Sorry for the delay but I didn’t have the time to reread the part to check one last time.
Thanks again for everyone who has read and/or commented.
Thanks especially to JadedEvie for her wonderful beta and Bakasi, who also helped me bring this story to life and of course for her feedback.
So here’s the final part…
~~~
*** Part 8 - Break The Ice***
Immediately after telling Lois, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He poured out the confession, the words tumbling over each other - the park, the sudden departure, the chaos in Muzi Buna. He described the bus rescue and the encounter with the awful woman.
Each secret he shared with her felt like another boulder lifted from his chest.
Lois listened intently, nodding occasionally. Her eyes glistened, a shimmering tear tracing the contour of her cheek. Her fingers gently closed around his, halting the restless movement of his fidgeting with a soothing calmness. Their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. Lois's expression held a mix of compassion, concern and a hint of frustration.
“Lois, I’m sorry I lied to you. I couldn’t face my fears,” Clark said, his voice raw. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”
She spoke softly, her words carrying weight. “I need time to process all of this,” she said, her voice barely audible. “But I expect you to be there when I need to vent my anger.” A smile crept onto her lips as she rubbed his hands encouragingly.
A storm raged within Clark, each thought colliding with the next, a tumultuous sea of doubt and resolve. He grappled with the delicate balance between his dual identities—the invulnerable Superman and the vulnerable man beneath the cape. Exposing another weakness felt like stepping into the spotlight, revealing the chinks in his armor.
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” She squeezed his hand in silent support. “You’re back to normal now,” Lois continued, her thumb tracing circles on his knuckles. “But don’t underestimate the power of talking to someone who has been trained to help people who went through experiences like yours.”
His stubbornness flared. “I can talk to my parents!” he retorted. “And you,” he continued, softer now, the unspoken inquiry hanging between them like a delicate thread.
Lois's gaze melted into a tender expression. “I know and my window will always be open for you, should you feel overwhelmed!” she whispered with a warmth that belied her calm exterior. “But sometimes you need someone who can ask the right questions, guide you through the maze of your thoughts. And Clark, with the weight of the world on your shoulders, you should have a network of support. Mental health isn't a luxury—it's essential. In here,” her fingers traced a path to rest above his heartbeat, “you're human, flesh and blood, as fallible and real as the rest of us. Fragile, imperfect,” she swallowed to rid the lump in her throat, “deserving of care and compassion.”
Clark pondered this newfound revelation in silence, he was beginning to realize that perhaps this vulnerability wasn't a weakness after all. Lois's words resonated, urging him to embrace both sides of himself. In that moment the possibility dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, seeking help wasn't a sign of weakness; it was an act of strength.
“Maybe Dr. Friskin will take me on as her patient again,” he mused aloud, earning himself an encouraging nod from Lois. He knew she wouldn’t press him to do anything. It was his decision. But Dr. Friskin had helped him work on his issues before, even despite the influence of the red Kryptonite.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over Metropolis, Clark and Lois stood there—a fragile alliance of two souls, each carrying their burdens. The weight of truth hung in the air, both liberating and daunting.
***
Weeks later Clark's heart raced as he stood outside Lois's apartment. The familiar wooden door seemed to hold a thousand possibilities—each one a mix of hope and uncertainty.
He had followed her advice, seeking out an expert to round out his support network. Every other week he was diligently attending sessions with Dr. Friskin, who had been more than willing to take him back as a patient, although this time they took precautions to prevent intergang or anyone else from taking advantage of the situation. The techniques he'd learned there had become part of his daily routine, helping him navigate stress even in the darkest moments. It had been so effective that he and Lois had talked about telling Dr. Friskin his real identity, to be able to include Lois into his therapy sessions, too.
As it was, they had created their own routine, making time for her to listen to him after a particularly bad day as Superman and they had formed the habit of cooking their dinner together whenever they could. It was a simple task, but Clark loved working with Lois and they shared the meal, often ending up on the couch, talking or watching a movie.
Lois Lane, the woman with eyes that saw through his facades, had become his confidante. They spoke daily, their conversations weaving an ever thickening tapestry of trust. He marveled at the relief that honesty brought—the weight of secrets lifted, replaced by shared vulnerability.
He had recounted the panic attack—the suffocating grip, the hallucinations that blurred reality. Lois had listened, anger flashing in her eyes when he described Lex's cruel manipulation. Superman, the invulnerable hero, had been encaged like an animal, while Lois danced unwittingly to Lex's orchestrated tune.
Now, here he was, knocking on her door. She had agreed to another date—a chance to explore what lay beyond friendship. Clark's nerves danced like fireflies. He had chosen Callards, an exclusive breakfast spot that promised elegance and intimacy.
This morning was also a celebratory one, since his lawyer had won his case a few days ago. She had wisely decided to take Clark’s case after a little ‘pep talk’ from Lois.
“Hang on Clark!” A slight click indicated to him that Lois had opened the door, before she shouted, “It’s open!” from the inside.
When he stepped inside, Lois was nowhere around. “I’ll be out in a minute. You’re a little early,” came her voice from the bathroom.
“Yeah I know, I… I wanted to talk to you about something!” He replied.
“I can’t hear you! Hang on just a minute, I’ll be right out!” Then after a short pause, “Where are we going for breakfast?” she called from behind the closed door.
“I thought we’d try Callards!” he shouted back, adrenaline surging. But this wasn’t about breakfast. It was about the truth—the one secret he had guarded even more fiercely than the ones she already knew now.
“What? I didn’t hear you!” Her answer made him smile. Maybe he could rehearse a bit before his next big secret would be revealed.
He reached for the photo frame on the shelf, their smiles frozen in a moment of shared laughter, their faces kissed by the sunset’s last rays of light.
Clark stood there, the photograph clutched in his trembling hands. The click of Lois’s heels against the bathroom tiles echoed like a heartbeat. He had rehearsed this moment a thousand times, yet the words still felt foreign on his tongue. “Lois,” he began, his voice barely audible, “There’s something I want to tell you. I love you!”
Talking to the photograph felt safe, but it lacked the warmth of her living presence. Lois Lane was the woman who had unraveled his secrets and stitched them back together.
He cleared his throat, rehearsing other versions.
“Hey, did you ever notice how we somehow always find a way through everything together? It’s funny that you should say that because…”
No, he rejected,
too long, too complicated. His heart raced. How could he convey the weight of what he felt? How could he bridge the gap between friendship and something more?
“Hey, guess what… I love you!” he blurted out, frustration bubbling. This was his crossroads—the secret that would either bind them or tear them apart.
He heaved a big sigh before giving it another try, “Lois, there’s something I wanted to tell you for a long time…”
The bathroom door swung open, revealing Lois, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Oh, uh,” Clark’s grip faltered, and the frame fell back onto the shelf. “ I was…” he began, then took a deep breath. “Lois, I’ve got something I want to tell you.”
Her face fell. “And it’s not good news, is it?”
“Well, I don’t know, maybe—”
“No, it’s not,” she interrupted. “I can tell by your face.”
Waiting and stalling wouldn’t help, so he decided to just say the scary words.
He met her gaze, his heart pounding. “Lois,” he said, taking her hands in his, “I love you.” Her eyes searched his, vulnerability meeting vulnerability. And in that fragile moment, Clark Kent—the man behind the glasses—waited for her response.
Sometimes, the bravest words were the simplest ones.
“Clark!” She answered breathlessly, tears forming in her eyes. “I love you, too!” she said, before closing the distance between them and kissing him.
And as their kiss sealed their unspoken pact, Clark vowed to be both fearless hero and flawed human—for her, for them. The room now held a promise, fragile yet unbreakable.
THE END
Epilogue/Sequel
Then the phone rang…
