Things Past 
by A.j. 
 
*** 
 
It hurt to stand. 
 
From three stories up, Lois Lane stared out over the funeral crowd,  
hundreds of thousands in the rubble of their city mourning their hero.  
She could taste the grief of the crowd, bitter and dry like the air in a  
barn after a long draught. They'd lost family. Friends. Other fragile  
lives to this disaster, but they're here for this. Because it's  
Important. 
 
She's here because she couldn't be somewhere else. 
 
Lois could barely see the mausoleum from the parking garage. All white  
and perfect in the middle of a battlefield, it stood out. Here and  
there cranes and school bus yellow earthmovers rested. They lined the  
broken street like silent sentinels. 
 
She found it amusing that even in her own head, even now, she could  
think in prose. Too much training and too many deadlines stand between  
her and stilted sentences. Clark would always laugh when he had to  
correct something she'd done. 
 
"Who knew you could be this lyrical?" 
 
Then he'd mock her for her romance novel that she never really would  
finish, or even let anyone read. And stand to get her coffee. 
 
He wouldn't be doing that anymore. Fact was, he wouldn't be doing much  
of anything at all. 
 
God, she hated crying in public. Well, as public as standing by herself  
in an empty parking garage was. 
 
By all rights, she should be up in the front with all the superheroes  
and politicians. She'd been one of his closest friends. The one who  
was always there. She should be one of those speaking, bearing her  
memory for all to see. They'd even asked her. Well, the mayor had.  
His voice official and stilted because he knew about the other thing. 
 
The other thing that only about fifteen people on the planet knew wasn't  
'other'. It had everything to do with this. 
 
"I understand if you don't want to do this, Lois. I know Clark is still  
missing..." 
 
So she'd said no. Taken the way out that was offered. Voice breaking,  
but not enough to give it all away. 
 
She'd had no intention of coming. 
 
Sitting there, staring at the phone in her hand long after the dial-tone  
had started its monotone buzz, she'd intended to bury herself so deeply  
in her apartment that nothing and no one could touch her. She'd thought  
she couldn't do it. Stand and watch as everyone grieved for this thing  
that was so much bigger than life. She'd been certain that she'd lose  
whatever control she had and run screaming through the crowd because  
none of them deserved to mourn this person. None of them had known him  
like she had. That the body up there covered by that shroud shouldn't  
be laid to rest here, it should be back in Kansas in his family's plot.  
No. He shouldn't still have to be this thing, especially in death.  
Because this had only been a part of him. 
 
A part he hadn't always wanted. 
 
But just like everything else in their lives, this wasn't just about  
Lois and Clark. Even in death, it was about something bigger. All  
about a world that needed saving, and now... Now, it needed to grieve. 
 
So, she'd hung up the phone and waited. 
 
For what, exactly, she hadn't known until this morning, when she'd found  
herself pulling on her best black suit. She'd been buttoning up the  
jacket before she'd even realized what she was doing. Standing in front  
of the bathroom mirror - don'trememberhisglassescase - one hand tangled  
in raw silk, she'd stared forward, blinking. 
 
Oh, she'd thought. And gone to find her purse. 
 
Apparently, despite everything, she'd needed to grieve too. 
 
But not down there. Not in front of the world. She'd had a hard time  
letting herself cry in front of Clark. The world hadn't earned that  
right. 
 
So here she was, up three stories in a nearly packed car park. Large  
orange cones and barriers blocked the entrances on the street, but  
mostly because the surrounding roads were completely destroyed. Across  
the city, large chunks of debris and deep holes pocked the landscape,  
bearing witness to a fight no one had ever thought to see. Still, no  
one was taking these cars anywhere; at least until the city road crew  
completed some serious construction. 
 
They'd already hauled away the Planet's globe though. That had gone  
first. Symbolism, it seemed, was alive and well in Metropolis. People  
weren't eager to see that particular reminder. At least, not in person. 
 
The garage was relatively quiet, especially considering its position.  
It was only two blocks away from the grand memorial set up by the mayor  
in Metropolis's center-most park. Admittedly, she'd had to jump four  
parking barriers and edge around a rather impressive crater to gain  
access - a feat in a silk suit and Gucci pumps - but the building was  
empty and she could see the stage easily. 
 
So here she was. Leaned up against a concrete half-wall, her bag shoved  
full of plastic tissue packages, watching a city mourn. Her reporter's  
instincts were screaming all over the place, noticing the different  
clusters of people and their reactions. Here and there, women clutched  
stunned children. To the left of the stage, shrouded women edged a  
tight circle, their chanting a soft counterpoint to the dry, if  
heartfelt speeches being read over the loudspeaker system set up around  
the cleared area. 
 
Lois was sure that Clark would appreciate the singing more than  
recitation of his deeds and positive features. He was a shy monkey like  
that. 
 
Was a shy monkey. 
 
Apparently the tears weren't done with her yet. Lois pulled her purse  
off her shoulder and dug around for a tissue. 
 
"I'm surprised you're here." 
 
Lois jerked around, dropping her purse. It slipped and tilted over as  
it hit the ground, spilling a few Kleenex packets and her concealer  
compact onto the rough pavement. For a moment adrenaline raced through  
the reporter's brain. Wouldn't it just be total poetic justice for her  
to get mugged and beaten to death within shouting distance of Superman's  
funeral? Then her eyes adjusted to the shadows of the garage. 
 
Less than twenty feet away, leaned on one of the support pillars was a  
petite, blonde woman in medical scrubs. Her hair was tucked back in a  
universal medical-profession bob, and she had one hand cupped around the  
end of the cigarette between her lips, the other working a lighter.  
Lois couldn't have made out her eye color even if she'd wanted to, as  
the woman was wearing reflector sunglasses that were opaque in the dim  
natural lighting of the parking structure. 
 
"Excuse me?" Keeping both eyes firmly on the woman, Lois bent to scoop  
everything back into her bag, discreetly wiping her eyes and nose. She  
tightened her hand around the pepper spray that had tumbled out along  
with everything else. 
 
"I'm surprised you're here," the woman repeated, shoving her lighter  
into the pocket of her long, white lab coat while taking a long drag on  
the now-lit cigarette. "If it were me, I'd be curled up at home crying  
my eyes out." 
 
"Well, why aren't you then?" She didn't need this. She didn't want to  
have to deal with this right now. Truth be told, she did want to be at  
home crying her eyes out. Or, at least, be standing here alone crying  
her eyes out. 
 
The woman wandered closer, seeming to not have heard the question. She  
stopped a bit away from where Lois was crouched. Up close, the woman  
was small, and well proportioned. She faced out towards the gathered  
masses, her profile drawn and unhappy. "It didn't feel right. Not  
coming to pay my respects. And if there was one thing I could say about  
the man, it was that I respected him." 
 
Lois straightened slowly, swaying a bit when she reached her full  
height. "Then why are you surprised I'm here?" 
 
The other woman turned and gave Lois a half-smirk. "Well, Ms. Lane, I  
figured you really wouldn't want to face the public right now." 
 
"You know who I am?" Lois started at this. Yes, she and Clark were  
fairly famous in their own right, but one nice thing about being a  
newspaper reporter was that people generally didn't recognize you on the  
street. 
 
The blonde woman smirked again and nodded. "I've known who you are for  
years, Ms. Lane. And I know what you are. Very, very well." 
 
"What?" 
 
"You're someone I once wanted to be." 
 
"What the hell are you talking about?" 
 
"All this," the woman waved her lit cigarette around. "Amazing career  
as the top journalist for the Daily Planet. Award-winner. Clark Kent's  
fiancée." 
 
"Wait, what the hell? Who are you?" 
 
"No one important. Not anymore, anyway. Just Dr. Chloe Sullivan."  
Smoke curled around the blonde. It, and the reflective sunglasses,  
created an almost flawless aura of cold. The whole thing would have  
worked too, if the woman's hands hadn't been shaking.  
 
In the background, the president of Uganda credited Superman with the  
resurrection of their infrastructure. It was probably one of the more  
surreal moments of Lois' life. And boy, was that saying something. 
 
"You are a doctor, then?" 
 
The woman flicked off some ash and looked out across the crowd. Here  
and there banners dotted the swelling mass, all bearing either short  
messages of grief, or peace signs. As if the person they needed to see  
them was actually able. But then, who really knew? "I'm an ER triage  
specialist in Chicago. They flew me in earlier this week to help out." 
 
"Why aren't you at one of the med stations?" 
 
"Same reason those people," she waved her cigarette toward the nearly  
silent mass of humanity below, "are all standing there like fraternity  
pledges who've gotten whacked in the nuts by the communal board. Same  
reason I'm betting you're here." 
 
Lois looked back at President Urandu, looking so somber and not drunk.  
Probably the first time in five years that had happened. He was a nice  
man, which generally stunk for him since being a leader in that part of  
the world ate nice men up. He'd managed though. His liver however...  
Lois sighed and tried not to choke on smoke. "Somehow doubting that." 
 
"Oh, I don't know." Dr. Sullivan took another long drag and blew out  
off the balcony. "Grief is pretty unifying." 
 
"Yeah, I guess. Look, why am I even talking to you?" 
 
"Because you can't not talk to me." The blonde woman's lips twisted  
into something not quite resembling a smile. Lois resisted the urge to  
edge away. "You're too intrigued by what I'm not - which is a killer or  
a freak - to walk away. Even now." 
 
Anyone who read an editorial on her could have known that. But that  
didn't explain the sinking feeling in Lois's stomach. The one that had  
won her those Pulitzers. The one that was telling her Clark wasn't  
coming back. "Then what are you?" 
 
Dr. Sullivan sucked on her cigarette and watched as President Urandu  
stepped away from the podium, only to be replaced by Prime Minister  
Blake. "Would you hit me if I said the Ghost of Christmas Past?" 
 
"Screw you." She didn't need this. Lois turned on her heel, determined  
to get as far away from this woman and this place as possible. Coming  
had been a mistake. 
 
"Lois, stop." The hand on her arm was strong, bruises would probably  
rise on her forearm the next day. Caught off guard, the reporter swung  
around quickly, nearly losing her balance.  
 
"Look, I'm sorry. This is just a hard…" Dr. Sullivan dropped her arm.  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. This is your place, and  
your time. He was your fiancée, and this isn't any of my business." 
 
Light exploded behind Lois's eyes and it was only a quick hand on Dr.  
Sullivan's shoulder that stopped her from hitting the concrete. "What  
did you say?" 
 
Dr. Sullivan dropped her gaze and shook her head. "I'm sorry I came." 
 
"NO!" Lois's voice surprised both of them. "What did you say?" 
 
The blonde woman stared at her, face impassive, her eyes still hidden.  
For what felt like a solid minute they stayed frozen. 
 
Slowly, Dr. Sullivan reached up and removed her sunglasses, tucking them  
into her breast pocket. Bloodshot green eyes stared out at Lois, but  
whether it was from lack of sleep, or tears, she wasn't sure. "I said,  
he was your fiancée and that this is none of my business." 
 
"How do you know about my fiancée?" Lois paused, body still shaking.  
"He's missing. Buried somewhere." 
 
Dr. Sullivan smiled again; it was a twisted little thing, her lips  
compressed into a white line, and then turned up at the very edges.  
Lois could tell it definitely didn't go to her eyes. "If that's how you  
want to play it. I'm not saying it out loud. I respected your fiancée  
too much to be careless, even after he's… gone missing." 
 
Lois's brain seemed to have calcified. This was borne out by her jaw  
refusing to shut and her eyes refusing to blink. "You know. How do you  
know?" 
 
"Because once upon a time, he tried to save my life. It didn't exactly  
work, but he tried." The blonde doctor looked away. "I think he cried  
for me." 
 
"If it didn't work, how are you standing here?" The Prime Minister was  
crying now. Openly, and looking very dignified. Lois had always  
wondered how he'd managed that little dichotomy. 
 
"It's a long story, and not very interesting." 
 
"Tell me. Let me be the judge." 
 
"C'mon." The blonde woman took another long drag on her cigarette,  
stubbing it out on the side of the building before throwing it into a  
pothole. "Let's get some coffee, Ms. Lane. Something tells me we've  
played our part in this drama." 
 
Lois blinked and stopped. She didn't know this woman from Eve. She  
could be lying. She could be a psycho trying to confirm an insane  
theory that just happened to be true. 
 
Chloe stared back at her, eyes unabashedly open, waiting. 
 
The brunette nodded and shifted her bag higher on her shoulder before  
starting up the empty street. "Let's go." 
 
*** 
 
The coffee is warm and sweet in a way she's never really enjoyed.  
There's something cloying about the sugar left coating her tongue and  
throat, and hours later she knows she'll be able to taste the milk.  
Even if she brushes her teeth. 
 
Clark had always tasted like a bakery because of his coffee. Three  
sugars, more cream than coffee, and always, always, dusted in cinnamon.  
She'd asked him once about it, not long after she'd figured out The  
Truth. He'd smiled and said that he experienced everything just a  
little bit more than humans, and while he appreciated the caffeine buzz,  
he really couldn't stand the bitterness of plain black coffee. 
 
She'd forgotten at the counter to order something other than her usual  
and had ended up with a triple mocha latte with three inches of foam and  
about twelve types of sprinkles. Johann was nothing if not good at  
remembering repeat orders. 
 
Across the small shiny wooden table, Dr. Sullivan was slumped casually  
back in her chair, watching the empty street outside. The woman's white  
lab coat stuck out surrounded by the dark paneling and photographs that  
lined the café's walls. 
 
The walk from the parking garage had been strained; neither woman had  
spoken outside of general grunts or pointing out upcoming potholes.  
They'd made it to Lois's normal coffee shop in decent time.  
Unsurprisingly, it had been nearly empty. 
 
"I'm shocked this place is even open." The older woman's voice - she  
looked older, although Lois couldn't really be sure - jolted Lois. A  
few drops of clotted cream dribbled onto their scarred wooden table.  
"What with everyone downtown." 
 
Lois gave the other woman a tight smile. "Mr. Kern opened this place  
back when my father was in his residency. His parents came over from  
Germany when he was ten, and he has very strict ideas on work ethics and  
doing what one should and shouldn't do. He's only closed his doors  
twice. The day his wife died, and the day of her funeral." 
 
"Human interest piece?" 
 
Lois's hands tightened on her too-sweet drink. "Clark did it last year  
after Mr. Kern hadn't been in for a few days. He asked his son about  
it. Turned out Mr. Kern had broken his leg and had been in the  
hospital. The article's framed over there behind the counter. Look,  
Dr. Sullivan-" 
 
"Chloe." The blonde turned and stared directly at her. Her were red  
and puffy. "Please, call me Chloe. It's strange to hear you call me  
anything else." 
 
"What?" 
 
Chloe turned and looked back at the street. "You were my cousin once." 
 
Lois blinked and began to reconsider her psycho theory. 
 
"You want to know what I know, right? I know that you're mourning your  
fiancée today. That he did a lot of good for this city and this…  
world." The older woman paused. Lois caught the slight hesitation, but  
said nothing. Her quickly tilting around again. One day she was going  
to get used to that. 
 
"What do you mean I was your cousin once? I don't have any cousins."  
 
"Not in this world, no. But you know just as well as I do that there is  
more to this universe than this world. My mother's name was Gina."  
Lois blinked in recognition. Chloe just smiled and took a sip of  
coffee. 
 
"You could know who my aunt is by looking me up in the public record." 
 
"She hates strawberries and kittens, won't wear anything but Dolce and  
Gabbana, and has a secret passion for quilting." 
 
"Wait, I thought the whole alternate universe thing got sorted out a few  
years ago. Clark told me it got sorted out." Lois rubbed her fingers  
against her temples, and tried counting to ten. 
 
"I have no idea about that. All I do know is that he probably wouldn't  
even remember me if I walked up to him on the street and smacked him  
with a lead pipe. Not that it would do much damage." 
 
That would have been funny on another day. 
 
"You... you knew another him then, didn't you?" 
 
Chloe shrugged and sipped her coffee. "Went to high school with him.  
Friends for five years. Strangely, I was the one who desperately wanted  
to be a journalist on the Planet. Clark just kinda got dragged along  
for the ride on all the weird shit." 
 
Well, that sounded frighteningly familiar. "Lots of rescues?" 
 
"Loads." Chloe chuckled. It was a sad sort of sound, but it was  
*something*. Although, when that had vaguely started to matter, Lois  
had no idea. "More than I probably want to admit to." 
 
Lois sighed deeply and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "Know what  
you mean." 
 
"Yeah, you do." It wasn't a question. "This is a very strange day." 
 
"You're not wrong there," Lois snorted. Then she paused. Quietly, not  
entirely sure how to broach the subject, she reached over and touched  
the other woman's hand. "You two were more than friends, weren't you?" 
 
Chloe's features shut down, telling Lois everything she needed to know.  
The ensuing silence stretched out almost loudly before Chloe shrugged  
stiffly. 
 
"No. We weren't. Not really." Her voice and manners were monotone,  
her fingers twisting the handle of her now-empty mug. Just as quickly  
as it had come, the blankness left. "It was complicated." 
 
"How?" 
 
Chloe smiled a twisted little smile. Her eyes - that did look  
suspiciously like Lois's aunt Gina's - showing empathy. Maybe pity. "It  
doesn't really matter, does it? My relationship or non-relationship, as  
the case may be, doesn't matter at all. I came to say goodbye, again.  
I've done it." 
 
"You said goodbye before?" 
 
"Not exactly." The blonde woman reached down and picked up her bag  
before getting to her feet. "Goodbye, Lois. We won't meet again." 
 
"Wait!" Lois reached out and grabbed Chloe's arm. "Where are you  
going? Why did you even start talking to me?" 
 
"I'm going to the med station. There are lots of people who are  
hurting. And you know why I came up to you in that parking garage?"  
The older woman pulled her sunglasses out of her breast pocket and put  
them on, game face clearly back. "You're not the only person who ever  
loved Clark. You're just the first one he ever really loved back." 
 
Chloe gently detached Lois's hand and walked across the empty coffee  
shop. She stopped at the door, turning so Lois could make out her  
profile. "Chloe isn't my name any more, Lois. You know that." 
 
And then she was gone. Nothing left of her but the tinny chime of the  
little brass bell above the door. 
 
Lois didn't move for a very long time. 
 
-fin-