Title: Terms of Estrangement (2/?)
Author: angelic_editor
Rating: PG for mild language
Summary: Lois struggles to distance herself from Clark after her disastrous almost-wedding. Angst ensues.
Feedback: Better than chocolate, especially since this is the first fic I've ever posted. Be brutal, kids.
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine; the words are. Please don't take legal action, as poor college students aren't worth suing, anyway.
Miscellaneous: What started out as a short vignette has turned into a multi-part story, thanks to the amazing feedback from readers! I'm not sure how quickly this will evolve, or how many parts it will be total, but it's been a fun challenge to finish this installment over the past two days. Seriously, guys, I can't thank you enough for your kind words of encouragement; I hope you enjoy.
So it's better this way, I said
Having seen this place before
Where everything we say and do
Hurts us all the more
— "Full of Grace," Sarah McLachlan
"It makes no sense," Clark exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "None."
Martha Kent stifled a yawn. Dawn was still two hours away, but she understood the urgency that had prompted Clark's unexpected visit to Smallville.
"Honey, you have to give this some time," she replied gently, watching her son pace the length of her kitchen while she sat at the table with her morning coffee. "I think maybe Lois is just confused, a little unsure — "
"Unsure?" Clark interjected. "Unsure?"
Martha met her son's incredulous stare with an even gaze that would brook no argument.
Clark's mouth opened, then he thought the better of it.
He sighed.
"Mom, I — I … you know, never mind. I don't know. I've been talking in circles since I got here."
Martha picked up her coffee mug and took a long sip.
"She's been through an awful lot in the past few weeks, sweetheart."
Clark nodded and ran a hand through his hair.
"I know. Believe me, I know." His gaze met his mother's, and she saw the pain reflected in his dark eyes. "This is just really … hard."
Martha put down her mug. "Oh, Clark," she murmured, giving her son a sympathetic smile. "C'mere."
She stood and wrapped her arms around Clark, hugging him tightly. As a boy, his frame had easily folded into her hugs — now, he was more than a head taller than she, and his embrace all but enveloped her.
Now, the comfort he sought ran deeper than scraped knees or bruised elbows.
Careful with your heart, she inwardly cautioned. It's the only part of you that's not invincible.
She closed her eyes, willing her hug to transfer the strength Clark needed to deal with this.
"I — I love her, Mom," he said quietly, his chin resting on top of Martha's head.
Martha pulled back to look up at her son.
"Clark … " she began.
He shook his head.
"Thanks, Mom. For listening, for everything," he said, a slight hitch in his voice. "But this is something I'm going to have to work out for myself."
Martha nodded, her heart breaking for Clark’s own.
"I gotta go," he said sadly, his eyes on the slowly brightening horizon. "Tell Dad not to be angry that I didn't want to wake him."
"Okay," Martha replied. "Be safe, honey. I love you."
"Love you, too."
And with that, he was gone, flying back to Metropolis to finish the Luthor follow-up for the afternoon edition, and to torture himself with thoughts of Lois and the relationship they'd never have.
Be strong, Martha silently implored, draining her mug and staring after Clark. Give this some time.
* * * * *
Lois' hands were trembling as she dressed for work. She had to get back to the office as soon as possible — to distract herself from thoughts of Clark.
In a perverse way, sitting at her desk just a few feet away from him would cauterize her bleeding heart while she lost herself in her work.
Catharsis, Lois told herself. That's what it'll be — a painful, necessary catharsis.
Lois sighed, looking at her reflection in her full-length mirror.
Masochistic much?
Tears welled in her eyes but she furiously blinked them away.
I can do this. I have to do this, for Clark's sake. Because I am a federal disaster waiting to happen.
She took a deep breath and smoothed her black skirt over her thighs.
And I have to stop arguing with myself, because that's one of the hallmarks of the severely disturbed.
She took a long look in the mirror. The woman staring back looked terrible — her eyes were haunted, her features haggard. There were hard lines around her mouth that she'd never noticed before.
You will get through this. You have to.
Lois nodded resolutely to herself.
And you won't drown your sorrows in Double-Fudge Crunch bars, either.
With that, she grabbed her coat and briefcase and headed to her Jeep.
* * * * *
"Morning, Jimmy," Lois mumbled into her coffee cup as Jimmy Olsen passed her desk.
"Hi, Lois," Jimmy replied cheerfully, oblivious to his coworker's listless greeting. "Need anything?"
Sanity, Lois thought sourly. Or a new partner. One who's not so intelligent, flawlessly good-looking, kind, witty, patient, and understanding.
"Nah," she replied. "Just wanted to say — "
She paused when Clark strode by her desk, coffee in one hand, the morning edition of The Planet in the other.
"Morning," he intoned hollowly as he passed, not meeting her startled gaze.
" … hi," she finished.
God. Lois swallowed hard, forcibly removing Clark's broad-shouldered, athletic build from her line of sight. Get. A. Grip.
"Oh," Jimmy said slowly, his eyes darting from Lois to Clark and back. "Well, uh — I'm gonna go talk to the Chief. You let me know if I can help with anything."
"'Kay," Lois said in a small voice. "Thanks."
When Jimmy walked away, Lois bit her lower lip, studiously averting her eyes from Clark's desk. She turned back to her computer, accessing the international news wire.
And after I read this, I can come up with a list of follow-ups for Perry's budget meeting this afternoon, she thought. If I don't throw myself down the elevator shaft first.
* * * * *
Clark had read the same paragraph four times before he realized he wasn't processing any information from the morning's paper.
Lois was so unexpectedly close, he could barely concentrate. He wasn't sure why she was already back in the office, as Perry had told her to take as much time off as she needed to cope with her disastrous almost-wedding to Lex Luthor, but here she was. "Mad Dog" Lane, his partner, back in action.
He snuck a quick sideways glance in Lois' direction, watching her stare intently at her computer monitor. He wanted nothing more than to walk over and make her smile or laugh with their usual sharp, good-natured banter — but this self-imposed estrangement didn’t allow such an attempt at normalcy.
He watched as Lois absently hooked a strand of hair behind one ear, and he almost winced at the stab of pain her simple gesture caused him. He looked away, staring blankly at the business section.
This is ridiculous, he thought grimly. I've only been here five minutes — how am I supposed to survive the next eight hours?
* * * * *
Ten minutes later, Lois' eyes were glazing over. Speed-reading wire copy was turning her brain into a veritable sieve. Mindless busywork had never been her forte, but she couldn't seem to concentrate on anything remotely important.
Don't, she chastised herself when her gaze began to wander from the screen. You don't want to dwell on what you're missing. Remember, it's better this way.
She refocused on a recent report on corruption in the World Bank, resolving to find an angle to pitch at the meeting.
Then she heard Clark clear his throat. The pages of his copy of The Planet rustled as he turned them. She heard the clink of his coffee mug against his desk as he set it down. Twice.
Federal disaster be damned, this is ridiculous.
Lois licked her lips nervously. She abruptly stood and, before she could talk herself out of it, walked over to Clark's desk.
Clark looked up at her over the rims of his glasses.
"Lois," he said coolly, struggling to keep his voice steady.
"Um — h-hi," she stammered.
Clark didn't respond, but his dark eyes were trained on Lois' features.
"I — God, Clark, this is awful," she said in a rush. "I thought I could do this, I thought I could get lost here, forget … but — I'm sorry. Sorry for all the things I've said, for all — "
"Lois, wait," Clark interrupted. "Look, before you begin with the apologies, there's something I need to tell you."
"No," she argued, "you don't understand. I thought I — we … "
"Lois," Clark said in a low voice, cutting her off. "Please."
Lois closed her mouth and set her jaw.
"I'm listening," she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Look," Clark began haltingly, "you seem to think that I — I'm almost perfect, or infallible or something."
Clark ducked his head, feeling his cheeks redden at the lofty admission. Lois nearly melted at his humility.
Watch it, she warned herself, forcing her attention back to Clark's words.
"I'm not," he continued simply, his eyes searching Lois' features for understanding. "I'm just as fallible as anyone else. You have to know — "
Lois opened her mouth to interrupt him, but Clark cocked his head slightly and narrowed his eyes, focusing his gaze on a spot just behind her.
"Help!"
The plea reverberated in his brain. He nearly swore aloud.
Not now. Please, not now.
Lois raised an eyebrow. "Clark?" she asked, puzzled. "Is something wrong?"
Clark's attention snapped back to his partner.
"Lois, I — look, I know this isn't the best time. I really, really want to have this conversation, but I have to go. I — "
Lois visibly stiffened.
"I see," she said with a crisp nod. "You've just changed your mind about this. End of conversation."
"Please, somebody, help!"
Clark winced. "No, it's not that, I — "
"It's all right, Clark," Lois retorted sharply, her tone indicating that it was anything but. "I completely understand why you wouldn't want to waste your time on an emotional wreck like me. Not professionally, and certainly not in your personal life."
"Lois, no — "
"Don't play the nice guy, Kent. You don't have to do that just for my sake," she cut in, turning away so he couldn't see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "It's best if we keep each other at a distance, anyway."
She took a shaky breath and swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Besides, it was my mistake for thinking that … "
"Superman!"
" ... that we were more than just a good reporting team."
Clark wanted to pound his desk to sawdust in frustration.
Instead, he raked a hand through his hair.
"Lois," he whispered hoarsely, "I have to go."
And I'm so, so sorry, he silently added.
Lois nodded absently, refusing to turn and face him.
When she reached her desk and turned around, he was already gone.
Good for you, Kent, she thought sadly. You're the smarter one — I only wish I had the strength to walk away from you, too.
