Grief was like the tide.
That’s what Dr. Friskin said, and Lois sometimes found herself believing it. There were times she’d go for weeks at a time without thinking about either of them, but always she’d be pulled back into it.
All it took was seeing a familiar profile on the subway, a familiar set of the shoulders. Lois found that she was living in a world of ghosts, chasing phantoms.
She’d find her heart racing almost involuntarily, and she’d take a step to look closer, but always--- always it was a letdown. The men she’d followed always turned out to be someone else’s father, brother, son.
If she’d been asked before, she’d have said that it would have been Superman who would have haunted her, not a nowhere hack from the middle of the country, from a town no one had ever heard of.
Yet in the brief time they’d been together, he’d somehow managed to worm his way deeper into her heart. He’d been the only man who hadn’t been threatened by her; he’d enjoyed the challenge.
They’d worked well together. They’d been friends.
The thoughts of what might have been tormented her. Late nights spent wondering--
What if she’d insisted he go to the doctor after he’d been hit by the car? She’d known how dangerous, how tricky head injuries could be. Her father had treated boxer after boxer with traumatic brain injuries, and many of them had walked away seemingly unhurt only to have complications later.
She’d been distracted by the end of the world. That was her only excuse, that and the fact that there had always been something about Clark…a sense that no matter what happened he would always be there for her.
In a way he had been a lot like Superman. They’d both been heroes in the same way. They’d both come at about the same time, and they’d both vanished from the face of the Earth.
It hurt her to think of Superman floating alone, dead in space, floating behind the asteroid he’d managed to deflect in time to save the human race. Yet somehow it was fitting. Superman had died the way he would have wanted to, saving people. The entire world loved him.
But Clark had been hurt, and he’d vanished, and outside of his parents, an elderly aunt and a few coworkers, no one knew or cared.
If there had been a body, there would at least have been a chance at closure, but this way, Lois’s mind would always be stuck with the thought that he was out there, somewhere.
Coming to New York had been a mistake. Perry had thought it would be good for her to get out of Metropolis, to go to the convention and get back into the spirit of her first love.
Yet even her work wasn’t what it once had been. She hadn’t been nominated for a Kerth or even a Merriweather in two years. Other writers had made huge sums writing about Nightfall and the passing of a legend. Lois hadn’t written anything.
The movie Linda King had written was more insulting than anything. She’d never met the man, but she wrote as though she were an expert.
Lois sighed. It was standing room only, and taking the subway had clearly been a mistake. If there hadn’t been a cab driver’s strike she’d have never even considered it. It was probably why the subway was so crowded.
She stiffened as she saw a familiar figure walking outside. It seemed she couldn’t even get away from Clark Kent sightings even here.
For a moment she hesitated. She had two more stops to make before she’d be back to her hotel, and this would inconvenience her.
Yet even as she pushed her way through the crowd toward the exit she knew she didn’t have a choice. She’d never had a choice. If she let this go, the thought that this might have been her one chance would have nagged at her until it drove her crazy.
As she pushed her way through she saw the figure moving up the stairs.
She shoved past an older woman and moved forward at a fast walk. She caught sight of him at the top of the stairs, and she started to jog a little to catch up.
At any moment she expected to see what she’d always seen before; the man being too short, or too tall. The walk being wrong.
She ran her mind through her catalogue, but she had yet to see the flaw.
“Excuse me,” she said, grabbing the back of his sleeve. She tensed; she’d had a veteran swing at her once when she’d done this.
“Yes?”
Lois stared, her mouth slightly opened. “Clark?”
He stopped and looked at her for a moment before smiling. “Sorry. Can I help you?”
There wasn’t a hint of recognition in his face, but it was clearly his face.
“Clark, it’s me, Lois.”
“Have we met?” he asked. He stared at her for a moment and then she could see the excitement growing in his expression. “Do you know me?”
Lois found herself gripping his wrist tightly. “Don’t you know?”
He shook his head.
“Then we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
The thing about the tide is that every once in a blue moon, things that are lost to it return to shore.
Lois wasn’t going to let him go.
