Author’s note:
This story is dedicated to all the wonderful readers and commenters who posted such amazing, fantastic feedback on 24 Hours for me, on the message boards, in IRC and in email. I simply can’t describe how your kind, enthusiastic words made me feel. Even the yelling and threats as you waited for new instalments! I don’t think I have ever had such a wonderful reaction to a story, and I love you all 
Thank you.
Special thanks go to Chris Carr and Kaethel for BRing this at incredibly short notice and catching a few glitches. Compliments of the season to you!
And to everyone else: Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice or whatever you celebrate. May you have a peaceful and fun season.~ Lonely this Christmas? ~“So, what did you think of the movie?”
I smile up at Clark as we walk out of the cinema together. I’m glad he persuaded me to come. Before, I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy this film, but from the first few minutes I was enthralled. And so was he, I could tell.
“I loved it.” Moving closer to him, I slide my hand through his arm. He likes it when I do that, and I do too. I think he knows that. I hope he does, anyway. He’s such a wonderful, special friend. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost him.
And I do know what it’s like to lose him. I did lose him, briefly... but I don’t like to think of that time. Never want to think of it again if I can help it, but I know I won’t forget the lesson I learned then.
Life is precious.
He is precious. And I’ll never let him doubt that.
“It reminded me of Superman,” I say as we walk. “In fact, it really made me think about him...” There’s sadness in my voice. The movie really affected me on one particular level.
“Superman? Why?” Clark’s surprised, and I can also hear a note of something in his voice that I haven’t heard for a long time. Irritation. I know he doesn’t like it when he thinks I’m obsessing about Superman.
“Think about it, Clark.” I shake his arm a little. “The alien in that movie... he was all alone. His planet was destroyed. He had no home. Nowhere to go. No-one to call his own, to feel... well, affinity with. And all he encountered were people calling him an alien. A thing. They were afraid of him, and all he wanted was to belong.”
“Oh, right.” Clark frowns a little. “But Superman’s fine. People don’t distrust him - okay, there was all that stuff with Trask last year, but no-one’s calling him a thing and demanding that he leave Earth. I think he feels he belongs here.”
“But he’s still all alone.” I stop walking for a moment, lost in thought.
“He has friends,” Clark points out. “You. Me. And that’s just for starters.”
“Yeah, but still...” I hesitate. It’s really not the same, is it? “He has friends, yes. But he doesn’t have anyone special. Anywhere special.”
Clark stops walking and looks at me. In the light of the street-lamps, I can see he’s rolling his eyes. “Is that what this is about, Lois? You want to be ‘someone special’ to Superman?”
“No!” I drop his arm like a hot potato and stand glaring at him. “Clark, you should know better than that by now, and I’m hurt that you don’t!”
He’s breathing heavily, but after a few moments he calms down. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right, Lois.” And he pulls a face. “I’m sorry.” He offers his arm again; after a minute hesitation, I take it and we continue walking. “So, what did you mean?”
I’m tempted not to talk about this to him any more. But he is my friend - my best friend - and I don’t want to argue with him. Or have anything I can’t talk to him about. He’s special to me, after all. And he’s part of what I’m thinking. Planning.
“Christmas.”
“What about Christmas? It’s the end of this week.” Clark grins. “You want to buy him a Christmas present?”
I shrug, hoping he won’t see my blush. “Maybe.”
“Oh.” There’s a strange inflexion to his voice I can’t identify.
“But it’s not that. What are you doing for Christmas, Clark?”
“Going to Smallville. You know that. I even asked you to come with me.”
He did. And, actually, I’m wishing I’d said yes. But I thought that maybe Lucy would be in town this year and, anyway, we can’t both have two days off together.
“See? You have somewhere to go. Somewhere you belong. And I have my family.” Not that I intend spending Christmas anywhere near my parents. “Where does Superman have to go? Who will he be spending Christmas with?”
There’s a pause. Then, “I see,” Clark says quietly. “I guess when you put it that way it makes sense.”
“Yes. And that’s why I want to do something about it.”
“What?” Now he’s openly curious, and even... sounding a little alarmed? But why? This is a good idea. I know it. It’s a great idea. And not even Clark is going to put me off it.
“I’m going to invite him to dinner.”
“What, on Christmas Day?” Now Clark really does sound worried. Why, I have no idea at all.
“No - you won’t be here then.”
“What have I got to do with this?”
“I want you to come too, of course!” I shake him. Why does he keep missing the obvious? “I want Superman to have a special Christmas dinner with his closest friends. And, unless there’s anyone else I don’t know about, that’s you and me.”
“Oh.” Clark really doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. “Lois, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you know he’s always busy. How can he commit to something like this when he doesn’t know what could come up? If there’s an emergency somewhere, he’ll have to go.”
“I know that!” I glare at him. Why can’t he get into the spirit of this? “Clark, why can’t you see that all I want is to do something nice for Superman? Okay, if something happens and he has to leave, I’ll deal with it. But at least I can
try, can’t I?”
He sighs. “Yes. You’re right, Lois, and it is a kind thought. I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it.”
“So you’ll pass on the invitation? You’re more likely to see him than I am.”
“Yeah.” He blows out a breath. “I’ll tell him.”
“And you’ll be there yourself?”
He looks indecisive for a moment. Then he gives me a resigned smile. “Of course I will, Lois.”
**********
I get busy on the arrangements - after all, the dinner-party is only a few days away. Clark, though, seems distinctly unenthusiastic about it. I begin to worry that he might say he can’t come.
But then he tells me that Superman will be there. And that he’ll come himself, but he might be a bit late. Okay. I can live with that. And it’s not as if I’m not used to Clark being late, or suddenly disappearing. Just one of the mysteries about my partner that I’ve learned to live with. Because, even though it irritates me, he’s worth it.
So I busy myself with preparing the menu for dinner, checking my recipes to be sure that I can actually cook the meal without yet another culinary disaster, buying ingredients, choosing wine, decorating the apartment, choosing the perfect Christmas presents for Superman and for Clark.
Superman’s the easier of the two, much to my amazement - I’d thought that Clark would be easy while I’d have to rack my brain to come up with something suitable for Superman. But, actually, Superman turns out to be much, much simpler.
There’s so little he needs. I don’t know if he has a home, or what sort of place it would be if he did. He doesn’t have a car, or at least I assume he doesn’t - what would he need one for? I don’t know if he has anywhere he can keep
things - possessions. So, if I give him something like a book or a CD, where would he put it?
What I want is to make sure that he knows beyond any doubt that he has friends. That he belongs. That he is loved. That has far more meaning than some commercially-produced object any day.
And then I find it.
It’s a Christmas ornament. An embracing trio, standing close to each other, arms around each other. It’s supposed to represent a family, and in a way I can’t help but feel that’s appropriate.
The family Superman doesn’t have on Earth; the family I want him to feel that he does have.
Me. And Clark.
The three of us; friends together, supporting each other, caring for each other.
I want Superman to know that we’re here for him any time he needs us. That he has friends. That he has a place where he can belong. People who love him and care about him. Who don’t want to make demands on him, or want him only for his powers. Who just care about him because he’s the man he is - caring, ethical, decent, gentle, loyal, affectionate, a good friend.
How better to show him than this?
Even if he doesn’t have anywhere to keep it. He can leave it at my apartment if he likes. Or Clark’s. The point is that it’ll be his. And I hope he’ll understand its message.
Clark, now, is much more difficult.
What can I possibly get Clark?
The thing is, he’s so easy to please. I could get him
anything and he’d be delighted. Claim it’s what he’s always wanted. Hug me and tell me that he’s touched. Even if I just got him a new tie or pen-holder for his desk.
But I don’t want to do that. I want to get him something that shows him exactly how special he is to me. How much I care about him. How much our friendship means. How well I know him. And that tells him that I love him.
Because I do. I love Clark.
How ironic that it’s him I love after all, and not Superman.
It’s taken me so long to admit the truth. Too long. If I’d known it before now, I could have had him. I know that, and in the middle of the night I often wake up and curse myself for it. I tried to tell him, after he was dead and was alive again and I had him back when I never thought it could happen. But he was asleep and didn’t hear me and I...
Well, I just haven’t had the courage to try again.
But maybe, just maybe, if I find the perfect Christmas gift for him, he might realise. And, if I’m so very lucky and this turns out to be the special Christmas I’m hoping for, he’ll love me too.
Maybe. I can only hope. And dream.
*********
Almost at the last minute, I finally find the perfect present for Clark. And then it’s rush, rush, rush to get everything ready in time. I leave work early for the first time in I don’t know how long. Hurry home, throw turkey into oven, set wine to chill, run a scented bath, lay out my special Christmas clothes. Then, bathed and dressed, I have everything else to prepare: vegetables to peel and cook, table to set and decorate, candles to arrange, music to choose.
After all, this is going to be the most special Christmas dinner I’ve ever had.
I’d hoped that Clark might come over early and help. But it seems he meant it when he said he might be late. He hadn’t been in the newsroom when I left, and I’d returned home to a message on my answering machine. He’s going to be delayed, it says. He’ll be as quick as he can, but can’t say how late he’ll be. Superman and I should go ahead without him, but he will be here later.
Damn him anyway! This was supposed to be special! How can he do this to me?
But Superman is still coming, and he’s the whole reason I’m doing this, after all. Even if I had high hopes of Clark... but obviously I’m wasting my time there. The mistletoe I’ve hung in a couple of strategic points in the living-room might as well not be there.
Of course, I might just get a Christmas kiss from Superman. That’d be nice... but he’s not who I most want to kiss me. Not any more.
It’s all ready. It’s seven o’clock, and neither of my guests is here yet. Why does this always happen to me?
But... wait... there’s a sudden wind outside the window. Superman’s here.
Strange. I’m expecting that little flutter I always get in my stomach when I hear him arriving. And it’s there... but it’s nothing like before. There’s excitement, all right, but none of the rush of anticipation I usually have. And then I realise why. I’m looking forward to seeing him, to spending an evening with him - but as a friend.
I’m not in love with him any more. I love him - I think I’ll always love him - but I’m in love with Clark. And he’s the one I’m really getting butterflies in my stomach about seeing.
I go and push the window open, and seconds later Superman’s standing in front of me, as magnificent as ever, his cape fluttering in the breeze of his arrival. I smile at him in welcome, and he smiles back, warmth and affection in his gaze.
“Hi, Lois.”
“Superman - thanks for coming.” And I’m annoyed with myself - I almost stuttered. I’m way past that phase by now.
He shakes his head fractionally. “No, thank *you* for inviting me. It’s very thoughtful of you.” And he leans forward and kisses my cheek. I feel... warm, and just a little shaky. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Superman.” I smile at him again, knowing I’m blushing. “It’s nothing. I just wanted to have a little Christmas party for my two best friends, that’s all.”
Is it my imagination, or does he look very slightly uncomfortable? Doesn’t he like the idea that I think of him as that close a friend?
To get us past the apparently awkward moment, I add, “Clark’s going to be late, unfortunately. He called and left a message.”
Superman nods. “Yes, he told me.”
“Okay. Yes. Good.” So, now what? Should I wait dinner for Clark? I should, shouldn’t I? But Superman’s here, so what do we do while we’re waiting?
Oh. Right. “Can I get you something to drink? A glass of wine?”
“That sounds nice.” He follows me towards the kitchen and waits while I pour. This is awkward. What can we talk about? Why do I feel so nervous? I’m a reporter. I’m used to having to make conversation with people. And anyway, he’s not a stranger. He’s my friend!
“So...” he begins, just as I begin to speak, too.
He stops, grins a little, then says, “You go ahead.”
“Oh, I was just going to ask how your day was. Has it been busy?”
He doesn’t meet my eyes, which is strange. “Pretty quiet, actually. I did get called to a robbery at a CostMart earlier today - lots of money in the tills this time of year. Oh, and there was a pile-up on the turnpike about an hour ago - people driving too fast for the road conditions, as usual.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Not badly, thankfully. Just cuts and bruises. The only people who’ll really be hurt are the insurance companies.”
He must be feeling relaxed. He doesn’t often joke. I smile in return, then gesture towards the sofas. “Would you like to sit down? While we wait for Clark, I mean.”
“Oh, sure.” He lets me lead him over. I can see another awkward silence coming, so I change my plans. I’d been going to wait until Clark got here before doing presents, but there’s no reason why I can’t give Superman his now.
So I make a detour to the tree and grab the gift-wrapped parcel. “This is for you, Superman,” I say, handing it to him.
He looks startled. “Lois, you didn’t need to do that.”
“I wanted to.” And I make him take it.
He plays with the package for a few moments before tearing off the paper. And then he just stares at the ornament, tracing the shape of the embracing figures with his fingertips. “This is beautiful, Lois. I really didn’t...”
“It’s sort of a symbol, really.” I rush into speech, needing to explain to him what it means, why I gave it to him. “The figures... well, they represent you and Clark and me. I... well, I know you’re the only Kryptonian left and so you don’t have any family or home or anything, but you know we’re your friends. And this... well, it’s just saying that we care about you and we’re here for you. Any time.”
He’s silent for a long time. And he’s just staring down at the figurine.
Was this a mistake? I should never have bought it. Never have given it to him. What if he doesn’t see things the same way? Maybe he doesn’t think of us as friends the same way we do...
“Lois?”
I jerk my head around to look at him. “Yes?”
“I... don’t think I’ve ever been so touched in my life. This is... really thoughtful of you. And I just don’t deserve it.”
“What?” I stare at him.
“You think I’m alone. That I don’t have anywhere to go, anywhere to belong. And this... what you’ve done, arranging this evening for me, this beautiful figurine...” He gestures to it. “It all reminds me that I’m here under false pretences. That I haven’t been honest with you. And it makes me uncomfortable, Lois. More than I’ve ever been around you.”
What is he saying? This isn’t making sense. “Superman...?” He hasn’t been honest with me? About what? “False pretences?”
“I’m not... as alone as you think I am. Yes, I’m the last Kryptonian, but that’s not all that I am.”
I’m lost. I’m not stupid. I know I’m not. I’m an intelligent woman; in fact, I’m considerably above average intelligence. And yet I’m listening to him talking and not
one word is making sense.
“Superman, I don’t understand. What are you trying to tell me?”
He swallows. Looks very uncomfortable - embarrassed and awkward. And... almost ashamed. “I can’t do this, Lois. I can’t let you think that I’m... alone, without a family, without anywhere to belong. It’s not fair of me.” He stands, and I’m left staring at him, gaping.
He has a family? What? Is he married or something? And he never told me?
“Superman...?”
He’s looking very guilty now. “I have to go, Lois. I’m sorry.”
He can’t leave!
“But... aren’t you going to tell me what you’re talking about? What family? Where?”
He takes a deep breath. “I have to go. But you’ll understand soon, I promise.”
And then he’s walking to the window and, before I can call him back, plead with him to tell me what’s going on, he’s gone.
The curtains flutter in his wake, and I’m alone.
*********
...tbc
