~*~

…eight…

~*~

Four and a half minutes.

That's how long it took for Lois to start screaming at him.

She'd just fallen a shade under thirty feet. She had bruises on her shoulder and upper arm. She was in shock. But none of that seemed to get in the way when it came to tearing him a new one.

"Answers!" she yelled, "I want answers! We'll start with what the hell are you doing here? Who shot you? What is this place? Did you really have to pull me in with you, and who cut this rope?"

She held up the end of the rope and Clark could clearly see that it wasn't frayed… it was sliced most of the way through. A sneaking suspicion crept into his mind.

"That's not the rope you brought with you, is it?"

"No," Lois confirmed those suspicions, "It was already tied to a pipe down the tunnel."

Clark nodded. Chloe had even planned for the contingency of someone finding him. They'd stumble on the rope, toss it down, and the rope would snap. Clark couldn't believe the level Chloe had gone to. He could almost picture her at her laptop, calculating his weight and how much force it would take to sever the rope. He grunted as his anger settled into a low, deep boil that he was sure would explode the next time he laid eyes on his 'best friend'.

"I'm waiting," said Lois.

She had her hands on her hips, and was tapping her foot. Clark sighed. He could give her the cliff-notes version, he supposed. She deserved that much, at least.

"This is one of Lex's old facilities," he told her, "They used to keep people with meteor-abilities in here while they experimented on them."

"Are you a meteor freak?"

"What?"

"Why else would you be down here?"

"It's abandoned, Lois," he said, "I don't know for how long."

"Then what…?"

"I don't think you want to hear it."

"Guess again."

"I'm serious, Lois. You don't want to know who put me here."

"Why not?"

"You just… you just don't."

"I'm sorry, but that's not good enough," she didn't sound angry. If anything, she just sounded… resigned, "Usually… I'd let you keep your secrets. They're yours to keep, and I trust that you wouldn't hide things from me just to be malicious, but… Clark, someone shot you. They trapped you down here. They went to a lot of trouble to get you out of the way, and I won't stand for that!"

"What?" Clark was shocked.

"Whoever it is, I want to know," her voice took on edge that scared him a little, "Whoever it is that decided they could try and kill the person I…"

She broke off suddenly, spinning away from him to glare at the wall. Clark's imagination went into overdrive, filling in the blank spaces at the end of the sentence she'd left hanging.

The person she… what?

Loved?

Cared about?

Planned to kill herself?

The last one was a possibility.

"Lois…"

"Just tell me, Clark."

She still wasn't looking at him. He walked over, and took her hand, leading her to the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"You need to sit down for this," he said.

Lois didn't protest. She sat down on the edge of the bed. She closed her eyes for a second, preparing herself, and then looked him square in the eye.

"It was Chloe."

Lois blinked.

That's all she did.

No explosion, no plea for clarification… nothing. She just blinked.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you."

"And…?"

"Chloe? Chloe shot you?"

"Yes."

"Are you on drugs?"

"What? No, Lois…" he actually managed a small smile, "You know I wouldn't make this up. She's… I don't know, she's changed. Being around Davis, it's done something to her…"

"I don't buy it."

"Listen to me…"

"No!" she cut him off, "If she did this, it's for a reason."

Clark opened his mouth to protest, but Lois surged on:

"I'm not saying she's right, or justified," said Lois, "But she must have had a reason. Just like there's a reason she ran away with Davis. It's not because she's in love with him. That much I know. She's well-aware of what Davis has done, but she chose to go with him anyway. And now she set this whole thing up, to trap you for some reason. I want to know what that reason is."

Clark ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. He hated it when she did that. Followed a train of thought along a path a normal person wouldn't even spot. It's what made her a good reporter. It 's also what made her a royal pain at this moment in time.

"You're right," he admitted, "But I can't tell you why."

"Excuse me?"

"I can't tell you."

Lois shot off the bed.

"You must be kidding!"

"No!"

"You're really not going to tell me?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

She jabbed him with her finger, right over the bandage. Clark yelled.

"Oh, sorry," she said, instantly contrite, "But don't think that lets you off. Why won't you tell me?"

"Because you asked me not to!"

Lois looked at him like he'd just sprouted a second head.

"When did I do that?"

"Just… forget it, okay? We have to focus on getting out of here."

Lois looked like she really wanted to argue. He could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. He could actually see her filing this argument away under a folder marked "To Be Continued".

"Fine," she said, "How?"

"We call someone," said Clark, "Where's your phone?"

"In my car."

"Lois!"

Clark threw his arms up in exasperation. Then he shrieked like a little girl as the bandage tore away. Lois rushed forward, taking his good arm and steering him to the bed.

"Idiot…" she muttered, then, "Where did you get the bandages?"

Clark pointed at the briefcase. Lois hurried over, bringing the whole thing and setting it down next to Clark. Kneeling in front of him, she flicked through the contents with practised movements, barely glancing at the labels. Then she re-dressed the wound. It was considerably quicker, and less painful this time.

"You're good at that," he observed.

"I learned how from guys who have to do this while enemy soldiers are blasting RPG's over their heads."

Clark grinned. She was taking all this far better than he anticipated. She patted the bandage one last time, then raked her eyes down his chest, checking for other injuries. She stared at a spot just above his left hip. She didn't stop staring.

"Lois?"

More staring.

"Something wrong?"

"Damn straight something's wrong…"

"What?"

"The bullet wound…"

"It hurts like hell, if that's what you mean."

"No," she looked a little dazed, "The other one."

"What other…?"

The penny dropped. Clark bit his lip and shut his eyes. She'd noticed. Of course she'd noticed.

"Mannheim shot you," said Lois, "I saw it! But you don't…"

As if trying to reassure herself, she trailed a finger down his side, tracing a pattern over the smooth, uninjured skin.

"There's no skin graft. It's like it never happened."

Clark said nothing. He was panicking. His heart rate had picked up considerably and, in some vague corner of his mind he wondered if that would cause him to bleed out.

When he forced himself to meet Lois' gaze, he found no questions there. Just hurt.

"You're not going to tell me about this either, are you?" she said, sounding more lost and adrift than Clark had ever heard her.

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before cupping her cheek in his palm. Then he broke contact. He stood up, walking clear across the room as if some distance between them could wipe away the knowledge that he had caused that look in her eyes. That look of defeat. Of betrayal.

As he walked, he kicked the sketch that he'd dropped before Lois showed up. He stared at it. The person who drew-slash-wrote it had lost all hope. Had been trapped in this same cell with no one to turn to. Clark was luckier. He had Lois there. Someone he trusted. Someone he… loved.

And yet, he was still trapped. But in a cell of his own making.

He turned around. She hadn't moved. She was still on her knees, facing the bed, her shoulders slumped.

"I wanted to tell you," he said, "I wanted to tell you everything. I came to your apartment. It was… it was that night, you were watching M*A*S*H. You remember?"

Lois eased herself up from the floor in one smooth movement. Like a dancer. She faced him.

"The night I talked to the Blur."

Clark nodded.

"Do you remember what you told me? About him?"

"Yes."

Clark kept quiet. He just watched her. Saw her sift through her own words that night. Saw her trying to recall Clark's reactions, and then piece them together with what she knew – or thought she knew – now. He saw her come to the conclusion. The light actually went off behind her eyes, and somehow… Clark knew his life had changed forever.

"It's you," she whispered.

Her expression flickered. From surprise, to wonder… to… awe, and finally… to guilt.

"Oh my God…" She clapped a hand to her mouth, "I told you I didn't want him to be real. I told you… oh, my God…"

"Lois, it's okay."

"No, it's not," a couple of stray tears welled in the corners of her eyes, "I pushed you away. You were actually going to tell me that night?"

Clark nodded.

"Clark, I'm so sorry…"

"Lois… you didn't know."

"No, but I should have!" she insisted, "I should have pieced it together, and… even if I didn't, I knew something was up with you that night! I knew something was wrong! After that, you started to pull away from me."

Clark was taken aback.

"What? No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did," she didn't sound angry, "We went through the usual routines. Nothing changed on the surface, but… you stopped looking at me."

"I don't understand."

"Neither did I," she said, "I guess I didn't notice it until you stopped, but… you've always looked at me a certain way. I can't really describe it, but… it's almost like… like something reserved only for me, and after that night… it went away. Now I know why. I hurt you."

Clark bowed his head. He wasn't exactly sure what Lois was talking about. He certainly wasn't aware that he had a look that he kept for her alone, but… he had to admit that it was harder for him to be around her after that night. He'd been forced to keep up a pretence. He couldn't let her know that what she'd said about the Blur had torn through him like a laser – slicing away any hopes he'd built up of a future with her. It must have registered, because Lois had noticed.

"You're not asking any questions," he observed, "About who I am, or… what I am."

"Of course not," she said.

"Why?"

"Because I don't care."

Clark's brows knit together in an expression of pure puzzlement. Lois laughed a little.

"You're Clark," she said, with utter sincerity, "The fact that you're the Blur, well… it's a little mind-blowing, but… how you got your powers, that's the least of it. I know why you do what you do. I've already seen the hero's back-story."

"You have?"

She nodded, "Your parents. That's influence number one. Growing up in Smallville… you must have had a lot of practice."

"Some," he chuckled.

"But there is… something," said Lois, "If you're, well… you! Why can't you just blur right out of here? And why do you have an actual hole going straight through you? Does it take a while for you to heal?"

"No," he said, "Not usually, but Chloe… she used a certain type of meteor rock to make the bullets. They strip me of my abilities."

"Which means…?"

"That she knows about me?" he finished for her, "Yes, she does. And she used that knowledge."

Lois flopped back onto the bed, rubbing at her eyes.

"God, this is… this is too much!"

Clark hurried over to her. Taking a seat beside her, he stroked his finger down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" Lois rolled her eyes, "Or is that just your default setting? You're always apologising."

"I'm the reason you're stuck here," he explained, "Everything that's happened…"

Clark broke off. Now that his secret was out in the open, the same old regrets and feelings of guilt washed over him.

"In the hospital after Chloe's wedding, you asked me why these terrible things keep happening to us," he said, "Well, it's because of me. It happens around me. I'm the cause of so much pain, that I…"

Lois sat up. Grabbing hold of his chin, she turned him to look at her. Now she was angry.

When she spoke, it was with a slow, deliberate sense of menace.

"If I ever hear you talking like that again…" she said, "I will personally bury you!"

"Lois…"

"You made it your mission to save a world that doesn't want to be saved! Everyday you chase the shadows that hide the worst of us, and you try to bring the light. When everyone else is running scared you charge headfirst at the things that scare us the most! So don't you ever say that again!"

Clark gaped. He couldn't be certain, but he was pretty sure his heart rate had kicked up yet another notch. Looking into her eyes, hazel, with flecks of gold that glinted as the passion suffused her words, he found himself falling.

He'd been called a hero. He'd been told that it was his destiny to save the world.

But as her little tirade found a way through the walls he'd erected around himself so long ago, he found that he hadn't ever quite believed it… until now.

Lois," he said.

"Yes, Clark?"

She looked like she was preparing herself for another verbal assault, sure in the knowledge that he would do what he always did – deflect any kind of praise and lose himself in blame.

"I love you."

"Say what?"