presspasskey | [Siren's Pull] IC Contact

No I--

[He actually looks hurt, and glances away. His dinner goes down on the swing beside them.]

I didn't say it wasn't an accident. Or might not be. He shouldn't be in there--he's frightened, and alone. I know all that, Lois. I'm just trying to be objective. There's more people than just Ford involved with this, so if you go in there with your mind made up, you're not going to be treating them fairly. Any of them.

[His hands go to the back of his neck. And now the other subject.]

I've spent the last nine years blaming myself for all the pain I see around me. Every time something bad happens? Guess what? It's alien; usually Kryptonian. It's there for me, because of me, or after me.

For the record, though? I'm probably one of the few people on this island who could do anything about it--and probably the only one who would.

It's not as if he threw rocks at someone's head for entertainment--there was never any indication he ever knew the guy. It was during the riots, it could have been anything.

You stay objective, then--you, the law, whatever. You're supposed to be the logically distant ones. Go right ahead. The press is never objective whatever they claim, you know that. You think it's right to be objective, fine. I think it's right to find some way to keep a kid from suffering more than he has to.

[Her eyes snap a little, as she rolls her eyes.]

Your guilt complex is incredibly frustrating, you know that? Everything bad does not actually revolve around you. You sit there thinking it when, for instance, you could blame the fucking idiots who didn't check for radiation after a freaking meteor shower, didn't clean up after it.

[Swallowing a little, a flash of worry crosses her face. Furious or not, she gets freaked out by things like this.]

How badly could he hurt you?

It's fine, Lois. Just... It's fine. You're right.

[He can't stay sitting down. He stands instead, crossing his arms, burying his chin into his shoulder.]

It's not like I have a vested interest in a teenager struggling to deal with how they're different. It's not like being objective is easy for me, or anything.

[He's angry with her too. His guilt complex is frustrating? He didn't need to hear that right now. Not when he's just added another knot of guilt to what he had so far. Jason.]

I don't know.

[At the end of it all he almost sounds defeated.]

He could interfere with the way I absorb sunlight, or bury me under a sixty story skyscraper.

All I'm saying is that I talked to him. I know stories when I see them. This kid didn't murder the guy. Killed him maybe, but it wasn't murder.

And it doesn't matter what the police find--this keeps up, he'll pay the social price for it. I can't be objective. This isn't about the law.

[She can tell he's angry, but she doesn't say anything. This thing with Xavier is too important.]

Or both--or--

If it happens--over this or if it ever happens--promise me you won't be your heroically, overly-sacrificing, pig-headed idiot self and try to do this without help.

Wow, Lois, why don't you tell me what you really think of me?

[There's only half hearted anger there. A great deal more teasing. Because he doesn't want this to turn into a row. Not over the story.

He has other things she can yell at him about.]

I have help here. Someone I can trust--even if you don't.

One of us has to have some kind of realism about people, and god knows you never will.

[Unfortunately, Lois has been spoiling for this fight for a while.

And anyway, whether or not there's anger involved? You never, ever say that to Lois Lane.]

Where did you want me to start, sweetheart? We've already covered the over-developed guilt and hero complexes. Just let me know the next bullet point you wanted me to hit, we can cover as many as you like.

[That stings, and Clark, sighing, folds his arms, still looking away. His parents had rarely fought - or so it had seemed to him. The truth was probably different to his reality of it, but the fact was that he didn't know how to deal with it, especially not from Lois.

He's having the worst week.

Exhausted, he turns to look back at her.]

Why don't you just give me the Cliff Notes version, and go from there?

You're insane.

[The answer is quick and blunt--several months worth of frustration, anger, and alternating pressure and complete withdrawal are finally bubbling to the surface.]

I love you to pieces, Clark, but some days you are so far in left field I want to kill you with my shoes. There's at least half a dozen different ways and somehow when they all mix together you end up acting completely asinine.

And if anyone points it out to you it's even odds whether you actually listen or go wallow in a guilt party.

[Wow. That is blunt.]

I'm listening now.

[Still odds, though, but Lois is being honest with him and he can at least give her that. She needs to say this, he needs to hear it.]

[Oddly, for once in her life Lois wishes he'd do more than just listen all the time. Sure, he listens.

But god forbid he say anything.]

Really? Because that'd be a first for the last few months. Maybe more.

[His shoulders drop, and he looks away from her again.]

Things are different here, Lois. We both know it. Batman, the suit. I'm keeping things from you more than I ever had, and expecting you to just trust me without telling you why.

Just like before.

That a good start?

Different? You manage to say things are different and then exactly the same in almost the same breath?

Okay, sure, you're kind of right. Home has stars and doesn't have randomly-manifesting-monsters. And cohabitation or not, the rest really isn't different.

And I wasn't talking about since I got here, idiot.

[Yikes. He did say that, didn't he. He tries to at least look apologetic.]

Not really what I was going for. The stars thing.

Then what were you talking about, because I'm honestly not seeing anything different besides involuntary environment changes.

[She honestly doesn't even know what he thinks is different here, and establishing the ground rules for an argument is good--if only so she can promptly break them at some point.]

And name changes.

How about we go with Gotham. Period. Underlined in red.

What the hell does your change of job title have to do with anything?

[She just gives him a flat, flat look.] This has nothing to do with Gotham's crazies--yes, your friend is included in that. Don't you dare try to blame someone else for this.

Blame... I'm not blaming anyone else, Lois. I'm just trying to work out why you're so angry with me in the first place.

[Dude. Clark. That is the worst possible thing to say, really.]

[Lois just gets an absolutely incredulous look.

He's trying to what?]

[And then her expression turns flat. Okay, now she sounds angry.]

Three. Times.

Three--?

[Now he's in for it.]

Three times. That's how many times you broke up with me, Clark--in three weeks

[Technically, one of those was her, actually. Lois does not care about technicalities.]

Next thing I know, you're kissing me goodbye and incidentally springing a secret identity on me, and you have a knife in your chest. Then we're in fucking Canada, and twenty four hours later you're telling me you're probably dead and you're in love with me, and that you want to spend your life with me, never mind that you might not have one anymore--

And you expect things to just magically be perfectly fine?

To be fair, Lois. There was...time for me. It wasn't so sudden. I had... Months.

[And she hadn't. He'd been going along all this time, and she hadn't even had breathing space. Time away from him to actually decide if all of this was what she wanted.]

But we've known each other for longer than that. I thought--

[What did he think? That everything would just fall into place? That she could cope with anything because she was Lois? He hadn't even thought about it being difficult, especially since most of the time he wasn't actually at home. His whole crazy world.]

Maybe I did.

You do remember what happened the last time everyone else had months and I had no idea what was going on, right?

[It's not the first time she's caught a glimpse of something that irritates her or really disappoints her in him. She doesn't love him any less, but this apparent utter lack of thinking about this makes her want to throttle him.]

We've known each other for longer. And you'd just told me to leave you.

We covered this.

[Or maybe they hadn't. He'd just arrived the last time they'd spoken about it, after all, and they'd both seemed to leave things out. Like how she'd known who he was in the first place.

His expression fell.]

Lois... What happened that night?

What, the part where you idiotically decided to not bother telling me what kind of good-bye it was? We agreed it was stupid. We didn't talk about the rest of it.

[Even knowing she's losing sight a little of what her point had been, Lois can't really help feeling bizarrely frustrated. She's not used to 'extended family argument's that don't end in everyone involved shouting. It's disconcerting.]

I told you--and anyway, you were there for more of it than I was.

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