~~~Part 6~~~~
As she sat and waited for his answer, Lois didn't know what to think or what to believe. When she'd seen the picture, she'd been shocked, scared. Just who was this Clark Kent anyway? And *how* did he have a picture of her that she couldn't, for the life of her, remember having been taken? Before she'd been able to contemplate that further, he'd shown up, startling her. She was an intruder in his house and she'd been sure she was on her way to jail. But at the same time, she'd been struck by the sight of him. The man she'd foolishly fantasized having a future with. And he'd just stood there, looking for all the world like he'd seen a ghost - which, considering her current status, wasn't too far from the truth.
Then he'd said her name. He'd known her name. Which, given the picture she'd been holding - the one she was still holding - shouldn't have been that much of a shock. But the way he'd been looking at her, the gaze she'd caught a glimpse of a few times since, there was something about that she couldn't quite discern. She'd been scared, and the first thing that had come out of her mouth had been a shaky question about the picture, which he'd avoided answering. The question to which she was still awaiting the answer.
Though, how could she be sure she could believe what he was telling her? Not just this answer, but all of it. H.G. Wells? Parallel universes? An exact double of herself? And of him? She studied him carefully. He was avoiding eye contact for the most part, as if he didn't want to tell her. Sure, she'd been a little harsh, having resorted to sarcasm, but what else was she supposed to think?
"Lois... "
His eyes finally met hers.
"This other Lois... changed my life... "
She waited for him to go on. For some reason, this was difficult for him to say.
"I just... I guess I needed something to remember her by."
The silence hung in the air uncomfortably when he finished. A pang of jealousy hit her. An irrational one.
She stared down at the picture in her hands. She wasn't sure what to believe. It *did* explain why she didn't remember having the picture taken, and as she looked closely at this other Lois, she could see subtle differences. Nothing big, but she could tell that the eyes of the woman staring back at her told a different story from the life Lois herself had lived. Happier.
Or maybe she was just imagining things. She *wanted* to believe Clark. For reasons she couldn't understand. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, like there was something special about her. Or maybe it was the emotion in his voice as he'd told her, the slight desperation, longing, for her to believe him. The idea of parallel universes was hard to fathom, but then again, so was the fact that a man could fly.
"Lois?"
She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. What she found there startled her. He was pleading with her, begging her to trust him. Why was it so important to him? Something - she wasn't sure what it was - told her to trust him. "I believe you," she blurted on impulse.
She wasn't sure why, but she *did* believe him. Maybe it was that instinct of hers, fighting its way back slowly...
Or maybe... maybe it was because she needed him not to be crazy. She needed his help.
He sighed and she watched the tension drain from his body. "Thank you, Lois."
Silence stretched between them again, but this time it wasn't nearly as awkward. Lois set the picture down on the coffee table. That was a mistake. She had the sudden urge to fidget now. Not that she was nervous. She wasn't.
"So..."
She almost jumped at the sound of his deep voice breaking the silence.
"I was really surprised to find you here..."
Shoot. She'd just remembered that she was in his apartment because she had *broken* in. Maybe, with any luck, that wasn't what he'd meant. She watched him carefully, hoping she wasn't giving away anything herself, as she tried to read his mind. The look on his face... maybe he wasn't worried about how she got in. Maybe it was something else... No, that look faded quickly. She swallowed. He was going to ask. Whatever had been on his mind a second ago wasn't anymore.
"Did I leave the door unlocked or something? I can't remember because I actually used the window for the first time in a while..." He trailed off, seemingly embarrassed.
Why was he embarrassed? He flew. There was nothing wrong with using the window as an exit if you flew. She wondered for a moment whether she should lie and say yes, but he'd been nothing but honest with her. "Um... no. I kind of... let myself in."
His brow furrowed. "Oh?"
"I picked your lock," she admitted sheepishly and braced herself for his anger. But he only smiled, and suddenly she was self-conscious. "What?"
"Nothing. It's just... funny, is all."
"Funny? I broke into your apartment, Clark! Aren't you mad?"
He shook his head, the smile still on his face. "No..."
"And furthermore, shouldn't you really have better security? I mean, don't people just break in and snoop to find out more about you. You *are* Superman."
"Yeah, I know. But we've kind of come to an understanding. They've calmed down a bit, the reporters and the gossip mongers. They respect my space and privacy, and I give them some of the exclusives on my rescues." He gave a somewhat defeated sigh. "And, well, I guess they've learned that there just isn't any more that they're going to learn. At least not from digging through my apartment."
That made sense, she supposed. Just because *she* didn't know anything about the man, didn't mean that everyone else was just as clueless. He'd been around for the better part of a year, after all.
She nodded. "Right. Makes sense."
"I... I am a little curious... as to why *you* broke in, though..."
Oh. Right. The reason she'd come in the first place. The letter. The favor she had to ask of him. Unfortunately, it didn't explain why she'd been *inside* his apartment and snooping around. "I... uh... I didn't think you were home. The paper said you'd gone on some sort of vacation and I was just going to leave a note for you because I wanted to ask..." She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. "I wanted to ask a favor of you."
"Oh? What's that?"
Relieved that he'd momentarily overlooked her not telling him the actual reason she'd broken in, she looked up at him. The look on his face surprised her. He was leaning forward in his seat, a look of genuine concern, like he *wanted* to help. Actually, like all she had to do was say jump and he'd ask how high. Or maybe she was imagining it. "Well..." She hesitated.
"Really, Lois, it's okay. I don't mind. I'd love to help you."
There it was again. That look. But this time it faded quickly.
"It's my job to help people."
Right. She was just another citizen in need, and he was the resident superhero. "But you're on vacation, I'd really hate to be an inconvenience." Why was she waffling? She really did need his help, and here he was offering it to her. She regarded him shyly. He had a strange look on his face, almost... sad... but not. Wistful, maybe?
"Well... my vacation actually might be over now..." He stared out the window for a moment before he turned back to her. "Regardless, I'd like to help you. What's the problem, Lois?"
She ignored the little shiver she'd gotten when he'd said her name, and tucked her hair behind her ear. Just ask him, Lois, he *wants* to help. "I... well... you seem to know who I am. Do you know where I've been?"
A shadow seemed to pass over him. He looked so... anguished.
"No. I don't... or didn't. Still don't..." He ran his hands through his hair and started again. "Last I heard, you'd gone to the Congo to investigate illegal gunrunning."
"Right." She eyed him carefully. She was confused by his reaction, but at the same time, she felt an enormous sense of sadness, almost like she could feel what he was feeling... But that was nonsense. She couldn't experience his emotions any more than he could hers. Besides, why would it matter to him what had happened to her? Why did he look so torn apart? Because he was Superman? Did he torture himself with the knowledge that he couldn't save everyone? That anyone who suffered should blame him for not having been there? From the look on his face right now, though, she could tell he was trying to mask his emotions. It seemed he *did* believe that.
That thought saddened her. It was almost unbelievable that someone so super, with his powers and abilities, would be miserable at all. But it made sense. She could only imagine the horrors that he'd witnessed, all the people he hadn't saved. And how that must eat away at him day after day. She suddenly had the urge to give him a hug, but she refrained, her mind flashing to the picture sitting on his mantle. He had a fiancée, and that bothered her more than she wanted to admit to herself.
Put the fantasy away, Lane.
Focus.
Right.
Where was she? Congo. Gunrunning. She looked over at Clark, hoping he hadn't been irritated by her silence, but was surprised to find him lost in thought. Or, more likely, bad memories. Or maybe she was just projecting her thoughts on to him. She didn't want to think about the Congo again. It was too soon. But she'd brought it up, and he needed to know.
"So..."
She'd startled him, though he'd tried to hide it.
"Right," he said, bringing his eyes back to hers. "The Congo."
She tried not to see the grief in his stare. He didn't really care that much. He couldn't know what she'd been through. Even if he did, there was no guarantee that he'd care. Pity. He'd probably pity her. She didn't want that. Selfishly, foolishly, she wanted him to understand. She wanted him to care that she'd gone through hell and back. That it hadn't been her fault.
He was still staring at her, waiting for her to go on. She swallowed. "I... Back in 93, I got a gre -" Great. It was far from great. She knew that now. "I got a lead that there was an elaborate gunrunning operation under wraps in the Congo. They said the mastermind behind it all was most likely running things from the States, but all the action was in the Congo. That was where the story was. The clues that would lead me back to the person running it all." The person she'd been so close to finding the day they'd captured her. She closed her eyes and tried not to cry. There was no reason to cry. It was over with.
Mostly.
Not really.
She knew they'd still be after her. She opened her eyes again and took a deep breath. Clark was still staring, but instead of grief, she saw... compassion. Why did his eyes have to be so caring?
"So, I'm guessing you didn't find him?"
"Huh?"
"The mastermind."
Oh. Right. "No. I thought I'd been close, actually, I must have been close because they caught me." She prayed that super hearing wasn't one of his special abilities. She didn't want him to hear her heart running in erratic circles, her breath growing ragged. It was too soon. Too soon to relive all this.
"You... they held you captive for three years?!"
He looked horrified. Incredulous. And why not? The oh so great Lois Lane, beaten at her own game and made victim for three years and counting.
He was... shocked and edgy. He was uncomfortable, she could tell. It hadn't been her fault! She was *still* Lois Lane. And she'd escaped! She'd made it. It'd taken her over two years to get back, but she'd made it.
He stood abruptly. "Coffee should be ready by now," he announced. He barely waited for her nod before he escaped to the kitchen.
***
Clark's hands shook as he pulled two coffee mugs from the cabinet. She'd been alive. All this time. It hadn't really hit him until now. Three years! Three years she'd been a prisoner in a war-torn country. He didn't even want to imagine the horrors inflicted on her.
The mugs rattled as he set them down on the counter. He couldn't stop shaking.
A whole year he'd let her suffer. Why hadn't he looked harder? Why hadn't he torn apart the damned jungle looking for her? Why hadn't he found her?
Years. He'd wasted years of his life without her. And the last year... after the other Lois had left...
The past few days... or had it been a week?
He'd nearly killed himself, dammit, and she'd been alive all this time.
And now she was sitting in his living room, probably offended at how rude he'd just been. He hadn't been able to help it. Everything had assaulted him at once. He'd needed to get away. Be alone.
Distance.
He'd needed distance from her. The last thing he'd ever imagined needing from Lois Lane - not that he'd ever thought he'd meet her, let alone have her sitting on his couch. Nor had he imagined he would be sorely tempted to ask her to leave.
This was too much to handle. He needed space. Time to think. He couldn't think with her around.
He closed his eyes and leant his head back, forcing the tears to stay put. He took in a deep, ragged breath, trying to calm himself, and her heartbeat filled his ears. It startled him at first, but it was strangely calming after a moment. Except... it was getting steadily louder.
He tensed.
She was behind him.
"Clark?"
He pasted a smile on his face and turned around. "Coffee's ready."
"Clark..." she started nervously.
A knapsack he hadn't noticed before was slung over her shoulder. She wanted to leave. His heart sank. Even though he'd just wished she wasn't there, he was suddenly desperate for her to stay. "Yes, Lois?"
He heard her heart skip a beat. Jumpy. She was jumpy. On edge. Because of him, how he'd just treated her.
"I... I should probably just go. I've taken up too much of your time and I should just really... "
"No!" he blurted. He rushed on, trying not to notice her startled look, "You don't have to go. Really, Lois. I don't mind at all. I really do want to help you... If you'll let me."
"Oh." The sound was more of a shape on her lips than anything audible.
This was wrong. All wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be happy, dammit. Lois was supposed to be hesitant, yet intrigued. She didn't want to be here. He was warring with his emotions, wanting her to go, but stay at the same time. This was supposed to be a dream come true.
It was a nightmare.
One of those bad dreams in which something awful was happening to someone you loved you and you just couldn't move fast enough. Everything was in slow motion and you wished and tried with all your might, but no matter what you did, you still couldn't make it in time.
Never in time.
He'd had that nightmare countless times. Lois. *His* Lois. Dying. A bullet. A cliff. A knife. A wild animal.
He'd never been able to make it.
And she'd always died.
Now she was here... but he still couldn't move.
It was like his heart was stuck in slow motion; and no matter how desperately he wished for it, there was no way it'd ever make it to the right place.
She fidgeted and shifted her weight to her other foot, catching his attention.
A deep pull in his gut made a decision for him.
He didn't want her to go.
What if this *was* only a dream - even if it was a nightmare - and he never saw her again? Or worse yet, what if it *wasn't* a dream and he let her walk out of his life forever? He wasn't sure anymore what was supposed to happen, but he knew one thing for certain. He didn't want her to go.
"Lois?"
She looked at him, the uncertainty evident in her eyes.
"Please stay. I know it's probably more than a little... daunting, what with everything I've told you, but I really would like to help you and..."
"And?"
I can't stand the thought of you not being in my life. I can't stand the thought that I should have saved you years ago, and I'd give anything to be able to save you now.
He tried to swallow the emotion, the uncertainty that was biting at his voice. "And I'd really like to get to know you."
She didn't say anything for a long moment, and he was worried that he might have said too much, but finally she spoke.
"Okay."
He felt some of the tension ease out of his muscles, but the rest remained. He couldn't think of anything to say. And now the awkwardness stretched between them. Clark glanced nervously over to the clock on the wall. Four a.m.
He hadn't realized how late it was. Though, to tell the truth, he wasn't even sure what day it was, he'd spent so long in his misery.
He looked back at Lois.
Misery that had all been for nothing. Or so it seemed.
She was here.
She was alive.
And she was yawning.
He glanced at the clock again. "It's late, Lois. Actually... it's early. Maybe I should take you home and we can discuss everything later."
She smiled weakly at him. "Yeah, I guess I am a little tired."
"I don't have a car, but I could walk you home... or fly you, really, that would probably be better..."
"No. No, that's okay. I'll be fine. I'll just... come by tomorrow?"
He watched her glance around uneasily. She didn't want him to see where she was staying. It was probably better that way. Walking... or flying... with her would have been awkward and he wasn't sure he could handle it. But that didn't mean he wouldn't follow her home from the skies. He'd be damned if he let anything happen to her now that she was finally here. Even if his heart was conflicted.
He nodded. "Anytime you like, Lois. I'll be here. You... You do have a place to stay, right? I mean, I just want to make sure I'm not sending yo-"
"Yeah." She cut him off and nodded. "I have a place to stay. I'll be fine, thanks."
He nodded. He was unusually relieved by that. Having her stay here, in his apartment where the sound of her heartbeat would reassure him that she was real, would have been comforting. But all the same, it would have been more than awkward. They couldn't even hold a conversation, let alone share an apartment. It was better this way.
It was on the tip of his tongue to offer again to take her home, but he didn't. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Right." She smiled that weak smile again and they both stood there awkwardly for a moment before she finally moved towards the door.
It seemed she was moving in slow motion as she reached for and turned the doorknob. Then all of a sudden, the world sped up again and she was gone, her timid "Goodnight, Clark" echoing in his ears.
She was gone.
He was rooted to the spot for what seemed like an eternity, certain that if he moved, he'd wake up and find that she'd never really been here. But when he searched through the walls to find her, she was right outside, descending the steps of his apartment building.
Still intent on his resolve to see her home safely, he spun back into the Suit and took off through the window. He stayed in the clouds high above her and matched her pace as she wandered down the street. His heart sank when he saw her final destination.
The Apollo Motel.
Clark hovered high above the derelict motel. He really should go home. She was safely in her room now and there was no longer an excuse for him to be there. The neighborhood wasn't terribly safe, sure, but it was close enough to his place that he'd hear her if she needed him. No reason for him to stay. No reason for him to watch her as she kicked off her shoes and threw down her backpack. No reason for him to watch her crawl into bed and pull the covers around her tightly as she curled up. No reason for him to listen as she started to cry. Worst of all, there was no reason for him to go down and hold her until all her pain went away.
The sound of her sobs killed him, more so than the other Lois's tears had ever hurt. They reminded him of his tears. His pain. His anguish. And suddenly, he couldn't take it. He couldn't listen and be reminded of everything he'd been trying not to think about ever since he'd flown into his bedroom and found her there. He shot into the stratosphere and headed east towards the sun, stopping only when he could no longer hear her crying. Though the sound wouldn't leave his head. It was etched there, carved into his memory. And there was nothing he could do to erase it.
TBC...
