For any of you still reading this – thanks for being patient with me! I'm sorry – I know this chapter has a sort of awkward ending, but I couldn't find a clean break and you'd be waiting another week for me to finish the thread I'm writing now…
Clark exited Lois' bedroom four hours later wearing a tee shirt and sweatpants his mother must have brought and left for him in Lois' room. Seeing his mother and Lois on Lois' pullout couch, he walked past them quietly into the kitchen. He tried floating to make less noise, but he had depleted what little energy he had left flying here and his powers were still weak. He had managed to get a few inches off the ground, but immediately crashed back down.
Turning on the tap, he filled a glass of water and then tiptoed back to Lois' room.
A moment later, Lois came in, whispering, “Clark? Are you still awake?”
“I'm awake, Lois,” he stated as he leaned over to turn on the light. He was sitting up leaning against the headboard, and Lois came over to sit on the edge of the bed.
Taking him in, she fought the urge to smile. She had been too worried about him to think about it earlier, but she had not seen him in regular clothes since the day at the club when he was shot. He always came over in his Superman suit. She had forgotten how good he looked in a t-shirt.
For a moment she was transported back in time and she and Clark could have been on his couch. She felt warm and safe. But then she glanced around and remembered where they were. The hurt of learning he was not dead came to her in a rush and she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms.
“Are you okay?” he asked her, looking concerned.
Lois ignored the question, not wanting to deal with the emotions. “Are you feeling better?” she asked.
He nodded. “Definitely. Not "super' yet, though.”
“Huh?”
“I was pretty weak when I came back. I don't have much of my powers left right now. But they should be back soon.” Lois nodded before Clark asked, “Why is my mom here?” he asked.
“She came to talk to me. Do you want to talk about the earthquake?” Lois asked, not wanting to talk about the discussion she had had with Martha just yet.
“I guess. What do you want to know?”
“How bad was it? How many people were injured? Died?” Lois asked as she leaned next to Clark to grab a notebook and pen she kept on her nightstand. “How did the kryptonite get there? Has that ever happened before?”
Clark laughed. It almost felt like old times. “One question at a time, Lois.”
Lois smiled back. “Okay. Let's do the earthquake first. It's the easier one to deal with. How bad was it?”
“I haven't heard the news reports, but it was bad, I would estimate an 8 on the Richter scale,” his tonality changing completely from a moment ago. All the lightness that had been present was now eclipsed by a solemnity that was immediately apparent in his voice.
“Yeah, LNN reported it was a 7.8,” Lois supplied. “But they said the area was not heavily populated.
“No, it wasn't. Just a few villages, maybe 300 people tops were in the affected area,” Clark replied, his voice still devoid of any emotion.
“And?” Lois encouraged him, hearing by his voice that there was more to this.
“No one…” Clark paused for a moment, his voice hoarse. “No one survived,” he finished, a sob in his voice.
Lois looked surprised, but Clark did not embellish.
“Clark?” she prodded, her voice soft.
“I kept thinking that if I kept looking, I'd find survivors. But I pulled up body after body, all dead,” his voice had faded to just over a whisper, anguish in his voice.
“It's not your fault,” Lois said, not even sure why.
He turned to look at her, his eyes clear, and stated with perfect clarity, “Of course it's my fault. I should have gotten there sooner, even a minute earlier and I might have saved some lives,” his voice was firm now.
“But you can't be everywhere at once,” Lois reminded him.
“But…” Clark paused, trying to find the words to describe what he was thinking, “Why not? What's the point of being Superman full time if I couldn't save them?”
Responding without thinking again, Lois said, “This can't be the first time. I mean since you became Superman full time, this can't be the first time someone died.”
“No,” he answered, his tone quiet and resigned again, “No, it's not.”
“But then you must have found a way to be at peace with this,” Lois supplied.
Clark shook his head, before saying, “Would you? If your sole purpose for being alive, your job, all you were good for was helping people? Would you find a way to be at peace with your failure?” He paused for the briefest of seconds, continuing before she could answer him. “No, you wouldn't, Lois. That's not who you are.”
She nodded, acknowledging the truth of the statement before going over his words carefully and remembering. “That's not the only reason you're alive, Clark. It's not all you are good for.”
“Really?” he answered, just the slightest trace of bitterness in his voice. “What else can I do? Besides help my folks around the farm, I mean. And even that I only do at night and small things. No one can see work happening at the farm at super-speed.”
Lois suddenly remembered something Martha had said last night. I know you think the whole thing is a fallacy, but the truth is, Lois, Clark Kent died that day, regardless of whether the body that held Clark Kent did. She had dismissed it at the time, but now she acknowledged that it was not just a fine distinction. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Clark was staring out the window, and Lois took the time to look at him. Really look at him, in a way she had not since the night she realized who he was.
He was lonely. This should not have been a revelation to her. Of course, he was lonely. But somehow she had been so caught up in how awful this whole ordeal was for her, she had not thought too much about Clark. Martha was right – she had sort of thought the whole “Clark is dead” thing was a fallacy. Without too much thought, she had sort of imagined Clark living the same life as before, just on the farm.
But of course, that's not the life he led. He had no companionship, save his parents. No one he could talk to. This was almost laughable given how starved the press was to hear sound bites from him. But, she reminded herself, they wanted sound bites from Superman, not Clark. And for the first time since she realized that they were the same man, she realized that they were not really one and the same. And suddenly, while Lois knew she could not forgive Clark for what he did to her, she wanted to put aside her anger for a few minutes so she could understand how they had gotten to this point.
Not sure exactly what to say, she put her notebook away and placed a hand on his arm. “Tell me,” she said quietly.
Clark glanced at her quizzically before she clarified, “Tell me about the night that you died.”
Clark looked at her for a moment before he looked away. Whispering, he asked, “How can it matter?”
“It matters to me, Clark,” she assured him.
“Nothing that happens is going to make it better, Lois. Nothing is going to change what I did to you. I'm sorry, Lois. I'm so sorry. But I don't think hearing what happened is going to help. It's not going to justify my actions. There is no justification.”
Lois looked at him closely. His head was bowed over her bed and she could hear the tears in his voice. But he did not get it. This was not about justifying his actions – she knew he could not do that. It was about understanding what it was like for him. He had been watching over her all this time, but she had little idea of what he had been doing aside from what made the news and what Martha had told her earlier this evening.
“I need to hear it from you, Clark. Please,” Lois whispered.
Clark nodded, “Thank you. Thank you for wanting to hear me out,” he spoke as quietly as she.
He paused for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I was so selfish.” He stopped again, staring out the window as if the words he was looking for were out there.
Lois tightened her hand on his arm. Clark took a deep breath and started again.
“I was so selfish. I thought about you a lot, but I thought about how much I'd miss you. How I needed to find a way to get back to you. But I didn't think about how you were feeling very much. I thought,…I guess I thought you wouldn't miss me very much and you'd get over it.
“It seems silly to me now given that one of my clearest memories was of you screaming when I was shot. But I still thought… I thought it was shock. And it wasn't like I thought you didn't care about me. I just… I just didn't think you cared all that much,” he paused for a moment while he stared out the window, but Lois did not say anything, not wanting to interrupt him.
“I spent a lot of time trying to find ways to save Clark. I thought of claiming I was wearing a bullet proof vest, but then I realized you would ask to see it and I didn't have one. I thought of pretending Superman had found my body and performed Hamilton's processes on them, but then I was afraid Hamilton would say no and I felt Superman couldn't get the papers without his approval.”
“So, I did nothing for a few hours, just sat and wallowed. But then, when Perry called my folks the next day and told them about you…” Clark paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I was going to see you, Lois. I was going to tell you,” he looked at her then, his eyes glistening with tears.
“So, I took off for Metropolis. I felt so guilty for not having checked on you. For making you suffer needlessly. But just before I took off, an old friend from high school showed up. She knew enough about me, that even though we hadn't seen each other since shortly after college, she knew I was Superman. So, when she heard the news that Clark Kent had died, she knew she'd find me at home.
“I told her I had an errand to run and asked her to wait for me. But she was impatient.” A ghost of a smile crossed Clark's face. “She's like you like that. Anyway, I told her I had to go, that it was important and she asked me why. So I told her.”
Clark paused, and while Lois was not sure why, she asked, “What did you say?”
Clark's hand moved to cup her cheek softly before falling back to the bed. “I told her that I needed to tell you I was okay. That you were hurting. That I … that I loved you. That I owed it to you to let you know I wasn't really dead,” Clark paused, and again looked out the window.
“Lana was helpful. I know my mom doesn't think so, I know part of my mother dislikes Lana, but Lana has always had the ability of bringing reality into my thinking, of reminding me of my limitations. And she doesn't do it hurtfully.
“She reminded me that hearing that I was alive wouldn't actually make you feel better, that with Clark Kent dead, I couldn't really offer you any kind of friendship, any kind of life. It was just cruel to tell you that I hadn't really died only to remind you that nothing of our old relationship could continue.”
Lois couldn't get over how different this was than the story Martha had told; Clark had no bitterness, no anger, not even any melancholy. Martha was right, Clark had internalized the lesson Lana and Becky had taught him, so why would he be angry at Lana for reminding him of it?
“I sat around for a few more hours after that, feeling sorry for myself some more, before my dad lectured me on wallowing. So I went back to Metropolis to try to help you finish the case. And I thought… for one stupid, foolish moment, I thought I'd try to… I don't know, I guess be your friend as Superman.
“I think, some small part of me thought that if I could regain that part of my old life back, that maybe, if we could be friends when I was Superman, I could tell you who I was, and I wouldn't be so… dead, I guess. And then you would know, so it wouldn't hurt, and yet, it wouldn't matter that I couldn't offer you anything else as you wouldn't expect it from Superman. It didn't seem stupid when I thought of it. I mean, you had wanted Superman before. You'd been friends with him before.
“But of course, it was. When I came to see you, you weren't interested in having me there.” Clark caught sight of Lois' face, saw all the shock and guilt there and hastened to reassure her. “I'm not blaming you, Lois. You didn't do anything wrong. I was being stupid. Of course, Superman was the last person you wanted to see. I should have realized that. I should have been more sensitive to how you were feeling.” He paused for a moment, before he said, “I should have found a way around that. There must have been a way to tell you without burdening you with having to accept me as Superman and not making you have to deal with seeing Superman when it was clearly painful for you. I don't know how, but there must have been a way. I should have told you. I should have…”
“Yes, you should have,” Lois replied, but her voice was soft and not accusatory.
“I'm sorry,” Clark said, his voice sincere, his hand covering hers.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Clark said again, “I'm sorry. I wish I could have found a way to be there for you.”
Lois said nothing at first, not sure what the correct response was and then whispered, “So do I.”
Clark stared out the window for a moment before looking at Lois earnestly. “What about you?” Lois looked at him quizzically, and so he clarified. “What happened to you that night?”
Lois smiled at him slightly, “Weren't you watching?”
Clark shook his head, “Not at first and then even when I was watching you I could see that you were suffering, but I didn't really get what was going on. I mean how did you end up here? I feel like I watched your life change dramatically with no idea why.”
Lois sighed. It had been a long time since she had thought of that night. Even when talking to Martha, she had ignored it.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Clark's arm came in front of her to push Dillinger's hand off her shoulder. Dillinger reached out to shove Clark, but then Clark moved in front of her. There was a loud cracking sound and Clark's face contorted in horror. He looked faint and without really understanding what was happening, Lois grabbed his shoulders to hold him up. But he kept falling backwards and Lois could not hold him any longer. He slipped out of her grip and fell to the floor.
Almost as if they were tied together, Lois felt herself falling toward him as she started to cry out.
Clark's eyes closed and there was commotion around her. She could barely hear anything at all as she watched Clark's face, hoping his eyes would open again. Someone dragged Clark's body away and Lois felt hopeless. She called out to him repeatedly, but he never looked up.
She was not even aware that she was still repeating his name until she felt the hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she asked, “Clark?”
The older woman who had taken Lois' quarters looked at her with sympathy in her eyes. “Are you alright?” she asked.
Lois nodded her head, although she was not sure if the answer she was miming was yes or no. The woman dropped the bucket of quarters next to her and walked away.
Lois sat there for a few more minutes before someone else placed a hand on her arm. It was not until she turned him that she realized she was crying, the tears in her eyes making it difficult to see.
“Lois?” the voice asked quietly.
“Clark?” she asked. The hand on her arm tightened and Lois' vision cleared slightly. “Henderson,” she said dejectedly.
She could see Detective Henderson about to make some crack about her seeming excited to see him, but then glanced around. “What happened, Lois? Where's Kent?”
Lois just looked at him blankly. “Where's Clark?” she replied.
“Right,” Henderson said looking at her quizzically and wondering why she was repeating his question. “Where's your partner?”
Lois continued to stare at him, not saying anything, but then someone else appeared next to her. A woman, just a few years older than Lois spoke softly. “The guy who was shot was here with her.”
Henderson's eyes widened. “Kent?” he asked, but the woman shrugged. He turned to Lois. “Lois,” he said, his voice firm, “Was Clark shot?”
Lois did not reply, but started crying again. “Clark!” she wailed. She calmed down for a moment when she felt Clark's arms come around her, but then somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she realized it was Henderson's arms that had enfolded her in their grasp and her crying started anew.
“I don't know how I got home,” Lois said, now staring out the window herself. “There's at least an entire hour of that night that I have no recollection of.”
“My next clear memory is of sitting on the coach in my apartment. I've always assumed that Henderson got me there, but I'm not really sure. And most of that night was the same. I was so upset. I couldn't eat, I couldn't think. I don't even think I could tell you why I was so upset. Actually, I know I couldn't because I remember being angry at you. At some point, I had the realization that maybe I shouldn't be alone. So, I got up and called you. I called you over and over, but you never answered your phone. I could not understand how you could have left me alone when I was so upset and I was so angry at you for not answering my phone calls.
“I don't think I really understood what had happened until I woke up the next morning.”
Lois opened her eyes slowly. They felt gritty and it took a bit more force than normal to open them. She took in her surroundings quizzically. She was in her living room. How had she fallen asleep on the floor? Lois gave a small chuckle, trying to recall what she had eaten the night before.
Sitting up, she took a look around and noticed that the phone was off the hook and realized it was the beeping sound emanating from handset that had woken her up. She leaned over to hang it up, still perplexed. Had she gotten drunk last night?
She pushed herself off the floor and turned on LNN as she headed into the shower to get ready for work. She was pulling clothes out of her closet when she heard the reporter mention Georgie Hairdo's nightclub. Something in her chest tightened and she moved to the living room slowly.
“The evening ended in tragedy,” the reporter said into the camera, “when twenty-six year old Clark Kent was shot and dragged from the club.” A picture of Clark flashed across the screen and Lois' knees gave way beneath her. She landed with a thump on the floor.
“Somehow in the morning, it was easier to accept. I was shocked at the newscast, but I believed it.” A tear fell down her cheek, but she looked resigned, rather than sad.
Clark leaned over to place his hand on top of hers. Lois turned her hand over to clasp his in her grasp.
“I was on autopilot for the next several days. I went to work and did my job, but my only motivation was to finish them all off, to avenge your death. Once that was done, I had no energy left for anything else.”
Lois looked around her room some more before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I felt so guilty for forcing you into that club,”
“It's not…” Clark tried to cut in, but Lois shook her head impatiently.
“I know it's not my fault, but it's how I felt. Like… like I had killed you,” Lois' voice was soft and she looked down at their clasped hands for a moment before she stood up, yanking her hand from his, “But of course, I hadn't. You weren't even dead.”
Clark said nothing, but she could see the shame in the slump of his shoulders, and see the apology in his eyes before he spoke, “Lois, I'm so…”
“I know,” Lois cut him off. “I know you're sorry, but it's not enough. You can't know what it felt like to live with the knowledge that I had killed you. Ten years. Ten years, Clark! How could you let me think that for ten years!” Lois burst into angry tears realizing again that she would never be able to forgive him.
