Author’s Note: This story takes place during That Old Gang Of Mine. It picks up the morning after Clark is shot in the casino and diverges quickly. This is, shockingly, my first TOGOM rewrite, and I hope my readers enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thanks, as always to Kathy B for being the best beta reader ever. She keeps me on track, puts up with a million late-night brainstorming sessions, and feeds me some of my best lines.
“All this time, I can't believe I couldn't see
Kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me
…
Now that I know what I'm without
You can't just leave me”
— Bring Me To Life
Evanescence
“Lois? You didn’t have to come in today.” Perry’s voice was soft and gentle, and she knew he was worried about her.
She looked up from where she was seated at her desk, threading her fingers together and shaking her head slightly. “I couldn’t stay home. I just kept thinking about Clark...lying there. I feel like it was all my fault he was killed,” she admitted, her voice cracking under the strain of the grief and guilt.
“Oh, honey,” he said. “You can’t blame yourself. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen.”
“No,” she said, rejecting his words of comfort. “He died trying to protect me. In one...lousy second, I lost my partner. And my best friend.” Her heart ached, thinking of him lying there. “He died without ever knowing…. I never told him….
She couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t even finish it in her mind, let alone say the words out loud.
Her grief was interrupted briefly by a homicide detective who came for her signature on the statement she’d given the previous evening. She signed automatically, not looking at the paper. She didn’t want to see the words she’d spoken last night. Seeing it in black and white would only make it that much more real.
She heard Perry asking him about the search for Clark’s murderer, but the words washed over her without sinking in. Clark was gone. She knew she should care about finding the monster who stole him from her, bringing him to justice. But she just didn’t. Couldn’t. It wouldn’t bring Clark back, and without that, everything else seemed pointless.
The detective picked up the phone on Lois’ desk, speaking to someone about a tip, and jotted down an address on her notepad. He thanked her and left, and she picked up the pad automatically, looking at the indentation of his words. For a brief flicker of a moment, she saw herself driving to that address, investigating. Doing what she did best. And then she dropped the notepad into her bag and stared listlessly at Clark’s vacant desk.
“Lois, honey?” Perry’s voice cut through the fog of her emotions and she lifted her eyes to meet him. “Why don’t you let me drive you home?”
She shook her head and stood. She couldn’t listen to him tell her again that it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t stand to see the pity in his eyes when he looked at her. She needed to be alone.
Somehow she made it home, though she had no recollection of the drive. She locked the door behind her and dropped her keys on the table. She wandered through her apartment with unseeing eyes, drifting aimlessly. Eventually she wound up in a corner of the couch, not even bothering to take her shoes off before curling into a ball. She waited for the tears to come, but she seemed to be all cried out. She had thought that twice before though, only to find the tears streaming down her face again an hour later, so it was probably just a matter of time.
Perry had been surprised to see her at The Daily Planet today, but where else was she supposed to go? The Daily Planet was as much her home as this apartment. Moreso maybe. She knew there was little she could accomplish there. She was obviously too close to the story to be allowed to work on it anymore. And there was no way she could work on anything else. But she just wanted to be somewhere familiar. Somewhere safe. She just wanted to sit at her desk and pretend he was just off returning a video or having his teeth cleaned for the third time this month. She wanted to believe that any minute she’d hear the ding of the elevator and look up to see him smiling at her.
But once she got there, it didn’t feel the same. She couldn’t pretend. His desk was empty. She was never going to hear that ding and look up to see him ever again. He was never going to bring her coffee again. He was never going to edit her copy or argue with her about a story angle or insist on going with her to meet a source ever again. His name would never be beneath hers on a byline ever again. He was never going to hold her coat for her or bring her takeout or roll his eyes at one of Perry’s Elvis anecdotes ever again. He was never going to order pizza with her or watch movies with her or insist on walking her all the way to her door ever again. He was never going to dance with her ever again.
He was gone. And The Daily Planet didn’t feel like home anymore.
But her home didn’t feel like home either. The only place she wanted to be was on Clark’s couch with his arm around her.
When she’d showed up at his house in the middle of the night a few weeks ago, scared out of her mind, she’d been full of bluster and nonsense, talking about pizza and Mel Gibson movies. But when she’d finally admitted that Griffin had threatened her, and confessed pitifully that she didn’t want to die, he’d looked into her eyes and promised her that he would not let that happen. And she’d believed him. Somehow, some way, Clark Kent would keep her safe. And finally, she had relaxed. She’d curled up beside him, resting her head on his chest, and the next thing she knew it was morning, and she was alone on the couch, covered in a blanket.
And last night, in that club, he’d been good to word. Of course he had. She just never imagined he’d pay for her life with his own.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him lying there on the ground, being dragged from her. She heard the shots. She heard her own anguished voice crying his name. It was easier to keep her eyes open, unfocused. Then she could see him as he had been. Joking, laughing, teasing her. Cajoling her to lighten up when she was crabby. Challenging her when she was being insufferable.
So she sat there, as the morning sun brightened into noon and then long afternoon shadows spread across the room. Not moving. Not sleeping. Just sitting with her memories.
When the tap came at her window, she had been sitting still for so long that she winced when her head turned automatically in its direction. She took a breath and sighed, then turned her head back to its previous position without acknowledging the sound.
The tap came again. A little louder this time; a little more insistent. And finally she felt something.
She stood and walked to the window, unhooking the latch that she hadn’t used in years until last night. She swung it open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. He hovered there, in his red and blue suit, a concerned look on his face.
She knew how she must look in her oversized sweatshirt, with her hair unwashed and her face tear streaked. And for the first time ever, she didn’t care at all about how she looked to him.
“Lois,” he said softly. “Can I come in?”
She stepped back, flinching at his voice. But he mistook her movement for assent, and glided into the room, landing within an arm’s reach of her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She cringed. How could she ever be okay again?
“You should go,” she said woodenly.
He raised an eyebrow, and she knew he was surprised by her indifference to him.
“I stopped by earlier and you weren’t here,” he said softly. “I wanted to see you. Check on you.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice cold and empty.
“Because I care about you, Lois,” he said. His voice was gentle, but she could see confusion warring with concern on his face. He lifted a hand and reached for her.
“Don’t touch me,” she said, stepping back.
He looked as if she had struck him.
For just a fraction of a second, she felt bad, and then her chest burned with anger. She closed her eyes, feeling her fury build.
When she opened her eyes, he was still standing there, his face unreadable.
“I know he was your friend,” she said quietly. “I know you’re grieving too. But I can’t. I can’t share him with you tonight.”
“Lois,” he said, taking a step toward her.
She stepped back and held up a hand to stop him. “I’ve told you again and again that whatever you can do is enough. That you don’t owe the world anything. I’ve told you that you can come to me if you need someone to talk to. And I know I should say all those things to you again tonight. But I can’t. I can’t even look at you. I know that’s not fair. I know you don’t deserve that. But you need to go, before I say things I can never take back .”
“Lois, I-”
“Where were you?” she cried, unable to hold back any longer. “Where? How could you let this happen?”
“I-”
She didn’t wait for him to answer, her grief swelling in her, erupting out of her. “You’ve saved me a hundred times! You’re never too late to save me! How many bullets have you caught that were meant for me? Where were you?”
The tears were back, streaming down her face. But the cold, icy sadness of earlier was gone, replaced by a fiery rage. She swatted at the tears, gulping in a ragged breath. “He was protecting me! He stepped between them and me, and now he’s gone! You should have been there!”
She watched as his face became unreadable. Somewhere deep inside she knew the anger she was feeling was meant for herself. But he was there, and he shared the blame, and it was easier to rage at him than admit how culpable she was.
“You made me think I was invincible. We were invincible. He told me over and over to be more careful. He worried about me constantly, and I never listened to a word he said. But he was right. I should have been more careful. He was trying to protect me! He died for me, and he never even knew! I never even got to tell him!” She was yelling now, her voice echoing in the quiet apartment, ringing in her ears.
“Tell him what?” Superman asked, his voice soft and gentle, his eyes full of grief, stoking the fire of her rage. How dare he come to her for absolution? How dare he pretend he didn’t know?
“I hate you,” she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. “You ruined everything. You dazzled me, and made me blind. He loved me. And I couldn’t even see him because of you. He told me he loved me, and I asked him for you! I asked him to send you to me instead! What the hell was wrong with me?”
He looked stricken, shocked by her mention of that night that they never discussed.
“And somehow he managed to forgive me for that, and we found our way back to being partners and best friends. And we were so close to figuring out the rest. So close. When I was scared of Griffin, it was him that I wanted. Not you. HE kept me safe. HE held me while I slept. And I knew then. I KNEW. But I… I just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t say the words.”
The words were pouring from her now, tumbling out of her mouth unchecked.
“And then at the ball, he danced with me,” she said, her voice cracking as she thought of the way he held her in his arms. The way he smiled at her like she was the only person in the room.
“And Mayson cut in. And I LET her. Because I thought we had time! I thought we had time to get it right. I told Perry it was okay, because I could never lose him. And I came home that night, and I was thinking of him. Not you!” she shouted at him, and he flinched.
“I was thinking of him,” she said, softer now, wistful. “Thinking of that dance. Thinking that I should call him. Tell him how much I wanted to finish that dance.”
Her face twisted in anger. “And then YOU showed up,” she went on, her voice hard with anger, dripping with vitriol. “And you smiled at me. And you flirted with me. And I asked you to dance instead. And you said, ‘This isn’t dancing.’” she intoned, her voice high and mocking, edged with loathing.
“And you floated me all around my living room. And you looked at me like you loved me. But you don’t love me! You never did. HE loves me. Loved me,” she corrected sofly, all the anger draining out of her. “And I love him. And I never even got to tell him.”
She crumpled to the ground, her back against the coffee table, head in her hands, and sobbed.
“Oh, my god,” he said softly, obviously stunned. “What have I done?”
She ignored him, her sobs wracking her body.
“Lois, look at me,” he said softly, after a minute of tense silence. He was kneeling on the ground in front of her, she realized. His hand rested on her shoulder, thumb stroking gently. “Look at me, sweetheart. It’s okay.”
“Don’t touch me,” she spat, shrugging off his hand.
“Lois,” his voice was agonized, and a pang of guilt weaseled its way past the fury.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her head still in her hands. Her shoulders slumped. All the fight had gone out of her. “I know it’s not your fault. I don’t hate you. I hate myself. It’s all my fault. All of it. I was so stupid. So blind. I waited too long. I took him for granted. I took too many chances. I took you for granted. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry. You should have left when I told you to. I warned you I would say things I could never take back.”
“Lois, look at me,” he said. This time the agony was gone, and his voice was commanding. Her head snapped up without waiting for her consent.
Something was different. Something wasn’t right. His eyes were the same, but his hair was different, falling in soft curls over his forehead. Her eyes roamed his face, from his hair, to his eyes, down his jaw, to the collar of the soft gray shirt that lay at his throat.
Her brow furrowed. She leaned back and looked at his chest, where the blue spandex with the red and yellow S had been just a moment ago. It was gone now, replaced by a faded gray t-shirt, thin and soft from years of wear. A Midwest University t-shirt. Clark’s school. Clark’s shirt. Her eyes flew up and met his again.
“Clark?” she said, her voice small and timid, unsure if she could trust her own eyes, if she could believe what she was seeing. She reached up and stroked his cheek gently, willing him to be real.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and she had never heard him sound more sorry. “I should have told you. I wanted to tell you a million times. I thought we had more time too. I wanted us to get it right. And then I was going to tell you. We were so close. I was going to tell you.”
“You’re alive,” she said, pulling her hand back to her chest, where her heart was hammering.
His face faltered. “Clark Kent is dead Lois. A whole room full of people saw him gunned down. I had to pretend to die or reveal my secret. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t put my parents at risk. I couldn’t put you at risk. You’re already too closely associated with Superman. I worry all the time about people using you to get to me. If the world knew…”
“You’re alive,” she repeated. She couldn’t process anything more.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, meeting her gaze silently for a moment. Finally he stroked her hair and dropped his hand to his lap. “I should have come to you sooner,” he said. “I’m so sorry. After they dumped my body, I flew straight to my parents. I didn’t know where else to go. What else to do. I should have come straight to you. I’m sorry.”
She heard him speaking, but as if from a distance. She reached up and stroked his cheek again, and then let her hand fall to his chest, where the bullets had hit him. She stroked his chest gently, proving to herself that he was whole and unharmed.
He sat, still and quiet, allowing her time to reassure herself.
“You’re really okay?” she asked quietly, her hand still on his chest.
“Lois, you’ve seen bullets bounce off me before. This was no different, I promise. I was only pretending.”
“It’s different,” she said. “It was different.”
He nodded, his eyes gentle. “I know,” he said softly. “Come here.”
He opened his arms to her, and she fell into him, resting her head on his chest and sobbing. He pulled her close, so she was sitting in his lap, and held her tight. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry. I know it must have been horrible to watch.”
“It was all my fault,” she whimpered finally, trembling in his arms, her sobs subsiding into a steady stream of quiet tears and sniffling.
“No! No, Lois,” he said, holding her tighter. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He touched you, and I was furious. I rushed him. You didn’t do anything but stand there being beautiful. That’s not your fault. How could that be your fault?”
“He was threatening me, and you protected me. You stepped between us. You drew his attention from me to you.” She realized something suddenly, and let out a sharp, sad laugh. “I was so angry with you for not being there, but you were there. You were always there. How did I never see? How could I not have known?”
“I worked hard to keep you from seeing. To keep everyone from seeing,” he clarified quietly. “I wanted so badly to tell you. I almost told you so many times. And I will always, always protect you, Lois. Whoever I am. However I’m dressed.”
She sat back and looked at him. He looked like a strange combination of the two men she thought she knew. His face was bare without his glasses, and his hair was loose. But it was more than just the hair and glasses and clothes, she realized. Right now he lacked Superman’s cool reserve, and his strong, hard features had softened into the gentle, warm face of her partner.
He sat quietly, giving her time to look and take in this new information. She could see the tiny furrow between his brows and knew he was worried, though whether he was primarily concerned with their current predicament or her reaction to discovering his secret, she wasn’t sure.
She wondered idly if she should be mad. For well over a year, he’d lied to her. Kept a huge secret from her. Made her think he was two different people. But it made sense, didn’t it? It made sense that he had to create a secret identity that allowed him to use his powers without exposing himself. And it made sense that he didn’t tell her. When should he have told her? When they first met and she mocked him mercilessly? When she was dating Luthor, who he knew to be a dangerous criminal? When he told her he loved her, and she broke his heart and then told him hours later that she’d love him just the same if he was an ordinary man? Of course he hadn’t told her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek, her eyes still roaming his face.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated. “You couldn’t have-”
“Not for that,” she said.
His brow furrowed, and he gazed longingly at her. “Lois,” he said softly, his voice trailing off.
His response to her declaration of love and her promise that were he just an ordinary man living an ordinary life she would love him just the same had been branded on her heart.
“I wish I could, Lois. But under the circumstances, I don’t see how I can,” she said softly, quoting him verbatim. “I always wondered what you meant by that. What circumstances,” she continued. She shook her head sadly, eyes filling with tears again. “I’m so sorry, Clark. I don’t know how you don’t hate me. Why in the world did you stay friends with me after that? You should have just let me marry Luthor and lie in the bed I made. Walked away and washed your hands of me.”
Clark shook his head and cupped her cheek. “I couldn’t hate you. I love you. And I didn’t realize until tonight how unfair I was being to you. I wanted so desperately for you to choose me, choose Clark. But I loved you so much, and I wanted to spend time with you so badly, that I kept coming to you as Superman. When you were mad at me or pushed me away or just ignored me, I would come to you as him so I could see you smile. I did dazzle you. I flirted with you. I danced with you. I kissed you. Of course you preferred that version of me to the one who fought with you and-”
“I didn’t though,” she said, a soft whimpering cry escaping despite her best efforts to rein in her tears. “I was dazzled by him, but it was always you I came back to.”
She stroked his cheek, then ran her hand down the side of his neck and over his shoulder. She let her hand slide down his arm, past the edge of sleeve until she felt his skin. Her fingertips drew lazy patterns, as she soaked in the delicious contrast of soft skin stretched taut over hard muscle.
“Superman was exciting and fun and took my breath away. And I did care about him -- about you,” she said, trying to merge them into one in her memories. “I always wondered if he — if you — had somewhere to go, someone to talk to after hard rescues. But when I was scared or frustrated or sad or happy or excited, it was Clark I looked for. I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you. But I was scared. You’re my best friend. My partner. If I mess up this relationship, where do I go? If you rejected me, or if we dated and then broke up, the only person in my life who could get me through that loss, would be you. When I thought you were dead today, I was so alone. All I could think about was how badly I needed you.”
She saw the kiss coming just seconds before his lips touched hers. He dipped his head and met her gaze, his eyes filled with love. And then his lips were on hers, and her heart felt like it would explode. She reached up and wrapped her hands around him, one curving around his neck, the other burrowing in his hair.
His lips tugged and caressed, and she met him at every turn, desperate for his love. Desperate to show him how much she loved him. His tongue traced the inside of her top lip gently, tenderly, and she breathed his name, welcoming him. He took his time, exploring her mouth, tasting her. It was as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her. One of his hands still cradled her face, the other arm held her to him, wrapped around her, where she lay in his lap. He stroked her back sweetly, gently and unhurried. Finally he pulled his mouth from hers, raining soft kisses all over her face, kissing away her tears. She tilted her head back, sighing as she surrendered to his kisses. When he was finished with her face, he trailed kisses down her neck, hot open mouth kisses that made her gasp.
“Clark,” she cried softly, running her fingers through his hair, and tilting her head further to the side to encourage him. His kisses grew needier, less measured and gentle and more frantic. “I love you so much,” she whispered.
He stilled and pulled back to look into her eyes, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Lois, I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I’m so sorry we didn’t figure this out before. I’m so sorry. I thought we’d have more time.”
And then she realized what he was doing. Why he was loving her so gently and thoroughly, memorizing the taste and feel of her.
“No,” she said softly. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Lois, Clark Kent is dead.”
“No!” she said her hands on his chest, shoving him away, not wanting to hear what else he would say.
“It’s too late, Lois,” he said, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Loving you is all I’ve wanted for so long, but we can’t build any sort of life together. The life we have is over. What other options do we have? I could try to create a new identity. But I’d have to start over entirely, move across the country or across the world. Go somewhere no one would ever recognize me. Find a new career. Make all new friends. I can’t ask you to leave behind your family, your home, your friends, your job and follow me god knows where. Ask you to lie to everyone we know and pretend I’m dead. Never mention me to them again. Or I can just be Superman all the time. I can build some secret lair and go there to rest in between rescues. But you can’t be Superman’s girlfriend. Even in secret. It’s too dangerous. I can’t hide the way I feel about you. You’d be in danger all the time. I don’t have anything else to offer you. What you want, Lois, what I want...our life together, our partnership, that’s gone.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No. It’s not too late. You’re here. You’re alive. We can find a way.”
“How, Lois? How? How are we going to explain to a room full of people that what they think they saw never happened. He shot me at point blank range. It was too close to miss. There were three shots. They dragged me out. It’s all over the news. There’s no fixing this. I spent all morning rehashing this with my parents. There’s no way to spin this. Clark Kent is dead.”
“Stop saying that!” she cried, her voice nearly a shriek.
His face softened, and he pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Lois. I’m so sorry. But you have to accept that.”
“I don’t accept it,” she retorted, her eyes blazing. “Stop it, Clark. You’re not a quitter.”
She climbed from his lap, standing on shaky legs. Her mind whirled, and she began to pace, her body full of restless energy.
“We saw you shot, but not dead. They dragged you away before anyone could examine you. And then they dumped your body? Without examining you?”
He nodded, confirming her account of the events, and rose from the floor to sit on her couch.
“We can say that Superman found you. You were seriously injured, unconscious, but still alive.” She wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but that seemed like a logical first step.
“And then what?” he asked gently, humoring her. “We can’t say he took me to the hospital. There will be no record of that. And I can’t go to a hospital. I don’t have a wound.”
“Superman? He…fixed you?” She was grasping at straws.
“Superman isn’t a doctor, Lois. He doesn’t fix people. He might triage in the field, but then he hands them over to medical professionals.”
“If the bullets missed all your vital organs? If they went through clean and didn’t need to be removed? It would just be a matter of stopping the bleeding, right? And preventing infection?”
He shrugged and grimaced. “I don’t think it’s that simple? At the very least I’d need to go to the hospital to have it examined and get antibiotics.”
“We can say that you were seen by a private doctor! We can bandage it!”
“Just for the sake of the argument, let’s say that works. What happens when someone sees my chest months or years from now and realizes there’s no scar?”
“Maybe…it’s not just a private doctor. Maybe a scientist? Maybe Superman knows someone? Someone who can..regenerate cells? If a scientist can clone a whole person, why couldn’t they fix you and leave you without a scar?”
“Lois,” he said, shaking his head resignedly. “We’d need some sort of proof. Who is this mystery scientist? How did Superman know where to take me?”
She wheeled on him, furious. “Help me, Clark! Don’t just shoot my ideas down! Are you really just going to give up and walk away without even trying?”
“I’ve been trying to figure this out all day!” he snapped back at her. He took a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was gentle and pleading. “I’ve already thought about all this. I’m desperate for a solution. I want nothing more than for there to be a plausible story for my recovery. But nothing I come up with is plausible. I’ve already been through all these options. We’re deluding ourselves-”
“YOU spent all day trying to figure this out,” Lois said, her voice calm and firm. “Now it’s time for US to try to figure it out together. That’s what we do, right? That’s what partners do.”
His eyes softened, and he nodded. He reached for her, and she went to him, sitting beside him on the couch.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her hand in his. “You’re right. Let’s try together.”
“We saw you shot, but we didn’t see you die. No one examined the body,” she repeated, prompting him.
“They dragged me out and threw me in the trunk. Then they dumped me on the Southside. No one examined me. No one checked my pulse. They just assumed I was dead.”
Lois nodded. “If we assume the bullets hit no vital organs, and Superman got to you as soon as you were dumped, then it’s just a matter of healing you. Could you cauterize the wound with your heat vision? Theoretically? If you xrayed and saw there was no damage?”
He contemplated this for a moment. “Maybe. I’ve done it before. It would stop the bleeding.”
“The bleeding!” she said suddenly.
He looked at her, puzzled.
“Clark! There was no blood! Not in the club, not on your clothes. Nowhere.”
“Right,” he said slowly, not understanding her point. “I told you, the bullets bounced off of me.”
“You were shot three times. You should have been covered in blood. The floor of the casino should have been covered in your blood. I…should have been covered in your blood.” She took a shaky breath, trying to force the image out of her mind. “I can’t believe I spent all night being interviewed by detectives and none of them asked why there was no blood on my dress, on my hands.”
“So we need to explain why there was no blood, and how I was healed?”
“No! We’re going at this backwards. What’s the obvious reason for there to be no blood, Clark?”
“I wasn’t actually shot?” he said. “They were blanks?”
“Or you were wearing a bulletproof vest!”
Clark’s jaw dropped.
“We’re trying to come up with all these crazy explanations of how you recovered, when the obvious answer is that you were never shot. There was no blood. No one examined you. You can say you passed out from the shock. Or maybe you were pretending intentionally. Maybe you thought it was safer for me if you played dead. Maybe you met up with Superman after they dumped you, and the two of you…did something?”
She trailed off, not sure where to go next. Then suddenly she remembered something. She bolted from the room without a word of explanation.
“Lois?” Clark called after her, slightly alarmed.
“Just a minute!” she yelled, flinging open her closet, and digging on the floor, behind boxes of shoes and discarded purses. Her fingers closed around her prize, and she let out a gleeful laugh.
She was back in the living room in a matter of seconds, flinging the object at a very confused Clark.
He caught it automatically, and then when he registered what he was holding, he began to laugh too.
“Is this the vest you refused to wear when Sebastian Finn was trying to kill you? I thought you were supposed to return this to the Planet?”
She shrugged and smirked at him. “I never got around to it. You want to lecture me about being an irresponsible employee or thank me for saving your life?”
He shook his head and laughed. “You are…amazing,” he said, snagging her wrist and pulling her to him for a tight hug.
When he released her, he looked at the vest again. “I think we need to damage it a little. To show where the bullets impacted. We need to match it up with the holes in my shirt and suit jacket. I need to go get them. They’re in Smallville.”
He handed her the vest and took a step back. He smiled at her and hesitated.
“What?” she asked.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this in front of you,” he said. He gave her one more smile, and then disappeared into a blur of red and blue. When he stopped spinning, he was Superman. All traces of Clark gone.
She stood agog, unable to formulate a response. He stepped forward and kissed her hard and fast. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, and he shot out the window, a gust of wind ruffling her hair.
“Wow,” she said.
He was back almost before she had time to register that he was gone. He landed in the middle of the room, spun back into his t shirt and jeans, dropped the pants and shoes he’d been wearing the previous evening onto the coffee table, and held out the dress shirt and jacket to her.
She didn’t move to take them, still stunned by what she’d just seen.
“Lois?” he asked gently. She noticed that he was wearing his glasses again, and she wondered if he had left those in Smallville too, assuming he would never need them again.
She took a fortifying breath and reached for the shirt. “We don’t have time right now,” she said softly. “But when this is settled, I have…a lot of questions.”
He reached up and cupped her cheek, nodding. “When this is over, I will answer every single question you have. And I’ll fly you to Smallville, so you can ask my parents any questions you have for them. I promise. No more secrets.”
She felt the tears prick at her eyes, her throat closing and making it impossible to respond.
“I love you,” he said, and she was surprised to hear the timidity in his voice. As if he still wasn’t completely sure what her response would be to that.
“I love you, too,” she said. “Let’s fix this, so we can have that conversation.”
She handed him the vest. “Put this on,” she said.
“Please?” he teased her, slipping the vest over his head.
She reached for the side straps, tightening them. “Please, Clark,” she said in a syrupy sweet voice, batting her eyelashes, “put on this vest so I can mark where the bullets I thought killed you would have struck it.”
He reached out and stroked her cheek, and she knew he saw through her teasing facade. “Thank you,” he said softly.
She handed him his shirt, and he put it on over the vest. Then he put on the jacket as well. Her hands trembled, seeing him in that suit again. Seeing the bullet holes.
“I’ll just…find a pen,” she said, turning to look for one and trying to hide the quiver in her voice.
“Hey,” he said softly, catching her arm before she could walk away. He pulled her back gently, hugging her.
She needed to keep moving. If she was working, her brain was too busy to remember the grief she’d been drowning in for the last twenty four hours.
She started to pull away, but he tightened his grip and lifted one hand to stroke her hair. She could feel all the pieces of herself that she had forced back together long enough to solve this puzzle dissembling again. She couldn’t let herself fall apart. She needed to keep moving.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, and it was her undoing. The tears were back, sliding down her cheeks. She drew a shaky breath and tried and failed to hold back the sob that well inside her. He loosened his grip on her just enough that he could lean back and look at her face. His hand slid out of her hair and cupped her cheek, guiding her face up to look at him. “I never wanted to hurt you. I wish there had been some other way.”
“I know,” she said quietly. And she did. He would have never let her hurt if he could have prevented it. “It shouldn’t be so hard. I know you’re okay now. But I still keep seeing it in my head. Seeing you in these clothes...it all came rushing back. It just… It wasn’t real, but I didn’t know that. It felt so real. It still feels real.”
“I know,” he said, and she could hear the regret in his voice. “Of course it still feels real. I’m so sorry you had to see that. So sorry I didn’t come to you sooner.”
She laid her head on his chest, the hard, artificial vest between them, and took a steadying breath. “We don’t have time for this right now,” she said softly. “We need to get this figured out. The sooner you reappear the better. We need a good story about what you’ve been doing this whole time.”
He stroked her hair and rubbed her back, obviously reluctant to let her go. Finally he released her, and she stepped back.
She found a pen quickly and poked it through the holes in the jacket and shirt, marking three dots on the vest. Clark shed his layers, tossing aside the jacket and shirt and turning his attention to the vest. He focused a beam of heat vision on each of the spots briefly, then dug his finger into the holes, grinding ragged divots into protective material. When he was finished, he held it up to her for inspection.
Lois shrugged. It looked good to her, but having never seen a bulletproof vest that had served its intended purpose, she wasn’t really sure what she was looking for.
“Let’s just hope no one examines it too closely,” Clark said, tossing it on the coffee table with his shirt and suit jacket.
“We need to get your story straight,” Lois prodded. “Where have you been this whole time?”
Clark took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “After they shot me, I pretended to die because I didn’t want to agitate them and endanger anyone else in the crowd. If they were fixated on getting rid of my body, they would leave the casino and everyone else -- including you -- would be safe.”
She nodded. It sounded like something Clark would do.
“My plan was to wait for them to dump me, then contact the police and tell them everything,” he continued. “But they tossed me in the trunk and drove around with me for a while. When they finally dumped me on the Southside, they tossed me into an alley and I hit my head. I was unconscious for a while...until Superman found me. Then…”
He trailed off and they looked at each other helplessly.
“Superman had a lead,” Lois said. “A location for the-”
She stopped abruptly and crossed the room, retrieving her purse from where she’d dropped it by the front door. “When I was at the Planet earlier, Detective Wolfe came by to get me to sign my statement and got a call about a potential on the whereabouts of Capone and his gang. He used my notebook to write down the address.”
She fished out the reporter’s notepad, and held it out to him. He took it from her and slid his glasses down, focusing on the faint impression. When he raised his eyes back to hers, she was looking at him in amusement. He raised his eyebrows, clearly unsure what part of this situation she found funny.
“I could never figure out if you were nearsighted or farsighted. You were always sliding your glasses down to look at things.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes at herself.
He had the good grace to look chagrined. “1500 Old North Road. This is the tip Superman got? And I asked to come with him to check it out?”
Lois nodded.
“I should…” he tilted his head toward the window. “To check out the lead. Come with me? We’ll see what we find there and go from there? Maybe we’ll find something we can take to the police? We can tell them I insisted Superman come here and get you before we went to the police. So you’d know I wasn’t dead.”
Lois, nodded again. Her heart sped up at the prospect of flying with him. Flying with Superman had always been one of the most heady experiences of her life. Flying with Clark…
“I’m going to change into the clothes I was wearing yesterday. Superman and I have been chasing this lead all day. I haven’t had a chance to change.”
“Okay,” she said. “That’s good. If you had time to go home and change, you would have had time to go talk to the police. That’s plausible.”
“If I had time to go home and change, I would have had time to come to you,” he corrected softly. “You’re a far higher priority to me than the police.”
She blushed. “Don’t try to score points.”
He grinned, then spun into the brown suit from the night before, this time with the vest on under it. He paused, smiled at her, and spun again. When he stopped, he was Superman again, and he held his arms out to her. She took a hesitant step toward him.
“Nervous to fly with me now that you know?” he teased. “Afraid I’ll drop you?”
She smiled and took a few more steps, stopping in front of him and shaking her head, a playful smile on her face. “No. More nervous that if you hold me in your arms, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from doing this.” And she launched herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, and slanting her lips against his. It took him only a second to respond, opening his lips under hers and trading needy, passionate kisses. She pulled away after just a few seconds, and his eyes were bright and laser focused on hers. “And you’ll fly us into a building,” she finished playfully.
He laughed and kissed her again. “I guess that’s just a risk we’re going to have to take.”
She left her hands around his neck and jumped, trusting him to catch her, and he did. She settled into his arms, and this time in addition to feeling exciting and thrilling, it felt tender and intimate. He gazed down at her in his arms and opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped, overwhelmed by emotions.
“I know,” she said softly. “Let’s go.”
He hovered for a moment, and then shot through the window into the dusk of early evening.
They landed at the address on the notepad, and peered through a window. They didn’t see anything inside the small room except a sofa, two easy chairs and a desk. Finally Lois noticed a light coming from underneath an inside door, shut and locked with a deadbolt. She nodded toward it and motioned for Clark to enter the room. He deposited her outside the window.
“Stay here,” he said. “Please.”
She gave him an impish look and he rolled his eyes. “Lo-is.”
“I’m just kidding,” she said with a laugh. “But hurry up.”
He floated through the open window and slid open the deadbolt. Lois crouched down and peeked through the window and watched him open the door, revealing a low-rent science lab. Superman walked through the door, and there was quiet for just a moment before she heard him say, “Professor Hamilton?”
“Superman!” she heard the professor exclaim. “Are the police with you?”
“No,” he said. “Is it true? Did you create Capone and the others?
“I’m afraid so,” Hamilton said miserably. “But I can’t control them anymore. This wasn't supposed to happen. I just wanted to help mankind. Capone is making me regenerate more of his gang. And now their headed to the Daily Planet-“
“The Daily Planet?” he interrupted urgently. “Why?”
“Oh, Superman. I- I’m not sure, but they said something about crashing a party.”
There was a whoosh of air, and then she was in his arms and they were flying.
“Hollywood made a dozen versions of Frankenstein and this guy still didn’t get the point?” she muttered.
They sped over the Metropolis skyline toward The Daily Planet. As they began to approach, he stilled, hovering above the clouds, out of sight. He was quiet for a moment, and she knew he was x-raying the building below and listening.
“Capone’s gang is already in the building,” he said finally. “I’m going to drop you off outside.”
“Like hell you are,” she said immediately.
“Lois, I can’t concentrate if I’m worried-”
“Oh yeah, we’re gonna talk about this later,” she said, glaring at him. “Just because I’m your girlfriend now doesn’t mean you can tell me what-”
“Are you my girlfriend?” he asked softly, interrupting her.
“Am I...not? Do you not want...” she asked, suddenly self conscious. They had made a lot of declarations of love today, and talked about having a life together, but they hadn’t exactly defined their relationship.
He laughed softly and smiled at her. “Oh, yeah. You are definitely my girlfriend if you want to be.”
She felt herself blush, and then his head snapped up. “They’re in the room,” he said suddenly, and began descending quickly. “I’m taking you with me. Please, Lois, please be careful.”
She nodded solemnly, understanding now the terror of watching someone you love in peril.
“I will,” she promised, stroking the back of his neck.
He entered the newsroom via the window, setting her quickly on her feet at the back of the room, and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible
Capone stood on the landing, the rest of his gang down in the bullpen with their guns trained on the crowd.
“Capone, this isn’t 1940,” Perry said. “The police are probably down in the lobby. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”
“The only person things are about to get worse for, is you, Chief,” Capone sneered.
In the bullpen, the gangsters raised their weapons and began to fire. A blue blur wove back and forth in front of them, and Lois felt a sense of awe watching him in action for the first time since learning the truth.
The shooting stopped, and the gangsters looked at each other amazed and confused. Capone scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on Superman.
“You again?” he yelled.
“Looking for these?” Superman asked, opening his hands to reveal two fistfuls of bullets. He closed his fists and crushed them to powder, opening his hands again and letting the powder pour on the floor.
The rest of Capone’s gang turned their weapons on him, but a quick blast of heat vision made them too hot to hold, and they dropped them and turned tail, running for the exits.
“Not so fast,” Superman said, buzzing through the room, collecting the gangsters and depositing them in the middle of the bullpen, securing them with a decorative bunting he ripped from the stair banister.
Through the window, the sound of police sirens wafted into the room.
“Sounds like backup is on the way,” Superman said to the crowd. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s somewhere else I need to be.”
He scanned the crowd, nodding to those who waved or sought out his attention. She smiled, knowing he was looking for her, and waiting for his gaze to find her. When it did, she smiled and nodded ever so slightly to the window, ready for him to depart and come back as her partner.
He disappeared through the window, and Lois rushed forward to Perry and Jimmy. “Are you guys okay?” she asked.
“Hey, darlin’. When did you get here?” Perry asked, looking her up and down quickly. She was still in the same oversized sweats she’d worn to the Planet this morning, and she knew she looked pretty rough.
“Superman brought me,” she said. “Have you seen Clark?”
Perry and Jimmy exchanged a look that clearly said she had lost it.
“Lois,” Perry said gently. “You’ve been through a horrible ordeal. We all have. But Clark is gone.
“I don’t know about that, Chief,” Clark said entering the bullpen from the stairs and jogging toward them. Jimmy and Perry stared at him, open mouthed.
“CK?” Jimmy asked.
Clark nodded and Jimmy launched himself at his friend, hugging him.
“How...? I mean, what...?” Perry stammered.
Clark unbuttoned a few buttons and opened his shirt to reveal the bulletproof vest. “Sorry to keep you all in the dark,” Clark said. “It seemed safer to play dead and let them drag me out so they didn’t shoot anyone else. By the time they finally dumped me, and Superman found me, it was already afternoon. He took me to Lois, and we followed a tip he had about the location of Professor Hamilton. Hamilton told us Capone and his gang were headed here, so…here we are.” He shrugged, and watched their faces for a reaction.
“Well, I’ll be,” Perry said. “We sure are glad to see you, son. We… Well, I don’t mind saying, we were all pretty torn up.”
“We couldn’t believe it,” Jimmy said, obviously overwhelmed at the sight of Clark happy and healthy. “I just couldn’t believe you were really gone. I’m so glad to see you.” Jimmy reached out to shake Clark’s hand and then pulled him in for another hug. He released Clark and stepped back awkwardly, embarrassed about his display of emotion. “Don’t ever scare us like that again,” Jimmy joked.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Lois spoke up. “I’ve already warned him. If he ever scares me like that again, I’ll kill him myself.”
He smiled down at her with a twinkle in his eye, and she couldn’t help taking a step toward him. His hands went to her waist. “No more secrets,” he said quietly, and she smiled up at him invitingly. He raised his eyebrows and paused, giving her a chance to back away, and when she didn’t, he leaned forward and captured her lips in a tender kiss. Her hands slid up to his cheeks, holding him in place.
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. It’s about damn time,” she heard Perry say, her lips curling into a smile without leaving Clark’s.
She pulled away a moment later, laughing and covering her mouth with her hands, her face on fire. She turned to take a step away, but he snagged her by her waist and pulled her back to him, pressing her back against his front and wrapping his arms around her waist.
Jimmy smirked at her and nodded approvingly, while Perry looked so happy he could burst.
“We need to go down to the police station,” Clark said to Perry, his mouth so close to her ear that it sent a shiver through her. “We need to give them out statements. But we’ll be back first thing in the morning to write up the story.”
Perry nodded. “That sounds fine. And then why don’t the two of you take a couple days off? I have a feeling you could use a few days to recover.”
Lois nodded, and Perry looked at her skeptically. “Not going to put up a fight?”
She shrugged. “A couple days off...wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
Clark laughed and hugged her tighter.
“Kent!” Detective Wolfe barked from beside the elevator. “You want a ride down to the station so we can get your statement?
“Coming!” he called back. “I guess that’s our cue.”
They said goodbye to Perry and Jimmy and headed up the stairs to meet the detective.
Two hours later, they exited the precinct, physically and emotionally exhausted. Their statements were logged, and Clark Kent’s murder was officially no longer a crime under investigation. Capone and his cronies were under lock and key, and the DA’s office should be filing charges in the morning that included attempted murder. Clark Kent was very much alive.
Lois was touched to see the genuine relief and joy expressed by many of the officers they encountered during their time at the station. It was clear Clark was a favorite of theirs, despite the often adversarial relationship between law enforcement and the press. She couldn’t help but wonder with amusement if she’d receive the same warm welcome if she were the one miraculously back from the dead.
“Do you want to get a cab, or do you want me to fly you home?” Clark asked softly, as they walked slowly down the wide steps of the police station to the deserted sidewalk.
She turned at the bottom of the steps and grinned at him, and he laughed. “Stupid question,” he said, tucking an errant piece of hair behind her ear.
Her heart squeezed at the sound of his laugh, a sound she had so recently thought she would never hear again. Suddenly she was loath to return to her apartment alone. Even though logically she knew it would only be a few hours until she saw him again at work, the night seemed to stretch out endlessly without him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing the shift in her demeanor.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m just being ridiculous.”
He waited, giving her space to explain.
“I don’t want to let you out of my sight,” she said quietly. “I know I’ll see you tomorrow. But I just… Last night, I never really fell asleep. I just kept drifting off and startling awake. And everytime I did, I thought for a moment it was just a nightmare. And then I remembered. It was...the worst night of my life. I…”
His face crumpled, and she could see the guilt eating at him. “I’m so sorry,” he said, stroking her cheek. “I’m so so sorry.”
“I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty,” she said, leaning into his touch. “I’m just exhausted and emotional and...I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”
He nodded immediately. “I’ll stay. That’s fine. That’s...great. I don’t want to leave you either. Do you want to go to your place or mine?”
She hesitated.
“What?” he prompted. “Why are you conflicted?”
“I desperately need to take a shower and change,” she admitted. “I feel disgusting. But I’d rather stay at your place.”
He smiled. “That is not a problem. Do you want to go shower and change at home, and then I can take you to my place? Or do you want to shower at my apartment? I’m sure I have something you can sleep in.”
“Can we just go to your place?” she asked timidly.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Of course.”
He took her hand and led her into the alley beside the station. When they were hidden in the shadows and sure no one was nearby, he dropped her hand and spun into the suit. Then he lifted her gently into his arms, and took off. As they crossed the dark streets, she rested her head on his shoulder, amazed at how quickly this had begun to feel normal. Clark was Superman. And her boyfriend.
A small laugh bubbled out, and Clark looked at her quizzically.
“This has been the weirdest twenty four hours of my life. And that’s really saying something.”
He laughed too, and then smiled at her affectionately.
They landed gently on his balcony, and walked together through the living room into his bedroom. Lois watched as his gaze swept slowly around the apartment. When his eyes met hers again, she felt her breath catch.
“I thought I’d never see this place again,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “Thank you.”
He pulled a t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts with a drawstring waist from his drawers and handed them to her.
“Perfect. Thanks,” she said. “I’m just going to…” She nodded in the direction of the bathroom, and he nodded.
She slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and turning on the shower. As she peeled off her clothes and waited for the water to get warm, she thought about him on the other side of the door, waiting for her. She had come so close to losing him. Maybe not to death, but if he hadn’t been able to find a way to explain how he had survived, he would have been just as lost to her.
Steam began to fill the room, and she stepped into the shower and let the hot water rain down on her. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she wasn’t even sure exactly what they were for. She was exhausted and overwhelmed, still reeling from his supposed death and his revelation and their declarations of love. It was so much to process in such a short time. She let the tears fall, the hot water washing them away.
When her tears were finished, she used his shampoo to wash her hair, and her heart clenched at the familiar smell of it. Suddenly she couldn’t stand to be away from him, even long enough to shower. She rushed through the rest of shower and switched off the water, stepping out of the shower stall and onto the rug. She toweled off with a clean towel and slipped into the shorts and t-shirt he’d given her, pulling the drawstring tight on the shorts to keep them from falling down.
She toweled her hair off vigorously, squeezing out as much water as possible, and ran her fingers through it. Then she looked at her image in the mirror and shrugged. Her eyes were still a little red, but at least she was clean.
When she opened the bathroom door, she could hear him speaking, and she followed his voice into the living room. He was sitting on the couch, dressed in cotton shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, the phone receiver pressed to his ear.
He looked up and saw her, and she saw him inhale sharply. His eyes swept over her, and she felt herself blush.
“Just a minute, Mom,” he said into the phone, and then held the mouthpiece to his shoulder.
He reached for her, his eyes full of longing. “Come here,” he said.
She went to him automatically and allowed him to pull her down beside him. He hugged her and let out a ragged breath, then slid his hand across her cheek and curled his fingers around her neck, pulling her to him for a kiss.
“Feel better?” he asked, when he pulled back. She nodded,and curled up against him, laying her head on his shoulder, and resting her hand over his heart.
“Mom, Lois is here,” he said into the phone. He paused for a second, listening. “Sure. Let me ask.”
“Honey, my mom wants to talk to you,” he said softly. She lifted her head, smiling at the endearment, and nodded. He handed her the phone, and she laid her head back down, pressing the phone to her other ear.
“Hi, Martha,” she said.
“Oh, Lois, honey, I don’t even know what to say. We’re so grateful to you. We just don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” she said quietly. “He’s alive. That’s all the thanks I need.”
He rubbed her arm with gentle, sweet strokes that made her sigh contentedly, and she nestled closer to him.
“Clark said he’s going to bring you here?” Martha said, her statement lilting up like it was a question.
“Soon,” Lois said. “Perry said we should take a few days off.”
“That’s good. I’m sure you need it,” Martha said, gently. “This must have been so awful for you. I’m sorry you didn’t know right away that he was okay. That’s my fault, too. He came straight here, and we were in a panic, in crisis mode, trying to figure out what to do next. He wasn’t thinking straight at all. But I should have thought about you. I should have told him to go to you right away and not wait so long.”
“It’s okay,” Lois said. “I know. None of us were in our right minds. And I was at the police station all night.”
“Well, we’re looking forward to your visit. I know you must have so many questions.”
“I definitely do.” Lois laughed softly, looking forward to having a chance to sit down with Martha soon.
“Clark also said...you’re together now?” Martha said, and Lois smiled at the hope in her voice.
“Yeah,” she confirmed. “I know our relationship has always been...difficult to define. But when I thought about how much I missed him, how much I was going to miss him for the rest of my life… I realized…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. How to explain everything she had felt during those awful hours.
“Well, we’re thrilled,” Martha said, and Lois could hear the sincerity in her voice. “You’re like family. We always hoped you two would find your way.”
“Thanks, Martha,” she said, trying to stifle a yawn.
“I’ll let you go. I know you must be exhausted. Lois…” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you. Thank you for saving our boy. You tell Clark, I said goodnight. We’ll see you both soon.”
“Good night,” she said softly, she reached across Clark’s body to hang the phone on the receiver.
She looked up at him as she sat back, and smiled when she saw his head lolled back against the sofa, eyes closed, his breathing shallow and steady. She stroked his cheek and whispered his name, but he didn’t stir. She eased his glasses off and laid them on the end table, and clicked off the lamp. Then she settled in beside him again, curled up against him, and closed her eyes. She took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting the rise and fall of his chest, and the steady beat of his heart lull her to sleep.
Tomorrow they could worry about writing the details of his return and hashing out the details of their past and future. Tonight she just wanted to sleep in his arms safe in the knowledge that he was alive, and he loved her, and they had all the time they needed to get things right.
The End
