Title: Terms of Estrangement
Author: angelic_editor
Rating: PG
Summary: Lois struggles to distance herself from Clark after her disastrous almost-wedding. Angst ensues.
Feedback: Better than chocolate, especially since this is my first fan-fic post ever. Be brutal, kids.
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine; the words are. Please don't take legal action, as poor college students aren't worth suing, anyway.
Deep within I'm shaken
By the violence of existing for only you
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
-- "Do What You Have to Do," Sarah McLachlan
Clark stared at the blank Word document and sighed.
His byline mocked him. "By Clark Kent, The Daily Planet" -- that's all he'd written in the past hour and a half.
Frustrated, he absently raked a hand through his dark hair and set the laptop aside. He stood, pacing in front of his couch. He should have been able to write -- he was in his apartment with nowhere else to be, dressed down in his favorite navy sweatpants and a worn grey T-shirt. He'd worked out for an hour after waking up. He should be relaxed and hammering out his latest piece for The Planet.
But he wasn't.
He couldn't concentrate. Four hundred sit-ups couldn't clear his head. Food held no appeal. Threats from the Chief did nothing for his motivation. Thoughts of Lois pervaded his brain.
Lois.
God, just the thought of her sent bittersweet waves of remorse coursing through him. He ached to take back his words in the park. If only he hadn't been so foolish, so naïve to think she could actually care for him -- just everyday, average, plain vanilla Clark -- the man behind the cape and the tights.
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, willing the image of Lois' warm, honey-brown gaze, so full of pity, trained on him.
He took his glasses off and squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose.
This was getting him nowhere.
Defeated, Clark replaced his glasses, flopped back onto the sofa, and pulled the iBook back onto his lap.
A knock at the door caused an incoherent string of "asdfjkl;" to skitter across the blank page. He gave the screen a disdainful smirk, tossed it aside, and started toward the door.
Probably Perry, here to check on the story, he thought ruefully, knowing any excuse, no matter how plausible, would only get him a lecture on the King's work ethic. He could already hear the man exclaiming, "Great shades of Elvis!" when he saw just how little Clark had accomplished.
He opened the door and nearly did a double-take.
Lois Lane flashed him a tight smile, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot.
"Do you -- d'you think I could come in?" she asked hopefully, her eyes riveted on Clark's surprised features.
Clark stood, unmoving, his hand still on the doorknob.
"Lois, I ... this isn't the best -- "
"Please?" Her gaze dropped to Clark's hand, which was completely covering the knob. She'd never realized how big his hands were. Or how white his knuckles could be when he was gripping something.
"Look, I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but there are some things I need to ... that I just need to say. And I just needed to -- to see ... you," she finished lamely.
Clark studied her face for a long moment, taking in her fitted, slightly wrinkled white T-shirt and faded, frayed jeans. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She looked exhausted.
His jaw tightened as his resolve began to waver, but he said nothing.
Lois blinked back the tears threatening to spill. "I -- you know, I'm just being silly," she stammered brightly. "Of course you're busy. I should just go, just -- I'll see you at the office in a few days."
Clark's expression softened just before she turned to leave.
"You know, I'm not that busy right now." He stepped back to open the door wider. "Come on in," he offered quietly.
Lois hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.
"Thanks."
She stepped inside, her trainers barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. She allowed herself to briefly admire Clark in his sweats and the snug grey T-shirt that hinted at his well-defined chest and stomach. She breathed in the clean, slightly spicy scent of his aftershave.
Giving herself a hard mental shake, she walked into the living room and spotted the laptop.
"Working on the Luthor piece?" she asked, forcing her tone to remain light. The hard set of her jaw almost dared him to pity her.
Despite her defiant demeanor, Clark noticed the tremor in her voice, the almost imperceptible tremble of her chin.
He stepped closer. "Lois," he began, brown eyes shining with compassion, "I ... "
She shook her head, holding a hand up and pressing it against his chest as if to physically stop his next words.
"Please, don't," she implored, closing her eyes, her palm still flat against his solar plexus. "It's over. Done. And I'm a laughingstock. A bad punch line, left at the altar." She forced a humorless laugh. "I never knew what a real shotgun wedding could be -- "
And then Clark's arms were around her, the solid warmth of his chest and the softness of his thin T-shirt against her cheek. She stiffened at his touch, but Clark's embrace was so gentle, so completely devoid of any ulterior motive that she sagged against him.
He held her, wordlessly stroking her hair while her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
"God, Clark," she cried, her words muffled against his chest. "I've been so stupid."
"No, Lois," he murmured woodenly, swallowing a resigned sigh at his Clark-the-Nice-Guy, Clark-the-Best-Friend role in all this. "Lex was charming, he was brilliant," he forced himself to say. "And one of the richest men in the world. He was like the perfect guy. No wonder -- "
Lois jerked in his arms.
"I can't believe you," she breathed, her eyes searching Clark's earnest expression in astonishment.
He frowned. "But Lois, what happened at the altar wasn't your fault. You've got to believe me." He struggled to keep his emotions from his voice, but his hands tightened on her narrow shoulders. "You have every right to be upset about the wedding, but you can't keep blaming yourse -- "
"Clark," Lois said, cutting off the rest of his sentence, "when I said I've been stupid, I wasn't talking about what happened with Lex -- even though that was a total lack of good judgment on my part."
Confused, Clark stepped back, letting his arms hang at his sides.
"Then what were you ... ?" he asked slowly.
Lois' heart was pounding so hard in her ears, she knew Clark had to hear it.
She took a deep breath.
"You," she said simply. "I've been so stupid when it comes to you."
Clark's thoughts spun into overdrive. She knew? But how? He'd tried so hard to keep his life as Superman a secret, and he couldn't allow Lois to be a target for his enemies.
His hands were shaking as he ran them through his hair.
"What -- what do you mean?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Lois gave him a tearful smile and stared down at her hands.
"I've let the best thing that ever happened to me slip through my fingers," she said with obvious pain. "I've hurt you -- someone who's only ever tried to look out for me, to see and do what's best for me -- I've hurt my best friend because ... because I'm afraid."
She wiped a tear from her cheek, eyes still downcast.
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, Clark. For everything. For always making fun of you, calling you 'Farmboy' and 'hick' and making those awful, snide remarks about Kansas."
She paused, managing a small, sad smile that disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced.
"I'm sorry for taking your friendship for granted," she continued in a small voice.
"And," she said, swallowing hard and holding his gaze for a long moment, "I'm sorry for the way I reacted in the park last week. For being too scared to admit that I love you, too."
Clark was so stunned that it took a full thirty seconds for him to realize Lois hadn't figured out his alter ego's true identity.
And that she was walking toward the door.
"Lois, wait."
She looked at him over her shoulder, strands of dark hair brushing her cheek.
"That's, um ... that's all I wanted to say. Thanks for listening." She turned before he could see the tears in her eyes, but was so blinded by them that she couldn't unlock the door. She fumbled with the knob for a moment, cursing under her breath.
"Lois," Clark said in a low voice, gently taking her hand from the door and placing it between both of his.
She nearly stopped breathing at his closeness, but forced herself to speak.
"You don't want to fall for me, Farmboy," she said shakily, her eyes on Clark's hands holding her own. "I'm broken." Her eyes closed for a moment. "And I don't think you can fix me," she whispered.
Clark's heart constricted.
He leaned in close, his lips barely brushing her ear.
"Let me try," he breathed, his voice eliciting a shiver of longing that rippled through Lois.
Her free hand cupped his smooth cheek.
"Don't you understand you're just too good?" she asked, shaking her head. "It's unbelievable -- I show up here unannounced, a wreck, and what do you do? You don't lash out at me for what I did to you. Oh, no," Lois argued. She raked a hand through her hair. "Instead of being angry, you immediately try and console me because you think I'm upset about Lex and the wedding fiasco. Come on, Clark, can't you be ... I don't know -- human?"
Clark flinched, but Lois continued. "How about egotistical? Petty? Spiteful?"
Her entire body was trembling. She wanted to stop shouting, wanted to stop these hateful accusations from tumbling out of her mouth, but she couldn't.
She had to make Clark see she wasn't right for him, even if it was breaking her heart in the process.
He had to know she wasn't anywhere near good enough for someone like him.
"You just can't be this perfect person, Clark," she went on. "It's not fair to everyone else. It shatters every preconceived notion I have about men and for you to be so good and honest and kind and intelligent and gorgeous and witty -- it just -- there has to be some flaw, somewhere, it's just not normal -- "
When she finally forced herself to look at Clark, the hurt in his dark eyes was too much; her resolve crumbled.
"Oh, God," she breathed, horrified. "You see? You see what I just did? That's why I can't -- we can't -- I'm just not ... not the kind of person you need in your life."
Her hands shook while she wrestled with the lock once more, succeeding this time. She placed her hand on the knob.
"Why is it so hard for you to accept me?" Clark asked, his voice rough with emotion. "What is it about me that upsets you so much?"
Lois looked up, immobilized with fear of answers she couldn't voice. She was trapped by the anguish she saw swimming in Clark's eyes, the sorrow etched onto his features.
An eternity passed in a handful of heartbeats.
"I -- I should go," she said thickly.
Clark's shoulders slumped. He nodded and opened the door, then turned away and walked slowly toward his bedroom.
Lois stood in the doorway, staring after him, tears coursing down her cheeks.
Forgive me, Clark. I'm doing this because I love you.
