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She told herself that none of this was real.
None of it.
When Batman … Bruce Wayne had lowered Clark's body to the ground after the battle with Doomsday and Lois had stared at Clark's beautiful face and felt the coldness of his skin … it still hadn't been real.
"I'm so sorry," Bruce Wayne had told her. She had been able to tell that the man had meant it. The fierce female warrior at his side had stared at her, a world of comprehension and sympathy in her dark eyes. There had been more than a little pity in there, too.
"I should have done more," Bruce Wayne had muttered harshly.
Lois had barely heard him … aware of nothing except the unresponsive coldness of Clark's hand in hers as she had held on tight and waited to awaken from the nightmare.
*
They took Clark's body to his childhood home to prepare for burial. They had Bruce Wayne and his billions to thank for that … The grim-faced billionaire had helped arrange for the 'empty' coffin of Superman to be buried in Metropolis amidst pomp and ceremony. There had been a public outpouring of grief and loss. Too much, too late. The hypocrisy of their grief sickened Lois … just days ago, this was the angry, animal mob that had turned on Clark … turned on the most beautiful, pure and sweet man she had ever known in her life.
"They were afraid of what they didn't understand, Lois … it was what Jonathan always feared …," Martha told her gently, tears in her faded eyes.
"He was right to fear it," Lois whispered sharply, the bitterness in her throat threatening to overwhelm her. "He died thinking that the world hated him …"
"No. He knew that he was loved … he knew," Martha told her fiercely.
As she lay on the bed that Clark had slept in as a child, she stared up at the ceiling, breathing in the scent of him and feeling his memories envelope her like a warm blanket. Above her, the planets in the solar system circled the light on a child's mobile. Naturally none of them was Krypton … but she found herself imagining the small boy staring up at the planets circling on the ceiling of his room and dreaming.
"You can stay here as long as you need to, Lois," Martha had told her gently earlier that day when she had arrived for the funeral.
"Martha, I can't intrude …"
"It would be no trouble. I could do with the company," the older woman had told her with a smile.
There should have been something morbid and macabre about having Clark's body lying downstairs in the house in his coffin but it hadn't been. The night before the funeral, Martha and Lois had sat by the coffin. They had turned on the television. Every channel poured out stories of the grief and sorrow that the world was feeling about the loss of the Man of Steel.
There was a knock on the door. "I'll get it," Lois told Martha gently and walked to the front door. Standing in the doorway, hands shoved in the pockets of his costly coat was Bruce Wayne, looking awkward and out of place in the homespun shabbiness of the Kent family home.
"I just wanted to let you know that we've made all the arrangements … no one will know that the casket in Metropolis is empty …" he told her, averting his gaze from her eyes that were red, swollen and unlovely.
"Lois? Who is it?" Martha had called.
"I should go," Wayne said harshly.
"A friend," Lois called back and Bruce Wayne's face twisted in pain.
"Please come in," Martha told him warmly as she appeared at Lois' side.
"Mrs Kent – I don't think – "
"No, please come in for a cup of tea, Mr Wayne," she invited him, reaching out to take him by the hand and draw him into the house.
The billionaire was tall, broad-shouldered and towered over the two women. Stepping into the kitchen, he glanced around, eyes darkening as they rested on the photographs of Clark as a baby ... as a child … as a teen … There was a strange irony that a man from an alien race had grown up in a 'normal' household whereas he had grown up in circumstances about as far from normal as one could imagine.
"We were sharing stories," Martha told him, indicating the plain coffin by the window. Bruce flinched.
"Sorry – you don't have to come in …" Martha trailed off uncertainly.
"No … I'm sorry. That was rude of me … I just wasn’t expecting … I'd be honoured to sit with him," he said finally, his voice hoarse and he drew up a battered kitchen chair of wood and sat alongside Clark Kent's coffin.
"I should have done more …" he began.
Martha shook her head with a smile. "This is not a time for sad stories, Mr Wayne," she told him with a reproving expression on her face and he leaned back and listened for a moment as Martha told stories of Clark as a boy … his mischief and naughtiness … Lois told stories of how they had met, his time at the Daily Planet … their life together. The two women smiled, they laughed and they cried. Mostly they smiled.
A cold, hard knot inside Bruce Wayne's throat started to relax and he felt an unexpected peace and calm as he listened to the voices of the women. He sipped the tea that Martha filled his cup with and then he told his story of how he had fought alongside Clark Kent in his final battle. How he had witnessed the selfless sacrifice of the man and how he had admired him for his courage.
"Well it's time for me to turn in," Lois said with a sad smile and rose to her feet.
"And I should leave," Bruce Wayne announced.
"We have a spare room …"
"No, I have a hotel room in town," he told Martha Kent with a genuine smile, one that reached his dark eyes. "But before I do that, I'll change that flickering light bulb over there …"
"Oh, Clark was going to …" Martha's voice trailed off and then she closed her eyes and nodded. "Thank you, that would be lovely," she told him.
Lois lay in Clark's bed and heard the murmur of voices downstairs. Heard Martha showing Bruce Wayne where the toolbox was, heard doors opening and closing …
*
Lois' eyes were red but she was out of tears by the time she joined Martha behind the horse, cart and Clark's coffin. The kitchen table was groaning with the weight of food from the mourners and Martha wasn't going to need to cook for weeks …
Martha reached out her hand and stared at the diamond ring. Plain and simple. "He felt embarrassed it wasn't more fancy," Martha told her with a smile. "He'd been saving up for a long time …"
There was an irony to it. A man who could have taken whatever he wanted from the world without any consequences or pushback, choosing to live a life as an ordinary man. "It's perfect," Lois told her, holding up the ring to the light so that the sunlight flashes a prism of colour across her face.
"Does this mean you would have said yes?" Martha asked her. "He was so nervous … wasn't sure …"
Lois nodded. "I would have said yes …"
The two of them walked side by side behind the horse drawn cart, through the corn fields where Clark Kent had played as a child. It wasn't the first time Lois had visited Smallville - to the Kent family farm … She'd come many times before, been shown Clark's childhood haunts, played with Dusty … eaten Martha's delicious apple cobbler and sipped home brewed cider from one of the neighbouring farms.
As she took one step after another, she imagined she could see out of the corner of her eye the small, dark-haired boy with the vivid blue eyes from the photographs. He was running along-side her in the corn fields, calling her name …
*
Lois stood with the clump of dirt in her hand. In the distance, she could see Bruce Wayne standing at beneath the trees that had been planted at the edge of the Smallville cemetery. He'd finally left, after having performed a number of repairs for Martha Kent who had sent him on his way with a hug and a jar of homemade strawberry jam.
At his side was the tall, dark-haired woman who had been there … at the end. She knew her name now. Diana Prince. She was one of them … one of the others who walked among them and her dark eyes were kind and filled with the sorrow of the world.
"I am so sorry, little sister," she had whispered, the flavour of a foreign land in her voice as she had put her arms around a sobbing Lois. "I was proud to fight alongside such a brave warrior … "
Lois stared down at the dirt in her hand, the glint of the sun in the diamond on her hand that was almost blinding. The dirt fell from her hand, landing onto the wood of the plain coffin with a faint sound. She closed her eyes for a moment and thought of the gentleness of Clark's eyes … the warmth of his smile … the certainty of his love for her. She'd known of his love even before he had spoken it.
Now he'd never hear her say the words back. Tears stung her eyes as she stared down at the coffin. Spence and Tom hung back tactfully, shovels in hand, waiting for her to leave before they came forward to fill in the grave. It seemed impossible to think that Clark was gone … No more falling asleep in front of the television, no more sleeping in on Sundays … breakfast in bed on days off … No one asking,"Are you ok, Lo?" in that searching, tender voice …
Turning away from the gravesite, Lois began her slow, solitary walk back to the Kent farmhouse.
None of this was real. None of it.
fin