Better to Have Loved and… Lost?
A Wendy and Tank Fundraiser Challenge Fic.
Lois fought her way back to wakefulness. She didn't know what she'd been dreaming about because she didn't remember it, but it must have been pretty great if she was this reluctant to wake up. As she stretched, she kicked back the covers and let her hand flop over to the other side of the bed. It was empty. Her head snapped around and noticed the vacancy there. The sheets on that side of the bed were cool to the touch. He must've had to leave hours ago for them to be that cold.
Even though she hadn't been sharing a bed for that long, she had a hard time getting used to waking up alone, without her husband lying next to her. Lois had known when she married Clark that this could and would happen, and she had come to accept it… logically. It was just that ever since they'd gotten married Lois had grown to like waking up next to a handsome, strapping specimen of manhood. A specimen who loved her as much as she loved him. She'd come to like it a lot. Often it was only Clark's special abilities which allowed them to make it to work on time, as they found waking up and getting out of bed didn't always follow one another in quick succession.
Still, she couldn't begrudge those mornings when she had to face the dawning of the new day by herself. It was part of who he was, and she loved him for it. The world had its hero in Superman, and Metropolis had a model citizen and top notch reporter in Clark Kent, but she had it all. Superman, for all his majestic powers, was the most selfless and compassionate man she'd ever met. He was an alien from another planet who was easily the most 'human' being she could have ever known. Clark Kent was the countrified charmer. His easygoing manner and honest good humor made friends quickly. And it didn't hurt that he was drop dead gorgeous. Two incredible men rolled into one, and that one man had fallen in love with her... her, Lois Lane, warts and all. She still didn't know how she'd gotten so lucky. Maybe Clark was just a karmic form of payback for all the 'federal disasters' she'd had to endure in the past.
Finally, dragging herself out of bed, Lois made her way into the bathroom. Clark or no Clark, she still had to get ready for work.
*******************
Lois took another sip from her second cup of coffee. A glance at the clock on the wall brought a frown to her lips. If Clark didn't get home soon, she'd have to leave without him or she'd be late. It wouldn't be good for both of them to be late. She could always use the 'meeting a source' excuse, or better yet, Clark would come in with the story on Superman's latest outing. She was just about to head into the living room and turn on the news to see if there was any word about where Clark might be when she heard the all too familiar whoosh that signaled the return of her husband.
She hurried into the next room and saw the familiar red and blue clad hero of millions standing in the middle of her living room. "So, where have you been?" Her voice died away as she was thrown by the look on his face. At first, he seemed confused by her question, but apparently chose to ignore it. Instead, he seemed ill at ease. He wouldn't meet her eyes. It may have been her imagination but Lois would've sworn she saw the glint of a tear in the corner of one eye. It scared her. "What is it? What's wrong?"
He took a step and clasped her hands in his. "Oh, Lois, I'm so sorry for your loss. I know words are hardly adequate at a time like this, but I want you to know that if you need anything, you can call on me... anytime."
Lois took a step back from the spandex-clad hero. She was sure her confusion was clearly written on her face. "What's going on here?" She took another breath and was about to demand an explanation for his strange behavior when she saw 'that look' come over his face. He was hearing someone who was in need.
"I’m sorry, Lois, I've got to go. Remember, if I can help in any way; be sure to let me know."
For a moment she thought he was going to lean in and kiss her, but instead he retreated quickly and left the room in a blur of primary colors. She didn't know whether to be mad or scared. Why was Clark acting so weird? She let her gaze sweep the entire room. Was it possible that they were under some sort of surveillance and Clark was acting remote and strange to throw off some uninvited peeping tom?
It was then that she spied the partially-crumpled newspaper on the floor next to the fireplace. Her eyes grew wide as the bold sixty-point headline jumped out at her. She snatched the paper from its resting spot on the floor and smoothed out the creases. Her breath caught in her throat as the words became easily readable.
"Planet Reporter Killed in Terrorist Attack"
She didn't need to read the accompanying story to know who the headline was referring to. A quarter page picture of her husband stared out at her. The shock at seeing the headline quickly passed and was replaced by confusion as she began to read the details of the article. It turned out to be a straightforward account of the incident. There had been an attack at city hall the other day. A band of slogan-spouting crazies had stormed a news conference the mayor had been holding. Several shots had been fired, wounding two of the mayor's aides, but there had been only one fatality. Clark Kent, the Daily Planet reporter who'd been covering the press conference, had taken a stray bullet in the chest and had died instantly at the scene.
Lois let the newspaper drop from nerveless fingers. She didn't understand what was happening. Why hadn't she heard anything about an attack on City Hall? Why hadn't she been there covering it with Clark? What was the whole thing with Clark Kent supposedly being dead? She'd just seen him a few minutes ago, in their living room. Yet he'd acted very strangely. Not at all like someone who was supposed to be her husband.
Without actually thinking about it, she soon found herself hurrying back up the stairs to the bedroom. She stared hard at the empty bed. She wasn't in it. Before she could stop herself, she pinched her arm. "Ow."
She sat on the corner of the bed, her mind a jumble of confused thoughts and emotions. Why would Clark be pretending to be dead? He'd had to fake his own death before, but why didn't she know about it? Why hadn't he discussed it with her? And why was he acting so strangely? Was someone watching her?
The doorbell roused her from her distracted musings and she moved quickly back down the stairs to see who it might be. When she peered through the spyhole she saw Perry and Jimmy standing outside. The expressions on their faces were grim. She opened the door and let them in. Maybe now she'd get some answers.
"Perry, Jimmy, come in."
Lois was immediately enveloped in a fierce hug by Perry. "Oh darlin', I'm so sorry." Jimmy stood off to the side, fidgeting. He looked very uncomfortable. "We all thought the world of Clark, and we'll all miss him terribly." Perry released her and seemed startled when he looked at her. "Lois, honey, you aren't planning on wearing that, are you?"
"What?" She glanced down at the outfit she'd chosen earlier. She had on a pink blouse and a knee-length red skirt. It was an outfit she'd worn many times to work. Perry must have read the confusion on her face.
"Honey, I know you're trying to be brave about all of this. But we are going to the mortuary to go over the last minute details for Clark's viewing at the funeral parlor tonight. Don't you think you should wear something a bit more... muted?"
Lois opened her mouth, then closed it. She bit on her lip and just nodded once. She turned and went back up the stairs. Once in her bedroom, she began stripping off the clothes she'd put on just a short time ago. Standing in her underwear, she stared into her closet. She was more confused than ever. Apparently Perry and Jimmy were in on whatever Clark was up to... or he had decided it was better to let them believe he was really dead. As callous as that might seem, she could understand it. Perry and Jimmy didn't know he was Superman. But that still didn't explain why he hadn't told her.
She pulled a dark grey suit out of the closet. It wasn't one of her favorites. In fact, she wasn't even sure she'd ever worn it. It had been a gift from her mother. Still, it should serve for what needed doing. She'd be damned if she was going to wear black.
Struggling into the new outfit, Lois wondered what she should do. She could always storm back down and demand answers from Perry and Jimmy. While the idea of grilling her boss held a certain appeal, she rejected it. No, Perry's remorse and concern for her seemed genuine. She had to believe that they weren't in the loop. Whatever Clark was playing at, Perry and Jimmy obviously weren't a part of it. That meant that the only way she was going to find out what was going on was to play along until the answers presented themselves.
But one thing was for sure, Clark had better have a very compelling reason for putting her through this with no explanation, or he wouldn't have to play at being dead because she would kill him herself.
Lois shrugged on the matching jacket as she left the bedroom and headed back down the stairs to join up with Perry and Jimmy. Hopefully answers to this weird, twisted scenario would come soon.
*********
The morning, and the afternoon, had been a nightmare. Lois was forced to sit through prolonged meetings with a man she'd never seen before, yet acted as if they'd conversed many times. He was clearly the director of the funeral home, but for all his seeming familiarity with her she didn't know him from the man in the moon. Nor had she ever been to this mortuary before.
Still, she acted like she had as the long process of 'making arrangements' were hashed out. She felt burdened by all the concern and sympathy everyone kept showing her. It made her want to scream 'Clark is alive, you idiots, he can't die because he's Superman'. Of course she couldn't, but she wanted to.
It took a while before she realized something, or more accurately, someone, was missing. If Clark was supposed to be dead, where were his parents? Surely Jon and Martha would be here if their only son had been murdered? When she was able to break free from the ghoulish director long enough, she asked Perry about where Clark's folks were.
Perry had given her a strange look, and had answered that she had been the one who had told him that Martha and Jonathan's plane had developed mechanical problems and had set down in Cleveland for repairs. They wouldn't be able to get another flight out until tomorrow, and that she and they had decided to go ahead with the viewing this evening, but delay the actual funeral service until they had the chance to make it to Metropolis.
Lois had to wonder if Clark, even though he felt he couldn’t tell her what was going on, had confided his plan to his parents so they wouldn't have to waste their time coming all the way out here. The whole plane story was probably just made up to give them a legitimate excuse not to show up. If that were true, then it meant that whatever the reason for this macabre facade would be revealed tonight, which made sense. Clark wouldn't want to have to go through with a bogus burial.
Now that the so-called details had been ironed-out and finalized, Lois found herself nervously pacing as evening fell and the time for friends and colleagues to start arriving approached. After about her third circuit around the large memorial hall, she was halted by the noise of activity coming from the back of the room. She turned and saw two men wheeling in an elegant, silver-grey casket. Her heart fluttered for a second as she watched the attendants carefully position the coffin next to the altar, or podium, or whatever it was that held the small spray of flowers the Daily Planet had sent over.
She watched in morbid horror as the lid was lifted and she was able to see inside the casket for the first time. Her heart nearly stopped this time. The casket was occupied! As if in a trance, she moved slowly closer. The charcoal-colored suit, the loud tie, the glasses, the dark hair with that stubborn lock that fell over his forehead... it was Clark. But it couldn't be Clark.
Lois moved right up next to the coffin and stared down at its occupant. She flashed back to memories of relatives who'd passed and the funerals she'd had to attend growing up. She always chafed at hearing people say how ‘natural' the person looked in their casket. She never got that. They were dead, and they looked dead. The make-up used to try and mask that fact was never adequate, and only served to accentuate the fact that the person lying there was dead.
Clark, lying in the pristine white silk, looked dead. He didn't look like some sort of mannequin, or a construct of any sort. It definitely was a person lying there in front of her. Had Clark gone to all the trouble of actually masquerading as his own deceased body? If that was so, she would be able to tell just by touching him, wouldn’t she? No matter how long he could hold his breath, and pretend to be dead, his skin would still be warm to the touch. It would still have the elasticity that a live person's skin would have. All she had to do was reach out and touch him.
She stared for several minutes, her hands not leaving her sides. She was reluctant to test her theory. She wanted answers, but what if they weren't the answers she desired? Slowly, her right hand came forward. She had to know. It took some effort to keep her hand from shaking as she gingerly ran her fingertips across Clark's cheek.
Her brow knitted in a frown as she repeated the seemingly affectionate gesture. The skin was cold... and flaccid. How was that possible? If it wasn't for the fact that she knew that Clark wasn't dead because she'd just seen him earlier that morning, she would've sworn that the person lying in the casket was indeed dead.
Could he have somehow made himself appear dead, beyond just holding his breath or breathing really shallowly? She knew he could slow his heartbeat down to the point that he would almost appear to be in a trance. But he was so cold to the touch...
"Of course," she whispered fiercely.
How could she have forgotten? The two of them had pulled this trick before, only that time it had been to make Jason Masik think that Superman had killed her. He'd used his super cold breath to freeze her and make her appear dead. Had he somehow been able to do something similar? Had he used that super breath again, only this time on himself, so that his body would feel cold and appear dead?
Again she kept coming back to the question of why? Why would Clark need to go through this subterfuge and, more importantly, why hadn't he told her beforehand?
"What are you up to, Clark?" Her voice was soft but there was no mistaking the tint of pain and anger that colored the edges.
Suddenly, an all too familiar sound caught her ear and pulled her attention away from the coffin and its occupant. Lois caught sight of the spandex-clad hero of millions as he approached and greeted Perry and Jimmy, who'd been standing outside the memorial hall.
Superman leaned close and spoke, too quietly for her to hear, to Perry. He then turned and caught her eye. A chill when through her body as she plainly read the anguish on his face. It was clear that Superman was in pain, and that much of that pain was directed toward her. His concern and sympathy for her was like a physical blow. She had to look away.
Her mind was in turmoil. If Superman was standing out there, then how could Clark be in the coffin pretending to be dead? It didn't make any sense. She turned back to the figure of her husband lying so still in the pillowed silk. If the person in the coffin wasn't Superman pretending to have died, then it was someone who was actually dead... but who? It couldn't be...
Her hands began to shake. "No." Her voice cracked. "No, no, no." Her head shook slowly back in forth in denial. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she slipped to her knees in front of the casket. "No!"
END OF PART 1
Take it away Wendy.
