It had now been five weeks since Lois had appeared at the Daily Plane, hours early, red cheeks, her blouse buttoned the wrong way around. But fire in her eyes, fire Clark had last seen … well, over five years ago. In his bed.
She had turned towards him, shocked to see someone else up this early in the morning. It was then that he had seen the smudged mascara, the slightly greasy hair. Knowing that she could be a horribly introverted person when hurt he hadn't even tried to ask what was wrong. He, Clark, couldn't expect an answer anyhow, the way she had been treating him since he had returned! Didn't she remember that they were the best of friends?
But he did get up, strode towards her and engulfed her in a shy hug. How could he not? It was magnetism that pulled him towards Lois.
Five hours later he had taken her back to his new apartment, had shown her to the bathroom, prepared her a big, fat farm breakfast and had listened to her cry. In the end he knew what had happened, how Richard had looked so (so, so!) hurt, how he had packed his bag, taken the plane and disappeared.
Lois didn't know why she told him but she felt good, light-headed even.
Five weeks later he was hovering in front of her door, part of a four and a half week old ritual. He would knock, she would open the door, looking radiant or lost or exhausted, depending on the day she had had, or on how long she had to wait for the world to slow down enough for him to join her.
She looked different this time. Apprehensive. He was sure that he didn't arrive particularly late. He had, once again, so been looking forward to meeting her (to talking to her, to gazing at her. And to standing in the doorframe of their [Their! Their as in her and his!] child's bedroom. That was probably the best moment. Lois had, after a few hesitant visit's of his, taken his hand and led him to Jason's room. There they would stand, holding hands and sharing a smile now and again) that he had hurried his rescues, hadn't stayed to smile happily into the camera, or sadly, if he arrived too late.
She looked sceptical, but she let him enter. His heart beat loudly. What was going on?
In the kitchen she turned away a little. Reached for her glass of wine, took a sip, then a deep breath. "I can't do this anymore", she said. His heart beat wildly now. "Meeting you like this", he had problems breathing now. Why wouldn't she look at him? How could she say this? Was the bliss of four and a half weeks over now? Would she allow him to see Jason? To see her?
"You must know that something has changed. I – I have fallen in love with", she coughed, took another sip of wine, another deep breath. He thought he knew, now, what it felt like to be hit with a dizzy spell. He reached for the kitchen counter to steady himself.
"I have fallen in love with another man." His heart stopped beating.
"His – his name is Clark Kent. I think you know him. He works with me. He has been a wonderful friend." What?
She turned around now. He could see her face. She was smiling at him, her eyes twinkling.
She grinned, said "I can't believe it took me so long to figure out" and kissed him shortly. "Don't think I'm not horribly mad though!"
The end