I wrote Through the Window as a stand alone story. (I know. Keep reading, the irony is just up ahead.) I wanted to write something that had a beginning, middle, end, and didn’t turn into anything else. Because somehow, I was never clear on how, ‘Lois Unbuttoned’, which was a simple short story, grew into three stories before I got the lid back on. So, I approached TTW with a real purpose in mind- One story…the end…ok, an epilogue…ok, another epilogue…hmmmm.
What follows caught me off guard. And is due solely to the very thoughtful comments of the readers of these boards. All of you who read and commented and made me see that the story really was bigger than what I’d written.
I would specifically cite Tank, Liz, KathyM, Sherry, Jo, and Wendy. Your feedback really wrote this, in a way.
I hope you enjoy. Either way, I want to hear what you think.
Thanks to Jude for her wisdom and sound advice. And to Labrat for all of her help, as always.
***
And Back Again
By CC Aiken
“Well?”
“It’s…positive, Clark.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“The stick says so. I guess you don’t argue with the stick.”
She held it out to him so he could see the evidence for himself. But he wasn’t looking at it. He was looking at her.
“This is not the end of the world, Lois.”
“Thank you for saying that. Say that again?” She moved away from his outstretched hand, neither able nor ready to sit down.
“This…is… not… the end of the world, Lois.”
“How about of us, then?”
He stood up from the bed and moved behind her. He didn’t force her to turn and look at him, just rested gentle hands on her shoulders. “Don’t even say that. Don’t even. It is not the end of anything. It’s…”
“Clark Kent, don’t you dare say it’s the opposite,” she growled against the tears that wanted to come.
“…the beginning.”
“You said it,” she sighed sadly.
“Lois, we’re going to be a family.”
He did turn her now. Tilting her head up so she would have to see into his eyes.
“Oh, Clark.” She moved away and he didn’t try to bring her back.
“We are. The three of us. And everything is going to be ok. We should maybe talk about-”
“I don’t want to talk about any of that,” she said hastily.
“-getting married, Lois. Getting married,” he corrected her softly.
“Oh.”
Again he held his hand out to her, and again she stepped around it. She couldn’t hold still just yet. Couldn’t be held. By him.
“But we are going to have to have that other conversation sooner or later. You know we do,” he finally said.
“I just…I can’t. Not yet.”
“You don’t want to hurt me.” This time he did make her look at him, pulling her to him and leaning down to catch her eye.
“Not any more than you already are hurt. And now this.”
“What about you, honey? You’re hurt too. And now this.”
He ran soothing hands up and down her arms, massaging her shoulders, imparting more love in those gestures than she’d imagined possible.
“Can we just table it all for tonight, Clark? Can we just…” She closed her eyes and at last allowed herself to lean against him. To sink into him.
“Lois, we’ve been tabling a lot of things for a couple months now. I think now is the time to get this all…out.”
“I’m tired, Clark.” She hated the defeated sound of her voice, hated that he had to hear it, too.
“If we can get this done, have this talk, you might feel better.” His arms had come up and were wrapped tightly around her. It was better this way. She didn’t have to look at him.
“Pouring all that salt in your wounds? That’s going to make me feel better?” she asked his shirt front.
“Seeing for yourself that after we have this talk, I am still going to be here. Still going to be with you. No matter what.”
Again he tried with loving hands to tilt her face up. Again she moved away.
“Ok. You go ahead downstairs. I’ll join you after I...change. Or wash my face. Or…”
“Shimmy down the drainpipe and run screaming into the night?”
“Yes. Can you move from the window? You’re blocking my way.”
“How about we do this thing first? And then we fly?”
He paused, awaiting her response.
“I can’t argue with that, Clark.”
“Lois Lane can’t argue? Are you sure you’re my Lois, not some alternate from another dimension?” he teased quietly.
“That is not even funny.”
“If we can’t laugh at it, Lois….Ok, ok, I’ll go down, start dinner.”
He held up his hands in surrender and at last left her alone.
Lois waited until the door was closed and she heard him descending the stairs before she crept softly back into the bathroom, boxed up the pregnancy test kit and threw it away.
Under the glaring lights, it was impossible to avoid her reflection. “What now?” it was asking her.
“Damned if I know,” she answered it under her breath.
For a time she stared at the woman in the mirror. A woman she didn’t know anymore. Eventually, she went down to dinner before she could lose her nerve.
***
Clark leaned heavily against the stove, stirring the sauce he was making, his mind a thousand miles away. Lois was pregnant. Back from the altworld less than three months and pregnant. In his wildest dreams he could never have imagined the day she would present him with a pregnancy test that was positive, and he would be anything but over the moon.
Seize the day, Kent. Minutes are precious. Now is the only time we have guaranteed to us.
That was how he had justified that night.
If they had just waited.
But it had been incredible. Amazing. The memories of that night were stamped into his mind in fire. But now…now they would never know. There was no way to know. There wasn’t a DNA test in the world that would be able to distinguish him from…the other him. Not that the other him was even remotely available for such a test, if it existed.
He was the dad here. At the end of the day that was the thing to focus on. He was the dad. Lois would be his wife. They would be the family he had always longed for. The rest of it…well, they would just iron the details out tonight. Get it all said. It was past time for that anyway, but if they were going to be ok, better than just ok, there were things that just had to be said.
Clark looked out the back window of the brownstone they shared. They had moved in together after Lois’ miraculous return from the dead. He still slept in the spare bedroom, and he couldn’t categorize their relationship very well. They hadn’t wanted to live apart from each other. So, they were roommates, he guessed. And they were joined by an unspoken fear of Tempus’ return, so they were…seeking solace in one another. Other than his parents, no one else knew what had really happened, so there was a lonely quality to their relationship. Like two against the world. Or a couple of worlds, actually.
Clark was used to the lonely part. It had been with him his whole life. People knew him, but not really. And now Lois was the same. People knew her, but not really. Not the struggle she’d come through. Not the nightmares. While he was very much used to the necessary secrecy, Lois wasn’t. Not for herself. So, things were…complicated. They were fundamentally dependent on each other now, in a way they hadn’t been before. In a way that he wasn’t sure was healthy, especially not for Lois. The reality of their lives in Metropolis, their lives in the aftermath of what they’d weathered, was proving more difficult than either one of them had ever imagined it might.
The morning after Lois’ return, they had woken up in his old bedroom tangled in each other. They had vowed that from that day on, there would be no more wasted time between them. Clark had listened to the sounds of his mom and dad up and about their work as he and Lois lay in the bed for hours, discussing marriage, children, Superman, the future. Their future. When they had finally gone down to breakfast, he’d thought they’d been given a miracle. A fair exchange for the nightmare they’d lived.
But the nightmares hadn’t stopped for Lois.
There were still so many things she didn’t say. And silence, from Lois, was terrible. And he had so many things he was dying to ask. But he hated to spook her. She was so…fragile now. He couldn’t seem to give her enough reassurance, enough of his presence, enough…something to make her feel safe, loved, and well. They hadn’t made love again. That was a mutual agreement. They wouldn’t again, until things were…something that they currently weren’t. Whatever that was.
A month of solitude in Smallville with his parents had been followed by managing Lois’ reentry into Metropolis, into the world. Parts of that had been wonderful. Taking her back to her family. The look on Perry’s face. The smile Jimmy couldn’t wipe off. Superman telling Henderson that Lois Lane was alive and well. Henderson’s uncharacteristic show of emotion.
“You worked so hard for me, sir,” Superman had told the shaken inspector. “I can’t ever express my gratitude.”
“Don’t you dare try,” Henderson had responded grumpily. “It’s my job.”
“I think we both know you went far beyond what duty called for,” Superman had answered.
The silence in Henderson’s office had been a comfortable one. Two men lost in their owns memories of the days past. The meetings they’d had. Their frustration early on, which had eventually turned to fear for the worst, and then a weary resignation with the unspoken knowledge that at some point the search for Lois had turned into the search for Lois’ body.
“Go home to her, Kent,” Henderson had told him after a time. “Tell her hello for me.”
Thinking back on it now, Clark had to smile.
“When did you know for sure?” he’d asked.
“Sooner than you think,” had been the cryptic reply.
The first month back in Metropolis had been a whirlwind. The media interviews, finding a place, getting Lois’ things out of storage. Going back to work. Back to their partnership. They had rarely been alone. He had longed for the quiet days and nights in Smallville, where he and Lois had all the time in the world together. Where they hadn’t talked much, but had stayed glued to each other’s side. Despite their agreement that intimacy could wait, he had slept beside her every night. Her nightmares wouldn’t allow him to go much further. Superman had taken some time off. In Smallville, they had lived inside a bubble. And planned the story of what happened to Lois Lane.
That hadn’t been easy. They didn’t want to leave anything open to questions or investigation. The last thing they wanted was for Henderson to turn his dogged attention from finding her, to finding her kidnappers. How could they ever explain a parallel universe? An unhinged madman with a grudge against Superman and a time window to go with it? They had gone round and round about it. Amnesia, though trite, had been the route they’d taken. Lois couldn’t remember anything. Not one thing from the time he’d left her outside her door after their date, which now seemed a hundred years ago, until she turned up unexpectedly asking for him in Smallville.
So much had happened during that time. And Lois did remember. She just didn’t want to. And didn’t want him to, either. But now, with the baby, they both had to go back. Lay all the ghosts to rest. Then they could be that family he had promised her they would be.
Clark heard her footsteps on the stair. He shot a quick beam of heat vision into the sauce he’d let cool as his mind wandered. He pulled out the plates, set the table, and lit some candles. All before she had the door open.
“Seize the day, Kent,” he told himself, before turning to meet her.
***Metropolis2
“All I’m saying, Lois, is that as written, we don’t have a leg to stand on. Not a legal one. If the guy wanted to sue, we can’t prove-”
“Clark, I am not listening to another word of this! You are driving me crazy. We have the evidence. We were there, you saw. We’ve got a story.”
She turned on one spiked heel and stomped off towards her desk.
He grabbed her by the arm, dragging her as gently as possible back into the conference room.
He lowered his voice. “I know what I saw, Lois. But how are we going to explain that I saw it from the length of a football field?”
That stopped her for a second. But only for a second. “We had binoculars,” she spat.
“Lois, they patted us down when we went in. Don’t tell me you don’t remember that? You nearly took the security guard’s head off.”
“Clark, his hands…lingered! There was definite lingering!”
“Lois…” He held his hands up in surrender, but kept his back against the conference room doors so she wouldn’t bolt. Thank God for invulnerability, he thought once again. How many times in their short, stormy partnership had he said that?
She wasn’t ranting anymore. In fact she’d gone absolutely quiet. This wasn’t better. It just signaled a change of tact.
“You,” she said softly, “were hiding a telescope up your-”
“Lois!”
“Well, then I give up,” she muttered, throwing herself back into the chair from which she had sprung. Swinging her long legs back under the table, she went back to their story notes. Like that it was over. For now.
“The Kents always seemed so happy.”
Clark tried to dampen his hearing. He had heard more than enough comments since the switch had been made. Initially, he hadn’t been able to resist listening, wondering how their co-workers were taking the change, how he and Lois were pulling it off. But that had worn off quickly.
“He’s cheated on her, I’m sure of it.”
“Clark Kent?! Never. He’s too dependable for that. Too-“
“…boring if you ask me,” joined a third voice. He didn’t really want to identify its owner.
“What?” Lois was looking at him closely.
“Hm?” He smiled absently at her.
“What are they saying, Clark?” she persisted. “I can tell by your face.”
She was good. They had been left by HG Wells with his cheerful prediction that they would ‘figure things out’ just a few months ago. Already she had an uncanny ability to read his mind. All he’d been able to figure out, in the same time, was that he was hopelessly, stupidly besotted with her and she could barely stand to breathe the same air he did. That whole ‘soul mates’ thing, you-know-from-the-first-instant phenomenon, was evidently a one way street. This had all been so much easier with Lois.
Clark jerked his thoughts away from that subject like he’d touched a hot stove. Lois Lane, his former wife, or current wife, depending on your philosophical outlook, was back home where she truly belonged. And he was glad for her. He hoped she was faring better than he was with her true love.
“Nothing new, Lois,” he assured her. “And still mostly at my expense, not yours.”
Her face darkened with fury. “Names,” she hissed. “I want names. Who said what? They want to talk about the Kent’s unhappy marriage, they can talk to me.”
“No. No names. Let’s drop it, ok? Back to the argument at hand. Deadline approaches and we’ve got…”
“…nothing,” she acknowledged, tossing him a somewhat apologetic smile.
Progress, he thought. Peace, maybe. For now.
“What do you say we tell Sorenson we’re off to meet a source-” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “-and instead we find a quiet place to have din-”
He stopped. Snapped to attention.
Alarms and screams and gunfire.
“Go on,” she told him.
“What?” He’d forgotten she was in the room.
“Go meet our source, Clark,” she said firmly. “I’ll meet you at home with the pizza.”
He threw her a grateful smile on his way out the door, up the stairwell, and into the skies. This might work after all.
***
Lois Lane let herself into the apartment she shared with her “husband” Clark Kent; balancing a pizza, a bottle of wine, and all the notes for their current story she could carry. She dumped everything on the coffee table, deposited her keys on the kitchen counter, and moved towards her room to change.
The sight of her laundry, folded and placed at the foot of the bed, stopped her for a moment. There were things she could get used to, she admitted to herself. Things maybe not so bad about the whole ‘pretending to be married’ thing. This was definitely one of them. Grateful for her partner’s thoughtfulness, she kicked off her heels and suit and rooted around for her coziest pajamas. He had bought her every bit of clothing that now sat laundered on the bed. Little by little, piece by piece, so subtly and unobtrusively that it had been some time before she’d noticed. When she’d asked him about it, or, ok, maybe accused him, he’d only shrugged, said he figured she might need a few things.
And she had. Five years in a prison. And then coming back to find that her life, what she’d left of it, had somehow been taken up and well, if she was honest, she’d have to admit, vastly improved in her absence. She had needed things. The basics. None of her stuff from her former life had survived. Evidently it had been offered to Lucy, her only family member to speak of. But Lucy, being very well off and not that close to her, had asked that it be donated to charity.
This was the kind of stuff a person could use a shrink for. Lois frowned as she did up the buttons on her pajama top. Married, but not really. Back from the dead, only more than a year later than everybody thought she was.
“And my fake husband flies.” She scowled at no one in particular. Wouldn’t want to forget that little nugget of craziness. “Flies and saves the day and…” Well, a lot of things, actually.
Lois moved quickly back to the kitchen, stepping around the stack of pillows and blankets that he used each night to make the sofa into a bed. She’d just go ahead and eat, she told herself. No need to wait on him. Who knew what time he’d turn up? It wasn’t like she needed his company to enjoy her meal. Good pizza was good pizza. In fact after five years of the same thing, day after day, everything tasted really good to her. And Clark wasn’t stingy. He indulged her every craving, flying her to all the corners of the world just for dessert sometimes.
They had been living together for a couple of months. In that time she’d taken up at the Daily Planet pretty much where she’d left off. Actually, better than she had left off. She was a well-respected senior reporter now. She had proven herself. And she was one half of the hottest investigative team in town. Her return, well, not *her* return, but the return of Lois Lane had been widely credited with bringing Perry White out of semi-retirement. With things going so well at work, she’d been able to save some money. At the rate things were going, she’d be in a place of her own in no time. Maybe could even start looking now.
Lois set the table with two plates and two wine glasses. She could just read the classifieds. See if anything interesting was available. She liked this neighborhood. She might be able to find something close by. That way if Clark still wanted someone to fly with…late at night…she wouldn’t be too far away.
Tomorrow, she promised herself, sitting down to put the television on. Tomorrow she would start making inquiries. Then she would get a place of her own. A life all her own. Then he could have his home back. His bed back. His side of the closet back. Clark Kent was a nice guy. A good guy. A guy she trusted, really, if it came right down to it. And she couldn’t say that about many other people she’d known. Over and over he claimed to be glad she was here. Happy to be working with her. Content to share his life with her, inside the Daily Planet and out, in whatever form it took. He would like for there to be more, he’d volunteered on an occasion or two. But there was no rush. Whenever she was ready. But the crux of it was she wasn’t his wife. No matter how many people they pretended to, even if they pretended to each other, she was just…not his wife.
She woke to find Clark bent over her, calling her name, shaking her gently.
“You didn’t eat.” Superman smiled down at her.
“I guess I wasn’t hungry,” she replied groggily, resenting the amusement in his eyes.
“Not hungry?” he repeated incredulously. “Have we met?”
“Funny,” she grumbled. “I’m going to bed.” She stood up from the sofa. “What time is it?”
“Three in the morning,” he said apologetically.
“What took so long?” The surprise and concern in her voice didn’t appear to go as unnoticed as she’d hoped.
“Well, it was…messy,” he said after a time. “Nothing I’d really want to…talk about.”
His friendly, easy manner gone now, he moved swiftly past her. “If you don’t mind, I’ll grab a quick shower, get out of your way.”
“Clark.” She stopped him with just that one word. “What happened?”
His back was still turned to her, but she could clearly see the slump in his shoulders, the fatigue and weariness in his posture.
“I was…too late to stop the worst of it,” he offered at last. “Too late to save…a lot of people. So, I stayed behind a while. Tried to… just be there…for the survivors.”
“Tell me,” she said angrily, “that you didn’t apologize to them, Clark.”
“Lois,” he snapped back. “You don’t know. You weren’t there.”
“I know you’re not God,” she spat. “I know you’re just a man, Clark Kent. Do you know that? Or have you forgotten again?”
She stormed in front of him, her fists clenched. “Get a shower, get undressed…”
At his raised eyebrow she sputtered, “You know what I mean! Get comfortable. And we’ll eat. The pizza’s cold, but I trust you can handle that. Deal?”
“Ok, Lane,” he agreed in a quiet voice, calling her by the name he’d used for her off and on since they’d met. From his mouth it sounded like an endearment; honey, sweetheart, love, dear one.
Lois blinked the incongruous thought away. He probably knew that and did it on purpose. Strategic Endearments. They probably taught that to all good-looking guys in their frat houses. Or in the womb. Either way, it didn’t matter, because it didn’t work on her.
Clark stepped past her once more, pausing just long enough to place his hand on her shoulder, to turn her, forcing her to look at him. To look into those eyes that held such pain, defeat, gentleness, and something else she didn’t want to see. “Thanks,” he whispered. He was gone and the water was running before she moved again.
***
Well, she wouldn’t get her own place. How could she? Maybe he was the strongest being in this universe, but that didn’t mean he was smart. What if she wasn’t there on the nights he returned from rescues gone bad? How badly would he beat himself up without anyone to unload his…stupid ideas on? Stupid. Just plain stupid. He was one man. And granted he could fly and lift things and other stuff that other guys couldn’t. But he was still just a guy. Now, if he was a woman… just one woman with all the same powers… well, then maybe, he could do everything. But not Clark Kent. He was strong and noble and all the predictable things of romance novels and fairy tales. Not real, really.
Except that he was real. Very real. Vulnerable in a way that, well, worried her, if she had to admit it. He was flawed, seriously flawed. He needed her. How much bigger a flaw could one person have? Strongest man in the galaxy and he needed Lois Lane, refugee from the Congo, to help him see straight? This was new and for the most part terrifying, again, if she was being honest. No one had needed her before, not ever. So, she’d stay. A while longer anyway. It was the least she could do, being fair-minded. He had taken her in and bought her a toothbrush. She would stay until he was…smarter about things. Like a live-in teacher. Then, when he had his head on straight, when he saw things the right way, she would go. He just wasn’t ready for that yet.
***
Lois contemplated her partner above the screen of her computer. She was waiting for confirmation from their source and there wasn’t a lot she could do in the meantime. Clark was on the phone hoping to hurry things along. Where on earth had he gotten that tie? Probably from…that Lois. Oh, he definitely needed her. For that tie alone, if not anything else.
He looked up and caught her staring. Before she could avert her eyes, he motioned to the conference room and mouthed, “We got it.”
She hurried to join him, throwing the conference room doors opened a split second before he did. He grabbed her around the waist, spinning her into the room.
“We did it.” He smiled down at her. “Your hunch was one hundred percent correct, Lane, and now we’ve got the proof.” He twirled her once more for good measure, and then set her down gently on her feet. “If we get busy we can get this done by deadline. Get your notes; I’ll get mine, meet you back here…”
She couldn’t help but notice the attention of the newsroom was focused on them. So, for good measure, and just for show, of course, she kissed him. A small kiss not directly on the mouth, just a tad bit off center, but close enough to look real. He did his part to make it look real too. Going completely still like that, stopping his incessant babbling for the kiss and a bit longer, pretending not to be breathing, and then crushing her against him until he seemed to remember the doors were still open.
Clark Kent wasn’t so stupid. He could act. Let the gossips figure that one out.
tbc-
ps: Since this story is rougly 10 parts, I'm wondering if you have suggestions on how often to post. Don't want to overwhelm readers by too much too soon, and don't want to make this an endless process, either. Ideas? Sage wisdom? Hard-won experience? All welcome!!
