Epilogue: Second Thoughts

In the heat of the moment, it's easy to say things that you mean with absolute conviction—and then, the morning after, things are less certain.

That morning after, Lois had second thoughts. She tried to put a brave face on it with Blaze, smiled and laughed, kissed and fondled, but the heat of the moment had left her in the night. Reality came back. They parted, promising to meet again...

...and they did. Lois was more hesitant now, less certain. Angelica sensed it, and they took things slowly. Dates. Phonecalls. Emails. Little gifts that would show up at the reporter's door or in her mailbox, unannounced. Tokens of affection and kind words. Yet there was that space between them, the things that Blaze didn't want to talk about. Her past, her family, even the future. She was a creature of the moment, the now, and Lois felt she might love that about her, the infectious energy, the naughty little jokes, the easy sensuality.

Two weeks later, Lois Lane's period failed to arrive.

Word filtered through: Superman would be back from space soon.

All the uncertainties built up inside of Lois. A part of her knew, even if it was too early for a test, that she was pregnant. Knew too that there were options, and that she was now on the clock, time tick-tick-ticking away...and Loid didn't know what to do about the dark life inside of her. It seemed so wrong to just kill it, yet at the same time...she didn't know if this pregnancy was something she wanted. A part of her even wished that maybe it just miscarried, a natural miscarriage. Those happened all the time to women, no one's fault, just nature taking its course.

After work, Lois didn't go home. She had nothing planned with Angelica tonight, no reason to go straight to her apartment. So she walked the streets, keeping to the well-lighted sidewalks, letting the exercise and the coolness of the night take the edge off of her agitation. It was a good way to think, walking. A good way to see the streets, the people on them. Engage your brain in a different way and let the **** sort through the knotty problems.

Her eyes alighted on a gentleman on a corner that she was approaching. Lois Lane's eyes narrowed. There was something odd about him, something that didn't fit. He was taller than Lois by half a head, with dark hair swept back from a broad forehead. He wore a tailored pinstripe suit, and bespoke shoes; a little gold tie-pin kept his very conservative tie in place. Beneath the suit he could be anything; thin or muscular or going to fat, but the clothes draped him so well that all Lois could make out was the broad shoulders, the strange half-smile and dark eyes. He could have been anywhere from thirty to sixty, the face ageless. Something about the face was familiar to Lois, somehow.

"Miss Lane," he addressed her as she came within six feet of him. "Out for a stroll? Please, allow me to accompany you for a little while."

Lois paused, the hairs in the back of her neck standing up. He hadn't moved, hadn't made a single frightening gesture, but her whole body tensed as for an attack.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said without pause. "I am Colin Thornton. I believe you know my sister—Angelica Blaze."

The reporter relaxed, if only a little. Now that he said it, she could see the resemblance. The shape of the skull, and the face, the hair and eyes. But some part of Lois, deep down, whispered for her not to trust this figure. His manner was too easy, too relaxed, and yet there was an animal quality about his eyes, as if the mask of his smile stopped dead there.

He turned, extended an arm...and Lois mustered her courage and walked on. They kept, about an arm's length apart.

"You've been seeing quite a lot of Blaze lately," he said lightly. "She hasn't mentioned it to me, of course, but I have my ways. I've never quite known my sister like this. She's quite infatuated with you."

"I like her quite a bit myself," Lois said, finally addressing him. As much as her instincts remained to run, a part of her knew this might finally be her chance to get some answers on Angie's past. "Angie didn't mention she had a brother."

"Twins," he said with that same smile. "Oh, we've been thick as thieves for all out lives, although every now and again we like to go our own way for a bit...it's good to have a little privacy, a few secrets of one's own, you know?"

He nodded up ahead. They were approaching a bar, The Cloven Hoof, on the reporter's right.

"Fancy a drink? We have a lot of catching up to do."

Lois thought of the unused tampon back at her apartment.

"No, I—I'm avoiding **** for a while," the reporter said.

Just like that, faster than she could see, he closed the gap between them. His hand, hot and huge, laid against the reporter's stomach, the solidness of it evident even through her dress. The dark eyes stared into her own...and then he stepped back, leaving only the warm shadow of his handprint.

"Yes, I see. Two weeks. That was quick."

They stood apart now, and something like an invisible bubble formed around them. People stepped aside, even into the street, to avoid walking into them, but the eyes just slid past, never focusing on Lois or Thornton, as if they weren't there.

"I can help you with that, if you wish." He said.

"I don't take your meaning," Lois said, her hands balled into fists.

He raised an eyebrow. "You were thinking it earlier. What if something happened? Maybe you're not ready for this. You haven't told Blaze yet. She doesn't know. She doesn't have to know. If she does, she'll **** you to keep it. I know her. Blaze gets so...obsessed over things. It can be unhealthy. But if you'd like...a snap of the fingers...a slight change in probabilities. No one will ever know. You needn't even know. I can wipe the memory from your mind. You will have never met me, this will never have happened. Yet tomorrow, you would wake up and your panties would be stained with blood, and you would smile in relief because your period was only a day or two late, and you're not pregnant after all."

Lois Lane's chest felt tight. Her hands were balled into fists so hard, the nails dug into her palms. She seemed frozen in place, faced by the impossible, seductive choice...and then the moment passed, and she gathered her courage. There wasn't really any choice. Not if she was to remain who she was.

There was only one thing to say.