I Feel Like Letting Go
Jocelyn Brant <jocelynbrant@hotmail.com>
Rating: PG
Summary: Lois has witnessed a kiss between Clark and Mayson, and is shaken quite a bit by it. Clark is her best friend, so she knows what she has to do, but will Clark be able to stop her once he realizes her plans? Will he even want to?

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, as they are the sole product of either DC Comics Inc. or Warner Brothers Inc. No copyright infringement has been intended with the trifle of a fictional story, nor is any money being made off the publication of this piece to the internet.

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I Feel Like Letting Go
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I feel just like I’m sinking
And I claw for solid ground
Pulled down by the undertow
Never thought I could feel so low
But oh, Darkness, I feel like letting go

***

There was a time I was a very secure person, confident; perhaps even cocky. Now, that may be still very true, admittedly, when it comes to my work, but where relationships are concerned... I’m not, so much.

I thought I was turning into the worst kind of person: obsessed with my work, I had no friends or confidantes outside of my sister; I was acrimonious, and I had no desire to change. I was swimming further and further away from the surface and it had gotten to the point where I was being referred to as “Mad Dog Lane”; I had never had a nickname so laced with bitterness before.

I suppose the change happened gradually, for there wasn’t a direct moment I can recall when it might have happened. I do, however, recall when I first noticed the change. It was just one of those moments you might mark off as insignificant, but later remember it as a truly inspiring epiphany. The Prankster, a vile cretin and a bane to my existence, had just escaped from prison where a story of mine had rightfully placed him five years ago, and Clark and I had worked tirelessly in trying to find him and stop him. He had gone to great lengths to get to me, and I had denied my fear easily, not allowing anyone to see that I was afraid for my life.

Clark, the stronghold in my life, the anchor to my irrationality had been there for me. He had never said he knew what was up, but I knew that he knew. I hadn’t exactly been candid when I walked to his place with pizza and the Lethal Weapon trilogy. He had allowed me to enter his apartment without any crass remark, something Clark was never particularly partial to anyway, but rather murmered of his support to me.

As we watched, I wrestled against exhaustion, refusing to give in when the final round was called. I collapsed into sleep, falling soundlessly against his shoulder, cuddling closer to him capturing his warmth, security, and breathing in his clean scent. I had awakened to the same scent, but he was not to be found. I lay in his bed, the covers pulled up to my chin, and my arms wrapped around his pillow.

I suppose my stirring had brought him from sleep as well, as he was soon by my side, clad only in black silk boxers. I stared at his state of relative undress, and watched as a blush crept up from his chest to his cheeks, darkening them with a crimson red.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” he muttered, turning towards the archway of his bedroom.

“You’re still tired; you’ve got circles under your eyes,” I cautioned. He turned to me with a small, appreciative smile.

“I’ll be fine. When breakfast is ready, you can eat and I’ll catch a few winks.”

“Nonsense,” I protested. “There is plenty enough room in this bed; come sleep beside me.” He hesitated, the urge to flee shining brightly in his eyes, and it was with a shaky voice that I spoke, “Clark, it isn’t as though we’ve never slept beside each other.”

He walked slowly to the bed, and I moved over to give him room, allowing him to slide underneath the bed cover and into the warmth of the previously occupied section. When I lay on the cool side of the bed, I shivered, the friction working to warm me again. Clark turned on his side beside me, and pulled me against his chest. I would have voiced a protest, but the connection of our bodies succeeded in warming me, where my shivering had not. It was pleasant, and as I drifted off to sleep once again, a smile conveyed my sentiments. A steady flow of rightness settled over me and I snuggled further into his welcoming embrace.

We slept for several hours, the day flowing into night, our solitary day off finished uneventfully.

I knew then that I had changed. I would have denied him a position beside me in that bed, for certain, had this occurred right after we met. I don’t know what it was that he had done to loosen me in such a way, but I know with great certainty that it was him who had done it. He was a gentle, beautiful soul in an ugly, untrusting world.

And as I now walk, pounding the pavement with my sorrowful steps, I deeply regret having never revealed this to him. While I walk now, he kisses and caresses her. I am filled with hatred as I think about the two of them, no doubt in his apartment engaging in something lovers do.

Clark and I were never lovers, but I had thought about it. More frequently since my recent federal disaster: My so-called wedding. I would find myself absent-mindedly thinking about his lips kissing mine tenderly, with a familiarity borne of love and companionship. His hands cradling my head as we continued exploring the inner sanctum of each other’s mouths, and my fingers sifting through his hair at the nape of his neck.

But I have a position in his life that she will never have; I am irreplaceable where this is concerned, just as his position in my life is irreplaceable too. We are best friends in every extent of the word, and the friendship we share can never be destroyed by some floozy with blond hair.

That floozy, I must admit, is his girlfriend. She has that of him, the part I desire most; a romantic love could grow between them, as it never could with us. He could never love me as I have come to love him, and even though he had confessed such yearnings previously, he amended them, claiming to have only said them to keep me from Lex Luthor. Whether that is true or not is no longer an issue. He has clearly moved on, just as I should. Concede defeat, and leave him to his new life.

I unlock the many barriers of my front door, and enter my apartment without switching on a lamp or overhead light. The darkness is a comfort I so rarely allow these days, but tonight it seems completely necessary.

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TBC...

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