Author: Alison
Disclaimer: Characters belong to DC, CW, AlMiles, etc., etc., etc. I only own the story and a stuffed voodoo Jack Sparrow doll from a McDonald's Happy Meal.
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Chapter 11
The warm cup of coffee felt good in her hands. She brought the mug to her lips, hesitating as she closed her eyes and breathed the comforting aroma.
She walked from her kitchen island to the coffee table. The box was still sitting in the same spot. She'd been so nervous after running into both of them, she had to take a quick shower to calm her nerves as soon as she got home.
The small but building flame in the fireplace crackled as she sat on the rug, her hair still wet from the shower. She set her mug on the coffee table next to her and reached for the box, picking it up and placing in front of her on the rug.
She took a deep breath and slowly removed the lid.
She didn't know why it happened. But there it was.
That warm tingly feeling. The goosebumps.
The flutter.
This was going to be harder than she thought.
She only wanted to do something for him. Something to show him that she was there…that she understood what he was going through.
The pictures she'd thrown in when he caught her earlier at the farmhouse still lay on top. Reaching in, she picked up a handful and carefully began flipping through them.
She gently looked over each one. They were all separate memories. One of Clark and his dad in front of the school bus at the end of that dirt lane, with "Clark's first day of school" scribbled in his mother's neat handwriting on the back. Another of a junior high age Clark and his dad tossing a football outside the barn. She couldn't help but smile and softly laugh at each one.
Then, as she slowly moved the picture of Clark and his dad lifting hay bales in the barn, her heart sank.
There, near the bottom of the picture stack was a tattered and creased photo of him and his dad on the old blue tractor. He couldn't have been more than six or seven years old as he sat in his father's lap, waving at the camera, that huge Kent smile spread across both their faces.
She felt it in her throat first. She tried her best to swallow. She tried her best to sniff it away. But it was no use.
She didn't even know it was falling until it was halfway down her cheek.
She quickly moved on to the next picture, a recent family photo. They were all standing on the porch of the old farmhouse, the sun reflecting off their faces. He and his father both had the Kent grin and his mother had her famous knowing-mother smile.
She couldn't help but think of her own family. She couldn't remember the last time they were even all together for a family picture. It was probably before her mother died. She doesn't remember one of just her with the General and Lucy.
No, after her mother died, so did the family portraits.
An ember crackled in the fireplace as she glanced up at the dancing flames, her mind drifting back to the last time she remembered a family picture. It was the one her dad kept on his desk at the base. Lucy wasn't born yet. It was only her and her parents. Her mom made her wear the most ridiculous dress, all frilly and girly, complete with black patent leather shoes and lacy socks. Everyone thought she was adorable, but she couldn't stand being in a dress for any length of time.
She squirmed until her father sternly told her to sit still. Her mother placed a hand on his arm and smiled, saying, "Honey, she's a child. She's not supposed to like sitting with her parents for pictures."
How she'd give anything to go back to that day and sit with them again. She'd sit still for as long as possible.
"Lois?"
She froze.
That wasn't the voice she usually heard behind her back when she was lost in her thoughts.
She quickly wiped the tears from her face and sniffed, but didn't dare turn around. She wasn't sure how red her face was and she didn't want anyone to see just yet how hard she'd been crying.
"Lois, are you okay?"
Oh no.
The footsteps came closer to where she sat in the floor. She closed her eyes as she realized she'd been caught.
"Lana. What are you doing here?"
"She came with me. I hope that's alright."
Chloe softly closed the door as she walked in the tiny apartment. She moved to where Lana stood next to Lois in the floor.
She could handle Chloe. After all, she was her cousin and had seen her at her worst. But Lana? Were they even friends? They were at most acquaintances, especially now that she was with Lex, who was, by all her accounts, her mortal enemy, especially after that muffin-peddlin' comment. That was gonna stick with her for years.
She sighed as she placed the remaining handful of photos back in the box.
"Yeah, Chlo. It's fine."
She kept her head down as she spoke. She could still feel the wetness in her eyes and was terrified a tear would fall if she looked up at either of them.
She knew they were watching her. She knew they were exchanging worried glances with each other.
But she couldn't move. She couldn't say anything. She just wanted to sit and go through the pictures.
After all, she'd said it to him before. They help bring the past to life and remind us that no one is ever really gone. At least not as long as you have the memories.
And they were reminding her of so many of her own family's memories, she just wasn't ready to stop.
"So, Lois? Should we get started? I brought some newspaper clippings from the Ledger and other newspapers."
"Yeah, and I brought my scrapbooking stuff. If you want to use it, that is."
Why were they being so nice? Why was Lana being so nice? And offering her scrapbooking things? This was her project, not Lana's.
No. Don't do that, Lane. Don't go there. She's only trying to help.
She took a deep breath and looked up at them, worried expressions etched on their faces.
"Sure. That sounds great."
She didn't mean for her voice to crack. She also didn't mean for them to see that tear fall.
But they did.
Chloe set the folder of newspaper clippings on the coffee table and sat in the floor next to her cousin, crossing her legs and moving the pictures aside.
"Lois, what's wrong? Has something happened?"
She didn't want to talk about it, especially not with Lana there. Not with the history she had with Clark.
But as she glanced down at the torn picture of the old blue tractor and his chubby little cheeks and his father's wonderful smile, she just couldn't help it.
She sighed and rolled her eyes, attempting in vain to smile through the tears.
"It's just all driving me crazy, Chlo. It's like the anniversary all over again. I just can't help it."
Lana walked around the coffee table and sat on the edge of the couch. She reached in her purse and pulled out a tissue, handing it to Lois.
Chloe put a hand on Lois' back, lightly scratching it as Lois took the tissue and dabbed it at her eyes.
"Lois, it's okay. Mr. Kent's death was a shock for all of us."
"But it's not just that, Chloe. It's everything. It's all of this." She gestured to the pictures scattered in the box and the floor in front of them. "This shouldn't be that difficult for me, but it is. And I don't know why. But every time I see a picture of Clark and his dad I start to cry." She turned to look at her cousin as she pointed to herself. "And you know me, Chlo. I don't cry."
Chloe smiled weakly as she looked from Lois to Lana.
"I know, Lois. But sometimes, you have to."
"Lois?"
Great. What 'advice' was she going to give?
She ignored her as she continued.
"Lois, when my parents died, I cried for months. I'd wake up in the middle of the night crying. I'd cry at the slightest memory of them. Just looking at a flower or hearing a certain song would set off the tears." Like she didn't know any of this. Hello? Her mom died when she was six. She knew all about that. "But…I think you might be crying for another reason."
What?
"Whatd'ya mean?"
She didn't want to know. What did Lana think? Did Lana know about the nights she and Clark had fallen asleep together? Did she know how close they'd gotten lately? Did she even care?
"I mean…I think you're crying for Clark."
Um.
Talk about an uncomfortable silence. This had to be the mother of them all.
"Clark? Why would I--"
"Lois, I think we all know the reason for that."
What was Chloe talking about? They all knew?
She didn't even want to look at Lana.
"Chloe, I don't know what you're talking about."
She tried to manage a laugh, but it was no use. Her emotions were running too high for that. As hard as she tried to stifle it, she just couldn't hold back the tears.
In a way she was grateful for having them there. Yes, for having both of them there. Lana might not have been one of her best friends, but she was still a girl who'd lost her parents at a young age. So, at least she could relate in that aspect. She'd also dealt with Clark and his weirdness.
Maybe that's why, in that instant, in that moment of weakness, she let the tears fall in front of them. She slowly raised her hand to her face as Chloe pulled her over into her arms.
Lana slid off the couch into the floor next to Lois. She placed a comforting hand on Lois' shoulder. What Lois never saw, but would later hear about, was the lone tear that fell down Lana's face as the three sat in the little apartment.
For no matter how much she tried to avoid it, she somehow knew she wouldn't be able to stop the tears that night. As they looked over each picture and laughed and cried over each memory and story of his father, she silently began to believe Lana's words.
She really was crying, and had been since the beginning, for him.
