Chapter 9
Two hours after the fire, Lois was released from Metropolis General with a mild case of smoke inhalation and a heart full of questions. Jonah had finally regained consciousness—confused, groggy, but coherent enough to recount what little he remembered. Together, they gave the police everything they could.
Clark had vanished.
Again.
But this time, Lois wasn’t angry. She was quiet. Focused. Something had shifted in her—something that wouldn’t let her dismiss the way he’d looked when the smoke hit him, or how the green fire seemed to drain him while she remained untouched.
He’d refused treatment. Insisted he was fine. And then he was gone.
So she walked.
Not out of impulse, but intent.
Clinton Street wasn’t far. She’d been to his apartment plenty of times—late-night stakeouts, quiet dinners, moments that almost felt like more. But tonight, she wasn’t coming for comfort.
She was coming for answers.
She rapped her knuckles against the wood, sharp and steady, until the silence gave way to the faint hum of the TV inside. Still nothing. “Clark,” she said, pressing her forehead lightly to the door. “Please. I’m not here to fight. Just… open the door.”
Lois knocked again, harder this time. The television still murmured behind the door, a low hum of voices and static.
“Please,” she said, her voice catching. “I need to know you’re okay.”
She pressed her palm flat against the wood, listening for movement. Nothing.
Not footsteps. Not even a shift in air.
Her heart thudded once, sharp and low. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else—something older, deeper.
She waited.
Finally, after a long minute, the lock clicked.
Clark opened the door slowly, cautiously. He wore sweatpants and a faded T-shirt, his hair still damp, posture loose but far from relaxed. He looked steadier than he had at the university—less pale, more present—but the shadow behind his eyes hadn’t lifted. A trace of something still clung to him. Weakness. Fear.
Lois didn’t speak. She just looked at him.
Clark met her gaze, then dropped his eyes, almost sheepish. “Hey.”
She exhaled, the knot in her chest loosening. “I needed to see you.”
He nodded and stepped aside.
She didn’t wait. She brushed past him like she always did—like the threshold had never meant anything.
The apartment was warm, dim. Familiar. But she wasn’t scanning for comfort this time. She was scanning for signs. For anything that might explain the way he’d looked at the university. The tremor. The collapse.
Clark closed the door behind her, quiet and slow.
“I’m fine,” he said, preempting the question.
Lois turned. “You don’t look fine.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t bounce back like you do.”
Her head tilted, eyes narrowing. “Really? Because I’ve only seen you like this twice. Smallville last year… and after the wedding fiasco.”
Her voice softened on that last word, but the weight of it stayed.
Clark didn’t answer.
She was already inside, already settled into the silence. The television murmured in the background, casting flickers across the walls. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting.
Eventually, Clark came down—slow, steady, one hand trailing the banister. Same posture. Still not relaxed. He looked better than he had, but not whole.
He crossed to the couch and clicked off the news. “You’re not at the Planet?” he asked, voice casual, strained. “Figured Perry would want this story wrapped."
Lois followed, dropped onto the cushion beside him. “Glad it wasn’t football,” she said, nodding at the TV. “I’ve had enough injured lists and jealous coaches for one week.”
She placed a hand on his arm, voice softening. “I needed to see you.”
“I’m fine. Really,” Clark said. “You didn’t have to come. Perry’s probably expecting you.”
Lois squeezed his forearm gently. “You matter more than a headline.”
Clark turned to her, voice low. “Since when, Lois?”
She blinked, caught off guard by the question—and by the way he said her name.
“You almost died,” she said, the words tumbling out. Her grip tightened. “I saw it. You weren’t just shaken. You were collapsing.”
He looked away, jaw clenched.
Lois leaned in. “Don’t tell me you’re fine. Not after that.”
Lois’s hand was still on his arm, but her voice sharpened.
“Why didn’t you go to the hospital? Why deny medical treatment?”
Clark looked down, jaw tightening. “Because I didn’t need it.”
“You could barely stand,” she shot back. “You were pale, sweating, disoriented—Clark, you collapsed.”
“I didn’t collapse,” he said quietly. “I just… needed to get out of there.”
Lois stared at him, searching his face. “That’s not an answer.”
He didn’t offer one.
“I’m fine now,” Clark said, trying for a smile. “Just a little wiped out. Tomorrow I’ll be back to being your irritating partner, like always.”
Lois’s jaw tightened. “Don’t,” she said, her voice low. “Don’t deflect with jokes.”
She leaned in, eyes locked on his. “You’re more than my partner, Clark. More than my best friend. I thought we were past hiding things from each other.”
“We are,” Clark said, his voice tight. “But today was… a lot. Just give me a little time.”
Lois didn’t move at first. Then she shifted closer on the couch, her knee brushing his. She was done waiting.
“You almost died, Clark,” she said quietly, her voice trembling with restrained urgency.
Before he could respond, she climbed into his lap, straddling him with quiet finality. Her hands came up to cradle his face, thumbs brushing the faint stubble along his jaw.
“No more stalling,” she whispered. “Not with me.”
Clark’s hands hovered at her waist, uncertain. His eyes searched hers, conflicted and raw.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she added, steady now. “So talk to me.”
Lois held his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones. His confession lingered in the quiet between them.
“I’m scared, Lois,” he’d said.
She didn’t look away. “Scared of what?”
Clark’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t answer.
Lois leaned in, her voice low. “You didn’t just collapse. You were in pain. Real pain. And that fire—it wasn’t normal. It was green, Clark.”
He flinched, just slightly.
Lois caught it. “You knew what it was. You recognized it. That’s why you ran.”
Clark’s breath hitched.
Lois’s voice softened, but her grip didn’t. “Talk to me. Please. I’m not asking as a reporter. I’m asking as the person who loves you.”
