Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Heartache & Joy	By : MidnightBard Category: G through L > Lois & Clark Views: 2184 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lois and Clark fandom, characters or even the circumstances presented. I do not make money from this. I just enjoy hacking into the heads of my favorite characters. My first attempt at a Superman fanfic.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Dedicated to anyone who has ever lost a loved one, especially those lost suddenly and unexpectedly.

~~~~~~ Superman~~~~~~

                Lois Lane entered her darkened apartment, tears running down her cheeks, mascara ruined and making raccoon rings around her eyes. She barely noticed as she automatically flipped on the light switch, the light blaring in her eyes, temporarily blinding her as she shifted out of her night-vision. Tears streaming, she turned and set the locks on her door, then sagged against it. After a moment, she pushed herself away from the sturdy wood. Why did everything remind her of Clark? She would have given anything in the world at that moment to hear the familiar rapping of Clark's knuckles against the other side of her door.
                Never again, she thought bitterly. And it's all my fault.
                Fresh tears sprung up in her eyes. Heaving sobs wrenched her body. Her lungs burned for want of air but she couldn't stop, couldn't breathe against the sobbing that was over taking her. It felt like a thousand flaming razors were tearing her heart and soul to shreds. A primal wail escaped from her lips as she vented her hurt and her frustrations. Her fist pounded feebly against the wall.
                Clark was gone. Murdered by Clyde Barrows and the rest of the gangsters in the club. He'd tried to protect her and she had been powerless to save him. She once again played the scenario over in her mind. They'd been at the club, following a lead on Capone, Bonnie and Clyde, and Dillinger. Clark had tried to protect her, stepping between the gangsters and Lois. Barrows had squeezed off several shots from his gun. All of them had hit their mark. Clark had slumped to the ground, lifeless, his chest filled with lead. Before she could fully react, the gangsters had taken his body. No evidence left behind. There would be no funeral for Clark Kent. No giving of his body back to the earth. No final goodbye said over his coffin.
                A second wail ripped from her throat, animalistic and heart wrenching. Dimly, she wondered if she was disturbing her neighbors. Dimly, she was aware that she did not care. Clark had been taken from her. The one man that she had grown to care for. Had grown to love. Still did love. Why had she never told him before? She knew that Clark had known that he was her best friend. Had he ever known, ever suspected, that her feelings ran deeper than that? Had he felt the same way? She thought that he might have. The thought cut her like a knife. So much time wasted. A wave of anguish rolled over her.
                Moving away from the door, she slumped onto her couch. A painful silence enveloped the room, broken only by her shuddering gasps as she continued to cry. Never before had she felt so broken and so alone. She reached for the phone, then stopped as her fingertips brushed against the red plastic. She shook her head sadly. The one voice she wanted to hear more than anything in the world had been forever silenced. She closed her eyes for a moment, then picked up the receiver anyway. She dialed the numbers by heart and listened as the phone dialed. After a couple of rings, Clark's cheery voice instructed her to leave a message after the beep. She hung up as the beep came, replacing the receiver back in its' cradle. She hung her head in her hands, letting fresh tears fall unchecked onto the carpet below. She had thought that perhaps that hearing his recorded voice would make her feel better, make her feel closer to him. Instead, it had only driven home the fact that he was gone.
                "It should have been me," she sobbed. Raising her head towards the ceiling, she croaked, "Why Clark? Why not me instead? I deserved it, not Clark. And now...now he'll never know. Never know how I feel. Never know that I love him."
                She dropped her head back into her hands, fighting to regain control of her emotions. She forced herself to think ahead. There was a lot to do now. She had to figure out her next steps in taking down Capone and his gang. She owed Clark that much. She would not allow his murder to go unpunished. She only hoped deep down that when they were finally caught, that they too would be killed - in a police shootout or by a court-ordered death penalty sentence - it didn't really matter to her.
                No, she thought, shaking her head. Clark would never have wanted that.
                But first things were first. Clark's parents had the right to know what had happened. Dread roiled in her stomach. How could she tell them that their only child was dead? She supposed she could let the police contact them, but she dismissed the thought as soon as it came. Clark was her friend, her would-be lover. She owed him the courtesy of telling his parents in as gentle a way as possible. Maybe hearing it from her would somehow lessen the blow, she reasoned. She knew that she would rather hear of a loved one's passing from someone she knew, as opposed to the cold, detached way that police seemed to have with such things. Her mind made up, she stood and crossed the room to the small table where she kept her phone and address book. Skipping to K, she found Jonathan and Martha's number. Clark had given her their number in case of an emergency, and she had given him the numbers for her own mother, father, and sister. Just in case. She shivered. Never before had she imagined that either one of them would actually need those emergency numbers.
                Bringing the book to the couch, she picked up the phone again. She held the phone to ear for several long moments, listening to the droning dial-ready tone, steeling her courage and emotions. With shaking fingers, she finally punched the numbers on the keypad, each one driving a fresh stab of pain through her heart. She closed her eyes and nearly held her breath as the phone dialed. After a few seconds, she heard a click as someone picked up the other end.
                "Hello?"
                "Jonathan, it's Lois Lane."
                "Lois?" Martha's voice echoed her husband's. "What's going on?"
                Lois glanced at the clock. The time read 12:36am. "I'm sorry for calling you so late. I...I...I'm afraid that...it's just..." Her voice broke off as another shuddering sob washed over her.
                "What is it honey?" Martha asked, her voice full of concern.
                "It's Clark," she finally breathed. "He's...he's...he's gone."
                "What do you mean, gone?" Jonathan asked, a hard edge to his voice.
                "We...were tracking down these gangsters that this scientist brought back to life. Clark...he tried to save me. But they ...shot him him. He's dead. They...they took his body away. I am so sorry." Her voice trailed off in another high pitched wail.
                Way to go, Lois, she thought disgustedly. Way to put it delicately.
                There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone line. She heard sniffling and in her mind's eye, she could picture them sitting in the living room of their farmhouse, tears in their eyes.
                "I...can't believe it," Jonathan finally said, his own voice shaky.
                "My boy," Martha moaned, distraught.
                "I'm going to do all that I can to track down these guys and make sure that the police get them," Lois tried to reassure the Kents.
                "No!" Martha said. "These guys are dangerous. I...don't want to see you hurt. Clark wouldn't have wanted it either." Her voice was husky with tears.
                "I'm so sorry," Lois repeated, at a loss for other words.
                "We...appreciate you letting us know," Jonathan said slowly.
                "I...don't want to intrude...on your time of grief," Lois stammered. "I will let you know what I find out. I just...wanted you to hear it from someone who loved your son."
                "Thank you," Martha replied. "And I know that Clark loved you too."
                A sad smile ghosted over Lois's lips. "I know. I...I should be going. Goodbye."
                The Kents said their goodbyes as well, promises to be in touch. Lois laid back against the couch, running a hand through her pageboy haircut. When she had been twelve, she had lost one of her aunts to a heart attack. She remembered sitting in her room, the door cracked open just enough to overhear her father and mother making phone calls to the rest of their family and friends. At first, each new phone call had lanced her heart with fresh pain. But after a while, numbness had set in, and hearing the story over and over again had become almost therapeutic. She wished that numbness would overtake her now, but it remained elusive. She picked up the phone again and dialed Perry.
                "Hello, Alice, it's Lois...Yes, I know that it's late...of course it is an emergency...No, it can't wait until morning...please...thank you...Hi Perry..."
                That phone call hadn't been any easier. She steeled herself again and dialed Jimmy's number. Her heart was even heavier than before. Jimmy had this sort of hero-worship with Clark, as well as being one of Clark's best friends. And now she was going to shatter that as well.

                A half an hour later, she hung up the phone with Detectives Henderson and Wolf. A pile of wadded up tissues sat next to her on the couch. She lay in a fetal position, tears streaming. She was mildly amazed that she had any tears left.   Never before had she cried so hard, not even during her parents' divorce. A slight wave of relief flowed over her. The police were now searching for Clark's murderers. More importantly, she didn't have to call anyone else tonight. She wasn't sure that she could make it through another retelling. She pushed herself up off of the couch and padded into her bedroom. She shrugged out of her clothes, realizing that she was still in the same outfit that she had been wearing when Clark had been shot. Revolted, she threw everything in the garbage, including her shoes and undergarments. Never again could be bear to look at them and know that she had been wearing that when Clark had died. It was, of course, totally irrational, but she wasn't in a rational state of mind.
                She threw herself in the shower, turning up the water as hot as she could stand. It felt good, the hot, pulsing water against the tension in her body. But still, tears clouded her vision. She showered quickly and then rummaged in her bedroom for something comfortable to wear. She pulled out a t shirt and her heart caught in her throat. It was Clark's. A flash of memory jolted her. He'd worn it that time they had been staked out in the honeymoon suite while they were working on a case. Somehow, it had gotten into her luggage and she had forgotten to return it. She pulled the shirt on, hoping to feel close to him. She sniffed the fabric, hoping to catch some lingering scent of him, but it smelled only of the laundry detergent she had washed it in. A new sense of loss overwhelmed her.
                Dressed once more, she wandered into the kitchen and pulled open the freezer. She glanced inside before reaching in and removing a tub of Double Fudge ice cream. She hefted the tub in her hands, passing it idly between the two, then sighed and returned it to the freezer. This was a new feeling for her. Normally, she would turn to the comfort of ice cream when she was stressed or upset. Tonight, however, the thought of ice cream churned her stomach.
                "Superman, I need you," she whispered. "Where are you? Clark, I need you too. I miss you. I will always miss you. And I will always love you."
                She looked at the clock. It was now 2:05am. She felt exhausted but knew that sleep would be a long way off. Padding back into the living room, her eyes fell on her computer. She sat down and pressed the power button, taking no comfort in the familiar whirring of the machine. She began to type, as soon as the computer was fully started. She supposed that she was too close to the story, but the idea of anyone else writing of Clark's murder only upset her further. She had been there, had seen everything. She alone could do Clark some justice.
                REPORTER KILLED IN LINE OF DUTY
                New tears pricked her eyes but she refused to stop. It was hours later before she finally emailed the story to Perry and fell asleep on her couch, knowing that a new day would not dull the ache in her heart.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Heartache & Joy