NOTE: I oops'd when numbering the chapters, so there are only 15 with an epilogue, not 16 with epilogue! So this part actually got longer.
Chapter 7
<Better late than never, but where the hell was he earlier?>The words echoed in his head, and yet there was no time for wallowing or self-pity. If he didn’t get the water to the tree line in time, more towns could catch fire. More people would die. Clark couldn’t let that happen. No matter what the consequences might be to his personal life, he couldn’t allow more deaths on his conscience.
He forced himself to forget those words, and flew with renewed determination to where the helicopters were based. He had a quick conversation with the crews there, and then proceeded to grab one of the large water basins they used for putting out fires.
Now that his speed was an asset, he used it to his full advantage, gathering as much water as he could at one time and dumping it as fast as he could over the largest areas of the fire. He did this for what felt like hours, but may only have been minutes.
When it seemed as if the fire had been controlled to a manageable level by the local authorities, he returned to Chief Williams, who was now instructing his crew on the ground into the wreckage of the shopping centre.
“It’s all right, Chief Williams,” he said, trying desperately to maintain the "Superman voice". The comment he’d overheard was still with him, repeating on a loop inside his head even as he tried to ignore it. And his body...he’d had more difficult, more strenuous rescues before, but now his body felt completely and utterly exhausted. He had nothing left to give. “There aren’t any more people trapped in there. I got them all out.”
“All that were alive, yes,” Chief Williams said, his voice heavy with regret. “My men have gone in to retrieve the bodies of those that didn’t get out in time.”
You mean those I didn’t save in time, Clark thought, adding it to the mental tally inside his head. How many were in there? How many more could he have piled high atop his conscience before he finally broke? He thought of the look in Mayson’s eyes before she'd closed them for good and wondered how the people inside the shopping centre had looked. What had their final thoughts been? How many loved ones did they leave behind to mourn them? Mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters?
“Better let me do that,” Clark said. His hands were balled into fists at his side, in an attempt to keep them from trembling. He’d never been this weary. “There are still weak points in the structure. Wouldn’t want to lose any of your men retrieving…the bodies.”
He looked away, swiftly burying the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him and drew a deep breath.
Chief Williams nodded, and pulled out his walkie talkie, instructing his men to hold back on the search.
Whoever was in there deserved to be laid to rest properly, and he refused to deny them that because of his own weakness.
Clark forced his mind to go blank as he lifted into the air and surveyed the wreckage of the shopping centre. A mantra replayed itself over and over in his head: Just get them out.
The task itself was easy compared to before. After all, he didn’t need to worry about anyone’s safety but his own. And yet somehow this was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He forced himself to think of each body he dug up as cargo ,and though he didn’t want to, he found himself counting them in his head, one by one as he gingerly lifted them into the sky and flew them to Chief Williams, setting them down with the utmost care.
He didn’t look at them. He couldn’t. He couldn’t recall the age, gender, or ethnicity of the bodies he pulled from the wreckage and yet somehow each one was imprinted on his soul regardless.
One.
<Just get them out.> Two.
<The death count so far is holding steady at 5.>Three.
<Better late than never, but where the hell was he earlier?> Four.
<I want you to act like it's not the worst thing in the world to be stuck in a room alone with me.>Five.
<As always, in times like this we have to wonder where Superman is...>Six.
<So that’s what you’ve been hiding.> Seven.
<It’s a big bed, why don’t we share?> Eight.
<Why won’t you let me in?> Nine.
<If you had no powers. If you were just an ordinary man, leading an ordinary life, I would love you just the same.> Ten.
He wasn’t sure how long it took him to realise there were no more bodies left in the wreckage. Time seemed to hold no meaning. He returned to Chief Williams to let him know the building was empty. Eventually, what was left would be demolished, but given the extent of the fire surrounding the town, Clark knew that was a task that would be handled another day by the local authorities once they were certain the fire was well and truly under control.
“Thanks for your help, Superman,” the fire chief was saying. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Clark almost let out a loud, bitter laugh. The ten people he’d pulled from the wreckage would beg to disagree with Williams’ statement--if they could. Clark was suddenly very grateful that he did not have to be the one to deliver the news to the families. He could do many things, but he didn’t think he’d have the strength for that.
“Superman?” Chief Williams’ voice held a note of concern, and Clark realised he hadn’t responded to the man.
“Yes, Chief?”
“Go home,” the man said, and Clark had to look away for a moment, lest his guard slip and he reveal too much of his emotional state. Superman wasn’t supposed to be weak. “I don’t know if you have someone to go to, but if you do...go to them.”
Clark could only nod as he lifted himself in the air, unable to respond. He’d managed to launch himself high enough so that no one could see the tear that streaked down the side of his soot-covered cheek as he flew with single-minded determination back towards the hotel room.
He had someone to go to, and he’d pushed her away.
*** *** ***
After calling the hospital and even a few more restaurants in the area, she still had no idea where Clark was. She got up to look out the window through the curtains again. Still dark. Still hazy. Though it did look like the smoke was dissipating a little.
Her anger had long since dissipated, but the worry had increased. So had the hurt. The little voice inside her head, the one that never failed to cast doubts on anything good in her life, told her she'd pushed too hard today and scared him off.
She knew deep in her heart that wasn't true, but the doubt niggled at her nonetheless. And it also brought up the hurt. The car ride today had overall been a disaster, and then the first thing he'd done when they'd gotten to their room was take off.
In the beginning of their partnership, his leaving had just been a passing annoyance and frustration, something about his personality that she'd thought he could stand to improve upon. But lately? Ever since he'd asked her out--no--ever since she'd started to realise her true feelings for her partner, each abrupt departure had stung a little more, triggering her trust and abandonment issues.
She wasn't quite sure if his flightiness had increased since she'd first said yes to going on a date with him or if she just noticed it more. Because she was noticing
him more? Because ever since he'd first crossed that fragile line between best friends and something more by asking her out…It was as though he'd flipped a switch in her mind, and she found herself regarding him in a whole new way.
He'd changed
everything even though everything was still very much the same. He still rested an occasional hand on her shoulder while he edited her copy. He still touched the small of her back as they went through a doorway. And he still brought her coffee in the morning. It all just seemed to be imbued with so much more meaning.
Which is why, when he still got that look in his eye or tugged at his tie with a nervous twitch right before he retreated with some lame excuse…it meant more. It hurt more.
And while she hadn't tallied his hasty exits and done the math since he'd flipped that switch, she knew for certain he'd been leaving her more often since Mayson died. She had no idea how to feel about that. Sad? Hurt? Guilty?
<What about Mayson?>
<I'm asking you out, Lois.>He'd chosen
her. Kissed
her. Nobody goes on a date that great and…
<You slammed the door in my face last night.>Who exactly had the fear of commitment?
Clark had been dashing off with wild excuses long before he'd asked her out. So maybe Dr. Friskin wasn't so right about Clark's behavior.
She was the one with trust issues.
Clark knew that, though, and if she had to guess, that's part of why he waited so long to ask her out. He knew her. He accepted her like no one else ever had, and he...loved her. Didn't he?
<I have been in love with you for a long time...you had to have known.>
<...it wasn't true. I'm not in love with you. I would have said anything to stop you from marrying Luthor.>She honestly couldn't be certain. She didn't know exactly what love looked like, or felt like.
That's not true, her heart chimed in.
She did know. She just wasn't sure if she could trust it. It was a nebulous thing, ever-moving, ever-evolving. And so vulnerable to life's tragedies.
Oh, how she wished Mayson hadn't died! She may not have liked her. She may have felt threatened by her as a rival for Clark's attention and affection. But she hadn't wished her dead, especially in such a horrific way. Lois closed her eyes tightly and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the images in her mind.
Clark was not okay. She remembered the tears rolling down his face as he held Mayson's limp body. The agony and the pain. And after the scene had been cleared...After they'd given their statements to the police...After she'd gotten him home and prodded him to clean up and change clothes...She'd watched him curiously as he numbly, almost absently tidied his already clean apartment. She'd listened as he'd tried to rewrite history, wishing that they'd left earlier or called to let her know they were running late. She'd made him tea as she tried to get him to talk. She'd worried as he kept insisting he should have gotten there sooner, which didn't make any sense; he couldn't have known. She'd reassured him that it wasn't their fault, wasn't
his fault.
Then this guilt that he'd been carrying, his behavior since the funeral...that was what had made her concoct this scheme in the first place. Most of the reason, anyway. He’d barely taken any time off after Mayson’s death. And while she knew any one person’s grief couldn’t be quantified or qualified, she just knew somehow that this was affecting Clark more than what anyone might consider normal grieving. Even his mother had said as much.
The guilt that he was carrying didn’t quite make sense to her. Though…one of his more endearing yet infuriating qualities was that he was chronically polite. Because of that, he hadn't bothered to tell Mayson he wasn't interested.
At least that's why she assumed Mayson had still pursued Clark with singular focus. Lois at least knew Clark that well, right? So maybe he was feeling guilty about never letting her down gently?
She'd taken a huge gamble, boldly assuming that getting him to finally have an uninterrupted conversation was all it would take. She hadn't even planned what she was going to say. Nothing she'd said that night that it'd happened had seemed to get through to him, and he'd been shutting everyone out ever since.
All she could do now was hope that she could get through to him when he finally got back, whenever that would be. Her stomach growled. She grabbed a few protein bars from her bag and her water. Maybe if she got an update on the fire, that might give her a better idea of when the smoke might let up a bit.
She turned on the modest little TV set and didn't have to search long for coverage of the wildfire. It was terrible. Hundreds upon hundreds of acres gone already, including nearby homes and businesses. Thankfully, the death count was low. For now. They'd ordered evacuations of all nearby towns in hopes of preventing further deaths.
The cameras cut to a shot of Superman speaking with a man who must have been the fire chief in charge of the scene. There was a shopping centre that was engulfed in flames and threatening to collapse with people still inside.
Superman looked...off. It almost looked like he was staring off into space instead of surveying the wreckage, but she was probably just imagining things, projecting some of her bad mood onto him.
She continued watching and breathed a sigh of relief as he finally started flying in and out of the shopping centre, pulling survivor after survivor out of the wreckage and carefully handing them off to medical personnel. She hoped he didn't find too many, or any bodies. She could only imagine how crushing that felt.
But there was something definitely concerning about the way he was acting. She'd watched his efforts on television before, when he'd attended to earthquakes and floods and wildfires like this one. As he was flying in and out, he seemed slower, more deliberate, kind of like how people tended to drive if they were overtired and really ought to have pulled over to rest.
Superman didn't always get that luxury, did he? She guessed it made some sense, given the fire had been raging for most of the day, and he'd probably been there nearly as long.
She hoped he had someone to go to, talk to. She knew with some sort of certainty that he didn't have a romantic relationship with anyone; he'd intimated as much, that it wasn't something he could do without putting someone at risk. He wasn't willing to do that, she understood now. But he did have friends; hopefully, more than just herself and Clark.
Clark wasn't exactly in a good place to be a friend right now, and Lois didn't know how to contact Superman like Clark did. She rankled a bit at that, not even denying the feelings of rejection tinged with jealousy that he found Clark a better friend. Oh, she knew why; her repeated overtures for his love hadn't made her a very safe or comfortable confidant.
Asking Clark to contact Superman for her, though...that's something she wasn't willing to do again, regardless of Clark's current emotional state. Not while the threads holding her and Clark's potential relationship together were so fragile.
She'd have to just wait until the next time she saw Superman to check in on him. For his sake, she hoped it wouldn't be too long.
She got up to shut off the TV. It didn't look like she and Clark were going to make it any further to their destination tomorrow, probably not the next day, either. Given how things were going, they should probably just turn around and go home. Her plan was a bust. This room here, with its one king bed and no couch, could have been a workable contingency plan…if he'd stayed in the room for longer than two minutes.
Had she wounded him too deeply for him to trust her? The irony of it all taunted her. Just as she'd been learning how to love and open up, he was shutting down and giving up. Was he giving up on them, too? On her?
Wasn't that for the best, though? Putting any idea of a romantic relationship on hold--indefinitely--because that's what he needed right now. She needed to be his best friend and help him through his grief while she put aside her own feelings. Because that's what you did when you loved someone; their own happiness mattered more than your own, even if it broke your heart.
She changed into a soft t-shirt and sleep shorts and brushed her teeth, her heart heavy with the realization of what she knew had to happen. She'd just been getting used to being someone he loved.
She wouldn't blame him if he didn't come back tonight. It'd been hours and hours already, and tomorrow only promised a long, awkward, and painful drive home.
Lois crawled into the bed and curled up on her side, facing away from the door and trying to make herself as small as she was feeling. She drew the covers up to ward against the cold that had suddenly come over her.
Clark still wasn't back. Hot tears started falling slowly, making tracks across her nose and cheek, landing on her hand. She stared at them as she cried, her chest feeling as if it would burst from fear, worry, and heartbreak. She ached for him to put his arms around her--to pull her close and reassure her that everything was going to be okay--that he was going to be okay. He was the one constant in her chaotic world, and now he was crumbling. He was falling apart, and she had no idea how to save him.
That thought played in her mind on a loop as she cried herself to sleep.
*** *** ***
Clark hovered above the motel, exhausted and a bit bleary-eyed. It was dark now. Hours had passed. The Jeep was still in the parking lot, so she hadn't given up on him completely and gone home. Probably closer to the truth was that she hadn't given up on the story. He'd forgotten which room they were in; it was practically a miracle that he had the key card on him.
He made a brief sweep of the single-level complex, searching for Lois. There she was. Asleep already, of course. It was late. Most of the motel guests were asleep, though many of the beds had been empty.
Wait. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind.
He swept the buildings again, focusing on the ones with empty beds. They weren't just empty beds; they were empty rooms, devoid of any suitcases, belongings, people.
<They only had one room left.>There were plenty of rooms available. His brow furrowed. Why on Earth would Lois lie about that? It couldn't be the cost of it. They were on a story; it could be expensed. And given how distant he'd been the last few days, his behavior in the car, how much she must surely hate him for continually running out on her, being stuck with him in the same room seemed like the last thing she'd want.
Oh.
He inhaled sharply.
<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 hadn't said it loudly, hadn't meant for him to hear it, her voice a trembling whisper, but he'd heard it all the same. It'd cut right through his heart at almost the same instant the death toll had increased to seven.
His being Superman was hurting Lois. She deserved a whole man, not just half of one. Especially when the one half kept running away from her. The reasons why he couldn't be with her were starting to pile up, and he felt as though they might topple over and crush him alive.
He hung his head, feeling utterly defeated, and landed behind a dumpster to change before heading back to the room. He couldn’t tell her. Despite the fact that he wanted to more than anything else in the world, he knew it was out of the question. Telling her would mean her learning that it was their kiss that had caused Mayson’s death. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t put that burden on her. It was his job to bear the pain of those he failed to save. It wasn’t hers. And Lois was not the type of person to ever be okay with getting there too late.
Still, he knew that he was teetering on a very thin edge. He would have to apologise and find a way of putting this behind him. Of letting go of the dream. It turns out he couldn’t have it all, but if he could just have her friendship, that would be enough. It had to be. He could manage that, surely. He'd been doing that for almost two years.
A quick peek let him know she hadn't engaged the safety latch. He should probably be grateful for that. She wasn't shutting him out completely, at least not physically.
As quietly as he could, he slid the key card in and out and then opened the door, hoping that light from the parking lot wouldn't spill in and disturb Lois. After guiding the door closed to avoid it slamming shut, he grabbed his overnight bag and headed for the bathroom.
He took out a t-shirt and boxers and set them on the countertop to change into. He spun out of the suit and shoved it unceremoniously into his bag, not wanting to deal with it--with him--anymore. He debated a shower because he didn't want to risk waking Lois. Stupid. He should have stopped at home first.
But he couldn't not shower...he couldn't face himself in the mirror, but he knew he was covered in soot and grime and the acrid smell of...all the parts of the disaster he was hoping to forget. Some things you couldn't scrub clean.
He showered at super speed and spun into his sleep clothes, trying to make as little noise as possible. Once out of the bathroom, he tucked his duffel bag back by the little desk. Clark hesitated when he looked at the bed, and he pulled out the desk chair gently and sat down facing her.
He wasn't sure if sharing the bed was still the thing to do, even though they'd agreed to it and there wasn't much in the way of other options. He had half a thought that he could go book his own room...but he couldn't do that, wouldn't do that. He'd already left her for long enough. And, selfishly, he didn't want to leave her again. He took a deep, shuddering breath. Seeing Lois again after an arduous and devastating rescue always proved to begin the process of knitting his soul and spirit back together. Tonight was bittersweet, though, knowing that they'd never be more than friends.
She was lying curled up on her side at the edge of the bed, as if she were trying to take up as little space as possible with her small frame.
He got up and walked to the opposite side of the bed. It was a big bed; there'd be plenty of space between Lois and him. If he was lucky, it'd be close enough to help recharge his soul before morning. He knew he'd need it to face the day.
When he pulled back the covers and crawled in, she shifted and rolled onto her side facing him. He froze for a moment until he was sure she'd settled. Her heartbeat seemed slow and steady. He laid down and pulled the covers up.
Her heart rate increased ever so slightly, and she mumbled, "...worried...so worried...you're safe."
He froze again, not sure if she was asleep or awake or somewhere in between. He risked a glance in her direction and saw that her eyes were heavy-lidded but slightly open.
He wasn't sure what to say or if he should even answer. Before he could even decide, she was shifting her body and closing the distance between them. She burrowed a little to lift his arm and nestled into his shoulder, her head on his chest, and her arm found its way across his chest as her body settled against his.
"Lois?" he asked softly, unsure.
She still seemed half asleep. "Please, Clark. Jus' need you to hold me. I need you…" her quiet plea trailed off as she drifted back into unconsciousness against him.
He should have moved her. He knew that it was wrong to let her stay. She hadn’t agreed to this--not rationally, anyway, and he feared there might be hell to pay if she woke up tangled up in his arms the next morning with no memory of the night before.
They had no sooner checked into the motel, and he’d already run out on her, not returning until the wee hours of the morning. What was he going to say when she demanded in the hard light of day to know where he’d gone? All his usual excuses were useless here. He had no random neighbours to help, no dentist appointments to go to, or lawns to mow. There was nothing he could say to her that would justify his actions--not even the truth.
And he wanted to tell her at least that. But he knew that wasn’t enough to make up for all the hurt and heartache. And he couldn't let her know that her hero was so broken and fallible, failing to save so many people.
And yet, he still hadn’t moved her from his arms. Right or wrong, she felt far too good pressed against him. The faint scent of her perfume enveloped him--the smell of vanilla and strawberry. He allowed himself to imagine what it might be like in another life to fall asleep like this with her every night--to feel her body, warm and soft against his with her chest rising and falling in time with his own.
Such a simple thing and yet, it was all he could think about--all he wanted in the world.
He should move her. Clutch her close to him, and then gently roll her over to her side of the bed. It was the right thing to do. And yet, he remained frozen, pinned down by the comforting weight of his partner’s body. He felt sheltered, safe...protected.
After everything that had happened tonight, he needed this. He needed her. He thought of all those people who would never come home to their loved ones--all those people who would go to sleep alone from now on because he’d failed them.
What right did he have to feel this comfort?
He should move her. It was the right thing to do. But he hadn’t been very good at doing the right thing lately.
Softly, she shifted against him and sighed. He watched her sleep and felt something in his heart begin to unclench. Slowly, his body began to let go of the burdens of the day. Something about holding her close, allowed him to forget--at least for the moment.
He knew it couldn’t last. Morning would dawn and he would have to face his mistakes. This moment was an illusion--but oh, it was the best illusion. And he wanted it. He wanted just one night to pretend that he was just a normal man falling asleep with the woman he loved in his arms.
He kissed her gently on top of her head, taking great care not to wake her.
"I love you, Lois," he whispered as he too drifted off to sleep.
