Title: Terms of Estrangement (5/5)
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 story! Seriously, guys, I can't thank you enough for your kind words of encouragement; I hope you enjoy.
You know if I leave you now
It doesn’t mean that I love you any less
It’s just the state I’m in
I can’t be good to anyone else like this
— “Wait,” Sarah McLachlan
This shouldn’t be so hard.
Lois sighed, slumping in her chair and forcing her concentration back to the deadline story at hand.
Then why have you read the same paragraph three times?
She skimmed the Worthington piece once more, triple-checking the quotes she’d used on the screen with those scribbled in her notepad.
Eh — not bad.
In fact, it was pretty damn good, especially since she’d managed to pull it together in a scant two hours, even counting the phone interviews.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel it was less than stellar. Her writing was clear and concise, but somehow lacked the usual passion behind her byline.
Could’ve been even better with Clark’s help.
The thought popped, unbidden, to the forefront of her inner running monologue. She narrowed her eyes.
I mean, Superman’s.
Lois gritted her teeth and dropped the file onto the copy desk’s server.
Almost unconsciously, she glanced at Clark’s vacant desk.
Don’t, she warned herself sharply. Don’t wonder where he is or what he’s doing. Don’t care — he’s a liar, remember?
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.
And he’s not worth your time.
* * * * *
“Superman, can you help my mom, too?”
Clark smiled at the earnestness he heard in the wide-eyed seven-year-old’s voice.
“I sure can,” he told her. “Let’s find a safe spot for you to wait, okay?”
The girl nodded. She was content to be flying, cradled in Superman’s arms, away from the acrid stench of burnt rubber.
Clark landed fifty yards away from the scene of the accident and set the child down on a park bench.
“She didn’t mean to hit that big pole, Superman,” the girl told him seriously, tugging on one of her long braids out of habit. “This man had a dog on a leash over there — ” she pointed to the dirt path that wound around the edge of the park — “and it got away from him. I saw it out the window. It ran in front of us and my mom tried her very best not to hit the nice doggie.”
Clark gave her an understanding smile. “Don’t worry — sometimes accidents like this one happen. I just want to make sure it wasn’t too scary for you, and that you and your mom are all right.”
She nodded again. “You should go check, huh?”
“I should,” Clark said. “Stay here and wait, please?”
“I will,” she promised.
Clark smiled at her again and flew back to the black Explorer tilted at an angle on the curb, its front end wrapped around a telephone pole.
Clark’s expression grew serious as he assessed the situation, peering into the open driver’s side window. The woman’s eyes were closed and her breathing was a little erratic. A gash on her forehead was bleeding freely, but Clark could see it was only a superficial injury.
“Ma’am?” he asked, leaning in close. “Are you hurt?”
The woman’s piercing steel-blue eyes opened, clouded with confusion, and focused on Clark’s concerned expression.
“Superman?” She paused, furrowing her brow. “I — I don’t remember what happened.”
She glanced into the askew rearview mirror.
“Emily — Emily?”
She gasped.
“Superman, my little girl — ”
“It’s all right, ma’am,” he replied. “You’ve had an accident. I’ve already taken your daughter out of the vehicle; she’s sitting in the park just behind us.” He turned to check that the girl was still sitting patiently on the park bench.
When he looked back at the woman, she was nodding and studying her hands, which were still gripping the steering wheel.
“She’s safe,” he said gently.
“Th-thank you,” she said, looking up at Clark. “Emily and I can’t thank you enough.”
Clark could’ve hugged the woman for her gratitude.
She makes the cape and tights worth it, he thought.
“Really, it’s no trouble, ma’am,” he said, feeling his cheeks redden.
“You know, you don’t have to call me ma’am,” she told him, managing a small laugh.
Clark grinned. “Sorry, force of habit — let’s get you out of here, then, okay?”
She nodded, but then grimaced in pain.
“Ma’ — miss?”
Her blue eyes were wide when she met Clark’s anxious brown gaze.
“Superman, I — I’m afraid I can’t — can’t feel my legs,” she stammered, her chin trembling.
Clark felt an iron band of cold panic clamp around his chest, and for a painful moment, he forgot to breathe.
Oh, no.
* * * * *
This is such a bad idea, Lois chastised herself as she turned off the Jeep’s engine.
Still, she didn’t — couldn’t — start the motor again.
She’d been running on autopilot since she’d left the office.
She’d listlessly picked up groceries on her way home. She’d ordered takeout she didn’t remember tasting. She’d tried to get lost in Bob Woodward’s latest book, though right now, she couldn’t recall the title. She’d called Lucy, but hadn’t left a message when her sister didn’t pick up.
Nothing had worked — not even the thought of returning to the office to catch up on some groundwork for other stories had piqued her interest.
It’s definitely a bad sign when I pass on putting in extra hours, she thought ruefully.
Throughout most of the afternoon and evening, her thoughts kept returning to Clark. To Superman. Her partner. Her best friend.
If I haven’t screwed this up.
Lois squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to form.
All she could see was Clark — his dark eyes so completely unguarded when he’d told her his secret, then so completely crushed when she’d stood to walk away.
Those eyes had haunted her since she’d turned her back on him hours ago in Centennial Park.
So here she sat, fidgeting in her Jeep outside Clark’s apartment.
This doesn’t mean I’m not still furious, Lois reminded herself. It just means that I can’t …
She sighed and looked up, her eyes studying the light emanating from one of Clark’s windows.
Just admit it. You can’t imagine not having this man in your life.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat and took her keys from the ignition.
Before she could change her mind, she was out of the Jeep and walking up the steps to Clark’s building.
Then she was standing outside his door.
Don’t mess it up this time, she warned herself.
She knocked on the smooth, worn wood, willing her hand to stop shaking.
Silence.
She paused.
“Clark?” she called hopefully. “It’s me — Lois.”
Nothing.
She knocked again.
“Clark?”
Still no response.
But the light’s on, she thought sadly, gritting her teeth against overwhelming disappointment. You have to be there. You can’t just waste electricity like this — especially when I’m standing outside your empty apartment like one of those vapid, weepy heroines from some bargain-bin romance novel with Fabio on the cover.
A lone tear trickled down Lois’ cheek. She wiped it away impatiently, staring hard at the door.
Fine. It’s your own fault you’re not here to accept my apology.
She turned to walk away, absently smoothing her grey skirt over her thighs.
And her heart nearly leapt out of her ribcage.
“Clark!”
There he was — her partner, her best friend — walking toward her, his keys in hand.
His head jerked up.
“Lois? It’s so — so late — is everything okay?” He came to a stop beside her, keys forgotten in his hand.
Lois studied Clark’s face for a long minute. He looked so tired. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were so —
Defeated, she realized in shock. Look what you’ve done, you stupid, stupid girl.
“I think maybe I should ask you that question,” Lois said quietly.
She nervously chewed her lower lip when Clark averted his eyes.
He cleared his throat.
“I’ve just been … out,” he said finally, his expression guarded. “Trying to, uh, to clear my head.”
Lois nodded.
“Clark, I’m sorry — ” she began, but Clark shook his head, raking a hand through his dark hair.
“Lois, no,” he pleaded. “I can’t — let’s not do this, not right now. I — I just can’t handle this right now.”
Lois stood, dumbfounded, while Clark turned his key in the lock.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.
“No,” she said in a small voice.
Clark turned his head.
“Lois, please, I’m not much good to anyone just now — ”
“No,” she said again, louder this time. “I — I came here to tell you some things, Clark. Some things that — that need to be said.”
She looked down at her shoes.
“And I can’t leave without saying them, because … ” Lois paused and took a shaky breath. “Because I’m afraid that if I don’t do this tonight, I’ll never work up the courage again.”
Her head came up, and she met Clark’s gaze, tears shining in her dark eyes.
The fight went out of Clark then.
I can never say no to you, he thought sadly. Even if it destroys me, I’ll always give in.
“All right,” he said with a soft sigh. “Come on in.”
* * * * *
Lois didn’t know what to do with her hands. They kept trembling. She folded them on her lap as she sat on the couch, watching Clark tiredly remove his jacket and loosen his tie.
“Water?” he asked over his shoulder, heading to the fridge.
“Um — please, that’d be great.”
Clark came back, holding two bottles. He set them on the coffee table and settled on the couch next to Lois.
“Clark — ”
“Lois — ”
They both fell silent.
A small smile ghosted across Lois’ lips. “You first,” she said.
“Um — all right. Lois, I — ”
Clark took off his glasses. He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Lois noticed his hands were shaking slightly.
“It’s — it’s been a bad day,” he said quietly. “Just so you know.”
I’m sorry — God, I’m so sorry for how I reacted earlier.
But Lois didn’t trust her voice; she could only nod in response.
“That’s why I wasn’t going to let you in,” Clark continued. “Not because I didn’t want to, but because I don’t want to say something stupid or hurtful or insinuate something I don’t really mean … ” He trailed off, staring blankly at the coffee table.
Lois stared hard at her hands clasped in her lap.
“I’m so sorry that I was horrible — just awful — to you today. I wasn’t thinking, Clark, of course that’s not something you tell to just anyone but — I mean, I’m still hurt that you kept your life as Superman from me for so long, but mostly, I’m mad at myself for not figuring it out.”
Lois knew she was babbling, but couldn’t stop herself.
“I — I know there’s a lot to work through, and I haven’t been able to process everything yet, but I care about you so much and you have to know that I — Clark, I — love you. Including the part of you who wears spandex.”
Too bad I hate him tonight, Clark thought hollowly, staring straight ahead.
Lois hesitantly touched his forearm.
“Clark?”
He turned to her then, his eyes so full of anguish that Lois recoiled.
“This part of my life, Lois — it’s too much to deal with,” he said hoarsely. “It’s too much to ask.”
Clark dropped his head in his hands. His eyes closed, and he could only see Emily, the seven-year-old girl sitting on the park bench, so lost and confused. He could only hear her asking why he couldn’t help her mom — he was Superman, after all.
“But, Superman, you can do anything. Why can’t you help my mom today?”
He drew a deep breath and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.
“I can’t — God, I can barely deal with it myself, sometimes.”
Lois furrowed her brow.
“Clark, what — what’s gotten into you? What happened today?” she asked gently.
“I — I couldn’t — ” he stammered. “I just — I just couldn’t,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “It wasn’t enough. I tried, but it wasn’t enough.”
Clark’s entire body was shaking. He rubbed the back of his neck, agitated, struggling for the right words.
“How do you tell a seven-year-old that her mom will never walk again?” he asked sharply, meeting Lois’ startled gaze. “Tell me, please — how does Superman explain that even he can’t help everyone? That he can’t fix everything at once?”
“Oh, Clark,” Lois breathed. “I had no idea — ”
“You’re right,” Clark interrupted, his voice harsh. “You don’t.”
Did I deserve that? Lois bit her lip, her eyes riveted on the two unopened bottles of water sitting on the coffee table.
She wanted to lash out, to respond in kind.
But she didn’t.
“Clark, I’d like to — I’d like to know,” she said honestly, her eyes searching his profile.
Clark sighed. He met Lois’ eyes and she saw the unspoken pain, the specter of the horror he’d witnessed today.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his hands. “Like I said, I’m afraid I’m not much company tonight.”
Lois reached out and gingerly placed her hand on top of his.
“Do you want me to go?” she asked.
No. But you should.
“It — it might be for the best,” Clark said sadly, a sick feeling settling into the pit of his stomach.
For a brief moment, Lois froze.
“Um — okay,” she said with a crisp nod.
After an awkward pause, she stood and started toward the door.
“I’ll walk you,” Clark offered.
“That’s not — not necessary,” Lois replied, her knees shaking as she stood next to the door.
Clark stepped in close. “But I want to.”
Lois heard the pained note in his voice, and her heart constricted.
Be strong, she cautioned herself.
“I’m a big girl, Clark — I can make it across the street by myself,” she forced herself to say, struggling to keep her tone light.
Clark clenched his jaw.
“If you’re sure,” he said as evenly as he could manage.
Lois brought her hand up to rest against Clark’s smooth cheek.
His eyes closed; her touch was such exquisite torture.
I’m sorry, Lois — I wish I could’ve found all the right words.
Lois brushed her thumb across his cheekbone, her heart breaking for Clark. For his demons. For the burden he silently shouldered each day.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she whispered resolutely.
Clark opened his eyes, searching Lois’ determined expression for answers she wasn’t ready to offer and he wasn’t ready to analyze.
“Tomorrow,” he echoed with a nod.
Lois pressed her lips to his cheek.
“Good night, Clark.”
I love you, she silently added.
Clark took Lois’ hand and squeezed it gently.
“Good night, Lois.”
I love you, he ached to say.
Instead, he watched her leave, then walked over to his window to make sure she made it safely inside her Jeep.
Tomorrow, he told himself, resting his forehead against the cool glass. Please, let me find a way to turn this into something beautiful.
* * * * *
Lois climbed into her Jeep.
This isn’t Claude, and this isn’t Lex, she told herself firmly as she put the vehicle into gear. You may not be as perfect as I once thought, but I’m not giving up on you, Kent. For once, I refuse to allow this to turn into a federal disaster.
Before she pulled away, she looked up to see Clark’s apartment go dark.
No, I’m not giving up — I love you too much, flaws and all.
