Chapter Text
“Superman.” I have to fight to keep my heart rate from spiking at the sudden appearance of the superhero in the window- the same hero who’s been actively avoiding me for a little over a week now.
“Lois.” He seems tired, though he’s obviously just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. I can see it in his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” We say at the same time, which, on any other day would make me chuckle and blush, but not today. Not when I haven’t spoken to him since last week, and his last words to me are ringing through my head.
“What if I am, Lois? Just an ordinary man with an ordinary life. I work with you every day, and you barely spare me a second glance. You look right through me like I’m invisible!”
As if Superman could ever be invisible, I’d scoffed at the time. Though, the more I thought about it, I had to admit that it was more than likely that Superman did in fact have a life outside of the suit. He had to. Where was he supposed to go when he wasn’t saving everyone? Surely he needed to eat, and sleep. It’s not as if he lives in the suit all the time. I suppose I should have guessed that before, but now it’s staring me blatantly in the face, in the form of his angry words and haunted eyes.
“I’m waiting for Clark to come home. He wasn’t at Perry’s retirement party.” It’s easier to deflect and talk about Clark than to discuss what I actually need to talk with him about.
“Shoot.” He mutters, turning away from me slightly, and running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “That was today.”
Right. He was supposed to be there, too. Because he works at the Planet. A fact I have been purposefully ignoring. Mostly.... If he wanted me to know who he was he would have told me, and I do have more respect for him than to go behind his back and try to figure it out. Or at least I’ve been trying to convince myself I do, squashing my curiosity for the sake of respecting his privacy. Except now he’s standing in front of me, tired, and a mess, and I can’t help but think that he does look a little familiar- slightly, a little. Shaking my head forcefully to remind myself what’s important in this moment, and what’s not, I take a deep breath to prepare myself for the conversation I’ve been wanting to have since he flew off the last time we talked. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem like a flight risk at the moment. In fact, he doesn’t even seem like much of a threat of any kind. He seems… exhausted. Wait, what is he doing at Clark’s apartment so late anyway? Shouldn’t he be home, sleeping? No, stop. That’s not important. Focus, Lane.
“I’m sorry.” I blurt into the silence, which swallows my words whole the moment they leave my mouth. “I wish I’d have known.” I force myself to keep talking, if only to keep the silence from descending again and swallowing me whole this time, too. “I wish I could take it back. Actually, I wish I could take a lot of things back. I wish I could do it all over.” Once the words start flowing out of me, it’s impossible to get them to stop.” I never meant to hurt you, or Clark. I just wanted, well I’m not even really sure what I wanted, or what I was even trying to say, because I know now that I never really, well that’s not important. The important thing is, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I wish I’d have known before I stuck my foot so completely in my mouth. I feel so galactically stupid.”
“No.” His voice cuts through my tirade, so gentle and soft that I’m not entirely sure I didn’t imagine it at first, but then he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, as he turns to face me and looks me in the eye for the first time tonight. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“But I should have known.” Huffing, I make my way to the couch, and flop down. “I’m an investigative reporter. A good one at that.”
“The best.” He murmurs just barely loud enough for me to hear, and that does elicit a small smile of pride, but only for a moment.
“And what’s worse, I claimed to love you, when you’re right. I don’t even know you.” A thought occurs to me, as, in my sleep-deprived emotional state, something Clark said a few weeks ago tangles with what Superman said that night.
“You look right through me like I’m invisible!”
“You look right at the man, and still you have no clue who he really is.”
Of course, Clark had been talking about Lex, but it’s eerie how well it applies to my relationship with Superman at the moment.
“Clark was right.” I mutter, mostly to myself as I flop onto the couch.
“What?” Superman crosses towards the couch, and slowly settles on the other side, as gently as he possibly can, and, I notice even as I try not to, as far from me as he can be without actually staying on the other side of the room.
“Clark.” I repeat simply. “He was right. I looked right at you, and still couldn’t see you for who you really were.”
His eyes widen in surprise, the most reaction I’ve gotten out of him in his tired state.
“I-” He starts, clearly struggling for words, as dumbfounded at the connection as I was. “Clark was talking about Luthor.” He finally decides on, firmly, and there's a distain with which he says Luthor that makes me think that he’s not too fond of Lex either.
“I know.” I reply softly, trying to keep my voice as soft as possible. Bringing Lex into this was a bad idea. Wait a minute! How did he know Clark was talking about Luthor? Was he there? Well I suppose if he works at the Planet, it’s possible he overheard, or, more likely, Clark probably told him after the argument. They are friends, after all. Besides, that’s not important. “But it’s true. I’ve been so blind.”
“No.” He repeats, more forcefully this time. “You’re not blind. Luthor’s just good at what he does, running the city from his penthouse and never letting any of it trace back to him. He’s got the whole city fooled. Not just you.” The certainty with which he speaks makes me think he knows more than he’s letting on. And that he probably told Clark. And that there may be something more to Clark’s suspicions after all. And that I probably should have trusted my partner. However, and he thinks I didn’t notice, but I did, I wasn’t talking about Luthor, and he’s changing the subject.
“And you?” I force myself to look at him, daring my voice to stay even, even if I'm afraid of his answer. “Why couldn’t I see you?”
“Because I didn’t want you to.” He tears his eyes away from mine, the simple, honest reply knocking the wind out of me. However, that only lasts for a second as anger takes the place of all the guilt I’d been feeling a moment ago.
“So you’ve been hiding from me? And then you have the audacity to yell at me for not noticing you?”
“No, Lois! I haven’t been hiding!” He finally sits up straight and meets my eyes, fully awake for the first time tonight. “I just…” he trails off. Whether it’s from a loss of words, or fear of saying what’s on his mind I’m not sure. Running his hand through his hair again in what I’m learning is a sign of agitation, he takes a deep breath before speaking, slowly, as if the words are forcing their way out of his mouth.
“Superman isn’t real.” Are the words he finally decides on. He’s got to be joking… except he looks dead serious.
“I don’t understand. You are Superman.”
“No. I’m not. I’m-“ he cuts himself off, pinches the bridge of his nose and stands up off the couch, beginning to pace the length of the room. When he finally turns back to me, he’s calmer, if only a little. “Superman is a disguise I created. My whole life all I’ve ever wanted to be was normal. I hated growing up knowing I was different from everyone else, and living with the constant fear that I’d lose everything if anyone ever found out. But it’s not exactly as if I can stand by and listen to people suffer. Not when I know I can help. When I moved to Metropolis, I created Superman, or, more accurately, my mom created Superman, as a way for me to use my powers without losing my life. He’s not real. It’s just a disguise.” Throughout his rant, he’s become more and more passionate, until he’s practically shouting the last line.
A thousand thoughts flood my brain as I try to follow what he just said. Is this how Clark feels when I go off on my weird tangents? Well anyway, my first thought is that he said “My whole life,” which obviously means that he was raised on Earth, by humans, and thereby that his childhood must have been very lonely. In fact, based on what he said, he must still be lonely. I wonder if anyone besides his parents knows his secret. Speaking of his parents, I wonder what they’re like. They’ve obviously got to be the nicest people in the world to raise a son like him, especially since he’s not technically theirs. I bet they’re a lot like the Kents, though I can't imagine Martha making a costume quite so-
“So I haven’t been hiding.” Oh, he’s not done. He spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear him. “I mean, I guess I am.” Finally, he crosses all the way to me, and settles onto the couch next to me, looking me straight in the eyes, and I’m left breathless a moment by the intensity in his. “But it’s not because I don’t trust you. Or because I don’t…” he turns away, clearing his throat, before turning back to me with a look I’ve never seen on Superman, but somehow it seems familiar. It almost reminds me of…
He takes my hands in his and stares at them a moment, as all of my thoughts evaporate, before bringing his eyes back to mine. “I love you.” If I was breathless before, I’m about to pass out now. I force myself to listen as he continues, though my heart beating in my ears is making it rather difficult. “I just wanted you to love me for who I am, not what I can do.”
“Huh. I never would’ve thought you of all people would have insecurities.” I’ve barely registered what I was thinking before I’ve said it. And I realise that it may have come across as rude, but that’s what this is, isn’t it? He’s insecure.
“I don’t-“ He starts to refute it like a typical man, but sighs instead, looking at the ground and muttering bitterly, “I guess it sort of destroys the whole ‘perfect hero’ image, doesn’t it?”
“No.” Using the sweetest voice I have, I move closer to him, pulling my hand from his to cup his cheek, and turn his face back towards me. “It makes you more real. More… human.” I didn’t think it was possible, but I may be more in love with him now than I was before. “And, for the record,” I smile, trying my best to put on my firm reporter voice that I use with Clark when I want to get my way. “Superman is real, and you are Superman.”
“Lois,” he protests, as expected, turning away from me with a sigh, and preparing to stand up.
“No, no, no. Listen.” Taking his hand back, I wait until he turns back to me. Good, now I have his full attention. “You think that Superman only exists because of your powers, but that’s not true. Superman exists because of you. Because of your good heart. You know how many guys would kill to have a fraction of your power? And you know what they would do with it? They’d abuse it. They’d use it for their own gain, and probably become dictators, crime lords, or at the very least petty criminals. But you…” I have to fight the blush that’s beginning to grow, as I smile at him genuinely for the first time tonight. “You use these unbelievable powers to help other people, and you don’t expect anything in return. You’ve become a symbol of hope, and peace. So you see, you say Superman doesn’t exist. But he does, because he’s you.”