InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "She shot me in the hat, Ray."

Lois Lane; Intrepid Reporter (thatlanewit) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2012-11-18 14:36:00

Entry tags:

clark kent/superman, lois lane

Who: Lois and Clark
What: Lois gets hurt. Clark deals with it.
When: Starting out Monday afternoon and then eventually heading into Friday afternoon
Where: a street in Lawrence and then the hospital
Warnings: violence and angst

When Lois looked back on the events leading up to the moment, there wouldn’t be anything she could pinpoint as to being out of the ordinary. Work had been normal, full of drawn out phonecalls, finicky copy machines, a few articles submitted, and the usual banter with Clark followed by their coworkers jokes and amused looks. She’d left work in high spirits, remembering there had been an outfit she’d seen in the window of a baby boutique the week prior that she wanted to get for her future goddaughter. It shouldn’t have taken her more than a ten minute detour on the way back to the complex and considering it wasn’t even dark yet, Lois didn’t see any reason not to stop off for the dress.

There were the usual people out on the street. Commuters heading home, high schoolers heading to the local diner for an afternoon snack, and others hurrying for some last minute shopping before day turned to night. She picked up bits and pieces of conversations as she walked with the dwindling crowd unable to stop her mind pulling at the tidbits to create scenarios of what might be happening in these people’s lives. She’d done it since she was little, a way to pass the time in doctor’s offices or her father’s office while she waited for him to be done with work after school or when she waited for news of her mother’s failing health. It was a habit she never had been able to break, not that she had tried all that hard to do so.

Maybe if she’d been paying attention to the rest of her surroundings she would have noticed something off, but the maybe game was one no one could ever win in the long run. Not that she would have seen the bullet coming anyway. It wasn’t as though she had supersenses or reflexes. She was simply human.

The light turned red and the crosswalk sign flashed for the crowd to start moving, but the usual dance of the commuters was broken as Lois felt something hit her in the shoulder. Later, she wouldn’t be able to remember if she’d heard the first shot echoing through the air before it hit, but that didn’t really matter either. All that did was that the bullet had connected with it’s intended target.

She stumbled backward, pain erupting in her body as screams broke out around her. The crowd parted, scrambling away as another shot rang through the air, but Lois was already falling as the second bullet impacted just below the first. She could taste blood in her mouth, vision beginning to swim and she did the only thing she could think of before she felt the pavement underneath her body.

“Clark.”

She hoped he heard her, wherever he might be, and as she lay on the ground, gasping for breath, all she could think was that Clark was never going to let go of the fact that he had been right. Lois just hoped she would still be around to hear his lecture as she tried to stay conscious and figure out how to get herself behind something in case whoever was shooting wasn’t finished yet.

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ex_savior698
2012-11-19 10:56 pm UTC (link)

The most satisfying thing about writing a story was getting a chance to actually write it. Most of the time, if a good lead didn't have enough factual information to support what a reporter wanted to say, there was no point in even pursuing trying to write it. Any decent editor would rather jump off the top of their newspaper building than let anything that broke the laws of reporting into their paper – and for good reason, most of the time. Fortunately for one Clark Kent, today he had all of his ducks lined in a row and his story was good and ready to be pieced together and sent up for review. It was a good story, centered around the positions of some of the people who had noticed the strange occurrences here in Lawrence. At first, everyone in the office had deemed it a piece only worthy of some newspaper hellbent on fantasy, but once Clark started getting his facts straight, the story certainly seemed to have enough information backing it to warrant a little attention. News reports of strange attacks, police reports, civilians who suddenly started behaving oddly, missing persons cases doubling...

Yeah, it was a good story. It was also one that Clark knew someone else had probably been working on writing themselves. How could they not? There was so much information out there for them to dig their heels into. Eventually someone – and someone good - was going to end up looking into everything that was going on. And when they did? They'd find themselves being buried elbow deep in information that they couldn't handle. Like the fact that Superman and Lois Lane were real. But was there really any need for them to go poking around if someone else, like him did it first? If he covered the story in a convincing way, Clark could hide the important things. At the same time, he'd raise public awareness to the idea that they needed to be careful, because whatever happened next could very well happen to them.

He was hoping that the way he wrote the story in itself would imply that a secret organization – like a gang, for example – were to blame. People would buy that. And if they did? It would give them more time under the radar, which was something that everyone who had fallen through that seal needed, in Clark's opinion.

Fingers spread out across the keyboard, Clark typed in his opening statement, then looked down at the notes in his lap, referring to them as he went along. When he was finished, he'd send the whole thing over to Lois before he tried seeing how it went upstairs. If there was something important that he missed, or if he needed to word something differently, Lois would probably be able to help him figure out what it was. She was the only other person at the paper who really knew what was going on ; she was the only other person who would understand what he was trying to do, once she saw what it was that he was writing.

Lois. Clark leaned back in his chair and looked to her empty desk. She was gone for the day. Probably off shopping. Or, worse yet, looking into that Moriarty case again. Lately, it seemed like every bit of trouble that Lois got herself into was always one step more dangerous than the last. How Lois got herself tangled up with Moriarty's old gang so easily, Clark would never know. He was sure, however, that it was going to be hard for Lois to let a story like that one go, even after notifying the few authority figures they knew they could trust here about what was going on. It wasn't in her nature to let go. Lois would keep digging and digging, even if it meant that whatever she pulled out of the dirt would come at the cost of her own life.

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ex_savior698
2012-11-19 10:59 pm UTC (link)

At the thought, Clark closed his eyes and focused his hearing. He'd probably find that Lois was off chatting with someone somewhere safe, in which he'd have found himself worrying for no reason at all.

He heard his name instead, spoken with an emotion that Clark could only describe as outright agony. He immediately got up from his desk and strode from the room, ignoring the eyes that were pinned to the back of his head at his sudden exit as he moved. As soon as he was in the clear, Clark practically threw himself out of the nearest window, flying straight toward the very location in which he'd heard Lois' call for him. He was terrified of what he'd find when he found Lois, yet he was more terrified of what would have happened if he didn't locate her in time. Desperate to get to her before the worst could happen – if it already hadn't - Clark found himself flying toward his destination so fast that he couldn't even remember how he got there by the time he landed.

Not that it mattered. Not when he saw what had become of Lois.

Her blood was everywhere. Red soaked her clothes and drenched the ground that Lois had collapsed upon, proving that Clark was, in fact, already too late. "No," Clark started, dropping down to her side. With little concern for the crowd of people that had begun to gather around Lois, Clark pulled her into his arms and focused his vision, trying to get a fix on what had happened.

Two bullets. She had been shot. But by who? Who could have done this to her?

He'd worry about that later. He'd take care of it later. Right now, Lois needed to get to a hospital. She needed a doctor. She needed someone to save her. "I've got you," he promised, "everything is gonna be okay." At that, Clark scooped Lois up and quickly started to walk away from the crowd. A man tried to get in his way, one that insisted that they wait for the ambulance that someone had called, but Clark brushed past him and, once they were both out of sight, he jumped into the sky.

His feet were quick to find hospital ground and, once inside, his calls for a doctor were met with a pair of medical aids who wheeled a gurney over for Lois, which Clark immediately placed her on. As soon as she was set in place, the aids began to push Lois down the hall, calling for everyone to move out of the way so they could get her into surgery. Clark tried to follow, but two more aids appeared, insisting that there was nothing more he could do. Clothes, hands, and arms soaked with Lois' blood, Clark shook his head and tried to follow again anyway. One of the aids put a hand on his shoulder, once again insisting that Clark stay behind.

He didn't know how, as he certainly didn't remember getting there, but next thing Clark knew, that same aid was being pinned to the wall, with the second pulling at him from behind, trying to get Clark to let him go. Once he realized what he was doing, Clark dropped the man and backed away, hands lifted in resignation.

"She was shot," he said, "someone..." His shoulders collided with the wall behind him and Clark sank down to the floor and looked down at his hands. He didn't say anything else.

She had lost so much blood.

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thatlanewit
2012-11-20 12:18 am UTC (link)

The seconds after calling for Clark seemed to drag on forever for Lois even though she knew that couldn’t be the case. People were still crying out around her, but there were others offering kind words, telling her the ambulance was on it’s way. She couldn’t focus on any of it, her attention drawn to trying to keep herself awake and breathing until she could at least see him one last time.

There was so much left she wanted to do in the world, so much she wanted to say to him, things she had been holding back from speaking out loud, too afraid what would happen if she admitted just how much she cared for Clark. Her track record with love hadn’t been that great so far and admitting that she loved someone usually resulted in the relationship coming to a halt or worse. Somewhere inside she knew that wouldn’t be the case this time, knew that admitting to herself and to him that she did love him wouldn’t cause the end of the world, but fear was a powerful motivator to hide her feelings. Something she was regretting having let control her as she felt herself grow weaker by the second.

It couldn’t end like this, bleeding out in the middle of a street. She wouldn’t let herself do that to him, but she didn’t know how much longer she could force herself to stay conscious. Thankfully Clark was there as she felt herself wane and even though the pain was excruciating as he lifted her up in his arms, Lois knew everything would be okay then. He’d get her to someone who could help her, who could save her, and she shut her eyes as Clark began to speak, unable to keep herself awake any longer.

The next few days were a daze, consisting of Lois drifting in and out of consciousness more times than she’d ever remember. Nor would she recall the internal battle to decide whether she should fight to survive what had happened or give up and succumb to her injuries. It really wasn’t much of a contest considering it was in the Lane blood to never take the easy path and like hell Lois was going to let the bastard who had shot her get away with it.

Not that she was thinking about any of that as she finally came around, eyes slowly opening as she adjusted to the light. She was disoriented, trying to figure out where she was and attempted to sit up. Pain stabbed her shoulder, causing her to bite her lip as she lay on the bed, trying to fight off the wave of nausea that followed. She’d almost forgotten what had happened, but it only took a few seconds for her to remember the street and the shots, followed by the look on Clark’s face as he’d lifted her into the air. Lois never wanted to see him look like that because of her again.

It didn’t take long for her to orient herself to her surroundings, the unique glow of the hospital lights the first sign for where she was laying. It probably said something that she was so acquainted with their faint, sterile glow that she could pick them out from other kinds, but she wasn’t about to dwell on how often she found herself inside one of these rooms.

Her gaze drifted downward, slowly taking in the hospital gown and thin blanket before latching onto the IVs jabbed into her arm. She followed the lines across the bed, breath catching as she spotted Clark sleeping in the chair beside her bed. Lois couldn’t get a good look at him from the angle he was laying, but the mere fact he was curled up in a chair too small for his frame told her enough.

“Clark?” Her voice was scratchy, and she knew she probably shouldn’t strain herself, but she reached over to him, trying to touch his arm so she could alert him that she was awake. She could only imagine what had been going through his head to have her hooked up to tubing and laying in the hospital because of what he had feared would happen coming true. “I’m...”

Her apology caught in her throat and she shut her eyes as she started to cough, needing water before she could continue.

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ex_savior698
2012-11-20 04:55 am UTC (link)

It had been days since the doctors had pulled Lois from surgery. Her condition had been weak, but stable, and though she had been brought into the hospital nothing short of a bloody mess, Clark had been promised that she would recover from her injuries in time.

Time had turned out to be a very unspecific, irritating detail, one that had left Clark pinned to Lois' side ever since she had been cleared for visitation. He hadn't left her alone. He didn't dare try. If her shooter found out that she was still alive, there was a good chance that he or she would make a move on her again. Clark refused to let that happen. He had almost lost her once, but that was all that they were getting. One shot. One attempt. They successfully hurt her, but they didn't kill her. They had failed. And with Clark here, they didn't stand a chance at getting anywhere near her ever again.

Hours of waiting had turned into days. Clark had barely slept, he had barely eaten, and he only left her room if he absolutely had to. Even then, it was only for a few minutes, if that. It had taken some motivation for Clark to call the paper to explain to their editor why neither of them would be able to work for an unspecific amount of time (for once, Clark was actually able to be honest about what had happened), but he knew that it was what Lois would have wanted for him to do. If she woke up and found out that they were both unemployed because Clark didn't think to check in with the big man back at the office, she'd probably make him wish that he was the one who had gotten shot instead.

Though, honestly, he kind of did already.

Eventually, his sleep deprivation caught up with him. Clark found himself chugging down cups of coffee on an hourly basis, but they only held up for but so long. Sleepless nights turned into him dozing off between gaps of straightening Lois' blankets out, making sure that she was comfortable, and surveying the area for any and every sign of potential threats. Soon enough, he was taking small naps here and there on the side, often finding himself nudged awake by one of the nurses, who would always stop in to explain any changes in Lois' condition and offer to bring him a meal or two throughout the day.

It was when his exhaustion had kicked him into nap mode that Lois had decided to wake. Clark had been crammed into one of the tiny guest chairs, head resting at an awkward angle against the wall behind him. He had been dreaming about something – at least he thought he had been – when a voice lured him to consciousness. Clark opened his eyes and blearily looked ahead, expecting to see one of the nurses or doctors again, but found no one. Which meant...

His eyes widened and he turned, spotting a very awake and very not-dead Lois. It only took him half a second to climb out of his chair and scoop up the hand that was reaching for him, a relieved expression quickly masking the worn and anxious look that had been carrying him along for days. “Hey. Hey, it's okay. Don't --” She was coughing. Clark quickly reached for the water pitcher that had been set up beside her bed and poured her a cup of water. Drink in hand, he carefully sat down on the edge of her bed and slipped a hand behind Lois' head, gently lifting it so that she could drink as needed. “Here. You need to drink this. C'mon.”

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thatlanewit
2012-11-20 05:40 am UTC (link)

Lois slowly sipped the water, not wanting to drink too quickly as she remembered what happened when one drank too much at once. Her body was overwhelmed enough as it was, the last thing she needed to do was cause it more stress. Her coughing fit subsided and she took a few long breaths, calming herself before finally opening her eyes again.

Her mind was a jumbled mess of things to say, but all of them caught in her throat as she finally got a good look at Clark. He looked exhausted and while she could see the relief in his eyes as he looked down at her, she couldn’t help but notice the tension in the rest of his body. She wondered how long she had been out of it for him to gather up that much stress.

She hated that she was the cause of the pain he’d most likely gone through. Hated that she’d put him through the wringer by getting herself hurt. The should’ve, would’ve, could’ve game was already beginning in her head as she tried to recall all the details that had led to her being in the hospital. Maybe if she’d been paying attention to her surroundings she would’ve heard the gunshot. Maybe she could’ve ducked in time. Maybe she could have not been out on that street in the first place. But she couldn’t fix any of that, couldn’t go back in time and stop any of it from happening. The only thing to do now was to try and move forward.

Lois reached up and brushed her fingers against his cheek, trying to force herself to speak again. “I shouldn’t...I didn’t...” She kept her gaze locked on his own, taking another deep breath. “I’m sorry.” Lois blinked back tears, her other hand reaching for his own, desperately wanting to hold onto him.

She was never one to cry, usually locking those emotions down tightly and exerting a stronger exterior to the world. It was what was needed to survive in the middle of the bullpen, to keep going after the story that no sane person would continue prodding at, or to simply grow up in the middle of an army base full of a revolving door of friends and acquaintances. But she didn’t have to keep that pretense up around Clark, didn’t need to force her feelings into a tight ball that wasn’t allowed to see the light of day unless she was alone to deal with them. It didn’t stop her from trying, though, not wanting to give him more to deal with than he already had.

“You’re going to be incorrigible now in regards to my safety,” she murmured, trying to lighten the mood, but her attempt at joking around fell flat and she shrugged, unsure what she was supposed to do or say anymore.

Usually she’d be coming up with a number of witty retorts, pointing out that she’d be back out there in no time to find the bad guy, to get the news to the people, but Lois couldn’t bring herself to try any of that yet. Hadn’t they just argued about the possibility of her getting hurt like this? She remembered all too well all the times he’d told her he couldn’t handle something bad happening to her and something most definitely bad had occurred.

“I’m so sorry, Clark.” She kept repeating her apology, hoping he would accept it, that it would help heal a little of the damage she had caused.

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ex_savior698
2012-11-20 11:04 pm UTC (link)

Though Clark knew that he had been right about Lois getting herself into something that she shouldn't have tackled alone – or at all, for that matter – he didn't find himself feeling all that satisfied in her apologies. Did they really matter when it was Lois' safety that had him behaving so persistently on the matter to begin with? That had been compromised. She had nearly died, right under his nose, and he knew that the fault was his own. Lawrence was his city now, just as much as Metropolis had been his back before he had fallen into the apocalypse. If someone got hurt here, they got hurt under his watch. Lois had gotten hurt under his watch. How could have missed her being attacked? How could he have let this happen to her?

Clark swallowed hard and shook his head. “Don't. It's okay. You couldn't have possibly known that they were going to take you on like that. It's --” He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “-- just don't, Lois.” It seemed like she was done drinking the water for now, so Clark set it aside. “The important thing is that you're here. How...how are you feeling?” He'd probably have to call a doctor or nurse in. They'd want to look her over, run a few tests, ask a few questions about how she was feeling. The usual run-of-the-mill recovery stuff. With Lois awake, Clark really didn't want to have to put up with having to sit through hospital procedures, but he knew that it was in her best interest. Those bullet holes weren't gonna fix themselves.

He ignored her joke. It wasn't really a joke, was it? Clark didn't exactly plan on leaving her side anytime soon. If she thought he had been a pain before, then Lois probably wasn't going to like Clark's behavior much now.

"The doctors say you'll recover," Clark added, hoping that would make Lois feel a little better. He might've asked how she felt, but he knew that waking up from getting shot probably wasn't the most pleasant experience in the world. It had put her out for days and had nearly come at the cost of her life. If Lois wasn't feeling absolutely terrible, Clark was going to start questioning as to whether or not she was a robot. "You're just gonna need to take it easy for a while."

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thatlanewit
2012-11-21 12:26 am UTC (link)

Lois knew he was right and she had no idea how she would handle taking it easy for any long length of time. She’d barely been able to not use her hand for the few days the doctor wanted her to do so when she’d started out with the cast and that hadn’t even hurt that much. Now though just moving the little she had on the hospital bed was not only tiring her out quickly, but pain would shoot along her shoulder if she tried shifting to another angle than how she’d been laying when she’d woken. She could only imagine how much she’d be hurting when she needed to move from the bed and start walking around.

“Of course I’ll recover, Clark. Did you really think one...two bullets would keep me down. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Smallville.” She squeezed his hand, trying again to infuse some humor into their conversation, but she knew neither of them were really responding to it. Lois sighed, giving up finally on that route and decided being honest was a better course of action. “I’m exhausted and I’ve barely even been awake or done anything besides talk a little to you. My shoulder is killing me, but I kind of figure that pain is good right now.” It meant she was alive and Lois needed that reminder at the moment, all too aware of how close she had been to death. Or at least she thought she was, but she really had no clue how close she’d come to dying, or the extent of her injuries.

She studied his face, trying to gauge what he was thinking, what was happening in that head of his and not like any of the ideas she was coming up with. She’d seen how he blamed himself when people had been hurt by Moriarty all those months ago and Lois had a feeling he was beating himself up over her own injuries. She didn’t blame him for a moment. If it hadn’t been for Clark, she wondered if she’d have made it to the hospital in time. She had a feeling she’d lost a lot of blood just from what she could remember the bystanders saying.

“What...what happened? I remember walking to get a new outfit for FL and then just chaos. I called out for you and it hurt to breathe, to stay awake, but you were there within moments, I know that. I remember seeing your face.” Or at least she thought she had, maybe that part had been a dream. “I remember thinking everything would be okay because you’d get me where I needed to be.Then the world basically went black.”

Lois squeezed his hand again, trying to make him realize she didn’t blame him for anything that had happened, that it wasn’t his fault she had been shot. “But...how hurt was I, Clark?”

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