Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic So Far Away 4/21

**This chapter has an nfic version over in that folder.**

TOC found here

Chapter 4: Just Give Me a Reason, Just a Little Bit's Enough
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Late February 1997
9 months, 15 Days Since Clark Left Home

"Just a second—we're not broken, just bent,
And we can learn to love again.
I've never stopped
You're still written in the scars on my heart."

Just Give Me a Reason by P!nk (feat. Nate Ruess)
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Lois was reading the morning edition of the Daily Planet and enjoying her herbal tea. Still no coffee. Kallie had been such a good sleeper so far, Lois was afraid to jinx it by adding caffeine to things. Though part of her was a little curious to see if Kallie was unaffected by caffeine like Clark was...but definitely not worth the experiment right now. Sleep was so sporadic as it was.

She'd woken up with Kallie hours ago and hadn't felt like she'd be able to fall back asleep, so she'd just put the baby in the bassinet in her room—their room?—to sleep after she'd nursed. Clark had still been sleeping, too. She hesitated to wake him, figuring that if nothing had woken him, he really needed the sleep. Or at least she assumed that was the case. He wasn't floating today—that had to be a good sign, didn't it?

At the table with the paper, she'd heard Kallie start to fuss a few minutes ago, but she'd also heard Clark start talking to her in a soothing tone and so had decided to finish her tea. Her heart warmed at the sound of his voice, slightly higher and softer. She couldn't make out the words from here, but it was sweet and endearing all the same.

After getting up and setting her empty teacup on the counter, she headed over to her—their room. She leaned casually against the doorway, crossing her arms and resting her head against the frame as she took in the sight before her.

Ever since she'd found out she was pregnant, she'd dreamed about this moment. Well, something like it, anyway. She was pretty sure her dreams had not included a poopy diaper and a clueless Clark. She debated silently whether she should coach him or let him learn from experience.

Evidently, she'd decided on the latter because she couldn't bring herself to move. He glanced over at her watching him and gave her a tight smile. This wasn't cruel, right? Getting poop on your hands as the baby wiggled wildly while you changed the diaper was a parental right of passage, wasn't it? Though, technically he had gotten poop on his hands the other night, but that didn't count for diaper changing experience, anyway.

He'd stripped the soiled diaper and put it in the bin, and he remembered the wiping—front to back. So far so good; he'd avoided getting his hands dirty. She smiled, but felt a little guilty. Maybe she shouldn't be watching? He was probably self-conscious and might think she was judging his every move.

She was pretty sure he had the diaper upside down. She watched him search for the tabs as Kallie started to fuss. Should she go help? She waited a beat to see if he'd ask or not, and she was relieved when he glanced over and gave her a helpless look.

"It's upside down, love," she said gently.

He nodded and went back to business, turning the diaper right side up and focusing hard on using just the right tightness on the tabs. He remembered that part from last time. Once Kallie's onesie was snapped back up, he straightened, shoulders back, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly proud of a job well done.

And she had to cough to cover the fact that she'd just about snorted trying to hold in the laughter. She could see the headline now: Superman Successfully Changes a Poopy Diaper. It was sweet as all could be, but she was sure that he wouldn't understand or appreciate her laughter.

He scooped Kallie up and cradled her in one arm. He spoke softly to her, cooing gently, "Hey, little bug. I think Mommy's laughing at us."

Or maybe he didn't mind. She smiled as she stood and went over to them. "Nahhh. I just love watching you with her," she said. The sadness of his absence tugged at her heart just then for some reason, but she did her best to push it aside so she could keep this moment. She raised up on her tiptoes, her hands on his shoulder for balance, and kissed his cheek. She smiled when she was rewarded: he turned his head to kiss her lips gently.

"I think she's starting to get used to my voice," he said with such hope in his voice it was almost a question.

"Yeah, I think she is," she agreed. "She definitely turns her head when she hears it." She bit back a frown at the thought that Kallie wouldn't have had to learn it if Clark had been here, that babies started to learn and respond to voices in utero.

"So..." Clark started. "What do you usually do next when you wake up?"

Lois pulled a face and said almost apologetically, "You're kinda looking at it. We live a pretty tame life around here. Eat, sleep, poop."

He chuckled weakly. "That's it, huh?"

"Pretty much," she said. "It's a far cry from dangling above the jaws of death, isn't it?"

He wore a blank look, but she'd have sworn she'd seen his expression darken for a half a second before that. She felt a sadness and pain tug again at her heart and mind.

Hoping to reassure him, she patted his shoulder and said, "Don't worry, Superman. I don't do that nearly as often any more. I don't have the time for it." She winked and headed out of the room.

She caught her breath, only just realizing as she'd turned around and walked away that he'd...he'd flinched when she'd called him Superman, hadn't he? She'd almost felt it.

Okay, that topic was off limits for now. Her mind reeled at the possible causes, the implications. But she couldn't think about it right now, shouldn't think about it.

Martha was in the kitchen getting set up to make breakfast, and though Lois felt guilty for needing it, she was suddenly grateful for the buffer. "Morning, Mom," Lois said with more cheer than she was feeling.

Clark had followed her with Kallie still in the crook of his arm. "Morning, Mom," he echoed as he found and settled in the rocking chair. He started rocking gently and gazing lovingly down at Kallie, looking for all the world like he belonged there.

She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it immediately. Her heart hitched a little, and she felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes. Hormones. Damn hormones. She stood awkwardly still for a moment and then sat herself in one of the kitchen table chairs.

Martha had seen her and leaned her head, giving her a sympathetic look. I'm sorry, she mouthed.

It's fine...I’m fine, Lois mouthed back. She shook her head gently to clear the thoughts. It was just a chair. Rocking chairs were meant for rocking babies. And that's what he was doing. Rocking their baby. In her chair.

Suddenly, she couldn't be in the same room. She got up to grab a bottle of breast milk from the fridge. She handed it to Martha, who took it automatically. "Could you warm this up?" And then she turned to Clark and said with all the light-heartedness she could muster, "She'll be hungry soon, and I thought you might like to feed her?"

"Really?" he asked, his face lighting up. "I'd love to." He smiled at her, his heart clearly full.

She smiled at him, not needing to force the warmth she felt at the moment.

"I could just..." He gestured towards Martha with the bottle. "If it needs warming, I could just give it a quick zap," he offered.

He was trying to be helpful. He was happy and wanted to be helpful and feed his daughter. Lois took a breath and said somewhat tightly, not irritated but trying to keep the tears at bay, "I...I'm not sure, um, if heat vision would be good for it? I know you're not supposed to microwave it."

"Oh." He deflated a little and she felt guilty again. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Sorry."

"You didn't know." She shrugged. She needed to be in the other room already. "So, um...enjoy," she said with a smile that didn't feel comfortable. "I'm just going to go...pump." She hooked her thumb in the direction of the bedroom as she headed that way, not waiting for anyone's response.

When she got to the room, she closed the door softly behind her and looked around as she took a couple steps in. She cursed silently. The pump wasn't in here. Damn it. She couldn't go back out there.

And then there was a soft knock at the door as it opened slowly. Martha gave her a smile and handed her the bag. "Sorry, I forgot to put this back in your room yesterday after cleaning things," she said at a normal volume so Clark could hear. I love you, she mouthed.

Bless this woman. "Thank you!" she said as Martha winked at her and closed the door. Martha knew. She always knew. Lois didn't feel like she would ever do enough to earn the abundance of this woman's love and kindness she'd gotten.

She grabbed a pillow and arranged it just so on the armchair in the corner of the room. She sat and put the bag down on the side table and set to work getting everything going.

Was she a coward for running and hiding? Was she childish for being upset over a chair?

She could pretend that she was doing this for Clark's benefit, so he could feed his daughter. That was true enough. But she hadn't necessarily needed to leave the room. She could have pumped in the kitchen or living room like she'd done plenty of times before...when it had been just Martha and her.

Clark had only been home for a few days, and she was avoiding him.

She hadn't known when—or if—Clark would come home. She hadn't thought about what he could come home to, other than her fantasy that he'd be overjoyed to find a pregnant Lois or deliriously thrilled to find Lois holding their baby. He'd not been unmoved when he'd gotten home a few nights ago. He'd been loving and reassuring when they'd made slow but desperate love and when they'd talked afterwards.

But since then...he'd been, at times, distant with her. Not so much in deed or emotion, but in what she couldn't feel from him. The connection they'd shared...seemed to be...not really working. She'd been slightly relieved to feel some pulses of emotion, and a few times it had flowed freely, usually when he was full of love. But still, he seemed different, more guarded. Less emotional. Though that part at least made some sense, given where he'd spent the better part of the past year.

She could only imagine that he'd changed as much as if not more than she had in that time. How could he not have? It had to have been bad, right? For it to have taken so long? For him to be shutting down his emotions? Had they not prevented war after all? That's what the marriage, Clark's presence, had been supposed to prevent. What was it Jor-El had said? That his legacy, Clark's destiny, was to save the Kryptonians and lead them from chaos into peace?

That was what had settled it for Clark. Words from his birth father about his destiny. About it being his responsibility to bring peace. She wanted to hate Clark for it, but...that was part of what she loved about him. The values and morals that made Superman who he was...it wasn't just Clark. There was some part of the Kryptonian legacy, his heritage, and innate part of his being that was meant to fight for peace and justice. It all sounded logical, but part of her had trouble believing the Jor-El she'd seen in the globe—so desperate and concerned for his infant son— had much to do with the cold and hyper-rational New Kryptonians.

He'd had to go. If it was only him who could save thousands, tens of thousands of people, he would never have been able to live with himself if he hadn't gone. So they'd decided—together—that he should go. He'd believed that saving New Krypton from war was worth turning his back on everything and everyone he loved.

But what had she and Clark thought that even meant, saving them from war?

It's not like he could have just arrived, and what...created a law for Zara to rule by herself? Execute this Lord Nor for...treason or something and be on his merry way home? Was his marriage to Zara merely a political solution? They'd mentioned an alliance ruled by noble houses. But...if there was nobility, that usually meant royal blood lines...

She hadn't ever let herself think this far before, to what she dearly hoped was not the inevitable conclusion of a royal marriage, not when Clark had still been up there. Not when she hadn't known whether he would ever come home. All of it had been far too painful and not worth the heartache. But she'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought of it at all, thought of what Clark being married to Zara meant.

She felt sick to her stomach at the mere idea of what it might mean. What it probably meant? Oh, God. Is it even something she had a right to feel jealous about, considering she'd sent him off to war with his betrothed?

She had to swallow several times to keep from choking on the lump in her throat. And she closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. The important thing was that he'd come back. He'd come home to her.

There was a tentative knock at the door. "Lois?" Clark said softly. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a deep breath and feeling both grateful and annoyed that he'd needed to ask.

He opened the door slowly and came in, closing the door behind him, and went to sit on the unmade bed, facing her in the chair.

"Where's Kallie?" she asked.

"She's with Mom. She mentioned going for a walk out by the pond, but I think they're both napping in the La-Z-Boy, to be honest," he said with a faint smile, one that reminded him of her Clark, the Clark he'd been before he'd left.

"I think I managed to take a picture of them doing that last week," Lois said, smiling. "Mom denies she fell asleep, so I can't wait to get the film developed to prove her wrong."

He chuckled softly and her heart hitched at the sound. She'd missed that sound.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, gesturing awkwardly at the pump as she was detaching it from herself.

"Well, it's not comfortable," she admitted, putting the bottles and tubes and everything on the table. "But the alternative is waking up to do the all-too-frequent feedings myself and get no sleep," she smiled wryly at him. "So...it ends up being a good trade off. Plus...it means Mom and Dad—and you, now—get to bond with her, too."

He smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice a bit thick with emotion. "I...it was...thank you." He looked down shyly and tented his fingers, his elbows resting on his knees.

She smiled warmly at him and nodded as she screwed the lids on the bottles and then put them back on the table.

"Are you okay, Lois?" he blurted. "It's just...you seemed kind of upset about something back there." He jerked his head slightly in the direction of the kitchen.

"I'm fine,” she answered automatically. “I mean...no? Yes? Kinda?” She readjusted the hem of her shirt even though it had been fine. “Oh, Clark, why is this so hard?”

“...what, exactly?” he asked tentatively.

“This!” She gestured between them. “Talking with you.” Her voice lost intensity and gained a slight tremor. “I don’t want it to be hard.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if steeling himself against something. Against her? “I don’t either.”

She sat there in the chair, wanting to go to him. Hug him. Kiss him. Make love to him. But she was held fast to the chair by...apprehension.

She wanted him to come to her. Want her. She wanted him to comfort her and tell her everything was going to be all right. Why wasn’t he telling her everything was going to be all right?

After a deep breath to brace herself, she moved to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. He shifted so that he was facing her, and she watched as he tented his fingers again. Was he nervous? Was she making him nervous?

He was making her nervous. Unless their connection was working after all? Why were they nervous?

“Hey,” he said, finally breaking the silence and giving her half a smile.

“Hey,” she replied, hating that her voice still sounded weak and shaky. She found she couldn't look him in the eye. Instead, she focused on the hints of the scar near his left eye, almost imperceptible now.

He caught her staring and rubbed at his eyebrow, as if to make it go away, make it so she couldn't see what he'd been through.

She forged on before she lost her nerve. “I, um, told you a bit about what happened to me while you were...gone. Did you...I mean, maybe you don’t want to, or maybe you weren’t sure you could...but you can talk to me about...up there, what happened, if y-you want, if you need to.”

She watched his face darken—from bad memories, she was sure. She wanted to reach out a hand, touch his shoulder or knee or face to comfort him, but she wasn't entirely sure he'd welcome it. He looked so far away.

It felt like such a long moment before he spoke again, his voice hoarse with emotion. "It's...hard to even think about."

She nodded, but he wasn't looking at her, clearly lost in the memories, so she spoke quietly. "I can only imagine. I'm sorry." She wanted to touch him, desperately, comfort him. Her hand reached out before she could stop it, but she yanked it back when he flinched. It had been almost imperceptible, but he'd still flinched all the same. "Sorry," she stammered. "I'm sorry." Her heart squeezed in her chest, and for a moment she couldn't breathe.

He shuddered slightly, out of whatever memory he'd been stuck in. "Oh, Lois! I'm sorry," he said, distress written all over his face. His voice was her Clark's again, at least.

"Sorry," she said again, almost reflexively. She didn't know what to do.

"No, I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair, just like her Clark did when he was flustered or frustrated. "I just...I'm not really used to...being touched anymore. You just caught me by surprise. I'm sorry." His eyes, her Clark's eyes, were looking at her, begging for forgiveness.

He reached down for her hand and brought it up to cup his cheek as she'd been about to do, and he held his hand over hers. Her heart clenched again, then fluttered, and she felt a shiver run through her. She wasn't used to being touched anymore, either, at least not like this.

She felt the warmth of his face and ran a thumb along his cheek to feel the rasp of his stubble, so uncharacteristic, but still Clark underneath. She wanted to kiss him. Could she kiss him? Would he flinch again?

Before she could even second guess herself, he was leaning in, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips against her. His kiss was urgent, almost frantic, and she fell into it with him, just as desperate. She wound her fingers through his hair to the back of his neck, pulling him closer because she couldn't get enough.

She was breathless, but she didn't care. She needed him, capturing his lips, his tongue, again and again. She felt him leaning them back towards the bed, so she laid back on her elbows and scooted herself up to the head of the bed and he followed eagerly, his lips recapturing hers as soon as they were settled.

The feel of his body above hers, his weight on her was comforting and intoxicating all at once. Their love making was urgent and desperate, both of them needing connection after all the strong emotions. When it was over, Clark held her close in his arms, hugging her and nuzzling at her neck, murmuring I love you over and over again.

Lois wrapped her arms around him too, her breath taking longer to slow, her desire left unsated. She wasn't sure if she should say anything—they'd only made love a handful of times—he’d only made love a handful of times—he might not realize she had needed more from him.

She tried not to be saddened by the fact that they were lovers so inexperienced with one another. They should be more. They should be well-versed in each others' pleasure by now. And she tried not to think anything more of the fact that he still had his shirt on. Their lovemaking had been hurried, urgent. It didn't have to mean anything. She settled into his arms and comforted herself with the reassuring feel of his solid presence, something she'd ached for for so long.

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