Part 7: The Trouble with Trust
There were some days that seemed to last forever. Every day that Lois had spent worrying about Clark, wondering where he'd been, had stretched by into an eternity. She could swear she'd lived a hundred thousand lifetimes and died at least as many deaths in that relatively brief time that Clark had been AWOL. Time had moved so achingly slowly, as if her pain and her fear had caused the world itself to still.
But there were other days, days that seemed to pass in a blink. Before it even seemed like one had been given the time to get out of bed in the morning, the day was well and truly gone. For Lois and Clark, the last twenty-four hours they had been granted to work on their story passed in just such a fashion. Almost before their time limit had begun, it seemed to draw to an end with absolutely nothing more to show for the time passed at the end than they'd had at the beginning.
"What are we going to do?" Lois asked in a low murmur as she and Clark walked back to their room. They'd spent the day in a last-ditch effort to draw the murderer out, to no avail. Anyone who would sit still long enough to be told as much had been informed of the newest Kents' plans to leave early the next day, to supposedly get a head-start on the more exotic portion of their honeymoon. The "newlyweds" had also spent so much time cuddling with each other in public that Lois thought it was entirely possible that Clark might have lost the use of his left arm by now, given how much time he'd had it wrapped around her body.
And yet, it didn't seem to have garnered any results. Nobody had paid them any particular attention – at least not to any noticeable degree. The murderer certainly hadn't come up to introduce himself; neither had he come up to inform them that they would be the next couple on his list.
"I don't know," he replied in a similar tone, sounding just as frustrated as her. Since they were about to pass through the lobby with the check in desk, he lowered his voice even further and glanced down at her as they walked side by side. "But don't beat yourself up about it, Lois. We've done everything we could. Sometimes things just don't work out the way we want them to." Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "We're not going to give up, okay? We'll just find another way."
She knew he was trying to be helpful so she tried not to grimace, but it was hard. She just wasn't very good with admitting defeat. It was just part of her personality; she didn't walk cautiously through life, she ran through it. If she was going to run into walls, she was going to run into them at full speed and damn the consequences. She'd never been good at admitting when she had to give up and start over, not even when she was a little girl, and though she may have gained age and experience over the course of her life, patience has never been any part of that package.
Of course, there wasn't much her stubbornness could get her in this situation. She couldn't force the murderer to reveal himself to her, as nice as it would be if she could. Clark was right; they'd done everything they could to try to draw their culprit out.
But had they really? The question caused her step to falter as she looked at her partner out of the corner of her eye. No, she couldn't fault him for any deficiency that might have been detected in their performance. He'd certainly thrown himself into the role to the point where Lois was sometimes left wondering if he remembered that it was all just an act. The problem…the problem lay in her.
It had been a great speech she'd given Clark – about trust and friendship and what it meant to be there for each other. But from her position on the pulpit, she'd overlooked one very critical fact that might have been her downfall.
Trust couldn't be forced, but it couldn't be faked either. All the playacting in the world couldn't convince the world that she really loved the man standing by her side if there was a part of her that was afraid to let him close to her, to let him in. Because that was the real trouble with trust – it was either there or it wasn't. It couldn't be qualified or equivocated. It just was. Or it wasn't. Trust wasn't like the heart; it wasn't blind. It was all-seeing, an unforgiving mistress. It was all or nothing; with trust, there was no middle ground.
Someone once said that to be trusted was a greater compliment than being loved, and so perhaps it came with a greater risk. Perhaps there was something ironic in the fact that this very idea scared Lois down to her core – the woman who had no qualms when it came to gambling with her life never took a chance with her heart if she could avoid it. She flung herself headlong into danger almost every day, but when it came to risking being hurt by the people she loved the most, she locked her feelings away behind an impenetrable wall.
It came down to belief. Faith in the man next to her. Either she had it or she didn't, but if she didn't have it now, she probably never would. A woman who hesitated to take a first chance on someone wasn't likely to be too quick about giving a second.
Clark trusted her, that she knew. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in a touch as simple as the way he cupped her palm in his own. He trusted her; the question was, did she trust him? She'd said she did, but did she really? Because if she didn't – if she couldn't – then it didn't matter how many times she kissed him in public or how many cute nicknames she made up for him. It would be clear to the world that, though she had him, he would never have her. And it would be clear to the two of them that, no matter how close they embraced in a charade for all the world to see, the distance between them would never be breached.
She had to trust him, but she had to trust herself first. Once, when she was little, her father had sat her on his knee and said something to her in grave tones that she'd never forgotten – maybe because it was one of the nicest things he'd ever said to her. "You don't have to be better than anyone else in the world to make me happy, Little Lo. But you do need to realize that you're already better than you ever thought you could be."
Stopping in her tracks, Lois turned to look up at the man beside her, waiting until he met her gaze with his own. She had to take that chance, to try to be better than she ever thought she could be. She had to decide; she either trusted Clark completely or she didn't trust him at all. Lois had always been, in all things, a very "all or nothing" kind of girl. If she couldn't have everything, she didn't want anything. And though Clark was not very much like her in a number of ways, in this, she suspected they had far more in common than either of them would ever admit. Clark gave all of himself when he gave some of himself; Lois would trust completely or not trust at all. If she didn't trust Clark completely, he would know it, and it would eat away at him slowly until there was nothing left.
When Clark turned and met her eyes, she could see the confusion on his face. Whatever he saw in her expression, he obviously didn't understand it but he didn't ask her to explain it, either. It was probably for the best, because she didn't know what she would say. There were a million things to be said, she supposed, but she couldn't think of the words to express a single one.
"Clark," she finally managed to choke, her throat thick. "I'm not…I don't know if I can…" Her courage faltering, she dropped her gaze from his, staring instead at his chin for a moment. It demanded far less of her than his eyes did. But Lois wasn't one to back down for long, and so, steeling herself, she pulled her gaze back up to his.
In a low voice, pitched so soft that the woman behind the desk couldn't hear, she spoke. Perhaps it wasn't the best time – and it almost certainly wasn't the best place – but she did it anyway.
"Promise me something," she implored softly, heedless of the world around them as she placed her hand on his chest, right above his heart. "A promise you know you can keep." Then she held her breath. It was a hell of a request she'd just made, she knew; there were almost no promises in life that one could guarantee that one could keep.
Clark could have asked her why she was making such an odd request at such an inexplicable moment, but he didn't. Instead, he stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he placed his hand gently over hers and spoke in a voice so soft that she had to strain to hear it, "I can't promise you that I'll never leave you, Lois." Though her heart broke a little, he didn't release her hand as he explained gently, "I wish I could, but that's one guarantee that nobody can ever make, and I can't see the future any better than anyone else. But I promise you…I promise you, Lois, that even if I ever do leave you behind some day, I'll never want to. Never. I promise you that."
She believed him. Heaven help her, but she believed him. No, it was true that he couldn't promise never to leave her behind; she knew better than almost anyone how dangerous and unpredictable life could be. But when he told her that he would never want to leave her behind, she believed him. She believed that, if he ever did leave her behind, it wouldn't be by choice. And, for the first time, she realized that she believed that he hadn't left her behind by choice this time, either.
It seemed so unfair somehow. Her greatest fear was being left behind, and though Clark couldn't promise that she would never have to face her greatest fear, he was able to promise that he would never make her face it if he had any other choice. She knew his greatest fear was being alone, and that was one promise she knew she should never make. It was, as he'd said, the one promise nobody could guarantee they could keep.
Except she wasn't just anyone else, and neither was he. She was Lois Lane, and he was her best friend. The best friend she'd ever had, and the best friend she ever wanted. Looking up into his eyes, she saw the shared memory of their past together reflected there. He was the first person she thought of in the morning and the last on her mind when she went to sleep at night. The bane of her existence, and the one person who had always managed to coax a laugh out of her, no matter what (even though the laugh was occasionally at him and not with him). When her apartment had been burning around her and she thought her cousin was in danger, her thoughts had been on Chloe and Chloe alone, but when she dreamed she was being rescued, carried far away from the pain and fear, it was Clark that she had imagined holding her in his arms. And then he'd given her a stupid pair of bunny slippers and, in that small but poignant act, he'd stolen her heart away.
"I'll never leave you alone, Clark. I promise you," she told him fiercely, and she saw him wince in response.
"Lois," he mumbled in a pained voice. "You can't promise me that."
"Yes," she said matter-of-factly. "I can." Because she was Lois Lane, and her self-confidence was such that she had no doubt that she could do anything, through sheer force of will alone if by no other means. With the beating of his heart pressing against her palm, she stared at him unflinchingly and vowed, "I know you think I can't keep this promise, Clark, but I can. I can. No matter what happens, you'll never be rid of me, Smallville. You may come to regret that someday, but it's true."
"You promise?" he teased her gently, his eyes shining.
She nodded. "I promise." If there was no other promise she'd ever manage to keep in her life, she vowed to herself that she would keep this one. She just knew it, somewhere deep inside.
Then, before she could think about what she was about to do, she rose up onto her toes and leaned into Clark, pressing her lips against his. The kiss wasn't the most passionate one she'd ever bestowed upon anyone – it wasn't even the most passionate one the two of them had ever shared. It was soft and sweet, a simple exchange of breath and touch and tenderness. A promise almost in and of itself.
They didn't touch but for their lips brushing against each other and the hand Clark had holding her palm against his heart. But somehow, there was more behind this kiss than there had ever been before. It may not have been the first kiss the two of them had ever shared, but it might as well have been. With that kiss, the charade they were putting on for the rest of the world was forgotten, and Lois Lane and Clark Kent kissed each other for the first time.
It was Clark who finally broke off, but there was something in his eyes when he lifted his head that she hadn't seen in a very long time. It reminded her of the looks he'd given her on that Valentine's Day not long before, when he'd taken her into his house and given her a home once more. But there was something different about it, as well.
She didn't have long to ponder that, however, as the world that had fallen away long enough to grant them their private interlude came rushing back with a vengeance. Though she'd been so caught up in the moment that she'd temporarily forgotten where the two of them were and what they were supposed to be doing, that awareness would no longer be denied, and she looked around to see that she and Clark were by no means alone. The receptionist behind the desk was trying to tactfully avert her gaze and doing a miserable job of succeeding; the maids poking their heads through the door behind her weren't even making a token effort to disguise their open interest.
"Ah…" Clark began, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. "C-Could my wife and I get a bottle of champagne sent up to our room, please? We want to celebrate our last night here."
"Certainly, sir," the receptionist said with a smile that was just a little bit mischievous. "I'll have it sent up to your room right away."
"Thank you," Lois said with as much dignity as she could muster. "Er…Good night." Then, taking Clark by the hand, she led the way back to their hotel room, where she firmly resolved to hide under the bed until her embarrassment faded away. She would very likely be under there for several centuries.
Of course, when they actually did make their way back to their hotel room, Clark was very adamant that he would not allow her to become fossilized under the bed, though, looking at his face, she wasn't entirely certain this wasn't because he'd been planning to do the exact same thing himself and was disgruntled that she might have beaten him to the punch. The two of them did discover, however, that they couldn't quite manage to look each other in the eye just yet, and conversation in the wake of the kiss they'd just shared was both painful and vaguely terrifying. So, instead of tackling the enormous elephant in the room, the two of them began the task of packing up the bulk of their belongings. At least that way, they found they could avoid talking about the kiss that still lingered between them without making it obvious that they were avoiding the subject.
Lois had just finished putting the rest of her files in her briefcase and shoving the black case in the bureau to get it out of the way when a knock came at the door. "Room service!" an unfamiliar voice called through the solid wooden panel.
"Er…I'll get it," Clark said as he finished zipping his bags and scooted them aside. Walking over to the door, he opened it for the man holding a large tray carrying an ice bucket, a chilled bottle, and two glasses on the other side. "Thanks," he said as he stepped back. "Just put it anywhere, I guess."
In awkward silence, Clark and Lois stared at the intruder as he performed the task of opening the champagne bottle and pouring them each a glass. After Clark tipped him, the waiter left, closing the door behind him, but unfortunately, he didn't take the silence with him when he went.
Finally, Lois cleared her throat and reached for one of the glasses, almost sloshing its contents over the side with the abruptness of her gesture. "So," she said rather too brightly. "I guess this is our last night here, so we might as well enjoy it. Tomorrow, we'll get back to the Planet and plan our next strategy. I'm not giving up on this story, you know."
"I didn't doubt it," her partner responded gravely as he picked up a glass in turn. "But, wait…you said 'we.' Does that mean that you're willing to keep working with me as your partner?"
"On this particular story, yes," she said firmly. "After that, Kent, you're on your own."
"If you say so, Lane," he said agreeably, though she had the sneaky suspicion she was just humoring her.
Since she didn't know for sure that he was doing such a thing, she could hardly call him on it. Instead, she raised her glass. "Er…you think we should toast or anything?" she asked in an awkward change of subject.
Though she hadn't quite managed to meet Clark's eyes since catching that almost-familiar expression in them in the lobby, she thought the tilt of his chin indicated that he was considering her suggestion. "How about to new partners?" he suggested with a hint of a grin.
"How about to my first Pulitzer?" she suggested pointedly instead.
Yes, his lips were definitely grinning. Whether the smile had reached his eyes was anyone's guess, because Lois sure as hell wasn't about to look just yet. "How about to the Kent-Lane team grabbing their first byline?" he tossed back.
Lois rolled her eyes. "First of all, Kent, if we're going to be sharing a byline together, it'll be Lane-Kent. Seniority. Second of all, this is a one time thing, okay? So don't go thinking this is gonna stick, because I work alone. Got that?"
He didn't seem to be at all taken aback by the gauntlet she'd thrown down. Instead, he took a step towards her. "Okay, then, Lane," he said, his tone affable as they began to fall back into the habit of bantering the way they'd done for so long. "How about to…new beginnings?"
She snorted, but she didn't move away when he stepped forward once again. "How about to not sounding like a bad Hallmark card?" she suggested softly instead, finally raising her gaze to his.
He moved closer still, and though the self-preserving part of her knew she should scamper away, Lois was rooted to the spot by the warmth she saw in his gaze as he looked at her. "How about…to promises worth keeping?" he asked as he took one final step towards her until they were so close they were almost touching.
It was perfect – a perfect toast for the two of them – and Lois nodded her agreement. "To promises worth keeping," she echoed. Then, before she could do something completely inane and illogical with her mouth (like jump on Clark and crush it against his), she raised her glass to her lips and downed the liquid inside in one long gulp. Somehow, with Clark standing so near, she'd suddenly found herself rather parched. "More?" she croaked as she reached for the bottle.
"I'm not really much of a drinker," he said dubiously in reply, but she shook her head.
"Tonight you are, Smallville. It's a celebration! Time to get into the spirit of things!" Though he sighed in response, she waited until he downed half the glass and then topped it off for him.
Her task finished, she put the bottle aside and turned back to her bags. "Well, I should get back to packing or I'll have to get up early tomorrow to get on it and I think you and I both know that's just not going to happen."
"Oh, and here I was, thinking you were like a ray of sunshine first thing in the morning," he said dryly, prompting her to turn to look at him over her shoulder just so he could see her roll her eyes.
"Ha, ha," she replied sarcastically. "I'll say it again, Clarkie. You really need to work on that sense of humor of yo-ho?" Her teasing broke off abruptly from a sudden rush of lightheadedness as she bent to pick up her suitcase and almost fell over.
Straightening slowly, she placed the back of her hand against her forehead and took a few deep breaths, waiting for the odd sensation to pass. Instead, she felt her vision blur and her fingers go numb.
Suspecting something was truly wrong, Lois turned to Clark and stammered weakly, "Clark? I d-don't…" But Clark didn't seem to be feeling any better. In fact, she noticed he was looking a little pale and staring at his hands with a perplexed look on his face. Then the penny dropped. "C-Clark? I think we've been…"
"Drugged," he finished for her, his speech slurred. Staggering forward, he wrapped his arms around her. "W-we have to get out of h-here, Lois. Come on."
She tried to move to the door but her motions were sluggish; she just couldn't quite get her body to respond. "I don't think…" she began to say, but her tongue was too thick to really form the words and her knees buckled, no longer able to support her weight.
Clark tried to lift her, but he fell to his knees beside her instead. When she turned to look at him, she saw the same fear in his eyes as he had to see in hers. It would seem like their efforts might have paid off; they might have actually gotten the attention of the serial killer. Unfortunately, they soon would no longer be in a position to defend themselves.
"I've got you, Lois," he murmured as he bent over her, protecting her body with his own. She didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his promise, however, as she felt him slump on top of her as she lost consciousness.
