Yvonne, it's great to have you back with a story. And like everybody said, this is a sad, melancholy, beautiful story.
You said it was inspired by Superman Returns, so please allow me to speculate a little. In SR, Jonathan is dead, of course. Actually, Jonathan died in the first Christopher Reeve movie, Superman the Movie, when Superman didn't know Lois, and didn't work at the Daily Planet, for that matter. On the other hand, the new movie, Superman Returns, is quite vague about many things, and we can easily imagine that Jonathan's death happened after Clark had met Lois and got his job at the Daily Planet.
What is most remarkable about Superman's relationship with Lois Lane in SR - surely there can't be anyone who needs a spoiler warning about that movie, now? - is that Superman has obviously made love to Lois without telling her that he is Clark Kent. And she apparently knows about their intimacy - her memory of that has not been erased like it was in Superman II - but she still doesn't know that he is Clark. I find it very hard to imagine that love scene. How and why did it happen, if Lois never knew that Superman is Clark? Why would he undress his body for her and join his body with hers, but not reveal the most important secret of his soul?
One thing that makes SR so different from LNC is that Superman is apparently the real person there, but Clark is a disguise. That doesn't change the fact that he has two identities and that he should have come clean with her, of course. But at the very least, if Superman is the real person, then it was the real person who made love to Lois.
I think you show us Superman as the real person in this story in a lot of ways:
He made for the window, but I reached out quickly and snatched a handful of cape. The material stretched taut between us. “Don’t go,” I said. “You haven’t told me why you came here.” Because if he wasn’t mad at me, then why was he so subdued and tense?
“It doesn’t matter.”
He was turned away from me, but I didn’t let go. “Yes, it does. Tell me.”
He looked down to where my hand was gripping his cape. “I just came,” he said, his gaze lifting slowly up to my face, “to see you.”
The agony in his expression was unnerving. “Hey, any time.” I fluttered my hands vaguely. “I’m pretty good at being me.”
He smiled weakly. “Yes, you are.”
We stood silently facing each other again, one of us hurting so badly he couldn’t admit it, and the other not knowing what to do about it. What a pair.
But those eyes...pleading with me. Willing me to lead him.
“What can I do?” I asked, my voice sounding hushed in the stillness between us. “What do you need?”
He eyes closed briefly, shutting the pain away inside himself.
“Just...be you. You’re good at that.”
Before I could have second thoughts, I closed the distance between us and slid my arms around him, underneath his cape. He felt warm and solid and strong - just as I’d expected - but as I rested my head against his chest and he wrapped his arms tightly around me, he seemed oddly vulnerable. He’d responded so quickly. Just how long had he been waiting – or longing? - for such simple human contact?
“What is it?” I murmured. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t tell you.” His voice was unsteady. “But I needed to see you. Everyone’s so...they’re caught up in their own grief back there. I couldn’t...there was no-one to talk to.”
In each of this quotes, Superman is so full of pain. He has come to Lois with his pain, to ask her for help to deal with it. But he has come to her as Superman, not as Clark, even though she knew it was
Clark's father who had become ill that morning.
He was fighting himself, too – trying desperately hard to be Superman despite his unruly feelings. His body was stiff against me, only a faint tremor in his arms giving him away. If he’d simply walked in without a word and hugged me like this, I’d have never have known how badly upset he was.
Interesting - he was trying desperately hard to be Superman. On the other hand, in SR it was Superman who seemed to feel most of the true emotions. Clark was just - a disguise. He seemed so empty to me. Perhaps that's why
Superman has come to Lois after Jonathan has died, not Clark? Of course, Superman can fly at super speed from Kansas to Metropolis when his own pain becomes too much to deal with. Clark can't.
“Was he someone close?”
Anxiety crossed his face.
“It’s okay.” I tightened my arms around him for reassurance. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He nodded. “I know.” A shuddery breath escaped from his lips. “Yes, he was someone close. He was... He taught me. About life.”
This is so moving - Superman is trying to tell Lois who has died, without telling her. It's a beautiful way for a son to describe his father - the man who taught him about life.
But then suddenly he slips and blurts out the truth:
“Then he must have meant a great deal to you. I’m sorry you’ve lost him.” My words sounded stiff and formal. Not adequate to his needs at all.
“Me, too. I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“It was unexpected? He hadn’t been ill?”
He shook his head. “No, Dad’s always been-“
He froze.
And then he was pulling away, moving quickly, hastily. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come-“
“Don’t leave-“
“They need me.”
He was already at the window and I ran, ran as fast as the wind and latched onto his cape - found his hand and gripped it tightly between both of mine. “Stay.”
“Lois, don’t...” He turned anguished eyes towards me. “I can’t explain.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.” I squeezed his hand. “Just stay and talk a while longer. I think you need to.”
“I’m not sure what I need,” he said, staring desolately out the window. “Everything’s mixed up.”
I keep quoting and quoting and commenting every quote very little, if at all. But all of this is so beautifully written. Superman's mute, desperate grief, and Lois's compassion, mixed with curiosity.
“Superman-“
His head turned. “Do you have sugar? I can’t drink coffee without sugar.”
“Yes! Yes, I have sugar. Lots of it. Have a seat and I’ll bring you some. How much do you take? One spoon? Two? Clark has three, but he also has the dentist’s bills to prove it - he’s always going - so I’d stick to fewer if I were you, although I guess your teeth are as invulnerable as the rest of you...”
I do think Lois's babbling is adorable. I think Superman probably likes it here, too, even if it may well make him uncomfortable to hear her talk about Clark.
Clean mugs, pour coffee, get milk from-
“You have a new coffee-maker.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. He’d followed me to the kitchen and I hadn’t heard him. “Y-yes, the old one blew up. Apparently you’re not supposed to run them without filling them up with water first.” I shrugged. “How was I to know?”
The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Commonsense? Reading the manual?”
This
is adorable! She's making him smile!
And she's making him talk a little about his father.
“Although, I guess you could have x-rayed the kitchen to find them.”
“That would have been rude.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Something else I learned...”
“From him?”
He nodded, then took a quick sip of coffee.
And talk a little about himself, too:
“He’d chew my ear if he suspected I’d been misusing my abilities.” He took a hasty gulp of coffee in an obvious attempt to hide his feelings. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d be stronger than this.”
“It’s okay. He obviously meant a great deal to you.” I reached across and touched his forearm. “You’ve had a shock. A huge shock.”
“But I always knew it would happen - that he’d die before me.”
And he's asking for her to be there for him, to give him her strength:
“No. I just...people need me to be strong for them, yet here I am, running away...”
“You’re not running away. You’re here because you need time, too. You need someone to be strong for you.”
His chest heaved as he raised his eyes to mine. “Lois... Be that person? I need your strength.”
“Oh, Superman.” I put down my mug and slid my arms around him. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
And his barriers come down when he is in her arms:
I could feel the emotion coursing through him. There was no stiffness or formality this time; his barriers had come tumbling down and I was holding the real man – the person underneath the splashy colours and confident smile. He was more vulnerable than I’d imagined. More tender-hearted.
He remained in my arms for a long time. At first, he was shaky and possibly even weeping a little, at least internally, and I had to struggle not to weep with him. His distress was infectious and soon became mine. Tears blurred my eyes and I forgot all my curiosity about his earlier slip-up.
They are both so very close to each other at this moment, physically and emotionally.
I lifted my head from his chest and gazed up at him. “Are you okay?”
His features had lost their raw, anguished appearance and now seemed merely sad and full of melancholy. “Yes. Thank you.”
And he feels better.
And suddenly there is...
more... between them.
We’d spoken quietly, in keeping with the intimate circle of our embrace. I’d never felt this close to him before, never felt that I understood him as well as I now did. He was just a man – a man with extraordinary abilities, to be sure, but also a man with vulnerabilities and insecurities just like the rest of us. He needed friends and family and...and love.
I gazed up at him, seeing the man behind the abilities for the first time. He was...his eyes...
“Lois.” His voice was husky.
His lips formed a small circle as he said my name and I felt his breath fan my face. Within, I felt something give way, as if tresses had given way on a restraint of some sort. Then slowly, ever so slowly, drawn upwards by an invisible force, I reached for him - for those lips that had spoken my name so softly.
And I'm just holding my breath for fear of disturbing them....
His lips touched mine with gossamer delicacy, our first kiss so tentative I barely knew whether our lips were in contact or not. From that, his lips became a warm cushion against which to press my own, working gently with him to express feelings both tender and sensual. He was never passionate, and neither was I, yet more emotion was conveyed in our quiet and simple kiss than in a hundred steamy embraces.
There is a wonderful, sensual beauty in this, Yvonne. There is love, but no overwhelming passion. And again this story makes me wonder exactly how SR's Superman's lovemaking to Lois ever came about.
Because the Superman in your story isn't about to let things go too far:
He broke away first, his sad eyes tinged with aching regret. “I’m sorry, Lois. I wish this could happen, but it can’t...”
“Why not?”
“Because...there are complications.” He pulled away from me.
Yes... complications. How would he describe those complications, though?
It still hurt. “You know, it’s funny how these things often seem to happen all together,” I said, just to let him know I wasn’t falling apart inside because he’d rejected me. “First, Clark’s father gets sick, and then your fa...he...passes away. I hope Clark’s Dad is okay, don’t you? I really liked him the couple of times we’ve met.”
He gasped as if in pain. Anguish filled his eyes again. “God, Lois...”
The secret. The secret that stands between them, and which must never be revealed. Why? Why is the secret so all-important?
“I’m sorry,” I said, instantly regretting my words. “I didn’t mean to bring it all back.”
“No, you don’t understand. I...I’ve been so stupid. I forgot you knew...” He reached out and grasped my shoulders. “Lois, I’m so sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me-“
“Forgive you? I don’t understand.”
“I have to go, but please know how much you’ve done for me tonight. I just wish things could have been different between us.”
I panicked a little. I’d driven him away and he might not come back. “They still can be.” I sounded more desperate than I’d intended.
“Not with so many secrets in the way.”
Whatever the reason, to this Superman his secret is more important than anything else. Apparently just like it was to Superman in Superman Returns. Who chose to make love with Lois, and father a son with her, without telling her his secret.
The night was dark and cool, and somewhere out there, a freshly bereaved man was making his way home to give his family succour and strength.
I placed my hand on the cool glass of the window. “Clark?”
The breeze snatched his name from my lips and carried it out into the night, and those tears, which I’d kept deep inside me while I’d held him and given him my strength, began to flow freely down my cheeks.
But this Lois, unlike the Lois in Superman Returns, has now figured out the secret. What can she do with it? Publish it? No, that's out of the question. Can she get closer to Superman because of it? Can she get closer to
this Superman because of it? I doubt it.
How our secrets and our stubbornness stand in the way of our happiness, Yvonne. And you convey it all so melancholy beautifully.
Ann
