Mayson pushed the button to turn on her computer.
There was a flash of light.
And then everything went black.
Part 62
Clark stared at his shoes.
He was perched on an uncomfortable seat in the ICU waiting room - leaning forward, head bowed, shoulders slumped, and hands clenched.
He'd failed on every front.
He'd been too late.
He'd taken Lois into a treacherous situation - an explosion no less. What *was* he thinking?
He'd ... For one second - less than a second - he'd entertained the thought that his life would be easier if Mayson Drake died.
Condemnation cloaked his heart.
He was Superman.
He stood for life.
Clark heard a far door open, and he groaned. He wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone. Footsteps began walking towards him - sounding loud in the hushed atmosphere where death hovered - and he didn't need to look up to recognise the gait.
Perry White came closer, but Clark didn't move. He didn't want to face anyone. Not even Perry.
The editor sat in the chair two across from Clark and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Any news?" he asked in that soft Southern accent.
Clark shook his head. "They aren't telling me much - I'm not a relative."
"But she's still alive?"
"Yeah."
Perry's hand dropped from Clark's shoulder. "What happened?"
"Someone put a bomb in her computer. She turned it on - and it blew."
"Eduardo's at her apartment now. No one else got hurt. The people at the scene say Superman was there."
"Yeah," Clark said despondently. "He got there a second too late. A piece of the hard plastic covering had already hit her head before he could protect her."
"Without him, Mayson would be dead," Perry said. "Apparently, he brought her to the hospital."
Clark clenched his hands tighter and didn't comment.
"Eduardo says Ultra Woman was at Mayson's apartment," Perry continued. "Superman probably wanted to get back to her. Separated from him, she would be an easy target for any nutcase wanting to blackmail him."
Clark didn't want to talk about Ultra Woman. He had *carried* his wife - his vulnerable, beautiful, trusting wife - *into* an explosion. He closed his eyes as pungent nausea twisted through his stomach. "He didn't protect her very well today."
Perry's grunted softly. "You make it sound like this was his fault."
Clark dragged his hand through his hair.
"Why were you there?" Perry asked. "I thought you didn't go to Mayson's apartment."
"I don't," Clark said. "But Mayson had contacted me about a story she was going to write. I was supposed to meet her at five o'clock."
"Did you arrive before the explosion? Or after?"
"After."
A nurse approached, and both men stood. "Are you friends of Mayson Drake?" she asked.
They nodded. "How is she?" Clark said.
"She's very lucky to be alive. She has a major head trauma."
"What's the prognosis?" Perry asked.
"It's too early to say," the nurse said. "We'll know more when she wakes up."
"Is it guaranteed she *will* wake up?" Clark heard himself ask.
"Nothing's guaranteed," the nurse said gently. "Not with head injuries."
"Will you let us know if there are any changes?" Perry asked.
"Ms Drake will be in an induced coma for at least another twenty-four hours," the nurse said. "Complete rest will be essential for her recovery. You're both welcome to stay if you want to, but it's probably best if you go home. You can call the hospital for updates on her condition."
"Thanks," Perry said.
The nurse gave them a parting smile and walked away.
Clark sat down, his eyes fixed ahead. He didn't see the waiting room wall - he saw the explosion ... and Lois.
Perry sat beside him. "When's your flight to Australia?"
"Four o'clock tomorrow morning."
"Then go home, pack, and try to get a few hours sleep. I'll see to tomorrow's edition."
"I can't just leave her here," Clark protested. "She's alone. Not one of her family has come to the hospital. Not even her uncle from the board."
"You're not thinking of delaying your trip to Australia?"
"I don't know."
"Clark - when I called you all those weeks ago and asked you to come back to Metropolis early, you said it was imperative that you be back in Melbourne for this Monday. I know it's important to you and Lois."
"It is, Chief, but -"
"Mayson Drake is *not* your responsibility."
"She's a colleague."
"Look at me, Clark."
Clark turned his attention from the floor and slowly faced his editor.
"Listen to me real good, Clark," Perry said solemnly. "Mayson made her choices about how she lived her life. That doesn't mean she deserves to be where she is, and I know everyone at the Planet will hope for the very best for her. But you made a decision a long time ago about Mayson's place in your life. What happened today doesn't change that."
"I think I know who did this to her."
"Can you prove it?"
"No."
Perry put his hand on Clark's shoulder. "I want you to go to Melbourne. I want you to spend at least a week with Lois. If anything changes with Mayson, I'll contact you."
"It seems callous just to leave her."
"It's the best thing you can do for her."
"Leave her to deal with this by herself?" Clark demanded.
"If you don't, you know what will happen?" Perry said earnestly. "When she wakes up and finds you here, she's going to think you've chosen her over Lois. She's going to think that she has a future with you. Maybe - in the short-term - that might help her recovery. But Mayson doesn't understand friendship. That's why there's no one else here - no family, no friends - only her editor and the work colleague she has harassed for months. If you try to be her friend, she will demand more and more from you - and that will harm what you have with Lois."
Clark said nothing.
"I've been watching you since you got back from Australia," Perry continued. "You're different. There's always been something about you ... as if there's a barrier between you and the rest of the world ... as if you weren't really sure how you fit. I figured it was because you were a Kansas country boy trying to find his way in the big city. I thought all you needed was time." He grinned. "I was wrong - it wasn't time you needed, but a certain young lady from Australia."
"I love Lois more than I thought it was possible to love anyone," Clark said - mostly to himself.
Perry must have heard, because he chuckled. "So take the advice of an old man, and make sure you're on that flight tomorrow morning."
"You really think that's what I should do?"
"No," Perry said, his eyes twinkling. "I think that's only half of it. Once you're there, you should do the rest ... You should propose to Lois, and if she accepts, you should get the preacher booked and get it done before even thinking about coming back to Metropolis."
"You think I should extend my time in Australia?" Clark asked in surprise. "And get *married*?"
"Yes, I do," Perry said. "I think that is the kindest thing you can do for Mayson. It's the kindest thing you can do for yourself. And if Lois loves you as much as you love her, it's the kindest thing you can do for her."
"What if Lois agrees to marry me, and we decide to live in Melbourne?"
"Then I've lost one of the finest young reporters I've ever had," Perry said pragmatically. "But I'd prefer that to having you at the Planet without Lois."
"Mayson won't be able to work for a long time," Clark said, refusing to give voice to the possibility that she might never return to the Planet. "If I go, too, how are you going to manage? I came back from Melbourne early so you don't overdo it and have another health scare."
"Alice's ultimatum shook me, Clark," Perry said. "I realised that I had allowed my priorities to get hopelessly awry. The Planet had taken over my life. Having you as the assistant editor worked wonderfully. It gave me the time I needed to reconnect with Alice. She gives me perspective. She helps me to look beyond the next edition and see the big picture."
"But you'll be two reporters down," Clark persisted.
"I've suspected since I asked you to come back that your heart was split between Metropolis and Melbourne," Perry said. "I have been chasing two excellent reporters. One of them will arrive next week, and the other is considering my offer of a position at the Planet."
"You won't allow yourself to get overworked again?"
"Alice won't allow it," Perry said with a deep chuckle. "The love of a good woman is the greatest fortune a man can have."
Clark stood. "Let's get back to the Planet," he suggested. "Eduardo might have something by now. And I'll call Henderson to see if they found any evidence in her apartment."
Perry looked quizzically at Clark as he rose from the seat. "You really think you know who did this?"
Clark nodded. "I'm sure. And I'll be working on it while I'm in Australia."
Perry grinned. "So you're going? You'll be on that flight?"
"Yeah, I'm going," Clark said. "But I'm determined that the person who did this to Mayson is going to be brought to justice."
Perry pushed the hospital door open. "Clark," he warned. "Your time there should be about you and Lois."
Clark felt some of his heaviness lift as he left the hospital. "It will be," he said. "You know the St John story? The drug link back to the Cornwall ecstasy bust?"
"Yeah."
"That wasn't my work - that was Lois."
"Lois?"
"I wrote the story - with some input from her - but she was the one who kept chasing the leads until they went somewhere."
Perry grinned. "Any chance she wants to live in Metropolis?"
"Would you give her a job?"
"I'd give her a trial." They climbed into a cab. "Daily Planet," Perry said to the driver. He turned to Clark. "When we get to the Planet, I want you to take some time out for a few minutes. Call Lois. You need to talk with her."
The dejection came flooding back.
He'd put Lois in danger.
She hadn't been hurt, but every time Clark thought about how easily she could have been killed, he felt sickened by his own idiocy.
Then ... to emphasise his ineptitude, he had delivered her to Melbourne and left her. It was true that he had wanted to get back to Metropolis and find out if Mayson were still alive, but the greater truth was that he hadn't been able to force himself to look into Lois's eyes.
If he had seen condemnation there, it would have killed him.
He knew he deserved it ... but to *see* it ... to see her disappointment in him ... to see the erosion of her trust ... it had been easier to mumble an excuse about Mayson and fly away.
"You need to call her," Perry repeated.
"OK," Clark said. "I'll go somewhere quiet and talk to her."
||_||
Lois hauled herself from a fitful doze and winced as the movement fired darts of pain through her elbow and into her upper arm.
She was still slumped on the couch. She hadn't moved since the first moments after Clark had left - the moments when she'd collapsed, shocked and exhausted.
She hadn't moved.
Hadn't changed her clothes.
She was still in the blood-splattered Ultra Woman suit.
She turned her head enough to be able to see the clock. It was almost nine o'clock on Saturday morning. She had a game to cover - the Essendon-West Coast semi-final at the 'G.
For the first time in her memory, she could muster no enthusiasm for a game of footy. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to move. She wanted to sit here - as she had sat here ever since Clark had brought her home, asked if she were OK, and flown back to find out if Mayson was dead or alive.
It felt like the end of the day - not the beginning.
At some point, her phone had beeped with a message, but it was out of her reach, and Lois hadn't been able to find the energy to rise from the couch to retrieve it.
The blood had dried to a scratchy crust.
It had happened so quickly.
One second, they were flying towards Metropolis, and the next, she'd been consumed by a noise so loud that its assault felt physical. Clark's arm had pinned her to his side, and she'd felt Mayson's limp body as it jostled against her.
After what had seemed like a long time, the sound had ebbed to an eerie silence, and all she could remember was the crackle of the flames as they burned the very little that was left of Mayson's computer.
Clark had lowered her to her feet amongst the debris. Then his arm had released her. When Lois had looked up, he was holding Mayson, who was unconscious and had blood weeping a red river through her blonde hair.
His eyes hadn't met hers, and Lois had known instinctively what he was thinking. In those few seconds before speech had been possible, he'd already shouldered the blame for Mayson being hurt. And more than that, he was torturing himself with the realisation that he had put his wife in danger.
He'd taken Mayson to the hospital, and Lois had used the time alone to pull the torn spandex sleeve over her gashed arm.
He still didn't know she had been injured.
He'd assumed the blood on her was Mayson's. And it was. Most of it.
How was Clark going to react when he found out that she had been hurt?
Lois was worried about him.
She couldn't chase the image of his face from her mind.
He'd looked so defeated ... so aghast ... so burdened with self-recriminations.
If Mayson died ...
Over an hour had passed, and he hadn't come.
He was hurting - and this time, he hadn't come to her.
Lois hauled herself to her feet and went into her bathroom. She gingerly peeled away the bloodied Ultra Woman suit and turned to the mirror to examine the gash that started at her elbow and jagged a path up the back of her right arm.
The wound was no longer bleeding. It was about six centimetres long and probably just short of being deep enough to require stitches. She must have been hit by flying shrapnel.
She needed to clean it and dress it, but it was going to be awkward. She would have to do it one-handed and rely on the mirror to be able to see.
The wound had to be covered. If Clark came to Melbourne before boarding his flight to Australia, she would say it was nothing more than a minor scratch.
But ... if he didn't come soon, she would be at the footy, and they wouldn't have any time together until his flight arrived tomorrow evening.
And that would mean that during the long hours of the flight, Clark would have nothing to do except obsess over what had happened.
She had to talk to him before then. After her shower, she would call him and ask him to come. If necessary, she would beg.
Lois turned on the taps and stepped into the flow of hot water, hoping that as it cleansed the blood from her body it would also ease away her fatigue and shock.
||_||
Clark stood on the top of the Planet building.
He wanted Lois. It was like an ache - an ache that had been gnawing at him since he'd left her in Melbourne and returned to Metropolis.
She was always so understanding ... always so supportive ... yet this time ... Would it seem as if he'd chosen Mayson in preference to Lois's safety?
It wasn't because it was Mayson - had it been anyone else, he would have felt the same.
He'd never been able to explain why he felt responsible for everyone's safety, and he knew that any attempt was going to sound like he felt some latent affection for Mayson.
He didn't.
He felt numb.
He couldn't believe he had flown into an explosion with Lois in his arms.
And he couldn't stop thinking about it.
Every time he closed his eyes, he could see again the hurtling debris.
Since he'd met Lois, he'd gone to her whenever the responsibilities of being Superman had threatened to overwhem him.
He needed her now.
She hadn't replied to the message he'd sent her telling her that Mayson was still alive.
He should have gone to Melbourne earlier.
He should have faced her ... faced her accusations ... and begged for her forgiveness.
He had to go now, though their time would be short. If he didn't go now, he wouldn't see her until his airplane landed at Tullamarine Airport.
He launched from the roof and flew southwest at top speed.
Towards Lois.
||_||
Lois secured the towel under her arms and examined the wound in the mirror. It didn't look too bad now that the blood had been washed away. It would heal.
*She* would heal.
She needed Clark ...
But first, she needed to dress her arm. She opened the bathroom cabinet and brought out the antiseptic cream and a strip of bandage.
She had to be the one do it. If she asked anyone for help, she was going to need an explanation, and her brain just wasn't up for creative stories.
She heard a sound, and her heart leapt as her throat constricted.
Clark was here.
She was naked. He would see her arm. If she called out asking him to wait until she was dressed, his fractured mind was going to create all sorts of erroneous reasons why she felt the need to cover up.
"Lois?"
"I'm here, Clark. I'll ... ahm ... just be a moment." She quickly pulled on the first clothes she found - jeans and a loose jumper ... there was no time for a bra or a t-shirt. She ran a hasty comb through her damp hair, took a deep breath, arranged a nice smile on her face, and opened the door.
His face depicted the entire spectrum of her anguish - uncertainty, fear, regret, pain, confusion. Her smile faltered, and she stepped closer to him. "Is she dead?"
"No," he said in a voice that sounded strangled. "She's badly injured. Head trauma." His hand lifted the slightest amount, and Lois threw herself into his arms.
He held her, but it was restrained. As if he wasn't sure. As if he was afraid that he would hurt her. As if he had constructed a barrier between them. She clung to him, using all of her strength to meld them together. His arms remained loose. Lois felt a spark of anger - it landed on the dry tinderbox of her strained emotions and ignited them. She put her hands on his shoulders and forced their bodies apart. "Don't do this to us, Clark," she said.
He looked dumbstruck.
"Don't do this," she repeated. "I know *exactly* what you're thinking. I've known from the second I looked into your face - when the dust was literally still settling. We are going to talk, and you are going to see sense, and you are going to accept that you did nothing wrong."
"Lois! I carried you into an explosion."
She nodded. "And?"
He lifted his hands in self-reproach. "I can't believe I took you into such a dangerous situation."
"What were you supposed to do, Clark? Drop me?"
"I shouldn't have taken you back to Metropolis. I should have left you on the hill. You were safe there."
"Safe?" she spat. "I would have been alone, abandoned, and lost in a country I had entered illegally."
"You wouldn't have been abandoned," he exclaimed. "I would have come back for you."
"And what if Luthor had found some green rock somewhere and put it in the bomb? What then?" She poked his chest. "Then we'd both be in an awful mess."
"I took you into an explosion," he said with disbelief and self-recrimination in equal measure.
"We have always said that the most important thing is that we are together."
"But not when there are bits of computer flying around the room."
His words fired an image into her mind that broke something inside her, and Lois knew she was going to have to either laugh or cry. She began shaking ... smiling inanely ... as uncontrollable sobs shook her body.
Clark lifted his arms towards her, but she held up her hands to stop him. "No," she cried, shaking her head. "Right now, I don't need your arms. I don't need your comfort. I need you to work through this with me so we can both move on."
His arms dropped in defeat. "For one moment ... I ..."
"You thought her death would solve a lot of problems," Lois said.
He nodded, his eyes filled with shame.
"So did I," Lois said as tears tumbled down her cheeks. "For a lot longer than a moment. Had it been my choice - to save her or to let her die - I don't know what I would have done. You barely even thought about it - you saw someone who needed your help and you gave it."
"And put your life in danger."
"No," Lois said heatedly. "My life could never be in danger when I'm with you. You would always find a way to keep me safe." She stared at him through the wells of tears. "You took some of the hits for me - I know you did."
"I took you into an explosion."
"If you'd taken the time to take me somewhere first, Mayson would have died, and you'd feel even worse than you do now."
His only response was a rapid blink of his eyelids.
"Clark, I need you."
"And I failed you."
"*Listen* to me, Kent," Lois said, roughly backhanding her tears away. "I need you now. Right now, I need stuff from you ... and you're not giving it to me."
He swallowed. "What do you need?"
"I need you to smile."
His jaw dropped. "Lois ..."
"You have all those super-impressive abilities, but you've never realised that, for me, your most powerful power is your smile. It rights my world. It puts the pieces of my life back together when they've crumbled. It reaffirms that everything will be OK." She looked at him and offered a wobbly smile. "I love you, Clark."
He looked at her with those soft brown eyes that she adored, and she saw that some of the morose shadow had dissolved. "Lois ..."
"Smile, darn you," she said. Her emotions erupted again, and this time, it was laughter that shuddered through her body as her tears leaked again.
Clark hovered with indecision.
"I know the Mayson's situation is gravely serious," Lois said. "I know we still face the awful problem of what she knows about us and the fear of how she is going to use it. I know that you have such high expectations of yourself that you feel devastated whenever you think you've failed. I know you have a flight to catch, and I know I have a game to cover. But none of that changes that I need *us* to be OK."
"Lois, I saw you. In Mayson's apartment, you ... you were so shocked, so confused, so hurt. That was my fault - I did that to you."
"That wasn't because of the bomb," she exploded. "That was because I could see what you were feeling, and I knew how much you were hurting."
Clark shook his head, and his mouth tried to form a word, but nothing came out.
"Yes," Lois said, answering his unvoiced question. "It wasn't being in the middle of an exploding bomb that upset me, it was your pain, your ..." Her resolve crumbled, and her tears fell again. "Smile, big guy," she pleaded. "Just give me one smile."
He shot her a look that was mostly apology but held a tinge of what she hoped was amusement. "I can't smile when you're crying," he said. "I just can't."
Lois used the sleeve of her jumper to sweep the moisture from her eyes and cheeks. She hauled in a breath and smiled at him.
He answered with a smile that started slowly and then unfurled to something breathtaking.
And her world began to heal.
||_||
As Clark smiled at Lois, he pushed everything else from his mind.
He was with the woman he would always love.
For now, that was all he needed.
He lifted his arms, and she rushed into his embrace. He held her closely against his chest, relishing everything about her - her scent, her feel, the sound of her heartbeat, the little after-tremors that rippled through her body.
Soon, he was kissing her - kissing her the way he had kissed her early in their relationship. Kissing that wasn't leading anywhere. Kissing that was wonderful in itself - because he was with Lois, and she loved him.
After many minutes, she drew back. "Thank you," she said.
"Lois ... I love you," he said. "I love you so much."
"I need you to do something else for me," she said.
"What?" he said. "I'll do anything for you."
She grimaced. "This is going to be hard," she said. "I know I'm asking a lot from you."
"Whatever you need, I'll do it for you," Clark promised. "Whatever."
She took his hand. "Come and sit down," she said.
He did, and his doubts came creeping back.
When they were seated, she looked into his face with solemn eyes. "Clark," she said. "It's nothing serious - I'm fine - but I got a little injury in the bomb, and I need someone to dress it for me."
He clamped down on the response that almost flew out of his mouth. "You got hurt?" he said with more equanimity than he would have thought possible.
Lois nodded. "It's just a bit of a gash - nothing serious," she said. "But it's in an awkward place - difficult for me to access."
"Where?"
She touched her left hand to above her right elbow. "Behind here," she said.
"Can I see it?"
She nodded. "And then will you dress it for me? And accept that this happened and that it's not your fault?"
"I took you into -"
"And accept that it's not your fault?" she repeated.
His shame dissolved in the steady warmth of her love. "OK," he said.
She smiled her thanks, and he knew she was hoping he would smile back.
He did.
She chuckled.
"You should let me look at your arm," Clark said. "You need to get to the 'G."
"And you have a plane to catch."
He put his hand on her cheek and used his thumb to wipe away the last of her tears. "Will you meet me at the airport?"
"Nothing will keep me away."
"Thanks."
Lois grasped the bottom of her sweater and peeled it over her head.
Clark gasped ... and Lois shook with laughter.
"Kent," she said. "You're *supposed* to be looking at my arm."
||_||
The paper had been put to bed. The onerous task of writing and editing the story of the attack on one of their own was done. It was past midnight when Clark and Perry stood in the centre of the bullpen.
"I'm serious," Perry said with his trademark grin. "Don't even think about stepping into this newsroom again until you are a married man."
Clark nodded. "Thanks for everything, Chief." Then he turned and walked out of the Daily Planet building. It felt like 'goodbye'. It felt like he was walking away ... closing the book on a chapter of his life ... a chapter that might never be reopened.
||_||
Glossary
Jumper - sweater.
