By Anna Botsakou <abotsakou@in.gr>
Rated: PG-13
Submitted: August 2003
Summary: An accident can sometimes have fatal consequences that nothing can erase…but what happens then?
PLEASE READ THE PARAGRAPH BELOW BEFORE READING THIS STORY:
This is a sad story, in which I used the "Choose your own ending" idea, brought up a few weeks ago by Blayne on the Lois and Clark Fanfic Message Boards (http://www.lcficmbs.com/). You will find two endings: The "Optimistic Ending" and the "Pessimistic Ending" — but you can also read both or none of them, as you can also not read the story at all <g>.
A big, huge, gigantic THANK YOU to Carole for B- Reading it and for her encouraging feedback, and one more to the ones who read it on the boards and liked it.
So, here goes:
***
Lois was lying on the bed, her hands under the pillow. Tears were running down her cheeks.
This was not her usual side of big bed. This was where Clark used to lie.
But Clark wasn't lying there tonight, as he used to.
He would never be there again.
Never.
And it was _her_ fault.
She buried her face on the pillow, crying woefully, her mind traveling back to a few days before.
When everything seemed to be fine, and they were happy.
Dr. Klein had proudly announced to Superman that he had found a way to make him invulnerable to Kryptonite. He had given him two bottles with pills. The one contained Kryptonite pills, and the other one pills made by something used as a stabilizer. Clark had to swallow half a Kryptonite pill once a week, and the other days he should swallow three stabilizer pills. He only had to follow this therapy for a month, and then everything would be solved.
Clark was so happy when he told her. But his happiness was nothing in comparison to hers. Being invulnerable to Kryptonite would mean nothing could physically hurt him again. And this was the most important thing in her life: knowing that nothing could hurt the man she loved with all her heart and soul.
Nothing, and no one.
No one but her.
What an irony…
She put her arms under her chin, absently looking at the wall.
She then closed her eyes and buried her head in her arms. The past terrible nights kept coming in her mind. She was trying hard to make them go away, but it was impossible.
Clark's death would haunt her forever.
Because it was _her_ fault.
If it wasn't for her…if she hadn't committed that horrible, awful, stupid mistake, Clark would be alive now.
He would be here, with her.
She took a deep breath and went back to crying, louder and more desperately than before.
She remembered how everything was going well the first two weeks. Clark was taking his pills as he was supposed to, and was feeling much safer.
And she was feeling safer as well.
If it wasn't for that night…
How could have she been so stupid? Couldn't she even read, for heaven's sake?
Clark wasn't feeling well that night. He thought it was due to the Kryptonite he had taken the previous day…
Well, in that case, Dr. Klein had told him what the antidote was: "Double dose of stabilizer."
"I'm going to have my dose," he'd said, while leaving the bed.
"No, honey, I'll bring your pills," she'd said.
She'd gone to the bathroom, taken the bottle and, sitting beside him, she'd given him six pills.
"Are you feeling better now?" she'd asked, standing on her feet to get the bottle back to the bathroom.
"No…" He'd closed his eyes and was breathing with difficulty. "What's this thing you gave me?"
"It's…"
It is clearly before her eyes, as if it was happening that moment.
She opened her hand, saw the little white bottle and read the label:
'KRYP. PILLS 1/2 once a week'
Astonished, she stared at it, as it rolled down her palm and fell on the floor.
She knelt beside him. "Clark, Clark, are you okay? Clark?" She touched his face and grabbed his hand. "Clark, are you okay? I'm sorry, I gave you the wrong pills…"
He didn't say anything. He lay there, his eyes closed.
"Clark, do you hear me? It was an accident! I didn't mean to…I'm going to bring the stabilizer!"
She tried to go back to the bathroom, but she felt Clark's hand gently squeezing hers. "Don't bother," he sighed.
Lois perfectly understood the reason why he was saying no.
He could feel that it was too late. He knew that he was going to die.
And he wanted to spend his last minutes with her. The woman he loved, the woman who loved him back, the woman who gave him her life…
And took his.
Both literally and metaphorically speaking.
She's still feeling the pain he was feeling then, as she bent over him, as she felt her tears running down her cheek and wetting his face. She can still see his brown eyes, as he opened them to have a last look at her.
"Clark…I'm sorry…I didn't want to hurt you, I swear…I love you."
"I know," a whisper came out of his mouth.
"Clark, please, forgive me…I love you."
"Me too, Lois."
"Will you forgive me?"
"I already have, Lois."
"Clark, please, don't die…" she said, laying her head right beside his. "I love you." She bent her head over him, and touched his lips with hers.
She heard him whispering, "I love you, Lois."
And that was it.
She stared at him for a moment, taking a look at the face she had so deeply loved.
She realized that these brown eyes would never look at her again. These beautiful lips would never kiss her again, nor would they whisper to her caring, tender words anymore.
"No…" she sobbed.
And then she fell on him, crying in a way she had never cried before.
"No…No…"
That was all she could say then, between tears.
And that was all she could say now, although it didn't make her feel any better at all.
Nothing could make her feel better now.
Even Perry's, Jimmy's, Jonathan's or Martha's consoling words hadn't proved to be enough.
Well, the truth was that Perry and Jimmy didn't know.
She couldn't tell them. She had invented a story of Clark dying by in a sudden diabetes crisis.
But Jonathan and Martha…
She had told them the whole story. She knew that they'd understand, that they wouldn't blame her for their son's death. And she appreciated that, of course.
But, deep inside…she hated them for doing it.
She wanted them to hate her, the way she hated herself.
Because she couldn't stop feeling guilty.
"These things happen sometimes…nobody's perfect," Martha had said. "We all make mistakes."
Yes…maybe.
But such big mistakes?
Mistakes that can cost a man's life?
And not any man's, but a man you love and who loves you back?
Superman's life?
It must take someone very stupid to commit such a mistake.
<Someone galactically stupid> she thought, bitterly.
Now she was paying for her mistake. She'd lost the man she loved.
But she wasn't the only one paying.
Martha and Jonathan were too, by losing their son.
The whole world was, by losing the hero that had always protected them.
She remembered Superman's funeral, three days ago. Millions of people, citizens of Metropolis, other cities, even other countries, had attended the funeral, with genuine sorrow on their faces and in their hearts. It had taken place in Superman's Square — the new square, built in an empty lot not far away from their house. That's where he was buried. A big graveyard with the "S" was his only memorial, temporarily…until his big marble statue was ready.
***
—> OPTIMISTIC ENDING <—
"Kryptonite overdose," the media had announced. No more details — no one knew much more, anyway. They had assumed he had the pills with him, took them while flying, died instantly and fell down, in the alley where he was found.
The alley where Lois had left him, after she'd dressed him with the Suit and put the two bottles in his belt.
Respecting his secret was the last thing she could do for him.
No. It was the one before last.
The last was honoring his memory, and keeping on loving and remembering him.
She would love him and remember him until her last breath.
Like he did.
A faint smile was now drawn on her lips, although her eyes were still shedding tears.
<Clark is not dead for me,> she thought. <He will never be.>
She pulled herself towards the other side of the bed, opened the nightstand Drawer, and pulled out a photo- frame. Clark was happily grinning at her from there.
<I love you, Lois.>
The words were coming from everywhere. She could remember every single time he'd told her. From the first till…the last.
She wiped a tear from her eye and looked back at the photo.
"I love you too, Clark," she whispered to the photo, smiling. "I'll always love you. Everything will be as it used to be. I'm not going to miss you." She drew her finger on the photo. "Because you'll always be here for me. You are not gone. You are still here. I can feel you in my heart. I can hear you talking to me. I can see you in front of my eyes. You're not gone. You're here, with me."
She lay back in bed, holding the frame tightly in her arms and smiling, thinking of the beautiful moments she and Clark had spent together.
<I love you, Lois.>
"I love you too," she whispered, before falling asleep.
***
—> PESSIMISTIC ENDING <—
"Kryptonite overdose," the media had announced. No more details — no one knew much more, anyway. They had assumed he had the pills with him, took them while flying, died instantly and fell down, in the alley he was found.
The alley where Lois had left him, after she'd dressed him with the Suit and put the two bottles in his belt.
This was the last thing she could do for him. Keeping his secret, a secret they had tried so hard to keep, together.
However, then, it had a meaning. Now, it didn't.
With Clark, everything had a meaning. Without him, nothing did.
Before she met him, she used to think she didn't need anyone.
After she met him, she realized he was all she needed.
What was she going to do now that he was gone? How was she ever going to manage without him?
<Nothing. Just nothing.>
There was only one thing left to do.
She pulled herself towards the other side of the bed, opened the nightstand Drawer, and pulled out a photo- frame. Clark was happily grinning at her from there.
She stared at it. Her eyes were still wet and she was biting her lip, thinking of the beautiful moments she and Clark had spent together.
Moments she would never be able to relive.
Determined, she put the frame on the nightstand, and pulled something else out of the drawer.
A pistol.
Clark had told her to keep it there, just in case she was in danger and he wasn't there.
She had never used it before.
But there's always a first time.
She took a last look at the picture.
"Nothing is keeping me away from you, Clark," she said, her voice steady and firm. "Not even death."
And with that, she put the pistol on her temple and pulled the trigger.
THE END