Ambivalence
Rated T

A/N: Thanks to KenJ for beta-ing this chapter.

**********

The next morning Clark flew out to Echo Canyon, where Valdez had said Camden might be. It was a state park—no houses or camping, just an old ranger station to check. He landed out of sight and changed into his Clark clothes, then walked up to the station.

The moment he was in sight of the station windows Derek Camden came out, a shotgun held in his shaking hands. “Are you my appointment in Samarra?” he demanded.

“Pardon?” Clark asked.

“Are you death come to visit me?”

Clark held the man’s gaze, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. “No, I’m a reporter; you’re Dr. Camden, right?”

“You—you—you work for him. You’re his assassin,” Camden said, pointing a trembling finger at him.

Clark held up both hands. “Dr. Camden, I’m not an assassin. I’m just here to ask you about your sound research—specifically the sounds used in Metropolis lately, the ones that put people to sleep and blow things up. Do you know anything about them?”

Camden peered at him, as though trying to take his measure through a haze, then lowered the gun. He nodded and tapped his chest with the gun. “Here, all from my heart, my soul.”

Clark’s eyes widened. “Doctor, be careful,” he said, taking a step towards him.

Camden cringed away, his arms coming up in front of his face. “Don’t touch me!”

Clark stepped back. “Calm down. I’m your friend. Stoke lied to you. He said that he was your friend just to get you out of the hospital, and then he stole your inventions, right?”

Camden began to pace. “No, no, he stole my dreams. He—he wants to keep my dreams. He wants to end my body and keep my dreams,” he said, his eyes full of tears. He turned and began to yell into the canyon, listening to the echoes: “Thief! Killer! Destroyer!”

Clark glanced at his watch. He was running out of time, but Stoke was still capable of stopping him in his tracks. “Dr. Camden, can you tell me anything about the frequency that hurts Superman? What makes it so”—he searched for the right word—“powerful?”

“Power, Lenny—Lenny has the power,” Camden rambled.

“What power?”

“The power, the power, it’s all about power. It doesn’t work without power. Where is he getting the power?” Camden’s eyes widened. “I never could find the power. But Lenny found the power. He stole the power. Now he is the power, and now he’s coming. He’s coming for me. He’s coming for you. He’s coming for everybody, and nothing can stop him,” Camden finished hysterically.

Clark started to reach out a comforting hand, but Camden flinched back again, so he let his hand fall to his side once more. “Don’t worry, Dr. Camden. I’ll let the police know about Stoke,” he said, hoping it would temporarily comfort the man and resolving to make sure Camden was returned to his doctor after the situation with Stoke was concluded.

**********

Lois sat up sharply. The bug had been silent for hours, but all at once, mumbling had begun. Now, she could clearly hear Stoke: “Mayor Sharp, I do hope you’re not trying to trace this call because I’ve routed it through three islands, four oceans, and five continents. You’ll be drawing social security before you ID me.”

She held in a squeal as she took notes. She’d been right! Stoke was the sound man!

“Now listen to me: I also hope you don’t think this is a negotiation,” Stoke continued. “This is not a negotiation. This is a demand. So what’s it to be, Mayor Sharp, yes or no?” He paused, apparently waiting for the mayor’s response, then continued, “I see. Well, then I suppose it’s time for a little more show and a little less tell.”

There was a faint bang, and then Stoke yelled, “All right, boys, into the cellar. We need some more power. Let’s go!”

Lois chewed on her lower lip. Stoke was sending his men into the cellar for more power. What did that mean? How could they get more power from the cellar?

“We’re in position,” a faint voice came over the bug.

“Are the speakers set?” Stoke asked.

“Four minutes and city hall will be ready to fall,” the voice replied.

“Set the focus of the speakers for the triangulation coordinates I gave you. The angles must be positioned for maximum sympathetic vibration,” Stoke instructed.

Lois glanced at the clock. There wasn’t time to get a tactical police team in there. Maybe, if she snuck in, she could unplug Stoke’s whatever it was that generated the sound. If the back door hadn’t been one of those exit-only, handle-less doors, she could have picked the lock. That left the front door, and picking the lock in broad daylight would be asking for trouble, which meant a frontal assault. It would have been easier in some ways if she’d still been in her groupie outfit, but she had to try something.

She knocked loudly on the front door. Before long the three blonde security guards that she’d run into the night before opened the door and stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Hi. I just wanted to give you girls a tip,” Lois said, a patronizing smile on her face. “See, Lenny told me he likes his women, well—how should I say this?—smaller than the average milk cow. So, if I were you, I’d either lose some poundage or start grazing someplace else.”

The guards took a step towards her, their arms dropping to their sides, obviously preparing to deal with her.

“Should I be using smaller words?” Lois asked, backing up.

The three guards came out onto the portico, the club doors swinging closed.

Lois dropped into a tae kwon do stance. “Look, girls, I don’t want to hurt you.”

The lead guard walked up, and Lois shoved a potted tree onto her, then ran behind a pillar.

“She went that way! C’mon!” the guard yelled as she worked to untangle herself from the tree.

The other two guards ran after Lois.

As they came into view, Lois picked up a large sidewalk sign and wacked each of them. They both fell to the ground, unmoving. She dropped the sign and walked back towards the front doors only to have the head guard jump in front of her with a “Hi-yah!” They both settled into martial arts stances, then began trading kicks and blocks. Finally, Lois dropped into a crouch and pulled the rug out from under the guard, who fell with a thud and a groan. The woman lay there, dazed. As she tried to sit up, Lois walked over and, using her index finger, pushed the woman’s head back into the ground. “By the way: your roots—they’re a little dark,” she said. The woman’s eyes fluttered closed.

Lois walked into the building without any further interference. No one was waiting. In fact, she didn’t see anyone. She cautiously made her way down the stairs to where she hoped the cellar was and began looking around for some kind of switch or cord.

Suddenly, she felt a rush of wind, and then the lights went out.

**********

Clark was significantly later getting to Metropolis than he’d planned. On his way back, he’d gotten caught up in moving a stalled car off train tracks, succeeding mere moments before the train reached that intersection.

By the time he reached Stoke Club, he was mere minutes from the 9 a.m. deadline. Flying above the club, he x-rayed the building and saw men tapping into the city’s power lines. “Well, that explains where he’s getting the power,” Clark murmured. He could go in and unplug Stoke, which would take care of protecting City Hall.

The three female guards from the night before were unconscious on the sidewalk in front of the club. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew who was responsible for that. Where else would Lois be but where trouble was at? he thought with fond exasperation.

At super-speed he ran through the front doors, down the stairs, past Lois, and over to where Stoke was plugged into the city’s lines. He knocked Stoke’s thugs out, and then pulled the cords out of the wall, disconnecting the power from Stoke’s machine. The lights went out. He broke down the door of the room where Stoke had been, striding in. Hopefully Stoke wouldn’t have had time to get his weapon set to whatever frequency it was that was so painful.

He glanced around the empty room. Stoke was nowhere to be seen. Just then Lois came running in.

“Superman!” she called.

Stoke jumped out of an alcove, holding a gun, a large black glove on his hand. “Surprise!” he called, grabbing Lois and holding the gun to her side.

Clark super-sped over to rescue her, but was thrown backwards.

Holding onto Lois, Stoke began circling around Superman towards where his machine sat. “As you can see, Superman, this glove is not just an affectation. It’s a little something I dreamt up called the Wall of Sound: a sonic barrier so dense that nothing can get through—not even you.”

Clark made another attempt to get through the barrier, but without success.

“No plug to pull. Independent power supply,” Stoke continued.

Clark grimaced. He stared at Lois, trying to come up with some way to reach her. His gut roiled. Even after a year of rescuing Lois Lane, he’d never gotten used to it.

Stoke looked back and forth between Clark and Lois. “Oh, that’s wonderful. That lantern-jawed look of concern for human life. How super of you,” he said in a mock-impressed voice.

Clark ignored Stoke.

“Am I missing something? Is there something going on that I’m not aware of?” Stoke asked. He inhaled sharply.
“She’s your girl, isn’t she, eh? It is unfortunate, however, because she only has five seconds to live,” he said, viciously tightening his hold on Lois.

Lois let out an involuntary yelp. Even in the middle of her terror, for the first time ever she was annoyed with Superman. Yes, she’d been obvious in her infatuation with him in the old days—but come on! How were they supposed to convince the bad guys that she wasn’t special to him when he kept looking at her that way?

Clark’s brain kicked into super-speed. The only way to save Lois seemed to be to leave her, to build up enough speed to break the sound barrier, but he never could leave Lois Lane—and, for the first time in months, he didn’t want to. A sudden thought hit him: light was considerably faster than sound. Perhaps his heat vision could go through the sound barrier.

“Four. Three,” Stoke continued.

Clark started to back away, as though giving in to Stoke, but instead focusing his heat vision on Stoke’s gun.

Stoke hissed and dropped the gun. Lois used the distraction to elbow him in the gut. While he was doubled over, Clark burned out Stoke’s glove as well, then super-sped to remove both gun and glove from Stoke’s vicinity. He crushed the gun and threw the glove to the ground hard enough that the electronic bits tinkled in protest.

“How did you do that?” Stoke asked incredulously.

“Simple. Light travels at 186,000 miles per second. Sound only moves at 688 feet per second.” Clark took a step towards Stoke. “Now, let’s go for a little ride.”

“No, no. You see, you don’t understand. I have this problem,” Stoke said, backing away. “It’s kind of a rain man thing. I hate flying,” he finished, his voice cracking.

Clark walked up to him and grabbed him around the waist. “You’d hate it more if I dropped you, so you’d better hold still,” he said, picking Stoke up and flying him out of the building.

**********

After Clark had dropped Stoke off at the police station and filled Henderson in, he returned to Stoke Club in his Clark clothes. Lois was still there, practically glowing as she rooted through Stoke’s computer. He found himself simply watching her before she saw him, the way he had in the old days. Yes, he loved Lois Lane the way she was. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d spent all that time and energy trying to fight it.

“Lois! Are you all right?” he called, walking over to her.

A smile lit her face as she looked up at him. “Clark! You finally made it!”

“Made it?”

“Yeah, I left a message on your machine last night.”

“You did?” Clark frowned. He hadn’t even realized that he’d forgotten to check his machine when he’d gotten home from Chicago. “Oh, well, I didn’t get it. Sorry.”

Her brow furrowed. “What are you doing here then?”

“Camden. I caught up with him out at Echo Canyon this morning. Stoke stole the sound technology from him. Apparently you know that already though,” he said, gesturing at the sound generator.

Lois looked down at the machine. “Well, not exactly. I knew that Stoke was making the sounds. I guess you were right after all.”

“We were both right,” Clark said.

Lois smiled again. “Yeah, so why don’t we both go back to the Planet and write up the story?” she suggested.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Clark.” She pushed her hair behind one ear. “I—well, I was panicking over the Kerths, and I overreacted. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you though.”

“No, you were right. I shouldn’t have run off. I promise I wasn’t trying to steal your story though.”

She gave a little chuckle. “I know. I just forgot who you are for a bit.”

Clark frowned. “Who I am?”

“Yeah. You’re the guy who gives me leads even when we aren’t working together. You’d never steal a story,” Lois said.

Clark’s throat closed up as he realized that Lois really did trust him, even if she forgot it from time to time. “Thanks, Lois. That means a lot.” He cleared his throat. “I, um, owe you an apology too.”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You were right before, when you said that I hadn’t forgiven you, that I was refusing to forgive you.” He grimaced. “I was hurt, and I’ve been keeping you at arm’s length, even after I agreed to work on our friendship. I’m sorry.”

“Clark, I hurt you. You should have been hurt.”

“I know, but I was talking to my parents last night, and for the first time, I really knew that it wasn’t on purpose.”

Lois took a deep breath. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just being stubborn and blind. I never wanted you to leave though—not then and not now. Clark, Perry said that you’re talking about leaving the Planet; is that true?”

Clark shook his head. “Not anymore.” He hesitated trying to decide how best to explain the conclusions he’d come to. Although, as he thought about it, he realized that his reasons were now moot: Lois had apologized. Lois wasn’t putting him back to square one. His heart felt lighter than it had in months. “I was—feeling frustrated and confused, but my parents reminded me that I’ve been happier here than I’ve ever been. I have no plans to leave.”

“Good,” Lois said, feeling the knot in her chest loosen.

Just then they heard the sound of police sirens. “Guess the police made it,” Clark said.

“Yeah. You about ready to go write that article?”

“Sounds good to me.”

**********

Clark left the Kerths with Lois and Perry, a Kerth of his own in hand. After finishing their article on the sound man, Lois had told him that she wanted to go to the Kerths with him.

He’d decided to give her their story tonight after the Kerths. Lois had tomorrow and the next day off, and he thought it would be smarter to make sure she had time to process than for him to spring it on her and have to work together less than twenty-four hours later. Of course when he’d picked her up tonight and seen her looking stunning in her black dress with her hair up, he’d found himself reconsidering—she was so beautiful inside and out, and he ached at the thought that tonight might be their last evening together if she couldn’t accept his dual identity.

“Oh boy, what an evening,” Perry said as they walked out the doors of the Metropolis Press Club and into the night. “I tell you—now I know exactly how the colonel felt when Elvis brought home that first gold record.” He pointed to Clark’s Kerth. “Clark, I’m so proud of you I can’t see straight.”

Lois looked up at Clark with a smile. “Not as proud as I am. That was a great speech.”

Perry gave her a look. “Well, now, that’s quite a little attitude change,” he commented.

Lois returned his look. “I’m just glad to have such a good partner,” she said lightly, looking over at Clark. She’d gone to Perry the day after they’d written the sound man article and told him that she agreed that Clark was good for her and that she was willing to do whatever it took to keep him as her partner.

Just then a car horn sounded. Perry looked over and realized that it was his wife, Alice. He smiled and gave a little wave. “Oh, I’m comin’ honey,” he said. “Y’know every time Alice sees me in one of these monkey suits she can’t wait to get me home and tear it off,” he muttered to Lois and Clark. “I’ll, uh, see you two later,” he said and walked towards the waiting car.

Lois and Clark laughed.

“See you, Chief!” Clark called.

Lois threaded her arm through Clark’s, and they began walking down the street. “So, how did I rate as a date?” she bantered.

“Oh, A+,” Clark replied.

“I hung on your arm decoratively,” she said, tightening her grip.

Clark nodded mock seriously. “You did.”

“—fawned appropriately,” Lois continued.

“Absolutely.”

“—and just faded into the background during your big moment,” she finished.

“You were beautiful, yet invisible,” Clark concurred with a smile.

“Mmm, make me go through another night like that, and I’ll rip out your spleen!” she said with teasing growl, then chuckled.

Clark chuckled with her. “Okay. Fair enough,” he said, sobering all at once as he savored the feel of her on his arm and tried not to think that he might never have the chance to ask Lois to go through any sort of date night again. The folded manuscript in his breast pocket crinkled as he shifted restlessly. That wasn’t something he was ready to talk about just yet. He held up his Kerth, looking at it consideringly. “You know, it’s not quite as big as I thought,” he commented.

“And not quite as shiny close up. You know, you win a few of these, you find out they don’t mean as much. Quick rush, few pats on the back, and then you’re back on the beat, only as good as your next story,” Lois said, as the truth hit her once more. She couldn’t believe that she’d given the Kerth Committee so much say in her life. She glanced back at the club. “Tonight wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Lois remarked.

Clark looked down at her. “Oh?”

“Yeah, part of the reason I was so upset was because I just didn’t want to deal with all the gossip. I figured there’d be even more of it than usual tonight, but, surprisingly, I didn’t hear much.”

Clark frowned. “Gossip?”

Lois focused on the sidewalk. “Yeah. I don’t know if you kept up with the gossip after Lex and I—well, you could hardly avoid it since it was splashed all over the papers.” She waved a hand in the general direction of the club. “Everyone was talking about how almost marrying Lex had proven that I wasn’t a good investigative reporter, or that I was in on his deals, or some other variation. I expected to hear everything all over again when you won the nomination instead of me.” She gave a forced smile. “I thought the committee must have agreed with the gossip, and that’s why they didn’t nominate me.”

Clark brought them both to a halt and held her gaze. “Lois, you’re the same reporter you’ve always been: hardworking, dedicated, passionate and good at what you do. You’re the best reporter in the city; you always have been, and you always will be.”

“Oh, Clark, thank you.” She exhaled shakily. “You’re such a good friend. I’m really sorry I got all wound up about the award.”

He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said, resuming their walk. After a few moments of silence, he returned to their previous topic. “So where do you think I should keep it?”

Lois shrugged. “I’m the wrong person to ask. I keep mine behind some books. I love looking at them, but after everything I’ve learned the past few weeks, I’m not sure they mean as much as they used to.”

“Really? What’ve you learned?”

Lois smiled ruefully. “I used to think that I needed my Kerths to prove that I’m the best—probably comes from my dad and his constant criticism. I don’t think I ever told you this, but he didn’t even want me to go into journalism. Anyway, last night I realized that the Kerth committee doesn’t determine if I’m a success or not—I know what I want out of my stories: to change things for the better. If I do that, then I’m a success no matter what anyone else says or thinks. And anyway, I want to be a success at life, not just investigative journalism.”

“That sounds very wise,” Clark said quietly. It was moments like these that left him in awe of Lois. She was such a strong woman, and she’d only grown stronger—strong enough to go after what she wanted, strong enough to admit when she was wrong . . . .

They walked the rest of the way to Lois’s apartment in companionable silence, neither wanting to break the spell between them.

“Come up?” Lois asked.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay? You were pretty quiet tonight,” Lois said, unlocking her door.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?” she asked, opening the door and flipping on the lights.

Clark followed her in. “This,” he said, raising his Kerth. He looked down at her and took a deep breath. “Us.”

Lois caught her breath. After everything that had happened between them, she hadn’t thought Clark would still be interested in an “us.” She’d been so thankful to regain his friendship that she hadn’t dared hope for more, despite the fact that she now knew she was in love with him, had been in love with him for ages.

“I know we talked about our friendship,” Clark continued, “but I still want more than that.”

“Clark—”

Clark held up a hand. “I realized though that I went about it all the wrong way, and I’m sorry. I’ve”—he swallowed hard—“I’ve never really done this before. I don’t know how to do relationships—not the kind I want to have with you. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you, especially not then when you needed my friendship. I panicked and hurt you.”

“Clark, I didn’t handle things well either and—”

“Lois,” he interrupted her, “I want to talk with you about this, but I—well, in the course of trying to get over the Luthor situation, I realized that I wasn’t being fair to you. There are things about me that you don’t know, that you should know before you decide if you want to try a relationship with me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking, and I realized that, despite all the junk, I still want to try us.” The word “love” hovered on his tongue, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. He wasn’t going to make the mistake of rushing her again.

Lois’s brow furrowed, as a wave of deja vu hit her. There are things about me that you don’t know. There was something about that phrase . . . . She mentally forced herself back to the present. “What don’t I know?”

“I’m honestly not sure how to go about telling you. I’ve never told anyone a lot of it.” He started pacing. “You know all those nights when I was busy right after Mr. Stern bought the Planet?”

“Yeah,” she said, still frowning. She had no idea where Clark was going with this.

“I was so frustrated and hurt and confused. I didn’t know which way was up anymore. I couldn’t even talk to my parents about it. My mother suggested that I write it all out—she knew writing had helped me work through things in the past. Anyway, I typed it up.” He pulled the manuscript out of his coat pocket. “I’d like you to read it, and then, if you still want to talk, I’d like to talk about it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just tell me?” she asked. “Not that I’m trying to say I don’t want to read what you’ve written. I mean, I always enjoy your writing, so of course I want to read this, but maybe it would be better if you just told me?”

Clark shook his head slightly. “I—like I said, I’m not really sure how to tell you. I really think this is—well, here.” With shaking fingers Clark held out the manuscript. More than anything at that moment he wanted to take it and run, to return to the status quo of their friendship. They’d only just gotten it back on track, and, for a brief moment, he wondered if he was rushing things. But if the past few months had shown him anything, it was that moving backwards was an illusion. They had to move forward if they were ever going to truly get past Luthor and all he’d done to them. And, as he’d decided that night on the iceberg, he loved Lois and telling her was necessary in order for them to move forward. He glanced down at the manuscript, feeling the moments stretch, as though he had jumped into super-speed while he waited for Lois to take it. He felt naked, more exposed than he’d ever been in his life, and she hadn’t even read the thing yet.

Lois took the manuscript. She’d never seen Clark so rattled. Whatever was in here must be pretty important to him.

Clark backed towards the door. “Okay. Well, um, thanks again for being my date. It really meant a lot that you came tonight.”

Lois smiled up at him. “It meant a lot that you still let me come with you. I really am proud of you.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later,” he said, opening the door. He paused in the doorway, staring at her, soaking in the reality of them, storing it up in case this was his last chance. And then he left.

**********

Lois changed out of her dress and into her pajamas, all the while glancing at the manuscript Clark had given her. She’d never really thought of Clark as someone with real secrets. Sure he was a little strange at times, but that was just Clark. No mystery about it.

So what kind of secrets did he have? Some kind of criminal past?

But that didn’t fit Clark at all. His idea of a criminal past was probably getting a ticket for jaywalking. It had taken quite a bit of work on her part to drag him around to the idea of breaking and entering as a valid investigative technique. Well, there was one surefire way to find out.

She settled down on her bed and turned to the first page.

“Be careful with Lyle. You don’t know him like I do,” Jerome Knight told his partner, Lola Dane, as she prepared to join Lyle Richards in the ambulance.

Lola gave a slight nod, obviously not agreeing with Jerome’s assessment, but not wanting to start another fight in front of Lyle. After all, she was the one dating the man. There was no way Jerome knew Lyle better than she did.

Jerome however remained steadfast in his concern. In the course of researching his next book, he’d come across several disturbing facts about Richards—facts that all added up to Richards being a crime lord. He’d tried to talk to Lola about them, but she refused to listen. He could never tell if it was stubbornness on her part, or if she was really in love with the man.

The ache in his chest grew as he watched Lola ride off with Richards. He’d fallen for Lola from the moment he’d met her. Unfortunately, Lola didn’t trust easily, and she’d shot him down less than a week after they’d met. It had taken him months just to gain her friendship. And then Richards had swooped in and swept her off her feet. Jerome thought he’d be able to reconcile himself to the situation if it had been what was best for Lola. But it wasn’t. She was balanced on a knife-edge, and she didn’t even realize it.

And even if Richards hadn’t been around, there was Charlie King, a best-selling author that Lola had run into from time to time in the course of her investigations. His debut novel—a fictionalization of a child slavery ring he’d broken up in Nepal—had been a best seller, and Charlie had worked hard to continue the trend. He was rarely seen outside of book signings. No one but his publisher knew much about Charlie King other than that he was rich and a good writer.

Jerome sighed as he thought once more about Lola and her crush on Charlie; Charlie could never have a relationship with her. The media would be all over it, and they’d never have any privacy—not to mention what Charlie’s enemies would do to her. Privacy and safety were the main reasons Jerome had created Charlie King in the first place—not that he’d known his book would be such a best seller.


**********

Lois stared at the manuscript, her head spinning. Only one more page left. She turned to it and began reading.

“Charlie, is there any hope for us? You and me? I’m so completely in love with you. I can’t do anything else without knowing.”

Jerome stared at his partner, the words she’d said barely registering. He’d thought his heart couldn’t ache any more than it had this afternoon when she’d turned him down, but he’d been wrong. After a moment he realized that she was still waiting for an answer. He sighed, shaking his head. “Lola, I do care for you. But there are things about me that you don’t know, that you may never know.”

His partner took a step towards him, dewy-eyed and still full of hope. “It doesn’t matter. I know you. I don’t mean you, the celebrity, or you, the author. If you were just an ordinary man living an ordinary life, I would love you just the same. Can’t you believe that?”

She would love him even if he were someone ordinary, someone like her partner—the same man she’d rejected only this afternoon. He forced himself to speak past the spike of pain and bitterness her words had caused, forced himself to be gentle to the woman he loved, the woman who’d ripped his heart out. “I wish I could, Lola. But under the circumstances, I don’t see how I can,” he said, turning and leaving before either of them said anything else hurtful.

Jerome walked out of his partner’s apartment, barely able to keep from running into the hallway walls. His lungs burned with the effort of dragging air past the lump in his throat. He’d lost her. She had turned him down earlier that day, and now he’d turned her down. It had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he couldn’t have continued the charade indefinitely—not with Lola. And she would have been livid once she’d realized that the man she’d already said “no” to had simply gone around her wishes by getting her love in another guise. It would have been tantamount to stealing. He wanted to be loved for himself anyway, not the successful writer character that he played a few hours a day.

Some might say that Charlie King should never have fulfilled Lola’s request—just not shown up that night—and he’d thought seriously about blowing her off. But the reality was that he’d never been able to ignore Lola’s wishes. He’d hoped that being rude to her when he’d first gotten there would have kept her from saying what he’d thought she was going to say—or at least proven to him that she wasn’t infatuated with the Armani suits and money, or whatever it was that she liked about Charlie King; if anyone else had been that rude, they’d have been leaving her apartment wearing a handprint. It hadn’t worked though, and now he had a stomach churning with guilt to add to his list of physical complaints.


Lois felt the typed pages slip from her fingers. She’d had a niggling feeling after reading the beginning, but she’d read on, hoping against hope to prove herself wrong. But she’d never told Clark what Superman had said that night, and the story matched up too well for doubt. Thinking back she realized that she’d never seen Clark and Superman together, and it was for good reason: Clark was Superman.

No wonder Superman—no, Clark—had been so angry at her that night.

She felt a fleeting moment of gratitude that Clark hadn’t let her talk him into just telling her. She wasn’t sure how she would have reacted, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. Most likely, she wouldn’t have gotten past the initial statement of his identity. Now she had a glimpse into the backstory, and she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

She stood up and began to pace. Clark was Superman. It felt like saying the sky was green or some other ridiculous, obviously false statement.

Clark had lied to her. The one person she never, ever, ever would have thought capable of real lying, and he’d lied to her, practically every moment of every day. Lied about who he was. Lied about all those little things he suddenly remembered he had to go do. She’d been hurt when he’d lied about Superman’s globe, but this went far beyond that.

Wait a minute. That had been Clark’s globe. Jack had stolen Clark’s globe. No wonder he hadn’t been honest with her—it would have meant opening a Pandora’s box.

And she had been awful to him, absolutely awful. She’d thought she’d treated him poorly when she’d been thinking of their friendship, but now, knowing that he was Superman . . . scenes swam through her consciousness—the time she’d said Clark was the “before” and Superman was the “way, way after.” The time when she’d belittled his amnesia—which now that she thought about it, no wonder Superman had been missing for those days!

Seeing his perspective on the whole Luthor fiasco and their relationship (relationships?) in general—she didn’t know how he’d done it, how he’d stuck around and pursued her. Or why. He’d said that he loved her that day in the park, and it was obvious from his story that he thought of himself as Clark, rather than Superman, but she had hurt him—far more than she’d realized. Clark’s anguish had poured off the page, and now that she had an insider’s perspective, she could see that he’d spent the past few months bleeding in her presence while she’d been oblivious—trapped in her own pain and crisis of confidence.

Clark was Superman.

She wanted to hang onto her anger—Clark had lied to her—but somehow it kept dissipating in the knowledge that she had hurt him just as much, if not more, than he had hurt her.

Clark was Superman.

She just couldn’t wrap her brain around it. She had to see him, to move this whole thing out of the realm of fantasy and into reality.


"Let me help. A hundred years or so from now, I believe, a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He'll recommend those three words even over I love you." JTK to EK (City on the Edge of Forever)