Almost Whole (Chapter Seven)

Pammie stared at the remaining nachos. "Could you just save me from myself and finish them?"

Lois shook her head. "I don't have mush of an appetite."

"If you don't mind my saying so, that's not exactly a good sing... thing." Pammie shook her head. "Okay. We're getting coffee. I'm cutting us off."

"Maybe we need more nachos."

"Why? You din't hardly eat none of these?" She suddenly grabbed Lois' hand, dragging a bit of her sleeve in the cheese. Lois didn't have the heart to tell her about it. Pammie was so nice. "Lois, ya gotta take a sec and drink a milkshake or somethin, you know. I tell my oldest all the time... You know, cause she's athletic and student council and never stops, just... Goin and goin and... Hey, what's that?"

Lois looked down, saw a bit of silver peeking from her sleeve. "Oh, stupid bracelet."

Pammie lifted her sleeve up. "Oh, it's pretty. I like turquoise."

Lois snorted. "You want it?"

"What? No. It looks so old."

"Too old. Stopped working. Won't even come off." Lois pulled at it. "Just reminds me..."

Pammie raised her hand for the waitress. "Debbie, sweetie, can we get coffee?"

The bar seemed to be winding down and Debbie was just sitting in the booth across from them, texting someone, it seemed. She looked up. "Oh, sure. Irish or..."

Lois shook her head, trying to keep it up as well. "No, no, no..."

"You heard the lady. We're cut off." Pammie examined the bracelet again as the girl walked away. "Where'd you get it?"

"Just found it." Lois sighed. "It was in Clark's stuff. Just tried it on. Don't even like it. Just... had to, you know?"

Pammie nodded. "I get that way about bathing suits sometimes, but I always regret it."

Lois frowned at the bracelet, covering it up again. It made her think of Clark and she didn't want to think about Clark. She had enough with just her without brooding over some guy she... dated? "Chloe Sullivan and Clark Kent were involved," she whispered.

"Huh?"

She wasn't sure if she was angry or not. She knew she was about to burst with something. "Can I borrow your cell phone?"

"Sure. I... Oh, I didn't bring it."

Lois groaned. "Just as well. Drunk dialing is a little sad, anyway." She hadn't really pondered it. She remembered when Clark had said it before, she'd felt a sort of sadness. As if she was competing with a dead girl. And now that she knew she was the dead girl... Yeah. It didn't exactly feel better. "It's just so many more questions now," she muttered, miserable. "I thought this was something that would make it stop. Just say it and it would be like magic, you know? Poof! Everything comes together."

"I... guess?"

"God!" Lois slapped the table. "They all know. I mean, I knew they knew, but why don't they want me to know they know? I still can't put it all together."

"Coffee?" Debbie looked a little scared.

"Thanks," Pammie said, smiling slightly. "Uh... Bad day at the office."

Lois slumped as Debbie moved away. "See? I am a crazy person."

"Oh, no, you're not." Pammie took a deep breath. "I mean, I get it now. I did think you were crazy for a second, but, I mean, this Grady... You said the police are looking for him now?"

Lois nodded. "Just questioning about the experiments. They aren't sure what to charge him with because they can't find the others he must have worked on and they only have hearsay on that because..." We're withholding evidence. "Because of stuff," she finished lamely. "He's not the point. I just... all my friends. They all know. And I was angry, but... It explains a few things. If I did this, then them hiding it is... I mean, maybe that's what they're supposed to do. I almost wish I didn't know. Could just go on and..."

"Lois, can I be honest for a sec? I mean, as an older woman, I..." Pammie leaned her head on her palm, then drew back. "Oh. Ew." She grabbed a napkin and wiped cheese from her chin and wrist.

"Sorry." Now she felt strangely guilty. She should have told Pammie about the cheese. Honesty. She was about honesty now. "I saw it," she said miserably. "I should have probably told you that."

Pammie shrugged. "I've had worse things on my shirts." She tossed the napkin into the nachos. "Where was I?"

"You were being honest."

"Yeah. See..." She leaned in. "Now that you know, you can't not know. I mean, maybe this is fate. Because this Grady... That is the point. What he did might seem all great and stuff, but it's bad. I mean, I had some bad times, but if I just forgot them, then... I wouldn't know not to make the same mistakes."

"So... what am I supposed to do? I mean, I don't have enough to know. Some things are gone and some things are so... just fucking blurry and..."

"You learn." Pammie gestured to the laptop, dark now, having lost its charge an hour ago. "Look what you got already. And that was without really trying."

"No. I had more. But it's gone and I don't know who took it. Almost wonder if one of them... my friends. If they..."

"I'm not even talking about that. You have yourself. Maybe now that you've said it, you can see more, know more. It's like this veil's gone. No more repression. You know you're not crazy now. You're allowed to say it and think it and close your eyes and see those super eight movies."

"But... what if it's not repression?" She thought of all those dreams. It all seemed so obvious now. Empty boxes, empty shelves, just emptiness. "What if they aren't tucked away somewhere safe? Just... vanished."

"There's a sobering thought," Pammie said, slumping a bit. "Maybe... I mean, if you think they know, then maybe it's time to talk to your friends. You can re-learn... you."

"It won't be the same." Lois looked heavenward. "It'll just be words like the ones I have now."

Pammie squeezed her hand. "At least it'll be the right words."

**************************

She felt like she'd just put her head down next to Linda's seemingly ever-present one when her phone rang. When she looked at the clock, she realized she had. It was six-thirty. She flattened herself over Linda and grabbed for the phone.

"What? What's the matter?" Linda asked blearily.

"Go back to sleep." Maybe go back to the apartment while you're at it. Bart had already left, apparently. She guessed when she tripped over the suddenly empty couch. She could guess why. She was almost glad she didn't have a cell phone as Linda might have been calling her all night with demands of food and attention. She wanted her space. She needed her space. Whatever Pammie thought, she didn't want them right now. None of them. She needed time and she needed sleep and she needed the God damned phone to stop ringing!

"Yes? Hello?" she croaked.

"Uh... Lois?"

Yet another thing she could do without. "Clark?" She'd thought of him. The thoughts were drunken and disjointed, but her short and fitful sleep had been filled with thoughts of Clark Kent. And she had enough to focus on without him. She kept telling herself that. But she just didn't understand. What had they been? And what were they now?

"I thought I should call you to..."

"To wake me up at the crack of dawn?" She rolled to her side with the phone as Linda groaned and stole all the covers. She needed more sleep for this. She needed more time for this. To just see him after she'd only just... "What do you want?"

"I... I didn't look at the time. I just..."

"Well, it's not even seven, Clark. And my head is pounding and what is so important that..."

"Murray called me," he cut in. "I'm going to the hospital. I just thought I'd tell you first."

**********************************

He didn't know what he'd been thinking, calling her so early. Time was out of joint for him. He heard cries at night, nearly deafening, they were. And he rushed to his window and... That was as far as he got, hands against the cold pane, wondering what the hell he could do now, what he was good for. Murray, having a habitual disregard for time, had called him, saying it had worked. "Well, of course, not in every way, but there is such great progress." So he'd called her.

He really should have glanced at the clock first. But he hated to, these days. He used to look at time as nearly irrelevant to him. Who cared what hours there were in the day? He could make so much of them. But now... Even mundane tasks like changing clothes, doing dishes, going to the store seemed insurmountable tasks and he wondered if he was spoiled by what he could once do.

What he could once do.

He could think it. But the idea of saying it seemed impossible. It wasn't just mundane chores, though. It was knowing that whatever cry he heard in the night, he could answer it. But now... He drove a loaned car. Once, he'd only done it for appearances. Even delivering produce, he could have done it with no truck, only his two hands and the speed once so second-nature to him. Now...

He'd parked in the lot. He'd probably have to pay as he drove off. Maybe he was spoiled.

He glanced up as she strode toward him at the small cart in the hospital lobby and took the coffee he was holding out, but her lips were still a thin line. "You didn't have to come," he said.

"And shirk my duties? I mean, we still have to get through this story, don't we? After that... Well, I'm sure we'll just pursue our own angles." She glanced at him over her cup. "I mean... Won't we?"

He stared at her hard. "I..."

"Well, this was just for the story," she said, stiffening and walking away, towards the elevators. "I just... I don't know what this was. I don't know what it is. I... Nothing. Never mind." She pressed the up button and he drew up beside her.

He wished he hadn't called her. He should have just gone himself, but he had a feeling he'd have caught hell either way. But she'd said her head was pounding. It could just be that she was tired, but he almost selfishly hoped that pain was the kind that came with her memories. The fact that he was wishing pain on her at all made him feel rotten all over again. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, Clark."

He stepped into the elevator after her, guilt replaced by such intense frustration. "I really wish you'd find a new word."

She lifted an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"You heard me." He punched the button for the fifth floor.

"I'm so sorry. I should be more considerate of your word preferences. Would you rather great or peachy or swell?"

"Doesn't matter," he muttered. "They'd be about as true as you being fine. But yeah. Might be a nice change from the same two words."

"I can think of another two words for you very easily." She stepped off the elevator and into the hall. "And since when do I owe you any big examination of how I am? We're just two people that happen to work together. Right? Isn't that all there is to it?"

He stared at her in the middle of the hall and knew that this wasn't rhetorical. Her eyes were guarded and pained. "Lois, you know..."

"I know nothing," she growled. "I can't even think anymore. I... I had this life and maybe it was a little empty, but it was mine. And then there you are and I'm... What? Supposed to shift it to include you and them when I hardly..." She trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut.

He pulled her from the middle of the hallway as a nurse pushed a mumbling man past them. "I didn't mean to..."

"Your very presence is just... I don't know what it is. But there you are! And how am I supposed to make it all fit?"

He squinted at her, wondering, hoping...

"I mean, let's just forget the fact that we slept together," she hissed. "You obviously have."

He quickly removed his hands from her arms.

"No," she growled, pushing him back slightly until he felt the wall at his back. "Let's not forget it because... That happened and... What was that, Clark? Because I can't... I can't put it all together. Why did that even happen?"

He wasn't sure what to say here. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, in this limited role with her. "Because we wanted it to," he said, trying for truth.

"Yes. And now... I mean, you practically shrink away from me like some lady with her virtue all aflutter and..." Her fingers were curling into his shirt. "What's that about, Clark?" She glanced up at him, her breath coming faster.

Oh, Jesus. Not again. "We've had a lot to deal with and..."

"Everything just stops," she whispered. Her wrist was slightly exposed and he could see the bracelet. He could almost swear he felt a warmth through the layers of his clothes.

"Huh?" He wasn't sure he capable of anything more eloquent at the moment.

"It feels like... When you touch me, when I touch you... everything else just falls away. You know?"

He knew. It was that very feeling that drove him to her all those years, made him lose himself inside her. Because he could. When he was with her, there was really nothing else. No fear, no loss, nothing but the feeling of her taking him in, always accepting him, no matter what he did, she never stopped. Not until... And that was the problem. She was different now. If he gave to her what she'd always given to him, it would be more of a betrayal than the way he'd used her for so long. Not of him, but of her.

If they were to find Grady, if she could somehow be restored... she might see it that way, too.

"And maybe it shouldn't," he said, swallowing hard. "Fall away, I mean." He took her hands and pulled them away from his chest. "Lois, we have things we need to deal with. Not just this story. But I do and you do and..."

She drew away sharply. "Really? I have things to deal with? I do? Thank you so much for pointing it out, Clark. Just don't know what I'd do without your guidance." She turned on her heel and moved down the hall.

"Lois..."

"Forget it." She turned back to him. "There's your two new words." She clicked back down the hall. "Let's just get this over with already. Because I am seriously sick of all this teamwork."

*********************

"Of course, this isn't a full recovery." Murray pointed at Allen Kern through the glass. He was sitting up, eating on his own. He also seemed to be speaking with his wife, not that they could hear. "He seems to know everything up to before the abduction. There is a bit of a block there, but he can take in what he's told. We were aiming for full recovery, but I confess, I'm reluctant to go further as is Jennifer. At this rate, he can get his job and his life back. That's better than we hoped, really." He turned back to Lois and Clark. "Well, come, you two. It's not the end of the world."

Clark straightened from the wall and glanced at Lois, leaning against the doorway. She didn't look at him. "No. It's great, Murray."

"And Joanne is fully aware, though I don't think they were able to get as far with her. You two having interrupted things so well. The others, as I've said, have opted to forego, but they are nearly ready to be released. We've found no major damage. They'll be here another day, at least." Murray stared between them. "I don't see why you two are so glum. You can interview now."

Clark pasted on a smile. "That's just... good." They were going to interview tomorrow whether or not Allen or Joanne would be part of it. They really should be happy they would be dealing with fully cognizant people.

He glanced back at Lois. He just couldn't seem to be over the moon, not about anything. At this point, he just wanted it over. "We need to consult with our editor, but... You said they'd be here another day?"

Murray nodded. "I recommended they be cleared to stay through the weekend, but with low security. It's not just for observation. More of a kindness. The DeLeons still have a home, but the others... With so many of their homes either rented or sold, they've a lot to iron out."

Clark nodded. "Could you ask them to stay near tomorrow morning?" He turned to Lois, stared at her silently until she finally looked at him.

She nodded. "I think we'll be ready with questions by then. I'm sure all of us are eager to get this over with." She turned from Clark and smiled warmly at Murray. "Thanks for all your help, Doctor Takamoto."

"Oh, it's a pleasure, really. And not wholly unselfish. I could publish some of my finding and observations, you know, and get some much needed funding for other..."

"How nice for you," Lois cut in, still smiling. Her smile fell away when she turned to Clark. "I'll meet you back at The Planet. I can fill Perry in."

"Sure. I'll..." She was gone before he could say anything. She was back to being sullen with him, apparently. But she was right about one thing. They did need to finish this story. Once it was done... Well, they weren't done with each other. Far from it. If he could just speak to Linda again...

"Clark?" He turned to Murray, who sat in his chair and swiveled it in Clark's direction. "How are you?"

Clark straightened up against the wall, frowning. "So you... don't know?"

"Oh, of course I know. Oliver did fill me in as did Victor." He smiled suddenly. "What interesting friends you have. I'm very glad we met. Victor is of particular interest to me with my work in robotics and..." he sighed. "And here I am rambling on about me when I really want to ask about you." He leaned forward and gestured to a chair. Clark took it. "I spoke to Doctor Ramirez in Star City. She's a friend of Oliver's. Have you ever..."

"We've met," Clark said, wondering what he was leading to.

"Delightful woman. And very discreet. I wonder if, between the two of us, we can't see if we can get you back in working order."

"This isn't an infection, Murray," he sighed. "I... think I depleted mysel... my powers."

"No, no. Go back." Murray stared at Clark. "You nearly said yourself. Is that what you think. That your powers are, in a sense, who you are?"

"What are you? A therapist now?" Clark ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Murray. I don't mean to snap. I just... I have a lot on my mind and I'm tired and I... I have to go to work." He stood and moved to the doorway.

"Clark..."

He stopped, but didn't turn. "I know you aren't about to give up. And I want you to know that I'm prepared to help in any way I can."

"Thank you for the thought," he said. "But this might be beyond you, Murray." He didn't mean it as an insult. Whatever could solve his problem might be several light years outside this galaxy in a black hole where a planet once was.

He moved down the hall, stuffing his hands in his pocket, hearing the slight jingle of keys. he nearly hated that sound. Hated it because he was reassured by it. Those keys insured he got from point A to point B and he didn't want to need them. He shouldn't need them. Keys to a car on loan from Oliver. He hated that he needed them. He hated having to say thank you as he accepted them, even.

And he should be grateful for the help, but he couldn't feel it. All he was anymore was angry and mean and confused. Because this couldn't be his life. Who was he now? Was he just a guy who went to work and paid his bills now? Was that it?

Maybe he should be happy he had a job and a story that might secure that job, but it wasn't enough anymore. Not without the rest. He'd once seen his powers as something that got in the way of life. But, without them, his life seemed empty.

Add to that a woman who alternately ignored his existence and came on to him and... Okay, maybe she hadn't exactly come onto him. Just touched him, spoke to him so low and urgently that... Well, she may as well have.

It was a bit like before. When he was young and so unsure of himself and his powers that sex was just too big and scary to face. But you faced it, didn't you? You had her in every way imaginable. You could do it again. Make that life less empty. Isn't this what you wanted?

"No," he said aloud.

A man in a hospital gown walking with a stout nurse stopped, staring at him. "What do you mean by that?"

The nurse pulled at his arm. "I'm sorry about him. Now, come along, Mister Nedelman, we have much to do."

"Yes. I have a meeting with the Attache to Russia," the man said, eyes glossing over, then landing on Clark again. "And you shouldn't concern yourself with matters of state, Superman. You do what you do and I do what I do. Got it?"

The man huffed slightly and walked ahead as the nurse smiled apologetically, then moved after him. "He's harmless, really."

Clark smiled back nervously. But not very nervously. Someone seeing through him might have worried him a week ago, even a clearly delusional man. But now... He wasn't sure he had another identity to worry about anymore.

It would have been comforting once.

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Chapter Eight