I really liked the neat and tidy ending to TTW. And in fact, for about a week after it was written, it was the only ending. Then I had this thought that wouldn’t leave me alone. What if Lois woke up in the middle of the night and needed the assurance that her Clark was, indeed, close by?
What follows is my attempt to do that idea justice. This epilogue was posted…um…elsewhere. But now it’s been dressed-up, shall we say.
This is dedicated to Wendy Richards. <g>
***********
Through the Window: Epilogue
By CC Aiken
And that is how Clark Kent, a visitor to his own universe, found himself living the dream
that had sustained him. He was lying beside Lois Lane, a visitor to another universe and back again, and listening to her gentle breathing and feeling her soft warmth against him. Knowing in his heart, that finally, all was right…in both worlds.
The end (Part 5)
Or rather…
Clark stood in the hallway of his parent’s home waiting for Lois to finish getting ready for bed. He had pointed her towards his bedroom and his t-shirt drawer, and now was just giving her enough time to get comfortable before he joined her.
He had been watching her intently through the closed door the whole time. And he could see how tired she really was. On entering his room the animation, that had been in her face as they had climbed the stairs, had dropped away. Lois was moving slowly and cautiously as she discarded her clothing and pulled one of his oldest shirts over her head. Clark looked down at his feet just for a moment, as the bare skin of her back and shoulders appeared. He wasn’t trying to trespass, and certainly wasn’t treating this as a peep-show. He just couldn’t bear to let her out of his sight. And really didn’t know when he ever would again.
His mom and dad came in quietly from their room, where they had politely retreated some time ago, to give their son and Lois the privacy they needed.
“How is she?” Martha asked, laying her hand on Clark’s arm, and pulling his attention away from Lois for the moment.
“Where was she?” Jonathan followed up, without giving Clark time to answer his mom’s greeting.
“She’s ok.” Clark blew out a breath. “Can you believe it?” he asked in a soft voice that worked to contain the emotions that were simmering underneath. “She’s here. She’s really here.”
His parents moved as one to take him into their arms. The three shared a silent moment of communion.
“I’m so glad, Clark,” Martha sighed with bright tears in her eyes. “She took a decade off my life when I saw her standing on the front porch asking for you. Like an answer to a prayer I had given up praying.”
“The short version, Mom and Dad,” Clark spoke after a time. “Lois was kidnapped by an enemy of Superman. She was taken because he knew how that would hurt me. She was…rescued some time today or yesterday, she’s not really sure.”
“Did he hurt her?” Martha asked quickly, and Clark knew what she was too afraid to really say.
“No, Mom. It wasn’t like that. He left her right away. But she was…unable to reach home, and completely alone…for a time.”
“There’s more to it, isn’t there?” Jonathan asked in a low voice.
“Yes, but that’s not for tonight, Dad. Tonight, she’s home, and everything is all right.”
“Will she need anything, do you suppose?” Martha worried. “She didn’t look well. And if she needs the company, I can…”
“No, Mom.” Clark cut her off. “I’m staying with her. She asked if I would….”
“Well, of course,” Martha smiled a small, smug smile.
“No, Mom.” Clark repeated. “Not that kind of staying with her. Lois just wanted me close by. In case, I don’t know, she needed any special care. I don’t think the guy who took her knows she’s here, but…” Clark barely suppressed a shudder.
“He’ll find Superman, if he does,” rumbled Jonathan.
“And after this last year,” Clark agreed in a low voice, “I don’t trust Superman to be alone with him.”
“All of this is for another day,” Martha interrupted. “If Lois wants you with her, you should go to her.”
Clark took a glance through the wall to confirm that Lois was, indeed, ready for him.
“Want me to pull the cot down from the attic, son?” asked his father with an innocent twinkle in his eyes.
“Jonathan.” Martha swatted him. “He can just…float beside her.”
“I do NOT float in my sleep,” protested Clark, a bit too vehemently.
At his parents amused smiles, he surrendered. “Goodnight, Mom and Dad.”
“’night” they chorused.
***********
Lois sank back into the pillows of Clark’s old bed, trying to keep her eyes open. He was no doubt waiting on her to get settled, she realized, and was maybe overdoing it on the polite bit. A bad habit she had hopes of breaking him of one day.
She cast weary eyes around the familiar room. She’d never thought to see this place again. Back home…no, not home, she corrected herself with a frown, back in the other dimension she’d just come from… the Kent home had been abandoned. Clark, the other world’s Clark…her husband…Lois faltered a little on that, blinking tired tears from her eyes…that Clark had taken her to see it once. Looking at that abandoned Kent farm, which was a ghost of this one, which Jonathan and Martha took such great care of, and seeing Clark’s boyhood home barely standing, had hurt her more than she’d imagined it could. She hadn’t known those Kents, but she’d felt the loss of them all the same.
That same night, after they’d returned to Metropolis, she and her husband had made love for the first time. They had been married a few months previously, with the understanding that they would let things…happen naturally. They’d had the wedding. But the marriage didn’t need to be rushed, Clark had assured her. For him, just having her to share his life with was more than good enough. They had slept separately, and he had never made an issue of it, though there were times she had caught his eyes on her, a look in them that she remembered so clearly from her own Clark.
Lois wondered if any of this was ever going to make sense or feel real again. She could hear a comforting murmur of voices outside the door. Clark and his parents, his very much alive parents, were not doubt discussing her. She wondered how much he was telling them. She wondered at how well he had taken the news of her marriage to his counterpart, with none of the hurt or anger or sadness that she had dreaded. Instead, it had been with a quiet acceptance that spoke volumes of his love for her, more than any words he could ever say.
The night her marriage had become a real marriage, she had slipped from the bed and gone into the living room to sit for a while. To cry, really, though she didn’t ever get around to it, fearing those sounds would awaken her husband. But she had needed the solitude and the space to think, away from his arms. A chance to grieve for what she had then known she would never get back again. She was making a life for herself in the new dimension. And she was happy, or as close to happy as she ever imagined she could be…without him. And in sharing her body with Clark, she had physically severed her ties to her previous life, to her previous love. That was healthy, she knew. The Clark Kent of her own time, her Clark Kent, was as out of reach to her as if he were dead. He no doubt thought that she was. But she was alive. And life went on. She hoped it did for him, too.
Clark’s lovemaking had been sweet and gentle and wonderful. It had blotted out the hurts of the past months. It had lessened the pain of seeing the Kent farm in such disrepair. It had made her feel loved and cherished and grounded. She didn’t regret that night, or any of the nights that came after. If their lovemaking didn’t exactly throw off sparks, it was only because, as much as she truly loved and appreciated her husband, he wasn’t…the one.
Behind closed eyes, Lois heard Clark quietly enter the room. Heard the sounds of him closing the door, his shoes being discarded. The coins in his pocket being set down on top of the dresser. Such intimate sounds. And then for a time, nothing. Lois was too sleepy to open her eyes and find out what he was doing, but she would have sworn she could feel him looking at her. After a pause, the bed dipped and he came to lie beside her, his hand reaching for hers tentatively. Brushing against him, she almost laughed. He was fully dressed. Taking no chances, she thought wryly. That was ok, because she was tired…so tired…so to the bone tired.
***********
Lois fell into a deep and troubled sleep. She was between two men, both with the same faces and the same sad eyes. Each wanting to know why she had left them. How she could be so cruel.
“I thought you were dead!” The anguished Clark of her own dimension cried.
“You’ve left me alone,” her adopted Clark lamented.
“You see now, darlin’,” drawled a voice that chilled her blood. “Didn’t I say this would be fun?”
“NO!” she shouted. “I didn’t want to leave you.” She grabbed at her own Clark’s hand, but he stubbornly turned away. “And we agreed I would go.” She turned towards the other Clark. “We agreed. You have your Lois. You have her…..”
“Lois,” a gentle voice breathed in her ear. “Lois, honey…”
She couldn’t hear what it was saying. Tempus’ delighted laughter filled the room, drowning it out. “I am not leaving with you!” Lois pointed a shaky finger at the shadow the darkness had cast her tormentor in. Superman will…save me,” she choked out.
“Lois!” came the voice again, this time louder and more insistent, though no less tender. “Honey, honey…it’s ok. I’m here…you’re here. Sweetheart…”
A loving hand was gliding up and down her back, stroking her soothingly.
“Don’t let him take me,” she sobbed aloud. “Stop him…please Clark.”
She was being lifted up now, held in very strong arms that were rocking her.
“Wake up, honey. Wake up. It’s me…I’ve got you. I swear…no one else.”
Lois slowly dragged herself up and out of the confusing torrent of images. She became aware, vaguely, that Clark was holding her in his lap. That he was breathing heavily, as he held her against his chest. She sighed.
“Are you awake?” he asked.
“Yes. Sorry, Clark…nightmare.”
“Oh, Lois.” She heard his voice break on her name, and the despair in that sound helped her to open her eyes and look at him.
They stayed that way for a long time. Clark rocking her and Lois limp against him, their eyes never leaving each other, both needing to see for themselves that they were here. That they were all right.
Looking up into the worried, loving face of the man who was holding her, Lois knew one thing. She wanted him. No, more than that. She needed him. Needed to feel like she was home, back in her life, that she was real again. Needed his touch. Needed his hands to affirm her survival, their survival. When they had moved from friendship to romance, she had been reluctant to make the same physical jump in their relationship, past experience being a cruel teacher. Clark had explained to her how very, very patient he was. How he had waited, was still waiting, and would continue to wait until she was ready. Well, she was ready. A year past ready, at that. Tired, and shaking, and scared, but ready.
“Clark,” she said quietly into the silence. “Love me.”
* **********
What happened next came so perfectly naturally, with none of the awkwardness or fumbling that Clark always imagined this moment might bring. Lois looped her arms around his neck. He bent his head to kiss her. Their lips met only briefly, but what passed between them was undeniable. He filled his hands with her, felt her soft curves pressed against him. After all this time. It was almost dream-like…
Lois sighed a sweet sigh against his lips, and Clark tightened his hold on her, reveling in the feel of her, of her warmth in his arms
Almost exactly like so many of the dreams he’d had in her absence.
By mutual agreement, their lips opened. They stayed this way for sometime. His hands on her, their mouths learning the other. Tongues in no particular hurry.
How often had he dreamed this anyway? And here she was, real, against him. Real and not somehow ethereal and unreachable. But all sweet scent, soft sighs….
<Get out of your head, Kent>, he admonished himself. <Those were only dreams. This is the reality….>
He froze.
All the fragments came together.
They hadn’t been dreams.
He’d known that in his heart since day one, just hadn’t realized their significance. They’d been…glimpses…of Lois. Of Lois with…him.
Clark pulled back from Lois and buried his face in her hair. “Lois,” he whispered, his mind reeling. “I know you’re tired, not feeling well…no problem…not pushing…plenty of time for this.”
His heart was pounding. Those hadn’t been dreams at all. They were visions- of another place, another world, another man…with... He knew it in his gut. He had been with Lois likethis before. Through the eyes of his counterpart.
Lois, unaware of the thoughts storming inside him, caught his head between her hands, pulling his lips back to hers. “I don’t think we were finished,” she admonished him softly.
“Lois… you had a nightmare. You just wanted me to be here with you, for company… to make you feel safe. And I am glad to do that, and just that.” He leaned his forehead against hers and drew in a deep, slow breath.
“I just…kissed you…because…” Because even though, when she had fallen asleep, he had thought that just lying beside her would be more than enough, it wasn’t. Because he wanted to own every inch of her tonight. Because he had been so consumed with loneliness for so long, that he’d thought he’d never get warm inside again. Because when she had asked him, no really, told him, to love her, that had been the one thing he had most regretted never being able to do.
He had concluded some time ago that what the dreams had really been about was regret. Regret the he had missed out on loving Lois, in every way possible.
“…because you’re my Lois, and so beautiful. And God knows how I missed you.”
His eyes filled with tears and he set her down and rolled away from her. “Go back to sleep, ok?” he whispered. “I’ll be right here.”
He made for the chair across the room. Much safer, he thought.
“I said I didn’t think we were finished.” Lois was definitely awake now, and getting that edge in her voice that was so purely her he had to smile. She turned on the bedside light. He made a fast motion of drying his eyes, so she wouldn’t see, wouldn’t feel guilty. As if there was anything for her to feel guilty about. She was here, that was all that mattered. Really. Nothing else did.
“Lois, when we were,” he gestured to the bed a bit embarrassed. “It felt, you felt…great.” He hurried on, since he recognized in her furrowed brow that she was getting impatient with him. It was good to see that look again. Nobody else looked at him quite that way, with equal parts love and exasperation, only maybe right now the exasperation was a bit more in evidence than the love. “But you are exhausted. That was some nightmare. And we are both…wrecked. I’m so glad we’re here together. And I don’t think there needs to be…anything else. For tonight,” he hastened to add.
Lois didn’t answer him, but her somber eyes bored into his. “So, we’re finished with this, then?” she finally asked.
“Yes, Lois,” he answered her gently.
“Ok, Clark.” Lois lied back on the bed. “Just so I understand. That was enough for you?”
She’d caught him in mid-motion, as he was lowering himself into the chair, feeling some confidence that the crisis was averted. He froze there, knees bent, hands on the arm rest, neither up nor down.
He hadn’t had the chance to tell her yet, but he was a different Clark Kent than the one she’d left. That Clark Kent; the one who was just grateful to be finally dating Lois, who was madly in love with her, and full of barely expressed dreams of forever with her, would have had no trouble answering that question. Would have reined in, through an exercise of super will power, every basic instinct, and answered that for tonight, yes, this was enough. The old Clark would have cooled himself off, so as to better contemplate the downside of rushing intimacy when emotions could easily spiral out of control. When he’d just realized that those dreams were more than even he’d imagined. He would have stayed in the chair and insisted that they examine whether they would come to regret, in the bright light of day, what might happen here. He would insist that they at least recognize this might be an ill-advised way to get around a difficult, perhaps awkward readjustment to being back together after her absence, after her marriage, after he’d had to learn to live without her.
Or, he would have at least thought about his parents in the next room.
But that was the old Clark. And the old Clark had never known loss before. The Clark he had become, through the hellish time just passed, had learned too well what the old Clark hadn’t known. That minutes were precious. That it took but a second for the whole world to change. That there were times you couldn’t get back, no matter how desperately you wished for them.
He stood up from the chair, already decided, before he could waste another second. Whatever the dreams where, they were over now, because the real thing was right in front of him.
He moved to her, covering her with his body, in one easy motion. They both paused for just a moment, searching the other’s eyes. Then their mouths took up where they had left off, with a new urgency that had been missing before.
“Next time,” Lois grumbled at him, “don’t think so hard.” The growl in her voice made him feel weak.
“Won’t…happen…again,” he agreed breathlessly.
He rolled her over on top of him, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her gently up his chest. They stayed that way for sometime, her hands fisted in his hair, their bodies learning each other.
“Lois…oh, Lois,” he moaned on an exhale into the side of her neck, “Do you…know it’s…me?”
Lois, who had been doing the most interesting dance against him, went entirely still. He raised his head to kiss her, and was surprised to see the flash of anger, or was it anguish, in her eyes.
“What, honey?” he asked in confusion. “What…you’ve changed your mind…?”
“How…how dare you?” Lois forced out, rolling from him to kneel in the middle of the bed.
“How…but you…wanted…” Clark stopped suddenly, replayed his last words through a head a bit less clouded by pure sensation. “Oh…oh…” He didn’t curse, but any number of really choice words came to mind. He closed his eyes, collapsed back onto the mattress.
“Yeah, oh, oh. That about sums it up, Clark. It is Clark, isn’t it? You know once I get into bed with a man, I have the hardest time remembering his name. Luckily, in this case,” she laughed a bitter laugh, “the other guy was named Clark, too….”
He grabbed her hand, keeping her on the bed, and moved to kneel next to her. “Hear me, Lois,” he said, cutting her off in a voice very close to Superman’s.
This was not going to snowball. Left alone it could grow into a wedge that could take them months to get past, and that was not happening.
“I dreamed about this, almost nightly,” he began. “And those dreams were not the hormone-laden dreams of…of…well…of the other sort that I’ve had about you since we met.”
It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn Lois blushed. Ridiculous, considering what they’d been doing. The fingerprints they had left on each other.
“What I mean is, I think my dreams were… about you and your…husband.” Clark forced his voice to stay casual on that last word.
He had her attention now. The anger that had been so obvious in her posture was gone. Lois stopped trying to pull away, and turned eyes full of questions to him.
Clark stacked the pillows back on the headboard, gesturing for her to sit next to him.
“I can’t pinpoint when they started, Lois. But sometime after you left, I dreamed that you were sleeping in my apartment. You were safe and close by. It felt so real that I looked for you.”
Lois pulled Clark’s arm around her, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “Go on.”
“You weren’t there, of course. But every night it felt so…right.”
“You dreamed I slept in your apartment every night?” She clarified in a voice that was small and sad.
“After a while you came to my bed. I still couldn’t touch you. But in my sleep I could…feel you were there.”
Lois reached up to brush a tear off his cheek, one he hadn’t realized was even there.
“You don’t know how those dreams helped me, Lois. At night, every night, it was like I could visit with you. Even if I couldn’t talk to you…I could feel you. And then, after some time, I just rolled over in the bed and…”
“And?” she prompted.
“Loved you,” he answered simply. “Felt you turn towards me. Felt was it was like…” His voice trailed away. “After that I made a point of going to bed early.”
She laughed softly. “Those are nice dreams, Clark. And if they helped you…”
“They weren’t dreams, Lois. I didn’t realize it until tonight. I think they were flashes…or snapshots. I thought it was me with you, but it was…him. I was kind of…in his head.”
“You don’t know that for sure, do you?” Lois’ eyes implored him to deny it.
“I think I do.” He tried to convey an apology with his own look, knowing this couldn’t be easy for her to hear. “I knew those dreams were more than dreams. I knew that from the beginning. And I knew I didn’t want to know much more than that, like if I looked at them too closely, they would stop and I would really be alone.” He swallowed and looked away. “No, I was seeing…feeling…you… where you were…from his point of view.”
Lois gasped softly, tears forming in her eyes. “Clark, how can you ever…forget that? How will we ever be able to…?” She gestured to the bed. “I…I’m so sorry, Clark. So sorry.” Her voice broke.
“Don’t you dare apologize, Lois,” he whispered fiercely. “Those dreams kept me alive. I am so indebted to…him for that. And you’re alive. And…” He faltered, desperate to halt the growing look of despair on Lois’ face. “This is not an obstacle,” he assured her, with more confidence than he felt. “I…it threw me off, but, Lois,” he ran a slow hand up and down her side, his knuckles softly grazing over all the dips and curves and lines of her. “We can definitely do this,” he smiled softly.
“How, Clark?” Lois wailed quietly. “How could you ever possibly…”
“Like this, Lois…” Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he slowly lowered himself on top of her again, pressing her down into the pillows.
They needed this, he knew. And they were the real ones here. The ones meant to be together for all time. There were just two of them in this room, in this bed. No one else.
“But will you…won’t it...will this?” Lois stammered against his invading tongue.
He lifted his head, arched a brow, “Could you ask me that again? I didn’t quite catch it.”
Lois placed her hand on his chest and he immediately backed off a bit. “Will this hurt you?” she asked plainly, searching his eyes for answer. “Being with me, after…”
“The opposite, honey,” he whispered into her ear. “This will heal me.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was completely true.
At his words, Lois went completely soft beneath him. Her body melted into his.
“Clark Kent,” she moaned softly as he lowered his chest to hers and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “You…are one of a kind.”
“Lois Lane,” he answered her. “Welcome home.”
The other Clark Kent who had been her husband had loved her this way before he could. There was no getting around that. But he, the Clark Kent of this world, would get to love Lois like this from now on. If Clark had to choose, he’d pick that last option. And while the dreams had been wonderful in their own way, they had nothing on this. This was real. And this was just the first night.
After some time had passed, the Morse code-like rapping of the mattress against the headboard, which was tapping out the news of their reunion in slow, rhythmic knocks, picked up speed. It turned into a rapid tattoo, mirroring the beating of their joined hearts, and banging the headboard with abandon against the solid wall of Clark’s boyhood bedroom. Dimly, in one part of Clark’s mind, the noise registered. But, lost as he was in the utter exquisiteness of Lois, the significance of it failed to impress itself on him.
***********
In their room down the hall, Martha dropped her knitting needles and Jonathan Kent looked up from his Farmer’s Almanac with alarm. Their eyes met.
“What…what?” Jonathan queried in a strangled voice.
“Ah…um…Clark said he was going to stay with Lois. To keep her company…if she needed any…special care.” Martha faltered, then put one hand over her mouth and let her eyes bug-out over the top of it.
“Our boy is…thoughtful that way,” Jonathan rejoined, enjoying the sight of Martha struggling to contain the whoop of laughter that was no doubt behind that hand.
“He…he…gets it from his father,” she finally gasped.
“You better believe it,” Jonathan agreed.
For a time they pretended to continue on with their nightly routine. Martha picked up her knitting and Jonathan turned several pages in his book. The headboard continued banging out the news that Clark was taking special care of Lois in loud, happy, slaps.
“How about some music?” Jonathan asked at last, conceding defeat.
“What do we have that’s loud?” Martha asked gratefully.
The end, really.
