Happy Ficlet Friday. Here you go with the next part in my unplanned series.
No More Us And No More We?
“Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”
Clark gives a tight nod. Awkwardly, he fumbles with the buttons of his shirt as if trying to hide the massive bruise on his chest. Then he scrunches his face up in pain and his hands drop to his sides. He leans his head back and draws in shaky, wheezing breaths. I kneel next to him, not sure what to do.
“Clark, please…” I can’t let him sit here and suffer in silence.
He took a bullet for me.
He’s Superman.
I still can’t believe it.
Any of it.
What happened in Clark’s apartment is such a blur of hazy memories. Lex trying to drag me with him, Clark stepping in and pushing him out of the way, Clark shielding me with his body. The shot is still ringing in my ears. Some part of me is still falling down from Clark’s balcony. I’m not sure how we’re both alive, how we ended up in an alley that’s not the one behind Clark’s apartment. All I do remember, kind of, because it’s still fuzzy at best, are the agonizing moments I thought he was dead. I remember undoing the buttons of his shirt, needing to see what happened to him.
Now he sits with his back propped up against a pile of garbage and boxes, starting another attempt at covering up the bruise on his chest. There’s just a small trail of blood seeping out where the bullet struck him, leaving only split skin where there should be a hole.
Lex shot him point blank.
Clark winces and pulls the fabric of his shirt a little tighter. He starts fumbling with the first button. His jaw is working and he doesn’t quite meet my gaze. It’s almost like our encounter in another alley that was also filled with garbage, after he dropped from the sky because of a run-in with kryptonite. I’m beginning to understand why Superman was so desperate to leave that night, why he was so curt, why anger seeped from his every pore.
I‘d told him that I would love him if he were just an ordinary man right after I had just rejected that seemingly ordinary man, who’d offered me his heart. So many times I’d been mean to Clark, unfavorably comparing him to the Man of Steel. Considering how I treated him, I have no idea how he could love me.
Clark lets out a frustrated groan, barely done with the first button. His face is covered in sweat, his features drawn and he’s gulping in air, struggling for every breath.
My throat feels so tight. Tears fill my eyes and I can’t hold back a sob.
“You’re hurting, Clark. Let me get help,” I beg him.
“And how do you explain how I got this?” He points toward his chest. “Besides, what could a doctor possibly do? It’s just a bruise and possibly a few broken ribs. Painkillers don’t work for me. Don’t worry, Lois. I will heal, it just takes time. If you want to help me, button up this darn shirt.”
He really looks at me for the first time since this all happened. I can see the lines of pain around his eyes and mouth, a heavy dose of frustration, too. Frankly, I would understand if he'd never talk to me again.
I was stupid enough to assume that Lex wouldn't follow me, I believed that I’d already broken free, that I had realized in time what kind of a guy he was. I should have listened to Clark when he told me I should be more careful.
But I didn't listen.
And now Clark is hurt.
Tears stream down my face. I can't hold them back any longer. “I'm so sorry, Clark.”
His expression softens. “Hey, everything's going to be all right.”
He reaches out and covers my hand with his. His skin is hot and clammy with sweat and I flinch at the unexpected heat radiating off him. An awkward smile plays around his lips and he pulls his hand back.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I guess the fever I’m running is off the charts.” He shifts his position and winces. “I never meant for you to find out the truth about me like this. I thought that maybe I would tell you one day.”
There's a sincerity in his gaze that leaves little doubt he actually meant that and is not just trying to smother over the fact that he lied to me for an entire year. Considering my attitude toward him, I can understand why he didn't trust me with something this big. I don't think that many people know Superman’s true identity.
There are so many things I should tell him, so much I have to apologize for. But I have no clue where to begin. So instead I busy myself with the buttons of his shirt, carefully avoiding to touch his chest lest I cause him more pain.
I can't quite keep myself from asking, “Does that mean you did want me to know your secret one day?”
Once the words are out, I hold my breath. It's such a loaded question now and I'm not sure I'm actually ready to hear the answer.
He gives a slight shrug, as much as his bruised ribs would let him. “You are the first person I've ever wanted to tell. Guess, now we'll never know.”
The air rushes out of my lungs. Too true. We’ll never know. Because now, Clark is not going to believe my feelings for him are real.
Once I've closed the last button I pull back my hands. I blink, fighting the tears that still threaten to spill.
Suddenly, I feel his hand cupping my cheek. His thumb wipes away the tears that slipped past my lines of defense. Irritated by his gentle gesture, I stare at him, unable to believe that he would look at me with such warmth. This man truly loves me. How did I not see that? How could I mistake Lex's elaborate courting scheme for true affection?
Tears are streaming down my cheeks. It's impossible to keep them in.
“This is all a bit much, isn't it?” Clark says softly. “I'm so sorry, Lois. I should have told you more of what I knew about Luthor. As Superman, since you weren't ready to listen to Clark. Blurting out how I feel about you was a stupid move.”
He drops his hand and averts his eyes. It's certainly a mistake he's not going to make again. When all this is over, he's going to leave and try to rip these feelings out of his heart, I'm sure.
“You took a bullet for me, Clark. What on Earth would you need to apologize for?”
He purses his lips. “I told you, I will heal. Now, help me up. We don't want Luthor to find us here. If he learns that I’m not dead, he'll know I'm Superman.”
A rush of dizziness hits me as I think about the implications. Lex knowing the truth about Clark would be a catastrophe.
“Are you sure he doesn't know already? After all he had -”
“Kryptonite?” Clark supplies. “I think he brought that as a precaution to keep Superman from intervening. If he'd found out about my secret, well, I'm positive he wouldn't have kept that to himself.”
He holds out his hand and numbly I grab it. I put the other hand under the pit of his arm and help Clark stand up. It takes a few grunts and groans from the two of us. Once he stands, he sways precariously and steadies himself against me.
Suddenly, I find myself in his arms. Is it me keeping him from toppling over, or is it him keeping me from falling apart?
I inhale the soft scent of his aftershave, feel the soothing warmth of his embrace that's now only a tad warmer than usual.
I miss him so much.
What have I done?
