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Chapter 14: Triumph
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Clark's arms around her were all that was holding Lois together. Ever since the trapdoor to their cell had gone flying into the shadows and Clark had lifted her into freedom and clean air, she had felt lightheaded, dizzy, and vague, as if all the world were passing her by while she processed her relief and abated fear. Perry's solicitous questions, the doctors and nurses around her, the murmur of the hospital--it had seemed little more substantial than a dream that had no power to truly affect her.
Yet now, with Clark holding her together, his heartbeat reflecting hers even as it gave hers a reason to beat, his breaths mirroring hers even as their continuation gave her a reason to inhale and exhale, his flesh next to hers so much more important and sacred than her own, now she could start to think again, could start to look around and process what was happening. Now that he was safe, she could return to reality, content that it was still a world she could safely and happily dwell in.
But still her body quivered with tiny shivers she couldn't control or tame. It was infuriating to be so affected by this one escapade when she was, as Clark had observed, so good at putting attempts on her life and dangerous encounters behind her. Why, she wondered, was this one so different? Why did her veins still pulse with leftover liquid terror? Why couldn't she smooth out her breathing and quit her trembling and loosen her grip on Clark? Why did she feel like breaking down into tears and letting Clark put her back together, kiss by caress by whisper?
Because, something within her replied, this time it wasn't her own life that had been in danger.
It had been Clark's.
Was this what he went through every time he saw her dangle over the jaws of death? Was this terrible, helpless feeling of utter inevitability and complete powerlessness what he experienced each time he had to swoop in and pull her from death's door? No wonder he shook long after she did following those encounters. No wonder he held her so tightly and stared at her so long and followed her so closely after any situation where she came so near to the end. No wonder he had been so thoroughly terrified of his own helplessness and her mortality that he had once been led to separate himself from her.
Lois tightened her grip still further on Clark at that thought. Regardless of her new understanding, she couldn't bear to lose him. She needed him too much to even contemplate the thought of watching him walk away. Not that he would, she quickly assured herself. They were far past that juncture of their relationship; they had given their lives to one another and sworn their eternal fidelity.
"It's okay," Clark whispered in her ear, as if sensing her distress. "I'm right here."
"Please," Lois murmured, too drained and weary to even lift her head from his chest. "Please, can we go home?"
"Of course."
Lois almost cried out when Clark's arms withdrew from around her. She felt her stability fluctuating, threatening to fly apart in a million pieces that might shatter still further if Clark weren't there to so carefully catch them and build her back up. The only thing that kept her together was the fact that he kept one arm around her waist, drawing her after him as he filled out a few forms, directed her to sign her name, and began to lead her out of the hospital.
"I wish I could fly you home," he said quietly. "But we'll have to take a cab."
He had already waved down a taxi and helped her into the backseat, sliding in after her and gathering her close to himself, before she regained enough coherence to realize that something bad must have happened if he couldn't fly them home.
"You ran into the stone again?" she asked him, unable to raise her voice too loudly and yet still speaking in code due to the presence of the cab driver.
"Church and Vale had a piece. It's all right; Vale's gone now and the police have Church. Perry's taking care of everything." Clark tightened his arms around her, and for the first time, Lois was aware enough to recognize the fact that he was gaining as much assurance and strength from her presence as she was from his.
Words escaped her for the moment, the process too complicated and intricate for her to grab hold of the perfect collection of syllables that would right his world for him. So, in lieu of verbal comfort, she snuggled in closer to him and hoped that the beating of her heart and the sound of her breaths and the sensation of her skin against his were enough to assure him that she was there and safe and still deeply, desperately in love with him.
"Lois." His voice was so quiet, so soft, so well-known to her, that she more felt him say her name than heard him. The feel of his hand sliding down to take hers was just as familiar, just as welcome, just as comforting.
Her breath caught when she felt him slide her wedding ring back on her finger. Around her, the world seemed to click back into place, the last key turned to return it to its normal, every-day perfection. A single tear slipped free to caress the curve of her cheek as gently as he usually did.
"I love you, Lois," Clark whispered, his arms tightening around her, proof that he was no longer afraid to touch her and hold her and love her.
In answer, Lois slid her hand--shimmering with the tiny star he had given her--up into his hair and buried her face in his neck, blotting out the rest of the world and drowning herself in the feel and smell and taste of her husband.
She wasn't even aware that they had reached their brownstone until she felt his arms slide under her and lift her. A brief twinge of anxiety, awoken by the thought that he was still recovering from both colors of Kryptonite--*again*, and so soon after the last time!--made her stir briefly with the intention of walking to the door herself, but the effort was too great for her and the thought swirled away to be lost in the sea of overwhelming emotions turned vague, a sea that surrounded her and engulfed her in its liquid embrace.
Dimly, she heard the door close behind her and felt herself surrounded by all the comforts and security of home, an ethereal feeling she couldn't describe but that instantly made itself known when crossing that threshold Clark carried her across-once in delight with their new home and now with relief to shut out the rest of the world. Then, Clark's movements and the vague sensation of space moving around her informed her that he was carrying her up the stairs and into their bedroom. The next thing she knew, he was setting her down atop the bed, the covers seeming to rise up around her, embracing her in warmth and comfort.
Comfort that was obliterated when Clark began to move away from her.
"No," she blurted, grasping blindly upward to catch hold of his shoulders. "No, don't leave me!"
"I was--" Clark subsided, then gently settled himself next to her, drawing her close to him, allowing her to stretch out and press herself fully against him, giving her back her world. "All right," he murmured. "I'm here. Shh, it's all right. I'm here."
As if his words--or the familiar surroundings--had caused the last of her barriers to disintegrate, Lois's tears could no longer be held back. The sea that had carried her along in its silken, flowing currents now demanded a release and poured from her eyes, a rainy storm prompted by sheer terror and stress and relief.
"I was so afraid," she said, the words separate and disjointed, swallowed up between sobs. "I thought you were going to die! I thought you...I was afraid you would have to breathe in that...please, Clark, please tell me you're okay!"
"I'm okay," he obliged her, his voice so calming and strong and *alive* that she wept harder. "Shh, Lois, it's all right. I'm okay."
"How do you do this?" she demanded, more in sympathy with him now than she ever had been before. "How can you think I'm going to die and *not* break down afterward? How can you be so strong?"
"I'm not strong," he told her, a note of such bleak somberness in his voice that Lois couldn't help but quiet her sobs and dam the flood of tears to hear every nuance of his answer. "I do break down, every time I see you in danger. I just...I hold it inside and I go flying and then I watch you sleep or laugh or work or whatever it is you're doing. And by seeing that you're all right, by listening to your heartbeat, by talking to you about the mundane or the important, I banish the terror."
"Until the next time," she finished for him.
Clark's smile was so astonishing, so unexpected, so amazing, that Lois caught her breath. "With you, Lois, there's always a next time. But that doesn't matter. What matters are the moments--moments of happiness and bliss and contentment and friendship and passion. Even the moments of danger and fear and all-consuming relief. All of those combined compose our life, and taken altogether they're beautiful. Perfect. Each moment with you is a miracle."
Lois had never met a man like Clark, who believed in such stark absolutes and yet thought of the world as a beautiful place, who spent so much time seeing the very worst and most vicious life had to offer and yet was convinced there was good in everyone, who displayed the most amazing gentleness humanity had ever seen and yet possessed such amazing inner strength. She had never met--would never meet--anyone else who could touch her so deeply with his words and the love so unashamedly, unabashedly, fearlessly exposed in his eyes and in every one of his actions.
It had taken her a very long time to believe that a man like that could--and did--exist in the real world. A long time to realize that he was true and honest and sincere. It had been easier to believe in Superman, a being with extraordinary powers and a heart of gold, than to believe in the ordinary Clark Kent, a man who loved her with all that he was and so unequivocally that it was impossible for him to hide or contain it. But he had eventually convinced her, eventually won her trust, eventually brought her to the understanding that if a man could fly, he could also love her selflessly.
And though Lois wished she could respond to his declaration with equal poetry, she could, as always, only respond with her own actions. Could only give him her reply by lifting her head and bringing her mouth to his and kissing him with all the tenderness and awe and wonder she felt that he loved *her*. Kissing him with all the love and affection and respect she felt for *him*.
"Clark," she said as he kissed her cheek, her temple, her chin, and her lips again. "Please, take me flying. And then let me watch you. Let me see you living out your life. Let me hear your heartbeat. Let me talk to you about anything and everything. I want to be healed."
For once, he didn't ask whether she was well enough; he had witnessed her emotional sobs and was well able to hear the desperation presently imbuing her voice. So, even though he couldn't fly yet, not physically, he lifted her into his arms with no sign of strain, and he moved her to the open window, so close that if she avoided looking behind her, it almost did seem they were in the skies. And he whispered in her ear, pointing out specific stars or describing unique cloud configurations or recounting scenes of beauty from his own memory.
And then, when she felt herself grow drowsy, he took her back to the bed and tucked her in, nestling her close to his heart so she could hear its steady thumping and know that he was well. And he smiled at her so she could imprint the image in her mind and use it as a shield against all the fear-drenched images sleep wanted to send her, and he laughed when she traced his smile with a finger. And he kissed her softly as she fell asleep so that she took his love with her into whatever dreams visited her.
And when she woke, he was there beside her, ready with a smile and a greeting and an understanding ear.
And Lois was healed.
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When she emerged from the shower, dressed in comfy slacks and a long-sleeved t-shirt, Clark was waiting with an impish smile that gave away the fact that he had a surprise for her.
"What is it?" she demanded immediately. She hated surprises...usually. Except when it was Clark who gave them to her. And really, since he was himself a mystery that never failed to surprise her, that seemed fitting.
"I made you breakfast," he told her, as if that were an unusual occurrence. "Lay down. It's supposed to be breakfast in bed."
"But I'm up already," she insisted playfully, afire with curiosity to know what had him biting back a grin that refused to stay hidden.
"The doctor said you were supposed to take it easy, and Perry's not allowing us to come into work today. So..." He paused before finally allowing his grin to burst forth unrestrained. "If you want to know what the surprise is, you might as well lay down and get comfortable."
"Oh, fine," she agreed ungraciously. For Clark's sake, she huffed a bit and made a big deal about settling herself in the bed and meticulously arranging the covers about her. She knew it reassured him to see her acting so normally after her breakdown of the night before; his eyes practically lit the room without even the benefit of the sun as he watched her.
Clark ducked into the hallway, then stepped back into the bedroom with a tray in his hands. The smells of food such as only he could conjure up made Lois suddenly more quiescent about sitting there waiting for him to serve her.
"Are you going to eat with me?" she inquired shyly.
"I was hoping you'd ask," he replied.
Setting the tray on the bed, Clark settled himself next to her, and Lois couldn't resist stealing a quick kiss before he could remove any of the covers from the dishes. "What was that for?" he asked, though his tone indicated that he didn't mind in the least.
"Just stealing a taste of dessert before the main meal," she teased him.
"Well, in that case." Clark leaned nearer her and snatched his own quick kiss. "You're right," he told her softly. "It makes everything else taste better."
Lois giggled and held up a stern finger. "But don't think this means you don't have to tell me what you're hiding!"
"Who says I'm hiding anything?"
"I don't even know why you try giving me that innocent look," Lois said, doing her best not to be distracted by the sight of steaming muffins revealed by Clark's flourishing removal of a lid. "You can never hide anything from me."
"Nothing?" He raised a questioning eyebrow.
Biting back her grin, Lois raised an eyebrow. "Your alter ego hardly counts. Everyone knows that falls under the category of...well, of superpowers!"
"Really?" Clark chuckled and offered her a muffin that she couldn't very well turn down. He had gone to an awful lot of trouble to make it for her, after all, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. "Do I have to start listing that power on my resume now?"
"The next time you make a resume for Superman, you can," Lois granted imperiously before laughing at the silliness of her mood and taking a large bite of the muffin. After that, it was a few moments before she managed to recall herself to the mystery before her.
"So?" she demanded as soon as she had finished her last bite.
Clark met her gaze as casually as if he weren't hiding something from her. "Yes?"
"You know what I want, Clark!"
"Do I?" Clark took their plates, stacked them back on the tray, and set the tray on the floor beside the bed. Probably a wise move, thought Lois, since her fingers were itching to grab a pillow and force Clark to reveal his secret to her. Well, she inwardly shrugged, why not?
"Tell me now," she commanded, and grabbed hold of a pillow, raising it threateningly over her head. "You can't cheat until you soak in a bit more of that sun, and I'm warning you, without your powers, you'll never be able to stand against me in a pillow fight."
"A pillow fight?" Clark repeated incredulously. "What are you, eight?"
Pretending outrage, Lois used the pillow to knock Clark on the head. "Come on, Kent--what are you hiding?"
"I'm not hiding anything," he protested, holding up his arm in a warding gesture. "But...if you really need a distraction that bad, why don't you try reading the paper?"
Lois glared at him suspiciously as she took the paper, certain this was just another delaying tactic. Yet when she looked down at the paper, she was astonished by the major headlines adorning the front page.
"Plot to discredit Superman foiled by Man of Steel, by Perry White," Lois read aloud, her eyes skimming over the articles. "Mayor forced to resign under cloud of controversy, by Lois Lane and James Olsen. Dorian connected to Intergang, by Lois Lane and James Olsen. Superman nabs head of Intergang, by Clark Kent and Perry White. Superman here to stay, by Perry White and James Olsen." She looked up from the paper with wide eyes to meet Clark's satisfied gaze.
"I don't think Perry or Jimmy got any sleep last night," he told her, putting an arm around her so he could examine the paper over her shoulder. "The Chief called last night after you were asleep to ask if he could use our notes on the different stories, but I had no idea he had all...*this*--" Clark waved his hand at the headlines. "--in mind."
"Clark..." Lois couldn't say any more; her voice had given out as she opened the paper. As familiar with the layout of a newspaper as she was with the back of her hand, she nonetheless found herself rustling through the other pages as if she had never held a newspaper before. Finally, she looked up from the main articles and countless letters to look at her husband. "Did you look through the whole paper?"
His smile was small and...proud. Not proud of himself, but proud of her and her accomplishments. "I did. It seems your editorials made people eager to show their appreciation of Superman."
Lois looked back down at the paper, filled to overflowing with letters from Metropolitans who had sent in their stories of rescues and loved ones returned to them and inspiration gleaned from Superman's actions. "Did you know Perry was planning this?"
"Yes. I told you I read the papers with your Op/Ed pieces. He had added a short note at the bottom of your editorials asking people to write in with their thoughts on Superman. I don't know that he expected quite that many. The back page says there will be an extra edition to print the rest."
"Clark." Puzzled by his relaxed calmness, Lois laid her hand flat against his cheek and turned his face so that he would look at her. "Isn't this what you wanted? Don't you want Metropolis to accept and appreciate you?"
"I do," he answered quietly, laying his own hand over hers. "It means more to me than I can say that so many people obviously understand that my goal is to help them and that they accept me into their lives. But what's more important than that is the fact that you never abandoned or rejected me. Ever. And even if Metropolis had asked Superman to leave...I would have been all right. Because I still had you."
"And even if Metropolis had betrayed and disappointed me," Lois realized, "I would still have you."
"Always," he promised her instantly.
"Oh, Clark. I love you." As she threw herself forward into his arms, Lois wasn't aware of the newspaper heedlessly crumpled between them, or whether her byline had been featured prominently or not, or even what the letters praising and extolling her husband said. Later would be time enough to revel in the triumph afforded her in those few pages of newsroom ink. Later would be time enough to thank Perry for what he had done and follow up on the mayor's resignation and cover Intergang's fall. Later would be time enough to merge back into the flow of the world.
But for now, for this perfect, miraculous moment, Lois was content to spend time with her husband. To listen to his laugh and memorize his smile and luxuriate in the gleam that darkened his already-dark eyes every time he looked at her. To remember all the reasons she loved him and to fall in love with him all over again. To heal him with her presence and to be healed in turn.
Against Clark's mouth, Lois laughed her happiness aloud and melted under his gentle touch.
