My Other Secret Identity (Part 2)
Rated: PG
It was getting late by the time Clark finally made his way to Carter Avenue, a quick glance upward toward the well-lit windows of Lois’s apartment telling him that she was still awake. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or scared at the prospect, although there certainly was a part of him that had hoped to see darkness behind the sheers. It would be the easiest thing in the world to just keep walking toward his own apartment, to go into work in the morning and slip into the status quo, conveniently forgetting that anything had happened. But the genie was out of the bottle now, his secret at last revealed to her, and there was no going back. The world was a different place, whether he liked it or not.
He lowered his gaze, fighting the urge to look past the wall and see how bad it was inside the apartment. His mind had long ago conjured up several images of what was going on behind those walls, none of them especially pleasant, none of them especially comforting. The one he tended to believe showed used tissues strewn across the floor, and remnants of broken dishes or vases scattered along the base of the wall... maybe a picture if himself or his alter ego amongst the rubble, mutilated in effigy. Of course, it was entirely possible that his overactive imagination was exaggerating the situation, and she was up there doing something else entirely, seemingly untouched, not giving him a second thought. But did it really matter what picture was painted in that apartment? All the emotion or lack thereof exhibited by her wouldn’t change how he felt about her, it wouldn’t take away the fact that she now knew his secret, and it wouldn’t stop the inevitable confrontation that had to happen. As he stared at the dark blobs of ancient bubblegum that dotted the sidewalk in front of him, he decided that it would probably be best for both of them if they got the confrontation over with sooner rather than later. He didn’t know if he could take several days worth of significant glances, uneasy silences, assumed feelings, and general suffering.
With a sigh, Clark tugged the brim of his black hat lower over his eyes and slowly made his way into the building and up the stairs, the black cape swaying behind him with every step. He supposed that, in a way, he had intended to reveal his secret to her tonight. All the clues were there – the cape, the heroic façade – and his glasses were sitting on the nightstand in his apartment. All it would take was a wink or a heroic deed for her to make the connection, and a part of him had wanted nothing more than for her to do just that. But another part had been just fine with keeping things the way they had always been. He wasn’t going to make his other identity obvious by using his powers in front of her or by taking off that mask. But when the terrorists arrived, it had all become academic.
It could’ve happened differently, he supposed. If those guards hadn’t been left to die on the floor, he would’ve been content with riding the situation out, with exploring all his options, and then, if there was no other way, with finding a nice, dark corner and having Superman make a visit. If Lois hadn’t been there, he could’ve acted in the blink of an eye, before any of the guards had gotten hit. But her presence had caused him to hesitate, because she was the only one in that room who had any idea who lurked behind the black mask. Clark generally tried to stay away from politics as a rule, and had never so much as been in the same room with any of the people at that party, either as Superman or as himself. He was also very careful to stay in character throughout the night, never making his interviews seem like interviews, never letting on to his true reason for being at that party. As far as anyone there was concerned, Zorro might as well be John Doe, a man who they would’ve never known about if they weren’t told. Superman could emerge from underneath the dark costume, and nobody would be any the wiser. Nobody, that is, except Lois.
It was strange, but Lois had never doubted that it was Clark under that mask. After years of coming through her window disguised only with a little misdirection and some gaudy spandex, she was able to see the real Clark through a much heavier disguise. That should give him some hope, he supposed, although it probably shouldn’t be too surprising, since she had expected to meet Clark there. Still, given their history, he wouldn’t have been in the least bit surprised if she had gone the other way and greeted him as Superman instead. It would’ve been easier that way. It would’ve meant that he didn’t have to see the pain in her eyes after the revelation.
Clark didn’t blame her for leaving. In her shoes, he would’ve left, too. But understanding her pain didn’t make it any easier to digest. After she left, the crowd, and eventually the press, descended upon him, marveling at his costume, bringing up questions that he would’ve preferred to not be brought up. Was he in disguise often? Did he favor the political party that the assembled politicians belonged to? Where else had he gone undercover without revealing himself? They had asked him to put the costume on again, to pose for some pictures, but he would have none of that. It hadn’t been until after he left that he contemplated putting the cape and the hat back on. It was only a couple minutes later that he had found himself on Carter Avenue.
Clark sighed and shook his head, telling himself to focus as he finally reached Lois’s door. His conjured doomsday scenarios flashed before his eyes as he focused on the dark swirls of the wood grain, making his hand pause even as it came up to rap on the door. Almost unconsciously, he caught himself zeroing his senses in to the world on the other side, his eyes squeezing shut as a new mental image was allowed to form. Soft, soulful music was coming from the stereo, although a sharp, high-pitched whine indicated that the television was also on, the sound muted. Underneath the music was the steady sound of Lois’s breathing, punctuated by the beating of her heart, its rhythm not so fast as to indicate that she was upset, but not slow enough to signify that she was asleep. Every now and then, the gentle rustle of paper came, the pitch of the sound giving away that it was a newspaper being read. It was a perfectly ordinary scene, certainly nothing he should be afraid of, although it didn’t tell him anything about any mass destruction wrought by an angry Lois at any point in the recent past. Still, he caught himself smiling, the memories of other nights spent inside that apartment giving him the hope that maybe, just maybe, there would be more memories to come, ones that wouldn’t have to be kept carefully hidden away and colored depending on what outfit he had been wearing at the time. Clark opened his eyes, hope welling inside of him, and finally knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” Lois asked, her voice even.
“It’s me,” Clark answered. There was a momentary pause, but he could hear her stand and move toward the door, stopping again for a moment before undoing the locks and cracking it open. Her eyes widened immediately upon seeing his attire, a sly smile forming on her face as she planted her free hand on the wall next to the door.
“Howdy, stranger,” she said, shifting her weight and leaning against the door frame. If she was upset, it didn’t show.
“Can I come in?” Clark asked, trying not to let any emotion seep into his voice. With a curt nod of the head, Lois stepped aside and swung the door open. She had changed out of the skimpy silver dress, Clark noted with a bit of relief. It had been hard to form rational thoughts when he first saw her in that dress from across the room. Now, he was sure, the finer nuances of whatever speech he had prepared long ago in anticipation of her figuring out would be lost if she approached him in that. She had graduated into an oversized t-shirt and pair of jeans, her hair pulled up loosely at the back of her head. It was meant to be casual, he knew, the dress of someone who didn’t expect any company, but he still couldn’t help but think that she exuded a certain amount of radiance, even when she wasn’t trying.
Lois closed the door behind him, casually appraising him as he wandered toward one of her couches. She didn’t say a word, waiting instead for him to make the first move.
“Listen, Lois, I...” he started, ready to offer any number of excuses or apologies for deceiving her, for leading her on, for running out on her all those times, but in one swift motion, she was immediately in front of him, her finger flying up to his lips.
“Shhh,” she said, smiling lightly. Her eyes wandered over to the radio, then back toward him, her grin deepening. “Weren’t you going to save a dance for me?”
Clark felt his jaw drop every so slightly, his brow furrowed in question. His eyes quickly swept the room, and he couldn’t help but notice that the trash can and the floor seemed devoid of used tissues, the vases all seemed to be in one piece, and there were no broken picture frames or torn photographs. There was only a stack of newspapers and a spiral bound notebook on the coffee table in front of the couch. The apartment didn’t present the image of someone who had been upset or angry or hurt.
As he turned back toward Lois again, he couldn’t help but notice the gleam in her eye, the one that gently encouraged him to play along, so he did. Without another thought, he stepped forward and wrapped his arm around her waist, taking her hand in his. A steady, mellow beat came across the speakers, the song from an era when music was still played by big bands without the aid of any electronic enhancements.
They didn’t speak for a few moments, content to sway to the beat and absorb the music. It felt so good, holding her in his arms, that he forgot for a moment all the question marks surrounding their relationship. He forgot all the frustration and heartbreak over Lois’s different treatment of his two personas, forgot even for a moment that he had two personas. Because, as far as Lois was concerned, he was just one man now, and he had never realized how good it would feel to have her know that. As the song stopped, Clark decided that, as nice as it was to lose himself in the moment, it was time to talk.
Clark loosened his grip, stepping away from Lois, but to his surprise, she didn’t allow him to escape. Her arm remained locked behind his back, her hand still gripping his. He looked down toward her, trying to wordlessly convey his surprise, but Lois merely smiled in response. Her gaze was sly as the next song started, and he found himself momentarily unable to move. Lois’s touch urged him along, and in a few moments, he was dancing again, although now he and Lois were far enough apart that they could look at each other, talk to each other. And Lois was the first to break the silence.
“So, you saved a motorist from the clutches of a bandit tonight, huh?” she asked, her eyebrows raised, and Clark could feel the blush rising in his cheeks. The statement had been another one of those subtle clues that he tended to drop, breadcrumbs that he’d always hoped she’d follow to the truth, but had led to nothing, at least until tonight. Superman had stopped a carjacking downtown on the way to the ball, it was true, and he was sure that the story had been picked up by evening news, which would’ve been just wrapping up as he arrived at her apartment.
“I did,” Clark answered, not knowing what else to say.
“My hero,” she said as she had earlier in the night, but this time he allowed himself to smile. Because this time she knew the truth.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he answered with a teasing smile, drawing a chuckle from her.
“Oh, yes I do,” she said, studying his face for a moment, her smile fading somewhat as the moment ticked by. “So, mysterious hero, what happened at the ball after I left?”
Clark smiled inwardly, making a mental note of the game that she seemed to be playing. She had yet to call him by either his given name or his assumed name. It was as if the ball was still going on, and he was her interview subject, a man who was only what his costume suggested he was. Clark certainly appreciated the gesture for what it was, and contemplated playing along and slipping into his Ricky Ricardo imitation. But it didn’t seem right to try and play a part right now, even if that seemed to be what she wanted. He, for one, was tired of wearing masks, especially around Lois. “Well, about a dozen senators asked me if I would make an endorsement. I told them no as tactfully as possible, but I’m sure that some of the pictures that were taken of me talking with them will make the campaign ads.”
Lois snorted. “Politicians. None of them have any shame.”
Clark laughed. “The press descended less than a minute after the police arrived. They asked about El Zorro, and if he’d make any more appearances.”
One eyebrow arched up at the comment. “And you said...?”
Clark smiled, slipping into the accent for one last time. “There is only one reporter who will have the pleasure of seeing Zorro again.” He gave her a challenging glance, although she seemed somewhat skeptical. Ducking his head in concession, he reverted to his usual Midwestern drawl again. “Not that I told them that.”
“I guess that means that I’m the luckiest reporter in town,” she said suggestively, heavily. Her eyes locked into his, studied his, and for a moment he swore that she wanted to do something more.
“No, I can assure you that I’m the luckiest reporter in town,” he said, and suddenly her face lit up and all traces of doubt were erased from her expression. Slowly, deliberately, she reached up and grasped the top of his hat, pulling it upward and then flinging it across the room. Next she reached behind his head and untied his mask, pausing slightly before dropping it to the floor. It was strange how right it felt to look at her like this, unobstructed, unmasked. He had expected to feel naked, exposed once this moment came, but those feelings were far from his mind as her eyes studied his face. There was only one thing he could think of now, and judging by Lois’s expression, it was the foremost thing on her mind as well.
Her hand worked its way up behind his head, and suddenly he found himself leaning into her, kissing her, and all conscious thought suddenly ceased. For a long while there was only emotion, need, and hunger. It was as if all the years of teasing and flirting and unrealized sexual tension between them were finally all coming together at once, and there was nothing that could be done to stop it, not that either of them wanted to. It was the culmination of all his daydreams and fantasies, yet it still managed to put them all to shame. He didn’t want it to stop, but deep down he knew it would have to sometime, and that time was approaching. The thought caused time to lurch forward again, and as he became aware of himself, he gradually began to pull away, telling himself that there would surely be more opportunity for such moments in the future.
Lois groaned lightly as their lips separated, although there was nothing but satisfaction on her face. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, breaking the silence between them.
Her cheeks reddened, and her smile was shy. “Yeah, I have too, Clark.”
His arms tightened around her as his heart threatened to burst with pure joy. He had wondered, worried, what she would call him when they finally dropped the Zorro act. With her words, though, any long held fears he had harbored fell away, and he let the happiness course through him. He contemplated at that moment telling her that he loved her, that he had always loved her, but decided that it was too soon. The time would come for those words, but for now, he wanted to keep it light, pleasant.
He let himself enjoy the moment, the silence developing between them not in the least bit uncomfortable. After a few long seconds, he pulled her hand up toward his mouth and planted a light kiss on it. “Not that I’m complaining, but I must confess that I had expected to come here to find that hurricane Lois had been unleashed,” he said. Lois’s eyes narrowed for moment in mock consternation, but soon she was smiling at him.
“Oh Hurricane Lois came, all right,” she said. “If you’d have showed up even a half hour ago, I would’ve told you what a rotten, no good, two-faced liar you were. I probably would’ve accused you of a lot of horrible things and then would’ve said that I never wanted to see you again.”
“So what changed?” he asked. Her smile was the widest he’d ever seen.
“I thought about it for a while, and I figured out that once you get to talking to someone, and once you pry your eyes open, you can always see the real person behind the façade. Even if it isn’t Halloween.” Her eyes shifted downward, her hand changing its grip in his. “And I decided that lying to me was probably the last thing you wanted to do.”
“No, I didn’t like misleading you,” he answered quickly, his voice soft, his tone earnest. “I kept telling myself that it wasn’t lying, because I never told you that I WASN’T Superman, I never denied any of the things I did. There’s a fine distinction between a half-truth and an outright lie, I know, but it’s the only way I could justify all the times I ran out and told you I had a prescription to pick up or an appointment to get to. Because I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself if I’d have lied to you.”
“You must’ve dropped dozens of hints, left me a dozen clues that I could’ve easily translated into the truth, but I never saw them,” Lois said, a note of frustration in her voice. Her eyes looked up again, locking onto the Kerth awards that were displayed prominently in her cabinet. “The lighting. Makes them look...bigger.”
Clark blushed momentarily, then sighed. How much time had they wasted, tiptoeing around the truth, denying their feelings? All he had to do was say three little words, ‘I am Superman,’ and all this could’ve been his a long time ago. But...would it have been the same? He knew exactly why he had waited, why he had dropped all the clues without flat out telling her the truth. All that she had felt for Superman had been emotions directed toward someone bigger than life, someone who was a collection of good looks, strength, and virtue; a façade, but nothing more. She loved the superficial things that made Superman, but didn’t love the man that Clark was inside. If she followed his hints to their logical conclusion, it would mean having to throw away her prejudices and recognize a new truth. It would mean having to accept that Clark was more than the invisible nobody that she used to think he was, and it would mean accepting that Superman was something considerably less than a god in a cape. By letting her make the choice to recognize the clues given to her, it gave her a say in the revelation. Granted, things hadn’t exactly gone to plan, and his secret had been revealed by him rather than discovered by her, but she had already been on the path of discovering it on her own. He could tell just by the way she had started to look at Clark, the hint of something more than friendship lurking just behind her pleasant smile. Still, he could help but wonder if maybe she held onto that hero worship, if maybe the truth didn’t chafe a little bit.
“So are you disappointed?” he asked softly, causing the contemplative expression on her face to fall away, and her eyes to focus on his face.
“Disappointed?” she asked, studying him, finally looking down toward his chest. She smiled lightly, bringing her hand out from behind his back and gently playing with the ends of the chain that held his cape on. “I was in the middle of a scoop and walked out just as the good part was getting started. That disappoints me.”
“Lois...” Clark started, but her smile only widened.
Her hand released the chain and moved upward. Gently, she ran her finger along the edge of his brow, around his eye, and down to his cheek bone. “Someone’s eyes can tell you a lot about them,” she said, trailing her finger along his jaw and finally resting her hand on his shoulder. “Their face might say one thing, but the eyes are the windows to the soul, and that’s generally where the truth can be found.” Her eyes looked towards his again, and he found himself mesmerized. “I noticed a long time ago that Clark and Superman both looked at me with the same eyes. Whether you were pulling me from certain doom or giving me advice on proper usage of the English language, I could see the barely contained affection behind those eyes. But only recently did it start to bother me that I felt threatened by one man’s love and frustrated by the other’s.”
She looked down, her voice growing soft, her body pressing closer to his. “I’m not disappointed, Clark, because I realize that I would’ve been upset if one of your personas didn’t end up being just like the other. If Superman hadn’t had Clark’s sense of humor, or if Clark didn’t have Superman’s quiet strength, then I would’ve been disappointed. But now I have the total package, both sides of the same coin, and I realize that it’s everything I wanted.”
Clark leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I love you, you know,” he said, the words coming before he even had a chance to stop them. He wanted to hold onto her forever and never let her go. He wanted to tell her how wonderful she was, how glad he was that she knew, but somehow those three words seemed like more than enough to convey all that.
Lois rested her head on his shoulder, nestling her forehead against his neck. “I know,” she said, so softly that he had to strain to hear. They stood for that a moment, the music still playing around them, content. But after a moment, Lois raised her head, a mischievous half smile forming on her lips. “You realize, off course, that that doesn’t get you off the hook,” she said.
Clark blinked, caught off guard by her change in direction, but found that he was smiling despite it. “Off the hook?”
“I might love you, Clark, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to readily forgive you for all those lousy excuses and little white lies.”
His smile only grew, even though he knew he should be feeling dread at the thought of a revenge plot hatched by Lois Lane. “Would it help if I showed you the great chocolate shops of Europe? Or swept you off to a nice tropical island in the middle of the winter sometime?” he asked with a wiggle of the eyebrows, causing her eyes to widen somewhat, but only for a moment.
“Yes, it would,” she said, leaning back in his arms, giggling.
“For you, Lois, just ask and the world is yours,” he said, serious. Her smile didn’t falter at his words, although her eyes softened somewhat.
“Just promise me that, from here on out, there will be no more misdirection, no more half-truths.”
She wasn’t teasing, he knew, no matter what her smile said. “I promise,” he answered. He didn’t need to tell her that he had never wanted to deceive her in the first place.
Lois nodded, her grin radiant, and Clark knew that the night had reached its end. He dropped arms, and Lois stepped away, although her eyes never left him. “Tomorrow, if you’re not doing anything for dinner, there’s this great little French bistro that I know of,” he said.
“Is that a date?” Lois asked, the teasing tone back in her voice. Clark nodded. “I’d be honored,” she answered.
“Until tomorrow, then,” he said with a small bow, continuing the motion downward to retrieve his mask. Once he straightened again, he detoured to pick up his hat, then took a step toward the door of the apartment, Lois watching him curiously all the while. Her gaze was different than it had been before, different from the naked attraction she regarded him with when he visited as Superman, different from the friendly, familiar smile she gave him every day at work. Her expression now was a hybrid of both, a new face for a new reality. With a smile, Clark realized that he didn’t necessarily have to leave through the front door. Tonight she had seen plenty of Clark Kent and his other secret identity, the mysterious stranger in black, but she really hadn’t seen Superman outside of his brief appearance at the ball. And Clark felt like showing off.
Two strides took him to her window, which was cracked open by habit, the sheers fluttering gently in the breeze. He placed the hat on his head and pulled back the drapes, taking one step up and into the window frame. “Good night, Lois,” he said.
Her grin was beautiful, as always. “Good night,” she said. He gave her a smile and turned toward the tempered darkness outside, willing himself gently up into the air. As he was about to take off across the sky, he became aware of her saying his name. With a start, he turned back toward her apartment, suspended in midair a few feet from the front of her apartment building.
“Clark?” she said again, taking a step forward.
“Yes?” he answered, floating closer to the building.
She was now at the window, her hand resting on the frame. “I think, tomorrow, I deserve an exclusive, behind the scenes account of everything that happened at the big party.”
“You?” Clark asked, a half smile forming on his face.
“Okay, we,” Lois said, mirroring his smile. “That is, if you can spare a moment to give yourself an interview.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Clark said, causing her eyes to narrow as that particular revelation came to her. He laughed, taking off into the night sky at last, leaving her to fume as her eyes followed him across the horizon.
“That is so unfair....” he heard her say from afar, causing him to laugh harder. In the morning, he was sure that the gossip columns would be filled with tales of laughter from the sky, of the city’s famous hero being seen dressed in black and grinning like an idiot, but he found that the prospect didn’t bother him at all. Why? Because he was a man in love, and was happy, truly happy, for the first time in a long time. And he was no longer a man who had to hide behind a mask, who had to be someone else, a secret identity, when in the presence of the woman he loved. Yes, he thought, executing one last barrel roll before taking aim for his apartment, this was the beginning of something wonderful.
