[Chapter 3: Admittance]The first week had been the worst, but the weeks following were not much better.
Lois bounced between a state of turmoil and denial, and could only do her job decently well when in the latter. Unfortunately, those moments in time were brief.
She eventually, and inevitably, was called into Perry's office.
"Lois, I don't know what is going on, but you need to figure it out and fix it. You have not been getting after the stories the way you used to and your condition is rubbing off on Kent. He's been trying to pick up the slack, but I doubt he can carry himself and you for much longer," Perry stated. "Now, this seems to have started a few weeks ago. Did something happen with that pheromone you're not telling me, Honey?"
She almost caved right there. Almost confessed and blurted out her transgression.
However, thankfully, she contained herself.
"I'll get it together, Chief. It's just some personal stuff. I didn't realize it was affecting my work so much, but it's now clear to me that it is," she said, forcing down her turmoil with herculean effort.
"Okay. Good," he said, clearly not confident in her promise but deciding to leave it alone.
She left Perry's office, hoping she would find a way to get it together before too much longer.
O o O o O
He knew his mom knew something was wrong. He knew his dad did too, but what could he say?
Unfortunately, he knew his parents, especially his mom, would not allow him to stay silent much longer, no matter how he felt about it. He supposed it was just as well. He knew his misery was blatantly obvious to them and that he hadn't been himself for a while. He couldn't blame them for being concerned, so he wasn't surprised when his mom finally became insistent and all but cornered him.
"Clark, I know something has been bothering you for weeks now. Are you going to tell me what's going on or do I have to guess?" she asked, setting down his hot tea before him.
It was Friday night. Yet another week of torture had been completed. He was grateful to be away from Metropolis, even if it meant risking this inevitable conversation.
"Mom, I don't know. It's . . . it's hard to even think about. I don't know if I can even discuss it," he stated honestly, looking down at the dark liquid.
"What happened between you and Lois?" she asked, sitting down across from him.
He winced, but wasn't surprised his mother had figured it out on the first guess.
"You haven't mentioned her once for the past three weeks. Whatever happened, you can't continue as you have. It's consuming you. It's not healthy. I think you know you need to talk about it at least, if only to figure out what to do next," she said, knowing he wasn't quite ready to answer. She went on. "Would you prefer to talk to Dad? If it's a father-son discussion, I understand not wanting to talk to me about it."
He blushed, and a snapshot of that night overtook his vision before it was immediately followed by a flash of thick emotional pain.
"No, no. I'd prefer just you. It's . . . I feel ashamed enough as it is."
"Ashamed?" she asked gently.
"I know I shouldn't, but it's how I feel."
"Why don't you just tell me what happened?" she asked.
He sighed and sagged, dejected, in his chair.
"Did you read about the pheromone compound made by Miranda Fairchild?" he asked.
His mom grew still, undoubtedly already connecting the dots.
"Yes. Such a horrible thing to create and use," she said.
He nodded gruffly in agreement.
"Well, when I stopped her from spraying the city with her 100 percent solution, it . . . well, it affected me."
Martha's eyes widened as he continued.
"I lost complete control of myself and I've only been able to remember snippets of what happened, though I now remember more than I did before."
"Honey, what happened?" she asked.
And so he told her.
Starting from his confused state after landing Miranda's plane to him snatching his uniform and bolting out of Lois' apartment the following morning. It all just poured out of him, although with the barest amount of details as possible for varying reasons.
Fortunately, Martha was smart and he didn't have to spell it all out.
"Oh, honey," she said sympathetically, looking torn between wanting to hug him or taking the next flight to Metropolis and giving Lois a piece of her mind.
"I just . . . I can't believe it happened. I've never felt so ashamed and helpless. Why couldn't I stop? I'm Superman, for crying out loud. Why did I even go to her? Why didn't I just go home and sleep it off? Go to Smallville, even? And I can't believe, after what had happened before, she would turn around and do what she did to me!" He put his face in his hands.
"What happened before?" Martha asked.
"Earlier that week, Miranda had sprayed the Planet with her 2 percent solution and Lois . . . she . . . I was the one she fell in love with. Clark me, I mean. She threw herself at me over and over again. Mom, she came over to my apartment in a get up that –" He cut himself off. "But I resisted. For two whole days of her incessantly offering . . . insisting. . . . It was torture. Only on the third day did I surrender, and thankfully by then she snapped out of it."
"I see. And she said you hadn't forced her?" Martha asked, gently seeking verification from his initial rundown.
"When I learned what had happened, I feared that I had, but she said I didn't. And . . . and now with the little I do remember, that's one thing I'm certain of. She was completely willing," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I think . . . I don't think it would have been so bad if I knew she had made a serious attempt to resist, you know? A day, heck, even just one night! At least then I wouldn't feel . . . feel so . . . gah! I can't even describe it. Betrayed? Used? I don't want to say violated, but it's. . . . I don't know, Mom."
"What you're feeling is entirely understandable, Clark. And actually, if you weren't feeling what you are, I'd be concerned."
"I wish I wasn't feeling this at all."
"I know. But just remember, you won't feel like this forever. I know it doesn't feel like that's possible, but trust me," she said.
"I hope you're right," he said with a shuddering breath. He closed his eyes.
"I told her my Kryptonian name," he admitted. "I'm not sure what else I told her, but I know I promised I would tell her 'everything I keep secret from the world'."
His mom frowned, but quickly pushed it away.
"Try not to worry about what you might have told her. She hasn't printed anything, and from what I managed to glean from what occurred before you left, I doubt she ever will," Martha assured.
"I really hope you're right. I hope you're right about everything," he said, before sipping his tea.
He grimaced and quickly zapped the liquid with his heat vision.
"But either way, I don't know what to do." He looked away. "I don't know if I even want to stay in Metropolis anymore, but I can't just quit. I've been at the Planet for less than six months. If I quit now, that will make it harder to get hired elsewhere, especially since I doubt Perry would give me a good recommendation after I just up and quit. There's also the question of Superman. I suppose he could stick around Metropolis a bit so his relocation doesn't coincide with mine."
"Clark, before you continue down that vein, and as much as I imagine you don't want to think about this, how is Lois?" she asked.
"Quiet. We interact as little as possible, just enough to get our work done, and that's only just. I think she believes Superman talked to me about what happened. Pretty ironic, huh?"
"Do you think she regrets what she did?" she asked.
"Probably. She was apologizing soon after I woke up, but who knows if she's sorry for the right reason or not," he said, tired. "But at this point, does it matter? Knowing Lois, I should be happy I got any apology."
Martha looked at her son sadly. He wouldn't have been so cynical a month ago.
"Just as it's wrong for a man to take advantage of an inebriated woman, it's just as wrong the other way around. What Lois did was undeniably wrong and inexcusable, and you are completely justified in being angry with her. I'd love to box her ears myself right now, to be honest. However, I don't want you to hold on to that anger indefinitely."
Clark laughed. "You're saying to forgive her?"
"Forgive her, or let what she did go. Those are two different things, and one is certainly better to do than the other, but they both set you free. Both take time, of course, and are not easy to do. But neither is living bitterly, and that's what'll happen if you let it fester," his mom said earnestly.
Clark nodded hesitantly. "I'll try, Mom."
"I know," she said. "In the meantime, give yourself another week. Think about your options. If you need to come back to Smallville, Dad and I are here, but also remember you have other paths you could take."
"Like what?" he asked, somewhat curious.
"Well, I'm sure if Mr. White learned you were unhappy for whatever reason, he'd be willing to relocate you to a different division. They have one in Europe, right?"
"They do," he said thoughtfully. "I suppose that wouldn't be a horrible choice."
"It wouldn't, but don't rush into any decisions. Be calm and settled, whenever you decide. You had no control over what had happened, but you have control over what you do now."
Clark nodded, a little more at ease. "Thanks, Mom."
O o O o O
Lois couldn't stand it anymore. She had to at least try to get her friend back, heck, even if just as a co-worker. The way they had been walking on eggshells around each other for weeks, and now that Perry was on her case for not 'pulling her weight'. . . . Something had to change, or she would break.
Break even more than she already was.
She glanced up as Clark entered the bullpen. She had come in earlier than she normally did, wanting to get there before he did. That, and she wanted to show Perry she was making an effort.
She refocused on her computer, and, like clockwork, he set down her coffee.
"Hey," she said, just as he was about to walk away. "Um."
Her brain froze. She had planned this whole discussion and had decided what she would say and do for a hundred different scenarios but it all went out the window when he looked at her.
"Yeah?" he asked.
He looked like a kicked puppy.
"Um. I know things have been . . . I mean, since the Miranda story, I've. . . . I'm sorry, could we talk?" she fumbled, her cheeks aflame.
Clark didn't answer immediately, and she feared he would walk away, but he finally, thankfully, nodded.
They went into the conference room and when he closed the door behind him she felt as if they were in a cabinet instead of a wide open room.
"I know things have been different for the last few weeks. I know I've been different," she began, keeping her side to him.
She couldn't face him, but turning her back to him felt wrong for some reason. So she kept herself turned so her right arm was always closest to him. She watched him from the corner of her eye.
He nodded quietly.
"I've been---it's personal. It's nothing you've done, I trust you know that, I just haven't been able to deal with . . . something. I can't tell you what exactly, but . . . god, Clark, I did something so
horrible to someone."
She wasn't sure how she had formed the words, but she had, and now that they were out, more were begging to surge forth. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"I did something I never thought I'd do, never thought I was even capable of. I feel so horrible, so guilty. I wish I knew how to apologize, how to make it right, but I don't think that's possible." She took a deep breath. "And even if I managed to go to them and beg for forgiveness, I'm pretty sure it would only make things worse. If I were in their place, I don't think I'd ever want to be near someone who–" She closed her eyes. "And I'm certain I wouldn't ever be able to forgive."
She wiped her eyes, the knot in her throat so large she could barely breathe.
"Anyway. I just . . . I just wanted to clear the air and tell you that I'll leave my personal stuff at home. I know I haven't really been present lately, and you've been picking up the slack, and that hasn't been fair to you. With how I've been acting, you've treated me far better than I could ever ask for, especially with how I treated you when you first started here." She cringed, still unable to face him. "I'm sorry, for everything. I guess I'm finally seeing myself–been forced to look in the mirror and take account. And I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I'll do better. I just wish I could undo what I've done."
Lois looked at the floor, hoping Clark would say something, anything, but also terrified of what he might do after hearing her muddled confession.
"Sincerely regretting a mistake is important for any hope of reconciliation," he finally said. "Maybe . . . maybe if you get the chance to ask for forgiveness they'll accept your apology if they see that."
Lois choked back a sob. "I don't deserve it," she muttered so quietly she might as well have thought it.
She forced herself to calm down.
"Well, I hope you're right. For now, I suppose we should get to work . . . partner," she said, still too nervous to meet his eyes.
"Okay. Partner," he said softly.
Lois wanted to burst into tears more than ever before, but she bit her tongue and squelched the throb begging for release.
She would cry tonight.
They had work to do.
O o O o O
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