Before I post this part, I'd like to send a huge thank you to Julie, Sara and Wendy for the coffee comments that sparked off the whole part. Thanks. 
--
From Part Three...“Everything,” she admitted on a soft sigh. “Everything’s changed... I’m not ready to die. I haven’t done what I need to do. I haven’t... I don’t want to die alone, Clark.”
She was in his arms before the first choked sob escaped. “You’re not alone,” he murmured into her hair, pulling her tighter against him.
Feeling her tears soak through his shirt was... heart breaking... it tore at him, but at the same time, it was... grounding. Real. His memories might have been false, but what was between the two of them, right then, in that moment, was real. He had her in his arms, her tears staining his shirt, and he had her trust. He might not have her love, but he had her trust, and he knew... somehow, that was important.
“Come inside,” he whispered after her sobs had quieted down. “You can use the bathroom to freshen up and then show me where I keep the coffee.”
--
Part Four --
It had been uncomfortable rummaging through a strange man’s cupboards, but he’d found the coffee while Lois was still in the bathroom. He’d started the machine, waited for it to filter, and poured two mugs. Three sugars, full milk. No sugar, no milk. Like a reflex. He’d grabbed the two mugs and settled on the couch to wait.
After a million heart beats, he’d flicked on the TV in a desperate attempt to avoid pacing. He didn’t want to seem anxious. He didn’t want to put added pressure on her. He didn’t want to scare her away. Again.
He’d turned on the TV to try and avoid his anxiety, but the images, the voices, washing over him were causing a swell of panic to rise in his chest.
They were still talking about it. About hopes resting on the rocket. About the missing hero.
Clark picked up his coffee cup, trying to distract himself from the images he was unable to tear himself away from. That feeling... that he needed to be somewhere... The terror gripping him increased as he watched the world fall into bedlam. He needed... to be out there... he needed to help, somehow. He needed to help, but... he couldn’t...
He dipped the tip of his finger into his coffee absently and swirled it around. It’d gone cold.
And Lois was still in the bathroom.
He sighed and considered flicking off the TV as they cut to the old newsreel film. He didn’t need to see a replay of Superman’s final moments on Earth. He didn’t *want* to see the hero. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn it off and simmer in the deafening silence.
The small figure on the screen was... familiar. So incredibly familiar. The man in blue and red, the hero, looked oddly... ordinary. He held himself confidently, but Clark could sense the fear... it coursed through him as he watched the man turn to leave the assembled crowd. He held his breath as the image zoomed in. That face...
That was...
It was...
That was *him*.
The panic... the fear... Superman.
*He* was *Superman*.
No. He closed his eyes and shook his head. *He* was *Superman*. But he couldn’t be... he couldn’t... The blackness swamped him, the never ending darkness... only... he could breathe. He wasn’t suffocating. And the bullets... lights... were hanging around him. Suspended in the darkness. Stars. He was floating amongst the stars.
Yes, Superman.
There were voices in his head, telling him to move forward, asking him to keep going. His arms moved in front of him, his arms, clad in a shiny blue material, his hand fisted, and he started moving. Gliding. Soaring. Past the stars, into the darkness. Moving faster and faster until everything was a blur...
Superman.
He was Superman.
He snapped his eyes open in time to see the brunette on the screen grab him. The brunette, Lois, grab him, spin him around and kiss him. *Lois* spin him around and kiss him, fiercely, passionately.
Him. Superman. *Him*.
He could see the flashbulbs behind his closed eyes, hear the wild whispers of the gathered crowd, feels her hands fisting in his hair...
Yes, he was Superman.
“That didn’t... I didn’t... it didn’t mean anything, Clark. It was just for luck.” Her guilty voice startled him.
He stood up, turning to face her slowly, a frown on his face. Didn’t mean anything...
“That was more than...” He shook his head, determined not to let her get away with denying what his own eyes were showing him. His voice was soft. “You kissed me.”
It was impossible, but... it made sense. A terrible kind of sense.
He continued, ignoring the confused expression on her face. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“Tell you what, Clark?” She asked, her frown deepening.
“That I’m him... that he’s me.” The mug rattled as he put it on the table with an unsteady hand and stepped around the couch, moving closer to her. “Why didn’t you tell me that I’m Superman?”
“Superman?” Her eyes were wide and she paused to swallow. “Clark, you’re *not* Superman.”
He shook his head. The stars. The fear... the *panic*. It all made sense. “Of course I am.”
“You’re... you’re not,” she whispered, shaking her head. After a moment she continued, her voice a little steadier. “You’re friends, you and Superman, but you’re not him, Clark. You’re just... you must be confused, like you... like you were about us. You can’t be Superman.”
Can’t.
She’d used that word a lot.
Can’t be Superman.
Clark shook his head... of course he was Superman. Not only was watching the news like looking into a mirror... he might not remember being Superman, but... he *knew* he was.
“You can’t be Superman, Clark,” she repeated. She was closer to him. She’d moved closer to him and he hadn’t noticed. “You’re... sometimes you’re jealous of Superman.”
Jealous? Yes, he had been... he... was jealous of the hero.
He was jealous of himself.
She... she wanted Superman, she’d kissed Superman, she’d... mooned over Superman, and he... he loved her. He was Superman and she wanted him. He should have been happy, but...
His breath hitched. “You didn’t know.”
She didn’t know. Nobody knew. None of the millions of people... all the secrets, all the lies... she didn’t know. And he hated it. He *hated* all the years of lies, the secrets, the loneliness... she didn’t know, but he’d wanted her to... eventually.
“Maybe you should sit back down,” she said, keeping her voice low, soothing. Placating. He let the hands on his shoulder and forearm guide him back to the couch. She was shaking her head, her eyes sad. Her voice was a whisper, but he heard it. “Talk about a Superman complex.”
He caught her hand as she started to turn away. “Lois, I’m not crazy and I’m not making this up. I *am* Superman.”
She shook her head, her eyes sad. “How do you know that, Clark?” She brushed the hair off his forehead gently. “After everything else... how do you know you’re not just confused again?”
“I’ll prove it to you,” he announced rashly. He *was* Superman.
“Okay, Clark,” she said, pulling her hand free of his and stepping back. “Okay, Clark, fly. If you’re Superman, fly.”
Fly.
She wanted him to fly.
He didn’t know... he didn’t remember how, but... he was Superman. He *could* fly. God, he could *fly*.
“Okay,” he said softly. Okay. He would fly.
Her eyes widened as he stood quickly and strode past her towards the balcony. “What?” she squeaked.
“Okay, I’ll fly.”
“What?” She grabbed at his arm. “Clark, no! I was only kidding.”
He shrugged off her grip, slowing only to slide open the doors. He *could* fly. He *would* fly.
He had to.
He was right, the same way he’d been right about the way he felt about her. This was a part of who he was. There was no way he could be wrong. He was Superman. He *could* fly. And if he couldn’t, if he didn’t, well... he was invulnerable.
“All right!” she called when he’d reached the edge. “I believe you. Please, don’t do anything stupid, I believe you.”
He hopped up on the ledge and turned to look at her. He could see the terror bleeding through her features, through her desperate eyes. “Please, Clark.” Her voice broke on his name. “Come back inside, please!”
His heart clenched. She was petrified. Terrified for him. She didn’t believe him, but he was right, and he had to prove it.
“It’s okay, Lois,” he said, trying to keep his voice soothing. “I’m not wrong.”
“Please, Clark...” Her voice trailed off as her tears broke through and spilled down her cheeks. Her shoulders were tense, and she was shaking. “Please!”
He stepped down and took a tentative step towards her. He couldn’t do it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered and then she was in his arms, her small form shaking as she clung to him desperately. He knew he was right, but he couldn’t do it. How could he, when her tears were the cost?
She choked down a sob. “You crazy bastard.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“If you ever do anything that crazy again.” Her voice was a whisper against his neck, her arms locked in an almost painfully tight grip around him. “I swear, Clark, I’ll kill you myself.”
He chuckled, running his palm in soothing circles around her back. If it weren’t for the way she was holding onto him, he could almost say he knew this Lois. Could almost say he recognised her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered for the third time.
“You were really going to jump, Clark.”
It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “Yeah, I would have. I would have been fine, Lois.”
She released him, finally, and stepped back. “You wouldn’t have been fine, you idiot. You’d have been...”
“I’d have been fine,” he said, cutting her off. He slid his palm around to cup her cheek again, embracing the feeling of familiarity.
“You just don’t get it, do you? I *can’t* lose you, Clark.” Her hand covered his on her cheek. “Since... well, for a while now, I’ve been thinking about what’s important to me... about who’s important to me, and...” She looked up, meeting his eyes. “You’re the closest thing to a best friend I’ve ever had, Clark... I *can’t* lose you. I mean, I love you.”
He saw her eyes widen as her words sunk in. She opened her mouth... and then closed it, a small frown wrinkling her forehead. “I... love you.”
A spark of light ignited in his chest, the warm embers spreading through him. She loved him.
“I love you, too,” he said, stroking his thumb over her cheek.
His hand fell when she shook her head and stepped back. “You can’t, Clark. You don’t remember.”
“But I *do*, Lois. I don’t need to remember to know that I do.” Clark sucked in a deep breath and forced his tense shoulders to relax. “Not when my heart flutters every time I look at you. Not when everything inside me is screaming at me to grab onto you and never let you go. I know I love you, Lois. I don’t need to *remember* because I can *feel* it.”
“Clark...” Her voice wavered.
“Don’t, Lois. Don’t say anything.” He closed his eyes and focused on the darkness. On the starlit sky. He focused on the feeling of gliding, of rising... and then he was. He snapped open his eyes as he felt the ground fall away beneath him. He hovered an inch off the floor, pushed himself up to a foot and then two... he was *flying*!
“Oh my God.” Her startled gasp made him falter, and he landed heavily.
“I just wish you’d believe me.”
“You...” Her eyes were wide. “You’re him!”
He couldn’t help the grin that stretched his cheeks. He was Superman. He’d known it. The same way he’d known how he felt about her.
“You’re him, but... but you’re sick! You... you lost your memory. And you can’t get sick!” Her face had gone pale. “How is that even possib... the asteroid! It must’ve been... the asteroid! You have to go back to EPRAD...”
Ice wrapped around his heart. The asteroid... the fear... the panic... A hole ripped itself through his gut. Nightfall.
“No,” he whispered. She paused mid-babble. “No, I can’t go back up there.”
--
TBC...
