***
Metallo: Lois Lane
***

“I mean,” she said, trying her hardest to get her point across, “h-he’s a lot like you.”

She was pointing at Clark.

She was talking to Clark.

She meant Clark.

And she was simultaneously shocked and not-shocked by that. On the one hand, of course Clark was good and honest and full of integrity. For all that she’d thought it was just some kind of affectation to begin with, and then that it was a naiveté that would be hammered out of him after a couple months in the big city, and then--strangely, now that she thought about it--taken for granted, it was true. Clark was one of the best men she knew. True, the list was short enough, and it wasn’t like he had a lot of competition, but--

But no. Those were the sorts of qualifying excuses she always made when she started thinking about how much she…admired…Clark. And that was why she was shocked to find her hand still pointing to Clark and the ramifications of her words still rippling through her.

And through Clark.

He stared up at her, his expression arrested. Almost stricken. He was certainly shocked. And that…that kind of made her sad. Or guilty. Because how could he not know that he was a good man? Hadn’t she ever told him she respected him?

She had told him. She suddenly remembered it. They’d been sitting on a park bench, and she’d told him she respected and admired him…and didn’t love him. Couldn’t love him. Loved someone else, and by the way, would he mind go fetching that man so she could tell him?

Fast forward to now, and here she was, talking to the same man, about the same other man, only this time…

Only this time, she was comparing Superman to Clark instead of the other way around. This time, it was Clark who was the example she was holding up.

She hadn’t even realized it. The words came like words always did for her--rapid and impulsive and from the heart. She really meant these words. She really did think Clark was just as good a man, just as much of a hero--even if in a different way—as Superman.

And she wasn’t adding any qualifiers this time. No retractions, no corrections, no lies.

Clark’s eyes were wide, locked on her as if he didn’t even dare breathe in case it was a dream. As if he wanted her to think that highly of him--not because he was vain or arrogant, no, those words didn’t apply to Clark at all. But because…because…because he thought highly of her.

Thought highly. She inwardly snorted. That was one way of saying cared for. Appreciated. Liked.

All of the above.

Her heart was in her throat, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the look in Clark’s soft eyes, or the fact that she was coming to these realizations all right here, right now.

Jimmy’s interruption was the most timely he’d ever made. But it wasn’t enough to stop her thinking about that one, small moment.

About the fact that suddenly, without her even realizing it, Superman had some pretty dangerous competition.

***