Well, Rachel, I was about to write what I almost routinely write when I read a story where Clark is hiding his double identity from Lois:
Make the no-good lying S.O.B. tell her the truth already!!!½! (Eh... the !!!½! was a typo, but I kind of liked it.)
Okay. I rant and rave when Clark is lying to Lois. It drives me nuts when he insists that he
isn't Superman, and the next moment he runs off to supposedly pick up his Cheese of the Month shipment so that he can spin into the suit and perform another Superman rescue. I hate it!!! At other times he is temporarily powerless, so that he's
sort of telling the truth when he says that he isn't Superman. Ah, but he's chomping at the bit and raring to go, impatiently awaiting the return of his powers so that he can burst into action again. Physically he may not be Superman on those occasions, but mentally he certainly is.
But in your story, Rachel... well, in your story, Clark just
isn't Superman. Not in any way at all. Not physically, really, and absolutely, certainly not mentally. How perfectly, ironically fitting it is that the one power of his that has definitely not returned is his ability to fly. Because what is it, after all, that makes Superman fly? I'm reminded of Mary Poppins, the Mary Poppins that was there before she was disneyfied, who flew because of the influence of "laugh gas" (don't ask me what it was called in English). Mary Poppins flew, as it were, on invisible wings of
joy. And Superman, too, the Superman who
flew, was boyed by the power of happiness. Consider what that Superman looked like in Lois's photo (and never mind that he wasn't actually flying in that picture):
There, in the first little photo protector of the wallet, was Superman.
It was an early picture—one of his very first public pictures, if Lois remembered correctly. His expression was the well-known and familiar one that had come to define the superhero to the world. His eyes were light, his lips together in a way that could only be described as “determined,” though the smallest smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. His arms were crossed beneath his S-shield, and behind him waved an American flag.
The light in his eyes was almost laughter, though it was carefully masked beneath what might be mistaken for grimness. He must have had a good day of rescues, or something.
This Superman - this happy Superman, this determined Superman, this Superman who
believed - in himself, in the world, in his own ability to be there for the world and make it a better place - this Superman could fly. But this Superman is no more. And Lois is close to breaking apart at the seams with the pain of his absence:
Being essentially a Lois fan, I'm so moved at times by this Lois:
Her hands had been shaking the whole time.
Clark’s heart ached, and he looked away. Lois was so strong. So strong, even now, but it was his fault that she was scarred. His fault she was scared.
Considering what Lois has been like in this story and what part she has played in it, she reminds me in certain ways of Joan of Arc. Young, vulnerable, aching with longing and the need to stand up to the world, to take on any enemy, to fight for her faith in the wonderful man of goodness and light that she has seen and that she believes in, the Superman with light and laughter in his eyes. She is prepared to give her life for him:
Clark took a shaky breath and spoke carefully. “Lois, no story is worth you dying over.”
Lois’s eyes narrowed further and she turned away sharply to open a sound player and a word document. “That’s where you’re wrong, Kent,” Lois said coldly. “Some things are bigger than you, bigger than me. They’re worth any sacrifice that we can give.”
Superman.
But Lois believes in a man who no longer exists. A man who has been broken, and who has had his light and laughter cut, torn, ripped and tortured out of him. A man who
was Superman, but who is no longer the hero. How can I ask Clark to tell Lois that he is Superman? I can't, because he isn't. I want Clark to tell the truth, don't I? Well, the truth is that Clark is no longer Superman.
But it is also true that we have so often seen Lois be Superman's inspiration. When he has been too tired, when he has wanted to give up, then she has been there for him, encouraging him, urging him on, believing in him. We have seen it again and again. Will this broken Clark find it in himself to be some version of Superman again, because Lois needs his heroism? I think he should remember that Lois isn't asking Superman to be inhumanly heroic:
“Don’t even start, Kent. You are just as bad as anyone out there. How in the world would you know what he wanted and not? Even to you he’s just an icon—some sort of invulnerable angel or something that can’t be hurt, that can’t feel. He’s a person too, Clark, but even more than that.”
She
isn't asking Superman to be perfect and flawless, so she should be able to accept that right now the man who used to be Superman can't be the hero any more - but he might be a hero again, if only she will stand by him. Ah, but I wish she wouldn't be so thoroughly contemptuous of Clark Kent!!!
This is a totally fascinating story, Rachel.
Ann
