Work Text:
"Sometimes when I close my eyes I think about Mali's last words."
It was three hours after the citizens of Metropolis slowly started to return to their homes. Superman had a full day of helping the workers attempt to restore the various damaged infrastructure, helping people return their belongings to their homes, repairing the bridges and clearing away the buildings that were too damaged to repair. Lois had a full day with Jimmy doing PR work, answering questions and continuing to clear Superman's image.
By how social media was going, the reactions were a glut of different emotions and media: remorseful over believing Lex Luthor's slander, gleeful that they were right that Superman was on the side of the people, celebratory posts, shaky videos depicting the incidents, art pieces and fanfiction, numerous memes about the entire situation, enough information overload to make someone's phone burn hot because the battery couldn't keep up with all the buzz.
All this made Lois' head spin like an errant top - sometimes she longed for the days when social media was regulated to LiveJournal and MySpace and the norm was that people had a home family computer instead of everyone carrying little computers in their pockets at all times - so when Clark came to her home at the end of the very long day she turned off her phone. As much as this scared her sometimes it was going to be time just for them. They said they loved each other. She almost lost him. She wasn't going to let another moment slip through the spaces between her fingers.
Three hours ago Clark came to her home and began dinner prep for her. Two hours ago they finally ate because they spent so much of the dinner prep kissing each other or giving little intimate touches just because they could. One hour ago they were finished cleaning up the kitchen and sat down to talk, cuddled together on the couch. Thirty seconds ago Clark told Lois that he still thought of when Mali was merciless and coldly killed by Lex Luthor in the pocket dimension to squeeze answers out of Clark while he was imprisoned.
Three seconds ago Lois replied, "You did everything you could."
Clark drew away from her embrace and Lois saw his hands flex, different scenarios running through his head. As if he could turn the Earth around on its axis that even the rotation was pliable under his hands. If he could pull apart the threads of time and make it right, he would. He looked human, wondering how everything about that moment could've changed.
"But I could have done more. If I had told Luthor everything, would that have saved Mali? If I said something substantial, fought through the Kryptonite, anything - anything to save him."
But even with the what-ifs spoken by him, the inhumanity of Lex Luthor was clear as crystal. He delighted in that pain, his irrepressible cruelty was apparent in delighting to see Clark's desperation to keep everyone safe. Clark was a man that saw the world as cardboard to treat gently while Lex tore it all apart just to feel like he was in control. Lex had everything but he was empty inside, a black hole that craved crushing the whole world under his shoes for not treating him with overwhelming accolades. Nothing would ever be enough for him. Mali knew too much the moment he was taken into the pocket dimension. He never would've left that place alive.
"Clark," Lois said gently. "I think you know the answer."
Her hand reached to briefly hold his face, her thumb brushing along the curve of his cheek. Every line on his face spoke to grief. That sorrow was born from the ideal, I want to help because it is the right thing to do. Even Atlas was weary, holding up the world.
"He said that he had no family," Clark said quietly. "Like it didn't matter if he traded his life for mine. But he mattered, Lois, and I wish..."
Clark came to this world with no parents, no one to look after him, scraped together with hope amid an insidious desire. But he was found, he was raised with love, Lois knew this when she saw his childhood bedroom and it was a museum of his childhood and teenaged years. The memory of every part of him was carried by the Kents in their home. Clark carried Mali's memory now.
"I wish he knew how much he mattered."
The sorrowful conviction in his voice made Lois' heart skip a beat. It proved that he was a part of this world by his heartbreak, wondering what could've been done to make it better when there was no choice at all. Working in journalism alongside him, Lois knew that feeling well. It needed to be processed so that she could get the next story, make the world a little better by presenting the facts and taking down injustice, but it wasn't always easy. Sometimes it felt like once they took down one faction of injustice another three would emerge forth like hydra heads. Sometimes it was hard to believe in anything good.
And sometimes one man could believe in good so much that he would give Superman free falafel. It was a gesture of goodwill and gratitude for everything, a gesture to ensure that even a godlike being that could do anything didn't go hungry.
“Even if he didn’t say it, I think he would know,” Lois said, her hand slipping down to hold his own. “It’s because – I know that you did everything you could to save him.”
The words hung in the air, and it seemed to coax Clark to speak again.
"Mali said that he had no family," Clark said with a sad smile. "But... people come to me, they tell me how sorry they are that he was murdered. A family said they'll light a candle for him, a woman held my hands and said she covered the mirrors in her house to properly mourn him. She cried when she told me."
He took in a breath. It caught for a few seconds, his words a near stream of consciousness. It was if he needed to speak the words aloud because it made everything more tangible and lasting in the universe.
"A little girl told me that her dad got that picture of Mali from the newspaper and her family... they put it in a picture frame and placed a garland of flowers around it," Clark said, wiping at his eyes.
Lois didn't have to say anything. She just smiled at him, awash in the knowledge that Mali had people in his daily life that cared about him, honored him after death. For a breath the world was quiet. For a heartbeat, the sorrow turned to gratitude that Mali was remembered by so many people after all.
"In the morning, let's go to his grave and bring fresh flowers."
The next words Clark said were spoken to him so many times he couldn't count them all. It was what he wanted to say to Mali for believing in him until the end. "Thank you."