Title: Terms of Estrangement (4/5)
Author: angelic_editor
Rating: PG for mild language
Summary: Lois struggles to distance herself from Clark after her disastrous almost-wedding. Angst ensues.
Feedback: Better than chocolate, especially since this is the first fic I've ever posted. 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.
Miscellaneous: What started out as a short vignette has turned into a multi-part story, thanks to the amazing feedback from readers! At first I was worried I couldn't do justice to the story I wanted to tell, but you've all been so wonderful and supportive that I find I can't stop writing until 4 a.m. so I can finish the next part! Seriously, guys, I can't thank you enough for your kind words of encouragement; I hope you enjoy.
P.S. I also have an obsession for struggling to find the perfect lyrics — often Sarah McLachlan's, because good God, there are so many that work so well! — to help frame each installment. While this isn’t a song-fic by any means, the opening lyrics help me set the right tone. If it gets annoying, just let me know.
I knew you wanted to tell me
In your voice there was something wrong
But if you would turn your face away from me
You cannot tell me you’re so strong
— “The Path of Thorns (Terms),” Sarah McLachlan
“Mr. Worthington, please.”
Lois tapped her pencil impatiently against her notepad, scanning the news brief on her computer screen.
“Lois Lane, from The Daily Planet,” she said crisply to the snarky receptionist on the phone. “I’d like to speak with him about a series of break-ins that included four of his stores last night.”
And I’d like you to make that easy for me, or I’ll implicate you in the story on tomorrow’s front page, Lois thought darkly, stifling a yawn. It’d serve you right for doing this to me after the night I had.
She pushed thoughts of her kitchen, her beautiful, albeit seldom-used, kitchen, now only a smoldering memory in her soot-streaked apartment.
Focus.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, shaken from her smoke-filled reverie.
“Yes, I’ll hold,” she replied grudgingly.
Insufferable —
“Out to lunch? It’s only ten-thirty,” Lois protested after the secretary came back on the line.
Lois listened to the secretary's response and silently counted to ten.
“I’m sure he’s a very busy man,” she agreed, realizing she’d attract more bees with honey than vinegar, as the old adage alleged. “May I leave my number for him?”
A minute later, Lois frowned and replaced the receiver with a quiet ‘bang,’ allowing herself that one small outlet for her frustration.
I can’t stand people who won’t talk to me just because I’m a reporter. Don’t they know I’m a human first, a journalist second?
“Lois! Clark!” Perry White boomed from his office.
Lois jumped.
Her eyes automatically darted to Clark’s desk, where her partner looked just as surprised as she felt.
Averting her gaze, Lois stood and walked inside the managing editor’s office, unconsciously smoothing her grey skirt over her thighs.
“Yes, Chief?” she asked evenly, painfully aware of Clark standing just behind her right shoulder.
“Good, you’re both here,” Perry drawled with a crooked grin. “I need you two to follow this break-in story.”
Lois opened her mouth to object, but Perry went on.
“Happened last night, and looks to be the most organized rash of thefts in this town in a long time — some sixteen locations, mostly electronics places. Worthington’s suffered the most; four stores were hit.”
Lois shifted her weight uncomfortably.
Clark cleared his throat.
“Chief, I’ve already — ”
“Chief, I’ve been working on another — ”
Lois and Clark paused.
Perry’s eyes moved from Lois’ face to Clark’s, then back.
“There somethin’ you aren’t tellin’ me?” he asked. “Like why my two best investigative reporters’re turnin’ tail at the hottest story of the week?”
Lois frowned.
Clark looked down at his shoes.
“But Chief, I said I’ve already — ”
“It’s not that I don’t want — ”
The two closed their mouths simultaneously. Lois stared hard at Perry’s nameplate. Clark studied the wall just behind Perry’s head.
Perry looked almost amused.
These two must’ve had one helluva awkward first date.
“One at a time, please,” he said. “Lois, ladies first.”
Lois set her jaw. “I’m all about equality, Chief,” she said in the most saccharine tone she could manage. “Why don’t you let Clark go first?”
Perry inclined his head toward Clark. “Son?” he asked.
Clark swallowed hard.
“It’s not that I don’t want to work with Lois on this, Chief,” he said, his discomfort obvious. “I — I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now. I’m following some leads of my own on a couple of stories and … that’ll be keeping me busy for the next couple days,” he finished.
Lame, he mentally groaned. You’ve got to get better at this lying thing.
Perry studied Clark for a long minute. “I see,” he said finally. “Lois?”
Lois stood up straighter. “Like I said, Chief, I’ve already begun a preliminary investigation — I’ve spoken with Worthington’s secretary and he’s supposed to call me back this afternoon.” She gave Perry her best impression of a sunny smile. “I’ve got everything under control.”
Right. As long as you don’t dwell on your personal life, her brain shot back.
“And this story plays more to Lois’ strengths than mine,” Clark added.
Lois narrowed her eyes. You bastard.
She whirled to face Clark.
“Don’t patronize me, Kent,” she warned. “Don’t. You. Dare. I’ve worked hard to get where I am — ”
Clark’s mouth dropped in shock. “But … Lois, I didn’t mean — ”
“That’s it!” Perry bellowed.
Lois’ shoulders jumped guiltily. Clark turned to Perry, shamefaced.
“You two are going out to lunch to work this out. Now.” Perry gave them both a hard look. “And when you come back here, I want to see the reporting team I can count on.”
The two members of Metropolis’ ace reporting team looked sheepishly at Perry before walking out the door.
* * * * *
“Of all the insulting things you could’ve said, that — that was the absolute worst,” Lois raged, stalking down the sidewalk, oblivious to the stares from curious onlookers.
Clark nervously ran a hand through his dark hair, struggling to keep up with her.
“Lois, I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I wasn’t trying to — ”
“To what, Clark?” Lois cut in. “To undermine me? To make me look bad? While you — you — come out of this looking like a — a long-suffering hero?” she spat, determined to keep the tremor from her voice. “A golden boy, a martyr to the profession?”
Clark stopped. He thought he’d just felt his heart crack. Again.
“Lois,” he whispered in pained disbelief, “I can’t believe you’d ever think that of me.”
Lois paused. She was a few feet away from him, but she’d heard.
She almost wished she hadn’t.
Lois turned to meet Clark’s wounded gaze.
Oh, Clark — I’m sorry. I’ve done it again.
Clark clenched his jaw and ducked his head. He couldn’t let Lois see how much he was hurting. He couldn't let Lois see how deeply her words had cut.
“If you think I’ve ever had anything but respect and admiration for you, you’re so — you’re just so wrong,” he said, forcing his quiet tone to remain even. His dark eyes were riveted on a penny lying on the concrete at his feet. “But I can’t — I can’t change your mind.”
Lois bit her lower lip, ashamed. She stepped closer to Clark.
He looked up, anguish etched onto his features.
“I — I keep saying the wrong things. The completely wrong things,” he admitted hesitantly, ready to flinch at another verbal onslaught from Lois.
It didn’t come. Instead, her brown eyes studied him while she waited silently.
Clark sighed and shook his head. He looked down at his trembling hands. “I don’t … I just don’t know what the right words are, Lois. Tell me how to fix this — how to — to fix us.”
Tears welled in Lois’ eyes.
Her heart nearly shattered at the pain she heard in Clark’s words.
God — what I have done to this man?
“Clark, I don’t … ” She took a shaky breath and tried again. “I don’t know if you can. I don’t know if you should try.”
Clark nodded slowly at first, then frowned in confusion. “But — why?”
Because I’ll break you. And that would absolutely kill me.
“I haven’t had the greatest relationship track record, y’know,” Lois said, pressing a fist against her flat stomach to quell the knot twisting there. “And I’m afraid of what I might do to you, Clark. I told you, I’m just — you’re so — I’m just not what someone like you needs.”
Clark laughed humorlessly.
“And what do you think I need?”
Not someone like me.
“Someone who won’t berate you,” Lois said, sniffling. “Someone who won’t cut you down. Someone who isn’t a complete flake in her personal life.” Lois bit back a sob, forcing out her next words. “Someone who — who deserves you.”
Clark threw his arms out in exasperation.
“Lois, where the hell did you get this idea?”
Lois jumped. Clark was almost shouting, and drawing several stares from passersby on their way to an early lunch.
Clark stepped closer. Lois looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes.
“Look, I’m sorry — could we maybe go sit in the park for a minute?” he asked.
Lois nodded, following him inside Centennial Park’s stone and wrought-iron entrance to a secluded bench next to an ancient weeping willow. The same place where Clark had first told her he loved her, just before she’d nearly married Lex.
Seems like so long ago — has it really only been a couple of weeks?
“I’m not perfect,” Clark said gently as he sat down beside her, bringing her back to the conversation at hand. “I’m not this — this — guy on some unreachable pedestal.” He took a deep breath. “I’m just — me.”
Lois turned toward him and licked her lips nervously. “But — ”
“No. No buts.”
“Clark, you have to understand — ”
“I understand plenty, Lois.” His voice was barely a whisper, his lips inches from her own. “I understand that I love you. And that I should’ve told you this a long time ago.”
Lois’ mouth opened, then closed.
She couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought, couldn’t believe that after all Clark had put up with, he still wanted her. Wanted to make this work.
How did this man ever fall for me?
“Clark, I — ”
“Lois, I’m — ”
“ … love you, too.”
“ … Superman.”
* * * * *
Lois didn’t move for a long moment. She held Clark’s gaze, then cocked her head slightly.
“I’m — I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I thought we were having a serious conversation.”
Clark’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “I’ve never been more serious,” he protested with an apologetic wince.
Lois shook her head.
“No.”
She swallowed thickly.
“No, you’re not. You can’t be. It’s — it’s impossible.”
Clark reached for Lois’ hand.
“Don’t,” she said coldly.
Clark froze. “All right,” he whispered, scooting back on the bench, giving Lois some room.
Her eyes darted scanned the surroundings, looking for eavesdroppers.
There were none.
Useless, she thought absently. He can just use his super-hearing to locate threats.
Then her natural skepticism, bred from years as The Planet’s most zealous investigative reporter, kicked in.
“Prove it,” she ordered angrily, crossing her arms over her chest.
Clark couldn’t meet Lois’ gaze. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious.
“Well — ” he began.
“Prove it,” Lois demanded again.
Clark opened his mouth, then thought the better of it.
Understanding dawned on Lois’ features, and she reached over to remove his glasses with trembling hands.
Oh, God.
Clark’s glasses fell from her shaking fingers, onto the grass at their feet.
Lois gasped. “Oh — I’m — I’m sorry,” she managed, moving to them up at the same time as Clark.
Her fingers brushed his, and she flinched, moving her hand.
He bit his lower lip. “It’s — it’s really okay, Lois. I don’t — um — I don’t really need them.”
Lois nodded. “I — I guess you’re right,” she admitted awkwardly.
Still, Clark picked up his undamaged glasses and put them back on.
Lois clasped her hands in her lap, twining her fingers together as she tried to process what Clark had just told her.
“You’ve … you’ve lied to me,” she whispered, sounding defeated. “You’ve lied — the whole time I’ve known you … and — and all those silly excuses … ”
She looked up at him then, defiance glittering behind the tears in her eyes.
“You’re a liar — I don’t even know you.”
“Lois, that’s not — ”
“True?” she asked icily.
Clark fell silent.
But you do know me, he ached to say. Superman is just what I can do — Clark is who I am.
Lois shook her head and forced a bitter laugh. “And to think — ” Her breath hitched. “I thought I was in love with you.”
Lois Lane, federal disaster, strikes again, she thought dully.
Lois stood.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a story to work on — alone.”
She strode out of the park without looking back.
Clark watched her go, then dropped his head into his hands.
Forgive me, Lois, he silently implored. I thought you’d understand — because I thought you loved me, too.
