Sounds of Summer Challenge Fic: Whataya Want From Me? | Clark/Lois | R | 1/1

Title: Whataya Want From Me?
Author: saavikam77
Category: Superman Returns
Prompt: For the Sounds of Summer Challenge: #01: Whataya Want From Me
Rating: R (for Lois's mouth)
Word Count: 1,446
Summary: A year and a half later, Lois finally explodes. But Clark can't possibly make this better.
Spoilers: For SR only.
Author's Notes: I really didn't expect this one to come out so... personal, or so heavily angsty, but when I put the song on repeat, this is what came out. Not related to any particular 'verse, but partially inspired by and written as the complete opposite someone else's fic (*blames muses and hormones*).
Warnings: Potentially OOC reactions to severe psychological trauma based on permanent damage to female reproductive organs.


Just don't give up, I am workin' it out
Please don't give in, I won't let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep comin' around....

--Adam Lambert, “Whataya Want From Me”

Whataya Want From Me?

Days like these, Lois wanted nothing more than to start throwing rocks at everyone in her general vicinity. Three investigations going at once, none of them exactly panning out, spilled coffee all over her blouse and skirt thanks to a sudden, inexplicable gust of wind in the bullpen, another call with 'disappointing' news from her doctor, and a mad dash to find Jason an emergency babysitter after the usual girl had canceled, and Lois was frayed beyond the point of wanting to mow down everyone in her path with a semi-automatic. Planet staff, respected colleagues, friends, everyone.

Even Clark.

Especially Clark.

But that wouldn't exactly solve anything, now, would it?

It wasn't like she had a ready supply of rocks or a loaded semi-automatic on hand, either, so there she was. A year and a half out of a relationship that had been, for all intents and purposes, doomed from the word 'go', a son she couldn't even keep up with anymore, an editor she half wanted to strangle on principle, body parts she couldn't fix, and... and Clark. Always there, every damned day, every time she turned around, took a cigarette break, stepped out for freakin' lunch, there he was, all puppy dog eyes, stuttered apologies, pathetic excuses, like any of it could even begin to make up for what he'd done.

As if she gave a damn anymore where the hell he'd been, anyway. Or why he hadn't bothered with so much as a 'bye your leave' when he'd disappeared into the ether, poof, gone. Or even why he hadn't thought it might be a brilliant idea before he'd gone off to play explorer to, oh, she didn't know, maybe tell her who the hell he was?

It was beyond more than she could take from him at this point, really. After the hell she'd been through today, her tolerance level was so far beyond his bullshit that if he so much as landed on the damn roof while she was trying to get a little nicotine in her, he'd damn well regret it.

Naturally, the second the elevator doors opened to admit her to the roof, the stifling evening air of Metropolis in summer hitting her square in the face and robbing her of breath for a second, there he was, waiting.

No tights today, she noted, raising an eyebrow in warning as she strode across the concrete to light up. A long drag, and she didn't even spare him a sideways glance as she started, “If you couldn't fly, I would push you off this damn roof right now, so don't you dare start with me today, Clark.”

Leaning against the balustrade with one hand, she looked out over the city as it slowly began to twinkle to life in the fading light, the sun just set over the horizon. Even in the haze, it was pretty, but really, who gave a shit? It wasn't some romantic scene, Kal-El wasn't going to sweep her off her feet and away into the clouds, and there was no 'happily ever after' written in anyone's future. Of that, she was certain.

“You just gonna stand there and stare at me?” she huffed after a long moment, still not daring to meet his steady gaze as he stood a few feet away, leaning sideways against the ledge, arms crossed over his work shirt and hair mussed over his big sad eyes, no glasses this time, at least. “Cuz' it's getting creepy.”

Another deep drag from her cigarette—she hoped to hell it pissed him off to see her smoke like a chimney these days—and she lifted her chin, tapped the ashes from the rapidly shortening stick with a flick of her thumb, and leaned on both palms.

“I—” he started, but broke off—typical—and started again, “I can't keep apologizing to you, Lois. I don't know what else to say, but I can't keep telling you I'm sorry.”

“Well. Good,” she snapped. “I was tired of hearing it.”

Another long moment of tense silence passed, the sky steadily darkening around them beneath the growing glow of the Planet globe.

“I know what happened, okay?” he finally said, the words coming in a rush, as if he'd been dreading saying it.

Lois's nails raked over the concrete of the ledge as her fingers curled into fists involuntarily, the cigarette lost to tumble over the edge and away as a faint breeze caught it. Nearly grinding her teeth at his sudden admission, she forced herself to turn and face him, crossing her arms over her chest protectively as an adrenaline-fueled rush of rage shot through her like lightning.

“I swear to God, if you x-rayed me, I will kill you where you stand.”

But Clark shook his head, quickly backtracking with his palms up in surrender. “No, no, never.”

“So, what? You listened into my doctor's visits? Eavesdropped on private conversations? Is that it?” she tore into him. “None of that is any of your business.”

“No, I... it wasn't like that at all, Lois, I swear. Richard told me.”

“Go to hell,” she spat, whirling and dropping her arms as she stalked back toward the elevator house. “And take that jack-ass with you.”

“No, wait, please,” he begged, voice nearly cracking with desperation and urgency, suddenly right there beside her, a hot hand on her arm.

“Get off me!” she cried, shaking off his touch roughly. Enough was enough, and today, of all days, was the worst possible time he could've brought this up. Whirling on him again, she didn't even bother to hold herself back as she lifted her hands and shoved him as hard as she could manage, sending him staggering back as he took the force of it. “You had a year and a half to get with the damn program, and you blew it. I don't need your pity. I don't need your sympathy. I don't need to be fucking rescued. Get it? Huh? You can't fix this!”

Clark must've been shocked out of his damn mind that she'd dared to shove him, because he stood there with his mouth hanging open so long that Lois thought he'd frozen in place.

“Just... leave me the hell alone, Clark. This is my issue to work out. Not yours.”

Turning again, she made for the elevator, but his voice stopped her dead in her tracks, the earnest truth falling from his lips.

“It's my fault.”

“You're damn right it's your fault,” she shot back over her shoulder, before prying her feet from where they'd stuck and finally—finally—getting to the elevator, the doors closing on Clark's pathetic expression, brow furrowed over those damn eyes, all shot with regret.

Three floors down, she hit the button to stop the car as everything finally roared to the surface and erupted spectacularly, her skin tingling and itching as she shook. Sinking down to the floor to land half on her knees, she barely caught herself as a sudden flood of tears spilled down her cheeks and a wrecked sob tore from her throat and morphed into a scream of frustration. Her hand moved to her belly of its own accord, and she cursed the day she'd ever met Clark fucking Kent, fallen into his arms and into his deep blue eyes, lost herself to the hero she'd pretended he really was. Knight in shining armor be damned, he was the reason she was broken.

Before Jason, she'd never even wanted this life, but after... after the sudden clarity of wanting it more than air had hit her so damn hard her head had practically spun, after the physical shock of having her son had destroyed any kind of additional future family she might have had... how could she live like that? How could anyone....

Screaming, crying, and cursing, she hardly noticed when the doors were suddenly pried open, but fell—fighting, furious, hating him—into the embrace that surrounded her.

“Shh, it's all right. I've got you. I promise,” he soothed in that deep baritone. “I've got you. No matter what happens.”

Even as she cursed him and everything he stood for, she wished like hell that he'd been there, that his presence would've make a damn bit of difference. That things could've happened differently. Sinking into his arms and holding on for dear life, though, she knew it was too late.

She couldn't be what he wanted her to be, what she wanted herself to be. Couldn't have the life she'd once dreamed of for them. Ever.

But....

~*~*~*~