TO WAKE FROM DREAMS
PART 11
She walked toward her window. She hadn’t been there in so long that the window immediately made her think of Superman. That was where he entered when he visited her. Or when he had visited her, before all this. When she had thought herself foolishly in love with him. Losing all chances of telling another man how she really felt.
Looking at that window – at that particular moment, while thinking about that dream – so many tiny pieces and questions in her mind – became clear.
She looked up – her eyes still wet with tears – just as the truth came crashing down.
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He had finally found her.
He followed her from a distance, flying overhead, to see where it was she was going. He was relieved when he realized her destination.
His place.
He landed on the balcony and was about to enter, but stopped. Without thinking twice about it, he reached a hand up and messed up his hair.
It felt good for his hair to fall loosely where it was going to fall. Free. A curl grazed his forehead and he smiled.
He had really missed being Clark. He’d missed being himself. He hadn’t realized until just now how much he depended on being Clark. Superman saved the day and saw horrible things sometimes because of it. Returning to *his* life, after being that savior, was his sanity. Clark saved Superman. In many ways. Without that life to return to, everything was unbearable. And no one he loved could be there to lighten the load.
He put a hand through his hair – his free-falling hair – and he smiled. Because, even wearing the Superman suit just now, he felt like himself. Mostly, anyway. More like himself than he had in a really long, painful time.
He went to walk in and stopped himself again.
She was in the kitchen. She filled a pot with water and turned the stove on. She placed the pot on the stove and added some salt. She then walked to his cabinet and pulled out some pasta.
She was cooking!
And… she looked like she even knew what she was doing.
He smiled, feeling something swell inside of him. Something pull at his heartstrings.
He loved her so much. And if they could figure a way out of this mess together, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, proving that love to her. He just hoped that when he told her what he was going to tell her, she would feel that way, too.
He hoped.
And he feared.
After another moment watching her, he walked in, quietly.
“Lois?” he said softly, not wanting to scare her.
But she jumped anyway.
“I know that voice,” she said, softly, before turning around and looking at him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She looked at him. Really looked at him. Took him in.
She’d known the truth before. But her proof was standing just a few feet away right now.
Part of her wanted to rush at him instantly and wrap her arms around him - he was alive! But that part of her wrestled with the other part of her that wanted to rush at him and slap him across the face for what he'd done.
He was in the suit. He was Superman. Although…
She turned around and turned the stove off, slowly. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, steadying herself before facing him again.
She took a step forward, closer to him.
He stood there, not saying a word. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. A look she knew well. She’d seen it a lot with him… with Clark.
His gaze stayed on her. Intently. He was watching her. Trying to see what she was thinking. What she knew. In short, he had never looked more petrified.
She looked up at his hair and then back into his eyes, unbelieving of how simple his disguise had been. In awe of the tiny details that separated the two men – in awe of her own inability to have figured it out in the year plus that she’d known them. Known him.
“You wanted me to figure it out just now, didn’t you,” she accused, her arms dropping to her sides.
He nodded blankly. Confusedly.
She walked over to his coffee table and picked something up that she’d brought over from her own apartment.
His glasses.
One glass cracked.
Just the way he’d left them.
She handed them to him. “Here. I believe these belong to you,” she said, her voice shaking, and her hands shaking, despite her concentration on staying calm. But the glasses… when she had seen them as she was leaving to come here…
They reminded her of that night. Of the raw emotions she had experienced that night. The pain. The brutality she had witnessed and what she had thought it had meant for her. And for him. The pain that these glasses – the only part of him that had been left behind for her – evoked.
A pain which he had witnessed.
She thought it only right to give them back to him, so that he could remember too. And hopefully feel horrible about not having told her the truth – the simple truth – the night she’d nearly died herself from grief.
He took them and stared at them for a moment. In a flash they were in the trashcan and he stood before her again. He looked at her. “I have other pairs,” he said lamely.
She stared at him, an unreadable expression on her face, reminding herself to stay calm. To be strong right now. She just stared into his eyes, unblinkingly. Her resolve strong. Her emotions suppressed to her liking.
Finally, he released a long breath, breaking his gaze and looking down. “I’m so sorry, Lois. I should have told you a long time ago,” he said, and then finally looked at her again.
She nodded a little and crossed her arms, still trying to keep her emotions in check – for now. “Um… why didn’t you?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“I don’t know, Lois. I always knew I wanted to tell you. But when this happened, there didn’t seem to be a point – “
“– except that you witnessed me fall apart… break down. You saw me going nuts. I was a mess. I was beside myself,” she stopped and collected herself. “Why didn’t you tell me that night?”
“I know now that I should have. I just… I should have. And there is no way around that. I mean, I thought it was pointless because I *was* dead. To the world, that life really was gone. Only Superman was left. I didn’t think telling you I was alive only to go away forever was the best thing for you. And I never thought you’d quit your job or that you’d disappear from everyone. Or that you’d live here, trapped in your grief. Unable to move on. I thought – “
“ – that I just needed time and I’d get over it, right?” she asked, in a tone so sugary sweet it was chilling, even to her own ears.
He sighed and looked down.
“That’s weak and you know it,” she said.
He looked at her again. “I know.”
“You saw me that night. You knew how I felt. I felt… well, the same way you might have felt if the tables had been turned,” she said.
“If the tables had been turned,” he repeated, looking horrified at the concept of that happening. But then – she could see – he understood *exactly* why he should have told her… and from her own point of view.
“I know,” he said softly. “God, I made such a mess of everything. And… the only way I can make you understand why I’ve been so horrible is because of that. I did see you that night, Lois. I saw you and it broke my heart. I have never felt so awful about this secret in my entire life. I would *never* hurt you. Not on purpose. Never. You have to know that. And then this happens and… and I’ve never seen you hurting so badly. I couldn’t bear to see you that way.”
“Oh, well, if you couldn’t *bear* it,” she said, her tone biting and sarcastic.
“I know it was selfish. I felt horrible, Lois. To see you like you were that night, knowing *I* and I alone was responsible for it… no one has ever hurt you that badly. And then I do. Your best friend! I took one long look into your eyes that night and thought that the closest I ever deserved to be to you again was the other side of the world. Which is where I’ve been spending much of my time,” he added, looking down.
She raised her eyebrows at him, her expression still giving nothing away.
“I am so sorry,” he said again, looking beyond sorry. “If you never forgive me for running away, like I did, and being so… *selfish*… I won’t blame you. I just should have told you. There is no excuse… And since I didn’t tell you, I should have at least been here for you!” he added, looking disgusted with himself. “I wasn’t here for you – even as Superman – when you were… grieving,” he finally said. “I am supposed to be your best friend and from the night that I was killed until now, I might as well have been your number one enemy.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she finally said, not looking at him.
“I’ve done everything wrong,” he said. “You were in clear pain and I felt so guilty knowing that it was because of me. So I ran away. I’ve been everywhere in this world except the one place I needed to be. I ran away. That was how *I* dealt with everything. And that is not fair.”
She looked at him for a moment, processing what he was saying.
“Why are you telling me now?” she asked, after a moment, realizing she had no idea why he would decide out the blue to come out and tell her, when he’d held it back for so long.
Before he’d shown up, she had been trying to think of how she would get his attention and let him know that she knew. She hadn’t thought of anything. She’d gone to his place to clean it up so she could leave. She had freed herself from his apartment, mentally, emotionally, physically, and was prepared to finally go back out into the world again. To start rebuilding her life. She just needed a plan.
But then she’d heard that voice call her name, while she was cooking her last dinner there – something she decided to do when she’d realized in her tidying that she had barely eaten all day, which wasn’t the best course for a pregnant woman – and her plan had flown –Superman-style – out the window.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he said, quietly. At her confused expression, he continued on. “My parents used to say that to me, growing up. If I didn’t tell you, then we would both continue to be miserable. And if I did tell you, it just seemed that only something good could come from it. That we would be together again. You would at least realize your best friend hadn’t died. You could free yourself from your demons… and I could too. Plus, I realized that I had to tell you. You deserved to know. I’ve known that all along, really. But when I saw you today…”
She nodded, understanding. She had looked awful, probably. If, that is, she had looked how she had felt.
“And I know you’re probably mad, Lois,” he said quickly – sort of nervously. “You’re probably furious – “
“That’s the thing,” she said, her annoyance with herself surfacing. “I’m not,” she cut in, her tone light. “Not really, I mean. I wish I were. I think you could stand to be on the receiving end of some pretty intense Lois Lane rage right about now. And I am withholding the right to be mad later, so remember that… but…” she trailed off, looking down.
Tears filled her eyes.
The silence in the room grew thick.
“But…what?” he whispered after a moment, taking a step closer to her.
“... I was given a second chance,” she said, looking into his eyes again. “Sure it's masked in deception,” she said lightly, which made him smile a little. She took a deep breath and continued, her voice unsteady. “But in the darkness, it was more than nothing, which was what I had. It was a second chance, whether I was ready to accept what that meant or not. And... despite the fact that you’ve lied to me and that I went through hell for over a *month* for nothing – okay maybe I am a little mad – “ she added, noticing the pitch of her voice rising with each word.
“And you have more than enough reason to be – “
“I thought to myself, when I realized the truth, ‘I should hate him right now.’ But I just couldn’t. I wanted to be mad! And I tried. But here it is; the simple truth from *me*; I won’t make you wait over a month for it, either,” she said, which made him flinch. “I don’t hate you. I can’t… When I tried to find that hate within me, I couldn’t. It all came down to one thing. To the same thing. Every time… This lie means only one thing to me. You… are alive. And I… have my second chance. I realized long ago that I'd have died myself, in one form or another, if I'd never gotten it,” she finished, tears beginning to fall.
“Lois,” he started. But she cut him off.
“Please,” she said, her eyes begging. “It’s been… could you…” she stopped, biting her lip. She was beginning to get overcome with emotions. She wiped a tear from her cheek and rested her hand on her chest.
“Could I… what?”
“I haven’t seen *you*… in a really long time,” she whispered, fighting the sobs that she could feel building up.
She watched in awe as he… *spun*… out of Superman… and into –
“Clark!” she cried, a hand rushing to cover her mouth, to try and prevent the tears from coming. “Oh, Clark.” It didn’t work. The tears came all at once. She covered her face with both hands and began lowering herself to the ground, shaking. Crying.
The one thing she would have died just to see for so long was there. In front of her. He was there! He stood a foot away from her. In all of his beauty and warmth. The very image she had dreamt about for so long and thought lost to her forever.
In a breath, he was on the floor, too – holding her. She clung to him, allowing herself to let it all out. Not to pretend to be strong. Not to hide. Not to hold it all in or to live a lie.
She cried.
He didn’t try to quiet her with sweet shushes, or whisper that it was going to be okay. He didn’t even reassure her that he was there and that he wasn’t going anywhere.
He didn’t have to.
He pulled her into his arms and placed one hand on the back of her head. Curled up on his lap, her face buried in his neck, she clung tightly to him. She touched his hair and his glasses and his shirt and his face. His beautiful face. Alive once more… in her mind. And in reality…
After a long while, she calmed down a little and looked at him.
“… I thought I’d never see you again,” she said, her voice a husky, tear-dripped whisper, touching his face. Proving he was real.
He touched her face, slowly, carefully. Clearly hoping it was alright for him to do so.
“I’m sorry I put you through all of this, Lois.”
“I can’t get over it,” she said, looking at him – at every inch of him – *studying* him. “You’re here. You’re back.” She pressed her hand against his chest… the very place where she had seen three bullets enter… as if trying to prove to herself once more that her worst nightmare had been only that. A nightmare.
“You look like you’re back, too,” he said, a small smile on his face, as he wiped away tears from her cheeks.
She smiled through her tears. “I think I may be,” she said.
She placed her hands at the base of his neck and moved her head slowly forward until her forehead was resting against his. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Clark. Please, don’t leave me again.”
“I won’t.”
“Because if you do, I will find a piece of Kryptonite and – “
“ – I got it,” he said, rubbing her back. “And thank you.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For not hating me. I am not sure how it’s even possible that you don’t,” he admitted, quietly.
“It’s hard to hate someone that you get back after thinking you’ve lost him forever,” she said. “Especially not when you feel this way,” she added, her breathing more heavy.
Lois wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. It could have been an hour. Or just a few minutes. But in that time, they held each other, holding onto what they had both lost and been away from. What they finally had back.
They just sat there, not rushing the moment away.
Two hearts beating.
“Lois…” Clark said, softly, finally breaking the sweet silence. “I know this may not be the best time to ask this, but… I’m just curious. How did you find out about me?”
“Oh,” she said, pulling back to look at him. The rest of her day suddenly caught back up with her. She remembered that important detail from a few hours ago, which she had then thought another nightmare.
Clark being dead had been a nightmare. But this was not. In fact, it was not a nightmare, she realized, at all.
“Well, on the topic of revelations, we have a few other things to discuss.”
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