Why Does It Always Rain On Me?
Lois trembled as the bitter rain lashed her with large droplets. She stared aimlessly at the marble tombstone that stood in the soil before her. The rain continued to fall on the silent graveyard. She was wet beneath her black overcoat, ice cold droplets slid their way down her back; her hair drenched from the constant downpour.
Only Lois and Clark remained, everyone else had left after the ceremony when the rain began to fall heavily. Clark stood by her side, holding an umbrella over her head. He was soaked; not concerned about keeping himself dry, only Lois' wellbeing.
Lois inhaled and turned to Clark, looking into his deep blue eyes. She nodded and smiled sheepishly. Without replying, he extended a hand which she took. Together they crossed the graveyard, leaving the tombstone which read:
R.I.P Chloe Sullivan
1987 – 2009
Lois shivered as she crawled into the front seat of Clark's red truck. She stared out the window at the dark, dreary sky that covered Smallville. Clark opened the driver door and sat it without saying a word. Neither looked at each other nor remarked on how beautiful the ceremony was.
Clark was the first to break the eerie silence. "Where do you want to go Lois," he asked in a low voice, almost a whisper.
"Home," she replied in a low voice that was followed by a tear being wiped from her check. She then saw Clark looking at her and released that home could be several places. But home to Lois; home sweet home; was only one place. "The farm, please Clark."
Clark smiled weakly and turned the key in the ignition. Neither spoke the entire journey. Lois never remembered the journey, because the next thing she noticed was that they had come to a halt outside the Kent house. The rain was still pouring when she dragged herself out of the truck. She didn't bother to reach for the umbrella; she was too weak, too bothered.
Clark unlocked the door and opened it, letting Lois enter first before closing the door quietly after him. The Kent farm seemed to always keep Lois at ease. What was it; the smell of cinnamon, the low music coming from the radio, or just being in Clark's presence?
She stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, a small pool of rainwater gathering around her from the drops that fell from her once good coat.
Clark placed a reassuring hand on her cold shoulder and eased her down the hall, to the spare bedroom. He quickly took a pair sweatpants and a t-shirt from the wooden drawer and placed it on the bed. After realising she lacked the will power at this point to change herself, he made the choice to help her into bed.
He peeled the drenched black overcoat from her shoulders and placed it on the pine armchair next to the window. He eased her to sit on the bed while he removed her now-muddy black boots. When he was done, he stood her up gently and unzipped the back of the black satin dress. The dress pooled at her feet and she automatically stepped out of the wet fabric. He took the t-shirt and slipped gently over her head, averting his eyes while she removed her bra. She took the sweatpants herself and changed while Clark looked away. He then handed her a warm towel from the heater and she dried her dripping hair.
He pulled back the covers and lifted Lois from where she stood. He eased her into the bed and pulled the covers up. She smiled weakly but never met his glance. Believing it best to let her rest, Clark left the room and quietly closed the door. Within minutes, she had fallen asleep.
*
Clark lay on the sofa in the living room. He had changed from his saturated suit into a simple shirt and boxers. It had only been three hours since they had lay Chloe in her grave and already Clark noticed a difference. There were no messages on his phone, no plans to meet for coffee, not even the occasional barging in the door like she lived here to tell her latest gossip.
It's amazing how you don't realise how important someone is to you until there gone, he thought to himself. He picked up a photo frame with picture of both Chloe and Lois on the beach. She looked happy, like she always did. Even when something was wrong, she smiled.
His wandering mind was interrupted by Lois quietly walking down the stairs. Under her eyes were red and puffy, a clear sign she had been crying. She smiled weakly as she joined Clark on the sofa.
"Couldn't sleep," she said in a low, soft voice.
He wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulder as she laid her head on his chest. Lois felt safe in Clark's arms, protected. Protected in a way that she couldn't be hurt, or suffer from discomfort, pain, or even loss. But, the hard reality set in, like a cold bitter slap to the face. Chloe was dead. What could they do? Nothing was the answer she came up with.
Clark felt something warm fall on his free arm, a tear. Lois was crying, somewhat of a strange occurrence. Lois was never one of cry in front of people, she preferred to suffer inside, one of her many unique traits.
"Soldiers don't cry Lois," he whispered as he gently rocked her in his embrace.
"Why? Why do these terrible things keep happening to us?" she cried.
He wanted to reply with an answer that would fix everything. Something that would end her sorrow, her pain she held inside herself.
"Lois…," he began.
"Chloe had everything; friends, a husband. Why did this have to happen to her?" she sobbed.
He could not reply, just hold her there, in his arms. So tight that the horrors of the world couldn't disturb her. They sat for hours, not talking, just comforting each other by their presence. This was only the beginning of the hurt. How would they come to live without the smile of the angel that had brightened there days? With each other, who knew?
