Who: Clark Kent [
isitablurred] and Lois Lane [
presspasskey]
When: Night of the 7th, morning of the 8th
Where: Their apartment
Summary: Several threads collected herein; Clark and Lois fight Darkness incursion and make up, and also post-funeral, morning of the 8th. Last one I swear.
Warnings: Violence, mention of character death, bad language, kissing-and-making-up
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When you're done will I lose control? )
She immediately looped an arm around his waist (or what she could of it--she never stopped being surprised how much mass he had, when she was this close to him) and did her best to take some of his weight.
"I'm fine, everything's gonna be fine, just-- just lean on me, okay?"
Her voice stayed steady, through an immense effort of will. The last thing he needed right now was to worry about her panicking.
She gently started leading him back towards the stairwell--hoping to god no one would notice, because there would be no decent explanation without endangering Clark's identity--there was only so much plausibility in 'Lois Lane taking in her superhero best friend when he somehow burned his eyes and can't see, and of course her boyfriend's at home why do you ask.'
"I'm just going to take this one stair at a time--you'll probably feel it, right? We'll go slow." Cool, calm--get him through this, that's all that matters. Keep him talking. "How'd you get hurt?"
She didn't even remember that she'd left the window open.
(After today she'll insist on automatic watches only.)
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"My legs are working just fine, Lois, it's just my eyes that aren't." His hand slid down to hers, finding it, closing firmly around it, and he looked up toward where he thought her eyes must be, wishing the initial burn would start to clear. The feeling was unnerving, and highly uncomfortable. Last time it had taken days.
When she led him downstairs, he did his best to listen to everything around them, to try to get some bearing that didn't involve her hand in his own. He could navigate the stairs - mostly - by the sounds her feet made on them, and as they reached the door to their appartment he could hear the buzz that the emergency light made above the fire exit just opposite.
Since Lois had been heading outside, the door wasn't locked, and just a moment later they were stepping into the relative safety of their apartment. Clark relaxed instantly.
"Nobody saw us?"
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Of course, Lois didn't entirely factor his hearing into that, but she was a little frantic and still getting past being furious at him. (Well, actually, she was still pissed off at him, but that was another issue altogether.) Besides which, the sight of his eyes and his being so unclear as to what was where shook her more than she wanted to admit.
With a sigh of exasperation, Lois rolled her eyes--not that it did much good right now--and shut the door behind her quickly, locking it carefully. "Not a person in sight, so unless someone else in the building besides you disregards most kinds of wall, we're good. I'm gonna get you a change of clothes."
She immediately headed for the bedroom, mind focused on getting him out of the uniform Just In Case.
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It took him a moment to notice it--there was an odd smell, like raw sewage, used nappies and wet dog. It was the smell of the Darkness; of outside.
Odd. Maybe it was him. He could have brought the smell in with him right?
"There should be something laid out on the bed already," he called, and sniffed again. Was it getting stronger?
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Lois gathered up the clothes with a shake of her head and trotted back out. Something was bothering her now, although she was still busy worrying about Clark, about what the hell to do about his eyes--how could you even deal with an injury like that to someone who was sort of supposed to be invulnerable? What if it healed wrong and you couldn't fix it?
She reminded herself that Clark would know best about this, and tried to leave it at that inside her own head. At least, she did for all of two seconds. "Smallville, anything I'm supposed to be able to do about this? I've never seen you hurt quite like this. Shot, stabbed, whatever--this is new."
Even as she said it, her nostrils were flaring (something's wrong) and she decided to shoo him off while she dealt with this, even though she wasn't sure yet what 'this' even was. He didn't need to do everything. "Look, if you can find your way to the bedroom--if not, I'll help--go get changed. Normally I wouldn't mind the show, but I don't think this is the time."
And it'd give her a minute to figure out what was bothering her.
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“So long as there’s no Kryptonite around to stop it, they’ll heal eventually.”
He raised his hand and carefully stepped forward - wobbled, more like - around the edge of the couch and across to the wall, where he flattened his hand out and then reached down, beginning to walk sideways so that he didn’t knock the table beside the bedroom door. Naturally he knocked it anyway, and the vase on top fell off, but he caught it in mid air and returned it very carefully to the table top.
Even blind, he never missed anything.
The next time he reached out his hand curled perfectly around the handle, as though he’d known where it was all along, and he let himself into the bedroom to change.
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