After going back and forth for a long time now, I'm finally posting. So, what is it? It's... Sara, my faithful beta, help me out here: just what is this? Ahm... I guess it's just a piece of fluff I started writing some time ago.
So...here goes nothing. Thank you to everyone who provided me with oxygen masks, bags and the parachute when I first was pasting this on IRC <g>, especially Kaethel and Wendy for providing the "pep-talk" when I needed it.
And Jose, you remember our agreement, right? Better late than never...I hope. <g>
The brain behind this is really Sara, though. This gal is *unbelievable*, guys, so a HUGE thanks goes to her.
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Once Upon a December written by the pelican
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Two years, four months and ten days later after her little sister was born, Lois Lane had realized the differences and similarities between real life and fairy tales.
As with most fairy tales, evil schemes were plotted. Curses were cast upon one another. And the two people deeply in love would have the chance to prove just how much that love was worth when destiny seemed to working against them.
But no matter what, in the end, the handsome prince carried his princess into the sunset and they lived happily ever after.
How untrue that was.
Life didn’t turn out that way.
*Marriages* didn’t turn out that way.
She should know…
It had begun with what had seemed like any ordinary summer day. The day which would later turn out to be the date on which she had learned her hardest lesson so far. A day that was still imprinted upon her soul; a memory running down her veins with each heartbeat, each breath. Making it impossible to escape. It was a part of her.
Since then she had spent years of trying to forget, trying to…hide…and pretend that everything was normal, that she just needed to give it some --
…time.
Yes, she had done that. She had given them time. Given them the time and space to work things out, clear the air; an opportunity to get things back to the way they were. So she had never pushed too far, never interfered in their arguments, but instead kept herself busy with shielding Lucy from it.
She had given them six years.
From under the covers, through almost painfully clenched eyes, she heaved a sigh, again cursing mornings like this one, where it was peaceful and quiet and you were left alone with yourself, when even the teddy bears and the thick quilt couldn’t save you from the memories from ages ago. The silence in the room seemed to welcome the echo, ringing in her ears, from what had penetrated through the walls just before. It just came straight at you, like birds: flapping their wings in unwanted places at unwanted times, stirring everything up, preventing you from licking old wounds.
It had turned into a nasty scar, buried deep within, hidden from the outsider, but nevertheless, it was still there, boiling and fuming, distracting her every time she tried to search within herself, looking for answers, looking for…
…herself.
Grasping for hope.
But the scar was too deep, too wide, and it didn’t get a chance to heal itself before she’d have to face yet another day that echoed what happened then, like a bad song that was imprinted on her mind, running infinitely.
Each time the scene which unfolded itself in front of her grew more painful, and the small corner of a six-year-old world was crushed, struggling to deal with so many emotions – the prime ones being frustration and anger as her parents fought in front of her. Even as she grew older, the pain didn’t cease, but only grew stronger.
Her mother had been drunk as long as she could remember. Only now she wasn’t drunk on love. Not since that summer day, six years ago. She didn’t smell of good perfume anymore and it was difficult trying to get her to share a laugh – now she smelled of the same as the bottles she knew were hidden behind the cupboards.
That was the day fairy tales had stopped existing.
That was the day she had been faced with reality.
That was the day she had lost her innocent eyes.
She had been robbed of the most precious thing a child could have. Once you lost some of that innocence, you couldn’t fully recover; you couldn’t get it back. In some way, you ceased being a child. She had the knowledge and experience of an adult, who knew just how cruel the world could be, trapped in a little girl’s figure.
A little girl she seemed to be, yes. But inside, she was screaming as loud as any grown-up; a fierce protest of how the world functioned. It wasn’t a cry for help, no, not at all. It was a cry for independence, declaring to the world just who she was. It had become like a mantra, an obsession: the only thing to resemble any comfort, silence the turmoil in her soul. In other words, it was the only thing she had left.
Do you hear me?
I am Lois Lane.
I don’t need anybody.
That was what she had. The truth. Till the day she’d stop breathing, that was the one thing she could trust to stick by her, no matter what. A mantra that would work magic on most days, pressing her fears into a small, dark corner of her mind where it could be ignored, although she knew her mom and dad had the power to bring them out later on. But that was for later. In the meantime, that was her light of the day. That was the only that kept her up standing.
What made her most afraid were the chocolate-brown eyes that belonged to Lucy – so hopeful and innocent – how they would change if she wasn’t there to protect her. When those words wouldn’t work magic for her any longer…she shuddered just thinking about it.
Aware that her thoughts were becoming dangerous again, she drew in a slow breath, as if sucking in tiny atoms of encouragement, sustaining and soothing her. Again, she repeated the sentences in her head:
I am Lois Lane.
I don’t need anybody.
Can you hear me?
She waited for the soothing effect of her words to wash over her, clear her head, but there was nothing. Just…silence, and the echo of the pain and loneliness in her heart. The emptiness which never went away.
<No...please, not today. *Not* today.>
She needed to do something before she fell back into self-pity. That disgusting wallowing, self-pitying person she could sometimes turn into and-
No! She…wouldn’t…go…*there*.
Her eyes flew open, only to be greeted by the darkness pressing against her, her sharp breaths being thrown back at her by the covers that lay gently over her face, but nevertheless suddenly made her feel trapped. They were thrown away with fierce movements, her legs squirming uncontrollably as she tried too fast to sit up and open the window. She needed air, *now*, just a little bit of taste of freedom.
As she abruptly opened the window, the bitter cold surged its way into her lungs, cutting into her like a blade and making it difficult to breathe, leaving her feeling just as cold as she was bitter. Her rapid breathing escalated even more, creating puffs as white as the snow coming down before her. She shuddered, but made no attempt to close the window as her eyes slowly came into focus. It was still pre-dawn outside, and at first, everything appeared to be transparently blue, as if a piece of beautiful stained glass had been put over her eyes.
Her gaze landed on the horizon, resting there like an afterthought as she simply watched it, just like every other morning. Why, she really couldn’t tell. Maybe she was expecting to see something that wasn’t there before, beyond her reach, and the horizon would be just a little further away and the world would get closer, giving her the opportunity to explore one more inch of whatever that lay there.
Beyond the horizon. Beyond her reach.
She sighed. Whatever lay there, she was sure it was something she didn’t have… maybe couldn’t have. Maybe today she’d –-
She shook her head, and a surge of small, bitter laughter escaped her lips. It was foolish to think like that. Only grown-ups were allowed to widen the horizon and find their own place in the world, once they had left the prison that posed as their home.
And one day, she would get to that point. Not only explore it, but change it for the better.
But for now, she simply stood there admiring the white shades of the sky, the fine lines of the rooftops, drinking in its beauty, sucking in the promise of a future, trying to see where heaven stopped and the earth began. It was just so beautiful and--
-- and she couldn’t touch it.
She frowned.
The glass.
Maybe beauty was an illusion after all.
If she couldn’t touch it, if she couldn’t feel it, was it real? Was everything seen through a glass, making it appear like something else?
She bit her lip.
Of course…of course it was. Everything was. Just like Metropolis had decided to show herself at her best today on this cold, crispy morning, covered with powdery snow and Christmas lights, hiding the fact that there were crime, drugs and poverty lurking beneath – just as the beautiful day dawning, seeming to promise a happy time and a normal family – beauty was just an illusion.
She drew a sharp, painful breath, rapidly blinking back the sheen of tears, determined not to cry. She wouldn’t. <Breathe…just breathe, dammit.>
For the tenth time this morning, she listened in from anything coming from downstairs. The house had been quiet for the past two hours, and after the sound of fighting for the previous three, she would have now expected to hear the clinking bottles which signified her mother rummaging through the cupboards, searching for comfort in the form of pure, unadulterated alcohol. Or her father slamming doors, leaving for work. She held her breath, searching and listening for any sign that would tell her she was not alone in the house. She couldn’t be. Not on a common Saturday morning.
But there was nothing. Not even a chair being pulled from the table, not as much as a creak…nothing but the frigid silence, suddenly clasping around her body, and the room starting to close in on her. She hurried to close the window and sat back on her bed, bringing one knee up against her chest and wrapped her arms around it as she tightened her grip and tried to soak up what warmth the night gown would provide.
She should have thought of it sooner. From bitter experience, she knew that this was serious. Big fights. Sometimes they wouldn’t talk to each other for days, not as much casting a glance on one another, or her father might even sleep over at the office. And she would be the one cooking dinner, which meant that none of them would have a decent meal for the next few days.
And her mother would just sit on the floor with a bottle in one hand and sulk, and Lucy would lock herself in her room and--
<Lucy!>
In a moment of panic, kicking the covers out of her way, she grasped blindly for her white cotton robe hanging carefully on the chair beside her bed, cursing under her breath when it slipped through her hands to fall down beneath her. Her feet felt cold as they made contact with the wooden floor as she grabbed the robe and swung it over her shoulders before she took the last few remaining steps toward the door and yanked it open, the bang ringing through the hallway as it smashed into the wall as she carelessly let it slip, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to care as she leapt out and made a run for Lucy’s room.
But as she took off along the hallway, still fumbling with tying her robe around her waist, she stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes quickly navigated to a small retreating figure sitting in the hall, leaning against the door.
She withheld a sigh and slowly retreated her steps, each one taken lightly as she approached her little sister, like trying to come near a frightened animal: it took delicacy, patience and understanding to prevent it from running away. Even from this distance she could see that Lucy’s shoulders heaved in paroxysm of sobs she desperately tried to keep down.
She knew about the fight then.
What was strange, however, was that she was sitting out in the hallway, her knees brought up against her chest, waiting...for something.
”Lucy?”
The sound stilled her head abruptly and Lois could see a quick glimpse that was thrown to her, and then turned back to her knees, where she wouldn’t have to look into anybody’s eyes that had the answers to questions she didn’t want. She never wanted them. Like Lois, she had never really wanted to hear the bitter truth. At first, it had been like an unwritten rule between them: never talk about it, just understand each other, but at some point Lucy had even managed to fool herself over it. In everything their mom or dad did, she’d always try and justify their actions or simply put it some way that would make it look like either of them weren’t to blame.
Lois slowly went down on her knees and came to sit down beside her. “Lucy-“
”It’s okay, Lois,” the small girlish voice interrupted her. Without meaning to, a rush of air escaped Lois’s lips of relief. Maybe this morning would be different: that, for once, Lucy could be honest with herself, and that she would be allowed to comfort her, talk about things. “I know all about it.”
”I’m so glad you said that, Lucy.” She took a moment to steady herself. “I know how hard this is, and that you now finally know what-“
”I know that Dad’s sitting outside right now.” At Lois’s puzzled expression, Lucy continued. “I saw him,” she said, almost so low Lois could barely hear it. Then she turned her head towards her. “I saw him through the window.”
Lois’s eyes widened in horror and Lucy turned away from her. This didn’t happen. This wasn’t the ‘normal’ aftermath after fighting. At this point, anything that was unusual was bad. Outside..? She laid her hands on Lucy’s shoulders, and despite her little sister’s effort to avoid her gaze, she shook her one time. “Why, Lucy, why is he sitting outside?” No answer. “Why, Lucy?”
”He…” Her mouth twitched downwards and a shiver went down through her spine, her eyes flickering. “I think you’d better get him a blanket, Lois.”
Lois then released her abruptly and got up, making her way down the hallway, confusion written on her face and then she broke into a run.
Lucy’s body slumped carelessly against the wall as she was released, and except from the sound Lois running down the last few stairs, the hallway fell again silent. Her head felt as if it was in a daze, and everything seemed to go in slow motion. Every panted breath felt cursed. “Get him a blanket, Lois.” It was a mere whisper, cutting through the thin air surrounding her, and a tear slowly trickled down her cheek. “It’s getting very cold.”
***
She landed at the bottom stair with a loud thump after deciding she wouldn’t bother with the last three steps. Too slow. She needed to figure out what was going on as soon as possible, and--
She froze. Literally. The hallway downstairs was *freezing*, and it was perhaps no wonder, since the main door was wide open. The floor felt like ice against her bare feet, but she was compelled to move forward. Dully, her feet obliged and more of what was outside the door came into view.
And there he was.
He sat at the upper stair, with his feet propped up under his chest as he had placed them on the stair below, and his elbows rested on his knees while his hands tried to cover up his unprotected ears. Her mouth twitched. Seeing him like this made her wonder that perhaps all this fighting affected him too, that maybe he could show something more than determination and ignorance on his face, and…and for once, he looked human. As she knew how he must beating himself over that, it almost made her feel sorry for him.
Almost.
He was still the one who had wronged, though, over and over again, year after year. And here he was, probably sitting there feeling *sorry* for himself, and…
She shook herself out of it. She didn’t have time for this. She needed to keep herself together and find out what was going on, both for her and Lucy’s sake.
Her eyes grew hot and dry and the figure of a man in front of her blurred as she approached and slowly took in the scene. In a daze, she turned her head toward whatever that had taken her attention from the corner of her eye, and stared at…
… two royal blue rectangular objects placed at the bottom of the stairs. She recognized them immediately. She shook her head. She remembered… Christmas, years ago. The suitcases were a present from her and Lucy.
<Something you can use when you go travelling, Daddy.>
He’d beamed and gotten up from the chair he’d been sitting in, and he had actually embraced her, wrapping both his huge arms around her tiny little figure, and…
<Princess, that’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.>
<…best present.>
Lois stood, pale with confusion…and anger. Her head was a turmoil of thoughts and questions, hitting her hard and painfully, an endless line of chaos. And she knew…
The glass was full.
He’d had it.
All the harsh words, slamming doors, the faked outward appearance and the words she and Lucy had been told so many times, “It’s okay, sweetie”, the constant tension between two people, two *married* people, were now boiling down to one thing…
He was leaving.
<He’s leaving you, Lois.>
She swallowed the sob that had threatened to escape with that last inner statement, about to voice her presence, letting him see that she was weak. She wouldn’t let that happen. She *couldn’t*. If there was one thing she knew about her father, it was that he didn’t give in to weak people; they weren’t worthy of his attention.
She stiffened her expression, determined not to let him see the fear in her eyes that could expose her, wouldn’t let him see that…little girl…who just wanted to beg her father to stay. She couldn’t allow him to leave them, he couldn’t leave *her*. Didn’t he know that he would be leaving her alone with her mother, and that she would be the one to take care of Lucy?
She didn’t know if she could handle that.
With that new determination, she inhaled slowly, letting it fill her senses, trying to grasp what little control she was able to get, and, shaking slightly, she voiced the man in front of her.
”Daddy?”
*****
tbc...
