Here is some more TGND - thank you to those of you still reading this.
From part 29:
“But anyway, what if, just as you’re getting ready to follow me, someone else needs help?” he continued, “If you hear them, and you’re in your suit… You’ll ignore them?”
“Well, no. Of course not. I mean, if I was wearing…” She trailed off. If she was protected by a disguise, of course she’d go help.
He smiled at her. “See?”
Behind him, both Martha and Jonathan were also smiling. ---
The Girl Next Door, part 30:
“This disguise… what were you thinking of? Any ideas on how it would look?” Clark asked. The four of them were settled comfortably in the living room. A fire crackled quietly in the hearth.
“Well, no… I don’t really know.”
He grinned at her. “We could do what Mom did with me,” he said teasingly.
Turning to Martha, he asked, “Do you still have that leopard print, Mom?”
Martha laughed.
Lois swatted at him. “Clark!”
He laughed, then sobered as he asked Martha, “Seriously, Mom, how do we do this?”
“Hmmm. Well, I guess we could go with a more feminine version of Clark’s costume,” Martha mused. “Except that that’s exactly what you *don’t* want, right?”
“Right.” Aligning herself too closely with Superman might somehow allow someone to make the leap from Superman and… Whoever, to Clark and Lois.
Jonathan spoke up. “It will be harder to hide her identity, too, Martha. She doesn’t wear glasses.”
“True,” Martha replied. “…Well, what about a mask?”
Clark was nodding, but Jonathan replied, “Remember, though, what we said with Clark? With a mask, people might wonder what you’re hiding.
Martha nodded. “Still… without a mask, she’ll be instantly recognizable, regardless of what she’s wearing.” She looked over at Lois again. “And maybe… I don’t know… maybe a hat? I don’t think we have many options for her hair.”
Lois grimaced. “Too bad I can’t somehow dye it on command, then go back to this…” She fingered her hair. “…afterwards.”
“Hmmmm…” Martha said, leaning forward slightly. “Actually, maybe…”
“There isn’t really such a thing, is there?” Clark asked.
“No… Yes. Maybe in a costume shop – those places that sell Halloween stuff – but dying her hair, even temporarily, would be inconvenient. You want something fast and easy, Lois. …What about a cowl?”
“A cowl?” Lois and Clark spoke together.
“A hood,” Martha elaborated. “Or the old fashioned word for something similar to a hood - a snood. My grandmother wore one.”
“Ah, yes. I remember. That might work,” Jonathan agreed.
“A snood?” Clark asked.
“What is it?” Lois asked curiously.
“A snood is a woven net – sort of like a bag - for your hair. But we could adapt that idea – make you a costume with a cape and a hood similar to a snood that encloses your hair.”
“Wouldn’t that cut down on her peripheral vision?” asked Clark.
Martha shook her head. “No - it would be close-fitting over her head and hair. I’m thinking of one piece that would cover her hair and eyes – like a combination snood and half mask. We could leave the lower part of her face uncovered.”
“A sort of cape or cloak with a hood and half mask?” Lois asked.
“Not quite,” Martha replied. “I’d still attach your cape to the actual suit itself. You don’t want the weight of a cape – even a short one – supported only by your neck.”
“So… A hood and half mask thing – loose? And a suit with a cape like Clark’s?”
“Well, I suppose I could probably make it all one piece – a suit with a hood and half mask you pull up and over your head. We’d have to experiment, Lois, and see if the design would allow you to stretch it over your head and still fit snugly. If not, then yes, the hood and mask would be a separate piece.”
“And the suit itself?” asked Jonathan. “What would it look like?”
“I think the colors should be very different,” offered Clark. He glanced at Lois. “To help establish that you’re a separate superhero, not just Superman’s sidekick.”
Jonathan and Martha both laughed.
“Sidekick to Superman? If anything, boy, I suspect that *you* have to hustle to keep up with *her*,” Jonathan said. “If you *were* planning to be a superhero *team*, you’d soon be known as…” He paused. “What will you call yourself, Lois?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Lois replied helplessly. “I have absolutely no idea. Just – not something too similar to Superman.”
“…As ‘Something-Not-Too-Similar’ and Superman,” Jonathan finished.
They all laughed.
“So ‘Sean’ is out?” Clark asked Lois, and then laughed even more heartily when she smacked him.
Martha and Jonathan watched them with bemused smiles.
“It’s… I told him that when he showed up in the shuttle with the ‘S’ on his chest, I had to quick think of a name that started with ‘S’,” she explained, rolling her eyes. “And of course, under that kind of pressure all I could think of at first were regular old men’s names that started with ‘S’.”
Both of Clark’s parents chuckled. “Doesn’t pack quite the same punch as ‘Superman’,” Jonathan told his son.
“That’s what I said,” Clark said, still laughing. “Believe me, I’ve thanked her sincerely for going with ‘Superman’.”
“What *would* we call me?” Lois asked.
“I think… let’s come up with a color scheme, Lois, and try out a few designs first,” Martha suggested. “Then we can sit down and figure out a name.”
Jonathan was nodding. “That’s a good idea, Martha. And now,” he continued, “this old farmer needs to get to bed. We can work on this tomorrow.”
He stood up and offered a hand to Martha, assisting her to her feet. “Goodnight, kids,” she said cheerfully. “Lois, Clark’s old room is made up and ready for you, and Clark, honey, you can use the spare pillows and blankets I keep down here in the hall closet. Do you want me to put a sheet on the couch?”
“I can do that, Mom,” Clark answered, and with a few more goodnights, Martha and Jonathan retired for the night.
“Are you ready for bed, Lois? Or would you like to sit here for a while?” Clark asked.
She smiled at him. “Let’s sit here for a while,” she said. “I’m enjoying the fire.”
---
“Lois?”
“Hmmm?” She turned her head lazily to look at Clark.
“Earlier today…” He hesitated. “When I came back to the Planet, after the bomb in Washington… When we first went into the conference room, you kind of zoned out on me. …What happened?”
“Oh.” She sat up. “Um. I thought maybe… I don’t know… Maybe you’d changed your mind about… us, or something…” She trailed off. It sounded silly now.
He shook his head. “That will never happen, Lois,” he said matter-of-factly. “I love you. I’m not going to stop loving you.” He shifted to face her more directly. “But why would you think that?” he added curiously. “Have I... Have I done or said something that would give you that impression?”
“No!” She squirmed around a little on the couch. Now she really felt silly. “No. It’s just…” She trailed off, not looking at him.
“Here,” he said softly. “Come here.” He pulled her gently into his lap. “Let me hold you.” He wrapped his arms around her, leaning back against the couch cushions, and asked, “Can you tell me?”
She held herself stiffly for a moment, self conscious, but then relaxed against him. Slipping her arms around him, she rested her head against his shoulder just above his heart.
“I thought… maybe it would be easier if you aren’t looking at me,” he said. “Can you tell me now, honey?”
“It’s just… I’ve always been alone, Clark,” she began. “Except for those early days with Mama… and she went away. I know she couldn’t help it, but…” She sighed. “It wasn’t the same after that. The Lanes – well, I didn’t get… I don’t know. I know they cared, in their own way, but… Sam was too wrapped up in his psych stuff to bother much with me. And Ellen… Well, it just wasn’t the same. She hugged me sometimes, but it was more like… like the way you hug someone you haven’t seen in a while, sort of casually, you know? Not like…” She trailed off for a moment, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Not like this,” she whispered.
“And tell me, Lois, what do you need?” He straightened up again, and she lifted her head from his shoulder. When she made a move to shift off of his lap, though, his arms tightened around her and she subsided. Unsure what to do with her hands, she rested them on his arms.
“Do I need to hug you more?” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Although maybe you don’t want to say yes to that. There’ve been a lot of times where it’s been really hard keeping my hands off you, you know.”
She laughed a little. “No, Clark. You are very affectionate.” She leaned forward and kissed him softly. “I’m just… not used to all this. I’m afraid that if I get… dependent on it… Well, what if…” She looked at him seriously. “What if you get… tired of me?”
He looked back at her just as seriously. “Lois… What if *you* get tired of *me*?”
She shook her head. “That won’t happen, Clark. I’ll never…” She trailed off, realizing what she’d just said. “Oh.”
“See?” he whispered. “I’m just as vulnerable.”
This time, he leaned forward and kissed her. “Lois, honey, there aren’t any guarantees,” he said gently. “We’ll have to work at it, just like we do everything else.”
He smiled briefly. “Of course, we can probably rule out any chance of sickness or an accident claiming one of us,” he said dryly.
“But look at how successful we’ve been in other areas of our lives,” he continued earnestly. “That’s partly due to talent, but a lot of it is simply - the desire to be good at what we do. There’s no reason why we can’t make this aspect of our lives just as successful, sweetheart. If we both want it enough to keep working at it.”
“I want that,” she whispered.
“Me, too.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “I love you,” he repeated, “and I am not going to stop loving you. I’ve seen the real you – at your best, and…” He kissed her quickly, and continued teasingly, “at what you *say* was your worst.”
She giggled.
“Better, now?” he asked softly.
“Yes.” She hesitated, then said with a smile, “Poor Clark. Here I am, never been on a date before – so you get to watch me go through all the stuff that most girls go through when they’re teenagers.”
He laughed. “But you’ll be going through every one of them with me, so I don’t mind at all.”
He kissed her again, more lingeringly, and added, “I think… maybe it’s easier for me to… I don’t know… Trust love, than it is for you. To believe it will stay. But you do love me, don’t you?”
“With all my heart,” she whispered.
He smiled sweetly at her. “That’s a start, then. We have love, and we have a strong desire to make this work. We can take it slow, Lois. I meant it when I told you that. As slow as you need to. And we can talk about it if we need to. And I think… in a way, trust is like being a reporter. You have to start with a good base – a good story, a good relationship – but you can turn it into a great thing if you keep at it.”
“What about work, though?” she asked, looking down at where her hands still rested on his arms.
“What about it?” He looked at her quizzically. “We work well together. Or are you worried about too *much* togetherness?”
“No, but… It’s not that I want to be the subject of any more gossip, but it’s getting hard to treat you like just my partner, when we’re more.”
“Oh.” He was silent for a moment.
A little worried, she looked up at him, but he was smiling. “I’m just thinking how to say this without alarming you.”
“What?” she asked, intrigued.
“If it was up to me, you’d be wearing my ring for everyone to see,” he began. Over her small “Oh!” he continued, “But I said I’d give you time. And I don’t really know – we haven’t really discussed it yet – how comfortable you are with my demonstrating that at work. With –“
She grinned at him. “…Public displays of affection?”
He smiled back. “Yeah. I don’t want you to have to listen to gossip.”
“I don’t think we can help that, Clark.” She slipped one hand up to the back of his neck, threading her fingers into the soft hair there.
“How comfortable are you, then, with…” He waved his hand vaguely. “…this sort of thing at work?”
Unable to resist, she wiggled a little on his lap, and as he caught his breath, she said with a wicked grin, “With *this*?”
“No,” he growled, but he was laughing, “You minx.”
When she laughed, he suddenly tipped her backwards, allowing her to fall to the couch and following her down, whereupon he kissed her until they were both short of breath - and floating.
Finally, she looked around and then down, and laughed again.
He smiled back. “Especially not this,” he said ruefully, and floated them back down to the couch.
She shifted off his lap to sit facing him. “Clark, I’m okay with shows of affection –“ She held up her hand, although he hadn’t said anything, and added with a smile, “Small and appropriate for work, of course.” When he laughed softly, she continued seriously, “You’ll just have to be patient with me as I really get used to all this.”
“I’ll wait,” he assured her, and kissed her again.
-----
After breakfast the next morning, Martha rose from the table. “Jonathan, if you and Lois will clear the table, I’ll get my supplies and we’ll see what we can come up with for Lois’s disguise. Clark, come help me carry the basket of material, will you, please?”
Lois stood and began to help gather plates and silverware. “Leave the coffee cups, Lois,” Jonathan told her, running water into the sink. “We’ll probably have more coffee.”
He began to wash the dishes, rinsing them and setting them neatly into a wooden rack beside the sink. “We’ll just leave them to drip dry here,” he said, handing her a wet cloth to wipe the table. Just as she finished, Clark and his mom returned.
“Now, about this disguise, Lois,” Martha said briskly, reentering the kitchen with what looked like a medium-sized tackle box. Clark followed behind her carrying a laundry basket piled with shimmery material, most of it in Superman’s red, blue, and yellow, in one hand, and what looked like one of those plastic pet carriers with the handle on the top, except that there was no wire grid at one end or ventilation holes along the sides.
“Put the sewing machine on the floor for now, Clark. Oh, Jonathan, leave the rest of those dishes,” she added, waving her free hand at him. “I’ll do them later. This is more important.” As Jonathan chuckled, she continued, “Now, let’s see what I have. Clark, put the basket on the counter for now, please. Have you given any more thought to colors, Lois?”
Lois blinked. Martha might not be super-powered, but she was certainly energetic. “Not really,” she answered. “Just that if possible, we should try for something different enough to… distance myself from Superman…”
“Different colors would certainly help,” Jonathan said.
Clark had set the basket of material out of the way on the kitchen counter, and now he set the pet-carrier-that-wasn’t-a-pet-carrier on the floor. That must be Martha’s sewing machine, then.
“Here, everyone sit down,” Martha continued. “Jonathan, get me some scrap paper, please. I’ve got a couple of ideas, and you might be able to envision them better if I draw them for you.”
Lois and Clark sat down at the table. Jonathan took a notepad and pencil from one of the kitchen drawers, handed them to Martha, and took his own chair.
“I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit,” Martha said, beginning to sketch out a vague human form. “You know,” she added, “you could also pitch your abilities differently.”
“How?” Lois asked curiously, watching the drawing take shape under Martha’s hand.
“How, Mom?” Clark echoed.
“Instead of presenting yourself as a female version of Superman –“ Martha held up her hand as Clark made to speak. “Not intentionally, Clark. Bear with me.”
She stopped drawing to look directly at Lois. “Superman is known to be a super-powered alien from the planet Krypton. What if you were to present yourself as something else… Like, oh, a telekinetic.”
“How?” Lois asked again, as Clark added, “Mom, a telekinetic couldn’t do all the things Superman does…”
“Not a regular telekinetic, Clark. A *tactile* telekinetic.”
“A what?” This time, Lois and Clark spoke together.
“A tactile telekinetic,” Martha repeated. “Yes, there is such a thing. You move things by touching them. It doesn’t matter how big they are or what they weigh, because you’re supposedly using your mind to move them, although you have to be touching them first. But that would take care of the super strength.”
“Mom, how do you –“ Clark began, but his mom anticipated him.
“How do I know about things like tactile telekinesis?” She laughed. “I’ve read about it. It’s quite fascinating, really. There was a woman in Russia in the early sixties who could move small objects, for instance...”
“But…” Lois glanced at Clark. This was his mom; she didn’t want to say anything that might hurt anyone’s feelings. She looked back at Martha. “Aren’t those just… tall tales?” she asked tentatively.
Martha laughed. “Who knows? It certainly sounds like something out of a comic book, doesn’t it? But here we were, raising a child who could start fires with his eyes, hear things miles away, and fly around the house. We had no idea how or why Clark could do the things he did. But after watching a few of his powers develop, it was relatively easy to suspend my disbelief that such things might exist in others.”
“I’ll be the first to admit that I spent a lot less time scoffing at tales of amazing feats once Clark was about ten years old,” Jonathan said dryly.
They all laughed.
“If I did claim to be a… tactile telekinetic?” She looked inquiringly at Martha, who nodded. “…A tactile telekinetic,” Lois repeated, “that would explain being able to lift things and move them around easily, but… what about things like flight?”
Martha flapped a hand in dismissal. “That’s easy. Your entire self changes the air around you. You could even put in some small gimmick of some kind, you know… a motion or gesture of some sort. Like - get into the habit of lifting off with, say, your arms crossed, or spread out, or something like that. So that you look different when you take off than Clark does,” she added.
“What about the other things we can do?” Clark asked.
“Some of them you may have to be sort of mum about,” Martha said. “But it could work to your advantage to have a couple of hidden abilities. Or… you could always claim they’re due to some sort of psionic ability, too.”
Jonathan rested an elbow on the table, propped his chin in his hand, and smiled at his wife. “Martha, I think you’re getting more entertainment out of this whole thing than the kids are.”
She laughed and went back to sketching.
As the figures took shape under her hand, she began to explain what she had in mind. “We talked about the hood,” she said, sketching in a hood that went over the figure’s head, leaving the lower face bare. She sketched in generously-sized eye holes – “You don’t want your vision obscured because of a fashion mishap,” she commented.
For some reason, Lois found that uproariously funny, and her laughter soon had the others laughing with her. Martha had to stop drawing for a moment, and every time she caught Lois’s eye, they would both go off into peals of laughter again.
Finally, they wound down, and Jonathan rose to pour everyone more coffee. Martha picked up the pencil again and went back to her drawing. “I think a full-length body suit would be best,” she said. “As opposed to short sleeves, or…”
Clark grinned wickedly at Lois, but he didn’t say – or think – anything to her.
Just in case, though… “That’ll be fine, Martha. What about the cape?” she asked quickly.
“Well, I thought – maybe a bit more full at the top, and not as long,” Martha replied. Rapidly, she sketched in a cape flowing out behind the figure, then drew a very rough side view that showed the cape coming slightly more than halfway down the figure’s length. “Unless you want a full-length cape like Clark’s?” she added.
“Is there any kind of advantage to a shorter cape, Mom?” asked Clark.
“Oh, nothing huge,” Martha answered, shading in the cape. “Just that she’s much slighter than you are, Clark, and it makes a different line. Another visual difference between you two.” She tipped the picture in Lois’s direction. “Something along these lines, honey. And I thought – maybe black with an accent color panel here in the front, and a slightly lighter cape – maybe navy blue? We can try other colors, of course…”
Lois looked at Clark. “I like it,” she said. “What do you think?”
He smiled at her. “I think you’d look good in anything, but yes, I think Mom may be on to something.” He grinned at his mother, then turned back to Lois. “Are you sure you don’t want that leopard-print stuff, though?”
He ducked as she tossed her napkin at him.
“Did you really make him a leopard-print outfit, Martha?” she asked curiously.
Martha laughed. “I certainly did, honey. I still have it; maybe we can get him to model it for you.”
Laughing, Clark stood up. “Uh uh – I think it’s time we went out and worked on… whatever you have that needs working on, Dad,” he said, and looked back at Lois with as straight a face as he could manage. “I’m going to be far, *far* too busy, honey… And I’d hate to distract Mom from making your costume…”
Surrounded by their laughter, Martha shooed the men out of the kitchen. “Come on, Lois. Let’s see what we can come up with,” she said. “We still need to see if this pattern translates into a practical outfit, and I think the ultimate test would be to try it on and do a few super things in it. I’ll need to get your measurements, and then you can keep me company while I work on it. I’ll tell you all about how cute Clark was as a little boy.”
---
To be continued
