This is an alternative universe story; what were Lois’s thoughts just before her wedding to Lex Luthor? What if Clark came straight to the wedding ceremony as *himself* rather than Superman? No terrible ordeal suffered within the Green Kryptonite cage and no Lois walking down the aisle to an eagerly awaiting Lex.
An awesome trio of betas: Andreia, Bob and KenJ, helped to push this fic from a meager outline to a full-blown story. My hat is off to them! This is my answer to the “I Love You” challenge posted on the message boards.
Legal Disclaimer: Some of the dialogue is from The House of Luthor. The characters and settings are all owned by DC, September 3rd productions and anyone else with legal claim. This is merely a quick little nonprofit story strictly for fun.
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A vivid and colorful assortment of exotic flowers; catarctarum, ginger rojos and heliconia, lush as a rainforest and as soothing as an ocean breeze, decorated the large, brightly lit room. With wild abandon their heady scents swirled about, trumpeting the day’s meticulously planned events. The orderly debris of wedding preparations were evident; empty shoe boxes, yards of muslin wrappings for the gown were laid on the settee and a discarded red silk robe rested on the bed. The pretty little vanity table held a single vintage perfume bottle containing Chanel No. 5, yet *another* expensive wedding gift from Lex that she neither wanted nor needed.
Only minutes before the master bedroom suite of Lex Luthor had been populated with an entourage of stylists to rival a Hollywood star; nail technicians, makeup artists, and hairstylists. The designer of Lois wedding gown had been flown in from Milan, merely to make sure the bride looked exquisite in his latest frothy creation. Rounding out the group was Greta Keith, the perpetually cheerful wedding coordinator and of course Lucy and her mother, Ellen Lane.
With all the preparations finished, Greta had shooed everyone out, so the Bride could have a moment to herself. She chirped, “My goodness! Mr. Luthor certainly is a lucky man! You will make him the *perfect* wife! ”
Once the heavy wooden door had closed behind her, the room was silent. Despite the cheerful decorations and exquisite floral arrangements, it was a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the quiet sniffling sounds of a woman in tears.
Lois stood up from the upholstered bench in front of the vanity table and gazed at the image in the full-length mirror. The woman looking back at her was an absolute stranger, wearing a designer’s lacy wedding gown with what seemed like a thousand tiny pearl buttons arranged like soldiers in a line down her back. She remembered thinking that each button Lucy closed sealed her future all the tighter.
The silk tulle elbow length veil with its pearl embellished edge was created from the lightest fabric, to faintly caress her face like a lover’s kiss, but instead, it felt like an iron mesh shroud weighing on her head.
Lex’s diamond engagement ring was far too large and showy for her taste. Of course it was Lex's ring. Such a grandiose piece of jewelry could never be her ring. It was not at all appropriate for an investigative reporter who moved effortlessly between the strata of Metropolis’ underbelly and its polite upper crust of society. Still, it was suitable for a woman who was about to align herself with one of the wealthiest men on the planet. Lex Luthor’s wealth deemed he was a man of possessions just like this. Was it a foreboding symbol of their pending marriage?
Her lips tugged into a brief, watery smile as she remembered how Lucy had squealed with envy and girlish delight when she clapped eyes upon it for the first time. So typical of her sister, looking at the size of the stone and not considering what machinations was behind it.
Looking again at the image in the mirror, she thought, were these not the normal silken accouterments of a woman on her wedding day? If so, why did she not feel happy and cherished rather than like another shiny new Luthor possession about to be put on public display?
Yesterday, during the rehearsal dinner, Lex had kissed her hand and called her beautiful. Sadly she didn’t feel that way; he had fixed her with the gaze of a hunter keenly studying its prey. No doubt in eager anticipation of their wedding night. Now, hot, salty tears slid down her cheeks, ruining the carefully applied make-up that a highly paid professional had just completed.
“Ten minutes, ‘Mrs. Luthor’.” Greta said, through the wooden door.
Lois took a deep breath, grabbed a handful of tissues from the vanity table and savagely wiped away another cascade of tears. She looked at the reflection in the mirror, feeling sad, lonely and a little afraid.
She turned her gaze back to the stranger in the mirror. “Lois Luthor,” she said. Trying out the last name and discarding it, like a pair of ill-fitting shoes. A pair of *painfully* ill-fitting shoes - the kind that pinched the moment you stepped into them. If you were smart and didn’t let the glossy appearance turn your head, you put them back into the stiff cardboard box.
“Lois Lane-Luthor.” She puffed out the name. The last name was again an awkward fit, settling neither her ears nor her anxious heart. It was a name connected with great wealth and power, but also to vague whispers and distrust.
Out of the blue, a new combination came to mind and she said aloud, “Lois Lane-Kent?” Her disturbed emotions calmed, everything fit like pages in a love letter, perfectly preserved and scented faintly of sweet jasmine, its heady bouquet making even the most tentative of lovers blush. This last name was right, this name meant warmth, laughter and so very much more. Clark, with all his maddening quirks was her best friend, partner and everything else in between. With this revelation before her with such clarity, how could she marry a man who to all intents and purposes, was an absolute stranger?
She shivered with trepidation; Lex was not the kind of man to calmly accept being jilted at the altar. Sadly, it was far too late to make any counter moves.
A firm knock at the door gave her a start. She pulled out more tissues and tried vainly to repair the damage her tears had done.
“I’ll be out in a minute!” Her voice mingled with fear and anger in equal measure.
In response the door gently swung open. When she heard the door move, she whirled around, thinking it was her mother. Probably coming in with the idea of giving her the traditional reassuring Mother/Daughter pre-wedding pep talk - a talk she couldn’t bear to hear.
Instead of the perfectly composed Ellen Lane, standing before her wearing a black polo shirt and charcoal pants and looking better to her than if he were sporting a hand-tailored Armani tuxedo, was the only person she truly wanted to see right then…Clark!
She took a tiny hesitant step in his direction. “You … came … I…” She cried out and then any further words caught in her throat. Lord knows, Clark was a handsome man. But today his appearance was different; he stood tall and strong, like a determined warrior king come to claim his bride. The power emanating from him struck her almost like a physical thing; this power was comfortingly familiar, yet strangely frightening. Was this her gentle friend? Surely he hadn’t come to wish her well? Had he perhaps come like the prince in a fairy tale… to rescue her?
In the hallway, she imagined hearing the sharp, authoritative tones of Perry’s voice somewhere down the corridor and oddly Bill Henderson’s as well. The former was in Florida, supposedly enjoying his retirement and the latter certainly had no reason to be attending her wedding. As she watched, without a word, Clark stepped into the room and quietly – almost reverently - closed the door behind him, shutting out all other sounds. The visage of warrior held for a moment, but was melting away like the morning mist, to be replaced by a gentle prince.
His lips parted, however no words ushered forth. He too was overcome with emotion; the woman he loved with all his heart and soul was adorned in a wedding dress … a wedding dress she was wearing for *another* man. One firm step and then another as he came closer and looked down at her. With infinite care, like he was touching a precious, fragile gem, his hand cupped her cheek and he whispered. “Lois, I had to come. We’ve said some pretty harsh words to each other over the past few months…”
Lois placed a small trembling hand over his, her brown eyes filled with pain and sadness. “I know and I hate fighting with you. I … I’ve missed you so much.”
“So have I. Lois, I came to say…”
Her voice sounded so small and young, “Yes?”
“Please, don’t do this to yourself … to me … to us.” He whispered and then, at the last, his voice broke and the transformation of warrior king into a young prince was complete. He stood entreating one last time for the hand of his lady.
Tears sprang afresh to her eyes and suddenly she didn’t care about the make-up or the designer’s lacy confection of a wedding gown. All she wanted was to be held by the man before her. Words, so many words, kept pushing and moving about in her mind. All of them useless, empty and pale in comparison to the three words this tender, loving man so richly deserved to hear. Simple words, she realized that she had *never* said to her fiancé – even on the night of their engagement.
With measured, purposeful movements, Lois removed the ornate engagement ring from her finger which bound her to another man and stepping away placed it on the vanity table. It was time to face Lex and the wedding guests. Come what may, Clark had given her the strength to take this countermeasure.
She returned to him freely, letting his strong arms enfold her and all of the uncertainty and sadness vanquished from her once aching heart. The words emerged, joyous and clear, “Clark, I love you!”
Looking up at Clark, she knew these words had touched him, like a nurturing balm to his soul. He was shedding tears now, tears of profound relief and rejoicing. What was he thinking? She prayed those simple words had given all the dreams of his life substance and more. Now they had *hope*.
With a little faltering, a questing finger reached up and caressed her cheek once more wiping away tears, this time of joy. The finger moved down to touch her lips. Lois felt his hesitation; after all, only seconds ago she had been engaged to another man. But for once, prudence and convention were cast aside; as he leaned down and tenderly pressed his lips to hers. The kiss held love and deep, abiding ardor, her heart jumped and she felt a happy trill of desire. *Definitely* not the innocent kiss of a friend, but the kiss of a man wishing to be much, much more.
When they separated, he looked deeply into her eyes, his own dark with passion and finally said the words she longed to hear, “Lois, I love you.”
Abruptly, only a few feet beyond the door, they heard the sound of loud voices and running feet. A voice – Lex’s – was heard, angry and defiant. A brief fight broke out, than a body slammed hard against the door. She heard a woman scream, probably Greta Keith thinking she was going to lose her commission. Lois looked at Clark an expression on her face swathed in questions.
Clark explained, “I …I came here with Perry, Jimmy and Jack. We brought along some folks from MPD. Lex, your *ex-fiancé* has committed numerous crimes and the powers that be want to have a few words with him.”
Lois blinked and looked over Clark’s shoulder to the mirror. The image that looked back had been altered; no longer frightened and confused, now the stranger that she'd seen in this same mirror only moments ago had vanished. Standing here with Clark, that other woman - that shiny new possession of Lex's – was forever gone. For the first time in months she was herself. The thrall Lex had held her in had disappeared. The steely, confident investigative reporter had returned. She carefully removed the silky white veil and placed it on the vanity table beside the engagement ring. “Crimes? What sort of crimes? Against whom …?”
“The Daily Planet for one.” Clark’s voice trailed off as he got that familiar faraway look in his eye, as if he were listening for something. His eyes focused once more and he said, “Honey, please let me get you out of here. This place is going to be swarming with police and the media, asking a lot of intrusive questions. Besides,” he said shyly, “we have a *lot* to talk about.”
Clark opened the door wide and she felt his hand lay protectively on the small of her back; it was so familiar, so reassuring! Together they exited into a corridor filled with LexCorp staff and several bewildered wedding guests. They tried to get away only to come face to face with a sullen Lex Luthor, his cut lower lip bleeding profusely, being escorted by taciturn Inspector Henderson. For a moment, a look passed between the three of them as a mosaic of emotions ran across Lex’s face than he said with a touch of the old defiance. “The contest is done. Kent, you have won the prize. I challenge you to prove yourself worthy of her.” With a sense of worn dignity, he looked away.
Bill Henderson nodded to Lois and Clark than led the prisoner away in steel handcuffs. Not far behind stood a grim-faced Perry White rubbing the bruised knuckles on his right hand. “That’s for what you did to The Daily Planet…”
The rest of his words were lost as an ecstatic Lois ran to Perry and engulfed him in a tight hug, following him came Jimmy and Jack; she hugged each of them in turn. These men were her friends and family. It was so good to be among them again rather than an entourage of paid companions! Come what may of the days ahead, she knew they would always be in her life.
The much beloved southern accent reminded her of comfort and security and most of all the deep fatherly love Perry always held for her. “Ah now Darlin’, you mean the world to us. Sorry for getting here at the last minute, we never stopped looking for a way to prove …” His voice trailed off, now was the wrong time and place for explanations and bluster. He turned to Clark and said, “Think you can get Lois away from this mob and safely home? I have to square young Jack with the authorities.” He gave her another hug, and then gallantly handed her back to Clark, the man who orchestrated the downfall of Luthor and was her true rescuer.
Clark smiled, happiness twinkling in his eyes, “I think that can be arranged Chief!” He quietly took command of the situation. Firmly taking her hand in his, with the ease of someone who was quite familiar with the Luthor penthouse, Clark navigated through the gathered throng to the private elevator, leading Lois away from the hollow, artificial life Luthor had so carefully constructed to starting a new life with the man who cherished and loved her above all others.
The End
