Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Once Bitten (10/?)

"Are you sure he died?" Perhaps there was hope. Perhaps he would return.

"Yes. Romaric went against Matymbou's counsel and left Bangala land in search of his brother. He found his body."

"I'm sorry," Clark said. "Do you know how Rufin died?"

"Not exactly. Sylva believes his heart was weak. Perhaps he suffered a heart attack. Perhaps he became prey for animals. Perhaps he fell and suffered fatal injuries."

"That would have been a traumatic time for Romaric," Clark said. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a brother. To lose a brother would be heartbreaking.

Lois nodded, her eyes glimmering with tears. "Yes. He wrapped up Rufin's body and brought him home to be buried."

"And you were waiting?" Clark said. "Praying for a different outcome?"

"Not me," Lois said. "Adeline. Diddi's birth mother."

"You adopted Diddi?"

"Yes. Adeline died during childbirth."

"Diddi's an orphan?"

"He was for two days," Lois said with a smile that tugged poignant yearning through Clark's heart. "But since then, I have been his mother, and he will always be my son. I love him more than I have ever loved anyone, and I can't imagine life without him."


Part 10

"Had you always wanted to be a mother?" Clark asked, surprised it had taken Lois only two days to accept the responsibility of a child.

"No!" she said with a gush of breath for emphasis. "In fact, at the time, the last thing in the world I wanted was to be anyone's mother."

"Then how …"

She smiled again, dreamy and chockfull of memories he would never have. "That's a long story, too."

"We don't have a whole lot else to do," Clark said with a sweeping gesture that encompassed the quarantine area.

Her laughter rang out in melodic accompaniment to the rustle of the breeze through the surrounding trees. "You would like to hear the story of how an ambitious American career woman became the mother of an African orphan?"

"If you'd like to tell me."

Lois reclaimed her plate from the rock, tore a chunk from her breadstick, and took a bite. "The Bangala are not an overtly religious people," she said when she had swallowed, "but they believe in God. That's why all the huts are circular - they believe God is in the middle of the hut, so therefore, their lives revolve around Him."

Clark pushed a chunk of fish onto the spoon-like implement and waited.

"They have certain unshakeable beliefs about God," Lois said. "One of those beliefs is that God provides in all circumstances."

Clark had heard similar teaching when he'd gone to church with his parents. "Why did they believe God had provided you specifically? Weren't there other women?" Thoughts of his mom flashed through his mind. "Women who wanted a child, but hadn't been able to have one? Or close relations? What about Romaric? He is Diddi's uncle."

Lois nodded. "Yes, there were other women who would have taken Diddi. But I came into the village the day after Adeline died, so in the mind of the Bangala people, I was the mother God had provided for the new baby."

"How did you come to be here?" Clark asked. "I mean, they believe that God sent you and perhaps He did, but that doesn't explain how an American woman came to be in the centre of Africa."

"You must be in the mood for long stories tonight, Kent," Lois said, her smile embracing him again.

Her open friendliness unsettled him, making him wish he wasn't so interested in her story. But he'd always had an insatiable fascination with the people of this planet and their stories - that's why he'd become a reporter.

Lois didn't seem to have noticed that he hadn't replied to her comment. She picked up a chunk of fish from her plate and slipped it into her mouth. "I was in Brazzaville, and I got mixed up with a group of people who were involved in the illegal trade of guns. The more I found out, the more they saw me as a threat to their very lucrative income, so one night, two of them came to my hotel room and kidnapped me. They tied me up, threw me in the back of a truck, and started out on the two-day journey to their next pick-up."

"Did you know where you were going?"

"No. I was able to hear some of their conversation, but it mostly centred on what Saidu was going to do to them if they missed their rendezvous. All I knew was that the back of the truck was hot and airless, and the road was rough enough that total disintegration of the truck seemed a real possibility."

Clark's instinct was to ask more questions, to try to procure supporting detail. Why had she been in Brazzaville? How had she become involved with the group of criminals? What was the nature of their illegal activities? What evidence had she collected?

But he wasn't a reporter anymore.

"Around dusk on the second day, we stopped and they dragged me out of the truck," Lois said. "They didn't want me to witness the meeting, and they were worried about how their contact would react to my presence."

"I assume they didn't take you back to Brazzaville?"

"No. They shot me."

"Your leg?" Clark said, remembering the scar.

"Yes."

"They just left you?" Clark asked, feeling the flare of his indignation. How could anyone do that to a woman? Particularly this woman?

"I knew too much," Lois said dispassionately. "If I'd gotten back to Brazzaville, there was a chance I would escape. If I had escaped, they knew I would go to the police. A shot - even to the leg - constitutes attempted murder. And I had evidence of their activities. So, they needed me out of the way - permanently. But I suppose it would have been too messy to try to dispose of a body in Brazzaville, so they jumped back into the truck and drove away."

"You could have died," Clark breathed.

"That was the plan," Lois said lightly. She reached for her cup of water, but her eyes were fixed on Clark as she said, "It was for the best that they thought I was dead. That way, no one would feel any need to look for me."

The intensity of her gaze accelerated Clark's heart and gave rise to a squall of questions. What did she know about him? What had she guessed? He still didn't know how she had discovered he could speak English. And she had questioned him about 'missing Lana'. How could she have known the name of his wife?

Then partial comprehension dawned on him. "You thought that's why I had come? To look for you? To hurt you? To finish the job?"

"It was a possibility. It's not every day we find a stray mondele on Bangala land."

"Mondele?"

"White man."

"But you still helped me," Clark said.

"I had to help you. You were injured. And alone. And in need of friends." She gave him another smile, potent with memories of their conversation that morning.

"What does 'Mpe zambi nalingi yo' mean?" Clark asked.

Colour crept into her cheeks, and her smile slowly faded away. "You remember a line from a language you've never heard before?" she said incredulously.

He shrugged. "Always been good at languages."

"Nalingi yo," she repeated.

"Means?"

"I like you."

He shrank back, incapable of a response. He grasped the only coherent thought in his mind. "And 'mpe zambi'? What does that mean?"

"And because." She pushed aside her plate and picked up the cup of coffee that had been delivered with their dinner. "You had asked why I was helping you."

The walls were closing in around Clark. He could feel them. Lois liked him. He'd successfully acted out the charade of normalcy. He averted his eyes, stared at the flames, and said, "It was fortuitous for you that they dumped you on Bangala land."

"Not on it," Lois corrected. "Near it."

"You said the people rarely leave their land. Were you able to walk? Is that how you found the village?"

"I didn't find the village," Lois said. "A few months after returning with Rufin's body, Romaric decided he wanted to do his own mobembo. I think he felt the need for some time alone to try to come to terms with his loss. He found me. He brought me back to the village and took me to Sylva. She worked on me all through the night, applying poultices and salves to my leg and forcing me to drink willow bark tea. By the afternoon of the next day, my fever had broken and she was cautiously hopeful that I was going to live."

Lois could have died, Clark realised. She probably should have died. "All those hundreds of miles of African jungle," he said wondrously. "And Romaric just happened to find you?"

Lois shrugged, and now she was the one staring at the fire. "Perhaps he heard the gunshot."

She had been lucky. Incredibly lucky. On two counts. She could have died before anyone found her. Or she could have been found by someone lacking Romaric's humanity.

The awareness of her vulnerability pressed against him like thorns, and Clark quickly reviewed their conversation, looking for a means of escape. "So they asked you if you wanted to adopt a child?"

"Not exactly," Lois said with a grin. "They gave him to me."

"Excuse me?"

Her grin widened. "Matymbou came on my second day, holding a bundle of blankets. He said something that I didn't understand, but I hoped he was telling me how I was going to get back to Brazzaville. He placed the bundle on my lap and arranged my arms around it. I peeped into the blankets and saw a little black face." Lois met Clark's eyes, and hers were liquid with emotion. "Matymbou made a few gestures, gave me a big smile, and walked out. I was left holding the baby - quite literally."

"What did you do?"

"I was too stunned to do anything at first. Then Diddi started screaming. Sylva came in with some milk and showed me how to feed him. He stopped crying, and when he'd finished drinking, he fell asleep. Sylva had gone by then, and my leg was still pretty sore, so I stayed in the bed and just looked at the tiny creature in my arms. Up to that point, I had avoided babies, but I was captivated - he was so small … and so perfect."

Numerous times, Clark had imagined holding his child for the first time. All his anticipation of that moment had turned rancid. "Were you here?" he asked with a gesture towards the hut. "In quarantine?"

"No," Lois replied. "I was in the hut behind Sylva's. I think it was a sort of quarantine because, other than Matymbou's brief visit, I didn't see anyone but Sylva and Diddi for a few days."

"Was that difficult? Being among strangers? Not being able to speak the language?" Had she experienced a taste of the alienation that had dogged him his whole life?

"Not really. I was still weak - from the injury and having very little food during the time in the truck. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel driven to achieve. I still intended to get home, but I figured it would be a lot safer to stay here than risk running into the bad guys again. It seemed a good move to let my leg heal and try to learn some of their language so they could tell me the best way to get to Brazzaville."

"Do they know where Brazzaville is?" Clark asked.

Lois chuckled. "Not a clue."

He wanted to smile with her. Because here in the African jungle, they were two people who had experienced the world beyond Bangala. Because the darkness had closed around them. Because the warmth of the fire kept the chilly night air at bay.

Because he felt as if he understood so much more about the woman who had helped him. Her compassion. Her understanding. Her ability to sense what he was feeling.

She reminded him of his mom.

"I began to pick up some of the language from Sylva," Lois said. "Matymbou started to visit me every evening. Then Romaric came to see Diddi and we'd talk about him." She looked up with a smile. "And by the time I understood a few pertinent facts - that getting home was going to be almost impossible and my hosts considered me to be Diddi's mother - it was too late. I was already hopelessly in love with him."

"You didn't feel as if they'd coerced you?" That was something Clark had always wondered about his own parents - particularly once his weird abilities had begun to afflict his life and they'd had to accept that the baby they'd found in a spaceship was never going to be normal.

"There were moments when I felt like that," Lois admitted. "But as I came to realise how much the Bangala cherish their children, I also felt incredibly honoured by their gesture. And to my surprise, Diddi flourished in my care. I'd never though of myself as being maternal, but there was something about Diddi that touched my heart from the moment I first saw him."

"Is it difficult? Being the parent of someone who's different?"

"You mean he's black and I'm white?"

"Not just that. All the differences."

"It's not easy trying to raise a child," Lois said. "But I don't think our 'differences' make it any harder."

"What about the fact that he's not your biological son?"

She grinned - wide and playful with amusement. "Would you believe that I rarely think of him as adopted? He's just my son. How he came to be my son doesn't matter in the least."

"He's very lucky," Clark said.

Lois shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm the lucky one."

She was. She was exceptionally lucky. Clark had yearned for a child - a family - for as long as he could remember. He pushed his empty plate away as a swirling mix of emotions jostled inside him. "Is Diddi the reason why you stayed?"

"One of the reasons. He was helpless. And alone. He needed me. And he was mine. I couldn't walk away from him." She grinned at Clark. "Although it took me awhile to see that, and my epiphany didn't come easily."

"You still intended trying to get home?"

"Initially, yes. Until I realised that without a map or a reliable source of food and having negligible knowledge of the local terrain and wildlife, attempting to leave was probably going to guarantee me a long, slow, and painful death."

"Was there a message for me there?" he said with careful evenness.

She smiled as if he'd caught her doing something a little bit mischievous. "From the beginning, it was impossible to ignore the similarities in our circumstances. We were both alone. Both injured. Both needing care. Both foreigners."

She might be a foreigner in Africa, but she wasn't an alien. "Who is looking after Diddi while you're here?" Clark asked.

"Romaric, mainly. Gislane will feed him. He spent today with Sylva. He likes going out, foraging for herbs. And he loves Sylva like a grandmother."

She hadn't mentioned a husband. Although Romaric seemed prominent. "Does Diddi go to school?"

"Not yet. Bangala kids stay with their parents or close family and learn practical skills until they're about ten. Then they go to school for a couple of years to learn to read and write."

"There are books to read?" Clark asked, feeling a bit surprised.

"Yes," Lois said. "History. A lot of biographies of eminent people. Tales of past hunts. Things like that. I haven't read any. I can speak Bangala, but most of the written words I recognise come from Sylva's herbal."

"Can Diddi speak English?"

"Yes. I spoke to him in English from the start - that was all I knew then. Recently, I started teaching him to read and write English."

"Why?"

"He was keen to learn."

Clark wondered if Lois were subconsciously preparing her son, in case the chance arose for her to return home.

"Do you have children?" she said.

It was a reasonable question. Expected even, given the context of their discussion. But Clark had allowed laxness to creep in, melting his defences against the anguish of crumbled hopes. "N…"

Lois reached over and put her hand on his knee. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"Sorry for what?" he mumbled from within the blizzard of heartache.

"You had a child, didn't you? You're grieving for a son or daughter, too, aren't you?"

Clark stood abruptly, brushing her hand from his leg. "No," he said in a voice tart with pain. "No, I've never had a child."

Before she could probe any further, he stumbled into the hut and the darkness of his soul gathered around him again.

~|^|~

Lois watched Kent until he stepped out of the range of the firelight and disappeared into the gloom. She'd felt buoyed by his questions, hoping his interest in her story signified a growing sense of trust and openness between them.

But then, it had collapsed with jangling suddenness at her ill-considered enquiry.

Compassion for him welled inside her. She couldn't imagine losing Diddi. Just thinking about it caused her heart to twist in pain.

Poor Kent.

She quickly finished the rest of her meal - more to give her mind some time to settle than any real need for food. She rose and went to the hut, stopping in the doorway.

In the dimness, she could see the back of a figure, standing near the foot of the bed.

"Kent?" she whispered.

He didn't respond.

No movement. No sound. No indication he was aware of her presence.

She moved forward. When she reached him, she put her hands on the upper curve of his hips. He tensed.

She slid her hands forward, around his waist, clasping them at his stomach. She laid her head on his back.

He was rigid with tension. He held his arms away from his body. And although she couldn't see them, she was sure his fists were clenched.

But he didn't shrug her off or demand she undrape herself from him, so Lois waited as their mingled breaths marked the passing of time.

She could hear his heartbeat. She could feel the reservoir of grief dispersing through his body.

This was a man who didn't love lightly. Didn't lose easily.

"Lois?" His voice shattered the quietness that had settled around them.

"Yes, Kent?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

She lifted her head as a shaft of disappointment knocked against her heart. "Why, Kent?" she breathed. "Why are you so determined to be alone?"

"I have to go. I don't belong here."

"I found belonging here."

"We’re not the same - you and me. We're different."

"The Bangala accepted me. They will accept you."

"They accepted you because they believed God had sent you."

"They would have welcomed me even if Adeline hadn't died. They would have accepted me as one of them."

"I'm too different. I won't fit in here."

"Why do you have to leave tomorrow? Why can't you wait a few more days?"

"I can't," he said. "I don't want to."

"I'm sorry I upset you by telling you about Diddi."

"I'm sorry I've caused you to be away from him."

"He understands. He knows I'm a medicine woman."

"I hope they let you go back into the village tomorrow."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

He said no more. Lois settled her head on his back again, determined to stay with him until he sent her away. She listened to him breathe, feeling his desolation mingle with her hopelessness for his future.

He would be alone in the vast African rainforest.

He would need food and water. He would be defenceless against the plethora of dangers from wildlife and disease.

He would die. He probably knew he would die.

And worst of all - she suspected that was his wish.

~|^|~

Clark knew Lois was still awake.

He knew she was worrying about him.

He knew he had upset her with his announcement that he intended to leave tomorrow. When he'd been unable to endure her closeness any longer, he'd twitched and she had unfolded from him, muttering something about using the amenities as she'd taken the lantern to the fire to light it. When she'd returned, she'd bid him goodnight and slipped into her bed.

He'd loitered outside, hoping she would be asleep when he returned.

Now they were both in their beds, but sleep was out of reach.

She wanted him to stay.

He couldn't think about that. He couldn't let it soak into his psyche.

The choice wasn't his to make.

He had to go.

Because he wanted to meet Diddi. He wanted to see Lois and her son together. He was enthralled by the relationship between an American mother and her African child.

He'd tried to rationalise his curiosity, dismissing it as the natural consequence of his now-defunct anticipation of fatherhood.

Now, more than ever, he had to leave.

Staying would mean assimilation. Staying would mean developing relationships with people. Staying would mean pretending he was someone he could never be.

Staying would mean being with Lois.

Getting to know her.

Being a part of her life.

Allowing her access to his life.

But he had to be alone.

It had become more than just a means to protect himself.

His time with Lois had highlighted how thoroughly bitterness had encased his soul.

Bad things had happened to her. She'd been kidnapped. She'd been shot. She'd been left to die. She'd lost everything from her former life.

But she lived free of bitterness and resentment.

If he stayed, he risked tainting her with his animosity.

Right now, she thought she wanted him to stay. But if he stayed, she would come to wish he had left.

And that …

… that would hurt just as much as Lana's betrayal had hurt.

~|^|~

"Lois?" The loud call from the other side of the gate sliced through the atmosphere that would have been well suited to a funeral.

Clark and Lois had woken within a few minutes of each other. She'd looked tired as she'd tried to muster a wan smile of greeting.

Tsumbu had delivered their breakfast. They'd eaten, saying only a few inconsequential words as both had waited for the moment he would walk out of the gate and leave her forever.

Clark had expected her to try to reason with him. He'd dreaded it, because he knew he had no rational defence. He had no plan beyond walking out of the gate and travelling until he was free of Bangala land.

As soon as breakfast was over, he was going to thank Lois for everything she had done for him and then force himself to walk to the gate and beyond, never turning back.

"Lois?" The call came again as she was walking away from Clark.

"Good morning, Romaric," she said. If the man on the other side of the gate knew her at all, he would have detected much about her emotional state from the sombreness of her greeting.

The voice of the unseen man - the man who had faced the unknown rather than allow his brother's body to be lost - came from the other side of the gate, speaking a language Clark didn't recognise.

Lois replied in the same language, firing what sounded like a question.

Romaric answered. Lois gasped. Romaric said something else. Lois gave a chopped-off sob. The man's words sounded consoling.

The conversation ebbed and flowed. Lois was upset and full of questions. Romaric was trying to soothe her with his answers.

Lois turned from the gate. She lifted the bottom of her shirt and used it to wipe her eyes. She ran past Clark and into the hut.

He stood. He went to the doorway. "Can I help?" he offered quietly.

"No."

"What's wrong? What did Romaric say?"

"It's Diddi. He was out with Sylva, and they were -"

"Lois?" A new voice - loud and deeply masculine - hacked between them.

"Matymbou!" Lois turned and sprinted to the gate. "Diddi mpasi?"

Matymbou? The chief? What had happened to Diddi to bring the chief here? Clark took a few steps closer to Lois.

"Azalie malamu." The male voice was calm. Raised in volume, but not in emotion.

"Nalingi koloba na ye," Lois said.

"Te." The reply was cool and crisp with resolve. "Ozali katakima."

"Diddi na mwana mobali," she stated firmly.

"Azalie na Gislane," came the rebuttal.

"Limbissa ngayi, Matymbou!" Her voice rose, driven by desperation. "Ezali maladi te."

"Neonso e kozala malamu, Lois." That sounded like at attempt at appeasement.

"Diddi sengeli ye maman." Lois was in no mood to be mollified.

"Tokomonono na nsima." Clark winced at the palpable finality in Matymbou's words.

"Matymbou!" There was a pause, and then Lois came through the gate, slamming it with such force the post vibrated. "Bazoba mobali!"

She hurried past Clark and stormed into the hut. He followed cautiously. She was facing the back wall, her shoulders heaving and her head bowed.

"Lois?"

She didn't turn around.

"Is Diddi all right?"

She spun around so fiercely that Clark jumped back. "Of all the infuriating, stubborn, insufferable men …"

"What happened?" Clark asked tentatively. "Wasn't that the ch-"

"That," Lois spat, looking at Clark with eyes sizzling with indignation. "… was my husband."