Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic From the Ruins (10/11)

from Part Nine:

I looked over at the window. Had Clark been to see me? There was no way for me to be sure, besides Martha probably had a better idea of that than I did and she wasn’t saying anything.

“Just you and Lucy,” I told her. “My boss called the hospital and said that he’d come and see me as soon as he found the time so he’ll probably turn up sometime today, possibly with Jimmy but there’s no-one else.”

“Not even your parents?” she asked, amazed.

“Not everyone’s lucky enough to have parents like you and Jonathan,” I said, then proceeded to tell her about my brilliant family life and why there was slim chance that either parent would care enough to come and visit me.

*.*.*.

Part Ten

*.*.*.

I was quite amazed at how tiring lying in bed all day could be, even after two days of it. Lucy and Martha had been to visit me every day since my admittance and Jonathan had come with his wife on one occasion. However visiting hours had long since passed and I had spent the evening working on the romance novel that I sporadically have the urge to write.

Now, however, I just wanted to sleep. If I gave myself time to heal and didn’t overdo it, I could be out of hospital and fully restored sooner rather than later. Taking things easy wasn’t something I found easy but I soon realised that it was easier than being cooped up in hospital. Which was why I was going to sleep at a time when I’d usually still be at work.

My eyes were close to shutting when someone burst loudly into my room. I groaned and focused in on the hideously bright Hawaiian shirt that was stood in front of me. For a second I just pondered the identity of the person I knew who’d willingly choose to wear a shirt like that. Then it hit me.

“Dan,” I greeted him, my voice croaky with near sleep.

“Hey, honey,” he returned, perching on the corner of my bed. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here but, well, I don’t want to bore you with the details of my work.”

“How could you? You never tell me anything about your work. I’m surprised you let me know you that you even work for the DEA. Isn’t it past visiting hours?”

Daniel laughed, which was annoying. I didn’t find it amusing that he refused to discuss anything more than the weather with me. “Well, yeah but I explained the circumstances. Come on, they weren’t going to stop me visiting my girlfriend, were they?”

Girlfriend? I was his girlfriend? Since when and where was I? I supposed technically I was, but I’d never felt like I was his girlfriend. I had certainly never thought of him as my boyfriend, the idea was just... almost laughable, actually.

“Oh, and, tada!” he exclaimed as showed me the bunch of flowers he’d bought, a riot of colour to rival the brightness of his shirt. The combination of the two actually hurt my eyes a little bit. I guess they had cost a lot, though; I doubted he’d just bought them from a gas station on his way into the hospital.

“Thanks,” I smiled, appreciating the gesture more than the flowers. “You didn’t have to.”

“Sure I did.”

He stood up and went to place them with my other bunches and like everyone else he took the time to read the notes that came with them. He smiled as he read the cheeky one Lucy had written then frowned at the note from ‘a friend’. Dan looked over and saw me watching him, so he gave me a watery smile, one that proved that he hadn’t liked what he had read.

“Should I be worried?” he asked, although he sounded as if he already was.

I yawned. “I doubt it. Unless they decide to let me know who they are and they happen to be Antonio Banderas, or Mel Gibson, or Brad Pitt or...”

“OK,” he laughed. “I get it. A secret admirer, and not a very thoughtful one at that. I mean, these flowers obviously cost nothing. He probably picked them from someone’s garden or a waste land.”

For a moment it looked like he was going to throw them out and replace them with his own but he finally decided to leave the flowers for someone else to deal with.

He returned to my bed and looked at me carefully. “I’m sorry, Lois, look at you. I haven’t asked how you’re feeling, or how you managed to get yourself hit by a car or anything. And you look like the only thing you need right now is sleep. How about I come back tomorrow and we can catch up better then, OK?”

I nodded at him as my eyelids drooped. I felt him kiss me lightly on the forehead then he murmured ‘goodnight’ and finally the sound of door closing behind him accompanied my journey into the land of sleep.

*.*.*.

He came again the next day as promised. He was actually really sweet and kind and I realised that he was a good distance towards falling in love with me. I couldn’t have that. I liked Dan, he was a good guy but it was all wrong. I didn’t, couldn’t, return his feelings. My heart had made its decision; it belonged to a certain superhero with whom I could never have a relationship. It wasn’t fair to Dan to let him think that there was any chance of him having a real relationship with me, so I broke up with him. I think it was amiable but I knew I’d never hear from Daniel Scardino again.

I wished him well and I hoped he’d find someone better for him that I would be. Although, that wouldn’t exactly narrow down his options much.

*.*.*.

I sighed with relief as I pushed open the door to my apartment, finding it hard to do with a crutch under my arm. The accumulated mail had been sprawled across my table along with a ‘welcome home’ bundle from a well-meaning person, someone who was probably called Martha Kent. She had at some point stolen my keys from me in order to make sure that my apartment wasn’t a complete state when I came out and that I could get around and look after myself while hobbling around on one leg.

There was, however, a letter that was sat just inside the door and obviously hadn’t made it to the table. I bitterly complained to the empty room as I tried to bend down to retrieve it, and with much grunting and adopting of very odd positions, I managed to pick it up.

It wasn’t post, or at least, it hadn’t come with the rest of the mail. It had been hand delivered and my name was scrawled across the envelope without my address to keep it company. I recognised the handwriting. It was from my ‘friend’. I glanced at the rest of my letters.

Bills.

Curiosity won over and me and my letter hobbled towards my couch, where I sat down then eagerly tore open the envelope to read it. It was from Clark.

‘Dear Lois,

I wrote this the day before your release from hospital. Mom’s been keeping me updated on your condition but I didn’t want to burden her with the responsibility of giving you this letter, so I’m going to give it to you after she’s tidied your apartment for you. If I’m brave enough, I’ll have handed this to you myself. If not, I guess I’ll just push it under your door or something.

I need to talk to you, to explain myself and my actions. The trouble is, I don’t think I can face to face. Let’s be honest, if we talk about our past we’re just going to end up arguing again. I figured this might be the best way for you listen to what I have to say.

I guess I ought to start this from the beginning. It was nearly three years ago now that I first met you. You came storming into my interview and I was lost. I’m not sure exactly when but I think that by the end of our investigation into the Messenger I had fallen in love with you. However, you had made it very clear what you thought of Clark Kent and yet at the same time you were infatuated with my alter-ego. The idea that you’d work out that he was really me had been in my head from day one. I can easily imagine you saw my relief on the colonists’ transport when you failed to recognise me after I ate the bomb, but even that never completely took away from my mind the fact that you were going to see past the disguise.

Of course, you did. And you did what any self-respecting journalist would do when faced with the story *everyone* wanted. You printed it. It hurt. It was always going to hurt, just as I was sure that someone would eventually work it out, even if it wasn’t you. The trouble was, it *was* you. I was in love with and yet you printed it anyway. I think that if I wasn’t or if it hadn’t been you, it wouldn’t have hurt me quite so much.

The irony, however, is that in a way Superman is as much your creation as mine. The idea came from you telling me to bring an extra change of clothes to work. You already know, of course, that it was you who named him Superman. Being Superman, this being that you co-created gave me the freedom to use my powers and still have a normal life, to be accepted even though I am a freak. Now everyone knows and although I have become a celebrity, something I never wanted to be, I don’t have to worry about people recognising me when I do something ‘super’. I spent most of the last five or so years before coming to Metropolis travelling because I couldn’t not help wherever I could, but equally I couldn’t let people connect me with those miracles. This life I am living now is still better than the constant fear I grew up with before Superman.

As for the rest, some of it you know from the last time we saw each other. Mainly how I felt about you. I cannot apologise enough for my behaviour. I should never have slept with you; that was a mistake. Unfortunately I can’t make myself regret it however hard I try. It was wrong and unfair on both of us, but being with you in that way is still the most magical thing I have ever experienced. I just wish we had made love. I wish that I could have let go of that hate and turned our passion into something beautiful, but you just brought out the best and worst in me and at exactly the same time.

You were right, I never forgave you. I hated myself for what I was doing to you and I resolved to keep away from you, so I pretended to forgive you to let us both carry on with our lives. I still think that it was the right decision, although I could have tried a little harder to actually forgive you.

I don’t know what you were like when I wasn’t around but I know that our relationship affected me enough for it to show. I know I was distracted a lot, thinking about you. My parents, obviously, noticed fairly quickly. The reason I often wanted to spend the night was because I was dreading returning home and seeing that knowing look on my mother’s face. It was like I walked around with a neon sign advertising the fact I’d just slept with you. Perhaps it wasn’t so strange that they noticed I had been seeing a woman in secret, it was the way that Mom knew it was you. All she did was look at my guilty face to work out that I’d been doing something I thought she wouldn’t approve of and from that it was apparently obvious that I’d been sleeping with you. Henderson and Mayson also noticed the changes and I think Henderson may have suspected our relationship. Mayson only knew that I wasn’t myself and wasn’t as interested in her as she was in me.

I suppose I owe you the truth about Mayson as well. I could tell you were interested in our relationship, I guess you were too scared of me to ask, though. I liked Mayson a lot and I considered her one of my precious few close friends. She was always a little bit funny about Superman, although she assured me that she didn’t mind that I wasn’t human. She just thought I ought to join the police and fight crime the proper way. Maybe I should, maybe she was right but I never wanted to be a cop. I just wanted to be a reporter. Mayson and I dated a little when we first met but it was obvious from the start it was never going to work. She was never my girlfriend. I grieved for her death as I would any friend of mine and I always knew it wasn’t your fault. I apologise for blaming you; that was low of me.

I also owe an apology to Scardino. I know I wasn’t very nice to him after seeing the two of you together. That was jealousy, pure and simple. I hated the fact that you were with another man. I’m sorry, once again but perhaps you are beginning to understand why being near you was such a problem for me.

I wasn’t angry with you for coming over for dinner that night, or not that much anyway. It was Mom that I was annoyed with that night. She won’t admit it but for some rather strange reason I think she was trying to play matchmaker between us. For that, I have no explanation! As for the rest of the night... Perhaps I should pick up with what happened after you ran off.

I never meant to upset you. I think I was attempting to say what is written in the first part of the letter but I can barely remember now. I listened to you as you left, the beating of your heart and your sobbing. My heart stopped when I heard the car. I’d never changed into Superman as quickly as I did then. One minute I was lying naked in my bed, less than a split-second later I was dressed and by your side. I didn’t want to leave you at the hospital but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t risk someone noticing anything between us, so I left. I went to my parents, utterly distraught. It’s ironic, I guess, that I had just told you that I wanted to be able to either love you or hate you but I couldn’t let either of them go. The instant I heard the squeal of the breaks and the metal crashing into your body, I stopped hating you. The idea of losing you forever, of never being able to see you again, even from a distance, it scared me witless.

I did come to see you. I don’t think you realised it was real, although you did acknowledge my presence. You were asleep, even in those brief moments in which you woke up you seemed to be sleeping, so I don’t even know if you remember it but you told me you loved me. Those words meant everything to me. I don’t know if you meant them or not, or even if you knew it was me who was holding you but I want to thank you for them anyway.

Mom kept coming to see you for my peace of mind. I couldn’t show any more interest in you than anyone else, that would have brought the media swarming. But please don’t think that’s the only reason she went, I know that she’s fond of you and would have gone to visit you without my prodding. I just need you to know how much I wanted to be at your side through all this.

Which brings us to the present. I think by now you have probably worked out what I feel for you, I’m certain that it’s fairly obvious but I’ll write it out properly anyway. I’m in love with you, Lois. I’ve forgiven you for writing the article, honestly this time! It may always be a sore point and it’s never going to be something we can ignore but I’m sure we can work around it. That sounds a little presumptuous, I know. I’m not assuming anything.

However, I *do* want to be with you, properly. As childish as this probably sounds, I want you to be my girlfriend. I love you and I want the world to know it. Literally. Again, I have no wish to sound as if I’m getting ahead of myself but I don’t want to hide any relationship we may enter into. The curse of our actions, I’m afraid, is that if you want to be with me you would have to accept the fame of being Superman’s girlfriend. There is no way around it; I think we have already proved that keeping a relationship secret is not something we could easily handle.

However true that is, it doesn’t matter if you don’t feel the same. All I would add is that if you don’t feel the same way or cannot accept what it would mean to be with me, then I hope we can still become friends. I will not pressure you for a decision. When you have made your mind up I know that you will be able to contact me, even if you decide to do it in the same cowardly fashion as I did.

Love,
Clark.’

*.*.*.

I read the letter at least five times that night to make sure I had read what I thought I had read. He loved me? Why? How could a man as wonderful as Clark possibly be in love with a horrible hardhearted woman such as myself? It made no sense at all.

I kept dwelling on it over and over again. Although I had made it out of the hospital, Perry was still adamant that I shouldn’t go into work, so I was left with nothing to do but watch daytime TV and ponder Clark’s letter. I spent three days cooped up in my apartment thinking everything through.

This was a big decision. I couldn’t help but curse myself once more for writing that damned article. I knew that if no-one knew that Clark was Superman then I wouldn’t have needed to think about it, there would have been no consequences and I wouldn’t have had anything to have to think over.

I loved him, I knew it.

And he apparently loved me, or at least he thought he did. There shouldn’t have been any more to it than that. The question was: did I love him enough to be known world-wide as Superman’s girlfriend? Was the prize of success worth the risk that our relationship could crash and burn, all of it in the public eye? On the third evening, after visualising various scenarios in my head, I came to my final decision.

*.*.*.

I knew that Clark was going to be at the opening of a new children’s home that was being partially funded by the Superman Foundation. So that’s where I went.

The grand opening was to take place at midday and so just before twelve I was hobbling through the crowds that had gathered outside the building, mainly so that they could see Superman I was sure. Of course getting to him was going to be a problem, there were countless more able-bodied people than I and I suspected that there would be security around Clark as well, whether he had asked for it or not. I may have been better off going to his house now that I knew where it was, but at least this way I could avoid him if I lost my nerve in the end.

Noticing that the press were in a separate area, slightly nearer the entrance and therefore slightly nearer Superman, I made my way to join them just as Clark flew down to the podium to make his speech to the assembled crowd.

“Hey, Lois,” an annoyed voice hissed at me. I looked over to the speaker, who was making his way towards me. It was Ralph. “Perry sent *me* to cover this story. I thought you were still on sick leave.”

I glared at him and I noticed him shrink back slightly from my wrath. “I’m bored and very capable of working. It’s just stealthy investigative stuff I can’t do on crutches, not openings. And Perry didn’t send me, I came. Oh, and I’m fine, thanks for all your concern.”

Ralph didn’t seem to care in the least that he’d neglected to ask after my health or anything else for that matter. “Well, this is just great. Superman’s never going to answer any of my questions if he sees me standing with *you*. If I get fired it’ll be *your* fault.”

I snorted but otherwise ignored Ralph’s complaints. If he got fired it was because of the quality of his work, not because I’d appeared. Besides, it had been his choice to stand with me, it certainly hadn’t been mine. I glanced over at Clark, who quickly turned his attention to the rest of the crowd but not before I caught a glint of anger in his eyes. If he’d been listening in on my conversation with Ralph, he obviously hadn’t liked what he’d heard.

Or maybe the flowers and the letter hadn’t been from him and he wasn’t happy to see me. That was it. Someone, possibly even Ralph, had been playing a cruel prank on me. Maybe I shouldn’t have been there at all. My feet suddenly itched to be gone, to be walking away as fast as my crutch could carry me but instead I stood my ground. This was going to get sorted out, one way or another. And if Ralph had been playing a sick joke on me... My eyes narrowed unconsciously at the unfinished thought.

There was a sudden applause and I realised that Clark’s speech was over. I hadn’t listened to any of it; I had been too busy trying to find the courage just to be there.

“Any questions?” he asked, his eyes sweeping across the assembled reporters, neither lingering on me nor avoiding me. Totally inscrutable.

Ralph’s hand shot up, as did most of the hands of the people around me. Clark picked reporters one by one and answered their questions but he steadily ignored Ralph, even when he did his impression of an eager child trying to impress a teacher by jumping up and down to try and make his arm that little bit higher than those around it. The reporter cursed under his breath, yet I caught a glimpse of a slight smirk on Clark’s face. He was doing it on purpose, was he? I glanced at Ralph’s notebook. His questions weren’t really worth asking anyway, especially some of the ones further down the list which looked like they belonged in the sort of magazine that was only purchased by adolescent boys, not in a paper like the Planet and certainly not for an article on a children’s home.

As Clark finished answering a question of a reporter for the Star, I tentatively raised my hand, purely to test my theory that Clark was ignoring Ralph because he’d overheard our conversation. Ralph glared at my action.

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” Clark acknowledged me with what was almost a cheeky grin, certainly a look I associated more with Clark than with Superman.

There was a huge sense of amazement in the crowd, especially from Ralph, although his proximity to me did make him an easier study. “Why is the Superman Foundation only partially funding this home?” It wasn’t the greatest question in the world, mainly due to my lack of research on this story and lack of focus on Clark’s speech, although it was certainly a better question than anything Ralph would have asked if he’d had the chance.

“While the Superman Foundation at the moment has the ability to fully finance this home, we do not wish to make it fully dependent upon one income source. At the moment the rest of the money is coming from private sources, although we would like to get more local businesses to help us and make this a real community project.”

More questions followed, but Ralph got to ask none. The session soon drew to a close and I knew I had to make my move before Clark flew off.

He had followed some important-looking people in suits behind a barrier to sign some documents and I followed on behind, although keeping a rather large gap between us, one not entirely due to my current speed. They were hidden behind a wall when they stopped, although I could just about see them from my position.

The suits left and I watched as Clark leant against a wall and sighed, then his head turned to look at something behind me. “Let her through, she’s allowed.”

I jumped a little as I noticed the security guard that had crept up behind me and decided that my best option was to quickly hobble through the barrier to Clark. He still hadn’t really acknowledged my presence, except to answer my question and stop me from being manhandled by a man with muscles bulging out of his T-shirt. I still wasn’t sure that the letter had been from him, but if things were still as we’d left them before my accident, I was fairly certain that Clark wouldn’t have let me through.

I opened my mouth to speak but I couldn’t think of how to say what I wanted to say. He must have heard my intake of breath, though, because he was looking at me expectantly, if a little anxiously.

“Yes,” was the most coherent thing I could think of to say to him.

“Yes?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” I smiled at him, trying to look more sure and confident than I felt, willing him to understand without me having to say anything else. I still couldn’t think of anything else *to* say.

Clark’s eyes flickered behind me and a quick glance in the same direction showed me that a few members of the press were watching us, although the guard wasn’t letting them even up to the barrier. I had either caught him off guard or he hadn’t considered a woman on crutches that big a threat to Superman.

“What are you saying yes to?”

“Yes, I...” I faulted, feeling suddenly foolish. What if the letter *had* been a prank, only played by him instead of Ralph? What if Clark had said it only for me to do something stupid for the whole world to witness as a way of getting back at me? There was no way *that* could even us out.

I couldn’t say what I was agreeing to, I just could not find the words to tell him but those deep chocolaty-brown eyes were begging me for an answer, even as his lips smiled at me in amusement at my current state of silence.

“This,” I said, then took his head between my hands and brought his lips to mine. He was still for a moment and I started to think that my prank theory had been correct, then his lips began to move against mine. I was aware of the flashes of cameras as our mouths opened to allow our tongues to dance together but I really didn’t care at all.

Clark moaned and pushed away from me. I licked my lips self-consciously as I looked at him quizzically, wondering why he had stopped.

“I have to go,” he said, his voice thick and husky. “There’s a fire and some people are trapped--”

“Then why are you standing here?” I exclaimed; the kiss seemed to have reinstated my never-ending flow of words that some people occasionally mistook for babbling. “You wrote that I had to accept what it means to be with you. That’s not just dealing with them out there; it’s knowing that you’re going to have to stop kissing me to fly off and save the day. It’s annoying, but you can come back. Others won’t be able to return to their loved ones if you don’t go.”

His hand briefly touched my cheek in gratitude. He smiled at me with pure love in his eyes. “I will come back. Or at least, I’ll find you when I’ve finished. You don’t have to hang around here waiting for me. I...” he suddenly looked extremely shy for a man who was wearing such a loud and tight-fitting outfit. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go,” I commanded and with that he was gone. I just stood there, staring at the patch of sky where I’d last seen him, dimly aware that I had a sappy grin on my face and finding it hard to care.

I heard movement beside me and turned my head to see Henderson walking towards me. I wasn’t even aware that he’d been at the opening and was finding it difficult to work out the rationale behind his presence, but it didn’t alter the fact that he was now stood in front of me.

The Inspector looked at me for a moment, his silence and blank expression giving me no clues as to what he thought about what had just transpired between me and Clark. Then he finally he spoke and there was something like approval in his voice. “You know something I’ve just found out about you, Lane? You’ve got a beautiful smile.”

To Be Continued...