This is a birthday story for my good friend El, whose birthday is on 28 November - but it's already her birthday in Italy, so I'm posting it now. I expect that this will be in two parts, and part 2 will be posted in a couple of days.Happy birthday, Elena! 
~ You Don’t Know Me ~This was a mistake. A huge mistake.
She was wearing a nightgown. A spaghetti-strapped, sheer satin nightgown. And she had to have known there was a chance Superman might come to see her. She’d sent the summons, after all.
Could she get any more blatant?
Yes, she should put on a robe. Though, instead of agreeing with her, his mouth opened and a harsh, suggestive statement came out instead. His mother would’ve washed his mouth out with soap.
On the other hand, it was probably a good thing. Maybe now she’d give up whatever plan she had in mind. Not that there was any doubt about what she wanted.
But the next words out of her mouth dashed any hope that she might realise she was wasting her time.
“Superman, is there any hope for us? You and me? I'm so completely in love with you that I can't do anything else without knowing.”
She was staring at him wide-eyed, pleading. Had she any idea how pathetic she looked?
Had he looked even half so pathetic earlier? God, he hoped not.
He shouldn’t have come. Let his non-appearance tell Lois that he wasn’t interested.
The problem was, it wasn’t true. Even after today, her rejection followed instantly by her request that he find Superman for her, he still loved her. Even though it was painfully clear that, in the race for her heart, Clark came nowhere at all. And, when Lex Luthor ranked up there somewhere behind Superman, that was even more of an insult.
Yet... he still loved her. And saying words which would hurt her was just something he couldn’t do.
He sighed. “Lois, I do care for you.” That much was true, even if it was crazy to admit it. Still, he had to do something to give her the message, loud and clear, that Superman was never going to give her the happy ever after with a white picket fence she so clearly wanted. “But... there are things about me you don't know, that you may never know.”
Was that enough? Would she accept that he was going to insist on keeping his distance, that he could never offer her a relationship?
No, it wasn’t enough. Ever stubborn, Lois was pleading again.
“It doesn't matter. I know
you. And I don't mean you the celebrity or you the superhero. If you had no powers, if you were just an ordinary man leading an ordinary life, I'd love you just the same. Can't you believe that?”
Could he believe that? How could he possibly believe it?
She worked beside that same ordinary man - well, had until the Planet had burned down. Had worked beside him daily for a
year. Never once had she so much as suspected that there was anything different about Clark Kent. Anything out of the ordinary.
No, she wouldn’t love Superman as an ordinary man. She
didn’t love him as an ordinary man.
So what now?
He could tell her bluntly that he didn’t believe her. He could just fly out of here - which he probably should have done within ten seconds of arriving - or he could try, somehow, to explain why he knew that she didn’t know him at all. Without giving away the real reason, of course.
Or... he could
show her...
Slowly, he said, “You think you know me, Lois. Trust me, you don’t.”
“But - ”
“You don’t, Lois. And I’ll prove it to you.” He stepped back, closer to the window. “Get some clothes on - something warm. We’re going flying.”
**********
Flying with Superman. Any other time, a treat she’d savour, would dream about for weeks.
It wasn’t as if she’d flown with him that often, and he’d never offered to take her just for fun; just to show her what the experience was like. Mostly he’d just flown her back to the Planet after saving her. So this, tonight, should be one of the most special times of her life...
Except that something about the way Superman had issued the invitation suggested that he didn’t mean it that way. In fact, he hadn’t even phrased it as an invitation. More an instruction, along with a challenge.
Well, if there was one thing Lois Lane relished, it was a challenge.
So he didn’t believe that she knew him? She would show him. She’d had almost a year, after all, to understand everything about him. His ethics. What motivated him. The way he cared about everyone, no matter who they were. How it tore him up when he couldn’t save someone.
The way his mouth crinkled at the corners on the rare occasions she’d seen him smile. His soft laugh - again, rare, but she’d seen it. His sense of humour. The way his brown eyes could soften with tenderness...
She knew him. Better than anyone else did, too - she’d bet her next Kerth on that. And, regardless of whatever it was he had in mind, she’d prove it to him, too.
Warm clothes, he’d said. Well, at least it meant she could get out of this nightgown. How
embarrassing that had been! Okay, she’d known he could come any time, but there was no guarantee that Clark would have found him today. Or that he’d have had time to come tonight. Just her luck that he had to turn up when she was half-naked in her living-room after an early shower. It had been too warm to wear a robe and the breeze from the open window had been cooling.
Unless it's lead-lined, Lois, it's a waste of time.Had he really thought that she’d worn it in some sort of blatant effort to seduce him?
Well, it was too late now. He’d brush off any attempt to explain, that was obvious. And he wouldn’t believe it now, anyway. He seemed different tonight. Darker, more closed off. Almost as if he didn’t like her, or didn’t want to like her.
But that couldn’t be true, surely. Superman wasn’t like that. He’d only ever been nice to her - more than nice. Friendly. Caring. He’d always made it clear that she was his friend.
Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt she’d borrowed from Clark and never returned, she headed back out to the living-room. Superman was standing by the window, looking out into the night sky, but he turned as she approached.
“Ready to go?”
“Sure.”
She waited for him to pick her up. His grip on her was less... close than before. He seemed to be holding her stiffly as they flew through the window into the dark night.
He was definitely not happy with her.
“So, where are we going?”
“Just a few places I think you should see. If you really want to know what my life is.”
“Of course I do!” What did he think she wanted? She was in love with him! Of course she wanted to know everything about him.
Though she already knew the most important things.
“I’m going to be flying pretty fast, so you’d better keep your head tucked in. I wouldn’t want you to get wind-burn. Or worse, vaporised.”
What?
“Vap...vaporised? You’re kidding, right?” She had to shout to be heard above the sound of the wind.
“No.” He moved his hand to the side of her head, tucking it closer to the crook of his shoulder. “When I fly this fast, any passenger who’s not close enough to my aura could get seriously hurt. At worst, vaporised.”
You didn’t know that about me, did you? It felt like a silent taunt inside her head. Almost as if he’d said it aloud, though he hadn’t.
“Then... are you sure it’s safe to fly that fast with me?”
“What’s the matter, Lois?” His mouth was close to her ear, so close that she could feel his lips against her hair. “Afraid? Want to change your mind?”
No!
She trusted Superman. Didn’t she? Of course she did. He’d never put her in any danger. “No, I’m not afraid. Take me wherever you want.”
*********
That had been a bit... cruel. His mother would definitely box his ears if she knew.
He hadn’t lied, exactly. It was true that if he flew at anything approaching his highest speeds while carrying a passenger it would be extremely dangerous. And, yes, it was possible that a human could be vaporised. As it was, any time he carried anyone he was breaking several laws of physics, one of which related to safe speeds for a human to travel unprotected by any kind of conveyance.
Over the years, it had become clear that he had some kind of natural protection - his aura, he called it. Anything - or anybody - held close to his skin seemed to have some kind of invulnerability similar to his own. Lois would be safe. There was no way he’d allow her to be anything else.
He tightened his grip on her, feeling the soft cotton fabric under his palm. His Midwest U sweatshirt. How ironic that she was wearing that, especially tonight of all nights.
Heading south-east. He flew onwards.
“Here. We’re landing now,” he told her as his destination came into view.
“Where are we? It’s light.”
“Southern Pakistan. It’s morning here.”
“Pakistan?” She sounded utterly taken aback. Well, it would be interesting to see how long would it take for the penny to drop.
He dropped downwards, coming to land on the edge of a pile of rubble which had once been a large building - a town meeting place, perhaps, or a church. And he heard her sharp, shocked intake of breath.
“The earthquake. Last week. You were here.”
He had been. He’d spent almost twenty-four hours in the region, without a break - but then, other rescue workers had done the same, and more, and they didn’t have his endurance levels or his invulnerability. He’d gone from place to place, wherever he was needed most, scanning under piles of debris and shattered rock and earth and mud to look for signs of life, people buried, trapped and terrified.
“Look around. But be careful. None of this is safe - they’ve barely begun the task of clearing the wreckage.”
All around them were scenes of devastation. Buildings that had once been homes, now a jumble of concrete and wood and rotting, muddy detritus. Bits of people’s lives strewn all around: broken furniture, pieces of fabric that might have been clothes, pieces of twisted metal from household appliances, cars, gadgets which once had cost someone a substantial portion of their income. A child’s teddy-bear, filthy and with the stuffing bleeding from it.
Lois just stood a few feet from him, staring around her without moving except to turn her head. She was a reporter, of course; disaster scenes wouldn’t be anything new for her. All the same, not even the most hard-bitten reporter could remain unmoved by this. By the sheer scale of what had happened. By the tens of thousands who had lost their lives; the hundreds of thousands who were left homeless, bereaved, hopeless. Left with nothing.
Where they were, of course, was only a tiny, tiny fraction of the devastation. And all she was seeing was the remains of a deserted village. There was much worse.
He waited, ready to catch her if she did move around too much and lose her footing. This was something she had to see on her own.
It was a long time before she turned back to him. Her face was pale and her eyes glistened faintly. “The pictures on TV... they just don’t show how bad it really is...”
“They never can.” He extended his hand to steady her as she approached. “It’s the sheer scale of it, but more than that, too. On TV you can only see, and sometimes hear - you don’t get any of the other senses. The smell - all the different stenches. They’re overpowering. The vibration underfoot and all around - you wonder if there are more shocks coming, or if it’s just echoes of what’s already been. Or imagination fuelled by fear. The sounds you never get on TV - the screams, the weeping and wailing of terrified people, people who’ve lost everything precious to them. A father who’s lost his children. A woman who’s lost her husband and parents. Children orphaned. Desperate people trying to dig with their bare hands to find something -
anything - to tell them what happened to their loved ones.”
She was watching him, lips slightly parted, eyes wide in shock.
Good. Maybe she was learning something about what his life was like.
“Come on. Time for the next stop.”
This time, she didn’t ask where they were going.
*********
She thought she’d seen disaster zones before. Floridian hurricanes. Tornadoes in the Mid-West. Earthquakes in California. Flooding in coastal regions.
This was different. This was a whole world away from American natural disasters.
In the US, buildings were constructed to withstand earthquakes up to quite a magnitude. This one had been around 5.5 on the Richter scale. In California, while there’d have been some damage, most buildings would have remained intact. Most roads would have been fine.
Here, that same magnitude had led to complete devastation.
Her reporter’s brain could tell her all sorts of reasons for the difference, and probably would later. The usual answers: economics and of course politics, of both the local and global kinds.
Right now, though, all she could do was look. And feel. And learn.
And weep.
He’d been here. He’d spent hours and hours helping, trying to save the living and rescue the dying before it was too late. And, even with all he’d done, still many thousands had died.
How could he bear it? Working flat out, dealing with people destroyed by grief, people who’d lost everything: their families, their homes, their livelihoods, all the time
knowing that however much he did there was still so much more he couldn’t do?
Focus on the living. On those he could save.
That was what a Red Cross first response worker had told her once, when she’d been sent to Iowa to cover the aftermath of a destructive tornado, a five on the Fujita scale. The death-toll in one town was in the dozens, including twenty kids on a school bus which had been caught up in the funnel. She’d talked a woman who’d been among the first rescue workers on the scene and had been there for two days by the time Lois herself had arrived.
You don’t dwell on what you can’t do. You have to focus your energies on what you can. On the people who need your help now. They’re doing enough grieving without you making it even harder for them by getting caught up in emotion too. Later, when it’s over, that’s when you fall apart. And thank God that you still have a home and family to go back to.It was painful for him to be back here. That was obvious now as he picked her up again; his jaw was set and he seemed to be avoiding looking at anything in particular. Was he remembering all those people he’d failed to save? All those cries for help he couldn’t answer?
He was Superman. The strongest, most powerful man in the world. And even he was reduced to frailty by something like this.
They were flying again, but not at Superspeed. Wherever they were going, it wasn’t far. And, in fact, not much more than five minutes later he brought her down in the middle of a huge field of tents. A Red Cross temporary village. Or maybe that should be Red Crescent, given they were in Pakistan?
“This is where most of the survivors in this area are living for now,” he told her. “Many of the injured are here too - there simply aren’t the resources to get them to hospitals, and all the hospitals left standing for hundreds of miles around are full.”
The scene around them was pitiful. She’d never seen such desperation, such hopelessness, on people’s faces. Children who should have been laughing and playing were just sitting in groups or alone, expressions of grief or fear which never should be on the faces of kids so young. Adults who looked as if they simply didn’t know where they were or what they should be doing.
Superman touched her elbow. “This way.” He ushered her over to a tent nearby, one with closed sides and flaps and paper signs in Arabic pinned to the canvas. Pushing aside the flap, he attracted the attention of a man inside, wearing summer-weight khaki.
“Superman! I didn’t expect to see you back!” His accent sounded English. Or perhaps he’d just learned English in the UK. After all, he looked more Arabic than European.
“Captain.” Superman shook the man’s hand. “I brought someone to see all the good work you’re doing here - and to see how much you still need. This is Lois Lane. She’s a reporter for the Daily Planet in Metropolis.” He turned to her. “Lois, this is Captain Hakim. He’s in charge of the Pakistani army medical corps at this camp.”
She greeted the captain, her brain working overtime. Did Superman want her to report on this? LNN had covered the earthquake pretty extensively, though it was true that their coverage had diminished as the days ticked past. Once the first shocking impact had passed, the news industry tended to lose interest. It might be wrong; it might be unbelievably shallow, but that was how it worked.
Yet there were so clearly people here still who needed help. The rest of the world needed to know about that. And, okay, she had no cameras. No film crew. No TV reporter. Just her, a behind-the-scenes person. But she was still a reporter, and she still knew how to gather the news.
“I’ll be happy to tell our viewers anything you think we should know,” she told the captain.
Superman nodded in what seemed to be approval. “Before you talk to Lois, Captain, is there anything I can do? Do you need anyone else flown out, or supplies brought in?”
The two of them talked for a couple of minutes; it seemed that there were things Superman could help with. He left then, telling her that he’d be back in a while, and she took a deep breath, drawing on all her reserves of professionalism. This story needed to be told, and she had to stay detached to do it. Not fall apart in the face of such human misery.
And still she had no idea how Superman did it.
********
She was holding up better than he’d expected so far. He’d known that she could never be unmoved by what he was showing her; Lois was too compassionate for that. Oh, he hadn’t expected her to collapse into tears at what she was seeing. She was tougher than that, even with the soft core she hid underneath. But there’d been the suspicion that she might ask to be taken home after their first stop.
Instead, she’d let him take her to the refugee camp. She’d stayed behind without protest when he’d disappeared to make the emergency flights Captain Hakim requested. And when he’d returned he’d found her talking gently to a survivor with the aid of an interpreter. Holding the man’s hand as he told her haltingly about the many hours he’d spent above the rubble of his home, tearing apart concrete and debris with his bare hands looking for his wife and baby daughter. He’d come home from work, barely escaping death when the single-storey office building where he’d worked had collapsed, to find his home levelled.
And Lois was holding his hand, speaking softly even though he couldn’t understand what she was saying without the interpreter, as if she understood that the tone of her voice mattered. Her eyes were bright with threatening tears, but so far she’d held them back.
She rejoined him when he signalled to her, and he made his farewells to the captain before scooping Lois up and flying away. Once in the air, he bent his head to her ear.
“It’s not all fast action, swooping in, performing dramatic rescues, saving everyone,” he said quietly. “Sometimes it’s just like that. No matter what you do, it’s never enough. People die, no matter how hard I try. There’s never enough time to save even a fraction of those who need me.”
And he had to live with the fact that people had died. That he could fly away and get back to his normal life, his friends, his home, his family, his job and know that he was leaving behind thousands who had none of those. Not any more.
She was silent for a while. Then, slowly, she said, “But without your help, Superman, many more would’ve died. Or been horribly injured. You have to know that.”
“Yes.” She was right there. Even though he always wished that he could do more. Always.
Did she understand yet? Could she even begin to see what he was trying to tell her?
She didn’t know him at all. Hadn’t a clue what his life was like. Had no idea what he went through day after day.
“It’s not all about the flying and the heroics, Lois. My life. It’s... sometimes it’s just dealing with one tragedy after another. Ever met a burned-out firefighter or cop or soldier? Ever thought what it must be like to live with someone like that?”
He wasn’t burned out, of course. Or suffering from PTSD or any other trauma symptoms. But on the other hand, Lois had never seen him immediately after he’d been helping at something like that earthquake. Even as Clark. By the time he’d return to his normal life after being involved in that sort of disaster, he’d always have gone to see his parents - whose soothing presence comforted even if they could never take the pain away - and spent some time on his own to try to recover.
Again, she was silent for a long time. And then, finally, she said, “You really think I’m that shallow? You really think that I never realised this is the sort of stuff you face? You really think that by showing me this you’re going to scare me out of loving you?” She shoved at his shoulders. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t know me, Superman.”
**********
...tbc
