Chapter 5
He couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t him. It wasn’t like him to freeze like this--to ignore a rescue. No, not ignore. To ignore it would imply it had been intentional--this was different.
Hearing the news report, seeing the smoke in the distance had paralyzed him. He’d been seized with an almost numbing sense of panic--a feeling of unreality. He’d been outside his body looking in. And the man he saw was not someone he liked all that much.
He’d watched himself pick a fight with Lois over the smallest of things in order to avoid dealing with the swirl of emotions coursing through him. He’d seen the way she looked at him--full of perfectly justified hurt and anger. He’d desperately wanted to apologise. The Clark watching from the outside looking in was yelling at himself--do something, say something. But he couldn’t. For reasons even he didn’t understand, he’d remained still and unmoving.
He should have just left. He should have demanded she pull over to the side of the road, make some excuse and just fly off. But he hadn’t. Why hadn’t he done that? He’d never been faced with such a terrifying feeling of indecision. It was like there were two halves of his brain and the one that was responsible for basic motor function and decision making had shut down completely.
And so he’d stayed in the car. He’d heard the news update saying that people had died as a result of the fire--a fire he should have been there helping with. He watched as Lois continued to reach out and make herself vulnerable--something she hardly ever did--and he cursed himself for not being able to give her what she needed in return.
But how could he fix things with her when he felt so broken? He was used to making decisions--split-second, life and death decisions. He’d prided himself on being able to make the tough choices as well as being able to deal with the fallout. He’d had losses before--lives he couldn’t save. He’d gotten there too late in the past.
The first time it had happened he’d been twenty years old. He’d been hiking in Europe and had heard a call for help. Someone had stepped too close to a high rock face and tripped and fell. He’d raced to it as fast as he could, but he hadn’t been fast enough. He’d gotten there just in time to see the young man about his age hit the ground. He’d been devastated at the time and had immediately flown home to his parents where he’d told them--amid gulping sobs--that he hadn’t been fast enough.
His parents had rushed to assure him that it wasn’t his fault. He’d done everything he could. And while it was admirable he tried, doing so exposed him to potential danger. They had stopped short of telling him he shouldn’t help others in danger. Both his mother and father knew that was advice neither of them could give. And yet, at the same time, it was clear that if he was going to help, he would have to find a way to do it that wouldn’t expose him.
It was that day that had planted the seed of an idea that would eventually become Superman. The knowledge that he couldn’t have these powers--these incredible abilities and not use them to do good. And so he’d performed his good deeds in secret, until he came up with the idea of Superman. And although he’d had more wins than losses, the losses still ate at him.
It tore him apart whenever it happened, but he’d always coped. He’d always bounced back. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe he hadn’t been bouncing back at all. Maybe it had been death by a thousand cuts. Maybe he was all bounced out.
He had hoped that the secret identity would allow him to have all the things he’d wanted to have since he was young and dreamed of being a reporter. A good job, friends, the ability to use his powers as a force for good, and someone he loved to share his life with. It had been the only thing he’d hoped for.
Now, looking at Lois in profile, that hope was gone. Why couldn’t he have just talked to her? She had given him every chance and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
She’d asked him why he didn’t trust her, but the truth was that he didn’t trust himself. Something told him that if he did try to tell her what was going on inside, the floodgates would open and would never stop. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that, nor could he bear the thought of hurting her.
He knew he loved her--on some level he’d known that from the first moment he saw her. And he had almost resigned himself to the fact that he’d likely lost her before he’d ever really had her. Even though it was killing him inside, the only consolation he’d had up until this point was that he would bear the brunt of the pain. After all, it wasn’t as if she loved him back was it?
But seeing the depth of hurt in her eyes--the way her lip had quivered ever so slightly when she’d all but begged him to let her in, caused that seed of fear that had been his constant companion to grow even larger. It was overwhelming. He’d hurt her far more than she had ever let on. He’d counted on anger, but he hadn’t bargained on…
Love?
He shook his head and she arched an eyebrow in his direction, but said nothing. His hands felt shaky and his heart hammered in his chest. Though reports of the fire were that it was relatively contained for the time being, Clark kept his ears sharp--ready to leap into action at the next sign that Superman was needed.
But would he? Or would he just freeze again? Was it because it was another fire? First Mayson, then the other night, and now this. It was….a lot. He’d saved everyone in the apartment fire, at least--that was some consolation.
Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if the only reason the forest fire claimed those lives was because he was still in the car. Were their deaths on his hands as well? Could he have gotten there in time? He had no way of knowing, and that knowledge gnawed at him.
And so he sat, as they pulled into the parking lot of the motel, unable to move or tear himself away from the darkness in his mind.
*** *** ***
Lois shifted the Jeep into park and turned it off. The last stretch of minutes had been...well, if she'd had a knife, she wasn't even sure she'd have been able to cut tension, so thick and palpable. She felt sick to her stomach at the mix of strong emotions churning inside. Anger was the first one. But really, it wasn't anger; it was hurt. What had Dr. Friskin said? The anger usually masked the bigger, scarier feelings.
And being hurt by Clark...it was a physical pain in her chest and her stomach. She swallowed hard. This was different, she reminded herself. Something was wrong with Clark. She took a deep breath. This wasn't about him running off, yet again, acting like he cared one minute and not the next. This wasn't that; it was different, she told herself.
She wondered what Clark's anger was masking.
They sat in silence for a moment, as if trying to let the tension abate before either of them could move. Now that they had arrived at their destination, she was honestly surprised to still find him sitting next to her. He hadn't flung the door open and made a mad dash for it. Wasn't he mad at her? Didn't he want to storm off?
Instead, he was, and had been, sitting so rigidly in the passenger seat, his hands planted firmly on his knees, that she wasn't entirely sure he was still breathing. No more quips or cutting remarks or even scoffs. The panicked look, from what she could tell at this angle, was still an underlying current. If she'd thought the earlier silences had been uncomfortable, this one was downright alarming.
She let out a deep breath as she reached to unfasten her seatbelt. "I'll go get us some rooms."
He didn’t even blink. It was like talking to a brick wall, a petrified, gorgeous, Clark-shaped wall. At least she had high hopes now that he’d still be here when she got back. She only wished that it made her feel better.
This emotional whiplash was exhausting. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. It felt like her heart was on a precipice, waiting to find out whether he'd break it or not. This wasn't about her...but how on Earth was she supposed to turn off her feelings? She'd done it before. Plenty of times in her life, fueled by anger and hurt and betrayal. When her dad had left and she'd needed to be strong for Lucy. When Claude had used her and dumped and she'd had to be strong for herself. She had to be strong for Clark now.
But this was different. This was Clark.
He'd been the one to teach her, convince her that it was worth turning her feelings back on, opening up and taking a chance being vulnerable. But all this was too raw, too painful. She didn't think she could listen to one more excuse or angry criticism, and she definitely couldn't bear to watch him run away from her again. This time, being strong was going to be harder and devastatingly more important.
So…here they were, not exactly in the middle of nowhere, or Wallerville as she'd planned, but they weren't in Metropolis. No mail to check, neighbors to help, no dentist appointments to suddenly remember, and their usual video store was hundreds of miles away. She could at least be snarky in her head, right?
She'd been working with Dr. Friskin on her trust issues, and what they'd discovered together had...well, it'd been the reason she was able to say yes to Clark when he'd asked her on a date. And it was why she was going so far out on a limb here to help him. She still had major trust issues, obviously, but Dr. Friskin had helped her see that she did indeed have relationships with men she could trust, namely Perry and Clark.
Perry, of course, was like a father to her. And Clark was her best friend, the only one she'd ever had. She already trusted him with her career and her friendship, not to mention her life. So, she'd gone ahead and decided, then, that it was worth the risk to trust Clark with her heart.
She took a deep breath to try and steady herself, but she only succeeded in getting a lungful of smoke-tainted air and making herself cough. She headed towards the front office, trying to ignore the excruciating pain in her chest at the thought that Clark didn't return that trust.
The middle-aged woman behind the front desk issued a brief greeting before getting down to business. "How many rooms?"
She hesitated. Her plan had been one room. Keep him in one place long enough to make him open up. But now she wasn't so sure how a motel room was going to be any different than the car, but they were well and truly stuck, so there was nothing else to do but try.
"One," she answered decisively. She’d been half intending to just throw in the towel, get two rooms and call it a day. She’d thought herself too exhausted to fight anymore. But now that she was here, she knew she couldn’t let things go so easily. And truth be told, she wasn't sure he should be alone right now, left to drown in all that grief.
The clerk seemed oblivious to her internal debate and replied back, "One room, king bed. That's $79.80 a night. How many nights do you need?"
Oh. One bed. That wasn't part of the plan. Clark would never relax with just one bed, would he? Would she? "Uh...do you have any rooms with two beds instead?"
"Nope. Sorry, honey. All’s I got left is rooms with king beds. Did you need two rooms instead, then?"
"Well…" She hesitated briefly. Her mind flashed to the stupefied man she'd left in her car. Something was seriously wrong with Clark. No, she needed to do this, and she needed to stay with him.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she forged ahead. "No, one room, two keys will be fine. For one night. Thanks."
She paid the lady and filled out the registration card. After getting the room keys, she headed back out to face Clark. This was a good plan, she tried convincing herself, bolstering her resolve. A great plan.
He'd managed to unfreeze himself and had gotten out of the Jeep. Now, he was leaning against the driver's side door with his ankles crossed and hands in the pocket of his slacks. He was projecting a casual nonchalance, but she could tell he was still stiff and agitated. Though maybe the anger--or was it fear?--had dissipated? Oh, this plan might be harder to pull off than she thought.
"All set?" Clark asked as she approached. He straightened and took half a step toward her.
She schooled her face into a mask of annoyance mixed with disappointment to help sell her ruse before she answered. He'd been paying little attention to her emotions for the better part of an hour anyway, so she was sure he wouldn't question her.
"They only had one room left," she said, letting the revelation hang heavy in the air.
If she hadn't been watching his face, she would have missed the look of abject panic that flickered across his face ever so briefly. He really was good at turning those emotions on and off at the drop of a hat.
"Wouldn't it be…uncomfortable…you know, with us…um…" Clark stammered and trailed off.
"With us what, Clark?" The question slipped out before she could catch herself. She'd wanted to goad him into saying it. Say dating. Say something. Feel something, Clark. Her own flash of selfishness appalled her, and she was about to apologize, but apparently he either hadn't heard her or was just blazing on.
"We could check around to see if there's another--"
"Hey," she said softly, cutting him off with a heavy sigh, trying to cover her heartache with annoyance. "We're both adults, Clark. We've done it before. Undercover at the Lexor?" she reminded him, her eyebrows arched up to emphasise her question. She bit back a different type of sigh. She swallowed hard and tried to ignore the flashes of The Kiss that invaded her mind. "Besides, this time we don't have to pretend to be a couple," she added helpfully with a vague gesture of her hand.
She watched the muscle in his jaw tick and he swallowed.
That was...easier, right? Not pretending to be a couple? Why was that bothering him? After a second, she realized where she'd put her foot in her mouth; they weren't technically a couple...not yet. She hoped it was a yet. Did he think it was a yet?
She ducked her gaze, ashamed. It was getting harder to hold the anger--the hurt--at bay, so she only managed a half-hearted apology. "Sorry. Let's just get our stuff and get settled."
He paused before responding, as if he was holding back a heavy sigh of his own. "It's fine, Lois. I'll just sleep on the couch."
She nodded wordlessly. They grabbed their stuff from the Jeep and headed towards their room. Lois was first through the door after unlocking it. It was clean and quaint. And...shoot, shoot, shoot!
"Lo-is!" came the whimper from behind her as Clark entered the room and…didn't see the same thing she didn't see. "There's no couch."
"I didn't know," she bit back defensively even though his tone hadn't been accusatory.
"Why don't I just take the Jeep and check a few other places for us?" he offered.
He was trying to be helpful, she knew, and sleeping in the same bed had definitely not been part of her plan. But she couldn't help but feel a stab of pain and a small flash of anger that his go-to solution involved him leaving her. He was always leaving her.
“The population of this town is smaller than the high school I went to,” she pointed out, trying to maintain her composure. “How many motels do you think they are going to have?”
“You’re right,” he admitted reluctantly. A little too reluctantly, and she felt anger surge anew.
"It's a big bed. How about we share?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. The guilt clawed at her for having thrown his own words back at him so callously, but she was finding she couldn't help herself. Her anger was the only thing damming up the flood of pain and grief, and it was a tenuous thing, at that.
She thought she saw him flinch at her tone. He opened his mouth to reply and then closed it again a moment later.
Her heart fell and she turned away, unable to face him. Oh, Clark. How did we get here? she cried internally. What had she done? She longed for their easy, playful banter and his mischievous smile. And his touch. She couldn't even remember the last time he'd touched her.
Finally, he broke the awkward silence with a soft sigh. She'd heard that sigh before. It was the one that meant he'd conceded the fight to her. A resigned surrender. He always did that; it was his tacit promise to her. Somewhere along the way, he'd learned she needed him to be the one to yield when they'd landed too many blows. Here he was again, coming to her rescue when she was supposed to be helping him.
"What do you want to do, Lois?" he asked quietly.
She whispered to herself, wanting desperately to say it out loud, but not brave enough to let him hear it. "I want you to act like it's not the worst thing in the world to be stuck in a room alone with me."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and braced herself before turning back around to face him. Strong. She needed to be strong. She gave him a small smile to acknowledge his acquiescence. "We'll be fine, Clark. Honestly, it is a big bed, and I trust you."
He nodded in agreement and gave her one of his reassuring smiles. It was far more strained than his usual, but it still helped. "We'll be fine."
She hoped he was right. "Well, I guess I should call Perry and let him know what's going on." She headed towards the phone sitting on the small desk opposite the bed.
Clark spoke softly though his voice was still a little strained, "Good idea." He cleared his throat. "It's getting to be about dinnertime. I'll, uh, go grab us a pizza and some cream sodas."
Her heart sank, and she let him walk out the door.
*** *** ***
Clark stepped out of the motel room, almost gulping for air after the door fell shut behind him. He felt like he was drowning. He'd had to get out of there. He never should have left her. It was getting harder to hold it together, and his chances of making things right with Lois were disintegrating before his eyes.
He took another deep breath. The air wasn't exactly fresh. His enhanced senses could smell the raging fire keenly. Burning trees, thick, acrid smoke, a miasma of destroyed household items. And if he stretched his senses further...
He shook his head sharply and shut his eyes against the flashes of memories. Burning flesh. A car mangled and engulfed in flames. Mayson's body going limp in his arms.
< ….new developments in Callan County where a forest fire previously thought to be under control has spread into town. Firefighters and paramedics have arrived, but many remain trapped….>
The TV in one of the nearby rooms had been on, was still on, and it was tuned to live coverage of the now raging forest fire. Bits and pieces of the report kept filtering through while he'd been arguing with Lois in the parking lot and then in their couchless room.
<...this time we don't have to pretend we're a couple...The death count so far is holding steady at 5, and rescue workers hope that…>
He wished he could just go back and start again. He'd do so many things differently…wouldn't he? Would he still be a coward and not tell her his secret? Would he still wait so long to ask her out?
<It's a big bed. How about we share...Firefighters are struggling to create a fireline fast enough to curb the spread of the blaze…>
All the words swarmed around in his head, accusing, attacking, like angry bees stinging his guilty conscience. He wasn't even sure if he'd just left the room to finally get to the fire or if he meant to get dinner like he'd told Lois. He was paralyzed with indecision. Why couldn't he just go?
<Authorities expect the death toll to rise as the night goes on, and the fire shows no sign of dying down…>
She deserved more than a broken man and sham of a superhero. He was still doing it. Still stalling. Why hadn't he gone to the fire already?
<As always in times like these, we can only wonder where Superman is…>
He shot up into the sky without even looking to see if anyone was around. He spun into the suit midair and rocketed towards the fire. He'd let enough people die already today.
