Previously - Chapter 29 ***
Chapter 30 ***
“Run!” Clark yelled to her. “Go! I'm right behind you!”
And for once she listened.
She ran as fast as she could, the blood rushing in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. It wasn’t until she registered a loud roaring behind her that she stopped and turned to see Clark wasn’t there. As she looked toward the window he’d helped her through, a thunderous boom resounded as a fireball of color erupted before her. She felt the pressure of the shockwave pass, tossing her hair.
She stood horrified, her heart stopping as she watched the flames dissipate to reveal a massive, rough-edged hole in the side of the house. No blue walls to be seen. Only debris and remnants of what used to be a library strewn about.
As if she were observing instead of participating, she saw herself running toward the site, a thousand thoughts running through her head. Where was Clark? Why hadn’t he followed? Was he okay? Could he have survived the blast without his powers?
As she neared the house, she spotted Scott sprawled in the snow. The sun’s horizontal rays provided enough light to see that he appeared mostly uninjured. She carefully placed shaking fingers at his neck to check for a pulse and let out a breath when she confirmed he was alive though he remained unconscious, his limp state likely saving him from more severe injuries.
Rising to continue the search for Clark, she noticed several gravel-sized chunks of red and green. Kryptonite. Red
and green?
She spotted Clark a few yards away face down in the snow and rushed to his side, landing on her knees. His shirt was in tatters and a dark shape beneath the strips of fabric caught her eye. Ignoring it, she gently pressed her trembling hand to his throat.
A pulse.
Relief filled her, and she couldn’t stop the sobs that came with it. Choosing to investigating the shape she saw first, she tore his shirt to reveal a tattoo. An intricately drawn phoenix stretched its head below fiery wings, its long tail feathers arching down the middle of Clark’s back. Only a few inches in all, what struck her was the coloring - reds and greens that sparkled. She breathed out.
That was how they’d disabled his powers.
Pushing aside her own shock, she grasped his shoulders and with great effort rolled him to his side. His glasses sat askew, broken. She straightened them and realized how useless it was. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she grabbed his face with both of her hands.
“Clark?” she sobbed. “Clark, wake up.” She leaned forward and touched her forehead to his. “Please,” she begged, “I need you.”
Nothing.
She could feel his breath on her chin and took comfort knowing that he was still alive. But what kind of damage was done? She continued to carefully roll him over onto his back and gasped when she saw a huge gash across his chest, right where the S would have been. She gently pulled back the fabric that was near it. She pulled the napkin – the one with the note she wrote to herself – and pressed it to his chest, pulling the pieces of his shirt to cover it.
Through her tears, she checked over the rest of his body and was relieved to not see anything that caused her more concern. But she knew the shards of kryptonite surrounding them only added to his pain that, thankfully, he wasn’t yet aware of. Pressing her hands to his face again, she stared at him.
This puddle of mush that she was at the moment was useless to anyone and she quickly took control of her emotions and focused her mind on doing whatever she could to help. Standing, she said a quick thank you for the risen sun and carefully collected all the shards of red and green kryptonite that surrounded them.
A soft moan came from behind her and she turned to find Lex lying on the ground. She stiffened. That same mix of affection and hatred assailed her and with it the nausea she’d experienced before. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to check on him.
***
He couldn’t stand it. Hearing her heart-wrenching cries. Incapable of comforting her.
He could feel his own life slipping away. It wouldn’t be much longer.
Everything had been going so well. For years, he had successfully overcome insurmountable circumstances and wormed his way out of impossible situations. He’d even come back from the dead, thanks to his dedicated physician.
Superman had prevented him from ending it all months ago and he took complete advantage of every moment he’d been given to devise a plan to get exactly what he’d wanted. It had been so successful that for just over two months he’d lived the life he was destined for. And it was everything he’d dreamed it would be.
Having Lois love him and be with him, laughing with her, crying with her, fighting with her… He’d known from the moment he laid eyes on her that she was perfect. His prize. And he was willing to win her.
But she didn’t want him back then. That alien cad stole her from him and then it was that foolish reporter partner of hers. Just his luck that they would turn out to be one and the same. He really should have rid himself of that affliction when he’d had the chance. But his lofty aspirations of vengeance would prove to be his end.
And it was bittersweet. Himself mortally wounded. His nemesis unconscious, presumably dying without superpowers to aide him. His beloved crying over his enemy instead of him.
And here he was alone in his final moments to be forced to listen to it.
The pain in his gut suddenly intensified, and he groaned as he rolled his head to face where she moved around. She must have heard him because she paused and looked at him. He wished she would come to him and at the same time wanted her to stay away. When she began walking toward him, he closed his eyes to consider what his last words to her would be.
“Lex,” she said softly, as though she cared.
He opened his eyes to see her kneeling beside him, her tear-stained cheeks red in the sunlight that came in at such a low angle it made her face glow as if she were an angel. “My darling,” he started, “I am sorry.”
She carried something and when she emptied her hands into her lap, he saw the red and green shards. She was working to give his enemy a fighting chance. The thought sickened him, and he grimaced as he turned his head away.
Her hand on his shoulder felt like fire to his already warm body. Despite the pain it caused, he reached to cover her hand with his and ignored her flinch, squeezing her fingers with as much of his affection as he could give to her in these last moments.
Opening his eyes once again, he beheld the sunrise in all its glory. The bright orb slowly ascended toward lines of high clouds. The fresh snow sparkled.
“I know that you really did love me, Lois.” He rolled his head back to see her, a far better sight to be his last. “For a time,” he added.
She frowned as her eyes shimmered in the sunlight, and he allowed himself to pretend the tear were for him. But the anger and pain behind them made that difficult.
“Lois, I want you to know that everything … everything … I did was because … I love you.”
“What you did had nothing to do with love,” she spat at him. “You were only ever thinking of yourself. If you had loved me, you would never have done
any of that.”
It would have been better if she’d remained silent. How could she doubt him? He could feel the life slipping from him. He would never have the chance to prove himself to her, to fix that frown on her face. “I was … selfish … I am sorry. Please … do not hold anything … I’ve done against … our child.”
“I’m not pregnant,” she said, breathless, twisting the knife in his already failing heart.
“But you are,” he whispered. Why didn’t she believe him?
“I hate you!” she yelled.
She continued speaking, but he couldn’t concentrate on her words. He looked deeply into her eyes one last time but only felt the burn of her anger and confusion. He wanted to reach up and smooth the worry from her brow, erase the hatred from her eyes. If he could only make her see, but his time was running out. He squeezed her hand once again, thankful she hadn’t pulled it from his grasp, before he could no longer keep the darkness from enclosing on him and closed his eyes.
***
“I hate you!” she yelled. “How could you do this to me? You say you love me, but you tear me away from everything important to me and ruin my life with your insane plans!”
She stopped her rant as she felt his grip on her fingers tighten and then relax. His eyes closed and his body relaxed. He was gone. The lump in her throat made her all the more angry.
“How dare you!” she yelled through hot tears at his lifeless body. How would she ever find any closure on this nightmare?
She turned away from him and emptied her stomach, overwhelmed by her mixed emotions. Was she pregnant? How could he know? Would he lie even in those last moments of his life? If only he could tell her how he knew.
The sunlight winked off of one of the pieces of kryptonite in the small pile she made, and she pushed aside her feelings to get back to a far more important task than stewing over the ravings of a deceased madman.
Rising, she took the pieces she’d found and began throwing them, the physical motion destroying what hold she had on her composure. Overcome by anger and anguish, she screamed as she threw one of the stones as far as she could, releasing as much emotion as she could with the exertion. Again, she threw another rock, allowing herself to be overwhelmed by the emotions. She continued until she had no more stones to throw.
Standing there with her hands now empty, she felt numb. Staring into the distance, she heard the faint sounds of emergency vehicles and was thrust back into the situation at hand. She quickly turned and ran back to Clark.
He hadn’t moved at all, but the slow rise and fall of his chest confirmed he still lived. She kneeled at his side and took one of his hands in hers. With her other hand, she caressed his face, hoping for a sign that removing the kryptonite from his presence had helped. Looking at him now, she could tell that he seemed to be breathing easier and more deeply. His face was more swollen and bruised from the punches Lex had landed. She checked the gash on his chest and saw that it had stopped bleeding. What else could she do?
Tears came again, and she could only lay her head on his chest grasping his shoulders. Her tears turned to weeping and she reached her arms around him in an awkward embrace. The enormity of the ordeal engulfed her and the sobs emerging shook her.
Questions filled her head and threatened to push her beyond her limits. Was Lex telling the truth? How could he know? Would she be able to bring his child into the world if she were pregnant? How would Clark react? Could she do this if Clark chose to be done with her?
She startled when she felt his arm come up to touch her shoulder, stopping her brooding. She pulled away quickly and stared into his face, his eyes barely open. “Clark!” she breathed, “You’re awake!”
***
Using strength he didn’t think he had, he reached his arms around her and pulled her into the embrace. Her sobs shook him. He held her as tightly as he could, pressing her firmly to his chest. He didn’t care one bit how much it hurt him to do so. She needed the closeness as much as he did, more so even.
“Lois,” he whispered. It was all he could say. There was so much he wanted to say, but there would be time for that later. Right now, he just wanted to hold her and never let go, and she seemed to want the same thing.
It felt like minutes passed before she was able to relax and breath more evenly. He reluctantly released her, moving his hands to grasp her arms as she propped herself up, hovering over him. Tears streamed down her face, but her smile was so genuine, so heartfelt.
He reached his thumb up and brushed it across her cheek before dropping it back to his side. “
Brush those tears from your eyes, and try to realize, that the ache in my heart is for you,” he said quietly, smiling up at her.
Her half sob, half laugh tugged at his heart. “Clark, you don’t need to do that anymore. I
know.” Shifting her weight to one hand, she brought the other up to brush the hair from his forehead.
“What do you know?” he asked in a whisper, allowing his eyes to drift closed.
“Everything … I think,” she said, placing her hand on his cheek. He relished her touch and wished he could remember it all, too. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’ll live,” he said. It was then he remembered how he’d gotten to this spot, lying in the grass beside a severely damaged house with debris strewn about. His eyes flew open as he remembered the others that were with him. “Scott?”
“He’s still unconscious,” she answered quickly. “But I think he’s okay.” She looked over her shoulder, but he kept his eyes on her. When she turned back to him, her face was drawn and she looked shaken. “Lex is dead.”
Lois was strong; he knew it even without having access to all his memories. But this was a lot for anyone to go through. He could see she hadn’t been hurt by the explosion of that weapon. But how long had she moved around in the aftermath? What had she witnessed?
She sat back on her heels as he tried to sit up. He winced at the pain he felt and reached up to feel his chest, brushing his fingers over his shirt. Carefully pulling his shirt open, he found a napkin that had something written on it pressed to his chest.
“It’s all I had,” she whispered.
He looked up to meet her eyes, took her hand in his and squeezed it. “It’s enough.”
When he looked back down at the napkin, he gently lifted it from his skin to see the gash below. No longer invulnerable, he’d been hurt several times over the last two months, but this was no simple abrasion. A shard of glass or some other debris must have hit him. He pressed the napkin back on top and took a moment to look at it.
The wrinkled and blood-stained thing was difficult to read, but he could still make it out. “
Lois,” he read out loud. “
It is only a paper moon, hanging over a cardboard scene. It’s a lot of make-believe, even if you can’t believe me.” He paused and glanced up at Lois who looked intently at her fingers as she twisted them in her lap. “
Nat King Cole can help you figure it out. Lois.”
“I wrote it when we made a stop on the way here.” She looked up at him then, still shaken. “I was worried Lex would … do that thing again … which he did ... I found that in my shoe yesterday and read it a few minutes before you arrived. And when you started quoting Nat King Cole songs … I started to think you knew what that note meant.”
“Oh, Lois,” he said, shaking his head. “I know what the note means, but I don’t know much else.” When she frowned at him, he continued, “My memories are locked under layers … I didn’t even believe they were
memories at first. I thought they were dreams.”
She tilted her head to the side, like a curious puppy, and it made him chuckle. “What do you remember?” she asked.
“I remember asking you to marry me.” Her smile was infectious and encouraged him. “I remember you were dead – or dying – and I tried to revive you. I was sure both of those were dreams.” He gave a half-hearted laugh. “I remember how the Platt story
actually went. I remember floating in the clouds … with you.” He reached for her hand and caressed it, feeling her slender fingers, weaving his fingers between hers. “I remember leaving you.”
He tried to squash that old guilty feeling that came up as he lowered his head. Only this wasn’t guilt over something that never happened.
He had left.
And that was what had allowed all of this to happen. He would make sure that never happened again, if she would let him.
“Clark,” her soothing voice touched him as she gripped his hand, “don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. Neither of us knew what would happen.” He looked up to her eyes that held such warmth and love and gave her a weak smile. “You came for me, to help me, without even knowing why.”
He huffed. “I thought you didn’t want me to come.”
“And you rescued me … again. Now it’s my turn to rescue you.” She smiled that captivating smile once more and he was mesmerized. “
Non dimenticar means don't forget you are my darling,” she sang, her voice like honey, “
Don't forget to be, all you mean to me.”
He grinned at her. “I already tried that one,” he said. “But I can see now that getting my memories back will be an enjoyable endeavor.”
“
Bend a little my way,” she sang, leaning closer to him. “
Lean a little my way.”
He leaned in to meet her, their lips barely touching when shouting erupted from the side of the house.
***
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