Remember Me | Chapter 5/6
Jul. 8th, 2010 02:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sanalayla A Once and Future Thing
Dr. Hamilton walked into the room, flipping through my chart. He didn’t even bother to look up while he asked, “Ms. Lane, I’m surprised to see you. I thought you were seeing the neurologist on Monday.”
“I was, but,” I shot an ‘I told you so’ look towards Clark. “Smallville didn’t want to wait. He thought you should see me earlier.”
Rolling his eyes, Clark ignored me and turned to the doctor. “Emil, isn’t there anything you can do? Her memories aren’t coming back at all.”
The doctor adjusted his glasses and said, mildly, “Well, Clark, that’s not surprising. I told you this.” He snapped on some gloves and then turned his attention to me, moving my head a little to the side. “I told you, too, Ms. Lane.”
“I know,” I answered, a little irritated. “But… OW!” I let out a yelp and jumped away a little when the doctor hit a particularly sore spot. “Doc, warn a girl!”
He eased back. “Sorry!” To Clark, he said, “Ms. Lane still has swelling. Until it goes down, there’s no point in running any more tests.”
Clark let out a frustrated breath. “Emil, I’m sure you can do something.”
“No, Clark, I can’t. At least, not right now. These sorts of things take time.” The doctor looked genuinely regretful. He glanced at me. “Ms. Lane, did you make an appointment with the therapist I told you about?”
“No!” I flushed, looking away from Clark, and I crossed my arms. “I don’t do therapy.”
“But, Ms. Lane, we talked about this,” Dr. Hamilton reminded me. “This is a huge adjustment for you and….”
I jumped off the table. “But it’s not an adjustment!” He appeared to be more than a little surprised by my pronouncement, so I explained, “For me, things are pretty much the same. They’re different for the people around me,” I indicated towards Clark meaningfully, “But – for me – things are pretty much the same.” I thought about it and added, “I mean, for the most part. My job’s the same. People are… pretty much the same.”
Dr. Hamilton regarded me for a moment and then smiled. “All right, Ms. Lane. You are a remarkably well adjusted patient, I have to say.”
Feeling very proud of myself, I beamed at him. “Thank you. I try.”
He turned to Clark. “Clark, can I see you outside?”
Before I could protest, Clark nodded and followed the doctor out the door. For a second, I debated whether I should go eavesdrop, because I was pretty sure they were talking about me. The debate didn’t last long. I quickly walked over to the door to listen and couldn’t hear anything. When I opened the door a crack, I saw that they weren’t anywhere to be found. Odd.
I knew that Clark was friends with the doctor (he’d told me and when you saw them together, it was obvious they knew each other well), so maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe they were talking about something else. I closed the door and went to go sit back down.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Clark came back, but the doctor wasn’t with him. “OK, Lois, we have to go.”
“What did the doctor say?” I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, following him out the door.
He glanced down at me. “He said you need to rest. And that you need to see the therapist even if I have to force you to go.” Clark handed me a card that was identical to the one the doctor had given me before.
I sniffed. “Clearly, he doesn’t know you that well if he thinks you can force me to do anything.”
Before he could answer, his phone started to buzz. He pulled it out and frowned. “Um… Lois, I have to....”
“Don’t tell me,” I interrupted, with a rueful smile. “You have to go. You have an errand to run.”
Clark hesitated and glanced down at the phone. “It’s a meeting. For work.”
I frowned. “Work?” That didn’t make any sense – it was Saturday. I pulled out my own phone. “Wouldn’t I get something since we work at the same place?”
“No, it’s just a story I’m working on,” Clark replied. He grasped my elbow and navigated me through the halls, and out to where our car was parked. “I’ll take you home – I have to… um… change for work, anyway, right?”
Not wanting to argue, because – really – my head was hurting a bit, I complied. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to go, anyway.
***
After a couple of hours at the farm, I started to go a little stir crazy. There is only so much TV a girl can watch – especially bad Saturday TV. Clark had taken my laptop with him when he left, because the doctor had said I wasn’t allowed to work for a couple of days. (Apparently, he thought I was using work as a coping mechanism. I swear, where do people with medical degrees come up with this stuff?)
It was a given, I guess, that inactivity was going to lead to me having nothing to do but think. And, invariably, my thoughts turned to Clark. After all, I was in his house and I’d been spending time with him pretty much non-stop since I’d gotten out of the hospital. And, then, of course there was the pesky little fact that he wouldn’t accept that I wasn’t his girlfriend. Just thinking about his expression when he’d promised me he’d never give up was enough to make me shiver. The problem was that I couldn’t tell if it was a good shiver or a bad one. And that was… very odd.
I’m not one who sits still for long periods of time on a good day, but when I’m nervous? I either talk a mile a minute or start doing some other form of activity. Since I was very much alone, talking wasn’t going to do me much good, so I turned to other things. I started snooping around the farm. According to Clark, my stuff was all over the place, so I figured it was time to start hunting some of that down. After all, there was a good chance I’d end up moving out, so why not get a head start on identifying the things that would need to be packed?
A quick tour of the kitchen revealed nothing. Not surprising, since Mrs. Kent had a fully stocked kitchen and there was absolutely nothing I would be able to add to that particular domain. I was pretty sure my one knife and three mis-matched cereal bowls from the Talon wouldn’t have made it over to the Kent farm. Chloe must have still had them. The closet was jam packed with my things. Coats, mufflers, sweaters, boots, and a whole host of accessories. It was really odd to see my winter gear crammed in there with Clark’s coats and stuff.
My boots were kind of thrown over his, from whenever it had been the last time we’d used them. For some reason, the boots painted a very cozy picture. For a second, I could imagine us coming home, with it snowing outside, and putting a fire on. Hanging out by the fireplace, Clark cooking dinner and me trying to decide what movie we were going to watch. It was odd, but I felt a pang of homesickness. But that was so weird. How could you be homesick for something you’d never had? And the funny thing was that wasn’t even something I’d ever wanted before. Oliver wasn’t the ‘big house with a cozy fireplace’ kind of a guy. He was more of a ‘city apartment with silver furniture’ kind of a guy. And, I wasn’t sure why, but I always seemed to gravitate towards guys like Oliver.
Thinking that I’d avoided it long enough, I moved on to the bedroom. Up to this point, I’d barely paid attention to the room, because I couldn’t bring myself to focus on it. I’d grab my clothes a little blindly and then close the closet door as quickly as possible. Now, though, I decided I’d take a closer look. When I got there, I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. I’d left the bed un-made when we were going to the doctor, but Clark must have gone back and made it up. Always the boy scout.
Taking a deep, fortifying, breath, I went over to the closet and pulled open the door. I think the hall closet had prepared me for it, because it didn’t seem so odd to see all my clothes hanging there next to Clark’s. He had one half of the closet (the right side) and I had the other. His side was neater than mine, which wasn’t surprising. There were my shoes, all lined up on the floor. A lot more of them than I’d ever had before and lot of heels. Very high heels.
I turned, slowly, taking in Clark’s room and noting a lot of the changes from the last time I’d been there. The first time I’d ever slept there, it had been very much the room of a teenage boy. Blue plaid sheets and spartan furnishings. Pretty much his desk, his chest of drawers, and a couple of side tables. I glanced around and saw the desk was no longer there. And the chest of drawers were different. The bed also looked different.
When Lana had been here, the plaid sheets had been replaced by a set with flowers on them and there were a lot of pillows on the bed. Either Clark (or I) had replaced them again, and now they were yellow. Probably me, since yellow is one of my favorite colors. And, apparently, I wasn’t a fan of the tiny pillows, either, because there weren’t any. Just the regular pillows, in yellow pillowcases, with matching sheets and a navy blue comforter. Suddenly, I realized why the bed looked different. Because it was actually a different bed from before. For whatever reason, the bed had been replaced at some point in the past two years. This one was bigger, with darker wood.
Not that it really mattered. With a shrug, I continued my perusal of the room. I remember that Lana had also brought in a vanity table, which had been lined up with her make-up, jewelry, and perfume bottles. I glanced over and saw that the table was still there, in the same corner, and that it still had the large mirror. But the table no longer held Lana’s make-up. Now it held mine. Along with a tray holding a hair brush and all my pony-tail holders. (I own about a million of them, because they’re always breaking and I’m always losing them.) Instead of her neat row of expensive perfume bottles, I had my one scent that I wore kind of lying there, carelessly, along with the one box I kept with my very small collection of jewelry.
I knew, without even opening it, that I’d find my mom’s engagement and wedding ring in there. Along with a pair of diamond earrings my father had given her for their first wedding anniversary. Maybe a couple of simple gold and silver pieces I kept on hand just in case I needed something for a fancy event. (Normally, I just used the fake stuff, because I have a tendency to lose jewelry.) Out of curiosity, I opened the box and saw that I had, indeed, kept the one thing I’d allowed Oliver to give me when we were dating. It was a simple, white gold bracelet; a delicate chain. I’d never worn it, because I hadn’t wanted to lose it.
With a smile, I closed the box. It was nice to know that – even a couple of years later – I had still thought it was important enough to keep. For some reason, I found that a little comforting. After spending two days being told by everyone that my relationship with Oliver was all in my head, it was nice to have tangible proof of it in my hand. That, yes, at one point, this relationship had existed. And the man had been important to me.
Curiously, my eyes wandered over the rest of the table and I started opening the drawers. They were filled with the usual assortment of things. In the last drawer, I came across a cigar box, probably Clark’s. I opened it, since it didn’t look like he was hiding it from me. His dad’s watch was in there, along with a couple of pairs of cufflinks. There was, oddly enough, a Native American leather bracelet in it. This was odd because if I’m not a jewelry person, then Clark is even more not a jewelry person. I mean, I’ll even wear it once in awhile, but Clark? Just the thought of him wearing jewelry made me laugh out loud. But, I guess, he wasn’t wearing it. He was storing it for some reason. I made a mental note to make fun of him about it later.
I put his box away and straightened, taking one last look around the room. It was odd. Even though it was filled with my things, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that it was still Lana’s room. And that I was just borrowing it from her or that my things had been put in here mistakenly. Sure, there were things that seemed very much mine, but… it wasn’t my room. I couldn’t find myself in here. It was ironic that I seemed destined to move into Lana’s old places. First the Talon and now the Kent farm. Was I destined to shadow Lana Lang for the rest of my life?
I wandered downstairs and considered checking out the loft. But I wasn’t sure I was up to it. And, anyway, my head had really started to hurt again. And I knew why. I had put off thinking about Clark and Oliver by taking a tour of the house, but the thoughts kept intruding anyway. I am, by nature, a person who tackles her problems head on, rather than avoiding them, in every aspect of my life – except for one. That was my love life. I had a tendency to avoid, delay, and distract when it came to my love life. And, clearly, memory loss had not altered that particular character flaw.
But, in this case, I realized I had no choice but to face things head on. I am also, by nature, not a person to dangle two guys around at the same time. It’s hard enough for me to date one guy, forget about two. So, I did what any sane girl would do when faced with this sort of problem. I sat down and I made a list. Like, literally, I took out a pen and paper from Mrs. Kent’s desk in the living room, and drew a line down the middle. Clark’s name was on one side and Oliver’s was on the other. After much deliberation, it came out looking like this:
Clark | Oliver
Really sweet | Really sarcastic
Kind of a nerd | Charming
Also kind of charming | Also kind of sweet
Farm boy (but doesn’t really matter) | Billionaire (but doesn’t really matter)
Really, really hot (??) | Also really hot (as much as Clark? Huh?)
Makes me laugh/easy to make fun of | Makes me laugh/makes fun of me
Also makes fun of me | Also make fun of him
Awesome mom | Very sad. Needs me.
Knows how to dress (??) | Good dresser
Still in love with his ex (?) | Bangs everything that walks (?)
Loves me (or thinks he does) | Loves me, but doesn’t want to do anything about it
Normal guy | Likes green leather
I chewed on the pen nervously, while I scrutinized my list. It wasn’t the best of lists. Hell, half of it didn’t make sense. But quantifying how I felt about the two of them had been harder than I’d thought. And, it didn’t help matters that my head was hurting even more. I don’t know what had happened at the doctor’s office when the doctor and nurse had been poking around back there, but it was hurting more today than it had yesterday. Wincing a bit, I rubbed the back of my head lightly, where the stitches were still healing.
Taking my list with me, I started pacing the living room floor as I reviewed it and tried to see if there was anything else I could add. As I was walking, the picture on the mantle that I’d seen before caught my eye. The one with me and Clark at a picnic. I folded up the list and put in my jeans pocket and went to go take a closer look at the picture.
I picked it up and traced my fingers across the glossy surface. It seemed the picture had been taken on a day in the late fall – the blanket we were resting on was surrounded with red, orange, and yellow leaves and I was wearing a sweater and jacket. I was looking into the camera, but Clark was looking at me. It was rather bizarre to see a picture of Clark and me on the mantle (where Lana’s picture from high school used to hold the place of honor) but that actually wasn’t the weirdest thing about it. What captured my interest was the way Clark was looking at me. Like I was the only person in the world and he didn’t have eyes for anyone else. And, again, I just had to ask myself, How the hell did that happen??
When and how had Clark Kent fallen in love with me? I thought back to the answers he’d given me when I’d ask him about those questions and I realized that his answer hadn’t really been enough. I still didn’t get it. I put the picture back down, and glanced at the other pictures on the mantle. One of the Kents when Clark was young. A wedding picture of Mr. and Mrs. Kent. My fingers travelled the path of the mantle idly until I reached the edge and saw a photo album resting there. Curious, I took it down and went to settle down on the sofa to look through it properly.
It was a typical family album. Full of pictures from when Clark was young. After awhile, the pictures had a Clark I was more familiar with. A couple of pictures with him and Chloe. A young African American boy was in some of them. (I knew he was Pete, because Chloe had pictures of him, too.) I kept flipping through and then came across some pictures that had me in them, mixed in with the Kents’ pictures. One of me with Mrs. Kent (it was the first and last time she’d given me a baking lesson; we were both covered in flour) and there were a few from my campaign manager days during Mr. Kent’s senate campaign (Mr. Kent and I both looked pretty tired).
And there was one from Chloe’s wedding – I was helping Chloe get her veil on, wearing that horrible orange dress. I smiled sadly, thinking that it was such a nice moment, but yet so bittersweet. I flipped through some more and saw that the rest of the pages were blank, until I got to the last page.
I frowned. The last page was a Lana shrine. It was, seriously, a whole page devoted to Lana. No one else was in the pictures and they weren’t even shots of her doing anything. Just posing for the camera and looking all pretty and sweet. In fact, she looked incredibly sweet in some of them, because a couple of them were from when she was in high school. Not exactly sure why, I slammed the photo album shut and put it away.
Then, I took out the paper from my pocket and unfolded it. I had something to add to the lists, after all. Carefully, I added, “first choice” under Ollie’s name. Under Clark’s, I wrote, “second choice.” Finally satisfied with the list, I gave it one final look and reprimanded myself for actually forgetting about Lana for a second and letting myself get carried away by pictures of fall picnics and by snow boots in a closet.
But, even as I crammed the paper into my pocket, I couldn’t help but go take one last look at the picture on the mantelpiece. I had just picked it up when I heard Clark say, “That’s a nice picture, huh?”
With a thunk, I put the frame back down and whirled around in surprise. Clark was standing in the entryway. I’d been so focused on the picture, I hadn’t heard him come in. “Um… well…” I began and then stopped. I didn’t really know what to say, since I was still kind of smarting from the Lana shrine I’d found right next to the picture. “Yes, I guess,” I finished lamely. I studied him carefully and I couldn’t help but smile. As usual, his tie was crooked. Some things, apparently, didn’t change.
He caught my smile, because he asked, “What’s so funny?” His own lips curved up into a light grin, as though he couldn’t help smiling just because I was.
I decided to tell him the truth. “Your tie. It’s crooked. I was just thinking that some things don’t change.”
Not taking his eyes off of me, he loosened it and then slid it off, tossing it onto the chair. “There, better?” Clark asked and then he walked closer to me. He put his hands on my waist and tugged me closer. “I’m used to you fixing it for me.”
I stared up at him and swallowed. This was not what we had discussed. He was supposed to go back to the friend zone. “Aahhh…. Okay.… well…” I pulled back and stepped around him and almost ran to the other side of the room, putting the sofa between us. “I’m going to pretend you didn't say that," I informed him. “Because we had a deal. Friends, remember?”
Clark let out a sigh of frustration. “Lois…”
“Clark…” I responded, with a sigh of my own. “Look, Smallville, we’ve been through this,” I reminded him. “You and me – never going to happen.” Again, I tried to forget what we looked like in the picture. Which wasn’t hard when I thought about what I’d just seen.
“Except it’s already happened,” Clark pointed out, sounding a little annoyed. “You keep overlooking that. You say you want to be just friends, but it doesn’t work that way. We’re….” Clark paused, “We’re a couple and this is just something we need to work through. Together. As a couple.”
My eyes widened. How many times could a person use the word ‘couple’ in one sentence? Was he going for a record? “In your world. Not mine,” I declared, wondering how I managed to get myself in these situations.
“In your world, too, Lois,” Clark countered. Then, he considered me for a second and put his hands in his pocket, looking across the room at me. “Lois, a long time ago, I lost my memories, and you told me to go with my gut. It’s been a couple of days now. Stop over thinking this and just tell me – what’s your gut saying?”
I mulled it over for a second. Then, I offered, with a slight smile, “That I should pack my bags and go to the Bahamas until this blows over.” Either way. Whether I got the memories back or not, the Bahamas were looking really good right now.
My attempt at levity wasn’t well received, because Clark looked decidedly un-amused. “I meant, about me.”
I rolled my eyes and decided that if Clark wanted honesty, then he was definitely going to get it. “Smallville, my gut is saying that there is no way in hell I would ever sign up for a ride on the Clark Kent express.”
“Why?” Clark looked a little offended. That was a bit much, since – two years ago – he would have probably said the same thing about me.
“Honestly? Because I had a front row seat to the Clark and Lana Rocky Horror Show. Any girl would be insane to want to be the follow-up act,” I answered, after a second of hesitation. “And, frankly, I’m not insane.” I paused awkwardly, realizing that had been a little harsh. Even for me. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he answered dryly.
I was a bit disappointed that he didn’t challenge me, but I didn’t show it. Instead, I just said, in a kind of teasing tone, “Since when did you stop taking offense at things I said? Where’s the come back? The whole bit where you call me rude, arrogant, annoying and pushy? Ask me when I’m leaving so you can get your bed back?”
Clark stared at me for a second and then let out a slight laugh. He crossed the distance between us, coming to stand right in front of me. “Fine, you’re rude, arrogant, annoying and pushy,” he said, in a mock serious tone. He touched one of the curls that fell over my shoulder, twirling the strands around his finger, and Clark looked down into my eyes as he finished, teasingly, “And I don’t need you to leave to get my bed back. I’ll join you whenever you want.”
I sucked in my breath, in response, and tried to gain control of my breathing. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. My plan wasn’t working – Clark had pretty much decided that the whole friend thing wasn’t going to work, so I moved away and looked up at him. “Clark, we’re friends. Stop doing that.”
Clark rolled his eyes and let out a groan of frustration. “Lois….”
“No, seriously,” I insisted. “I really don’t know what you’ve been smoking these past couple of years, but Clark Kent and Lois Lane? C’mon!”
“Lois, you know I’m not making this up,” Clark answered patiently, for the hundredth time. “Chloe, Oliver, everyone at the DP – in fact, you even called my mother. Why would they lie to you?”
“Because I didn’t really lose my memories and I’m in some alternate reality?” I asked hopefully. I was only half-joking. I had been giving this some serious thought and I had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
I expected Clark to make fun of me, but his brows furrowed in concern and it actually looked like he was taking me seriously. After a second, he said, “Yeah, but for what purpose? And if you’re a different Lois Lane, then where’s my Lois Lane? And, really, what would be the point of you being from a different reality where you’re two years behind?”
Damn it, that didn’t work. Shrugging a little, I conceded, “Okay, I was kind of joking, but yeah, I guess I see your point.”
Clark must have decided to take another tack. “Lois, did the thought ever occur to you that, maybe, you should go with it? Embrace it?”
I laughed at that. “Embrace what, Clark? You? Because, I hate to beat a dead horse, but the last time I saw you, you were living with Lana. And I was crying on your shoulder after breaking up with Ollie. Pardon me if I’m having problems absorbing that I’m now the object of your desire.”
“I already told you that I’m over Lana,” Clark answered immediately. “We broke up a year ago and you and I started dating four months ago.”
“Yeah, do the math, Smallville,” I shot back. “Clearly, I’m your rebound girl.” I paused as a though occurred to me. “And who knows? Maybe you’re my rebound guy?”
“Rebound guy? From who?” Clark asked me, rather grimly.
“Oliver,” I said softly and crossed my arms across my chest. I thought about the bracelet upstairs and how the world was convinced I wasn’t in love with him, even though I had never really stopped loving him. Love doesn’t just die like that. Does it?
“No, you already had your rebound guy,” Clark replied flatly. “His name was Grant.”
I blinked. “Oh yeah. Maybe I needed a second rebound guy,” I suggested. “I mean, I still have….” My voice trailed away and I stopped. I had tried to say this to Clark before, but he hadn’t taken me seriously.
Clark studied me. “You still what, Lois?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I glanced back at him and kind of smiled. I decided that since he wasn’t taking my opinion on Oliver seriously, then this wasn’t going to be about Oliver. It was going to go back to Lana. “OK, so let’s say I had my rebound guy. This would still make me your rebound girl, Clark. I know you and I bet you didn’t date anyone after Lana.”
With some hesitation, Clark admitted, “Yes, I didn’t date anyone after Lana and I broke up last time. Until you.”
“See, that’s what this is,” I exclaimed triumphantly. “You were trying to get over Lana. You said so yourself that we got close when we started working together. So, yeah, you were trying to get over Lana and I happened to be there… one thing probably led to another.” I paused and then added, with more than a little confusion, “But I don’t get why I’d go along with it.”
Clark gazed at me and asked, somewhat ruefully, “Because you actually cared about me? Because you had feelings for me?”
“No, that’s not it,” My brow furrowed in confusion and I chewed on my lip thoughtfully. “No, really, that can’t be it.” Why on earth would I sign up to be Clark’s rebound girl? It made zero sense. I have a hell of a lot more pride and common sense than that.
Clark rolled his eyes. “I know this is hard for you to understand, but you actually did want this relationship.”
“Stop calling it that!” I ordered. “We talked about this! We’re just friends!”
“Right, sorry,” Clark answered, not looking even remotely apologetic. He walked up to me, so we were only a few feet away. “Look, Lois, I’m not sure I can explain exactly why we started feeling differently about each other. When things changed. But they did. And we’re happy.” He gazed into my eyes, as though willing me to the see the truth in his words. “I promise you, we’re good together.”
I stared back up at him and then snorted in derision. “Clark, I get that you think that, but you have to understand – in my world, you’re still the geeky farm boy that my cousin used to have a crush on and the guy who follows Lana around everywhere. I mean, you were in love with her when she was married to another guy and pregnant!” And you still have a shrine of her in your photo album, I added to myself, but didn’t say out loud.
Clark considered me for a moment and then offered, “You wanted to know if you’re my rebound girl? Well, you’re not, because Lana was my rebound girl.”
“What? How does that work?” I had a sense he was about to argue semantics, but I was kind of amused and interested in how he was going to spin this.
Clark shook his head slightly, letting out a tired sigh. “You know that Lana and I broke up a year ago, but that’s not the whole story. We actually broke up six months before that. She left me a break-up DVD.”
Well, I hadn’t been expecting that. “She broke up with you on a DVD? Wow, that’s….” I stopped and then kept silent. I’m not one of those people who like saying bad things about people and, over the years, I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut on how I feel about Lana.
“In the end, it turned out Lex forced her to do it,” Clark explained briefly. “But I didn’t know that, so I thought she really left me.” Clark hesitated and then finished, “I got over her, but it was almost like I didn’t even know I got over her. I moved on.”
“And then what happened?” I asked curiously. How did he go from that to the part where he left me on the dance floor to go make it work with another time?
“She came back,” he answered succinctly.
I studied him intently. I remembered what I’d said to him when I first woke up at the hospital. “Yeah, well, like I said: you two have a tendency to do that a lot.”
“This was different,” Clark replied, probably not even realizing how cliché that sounded. “Lana was… well, she was different. And, because it turned out that she hadn’t really wanted to break up with me, we gave it another shot.” He stopped and then said, with some difficulty, “I gave it another shot.”
“And?” I prompted him, when he’d fallen silent again.
“It didn’t work,” Clark answered, sounding a bit pained by the memory. “We should never have tried. The fact is – we were already ready to move on even before she left me the DVD. In fact, I….” he looked at me and admitted, “The night you and I talked about Oliver? When he left for Star City? I was going to end it that night, but something you said convinced me to try again.” Clark shook his head regretfully. “I made a mistake."
I swallowed at the pain I saw in his eyes. He had really loved Lana and I knew it was probably killing him that it didn’t work out between them. I reached out to touch him gently. “I’m sorry, Smallville. Looks like the past couple of years haven’t been that easy for you.”
“Some parts have,” Clark countered. “The parts where I have you.”
Almost involuntarily, my lips curved up into a tiny smile. “That’s sweet, Clark, but that Lois Lane you think you have? She’s not me,” I told him, honestly.
“What do you mean?” Clark shook his head, looking very concerned. “Of course she’s you.”
“For better or worse, I don’t have memories of the past two years, so those parts you’re talking about? They didn’t happen to me, so, I’m not that girl. Until I get my memories back, this is the Lois Lane I am,” I answered, indicating towards myself. Then, I did something that I knew wasn’t going to go over well. And I think that’s why I did it. To get him to understand what I was saying. I glanced down at my watch and said, deliberately, “And this Lois Lane has a date in an hour, so I have to get ready.” I didn’t wait for a response, and ran towards the stairs.
“What?” Clark frowned. “What do you mean, you have a date?” he called after me, following me up the stairs. “With who?” Clark demanded.
“Oliver.” I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled slightly, admitting, “Well, it’s not technically a date. I guess it’s like a date.” As I entered the bedroom, I also added, “Don’t you have a date, too? With Cat?”
Clark ignored that. He captured my arm, pulling me back around to face him. “Lois, you can’t go out on a date with another guy.” Clark put his hands on my shoulders and I frowned up at him. “We’re in a relationship and you’re going to regret this. You don’t love Oliver.”
I felt bad for him. It’s not like I didn’t. I put my hand on his chest, and gazed into his eyes with sympathy. “Look, Smallville, I know this is weird. But you have to understand. 2010 Lois is the one who’s in a relationship with you. 2008 Lois?” I owed it to him to be honest. So, I looked him right in the eyes and finished, “I’m still in love with Ollie.”
Clark flinched, as though I’d just slapped him, and he let me go, stepping away almost immediately.
Concerned by his reaction, I reached out to touch his shoulder tentatively. “Clark? Are you okay?”
Clark let out a mirthless laugh at that. “The love of my life just told me she’s in love with someone else. Yes, Lois, why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“What?” I blinked in surprise and my jaw dropped open, but Clark didn’t stay to hear my response. He stepped out of the bedroom and when I finally gained control of myself to be able to go after him, he had already disappeared.
Wearily, I sat down on the bed. And looked around at the bedroom again. After a few minutes of deliberation, I went to the nightstand and grabbed my phone and quickly drafted a text. Sorry, I won’t be able to make it. Maybe some other day, Hood. I hit send and waited. Sure enough, less than a minute later, I got a text back. I understand. Looks like dinner’s not in our cards, Legs. See you around.
I nodded, even though it was silly, because he couldn’t see me. I bit my lip, willing myself not to cave into the tears, but I was clearly not in the mood to listen to myself. Finally, I decided it was pointless to resist and I put my head down on the pillow and cried into the yellow sheets.
***
“Oliver told me I’d find you here,” Chloe said cheerfully as she placed a greasy paper bag full of fast food on my desk. “Thought you might be hungry, since you skipped your dinner with him.”
I glanced at the bag and shook my head. Just the thought of food was nauseating. “Not hungry, but thanks.”
“Lois Lane turning down a Fat Joe burger with all the trimmings?” Chloe asked, in amazement. “Now there’s a first.”
I didn’t laugh in response. Instead, I kept my attention on the monitor and and clicked on the mouse to pull up another article. “I’ve written a lot of articles these past two years.” My brow rose as I glanced at my cousin. “What did I do? Live at the DP?”
Chloe pulled up a chair from the nearest desk and sat down. “Well, you are pretty ambitious, Lois. Are you really that surprised?”
“No, I’m not,” I answered, with more than a hint of pride. “But I am a little bummed out that I’m still in the basement,” I added, as I looked around the nearly empty bullpen.
“Not your fault. Tess Mercer runs the Daily Planet and she hates you,” Chloe explained. “Let’s just say she’s a minion of Lex Luthor.”
I nodded in understanding. I had a sense that was the case, but it was nice to get confirmation. “Figures the new boss would hate me as much as the old one. Lois Lane charm. Gets ‘em everytime.” I hesitated and then pursed my lips, as I cast a glance towards Chloe. “Speaking of Lois Lane charm…. Chloe, I have a question.”
Chloe’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “No way. I know that look.”
“What look?” I asked, frowning a bit.
“The look everyone gets before they ask me for romantic advice,” Chloe explained. “There is no way I’m getting dragged into this Shakespearean triangle. Besides, I wouldn’t even know who to advise here: Blast from the past Lois or contemporary Lois?”
“Don’t you see, Chloe, we’re the same,” I answered miserably. “We occupy the same space. I have no clue who I’m supposed to be, anymore.” I shook her head a little and gazed into the distance. “I… the last time I went to bed, my dreams were about Oliver. And, now, they’re coming true. He’s here, in Metropolis, and he could make a life with me. But my thoughts?” I stopped and then admitted, “…My thoughts, they keep going back to Clark. The guy who…” I faltered as I tried to list and explain everything he’d done the past couple of days and the feelings he was evoking in me. Finally, I realized I couldn’t explain, so I just finished, “He called me the love of his life, Chloe. The love of his life. Who says that? And how the hell did that happen?”
“Clark does that,” Chloe reminded me. “He’s not the sort of guy who just falls for the closest girl available. God knows, we would have hooked up a long time ago if that had been the case.” Chloe smiled slowly and added, “And as to how did it happen? I think, Lois, that sometimes love doesn’t just happen with a bang. It grows every day. Like a plant. And, I think, you guys’ love grew and grew until it finally blossomed. When it did, you were both happier than I’ve ever seen you before.”
I thought about that for a second. “That’s what Clark said. That we’re happy.”
“Look, I have no clue what your feelings for Oliver are,” Chloe admitted, with a shrug. “But I do know that you’re madly in love with Clark. At least, you were a few days ago.”
I stared at the empty desk across from hers, where Clark’s nameplate was prominently displayed. I thought back to the past day, when we worked together and went home together. Hung out and had fun. Then, I tried to imagine doing that every day for the rest of my life. For some reason, the image didn’t freak me out as much as it should have. In fact, I found it a little… tempting. I turned to tell Chloe this, but the sudden movement made my head hurt. I winced and put my hand to the back of my head and when I moved my fingers away, I saw that they were bloody.
Chloe gasped, “Oh no! Did you rip your stitches?”
“I guess so.” I felt dizzy and somewhat faint. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to skip all the meals in a day when you’d just suffered blood loss and a head injury. I saw spots start to form around me and the last thing I heard was Chloe calling someone on her phone before I blacked out.
***
I tried to open my eyes and then closed them as the sunlight hit them from the open window in my bedroom. My head was pounding. Oh, this was terrible. I must have over-indulged the night before. But, try as I might, I really couldn’t remember being anywhere near alcohol so that didn’t really make any sense.
Finally, I willed myself to sit up a bit and I saw that Clark was in the room. “Ugh, Smallville, close the drapes!” I lifted my hand up, in front of my eyes, to block out the light.
“Lois? You’re awake,” Clark said, coming to sit next to me on the bed, completely ignoring my edict. He looked at me with concern. “How are you feeling?”
“I’d feel better if you’d close the drapes,” I informed him. Then, I rubbed my temples a bit and glanced up at him curiously. “Other a headache the size of Texas, I’m feeling fine. What happened?”
“Lois, do you remember…?” Clark looked at me uncertainly. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Um… let’s see….” I thought about it for a second. “We were following that lead about the towers – we went to RAO labs and then there….” I frowned as I tried to think of what happened next. But I couldn’t really see anything beyond that, except darkness. “I have no idea,” I said, giving up. “What happened?”
“We took you to the hospital and then, when you woke up, you didn’t remember…” Clark began.
“Oh, wait!” I cut him off. I stared at him for a second, my fingers massaging my aching head as I looked down and the events of the past couple of days flooded through me. “Oh my God, Clark. Did I….” My cheeks were on fire. “I remember… I thought it was 2008.”
Clark smiled, with obvious relief. “Yeah.”
I wasn’t relieved. On the contrary, I wanted to die of embarrassment. Letting out a loud groan, I closed my eyes and flopped back on the bed. Grabbing a pillow, I put it over my face. “Oohamalogoaodio juoos kalksow mle nnaowo.”
“What?” I felt Clark grasp the pillow and pull it away from me.
I sat back up. “I said, just kill me now.” Hoping he’d tell me I remembered wrong, I asked, “Did I seriously try to hook up with Ollie? Oh my God.”
“Well,” Clark tried to shrug and make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. “Two years ago, you did love him, Lois. It’s understandable, I guess.” Clark looked down at the blanket as he conceded this point, unable to look at me while he said it.
“Um, well, that’s true,” I admitted. I bit my lip anxiously and studied him for a moment, feeling horrible. I’d just spent the past two days telling my boyfriend I wasn’t in love with him and that I wanted to go hook up with my ex-boyfriend. And, poor guy, he actually tried to stop me. He’d even called me the love of his life (something he’d never said before).
Feeling a rush of love for Clark flood through me, I shifted closer to him. “But guess what? It’s the year 2010 now.” And then I grabbed his shirt and tugged until he was only a mere inch from my lips. “And I haven’t kissed the love of my life for a whole two days now. Let’s fix that, shall we?”
Before he could respond, I captured his lips with my own, and kissed him hard, pushing him back against the bed until he was lying down. And, then, I straddled him, leaning down to kiss him some more, running my tongue along the seam of his lips until he opened his mouth. After a few minutes of some pretty spectacular kissing, I broke away so I could focus on pulling his shirt off. He responded by tugging off my nightgown, which was easy for him since it was silky and quite skimpy (I had to laugh at this, since when I dress myself, I wear pajamas and when Clark dresses me, it’s usually the skimpiest nightgown I own. My boyfriend is sweet, but he’s still a guy).
I hadn’t even gotten to his pants, yet, when he ripped off my panties. At this point, I was lot more underdressed than he was. I pulled back to laugh breathlessly. “Sheesh, Clark. Buy a girl dinner first.”
He stared at me for a minute and, then, quite seriously. “Say that again.”
I frowned. “Buy a girl dinner first?”
“No,” he said, his voice husky, “Before that.”
“Clark?” I asked, confused.
He kissed me hard on the lips, running his hands over my body. He flipped us around so he was on top of me. His lips trailed over my neck and he murmured, “Say it again.”
“Ahh… Clark?”
His mouth came back up and he gave me another kiss. When I broke away, to breathe, I laughed and said, teasingly, “If I had known your name was such an aphrodisiac, I’d be saying it more often. Clark… Clark… Clark….”
After that, Clark pinned my hands against the mattress and started doing things that kind of make it impossible for me to think, let alone form coherent words. So, I stopped talking. For a long time.
