Silence.

Not a single sound echoed throughout the Metropolis Subway Station. It was eerily quiet for such a bustling hub. But it would be weeks, maybe months, until everything would be up and running again. Half of the tracks were destroyed, the infrastructure was on the verge of collapse, water pipes were broken, and there were mountains of concrete to sift through. It was an absolute disaster. Still, not even the wreckage held a candle to the scene at the bottom of the stairs.

A blood-curdling scream ripped through the still air, reverberating off the walls and erupting from the entrance. It was that sound that finally caused her to move. She had been standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at the scene in front of her. In the middle of the station, bloody and bruised with his suit in tatters, knelt Superman. His back was to her, bent forward at an angle so that she couldn't see his head. But when she saw the black curls rise up and heard that terrible cry, she ran.

The soft clicking of her heels could be heard as she tried her hardest to get down the stairs. She tried to concentrate on that instead of the now soft cries she could hear below her. Pain shot through her right ankle with each step, but she gritted her teeth and continued to run. Her pain wasn't anything compared to his right now.

She slowed as she reached him, stopping to survey the scene. The motionless body of Lex Luthor lay out before Superman, who still knelt there in front of him. His neck was twisted in an unnatural way, suggesting he had broken his neck, but she didn't want to think about that right now. It wasn't important. But he was. Coming around to his right side, she saw the pain on his face. His blue eyes were swimming with tears, lines of grief were stamped onto his skin, and his bottom lip trembled with every breath he took. Finally, when she placed her hand on his shoulder, he turned to look at her.

"Clark," she whispered. As his name left her lips, she saw his face begin to contort and immediately dropped to her knees beside him. Pulling him to her, she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and brought his head to her chest. Though muffled, his cries shook her body. He barely hugged her back, lightly wrapping his arms around her waist, but mostly just let his bodyweight fall against her. Lois ran her fingers through his hair, trying with all of her might to soothe him even though she knew it was impossible.

She wasn't sure how long they sat there, but when she finally looked up, it was only because she felt a hand on her shoulder. Whipping her head around, she saw Oliver and Diana standing behind her. Though she couldn't see much of his face, his mouth was pressed in a tight line as he moved past her and knelt next to Lex's body. Gently, he scooped him up in his arms and stood up. Giving her a nod, he walked past them and back towards the stairs.

"Lois…" she heard from behind. She looked up again to see Diana in front of her wearing a sympathetic expression. "It's time to go."

She didn't want to let Clark go, but she also knew that they needed to get out of there. People would begin to come investigate what had happened and no one needed to see Superman in this state. Lois nodded at Diana, who squeezed her shoulder before following Oliver out. She didn't know if Clark had even noticed the arrival and departure his two companions, but she had to make him notice her.

"Clark," she said softly, "We need to go."

He didn't make a sound nor did he move, causing the tears she had been holding back to pool in her eyes. She blinked them away as best as she could, not wanting him to have to see her upset. Sliding her hands to his cheeks, she picked up his heavy head and held it in front of her own. His eyes didn't open, but she saw the trails of tears running down his cheeks before they were pushed away by her thumbs as she bent her forehead to his.

"Baby, we have to go."

His eyes blinked open. They were pink and puffy, still flooded with grief and full of absolute guilt, but they showed signs of recognition. She didn't say anything more, but she didn't need to. He blinked a few times before nodding and bowing his head again. He placed his hands against the concrete and shakily stood with Lois supporting him the entire time. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered to where Lex's body had been earlier, but he quickly looked away when he realized he wasn't there.

They walked slowly towards the stairs. Lois kept her arm around his waist not only for his support, but for her own. She winced as she came down on her injured ankle. It must have been a lot worse than she thought. Tears pricked her eyes at once—not because of the pain, but because despite his utter devastation, Clark had wordlessly picked her up and slowly started walking up the stairs. She stared at his determined, but wavering expression as he climbed. She cupped his cheek, but he didn't look at her. He just continued walking up the seemingly never ending staircase. She didn't move a muscle until they reached the top. It was then that she applied more pressure to his cheek and forced him to look at her.

"Can you fly?" she asked. Receiving a stiff nod, she caressed his cheekbone, swiping her thumb across the soot-covered skin lovingly before snaking her arm around his neck. She didn't notice they were even up in the air until she felt the breeze against her face. He was flying slowly towards their apartment balcony. In the back of her head, she thought about the possibility of someone seeing Superman go into Lois Lane's apartment, but she couldn't find the energy to care. Nothing mattered except the man who had his arms around her.

When he landed on the balcony, she felt the slight jolt go through his body. His legs were shaking as he reached the bedroom door, which Lois had to reach down and open. Another shudder and stifled sob went through Clark's body, but when he placed her on the ground and she winced at the pain of putting too much weight on her ankle, he ushered her to the bed. She sat down to take her heels off and immediately inspected her right ankle. It definitely wasn't broken, but she suspected a nasty sprain. Dropping her foot back to the floor, she looked back up at her husband. He was standing there staring blankly at the wall behind her.

God, he looked so lost. So broken. Lois had never seen him like this. But then again, he had never intentionally killed a human before. Snapping into mother hen mode, she stood and limped to the bathroom to turn the shower on. While it was warming up, she grabbed a stack of fresh washcloths from the closet, placed them next to the shower, then made her way back over to Clark, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Moving in front of him, she began pulling the tattered material of his suit off of his shoulders and flinging it far away from his battle-worn body. He didn't flinch, even when the she had to separate sections of the suit from his battle wounds. When all of the red and blue material sat in a pile on the floor and his half-melted boots were peeled from his feet, she wordlessly took his hand and helped him up.

She led him quietly to the shower and under the hot spray before shutting the glass door. She watched him for a brief moment before she undressed herself. Truth be told, she could have taken a pair of scissors to her own clothes and it would've been a lot quicker. As soon as she was nude, she reopened the shower door and walked under the water of the second showerhead. She had demanded they install another nozzle after too many arguments about where under the water they should stand when showering together, and right now, she couldn't be more thankful for her stubborn gene. Clark made a movement to grab the shampoo bottle, but his entire arm shook. Reaching out, she touched his arm and when it stilled, she grabbed the bottle herself.

"Let me," she said.

She beckoned him to sit in between her legs as she sat down on the bench in the corner of the shower. He sat directly in the water, but leaned his head far enough back so that she could shampoo and condition his hair. She took her time running her fingers through his hair, massaging and gently scratching his scalp along the way. When she was finished with his hair, she motioned for him to get up again so that she could wash his body. She ran a washcloth first over his broad shoulders and arms, then down his entire backside and legs, careful to avoid his quickly healing injuries. Colors of red, brown, and gray swirled down the drain as his skin was purified.

Walking to stand in front of him, she saw that his eyes were closed. She repeated her washing process with his frontside and when she finally reached his face with a fresh washcloth in hand, she hesitated. Gingerly, she touched his cheek and let out an unconscious sigh when he didn't react. As soon as the soap was washed off of his cheeks, he opened his eyes. Caught off guard, she didn't know what to do. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that no words came to mind. However, it was Clark who took action. He took out a new washcloth, added some body wash, and began washing her own body.

It could have been hours that they spent in that shower. But really, Lois had no concept of time today. Hell, the last time she remembered looking at a clock, it had been ten in the morning. Eventually though, when the last of the conditioner was rinsed from her hair, Lois turned off the shower. Clark exited before her and grabbed both of their towels. He handed hers wordlessly to her and wrapped his own around his waist. Leaning up against the side of the shower, Lois covered herself as well. Noticing Clark's outstretched hand, she grabbed it and allowed him to assist her to their closet.

She found a clean pair of underwear and one of Clark's flannels to wear to sleep, then slipped both of them on without much difficulty. Hobbling to bed, she sat on the edge of the mattress and carefully lifted her legs up onto the bed. Clark then walked back into the bedroom holding two bags of ice and her heart melted once again. How he could be thinking about her tiny, little injury at a time like this was beyond her comprehension, but that's why she loved him so much. No matter what pain he was in, he would always put others above himself.

As gently as possible, he placed her swollen ankle between the ice packs, wrapped it with a few towels, and propped it up on a pillow. After giving it a final look, Clark turned and mechanically got ready for bed. He locked the balcony doors and turned off all of the lights before slipping under the covers. Her chest immediately constricted as he lay there on his back. The soft moonlight shining in from the balcony doors gave her a good view of his face and even though his eyes were closed, she knew he was on the verge of losing it.

"Clark," she said. Rolling to her side, ankle be damned, she reached out and caught the fresh tear rolling down his cheek on her thumb even though his entire demeanor told her to stay away. His eyes were shut tightly, a frown graced his lips, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, and his entire body was rigid. But Lois wouldn't let him internalize this. She pulled his arms down to his sides and tried as best as she could to get him to roll towards her, but he was being stubborn.

"Clark," she said again, this time a little more sternly. His expression softened and his eyes fluttered open. "Let me."

Trying once again to move him towards her, she sighed when he finally rolled over and put his head on her chest. He slipped one arm under her pillow and draped the other over her stomach. As she massaged his scalp again, she waited. It took two, maybe three minutes before she felt his arms begin to slowly tighten around her. His face pressed deeper into her skin and she, in turn, pulled him firmer against her. It came first as a shaky breath, then several shudders, and before she knew it, Clark Kent completely fell apart in her arms.

The shirt she was wearing was soon damp as hot tears poured out of his eyes. He shivered and shook much like the way a lost puppy would. He sounded like one, too. Though he wasn't crying out like when she found him earlier today, he was still whimpering. Holding him was almost like holding a child—just a rather large one. One of her hands was embedded deep within his charcoal locks while the other stroked his back in repetitive motions. Part of her wanted to talk to him, to ask him what was going through his head right now, but the other part wanted him to fall asleep just like this.

"I had to," he croaked. A new wave of shudders wracked his body at this admission. She ran her hands up and down the length of his upper body, touching him wherever she could reach. It was during moments like this that she wished she had his massive size. All she wanted to do was wrap her body around every inch of him so that he'd feel the type of safety she felt when he held her.

"Oh, honey, I know," she reassured him. "I know. It's not your fault."

"I couldn't… I didn't…"

"He forced you, Clark. You saved so many lives," she whispered. For a while, they stayed in that same position in silence with Lois alternating between rubbing circles on his back and massaging his scalp. After a while though, he slowly removed his arm from around her stomach, but pulled at her outer hip. Allowing him to pull her towards him, she rolled on to her side and adjusted her ankle so that she was comfortable. When she was finished fidgeting, she turned her attention to Clark, who was mirroring her position. Though the room was dark, the moonlight from windows didn't make his face invisible. The puffy eyes and broken expression nearly made her cry out, but she held it in.

"He made me," he said. "He said it was the only way to defeat me."

"But he didn't," she said, placing a hand to his cheek. Clark placed his own hand over hers, but had a faraway look in his eyes that concerned her.

"Yes, he did," he said. The tone of his voice and the lowering of his head made it click for her a little later than it should have. The fucking lunatic. So it was take the life of a human and live with the guilt of breaking his oath or watch as thousands of people died. He had been ready to die. Taking a breath, she forced his face up again and shimmied herself closer to him.

"He did not defeat you. I know that you swore you wouldn't take a human life, but when that life is threatening thousands of innocent people—of children —there's no question that you did the right thing," she said. He tried to shake his head, but she held it steady. "No, baby, you need to listen to me. This is exactly what he wanted, okay? He was ready to die; he knew you wouldn't let him hurt anyone."

"And that's supposed to make it alright?" he cried. "I know I did the right thing, but I still did it. I killed Lex."

"Lex killed himself the minute he threatened the city of Metropolis. If it hadn't been you, it would have been somebody else. It would have been Oliver or Diana or Bruce or any other member of the League. This is the path he chose, not you. He just stuck you in the middle of it."

The pressure of his hand around hers was almost tight enough to make her wince, but she reigned it in. Though his gaze was intent on her right shoulder instead of her eyes, she could see the waves of emotions that kept sweeping over him. Eventually, he lessened his hold on her and closed his eyes.

"There's always been another way. Always," he whispered. It was true. Almost every time he had butted heads with Oliver or Bruce or even Diana, it was because they thought there was no other option. But Clark always managed to find another way to do things. It was one of the things that truly made him a superman. Taking the opportunity to slide her hand out of his tight grasp, she stroked his cheek tenderly.

"Usually, yes. And you're always the one to find it. That's how I know you had no other choice," she said. He frowned and she knew that part of him wanted to argue with her, so she smoothed the lines away from his brow before he could start. He knew her well enough to know it wasn't a battle he was going to win and truthfully, he was probably too exhausted from all of the other fighting he had already done today to even attempt to fight her. Instead, he just stayed silent for a while. And she let him.

"I know," he eventually admitted. "I know, but still… I still blame myself."

She wanted to shake him. If they were in any other situation, she probably would have, but she also knew there was something else he wasn't telling her. She knew that he blamed himself every time someone died or something bad happened—it was just who he was. But there was something in his tone that made her hold her usually quick tongue. Now was not the time for her to give him a piece of her mind. Instead, she kept it simple.

"Why?"

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed and opened his eyes yet again. They travelled down to her ankle and he frowned.

"Does your ankle hurt?" he asked. She briefly looked down at her legs to find them in a twisted mess and grimaced. Between the ice and the gravity of the conversation, she hadn't noticed her discomfort until now. She was about to shrug it off, but Clark was already moving her body into another position. Now sitting up against the headboard, he pulled her into his lap so that she could extend her legs. The new position also allowed him to hold her, something he commonly did after any near-death experiences between the pair. He had claimed that her touch calmed him and made it easier to forget things, to which she responded that it also made it a lot easier to get into her pants. But tonight, she knew his claims were true.

Using his arm and chest for support, she leaned into him and briefly closed her eyes. His heartbeat was strong and steady, a gentle reminder that he was still alive, but also let her know that his emotions had calmed significantly. With his arms draped around her, she pulled them tighter and threaded her fingers through his., pulling his hand up to press a brief kiss against his skin. Once she had him safely wrapped around her, she leaned her head to the side so she could catch his eye.

"Why do you still blame yourself?" she asked again. His eyes flickered away briefly, but she held her gaze. She needed him to talk because he needed to say the words.

"I always thought I could save him."

There it was. Despite everything that man had done—all the experiments, all the spying, all of the manipulation, all of the crime, all of it—Clark still remembered his friend. Lex had been one of his best friends in Smallville, besides Chloe and Pete. He had been a constant in his life, good or bad, and there had always been something redeemable that he saw in him. It was something that Lois had struggled to understand for a long time, but once she finally did, she developed an entirely new level of love and admiration for the man holding her. It was one of the things that made her so secure in their relationship. If he wouldn't give up on a monster like Lex Luthor, she was positive that he would never give up on her.

"You can't save everyone, Smallville. And Lex… his ship sailed long ago, despite your best efforts," she said gently. A sigh escaped his lips and his brow furrowed.

"I know. I still can't help it. I feel like I was so close at one point, way back when our friendship was still rocky. I just keep wondering what it could have been like if he hadn't chosen the path that he did. There's part of me that will always wonder if I could've done something more to help him change his course."

"I don't think anyone could've changed Lex. I mean, Lionel was his father for starters. Remember Clark Luthor? If Lex had been blessed with the parents you had, he might have had a different ending. But he didn't and you absolutely cannot blame yourself for that, okay?"

He didn't respond, but she knew she had gotten through to him. He knew he shouldn't blame himself, but that didn't make it hurt any less. He was not only grieving for the loss of his old friend, but for the loss of human life at his hands. She swept her thumbs across the tops of his hands as she waited for him to answer and felt him tighten his arms around her. A deep sigh escaped him before she felt his lips against the side of her head and she closed her eyes.

"I know. It just… hurts," he said softly, his words thick with emotion. She twisted against him, ankle and ice pack be damned, and wrapped her arms around his neck. There was nothing she could say that was going to make him feel any better or numb any of his pain, so she did the only thing she could to help him heal. Her lips found his almost instantly, kissing them softly at first, until she felt him begin to respond. When he did, she shifted herself so that her chest was pressed up flush up against his, her knees pinned against his hips, and hands threaded in his hair. Her tongue traced his bottom lip before seeking his own as she trailed her hands down his chest towards his waist, fingers sneaking beneath the edge of his boxers. A moan escaped him at her touch and she felt his hands on her biceps, lightly trying to push her back, most likely out of some chivalrous notion that she couldn't understand, but she wouldn't let him. Instead, she ground her hips into his in an attempt to distract him. Unfortunately for her, the movement tweaked her ankle and she involuntarily winced.

"Lo, your ankle…" he murmured, but she shook her head in response. She pressed her lips back against his before sliding them to his neck, dragging her lips against his soft, warm skin. Trailing her way from the sensitive spot behind his ear, down across his shoulder, then back to his chest, she broke away breathlessly and splayed her fingers across his cheeks.

"Shh, I'm fine… just… let me…" she breathed, then captured his lips again, pouring all of the love she possessed for him into the kiss. He trembled against her, which was something he didn't do very often and certainly not recently, but she wasn't perturbed by it. In fact, she welcomed the fact that he didn't pull away. That at least meant that he had somewhat given into her. So, she did everything in her power to keep him speechless beneath her movements and ministrations. Her own fingers deftly worked at the buttons on his flannel while her lips kept his pliant against hers. As soon as the last button came undone, she guided his hands to her chest and sighed into his mouth at the contact. That was the last thing he needed her to do before he took action himself.

The last of their clothes came off quickly and their bodies connected almost immediately after. It was slow and tender at first, no doubt because he was still worried about her injured ankle, but Lois used every move in her repertoire until he couldn't resist her any longer. They lost themselves in each other and their passion until the events of the day faded away into the backs of their minds. The only thing that either of them could think about was each other and the all-consuming love they had for one another. Even after they had reached their pinnacle and settled into the comfort of their bed and each other's arms, she continued to distract him with her words. When those ran out, she let her body talk for her. For the rest of the night, she did everything in her power to make him forget what had happened today, even if it was just for a little while.

And he let her.