Goodbyes
Lois managed to stay in bed until the first rays of dawn filtered through the bedroom window. As soon as the sky lightened, however, she slowly crawled out of bed and took a quick glance around. She didn't want to leave any of the few precious belongings she had with her behind; when she left the farm this day, she didn't intend to come back.
She'd thought about it a lot as she'd lain awake the night before, and she'd come to terms with the fact that she couldn't get back home – at least as much as she was able to accept that thought. However, at some point during the endless evening, she'd come up with a plan. It wasn't her best plan, certainly. Usually, she liked her schemes to have happy endings. Still, it was the best one she had.
She was leaving. She was leaving Smallville, leaving the Kents…leaving everything she knew and loved behind. It would just be too painful to stay, to see the reminders every day of the happiness and love that would never again be hers.
Of course, she had no idea where she was going to go. Maybe she'd leave the country…but then again, how was she going to manage that, without her passport? Well, at the very least, she could get the heck out of Kansas. She'd heard that Gotham was lovely this time of year. She had her car; she could camp out in the backseat until she saved up enough money to rent a hole in the wall to call her own. Maybe she'd get a job slinging hash browns. Or coffee. Or muffins. Really, it didn't matter what she chose, since anything she did would be a far cry from the career she so loved. It was going to be hard to turn her back on being a reporter, but even if she did have the energy to rebuild a reputation from scratch, she found she lacked the desire to pursue a story without her partner by her side.
Lois had to repress the urge to cry at the thought. How was it possible that she could even have the desire, she wondered, after all the sobbing she'd done? As it was, she had a headache that hadn't diminished in the slightest overnight. With one last resigned sigh, she shouldered her bag and trudged toward the bedroom door, walking through it for the last time.
When she got downstairs, she was unsurprised to see the elder Kents sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee as they prepared for the day ahead. Martha was practically radiating maternal concern; she would have to have been blind not to have noticed the dark circles under Lois's eyes. Even Jonathan looked worried, and he clearly didn't know what to do with himself.
Though it would have been easier to sneak out the backdoor without having to subject herself to a tearful goodbye, Lois found that she was glad to see the Kents there. They were the parents she'd always wished she had, even if they weren't the people she knew; though it would have been easier, there would have been no way she could have left without saying anything. As it was, she sincerely doubted they'd understand why she had to go.
When she'd come up with this not-so-cunning plan the night before, she'd considered staying in contact, but deep inside, she'd known it would be better to make a clean break. If she called or in any other way corresponded with Martha and Jonathan, she'd find it almost impossible not to ask after Clark. She'd think about him, wonder how he was doing. She'd want to see him, if only just to have five minutes to pretend.
And that just wouldn't do. If she was ever going to gather together all the pieces of her broken heart, she'd only manage to do it by forgetting about the man she loved – and his doppelganger. It had happened against her better judgment, but she knew that she'd actually come to care about him in the last couple of days – even if it wasn't in nearly same degree that she loved her Clark.
There was no point in making the job of moving on with her so-called life even more impossible. She had to let all of the Kents go. Squaring her shoulders in newfound resolve, Lois dropped her bag by her feet and waited for the volley of questions she knew was coming.
"Lois…you're leaving?" Martha asked, glancing at the bag, and Lois nodded. "Honey, you know you don't have to do that. You're welcome to stay here as long as you…until you find a way to get home."
Moving to the table, Lois lowered herself gingerly into a seat and took a deep breath. She'd had a whole speech prepared, everything she wanted to say. She'd rehearsed it in her mind a thousand times, but now that the moment to give it had arrived, she couldn't remember a single sentence. "I want to thank you both for everything you've done for me. I mean, considering the way I just showed up here and started talking like a lunatic, you must have both thought I was completely insane, but you still went out of your way to help me, even though you didn't have to. Anyway, I…" Her words failed her. How could she tell the couple in front of her how much they meant to her? How could she tell them how much she was going to miss them both?
She couldn't; she couldn't even try. "I'm going away for a while. Maybe for good; I don't know. I suppose I might come back eventually, but right now…I need to get as far away from here as possible. Last night…well, it became pretty clear that I'm never getting back to my world, at least not unless I do something I just can't do. So, I thought about it, and I decided that if I can only get far enough away from Smallville, there's a chance I might somehow forget that I…I might somehow forget," she finished lamely. Of course, there really wasn't much of a chance of that happening, and Lois knew that better than anybody. Still, a slim chance was better than none, and that would be the odds of her ever moving on if she agreed to stay.
"Lois, I don't understand," Jonathan objected, capturing her gaze with his own. He was no doubt about to present a well-reasoned argument about why she shouldn't go, and she couldn't afford even the temptation. Her resolve was wavering enough. She had to do this; it would only be more painful in the long run if she let him dissuade her now.
Before he could continue, she forestalled his comment by saying, "I can't explain. I know this doesn't make any sense to either of you, but please understand, this is what I have to do." Something in her expression must have convinced them of her sincerity, as they rose reluctantly to their feet when she stood. Stepping forward, she hugged both the Kents tightly, holding on for a moment longer than she'd intended as she savored what would no doubt be the last time she would be able to do so. When she finally pulled away, tears she didn't dare shed filled her eyes.
Resting his hands on her shoulders, Jonathan looked intently into her face and said, "I know there's no way we can stop you, but I hope you realize that you're always welcome here. If you ever decide to make your way back to us, our front door is always open to you."
"That's right," Martha interjected, wrapping her arms around the younger girl and pulling her in for another tight hug. "You can come back any time you want, sweetheart, and I'm sure I speak for Jonathan when I say that we…well, we care about you, Lois. In the past couple of days, it feels like you've practically become a member of the family."
It was too much for her to bear, and Lois felt the tears begin to fall. Though she hated crying, she'd never been quite as bothered at the idea of showing such weakness in front of this couple as she was with almost anyone else in the world. "You have no idea how much that means to me," she replied honestly.
Then, before their kindness could weaken her resolve, she walked over to pick up her bag once more and headed towards the door. Before she left, however, she paused and looked at her companions over her shoulder. Offering them a watery smile, she engraved the image of the two of them indelibly in her memory. She knew there was a seemingly endless series of long nights ahead of her; while she couldn't risk actually contacting them, she could at least treasure this last memory of them both. "Mr. Kent, I know…well, I just wanted to say thank you for…for everything." If it weren't for the crushing sorrow she felt at what she'd lost, it would almost have been worth the trip, just to have had the chance to talk to him one final time.
Without another word, Lois left the Kent Farm for what she imagined would be the last time. She didn't have any particular destination in mind as she got into her car and pulled away from the house; she figured she'd just drive until she couldn't go any further. However, before she headed out of town, she knew there was one more stop she had to make. When they'd been looking over the map together, Chloe had told Lois about the house her father had bought when the two of them moved to Smallville, and it was to this house that Lois directed the car; she had to tell Chloe goodbye.
Everything was silent as Lois pulled up in front of the house number she'd been given and killed the engine. It was still early; she wouldn't be surprised to find that everyone was still in bed. Still, she had to get this over and done with. She was afraid that if she waited, she'd lose all of her courage and never be able to go. So there was no hope for it; she'd have to sneak into the house, find her cousin's room, say goodbye, and get out again before the rest of the house awoke and she was caught.
Walking slowly up the walk, Lois paused at the door and looked around reflectively. If this version of her Uncle Gabe was anything like the man she knew – and she had no reason to suspect he wasn't – he had a key hidden somewhere nearby in case of emergencies. Stooping, she conducted a quick search under the various knickknacks on the porch.
The object of her search was found under a flowerpot filled with dead flowers that stood in the corner of the porch, and Lois pulled it out with a soft cry of triumph. After taking one last moment to ensure she had her composure – and her resolve – under control, she let herself into the house and began to creep quietly to the staircase leading to the upper story. Undoubtedly, Chloe's bedroom (or perhaps the guest bedroom) could be found on the upper floor.
Her foot had just hit the bottom step when she heard someone cough softly in the room on her left. With her heart in her throat, she turned and crept silently to the doorway so she could peer inside the room she quickly recognized as the kitchen.
An elderly looking man sat at the breakfast table, his shoulders stooped as if they had grown too accustomed to carrying the weight of the world. He looked far older than his years – a tired man, broken shell of a man, who wore the years heavily in a hundred deep lines on his face. It was with a combination of surprise and sorrow that Lois realized the broken man in front of her was the General.
She wanted to turn away. It would be so easy, she knew, to creep upstairs and do as she had originally intended. She could say goodbye to Chloe now and get out of town with her father none the wiser, but now that she'd seen him, she couldn't just go without saying something.
Taking a deep breath, Lois squared her shoulders, unconsciously assuming the military composure that had been drilled into her head for years. Then, with her back ramrod straight and her chin raised at a deceptively confident angle, she strode into the kitchen and stood in front of her father. At a loss for the appropriate thing to say (or even a passably adequate one), she cleared her throat nervously and said, "Good morning, D-General."
She waited with bated breath as his gaze slowly lifted to hers, but he didn't react the way she thought he would. Of course, it wasn't a typical situation – certainly not one that the two of them had ever been in before – but she would have anticipated some sort of explosion. At the very least, she'd anticipated an emotional accusation.
Instead, he heaved a heavy sigh and said thoughtfully, "You know, it's not exactly a secret that people have thought it was crazy for me to hold on to the hope that you'd someday come home to me, Lo. Even yesterday, I know what Gabe thought when I swore I'd seen you in town, and I can't blame him for worrying about me. It is, however, a little disconcerting to see that his concern might not have been misplaced."
He said it so calmly, Lois winced. "I'm not a hallucination, sir," she said firmly as she took a seat across from him at the table. She wanted to reach out and grab the hand that rested on the table next to his coffee cup, but she didn't dare. Even in her own world, the General had a certain untouchable air about him; he never seemed to truly need anybody, least of all her. To try to comfort the man in front of her would feel like an intrusion. She'd always felt that her father was something of a stranger to her; this man was positively alien. "I know this is going to sound crazy, sir, but it really is me. It's Lois."
He still stared at her with that unfazed expression on his face. "I almost forgot that it was always "General" or "sir" with you. Even when you were little, you almost never called me anything else."
An uncomfortable silence fell between them as he took a sip of his coffee, gazing contemplatively into his cup. Finally, when she couldn't take it any longer, Lois said firmly, "Look, I know this is going to be hard for you to understand, but I swear you're not crazy. It's me, only…well, it's complicated."
As she tried to find the words to explain an inexplicable situation, the General's gaze lifted to her face again, where he stared intently at her as if trying to memorize every nuance of her features. "It's strange…you're not the little girl I remember, Lo. I don't remember you ever being this…self-assured."
With a deep breath, she explained gently, "I grew up, sir."
"My daughter didn't," he replied sadly as his gaze fell to the tabletop again.
Lois winced, because of course he was right, but there was nothing she could do about that now. She had to find a way to get through to him. "Sir…Dad…I know this is going to sound incredible, but I really am your daughter. Sort of. And I know how hard this is going to be to believe, but I'm actually from another reality. It was something of an accident, me coming here."
With another deep breath, she braced herself and began to explain. She told him everything, starting with how she'd come to this other world (though she left out the reason why. It was going to be hard enough to convince him that she was both real and telling the truth; it was too much for her to expect him to suddenly begin believing in aliens on top of everything else). Then she told him how she'd come to realize what had happened, how she'd come to discover that she was dead in this world, and how she'd come to believe she was never going to get home.
Finally, at a loss for any other way to convince him of the truth of her words, she told him about the life she had in that other world and the relationship she had with him. It wasn't easy, admitting the two of them had never been close, but it was the truth.
When her tale had come to an end, she sat back and regarded her companion gravely, unconsciously mirroring his body language as she awaited his verdict. Finally, he said, "You realize that's a hell of a story you have there, Lois." At her nod, he raised his eyebrows and asked skeptically, "And you expect me to believe it?"
"Not really," she admitted. "But it's the truth."
"And my little girl really is dead?" he asked, his voice sounding almost pleading. He seemed to be asking something of her, but Lois didn't know what – until she remembered what Chloe had told her once, as they'd stood together at the side of the road. The hardest thing about moving on when someone you love has disappeared isn't dealing with the loss of the person, which is difficult enough to bear. It's the uncertainty that keeps you awake at night and keeps you holding on long after you should have let go – the slim but real possibility that the missing loved one is out there somewhere in the world, that they might come home someday.
"I'm sorry," she replied softly in lieu of an answer, at a loss for what else to say.
The General's gaze skittered away from hers again, and he heaved a heavy sigh as he looked back down at the tabletop. "I didn't want to believe it. For years, I've hoped that everyone was somehow wrong, that you were still alive. Then, when I finally got the call that they'd found your body…I was relieved." His shoulders sagged, and there was a haunted look in his eyes when he looked up at her and repeated in a tortured voice, "I was relieved. I finally got to take my little girl home."
Lois had never felt so helpless. She didn't have the first clue what to say to her dad, and she knew all the words in the world couldn't take away his grief. Before she could formulate another inane apology, his mood changed and he glared at her as he demanded, "Why did you do it, Lois? Why did you have to go up on that damn mountain?"
It was a question he'd asked himself countless times over the past decade, she could tell. She wished she had a good excuse, but it was just one of a million risks she'd taken when she was younger, just another one of her many adventures. She'd never stopped to ask herself why she was so hellbent to take such foolish risks; she'd never been the type to overanalyze her motivations for doing anything at all. Then again, she'd never before had to face such a heavy consequence of the choices she'd made.
Clearing her throat, Lois shifted in her chair and replied softly, "Chloe…my Chloe, that is…she told me once about her theory of why I act the way I do. She thought it was because of you. She thought I was always so willing to take risks because I wanted you to see that I could do anything; I wanted to prove to you that I wasn't scared." She gave a short little chuckle as she spoke, as if to discredit the idea. However, her laugh was tremulous at best; in the past, she had wondered if her cousin's words didn't have merit.
"You think you have to prove yourself to me?" he asked, not meeting her eyes as an indecipherable look crossed his face.
"I think I've never been the daughter you wanted," she admitted, saying the words out loud for the first time in her life. Then, unable to handle the silence that stretched between them, she explained, "It's just that I've always been such a disappointment to you. It isn't a mystery that there are so many times I let you down, and you never were exactly silent about the fact that I refused to live up to your expectations."
Her father sighed, and his shoulders sagged suddenly. He looked so old and so frail in that moment, Lois was convinced that a stiff wind would blow him away entirely. Still, there was enough of her father left in his bearing that she stayed where she was and didn't reach out to him, didn't rush to his side.
"I wonder, Lois," he began slowly, "do you remember what it was like, back when your mother was alive?"
Thrown by the question, it took her a moment to reply. "Um…well, not a lot," she replied honestly, confused about the sudden reference. "I mean, I remember some things, of course. Like, I remember that she used to sing when she was working around the house, and I remember the smell of the perfume she used to wear. Stuff like that."
Her father gave a short, jerky nod at her words before speaking again. "When she died…it was just so sudden, really. The cancer took her so quickly, we'd only known she was sick for a couple of months; there just wasn't much time to prepare. And you were so little – Lucy was even younger – I had no idea what to do about these two little girls I'd been left with.
"With Lucy…well, to be honest, there was never really a question of what to do with her. She was still so small, and she needed so much attention. But the two of you were so close, and she looked up to you. I'm sure you don't remember, but she practically worshiped her older sister back then. And you used to watch out for her, even when you were little. Your mother told me once that any time Lucy got scared or was punished for misbehaving, you would curl up in her bed next to her and make up these outlandish stories to make her laugh."
He swallowed heavily, and then he continued, "When Ella died…Lucy took comfort from me, but I wasn't the person she really looked to. She wanted you. And so I suppose it was easy to just leave her in your charge, to let you watch over her the way you always had. But you…you never needed anybody. Certainly not me. You never came to me for comfort after your mother died; even at her funeral, you held Lucy in your arms as the two of you stood by your mom's casket, and you refused to cry.
"You were always so strong and brave…your mother used to laughingly say you'd spit in the Devil's eye if it suited you. Even when you were really little…back when your mother was alive…you were just so…you used to greet me at the door every night with a salute and ask if I was reporting for duty. I'd pick you up and toss you into the air, and when I caught you, you'd steal my cover and put it on your head, even though it was so big, it'd fall down over your eyes and you couldn't possibly have seen under the brim. Still, you'd tilt your head back and give me this grave little look and call yourself Daddy's Little Soldier.
"You weren't like your sister. I honestly can't remember a time when you'd run to me to have me kiss your scraped knees or have me chase away the monsters under the bed. Even when you were a toddler, when you hurt yourself, you got angry. When you were scared, you didn't let it stop you; you just charged ahead and did whatever you wanted to do anyway."
Lois could tell the recollection was painful for the man in front of her, and she felt her composure crack. Leaning forward, she grabbed his hand in hers and squeezed it tight, offering him comfort ten years too late. Her touch seemed to surprise him, and his startled gaze flew to her face once more. "There are so many things I've wanted to tell you in the last decade, Lo, but the biggest one is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I…you were my Little Soldier, and I'm sorry that I forgot you were supposed to be my little girl. My Little Lo. I should never have let you go up on that mountain alone, Lois. It just honestly never occurred to me…you were so strong and brave, so fearless, it somehow seemed impossible that there was anything you couldn't handle, that you could ever be taken away from me."
Lois jumped to her feet and scooted quickly around the table, stooping to wrap her arms around her father in a tight hug. "Daddy, I'm so sorry," she whispered, but before she could continue, a sound in the doorway caught her attention. She turned to see Chloe staring at the both of them with wide eyes.
"G-Good morning, Uncle Sam…um…Lois," she greeted them after clearing her throat awkwardly. As Lois straightened slowly with a welcoming smile, Chloe took a tentative step into the room and lowered herself into one of the chairs. Casting an anxious look between the two Lanes, she asked, "Lois…what are you doing here?"
Lois took a deep breath. It was time for her to bite the bullet and confess. "I've come to say goodbye, Chlo," she admitted, taking a step back from the table. "I've decided it's time for me to leave Smallville."
Her news was received about as well as she thought it would be, and Lois spent the next half hour trying to explain to her cousin why she had to – and why she had to go alone. It wasn't, in the end, that she didn't want Chloe's company or want to have the younger girl around. It was simply that Lois had an "all or nothing" type of personality. She wanted her entire life back, or she could stand to have none of it.
And besides, she didn't dare have anyone she'd known in her own world around in this one. She hadn't been lying when she confessed to the General that she'd always felt, growing up, that he was trying to turn her into something she wasn't. If she spent too much time with these alternate versions of Clark and Chloe (and even possibly the elder Kents and, for all she knew, Lex), it would probably be impossible to resist the urge – conscious or otherwise – to turn them into the people she knew. She might even have the best of intentions, but she could see herself trying to nudge Chloe into journalism, knowing how much the cousin she'd grown up with loved the profession. It wasn't a far stretch to believe that her continued reservations about Lex could have a Pygmalion effect on the man himself. And Clark…she couldn't even think about Clark.
"You could come back to the base with me," the General interjected finally into Lois's empassioned argument.
She winced and turned slowly to face him. "I-I'm sorry, Daddy, but I can't." The appellation, used without thinking on her part, caused him to flinch, and she bit her lip and chose her words more carefully when she continued, "I know that this must be…I can't even imagine how hard these last ten years must have been for all of you – let alone the last couple of hours – but you have to understand…regardless of how it all seems, I'm not really your daughter. I'm…it's just not the same, and I can't take her place now."
Before another objection could be made, Lois swept Chloe into a tight hug, knowing this would be the last time she allowed herself to do so. When she felt the younger woman start to shake, she whispered, "I'm so sorry, sweetie; you know that I would stay if I could." Pulling away slightly, she swept Chloe's hair off her forehead and murmured, "She would have been so proud of you, you know."
Chloe gave her a watery smile and stepped out of her arms, straightening her spine as she squared her shoulders, unconsciously mimicking the body language Lois had seen in the mirror many times. On a deep breath, she said, "You shouldn't give up on your own world, Lois."
Wincing, Lois replied, "I know, Chlo, but believe me when I say that it's impossible…"
Cutting her off, Chloe scoffed, "Impossible? For you, Lois Lane, the strongest girl I've ever known? I find it difficult to believe there's anything you can't do." There had been a hint of teasing in her tone, lightening the reproof in her words, but all trace of humor left her voice when she grabbed Lois's hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "When we were kids, I always thought you could do anything you put your mind to. I'm not about to change my mind on that now."
Lois felt a ghost of a smile curve her lips as she said goodbye one more time, but she took a step back and turned away. She appreciated her cousin's efforts, but deep down, she knew they were in vain. She didn't know how she could be so certain of it, but she was: the only person who could send her home was Clark Kent, and it had become painfully clear the night before that he was never going to do that.
When she stooped and grabbed her bag, she felt a presence to her left and, tilting her head, she looked up to see her father standing next to her. "At least let me walk you out," he said softly as she straightened, and she gave a gently nod to her head in response. Though she knew prolonging the moment would only make it hurt more for the both of them, she found she couldn't deny this man's request. After all he'd been through, she at least owed him the chance to say goodbye one final time.
They were almost to her car before he spoke again. "I can tell that I'm not going to be able to change your mind, but are you going to be okay? Do you…do you need money or anything?"
Dropping her bag to the ground beside her when she reached the driver's side door, Lois rested a hand on the hood of her car and turned to him with a forced smile. "I'll be fine, sir, but thank you anyway. If there's one thing you can be sure my father taught me over the years, it's how to take care of myself."
In response, the General smiled gently and leaned forward to kiss her cheek, but when he finally pulled away, he stared intently at her face. The expression on his own was cryptic when he commented sincerely, "You really aren't the same little girl I knew, Lo." Unsure of how to take that, Lois opened her mouth and was about to ask him what he meant, but he didn't wait for the question to formulate on her lips. Grabbing the hand she had placed on the hood of her car, he ran his thumb over the engagement ring she wore and said softly, "The little girl I knew never would have walked away." His tone lacked the censure she had grown to expect from him over the years, but she felt the sting of his words anyway.
Snatching her hand out of his, she snapped, "I thought as a good General you would understand. Sometimes, when faced with an unwinnable battle, the only option left to you is a full retreat."
"Of course," he said agreeably. "If it honestly can't be won, but make sure you're not making the mistake of being too quick to declare a loss when you've really suffered nothing more than a minor setback on the battlefield. Sometimes, all in takes is a different strategy…and trusting the man in the trench next to you."
Bristling, Lois gritted her teeth, barely maintaining her composure. "This isn't about me, sir; it isn't my call to make. It's about Clark, and you don't know him like I do." It was, she realized a bit belatedly, an absurd statement, since this General had never met Clark at all.
"No. That's true," he agreed as he took a step back. His apparent concession took her by surprise, so, though she now had sufficient room to get into her car, she didn't yet make a move to do so. In fact, he waited until she'd finally snapped out of her stupor and put her hand on the latch before speaking again. "Do you really know Clark?"
Lois whirled on him, ready to attack. "How could you ask me that? You don't know a thing about him – or me – so don't presume to judge what you don't understand!"
The General waited until she'd finished, and then he said firmly, "Lois, you're not the little girl I knew, but you're not all that different, either. It wasn't an hour ago that you told me about the man you're supposed to marry. Are these two men really so different?" Lois swallowed heavily, taken by surprise, and he didn't wait for her to gather her thoughts before he continued. Looking down at her ring, he asked, "Would he be able to let you go?"
"Y-yes!" she cried, though her stammer betrayed a bit more uncertainty than she would have liked. Trying for a bit more conviction, she said in a firmer tone, "If he thought it was for the best…if he genuinely thought it would make me happy if he let me go, he would." On that, at least, she was certain.
His eyebrows arched in mild disbelief, her father was merciless. She'd almost forgotten how ruthless he could be. "But, from what I understand from what you told me earlier, it takes more than that. The man you love…would he ever really want to let you go?"
"He…I…" Lois stammered, but she couldn't form an intelligible response. If the situation were different, would her Clark ever manage to want to let her go? She hoped not, truth be told; she could deal with the fact that, considering her propensity for putting her life in danger, there was a chance he might someday have to live without her. She would never accept the possibility that he would ever want to.
"If the situation were reversed, would you be able to let go of him?" he prodded, twisting the knife.
Clearing her throat, she shifted her weight and seriously considered the question. Would she ever be able to let her Clark go? No; in all honesty, she didn't know that she could. But, then again, she'd long ago accepted the fact that her fiancé was a better person than she.
Still, she had to bear in mind that the situation wasn't that easy, it wasn't black and white. "Clark is…" she paused, her throat tightening. "Clark is the best thing that ever happened to me and loving him has…I love him more than I've ever loved anybody, and his happiness is more important to me than anything else in the world. If walking away from him is what it would take to make him happy…I would let him go. But this Clark…"
"He doesn't love you," her father finished with a wry smile.
"No. He doesn't," she confirmed.
A long silence stretched between them, each person lost in thought. Her father finally broke it by reminding her, "Just because he doesn't love you doesn't mean he's never going to want what's best for you." At her desperate look, he reached to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "Just…take it from an old soldier, Lo. Sometimes it's hard to let go, even when you know it's best."
Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across her cheek in a gentle kiss. "And now it's time for me to let you go, baby. I've held on to you long enough, and…you really aren't my little girl, are you?" With a smile warmer than any she'd seen before, he stepped back and said, "Oh, and cut your father some slack, Lo. He may not be the best at showing it, but he really does love you and, regardless of what you might think, I guarantee you he couldn't be happier about the woman you've become."
Turning on his heel, he took a step away, but then he halted and whirled on her. "And, sweetheart, you have never been a disappointment to me."
Darting forward, Lois threw her arms around the father she'd never really had the chance to get to know and hugged him tight. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered as she kissed his cheek and let him go. Then, taking a deep breath and without looking back, she got into her car and drove away.
Though she didn't really intend to do so, she found herself steering the car in the direction of the Kent Farm. Maybe her father had been right; maybe she'd been too quick to walk away – though she'd never been accused of letting things go too easily before. Still, while the Clark Kent she'd come to know in the last few days wasn't the man she loved, he was a good man nevertheless. Maybe, if she just talked to him, she could somehow convince him…maybe together, they could maybe find a way to send her home.
When she pulled up in front of the farmhouse, however, she was disappointed (if not entirely surprised) to see no trace of Clark's truck. She thought about heading into the house, but she needed some time to think, so she crossed to the barn and made her way into his childhood Fortress of Solitude instead. Dropping her bag onto the couch, she crossed over to the window and stared contemplatively out into the early morning sky.
Standing there, lost in thought, she lost track of time, as well, so she had no idea how much had passed before her reverie was broken. At the sound of Clark clearing his throat nervously, she turned to him with a wary look.
Neither of them spoke for a while, and then Clark glanced at her rather conspicuously placed bag. Before he could ask, she explained, "I was going to leave." She watched as his face fell, his expression making it clear he was wounded by her admission, and she resisted the urge to move to his side. Instead, she shrugged and continued, "I haven't decided yet that I won't, if you want to know the truth; I'm still thinking about it."
Taking a few steps towards her, Clark apparently decided this wasn't a subject he was willing yet to broach, as he looked at her earnestly and said, "Lois…I owe you an apology for what happened yesterday. I'm sorry I wasn't able to send you home."
Wincing, Lois offered him a wry smile and said, "You're not the only one who needs to apologize, Clark. I…I shouldn't have attacked you the way I did." Giving his leg a worried glance, she asked anxiously, "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
With a reassuring smile, he said, "I'm fine, really…and I probably deserved it, anyway."
Another long, uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Lois watched as all traces of humor slowly drained from his expression. Looking more determined than he had in the time she had known him thus far, he strode forward to stand by her side and stared intently into her face. Then, with a deep breath, he said, "Lois, I'm sorry. I know I had no right to try to keep you here with me, but, I…I'm ready to send you back now." Without taking his eyes from hers, he leaned over to grab something off a shelf, and when he unwrapped the bundle in his hand, she saw a crystal from his Kryptonian structure – no doubt the one he'd unknowingly wished on to bring her to this world in the first place.
"How…how do you know it'll work?" she asked, her breath catching in her throat. She wanted more than anything to believe him, but how could she?
"It'll work," he replied, and his implacable tone made it impossible not to believe. After a pause, he continued in a gentler tone, "I'm going to miss you, Lois. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I care about you. More than you'll ever know. And I wish…I wish I could be the type of man you deserve. But I can't, and I realized last night that, as much as I want to have you in my life, I…I want you to be happy more."
For once, words failed her, so she rested her hand on his arm and, instead of dealing with the implication of his statement, she asked instead, "What are you going to do now? Will you…ah…" She didn't really want to finish the question; she was afraid of the answer. Lois knew better than most how much it tore up a person inside to think that they'd never be quite good enough, never quite live up to expectations. Much as she wanted to go home, she didn't think she could live with herself if she had caused that same inner turmoil in someone else.
Of course, he knew what he was asking her, and so he replied anyway, "Become Superman? I…I don't know. I'm thinking about it, but I'm still not sure that what I am is enough for me to be responsible for the whole world."
"You're a good man, Clark Kent," she told him reassuringly, hating the remnants of self-doubt she saw in his eyes.
A wry smile greeted her words, and he replied, "But I don't have the strength it takes to really be a hero. I don't have you." Her initial response was to argue against of the role she played in Superman's life, but if the last few days had shown her anything, it was that her destiny was more intertwined with Clark's than she ever would have thought. Maybe the assertion that her Clark wouldn't be the same man if he'd never met her had more merit than she ever would have thought.
"Does he know how lucky he is?" Clark asked abruptly, heedless of her internal struggle. She didn't reply, but he didn't seem to need her to; her answer must have been evident in the expression on her face. Lois caught her breath when he lifted his hand, his fingers trembling as though he wanted nothing more than to touch her, but then he paused and dropped his hand to his side once more. "I'm glad," he said simply with a bittersweet smile.
Lois didn't know what to do. She'd known the inevitability of one of them being hurt in the end, but that didn't mean that she didn't hate that she'd caused him such sorrow. Before she could think of a way to assuage his pain, however, he bowed his head, breaking eye contact. Speaking almost too softly for her to hear, he didn't look up at her as he asked, "Lois, if…if things had been different…do you think…?"
Lois reached up to caress his cheek, waiting until he looked up her from under the fringe of his bangs to reply. It would have been easy for her to give him the answer she knew he wanted to hear, but, after everything they'd been through in the last couple of days, he deserved the truth. So she took a moment and really thought about the question she knew he was trying to ask.
If her heart hadn't been given away a long time ago, would it have been so difficult to fall in love with him? It was hard to put aside her anger at his culpability in putting her in this untenable situation, but once she'd managed to do so, she considered the man in front of her as dispassionately as possible.
Her comments from the night before – that there had been more than a hint of cowardice in some of the decisions he'd made in his life – still held true, in her mind. She firmly believed that fear had been the true motivation for him to give up his powers, and she wouldn't have been surprised to find that a similar fear had fueled his subsequent internal debate about whether he should quit playing the game he loved so much, before his accident had taken the decision out of his hands.
Still, with all that, she couldn't deny that there was something remarkable about him. She thought about the way he had offered unconditional support and assistance from the very moment they'd met. Certainly, he'd asked her if she might love him some day, but he hadn't demanded it – or anything else – of her. Instead, though her presence had to be a constant reminder of his own apparent insufficiencies, he had stood by her side and done his best to help her in whatever way he could – even going so far as to accompany her to a confrontation she knew he would have done anything to avoid for both physical and personal reasons.
There was little doubt that he had been a better friend to her than she had been to him, but his attitude towards her wasn't the only admirable thing about him. She had seen him interact with several people during her time in this version of Smallville, and it was obvious that he embodied the same kindness and compassion that had caused her to fall in love with her fiancé in the first place.
Perhaps, it could be argued, this Clark's loyalty, his willingness to always find the best in people, was even more pronounced than in the man she loved. After all, she knew better than anyone the self-doubt her Clark felt about his role in forming the man who had become his arch-nemesis. Though there was sufficient evidence, in her world, that Lex Luthor chose the path to an inner darkness that had eventually consumed him, Clark could not help but wonder what part his unwillingness to give his former friend another chance had played in the man he had become.
She saw so much of the man she loved in the man before her; it wasn't difficult at all to imagine that, in another world, in another life, he would have easily stolen her heart.
With all of his faults (and, considering she was hardly perfect herself, she had probably been rather harsher at cataloging them than she'd needed to be), he was a remarkable man. He simply wasn't hers.
In the silence that had fallen while she had been distracted by self-contemplation, Clark's expression had turned from anxious to sad, and now it bordered on tortured. Taking a deep breath, Lois stroked the pads of her thumbs gently across his cheeks and whispered, "No, Clark. I don't think it would have taken very much at all for me to fall in love with you."
The shadows were dark in his eyes when he straightened and looked down for her, and Lois leaned forward and brushed her lips against Clark's in a soft kiss – the first and last the two of them would share. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, with unrealized possibilities, with the hint of a destiny unfulfilled. Mostly, however, it was a kiss goodbye.
Pulling back from him, she turned to see the familiar white light spill over the horizon, heading in her direction. He had actually done it. Though she knew it was the last thing he would have wished for, he had actually let her go. Looking back at him over her shoulder, her eyes wet with tears, she couldn't restrain her laugh of pure joy or the exultant smile – the first real smile she'd had for days. She wanted to thank him for everything he'd been and everything he'd done for her in the last few days, but there simply wasn't time. So, as the light washed over her, she closed her eyes against its brightness and whispered, "Thank you…Superman."