PART TWO
Lois wasn't sure what she'd expected of his home, but a small apartment on the not-quite fashionable east side of town certainly wasn't it.
On the other hand, the bright paint on a number of refurbished tenements and converted warehouses suggested that the gentrifiers had moved into the area since she'd lived in Metropolis. She wondered how much of the change was indirectly due to his presence. There was nothing like a famous name to inflate real-estate prices.
His apartment wasn't quite to her taste, but she liked it nonetheless. The earth tones of the painted walls warmed his living room, and the sofa had been designed for comfort rather than style. The overall impression was one of homeliness... of a sanctuary in a sometimes unforgiving city.
Lois sat down on the top of a short flight of steps that separated the front door from the apartment's sunken living area. She rested her chin in her hand.
She Watched as Clark pottered around, turning on table lamps, making tea, nipping into the bedroom only to reappear seconds later in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Lois felt her eyebrows rise. The labourer look really suited him. His jeans hugged his thighs and the white tee emphasised his torso.
Uh, oh. The echoes of her mortal life were making themselves felt again.
Superman -- or Clark, as she now also knew him -- sat down on the comfortable sofa, picked up the television remote, then sank bank into the cushions. He put his feet up on the coffee table and switched the television set on.
He channel surfed for a while, flicking his way through news, sport and commercials, then briefly pausing and discounting a rerun of an old sitcom that Lois recognised from her Flesh days.
If television had changed since then, it hadn't been a change for the better. She was relieved when Clark flicked off the set with a sigh.
He leaned his head back against the sofa cushions and closed his eyes. He didn't move again until it was time to go to bed.
Nobody visited him. Nobody called.
Lois Watched and made notes, and wondered how someone could give so much to others and take nothing back in return.
*****
Lois listened to Clark's slow breathing and knew that he was asleep.
Time to do some serious snooping.
She moved around the apartment, scrutinising his bookshelves. Assuming that he had actually looked at everything, Clark Kent was a very well-read guy. He had to know an amazing amount about an incredible range of things. Not to mention that there were books written in at least twenty different languages.
Bright clearly didn't begin to cover Clark "Superman" Kent.
She turned her attention to his knick-knacks. A signed football from some team he'd played for in college. A few weird-looking African carvings. A soap-stone sculpture that had a "Made in Canada" label on the bottom.
A photograph of a middle-aged couple.
His parents, maybe?
Did he *have* parents?
Another photograph.
One that would have made her blood run cold, if she'd still had any.
The photograph was of her. She'd never seen it before, but she remembered when it had been taken: at the Kerth Awards dinner a few hours before she'd been stupid enough to follow that lead to the Congo. As far as she knew, this was the last photograph of her that had ever been taken.
She could guess where Clark would have got a copy from, too. Of course the Daily Planet would have kept copies on file.
What she didn't know... What she couldn't begin to guess at, though, was why Clark had a copy of the photograph. He'd never met her, and she'd never even heard of him until that morning.
She carried on her search.
She learned that Clark was very organised, almost compulsively so. He paid all his bills punctually and filed them away neatly, along with all his receipts. He recorded his appointments carefully in a diary that he kept by his telephone, neatly noting everything from Perry White's birthday, regular meetings at something called The Superman Foundation and public appearances to the days for a recycling collection.
His choice in clothes -- except for his ties and the Superman suits -- verged on the conservative. Clearly, Clark Kent was not a dedicated follower of fashion.
Lois found a couple of pairs of wire-framed glasses, but she couldn't begin to guess why Clark had them. She hadn't seen him wearing glasses during the day. In fact, from what she had seen, she was pretty certain that they were last thing he needed. He could see through walls, for heaven's sake!
She held the glasses up to her eyes and peered through the lenses.
Useless. Completely pointless.
She shrugged and put them back where she had found them.
She found his passport, noting idly that he hadn't bothered to fill in the emergency contact details. Did that mean that he was invulnerable, so that he didn't need to? Or did it mean that he had no one to call?
She hoped it wasn't the second.
Nothing, however, disturbed her as much as the memory of her photograph.
Why did he have it?
Finally, only one thing remained untouched.
Clark's computer.
Now... If she could just remember how these things worked...
Lois booted up Clark's machine, praying that technology hadn't changed much in the years that she had been away.
*****
Clark's compulsive organisation extended to electronic folders and files. Lois scanned through various directories quickly: one for bills; one for work; one for correspondence.
Then she noticed an inviting icon labelled "Journal". She paused, considered, and opened it.
Inside was a single file, also called "Journal", which had been updated just that morning.
Was it what it sounded like? If so, how many answers would it hold?
She couldn't resist its lure.
She tried to open the file, only to find that it was password protected. Lois grinned to herself. She'd never been one to shirk from a challenge.
Pity he hadn't made the common mistake of leaving a list of passwords lying around.
But... Suppose he'd wanted to use something easily memorable...
She looked around the apartment, seeking inspiration.
Then she began to type.
SMALLVILLE
The computer burped a "Password incorrect" message back at her.
CLARKKENT
The "Password incorrect" dialogue box appeared again. Lois chewed on her lower lip. She should have known that the password wouldn't have been that obvious.
MIDWESTERN
"Password incorrect."
Lois cast around again, looking for something else to try. Then, on a hunch and remembering the photograph that disturbed her so much, she tried LOISLANE.
The file opened.
She was almost surprised when there was no accompanying fanfare of trumpets.
*****
Clark had written his first journal entry on the twenty-ninth of January, 1996, almost two years before.
Lois felt an echo of an old excitement. The thrill of the chase. The buzz of a story coming together.
She took a deep breath. And began to read.
I've never dared to keep a journal before, Clark had written. Although I've thought about it once or twice, fear of what might happen if another person chanced upon it has always stayed my hand.
Now, though, Lana, my only confidante is gone, and I need to tell someone -- [i]something, I guess, since my computer isn't a person -- how I'm feeling. A journal seems the best way to go. And, seeing as now the world knows all about me, I have nothing left to fear should anyone stumble upon it, I might as well give the journal thing a go.
My future stretches out ahead of me, and I can't even begin to picture what it will hold. My whole life has been turned upside down, and I don't think it is entirely melodrama that makes me say that my life as I knew it is over. Done with. Ended. Finito. Destroyed.
The whole world knows me for what I am.
I'm an alien. A freak. I've been outed to an entire planet and... And I don't know if I feel relieved, good, proud, terrified or ashamed. I guess I feel all those things in some measure.
Lana has left me. I can't blame her for that and, when I think about it, I rather think I forced her to leave.
Lois Lane left me, too.[/i]
Lois's breath caught and her eyes widened.
What?
What was he talking about?
She leaned closer to the screen and picked up her pace.
I don't blame her. She has to go home, back to her world. Back to the place where she is happy. Back to... him. Her [i]fiance. The man who, in another reality, might have been me.[/i]
Lois frowned, perplexed. What was he talking about? Before today, she hadn't even known Clark Kent, aka Superman, even existed. And she had certainly never been engaged -- she hadn't even come close -- so what fiance was he talking about?
Unable to resist, she read on.
Stupid, really, to feel jealous of a man I haven't met. A man, outside of a miracle, I'll never meet. I don't [i]want to meet him, either. I don't want to see how my life might have turned out if...
The world is too full of ifs and might-have-beens.
Anyway.
Lana left me and sold her story to the Metropolis Star. She didn't even have the decency to sell me out to a decent paper! Instead, she got her sordid kiss-and-tell on the front page of the second worst rag in town.[/i]
Lois snorted. Apparently somethings hadn't changed in the mortal world since she'd left it. The Metropolis Star apparently continued to live down to its reputation.
I guess it could have been worse. She could have sold the story to the Dirt Digger. That really would have been insulting.
This time Lois's snort was almost a chuckle. She wouldn't have expected Clark Kent of having such a wry, dry sense of humour. Lois rather liked it.
There is some truth to what she told them, of course. Enough, anyway, that I daren't sue them for libel. And the stuff she said about what went on in the bedroom... I guess I should be kind of flattered that she thinks things would have been that good -- if only we'd done the things she claims we did.
I daren't come out and tell the truth. Not now. Telling everyone that I'm the oldest virgin in town, despite our lengthy engagement, would turn me into a laughing stock. Always assuming I'm not one already. And it'd be hard to prove that we didn't do... well, you know.
It'd turn Lana into a laughing stock, too. Although I kind of think she'd deserve it, I find that I can't do it to her. I owe her for standing by me through all the years. This is a chance to pay off some of that debt.
Anyway... Lana is gone. I feel relieved but I also feel... bereft, I guess. She has been my anchor for more than half my life, ever since my parents died. Okay, so maybe she [i]was holding me back, but at least she was holding me. She was the only one who did. She was the only constant in my otherwise turbulent life.[/i]
"You don't owe her anything." Lois hadn't meant to whisper her thoughts out loud. "And why would you think you did? She sounds like a real..."
Lois shook her head and continued reading.
Lois is also gone.
Although I only knew her for a few days, I find myself missing her more than I miss Lana.
Lois again!
The journal entry was so frustrating! Without knowing the context, Clark's words were more confusing that illuminating. They nonetheless fascinated her, drawing her further in.
Lana is an empty space in my life. Lois is... Lois is an aching void.
Lois swallowed painfully. She could feel his anguish in Clark's words, and her heart went out to him. She felt her eyes sting and she had to blink tears away.
I miss Lana in the same way that I'd miss a favourite tree from the park down the street. I'd miss the fact of its existence; I'd notice the gap in the landscape its felling left behind.
Lois, though... Lois's leaving has left a void within myself. I miss her with an intensity I would have never believed possible. I miss her with my heart and soul. I felt something for her quite unlike anything I've ever experienced before. We... connected, I guess is the best word.
Or... I should say, I felt connected to her. I don't think she felt the same way about me. She was connected to that other guy. Her [i]fiance.
However the connection worked, now that it has been broken, I feel as though it has left behind a bleeding, open wound.
Yet... In spite of everything, I can't wish that I'd never met her. She answered so many questions I had about myself. She offered such open acceptance of what I am. She gave me enough courage to like myself. She...
She gave me courage to be me.
I hope I can cling on to that courage now, because it is the only thing I have left.[/i]
Frustration. Confusion. Pain. Clark's computer screen screamed them all to Lois through the medium of his words.
Tempus made sure of that when, two days ago, he exposed my origins on prime-time television. Clark Kent ceased to be when he revealed me to be Superman. Clark Kent used to be a person. Now Clark Kent is just a name. I've lost my private life to a cartoon cut-out of a hero.
Superman is not who I wanted to be. I wanted to be Clark Kent, with a little extra on the side. Now, though, Superman is who I have to be. All the time. All day. Every day.
I'm scared of what I have been forced to become.
There. I admitted it.
I'm scared.
And suddenly Lois was scared for him too. This must be why she'd been sent here, to see how he was coping with the huge burdens that he carried.
She wanted to help him so much that her desire almost hurt her.
At least she could see a way she could be of use to him. She would Watch and report back and she would make sure he got all the help and support that he needed so badly and deserved so much.
Lois scrowled down through the document and carried on reading. After a while, she stopped reading every word he'd written. Instead she began to skim, focussing on bits and pieces at random.
FEBRUARY 12, 1996
Today was a good day. Really, really good. I mean, I did some things that made me feel proud of what I can do. For once, I felt as though I'd made a difference. That my being here -- my being what I am -- serves a purpose...
MARCH 18, 1996
...I see her in my dreams. That hurts, but it comforts too. So long as I can dream of Lois, I am never truly alone. I carry a little bit of her inside of myself. In my dreams I can talk to her, touch her.
It has been a month since she left, and I miss her more and more with each passing day...
MAY 13, 1996
...I wish I could tell someone how awful it was. I could hear the little girl's heartbeat falter and her last breath catch in her throat. And then I had to tell her parents that she was gone. How could I comfort them when I wanted to weep too? I tell myself over and over that I couldn't have done things any differently, but it doesn't help...
MAY 14, 1996
...I went back to the Congo today. I still can't find any leads. I guess too much time has passed. I won't give up, though. I'll keep on looking until I find out what happened to Lois Lane...
JUNE 9, 1996
I feel so alone sometimes. But, no. I won't think about that. Self-pity is pointless...
AUGUST 10, 1996
I realised something today. I'm no longer daunted by the kinds of jobs I do.
When I started out, I was frightened because I doubted I could make a difference or that I could be the kind of hero Lois said I should be.
Back at the beginning, I was pretty much scared of everything. Lois threw this huge thing at me -- that I was an alien and that I was destined to be a superhero. It was crazy. I mean, me, a hero! Clark Kent, from some small town that nobody outside Kansas has ever heard of! Come to think of it, not many people inside Kansas have heard of it, either.
Her idea was crazy, but it made some kind of crazy sense, too.
Lois had this great plan for me. I would take on some kind of second identity. I would play the superhero in secret and carry on being Clark Kent in my everyday life. I didn't believe I could do it. Be a hero, I mean. But Lois told me that I could.
Then she made me go out into the city, dressed in the crazy costume she made for me, and try being Superman out. And, on some level, in addition to feeling really, really weird, it felt good.
But I still had my doubts. One night of good deeds wasn't enough to convince me that I was born to be a hero.
Still, Lois believed in me in a way that nobody since my parents has ever done. She accepted me completely, differences and all. She gave me courage. She gave me strength. And, after she'd gone, I tried to cling on to the memories of everything she'd been to me and of everything she'd said.
Of course, by then, the secret-identity idea had blown up in my face, and I didn't really have much choice but to continue with the hero thing. I'd lost whatever chance I'd had of ever being able to go back to being plain-old Clark Kent if Superman didn't work out.
All I had left was the superhero that Lois had created.
Now, though, I guess I'm beginning to see that Lois might have been right after all. I do have what it takes to be a hero. I realised it this morning when I went to the scene of a mud-slide in Venezuela and began to help pull people from the wreckage of their homes. I didn't think twice. I just did it. I knew what I was doing, and I knew that I was making a difference.
I think... I think I am growing into the role I took on. It has been a while, but I think finally I am becoming the Superman that Lois thought I could be. Some days are hard, yes. But some days I believe in what I do. I can see the difference I make to the world around me. Some days I feel good about myself and my place in the world.
I wish Lois was here so I could tell her that.
At the risk of sounding conceited, I feel proud of myself.
Today has been a good day.
After that, Clark's life seemed to have settled into some kind of routine. The details of his days changed, but the general picture remained the same. He saved lots of people. He helped where he could. He didn't socialise, and he confided in his journal.
His mentions of Lois became less detailed, confined to sketchy comments along the lines of "I dreamed about Lois last night."
Then, suddenly, after weeks of short entries, Angel Lois stumbled across something longer and more puzzling than ever.
MARCH 15, 1997
...Mr Wells told me that he needed my help. As fantastic as it seems, he took me to the other world that Lois had told me about and...
And I saw her again. It was every bit as wonderful and awful as I thought it would be...
...I could feel her breath and the warmth of her skin, so close to mine. I could hear the staccato beat of her heart. And, for one glorious moment, she wanted me as much as I wanted her. For one moment, I was a hair's breadth away from touching heaven. I knew peace and fulfillment and happiness and desire and--
Then she remembered where she was, who she was with, and why. And she pulled away from me.
I can't fault her for that. I can't. But... I wish she hadn't remembered. I wish I'd had that moment.
I wish...
Mr Wells told me that I shouldn't give up hope of ever finding my world's Lois. He told me that he doesn't like the word impossible.
The trouble is, after you've gone through every possibility, only the impossible remains.
That other world's Lois and Clark are lucky to have each other. I'm glad that, in some small way, I managed to help them.
But.
But seeing them, seeing their life... It [i]hurt. They have -- he has -- everything. He has Lois. He has his parents. And I... I can't help thinking how unfair life is...[/i]
Lois closed down the file and sighed. If she felt this weighed down by what she had read, how must Clark feel? He had to carry the burdens of his life every day.
Clark's journal had told Lois a great deal about how Clark felt about his life, but it had provided her with very little detail about what his day-to-day routine actually involved. How typical was the day she'd Watched? She didn't know and his journal hadn't helped her find out.
She'd caught the feel of his life, she'd read his thoughts, but she still lacked the context -- the background -- that would make it real to her. She needed to find out more if she were to understand his pride, his loneliness and his obsession.
Yes. Obsession. He was obsessed with her, or at least with some twisted version of her. She'd learned that much, at least.
Should she be disturbed by that?
Because she wasn't, and she didn't understand why.
Her heart went out to the gentle, lonely soul, who lay sleeping in the room next door.
The more answers she found, the more questions she had and the more investigating she needed to do.
So Lois logged onto the internet and pointed the browser towards The Daily Planet Online.
*****
TBC
