Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Lois Lane's Diary II: And They Lived... (3/5)

from last time....


Oh! Clark is here. Wish me luck! And wish him luck too! Poor thing's so nervous!

To think, next time I write in this I may be engaged to be married to the man I love!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Hi Diary, what’s up?

I know you’re wondering what happened to “dear”. Well let me just tell you. I am not in a very “dear diary” mood at the moment!

Well.

I mean…

Well.

My life is definitely different! Thank god I’m writing in this again, or I’d actually just sit with smoke coming out of my head going mad to the point of permanent institutionalization.

Clark…

Clark…

CLARK… did not propose. Oh no. That thing he had to talk to me about?

He’s… he’s…?

He’s S… S…

Clark Kent is S… So dead!

Oh my god, I can’t even write this. I am too in shock and MAD and upset.

How could an evening that started so beautifully and with such promise end like this? End with us, well, ending.

Because that is what happened. We ended. It’s… over.

Over.

I can’t even write. I start crying every time I play it over again in my head. I can’t take it. I’m going to bed.

And writing is supposed to be therapeutic!


Dear Diary,


Well, work today was fun. Let me just tell you now that it’s not easy having a partner at work that you absolutely hate and despise who is also your ex-boyfriend of one day. Not easy at all. Some might say its damn near impossible!

I walked into the Planet, my clothes all mismatched and the buttons done unevenly. I noticed this later, of course. Turns out when I have this much on my mind, I don’t think all that clearly. I mean green and orange are just not the best colors to wear together. Especially not with white shoes.

I walked to my desk fully aware that I was thinking the last possible thing you’d think I’d be thinking at this moment.

I could have been thinking, “I lost my boyfriend, the love of my life, the man I was SUPPOSED to marry.”

I could have been thinking, “said man is a liar and the lowest form of life imaginable.”

I could have been thinking, “oh my GOD, Clark Kent, my partner, my best friend, mild mannered reporter and, oh yeah, my boyfriend (and by that I mean EX-boyfriend) is SUPERMAN!”

No… you know what I was actually thinking?

“I knew it, I knew it! My Two Month Syndrome is behind me my BUTT!”

I somehow managed to get to my desk and sit down. I noticed that HE was not in the office yet. Is it just me, or is it unfair that he gets paid to do a job he is barely around to do? He’s late all the time, and sometimes he runs out in the middle of the workday for an hour or so! Now I know why, of course. I don’t think it’s fair, personally. He should not share a byline with me when I am one hundred percent this job. I am one hundred percent JUST Lois Lane, reporter for the Daily Planet. And I’ve been sharing my byline and time with someone who is just fifty percent. And… and… that’s not fair!

Of course LIFE is not fair. Is it fair to be proposed to twice in your life, first by a ruthless criminal and murderer and second by your best friend who HAPPENS to also be leading a double life that he sort of neglected to mention in the past two years? No, that is not fair at all! It’s not exactly FAIR to befriend two people and then find out that one of them was actually just an extension of the other!!!

SO… anyway… Clark strolled in around ten PAST nine. I saw him come off the elevator; I was walking back from the restroom where I’d gone to throw water on my face. I noticed him before he noticed me, and I made sure to look away, keeping my back to him completely, the whole time. I was trying to make a statement. I guess it didn’t work though, because he came over to my desk anyway.

“Lois? Lois, can we talk?” he asked.

Yeah, Clark, let’s talk. Where should we start? Gee, sorry I never mentioned I was Superman, it just never came up!

I just kept my back to him, now at my desk, pretending I hadn’t heard him.

“Lois?”

Now he sounded more desperate. And even a little pathetic. It was almost enough to make me feel bad.

Almost.

After he got the hint that I was not about to acknowledge that he existed, he walked to his own desk. The news confirmed for me that he was late this morning because of an accident on the highway.

Since we weren’t really on a story together anyway, we had no reason to talk to each other during the day. So we didn’t. I just got to work on my latest fluff piece, dedicating myself to that article, not looking up once. You’d think I’d been working on some Pulitzer-worthy story.

So that story got me through the day, up until the conference that Perry called at the end of the day. I seated myself away from Clark, still not making eye contact with him at all. He’s lucky I didn’t look at him too! The look I would give him would have surely burnt a hole into his head, like the way he can do that when he looks at things. Only with me, it would have had nothing to do with unearthly powers. Just pure Lois Lane anger.

The conference was the same as always… Perry complaining about there being no real news lately, telling us to be especially aware, so if ANY story broke out, we’d be the first paper to cover it. At one point, I instinctively looked at Clark (I’d seen him move out of the corner of my eye), and saw him looking out the conference room door, a serious look on his face. He was hearing a call for help, no doubt. I rolled my eyes, thinking of all the times he’d done this and I just assumed he had severe A.D.D. or something.

Whatever the call was, it must have been sort of important, because he seemed to forget to mutter an excuse before leaving. When he opened the door to the conference room and Perry asked where he thought he was going, he looked like he’d forgotten where he was.

Don’t ask me why I did it. I mean, I hate him, right?! But before I could remember this, I was off and running.

“Perry, we have a story that might be big. We’re still looking into it. Clark, did you schedule that meeting with our source for NOW? During the conference? You knew we had this! You are so irresponsible,” I said disgustedly. The disgusted attitude was the only real part of that whole show.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he said, first looking at me, his eyes a mixture of conflicted, unreadable emotions, and then turning to Perry.

Perry waved a hand and Clark was off.

Man, I can’t even hate him right!

Well, I am going to bed!


Dear Diary,

I can’t sleep. I suppose you’re wondering what exactly happened yesterday. Well it’s obvious what happened. But there are details…

And since it’s one in the morning and I don’t appear to be heading off to Dreamland any time soon, I guess I can relive it. I don’t want to. But Lucy did say, back when she first gave me this diary, you know, the last time I had some relationship-ending day with Clark, that writing might help clear my head. And it did then. So, here goes…

Yesterday, Sunday, 1 PM…

Clark picked me up at my apartment and boy was I happy to see him. I mean all I ever do when I’m not with him is think about him and wait to see him again. Well, that is what I used to do. Now… I dread seeing him. Well, for the past one day anyway. Oh, I’m sidetracking, I know it. I am going to try to go through my feelings from beginning to end, not going off on how hurt I am now during the parts of the evening where I was still in the dark about this little secret of his. I’ll try to just paint a clear picture here of how I felt every step of the way yesterday.

Funny, it’s not hard to remember the joy and happiness from earlier in the evening anyway. You’d think that given where the night ended up, I’d have blocked out the good part or something and just really only remembered, where last night was concerned, the bad part. But it’s not true.

I remember so clearly that when I opened the door, he looked so handsome. He looked like a teenager on prom night, all nervous and dressed up. He wasn’t wearing a tux or anything, like on prom night. He was wearing a charcoal suit with a darker shade of gray button-up shirt and a burgundy tie. It brought out his eyes, his skin tone, his hair, his body, all his amazing features… this suit. I’d never seen it before. But he looked amazing, standing in my doorway, his hands in his pockets, a shy smile on his face.

The shy smile became a look of shock as he looked me up and down, taking me in.

“Lois, you look… you look…”

“… you do too,” I said, since he seemed to be at a loss for words at that moment, like me.

“…amazing. Beautiful,” he said, his voice deeper than normal.

I smiled as he cleared his throat and gave me his beautiful thousand-kilowatt smile. “Thank you, Clark,” I said, smiling and blushing, putting a strand of hair nervously behind my ear. I was glad I had decided to wear my periwinkle dress. I hadn’t worn it since I’d bought it a month ago, and it was not a color I normally wore. But when I was with Lucy and bought it, she had promised me that it only did good things for my figure, my complexion and my eyes. She picked out some makeup that I should wear with the dress to tie it all together, and I decided to take that chance last night, for my date with Clark. The dress had spaghetti straps, was form-fitting, low cut (not TOO low, not to worry!), and fell below my knees, fanning out at the end in a 1920s style. It was a different look for me, but I was glad I tried it, as he couldn’t even seem to compose himself completely at the sight of me. Yes, I was very glad I’d taken Lucy’s advice and gone with that dress.

He took a step toward me and kissed me lightly and gently. It was a quick kiss, but long enough to give me feelings in my stomach. We’ve been kissing fairly regularly for two months now, but for some reason, every single kiss manages to give me a new wonder of feelings and excitement. It’s amazing actually. Or rather, it was amazing. Before last night…

Right, not there yet. Going in order.

So he picked me up.

We complimented each other.

He kissed me and I had some feelings as a result.

Okay, moving on.

The drive to Santoni was quiet and peaceful. We just held hands listening to the radio, enjoying each other’s company.

I've lived in Metropolis for HOW long and I've never actually been inside Santoni. It was the nicest restaurant by far in Metropolis, though. So I'd heard from numerous sources and newspaper reviewers. And the most expensive because of that fact.

Even when I'd dated and been engaged to Lex, we'd never gone to Santoni.

I had no idea what to expect, no idea how Clark had managed to get a reservation, and no idea how he was hoping to pay for any of it. But he seemed so excited and so intent on making the night special, so I sat in the car, wondering what it would be like and looking forward to it.

When we walked in, I was floored by the sight before me. There were candles lit in various places throughout the beautifully medieval-styled restaurant, serving as the only light in the place. There were so many candles that it was easy to see, but wonderfully romantic too, given the sweet, dim light.

But the beautiful candlelight was not what floored me.

There was no one in there.

There was one table in the center of the restaurant.

Two chairs.

And that was it.

There were no more tables. That I could see, anyway.

I had no idea what Clark did to pull this off... To RENT out the entire place for the night. But I didn't care. No one had ever done anything like this for me in my entire life, and it brought tears to my eyes.

"Clark, I've never seen anything so... so..." I broke off, shaking my head as a tear slipped down my cheek. He kissed my cheek sweetly, smiling reassuringly. "...so romantic," I finally said. "...so beautiful."

"I was just thinking the same thing," he said. But he wasn't looking at the ambience. He was looking at me, intensely... and I remember... I could actually feel his love. In that moment.

Who knew the night would turn out the way it did, with all my good feelings suddenly turning bad and angry and negative and furious and... Oh! It is SO easy to sidetrack right now! Especially for me!

Okay, okay... So we're at Santoni. He and I are seated and I notice beautiful Italian music playing in the background.

The conversation moved fluidly. Talking to Clark was always like that, which actually made those first few weeks of our relationship so nice, instead of painful as it often is with new couples. We already knew each other so well and had so many things we could talk about.

Over dinner, we discussed a current story, other work-related things, Lucy, his parents, his European adventures (I never tire of hearing those stories) and my novel. I told him what I'd added to it on Friday night. He got really excited about where I was going with the novel.

"Funny, every time you tell me about it, it gets better and better. I mean, it hasn't come to a standstill or to a big wall or anything, and I don't think it will. You're in the thick of it now. It'll only get better and even easier to write and before you know it, you'll be done," he said, and then sipped his red wine, his eyes smiling as he looked at me.

"I know. I'm amazed. Usually it's two sentences and then a big, dramatic 'now what!', months of writer's block and then toying with the idea of quitting. Shelving it for good. But now... I don't know, I feel like I got through all the hard parts and now I just need to get the characters to solve the mystery, forgive each other for the lying they did 'to protect each other' and get them home, safe and sound. Once the bad guys are caught, of course."

"Of course," he said, seeming amused. After a moment, he looked down at his food and asked, not looking up, "so, you're going to have Jen forgive Scott then? For... for lying?”

Now of course, I understand what this was all about. Oh, Clark, you're so deep.

But I had no idea at the time, of course.

"Of course she'll forgive him. She loves him. And he was protecting her. In a way, he was protecting himself too. It's... complicated. Well, you know."

At that he looked up, looking like was afraid or something... or exposed in some way.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"No, nothing," he said, quickly. "Nothing... I just hope... I just hope that you..."

...THAT YOU ARE JUST LIKE JEN, LOIS, AND YOU CAN FORGIVE ME FOR LYING was probably what he was thinking. Well, Jen's an idiot. Now I know that, of course. But I wasn't thinking that then. "...are enjoying dinner," he eventually said.

It was so out of the blue, I only now understand what it was he was most likely really thinking.

But being still blind as I was, I took his hand in mine, assured him I was loving every moment of the dinner and then finished it.

The drive to the quiet place on the outskirts of Metropolis was relaxing. We continued some light conversation. Well mostly it was me talking. Clark seemed really nervous.

Now I know why, of course.

When we got there, I had no idea we were there. I mean, it was an empty field! There wasn't a town around for what seemed like miles. The road that had gotten us there seemed pretty unused. I (again, at the time) was not sure how he had found this place.

But he opened the passenger side door, took my hand, helped me out and walked me...

...into this wondrous field, which seemed to leave the rest of the world behind, somewhere else. It really was beautiful. As he guided me, I glanced upwards, to be rewarded with a sky view you never get in Metropolis. Stars, immaculately bright and shining, and so many of them! More than you could ever see in the city.

I looked at Clark when I realized we'd stopped walking and he was smiling at me.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he asked.

"Clark, it's gorgeous! How did you ever find THIS place?"

He kind of laughed, quietly, to himself. "When I first came to Metropolis, I stumbled across this place. I come here sometimes, just to think and be alone. Whenever I feel like the world is against me and I don't belong, I just... I come here."

"When do you feel like the world is against you?" I asked, genuinely wanting to know. Sure, some of the people we wrote stories about didn't like us much afterwards, but the world, so to say, was never against us. If I didn't feel that way (and I had more enemies than him; I was sure of that--at the time, that is), then he surely shouldn't feel that way.

"Come on," he said, instead of answering my question, and he started guiding me again, further into this spectacular place.

I looked up at the vast beyond while we walked, again, until we stopped, again. This time, when I looked down, I noticed something different right away.

There was a blanket all laid out on the ground. A bottle of wine, two glasses and candles on the blanket.

"Clark, you couldn't have made this night more perfect if you tried," I said, tears forming in my eyes again. I wasn't sure what was wrong with me, that he could bring me to tears like this twice in one night.

I thought that comment would make him smile or relax or something, but the look I saw on his face was translating to "I wouldn't say that JUST yet..." I of course, assumed that was because the best was yet to come.

We sat down on the blanket and he poured us a glass of wine. I noticed his hand was shaking. I felt bad that he was so nervous, I remember. I took the glass and said, "to us, Clark," very seriously and sensually, since I felt, at this point, like I was under some kind of spell. He repeated the toast, and then we clinked our glasses together lightly and took a sip.

Um...

Oh, wow... I... This is where things get...

This is the part I do not like to think about. The part that prevented me from falling asleep last night. The part that woke me up in the middle of the night tonight... The part that haunts me and aches my heart. The very heart I had given to him two months ago and thought I would give to him forever two nights ago.

Oh...

I guess I should just go ahead and pretend I'm back there, right? Get down on paper the most accurate description of this... this part. This awful, keeps-me-up-at-night, must-just-be-a-nightmare, kill-me-now-please horrifying part. That is just too real for me to ever forget.

We, uh... we drank a little of our glasses of wine, looking into each other's eyes.

Oh, god, my hand is shaking.

Okay, just breathe.

In...

Out...

Deep breaths.

Okay.

"Lois, there is something that I want to tell you," he said, looking really, really nervous.

I put my glass down and walked (on my knees) over to him. I took his hands in mine and kissed him.

"Clark, it's okay. Relax," I urged him.

He didn't relax. He kept his eyes closed for a few breaths. Then he looked at me and laughed a little.

"You know, I'm not scared to share this with you, what I'm about to tell you, I mean. I'm just scared of losing you," he said in a voice so quiet, it almost seemed possible that he hadn't said anything at all and that I had just imagined it. Dreamed it.

"Clark, you'll never--"

"--Lois, don't say that. You... you think you feel one way right now. I hope so badly that you'll feel this way in five minutes. I'm just worried...worried you won't," he said.

"Well, why don't you just say it, then? You know, quickly. Get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid," I said matter-of-factly, a silly grin on my face. I just really wanted to calm him down.

But it didn't seem like anything could do that.

He didn't even humor me with a smile or a small laugh or anything. He just sat there, looking all serious and really REALLY nervous. It was enough to make me really REALLY nervous, which was not good, since we had just eaten a three course meal less than an hour ago.

"Before I tell you, can I kiss you?" he asked, looking like he was about to just burst into tears.

"Clark, of course you can kiss me. You don't ever have to ask," I said.

I remember thinking it was so strange he was this nervous about proposing to me. I thought I had spent the past two months making my love for him VERY clear.

He cupped my cheek with his hand, sweetly, the way he's done a thousand times. He looked at me intensely and lowered his face to mine, slowly, seeming to want to make the whole moment just last. When his lips touched mine, I felt fireworks. Butterflies. Everything I always felt when I kissed him. Only it was magnified because he was so nervous. I mean, he was kissing me like he would never be able to kiss me again... And the kiss, as a result was just... heart-breaking and sweet. Passionate and gentle. I knew the kiss so well, but he was kissing me like we'd never kissed before and he wanted to learn what it was like to kiss Lois Lane. What my lips felt like and were shaped like. Wanted to remember always how I smelled and tasted and felt. It made me feel like we were kissing for the first time too. I was nervous and giddy and things were just exploding inside me as I was overcome with love for him.

And then the kiss was over. He seemed to not want to end it, but to realize he couldn't hold off telling me what he had to tell me forever. He looked down at the grass when he first pulled away. The man look wretched. Tormented.

And then, for just a moment, brave.

He looked up at me when I sensed this bravery. Inside, I was thrilled. He was finally brave enough to just do it, knowing I would tell him yes. Perfect!

Oh Lois (Lois from Two Days Ago)... Not perfect.

"Lois. There's something you need to know. Something I... want... to tell you. In a way, I've always wanted to tell you. Part of me didn't at first, because I wanted you to love me for me," he said, and I furrowed my eyebrows confusedly.

"What!?" I asked, lightly. "And why are you rambling like me?"

He smiled.

"Lois, you, essentially, chose me over... over Superman."

I nodded. "Not essentially, Clark. I did choose you over Superman. I told you that. I told you all that two months ago. I told you I wanted you and I always did."

"I know," he said, taking a deep breath. Apparently he wasn't opening the issue up for discussion but really just stating a point. "I want you to know how much that means to me... how much it REALLY means to me," he said.

"I know, Clark," I said softly.

"No, Lois. You don't know... everything," he said.

I cocked my head to the side and creased my brow, wondering what was going on.

It was then that I started to realize this didn't seem to be a marriage proposal about to happen.

My instinctive disappointment was immediately replaced with fear. I had no idea what he was about to say.

But now... I was nervous too.

"Lois. For two years, I have not been completely honest with you. With that being said, you need to know that you know me better than anyone. I've always been honest about who I am, inside, I mean, and my feelings. You and I, what we have, you have to know, it's real."

"I know what we have is real, Clark... Tell me what this is all about," I said. I felt like I could feel our world closing in on us, but I didn't know why. "What are you trying to tell me?"

He looked down and wrapped his arms around his knees, which were in front of him.

"Superman came to Earth when he was a baby, Lois. In 1966, to be exact. His real name is Kal El," he started, keeping his face down and pulling off his glasses.

I watched his glasses a moment later, dangling from a hand that was still wrapped around his knees, realizing I had never seen Clark without them on.

He looked up at the stars in the sky as he continued. "His ship landed in Kansas... Smallville, Kansas."

"You knew him all along? Before, before I met him?" I asked, which made him close his eyes breaking his trance on those stars, and then look at me. I know I was stupid to not have put the pieces together at this point. I know that now. I guess it's just something so unexpected that you don't realize...okay, I know I know, I'm sidetracking.

He looked at me.

Seeing him without his glasses, when he looked down and made eye-contact with me made my mouth fall open and the pieces... so many pieces that I didn't even know were there, started coming together and making a picture that had always been a little blurry, even if I never knew of it's existence, suddenly so much clearer...

"Jonathan and Martha Kent couldn't have children. They saw a meteor fall from the sky in Shuster's field and they went to inspect it. There, they found a baby... and they raised... me... as their own."

I remember pulling my hand from his like I'd been resting it on a stove burner and just realized it was burning me.

"No..." I started, still staring at his face, disbelieving of what he was clearly trying to tell me.

He didn't say anything. He just looked at me, a solemn, unreadable expression on his face.

"You're... you're..."

I couldn't say it. I remember remembering Martha's voice in my head telling me to just hear him out. I remembered promising her I would, more or less. That thought was followed with the thought "why am I thinking about Martha Kent right now?!"

And then I realized I really couldn't say it. I couldn't actually say that simple question, which was really more of a statement, "You're Superman?"... So I struggled until I could at least say the inverse:

"You're not... Clark Kent..." I said, grasping at straws, trying to make sense out of what he was telling me. But I felt as if I were in a tiny, airtight box, instead of the great, wide open, with fresh air all around me.

"I am, Lois. I'm Clark Kent. I'll always be Clark Kent. I am a reporter for the Daily Planet. My partner, my best friend, and I hope after this, my girlfriend, is Lois Lane. Clark Kent, Lois. That's me. No matter where I was born or what my birth name was, I was raised by my parents, the Kents, in Smallville, with their values instilled in and taught to me and their love given to me. I'm who I am and the man you know because of that, Lois. Don't say I'm not Clark Kent, Lois, because Clark Kent is who I am.
Superman... is just what I can do."

My mouth fell open and I just stared at him, Martha's begging reverberating in my ears. Even if I didn't want to hear him out, where could I go? I was in the middle of a big, huge field!

Nice going, Clark. I'm sure that wasn't part of your "plan" or anything.

And also, words were not forming. And I felt too numb to even walk or run away from him. I just sat there, dumbfounded, with no choice but to keep my promise to Martha.

"Lois, I told you once that I would tell you why I went from place to place when I was traveling around the world. You thought I was running away from something and I promised you I would tell you why someday. Today, Lois. I'm telling you today. I would do something to help, and someone would catch a glimpse. Not enough to know it was ME, Clark Kent, doing these, these unearthly things. But I had to leave, just to be safe. I stopped running when I came to Metropolis. I met you. I saw a dream: working at the Daily Planet. I wanted to make it work so badly, and when you told me to bring a change of clothes to work--"

"--you did save that crazy man in the manhole. Or that non-all-that-crazy-now-that-I-think-about-it man--"

"--Yes. I saved him. And when you said that, something clicked. I needed a disguise that I could wear and openly do these things. Openly help people. AND lead a normal life. My parents helped me create Superman."

"Your MOTHER made it for you?" I said incredulously, and a little angrily.

He took a deep breath, probably sensing that I wasn't about to wrap my arms around his neck and say "I love you, of course, even though you lied to me for two years!"

"Yeah. On the one hand, it was wonderful to be able to stop hiding. To be able to help openly and not hide the powers from the world out of fear. But in exchange for being finally able to stop hiding the powers, I had to hide something new... something probably even bigger. I knew in hiding that one, big secret, I was protecting myself and my family, and even you and all my friends. I knew I had to. But lying to you, Lois. From the moment I realized that I loved you I knew it would be hard to lie to you. I just
wanted so badly to be normal. But when I realized you loved... my creation... things got more complicated than I ever expected them to."

I finally found my voice.

"Well, Clark, don't you know, I'm just a really superficial person," I said.

"No, Lois--"

"Yeah. Clearly. I fell for the powers, and not the man," I said angrily. "Clearly I am a horrible and superficial person."

"No, you're not, Lois. I--"

"Poor, poor Clark. Pushed aside by evil, mean Lois, because she was so dazzled by your god in tights."

He looked down, taking a deep breath. He knew... I was mad. And he wasn't about to get a word in edgewise.

"That day... Clark... when the billboard fell and... and YOU saved me! You... and I told you I wanted to be... you said... you said we'd be more than friends and then stormed out of my life moments later at the Planet! I put myself through hell for TWO WEEKS!"

"I don't know why I said that, Lois. I guess... I was hurt. It's not the first time I've been hurt and said something to you in that moment that I didn't mean," he said. "I'd like to think I'm a bigger person than that. But where your concerned Lois, my heart feels things and does things that it's never--"

I had no clue was he was talking about, but I didn't care.

"You played with my heart like it was some kind of yo-yo or toy. You humiliated me. I humiliated myself. I have been living a lie, Clark. I thought tonight that you were--"

I stopped and shook my head.

"What?" he asked, looking... still unreadable, but a little... hopeful maybe?

"--forget it, Clark. Forget everything. The last two months--"

"--have been the best two months of my life. Lois, I have never felt this way. Ever. I'm in love with you. I love you so much--"

"--so much that you felt the need to lie to me for the entire time I've known you, even after we crossed over the line from friendship to, to more?"

He looked down again, looking like he was about to cry.

"I trusted you, Clark. You were the man that knew me so well who I knew SO well, who I trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt. If someone had asked me if you would ever lie to me, I would have said 'no' without even really thinking about it. So deep was my trust for you embedded in me. You had no right to get angry at me that day two months and two weeks ago, Clark. No right at all."

"I know," he said, not looking up. His voice was shaking. "Lois I'm--"

"No... Clark. Speaking of that DAY; that day that kept me awake every single night for the two weeks that followed. I want to say something to you that you said to me THAT day. I only hope it haunts you the way it haunted me, these two words I have to say..."

With a shaky breath he looked up, at me, meeting my gaze. I ignored the tears that sat on the corners of his eyes, not daring to fall.

"I'm through," I said.

He released a long breath, shaking his head, looking like he was about to crumble. He looked down again.

I couldn't be sure, because of the dark, but I thought I saw a tear roll down his cheek, as he stared downward. I turned my gaze away from him at that moment though. This was MY turn to be mad. I had every right. I was not giving him anything.

I stood up and looked down at him, realizing he was still staring down, looking like a lost puppy.

"I thought you were invulnerable," I said in a voice that even I didn't recognize, it was so devoid of sympathy and emotion. Anger and resentment were all that remained.

I noticed him tense slightly at my words.

After a few more moments, he put his glasses back on. His brilliant disguise. And then he stood up.

"I want to go home," I said. "And I don't mean the long drive back. I want to be home and be away from you more quickly than that. And I'm pretty sure you can arrange that."

In a blur of wind and colors and stars behind, Clark no longer stood before me.

In his place stood another man. A man I loved so long ago. A man who didn't really exist. A man I swore I hated now.

Even while I hated that man, I watched in mesmerized awe as the one man had changed into the other.

And that man, that man that now stood before me, took me home, saying nothing more to me for the night.

And once he was gone from my sight, I wrote a little in this and went to bed calmly.

Okay, that's a lie. I don't know why I'm lying. I mean, for god's sake, this is just a diary. I went to bed and cried. I cried my eyes out. For the pain I felt all over and... well, for my loss. I cried a lot... I cried myself to sleep.

Despite my best efforts, the pain and the tears are just not abating.

Yet.

Well, now it's after four in the morning on Monday night. I still have HOW many days left of work with him this week? Maybe I should look into taking my vacation days and going, I don't know, somewhere. Like he did.

Well, there you have it. That's the story of my life. Losing sleep because of Clark. Being haunted by Clark. Clark... He's a non-stop cause of bad feelings for me.

And yet...

Ugh, I'm going to sleep.

Well, I will try anyway...


Dear Diary,


The last two days have not been too much different for me than Monday was.
Clark and I don't talk. He hasn't stopped trying in the mornings. Maybe I need to find a way to make it clearer to him. The words "I'm through" and my ongoing silent treatment do not seem to be doing the trick.

Lucy has been bombarding me with emails. She's like a cat... she can sense when things go wrong or something.

Check it out:

_ _ _ _ _ _

TO: Lane, Lois <llane@dailyplanet.com>
FROM: Lane, Lucy <ilovelucy311@freemail.com>
RECEIVED: Tuesday, May 21, 11:02 AM

Lois,

Last night, you did not seem like yourself on the phone. At all. Maybe it was just me. But I talked to you last week and you were all giggling like a schoolgirl, all "I'm in love, I'm in love, and I'm annoyingly happy about it!" Then today you sounded like you were recovering from having been run over by a train, which in your line of work could actually be the case.

So what is it? What's going on?

Are you really just recovering from a grueling case that put you in danger and maybe beat on you a little, literally?

Or are we talking trouble in paradise kind of problems?

Write back or call me! I have no life, so I might as well try to help you with yours.

Love,
Lucy

_ _ _ _ _ _


She told me to respond and so I did.

_ _ _ _ _ _

TO: Lane, Lucy <ilovelucy311@freemail.com>
FROM: Lane, Lois <llane@dailyplanet.com>
SENT: Tuesday, May 21. 11:10 AM

Lucy,

Don't call, don't write. I don't want to talk. Just please leave me alone.

-Lois.

_ _ _ _ _ _

I know, I know, but I was not exactly in the cheeriest of moods. Usually I'm very nice to my sister. This just...

It wasn't one of those times.

And then I get THIS back:

_ _ _ _ _ _

TO: Lane, Lois <llane@dailyplanet.com>
FROM: Lane, Lucy <ilovelucy311@freemail.com>
RECEIVED: Tuesday, May 21, 11:21 AM

Lois,

What are you doing tomorrow? Let's have lunch! I actually have a date tonight (yay for me!), but if you want me to cancel, I will, so we can talk or whatever. Let me know!

-Lucy

_ _ _ _ _ _

TO: Lane, Lucy <ilovelucy311@freemail.com>
FROM: Lane, Lois <llane@dailyplanet.com>
SENT: Tuesday, May 21. 11:25 AM

Did you get my last email?

_ _ _ _ _ _

TO: Lane, Lois <llane@dailyplanet.com>
FROM: Lane, Lucy <ilovelucy311@freemail.com>
RECEIVED: Tuesday, May 21, 11:28 AM

Yes.

We'll do lunch then! I'll pick you up at work! See you then!

_ _ _ _ _ _


I do NOT want to talk to anyone right now, especially not Lucy. What could I even tell her?

"Oh, sis, it's so hard, it's just my boyfriend? Well, he's from another planet. As a matter of fact, he's Superman. He's been leading a double life for the entire two years I've known him and I thought he was going to propose last night, but really, he wanted to drop my world out from under my feet by telling me about his, you know, being from, well, not Earth."

I don't think so.

Oh, god, Perry and Clark are heading over here right now. Kill me now, please!

It's definitely not yet noon... on WEDNESDAY!

Just for clarification purposes, I am referring to the Wednesday AFTER my (would-be) two month anniversary.

Yeah... Good times.


Dear Diary,


Well, Perry told us that he doesn't care what is going on with us. That when we got together we swore it wouldn't affect our work. That we are supposed to be above all else, partners.

Oh, Perry, if you only knew.

I tried not to look at Clark the whole time Perry was talking, but the one time I did catch his eyes, I noticed he was looking at me... like he was studying me. Seemingly to make sure I was okay.

I wanted to yell, "don't play nice with me, Kent! I know your story, you liar!"

But instead I said, "sure, Perry. Uh, we'll get right on it," like some defeated girl who was most definitely not the tempestuous, fighting Lois (Mad Dog) Lane.

"Well good, because I did not hire you two as reporters because you're just so darn sweet and cute. That might be why you started dating. But it's not why I hired you," Perry said, smiling in his little joking way, like this was all some teenage argument and just plain silly.

"Got it, Chief," I said, going pale. Well, feeling like I was going pale. "But there aren't any stories right now. Soon as there's a big one, I'll, I mean WE'LL be on it."

"Okay. Glad to hear it," he said, walking away.

As soon as he was gone, Clark bent down.

"Lois, I was just thinking--"

I turned and looked at him. "There's not exactly a big story on my desk, Clark, is there?"

In lieu of an answer, he just blinked a few times, looking all defeated and sad.

"When there is one, we'll talk, okay? Excuse me," I said, seeing Lucy get off the elevator.

I couldn't believe she actually came to lunch after I made myself so crystal clear. She can be so stubborn when she is on a mission, I swear!

But since going to lunch with her DID make avoiding Clark for the moment a little easier, I was only too happy to walk her right back into the elevator and go.

So that is where I just came from: lunch with Lucy.

She got me to spill the story... well, not the WHOLE story, obviously. That one I'll probably take to my grave, assuming I don't, I don't know, talk in my sleep some time, having some person who doesn't know overhear and figure it out.

We went to a charming little deli that she promised would cheer me up, just based on the cuteness of the place.

Well, the place was cute, I'll give her that. But it did not cheer me up. I couldn't be cheered up. You know why? You know what the only thing worse than hitting rock bottom is? Flying the highest you've ever been in your whole life only moments before.

If Clark and I were in a failing relationship and then it was over, that would be hard. But it would be easier to deal with. My life was PERFECT, right up until that moment, that MOMENT that he told me everything. And then my world was rocked, knocking me, so quickly. Down, down, down...

Down.

To happen that fast is far worse than a gradual fall to the bottom.

Nothing could cheer me up, even a little. It's like my body was in shock or something, from the quickness with which my life and feelings changed.

But Lucy tried anyway.

"Lois, do you remember when you were eleven and I was nine? You started telling me that you would help me get through life because you had all the answers? I was upset about a bad grade at school and someone that made fun of me because of it. You said you'd help me get the better grade and rise above what that kid said. When I asked what YOU could do, you said you were my big sister and could do anything!"

I did remember this conversation. I couldn't believe Lucy remembered it though. How embarrassing! I had seen an older sibling on a television show say something like that, and it was comforting to the little kid, so I had tried use the same logic with my sister. But it had ended up coming out all high and mighty, like I thought I was on some kind of commercial selling the product 'Lois Lane: Big Sister'.

"I remember," I told her, a shy smile on my face.

"Did you know that I believed you? I believed everything you said. I thought you had ALL the answers to everything in life. I thought you were the girl who would never need help from anyone. No one could hurt you and nothing could faze you. You were Lois Lane. Strong and smart and vibrant and quick-witted and happy. Lois Lane! I wanted to be just like you," she said, touching my arm.

I wasn't exactly sure where she was going with this, but I went with her. It was better than talking about Clark.

"You wanted to be just like me? Lucy, you never studied a day in your life, especially after that conversation. You stuck your nose up at me every time I said anything to you about how important studying was. You told me I dressed too boring and you always made sure when my hair was long, yours was short, and when my hair was short, yours was long," I said.

"I didn't want you to KNOW I believed you!" she said.

Honestly? She's too much!

"Well good job, Lucy; I had no idea," I said, smiling.

"Lois, you have looked out for me my whole life. I know if YOU ever had a problem, you'd never really willingly come to me about it. I always have to hunt you down, listen intently to your tone to decide if you're really okay or not, and when you're not, I have to invite myself over or to lunch so I can just TRY to be a good sister."

"Lucy, you ARE a good sister. I always know that you care. If I don't reach out to you, well that's just--"

"--but you SHOULD reach out to me," she interrupted me, an urgency and sadness in her tone. "Lois, please. I leaned on you a lot when we were growing up. Hell, you practically raised me more than Mom and Dad. But Lois, you're not really my big sister anymore. You're two years older than me. It shouldn't be 'big sister' / 'little sister' anymore. It should be Lois and Lucy... close sisters. Sisters who are all grown up and are friends and can tell each other anything. I don't want to always think that I'm ten steps behind you and you don't need me or ANYBODY."

I just stared at the flowers at the center of our table for a moment, taking this in.

"What if I told you," she said coyly, which made me look up, "that I have all the answers. Oh, yeah. I'm Lucy, Super Little Sis."

"I thought you were done with being 'little sister'," I said.

"Well no, I just thought of this. I'm Little Sis. I have ALL the answers! I will help you and you can overcome this! Don't ask how or why! I'm Little Sis! I can do anything!" she said triumphantly, which made me laugh.

The way she said it, it practically pulled me back in time; back into our old room, sitting on her bed. My eleven-year-old voice now coming through the mouth of my little sister.

When my laughter subsided, Lucy's own smile fell away too, and she looked at me seriously.

"I can be Super Little Sis, like your Super Big Sis all those years ago, Lois. BUT... I would like to just have the chance to be your sister. Your grown up sister, who is no longer so much younger, and is more like a friend now actually," she said, her gaze boring into mine.

"Okay, you win," I said, after a heartfelt moment. "It's...over...between Clark and me," I said, practically choking on the words. As much as I had been writing that it's over and had even told him "I'm through," I had not voiced the fact out loud to anyone. It felt impossible to say, with that lump that was in my throat, blocking the way for those words to come through. It was even harder for me to say that than to say that other truth I was having trouble saying and writing. You know that he's... him.

"Over? What? How? Why? When?" she asked, her eyes looking genuinely sad for me and very VERY confused.

"He lied to me about something pretty big. Something huge. I thought I knew him. I thought he was this decent, honest, sweet, caring man who loved me so much he would never... NEVER... hurt me. But in the end, he hurt me more than anyone else ever has before. More than Daddy. More than Claude, if you remember him--"

"--sure. I met him a few times and you later gave me the cliff's notes version of the whole affair," she said, looking around frantically, not really at me. She looked like she was trying to grasp straws with what I just told her, but was not able to. "What could he have lied about? I…you... Lois, he really was the most perfect man alive. I won't believe he cheated on you," she started.

"--no, he didn't do that," I was quick to assure her.

"--because I wouldn't believe that anyway. He looks at you... every time... like he is just seeing you for the first time, and he thinks you are just beautiful, wonderful... special. I've never seen anyone look at someone that way, before meeting Clark. He's gone over you, Lois, just gone!"

She was not making this easier. That lump in my throat that was there before, when I was trying to get the words out so we could be her Partridge Family version of sisters? Yeah, it was a million times worse now.

"Yeah, well," I started, trying to swallow that lump, "for someone who is so gone over me, he had a funny way of showing it. He LIED to me, Lucy. I never lied to him. Never. I always assumed he was honest with me too. I just...trusted him to be honest. Never, never questioned it. I should have though. After Daddy, Paul, Claude, Lex... I've had a hard time trusting men, Lucy; it shouldn't come as much of a surprise."

"I know, Lois," she said, touching my arm sweetly again.

"Lucy... I just thought he was different. But his lie was the biggest and most hurtful. And I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone ever before. It makes the hurt a million times worse," I said, releasing a shaky breath.

"Oh, Lois. Can I ask. What did he--"

But I cut her off with a shake of the head. "What does it matter, really? It's not something I can tell you anyway. And this has nothing to do with us, Lucy, you and me. I just--"

"--enough said," she said reassuringly. "He lied and you caught him. You figured it out and caught him in the lie," she said, shaking her head as if disbelieving that a breakup could have happened with us. With Lois and Clark.

"Well, no, not exactly. I had no clue. He dropped the bomb on me. The other night," I said, closing my eyes, as I had immediately flown back into that night from hell, which started off so wonderfully. "He made this big to-do about our two month anniversary. He wanted to do something special and we went to dinner and then to this quiet desolate place where he shattered my heart."

"So he had lied about something... and then he told you all about it? He couldn't keep it in anymore?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Yeah. Either way he lied," I said to her, like her IQ had just dropped loads of points right before my eyes.

"No but Lois, he wanted you to know. He didn't want the lie there anymore, weighing on him and on your relationship. He wanted a relationship based on truth," she said.

This angered me. Why was she taking his side?

"He wanted a relationship based on truth? That's funny, because for two years, our entire relationship has been based on a huge lie!" I said.

"But not anymore. He wanted to start fresh, because you are in love. He probably wants to spend the rest of his life with you and doesn't want--"

"--Lucy, whose side are you ON? You are the one who said we'd be like friends and you are taking the side of a man who lied to me about something MASSIVE. I can't tell you what it is, but you could at least trust me and give ME the benefit of the doubt!" I said, standing up.

"No, Lois! I do. I think that for Clark to have lied at all is horrible. I mean, lying is just bad. Especially when you're partners and best friends. And especially when you're dating! He should have been honest with you about, I don't know, whatever, since the moment he met you!" she said, practically begging me to let her in my friendship corner again.

But even this wasn't helping. Now I was angry. The more she said, the angrier I got. Even what she said now, genuine as she seemed, angered me, because she was saying he should have been honest from the moment he met me and I knew he couldn't have been. Despite the fact that I feel so stupid and horrible now, finding out, I do realize he couldn't have told me when he first met me. I guess, she was making me, in some small way, understand why he lied... at first, anyway. She had no clue, of course, that that is what
she was doing. But she was. And it was making me really mad. I didn't want to understand him. I wanted to be mad at him for his betrayal; for his lack of trust; for LYING. I REALLY hate lying!

After I assured her that I was not mad at her (I was lying of course-- well, this kind of lying, the kind that gets your sister to just leave you be when you're all depressed and want to be alone, is okay), she walked with me back to the Planet. I talked to her about her date last night, a nice change of subject.

"Lois, I'm going out again this weekend with him. We're just going to a bar where some of his friends will be. You should come! It might be fun! Maybe he has a nice friend who will make getting over Clark a little better. Or at least more fun!" she said excitedly.

I was all set to say 'no', but just then, Clark headed out of the Planet. I knew he'd be able to hear us, what with his special... hearing... abilities. I guess I regressed back to the sixth grade, where you tried to make you ex-boyfriend feel like a real fooey for hurting you.

"Lucy, that sounds like fun. It'll be like old times; you and me, double-dating. Call me tonight and we'll make a definite plan for Friday," I said, which caused a very confused look to pass over my sister's features.

I guess she understood when she saw Clark a moment later. She gave him a sort of smile that said, "I am only smiling out of elementary good breeding, and nothing more; you hurt my sister and I do not forgive all that easily."

I was looking at Clark for some kind of a reaction to this news, that I was going on a date. I guess I wanted to see if he finally got the hint that it was over with us. The look I saw though... I wish I hadn't seen. As soon as I looked at him, he looked at the ground, as if he were ashamed of himself (and really, he should be, right!?) and didn't want to bother me.

Then his head shot up, and he looked past me, his eyebrows creased in a look of solemn concern. A call for help. He always did that; he must have always heard a call for help. Usually at this point he started muttering some stupid excuse, but since I had initiated a silent treatment, he didn't need to bother. He turned the opposite direction from us and kind of ran, until he turned the corner and was out of my sight.

"Wow. He took off fast. He has some nerve. He didn't even really look at you. He should be on his knees every time he sees you begging you to forgive him for being a typical guy!" she said, looking in the direction he just disappeared from.

All I could think was, "well, I'll give him that much. He is NOT your typical guy."

And then I went back to work.

Speaking of which, I should get BACK to work; you know, do things. I don't think at the end of the day, Perry wants to read my diary. You know?


Dear Diary,


It's Friday night... late night. Midnight. No after... I guess it's... 2:11 AM, the clock in the kitchen says. Lucy and I went to that club tonight. It was more or less a bore. There was one guy there who was interesting enough, and by that I mean he was capable of saying more than two sentences without trying to make a move or something. His name was Dan something-or-other. He's a detective.

I'll admit, part of the reason I kept the conversation going for an hour, like I did, was because I thought it might be nice to have more friends on the inside. Cops. People who can pull a few strings; tell you things. Basically, it was my way of working, or networking, I guess, during my time away from work. Perry would be so proud. I saw getting to know this Dan as an opportunity somewhere down the line for my stories.

So that was that.

He was okay-looking, too.

I am not quite sure he's six feet tall. Almost anyway, though. And as for his body... it seemed okay. He's a cop, after all.

Not as nice as...

I mean...

Well I'm not thinking about him. I won't lie, there were times tonight when I found myself thinking about him. I briefly wondered what he was doing, but shook that thought away, remembering that I don't care. I briefly realized, while this Dan was talking, that Clark was by far better company than him, Lucy, and anyone for that matter, but I quickly reminded myself that he was a liar as well. That put that thought to rest.

And I briefly missed him. As much as I tried to shake that one away with some excuse, it just wouldn't go away. My stupid pestering heart; it's like it craves men who are just big liars. Okay, okay, I never craved Lex. I never even really CRAVED Claude or Paul. Clark though... and HIS was the biggest lie! But my heart definitely did have a feeling that I could only describe as longing and craving and sadness... and missing. And if I'm
honest with myself, it wasn't a brief feeling or thought. It was weighing on me, in the back of my mind, the entire night.

So anyway, it's late and I'm going to bed. I cannot for the life of me remember how my night with Dan ended. I remember saying goodbye and him telling me he'd see me at some point. But I don't think I gave him my phone number. Actually, I know I didn't. He wanted it and I said no. I guess no matter how I feel, it IS too soon for me to be really thinking about other men.

Well...

Good night.


Dear Diary,

It's Sunday night. Sunday.

One week...

It's been one week since that day. One week of seeing him everyday and working beside him, but not walking casually over to his desk, a schoolgirl grin on my face or trying to sneak a kiss in any chance I got... the second the elevator doors closed, or the second Bobby Bigmouth left the car.

It's been one week without him, even though he's been within my reach the whole time.

All day yesterday and today I thought about what he told me. All week I had made a conscious effort not to REALLY think about it.

Sure, the thoughts "Clark lied to me for two years!" and "Clark is Superman!" would come into my head and I would get mad. I'd see him run off to save the day and know that is what he was doing and I would get mad and focus on something else. But yesterday and today, I didn't see him at all; I didn't see anyone. I've been alone at my apartment with nothing but my thoughts. So I allowed myself to really think about what he told me.

Clark is Superman.

It was Clark who I demanded and hoped to see after I'd turned HIM down in the park so long ago.

Two months ago, I had kissed Clark and then told HIM the next day, as Superman, that I wanted to be more than friends with him. With Superman (this can get confusing). The look on his (Superman's) face made a lot more sense now.

All those times I had compared him to Superman or held Superman up on his perpetual pedestal. He could do no wrong. Clark always seemed so annoyed that I made Superman into some Greek god. He hated when everyone objectified Superman. I thought his feelings were a mix of annoyance because Superman was a good friend of his and jealousy. In reality, he probably felt extremely uncomfortable and ill at ease hearing himself talked about that way. Clark's not someone who you'd call a sex symbol. I mean, I know he's sexy. But the comments that people would make about Superman (me
included)... About his tights and his body... People were saying these shameless things in his presence. Thinking back now, the look that was always on HIS face at those times made more sense now. I always just thought he was annoyed and disapproving. But his look was a mixture of guilt, since no one knew they were essentially saying these things in Superman's presence, and plain old discomfort.

I guess I can understand that. I mean, if I heard people talking that way about ME, I would be very angry. Actually, I think I'D blow my cover. He, at least, always maintained his calm and an air of indifference.

But mostly what I have been thinking about this weekend, in my time alone with my thoughts is that...

I embarrassed myself! Yesterday and today, I was able to think of so many ways in which I completely embarrassed myself! It makes me madder than... well, than the truth (almost anyway). I made a list.

I mean check this out:

_ _ _ _ _ _

WAYS IN WHICH I, LOIS LANE, HAVE EMBARASSED MYSELF IN THE PAST TWO YEARS BECAUSE OF THIS... SUPER... SECRET:

1. I threw myself at Superman and practically ignored Clark back when I first met them both/him. I looked like a silly, SHALLOW, school girl.

2. I asked Clark if Superman's suit actually came off. I get red thinking about that question NOW.

3. The time when the Planet was held hostage, I muttered the phrase: "Relax, Clark, you're not Superman," or something like that. Hi, how are you, I'm Lois Lane, award-winning investigative reporter. Right.

4. I would bid for Superman at auctions and roll my eyes at Clark when I could catch him looking at me in that way.

5. I never ever saw them together. I knew they were "best friends." But did I question this? No. Because, hi, I'm Lois Lane, award-winning investigative reporter. RIGHT? (Maybe I should turn all the awards in). Hmm....

6. Clark gets amnesia. Where's Superman? Clark gets his memory back. THERE'S Superman. Saving the world. And RIGHT when Clark got his memory back so he could know what it was Superman was saving us all from. WHAT A FRIGGIN' AMAZING COINCIDENCE!

7. They look a whole lot alike (duh!) and I never even THOUGHT about that. Except once, when I was drugged on love! It took a crazy love spray to make me see the truth, and after, when I was back to myself (for clarification that is back to my award-winning investigative reporter self), I found an excuse to explain why I was so delusional to think that in the first place. Ground, please, I'm begging you; just open up and swallow me whole!

8. Clark would get a far-off look and run away like a frightened kitten and seconds later Superman would save the day. Then HE'D fly away and Clark would return. No ice cream. No cheese. No whatever-his-excuse-was. And I never questioned it. Never questioned his frequent disappearances or anything.

Basically... I HAVE LOOKED LIKE A COMPLETE IDIOT FOR TWO YEARS. I HAVE THROWN MYSELF AT A CARDBOARD CUTOUT OF A MAN I HELD AT BAY, EVEN AS A FRIEND. I WAS SHALLOW AND SILLY... AND STUPID! It's the stupidity that embarrasses me the most. The clues were there. They were always there.

And I... ahem, investigative reporter who has gathered up her awards and fully intends to return them to the award people who gave them to her... NEVER NOTICED.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Okay, so when I wrote the list, I was a little angry. Mostly with myself, though. That was a real change from the rest of the week.

I am so mad that I didn't figure this out.

I told Clark once that it was our job to look under the surface and expose the naked truth about people. I valued my ability to read people and find out exactly what they were
about. I assume everyone is hiding SOMETHING. I am usually right! I can tell you the whole truth about my parents and my sister, about every friend I have and about Perry, Jimmy and all my ex-boyfriends, like Claude or Lex...

But Clark. Under the surface, there was a truth so unlikely and amazing, and I never even bothered to look. I just trusted that with HIM, as opposed to everyone else I have ever met, what you saw was what you got. And I loved what I saw. I eventually fell in love with it and FINALLY admitted it to myself and to him.

I did not do what I do. What I'm good at. And in the end, HE had to tell me. He had to come down to my level of blindness and stupidity, and tell me, the way you'd tell a child just becoming an adolescent that there's no Santa Clause. No Santa. Just your parents. Only most kids figure this out on their own. For me, I had to be told. No Superman. Just Clark. When I learned the truth about Santa, my life didn't change all that much. But this... I just know; my life will never be the same.

Ugh, there's a knock at the door. Who'd visit at this time on a Sunday?


Dear Diary,

Well, it was Clark.

I was definitely surprised to see him. I mean, I have made everything so clear. All week, I kept my back to him and have said barely two words to him and only that was when I absolutely had to. Why can he not take the hint?

"What do you want, Clark?" I asked.

Instead of answering, he took a step inside and placed his hands on my cheeks and pulled me into a kiss.

I guess he figured he tried talking to me all week and it wasn't getting him anywhere, so he should try another tactic.

And, okay, I'll admit. I melted a little (a lot) when our lips crushed together. It's been a week of not doing this, though. A girl cannot be helped when she's kissing the man she loves... or used to love last week and was confused about now. My heart just sort of naturally did a little flip flop and then I was gone.

Plus, after my time with myself this weekend, I was able to admit that I missed hanging out with him and kissing and hugging him.

So instead of doing what I should have done, which was push him off of me, I sort of let him kiss me for a little bit.

Just a few minutes...

I could feel his hunger and sadness and desperation, and my own sadness and even my anger sort of morphed into a passion as I kissed him back. Our tongues did a dance they knew so well with each other, and our bodies were pressed up against each other, doing their own dance; feeling their own things. Mine was definitely reacting to the kiss. Not that I wanted it to. I just couldn't help it!

Oh god... I'm so embarrassed that THIS is how I dealt with my complete anger at him.

He somehow closed the door, but kept the kiss going, and I definitely chastised myself when I realized I was moaning his name.

The next thing I knew, we were lowering each other (I'm not sure who, if anyone, was leading this move) to the floor, pulling at each other's clothes in complete desperation.

I don't know why I let it get that far! Like I said, I would have thought that the second he kissed me, I'd have pushed him off of me like he was a stranger on the subway trying to cop a feel.

But I couldn't. He has more power over my body and mind... and okay, my heart... than anyone I've ever met before, and when our lips touched, I lost all self-control and rationale. As we kissed, I started to remember how much I loved being with him. How much I loved walking home with him after work (how much I missed that this week), how much I loved cuddling with him on the couch and bantering with him at work, and how much I really loved kissing him and feeling that closeness that was embedded in our passion and love for each other.

As I slipped my hand under his button-up shirt, I was not rewarded with the feel of his skin. My passion-filled mind a haze, I started trying to figure out what the material was that I was feeling.

Then it dawned on me.

It was the suit.

All the hurt and embarrassment and anger came back in a flash. The LIST came to mind, and THEN I pushed him off of me like he was a stranger on the subway trying to cop a feel.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking away as I straightened out my own clothes.

He looked back at me, his breathing fast. "I'm sorry, Lois. I don't know where that came from. I wasn't planning on... I just wanted to see you and try to talk to you, but when I saw you..." he trailed off.

"You felt the need to blindside me with a kiss when we are not even together
anymore and I have made it perfectly clear that I want nothing to do with you?" I finished for him.

"Lois, you felt it too. I know you did. Tell me you didn't feel something," he said, knowing that I did feel something.

It would have been very hard to pretend I didn't, given the way I'd reacted.

"Yes, Clark, I felt something. I felt something that reminded me of what we used to have and what things were like before. But that is all a lie," I said, standing up again. He stood up as well and looked at me intensely. "And it doesn't change the way I feel now. The way I've been feeling all week. Which is hurt, angry, embarrassed--"

"--embarrassed? Why?" he asked.

"Gee, Clark, I don't know. Maybe because you and I were partners, best friends and were DATING and I was a good friend of Superman's and there were clues EVERYWHERE and I never put them together!"

"No one put the clues together. Don'