PART TWO (LOVERS), CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Hey, Lane, are you in here?" chuckled Dinah, tugging Bruce along behind her as she made her way through the door. "Your maid of honor hasn't seen you for all of fifteen minutes and now he's convinced he's being remiss in his duties…"
Dinah trailed off and her amusement quickly faded as she and Bruce came upon the scene in the party plane's VIP suite. They observed Lois and Oliver retreating from each other - the former taking a step back; the latter, several. Both were missing layers of clothes - Lois was down to her camisole; Oliver, down to his dress shirt, which was messed and mostly unbuttoned. Lois's no longer bespectacled eyes were watery and red, and Oliver, whose back was turned as he withdrew out of the sitting area, was wiping at the undersides of his eyelids.
Several seconds passed before anyone said or did anything.
Finally, both Bruce and Dinah were incited to action. Bruce turned to shut the suite door and then approached Lois. Dinah began heading toward Oliver.
"What's the matter?" asked Bruce, his tone gentle as he addressed Lois but his gaze severe as he glanced over at Oliver.
Lois, flustered, barely heard Bruce; she'd been focused on Dinah from the moment she'd entered the suite. "N-Nothing. Nothing's the matter," she thus absently told Bruce, her eyes still on Dinah as she passed by her on her way to Oliver. "I was just, um, I-I was gonna work on my vows. But… Dinah, this isn't -"
Abruptly, Dinah stopped, turned on her heel, and held up a discouraging finger to warn Lois against continuing. "- You know the cliff edge I'm far too liberal-minded to give a shit about you and Oliver playing near?" she said to her, her voice as harsh as her gaze. "I'll throw you over it myself if you insult me by finishing that sentence with 'what it looks like.' I know exactly what the hell this -" - gesturing between Lois and Oliver - "- is. But, for the record, 'platonic' is still the last goddamn thing anybody but you would call it."
Lois neither could nor would say anything in response.
Dinah resumed her path toward Oliver while Bruce removed his suit jacket and helped Lois on with it.
Oliver tensed as Dinah arrived at his side. He could sense the chill in her glare and the menace in her bearing.
"What have you done?" she all-too evenly asked him.
"He hasn't done anything," insisted Lois, whose attempt to go to the couple on the other side of the suite was prevented by Bruce's arms circling her waist, holding her back.
Dinah didn't so much as acknowledge Lois's interjection. Oliver sighed, looked farther off from Dinah. After a pregnant pause, though, he steeled himself and he met her gaze in order to say aloud what she already knew: "I don't want her marrying him."
At that, Dinah exhaled a sharp breath and stalked off out of the suite.
In the meantime, something within Bruce snapped. "What did you just say?" he demanded of Oliver, letting Lois go and slowly advancing on the other man.
Bruce's blatant hostility further provoked an already piqued Oliver. Squaring himself to Bruce, Oliver thus assumed a similarly belligerent attitude as he returned, "I said I don't want her marrying that son of a bitch. I said the least I can do to atone for standing by while he humiliated, exploited, and jeopardized her is stop her from promising her life to him."
"And is that what you've been telling her? Is that why there are tears in her eyes?"
Lois panicked. There was no mistaking the end toward which Bruce and Oliver were headed, but she went after Dinah instead.
Dinah had left the suite door slightly ajar, and as Lois peered out of it, she saw Dinah grabbing one of their more sober friends off the club space's dance floor, saying something to her, and gesturing over her shoulder toward the suite. Assuming that Dinah was charging their friend with guarding the lockless door, Lois turned back and hurried to Bruce, who'd removed his vest, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and gone to stand directly opposite Oliver.
"Get out of my face," snarled Oliver to the slightly taller but distinctly broader man.
Bruce, with simmering indignation, returned, "I'll do no such thing. You have had months to voice whatever objections you have. To unburden yourself now serves only you, not her."
"And how the hell would you know that? You weren't around back when that piece of shit was lying to her day in and day out, so don't stand here pretending righteousness. Not when we both know that had you been in her life then, had you been at the hospital the night he got her attacked, you would've found whatever meteor rock leveled you two and you would've thrashed him to within an inch of his life - to say nothing of what you would've done to him had she died."
Bruce encroached still farther on Oliver as Lois reached for his right hand, which was clenching into a fist. "If you think me likely to have dealt with Kent in such a manner," he seethed, his voice suggesting every bit of the violence of which he was capable, "then what means do you suppose I'll resort to if you continue upsetting her?"
Eyes sharpening and shoulders setting, Oliver countered, "Is that a threat?"
"I don't make threats."
"Careful, Bruce. It's been a long time since you've taken a hit that wasn't absorbed by Kevlar plates and titanium-laced fabrics. Maybe you should suit up before I give you the beating you're asking for -"
Lois tried and failed to insinuate herself between them in time.
Bruce pulled his hand free from Lois's grasp and swung for Oliver's face. Oliver anticipated him, but not enough to duck him entirely. He reeled a bit as Bruce's fist glanced off his cheek. Bruce took to the advantage and set upon Oliver, grabbing the back of his neck, wrenching him forward, and kneeing him in the stomach. Lois yelled something incoherent as Bruce persisted by bringing an elbow down onto Oliver's bent back. Oliver grunted from the impact and fell to a knee, but the adrenaline flooding his system numbed his pain and he rallied. Shouting his fury, he caught Bruce about the waist and lunged up into him. Bruce's body was in the air for only a moment before Oliver drove him into the nearest wall and then slammed him down onto the floor. The wind knocked from his lungs, Bruce could do little to deflect the hail of blows that Oliver then laid into his sides. Soon, however, he recovered his breath and managed to seize Oliver by the throat. Oliver nonetheless struggled free and he and Bruce proceeded to grapple furiously, each intending the other far more harm than he'd thus far done him.
Lois stood over them, pleading with them to stop. Her instincts told her to intervene, throw herself into the fray, but she knew she'd only exacerbate matters were she to get hurt in the process. Before long, though, Bruce had Oliver pinned down to the floor and was cocking his fist in order to deliver what was certain to be a decisive blow. Without a second thought, Lois hurtled forward, only to be caught by her shoulders and hauled backward.
Having forced Lois behind her and out of the way, Dinah stepped forward over Bruce and Oliver. "Knock it off!" she yelled at them, keening her vocal cords in such a way that an inaudible, though nonetheless piercing, cry accompanied her command.
Lois watched as Bruce was halted mid-strike and both he and Oliver, exclaiming in distress, clasped the sides of their heads and collapsed from the terrible reverberating in their ears.
With the two men incapacitated, Lois and Dinah began pulling them apart. Although, whereas Lois was careful in helping Bruce to his feet, Dinah yanked Oliver upright and then shoved him away from the two others.
"You are so fucking predictable!" fumed Dinah, advancing on Oliver as he stumbled backward. "Less than six hours at this wedding and you're already having exactly the meltdown I knew you would!"
Oliver was in no humor to be berated. His ears were still ringing, his breaths were still coming in pants, and his emotions were still wrought. "You know what, save it!" he thus returned. "This has nothing to do with me! This is about her! This is about -"
"- I am not arguing with you, Oliver. Shut up!"
"For whose sake? All four of us know I'm in the right about this, so who is it you're protecting? Can't be Clark. Not unless you've forgotten spending the eleven pre-revelation months of his and Lois's relationship refusing to have anything to do with either him or Chloe! -
"My god, it is beyond me that you've survived this long into adulthood being so goddamn sensitive!"
"- And what was your reason?" demanded Oliver, shouting right back at the woman in his face. "Principle! Principle, plain and simple! Lois was nothing more to you then than a leftist loudmouth who also happened to be my ex, but if Chloe and Clark could so deliberately betray the trust of someone as close to them as her, then what faith could you have in their loyalty to you? And besides that, as you've always said, the only thing you have even less tolerance for than people who lie to loved ones is people who lie to themselves! For Christ's sake, Birdie, you were on Lois's side before you two ever learned to agree on something other than me, so don't expect me to believe that you of all people have suddenly become a Clark Kent apologist!"
Shoving Oliver a second and still rougher time, Dinah thundered at him, "I don't expect you to believe anything! I expect you to shut the hell up!"
Just then, the suite door again flew open and Daniel Lance, having insisted his way past the guard Dinah had posted outside, hurried inside. Directing not even a passing glance at Lois and Bruce, Daniel immediately progressed toward his sister, asking her what was wrong. Before she could answer, though, he glimpsed behind her at Oliver, who appeared more put out than he'd ever seen him before. "Are you two arguing?" he consequently asked Dinah, both his concern and his confusion plain. "You just worked things out at lunch. How can you be -"
"- Get out of here, Danny!"
"No," he flatly replied, although his brotherly proprieties trumped even his inebriation as he fought his twin only halfheartedly in dragging him back toward the suite door. "You were upset, I could feel it. And now, you look pissed. Tell me what's going on."
"Bridal party business. Go."
In the doorway, Daniel finally stopped and stood firm. Looking over at Oliver, who'd turned away, he asked his sister, "Are you sure? Because if he's done something, anything to make you -"
"- He hasn't, Danny. Now, please, stay out!"
Having shut the door in her brother's grudging, though nevertheless resigned, face, Dinah huffed, closed her eyes, and took a full minute to calm her temper.
In the quiet of the suite, she then turned to survey her setting. Lois was tending to Bruce despite his gentle insistence that there was no need, and she was also peering over at Oliver every few seconds, observing him for signs of injury. Oliver had made his way to a far corner in the bedroom area and was staring out of a tinted window, his gaze and his mind as far away as the horizon. His breaths had begun to even out, but were a tab hitchy due to the throbbing in his midsection. The red in his cheeks had begun to dissipate, but it remained in and around his eyes. He appeared composed, though nonetheless desolate. After taking a breath, Dinah slowly began her walk back to him. As she passed by Lois, she received a tip of the head in Oliver's direction and a look of worry. She answered it with a look of reassurance.
In arriving next to Oliver, Dinah faced his side and fixed her eyes on his profile. When a few beats had passed, she asked him, "Have you gotten everything off your chest?"
Bristling, Oliver shifted his weight.
"Do spare me the petulance, love," Dinah told him, a threatening edge to her tone. "If there's anything you've left unsaid, then now is the time to make it known. So, I'll ask you again, do you feel Lane is in any way unclear about your objections?"
Oliver shifted again, but in thought rather than in offense. Ultimately, he responded to Dinah with a slight shake of his head.
"Good, then. Because I doubt you could've aired how deeply you loath Clark without also airing how misguidedly you blame yourself. Can I assume Lane has replied to both?"
Oliver offered no answer.
"I'll take that as a yes. And now, since you've finally heard her, it's time you finally listen to me."
Long moments passed before Oliver would allow himself to submit. In the end, he did so not for his own sake, but for Lois's. Exhaling a breath, he thus turned his head and looked Dinah in the eye.
"That burn in your veins - it is every bit as much guilt as it is frustration," said Dinah, her manner direct and disinterested. "As for your guilt: Oliver, what happened to Lois was not your fault because Clark's secrets were not yours to tell and Clark's lies were not your responsibility to reveal. Lois is as important as important gets to you, so it's entirely natural that you regret not taking more drastic action on her behalf. But while your regret is founded, your guilt is not. You were forced to suffer Clark's selfishness and self-delusion every bit as much as Lois was. That makes you an injured party, not a liable one. Which is why you have nothing to punish yourself or to apologize to her for. As for your frustration: Oliver, you don't understand how Lois could forgive Clark for the position he put her in because you can't forgive him for the position he put you in. And there is nothing wrong with that. You two experienced Clark's duplicity from entirely different perspectives: inside looking out as opposed to outside looking in. That difference is why she has as much reason for wanting to stay as you do for wanting her to leave. Which means it is as much in her interest as in yours for you to stop trying to make sense of why she's still with him. You'll never understand it - if for no other reason than that you're simply not like her. None of us are."
Crossing her arms, Dinah took a harsher tone as she concluded, "What you can understand, though, is this: Lois didn't ask you to be in her wedding because she needs you to support her relationship. She's no fool; she's always known what you think of Clark and why. What she needs you here for is to support her, to help her. Because she enjoys few things more than she enjoys you, and because surviving this weekend seems far less daunting to her with you around… But what you're doing right now, Oliver, is so not helping."
As always, Dinah had a way of getting through to Oliver more efficiently than anyone else was able to. In the nearly two years since the attempt on Lois's life, he'd only ever judged his bystander's role in the months preceding it as tantamount to that of an offender, not to that of an offended. Indeed, how could he view matters otherwise? He cared far too deeply for Lois to absolve himself for his complicity in the circumstances that he had the power, even if not the right, to change.
However, in both Lois's and Dinah's views - the former subjective, the latter not - he was blameless not only for what Lois had unwittingly endured but also for his scorn of the man who'd put her through it. Thus, gradually and not without difficulty, he finally began to allow himself the forgiveness he'd long refused: his own.
Of his change of feeling toward himself, though, Oliver said nothing. Instead, he solemnly articulated to Dinah a sentiment that comprised the whole of his unshakable grievance against Clark: "…He doesn't love her like I do."
Dinah sighed at him and shook her head a bit. However, before quitting his side without so much as a comforting squeeze of his shoulder, she returned with what he nevertheless knew to be her sympathies, "Nobody loves her like you do."
No sooner had Dinah left than Lois appeared, wrapping her arms around Oliver. He welcomed her embrace, apologized for his volume, his vulgarity. She told him there was nothing to be sorry for, but forgave him in any case.
Meanwhile, Dinah took a seat over on the sofa, allowing Lois and Oliver their resolution. Bruce stood nearby, peering down at Dinah as she settled in and then back at Lois as she fussed over Oliver, asking him if he was hurt and how badly. The contrast between how the two women related to Oliver struck him. Where one was brusque, intolerant, the other was gentle, indulgent. Nevertheless, the depth of feeling for Oliver was no less palpable from Dinah than from Lois. The observation confounded Bruce. To his understanding, only by tenderness did one convey compassion. However, in defiance of that conviction, he'd witnessed in aggression and in candor as affecting a display of concern as any he'd ever seen. It would seem, therefore, that in quieting Oliver, the person who Dinah was protecting was in fact Oliver himself. She abided his anguish no more than Lois. She simply demonstrated as much in a manner less readily apparent to those either unfamiliar with or unappreciative of the harsher forms of affection.
In consequence of his musings, Bruce couldn't but consider Diana Prince. To even acknowledge his presence appeared to repulse her. And yet, there were moments - a glance in his direction across a crowded room; a change in her posture when he walked by - that could suggest she wasn't of only one mind about him. Perhaps, then, his regard for her hadn't ceased to be reciprocated. Perhaps, then, the current distance between them was intended as some sort of mercy, or even as some sort of lesson that, if learned, could lead to… But no. She'd gone off him, he determined. There was no other conclusion to draw following their exchange just before the ceremony rehearsal that morning. If anything, that he ever supposed some error on his part to be the cause of their estrangement betrayed him vain, presuming in his sway over her sensibilities. Fact was, Diana's affinity for him had simply faded; their time as intimates had simply passed.
Before Bruce's self-deprecating could further devolve into self-loathing, his attention was drawn back to Dinah as she cleared her throat at him for a second time and patted the seat cushion next to her. Taking her cue, Bruce sat down beside her. Dinah then rested a hand on his knee and leaned into him, whispering, "You do realize, of course, that if I find you've caused Mr. Queen any lasting pain, I'll have to permanently deprive you of your hearing?"
Bruce, grateful for Dinah's unintended distraction, nodded in receipt of her message as he draped his arm onto the sofa back behind her and she relaxed against his side.
The two watched and waited as Lois led Oliver to the suite's bathroom, where he washed the tears and sweat from his face and she tidied his hair and clothes. When they re-emerged several minutes later, Oliver went to Bruce, who rose to his feet and shook his outstretched hand, thus quashing their dispute without a word. Turning to Dinah, Oliver then asked her, "Are we okay?"
Dinah stood and pressed a kiss to his lips, answering his question. "You do owe my brother an explanation, though," she added. As Oliver tipped his head in agreement, Dinah then addressed Lois, telling her that the two men were coming with her and that she was to stay put. Both Lois and Bruce took exception, the former protesting against a timeout and the latter protesting against leaving her.
Dinah chafed, retorting, "Is there some lack of authority in my tone that leads people to think I'm inviting discussion when, in fact, I'm giving orders?"
Lois rolled her eyes and Bruce, prompted by a nudge from Oliver, remained similarly silent.
"Yeah, I didn't think so," returned Dinah. "So, Lane, enjoy the peace and quiet. Cue up some music, doodle in your sketchpad, lie down for a nap - whatever moves you. But I don't want to see you outside this suite until we land. Understood?"
"Does the phrase 'Va te faire foutre' mean anything to you?"
"As a matter of fact, Frenchy, it does."
After Oliver had kissed Lois's cheek and then followed Dinah out of the suite, Bruce assured Lois that he'd be just on the opposite side of the door, making sure no one disturbed her - although, by "no one," he undoubtedly meant Clark. Lois nodded her acknowledgment and began removing Bruce's suit jacket in order to return it to him. He resisted, however, telling her he'd rather she hang on to it.
"In case you need it," he explained.
Almost immediately after her bridal party had departed, Lois realized that Dinah had been keen in demanding that she hang back by herself. She'd been wearied by emotional exertion. Her head ached and her eyes stung. Moreover, she was certain she looked as worn as she felt. Such a state would go unnoticed by no one and would surely cast a pall over the bachelor party. In the end, though, Lois admitted to herself the underlying basis for her acceptance of her seclusion: She was by no means prepared to encounter her betrothed just yet, not with Oliver's condemnation of his character and his conduct still foremost in her thoughts.
Taking Dinah's initial suggestion, Lois thus went to her purse, took out her phone, and pulled up an album featuring her favorite vocalist. Having pressed play, she hummed along to soothing jazz while she went about washing up and neatening her appearance. Once satisfied that she looked presentable, she slipped Bruce's jacket back on over her re-donned button-down. The jacket's lines and seams naturally lured her notice, and she spent a minute or two re-inspecting her handiwork. While doing so, a small chuckle escaped her as she recalled the first men's suit she'd ever designed and constructed. It'd been a project proposed by her mother, who'd begun worrying about then-seven-year-old Lois's increasing unruliness, but who'd noticed that her daughter remained perfectly calm and content for the short time it took her to mend and even improve whatever in their home she'd found in disrepair. One day, while taking Lois out fabric shopping with her, she'd told her that Aimée had come to suspect that Lois was in fact a budding fellow creative and that her restlessness was in fact artistic energy in need of expression.
At the time, Lois had had no idea what her mother meant. She'd always enjoyed her mother's sewing lessons and had quickly taken to every new instruction, but she'd never thought of sewing as anything but a practical skill, especially given that her mother, though adept, rarely constructed entire pieces or ensembles. With a doting laugh, her mother had explained that her disposition toward seamstry didn't have to be Lois's too, and she'd proceeded to ask her how she'd feel about joining forces to create a suit to welcome her father with when next he was on leave.
Nearly twenty years later, Lois could still remember thinking there'd never been a better idea in the history of ideas, and she could still remember her mother's happiness in witnessing the moment she embraced her gift. Such reminiscence couldn't but offer Lois relief from the stress of present events. However, in thinking on her mother's concerns for her mental well-being, she also found herself recalling her concerns for her emotional well-being. And something that Oliver had said to her, something that he'd all but apologized for just prior to Dinah and Bruce happening upon them, echoed all too eerily the refrain her mother uttered to her with increasing frequency after learning that her cancer was terminal:
Aucun homme est un ange…
No man is an angel…
Bolting up from the recliner in which she'd seated herself, Lois shook her head in rejection of her line of thought. She needed a diversion, a comfort.
After contemplating her options for a brief moment, she scrambled over to the corded phone resting atop the suite's bedside table. Having picked up the line and dialed a number by heart, she then listened to just one ring before her sister answered her call.
