Finally, it's finished! Thats another story completed (as you may have guessed, I don't have many of these
)! The epilogue is totally a working copy, I have another idea for it, so let me know if this works for the ending. My other idea might be more suited, but it isn't written yet, and so I thought I'd get your opinions on this one as it is.
Thanks so much for those of you who have been reading this, and giving it feedback. I wouldn't have been so intent on finishing it if weren't for you guys
Lastly, but probably most important, I'd like to thank Kaethel who helped me with everything during this story! She is my cheerleader, and my English teacher all rolled into one
Now for the story:
***
It’s just that we stay too long
In the same old sickly skin
Pulled down by the undertow
I never thought I could feel so low
And oh, Darkness, I feel like letting go
***
“Perry White,” the rough greeting of my editor-in-chief answers the phone on the first ring. His voice, no matter how tough, has provided a consoling tone when necessary, and it will definitely be missed when I finally pack up shop.
“Perry,” I answer hesitantly.
“Lois?” He’s confused. I’ve already given him today’s story, so there really isn’t a reason that he’s aware of for why I would be calling him so late. I can practically see him shifting forward in concentration, to listen more raptly to my phone-call.
“Yeah, Perry. It’s me.” I suddenly can’t understand why I called him. My original intention was to call, and see if he’d stay long enough for me to drive my resignation over to him, but now it seems like a superfluous step. A painful, superfluous step. “I, uh, wanted to...”
“Wanted...?”
“I’m sending you an email,” I say quickly, whilst making my way toward my laptop again. I hit the icon to access my email account, type a quick message to go along with my attached letter, and send it to Perry’s office address.
“Oh, ok... I just got it. Was that all?”
“Yeah; I got to go Perry. Bye now.” The phone is on its cradle before I hear another word from Perry, and suddenly my legs refuse to hold my weight any longer. I sink deeply into my less than comfortable couch, and my eyes blur instantly with tears.
“Damn you, Clark,” I whisper into the picturesque darkness, the only light providing illumination is the light from my laptop’s monitor, and I quietly accept the tears as they descend from my eyes.
Exhaustion, now it’s your turn.
***
I’m jerked awake from a common dream that I’ve had, where love finally went my way, by a knocking, a very persistent knocking, at my apartment door. I groan and return my head to the cushion, blocking out the invading knocks as much as is possible. The knocks become more determined and desperate, but I still refuse to acknowledge them.
“If I don’t acknowledge them, they aren’t there.”
“What did you say, Lois?” Suddenly I’m on my feet, and bounding for the door.
“Clark?” I yank the door open with little finesse or grace, and examine the figure before me. Tall and well sculpted, my partner is stoic with his hands on his hips and his eyes imploring as they take in my haphazard appearance, and wait for an explanation.
When none was forthcoming, he dropped his gaze. “Sleep well, did you?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I slept... comfortably.” I chance a quick glance at the now tossed couch, a cushion lay half way atop the frame. His eyes follow mine, and when I return my gaze to his, he has raised a perfectly formed eyebrow. He shifts his weight on the balls of his feet, and with a sigh, I step aside to allow him passage into my apartment. He doesn’t waste any time, but walks straight forward, and standing in front of my couch turns towards me.
“I want you to tell me something.”
“Your favorite show is Hogan’s Heroes,” I reply without a single hitch in intonation or change in pace of the conversation.
“When were you going to tell me about your resignation?” My breath catches. My feet and legs suddenly feel like jelly, and I’m about two seconds away from falling flat on my bottom. But I holdfast to my equilibrium, and meet his gaze defiantly.
“Eventually.”
“Eventually?! Lois, don’t you think I have a... a *right* to know?!”
“What gives you the right? When did this happen, and why wasn’t I informed?” I glare at him harshly, fearing still that if I let go of my anger for an instant, I’ll be crying in his arms begging him to love me. Anger is a far greater strength to me than love.
He appears hurt and disorientated by the whole moment, and my anger begins to recede. No! Keep it together, Lane, or you aren’t worth of the paper your name is printed on!
“Is it because you’re my partner? Because I can think of a million reasons why that doesn’t hold water.”
“Why are you doing this?” His voice is so downcast, that my eyes clench closed tightly, not allowing the instant shield of tears to permeate the barrier. I open them a second later, feeling in control, and I see him trembling. I want nothing more at this moment than to kiss him and tell him that I love him so much, that I’ve loved him for so long. But I stand stock still, barely breathing, barely blinking.
“Clar—”
“No!” I am instantly quiet. An outburst from Clark is both a rare and fascinating entity, and though his angry pitch does not frighten me, the intensity in his eyes does. “I don’t want your half-thought excuses; I don’t want your lip-service, and I certainly don’t want your pity. I want your honesty; because the truth is the only thing I can deal with right now.”
“What do you want me to say?” My voice is barely above a whisper, and I’m almost afraid to repeat myself as my emotions are so close to the surface now that I’m afraid of the words that will spill-forth from my mouth.
“I want you to tell me why you’re quitting. I want to know something other than ‘confidential personal matters’. I deserve more than that.”
I want to argue with him. No, you don’t deserve more than that, because you chose her! I deserve better than that, but you chose her! I love you, and you didn’t choose me! But instead I say nothing, nothing at all. I stand quietly and wait for whatever bomb will burst first, but we’re both silent. I can’t stand the silence any longer.
“I... I wanted you to be happy.”
***
With all of the strength
And all of the courage
Come and lift me from the place
I know I can love you much better than this
Full of Grace
***
“What?”
“I wanted you to be happy. I’m sorry, Clark, but I can’t let you be happy with me here. I know that now.”
“Lois,” he said, moving to stand in front of her, to grip her upper arms. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I’d make more sense if you stopped touching me!” His hand disappeared without a single hesitation, and I almost reached for them, willing to pull them back and return them to their place.
“I don’t understand, Lois. Wh—I am happy! I don’t get why you’re leaving.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t get a lot of things. You don’t get that for a year – a year!—I’ve been hopelessly in love with you, and you don’t seem to get that everyday that I see you, every time you walk into my line of vision, my breath catches. I’ve tried playing the friend-card, Clark, but to be frank with you, I’m sick of it. It’s exhausting, pretending to be supportive of your relationship with someone else, hating the fact that I’m jealous, and despising myself for hating you because you aren’t in love with me.”
I’m silent now; no further words are liberated from my thoughts. He is so still that I’m afraid my words alone have turned him to stone. I take in a large lung-full of air, and let it out slowly, allowing the calming nature of my actions to take hold.
“I love you. I love you so much, and I know that you could never love me the way I love you, and that’s okay. It’s okay because you’ll be happy, and that is all I’ve ever wanted for you. But how can you be happy if you know I’m unhappy? You’ve never been able to sit back and allow someone to be miserable; it’s not in you.” I can no longer filter any thought from leaving my mouth. Everything is coming out in a rush, and I have no power, nor will to try and stop it. “Y-you’ve always been there to support me, and frankly Clark, the only way I can be supportive of you is by leaving. What kind of hell would I be putting you through, making you feel guilty about not loving me? I... I’m sorry, Clark. If there were any other way...”
His eyes closed for a second and with hardly any indication of emotion they open and reveal to me clear depths of brown. I’m transfixed, unsure completely at what I’m seeing, but no less mesmerized.
“Guilt is never a word I use to describe my relationship with you, Lois.” He takes a solid, confident step towards me. His face is still devoid of any sentiment, but his trembling hand is enough for me to know what lurks beneath his resolve.
His hand gently clasps my cheek, tugging it forward and up in a maneuver that brings my lips closer and closer to his. I can’t breathe, if I breathe it will blow this perfect sensation of desire and passion away, and I’ll be left with empty air and painful daydreams. But as his lips close over mine, quiver softly, I’m lost entirely to the feeling of complete chaos waging within me. My heart pounds painfully against my ribcage, and my head is severely disorientated.
My tongue decides that it doesn’t need my permission to explore beyond the recesses of my mouth. My tongue laves at Clark’s lower lip, and his groan is the very essence of my passion.
But I pull back.
***
I know I can love you
Much better than this
Full of grace
***
“What are we doing?!” I stagger backwards, unsure if there is any furniture to catch me as I fall. The couch is against my knees and I buckle instantly, falling ungracefully against the cushions.
“Lois, I—”
He doesn’t know what to say, as usual. I sometimes have felt like a conversation only takes place between me and my reflection in his glasses. But when I want him to say something to soothe me over or to provide some sort of explanation that I would be hard bent to find on my own, he’s quick with words.
Except now, of course.
I need him to say something! I need him to tell me that all the while he’s never once been interested in Mayson, that it was me he’s wanted since day one. That he needs me; I need him to need me so badly it hurts. I need –
“Chocolate!” I burst out. CHOCOLATE? What is the matter with me?! I’ve clearly lost my mind some where behind the couch; it must have dislodged when I fell against the cushions a bit too ferociously. Was there an exit wound? Without conscious thought my hand reaches up to touch tentatively to my head. Nope.
“Um... okay.”
“What?”
“Chocolate,” he says quietly. “You said ‘Chocolate’.”
“I know what I said!” I jump to my feet, cutting off any further words with a venomous stomp towards the kitchen. He stands dumbly in the living room, watching as I retreat into the next room. When I come back, empty-handed, he’s still standing there, and now his eyes are avoiding mine.
“I’m so, so sorry that that happened, Lois.”
And now I don’t know what to say. He’s successfully shut me up right good, and if I opened my mouth I’m sure any number of remarks about love and food would no doubt escape in a hurry.
“Why are you sorry?” I manage a minute later. He slowly raises his eyes to mine, and blinks.
“We kissed, er—I kissed you, and I shouldn’t have. You obviously didn’t want or expect it.”
“That’s,” I begin, taking a slow descent to a seat on the couch, formulating my response just as slowly, “where you are wrong.”
We are both silent for a long, drawn-out pause until his voice, a little cracked is heard. “Why did you pull back then?”
“Why? Clark, I’ll give you two words: Mayson Drake.”
“What does she have to do with anything?”
“Oh, I don’t know; if you were my boyfriend I’d want to know if you were kissing me.” His eyebrows arch, and his lips quirk. I think back to what I just said, and groan inwardly as I realize how silly my last sentence sounded. No use taking it back now, I’m already gone with it. Instead I perch my hands on my hips and pose defiantly. His facial features straighten.
“Well...” he says carefully, taking a step towards the couch. “If you were my girlfriend, as Mayson is not, I’d want to be *there* kissing you.” He leans down, most likely thinking himself rather suave with his calculated words and smooth voice.
“Hold it right there.” My hand is flat against his chest, and pushing hard. “I’m not going to kiss you again! As much as I dislike Mayson, I’d dislike it even more to kiss any woman’s boyfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend, and I don’t know where that came from.”
“Don’t lie to me Clark! I saw you!” I’m now rising from the couch and pacing uncontrollably back and forth.
“Lois, why would I lie to you?”
“Clark, you’re a man! Men lie to women all the time; it’s a gender-specific pastime.” An outright hoot of laughter fills the air, and my eyes widen to discover it is Clark, laughing at me. “Why of all the nerve, Kent!”
“Lois, did you not say before: ‘Men and women lie to *each other* all the time. It’s a national pastime?’”
“I would never!” My eyes are so narrow, I can barely make out his lean figure through the blurred slits. His laughter continues. I can’t take the mockery much longer, and stomp towards him, intent with anger.
When my lips closed over his slightly open mouth, and deepen the kiss instantly, he is still beneath me. I gasp, a slight noise in reality but deafening in the quiet of the moment. I wait, my lips barely moving at all, until he does something. Anything. His lips slowly move, almost imperceptive, and I groan but pull away.
“Now lie to me and tell me that you and Mayson aren’t seeing each other.”
“What? Lois! We aren’t seeing each other. Why are you playing this game?”
“Game? You think this is a game?” My finger is stabbing directly into his chest, hard. “I’ll have you know that never, and I do mean never, have I played a game with someone’s emotions. Why should I have to? Men play enough games for the entire population.”
“I would never do that to you.”
“You’re lying.” I’m no longer bitter sounding, but rather matter-of-fact. I think my resolve is completely destroyed, and now I’m simply accepting that Clark will lie to me, and is lying to me, as every man that has come before him. It’s of no fault of his own, but rather an inheritance of his gender.
“And am I lying when I tell you I love you? Do you believe everyone, or rather you specifically, are incapable of being loved? Because I’ll have *you* know I have never loved anyone in my life, the way I’ve loved you from day one. You are the very reason I’ve stayed in Metropolis for as long as I have, and without you here, I would no reason to continue staying here. If you leave, I’m as good as gone too.”
I gulp loudly, but wait for a continuation. He still hasn’t convinced me of his relationship, or lack thereof, with Mayson, and I can’t ignore that.
“I’m not seeing Mayson. I could never do that to someone—date them all the while loving someone else entirely.” He walks towards me, carefully, gauging my reactions cautiously. “I’ve never been through what you’ve gone through with relationships. I’ve never been in love only to be told it was all a lie. But I know that even if I had, I’d still rather love with pain, than never at all.”
I’m in tears now, my breathing short and hitched. My cheeks are drenched with tears, and my lips are salty. I close my eyes tightly as he cradles my cheeks in his hands, his thumb rubbing my cheek gently.
“Please,” I whisper on strangled sob. His mouth descends to mine, and we are kissing with complete abandon. My mouth opens without any coercing and his tongue extends deliciously to slide along my own. I am pulling him, and hugging him to me as I tilt my mouth more fully on his. His arms wrap around my shoulders, and tug me into his embrace, so that our entire bodies from hips to shoulders are in direct contact. His lips are lush and delicate as they dance delightfully across mine, and I taste my salty tears, but do not stop the delicious actions.
My hands disentangle from behind him, and reach forward to unbutton his shirt, and tug at his tie. His chest, after long moments of struggling, is now bared to me, and I kiss the textured skin of his pectoral muscles. The same beautiful muscles I witnessed those first days of our working together, and again that night a week or so ago, and my mouth is giddy with pleasure at touching them so intimately.
“Lois,” he mutters, trying to pull me back up to him, but I resist. “Lois,” he tries again more strongly this time, and succeeds but not without an annoyed groan. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this, but we need to slow down, there is still something we have to settle first and foremost.”
Why did you resign?”
“Because everything I now knew I wanted seemed out of my reach and I thought... it would be too painful to witness you with her and wish that I was as lucky as she to have you.”
“But you do have me... you always have.”
When our lips touch again, neither of us are willing to break apart for quite a while.
***
Epilogue
***
My eyes opened to the morning light filtering through my drawn, sheer curtains, and I’m forced to open my eyes and acknowledge the intruding gleams. What I see instead is the tousled hair and relaxed face of Clark Kent, obliviously sleeping in my bed beside me. His eyes, as though aware at all times of my watchful gaze, open and a lazy smile pulls at his mouth.
“Morning.”
“Good morning,” I whisper. I am in complete awe of the circumstances that has brought this man to me. Someone loving me as much as I love them is completely beyond my level of comprehension, and I thank whatever higher power has been credited to this wonder of life.
A thought occurs to me, and I let out a chuckle.
“I should probably call Perry and revoke my resignation,” I say as I reach for the phone on my side table, and dial the familiar “Planet” number. When I flip over to allow the phone cord less tension, Clark pulls me against his warm chest, and enfolds me into his grasp. I sigh contentedly, and wait for the Chief to answer his phone.
“Perry White,” he answers gruffly.
“Hi Perry,” I reply.
“Lois? Is that you, honey? Did Clark come and see you?”
“He sure did.”
“And...?” I grin broadly at Perry’s less than subtle hint as to my employment status.
“Can I have my resignation back?”
“Don’t bother, I’m ripping it up right now,” he returns jovially, and a distinct tear-sound is heard over the phone. When it’s all over, he continues, “So did you and Clark have a good talk?” His words are slow and considerate.
“Yes, Perry, we did.” I feel Clark tighten his arms around me, and kiss delicately along the side of my neck. I tip my head to the side, revealing the flesh of my neck to his lips, and smile brighter.
“Well I’ll let you and Clark sleep. Enjoy the morning off.”
“Perry!” I chuckle, all the while shaking my head at my boss’s lack of discretion.
“Bye Lois,” and the line goes dead. I replace the phone to its cradle, and turn in Clark’s arms. Settling back, I rest my head on his shoulder, and he turns his head to kiss me.
“Mmm, morning off,” I tell him.
“Good, because I’m not tired.” And neither am I.
-End
