Chapter 5:The relentless pounding of a headache dragged Clark back to awareness. The kryptonite’s radiation pulsed through him, assaulting him with a myriad of pins and needles. Searing pain coursed through his body, setting every cell on fire. A low moan escaped him. He blinked his eyes open, finding one was swollen shut. Clark’s arm twitched uselessly as he tried to move. Another spike of pain jolted through him and left him breathless. Black spots clouded his vision when unconsciousness threatened to reclaim him.
Clark fought to stay awake. He needed to know if Lois and Mayson had gotten out. Mustering what little strength was left, Clark made another attempt at propping himself up. This time his limbs obeyed, allowing him to inch away from the kryptonite. After just a few feet, he was panting hard. No lifting space shuttles into orbit or stopping trains had ever felt as strenuous as crawling across this floor. His head was pounding in tune with his heart. More black spots danced before his eyes. His skin was sticky with sweat and blood.
Clark gritted his teeth. He could do this. Just a little further, head just a little higher until he could be sure they were safe. Luthor had trapped him in his kryptonite cage for an entire night and he’d still managed to escape. Compared to that night, this wasn’t so bad.
He wasn't going to die here. Because if he did, he’d never know what it was like to kiss Lois for real. No pretense, no doors. If she could forgive him for lying to her that was.
Holding onto that thought, Clark crawled on, painful inch after painful inch.
When he rested to catch his breath, a pair of boots appeared next to him. “Going somewhere?”
Before Clark could brace himself, pain exploded in his side. The air rushed out of his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath until he felt even more lightheaded than before. A second kick to his ribs almost had him pass out. Panic took hold of Clark. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t crawl away. Another kick hit him hard and threw him around. The man’s laughter seemed to come through thick fog.
When the world swam back into focus, Clark found himself lying on his side. Each breath he took sent a new wave of agony through him. But at least he could breathe again. He closed his eyes, letting the room spin about him for a while.
Luthor hadn’t managed to kill him and he’d be damned if Intergang would succeed.
“How long until we act, boss?”
Clark peeled his functioning eye open, just enough to peek through the lashes. He wasn’t keen on letting them know he was still awake. The last thing he needed was another kick to his ribs. A pair of white sneakers shuffled past him, belonging to legs clad in baggy brown pants. It was the gangster that had tied his sleeves tied around his waist who now went toward the leader.
“What’s keeping them so long?” His glance flickered toward the doors of the conference room. “What if they ran into trouble?”
“Nonsense,” the leader huffed, waving him off. However, his stance no longer carried the same air of confidence. Even through the hood on his face, Clark could see his jaw work as he looked at the doors and then checked his watch. “Burke said the police wouldn’t arrive until we signalled for them to come. Maybe they found people upstairs. Let’s wait ten more minutes.”
He resumed pacing back and forth while the other man went back to guarding the hostages.
Clark closed his eye again, mulling on what they’d said. So he’d been right about Burke. He really was on Intergang’s payroll. But what were these men waiting for? Had they realized Mayson was gone? Were they looking for her? But if so - why hadn’t they singled her out the moment they’d entered the conference room?
So many questions and the pounding in his head wasn’t exactly helping. He could only hope the man with the tied sleeves was right about his fellow goons being in trouble. Because that would mean Lois had succeeded and Henderson had arrived. He hoped it also meant Lois and Mayson were safe.
When Clark cracked his eye open again, the leader had abandoned his pacing route and went toward the conference room doors. A quick check on the others revealed that no one was paying attention to Clark. He gritted his teeth and rolled over until he lay on his stomach again. His ribs sent stabs of pain through him, mixing with the pulsing agony that seemed to be his constant companion. By sheer force of will, Clark propped himself up again and resumed to crawl away from the kryptonite.
He’d made it no more than a yard perhaps when suddenly the lights started to flicker, went out and came back on.
After a few moments they flickered again.
“You,” the leader pointed at the man with the tied sleeves. “Check out what’s going on there.”
The other man gave a brief nod and complied. The lights flickered for another few moments, then stayed on. Whatever was going on, the leader seemed to have lost his cool. He started pacing again, back and forth past the box with the kryptonite.
Then, suddenly, he stopped pacing. “Time to speed this up,” he grumbled. “You - “
From the corner of his eyes, Clark saw the leader point his gun at the hostages in the first row. Panicked gasps echoed through the conference room. Terrified, the people in the front row ducked their heads in a futile attempt to become invisible. With a few quick strides the leader crossed the room and pressed the muzzle of his gun against the forehead of a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and thick frames.
“You’re going to call for Superman!”
The man turned white as a sheet, his myopic eyes wide even through the heavy lenses. He seemed to shrink in on himself, his whole body trembling. The people next him scooted away as far as the narrow space would let them.
“Now!” The leader barked.
Clark willed his limbs to move. He couldn’t just lie flat on his stomach while these gangsters threatened the lives of innocent people. With a frustrated grunt, he managed to push himself a few inches up, trying to ignore the tremors that ran through his muscles, breathing through the relentless pain that assaulted his body.
In the first row, the hostage raised his head in defiance. Still, his voice was shaking as he spoke. “No.You said you'd kill him if we did.”
“Oh, really?” The leader’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.
He pressed the gun more firmly against the poor hostage’s head. Some of the hostages screamed. Clark doubled his efforts to move, though he had no idea what he was supposed to do once he stood. Reveal that they already had Superman? He wasn’t even wearing his suit. Try to overpower the gangsters when he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet?
What good were his powers when people kept dying around him and he was forced to watch without being able to do anything about it? And this brave lawyer was going to die for nothing. If only he could muster another burst of heat vision, if only… With herculean effort, Clark managed to get to all fours.
“Well, well,” the leader suddenly lowered his gun. “You have guts, lawyer. I'll give you that.” Then he whipped around, his aim now on Clark. “How about I kill
him?”
The hostage who’d just released a breath of relief, shrieked. “No, please.”
“Call Superman!” The leader repeated.
At his nod, the lanky guy left his position and walked over to Clark. An evil gleam flickered in his eyes as he carefully placed the muzzle of his machine gun against Clark’s head. Close enough to grab it and disarm the man. But Clark knew he’d never be faster than the finger on the trigger.
The leader focused his attention back on the hapless lawyer, whose face was stricken with horror. His gaze drifted back and forth between Clark and the metal box in the middle of the room.
The leader’s voice was dangerously calm. “Last warning.”
For a moment his gaze flickered back to the lanky guy. Pain exploded in the side of his head.
Then everything went black.
***
Henderson’s mic crackled and he put a hand on his earpiece while listening to whatever the guy on the other end had to say. The wait was gnawing on Lois’ nerves. She hated being squeezed into a corner of the control room, sharing the second row with Mayson Drake of all people. The front row was a solid wall of backs, three of them - Henderson, a SWAT team member and some other guy who was mostly busy looking important.
All the bouncing on her toes didn’t earn her even a glimpse of the monitors. She had no idea how Clark was doing and what she could gather from Henderson’s side of the conversation did little to reassure her.
Henderson stopped talking into the mic and glanced over his shoulder. “Two down, four to go.”
“Fantastic!” Lois didn’t even try to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “You do realize that Clark might not have that kind of time? There’s still –”
She bit her lip. She couldn't tell Henderson about the significance of Kryptonite, not without giving away Clark's secret. It was bad enough that Mayson knew. Had he managed to crawl away from the deadly green rock or did he still lie there, passed out or worse? Her stomach lurched. She couldn’t lose him. When she’d slammed the door in his face and told him she never wanted to see him again, she hadn’t been serious.
This couldn’t be how it ended. Spurs and the tall guy were in custody, so maybe she could make it onto the stage again and get Clark out of there, somehow.
Henderson’s jaw worked and he narrowed his eyes on Lois. “Don't even think about going back there!”
Jeez, was he a mind-reader now? “I wasn't…”
“The hell you weren't.” He pursed his lips.
Then his gaze mellowed into one of sympathy and Lois' heart started to beat like crazy. Suddenly she didn't want to hear what he might have to say next. Not if Clark was already –
“We’re going to get your partner out,” Henderson said softly. “My plan is working. We’ve got two of the hostage-takers, all without them even realizing we’re here.”
“One at a time is taking too long, Henderson!” Lois craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Clark. Last time she'd seen him, Sailor Guy had been kicking his ribs. Not to mention the kryptonite. “You don’t know what they did to him. Clark needs to get out of there now, he –”
“Lois is right,” Mayson chimed in. “Clark is bad off. He needs medical attention.”
“I’m working on it,” Henderson said through clenched teeth. “No one wants a shootout, okay? Particularly not Clark.”
Lois couldn't exactly argue with that. “So, how are we going to lure them out? Please tell me you’re not going to wait until the next gangster needs a break or decides to go looking for his mates.”
Henderson wriggled his brows “Of course not! As far as we know, they’re searching for someone. So, let’s give them something worth checking out.”
He turned back to the screens and muttered something into his earpiece. Then he stepped aside, just enough for Lois to see the monitor that showed the conference room.
A few seconds later, the lights went out, flickered back to life and then went out again. The routine continued until Lois saw Sailor Guy point at one of his goons, probably ordering him to go check on whoever worked the lights.
Henderson tapped his earpiece. “Okay, guys, one of them is heading for you.”
Lois chewed on her lip and shifted from one foot to the other. Patience had never been her strong suit. Part of her wanted to strangle Henderson while at the same time she couldn’t help but acknowledge that he seemed to know what he was doing.
Next to Lois, Mayson groaned. “Henderson, there’s got to be a way to speed this up.”
The inspector turned his head again, his lips tight. “I’m not telling you how to do your job, Ms. Drake. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell me how I should do mine. How many hostage situations have you handled, yet?”
“None.” Mayson lowered her gaze and her lip quivered. “But Clark’s in there because of me and…” She drew a deep breath and shuffled her feet. “He really shouldn’t be.”
Her gaze flickered toward the monitors before she averted her eyes again and blinked back tears.
“Just one more, that’s all I need,” Henderson said tightly. Every muscle in his body was rigid, while he waited for his people to catch the third gangster.
“Can you at least tell us how Clark’s doing?” Mayson whispered.
Henderson tensed. The pain in his face sent a shiver down Lois’ spine.
“Not good, I’m afraid,” Henderson admitted. “He’s been in and out of consciousness, it seems. He’s moving again though I really wish he'd just stay where he is. They kicked him pretty hard the last time he tried to get away.”
On the screens, Lois saw that Clark was trying to push himself up. Her gaze flickered to the other monitor. The leader pointed his gun on one of the hostages. Lois' heart started to race. Clark wasn't about to do what she thought he’d do, was he?
Henderson's eyes widened. “Damn, this is getting out of hand.” He tapped his earpiece. “What’s your status? The hostage-takers are losing their cool.”
On the screen, Clark had managed to push himself into a crouching position.
“You've got to get him out of there, Bill,” Lois whispered.
He's killing himself. Henderson sighed. “Look, I care about Kent. Really, I do. He helped bring down Luthor, he… he's a good man. I…”
Next to Lois, Mayson yelped. “Oh my God, no!”
The leader's aim had switched to Clark. Lois’ heart skipped a beat. What on Earth did Clark think he was doing? Henderson cursed under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. Helplessly they watched as the man Lois had dubbed Laurel appeared next to Clark and pressed his gun against his head.
All of a sudden, he straightened. “You've got him? That's great news. Okay. And what about the line?”
Lois clapped her hand to her mouth as Clark collapsed from a knock against his head.
Next to her Henderson sucked in a sharp breath, then pressed another button on his com. “This is Inspector Henderson, Metropolis police department. My team has surrounded the conference room. We've got three of your people in custody. For now, we’re considering this a hostage taking with no known fatalities. I suggest you don't make your situation any worse than it already is. So far, you've injured one man. Let him go, and I'll make sure to tell the jury about your cooperation.”
***
Time crawled as Lois watched the screens with bated breath. Henderson's men had left the control room, assuming position outside. Now the view of the monitors was unobstructed. Still, she had little idea of how Clark was doing. In the upper right corner, the doors of the conference room remained stubbornly closed. Two other monitors displayed static. The gangsters had destroyed the cameras once they'd realized the police were watching.
Lois threw a nervous glance at her watch.
“This is taking too long,” she whispered.
Next to her, Mayson shifted from one foot to the other. “Is there really no way to see what's going on inside the conference room?”
“They shot the cameras,” Henderson deadpanned. “Patience, ladies. That's the secret of successfully resolving a hostage situation.”
Patience! Lois snorted.
How could he expect her to be patient when the last thing she'd seen of Clark was Laurel pointing a machine gun at head and then using it to knock him out. At least he hadn't shot him.
Or so she hoped.
Lois was about to give Henderson a piece of her mind, but the Inspector’s stern expression warned her off. Adjusting his earpiece, Henderson focused his attention back on the monitors and murmured a string of commands into his comm.
“Two minutes, they said two minutes,” Mayson muttered next to her.
Lois’ thoughts exactly.
Outside the conference room, three SWAT team members secured the entrance. They’d assumed a pincer position, keeping their guns firmly trained on the door, steady, without moving a single one of their impressive muscles. Another SWAT team crouched behind a palm tree in a big planter and rested his machine gun on the rim.
The seconds ticked by in an agonizingly slow pace. Lois watched the handles on the conference doors as if she could move them by sheer force of will.
A hand closed around Lois’. With a start, she realized it was Mayson’s. Her lips moved in a silent prayer. Eyes hollow, she stared at the monitors, trying and failing to blink back tears. They rolled down her cheek. Her gaze flickered toward Lois. They shared a glance, a rare sense of connection, a deeper understanding Lois had never considered possible with this woman. The moment passed and Lois resumed watching the monitors, not for the first time today wishing there was something she could do.
This wait was killing her.
“Why did he do this?” Mayson muttered under her breath. “If it’s not about love, then what else?”
“He’s doing this because he could never stand by and watch while someone else is in trouble,” Lois whispered.
“Yeah, I guess,” Mayson replied. “If only I had seen that earlier. The things I said to him after what he did for the people in – well, you know.”
“We all do things we’re not proud of,” Lois said.
Her whole life it seemed was a long list of unfortunate decisions, the worst of them probably was slamming the door in Clark's face.
Superman's face.
It was a miracle he’d still been talking to her. And now she might never get a chance to tell him how sorry she was. How much she loved him.
Henderson’s com crackled to life and startled Lois out of her dark thoughts. She looked up at the monitors. The doors opened. Two men stepped out of the room, hands raised, faces pale and drawn. Their suits look ruffled, but every inch of their clean shaven faces and slicked back hair screamed lawyer.
Lois' heart sank.
They'd released two hostages, but not Clark.
One of the lawyers opened the door a little further and together they bent down, reaching for someone who must be lying on the floor.
Clark.
Grunting and groaning, the two men dragged Clark's dead weight out of the conference room. His face was ashen and blood oozed from a gash on his forehead. His right eye was swollen shut and his cheek was badly bruised. His head lolled limply from side to side.
“Let me get to him!” Lois cried.
She started toward the door, but Henderson held her back. “You’re not going anywhere near the conference room doors, Lois. Two members of my team will bring Clark to the main entrance. An ambulance is on its way here. He’s alive and he will be fine.”
“He doesn’t look fine,” Mayson grumbled.
Lois couldn’t agree more. She’d never seen Clark in such a sorry state, not when he’d been fighting against Trask, not when he’d been shot by that kryptonite bullet, not even when Diana Stride had poisoned him with kryptonite.
Trust me, I’ve had worse.How could he say such a thing? The lump in her throat became harder and harder to swallow against. She wanted to shake off Henderson’s hand, but he held her in a firm grip. Perhaps she could have used her Taekwondo skills on him, but punching the Inspector in the face didn’t seem like a good choice. So she complied, watching helplessly as two of the SWAT team members picked Clark up and carried his limp body around the conference room toward the main hall.
When they’d placed him back on the ground, Lois pulled free and stormed out of the control room.
***
Clark stirred to the monotonous hum of something vaguely familiar. His head was pounding with the remnants of a splitting headache. Every single muscle in his body was sore, but he no longer felt the all-consuming agony that set his cells on fire. His right cheek was burning bright, feeling like it was twice its usual size.
Bone deep weariness threatened to swallow him again when, suddenly, the world tilted on its axis. A firm tug against his shoulder and chest jostled Clark awake, his ribs protesting against the sudden change in pressure. He blinked his eyes open, or at least tried to, because his right eye remained stubbornly closed. A stream of colors rushed past him before the harsh light of the sun made him squeeze his one eye shut. He groaned and the world tilted back into its regular position.
“Oh, thank God, you’re waking up,” a voice whispered next to him. “We’re almost there.”
Almost where? his sluggish brain wanted to know. But his tongue, so dry it was stuck to the roof of his mouth, had trouble wrapping itself around even those simple words. Clark swallowed hard – once, twice – trying to get some moisture back. It came with a strange metallic taste.
“You’re in my car,” the voice gently supplied. Even through the cotton wool in his ears there was something warm about her, soothing.
Lois. So she was safe.
He pried his one eye open and found her next to him, grabbing the steering wheel for dear life, her knuckles white. Her eyes were firmly trained on the street; the needle of the speedometer danced well above the speed limit.
“We’re back in Metropolis, so where should I take you? If you changed your mind, we're not far from the Metro Gen.”
“No… just take me home,” he said, his voice thick and inarticulate past his swollen lips.
Hand on his body. “Carry him out.”
A sharp tug on his arms, - grunting - groaning. “He’s too heavy.”
“You, help him.” Bits and pieces came back to him. Intergang. Mayson. He sat straight, caught by yet another tug against his chest and winced at the sharp pain that stole his breath. He’d forgotten about the seatbelt.
“How is Mayson?” he croaked. “Did she get out?
“She's fine. Henderson's people are keeping an eye on her.”
Henderson. The hotel. “What about the other hostages?”
“Henderson is making good progress. Once he told the gangsters they were neither going to kill Mayson nor Superman, they were open to negotiations. I think Mayson will offer them a deal in exchange for more evidence on Intergang.”
“Great,” Clark muttered.
The tension seeped out of him and he dropped back into his seat, his brief surge of energy spent. His ribs sent a new spike of pain through him and he breathed through it until it settled to the dull throb he felt from various other places. The leader must have kicked him more times than he remembered. Tentatively he examined the cut on his lips, flinching at the sticky sensation of his own blood.
Is he okay? Why … unconscious?
He …. concussion, …. hit his head …
But…, but, he’s out of there. Shouldn’t …wake…? Next to him, Lois tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Are you sure you don't need a doctor?”
“Yeah.” Clark took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold onto the images. But everything was fuzzy. How did he get here? The last thing he remembered was one of the goons holding a gun to his head. And then nothing. Was he still there, but hallucinating?
He lowered his hand and looked around himself. Neatly trimmed trees surrounded by miniature fences lined the street, shielding a row of near identical brownstones. The only noticeable difference was the choice of flower pots flanking the stairs.
“Clark, please, if there's anything you're not telling me…”
Clark felt Lois’ eyes on him. Lines of worry creased her forehead. For long moments she studied him, before she dragged her eyes back on the street.
“How are you?” she whispered.
He hummed. “Sore, I think. Tired.”
His mind drifted back to what Lois had said. Mayson was safe. He hadn't failed her.
He rubbed his head, wishing he'd remember more. The fog in his brain started to clear and he no longer felt like everything was stuffed with cotton wool. The headache had settled to a dull pounding. He’d probably stay sore for a couple of days before his powers returned. All in all, he’d been damn lucky.
Around them, the houses changed from two storey buildings to business complexes. They passed Lex Tower and rushed through Metropolis’ financial district, before Lois slowed the car at the next intersection. She set the blinker and turned right, now only a block from Clinton Avenue.
“What have we got?”
“Male in his late twenties. The hostage takers beat him up. He must have sustained a hit on the head. Has been unconscious ever since they let him go. Vitals seem stable.”
“Okay, let's check him out and then we're taking him to the hospital.”
“No, no hos…pital.”Lois’ hand on his knee pulled him out of the memory. She gave him a gentle squeeze. “Hey, it's over. We're all good.”
He remembered now. The sirens, the paramedics flashing a bright light into his eyes, wrapping something around his arm and taking his blood pressure. And he being too weak to fight them when they unbuttoned his shirt to apply electrodes to his chest. Good thing he hadn't been wearing the suit.
“How did you get me out of there?” he asked. “I mean the ambulance. How did you convince them not to take me to a hospital?”
They’d put him on a stretcher. He remembered the sky above him as they’d rushed him to the ambulance. He hadn’t had the strength to protest again.
“That was Mayson. It was unbelievable. She went full assistant DA on them and fabricated some story about needing to treat you in a secret place since you were an important witness and how the police had messed up big time when they were supposed to protect Mr. X.”
Clark blinked in confusion. “She did?”
“How are you?” Mayson looked at him through teary eyes.
“Been better,” he admitted softly.
“I'm so sorry, Clark. About so many things.”
He shook his head. “Don't be. It's not your fault.”
“But you went in there to keep me safe.”
“And I’d do it again if I had to.” He tried to smile for her, but his face hurt. “I'm glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah, thanks to you. All the things I said about you…”
He heaved a sigh. “Well, you're not wrong.”
“That’s not true. You're a good person and I failed to see that. I'm sorry.”
“No, I'm sorry. For leading you on. Lois told me she just wanted us to be friends. And then you came along… I was flattered. You lavished me with attention while I was still nursing a broken heart. I should have been more upfront about my feelings. Particularly when I realized that you weren't going to change your opinion on Superman.”
Mayson averted her eyes. “For what it's worth, your secret is safe with me. Clark wiped his face and winced as his fingers touched the bruises. “I guess that means she knows.”
Lois chewed on her bottom lip. “Yeah, she does. But I don't think she will tell anyone.”
“That's…that's good,” he muttered.
Clark leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. Though he felt the soothing caress of the sun on his skin, even that brief conversation had taken everything out of him. All he really wanted to do was sleep and forget about it all.
The people he hadn't saved and the people he had. He didn't want to think about what it all meant. Two people had learnt his secret, two people he hadn't been ready to tell. He had no idea how to deal with Lois now that she knew. They hadn’t had the time to really talk about it and he had no idea how to address the issue. He’d always thought that when the time came, he’d practice a speech, he’d have the time to think it all through. But here he was, aching and tired from the aftereffects of kryptonite exposure and keeping his eyes closed to stall a conversation he didn’t want to have seemed a whole lot easier.
The car slowed to a halt.
As Clark opened his eyes, he realized they’d reached his apartment building. Next to him, Lois unfastened her seatbelt and looked at him.
“Will you be all right?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
She pressed her lips together. “Clark, you scared the hell out of me there.”
He sighed. “I know and I’m sorry.”
“Frankly, you still do. You said you didn't want to go to a hospital. But if you changed your mind, I could–”
“No,” Clark sat straight and released his own seatbelt. “No, I’m fine.”
He opened the passenger door, struggling to coordinate his limbs as he climbed out of the car. Every last sinew and muscle in his body ached, protesting against the effort to keep him upright. The moment he managed to lock his knees under himself to stand, a headrush made him all dizzy and disoriented. He grabbed onto the car for support, swaying as he waited for the dizziness to pass.
Lois rushed around the car and laid a hand around his waist. “You're very obviously not fine,” she scoffed.
“But I will be,” he said firmly, blinking his eyes until the stars dissipated. “This isn't the first time I was exposed to Kryptonite. I just stood up too fast.”
He tried to move, but Lois’ grip around his waist tightened. Clark ribs cried out in protest and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Let go,” he pleaded, seeing stars all over again.
She dropped her arm immediately and as the dark spots before his eyes faded, he realized she was still hovering next to him, her brows now firmly knitted in a frown and a haunted look in her eyes that tore right through him.
Clark released a long breath and cupped her check. With his thumb he wiped away a stray tear he hadn't even seen her crying. A lump settled deep in his stomach as he saw her so utterly forlorn.
“I'm okay,” he said quietly. “I promise. Thanks for getting me out of there. Thanks for saving Mayson when I couldn't.”
She nodded, leaning into his hand and covering it with her own. He pulled her into a loose embrace and inhaled the soft scent of her hair. What would become of them now that she knew? Would it mend the cracks in their relationship, whatever it was they were having? Or would she come to realize that Superman wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be - and Clark wasn’t either?
“Are you going to tell me again that you’ve been through worse?” she murmured into his chest.
“Huh?”
Lois raised her chin to look at him. “That's what you said in the conference room. Don't worry, I’ve been through worse. What did you mean by that?”
Images of Luthor taunting him while he'd been lying in the cage danced before his mind's eye. He resisted the urge to shake his head in order to get rid of them. She didn't need to know.
He lowered his gaze. “Nothing.”
“Clark!”
“It's not that important, okay?” he said defensively.
“Oh, just great!” Lois grumbled. “Just another thing you're not telling me about. Let's keep Lois in the dark. I thought you were done lying to me.”
Clark sighed. “You're mad.”
“Yes.” She squirmed. “No. Ugh…I don't know.” Lois pulled away from him. “One moment I find out my best friend is really Superman and the next moment he's nearly killed. Honestly, I'm not sure what to think.”
She threw up her hands and started to pace up and down the sidewalk. Clark closed the door of the car and gingerly followed her. It pained him to see her so confused, but he guessed that was to be expected.
“Do you want to come upstairs and talk?”
She raised her brow and gave him a sceptical once over. “Can you even make it?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He feigned a smile, hoping the false bravado would somehow translate to the surge of energy he desperately needed.
She clicked her tongue. “Because you look like death warmed over.”
“It’s not that bad.”
She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, it is.”
“Lois…”
“Yes, yes, you’ve been through worse. Whatever that means,” she said with a hint of annoyance, her demeanor reverting once again from worried to mad.
Clark guessed he deserved it.
“I should have taken you to my apartment, at least I have an elevator.”
***
Clark was panting by the time they reached his apartment. He closed his eyes and leaned against the door frame, soaked in sweat and catching his breath. His legs were trembling with the effort of keeping him upright. Between the colorful bruises his face was pale. He looked like he was about to collapse.
“Do you have a key?” Lois asked.
He nodded and started to fumble in the pocket of his pants. Lois' stomach clenched in sympathy every time he winced with pain.
If only he'd let her help him.
She’d been hovering over Clark the whole way up, offering her help at every new flight of stairs. But he had refused, insisting that he could handle this by himself. Why did he have to be so darn stubborn? Did he believe she'd think less of him if he wasn't the indestructible hero?
She wanted to be angry at him, because anger was so much easier to handle than the fear she felt whenever she glanced at his bruised face and registered the way he was holding his aching ribs.
Eventually, Clark managed to pull the key from his pocket and handed it to her. Their hands touched. A spark of electricity rushed through Lois, adding to her confusion. She didn't want to let go, suddenly afraid that, if she did, he might dissolve like a Fata Morgana after a gust of wind.
So many times she'd almost lost him.
Clark's gaze met hers, his one chocolate brown eye so warm and tender.
Why did you slam the door in my face? It seemed to ask.
What are you so afraid of?Clark cleared his throat. “I…could you…I think I need to sit down.”
Lois pulled her hand back and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I.. uh… of course. “
She opened the door, then stepped aside to let him through. Clark pushed himself off the door frame and dragged his feet past her. Leaning heavily on the banister, he went down the final flight of stairs. Lois followed him into the living room.
Clark shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it onto the couch. Swaying for a moment, he caught himself against the backrest.
Lois rushed to his side. “Why don't you sit down here?”
He shook his head. “Need sunlight,” he mumbled.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself on. This time he didn't protest when Lois wrapped an arm around his waist. Together they made their way toward the bedroom, one step at a time. She could tell he was trying not to lean onto her, though only sheer force of will seemed to be keeping him upright.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered.
“There's no need,” Lois said past the lump in her throat.
Sunlight filtered through the large window, bathing the room in its golden afternoon light. As soon as they reached the bed, Clark dropped onto it and started to fumble with his tie, struggling to loosen the knot.
“Here, let me,” Lois offered.
He did not resist as she took over, tugged the knot loose and pulled the tie over his head.
“The shirt, too?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
Lois gingerly sat down next to him and Clark lifted his chin to give her access to the button on his collar. Her hands wandered down his chest. Though she must have casually touched him like a hundred times before, there was something deeply intimate about undoing his buttons.
Like his face, his chest was covered in bruises. Lois averted her eyes, trying her best not to stare. No wonder he'd been so reluctant to let her touch him.
Clark's hand on her cheek gently brought her to meet his gaze. “Hey, don't worry. I'm going to heal. It's better than it was already. I'm fine.”
He was right, Lois realized. His right eye was no longer swollen shut and the cut on his lip had faded. Still he looked beyond exhausted. Not just because of the kryptonite exposure. Even before that weariness had been edged into his features.
“You need sleep,” she murmured. “We.. we can talk when you feel better.”
“Let's talk now. I hate to see you so…” He waved his hand as if he didn't know what word to use. “– to see you like this.”
“But you need rest.”
He shook his head and cringed. “What I need, above all, is sunlight.”
Hence the bedroom. Why did she have so much trouble reconciling her partner with the man in spandex? Even though he’d used his powers right next to her, even though she’d seen his reaction to kryptonite first hand she found it hard to imagine that underneath their respective suits, they were one and the same.
Where did they go from here?
“Look, I’m sorry for putting you through all of this,” he said quietly. “I never meant to hurt you, or worry you or scare you.”
“I'm sorry, too.” Lois swallowed past the lump in her throat. “For slamming that door in your face. For turning you down only to throw myself at you the same day.”
Clark dropped his gaze. “You didn't know.”
“Yeah, but why didn't you tell me? I mean, we were dating and you didn't think this was worth mentioning?”
“Were we, Lois?” He met her gaze and in his eyes she could still see the pain caused by her rejection “We maybe had one and a half dates. None of them seemed like you were ready for a lifetime commitment. I couldn't tell you while I wasn't sure you were in for the long run. It's a dangerous secret to bestow on anyone.”
A lifetime commitment. Lois sucked in a breath. That was what he’d been looking for? It made sense though. She'd considered his vanishing acts a sign that he was afraid of letting her close. But they’d never been, had they? She remembered Trask and his delusions about Superman taking over the world. Or the hatred Superman had faced after Luthor’s death. A dangerous secret indeed.
Her mouth ran dry. “And now both Mayson and I know.”
“Yeah, you do.” Clark lay down, his energy reserves obviously spent.
He took off his glasses and set them on the nightstand, then scurried over until he found a position that allowed him to soak in as much sunlight as he possibly could. His eyelids drooped and he relaxed. Lois took in the dried blood, covering his right cheek, his neck and some of his chest.
Don't worry, I've been through worse.Her heart clenched in sympathy, but at the same time anger was raging inside her. She didn't even know what she was angry about. The secret Clark had kept from her for over a year now? The things he was still keeping from her? That Mayson had guessed the truth without even trying? Or was she angry with herself for being such a fool?
“I'll get some water,” Lois said tightly.
She stormed out of the room before he could say anything, suddenly needing some distance between them. Rummaging through the cupboards in Clark's kitchen, Lois fought to bring her emotions back under her control. Find a bowl, fill it with water, get a cloth to wash away the blood. Her fingers worked mechanically, while her mind replayed the countless moments she'd made a fool of herself.
Why had she thrown the door in his face?
How could she have missed the man she'd claimed to be in love with had been working right beside her the entire time? She was mad at him for never telling her and at the same time, she couldn't fault him for his decision. And that was driving her insane.
Lois took much more time than she could reasonably explain until she felt ready to face Clark again. Careful not to make a noise in case he’d drifted off to sleep, she tiptoed back into his bedroom.
His eyes were closed and his chest rose and sank slowly. More bruises had turned from an angry purple to a faint green and yellow. She would come back later, Lois decided. He obviously needed the rest. There would be time to find closure later.
“You’re back,” he said softly, blinking his eyes open.
“You’re not asleep?”
He shook his head. “I could never sleep while you’re still angry at me.”
“I’m not angry,” she protested.
Clark clicked his tongue. “Nu..uh… try again.”
Lois put the bowl on the nightstand and sat down next to him. She wrung out the wet towel and started to clean his face from the blood stains. Without them, he looked more like himself again.
“So where do we go from here?” she asked.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Where do you want to go?”
Lois realized she’d never seen him without glasses. He looked different; without the slicked back hair he wasn’t really Superman, but not quite Clark either.
“I'm not sure,” she whispered. Tears pricked in her eyes. “It's as if I don't know you anymore.”
“I'm the same person I was yesterday,” he said softly. “I'm the man who brings you coffee and secretly enjoys your rants. I also have this annoying habit of vanishing right in the middle of a serious conversation. That’s not going to change.”
“Just now I know the reason why,” Lois mused.
She washed out the dirty towel, watching the red stains dissolve in the cold water before she wrung it out again. Was it really that simple? Just Clark with the added bonus of superhuman powers or Superman with a private life and friends? She’d always wondered whether the suit came off, what the hero did when he wasn’t rescuing someone. Apparently, she’d known for a while, just had never seen the truth.
He hummed. “So I guess the question is, can you live with that?”
Lois applied the wet towel to his chest and started to wipe away the dried blood there. “You’d still want me even though I slammed the door in your face?”
He shrugged. “I'm in love with you.”
I’m in love with you, too. She wanted to say it so badly. The words had burned on her tongue when he’d stood in front of her, leaning in ever so slightly, just inches from kissing her. She’d wanted to shout them out, knowing that - for the first time in her life - she’d mean them. It had scared the hell out of her, so she’d slammed the door in his face instead.
Because running from the truth had been so much easier than facing it.
She’d been afraid, still was, if she was brutally honest.
Because Clark Kent had the power to destroy her.
Her throat tightened. “Tell me what happened, Clark. Please, I need to know what you meant when you said you’d been through worse.”
He sighed. “Lois…”
“You said no more secrets. If you want me to trust you…”
“Okay.” He let out a long breath and averted his eyes. “The night before your wedding, Luthor asked Superman to come to his penthouse. He said that he wanted me to convince Clark to attend the wedding. When I refused, he trapped me in a kryptonite cage, had me listen to the wedding ceremony upstairs. I barely managed to escape. That’s why…” His voice cracked. “That’s why I couldn’t save him when he jumped off the building.”
Lois clapped her hand to her mouth. “That’s terrible. Oh, Clark!”
She closed her eyes. How come he was even still talking to her?
“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Clark propped himself up and took her hand. “I knew exactly what kind of a man Luthor was and still I was arrogant enough to fall for his trap.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “It’s not your fault.”
“I should have listened to you.”
He laughed. “I’m going to remind you of that the next time I tell you to stay put and you jump right into the claws of death instead.”
Lois cracked a smile. “Spoilsport.”
“Does that mean we’ve made up?”
“Uh…huh…” Suddenly all her fears and doubts were gone.
There was just Clark and his soft lips. She’d been dying to kiss him for a while now. Letting out a shaky breath, Lois leaned in until her lips touched his. He didn’t resist as her tongue darted forward, allowing her to explore his mouth. She’d kissed him before, but when he kissed her back, his own tongue gently teasing hers, it was like nothing she’d ever experienced. It was as if their hearts beat in tune, as if she became part of him until she no longer knew where her body ended and his began. There was something irrevocably right about kissing him. Like something clicked, a puzzle piece she hadn’t even known she was missing.
A little breathless, Lois parted, finally sure she could say it and mean it. “Clark?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m in love with you, too.”
The End Comments go hereTOC
