Note that this part is largely unedited, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Disclaimer: They're not mine. The end.
After Midnight Part 2
Lois Lane walked briskly down the sidewalk, stepping carefully over an empty Pepsi can. The last thing she needed was to trip on the damn thing and fall on her face. She paused, suddenly angry at the can, and turned around and kicked it as hard as she could. Damn Clark, Superman, whoever he was. At the thought, she felt the tears pooling in her eyes and quickly blinked them away. She couldn't cry, not until she got home and was out of the sight of any roaming eyes. Lois Lane, star reporter for the Daily Planet did not cry. Mad Dog Lane, ruthless in her pursuit of the truth, willing to walk over anybody to get what she wanted, did not cry. The fact that she was so close to doing so only served to make her angrier.
Her brain was still spinning from her discovery and although she didn’t know much, she did know that she was furious. And for good reason. He had deceived her in the cruelest way possible. Sure, it had been wonderful while it lasted. It had been great. Her lips still tingled from his kiss. She could almost feel his lips against them, coaxing, imploring her to let him into her heart. The way he touched her, the way his lips moved on hers had been glorious, sensuous. But now she's like nothing more than to grab those sensuous lips of his, wrap them around his neck and strangle him with them.
As she walked briskly down Fifth Avenue, the heaviness of night enveloping her, Lois again felt the urge to cry. Or scream. Or both. Clark is Superman. Superman is Clark. It should have confused her, but instead it made sense. All the disappearances, the lame excuses about video tapes or the cheese of the month club, the convenient way that they never appeared to be in the same place at the same time. It all fit, like a thousand piece of a puzzle coming together.
So why hadn’t she seen it? She was a three-time Kerth award winning investigative journalist. With the emphasis on *investigative.* She had sniffed out drug lords, gangs, murderers, corrupt politicians. She had tackled everything that had come her way, solved nearly ever mystery put in front of her. And she, with her remarkable investigative skills had been fooled by a pair of glasses and a slicked back hairdo.
She was angry at herself; she must be the most galactically stupid woman on earth. But, really she was angry at him. Why hadn't he told her? She wracked her mind for an answer. Was he ever going to tell her? If so, when? After he had gotten her into bed? After he had wormed his way into her heart? When she had a ring on her finger? When their children would start picking up the furniture? When she was old and grey and on her death bed? When it was too late to change her mind about loving him? But damn him, it already was – she couldn’t do anything now to stop loving him, needing him; he just didn’t know it. Even though she was angry as hell at Clark, her feelings for him hadn't disappeared like she wished they would. She wanted to hate him. She wanted so desperately to hate him, to forget his kiss, to forget their two years as partners. She wanted to forget everything but what he had done to her tonight. The lies, the betrayal, the deception.
He had lied to her. And it wasn't about something small. It was *huge.* It was an elephant-sized secret. A dinosaur-sized secret. A lie he had told her since the day that he walked into the Planet building. Lois stopped in her tracks, as the realization hit her. She didn't know the man she loved. She didn't know anything about him- his name, his age, his favorite color. If he had lied to her about his own identity, about who he was, who was to say he hadn't lied to her about anything else? Everything else? Who’s to say the he wasn’t somebody totally different? After all, he wasn’t Clark Kent. So maybe he was Joe Smith, or Bill Jones, or that bastard freak-of-nature Dick Clark. He could be a dozen people with a dozen different lives and a dozen different jobs and a dozen different best friends. He could be anyone.
She walked briskly down the hall to her apartment building and, with a shaking hand, inserted her key into the lock. Violently, she turned the key only to find herself locked out. Her door had been open.
<What were you thinking?,> she berated herself. <Leaving the door open? You live in Metropolis, the big bad city, not in some hick town in the Midwest. Not Kansas… not goddamn Smallville. Not… Yes, Lois, leaving your door open is like sticking a sign up that says ‘Please burgle me…’>
Frustrated, she jammed the key into the lock once more and let herself in. She didn’t need to get over emotional about a forgetful mistake made in haste earlier in the day. She had enough to get over emotional about, and she'd only work herself into another fit where she would babble to herself and then run out and buy more ice cream. She was spending too much of her paycheck on comfort food as it was.
Dropping her purse on the couch, she walked calmly into her bedroom, sat down on her Queen-sized bed, and picked up her pillow.
***
"Michelle, did you hear that?" Arnold Sitkowitz asked his wife, tilting his ear upward. He was sure he heard something…
The dark haired woman looked up from the latest issue of "Better Homes and Gardens," and thought for a moment. Then, as she figured it out, she smiled.
"It sounded like a scream. I bet you it was Lois. The poor girl must deal with so much stress. I mean, she nearly dies every other week."
"She'll be okay, Pooky. I love that you care though." Arnold moved closer to his wife, taking her in his arms.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
The moment was interrupted by another scream coming from the apartment above. Michelle just shook her head.
***
<I feel better now,> Lois told herself. <I feel better. I really, really feel better. Screaming helps. It really helps. Primal scream therapy- that's the way to go. Who needs to pay a bunch of money to some shrink who probably doesn’t know anything anyway when you have a handy pillow right there in your own apartment.>
"That’s the perfect solution,” she mumbled to herself, still lying on her bed. “Stupid Clark. Superman. Whatever.” She jerked herself off her bed, finding it hard to stay still. She marched over to her window, pulled it closed and locked it.
“I need curtains,” she muttered. Superman wasn’t going to get any ideas about flying into her apartment anymore. He could kiss that one goodbye. No more dancing to “Fly Me to the Moon.” No more late night visits to make sure she was okay. She was done.
Turning away from the window angrily, she nearly bumped into their Christmas tree, the tree they had decorated only a week ago when she had been so happy. A week ago, she had believed Clark an honest, decent man. A week ago she had been touched that he had skipped his flight to Smallville to be with her on Christmas Eve. A week ago, she hadn’t known of his deception, hadn’t known that he could fly or see through walls or lift cars. A week ago, he had been Clark Kent. And she had been happy.
But she wasn’t allowed to be happy. Fate would never allow it.
She ripped the crystal star off of the tree, opened the window, and hurled it out. Then, standing next to Clark’s tree, in front of Superman’s window, Lois began to cry.
******
Clark fell back on his sofa, defeated.
Of all the ways for Lois to find out he was Superman, all the ways he had dreamt of telling her, this had not been one of them.
She hadn't even yelled at him. She had just stormed out without a single word which was rare for Lois. She should have been yelling at him, throwing things at the wall, screaming. Those he expected. Those he could handle. Silence was an entirely new experience, on he wasn’t sure how to deal with.
He hadn't had a chance to explain, or even to apologize. She had just left, so quickly that it almost made him wonder which of them had superspeed.
He almost smiled at the irony. He was going to tell her. After he kissed her, he was going to tell her everything. He just wanted to taste her lips first, the traditional midnight kiss. But then she had kissed him back and he had lost himself.
Shaking his head, he gathered what was left of his wits and tried to analyze the situation.
Lois knew he was Superman. Lois was mad. Lois did not deal well with anger. Lois was probably going home. An angry Lois was not a safe Lois. She wouldn’t be paying attention to the cars on the street or the Metropolis crazies that hid in the alley, waiting for a pretty, young woman like her to walk past.
Deciding that Lois was, almost certainly, likely to place herself in danger, Clark spun into the Suit and dove out the balcony window.
Spotting her, he decided to follow her home, flying about a hundred feet over her head. Her brisk pace saddened him. She was practically running. Away from him. Not that he could blame her. The entire thing had been his fault. He knew he shouldn't have invited her over. It had been new territory for both of them. The combination of New Year’s Eve, and the fact that they were closer friends than ever, should have warned him not to call her up that afternoon to ask her over for Chinese and a movie. Because sure enough, the clock had turned midnight and then he was kissing her and she was kissing him and they were kissing each other and it had been wonderful. But she had pulled away from him before he knew what was happening and stormed out with tears in his eyes. It was only when he looked down at himself in confusion did he see why.
He could see now how much she was hurting. It was completely his fault.
And yet, he was almost glad that she had found out. It wasn't, of course, the way he had planned to tell her, but at least there were no more secrets between them. Except for the fact that he was so hopelessly in love with her that he could hardly breathe half the time.
It had all happened so fast, he was still adjusting to what her knowing meant. He wouldn't have to make any more excuses to her when he heard a cry for help. She'd be there to cover for him with Perry when he needed it. Or at least, he hoped she would. He wouldn't have to lie to her every day, which before tonight, had been the hardest part of it all. He would be able to use his superpowers freely around her when they were tracking a story, saving time. That is, if she still wanted to work with him.
He hovered over her apartment building, wanting nothing more than anything to follow her inside, to talk to her, explain everything. He wanted to fix what he had broken. He couldn't, though. Lois had made it perfectly clear that she needed her space.
He heard her scream, a primal, anguished sound, and he immediately x-rayed her apartment. If she was hurt… but he saw nothing, no thief, no rapist, no crazy psychotic looking to strangle her. She was laying on her bed, screaming. Because of him. The guilt overwhelmed him. He had never seen her like this. Sure, he’d seen her mad. Lois wasn’t one to hide her anger, but he had never seen her this hurt, and to know that he had caused her pain nearly killed him.
Seeing her walk to her window, his heart jumped a little. She would call for him and he would come and explain everything. And she’d listen and understand and he’d hold her and kiss her and tell her that it would be okay. He’d tell her that he loved her and there would be no secrets between them anymore.
She closed her window, locked it, and Clark knew she’d never listen. He’d hurt her too much. It was over- their friendship, their partnership, everything. He turned to fly away, to fly home, and he heard the creak of her window. She had opened it again. He looked down at her from his position in the sky, hopeful.
The star he had given her flew out of her window like a shooting star, hurling towards the hard pavement. He swooped down and caught it, unwilling to see it shatter into a million pieces.
And he heard her start to cry. The sound of her sobs overtook him, paralyzing him. He hovered where he was, holding the star that he had given her, listening to her weep.
