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From Part 4:She hoped he wouldn’t hear the tiny choke which had appeared, unbidden, on the last couple of words. But, as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her tightly against him and buried his face in her hair, she knew he’d heard.
“Oh, Lois.” The bleak note was back in his voice.
And she couldn’t blame him. Sure, they were together. Sure, they’d finally found a way through all the fears and misunderstandings and lies and plain stubbornness keeping them apart, and they’d actually managed to say those special words to each other. She was in his arms. Only a few minutes ago she’d been thoroughly kissed.
But, still, nothing had changed. She was still dead. They were never going to be together. What a time to discover that she loved him and that he loved her back!
Timing sucked. Life sucked.
And being dead sucked most of all.
*********
Now read on...Moisture dripped onto his hand. Clark stilled, then groped blindly for Lois’s face, hoping that he didn’t manage to poke her eye out in the process. Could ghosts be hurt? He had no idea. But he didn’t want to find out using Lois as a guinea-pig.
He’d guessed right. She was crying. Her face was damp with tears.
The euphoria of a few minutes ago - first, from Lois kissing him and telling him that she loved him, and then from realising that he could hear her speaking - vanished as if it had never been. In its place was a piercing pain in his heart for Lois’s tears, and the gut-wrenching realisation that she was right. What was there left for them but tears?
They couldn’t be together. Hell, they were never even going to work side-by-side again, let alone enjoy a long and happy life together. He was never going to be able to propose to her. They’d never give his parents grandchildren together. She was a
ghost. And, as she’d said so casually a minute ago, they had absolutely no idea how long she’d even be around.
He never wanted her to leave. Of course not. But, even if by some miracle she were able to stay with him, where would that leave them? Like some sort of copycat Ghost and Mrs Muir? Randall and Hopkirk? He carrying on with his job and his life, Lois tagging along invisibly wherever he went, keeping him company and whispering asides to him? Oh, sure, they could kiss and cuddle like this whenever they were alone. It might even be possible to do more than that with her, to be more intimate, but even still, where did that leave them?
What kind of relationship could he have with a ghost?
And what if anyone ever heard him talking to an invisible person? Of course, he probably shouldn’t assume that he was the only one who’d be able to hear or touch Lois - but he couldn’t assume that he wouldn’t be, either.
But, as he stroked her hair and held her next to his heart, a deeper realisation sank in. Sure, he wanted her to stay around as long as possible. For ever, if she could, even if they couldn’t be together the way they had been before she’d been killed.
But what about what Lois wanted?
Did she want to be stuck in a world where no-one could see her? Where she could see people she knew getting on with everyday life
without her? Someone else sitting at her desk, writing stories which would have been assigned to her, winning awards which would have had her name on them?
She was stuck in some sort of twilight between life and death. In the world, and yet not part of it. She hadn’t even been able to communicate her presence at first. What must this be doing to her?
He could tell what it was doing to her. She was
crying, for god’s sake.
Why hadn’t he told her that he was Superman? If he’d only told her the truth, then she wouldn’t have died. Wouldn’t be lying next to him sobbing her heart out. True, she wouldn’t have told him she loved him, either, but if he had a choice between knowing that Lois loved him and having her alive and well again, he wouldn’t hesitate. In a heartbeat, he’d choose having her tell him that she loathed him.
He felt her move against him, and wished once again that he could see her. It was so weird to be holding her, even kissing her, only to see empty air beside him. Then her hand brushed across his.
“Sorry. I just... for a moment, it all got to me.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper.
“I don’t blame you.” He hugged her, his heart breaking for her. For both of them “I won’t ask if you’re okay. I just... God, I wish there was something I could do to make things right!”
“You’re here.” He felt her lips brush his cheek. “You’re here, and you can hear me, and you’re holding me... I don’t think it’s ever going to be more right than this ever again.”
No. How little she had to cling to!
Suddenly, he had to know. “Lois, why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You...” He had to stop and swallow. “You - pushing me out of the way like that, Lois! You got killed, and all because you pushed me away from a bullet!”
“You think I wanted it to hit you?” He heard her anger. He also heard her desperation. Quietly, obviously on the verge of tears again, she added, “Clark, the thought of you dying... I couldn’t let it happen!”
“You think I feel any happier that you died?” Agony made his voice harsh. He felt her flinch, and immediately hugged her in mute apology. After a few moments, he spoke again. “I’m sorry I never told you.”
“Told me?”
“That I’m Superman.” Closing his eyes briefly, he sighed. How easily, with how few words, he could have prevented what had happened. Could have prevented her murder.
“Oh.” He felt her move again and, when she’d settled, he realised that she was sitting up, leaning against his shoulder. There was more physical distance between them now, and he felt every inch of it. “Right. You mean, in that you’re invulnerable and so I didn’t actually
need to save your life?”
He deserved the acerbity in her voice. Deserved an awful lot more than that. Just what did you say to the best friend who’d given her life to save you, only to discover that the sacrifice hadn’t been necessary?
“Yeah.” For a long time, he said nothing at all. Had nothing
to say. Anything he could think of was trite or sounded insufficiently sincere. He had no idea how he could even begin to make this up to her. If there were any way that he could exchange his life for hers right now, he’d do it in a heartbeat - but he wasn’t even sure that he could tell her that. Wouldn’t she interpret it as rejecting what she’d done for him? Rubbing it in that her sacrifice had been worthless?
She was silent too. But then, what could she say either? How much she hated him for leaving her in ignorance, so that she’d wasted her life for nothing?
“I’m so sorry.” It was all he could say. But it was far from adequate. Words couldn’t even begin to make up for the consequence of his omission.
“I know, Clark.” Suddenly, her hand was on his again, squeezing. “I know you are. You know, I even understand why you didn’t tell me.”
“You do?” Then it came to him, and the realisation stung, all the more because it was at least partly true. And it made his sin of omission greater still. “You think I didn’t trust you. That I thought you might expose me.”
She was silent again for several seconds. He’d been right; that was what she believed. Then, incredibly, she laughed. “I forgot you can’t see me! I was shaking my head, Clark.”
“You didn’t think that?”
He heard her sigh. “When I saw you spin and realised you were... him... Yes, that’s exactly what I thought then. I was furious with you, Clark - I mean, I thought we were friends, and there was so much I’d told you. Things I wouldn’t ever even think of telling anyone else. So the fact that you hadn’t told me this... yeah, it hurt. It really hurt. And the only reason I could think of was that you didn’t trust me. And then when it dawned on me that you wouldn’t have died anyway if the bullet had hit you...”
“Oh, Lois...” Again, he was lost for words. How could he possibly make up for the pain he’d caused her?
After a few moments, she pressed his hand again. He accepted her reassurance. “Anyway, not trusting you didn’t come into it, I swear. Not for a long time. When I first knew you, sure it did. Then, as I got to know you better, I thought maybe you wouldn’t tell anyone - but then it was something else preventing me.”
“I know. I had a lot of time tonight to think this through.” He felt her shift again, and then she was leaning fully against him once more. He slid his arm around her shoulders, and she moved closer still. “While you were hunting Capone, there wasn’t a lot else I could do. And I remembered the way I treated you while mooning over Superman. Why on earth would you tell me when I behaved like that?”
“Still, I should have.”
“You’re obsessing.”
“I know.” A reluctant grin spread over his face. “Mom tells me that all the time. But, Lois,” he added more seriously, “the fact remains that if I
had told you, you’d be alive right now.”
Again, she was silent for a few moments. Then he felt her shrug. “There’s an old saying. No use crying over spilt milk.”
What was done was done. But that didn’t make it right, or even bearable. Spilt milk could be cleaned up. Lois was dead and would stay dead.
He had to know something else, too. “But even aside from you not knowing about me being invulnerable, I just couldn’t work out why you did it, Lois. I mean, you had to know you were putting yourself in danger!”
“You think I stopped to think about that? Clark, I saw the gun. I saw him about to pull the trigger. And all I thought was ‘he’s going to kill you’. And I had a nightmare vision of you lying dead on the floor, and I... I just reacted and shoved you.”
She had. She’d pushed him hard, and the momentum, combined with the suddenness of the manoeuvre, meant that he hadn’t had the time or the ability to stop her. Or to prevent himself toppling to the side.
She was still speaking. “I don’t think I was even thinking about where the bullet would go - but, even if I had thought about it, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“You died for me. You risked your own life -
lost your own life - for me, Lois. I just... I can’t take in that you’d do that for me.”
The silence lasted for several moments. Then, finally, softly, she said, “I love you. It’s as simple as that. The thought of you dying scared me so much... you mean so much to me, Clark. I just acted instinctively to save you.”
“And I didn’t need saving.” The bitterness he felt echoed in his tone. “And if I’d trusted you like I should, treated you like the real friend you are, you’d have known that.”
“Clark! Please, let it go. We’ve already discussed it to death. Like I said, there’s nothing we can do about it, so what’s the point beating yourself up over it?”
Her generosity only made the knife in his gut twist even harder. He wasn’t capable of replying.
And then she moved again; he could feel her shifting position beside him. She spoke slowly, as if what she was saying had only just occurred to her.
“Clark, if I hadn’t taken that bullet for you, you would be dead now.”
*********
If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in being dead, that would have occurred to her sooner. Of course, she’d also been busy focusing on Clark; it was pretty clear that he wasn’t going to stop blaming himself for her death any time soon.
But, now that she’d thought of it, it was blindingly obvious.
“What do you mean?” He was staring somewhere vaguely in the direction of where she was sitting, a bemused expression on his face.
“Clark, what would happen if you got shot?”
He hesitated, still looking puzzled. “It wouldn’t hurt me, Lois. You know that.”
“No, I said
you. Clark Kent, not Superman. What if Clark Kent got shot?”
This time, the penny dropped. His eyes widened.
“You’re right! I’d have to pretend to be hurt, or else...”
“Or else everyone would know you’re Superman.” She grimaced, then remembered that he couldn’t see her. “Anyway, I just realised that. So, I guess in a way I did save your life tonight after all.”
His expression was sober. “I guess so. But I still wish you hadn’t.” His arm tightened around her shoulders. “Don’t you know I’d rather it was me who’d died? That I’d do
anything if it meant getting you back alive again?”
“It wouldn’t do us much good if you were dead!” she exclaimed, laughter combining with tears.
“God, Lois, I love you! How am I going to go on without you?”
The agony in his voice made her want to sob again. She twisted in his embrace, wrapping her arm across his chest and hugging him. He held her as if he never wanted to let her go.
Quietly, she said, “You might not have to be without me. I mean, I’m here...”
“But for how long?” His voice was muffled; his face was buried in her hair. “And even if you can stick around, it’s going to be so tough for you... I can’t ask that of you!”
“You think I want to leave you?”
She knew what he was saying. Okay, this wasn’t as bad as the torment of her existence an hour or so ago had been: seeing and hearing everything, but unable to communicate with anyone. In the world, but so not a part of it. How could she cope with weeks, months, even years of that? At least she’d be able to be with Clark, but how long before being invisible would get to her?
She had no idea whether anyone else would be aware of her presence. Maybe it was only Clark who could hear her. Who could touch her. And she wasn’t sure which was worse: to be able to communicate with other people - who’d probably be scared out of their wits or would refuse to believe it was her - or simply to be not there as far as they were concerned.
“Anyway,” she added, “I’m not even sure that I can. I mean, ever since I... died - well, wherever you’ve been, I’ve been.” Did she have any choice about being with him? She wasn’t sure. But it certainly didn’t feel like she had the option to decide to be somewhere else - or nowhere at all.
Not that she wanted that, anyway. No matter how hard this was, or would be over time.
At least she’d have Clark... for the moment. They could even work together. She stifled a hysterical laugh as it occurred to her that she now had one ability even Superman lacked. Finally, after all her childhood daydreams, she was invisible. She could get past all those closed doors. Combining her invisibility with Clark’s powers, they’d be unbeatable.
It was a nice dream. But that was all it was. Clark’s life would have to move on. Perry would, sooner or later, allocate him a new partner. He’d go on to write great stories; would win more Kerths. Perhaps even a Pulitzer one day.
Without her.
But that wouldn’t be the worst of it. Clark loved her now. He might even be content to have a relationship of sorts with her now. But, sooner or later, he’d get tired of a girlfriend who was only there in spirit? Someone he couldn’t go out with - could never be seen in public with? A woman he could never marry, who couldn’t give him the kids she was sure he’d want?
Icicles surrounded her heart. Instinctively, she pressed herself closer to him. His arm tightened around her and she heard him murmur something indistinguishable.
She had his love now, sure. But that couldn’t possibly last - not in her present state of being. No; sooner or later, Clark would find someone else. And that would be absolute torture. If, as she suspected, her ghostly existence was somehow tied to him, how could she possibly cope with seeing him dating another woman? Getting married to her? Creating a family with her?
Better to vanish into nothingness now than to stay around and have to watch that happen.
Except... she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. Not now. Not ever.
“Oh, Clark...” She reached up and kissed him again. Tears mingled with tears as his lips met and caressed hers.
*********
He didn’t know if it were possible. He didn’t know if he could bear to do it anyway. But he had to let her go.
It was obvious that she was hurting. Her tears were ample evidence of that, even if he hadn’t heard the pain in her voice when she’d insisted she didn’t want to leave him. He didn’t want that, either. But what kind of life could she have?
A living death. That was all. An existence. She’d float on the fringe of his life, with him but not a part of him. And, in time, she would hate it. Would hate
him, for having everything she couldn’t have.
Though letting her go kind of assumed that he - or she - had any choice in the matter.
Yet she’d implied that she couldn’t seem to leave him - as if she were tied to him in her ghostly incarnation. Because he couldn’t come to terms with her death? Because he’d pleaded with whatever powers that existed not to let her leave him? Because he’d begged her not to die? It seemed crazy, but if
he was the one holding her here, then he had to stop. Had to relinquish her. Let her go on to wherever she should be, instead of keeping her here in this pretence of an existence.
But not yet. Please, please not yet.
Clinging to her, he deepened the kiss and felt her respond with what felt like desperation. His face was damp, and he didn’t know which of them was crying more.
Then she broke the kiss. He tensed, waiting for her to tell him that she couldn’t take it any longer. That she was going to leave him.
Her words stunned him. “Make love to me, Clark.”
Make
love to - But they couldn’t. Could they? Could she?
She could kiss him. She could hold him. Touch him. Why couldn’t she make love with him?
Could ghosts make love? But then, what did he know about ghosts? Before tonight he’d never even believed that they existed.
Even amidst his tears, his misery, his body was reacting to what she’d said. And he felt her responding to that reaction, pressing closer to him.
“Lois? You can’t mean that...?”
“Clark.” Her voice was shaking. “Don’t you understand? This could be all we ever have. I don’t know how long I’ll be here. And... I
need to be with you.” The desperation was there again.
“Lois...”
“Don’t you understand, Clark? I’m
dead! You don’t know what it was like earlier, being able to see you - see everything that was going on - but you couldn’t hear me. You had no idea that I was there. And you still can’t see me. And, okay, we’re talking now. We’re even kissing. But who knows how long that will last? I
need to... to feel close to you.”
To reaffirm that she was really there. With him. To help her forget the cruel reality. Yes, he understood. And, being totally honest, he wanted it too, for much the same reasons.
He needed her. Wanted to show her how much he loved her. How much he wanted her. How much he would love her for the rest of his life. She was right: this night could well be all they had. Even if it wasn’t, she still needed the comfort and the love he could give her. The proof of his feelings for her.
Feeling carefully, he found her face and cupped it with his palm, smoothing her hair back and wiping away a tear with his thumb. Then he claimed her mouth again with his own, taking possession of her with a deep, intense kiss. He heard her whimper, and the sound made him groan, a deep rumble in his throat. Rolling them so that they were lying side by side, he began to trace her body with his hands, learning her shape as a blind man would.
She started to pull at his clothes. He helped her. Then his hand encountered bunches of fabric - the red dress she’d been wearing and which had wowed him earlier. When he felt bare flesh under his hand, he realised that she’d been pushing it out of the way.
Then they were skin against skin. She was soft and yielding, silky-skinned and beautiful. She was all he’d ever dreamed of, and more - far more.
Touching. Kissing. Caressing. Fingers and lips speaking wordlessly, eloquently, of need and passion and longing. Of love and loss. Of desire and deep yearning. Of life and death and never wanting to let go. Learning how to say goodbye when that was the last thing either of them wanted.
And, as the storm ebbed away at last, he saw her.
Beneath him, she lay still, her hair fanned out over his pillow. Her eyes glazed with tears, dark smears in a pale face. Her body perfect in every way, alabaster-smooth in the glow of the moon, the only light in his bedroom. Pleasure and grief mingled in her expression. Her gaze fixed on his as if she were committing him to memory.
The last time he’d seen her, she’d been crumpled on the ground. Blood had covered her body. She’d stared up at him with sightless eyes, shock and pain written on her face, the hole in her chest a mute reproach for his failure to protect her.
His hand shook as he reached out to touch her. “Lois... oh, god, you’re so beautiful!”
“So are you.” She caught his hand and brought his palm to her lips. “I wish... oh, how I wish I hadn’t been so stupid, so
stubborn where you were concerned - we could have had this a long time ago.”
“Lois, you don’t understand.” His voice was unsteady. “I can
see you!”
Her eyes formed wide, round pools. “Wow...”
“Yeah...” It was amazing. It was
wonderful. He’d never thought that he’d actually see her ever again.
He buried his head in her shoulder, hugging her close to him for a long moment, then pulled back so that he could see her. He wanted to take in every single feature, to imprint her on his mind, to replace the horrifying image already implanted on his brain.
But, in front of his eyes, she began to fade, growing fainter and fainter until all he could see beneath him was the bedding.
“Lois? Lois!” Frantic, he grabbed for her. Was this it? Was she leaving him? Was this the end of everything? How could he bear it? “Don’t leave me, Lois!”
“I’m still here!” She clutched at his hand. “And you nearly poked my eye out!”
“Sorry,” he choked out, staring at the bare pillow in front of him as if he could somehow conjure up her image again. “It’s just... I can’t see you any more. You just... disappeared. Right in front of me!”
“I’m still here,” she repeated. “I’m here, Clark - I won’t leave you, I promise.”
Now she was comforting him. Shame burned inside him. That shouldn’t be her role. And, anyway, he’d already accepted that she had to leave, that anything else wasn’t fair to her.
“Don’t promise.” Softly, knowing he was crying again, he whispered to her. “Don’t promise. You don’t know if you can keep it - and I can’t ask it of you.”
Her arms tightened around him again. “I love you, Clark.”
The words escaped him like a prayer. “Oh, Lois, I love you too!”
In one smooth movement, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and lay with her cradled on his chest. She nestled against him again, a perfect fit, and he tried to force back the lump in his throat. Words were inadequate to tell her what he was thinking, everything he felt for her. Losing her for a second time would be more torture than he could bear.
Yet losing her again was as inevitable as his next breath.
This was the beginning of the end, and he knew it. The fact that she’d faded away again mere minutes after she’d become visible to him proved it. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to hear her any more, and then she’d once more become as ethereal as mist. And then she’d be gone forever.
This precious hour would be as if it had never happened.
He lay still, stroking her hair, as his heart slowly turned to ice.
*********
...tbc
