superhero-complex guilt because she’d got killed saving his life. He was devastated because he’d been in love with her.
Why hadn’t he told her? Why had she not known he felt that way about her?
But he had told her. She slumped against the wall at the rear of the balcony and slid down to the ground as the memory she’d tried her best to bury came back to her. During the time she referred to as her month of insanity, when she’d actually managed to get engaged to the biggest criminal the country had ever known, Clark *had* told her that he loved her. He’d taken it back later, but she’d never quite been sure whether to believe him or not.
He’d certainly wanted her to believe it, though. So she’d accepted his denial and followed his lead in getting their lives, and their friendship, back to normal. It had suited her, too; she’d had enough to deal with in coming to terms with how crassly idiotic she’d been. For weeks, there’d been new revelations of Lex’s criminality almost every day, and each time something else had come to light she’d cringed all over again. Had hated herself for the way she’d taken the word of a gangster and mass murderer over that of her friends. Especially Clark.
But she’d still known her own feelings. Known, from the morning of her wedding to another man, who she really loved. Not Luthor - never. Not even Superman, even though she’d been convinced for so long that he was the only man she would ever want to be with. Clark. She loved Clark.
She’d never said anything. She’d figured that he needed time to get over her betrayal, and anyway she’d been in no hurry herself to rush into another relationship. They’d had plenty of time, she’d decided. After all, they worked together at the best newspaper in Metropolis, if not in the entire country. Where else would either of them go? And, as long as they saw each other at work every day, and spent most of their free time together too, she never had to worry about him meeting someone else. Even though that new assistant DA was irritating, she’d never felt seriously threatened by Mayson Drake.
She hadn’t bargained on one of them getting killed.
Now, she was a ghost and Clark was grieving and they’d lost their chance to be together. Forever.
Someone was really enjoying messing with her life. Or her death. She couldn’t just be dead. No; she had to be a ghost, condemned to watch life going on without her in it. To watch her best friend grieve her death - and to discover, too late, how he really felt about her. Did this happen to everyone who died, or was she being singled out here?
Seeing Clark like this was so painful. He was still leaning against the rail, his jaw tense, his face almost grey. He hadn’t moved for several minutes. And, as she watched, she saw a single tear trickle down from under his glasses.
Why did she have to be here, watching him and unable to comfort him? What sort of sick joke was this?
Though maybe she didn’t have to be here. She hadn’t tried to be anywhere other than with Clark, had she? So she could go home, if she wanted, couldn’t she?
Yeah, right. Home to an empty apartment, full of reminders of her
life. Of when she’d been alive and not a ghost.
She could go to be with her mother. Or Perry. Or anyone else who’d known her. But none of those options appealed either. What use was being with anyone if they didn’t know she was there?
If she were the type of ghost anyone could see or hear, she could go and haunt her killers. That would be something useful, and it would make her feel a little better about being dead. Maybe.
Clark was moving. Lois shifted to an upright position against the wall, then scrambled to her feet. He’d straightened, his shoulders back and his expression determined.
And then he whirled. Spun around in the confined space where he was standing. He was circling so fast that he actually became a blur. And then he slowed, and she couldn’t believe her eyes as she saw what - who - was standing in front of her.
Reality splintered before her eyes. What she thought she’d known lay in scattered, useless shards. The new truth was right in front of her, so close she could touch it. Touch
him.
A him she’d never known existed. A superhero in farmboy clothing.
Jaw slack, Lois could only stare.
What more bizarreness was going to happen tonight?
She was a ghost - and she didn’t even believe in ghosts! And now Clark - Clark, her best friend, the guy she always teased about being a farmboy - was Superman!
Clark was Superman. He was her best friend, and he’d never told her. All this time, they’d worked beside each other, gone on stakeouts together, watched movies at his place hundreds of times, gone to games together, spent most of their waking hours in each other’s company. She thought they’d told each other everything. She’d certainly told him things she’d never, ever told anyone else.
He’d never told her this. Never even hinted at it.
How could he say he loved her? When he didn’t even trust her?
The sting of betrayal, like an icy-steel knife, twisted inside her. This hurt. Unwanted tears pricked at her eyes again, and she felt herself sag. Unable to take her eyes off Clark in Superman’s suit, her heart fracturing into tiny fragments, Lois couldn’t prevent a sob escaping.
A movement caught her attention. Clark was airborne. He was already flying over the rail, away from her, his expression bleak against the night sky.
Suddenly, she didn’t want to be alone. No matter how much his lack of trust hurt, she needed to be with Clark. Even if he didn’t even know she was there. Being dead was horrible enough; being alone in this ghostly awareness, this walking, living death, would be...
Agonising.
But he was flying. How could she possibly follow him?
And then she realised that she was in the air, too. Soaring over the buildings right behind Clark.
How?
She hadn’t even tried to follow him! She’d just wished that she could... and now she was gliding through the night with no effort at all on her part. As if she were being held up by some invisible threads and being towed along behind Clark.
Now
he was flying. She could see the subtle indications that he was directing his path and speed; little movements of his arms or wrists, a slight turn of his ankle - the kind of steering actions people made when they were swimming, but far less obvious.
He seemed to be looking for something. He was methodically covering sections of the city bit by bit, pausing every so often to hover over a building or an area, gazing downwards as if he were examining the cityscape below him through a microscope. Of course, he probably was. He had X-ray vision and the ability to magnify what he saw many hundreds of times.
But she had no idea what he was looking for. And that frustrated her. She’d worked alongside him for a year and a half! She ought to know his methods, his thought processes, his instincts inside out by now. She’d thought she did. They’d developed an almost uncanny ability to read each other, to know what the other thought they should do even before it was said out loud. She should have known him well enough to figure out what he was up to.
Of course, the reason she didn’t know was staring her directly in the face. She’d thought she knew everything there was to know about Clark Kent. What a joke. The red and blue Spandex right in front of her made a mockery of her certainty.
Clark Kent didn’t know how lucky he was. If she wasn’t invisible to him, inaudible to him, she’d let him know exactly how she felt about his lies, his deceit. By the time she was finished with him he’d be grateful that she was dead.
Dead. Everything around her faded away as the truth dawned. She was dead because she’d pushed Clark out of the way of a bullet which would have hit him. Would have killed him. And instead it had hit and killed her.
Only it wouldn’t have killed Clark. He was Superman. He was invulnerable. Nothing but Kryptonite could kill him.
She hadn’t saved his life at all.
She’d died for nothing.
*********
...tbc
