From Part 4:“More comfortable here.” He sat on the sofa with Lois still cradled in his arms and let out a hiss of breath when she shifted so that she was straddling him, pressing against him in all sorts of interesting places. “Lois...” he whispered. Desire shot through him, and at that moment she was all he knew, all that existed. And then she was kissing him, her mouth hungry for his, and he let himself get lost in the taste and feel of her, soft and warm and willing in his arms.
Somewhere across town, the sirens still screamed, but Clark Kent no longer heard them.
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Part 5:The evening ended with a reluctant pulling back and some nervous laughter as they untangled themselves and rearranged their clothing in Clark’s darkened apartment. They moved quickly and awkwardly, like two teenagers whose parents might be coming to the door any minute to catch them. Clark knew it was silly, this self-consciousness; they were both adults and could do whatever they wanted to in the privacy of his apartment, but still it was there, and they both seemed to be feeling it.
“I should go,” Lois told him as she finished tucking in her sweater. Watching her, he was struck by the contrast between
this Lois, flushed and disheveled from his kisses, and the Lois who had stood in the middle of his kitchen, so poised and perfect, with a wineglass in her hand. He wasn’t sure which was more beautiful. She tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. “We have work tomorrow.”
“Let me drive you home,” he offered. “I can keep the Jeep – pick you up tomorrow morning.”
“No,” she protested. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.”
“I really don’t mind.”
“I know you don’t. And I know it’s probably a blow to your overdeveloped sense of chivalry to know that your date can get home without your help.” She smiled to take the sting from the words. “But I really can.”
“I know you can,” he conceded, recognizing that for whatever reason, she was going to insist on this bit of independence. “But be careful, please.”
“Well, I thought I’d run over to the South Side on the way home and walk the streets a bit. You know... see if I can get any story ideas for tomorrow.” She flashed him a teasing grin.
“Lo-is,” he complained, because he knew it was expected of him, but the words ‘South Side’ had struck him like a blow to the gut. He extended his hearing, but the sirens were silent now. What had he missed? What had been happening in his city while he had hidden himself away in Lois’s kisses? Were there people out there, hurt and confused, wondering why Superman hadn’t come?
“Well, if you insist on driving yourself, you should probably go before it gets any later,” he said. He tried to sound casual, but Lois cocked her head at him, as if she were searching for some hidden meaning in his words.
What was he supposed to do? he wondered, suddenly feeling almost angry at her. She was the one who said she needed to go; she was the one who insisted on driving herself. He wasn’t running away from her. He was
agreeing with her, for crying out loud.
“You’re probably right,” she said, and maybe it was his imagination, but he thought her voice sounded a little cool.
No, he thought desperately, the anger draining away. No, no, no! He couldn’t let their evening end on a wrong note.
“Hey,” he said softly, going to her and putting his arms around her. “I had a really great time tonight.”
“Me, too,” she said, and he felt her relax against him. “A really great time. Probably the best time I’ve ever had.”
He looked down at her, his eyes twinkling. “Is this the part where you slam the door in my face? Because I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t want to end all our dates that way.”
She laughed. “So how were you hoping to end them?”
“Like this,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and bending to caress her lips with a kiss that was more tender than passionate.
“I like that way,” she murmured.
“Me, too,” he agreed.
“But I really should go.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he offered. And as they walked outside, he felt the anxiety starting up again, like a swarm of angry hornets in his belly. He saw her safely to her car, watched as she got in and put on her seatbelt, and then forced himself to stand there while she gave him one last smile and drove away into the night.
But no sooner was she out of sight than he was back in his apartment, spinning into his suit. He had to
know, that was all. He had to know what he’d missed, what the consequences were of ignoring all those sirens.
He shot away from his apartment, the sonic boom echoing over Metropolis as he rocketed toward the South side of town, where he saw the still-smoking ruins of one of the city’s oldest school buildings. It was a middle school now, or had been before the fire, but when it was first built, it had housed all grades, first through twelfth. Clark remembered Scott Myerson doing a feature on it once, remembered pictures of bright bulletin boards, neat rows of desks, and a wonderful old gymnasium, the first in the city.
Firemen and policemen were still milling around the scene, and even though he could tell he was no longer needed, he landed solidly in their midst, arranging his face in his usual blank mask.
“Superman,” the nearest of the policemen said, approaching him. “Not much for you to do here. You missed all the fun.”
And the worst of it was that there was no accusation in his tone. No hint that Superman had disappointed them by not showing up when the fire was raging.
“Were there any injuries?” he asked, because he had to know, and he felt almost lightheaded with relief when the policeman shook his head.
“Lotta damage, obviously, but the building was empty, it being nighttime. Good thing it didn’t happen during the day, though.”
“I’m sorry,” Clark said, feeling a crazy need to have this man grant him some sort of absolution. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here earlier,” he clarified, when the policeman gave him a strange look.
The man shrugged. “We know you can’t be everywhere at once, Superman.”
What would you say if you knew? Clark thought, and for a crazy moment, he wanted to confess, to tell this total stranger that he hadn’t been saving someone somewhere else, hadn’t been off fighting for truth and justice. He’d just been wrapped around his girlfriend in a candlelit apartment on the other side of town – touching her, learning the things that pleased her – while a school burned to the ground.
“Seems to have started around the gym,” the man said conversationally. “The fire marshal thinks it might have been kids smoking there earlier in the day.”
Clark remembered doing the same one time - trying his first and last cigarette behind the Smallville High gym. His friend Adam had stolen the cigarettes from his mother’s purse and shared them with his friends. Clark had gone along with it, but he had not seen the appeal and had never been tempted to try it again. It was a thing that teenagers did, though. They smoked cigarettes and they were careless and they never thought there would be consequences.
Suddenly Clark felt weary. He was not needed here, and maybe he never had been. All around him, the emergency workers moved purposefully, doing their jobs and sparing him the occasional curious glance, but no one seemed to expect him to do anything. No one seemed to blame him for the fire, or for not being there while it was raging. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all, and he should have been relieved, but instead he felt tired and a little let down.
“You all right, Superman?” The policeman gave him a quizzical look.
“I’m fine,” Clark said. “I’m glad no one was hurt. But I should probably let you get back to work.”
The man nodded, already moving away from him. “Thanks for stopping by, Superman,” he called over his shoulder, as if Superman were a guest, a visitor, who had arrived late and missed tea.
Clark stood for a few seconds, watching the activity around him, and even though there were things he could do, ways he could offer to help, suddenly he couldn’t stand to be in that place another minute. He turned his back on the smoldering building and flew away, making a perfunctory pass over some of the city’s frequent problem areas but seeing nothing that required his special skills.
This was good, he told himself. It just confirmed the decision he’d already made. Metropolis could get along without Superman, and so could Clark Kent. Eventually, the sound of sirens wouldn’t grip him by the throat, wouldn’t call him to the skies. Someday, whatever emptiness he might be feeling now would be replaced by the fullness of life. And with that in mind, he flashed quickly back into his apartment, just long enough to grab the piece of paper he’d folded carefully and tucked into his wallet for safekeeping.
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The light was on in Lois’s bedroom, and Clark imagined her in bed, curled on her side, maybe reading for a few minutes before she fell asleep. He resisted using his x-ray vision to peek through the curtains at her, confining himself instead to the picture she made in his imagination. She’d be happy, he thought, after their evening together, and he was about to make her unhappy. That pained him, but he knew that telling her now, privately, was less cruel than letting her find out at the press conference, as if she meant no more to Superman than any other random reporter. There was too much history between them for that, and so he gathered his courage, moved to her living room window, and rapped lightly at the glass.
There was a cowardly part of him that hoped she wouldn’t hear and that he could go away and tell himself he’d tried. But it was only a few seconds before the light in the living room flashed on and she was at the window, unlatching it and welcoming him, as she always had.
“Superman,” she said, her voice threaded with surprise. She was wearing a t-shirt over some soft shorts, but he noticed that she folded her arms across her chest little self-consciously, and in that moment he knew they were both remembering the same thing – that dreadful night when she had offered herself to him and he’d coldly rejected her. They had gotten past that night, but neither would ever forget it. It was there, a part of their tangled history together, an awkward step in the dance they’d been doing ever since they’d met.
“Lois.” He nodded a greeting, unsure of how to begin.
“Uh, did you need something, or is this a social call?” she prompted, when the silence lengthened and began to feel awkward.
“I need to tell you something.” He had the press release clutched in his hand, folded as if it were a note he was planning to pass her in homeroom. “I...I’m planning to call a press conference. Friday morning.”
She waited, and when he didn’t go on, she said, “Do you...need some help with that?”
“Uh, no. It’s not that. It’s what I’m going to say. I didn’t want you to hear it for the first time at the press conference. You’ve...been a friend to me, and I thought I should tell you myself.”
“This... sounds bad,” she said, taking a step closer to him, searching his face. “Is something wrong? Is it about the lawsuits? Because Clark said....”
“No,” he interrupted, not wanting to bring Clark into this at all. “It’s nothing to do with the lawsuits. It’s that... I’m leaving, Lois,” he said softly. “Forever.”
She stared at him. “Leaving Metropolis?”
“Yes… no. I mean, I’m leaving…everywhere. Permanently. No more Superman.” And that sounded ridiculous, he realized – as if he were just going to disappear in a puff of smoke.
“Oh.” The one word was so desolate that it felt like needles being driven into his heart. “But… you
can’t. You can’t just…”
“I’m sorry, Lois. I can’t even explain it to you, but please believe me when I say that I’m leaving because I have to – because I’m needed – and I hope that one day you’ll understand. I
will miss you.”
He realized as he said it that it was true. Despite the fact that he would see her every day as Clark Kent, would
date her as Clark Kent, he would still miss her friendship with Superman. It had been inconvenient and uncomfortable and occasionally downright bizarre, but it had been comforting, too. It had been a constant – one of those things you could just count on. You had your death, your taxes, and your Lois Lane championing Superman. It was just the way things were. And if there had been a part of him that had enjoyed that adoring look she’d sometimes gotten when she saw him…well, what man wouldn’t find Lois Lane’s adoration a little addictive?
“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice broke slightly. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m reading this at the press conference on Friday,” he said, and he was embarrassed when his hands shook a little as he unfolded the piece of paper he’d brought with him and handed it to her.
She swiped at a tear that had escaped down one cheek and accepted the piece of paper; he watched her eyes track over it quickly, and then she turned away from him a little and read it through more slowly.
“You’re sure about this?” she asked finally, not meeting his eyes.
“I don’t think there’s any other way,” he told her honestly.
“And you can’t tell me why?”
“What it comes down to is that I can’t... be in two places at once,” he said, venturing as close to the truth as he dared. “I had to make a choice. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you any more than that.”
“Who else knows?” she asked, and he was a little unnerved by the calm that had seemed to come over her.
“Just Ms. Hunter.”
“No one else?”
“No. Only you.”
“You haven’t discussed it with Clark?” She looked at him then, and he could see that tears still tracked silently down her cheeks.
“No,” he said, feeling his heart twist in his chest at the sight of those tears. “I’d rather the rest of the press not know until Friday.”
She nodded, looking a little dazed. There was a long moment of silence between them, and he had no idea how to fill it. “May I keep this?” she said finally, indicating the press release.
He hesitated and then nodded, once. He trusted her.
She took a deep breath and seemed to regroup. The tears stopped flowing, and she carefully folded the press release and set it to one side.
“I’ll help you,” she said quietly. “I can notify the press for you. I have all the contacts...”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. I mean, I don’t want you to do this at all, but if you have to, I want to... help you, however I can. You’ve done so much for me...” her voice wavered a little “...saved my life so many times.”
The room seemed suddenly oppressive, the guilt pressing down on him so that he could hardly breathe. “
No, Lois. You don’t owe me anything for that.”
“I know.” She’d recovered from her momentary loss of control, and she sounded firm again, certain. “But I want to do this.”
He heard the steel in her voice, her determination to carry her own way, and was reminded of her earlier refusal to let him drive her home. In the end, it didn’t seem to matter very much one way or another who contacted the press, and he didn’t have the heart to fight her. He hadn’t counted on this, though – hadn’t counted on making her an accessory to what he was going to do. Sometime in the future, he was sure he would pay dearly for this moment of weakness.
“All right,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Where were you planning to have it?” she asked. “And when?”
“Friday morning sometime,” he said. “And I hadn’t thought about where. I was planning to discuss it with Ms. Hunter tomorrow. I’d like it to be outside, I think.” He suddenly felt as if he were making his own funeral arrangements, with Lois playing the part of the grieving widow, and the feeling was so morbid and uncomfortable that he wanted nothing more than to get the conversation over with as soon as possible.
“The park?” she suggested. “Maybe by the fountain?”
He nodded. It didn’t matter to him, and the park was as good a place as any, and better than some. Whatever she wanted was fine with him. “That’s fine. The park’s fine.”
“I’ll take care of it. Be in the park at 9 a.m., and I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Thank you, Lois.” He took a deep breath. “And thank you for all your help since I came to Metropolis. You’ve been a good friend to me.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, just as he had much earlier that night, when she arrived at his apartment. This time, though, he was impressed not by her fragility but by her strength. He bent and brushed a chaste kiss against her cheek.
“You’ve been a good friend to me, too,” she said softly. “I hope… you’ll be happy.”
“I will be.” He said it with certainty and then added, “I’ll see you Friday. We’ll say our goodbyes then, all right?”
“Friday,” she echoed softly, as he slipped through her billowing curtains and out into the night.
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More beta thanks to Sara Kraft, who was hugely helpful with this part!
