Almost Friends (Chapter Five)

"It's... startling."

Clark glanced at her as they walked, slightly jarred. She'd listened for so long, not saying a word that he was startled himself to hear her. "What is?" he prodded as they continued walking aimlessly. He hardly knew where they were. He didn't even want to look at his watch.

"Just thinking about Lex."

He squeezed his eyes shut a moment. "I wish you wouldn't."

"But it's strange," she went on, her voice soft and detached. "How someone can be such a driving force, causing a chain reaction of events in your life and you... you don't know them." She glanced at him, then turned away. "Well... look who I'm talking to. It's just..." She stopped, frowning at the pavement. "He doesn't know it, either. We met. We spoke." She shook her head. "Enemies. That's what we are. That's why I felt so drawn and... and repelled. And we didn't know. I thought the Ruby Ridge, the... abduction and experiments were bad enough, but this..." She drew a shaky breath. "My mother. My father. My cousin. He... he took them all. Even my uncle with his infection... Lex Luthor took everything from me and... I didn't know. He doesn't know and I... I hate this. Because I... I felt pity for him. I still do. And I don't want to." She looked up at Clark helplessly. "I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. Everything's so... jumbled. What was then and what is now and... I... I..."

He took her arms. "You don't have to figure that out now. You just need to know what happened. You just need to know to be cautious with him." He squeezed, rubbing lightly up and down her arms.

"Yes. I think I get that now. It's been drummed into me enough. And by everyone." She shrugged his arms off. "Clark, I'm fine."

He gritted his teeth, but kept his hands away. She wasn't fine. Her eyes darted everywhere, never landing. Her body was tense, buzzing with an energy he could nearly imagine he heard. But he wasn't going to force comfort she insisted she didn't need. "Maybe that's more than enough for tonight."

"No," she said, and so loudly it echoed through the empty streets, bouncing off the darkened buildings. "I... I need more. I still don't even know how this started. We weren't living in Smallville, so how could the meteor shower have affected us?"

He stopped, wondering if he should have started with that and maybe stopped with that. She'd been fine, and for real, most of this night. And this night could have ended that way.

"It's actually... nothing too big. You were just passing through Smallville, at least that's what she told me," he said, finally answering her original question.

"She told you?"

He turned to her, feeling again what a shitty excuse for a storyteller he was, leaving out the one thing that might have given her some comfort in all this. "We talked," he said, remembering that late afternoon in The Tower. "I saw her slipping away, so I just... kept talking. I couldn't let her go, not before you came back. So I told her. I told her all the things you were and all the things you were going to be. She said she used to call you her little cub reporter and I told her you wouldn't be a cub for long. I told her that you were the smartest person I'd ever met and she said she wasn't surprised. When you came back, when you saw her slipping, you... you said you'd make a deal with Lex, get more of the drug. But she wouldn't have it. She didn't want to be lucid, not with what she could do. So she... she told you loved you and..."

"Slipped away," Lois finished, staring blankly at Clark.

He saw it just in time, quickly catching her under the arms as she swayed backward. "Lois!"

"No." she grasped his arms. "I'm... fine. I just need to..." She didn't need to finish. He led her to a bus stop bench, sitting next to her, keeping his hands at her arms because he couldn't let go. Not when she seemed so pale, so fragile. She'd seemed to barrel through this night and he'd known it wasn't a pace she could keep up.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should have known to stop."

"I didn't want you to," she said weakly. "I... Believe me, this is always hard to take in, but this..." Her body shook slightly. "See, I thought... I hate what I thought. But I thought she... I thought she was just some... nut. I... I found the stuff on Belle Reve and I just... I didn't even want to think about her because who wants to think about some... crazy relation. I was afraid to think of her because then I'd... somehow become her. They said it was a hereditary illness and I refused to even give voice to it, as if it would just... take me over."

"It wasn't hereditary," Clark said, squeezing her close. "That was some wrong hypothesis, she just... She wasn't crazy. She was driven into this state by her power. Lois... who wouldn't be, having something like that?"

"But that's not even the point. I just wrote her off as some bad relation and to find out she was... she was so much more than that. On some level, she sacrificed living her own life to protect the lives of others and what kind of heartless daughter just..."

"You didn't know," he said into her hair as she shook against him. "And now you do." He felt his shirt become wet and he rubbed her back, almost glad this was happening. It was better than seeing her so detached and determined, yet jumping out of her skin. "It's okay. You need this." He held her longer, so selfishly relieved that she was letting him give her something she needed.

She hiccuped, gulping in air as she lifted her head. "Was this every day? I mean... Did we ever have normal days? Because hearing this is bad enough. But living it..." She sniffled. "Did I cry myself to sleep every night?"

"No." He ran his thumbs over her cheeks. "Most nights, you ran back to The Torch office to write up a must-read story on whatever garden variety meteor mutant had terrorized you."

She gave a watery laugh. "Oh, good. Nice to know I had some normal nights."

He smiled. "We never had much normal then."

"Like we do now?" She took a shaky breath. "But my mom... You said that fear of her power drove her into that state." She grasped his shirt. "Is it the same with my power? Did I fear it? Was that what made me decide..."

He closed his eyes. "I wish you'd stop using that word." He caught her eyes. "And your powers were long gone before you met Grady."

"I know that now, but I went through some pretty intense things and, put together, it might have contributed to...

He pulled himself away. "No. It's useless even talking about it until we find Grady and find out what really happened."

She stood suddenly. "You know, just when I think I can talk to you, you just..." She ran a hand through her hair. "You're so... myopic. I'm trying to get inside my own head here. And, missing most of the things that go in my own head, I think I'm trying my best, but you... You have more of the picture than I do. If I can step back and look at this, then why can't you? Why can't anyone even entertain the possibility that I did this?"

"Because I can't." He stood as well. "We should get you back to your car."

"Clark...."

"Lois, I don't want to talk about it," he growled, then turned, moving back the way they came. Eventually, they'd find the bowling alley again.

"No. Everyone is giving me this idealized idea of me, this... pedestal and I'm sick of it." He stopped as she moved in front of him. "Clark, I don't want to know about some heroic, hacker paragon. I want to know myself for real. And a part of that is figuring out why I chose to..."

"I don't want to talk about that," he repeated, "because I don't think you did it. And the sooner we find Grady, the sooner we'll know how he forced you into it. Victor is working on tracking him and if anyone can..."

"Clark, there are things I do remember about Grady and one of them is that he thought he was doing the right..."

"Forgive me if I lost some faith in the guy that tore my best friend's mind to shreds, then skipped out of town." Grady with all his sanctimonious prattle about what was best for her, even feigning sympathy for him. That was before he found the chemicals, before he knew that everything was...

"But he..."

"Please," he cut in, trying to calm himself. Even his damned eyes were burning. "Just... please stop. I can't... I can't talk about it." He was angry and he wasn't sure at what, but if he heard the name Grady one more...

"Alright," she said through gritted teeth. "Dropping it. But only because there are about a hundred veins standing out on your neck and... only for now."

He rubbed at his eyes. "Thank you."

"Jesus, Clark. Relax."

"Yeah," he breathed. "That's what everyone keeps telling me. I'm apparently supposed to relax more... except for when I'm not supposed to." He took several deep breaths, then looked at her, feeling it was safe. "Come on. Let's get back to your car. It's late." He moved along the sidewalk. He didn't know that for sure, but it must be. He was already dreading tomorrow's hour and a half with Bart, always too damned chipper in the morn... always.

She fell into step beside him, silent.

"You know... We could talk. Maybe about something normal," he suggested.

She gave a harsh laugh. "I don't know, what do friends talk about when they aren't discussing one friend's meteor induced amnesia? Because I've had about enough of that."

"Their days, I guess."

"Meteor induced amnesia kind of sums up my day. How about you? You were late tonight, you know. Any super feats that got in the way?"

"No. I wish." He didn't exactly feel super these days. "Just training."

"Oh, yeah." She sighed. "Training to regain your superpowers. I guess that's about as normal as we get. Go on, then."

"There's nothing to tell. I'm not getting anywhere. Other times, I've seen more progress, but tonight... I tried everything. I tried to focus. I tried not to focus. I tried some of Diana's yoga..."

"Oh, don't remind me. AC told me she's coming at dawn for a sunrise session with me."

He chuckled, then sobered. "Nothing worked. I couldn't even move a feather."

"Maybe you weren't really focusing. I... I guess I don't blame you for being distracted. I didn't even ask if you had other plans. Maybe we should have postponed tonight. It couldn't have been easy, knowing you had to deal with..."

"No," he cut in, stopping. He grasped her arm, stopping her as well. "Believe me, Lois. This night was... just what I needed."

"Really? Even with the emotional outbursts and my brand of crazy..."

"I'm not saying this night went off without a hitch, but..." He pulled her to face him. "Knowing this night was coming was about the only thing that got me through my day."

She held his gaze for a moment, then turned, moving down the sidewalk. "You like bowling that much? I'm surprised, because you're not that good at it." She threw a smile his way.

He answered it. "Like you are?" He sighed and stayed in step beside her. "My distraction has nothing to do with you."

She snorted. "Right."

"Well... It's not all you. It's me. I just can't focus on what I should. I try to take things one step at a time and... there's just always so much going on. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."

"Supposed to feel?" she repeated. "Take it from me, feelings aren't actually subordinate to what they're supposed to be. There's no such thing as the appropriate emotion. They are what they are."

"Well, I wish they weren't. I'd rather just leave feelings out of it."

"Maybe that's your problem."

He stopped again. "What?"

"Well... I'm just spitballing, here, but... maybe telling yourself that feelings shouldn't be in it is just... stupid. And impossible." She shrugged. "Clark, I've gone through every possible feeling in a matter of weeks. Even day to day, I careen from laughing to crying, but... Well, I let myself feel it now. Whatever it is. But when this started, I was... angry at myself. But I kept telling myself I had to detach, put together a story, but... Well, once I accepted Chloe Sulllivan was a villain, things moved along."

He shook his head. "But you were so completely wrong."

"Well, yeah, but still... It was what I felt at the time. I think accepting the anger at myself was something that helped me go on. It propelled me to drink myself into Crazy Town and confront all of you and... then things happened." She sighed and walked on. "And here we go again, getting into the deep, murky, amnesiac territory."

"Still a little above normal," he agreed, moving beside her.

"Oh, I don't even know what normal is anymore."

"I don't either." He walked on.

"What's a normal thing to talk about?"

"Gossip, maybe?"

"You mean like Hollywood gossip?"

"Yeah. That. Or... office stuff."

She suddenly grabbed his arm, stopping him. "You have something."

His mind flashed to Jimmy and Rachel, but he pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, I don't."

She let go and crossed her arms. "Yes, you do."

He moved along. "Maybe I do. But I can't tell anyone. I said I wouldn't." Maybe not in so many words, but still...

He heard her behind him. "Well, that doesn't apply to me. I mean, you could tell me because I wouldn't say anything to anyone."

"Sorry. No."

"Clark, spill."

"Can't. Besides, if we're talking about our days, then it hardly even applies to my day. I was too busy with the First National getting robbed again and..."

"What?"

"Uh... Superman kind of had to stop a robbery." He'd nearly forgot, so focused on his night with her. He was about to pat himself on the back that he'd been focused on his "one thing" for the moment, but she was running away. "Lois?"

He sped to her as she stopped at a paper machine, pumping quarters into it, then pulling it open. "I can't believe I've been so out of the loop. I mean, even if it was supposed to be vacation, that's no excuse for not..."

"Believe me. It wasn't that big a deal. I didn't even catch all the..."

"Shhhh!" He waited as she scanned the front page, then opened the paper to finish. He waited some more, suddenly nervous as to what she'd have to say. "First National again?"

"That's what I said," he burst out, startled out of his insecurity by someone else seeing it. "I know it's the biggest bank in Metropolis, but twice in a week is..."

"Oh, Clark... Superman swooped in suddenly, giving hope to the terrified hostages with his very presence. Little... corny."

"What?" He grabbed the paper. He never wrote that.

"I mean, most of it was solid. I'm glad you tied it to the weekend's robbery, but..." She grabbed the paper. "His eyes flashed with justice? Little heavy on the schmaltz, if you ask..."

"But I didn't write that. Perry said he'd dress it up a little, but to write all that about Superman..." He crossed his arms. "It's embarrassing."

"Oh, it's fine. It's not like anyone knows you were writing about yourself in such glowing..."

"But I didn't..."

"Oh, Clark. I'm teasing. But, honestly... For Perry to use phrases like determined jaw..." She shook her head. "He just doesn't get Superman."

"This is officially a strange conversation," Clark said, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

"To have with the man himself?" She shrugged. "Maybe. But... I don't know. I feel like Perry's trying to get across some bland idea of heroism and... Well... It's more than that. Clark, you might not see it, but there's sort of a romanticism to Superman. Maybe you have to be a woman to see it, but... There's this combination of hope and bravery and just good old-fashioned politeness that you bring to the..."

"Okay. Seriously, just stop."

"Well, I get why it's hard for you to see it, anyway. From the inside of a double life..."

"No. I get it. I do. I get why people need it. I just... can't write about it myself. It feels... wrong, somehow. I can't detach that far." He squinted at the paper in her hands. "But it's not as hard as it used to be, living two lives. I... I don't mind as much anymore. No matter who I am, Clark or... that other guy," he finished lamely. He glanced at her, pulling her along as he started to walk again. "You don't get it right now, but... See, I spent many years longing for some kind of normal life, but unable to stop helping, hiding what I could do and speeding away so as not to get caught and... Now I have this kind of... balance. Something I never had then. Being Clark, I have that normal life and... Well, with Superman, I don't have to hide, save and run. This double life..." He laughed slightly. "As crazy as it should be, it fits me more than my single life ever did." He sighed. "Superman or Clark... I kind of... don't mind being either."

She hummed to herself.

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No. Not at all. It sounds perfectly sane," she smiled slightly, "which is probably the craziest part. I'm actually... jealous. I have two lives, too, and I don't exactly have the option of living one or the other, depending on the moment. It's not about separating. It's about... joining, I guess. You can be Clark or Superman. I have to be... Chloe and Lois. Somehow being both at once, all the time, and I... I don't know how. I don't know how to reconcile then with... now." She rolled her eyes. "And now we have another strange conversation. Can we just... never be normal?"

"Maybe not," he said, glancing at her. "But we can keep trying."

"Think we still have eight blocks," she said. "We should try for... bland discussion of interests." She bit her lip. "I still don't know much about mine. I sometimes watch sitcoms to fall asleep these days. Your turn."

"I'm boring. I don't even get in a lot of TV watching."

"Yeah. Didn't think so. But you know, considering what you do with your time, it doesn't make you boring."

"Just not a great conversationalist at parties." He glanced at her again. "But it makes sense for you, watching old things. You always had a thing for the classics."

"I should just get together a nice list of all my favorite books and movies and... Well, everyone wishes they could read or see something again, for the first time. I get to actually do it. Maybe that makes me lucky."

"That's a good way to look at it. You'll never be bored again."

"Like a newborn baby, seeing it all for the first time." She stopped. "Except not really. Sometimes I... know."

He stopped as well. "Know what?"

"When I loved something. When I have this connection to something, it... It's like it doesn't go away. There's this... imprint of it."

Imprint. It reminded him of what Murray said about ghost limbs. About how something was still there, underneath, just waiting to be reinforced, brought to the surface. "And what do you know?"

She looked up at him, under a streetlight, the moisture in the air catching the light and forming almost a halo around her. He could almost see himself reflected in her eyes and wondered if, even with all the half-truths and unformed ideas she now had, she knew that there was more between them than partners now, more between them than best friends then, more...

"I know my favorite poem," she said proudly.

"Oh, good. Uh..." He smiled awkwardly. "You know, we never spent much time talking about poetry unless you count stuff in class, so I can neither confirm nor deny..."

"See, but I don't need you to. I just... know. I mean, even without asking anyone, I knew that. Just a few lines in my head." She closed her eyes. "There will be time, there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet. And they wouldn't... they just kept pinching and tickling at me until I just put a few words into Google and... there it was." She smiled. "My favorite poem. I think, during these weeks, it was the only time I felt... good about me, then and now. Whatever Grady did, whatever I decided, I still had one thing that was mine. Something without conspiracies or tragedy or... anything that could taint it. It was something I loved. And it never really went away."

"That's good," he said, swallowing hard. "Everyone should have something like that. Something... untainted." He knew that was what he'd had in her. No matter what he'd done to her, no matter what others had done, she was always so... unspoiled in his eyes. Always at the end of that path...

"We're here."

"We are here,” he said, nodding. And he thought he could tell her now, all the things they were and all the things they could be, as if he could just gloss over the bad stuff and just get to the point where she knew he...

There was a slight chirping sound and his head turned to it. Her car. That was where they were. Because he'd thought it was something less literal for a moment.

"Thank you," she said, shaking her head, "for the... strangest evening of my life. I mean... I know it can't be the absolute strangest, from what I hear, but... Well, it's the strangest I actually remember, even including invading camps and meeting a gang of superheroes... again... and for the first time." She stared down the street.

"Don't thank me," he said, knowing there was no glossing over the bad stuff. She wouldn't be thanking him for anything, not when she knew. And she had to know.

"But I want to thank you. You've been so honest with me. You told me everything I asked, even when I know you thought it was more than I can handle. You've... trusted me with the truth. And that deserves some thanks."

Not all of the truth. "Lois..."

"Jesus! I'm afraid to even start my car. There's a clock in there and... Well, I just won't look at it. I can just pretend it's ten o'clock and that I have eight hours ahead of me before Diana shows up."

"That'll fool you," he said, thinking his need to confess right now would be just as selfish as his desire to skip the ugly parts. "You should get some sleep."

"I should."

She wasn't moving, so he started toward her car. "I have an early day myself, except with Bart."

"Guess I don't envy you. I think the world of Bart, but he's a little... enthusiastic."

"Nice way of putting it." They were at her car door now, frozen. Why couldn't he just say goodnight? Then again, she wasn't saying it, either. He took a deep breath and forced the words out. "Goodnight, Lois."

She fingered her keys, then stared up at him. "Goodnight, Clark."

He stared at her, still haloed in streetlight and flecks of moisture and... sped off. He had to. It was that look. He'd seen that look. He'd seen it every time he'd saved her, then and now. It was a look that said he was... so much more than he was. And he didn't deserve that look. And she'd know why...

He stopped in the middle of the deserted street, realizing that, through all of her questions, he'd never asked his own. "Which poem?" he whispered, staring back in the direction he'd come from. But he wouldn't stop her to ask. Not only because it would be rude, but he couldn't even see her car now.

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

Lois couldn't even park her car in her own garage now. That "no visitor parking" sign should obviously be more prominently displayed. She got out of her car, two blocks from her apartment and walked it, shoving her hands in her pockets. She was lucky to get a spot even that near, with Christmas so near. There were probably plenty of out-of-town visitors taking up the street as well as her spot and she should probably call her landlord, make sure he ticketed those interlopers taking her...

She smiled, nearly glad to be caught up in the fairly humdrum woes of city parking. It was like the cold. It was an annoyance, but it connected her to where she was now. A night like this was nearly an out-of-body experience, like being regressed to some past life. She could take it in, the tall tales that made up who she was, but it was things like a freezing night, a full garage, and eyes that could hardly stay open that connected her to who she is. She saw brake lights and exhaust in a spot near her door and wished she'd waited just a few more minutes for that spot. It looked like the tan sedan was leaving and she was nearly tempted to rush back to her car and grab the prime spot before...

Tan Sedan.

She squinted at the car as it backed up, then moved forward into the street.

Tinted Windows. Thrifty...

It sped away and she nearly ran after it... then stopped as she realized there was no way she could catch a car on foot.

Still, she stared down the street, wondering exactly how many tan sedans Thrifty Car Rentals had in their lot. And exactly when they opened for business...

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Chapter Six