From Part 12 ...
When Lois woke the next morning, Clark was already dressed. “Good morning,” she said, a little sleepily.
“We should get back to work,” Clark said, continuing to tidy the room as he spoke. “I haven’t been there all week; you’ve missed a couple of days. Perry’ll be wondering where we are.”
Lois sat up in the bed, trying to get a better look at him. “Are you well enough?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Have a shower. I’ll make us breakfast.”
Part 13
Three weeks later, Lois waited at the Metropolis airport for their flight.
It was delayed. So they waited. And waited.
It was Friday morning – the eve of her wedding.
Sarah Crawford and Lucy were flying with her and Clark to Smallville, via Wichita. Perry, Jimmy and Uncle Mike would fly out tomorrow.
Their engagement had been announced. Perry had organised a hasty engagement party for them. Uncle Mike had provided the food.
Their wedding had been planned. Martha had done the bulk of it. With Lois and Clark needing to fly to Smallville the conventional way, their input had been limited to one visit and multiple phone conversations.
But now, everything was ready – church, catering, the hall for the reception, clothes, rings, flowers.
Everything was ready.
Except her – the bride.
Lois didn’t feel ready at all.
She glanced to Clark. He caught her glance and smiled at her.
Smiled.
But didn’t smile.
Smiled like he’d had to remind himself – I should smile now.
Not like it came from his heart. Not like he was so happy he couldn’t do anything *but* smile.
Lois sighed.
Nothing had been the same since the warehouse.
There had been brief moments – in the otherworld ambience of the cottage – where she had seen glimpses of Clark ... moments of familiarity in a situation overwhelmingly foreign to both of them.
Then had come the nightmare.
The nightmare Clark still refused to acknowledge.
But Lois could not forget his scream.
A scream so full of terror, it continually jammed her mind with images of what could have fuelled that dream.
They’d left the cottage and returned to their separate apartments. An hour later, they’d met at the Planet.
And life had gone on.
But as the wedding had moved inexorably closer, Clark had slipped further away.
Some things were the same – *appeared* to be the same.
He still plied her with his sweet gallantry; was always there to help her with her coat, to open doors, to bring her coffee.
But every time he brought coffee, she felt him silently apologise that there was no chocolate croissant from Paris.
He worked with her, doing his share – more than his share, trying, she supposed, to compensate for his lack of super-speed.
He had so much to adjust to – so many daily tasks he had to relearn – and all taking longer than they used to.
He looked exhausted. He ran late. He arrived flustered.
She’d tried to tell him she didn’t mind covering for him while he found his feet. His reply had been brusque and to the point. If he couldn’t pull his weight, he’d resign.
Most mornings, his face carried a new nick from shaving. It healed by mid-morning and disappeared completely by lunchtime, but Lois’s heart cried for him every time.
On one occasion, they had got into a situation ... the object of their investigations had pulled a gun on them. Without hesitation, Clark had stood in front of her. Protected her. The police had come; the danger had passed.
But later, she’d found Clark in the stairwell at the Planet, his head low, his breaths coming short and quick, his heart galloping.
She knew he dreaded the day when his human strength would not be enough.
And then there were the emergencies ...
The times when Superman’s strength could have saved lives or prevented injury.
And Clark had to watch ... helpless.
More than once, she’d seen him reach for the knot of his tie as he turned purposefully away. Then, his shoulders would slump and he’d turn back.
The look of absolute despair on his face hacked at her heart.
The warehouse, and whatever had happened there, remained taboo. Secretly, Lois was relieved to be spared the details. But she would have listened gladly, if sharing it could have lifted the haunted look from Clark’s face – the look he tried so desperately to keep hidden.
The subject of his powers – or lack of them – was also taboo. She’d concluded he was grieving – not unlike how she had grieved ... still grieved ... for her parents.
She believed his powers would return, believed they were so much a part of him, the effects of the kryptonite could only be transient. He’d accepted his powers had gone forever. It was a sore point they had both learned to avoid.
Lois looked at Clark again. He ‘smiled’ again.
So why was she here? Flying to Smallville? Intending to marry him in less than thirty hours?
Because she loved him.
And wanted to be with him.
But she was sure he doubted her commitment.
He acted like a man waiting for the certain collapse of his world.
He’d offered – more than once – to postpone the wedding. He’d told her – more than once – that he understood if she was having second thoughts. Things had changed.
Things had changed. He said it over and over.
Things had changed.
Meaning he didn’t have powers.
But some things hadn’t changed.
Her love for him.
And, she hoped, his love for her.
So she was going to marry him.
And hope that somehow, marriage, and all that went with it, would bring back her Clark.
Because Lois missed him.
Missed him desperately.
+-+-+-+
They finally touched down at Smallville airport – more than an hour late, having missed the connection from Wichita. Martha and Jonathan were there to meet them.
Lois directed herself, Lucy and Sarah to travel in the car with Martha, leaving Clark to get into the truck with Jonathan. Maybe time alone with his father was exactly what Clark needed.
Martha had prepared a wonderful lunch for them. They ate.
Clark seemed relaxed, happy even.
Lois knew he was neither.
And knew too, that Martha wasn’t fooled for one moment.
After lunch, Lois excused herself and wandered to the barn.
She needed time alone – actually she needed time with Clark, time to talk ... really talk. But she had tried over and over again to talk with him and every time ... he’d shut down. Shut her out.
Patience and tolerance – never her strengths – had been required by the truck-load. She'd managed, mostly, to keep her voice even and her words encouraging.
But now, she had nothing left to give. She felt like a dried-up sponge left too long in the blazing sun.
She needed Clark.
Lois drifted between the stalls in the barn, remembering when she had been here with Jonathan, as the cow had given birth to her twin calves.
It was three months ago – yet it seemed like half-a-lifetime. She’d just lost her parents, hadn’t known Clark was Superman and was beginning to realise the depth of her love for the man from Smallville.
Now, there *was* no Superman, no powers and she wanted her parents back – more so than ever in the past three weeks.
And the man she loved was ...
Lois heard a sound behind her and turned.
It was Clark.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
She waited ... and determined she was going to wait. Wait until he spoke. He’d come looking for her ... let him do the talking.
Every time she’d tried to initiate communication with him, he’d given her nothing but empty assurances.
So, this time, she would wait.
“Lois,” he said, full of uncertainty.
Right then, Lois hated Trask; hated him with a passion that rocked her with its intensity. Hated him for what he had done to Clark, for what he had stolen – not just Clark’s powers, but Clark himself. “Yes, Clark,” she said, devoid of expression.
“Do you want to do this?”
“Do I want to do what?” she replied, her voice dangerously calm. “Do I want to look at your animals? Do I want to talk to you in the barn? Or ... do I want to marry you?”
He looked upwards, grimacing. “Do you want to marry me?”
She stepped closer to him. “Yes,” she insisted.
“I’m not sure anymore,” he said, so low, she barely heard it.
“Not sure of what?”
“Of us.”
“Why?”
“Because we’ve drifted so far apart.”
*She* hadn’t drifted anywhere. “And why do you think that’s happened?” she said, trying to keep the censure from her tone.
“I’m not sure what you want anymore,” he said.
Something in Lois snapped, shattering the mould of compassion and understanding she had lived within since the warehouse. She glared at him. “Clark!” she fumed. “Do you *ever* listen to me? Do you ever believe *anything* I say?”
“Of ... of course,” he stammered.
“No, you don’t.” She advanced, eyeballing him. “I *told* you your powers weren’t why I loved you, but you wouldn’t believe me. When your powers left, you decided my love left too – even though I *told* you that wasn’t the case. I *told* you I wanted to marry you, but you preferred to listen to your own stupid doubts rather than believe me. I *told* you I would be here tomorrow, ready to marry you, yet you stand here and tell me you don’t know what I want.”
She stopped, breathless.
Clark looked dumbstruck ... but only for a second. “You won’t accept that things have changed, Lois,” he said, his voice rising. “You have this fairy tale belief that my powers will come back, that everything will return to how it was. How can you even think about marrying me when you won’t accept the reality of who I am now?”
“How can you even think about questioning *my* grip on reality?” she screamed. “*You* won’t accept reality, Clark. *You* won’t accept what I tell you. *You* won’t accept the reality of my love for you.” Each ‘you’ was delivered with an accompanying poke to his chest. “Ever since the warehouse, you have acted like you are looking for a way out of this.”
“Don’t be so ridiculous, Lois.”
Never before had Clark spoken to her so harshly. So coldly. It shook her. Frightened her. Combusted her anger. “You’re right, Clark,” she seethed. “Things * have* changed. And it has *nothing* to do with your powers and *everything* to do with you.”
With that, she turned and stormed out of the barn.
+-+-+-+
Clark stared after her.
Shaking.
Wishing he could take back the last few minutes.
Actually, wishing he could take back the last few weeks.
He slumped against the stall, hands in his pockets, head down, staring at the floor - seeing nothing but Lois’s fury.
Knowing it was justified.
Sure there was no way back.
+-+-+-+
When Lois entered the Kent kitchen, every eye looked up at her. Every face had questions. Every head turned to see if Clark was following behind her.
“Thanks for a wonderful lunch, Martha,” Lois said, her voice tight. “I think we’ll go and settle into our hotel rooms.”
Sarah and Lucy stood.
Jonathan handed them the car keys.
Lois thanked him with a strained hug.
And the three of them walked out.
+-+-+-+
Clark was still staring at the hay-strewn floor when his mother walked into the barn.
“You don’t look like a man who’s about to marry the love of his life,” Martha commented.
Clark forced a smile.
Which was dumb because this was his mother.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “And don’t give any answer that will insult my intelligence.”
He used the toe of his shoe to prod the hay on the floor of the barn. “I’m not sure Lois wants this,” he said dispiritedly.
He’d expected his mom to protest and assure him of Lois’s feelings. Instead she pinned him with a stare and said, “Why?”
“We’ve drifted apart and whatever I do, I can’t get close to her again.”
“Why would she move away?”
He shrugged, although he knew that was dumb too.
“You must have some thoughts, some ideas about how this happened,” she insisted.
“Things were different … very different … when I proposed. When she agreed to marry me.”
His mom’s mouth dropped with shock. “You think this has something to do with you losing your powers?” she said in surprise.
Clark didn’t nod. But he didn’t deny it either.
His mom was silent for a long time. Long enough to make him want to squirm.
“Then there are only two possibilities,” she said finally.
“Being?”
“Either Lois is a very shallow young woman or –.”
“She’s not,” he defended staunchly. “She’s anything but shallow.”
“Or you two haven’t been communicating.”
Clark didn’t want to meet his mom’s eyes.
“What have you told her about the events of a month ago?” Martha asked.
“Not much.”
“More or less than you told me?”
“Less,” he admitted.
“Clark,” she cried. “I *still* have so many questions about what happened to you, but I could see you really didn’t want to talk about it, so I left it alone. But I assumed you’d have enough sense to talk to Lois.”
“At first I was so tired and so … needy … and –.”
Sudden insight lit his mother’s face. “Are you embarrassed that *you* needed *her*?”
“Mom, I was a mess … bleeding and mostly naked and filthy and I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t look after myself, let alone her. It was ... humiliating.”
She pinned him again. “You know Clark, it’s a pity you didn’t lose some of that obstinate male pride along with your powers.”
Clark pulled his hand through his hair. “She had to help me shower, Mom.”
“Poor girl,” Martha said, deadpan.
Clark looked into her eyes and saw her amusement twinkling. His despair cracked a little and he almost smiled. She smiled back. “I liked being Lois’s hero,” he admitted forlornly.
“And, without powers, you can’t be her hero anymore?” Martha said with frank disbelief.
OK, when Mom said it, it sounded beyond stupid. So Clark conceded that one without even bothering to answer.
Martha put her hand on his arm. “If Lois truly wants out of this relationship because you don’t have powers, you need to find her and agree together that this was a mistake and both move on.”
“I -.”
“But,” Martha continued. “If the problem is that you haven’t been able accept that any true relationship has to be a two-way thing, you need to find Lois and apologise and be genuinely willing to allow her to see you – the *real* you – your pride, your stubbornness, your uncertainties, your doubts, your fears, your needs … your compassion, your selflessness, your integrity and your great, big, lovable heart.”
“Do you think that will be enough for Lois?”
“Do you?”
He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Then you need to find out. Before tomorrow.”
Clark lifted his hands in frustration. “I *have* tried,” he said. “But I don’t know what to say. I just can’t find the words.”
“’I need you,’ seems like a fine place to start,” Martha said. “‘I’m sorry’ could come next, followed closely by ‘Ask me *anything* and I will answer as honestly as I can’.”
Clark grinned suddenly as one of his sweetest memories flooded in and caught him unawares. “Last time I said that to her, do you know what she asked?”
“What?”
“At what age did I realise I was good looking.”
Martha laughed. “What a great question,” she exclaimed. “So, how old were you?”
“Mom!”
Martha reached up and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Clark, you can’t marry Lois with this huge mountain of misunderstanding between you.”
“I know.”
“And if you don’t marry her, you *will* regret it for the rest of your life.”
“I know that too.”
“So go find your girl,” Martha said. “You need each other.”
+-+-+-+
“OK,” Sarah announced cheerfully into the gloomy atmosphere of the hotel room. “We’re out of here.”
Lucy was browsing through a magazine. She looked up doubtfully. Lois was staring out of the window. She didn’t respond.
“Where are we going?” Lucy asked, with negligible enthusiasm.
“Wichita,” Sarah said. “I’ve organised a car and accommodation.” She glanced at her watch. “The driver will be here in ten minutes.”
Lucy nodded to Lois who was still transfixed at the window. “You think it’s a good idea?” she asked Sarah.
“Staying here *isn’t* a good idea,” Sarah said.
“If those two get together again today,” Lucy said darkly, “There won’t even be a wedding.”
Sarah walked over to Lois and put her hand on her shoulder. “Come on Lane, we’re going on a road trip.”
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” Lois said lifelessly.
“We’ll have you back in plenty of time.”
“I want to stay here,” Lois said.
“So you can stare out of the window for the next twenty-four hours?” Sarah asked. She turned to Lucy. “Put a few things in a bag for her.”
Lucy went into the adjoining room.
Sarah squatted next to Lois. “Come on, Lois. We’ll have a great time. Just us three girls.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Sarah persisted. “It’s your last night of freedom, a chance to have a fun night with your sister - something you will remember together when you are old ladies.”
“I should stay here.”
“To do what? Mope?”
Lois dragged her eyes from the window. “Where would we stay?”
“Crestview.”
“Which is?”
“A swish private Club.” Sarah grinned. “It has a reciprocal membership deal with the Metropolis Country Golf Club.”
“I had a fight with Clark,” Lois said disconsolately.
“Pre-wedding nerves,” Sarah said dismissively. “Everyone has them. They mean nothing. By tomorrow, you won’t even be able to remember what you were fighting about.”
“You think so?”
Sarah stood and hauled Lois to her feet. “Come on, Lane, let’s go party.”
“I can’t be late tomorrow.”
“Forget about tomorrow,” Sarah said. “We’ll deal with that … tomorrow. Today is a day for the girls.”
Lois stood, still clearly reluctant.
“I promise you,” Sarah said. “We will be back here tomorrow with plenty of time for you to get ready.”
“OK,” Lois agreed.
Sarah hustled Lois and Lucy out of the hotel room before Lois could change her mind.
+-+-+-+
Clark hurried through the reception area of the Smallville hotel, his mind completely absorbed with finding Lois and making things right.
“Clark?”
He turned as Jane, the receptionist, called his name. “Yeah?”
“If you’re going to Ms Lane’s room, they’ve left.”
His heart stopped. “Left?”
Jane nodded. “They took a couple of small bags and got into a cab.”
“Did they say when they’d be back?”
“No.” Jane looked at him with unconcealed pity. “But they didn’t cancel their booking,” she added, trying to soften the blow.
Clark shrugged, attempting indifference, but knowing it was so flimsy it did nothing to hide his distress. “OK, thanks Jane,” he said. “I’ll catch up with her later.”
He stepped outside, away from Jane’s scrutiny, and then froze, his stomach knotted.
Lois wouldn’t go back to Metropolis, would she? Not without even telling him?
He tried to convince himself she just wouldn’t do that.
But when he came back later that evening, their rooms were still empty.
+-+-+-+
Lois woke early the next morning. It was her wedding day! By tonight, she would be Clark’s wife.
A glance to the clock told her it was only just past seven o’clock. She wasn’t expecting Lucy and Sarah to wake any time soon – the three of them hadn’t got to bed until almost two and then had spent at least an hour indulging in meaningless blather – blather they had all found irrepressibly funny.
Lois’s stomach muscles were still complaining.
The evening had begun when Sarah had somehow procured three outfits – tight, daring and dubitable, even had they been a decade younger – and three wigs.
Lois had decided her last night single would be spent blonde.
The outfits, the wigs and lashings of make-up had rendered them almost unrecognisable. It had set the tone for a roller-coaster night of ludicrous, stress-nullifying fun.
Without doubt, the most fun Lois had ever had with Lucy.
Sarah was right … they would not forget it. It would stand as a beacon in the pages of their history – the night they became friends as well as sisters.
They *would* recall it. Lois could see them now … two old ladies … with good memories. Better than good, because they were shared memories.
“Do you remember the night before your wedding?”
Giggle. “The night we dressed up like teenage tarts and danced and sang and -.”
“Laughed. I laughed so hard, I thought my sides were going to split.”
“Sarah’s dress *did* split.” More giggles.
“But she calmly took off her fishnet stockings and belted them around her waist.”
“Which was a little unconventional, but worked fine until -.”
“We all got up on the stage and -.”
“And sang ‘You Sexy Thing’ with some never-before-seen dance moves -.”
“And a few never-before-heard notes.”
“And Sarah decided she’d take off the –.”
“The stockings to finish with a theatrical flourish, not realising –.”
“The split was now -.”
“*Three* times longer than before.”
In her bed, on her wedding morning, Lois chortled at the memory. Never again would she hear the Hot Chocolate song without remembering exactly how the matriarch of the Crawford clan had looked when she’d realised she was no longer contained within her dress.
Not that it had hampered her enthusiasm at all.
Lois thoughts shifted to Clark and her smile faded. How was he feeling? Was he nervous? Was he already counting down the hours until four o’clock? Had he thought much about yesterday’s disagreement?
Would he go ahead with the wedding despite his doubts?
How could he not know how desperately she loved him?
How could he not know how much she wanted to be with him?
What if he didn’t come?
Could she go to the farm and literally drag him to the church?
Despite her concerns, that picture caused a little smile. The white dress could be problematic. The shoes too.
Lois pushed away her doubts. She would be at the church at four o’clock. There was no point stressing over things she couldn’t control.
She was too wound up to stay in bed … and anyway, she was in Wichita … former home of the Sewells.
Lois quietly turned on the computer and opened the old email from Jimmy containing the addresses of all the guests at the Smallville hotel the weekend of the Sunflower Celebration.
She copied the Sewells’ address.
Then she opened Jimmy’s later email.
Hey Lois
Just discovered that two of the hotel guests, Max and Sheridan Sewell, worked for EPRAD until two years ago. The archive describes them as ‘brilliant, cutting-edge scientists, pioneers in their chosen field of genetics.’
I can’t find any employment records for the past two years. Their photos have been removed from the site.
This is the third consecutive year they have visited Smallville for the Sunflower Celebration, so it could be nothing.
Jimmy.
+-+-+-+
An hour later, Lois stood outside a modest home with a prominent central garage, a smaller garage to the right and living areas tucked to the left.
This was where the Sewells had lived.
Where they had brought Clark’s spaceship.
Where they had meticulously researched – gaining knowledge that rightfully belonged to Clark, knowledge that now, would remain forever out of his reach.
Where they had concocted their plan to financially benefit from their discoveries.
“Need any help, Miss?”
Lois looked right to see a greying man hurrying across the front lawn of the neighbouring house. “Do you know the people who live here?” she asked.
“*Lived* here,” he corrected. “They went away and never came back.”
Lois raised her eyebrows and studied him, her face – she hoped – a picture of surprise. “Did you know them?”
“I lived next to them for two years,” he answered. “Did I know ‘em? Not really.”
“Max and Sheridan Sewell,” Lois said.
“You know them?” That had surprised him.
“Not really. My father knew them a long time ago.”
“They kept very much to themselves. I only know their names because a letter for them was mistakenly put in my box.”
Lois surveyed the street, like she had all the time in world to appreciate the crispness of the new morning. “Who was the letter from?” she asked, still staring into the distance.
“Electric bill,” he replied, with more than a tinge of disappointment. “They never had any visitors, not the entire time they lived there.”
He looked like a talker; someone who enjoyed sharing his observations. “I wonder what happened to them,” Lois mused.
“It was a strange set-up right from the start,” he offered willingly. “The house was sold in May, over two years ago. Except no one came. Then ... the middle of one night – the first weekend in August – they moved in.”
Was this when they’d brought Clark’s spaceship? “During the *night*?” Lois asked.
He nodded, clearly gratified by her interest. “The Saturday night. Then, exactly one year later – first weekend in August – they left Friday afternoon and arrived back Sunday lunchtime.”
“You have a great memory for detail,” Lois said.
He shrugged modestly. “They never went anywhere else,” he said. “It wasn’t hard to remember.”
“Where did they go?”
“They never said. In fact, they never said anything beyond ‘Good morning’.”
“Sounds like a regular thing, doesn’t it?” Lois said. “First weekend in August.” The Sunflower Celebration.
“Except *this* year,” he said triumphantly. “This year, they left Friday afternoon ... but didn’t come back.”
“You didn’t see them arrive?” Lois asked, with just enough interest. “That first time?”
“Nope.”
“What about the weekend they disappeared?” Lois probed. “Do you remember anything about that?”
“They left on the Friday. The middle of Saturday night, my dog went off. I looked out of the window and saw a big truck outside their house.”
After the Sewells had made their demands of Hodge? “Did you see anything being put into the truck?”
He shook his head. “First thing I saw was the truck pulling out from the curb.”
“What sort of truck?”
“Big, white, looked like it came from a rental company – though there was no identification on the doors or anywhere else.”
“Don’t suppose you saw the plates?”
Lois sensed his withdrawal. “It was dark,” he said shortly.
She shrugged. “If I could find the rental company, maybe I could get a forwarding address to pass on to my father,” Lois said, her tone imbued with a strong suggestion that her mind had already partially left this conversation.
“It was early Sunday morning,” he supplied quickly. “About four o’clock. There were three people in the truck cabin. All men. I couldn’t see their faces very well, except for the nearest passenger. He looked mid-forties. Darkish hair, not black though, and solidly built.”
Trask? “Then what happened?” Lois asked.
“Nothing. The Sewells didn’t come home … and about a week later, a van came – middle of the day – and emptied the house.”
“Emptied it of what?”
“The usual stuff. Furniture, beds, clothes, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Any idea what they did for a living?”
He shrugged. “I rarely saw either of them leave the house. If they worked, it was nothing regular-like.”
“So, they just ... disappeared?”
He slowly scratched his bristly grey whiskers. “Talk was they went west. I don’t know anything more than that.”
“Has anyone ever asked you about this?” Lois said. “Seems you’re a good source of information – you have a great memory for detail.”
He grinned, pleased. “A reporter from Metropolis called a couple of weeks later. A woman. From the Daily Planet, she said she was. Didn’t tell her anything though. You can’t trust those big-city types.”
Lois grinned her concurrence and wished him a great day.
+-+-+-+
The girls arrived back in Smallville just before noon.
Sarah had gone out to get lunch. Lucy was in the next room, doing … something. Lois was at the window, staring, as the weak winter sun tried to break through the clouds.
Returning to Smallville had filled her mind with Clark.
She should have stayed here last night. Should have gone to Clark and tried to bridge the gap between them.
But she had tried before … and had achieved nothing.
Sarah swung into the hotel room. “Guess what?” she breezed.
Lucy came through the door. “What?”
Sarah sidled up to Lois, a mischievous grin on her face. “There’s a drop-dead gorgeous guy dressed in a tux waiting outside the church.”
Lois gulped. “There is?”
Sarah nodded exultantly.
“But it’s not even one o’clock yet,” Lois said.
“Guess he doesn’t want to miss it,” Sarah said.
“Or he wants to make sure you know he’s there,” Lucy said.
Lois shot to her feet. “I’m going to him.”
