Description: Revelation possibility set during the episode ‘Top Copy’.
Testing Grounds
By MetroRhodes <metrorhodes@sbcglobal.net>
Rated: PG
Submitted: June, 2006
All characters and settings are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. and whoever else can legally lay claim to them. No copyright infringement is intended. This story was written purely for fun, not for profit, but the story is an original idea and belongs to me. A thank you to the writers of Lois & Clark, especially to the writers of “Top Copy” from which I borrowed a few scenes.
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A really big thank you to Sue, not only for beta reading this story for me but also for being the inspiration I needed to try writing a 1st person POV fic. This is my first attempt at 1st person. And I didn’t go into this B-plot story with an A-plot in mind...so don’t complain, you’ve been warned. I did manage to fit a small one in there though. (Oh, and Tank, if you're reading this, there's a little something for you later). Okay, here we go...
**********
I had left the hospital earlier feeling pretty upbeat. Superman was safe. The State’s witness was safe, thanks to me, and Mayson and I had pretty much made up. As much as I hate to admit it, I, Lois Lane, stubborn alpha-female, am starting to feel a certain kinship with Mayson Drake. Even if we both happen to like the same man.
I let out a noisy sigh as I approach the stairs of that certain man’s apartment building. If Clark is going to keep running off every time I try to have a serious conversation with him about our relationship, then maybe Mayson can just keep him.
No, not like that. I’m not going to let things end like that. I’m not a quitter, and that’s why I’m here, standing in front of his apartment building. Before I completely give up on him, I’m going to make him explain himself. I figure if I can corner him at his apartment, there will be no way for him to go running off when the conversation gets too heated.
My upper lip curls in disgust as I think about our chess game the other night. I started to pour my heart out to him and he decided all of the sudden that he had a video to return. Then, he had the gall to tell me the next morning that one day maybe I’d realize things weren’t always what they seemed to be. I gave him a chance to explain himself. I told him if he had some other excuse for leaving to just tell me, but he just said he guessed he didn’t.
Well this time he isn’t going to leave. This time he is going to hear me out. I walk up the stairs and knock on his door. I even have an excuse for being here right now. I want to help clean up the mess I made when I broke the glass in his front door, trying to get to Superman.
There’s no answer, so I knock again. I haven’t seen Clark since earlier today when he was complaining of a headache and left work all of the sudden. That’s actually the reason I came by his apartment earlier, when I found Superman on his floor instead; I was worried about him and had come by to check on him.
Where can he be? Maybe he is inside and is just too sick to come to the door? I reach my hand carefully through the broken glass pane and open the door from the inside.
“Clark? Clark, are you here?” I holler out.
There’s no answer. I make a quick trip through the apartment just to be sure he isn’t here, but he’s not. Well, so much for that brilliant idea. I start to walk back out the front door and some of the broken glass crunches underneath my shoe. Oh, yeah. That *is* the reason that I supposedly came inside, isn’t it? I might as well clean it up for him. If he is as sick as he looked, he’s not going to feel like cleaning it up when he does get home. And, who knows, by the time I get done cleaning he might show up. Then I can move on to my secondary reason.
I begin poking around his apartment in different rooms and closets, looking for his broom and dustpan, but I keep coming up empty-handed. As I walk past his couch something catches my eye. His clothes. The clothes he had on earlier today. The shirt and tie are in a wrinkled pile on the couch, and his pants are in a heap on the floor in front of the couch.
So he had come home and changed clothes and then what? Where had he gone? Maybe he went to the doctor. Poor Clark, I hope he’s really not that sick. Actually, as I think about it, I don’t remember too many times that I’ve actually seen him sick. There was that one time when we were visiting Smallville and his allergies had acted up. And I sort of remember him complaining of a headache once or twice, but nothing major. He must have one heck of an immune system.
I walk over and pick his shirt and tie up off the couch, looking around for a hanger. None in sight. I’ll just have to get one out of his closet.
My nose picks up on an alluring scent. Mmm, what is it that smells so good? I bring his shirt collar up to my face and smell it. It’s his shirt. It smells of men’s cologne. I don’t recognize which one; I’m not real good with that sort of thing, placing cologne brands with their scents. But I know which ones I like and which ones just, well, reek; this one is definitely one of the former.
I smell it again. This time, beyond the cologne, I smell the clean scent of soap and a hint of fabric softener. Mmm, there’s something about fresh laundry. I love that fresh, fabric softener smell. Beyond that there is just *Clark*. I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s just his scent. The realization of that sends unexpected feelings fluttering through my body; they come to rest deep in the pit of my stomach.
Oh my god. Am I aroused by this? Maybe a little I realize. I haven’t really thought about it before but Clark always does smell good. I breathe in the shirt one last time before I bend down to pick up his pants. My face flushes a little. What’s wrong with me? You’d think I was back in high school, having my first crush. Get a grip, Lois.
I carry the clothes to his closet. I’m not sure if he would hang them up and wear them again or wash them, but I’ll hang them up for now. Who knows, maybe I’ll find his broom in this closet. I haven’t checked it yet. You wouldn’t think that’s where he’d keep it, but then again, who knows?
I told Clark once that he was a *strange one* but that I thought I had him figured out. Ha, nothing could be further from the truth. The longer I’ve known him the less I’ve *figured* out about him.
With my free hand I pull open the closet door and peer inside. The clothes I’m holding abruptly fall to the floor as I bring the hand that was holding them up to cover my mouth. My head suddenly feels light and dizzy. I tighten my grip on the door I’m still holding and blink my eyes several times, as if that’s going to help.
Red. Blue. Suits. Capes. Boots. And more than one pair of each. I stumble backwards away from the closet and loose my footing, sitting down on my butt hard on the floor. I continue staring, my mouth gaping open. What? How was this possible? What was going on here? Why are Superman’s suits hanging in Clark’s closet?
After finding the strength in my legs again, I get up and walk back to the closet to inspect my findings more carefully. I can see now that the items are inside some sort of secret compartment in the closet, there is a sliding door that normally closes this section off. With some difficulty I slide the door back, almost closed. With the door back in place, you wouldn’t know there was anything back there. I slide the door back open again and reach out hesitantly to feel the suits hanging in front of me. I think I’m still in shock, and I’m definitely overcome by curiosity.
My fingers gently caress the familiar blue spandex. I take one of the suits off the rack and turn it around by the hanger. A zipper? So that’s how Superman gets in and out of them. Interesting. But what are they doing here?
A familiar fragrance catches my attention and I bring the garment up to my face to smell it. I know that scent. Then, it hits me. It’s so obvious. It’s him! It’s Clark. Clark Kent is Superman. Wait a minute? What am I saying? Clark? No, not Clark?
But...it sure would explain a lot. I think back to a few weeks ago, when Superman was blinded by the ultra-violet light. He had been out of commission for the whole weekend. And where was Clark? I thought he had been in the mountains with Mayson Drake, but I find out that no, he had stood her up. Then all he could come up with was a ridiculous story that he had gotten confused and thought that he was supposed to be going to Smallville to visit his parents, instead of the other way around.
I thought that story had seemed a little weak. I mean who flies all the way to another state to see their parents without calling them to confirm first? At least tell them what time to expect him? Or pick him up at the airport?
Although, if he is Superman he probably flies to Kansas all the time, unannounced, to see them.
That would explain too why he had looked sick earlier today. If he is Superman, he had been suffering from his exposure to Kryptonite. Ha, just a headache my foot. ‘Lois do you have some aspirin?’ Yeah, like that would have done any good.
I feel my cheeks beginning to flush. All those times. All those stupid excuses. ‘Lois, I just remembered I have to return this video...’ He was just lying to me. Well, he probably did need to return that tape, eventually, but not right that second.
He’s been lying to me this whole time. Why hasn’t he told me? Was he ever going to tell me? I mean, he got up the nerve to ask me out – why not to tell me the truth?
I’ve worked myself up into a full-blown rage now. I leave his clothes in a pile on the floor, and I don’t even bother continuing my search for a dustpan. He’s Superman, why does he need me cleaning up for him? He could clean up this mess faster than I could, with both hands and a foot tied behind his back.
Hmm, that thought has promise.
Ugh! Get a grip, Lois. Focus. You are mad at Superman; this is no time to fantasize. And I am mad. I’m so mad that I’d love to walk up and slap him in the face, but as hard as I’d want to hit him, it would probably break something – in my hand.
I make my way back to the front door. I think I’ll head back to the Planet. Everyone’s going to be glued to the TV to see what Diana Stride uncovered as Superman’s biggest secret. I’m even more interested now than before to see what she’ll reveal. Did *she* also discover that he’s Clark Kent? If she did, what will he say when she exposes him?
**********
I get to the Planet just in time. Top Copy is just about to start. I can’t help but feel disappointed, though, when I realize Clark is nowhere to be seen. I would really like to see the reaction on his face to whatever Diana has to say.
“Hey, Lois, I didn’t figure you’d miss this,” Jimmy says, grinning at me as I walk up.
“Hi, Jimmy. Secrets on Superman? Nope, there’s no way I’d miss this.” Especially not now, I think to myself.
I stand glued to the TV as Diana blathers on with the uninteresting details about Superman that I already know, my hands clenching and unclenching in expectation of what she’s really found out. Geez, I know they’re going for ratings here, but enough’s enough already.
My waiting is finally rewarded when I recognize that Diana is now standing inside Clark’s apartment, at the very closet I was at earlier.
“And here in this apartment, we find the final piece of the puzzle which tells us that Superman is Clark Kent.”
Diana slides the main closet door back, revealing Superman’s suits, capes, and boots in all their glory. She must have been the one who found that secret compartment. Huh, if Diana hadn’t tried to kill me earlier today, I’d almost thank her for finding it and then leaving it exposed for me to find later.
I glance around the room; everyone is staring slack-jawed at the TV in shocked disbelief.
“I don’t believe it,” Jimmy mumbles.
“I don’t either,” Perry chimes in.
“They always kinda looked alike, though,” Jimmy says.
“Hey, I’ve been told I look a little like Nixon but I’ve never been to the White House. Lois? You buying this?” Perry asks me.
“Me?” Why, yes, I think to myself. I buy this lock, stock, and barrel as a matter of fact. That’s what I want to say, but I don’t. “The woman was obviously desperate to save her career. She’ll try anything. She tried to kill me earlier today, don’t forget. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this,” I assure them. Yeah right, when pigs fly!
So that’s it. There’s my confirmation. Clark Kent *is* Superman. Oh! Just wait till I get my hands on him. He’s going to be sorry he ever lied to Lois Lane.
The ping of the elevator door grabs my attention and I look up in time to see a sheepish-looking Clark come walking out.
“Hi,” he says to the room in general.
Hi? Hi, Clark? That’s all you’ve got to say? Oh, that’s brilliant! I decide to speak up, put some pressure on him. “Clark, what is going on here?”
I watch his face as he turns to address me and the rest of the room. Is he sweating? That’s got to be one of the few times I’ve seen Clark sweat. Good, let him sweat. I’d like to see him work his way out of this one.
“If everyone will follow me, I’ve got an announcement to make. I decided the easiest way to settle all this would be a press conference,” he says, stepping back onto the elevator. Some people follow him onto the elevator, others wait for the other elevator, and I follow the remaining people down the stairwell. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!
**********
Clark has called a press conference to be held right outside the front doors of the Daily Planet. I press in as close to the podium as I can get, anxious to see what he has to say.
He gestures for our fellow co-workers to move in close amongst the other reporters and then he steps up to the mic and begins speaking.
“My name is Clark Kent. I’m sure you all saw the story on TV tonight and I’d just like to say...”
His speech is interrupted by a very familiar *whoosh*. I look up and to my astonishment, I see Superman hovering a few feet above Clark. What? How can that be? Is it possible I was mistaken after all?
I squint my eyes, focusing on Clark, and then I look up squinting at Superman. I compare the similarities in them and the differences. What differences? There aren’t many. There are a couple of subtle ones. He holds himself a little differently as Superman and speaks with a distinct flair.
Then there are the more blatant differences. Clark wears glasses. He actually just got a new pair recently. I like the new pair much better; I can see his eyes more clearly. Sometimes I think I could just fall into those dark pools.
Lois, you’re getting off track...
I shift my eyes away from his, looking for more differences. There’s his hairstyle. As Superman it’s more rigid; with Clark it’s more relaxed and soft, much like Clark himself.
Then, of course, there are the clothes. He wears decidedly different clothes as Superman. But really, other than those few things, nothing major. Was Superman’s suit really *that* distracting? That I never noticed the striking similarity between him and Clark?
Superman’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Clark, I don’t mean to interrupt but maybe it’d be easier if I explained. Diana Stride is now a wanted fugitive,” he says.
Well that’s nice to know big guy, but what does that have to do with you and Clark not being the same person? I’m still focusing on their obvious similarities when it seems to me that Superman gets a little fuzzy. I don’t know how else to describe it. It just seems that the lines that make up his body fuzz out a little. He is speaking again – something about Diana working for Intergang - I’m not really listening to what he’s saying. I’m more interested in that fuzzy outline. I rub my eyes, am I *that* tired? I look back up and the fuzz disappears and everything looks crystal clear again.
“Clark Kent is a friend,” Superman continues. “My uniforms were in his closet because he’s nice enough to clean them for me. I don’t have a washing machine or a place to hang my spare capes...”
He continues to prattle on a little longer but I’m still focused on what he said last. Can it be true? Can he just be keeping his stuff at Clark’s? No. It’s not true. I know by looking at both of them standing here before me, and I know in my heart it’s not true. It certainly sounds good on the surface, and it will be good enough to fool all the other saps in the city, but not Lois Lane. Not me. I know the truth. Too many missing pieces fell into place when I made that little discovery. This was just one more lie, one more nail in his coffin. I can feel myself frowning. He’s got a lot to answer for.
I watch as the *imposter* Superman flies up and off into the sky. How did he pull that off? A projection of some sort? That made sense since Superman had seemed to *fuzz out* a little.
“Any questions?” Clark asks. The crowd goes wild with voices yelling, questions being thrown from every direction.
Oooh, wait till I get my hands on you, Clark!
**********
After the press conference was over I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to do. I went inside the Planet and back up to my desk. I tried furiously to work on something, anything, but my mind kept wandering.
I want to confront Clark; that much I know for sure. But how? How did I want to do it? Part of me wants to go to his apartment tonight. When he answers the door I’d like to punch him in the stomach and scream at him, but that would probably break my fist. Although, at least he wouldn’t be able to hide who he is then, would he? He wouldn’t be prepared for an attack like that.
But who am I kidding? I know deep down that what I really want is a willing confession from him. I want to believe that above everyone else, he will tell *me* the truth. Maybe I’ll at least give him the chance to.
I finally decide that I’m not getting anything done and it’s time to go. Do I go home? Or do I go to Clark’s? I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just walk around for a while until I come to a decision.
I make my way out of the building and almost run headfirst into Clark coming into the building.
When Clark’s eyes make contact with me, my palms start to sweat. What if I’m wrong? Okay, so maybe a frontal attack isn’t my best bet. Maybe I should try to force his hand, make him spill his guts. Or maybe I should wait for that confession I’m hoping for.
“Working late?” he asks me. He has a pleasant smile on his face that melts the ice in my heart a little, despite my best efforts.
“Big news night. Where’ve you been?” I ask him pointedly.
“Superman caught Diana. I got *us* the exclusive.”
“You are *some* partner,” I manage to say, I hope without too much sarcasm.
“Is that all I am, Lois?” He has a look on his face. Is it hope? Is it fear? Mmm, I hope it’s fear. Do I really have that kind of control over him? Over Superman? The thought makes me a little weak in the knees.
Okay, back to his question. Hmm, I don’t know, *is* that all you are Clark? Or are you perhaps also Superman? That’s what I think, not what I say. I know what he’s getting at. I sigh. “I don’t know. I know how I feel...but I also know what I think. And they’re two very different things.” True enough.
“Can I make a suggestion?”
The timidity that I hear in his voice helps me keep the sarcasm out of mine. “Please.”
“Let’s finish what we started.”
What does that mean? What did we start?
“The chess game, remember? Then take it from there,” he continues.
Oh, that. Why not? We’ll have a chance to talk, and we’ll be alone. Maybe he’ll have something he wants to get off his chest.
I see Perry and Jimmy walking up out of the corner of my eye.
“You two going back to work?” Perry asks us.
“Nope. We’re going back in to play,” I tell him. Oooh-hoo and play we will. I have a feeling that this is going to be quite a game of cat and mouse.
**********
“Your move,” Clark tells me.
“No, actually, I think it’s *your* move,” I reply, trying to gauge his reaction.
He decides to play dumb. “No, I just moved my bishop, and you’re in check.” He smiles playfully at me.
I feel a flutter in my chest. Why does his smile have to have that effect on me? I push the feelings away and gain control of myself again. I’m not the one in check, Clark, you are. And it’s soon going to become checkmate.
“Don’t you have anything you want to tell me?” I ask him sweetly, one last glimmer of hope in my heart. Please be honest with me, Clark.
“I’m not going to help you cheat, Lois, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re going to have to fight your way through this on your own.”
Okay, so that’s how he wants to play it, huh? Fine, then you’re on, Clark. A fight it shall be.
“So, you really keep Superman’s suits in your closet?”
Clark seems to get a little bit uncomfortable at the question. “Yeah. It’s not like Superman really has anywhere to keep them, or any way to clean them.”
“I guess that’s true. I mean could you just see him going down to the local coin laundry?” I can’t help myself, I laugh at my own joke, and he joins me in a small chuckle. But I’m not done. “I’m just a little surprised that you never told me about it. I mean, what if I’d accidentally found them sometime? I might have thought you were Superman! That would have caused you all kinds of grief, wouldn’t it?” I laugh briefly again, but this time it’s only for show.
“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. Do you go through my apartment often, without my knowledge?” he asks me teasingly.
“Ha. I’m not giving away all my secrets, Kent.” But you’d better start, if you know what’s good for you. So, my questioning isn’t going to coax a confession out of him? Well, then maybe I’ll just provoke him a little instead. I know it’s childish, but it’ll make me feel better. “So how often does Superman come by?”
“Oh, I don’t know, a few times a week, I guess. I haven’t really kept track.” He seems to actually squirm a little this time. Good. At least I know it bothers him a little bit to lie to me. Or maybe it just bothers him that I want to keep talking about Superman.
“Really? That often? I’m surprised I haven’t ever bumped into him when I’ve been over at your apartment.” I can’t help myself, I dig a little deeper. “That would’ve been the highlight of my visit, getting to see Superman picking up a clean suit.” I giggle a little. I’m probably enjoying this just a little too much.
“The highlight of your visit?” Clark’s voice has a wounded tone.
“Yeah, you know. I see you all the time, but it seems like unless I’m being threatened by some diabolical mastermind, I don’t get to see Superman that much.” I’m on a runaway train. I can’t stop myself. I know I’m hurting him with what I’m saying. I know now how unfair I’ve been in the past with my attentions towards Superman, gushing and falling all over him while ignoring Clark for so long. But right now I’m still mad and hurt.
“Gee, nice to know I’m so monotonous and boring.” He’s outright scowling with this statement.
I don’t feel sorry for him...well, maybe a little bit. “You’re not boring, Clark. You’re just...*comfortable*.” Okay, enough of that, I decide to probe him a little further instead. “So do you actually wash his suits for him? I mean, they aren’t ‘dry clean only’ or anything?”
“Do we really have to spend the rest of the evening talking about this?” he asks, unable to hide the irritation in his voice any longer.
His irritation sparks my frustration again. “No, I guess not. I just find it a little disturbing that you kept this a secret from me. It makes me wonder what *other* secrets you’ve been keeping from me.”
Clark definitely squirms this time. “I wasn’t exactly keeping it a secret from you. To keep something a secret, you have to be asked a question and then deny the answer. You never asked.” Wow! I don’t think even a politician could have put that statement any better.
I never asked. Hmm, so does that mean if I just come right out and say ‘Clark, are you Superman?’ that you’ll tell me the truth? Right here and now? Part of me is tempted to put the theory to a test. But not with the *big* question. Maybe with a smaller one.
“So, do you keep anything else for Superman?” I ask him. Will he know what I’m getting at? I think back to the globe that he’d had and kept secret from me. If Clark is Superman, then he still has that globe. Will he admit it?
“I don’t know.”
What? “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? You either keep other stuff for him or you don’t. Which is it?”
He shifts back and forth in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. Great, here comes another lie. “He has his own spot to keep his stuff. I’m not nosy like *some* people. I don’t go through it to see what’s there.”
Nosy! Of all the...before I can get properly riled up, though, he continues.
“Do we really have to keep talking about Superman? I didn’t ask you to come up here so we could discuss Superman’s storage facilities.”
“Why did you bring me up here?” I bite out, no longer hiding the anger in my voice.
Clark shrinks back slightly from the heat in my words. “So we could talk.”
“I see. Well, unfortunately, I don’t feel like talking anymore now. It’s getting late, and I’m ready to head home.”
I can see the disappointment in his face, but I don’t let it make me feel bad. I gave him several opportunities to come clean. He has no excuses. We were here alone. He had his chance. Now, he’s going to pay.
“Goodnight, Clark,” I tell him abruptly, getting up and heading to the elevator. Yes, goodnight...and get a good night’s sleep because you have battle to do in the morning.
**********
To Be Continued...
