Oh, goody!
A introspective semi-sequel to "Observational Skills"!
No one does inner turmoil as well as you, Anti-K. You have made this important scene full of even more depth and hidden meaning than before. Plus you've rounded out some of those rough edges and questions that plagued us.
I love how Clark examines every word and nuance of Lois's -- searching for a hidden meaning, hoping for clue, something, to not have to tell her his lie.
Except...except for that hug right after her almost-wedding. Except for the fact that she didn't say "I do." Except for the quiet, wondering glances she's been giving him all week. Except for a hundred other things that make him wonder what could be, what might be, what the future just might bring...
But he wants to see hope so badly that maybe he's only imagining it.
And, even though it is there, even with all his extra abilities he cannot see the truth before his eyes -- that Lois's opinion of his worth in her life has improved since that day in the park, when he confessed his love for her. Perhaps it's not yet love, but a door that had previously been bolted shut has been unlocked. And this, he's still too blinded by love, still too hurt by her words from the bench to see the truth in front of him.
And even though I'm hoping for a kiss that I know will not come, there is a truth behind your words:
She needs a friend, he knows, and maybe he does too. Maybe he needs that certainty that she'll be there the next time he looks for her, that she won't hang up her phone if he calls her, that she'll be his partner without jumping every time he smiles at her or blushing when he puts his hand on her back or making excuses every time he asks her to lunch or to watch a video or any other thing he's grown used to getting to do with her.
Maybe they both need space. Maybe they both need simple friendship. Maybe they both need each other, and as unsure about everything else as he is, the one thing he knows for certain is that they'll never be comfortable with each other, never go back to the way it was, not with his unwelcome declaration of love sitting between them.
Once again, he's right. Though how much I'd love for him to be wrong. They do need time and space, to heal some painful wounds.
But that didn't stop me from wanting a twist, I knew wouldn't be coming from this introspective piece. (I can still dream, can't I?
) At least, Lois acknowledges that she knows that Clark is lying (I love how he doesn't realize how horrible of a liar he is.)
It's disappointing, this moment, because he's spent the past week convincing himself that if he told her this lie, they'd be just as they had been before, be just Lois and Clark again, hardly even any spaces to separate them, their names blending and merging together in everyone's mouths.
But they aren't LoisandClark right now. They're still Lois standing there and Clark standing here, and they might be close physically, but there's still a distance that has yet to be bridged. And that hurts, but he can't convince his battered heart that he's only imagining all the things he thinks he sees in her, and he's nothing if not patient,
I love that he pictures their partnership without spaces, "LoisandClark" -- as one way that they can be together as one. It's beautiful and sad at the same time. Oh, Clark. My heart aches for him.
A minute earlier, and she would have been telling him that she might just possibly love him as more than a friend. She hadn't thought she loved him, but that mirror in Lex Tower that had framed her in her wedding dress had certainly been revealing, pulling out of her the simple "Lois Lane Kent" that betrayed the fact that she *did* think of Clark as a possible romantic partner. Since then, all week long, she'd been looking at him in a new light, sneaking sidelong glances at him and wondering what it would be like to have him as a boyfriend or as a lover or as--and this surprised her, but she blamed the wedding dress for it--as a husband.
And there's where my heart breaks. Oh, Lois. Oh, Clark. You blind fools.
It hurts to hear him say he lied, but she knows that's because it's hard to envision Clark lying to her at all. He told her the truth about Luthor, about his feelings, about everything...until this moment when he actually is lying to her.
Yep, she knows the truth.
But he's so transparent, so predictable. She should have known he'd do this, should have guessed that he'd be trying to find anyway to make her more comfortable, to be her friend again, to correct what he surely has to think was a mistake. She knows exactly why he's lying to her, and it's disappointing, but she's nothing if not flexible, so she discards her own prepared speech and smiles back at him.
No, no, no! Don't discard the prepared speech! For once, I want to hear it. Tell him you know he's lying and... that's never going to happen, is it? Sigh.
"Yeah, uh, what you said. I'm just...that. Sort of," she can't resist adding because that "forever" he mentioned sounded somewhat final, and she's not sure she wants to lock herself into this lie for quite that long.
Thank God for small miracles.
Besides, she misses Clark, misses him even though she's been with him for most of the past week. She misses when they could tease each other without worrying about offending or hurting the other, when she could place a hand on his chest to emphasize a point without guiltily worrying that she was giving him a false impression, when he could smile at her without throwing her into a tailspin wondering what he was thinking or imagining when he looked at her *that* way.
She misses being his just-friend and having a just-friend.
Well, okay, I guess, in that case... it makes sense.
, she's thinking Clark, not Superman!
Great little introspection, as always. Thank you for sharing. I wish I could have a tenth of your talent in that regards.