Table of Contents


From Part 3:


Clark moved. He disappeared into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a towel which he used to clean the mirror. When he’d finished, it still retained a reddish sheen, but at least she could write on it.

He stood back and waited.

She thought, then wrote.

I’M HERE, CLARK. I’M DEAD, BUT I’M HERE

Silence.

He stared at what she’d written, and she could actually hear his breath catch. And she saw the precise moment when the penny dropped. His eyes widened and, when he spoke, unbelievably, his voice shook.

“Lois?”

***********


Even as he heard himself say her name, he knew it was impossible.

Lois couldn’t be here. How could she possibly be the one writing on his mirror? She was dead! He’d seen her murdered right in front of him.

He looked away and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

His grief over her death was getting to him. Making him insane. Now he was seeing things which weren’t even there. That had to be it. He was imagining this. There wasn’t really anything written on his mirror.

Sighing, he looked back at the mirror. The words still stared back at him. The letters bright red. Slashes of blood across the glass.

Slashes of blood across his hands, her dress, her body, the floor...

He blinked and felt himself shaking. He was cracking up. Oh god... He covered his eyes with his hands and made himself take deep breaths. One. Two. More. And then he opened his eyes and allowed himself to look at the mirror again.

Crimson writing still stared back at him.

I’M HERE, CLARK. I’M DEAD, BUT I’M HERE

No. No, it couldn’t be. How could it be?

How could she possibly be dead and yet writing on his mirror?

And, as he watched, a lipstick moved in front of him and letters appeared as if out of nowhere.

IT’S ME. I THINK I’M A GHOST

“What?” This was getting crazier by the second. Shaking his head, he muttered, “I’m dreaming. That’s the only explanation for any of this.”

Like lightening, another message appeared on his mirror.

IF YOU’RE DREAMING THEN SO AM I

He turned away. Lois was dead. This... whatever it was... was insane. The product of either his delusional mind or some deranged sadist. But then his sensitive ears picked up the sound of squeaking. It was real. Someone was messing with his mind. And whoever it was hadn’t given up yet.

I WISH I COULD TALK TO YOU. THEN YOU’D BELIEVE ME

He crossed his arms and glared at the mirror. “Prove it to me. If you’re Lois, you’ll know how to convince me.”

Nothing happened.

Even though he’d refused to let himself believe it was possible, he felt his heart sink. Whatever was going on here, Lois hadn’t returned, as a ghost or anything else. She was dead. When was he going to accept that?

And then he noticed that something - someone? - was holding the towel against the mirror, trying to erase some of the writing. With one stride, he was there, grabbing the towel and wiping furiously, using his heat vision to melt the lipstick a little to make it easier to remove.

Then he stepped back and waited.

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY?

Yeah, right. More evidence that this wasn’t Lois. She’d never been lost for words in her life.

Then more words appeared.

IF IT’S NOT LEAD-LINED, DON’T BOTHER

What?

His heart skipped a beat. He’d said that to Lois once. Well, Clark hadn’t. But Superman had. And, as far as he knew, no-one else knew about that conversation. Only Lois. But, if Lois had really written it, that meant she knew he was Superman.

How long had she known?

Had she known tonight? His blood chilled. She couldn’t have known he was Superman when she’d pushed him out of the way. Could she? But if she had, why would she have done it? Why would she have pretty much committed suicide when she’d known that he couldn’t be killed?

Maybe she hadn’t known then. Maybe she’d only found out afterwards. Was that why she’d written that first thing?

COME ON FARMBOY! SAY SOMETHING

He blinked. Impossible as it seemed, as much as his brain was trying to tell him that it couldn’t be so, it had to be Lois. The rational side of him finally began to accept what his heart had wanted to believe all along.

“Lois?” He heard his voice crack. “Is it really you?”

YES. IT’S ME

He felt himself sag, and dropped his hands onto the dressing-table to prop himself up. Lois was really here. He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t hear her. And, seemingly, he couldn’t touch her. But she was here.

“Oh, god! How is this even possible?”

I DON’T KNOW

“Can you talk?” he asked.

Silence.

“Obviously not.”

YOU DON’T HEAR ME. I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TALK TO YOU FOR HOURS

“You’ve been here that long?” How was this even possible? Where was she? Why couldn’t he feel her?

The towel moved again. He hadn’t noticed how full the mirror had got. “Let me.” Taking it, he cleaned the lipstick off again, this time not bothering to use human speed. After all, she seemed to know who he was.

I’VE BEEN WITH YOU SINCE I GOT SHOT

That was how she knew. Had she seen him become Superman? Did she know that he’d caught her killers?

“Where? Why? Oh, god, Lois, I wish I could see you! There’s so much I need to say to you - so much I want to ask you...”

I WISH YOU COULD SEE ME TOO. I WISH YOU COULD HOLD ME

Oh, so did he! More than he could even express. “Where are you?” And - wait, if she could hold a lipstick and the towel... “Why can’t I hold you? Why can’t you touch me?”

He held out his hand, and noticed that it was shaking. And he waited.

A breath of air swept across his palm. And then he felt it. Skin against skin. Fingers brushing fingers. And closing around his.

Lois’s hand in his.

He wrapped his fingers around hers. And felt himself trembling uncontrollably. “Oh, Lois...”

Another touch. Invisible fingers stroking down his other arm. His breath caught again and, with a choking sob, he wrapped his arms around her. Around thin air, his eyes told him. Around her, all of his other senses knew. She fit against him as if she belonged there.

It really was Lois. He’d know her anywhere. He’d always thought that he’d know the shape of her blindfold. And now he knew that was true.

She clung to him as if she never wanted to let him go. He sensed her desperation, recognised it as equal to his own. He never wanted to let her go either.

Right now, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see her. Couldn’t hear her. He was holding her in his arms, and that was worth more than anything.

But perhaps there was a way they could talk...

“Let’s sit down,” he suggested. She didn’t pull away from him, so he assumed she was okay with the idea. Bending slightly, he scooped her up just as he had so many times as Superman to take her flying. She snuggled into him as he carried her to the bed. He sat full-length and leaned against the headboard, setting her loose on his lap so that she could sit beside him if she wanted.

She didn’t. She curled up on top of him, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. Closing his eyes briefly in wonder and joy at having her so close to him, he tightened his arms around her, holding her against his heart.

She’d never snuggled so close to him before. Not like this.

But then, she’d never been dead before, either.

She had to be devastated. Torn apart with grief for all she’d lost. And probably terrified, too, at finding herself in a world where nobody could see her or hear her. A world where she no longer belonged. Which was carrying on without her.

She was dead at only twenty-seven. It was so damn unfair! And all his fault...

His heart wrenched for her. She’d given up everything for him.

But she was here. And the least he could do was try to offer her some comfort. “I can’t hear you. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk,” he told her softly. “How about you squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no?”

A pause. And then her small hand slid into his. One squeeze. It was something.

He swallowed. This was nothing short of a miracle, but now that he had his chance to talk to her again, a chance he never imagined that he’d get, he had no idea where to start. There was so much to say. So much he needed her to know... so much he had to know himself.

Such as why she’d killed herself for him.

But that wasn’t exactly something she could answer via yes or no. So he decided to start somewhere else. “You know I’m Superman, right?”

One squeeze.

“I’m sorry I never told you. I wish... There are so many things I’d do differently if I had the chance, Lois.”

Her hand squeezed his again, lingeringly this time.

“I guess you found out when I took off to find Capone, right?” Another brief squeeze of his hand. “I wanted to tell you. So many times I thought about it, imagined it, even rehearsed it, but... You have to understand that it’s a secret I’ve kept all my life. It’s not easy to think about telling anyone - especially once I became Superman. But I want you to know that if I’d ever told anyone it would’ve been you.”

She lay still in his arms. No squeezes this time.

“I don’t know if you can understand that,” he continued, desperately wanting her to understand. Needing her to know that he hadn’t deliberately cut her out of such a large part of her life. Well, he had, really, but it wasn’t something he’d wanted to do. He hadn’t wanted to exclude her. Had wanted to share everything with her.

One squeeze. She understood. And, perhaps, if he was luckier than he deserved, she even forgave him.

He freed his other arm, searching for her head where it rested on his chest. Silky strands filled his fingers. He bent his head and pressed a kiss against her hair.

She shifted. Unable to see her, he had no idea what she was doing. And so he was taken completely by surprise when soft lips pressed against his.


********

She’d never thought that she could possibly feel any sort of happiness again. After all, she was dead. But she’d been able to communicate with Clark. He knew she was here. She wasn’t all alone any more.

He was with her. He was holding her in his arms. He was talking to her more honestly than he ever had before.

And she could touch him. He could feel her touching him.

How she’d acquired the ability to touch and to hold, she had no idea. She didn’t care either. All that mattered was that she could. Like a prisoner emerging from solitary confinement, she’d craved the warmth and comfort of human contact. The capacity to have it again was beyond price.

Her hand had shaken as she’d reached out to him. And, when he’d closed his fingers around hers, her eyes had stung. For the first time, she’d been grateful that he couldn’t see her. She didn’t want him to see her crying.

He’d held her close in just the way she’d desperately needed to be held. Held her against his heart. And he’d understood her need to communicate with him. Even though he couldn’t hear her, she could still tell him things. Of course, she could tell him more if he got her a pad and pen, but for now just yes and no were enough.

Then he’d brushed his lips against her head. And she’d been filled with an overwhelming, irresistible desire to know his kiss. A real kiss, without artifice or hesitation - a kiss from the man she loved and who loved her. No matter that she wasn’t even alive any more. No matter that, for all she knew, she could disappear at any second. She needed this.

The second her lips touched his, she felt him still. And then he made an inarticulate sound and one arm tightened around her. The other slid up to cup the back of her head, holding her against him. And then he was kissing her back, the way she’d yearned for, dreamed of, longed for, needed.

In his arms, she felt loved. Protected. Cherished.

She felt alive.

A simple kiss had never before sent tingles spinning through her entire body. A man’s arms around her had never made her want to stay in his caring embrace for ever.

Too soon, he ended the kiss, trailing his lips along her jaw and stroking his fingers gently though her hair. She relaxed against him, her breathing returning to normal after the tempest which had crashed over her in the last few minutes. Well, whatever approximated to breathing in a ghost...

Unable to hold the words back, she whispered, “I love you, Clark.”

“Oh, god, Lois, I love you too. So much...”

Shock made her rigid. “You can hear me?”

His expression told her that he was as astounded as she was. “God, I didn’t... Yes! I can hear you!” His eyes closed briefly. “Lois, I can’t believe it - that’s fantastic!”

“Oh, wow. Oh, I can’t believe it! I can talk to you, Clark!”

She scrambled into a sitting position, shifting off his lap and onto the bed beside him.

“Hey! You moved!”

He was reaching out for her, his hands flailing and reminding her that he still couldn’t see her. She grabbed onto his hand, and he immediately seized hers, gripping it tightly.

“I... well, I was probably crushing you...”

“Lois, I’m Superman, remember? Trust me, you couldn’t crush me. And, since I can’t see you, I...” He faltered, taking her by surprise as sadness returned to his expression. “I need to hold you, Lois. I have to know that you’re here... that this isn’t all just a dream and that any minute I’m going to wake up and you’ll be gone again.”

Dead, he meant. Gone from his life for ever.

Well, she was dead. But, for some reason, she was hanging around as a ghost.

“I’m here.” She squeezed his hand again, wanting to reassure him. “I have no idea why I’m here, or how long I’m going to be here, or why suddenly you can feel me and hear me instead of walking right through me but, trust me, I’m not complaining!”

She hoped he wouldn’t hear the tiny choke which had appeared, unbidden, on the last couple of words. But, as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her tightly against him and buried his face in her hair, she knew he’d heard.

“Oh, Lois.” The bleak note was back in his voice.

And she couldn’t blame him. Sure, they were together. Sure, they’d finally found a way through all the fears and misunderstandings and lies and plain stubbornness keeping them apart, and they’d actually managed to say those special words to each other. She was in his arms. Only a few minutes ago she’d been thoroughly kissed.

But, still, nothing had changed. She was still dead. They were never going to be together. What a time to discover that she loved him and that he loved her back!

Timing sucked. Life sucked.

And being dead sucked most of all.


*********

...tbc

Just a fly-by! *waves*