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From Part 18:“Do you know, out of... everything you did for me today... that - what you just said - probably touched me most of all.” She raised her hand and, even as it shook, managed to bring it to his face so that she could touch him with her fingertips. “And... I asked her to wait in case I don’t get time to tell you this later. I... I love you too. I think... I have for ages. Just too... too stupid and stubborn and blind to see it.”
Her voice gave way on the final word. It didn’t matter, though. She’d said what she needed to. What she’d promised herself she would tell him before it was too late.
With an inarticulate murmur, Clark wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him. His chin rested on her head briefly, before he began dropping tiny kisses against her hair, her cheek, her neck.
Then, with a sigh, he said, “We should go in.” Releasing her, he took a step back and held out his hand to her. “Ready to marry me, my love... my - ”
He broke off suddenly and looked away, and her breath caught as she heard him finish, under his breath, “- life.”
**********
Now read on...The ‘chapel’ was really just a room with a table at the front and some chairs arranged on either side, leaving the centre to form an aisle. There were no religious symbols and, even better, no tributes to ‘true love’. No hearts, balloons, banners or pink and red roses. A spray of fresh flowers stood on the altar, in co-ordinating shades of cream and yellow.
The jeweller really had steered him right. The circumstances of this marriage were bad enough without making either of them undertake it in some sickly over-the-top Valentine frenzy.
Lois clung to his hand as if it were her anchor. And it probably was. She was so weak she could barely stand straight - it had to be an act of almost superhuman endurance for her even to be here. And she’d said that he’d been what had kept her going today. Her strength.
Lois loved him. Loved
him.
The knowledge just made him want to weep. She loved him. He loved her back. They were getting married. This should be the happiest moment of his life. But how could it be, when in a few short hours she’d be ripped from him?
He barely heard the woman officiating take them through the words of the marriage service. When it was his turn to speak, it seemed as if someone else were uttering the responses. Not him. Not Clark Kent, holding on to Lois Lane’s hand as if she were his only fragile hold on sanity.
It couldn’t be any other way. If he allowed himself to concentrate on what he was doing, then saying the vows, promising to love her until death parted them, would finally tear his heart into tiny pieces.
“I do.”
Lois’s voice, so weak and thready before, suddenly stronger as she said the words accepting him as her husband. She put him to shame. Why couldn’t he have said it more as if he meant it?
But here was a chance to make up for it. He handed over the rings, noting Lois’s look of surprise, heard her whisper, “I never thought of a ring.” And he held her hand in his, slid her ring on her finger, held her gaze with his as he repeated words he’d never meant more in his life.
“With this ring I thee wed...”
She fumbled as she tried to put his ring on, and he helped her. And, finally, the officiant said the words signalling the end of the short ceremony.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She paused to smile at them. “Why don’t you kiss the bride, Mr Kent?”
Lois turned to him, lifting her face towards him. Her eyes shimmered with tears again. His own had to be in the same state - after all, she seemed kind of fuzzy again. He let go of her hand and brought his palms up to cradle her face, then paused. He needed to look at her. Needed a minute just to look at his wife.
His wife.
He needed to imprint her features on his brain. To remember forever how she’d looked right at this moment - weak, pale, trembling and far from the vibrant, energetic human dynamo that was Lois Lane - but never more beautiful.
His wife.
Slowly, almost reverently, he lowered his head and captured her lips with his own. She trembled beneath his hold, but slid her arms around him, parting her lips and inviting him to kiss her properly.
Closing his eyes, he leaned into her, tasting her, feeling her, learning her. Memorising her.
Engraving the essence of her on his soul.
If only this was like the fairy-tale, where the kiss from the handsome prince would awaken the beautiful princess and make her well again.
If only.
He was Superman, and he hadn’t been able to do a damn
thing to save her.
All he could do now was show her, with his lips, with his hands, with everything he was, how much he loved her.
A cough, followed by a soft laugh, brought him back to the present. Tearing himself away from Lois, he turned to look at the officiant. She was smiling indulgently at them. “Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Kent. I hope the two of you will be very happy together.”
He felt Lois flinch against him. Bitterness filled him, bile rising up in his throat, and the urge to scream at her almost burst out of him. Happy together? Sure. For the next couple of hours. Congratulations? Yeah, if impending death was something to be joyful about.
But the celebrant didn’t know that. And it was none of her business.
“Thank you.” He dredged up a smile from somewhere, then turned back to Lois, sliding his arm around her again. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
She nodded and fell into step beside him. His wife.
And his cheekbones were moist again.
*********
They were married. She was - if she hadn’t sworn never to lose her own identity by taking a man’s surname - Mrs Clark Kent.
The unfamiliar ring felt heavy on her finger. It was still hard to take in that Clark had actually gone and bought rings - and expensive ones, too, she’d bet. There was only one place he could have got them, after all - that jewellery boutique at the hotel.
Well, at least now he’d inherit everything of hers anyway, so he wouldn’t be out of pocket for a ring he’d only wear for a few hours.
Her head was really pounding. And her stomach hurt. The Tylenol must have worn off.
“Are you okay?” Trust Clark to be alert to every little thing.
“Do you have those painkillers they gave me at the hospital?”
He patted his pocket. “Right here.” He glanced around. “There’s a fast-food place up ahead - let’s get you a drink.”
Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps. Every convenience always close at hand, even at after eleven at night. At least three hotels and one restaurant per block, and every hotel had at least one restaurant of its own...
Hotel...
“Clark.” Abruptly, she stopped walking - if she could call what she’d been doing walking, considering he had his arm around her and was almost carrying her - and tugged on his free arm. He halted and looked at her.
“Do we have to go back to Metropolis?”
“Well...” He frowned. “You really should talk to your parents. And I’d feel a lot happier if you’d let me take you to the hospital.” His eyes were so sad. If only there was a way she could take that away for him... but there was nothing she could do.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital.” He looked unhappy at her blunt statement, but that was how she felt. “There’s nothing they can do for me, Clark. We’ve accepted that. I already know it’s not mercury. So what’s the point? Just so they can hook me up to more drips and machines and have doctors and nurses poking at me and examining me like some specimen, while they all know there’s nothing they can do to stop me dying?”
She broke off, gasping for breath, while he stared at her, looking stricken.
“I’m sorry, Clark. I know you don’t... don’t want to think about it, but we both know that’s the way it is. We tried. But this time we lost. And I’m dying. And the last thing I want is to spend the... the few hours I’ve got left to live in a hospital bed, with no privacy and my parents fighting with each other and... and yelling at me for getting married without telling them.”
He let out a slow breath. “So what do you want to do?” The gentleness in his tone told her that he’d do it. For her.
“Let’s get a hotel room.”
“What?” The shocked expression on his face almost made her laugh. Her hero really was a country farmboy. The idea of getting a hotel-room together seemed to have left him stunned. Yet they were
married. Even if this wasn’t a normal marriage, for normal reasons, they were husband and wife.
“A hotel room. Come on, Clark, stop wasting time! There’s so little... left...” She had to break off and cough. He drew her away from the street, into a gap between two buildings where they were in semi-darkness, and held her, head cradled against his shoulder, while her body was wracked with choking coughs and she struggled to breathe. Her stomach still hurt and her head throbbed.
“Oh, Lois.” He brushed his lips against her cheek. “I... you don’t know how much I’ve dreamed of us being together like that... But you’re sick. You’re in pain and you’re weak and... and it wouldn’t be right...”
He was right, in one way. Part of her yearned to be with Clark, to find out just this one time, before it was too late, what it would be like to be loved by him. Really loved. Clark would cherish any woman he made love to. That was obvious in so many ways, but mostly the way he’d behaved with her today. His gentleness, the way he touched her, held her hand, kissed her... And the way he’d kissed her before, both as himself and as Superman.
Making love with Clark would be exciting. Thrilling. And a lesson in being truly loved for the first time in her life.
But the chances of her body being able to co-operate were... pretty much zero.
That, though, wasn’t the only reason a hotel room was more appealing than going back to Metropolis. “It’s not just that, Clark. I told you, I don’t want to be in that hospital. And I know I... promised to tell my parents, but... you don’t know what they’ll be like...”
“Lois, no matter what, you can’t
not tell them!” he exclaimed. “How do you think they’d feel just finding out... after? Getting a phone call from the hospital - or more likely me! - telling them their daughter’s dead? And realising that we’d known all today that it was probably going to happen?”
He was right. As her husband, he’d have to be the one to call her parents. How could she do that to him? On top of everything else he was being dumped with!
“I’m sorry, Clark.” The words emerged as little more than a whisper. “This... marriage idea of mine... it’s going to leave you with a whole lot of hassle.”
He jerked back from her, but gripped her hands tightly, staring down at her with sudden anger blazing from his eyes. “You think I
care about that, Lois? Sure, being your... widower is going to mean I get to do all sorts of fun stuff. Stuff that’s going to tear me apart little by little, more painfully than Kryptonite can. But do you think that for one
second I
mind doing anything for you? That there’s
anything I
wouldn’t do for you?”
She could only stare at him. Sure, he’d told her that he loved her. His declaration in the chapel had been the most passionate, the most intense avowal she’d ever heard or read. But this...
To be loved that much...
He was going to be devastated.
“Oh, Clark...” Freeing one hand, she reached up to caress his face. “I don’t deserve you. But, since I’ve got you, I don’t want to let you go.”
“I don’t want to let you go either.” He gazed soberly down at her. And, slowly, lowered his lips to brush over hers once more. “But I don’t have a choice. And I need to take you back so we can call your parents.”
He was right. Here, in Las Vegas, a shiny new wedding ring on her finger, it was so easy to let herself ignore the reality. Oh, not that she was dying. That wasn’t exactly possible to ignore. Not with emotions running so high with her and Clark, not with the pain and weakness and her body giving up on her.
But she was ignoring other things about her situation.
The fact that she had less than four hours left, assuming that Griffin’s timetable had some logical basis to it. That very soon, according to Sutton’s guess, she’d cease to be able to function anyway. She’d be useless. Practically paralysed and in too much pain to focus.
Pain. How much pain?
They still had
no idea what else Griffin had given her. Okay, it wasn’t ricin, so she didn’t have that horrific death to look forward to. It didn’t seem to be mercury. But it had to be something nasty, given it was going to be fatal. What would it do to her? Would she be in so much agony by the end that she’d be begging anyone who’d listen to put her out of her misery?
“Lois?”
Blinking, she refocused on Clark. He was watching her, deep furrows of worry on his brow.
“Sorry... I was just... thinking...”
“About?” He stroked a hand up and down her back. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“Oh, Clark...” How much should she tell him?
He loved her. He’d done so much for her - and would do so much more if he could. There was no reason not to tell him all the scary things on her mind. How could she shut him out now?
“I’m scared.” In the end, that was all she could find the words for, and they emerged as a whisper.
“I know.” He continued to rub her back. “I’m scared too.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“I don’t want you to.” He swallowed; she could see the movement in his throat. “Lois... if there was any way... anything I could do...” He took a harsh, shuddering breath. “If I could swap places with you, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
The breath whooshed out of her. All she could do was stare at him. He loved her
that much?
But he did. It was obvious in everything - the way he was looking at her now, the way he’d poured out his impassioned declaration of love in the chapel, the way he’d put everything else aside, even Super rescues, for her. The way he had touched her, comforted her, cared for her, kept her spirits up throughout the day, even when hope seemed lost.
“You... you make me feel ashamed.”
“Why?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.
“Because all I can think about is... how scared I am and how painful it’s going to be and if I’m going to be fighting for breath and you... you’d do that for me...”
“You’re entitled to be scared.” A gentle tug and she was held in his embrace again. “Even the courageous Lois Lane is human.”
Courageous? Far from it. She was petrified. Cowering in fear and... and wimpish, squeamish avoidance. If Clark knew what she hadn’t told him about... the crazy, cowardly but so
tempting thing that she’d considered asking him to do for her...
Fear of pain. Fear of not being able to breathe. Fear of being helpless, dependent, begging for aid... The way to avoid that had seemed so obvious, so easy. Clark. Clark was Superman. He had amazing abilities... and all it would take was one dart of heat vision, or a tiny press of his thumb against her throat, or even the power of his freezing breath.
She’d almost asked him.
Only what he’d said about changing places with her had stopped her. He’d do that for her -
die for her - and she was trying to find ways to make it easy on herself? Ways which would be nothing short of torture for Clark.
He’d said there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. So he’d do that, wouldn’t he?
Whether he would or whether he wouldn’t, she wasn’t going to ask him. It was far too much of a burden to put on him. He was devastated enough as it was - and something told her that even being asked the question would tear him apart. Knowing that she was scared enough to want to ask that of him. That she would believe that he’d even consider it.
And he wouldn’t, anyway. That wasn’t Clark’s way. Superman saved lives; he didn’t end them. Clark, too, had ethical standards far above just about anyone else she knew.
It would tear him apart - both being asked and having to deny her request.
She stretched up and kissed him. Whatever was going to happen would happen. The important thing was that he would be with her regardless. Her husband. The man who loved her more than she’d ever dared to dream she could be loved.
*********
...tbc
