A wonderful wrapup of a wonderful story, Caroline.
He could hear her moving around inside; there were slightly alarming noises coming from the kitchen, he thought, but whether she'd unlock her column of shiny locks for him he didn't know.
Others have quoted this before, but I have to repeat it. What I particularly love is the expression "her column of shiny locks", and the question of whether she would open them for him. The column of shiny locks evokes an image of a heavy steel bar, blocking her door and making it impenetrable. The irony of the situation is that Superman can easily bend and break a steel bar -
Young Superman bending a steel bar - so he can easily force his way into her apartment if he wants to. However, doing so would do no good. Because the place where he really needs to get in is inside Lois's heart, and the locks protecting her heart can't be forced open by muscles of steel.
Well, if she wouldn't, he could always try the window, he thought bitterly, but perhaps that would be locked now, too.
But he could smash right through her window if he wanted to, but once again, that would do no good.
It's interesting that he really seems to doubt that Lois will open her door and window to him. I remember what Constance Hunter told him, when she witnessed their confrontation in the previous chapter. Go after her, is what she told Clark. I can't, he replied, because she'll never want to see me again.
He knocked softly, and the clanking in the kitchen ceased. He listened, and he heard her heart race into a frantic rhythm, but she didn't approach the door. He knocked again, louder this time, and heard her footsteps approaching. The sound of those locks turning made his own heart stampede in his chest, and he gripped the doorframe so tightly he felt the wood crack beneath his fingers. He dropped his hand quickly as the door swung open.
There is amazing drama in this short paragraph. Clark knocks, softly, fearfully. Lois hears him, and she reacts strongly and viscerally to the fact that he has come. But she doesn't open. Why? Becasue he was too fearful? So she won't open unless he finds the courage to knock again, and louder and with more determination this time. It is as if she was saying to him, Are you man enough to face me, Clark? Well, then show me that you are.
And she approaches, and Clark's heart is stampeding in his chest. What a wonderful counterpoint to what you said about
Lois's heart in the beginning of the same paragraph, that it was racing into a frantic rhythm. How these two people want each other. How scared they are, and how hopeful and upset and needy.
Lois looked pale and grave
Again I love the music of your words; "Lois looked pale and grave". There is alliteration here as well as assonance, and the whole expression is stark and somber.
“I expected you sooner,” she said flatly, stepping back to let him in.
That is what Constance Hunter told him! But he wouldn't believe her.
She looked like a younger version of the Lois who had confronted him at the fountain several hours before, and fragile, somehow, as if she might break into pieces if he touched her.
She is vulnerable, because she is scared. Now she fully realizes what she stands to lose, if her confrontation with Clark doesn't work out right. She has to make him see how wrong he has been, but for all of that, she just can't lose him.
“I'm cleaning,” she said bluntly, following his gaze. “When I'm upset, I clean things.”
“I remember.”
“Because I wouldn't want you to think I was packing or anything. Moving without telling you. I wouldn't want you to think that.”
“I apologized for that,” he told her quietly. “And I meant it.”
“Right.”
No, Clark. She wouldn't do to you what you have done to her, would she? But you'd better believe that she hasn't fully forgiven you.
He'd been blinded recently, and he had stayed in this very apartment, stumbling and crashing around, damaging one thing after another without meaning to. He felt a little bit that way now. Clumsy and awkward, and everything he said seemed to be wrong, seemed to provoke her. He had no idea how to navigate the many obstacles between them without damaging something irrevocably.
Clark is feeling like a "mental bull in a china shop", helplessly sending clumsy words lumbering and lurching their way into Lois's fragile heart, repeatedly hurting and provoking her. I do feel sorry for him, because he really isn't doing this on purpose.
“I'm sorry, Lois. I'm so sorry for every stupid thing I've ever done, and I know there have been a lot of them. But these last few days... all I wanted was to give you what I thought you deserved - a normal boyfriend who wasn't running out on you all the time.”
This is so heartfelt. You showed us again and again that he really wanted to do precisely that.
“No you didn't.” Her eyes flashed fire at him, and he knew that he'd put another foot wrong. “You wanted to weasel out of telling me something you knew I had a right to know. You thought if you just got rid of Superman, you wouldn't have to deal with him.”
But this is true, too. There has been something just plain weird about how Clark has been in utter denial about himself. I have often felt that if he could, Clark would have married Lois and refrained from telling her about Superman
ever. Because he had been wooing Lois while splitting himself in two, and he didn't know how to fuse and mend himself into one man before her eyes without incurring her horrible wrath and losing her forever. Interestingly, there have been a few fics where Clark really has married Lois without telling her about his double identity - just a few weeks ago there was one such fic by David, Wedding Vows.
He was honest enough to admit that there was some truth to that, but it wasn't the whole truth. He just wasn't sure, after so many years of guarding his secret, that he knew how to be open about the Superman side of himself. He knew he had to, that at this point total honesty was his only recourse, but somehow knowing it didn't pave the way to actually doing it.
He has been living his lie for so long and incorporated it into his being so firmly,
especially when he's interacting with Lois, that he doesn't know how to untangle himself from it, stand aside from it, look at it dispassionately and describe it.
“Can we sit down?” he asked.
She nodded and gestured him to a sofa. She took the one opposite, reaching for a throw pillow and hugging it to her chest in a self-protective posture that hurt him to see.
That image of Lois hugging the pillow to herself moves me so.
Could you really tell from reading my press release?”
She nodded. “It was like, as I read it, I was hearing it in your voice. I don't know how to explain it any better than that. Suddenly, I just knew.” She gave him a pointed look. “And you have that Emerson quote taped to your desk.”
That's a very good explanation. I can easily imagine Lois
hearing, "in her mind's ear", Clark's voice reading aloud the articles and texts he has written. (But what is that Emerson quote?)
“I didn't know you'd ever noticed.”
“I guess I can see why you wouldn't have a lot of respect for my powers of observation,” she said bitterly.
“I didn't mean it that way.” He gave her a pleading look. “What do you want me to say, Lois?”
“I don't know.” She hugged the pillow closer and seemed to fold herself around it.
Lois is just so hurt. She wants to be with Clark so much, but things have to be made right between them before that can happen.
She paused and looked away from him, her eyes straying to the window. It was open, he noticed, the curtains stirring slightly in the wind.
Of course the window was open, Clark. Lois was giving you every chance to come to her and apologize and explain.
“Ever since we met, or at least ever since I took the time to listen, something about you has always made sense to me. I trusted that, even when I knew there were things you weren't telling me. I trusted you.
This is so great, Caroline. You have this amazing ability to put into clear and simple words the awesome truths that the rest of us are struggling to formulate.
This, bottom line, is why Lois trusts Clark after all. This is why she is ready to forgive him, even though he has been carefully feeding her an all-but-unforgivable lie about himself for as long as she has known him, at the same time as he has been meticulously wooing her. Bottom line, she trusts him anyway because she trusts
him. But now… it's like I never knew you at all. And I don't know what there is to say about that.” Her voice broke slightly, and she wouldn't look at him.
“You do know me, Lois,” he insisted. “You've always known me better than anyone.
Actually, yes. She does know him, and she always has. This is why all his lies to her hurt her so bad, and this is also why she mustn't lose him.
You practically invented Superman, you know. I never could have been Superman without you.”
“But you were.”
“No.” He ran his fingers restlessly through his hair. “I don't know how to make you understand it, but no. I was never Superman without you. Not for one day.”
This, too, is so true. For the longest time, Clark was telling himself that Lois was just idolizing Superman. She wasn't. She just saw him as the amazing force for good that he was. And when Clark saw his Superman persona reflected in her eyes, he wanted to make Superman live up to her expectations. He needed to turn Superman into the wonderful hero that Lois believed he was. And if he ever doubted the man in blue, he could find strength and confidence again by taking in the trust, the gratitude, the encouragement and the certainty that was always there in Lois's eyes for his spandex-clad persona.
It was incredible, thinking about that. Thinking about just being Clark." His voice softened, and he realized he was still susceptible to that particular fantasy. Maybe he always would be. “I think all along I knew it couldn't really be the way I was dreaming it would be, but I wanted it, Lois. I wanted it for me, and I wanted it for you.”
“But you didn't ask me what I wanted.”
Oh, how we love to make decisions for others, and to decide all on our own what is best for
them! “So you didn't think I'd understand, is that it? Just how self-centered do you think I am, Clark? Did you really think I'd get mad at you for leaving me to save someone's life?”
“Not… not at first, maybe,” he said carefully. “But Lois, you don't know what it's like. Being Superman means that I can't keep the promises I made to you. I can't promise to sit through a meal or a movie. I can't promise that we won't be interrupted at work, or on vacations, or even when we're... well, if we were making love.”
“And you didn't believe I could love you enough to put up with that?” she asked in a small voice.
“You might… for a while. But what about in ten years, or twenty? Think about that, Lois - twenty years of me running off in the middle of things. No one should have to be that patient. And if we tried, if we were together, and one day I looked at you and saw that you… that you… regretted….”
This is very moving. And Clark is right. Putting up with that sort of life would be very hard on Lois. I'm not saying that she couldn't do it - in fact, the way I'm thinking of Lois, she
would and
must be able to do it and be mostly happy, too - but for all of that, I can really sympathize with Clark for wanting to spare Lois that kind of life. And he is right: It would be unbearable to see regret in her eyes, to read in her eyes that she wishes she had never met him. (There is a Tank story where Lois really has had enough of her life with Superman/Clark, and so she divorces him.)
He trailed off, unable to put that particular fear into words. His gaze strayed to the window, the window with its gently billowing curtains, and those curtains seemed to beckon to him – to taunt him with the possibility of escape from this conversation that was hurting them both.
Oh, wow. He was actually thinking of bolting.
Again. Thank God he didn't.
Suddenly, he was awash in the mental image he'd created of his mother's hands lifting him from that tiny blue spaceship. He didn't know how to tell Lois about that – how to make her see it, too – to see how serendipitous it was that Martha and Jonathan Kent had been there at that moment to find the small refugee from the planet Krypton and carry him home. Had Clark arrived minutes earlier or later, his parents never would have seen the light in the sky, never would have investigated. He would have died in his little ship, or worse, been found by Bureau 39 or some similar organization, and Clark Kent would not have existed.
Wow. This is
incredibly powerful. Again you point out something that I haven't thought much about.
I guess that I personally have always taken my own existence for granted. I have never asked myself how lucky I am to be alive at all. To have to face so starkly the frightening unlikelihood of your own existence, like Clark is doing here... well... surely that would make you a lot more scared than you would otherwise have been. I can see Clark protecting his Clark persona so fiercely, partly because it is
so unlikely that Clark Kent would exist at all. And Clark Kent is still so vulnerable. In a way he is a fake, and he can be exposed as such any day. And then he would lose himself completely. If Clark loses
Clark, then the Last Son of Krypton will be little more than a husk of a man, an Earth foundling from space, a homeless not-even-human piece of driftwood in the cosmic ocean, a being without a name.
“How could I ask that of you? How could I expect you to take that on? I can't change who and what I am, but I thought that if Superman were out of the picture, at least I could offer you something somewhat... normal.”
“But you're not normal,” she said in a low voice, still looking down at the pillow in her hands.
He flinched as if she'd slapped him. “No,” he agreed hollowly. “I'm not normal.” The words were like acid on his tongue. Not normal, not normal, not normal... He almost didn't hear the next thing she said.
That is the most horrible thing you can say to Clark Superman Kent. He is not normal. He is not human. What more awful proof can there be that Lois is rejecting him? And wasn't he right to think that she would walk out on him if he trusted her with the truth about himself?
“If you'd been normal, you'd have probably used Superman to get me into bed two years ago.”
“I... what?” He stared at her. “Lois! I would never do something like that.”
“But you could have, and you knew it. If you'd been normal, you'd have probably done it. Except that if you'd really been normal, you'd have run as far away from me as you could the first week we met. No normal man has ever been able to stand me as long as you have.” Her lips twitched. “That should have been the giveaway, now that I think about it. You'd have to be invulnerable to put up with me.”
Others have already quoted this, of course, but it is so great. Indeed, Lois isn't Lana. She doesn't mind his powers and his Kryptonian genes at all. To her he is "not normal" because he is so amazingly good and kind, in spite of all his lies.
“But I don't want to belong to the world. Maybe I should, but…” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Even with everything I can do, there's not enough of me for that. Being Clark Kent – being normal at least part of the time… if I didn't have that, Lois, I think I'd go crazy. Really. I mean that. I'd be curled up in a ball somewhere, sucking my thumb.
This, too, is wonderfully written. You make us see how hard and wearying and ultimately unbearable it would be to have to be this larger-than-life superhero, who has to be constantly giving and altruistic all the time. Indeed, it's amazing that Clark puts up with even part-time heroics, considering that it is a hundred per cent voluntary work which is very emotionally taxing, yet generates no income at all.
“And what was next in the dream? What was supposed to happen when people started dying because Superman wasn't there? How long would it take for you to start hating me for that?”
“I would never have hated you! This was my decision, Lois. Whatever repercussions there were would have been mine to deal with.”
No, Lois is right. If people had been dying because Clark chose Lois's needs over other people's
lives, he would relatively soon have begun to resent her bitterly. And he would have despised himself, too.
“I hate that idea, Lois. It's not that I don't want to help people, but I don't want to be Superman full time. Superman's not real. He can't have a real life...friends and a home. He can't play poker with Perry or go to ball games with Jimmy. He can't... be with you.” He took a deep breath. “That's why it was so hard for me when I was shot by Clyde Barrow. I know I shouldn't have left you to grieve, and God, Lois – you have to believe I'll be sorry about that for the rest of my life. But I was almost out of my mind with grief myself. Those bullets might not have pierced my skin, but Clark Kent was dead, and I didn't know what to do.”
I'm so moved by your description of how Clark needs
Clark. It's interesting to read you interpretation of Clark's motives for not revealing himself to Lois after TOGOM. I think that was a very, very cruel decision. But you are right - Clark would have been almost out of his mind with grief himself.
“How could I let you love a man who didn't really exist?” he cried. “I had nothing to offer you as Superman. It seemed kinder to let you grieve for Clark, to let you get over him.”
“I never would have gotten over you,” she told him in a low voice threaded with remembered pain. “Never. It would have hurt every day for the rest of my life. You should have told me. That might have hurt, too, but it would have been better than thinking you'd died protecting me.”
But like I said, his decision not to tell Lois really was very cruel.
Neither of us had to go through that alone, but we did, and that's why when you say that you loved me, that you weren't Superman without me, I just can't believe you.”
I can understand her bitterness and doubts.
“I love you, present tense,” he insisted. “And yes, past tense and future tense, too. And you've been the heart and soul of Superman ever since I first put on the suit. But I just didn't know how to tell you so.”
Even love can be a language that we speak past one another, without understanding one another, like foreigners. Or worse, love can be a dialect, or rather two different dialects, which appear so deceptively similar even though they are crucially different in key situations. We think we know what our loved one feels and thinks and says to us, but we don't. We can't communicate.
“Why?” She sounded anguished. “What have I done to make you so afraid of me?”
“I'm not afraid of you.” His voice quavered with emotion, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But I'm more afraid of losing you than almost anything else I can think of.
This is crucially important. Clark couldn't bear the thought of losing Lois. Nothing scared him more than having her reject him. And because
he was so scared, he subjected
her to lies and deceit in order to keep her close to him. That is a very, very selfish thing to do. Some wife beaters beat their spouses black and blue, or worse, because they need to cow, threaten and batter these women into never leaving them. Clark, of course, would
never threaten Lois, much less use his strength to physically hurt her. Still, his lies to her basically serve the same purpose as does a wife batterer's physical blows to his wife, which is what makes Clark's lies to Lois so very objectionable.
Fear is a very, very selfish feeling. It may be the most selfish feeling there is. That is why true heroes, whose altruism is stronger than their selfish fear, are so wonderful. And Clark is so very altruistic... except when it comes to his need to make Lois stay with him.
“That was a rhetorical question,” she said, glaring at him and tossing her pillow to one side. She put her hands on her hips and he knew she was about to light into him, that there were going to be fireworks, but he couldn't stop himself feeling relieved that she was standing there, so close to him, so fired up and full of passion. He would rather have her anger than that terrible distance between them.
Ah! Lois throws away her pillow and gets ready for a fight! And Clark is so relieved. I loved Arawn's comment: Hit me, please!
She looked at him fiercely, as if she were daring him to argue. He didn't dare, and she blazed on. “And, yes, there are times when you running off in the middle of things really stinks. It's going to make me mad, and I'll probably complain about it. I can't promise that I won't. But every time you run off, I'll know where you're going and why you're going, and I'll know that you're going to come back. It won't be perfect, but what marriage ever is?”
And she is telling him what their
marriage will be like! I just
love it!!!
“You've thought about us getting married?”
“Haven't you?” she hedged.
“Only every day since I met you.”
Her eyes softened, nourishing the hope that was growing inside of him. “If that's true,” she said, “then it seems like you'd have had plenty of time to figure out that it's not going to be perfect, no matter how many identities you have or don't have. Trust me, Clark, being Superman is a walk in the park compared to living with me.”
I love her insecurity and her conviction that she will be an awful person to live with, and yet, in spite of that, her fight for a marriage to Clark. (After all, she
is warning him about what he is letting himself in for!
)
“See, that's the thing: You did disappoint me. More than I would have ever believed you could. And yesterday, I could hardly look at you, I was so hurt and angry. I kept thinking you were going to come clean, kept waiting for it. I pretended to send that fax, and I thought you'd stop me, would tell me the truth. Instead you went out for bagels, or said you did, and when you gave me that stupid bagel, I thought, that's it, that's the last straw, I'm through with him.” She took a deep breath, “And then, while I was thinking that, you touched me, like this....”
She reached for his hand and raised it to her cheek, and just as she had the day before, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Tears slid down her cheeks and wet his fingers. “And when you touched me,” she said shakily, opening her eyes and looking into his, “I knew that I loved you more than I was angry with you – and I was really angry, let me tell you.”
She loves him more than she is angry with him, in spite of all his lies.
“You hurt me, Clark. You hurt us. And it may take a while for us to get over that. But we have to, don't we?”
“Yes,” he said urgently, pressing his forehead to hers. “We have to.”
“Because you don't fall in love like this every day...”
“No,” he agreed. “Not every day.”
“Just once, maybe, and that's if you're lucky.” She stepped into him and buried her face in hollow of his shoulder, where he could feel her breath warm on his neck. He felt her shudder as his arms went around her.
“Only once,” he murmured into her hair, hardly knowing what he was saying, just that he would agree with anything that kept her in his arms, in his life.
Aaaaawwww....
Eventually, Lois pulled back a little bit and looked up at him. “I'm still mad,” she told him, as if for the record.
He felt the smile spread across his face. “You can be as mad as you want.”
“And you were an idiot.”
“Yes,” he agreed fervently. “I was.”
“A complete lunkhead.”
“Lunkhead?”
“Oh, yeah.” She reached up and stroked his hair back from his forehead. “But you're my lunkhead.”
Everyone has quoted this already. I have nothing to add, except that it is wonderful.
He laughed, not about to argue with her. If he was a lunkhead, he was her lunkhead. Whatever he was, he was hers.
She smiled back at him. “We can do this, Clark.” Her voice, so quiet yet so certain, finally convinced him that she meant it. They were taking the next step, only this time, they were doing it on solid ground.
He bent to kiss her, tasting the salt of her tears, and he realized that he'd been wrong two nights ago in his apartment.
This was his happiest moment.
And everyone has quoted this, too. Of course they have, since it is perfect.
The hospital hummed all around him, busy even in the middle of the night, but the room in which Clark stood was dimly lit and quiet. It was soothing, after the fears and anxieties of the previous day, and as he stared down in wonder at the peacefully sleeping baby, he felt something inside him begin to unclench.
Reading this, I was thinking: So Clark is back in the hospital with baby Jonathan. Why didn't he take Lois with him?
The baby was swaddled in the hospital-issue blanket with its turquoise stripes, but one dimpled hand had fought its way free and was splayed like a tiny starfish against the white sheet of the bassinet.
But there was something about this sentence... about how the baby's tiny hand is splayed like a tiny
starfish against the white sheet of the bassinet. A starfish. This word evokes an image of a living thing which has sprung from the warm blue oceans of the Earth, the incubators of all life on this planet. And at the same time, this living thing has come from the stars. A baby whose hand is like a starfish... is that really baby Jonathan?
He couldn't resist any longer. He reached down and fumbled a little as he lifted the baby into his unpracticed arms. As he settled her more comfortably, he remembered being in the same hospital with another baby – a baby he'd found in a trashcan during one of the darkest, most confusing times in his life.
This is another baby! This is Clark's own daughter! Daughter of Krypton and the Earth! And of Lois and Clark!
Baby Jonathan had rescued Superman that night, just as surely as Superman had rescued him
Yes indeed.
He had been adopted, though Clark didn't know by whom – just that it was a couple who had been desperately hoping and praying for a child. The little boy would be about four years old now, and as Clark lowered himself into the rocking chair beside his sleeping wife, he hoped that Jonathan was as loved by his parents as Clark himself had been... as loved as his own precious daughter already was.
It feels as if you gave Jonathan a happy ending. I'm glad.
“Hi,” he whispered, not wanting to wake Lois. “I'm your daddy.”
Her murky newborn eyes seemed to rove away from him before coming back to give him a long, serious look.
He stroked her cheek tenderly, and then, because he had learned his lesson about being honest with the women he loved, he went on, starting at the very beginning: “My name is Clark Kent,” he told her softly, “and I'm Superman....”
And
everyone has quoted this, too. And no wonder, because it's perfect.
Wow, Caroline, this may be about the longest feedback I have posted on a fic so far. But almost every paragraph of the last part of this wonderful story seemed to cry out for a comment.
Ann