PART FIVE
Lois held him and rocked him and crooned softly in his ear. His sobs, the way his body shuddered as he finally released some of his burden, twisted her gut. His sorrow was noisy. Hers was silent, but tears ran down her cheeks nonetheless.
Gradually, though, his shudders lessened and he quietened, stilling in her embrace.
"Oh, Clark..." she murmured.
She shifted slightly, getting more comfortable, and pulling him along with her back against the cushions. Somehow, the movement subtly changed the tenor of their embrace. One moment she was in control, cast in the role of comforter. The next, they were more evenly balanced. Equals.
His head rested against her shoulder. If she leaned down, she realised, she'd be able to kiss his hair.
His arm snaked over her stomach, around her waist.
Her hand rested upon his upper arm. If she moved it, she'd be able to feel the strength of his biceps, the contours of his skin.
His breath brushed her chest.
If she closed her eyes, she'd be able to pretend that he was kissing her.
This was too much. Too intimate. Too much like something she'd always craved but that, in her Flesh days, had always eluded her.
This was...
It felt like...
It couldn't be...
Love.
She'd only just met him, and he couldn't really be said to have met her at all. Yet she'd witnessed his triumphs, his failures, his generosity and his pain. She understood him better than she'd understood anyone in her life, except perhaps for her sister.
But love was out of the question. There was no way they could be together. They were from two different worlds, worlds that brushed against each other from time to time, but which were never meant to meet.
He was alive. She was dead.
She was an angel. He was Flesh.
She kissed the top of his head, stroked his arm and closed her eyes.
Clark shifted against her, pulling himself along her body. His breath caressed her neck, her cheek, her mouth. His lips...
This was...
Lois didn't care what it was. All she cared about was that it felt wonderful.
*****
If he closed his eyes, he could delude himself that someone was with him.
She felt warm enough, solid enough and real enough to him. He'd heard her words of comfort, her gentle breathing and the rustle of her clothing. Now, he could smell her, a light, fresh scent, with a hint of fruit.
And when he kissed her... How sweet she tasted!
It was only sight that told him that she wasn't there.
If he closed his eyes...
Was it unreasonable to stretch his fantasy so that he gave the woman he was with a name? Was it wrong to pretend that he was with Lois?
*****
Clark felt so good in her arms. She didn't know why. They'd stopped kissing ages ago, so it couldn't be because of anything as straightforward as sensual pleasure. And, although she'd talked to him, she doubted that he had taken in much beyond the fact that she was there for him. She'd couldn't remember what she'd said, so it wasn't that they'd established any kind of rapport, either.
If it wasn't because of anything they had done or achieved together, then it had to be because of something more fundamental. Something beyond rational thought. Something... instinctive.
Sitting there, her limbs entwined with Clark's, she felt a sense of rightness, of belonging.
How could something so impossible be anything other than wrong? The more she tried to understand what she was feeling, the more wrong she knew it to be, but the more right it felt.
She didn't understand.
"You are real, aren't you?" Clark suddenly asked. "Your heart does this weird thing every now and then where it skips a beat. I think, if you were just a dream of mine, it wouldn't do that."
"It skips?" she said before she could stop herself. "That can't be good, can it?"
Lois could feel his answering chuckle as well as hear it.
"Oh, I don't think it's anything to worry about. I've heard plenty of heartbeats in my time, and yours sounds as healthy as any. It's just... cute, I guess. You're not in any danger of having a heart attack, if that's what you're worried about."
The irony of his remark hit her. She had been worried. Another echo of her Flesh days, she supposed.
For the first time, she wondered why angels had heartbeats and, if they needed them, could they have heart attacks? What would happen to an angel who went into cardiac arrest?
"Hey. You still there?" Clark asked. Lois wondered if he was teasing her. Probably he was, because as surely as she could feel his body against hers, he must be able to feel hers.
"Yeah," she said.
"It's just... You're awfully quiet."
"Sorry. I was thinking. And, in answer to your question, yes, I'm real. I'm just... I'm a different kind of real to what you're used to, I guess. I'm not sure I can explain it."
"Try me," Clark said. "If anyone understands different, it's me."
"I guess so," Lois whispered thoughtfully.
"Go on, then. What kind of different are you?" Yes. He was definitely teasing, but gently so.
"I'm... You won't believe me if I tell you."
Clark snorted derisively. "Oh, come on! I'm an alien! What could possibly be more unbelievable than that?"
Lois tried to match his lightness of tone. "Being an angel, perhaps?"
This time the silence was his.
After a few seconds, Lois asked tentatively, "Clark?"
"H'm?"
"You okay?"
"Yeah. I was just thinking. You're really an angel?"
"Yes."
Another long pause. Then: "Okay. You win."
"Pardon?"
"You win. You out-differented me. I'm just an alien. I didn't even know angels existed. Now, on the other hand, if you'd said you were a ghost... That would have been pretty mundane."
"Mundane? You mean you actually believe in ghosts?"
"Well, sure. Doesn't everyone?"
"No," said Lois. "I don't. I mean, I didn't, even before I found out what the afterlife is like. Now that I'm dead, I know they don't exist."
"They don't?"
"No."
"Oh."
"So what else do you believe in?" Lois asked.
"Why do you want to know? So you can put me right on those things as well?"
"Maybe," she said with a smile.
Clark gave her question more careful thought than she thought it deserved, especially since she'd been aiming for light-hearted banter.
Then he said seriously, "I believe in what I do. I believe in the essential goodness of people, even if some of them forget to show it half the time. And I believe in love at first sight." He chuckled softly, so maybe the light-hearted bit of the conversation hadn't been entirely lost on him, after all. "Oh, and angels, of course. Now that I've met you, I have to believe in angels. That enough for you at the moment?"
"Not quite," said Lois. "What about God?"
"I don't believe the universe happened by accident, if that's what you mean."
It wasn't quite the answer Lois had hoped for, but it would do for now.
"So... Love at first sight, huh?" Lois asked.
"Yeah," Clark said. "It only takes an instant to fall in love. If you find the right person, that is."
She didn't follow up on his comment. Was that because she didn't need to ask him who he had fallen in love with to know the answer? Or was it because she was frightened of hearing him confirm that he had been in love with her? Or the other her. Or the idea of her. Or... something.
They sat together in silence for a while. Lois used the time to calm her unsettled emotions.
"I wish I could see you," he said eventually.
Lois didn't want him to see her, not properly. It was bad enough that she had started talking to him, but if he found out who she had been...
She didn't want to deny him anything, either.
But maybe there was a way to give them both what they wanted.
"I don't think you'll be able to," she said. "Not clearly."
Leastways, he wouldn't, not if she did this properly.
She pulled carefully out of Clark's embrace and stepped into the centre of the living room. Then she let her soul shine and she Revealed herself to him.
This wasn't how she looked to other angels. Nor was it how the angels from Operational Services looked when they walked among mortals.
This was the stuff of legends, of great works of art and fantasy.
She unfurled her wings and stood before him, swathed in folds of the purest light.
Clark sat up straight and stared at her. Then he rose to his feet.
He lifted his right arm and reached out.
She stood frozen as he slowly walked towards her.
His hand cupped the side of her face.
And he stared some more.
She saw tears collecting in his eyes, ready to spill down his cheeks, and she realised she'd made a terrible, shattering mistake.
She'd forgotten that he could see through walls.
"Lois?" Clark whispered. "Is that... is that you?"
She should have guessed that he'd also be able to see through blinding light.
Lois couldn't help herself.
She mewled in the back of her throat, tore herself away from his touch, and fled.
*****
"Kilmartin! Kilmartin!" Lois yelled as she ran through the Enclave.
The elderly angel appeared next to her. He didn't look too happy at the ruckus she was making, but Lois didn't care.
She threw herself at Kilmartin and wrapped her arms around him. "You've got to help me!" she cried. She could feel hysteria clawing up her throat. She swallowed, desperate to tamp it down. "I've made such a mess of the assignment," she cried. "It's a disaster!"
Kilmartin patted her awkwardly on her back. "What's happened?" he asked. "Things can't be that bad, surely. And even if they are, nothing is ever so bad that it can't be fixed."
She tightened her grip him, pressing her head into his chest. Oh, how she hoped that what he said was true!
Kilmartin said nothing for a minute. He just held her, soothing her with his stillness and patience.
Finally, he softly asked, "Better?"
Lois let go of him and took a step backwards, out of his embrace. She nodded shakily. She wasn't sure that she was completely better, but she was calmer, at least. That had to count for something.?
"Ready to tell me what's wrong?"
No, thought Lois, but she forced her mouth to say, "Yes."
Kilmartin grasped her elbow gently and steered her to a nearby bench. Through a haze of tears, Lois could see that he was looking at her with an almost fatherly concern. "Here. Dry your eyes," he said, and he offered her a cotton handkerchief.
The material was soft and crumpled and felt warm, as though it had been in Kilmartin's pocket for a long time.
After a minute of two, when she was sure that she could speak without her voice trembling or cracking, she said thickly, "Thank you."
She tried to give the handkerchief back to its owner, but Kilmartin waved it away with a smile and said, "Keep it."
"Thank you," she said again. Then: "I made a real mess of things down there."
"I gathered as much," said Kilmartin. "Or, at least, I gathered that you believe you have done so."
Lois sniffed. "I have. I mean, I messed up, big time. I... I think I've been falling in love with him. I didn't mean to. It just happened. But..." She shook her head and screwed her eyes closed, forcing back the next wave of tears. "I should have never let things go so far. And then... I... I let him see me. And he recognised me. I... I couldn't have made a worse mess of things if I'd tried!"
Kilmartin held his hand up, interrupting her flow of words with his gesture.
"Please, Lois. One thing at a time."
She looked at him and waited.
"You think you're in love with him?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes. Or well on the way to it, anyway."
"Don't you think that's rather sudden? You've only been Watching him for three days!"
"It only takes an instant to fall in love," Lois said wistfully.
"What was that?"
She shook her head. "Nothing important. Just something Clark said to me."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew they'd been a mistake.
Kilmartin's eyes narrowed as he turned the full force of his gaze on her. For a serene old angel, he could do a remarkably good impression of looking very, very angry. "Something Clark said... to you."
Lois swallowed her automatic "Uh, oh" and resisted the urge to take a shrink away from him.
"What," Kilmartin ground out, "was Clark Kent doing saying anything to you? You know the rules!"
"The rules... don't seem to apply with Clark Kent."
"You mean you flouted them!"
"No! Yes. No, not exactly! Okay, so maybe I did. But I didn't set out to. Circumstances just seemed to demand it."
Kilmartin took a deep breath and when he spoke again his words were flat with a false calm. "You talked to him."
"Yes."
"And he saw you."
"Yes."
"And he recognised you."
"Yes."
Kilmartin frowned, then asked. "How?"
"How what?"
"How did he recognise you? Did you know him when you were Flesh?"
"No! Of course not!"
Kilmartin frowned, puzzled. "But how could he have recognised you, if you hadn't known each other before?"
"Because..." And Lois found herself explaining everything she knew about another world's Lois Lane and of Clark Kent's obsession. She told Kilmartin about Clark's journal and his dreams, and how she'd been drawn to comfort him when he seemed beyond comfort.
And then, reluctantly, she confessed to the kisses they'd shared, the conversation that had followed, and the Revelation that had gone so spectacularly wrong.
At the end of her story, Kilmartin sighed heavily. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, then he said, "Well, Lois, you got one thing right. You have made a mess of your assignment."
Lois ducked her head and screwed up her lips in shame. "I don't need you to tell me that," she said. "I know what I've done. And I'm sorry. About everything. I didn't mean to make you angry. And--"
"And you need me to fix things."
"Yes. No. Well, not exactly." She looked at him, her eyes wide and imploring. "It's not like I expect you to clear up after me. I know I need to take responsibility for what I've done. But I need some advice on how to fix things, and I hoped you could give me that, at least."
Kilmartin nodded and sighed. "I can try to advise you, but I make no promises. And, Lois..."
"Yes?"
"You're right, I am angry. But that's my problem, not yours. I have no reason to be angry; you're young and inexperienced. Of course you will make mistakes. And for as long as you are my student, you are my responsibility. Until you finish your training -- probably in about four hundred years time -- your messes are my messes, too. It's my responsibility to help you."
"That doesn't make me feel any better. In fact, I feel a whole lot worse, knowing that I've dragged you into this."
"Lois, listen to me. I forgive you for, as you put it, dragging me into this situation of yours. But what's done is done. Don't waste your energy on feeling bad for me because there are far more important things you could be using it on. And I will try not to waste my energy on being angry with you."
Lois inclined her head, accepting Kilmartin's words, even if she couldn't find it in herself to wholeheartedly believe in his forgiveness. Still, he had a point: they did have more important things to think about.
"So what do I do?" Lois asked.
Kilmartin stood up. "Come along," he said. "Let's go and see this Clark of yours."
Lois jumped to her feet as much out of astonishment as out of a need to keep up with him. "Why? What do you need to see him for?"
Kilmartin lifted his left eyebrow, apparently surprised she needed to ask. "Because," he said, as though he suspected her of being wilfully dim-witted, "you ran out on him just as he'd discovered something very significant about you. Don't you think we should check up on him? Find out how he took the Revelation that not only are you an angel, but that you are dead?"
Lois frowned slightly. That seemed a rather backward way of looking at things. Surely being dead came first. Being chosen to become an angel was something that had happened later.
She said as much to Kilmartin, but he shook his head.
"Clark wasn't fazed at the idea that you were an angel. Indeed, from what you said, he took that particular piece of news very well. However, at that point in time, he didn't know that you were Lois Lane, source of his strength and his only real source of hope. Knowing that you are dead and that there is no hope of getting you back..."
"But it's not like he had any realistic hope of ever finding me, anyway," Lois said.
"No realistic hope, perhaps. But he still had an unrealistic hope. And, in its way, unrealistic hope is just as powerful as hope grounded in genuine expectations. Now he has nothing. From what you said before, he was already in a fragile frame of mind. Therefore, we need to check up on him."
Lois blanched at Kilmartin's words, but she did not question him again. She could see clearly the need to visit Clark. But... Kilmartin had shown her yet another area of damage her actions had caused.
Even if she had tried, she couldn't possibly have made a bigger mess of things than this!
"Take me to him," he commanded her.
She nodded reluctantly, took his right hand in her left, and Thought.
*****
The lights were low when Lois and Kilmartin materialised in Clark's apartment. A distant clock tower was chiming a quarter past the hour. Lois wondered which hour. All she knew was that, judging by the impenetrable darkness outside and the absence of traffic noises, it must be somewhere in the very early hours of the morning. Past midnight. And before four thirty a.m., when the city began to come alive again with delivery lorries trundling through the otherwise empty streets.
Clark sat in front of his computer, its screen casting an eerie glow across his face and hands. His skin appeared to be an unhealthy contrast of pale grey and black shadow. His eyes were hooded and bleak. His mouth was set in a thin line.
Lois looked across at Kilmartin and opened her mouth to speak. However, he stopped her by raising his hand and giving a small shake of his head. Then he held a finger to his lips and gestured her to follow.
Although they were shrouded in invisibility and Clark should not have been able to hear or see them, Kilmartin and Lois tiptoed across the room. They came to a pause immediately behind him and peered over his shoulders at the document he was working on.
Lois wasn't surprised to see that it was his journal. Her stomach felt leaden with dread as she began to read.
23 DECEMBER, 1998
... Be careful what you wish for. That's what people say, isn't it? Because it might come true?
What I've been wishing for over the last two years has come true with a vengeance.
Every time I saw the first star of the evening I'd make a wish. And on my birthday. And for every shooting star I saw. And everytime I pulled a chicken's wishbone. Heck, I'd wish just for the sake of wishing. For something to do.
Always the same wish.
I'd close my eyes and I'd form the words in big, bold letters on the backs of my eyelids.
I WISH I COULD FIND MY LOIS LANE.
Yes, I wished I'd find my Lois, but now I really, really wish I hadn't.
Maybe I should have worded it more carefully. Maybe I should have said, I wish I could find my Lois, [i]safe and whole and well. Obviously, simply wanting to find her wasn't good enough.
My Lois is dead. I know that now, beyond any shadow of a doubt. I should have just accepted it years ago and tried to move on with my life. But I couldn't let the idea of her go.
Mr Wells didn't exactly help matters, either. I should never have been taken in by his twinkling eyes and quaint mannerisms. I mean, honestly! Who taps the side of his or her nose in an I-know-something-you-don't kind of way? And all that rubbish he spouted about not liking the word impossible!
I shouldn't blame him. Not really. It was my own stupidity that led me to hang on to hope when logically there was no hope left. I should have known better.
Plus, in a way, he was right. I did find my Lois Lane. Just not the way I wanted to.
I should have cut my losses years ago.
But... Without her... Without the thought of her...
What am I going to--[/i]
Clark's hands stilled. His back straightened.
He cocked his head, like a bird on the alert. Frozen. Concentrating.
"Lois?" he whispered. "You came back?"
Lois's jaw dropped. "How...?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
She turned to Kilmartin and mouthed, "How does he know I'm here?"
Kilmartin exaggerated a shrug and shook his head.
"Lois?" Clark twisted around, uncannily looking at the space she was invisibly filling. "You brought someone with you?"
Lois's jaw sagged open. She saw Kilmartin's do the same.
"I know you're here, Lois. I can... feel you. In my mind. It's like..." He reached out a questing hand and frowned when Lois deftly dodged it, leaving him to touch only air. "Lois? Please say something!"
Question after question cascaded through her head. What did he mean, he could feel her? How did he know Lois hadn't come back alone? Could he feel Kilmartin's presence too? How--
"It's like I said, I can feel you in my mind. When you left earlier, you left a... I guess the closest analogy I can come up with is a hole. I felt cold and empty after you'd gone. But, as soon as you came back, I could feel you. And I was warm again."
You can hear me? Lois asked in her mind.
"Yes, of course I can hear you. Why shouldn't I be able to? I could, when you were here before."
Lois glanced across at Kilmartin. He stared back at her, a frown carving deep lines between his brows. More for his sake than for Clark's, she answered Clark's question aloud.
"You shouldn't have been able to hear me just now because I didn't say anything."
"But I heard you!"
"I don't know how, but you read my thoughts."
Kilmartin turned his gaze on Clark and asked, "Can you hear me?" Then, seeing that Clark gave no sign of having done so, he said, "Apparently not."
The old angel's frown deepened.
"Who else is here besides us, Lois?" Clark asked. "I know there's someone else. Just now you asked them how I knew you were here."
Kilmartin glanced and Lois and nodded at her, giving her permission to tell Clark.
"Another angel," said Lois. "His name's Kilmartin. He's my mentor."
"Oh."
"You can't hear him?" Lois asked.
"No," said Clark. "Should I be able to?"
"No," Lois answered. "It's not normal for mortals to hear angels. Not unless we allow you to."
"That's why I can hear you? Because you allowed it?"
"No. At least, not any more. To begin with, I had to make it possible for you to hear me. Now, though, you hear even my thoughts, and I certainly didn't give permission for you to do that!"
"Then how...?"
Lois looked at Kilmartin, who shrugged again. "We don't know, and that's what we want to figure out."
Clark tilted his head, then asked, "Out of interest, how long were you around before you started talking to me, anyway?"
"Just a few days."
"So it took me a while to be able to sense you?"
"I guess."
"Then maybe I'll be able to sense your mentor in a day or so, too."
"Maybe," agreed Lois doubtfully. "I don’t know."
"The point is that he shouldn't be able to sense either of us," Kilmartin said. "No mortal has ever been able to do so before. It's... unprecedented."
Kilmartin sighed and Lois was surprised to see so many different emotions skitter across his face: confusion... worry... discomfort... She'd never seen him look so uncomfortable before and that bothered her beyond words. Where was the usually unemotional, dependable angel she'd learned to rely upon? She could really have used him now.
"We'd better get going," Kilmartin said. "I'm going to have to talk to some of the others about this. No doubt they're going to want to talk to you, too."
Kilmartin sounded about as unenthusiastic about the idea as she felt. Bad enough that Kilmartin had to know the gory details of her poor judgment, but did everyone else have to know to? Apparently they did.
"We're going?" she asked.
"Yes," said Kilmartin. He held out his hand and waited in vain for her to take it.
"Lois? You're leaving me again? Already?" Clark asked suddenly, sounding alarmed. "You'll be back, though. Won't you?"
Yes, she wanted to say, but she didn't dare to in front of Kilmartin. Besides, she didn't know whether she would be allowed. So, instead, she more honestly said, "I don't know."
"Oh," said Clark. It was a tiny sound. A single syllable. More of a quiet moan of worry than a real word.
Lois couldn't bear to leave things like that, so she said, "Whatever happens, I'm sure everything will work out for the best." She hoped that was the truth and not just empty words. She prayed she didn't sound as doubtful as she felt.
Kilmartin grabbed her hand and then they were gone.
TBC
