My (next-to) last post to my fanfic thread at Bluetights.net


Over the years since SR came out, I've compiled a word processing document over 50 pages long of stories, story ideas, notes, quotes, and thoughts that might turn into stories and story ideas. Since this is the end of the Planet, I thought I'd share the the last story in the file. It's part of a larger story, that may or may not get written in time, but I thought it stands well enough on its own that I don't need a lot of explanation for what has happened before.

The title, -30- seems appropriate, because (at least according to Superman comics), -30- is newspaper code for "this story is over", and so it is that the Planet's story is over. But just like newspapers, there's another edition the next day, and so we move on to the next story, over at EyesSkyward.com

Although I'll be reposting my fiction at EyesSkyward, I won't be including this story there, or at my FF.net page--at least for now. (I'll save it for when the full story gets written, as a goal to work towards.) If you want to reread it again after the Planet closes, though, you can find it on my LJ page at:

http://perkulator.livejournal.com/6703.html

-30-

"I can try cauterizing it," Clark said.

Lois nodded.

Clark handed her a fold of his cape. "Bite down on this. It's going to hurt."

"As much as the bullet?" Lois said, laughing a little breathlessly. She put the fabric between her teeth and nodded at him, taking a deep breath.

He frowned, concentrating, and the familiar red beams shot out of his eyes. Lois' scream of pain was muffled by the cape, and then he was done.

Her brow was as slick with sweat as his was, now. "Thanks," she said, when she had her breath back. "I think that did it."

It hadn't done it. The wound was still bleeding a little. But they both knew a second attempt would kill both of them.

"You're welcome." Clark coughed, the kryptonite surrounding them making the breath rattle in his chest.

He eased himself to the ground next to Lois. She put her head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her, taking her free hand in his.

"They'll be OK." she said quietly. "The kids."

"I know." Clark said just as softly. "They're the best of us."

"Your kindness. My stubbornness." Lois laughed a little.

"I've always loved your stubbornness." He smiled.

"You love *me*." She looked up at him, smiling as well.

"I do."

"I love you, too." Her eyes shone as brightly as they had on that day they'd met at the Daily Planet, so long ago.

He bent his head to hers and kissed her. It was cut short by her gasp of pain, from her shoulder wound, but it was still as wonderful as that first time.

"We saved the world again," she said, settling back against his chest. "Not a bad note to go out on."

"Not at all."

"Who do you think is going to write this story?" He could hear the impish note to her voice.

"You mean the story isn't already pre-written and set to mail itself out if you don't stop it in a given time?" He laughed a little, and then coughed again, but tried to keep it from bouncing her head.

She laughed again, then sighed. "Sorry. I'm so tired."

"I know." He tucked her a little closer. "Me, too."

She sighed again, a long sigh. "I am so very, very fortunate that out of all of the planets in all of the universe, you ended up on this one."

"I was just thinking the same thing. It's been a good life."

"It has. No regrets?"

"No. You?"

"Never." She gasped a little on the word. "So, think it's time?"

He smoothed her hair, suppressing another cough. "I think so."

"'Night Clark."

"Good night, Lois."

Her heartbeat was weakening, but, as he had nearly every night since their marriage, he let the comforting sound of it surround him as he slipped into darkness.

Except it wasn't dark, it was light and warm and wonderful--but something was missing... And then there she was. "Lois..."


****


Jason stepped up the microphone and paused a moment to look out over the assembled people. In contrast to the splashes of primary colors from the previous evening's more private service, this was a sea of black. And taking up several of the front rows, traces of tears on various faces, was his family.

Family had always been so important to his father--so much so that he had pulled Jason's mother, scarred from her own dysfunctional family situation, into love of it. Clark Kent, as an only child who had lost his birth-parents and his entire world as a baby, and then his father in high school, had always longed for the warmth and sense of belonging he'd seen in Aunt Lana's and Grandpa Ben's families. Now, looking over his brothers and sisters, his cousins, and the assorted spouses, children, and grandchildren, Jason could only reflect on what a wonderful legacy Clark and Lois Kent had left in all of them.

He gathered up his notes, and began, "My parents always loved to dance..."