"I didn't realize you had a death wish."
Clark smirked at that. "I don't."
Anger rising inside her at his confident attitude, she began to storm towards him, only to find herself crashing into over 6 feet of muscle that refused to budge.
"Let. me. out," she seethed.
"We have some things we need to talk about. With the way you've been avoiding me, I figured my only chance was making sure you were a captive audience."
Lois took a deep breath, her frustration mounting.
"I am not avoiding you. Wow, you have some ego there, Clark," she snapped a little too harshly, irritated that he'd figured her out.
"Yes, you have been," he responded calmly, noticing the annoyed twitch of her lips as he did so. "And it ends, now. We need to talk about this, Lois," he finished, his voice softening slightly.
He noticed her eyes flash…something. Hurt? Sadness? But as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and the stubbornness was firmly back in place.
"You can talk all you want. I've got work to do," she huffed, turning on her heel sharply and heading back to the filing cabinet, her long hair swaying behind her.
He felt his pulse ramp up as he watched her try to ignore him and simply file articles away. She was the only woman he'd ever met that could make him want to strangle her, throw her up against a wall and kiss her, and cradle her in his arms and protect her from the evils of the world – which, of course, she would rail against, making it all the more important to him - in the span of mere moments.
"Lois…"
He shook his head as he heard her start to hum. Loudly.
"Lois!"
This, as he should have known, only caused her to hum that much more loudly. And tunelessly, if that was possible.
Feeling his own frustration start to creep up on him, Clark ran his hand roughly through his hair. He took a few steps closer to her, bringing himself to within an arm's reach of her.
"You're wrong about me and Lana!" he shouted.
Silence.
After a moment, he heard Lois clear her throat and saw her head shake ever so slightly.
"Well I'm sure it's only a matter of time before you're back together, Clark, don't worry. So if this whole 'captive audience' thing is really me having to put up with you brooding over her…"
"We're not getting back together," he stated simply, interrupting what he was sure was going to turn into one of her infamous rants on the perils of moping and his broody inclinations.
Lois bit her lip in response, her back still to him. She refused to let herself indulge in the relief that had washed over her at his comment, sure that there was more to it. Like Lana was being stubborn and not deigning to let him back in her life yet, so he had to be on begging duty for a few more days, even though she was the one who'd dumped him.
Or something like that.
The thing was, she didn't hear that telltale self-pity in his voice. Or even a hint of sadness.
"In fact, Lana's on her way to Hawaii right now."
His comment is met with another bout of silence.
"What, no comment?"
She shrugged. "Don't know what you want me to say."
"How about, 'I guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion and I'm sorry I've been basically refusing to talk to you because of it since I've been back'? Yeah, that sounds like a good start to me."
She slammed the file cabinet shut and finally turned to look at him. "You know, the world doesn't revolve around you, Clark. My world does not revolve around you. I was out of commission for weeks, did you ever think that, oh I don't know, I've been busy trying to catch up?"
"I know that's what you've been telling me, but I don't buy it."
"Oh well, I'm sorry that my reasons for not having a heart-to-heart with you don't meet with your approval."
"You thought I was back together with Lana, and you know what? That was my fault because I should have cleared things up in at least one of the phone messages I left."
"That's cute, that you actually think I care about your love life," she snarked, hoping Clark doesn't pick up on the total false bravado in her voice.
"Lois…stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop acting like nothing happened," he said, his voice quiet yet determined.
Her eyes darted around the room at that, and Clark sensed she was trying to hatch some sort of escape plan, clearly wanting to avoid any further conversation on the subject.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, walking purposefully over to another set of filing cabinets and quickly opening a drawer, beginning to absently flip through the files.
"Yes, you do."
"Clearly, I don't," she replied in her best attempt at nonchalance, still making a show of working on her filing.
Gritting his teeth in frustration, he walked up behind her, leaving only a small amount of space between them.
"The wedding, Lois."
She felt him behind her, the heat from his body radiating from the short distance he was away from her.
"What about it?" she asked, continuing to evade what she knew he was driving at.
He reached out and gently grasped her arm, knowing that it probably wasn't the smartest thing he could do but feeling like it was the only way to reach her at the moment.
"Something changed between us that night, Lois."
Feeling her heartbeat speed up, annoyingly in her mind, at his touch, she attempted her best blank expression and turned to face him.
"I'm still lost, here, Clark," she said, trying to brush him off.
He shook his head at her, and Lois could clearly see his seemingly endless supply of patience wearing thin.
"No, you're not," he responded, his tone measured, calm. "I know you felt it too, Lois. There was …something there."
For a moment, he saw a flash of sadness in her eyes. But as quickly as it was there, she blinked it away, snatching her arm from his grasp and making her way around him, walking toward the other side of the room, keeping her back to him.
"Weddings do funny things to people, especially single people."
"It was more than that," Clark insisted.
"No, it wasn't," she shot back sharply, suddenly whirling to face him. "And even if it was, and, I'm not admitting to anything here, but if there was something between us that night, it obviously doesn't matter."
"Why not?" he snapped back, his voice rising along with his temper.
"Because I saw the look on your face, Clark!"
He swayed back slightly at that, almost like he had taken a hit, watching her as her own words hit her ears, the realization that she'd so passionately said them causing her to close her eyes momentarily and shake her head. When she opened them again, he could see the sadness he'd glimpsed before permeating her hazel orbs.
"You're still in love with her," she said quietly, her tone changed from her outburst moments before to an almost quiet anguish. One that twisted his heart so painfully that he wished she was yelling instead. Her anger he could take.
Her pain? That was something else entirely. And thinking back, in that moment, it occurred to him that, in the few vulnerable moments she'd allowed him to see her heartache in all the time they'd known each other, each and every time his instinctual reaction was to stop it. To stop her from hurting because her pain, out of everyone he'd ever known, it was too much for him to bear. Maybe because she was so tough on the outside, insisting nothing ever bothered her, but he knew differently. Maybe because despite the blows life had dealt her, she tried to pick herself up, to be self-sufficient and independent as her father had taught her, so when she suffered a bout of heartache, it was that much more real.
Maybe because, for so long he'd shied away from being a hero, but if he allowed himself to admit it, he wanted to be hers.
And now he was the cause of her pain.
The silence began to stretch between them as he continued to watch her closely. Her eyes focused on the floor, refusing to look at him, not wanting him to see her without her walls fully intact.
He'd lost that right, and that crushed him.
Only one thought raced through his mind.
Fix it.
He took a few steps toward her, unsurprised to see her stand her ground. That's who she was, and it was one of the things he'd always admired about her.
Reaching out, he tenderly placed his fingers under her chin, gently lifting, forcing her to look at him.
As soon as their eyes met, he could see her bury the sadness that had emanated from them, an attempt to cover, to hide. In its place was a spark of the fiery determination he loved, causing the corner of his lips to lift slightly, a grin sneaking onto his face.
With his next breath, he uttered two words. Two simple words that he knew wouldn't be nearly enough, but it would be a start.
"You're wrong."
