Archive of Our Own ^beta

It's an argument the last time he talks to Lois as Clark Kent.

It's nowhere near like the banter they used to have all those years ago when she lived with him on the Kent farm, back in those simpler times when Clark's biggest worries were surviving high school and hiding his abilities. Back when the teasing was light-hearted, when Clark felt light and free, and Lois would call him Smallville the way she did — with the slight emphasis, a nose wrinkle, the lilt in her tone, challenging him to argue back. Back when Clark and Lois were the friends who nobody thought they would be.

Friends tiptoeing along a thin line, never courageous enough to take the leap.

But the argument is raw and cruel, as if they truly wanted to hurt each other —maybe they did, Clark thinks grimly — twisting the knife just enough to leave it bleeding. In a manner, he thinks only Lois could hurt him like that, and he to her, courtesy of how well they knew each other.

Lois knew him too well, in fact, maybe even better than how Clark knew himself. And she didn't even know about his abilities. It was almost unnerving.

"So you don't even care that Chloe is gone ?" Lois snaps, anger barely concealed in her tone.

Clark is extra sensitive that day, with Chloe missing, Oliver pressuring him to kill Davis, still reeling in the revelation of him having killed Lex; not wanting to compromise his morals and wondering where the line of mortality can be crossed, if he’s allowed to take a life or not — Clark was being stretched thin. He was working to the best of his abilities, and Lois blaming him when he was doing in his might have been the final push to make him tick.

"No one," he says through gritted teeth. "…wants to find Chloe more than I do,"

Lois holds in a scoff, going mum. She has that tendency these days. Going suddenly silent, when she clearly wants to give Clark a piece of her mind — but she detaches herself from him, as if to say, let him be, whatever.

Clark despises it.

He despises that their relationship has come to this. Because there was a time when Clark thought they were going somewhere, becoming something concrete, something more real. But that was then, and this is now, where he can feel Lois slipping through his fingers day by day, and he tries — god, does he try to go back to what they were. Go back to the time before Jimmy and Chloe's wedding, when he was confident in himself, confident in them. He dares not to put a label on what them implies, but he wanted to find out.

He still does.

Clark's aware that their current predicament is the consequences of his own actions - more than perfectly aware. He's spent nights regretting it all, how he should have made smarter decisions, not gone back to what he knew was wrong. It had meant to be closure of some sort, he wasn't supposed to jump back into a relationship with Lana again. But his wounds over the break up over the tape hadn't fully healed and for it to not be genuine, it gave him an excuse.

It had been so, so easy to fall back into old habits when things got difficult, terrible as they were, to revert back to that stubborn mindset that believed in a fairy tale of a restricted happily ever after, to cling to the ideal presented solution. Too easy to believe that fate wanted it to be Lana all along. That this time, they would work. Regardless of the fact that their infatuation had died a long time back and they were merely delaying the inevitable.

His heart hadn't even been in it, but Lois had gone to Star City, ignoring his texts and calls save for a curt update about Jimmy, never talking about herself — he had to get updates on her well-being through Oliver — it had been fairly easy to go back to the familiarity and be a coward.

Clark knew he had messed up.

He knew, he knew, he knew. He knew it before he saw Chloe’s disappointed look, before Oliver gave him an unimpressed punch, when Lois didn’t hug him back in the hospital, but a timid, stupidly hopeful part of him thought that, given enough time, they would be back to what they were again.

He was wrong, and he should've known that earlier.

Because Lois keeps a wall between them now, and no matter how many times it almost feels like they are getting back to their usual rhythm, back to Lois and Clark, intrepid reporters, she pulls back, giving him a curt smile, a guarded look, not planning to make the same mistake again.

How low Clark has fallen. To be considered a mistake now.

They started out with Lois barging into his life, giving him unsolicited advice, to actually being partners, friends, best friends even, and now they were…this.

Friendly colleagues on a good day.

Strangers on a bad day.

And then there was whatever they were today.

"Except maybe me," Lois says slowly, tired with him. "I haven't slept in days…and am dangerously close to a caffeine OD,"

Clark glances at Lois from the corner of his eye — dark eye bags, hollow cheeks, fatigued. It hurts him to see her like this, unable to help. He can sympathise to an extent, understand how Lois feels because he doesn't feel any better himself. The stress and fear for Chloe's life constantly terrorise him. A part of him is deeply miffed by Chloe too, not that he has voiced it out to anyone. Why did she run away with Davis? What was the best scenario she was expecting from that ?

And then there's crushing guilt Clark feels because Chloe had reasoned it by saying she was doing it for him. 

Why do these awful things keep happening all around us? Lois had asked months back, the only time he had ever seen her terror-stricken in tears, right after the wedding. He didn't have the courage to admit, even in his mind, that more often than not, he was the reason for everyone's pain. Those awful things happened because Clark was near them.

Lois sighs, raising her hand. "Okay," She walks towards his seat, tired. "Do you at least want to tell me about the little novella you're writing—"

"No," Clark says curtly, closing the Word document instantly, tensed. He knows this will upset her yet again, but he can't let her see the letter. Not yet. Not from Clark Kent.

If Lois would just wait for a few minutes, he could get out of her space, and she could find the letter from The Blur, and they could fight another day. The longer he stays now, the more precious time slips away, and Clark is deathly afraid that they'll say things they don't mean just to push each other and ruin their relationship more.

She stares at him in shock, stunned at his cold rejection. The flash of hurt on her face is ruining, and it takes a lot of willpower from Clark not to just tell her everything. That he is, in fact, The Blur, he isn't deliberately trying to hurt her — Clark misses her —

"Wow," she says quietly, more to herself than him, and she laughs, a forced sharp sound that pricks Clark, but he forces himself not to look at her directly, staring blankly at his screen, jaw slacked.

"Okay," Lois says, clapping her hands. "I can't believe you — I can't believe that I — wow."

"Lois," Clark starts, shaking his head, exhausted all of a sudden. He needs to leave; he can't keep upsetting her again and again.

In the back of his mind, there's a voice telling him that this might be the last time they talk, Rokk’s warning about Doomsday ringing in his mind — but he doesn't know how to make Lois listen, how to make their possible last moments sweeter, more cherished.

"I thought," Lois says in a low voice, vexed, voice trembling. "We could work on this together. But no. You haven't —" she breaks, pressing her lips tightly.

He needs to leave.

"Lois, I'll find her— you need to drop this. This is not about —"

"You haven't grown up at all," she says harshly, eyes hard and glaring. "You still stick to that childish, naive habit of doing everything yourself, taking everything on your shoulder like you're some hero."

She breathes heavily, and her expression is so hurt, so devastated, but Clark can't see through the pain he feels, the way her words prick him like needles and make his blood boil.

"It's not heroic at all, it's stupid."

Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, don’t say anything —

"And pray tell," Clark hisses, fist clenched. "How would you help Lois? By getting into trouble ? By perhaps hoping The Blur comes to save you from a mess? Do you have to involve yourself everywhere?!"

He regrets it the moment he says it. She blinks, taken aback at his accusation, and Clark sees a flash of surprised pain for a second before she masks it again. Clark expects her to explode then and there and chew him out, possibly punch him, but she does nothing of the sort. She steps closer, as if getting confirmation of her thoughts.

"Right," Lois says tightly, eyes a turmoil of emotions.

And it's completely wrong because Clark feels awful having said that, and she should be screaming at him, incredulous, because that was Lois. Confident in her abilities, fearless and undaunted to get to the bottom of a story, and Clark was the one who got inspired by her, but she's freakishly still now, hands unmoving.

It’s so wrong that he almost wants to tell her to snap at him.

"Of course you think that,” she says in quiet rage. "…But you, Clark? What, you think you're better? I have seen you in trouble more times than I can count, having multiple brushes with death — you literally got shot and were declared dead three years ago, so where do you get off telling me I get into trouble? Like you don't? "

"I—"

Her voice keeps rising louder. "You involve yourself in crazy situations, find yourself in bizarre mind-boggling scenarios, you were in a freaking plane crash a week ago? I am not asking you to tell me your life story, but in these situations — ”

“How is that my fault?! You were involved in a plane crash a couple of years ago, too, if I remember correctly. You don’t find me blaming you for that!”

“Oh shut up, I am not blaming you! You know what I mean.” Lois snaps, frustrated. “You want me to bring up receipts ? You got shot a month ago, again! Right in front of me — you have no leg to stand on! And this is personal," she seethes, eyes flashing. "It's Chloe, she’s my family, Clark."

He needs to leave, he needs to leave —

"You know it’s funny you bring up me getting shot," Clark hears himself say. "Weren’t you the reason I —" he stops abruptly, mortified at what he was about to say, but the damage is done. Lois understands in an instant.

"I was the reason what? That you got shot?" she scoffs bitterly. "Oh. Oh," she exhales, the rage fizzling in an instant.

"No, Lois—"

"You think I'm going to be the reason something bad happens to you? That if you trust me, I will somehow make everything worse?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

"No, I don't !" Lois yells, teeth clenched. "I don't know what you mean?! If that’s the reason, then have the guts to say it, you coward, instead of running around in circles and telling me to leave it alone!”

Clark shakes his head, brushing his hair aside in frustration.

“Because this is me, Clark. Like it or not, I cannot sit still when something happens, when someone goes missing, and you might think I'm trying to make a name for myself as a reporter, and it's selfish, but I want to make," she takes a deep breath. "A difference,"

"It's not —" Clark swallows. "…selfish. You're twisting my words."

"What do you mean then?" Lois questions, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Will you ever say something? Or will you take the first excuse that walks in through that door and just up and disappear?"

He needs to —

"What?" He can't help it; his temper flares at that, a roar in his ears, at the insinuation — Clark has wanted to talk about that since Lois came back from Star City, but she would never let him — Let's chalk it up to mistakes made at that Godzilla-invaded wedding, yeah? We don’t have to overanalyse anything now— She was the one who kept him at a distance.

Lois was being unfair, bringing her into this.

Clark stands up suddenly, taking up her personal space but Lois doesn't take a step back. If anything, she looks thrilled to push his buttons. She stands her ground, and they are too close, breathing heavily, almost touching. He can feel her breath on his face, angered, eyes stormy.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asks, voice low, harsh.

"That means," she snaps coldly. "That if someone walked in through that door right now, your attention would disappear. You would walk away no matter what you feel, because…because you don't—" she stops, her eyes vulnerable.

"Don't what?" Clark probes, his face now barely inches away from her, a scene reminiscent of them in Chloe and Jimmy's wedding, when they had almost kissed, except now there's no adoration left in their eyes, no fondness. Only frustration and strong, harsh intensity.

"I think I get it now, Clark," Lois says instead, ignoring him. "Why you exclude me from your little secret smallville investigation club, why you conveniently forget to tell me about a new break in the case we are working. All this time I chalked it up to you being a ditz," she scoffs unbelievably.

"You run away on your own, and more often than not, we reach the same place — sometimes me before you even. And I kept wondering just…why? He’s not a complete idiot because I know he is capable, he’s smart— so why wouldn't he see the obvious and work with me? It would be so much more efficient !"

Lois smiles suddenly, forced. "But I know now,"

She tries to turn away, but Clark stops her, clutching her hand.

"Know what, Lois?" he presses, and it would be so easy to take her lips into his own, to make her stop thinking drivel and tell her everything, bare his heart out to her, shake sense into her, but all he can do is plead with his eyes.

"You don't take me seriously. Not when it matters," she says quietly, blunt, but it's loud and blaring to Clark. "You don't trust me to have your back."

She presses her lips again — Clark thinks her lips might start bleeding soon— regretting voicing it out, and he can only stare at her flabbergasted, at a statement so preposterous and entirely untrue.

"What on earth are you talking about? I do, Lois. I do," he pleads, squeezing her arm because she has to know. She needs to know.

Lois doesn't speak, doesn't say anything, posture deflated, done with him apparently.

"It's okay," she says calmly. "I don't think I could trust you to have my back, either." He flinches at her words, staggering back, legs colliding with the chair.

There have been a few instances in Clark’s life where he has bled, been acutely injured — even died, once — exposed to Kryptonite, and of all those times, this might be the most painful thing he has ever experienced.

"…You don't mean that," he says weakly, desperate.

This really might be it for them, a dark part of his mind whispers.

Clark tries to get her to understand, to say something, but Lois gives up, sighing. "Go, just…go." She pushes his chest away. Clark doesn't move.

She looks at him wearily, mildly irritated at his change in tune. "That's what you wanted to do, right? You wanted to leave, I could see it in your posture. You've been waiting for me to turn so you can leave. So, go." she says forcefully, pulling her hands away harshly from his, heading to the coffee stand to pour herself another cup of coffee yet again.

Clark wants to pull her back towards him to continue this conversation, this being the most she's told him about her feelings and he wants to tell her how utterly wrong she is, how it's never been about him not thinking her capable, it was him, him who was incapable, how she's always first to him, but she doesn't turn back.

"Don't drink another cup of coffee, Lois. Go home and get some rest." he says softly, wishing she would look at him again. "It's getting late," he pleads.

She ignores him.

He waits for her to turn, but she refuses to look back at him, stubborn. So finally, Clark listens to her and leaves, devastated.

His hearing picks up a sharp sob from her seconds later, followed by cursing directed at herself for being so weak, and at Clark, breaking his heart further. It's really confirming what his mind has been screaming at him.

They wouldn't go back to what they used to be, or what they almost were.

・・・・・

But Clark's weak and selfish.

He can't let their possibly last conversation be like that, a memory that can only bring pain.

So he waits till she composes herself, and calls her as the Blur, from the phone booth inside the Daily Planet, opposite to where their tables sit. He needs to ensure the goodbye letter gets delivered to her, for the worst-case scenario. If he's disappointed her enough as Clark Kent, he doesn't wish for The Blur to disappoint Lois as well.

"Hello?" he hears her say, the sharp edge in her tone still there. Clark could see her frustrated, head in her hands.

He was right there. If Lois turned back and looked straight ahead, she would find Clark in the phone booth next to the elevator, staring right at her.

She doesn't turn.

"Miss Lane," he says, willing his voice to be calm. The voice modifier may change his voice, but it wouldn't hide his emotion. He hears a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh," Lois’s voice cracks, overwhelmed. "It's you,"

Clark doesn't reply, mulling over the right words to speak.

"I'm sorry, this isn't a good time. Or I guess, it wasn't? It is now, don't cut the call, just—" she says a beat later, before downing her coffee in one go, wincing at the burn of the beverage down her throat — Clark winces too, she had just poured herself that. She hits her face once, clearing her throat. "I've been out of it these days…there's this thing—"

"About your cousin ?" he interrupts gently. "I've been searching for Chloe," he assures, hoping it soothes some of the stress she is carrying. "I am going to find her."

Lois startles, surprised. "Really?" she asks hopefully, and Clark can almost hear the soft smile sporting on her face. He wishes she would turn right then, or he would rush to her, consequences be damned. He wanted to see the smile that was because of the Blur, because Lois doesn't smile the way he is sure she is right now when she is with Clark.

He can't help but feel ridiculously irritated at that. It should've been him. It should've been Clark she was talking to, with the quiet delight — not the Blur. But all Clark manages to do is make her yell and upset.

What a conundrum he's stuck in.

She sits on the desk — Clark's desk, holding the telephone cord closer to her, and he can hear the unbridled hope in her voice, tone softer. "How did you even know she was missing? Even for you, knowing every citizen's whereabouts might be a lot to handle, isn't it?"

A pause. "That would be…difficult," Clark admits, amused. "But..." It's different with you. I cherish you, Lois. "I've been keeping an eye on you." He hopes she can sense his honesty, his earnestness, all the emotions he's been keeping a check on, emotions he's still afraid to label.

"Oh," she breathes, twirling the cords of the telephone. "Okay,"

"…Okay?"

"Okay," Lois repeats, with a nervous chuckle . "To be honest, I was hoping for that..? I don't know if that's the right thing to say, but I figure I should just be honest with you," she says in a hurry, almost excited. "I didn't know how to call you, it's not like I have your number —which is totally understandable because it could be used against you in the wrong hands, of course I get that — But all of a sudden here you are at the perfect time…out of nowhere to save the day and I just—" she stops, all of a sudden, only her breath being heard.

"…Miss Lane?"

"…Were you here when I was arguing with Clark?" she asks bluntly, and Clark freezes, not daring to breathe.

"Never mind," Lois adds quickly. "Don't answer that. I'd rather you not have heard that. That's not important,"

It is important, Clark wants to argue. It is important to him.

Lois takes a deep breath. "I'm rambling again. You just make me so…," she trails off, choosing not to finish that sentence. "I don't know how I'm going to repay you for this, for trying to find Chloe."

Clark swallows nervously. He called her for another reason other than wanting to console her.

"I don't do this expecting anything back, Miss Lane," Clark says calmly, ignoring his inner turmoil. "But, I do happen to need a favor at the moment,"

"Of course!"

"I need you to publish a letter for me."

The switch in Lois's demeanour is instantaneous. Her back straightens, shoulders set, and Clark can imagine her eyes getting that particularly focused look she gets when she's serious.

"What letter?" She moves to sit on her chair, taking out a pen, listening with intent.

Distantly, Clark wonders when Lois grew up so much, from the girl who got kicked out of college, happily crashing in their farm, trying out various jobs, trying to find her place in the world, to this dauntless journalist who was more aware, more observant, somehow even more clever.

She had always been confident and clever, but these days it's as if she knows where she is heading, what she wants, how she wants it — Clark wishes he had an ounce of the self-confidence she has.

A few months back, he would have thought he grew up along with her too — Lois and Clark, the Daily Planet journalists, the ones who grew out of Smallville, matured together, and maybe, just maybe, became something more.

He wasn't sure now. Maybe Lois was right about that, that Clark Kent hadn't changed at all.

He hands her the letter in his hands, super-speeding swiftly, Lois not even realising until the gush of wind passes and the letter is placed neatly against the desktop front of her.

"Wow," she says in awe, taking the letter in her hands. "You're here, aren't you?"

Clark doesn't answer her. She opens the letter, quietly reading its contents.

“Can I count on you to publish that letter if anything happens to me?”

"Goodbye ?" she exclaims, incredulous. "What do you mean goodbye ? What’s going to happen to you?"

Clark closes his eyes, uncomfortable. He chooses to be cryptic. "Sometimes…we can't outrun our destiny,"

Lois doesn't speak, still reading his letter. "That's bullshit," she says bluntly, without thinking any better. His eyes snap open as he barely holds himself back from sputtering.

"Sorry," Lois says hastily, clearing her throat. "I meant," She is on her feet again, hands fidgeting. "I thought you were…invincible?"

"So did I," Clark admits after a pause. Rokk telling him it was his last day alive rattled Clark much more than he had liked to admit.

"I want to see you," Lois says, suddenly determined, the shift in tone startling Clark. "I have to see your face. I want you to show me what you can't show anyone else."

Clark doesn't say anything, jaw slackened, eyes remorseful.

"You can trust me," Lois says quietly.

You don't trust me to have you back. Her earlier words echo in his head, and he clenches his fist, shaking.

"I am sorry," Clark hears himself say. "That's not a good idea," His willpower in keeping his secret has never been tested as much as it has today. He's barely hiding himself from her. 

Lois doesn't speak. She reads the letter again, tapping her feet.

"We can't outrun your destiny, you say ?" she muses, more to herself than him. "But Mr. Blur, I don't think you believe that yourself,"

"What?"

"I don't believe in planned fates," she says brazenly, uncaring. "Things happen, and we react to situations and make the best of it. We are going to forge our path, and I know you don't do what you do because you were meant to. You just do it. Because that's who you are and what you choose to do."

Clark blinks. A distant memory appears in the back of his mind — his father, giving him a warm smile. You forge your own path, son. And how do I know that? Because we raised you.

"This...kindness to help strangers, being a hero, and not asking anything for yourself isn't something anyone can do if they don't want to. That selflessness is a choice, not because it's a destiny or whatever mumbo jumbo people make up."

But he isn't selfless, not at all, Clark thinks forlorn. He wants, desires, longs, yearns — if anything, he thinks he is much more selfish than anyone else could imagine. Lois may believe he was some sort of hero, but she wouldn't say the same if she knew it was actually Clark.

What makes him truly selfish is that even after he has pushed her away, only upset her the past few months, after he just made her yell at him minutes ago…he still wants Lois back, for her to look at him the way it makes his heart stutter, the way her gaze makes the rest of the world secondary.

"I think you don't want to show your face to me — yet, I hope — because a part of you knows you are going to be back. This isn't the last time you're going to be in Metropolis, talking to me, and this is sure as hell isn't a goodbye because of some destiny.”

“And if you feel doubtful…" she stops, embarrassed.

"…And if I am doubtful?" he asks a beat later, vulnerable.

"Then," Lois pauses again, self-conscious. "…Believe in me, who believes in you."

Clark doesn't say anything back, touched. He doesn't think he could say something appropriate.

"You're going to come through this. You can. And when you do…" Lois covers her eyes with her hand and turns suddenly, catching Clark off guard.

He doesn't move, frozen. She is facing him, but Lois doesn't remove her palm from her eyes.

She knew.

She knew he was here and wanted him to know that she did, Clark realises. His breath catches in his throat, and he can't help the noise he makes then, scared but exhilarated. It's somehow even quieter in the room, Clark thinks she could probably hear his loud heartbeats, erratic as they were, with or without superpowers.

"Either you're in my field of vision, in the phone booth next to the elevator, and I have surprised you," Lois whispers into the telephone, anticipating. "…or I look like a big joke right now."

Clark doesn't dare speak.

It's a risk to admit it, it's a risk to still be in the phone booth when Lois knows where he is. It's a risk to be close to her — Lois tests everything Clark believes in, challenges him in the way no one can, and right now, he was going to lose it soon enough.

Lois waits for his reply patiently.

"You have almost caught me, Miss Lane," he says softly, risks be damned. "I'm surprised you're hiding your eyes,"

"I mean, you could have blurred away," she retorts, pitch slightly higher. She was nervous.

"Perhaps,"

She clears her throat again."Besides, it wouldn't be ethical. I'd like you to show me yourself on your own conditions."

"…Some day?" she asks, expectantly. Clark chuckles despite himself, not giving a direct answer. But the chuckle is an answer nonetheless, which seems to satisfy Lois.

"Okay then." The confidence creeps back into her voice. "I am going to assume you are good with phone booths?"

"They're fine," he says, voice low, as he stares at her, her smile dazzling.

"There's one on Fourth and Main. Let's say midnight a week from now?" Lois bites her lips, expectant. "I'll be there, ready to tell you I told you so."

"I hope you'll be there too," she adds, whispering.  "And thank you. If anyone can save Chloe…it's you. Stay safe,"

It’s done. Clark should leave now. He should.

He doesn’t.

He speeds out of the phone booth to stand in front of her, every logical part of him screaming at him to leave, but Clark can’t. Lois seems to realise the lack of distance between them too, because she goes completely still.

Hesistantly, he places his hand on hers. Lois startles, drawing in her breath sharply. It's uncharted territory and he's sure he's tempting fate — going against all the ground rules he had set up for himself when he first called Lois as The Blur. He wonders if she would be mad at him for trying to get her attention like this, but he wants this so desperately.

If it’s his last time, he needs this.

He leans closer, foreheads almost colliding, wanting to stay tethered to this moment, forever. A morbid part of him wants to ignore the rest of the world, Doomsday be damned.

"You're being very trusting right now," Lois whispers, her lips barely away from his. He chuckles, before brushing his lips on the palm she is hiding her eyes with.

"Thank you," Clark whispers, and before she can react, before he loses his resolve, before he does something that would change their relationship forever and possibly tell her his identity, he speeds away, disappearing.

・・・・・

His world crashes when Jimmy dies, the light of his bright blue eyes which had always teased Clark in mirth, which had looked at him knowingly —It's going to be you and Lois, CK come on ! — who had been in awe just moments before, after seeing his abilities, dimmed forever, by the very man Clark was trying to desperately save.

Another innocent was taken away after knowing about his abilities.

He is a curse.

Clark drowns in his guilt, wondering if he did die — that perhaps Doomsday did get him and this is the brief haze right before death, and he's being made to suffer in that haze, that Doomsday made it a point to make it a slow death as he floats around as a shell of a person.

He observes the funeral from a distance, unable to wrap his head around the outcome, not finding it within him to stand with Chloe and the rest of the League. He had been so sure that separating the human from the monster would resolve his dilemma of morality, of what was right and wrong. But it was a human, a whole rational human with rational thoughts and decisions, who killed Jimmy in cold blood, whom Clark had to convince to trust Davis, to help Davis.

All along, he had thought it was his Kryptonian side that made him dangerous. But Oliver was right, he had put humanity on a pedestal — Clark’s humanity was his weakness, what made decision based on emotion, rather than rational, and they were all paying its price. His eyes look for Lois, who would now certainly hate him for allowing Jimmy to die. She had loved Jimmy like he was her brother, had been closer to him than most, except Chloe.

This would be it. She had already given up on Clark Kent; she would now give up on The Blur. He would lose her twice, but this time, he would have to accept it. It was a mistake to think he was human. Being raised by them didn't make him human. He would never be able to understand humanity, not when he wasn't one of them, never was.

Oddly, he doesn't find Lois at the funeral. Perhaps she couldn't get herself to make an appearance, but he can’t ever imagine that possibility. She would rather die than let Chloe go through something like this on her own, because when Lois loves, she is fiercely loyal, unrelenting. She wouldn't do that.

He almost wishes she had, because that would have been more palatable than the truth.

+

Rock bottom is a farce, Clark finds soon enough. There's no concrete bottom; it's an endless, infinite void. Because just when he thinks it's truly over for him — his life's meaning, all his experiences, all the values taught to him, it somehow gets worse. He can't find his constant, can't find Lois anywhere. Clark refuses to accept her gone, not when she wasn't part of the fight, not after Clark had made sure endlessly not to involve her in the problems caused due to him, to separate her from his Kryptonian mess.

But it haunts him every moment. The thought of her possibly having met a dire fate while he was off with Doomsday, or worse, because of the Doomsday terror on the streets before Clark fought him.

He won't accept it.

He can't.

Clark would have known. He has to have known.

But as days bleeds to weeks and it becomes a month, Clark is unable to hang on to the hope that she might still be out there.

If anything, all the tragedy makes it crystal clear to him. Clark isn’t human; he can’t live amongst them if he’s ever to do anything more, anything worthwhile enough to make a difference. He’s fought his entire life against his nature, called himself anything but alien, but that's what he is. And yet humane enough to let these emotions control him.

He quits the Daily Planet, says his goodbyes to his mother, to Chloe — never resolving their complicated feelings towards each other after the Davis Bloom disaster, never confronting the blame, the guilt, the heartache, the desperation of not finding Lois. He can't even look at Chloe clearly right now; it's a stark reminder that she isn't Lois, that Lois is missing.

So he runs away to the North, to go to Jor-El and train, and kills his Clark Kent identity. It's about time he accepts he isn't human, and if this is what fate had wanted for him, he wishes it had come for a lesser price.

He doesn't stay there forever though, lingering in Metropolis during the nights still, patrolling the streets, visiting the phone booth near Fourth and Main every midnight like clockwork, hoping for a miracle, to find Lois there, eyebrows raised.

His heartbeat dulls day by day, until one day Clark thinks it has simply stopped. That Lois’s disappearance might have been the final push that truly removes the humanity in him.

+

She appears in his dreams sometimes.

It's nothing too out of place. She sits at her place in the Daily Planet, working late nights, looking at him unimpressed when she finds him slacking. He is apparently slacking in his dream, too.

"Well?" she asks expectantly.

"Well," he echoes, bemused. She grins before fading away. Clark panics, trying to hold onto her, not wanting her to leave him again. "I am The Blur!" he confesses, trying to stop her from leaving. "I will tell you anything!" he begs, but she never listens. She disappears.

Sometimes it's Jimmy and Lois, surreptitiously investigating something, having a conversation Clark can't quite make sense of, but after all this time, he's known better than to interrupt them. They laugh, and Clark says something, joining them, but as soon as he does, they shimmer away into nothing.

He's realised by this point that when he speaks, they disappear, so he makes an effort to remain mum more often than not, for the dreams to last longer.

His breaking point is when he dreams of Lois from the last time he talked to her as The Blur, when she had covered her eyes, and he placed his hands on hers. In his dreams, she puts her hands around him, burying her face into his shoulders. "I knew it was you," she says softly. Clark doesn't speak, lest she disappear again.

He holds her in his arms, taking in her scent, and it feels so real that even though he knows better, it doesn't kill the sliver of hope that this might be her, that he's found her again, the Eurydice to his Orpheus.

"Lois," Clark breathes, and she disappears.

+

"These are getting cruel, Jor-El." Clark snaps in the midst of training. "Showing me dreams of the ones I couldn't protect is sadistic and serves no purpose. I have learnt my lesson. I don't want to dream of them anymore."

"I do not have the power to alter your dreams, Kal-El," is what Jor-El echoes, betraying no emotion. Clark can only grit his teeth, exasperated.

+

He finds Lois's Whitesnake mixtape — the one she made specifically for him — in Shelby's mouth when he goes back to the Kent Farm to feed him.

The cassette tape has his name designed on it with bright, bold colours, and the snake coiled around the instrument almost brings a smile to his face. It brings back a rush of memories, back when he was hailing a heartbreak over his first love, when Lois had freshly broken up with Oliver, when she was under a spell and infatuated with Clark.

I must have really liked you, she had said, embarrassed and nervous about how it all went down. Clark had thought it adorable then. What he hadn’t told her was that he had really liked her, too. And he wasn't even under a spell; he was simply laced with red kryptonite, which made him a lot of things, but never dishonest.

He wonders what Lois would have said to that if she knew.

He skips training that day, spending the day with Shelby and listening to the cassette tape. He ends up sleeping in his old room that night, overcome with too much nostalgia. Unsurprisingly, he dreams of Lois again.

"You know, Clark," he hears Lois say thoughtfully. "You're kind of in a really sorry state."

"I am?" he muses absentmindedly, not opening his eyes. "I hadn't noticed," He waits for her to disappear, then, having spoken back to her.

But something is different this time, because she's still there, chuckling, going on about something he doesn't hear clearly. Clark opens his eyes to find they are in the hall of his house, Lois lying on the couch, while he sits in front of her on the floor.

"Finally listened to my Whitesnake mixtape, huh?" she teases, getting to her elbows, grinning.

"That's what gets us to have a conversation?" Clark asks incredulously. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Lois laughs too. "I don't know," she admits. "It's your dream,"

"I kinda miss the Technicolor costume by the way," she adds, turning towards him. "The all-black isn't bad… well. It's nice, I can admit that. But it's not you, you know?"

Clark shrugs. "Are you mad at me?" he asks instead. "About Jimmy? About …you?"

Lois smiles at him sadly. "No, I just wish you would stop being mad,"

"I was never mad at you,"

"I'm not talking about me," she says sadly, starting to grow faint. Clark panics yet again, clutching her hand, trying to hold on to her, hold on to anything, but the dream ends like how it always does.

She disappears.

Clark wakes up yelling her name, throat sore. The house is hauntingly silent when he catches his breath and checks the time. He aches for a time when his parents would come to his room in worry when he woke up due to a nightmare. He throws his blanket away, frustrated.

It isn't very Kryptonian of him to miss them, to miss her. He gets up suddenly, regretting his decision to stay the night here; he should’ve known better. It's bringing up too many memories.

He gets up to leave, to go to the Fortress and train again, Jor-El would be glad — but when he hears Shelby whimpering, nudging his leg, Clark's will dissolves.

"Did…" his voice breaks. "Did I wake you up?" he asks softly, before picking up Shelby and hugging him tightly. His fur is soft and warm — Clark melts against him, craving his comfort.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, a lump forming in his throat.

Maybe Clark can't help but admit he misses his life, being with his parents, going to the Daily Planet, following around Lois as she lectures him about the rules of reporting, Jimmy hopping around with his camera trying to prove himself, them following up on a story, teaming up together.

He misses talking to Chloe, misses Oliver with his ease and humour, no matter how many times they were at odds with each other.

But most of all, he misses Lois. He misses her easy smile, their quick banter, her wit, her gentle grace, her loud, unapologetic self, her curious nature, everything that made her, Lois.

Shelby makes a sound, as if to say he was still there, nudging him further. Clark buries his head in his fur, overwhelmed, choking back a wrecking sob.

・・・・・

Clark's life force returns on a Thursday evening.

A monorail train comes plummeting onto a street, and Clark catches it mid-air just above the ground. The situation is anything but normal, but he’s seen worse things in life. It’s just another day patrolling Metropolis.

It's the last place he expects to find her.

He looks up to see if there is anyone seriously injured in the train when his eyes spot her. There she was, knocked out against the train window, still looking as ethereal as she was the last time he saw her. Clark’s lips part in surprise, eyes widening.

Lois.

His throat dries up, lips moving to form her name, and he wills himself to listen for her heartbeat; he needs the confirmation. It's loud, brazen, but most of all, it’s familiar. It’s the best sound he’s heard in forever.

Dry blood stains her forehead, her hand is bandaged, but Lois looks okay, looks alive, and it's truly a testament of Clark’s willpower to not rush in and hold her, feel her vitality, her living essence.

Lois was here, not missing, not dead, and that will have to be enough for Clark. Her lashes flicker; she would be waking up any instant, but Clark stays until the very last second, enough for her to see him blur as he speeds away.

He checks up on her from outside the hospital later, when Chloe enters Lois's hospital room sobbing and screaming — Where were you?! — He watches her pull her into a hug, and can't help but feel a pang of jealousy. He leaves then, finding his own thoughts ridiculous. Who was he to get jealous of Chloe ?

He sits inside an abandoned building, head in his hands, stunned as he processes it all. His lips form a semblance of a smile, till his face hurts from smiling too much.

Slowly, Clark's heart starts beating again.

・・・・・

"For three months, I've been trying to track you down, and you're completely off the radar, Clark. Lois shows up for one day and you're as predictable as clockwork."

・・・・・

He's supposed to say goodbye to Lois. Apparently. To fulfill his actual potential, because something or someone is holding him back, according to Jor-El. But Clark Kent has never listened to Jor-El’s advice before. He doesn't plan to begin now.

He calls her as the Blur again, from a building much farther than the Daily Planet — He  might really lose his calm if he sees her close again. Clark will soon, but not yet.

"Hello?"

"Lois," he breathes, the relief in his voice far too obvious, but Clark is beyond the point of caring. The weight in his chest lightens, and he is unable to stop his lips from slipping into a huge smile.

Lois makes a sound of surprise. "Hi," she says, wryly. "We are moving past Miss Lane now, is it Mr. Blur?" Clark can almost imagine her wrinkling her nose, eyes sparkling.

"I suppose so," he says, biting his lips.

A small chuckle.

"Thank you for saving me out there," she continues. "I was afraid you had disappeared for good,"

"I should have," Clark admits, the smile on his face not going away anytime soon. He hears a questionable beeping sound before it fizzes out. He shrugs it off, distracted. "I'm supposed to," he says with emphasis, the unspoken But I won't lingering between them.

Her heartbeat quickens. Since Clark found out she's been alive, her heartbeat's rhythm is something he keeps hearing day and night, no matter how far away he is. His mind automatically focuses on the rhythm of her heart first, seeking the reassurance that Lois is here, alive.

“You...uh...?”

“Hm?”

Lois goes uncharacteristically quiet, and Clark wonders if he made a mistake calling her from afar. Maybe he should have been near the Daily Planet, but it had been a busy workday, and he wouldn’t hide himself well when he was as distracted as he was today.

She clears her throat forcefully. "…Okay,"

"Okay?"

"Yeah!" she whispers, delighted. "You know best and all that,"

Clark wasn't too sure about what he knew best, but he was certain wasn't going to let her go again. 

"Can you promise this stays between us ?" Clark asks softly, though really, it was a formality. She could tell him she knew who he was and was going to write an exposé on him, and Clark wouldn’t care.

"I promise," she says seriously. “You don’t have to worry about it,”

He tries to speak, but a lump forms inside his throat, and he pauses. He wasn't going to be an emotional mess like this. The Blur isn’t supposed to be sensitive and clingy.

"So…how have you been?" Lois asks, hesitant. "I haven't seen you since, I mean, well. To me, it was just a couple of days ago — and I guess, I didn't um, see you . You know what I mean!"

"You never came to the booth," he blurts, wincing immediately . He hopes the voice modulator doesn't let her know how much his voice sounds unlike himself, pitch certainly higher, tone slightly accusatory, but mostly worried.

"I'm sorry about that," Lois says quietly. "I was going to keep that promise! I just…" she trails off, unsure.

"Where were you?"

"I don't know!" She admits, frustrated. "I've been trying to rack my memories for anything, but it's been...kind of a blank? There are these flashes of a red world sometimes and some...things which make no sense. It feels like I’ve been there for a long time, but it also feels like just a couple of days have gone by?” She huffs, annoyed.

“Do you know how it feels to wake up and find out you can’t remember the last 3 months of your life?"

“I can’t say I do,” Clark says gently, apologetic.

"Sorry," Lois adds, sighing. "It's been a bit hard wrapping my head around all this. The last thing I remember clearly is fighting with Tess when she blamed me for taking some…alien orb? And then the next thing I know, I'm on a monorail train with some ninja chick after me. Trust me, I want answers more than anyone." She clears her throat. "But seeing as you're well — here, there's no need for the goodbye letter anymore, yes ?"

"Perhaps," Clark says, a minute later.

He wants to reassure and tell her it's alright as long as she's okay, that she should rest and probably not be back at the Daily Planet so soon, considering she was just found and can't even remember where she was the last three months.

"I thought you died, Lois," he says instead, after familiar pit of anxiety forming.

"Some people died — that night. When I couldn’t find you...I thought you were one of the victims." his voice quivers. "Jimmy died I —" he swallows.

"And you were never there at the phone booth, like you promised you would be," he says, not waiting for her to answer.

How could you do this to me?

"I haven't been doing a good job saving people, and when you left I couldn't, I—" I died, he wants to say, but he forces himself to stop, barely.

Both of them stay silent.

"I haven't," Lois swallows, after few beats. "…come into terms about Jimmy yet,"

It's a prick to his heart, his memory.

"It still feels like if I turn and call him again, he'd be here, going on about some drivel about Clark and me, showing me the pictures he took, telling me he found the next great story, how we would win a Pulitzer. Lane and Olsen, he used to say — unstoppable team. And then he would throw a bone to—," She laughs shakily. "…to Clark and say we could be a trio,"

"I'm sorry," Clark whispers, closing his eyes. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry —

“Is that why you quit? Because you’re blaming yourself?”

Clark blinks. "What? I...haven’t quit, Lois."

“Sure you have! You—” she stops abruptly again, before she sighs. “I guess not, sorry. You’re still protecting people, even after going through what you did,”

There’s a nagging suspicion Clark has in the back of his mind, some alarms ringing, but he isn’t able to think past the relief to give it much thought.

“You didn’t answer my question, you know,” she adds at his silence.

“Oh?”

"How have you been holding up? For the past three months? Found a new confidant? " Lois asks lightly, careful.

"It's fine,"

"…It is?"

"Yes,"

"Because I noticed you ditched the technicolor," she says knowingly, and it's such a stark reminder to the dream he had that it almost alarms Clark, that even this might not be real. "Not that I amn't a fan of the all black Blur, but it just doesn't feel like…you,"

He remains silent.

"Have you talked about it to someone…at least?"

"Talked about it to someone?" Clark echoes in disbelief, a bitter laugh making its way. "Who? You weren't there,"

"You weren't telling me everything before I went missing, though," Lois points out, not unkindly. Clark flinches nonetheless. "Even if I'm not there," she adds, voice sounding strangled. "You shouldn't keep all of your feelings to yourself."

"But I'm so alone," his voice cracks, inner walls breaking down. "I left everyone. Anyone who knows about me gets endangered, Jimmy —" he falters, dimly wondering how much he can tell her, how much he should tell her, before his emotions take over and he can't stop speaking. "He found out about me and died moments later, so go figure," he says bitterly. "He wasn't the first one to be endangered because of me,"

"That wasn't —"

"I don't have anything anymore," Clark interrupts desperately, arms outstretched. He can picture Lois sitting at her desk, probably on the table as she talks to him, distressed at his weakness, and he wishes he could tell her something which would make her laugh, cheer her up, but he feels pathetic and weak, and there's not much positivity he's got going on for himself.

"All I do is train in solitude and think of all the terrible mistakes I have made, how I never learn," he leans against the wall of the building, sliding down slowly.

"No —"

"Then I patrol Metropolis because there is always someone who needs help, and crime never stops. And then I go home — but I don't even have a home, because there's no one, I shut them all out," Clark stresses, the familiar pit of emptiness rising up to his chest. "So I try to shut myself down too, but I can't —and I think about all the mistakes I have made again and again and —"

"We all make mistakes," Lois protests in distress.

"But I have made so many," Clark confesses weakly, scared of Lois losing her faith in him, of her thinking less of The Blur, of her also blaming him for his incapability in saving Jimmy, the people he couldn't save when Doomsday wreaked havoc on the streets.

"But you have also saved so many," Lois stresses, not backing down. "You…you keep me going, a lot of us going. Last year, after the disastrous marriage, when I was in Star City waiting for Jimmy to wake up, and you —" she stops herself, clearing her throat.

"You were my source of hope then, and I need you to know you aren't alone," she says fiercely. "When I look at you, or the insignia you go with these days, I don't see your mistakes. I see someone trying his best to help, a symbol of hope, regardless of the issues you face in your life. You mean so much to us."

Clark wanted to ask what she meant by us — If it was them, or humanity in general, but he was too scared to know the answer, or what he wanted it to be.

"I believe in you. There are many more who do the same. A little boy you save on the street, the old woman you help off the road, the accidents you prevent, the lives you save — those people are changed, given a second chance at life. God knows how many times I have been in risky life-threatening situations because I never know better, or am just too hard-headed to admit if the situation is life-threatening, but you're there every time.”

“It's so wonderfully you. I’m sorry I didn’t understand it before, I was just too upset about Chloe and I just — took it all out on you," she says quietly.

Clark doesn't understand how Lois does it — she doesn't even know The Blur, not enough to speak like this — how she calms his inner turmoil, how she is relieving his guilt when he doesn't deserve it, when he knows she must be upset at his failure. 

"I want to save everyone," Clark insists weakly, unsure. "What's the point of it all I have if I can't?"

"That makes you normal. And I know I have been harping on about you being some omnipotent deity to anyone who listens, but this is what it means to be human,” Lois pauses in an odd way. "Being human is trying to do the right thing the best way you can. You already are better than all of us."

But Clark isn't human.

"Even if you're not exactly… an average human. Or human at all. I don't know. I don't care."

...Is she reading his mind?

"I am really not good at pep talks," Lois suddenly bursts, self-conscious. "You already know that. I would usually try treating you to a drink or give you a treat down at the bar, but you probably can't do that with the whole secret identity thing. Which, well, obviously — it goes against the superhero protocol, I guess — I just never knew what you had to go through being...The Blur and you did this alongside dealing with me —"

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Clark frowns, upset.

A light scuffle drowns her voice.

"I — John, why are you still here?" she says distantly, voice annoyed. "Can you not see I'm talking to someone?"

"You've been talking for so long-"

"And? That's your business, how again? You need to get over — Hey ! Do not throw that; he will come back."

"A 3-month absence is a pretty clear sign, you know ? It means he's quit,"

"He'll be back," she seethes, tone cold. "I came back after 3 months, didn't I ? Give this to me, ugh,"

"Who are you talking to? Is that Clark Kent?"

Clark can't help but smile wryly at the irony.

"…No," she says uneasily, after a pause. "Listen, John, I am not going to have dinner with you. You can wait half an hour or 5 more hours for me and I will still say No."

"One day, Lane. One day!"

Lois scoffs in disgust.

"Um, sorry about that," she tells Clark, still distracted.

"I should be leaving myself," Clark adds, clearing his throat, annoyed at whoever John was. "Thank you, Lois. I am glad you're back. I am sorry for…making our conversation like this. I wasn’t supposed to,"

“You weren’t supposed to do a lot of things, huh?” Lois says dryly, amused. "Don’t apologise, it felt nice to be needed for once,"

Clark bites his tongue, before he responds to that. I have always needed you, Lois. More so now, than ever before.

"Would you...” she hesitates, unsure. “...want to update me with your saves again? Or an interview ? Or just... if you want to talk? Maybe about 10 pm...2 days from now?"

Clark really shouldn't. He shouldn't involve her more with his Blur persona. He's already said too much, bared out a lot of feelings in the open, he shouldn't—

“I’ll be there this time, I promise.” Lois adds nervously. “Plus, being near the Daily Planet would be advantageous? The first scoop of anything going down comes here first, oh my god, it all makes so much sense now ! Why you would be here — I mean, you know. Not here, here. Just um, in general ?”

"Okay, Lois. I get it. 10pm it is," he interrupts, smiling, before she goes on another tangent. He doesn’t miss the delighted noise Lois makes. 

And then because he can't stop himself — "Go home and get some rest now, it’s getting late. And don't drink another cup of coffee, please ? Too much caffeine isn’t good for your health."

She snorts at that, laughing aloud. “Oh, you —” She laughs again, confusing Clark. He doesn’t think what he said was that funny.

“Of course,” Lois whispers conspiratorially. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard that. Bye, now.”

Clark remains unmoving after the call, sitting on the roof of the building, feeling the cool breeze on his face.

Her words echo in his head, warming his chest. It's so wonderfully you.

Police cars sound a few minutes later, pursuing a high-speed chase, and it’s back to being another night in Metropolis, with Clark speeding to the crime scene, having his work cut out for him.

And yet, it’s not just another night in Metropolis. Clark’s smiling.

・・・・・

It's a different feeling walking back into the Daily Planet two days later. He hasn’t been back in months. The sunny atmosphere, the busy environment, people talking over each other, is a drastic change from the environment he was brooding in, but it's comfortable. It feels more like home than his lonely farm had seemed when he had last been there.

Clark spots Lois in her seat, typing furiously on her keyboard. His attention fell on his nameplate, even when he wasn't there,  placed neatly next to hers. It looks perfectly kept, like a puzzle piece fitted correctly.

He clears his throat, unable to keep a straight face. Lois doesn't turn, still typing away, concentrated. Clark shakes his head, amused. Of course, she wouldn't pay any attention to something distracting her from work. It's Lois.

He walks to her, leaning forward and placing the donut box he brought specifically for Lois, right in front of her face, making her jump. She snaps her head upwards, irritation flashing on her face. It all but melts away when their gazes meet.

Clark gives her a nervous, toothy grin. "Hey, you."

Lois’s eyes widen, her lips forming a smile so blinding, Clark's sure his heart skips a beat. "Clark Kent!" she mumbles, before she jumps up — Clark dodges her head just in time— and throws her arms around him, ecstatic. "You're back!"

He wraps his arms around her tightly, burying his head in the crook of her shoulders, the feeling of her alive and moving in his arms giving him a sense of tranquility and peace he hasn't had for so long. He feels her say something — but he's too distracted.

"Mm?" he asks, dazed.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Clark frowns. "Better?"

Lois doesn't look at him, still embracing him. "You weren't here for months! I figured, you know," she adds hastily. "You weren't …feeling good. You were overthinking or...feeling guilty, maybe. You have a tendency,"

"I'm good now," Clark whispers, and he swears Lois' grip on him tightens. "I am," he repeats softly, but her hold on him doesn't loosen. Not that he's complaining. "Are you okay, though? You were missing for months, Lois."

"Just peachy,"

"Uh, hello?" someone coughs from behind them. "You guys are blocking the way…?" There was once a time when Clark would cough, embarrassed, and quickly move away, laugh it off, pretend the hug was nothing, just a friendly gesture after not having seen each other for months.

He does nothing of that sort.

"Oh fuck off, Steve," Lois retorts, to Clark's pleasant surprise, not making any indication to move.

"I'm going to write up a complaint —"

"Go do it, then!" Lois snaps, removing her face from his chest for a moment, eyes throwing all but venom at him, who huffs angrily and turns away from them.

"You must have really missed me," Clark says, a lilt to his tone, looking at Lois with affection. He did. He most certainly did.

Lois removes herself from Clark, then, awkward, but there's something in her gaze, something curious, something knowing, and just when Clark is about to get suspicious, she shrugs, exaggerated.

"Well," Lois says, looking away, ears tinged red. "Not like I was waiting for you or anything — please. It's just the guy who was in your place? A certifiable psychopath,"

"Right," he drawls, and then bends towards her, their faces inches apart.  He sees Lois take in a sharp breath, but she doesn't move. She looks at his lips before meeting his eyes, defiant.

"I missed you too, Lois," he says quietly, voice low and earnest. "Much more than you know,"

Her eyes study him, questioning and curious.

"I mean it," he presses.

"Okay," she breathes.

"When you left —" his voice cracks, but he doesn't care. "I thought I died," She freezes, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "Please don't leave me like that again," he whispers, eyes serious.

"Okay," Lois says, voice guarded, "Okay," she repeats. "Dramatic much?"

"I'm not—"

"That's enough of you two," an amused voice drawls, breaking the trance between them. Lois snaps her head towards the source of the voice to find a familiar red-haired superior.

"Tess," Lois says, unimpressed, impassive.

"Lois," Tess greets, finding the whole situation very amusing. "And Clark. You're back now, is it? How lovely,"

Clark nods slowly, hesitant.

"While your reunion is…touching, I'm sure," Tess says wryly. "I would appreciate it if it wasn't in the way of your coworkers, yes?"

Lois rolls her eyes, mumbling nothing sweet under her breath — I can't believe he went tattling to Tess — while Clark gives her a simple smile, nodding.

“Meet me in my office before you leave for the day, Clark.”

“Will do,” he murmurs as Lois glares daggers at Tess, enraged. He doesn’t think Tess warrants that much venom from her, but Clark shrugs it off, mentally locking that in the back of his mind. He can wonder about it later.

He doesn’t want to think about Tess right now anyway.

They head to their desks, sporting identical grins as they sit facing each other when Clark starts speaking again. "I wasn't being dramatic earlier,"

Lois's smile fades slightly, giving him a complicated look, but it's still a smile so Clark figures however their relationship might be right now, it's good. Whatever they are right now, it's real, it's concrete and palpable.

"I — well," Lois clears her throat. "Okay,"

"Okay…?"

"Okay!"’

Clark nods, probably too much, grinning. “Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

“Oh, you know,” Lois shrugs. “A little bit of this and that. Normal reporting stuff. Jeff is still my intern. And...I helped the Blur catch a homicidal maniac,” she looks at him, carefully as if it's a test, but she's clearly excited, her feet moving impatiently, hands being anything but still — fiddling with the files on her desk, or her phone .

"Oh?" Clark says, amused, eyes sparkling. "Well, I would love to hear about it."

"You would?" Lois asks, skeptical.

"I would," Clark means it.

Lois, to her credit, tries to play it off nonchalantly, keeping a straight face which lasts about five seconds, before she cracks, jumping out of her seat with an adorable Okay then!

There's something else in her bright gaze, an amusement of a sort, but Clark isn't able to pin it precisely.

She makes herself a comfortable seat on his desk, placing herself above him in the chair, before launching into the story. "It all started when this guy had this major grudge against The Blur. He also had these bionic arms and a big glowing rock for a heart. No, wait I mixed it up, he didn't have this crazy heart at the beginning…"

Her eyes practically twinkle as she speaks animatedly, stopping in between to just laugh — as if the situation was absurd, but continuing anyway. Clark can only stare at her with a soft smile, resting his face on his hand, deep affection in his eyes.

This has to be love; no one has ever felt so right, given him more hope, given him this much warmth, made his day brighter, or made his heart skip beats like Lois does.

Clark suspects he started on this journey much before, before she went missing, before the wedding, before he even joined the Daily Planet, but he couldn't make sense of it then, or hadn't grown enough to understand what he wanted.

He knows perfectly well now.

Clark was going to do it right this time.

+

"You know, Clark," Lois tells him, as she gets her coat before leaving for the night. She taps his shoulder slightly. "Voice modulators can be a tricky thing,"

Clark stops typing, mid-key stroke.

"Not that I have used one," Lois continues, her finger lingering on his shoulder, a second longer than it should have. "But I assume if it hasn't been used for three months, it would be rusty…might stop working in between, say…a call."

"Is it?" he asks her carefully, keeping a blank face. Mirth dances in her eyes as she bites her lips, amused.

"Yeah, Smallville," she grins, leaning forward close to his ear, evoking a shiver down his spine. "So maybe next time you call, which is…" she whispers, looking at the clock. It was 9:57.  "In about 3 minutes…check if the voice modulator works first." She proceeds to pinch his cheek before punching his shoulder. "Or maybe invest in a different way to talk to me, hm?"

She heads outside, leaving Clark in his stunned state.

He sits like that, unmoving for 30 seconds, processing what she said.

A minute.

90 seconds.

By the end of the second minute, Clark gets up dazed, dropping something on the floor; he's not too sure what— Oh, come on, Kent ! — I'm sorry! — He's not sorry in the least; he couldn’t possibly care.

He laughs aloud haphazardly packing up, almost forgetting his coat, of course she knew, earning weary looks from his coworkers, and practically sprints — as much as he can to make it seem like he's human — to catch Lois, who is laughing to herself on the opposite side of the street, smirking when she sees him frantic and excited.

It's a familiar smirk.

It reminds him of the time she had dunked him into water in high school, making Clark wonder if this started all the way back then, Lois walking into his life to make it infinitely better since the very beginning.

She puts her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows, expecting Clark to come running towards her. Well?

And he does.

・・・・・

(

So everyone is supposed to just let them have their drama in the bullpen? That's a public space for all of us.

You try telling that to Lois and Clark.

Jeff, how do you deal with it? You spend the most time with them...

I mean. I kinda ship them. And have an ongoing bet so...

So everyone's just accepted this? We shouldn't though?? 

You'll get used to it, don't worry.

)