It was a cool night, but warm enough that Lois had left her balcony door open as she waited. She'd opened a bottle of wine, but the ice it had sat in was melted. That's how long she'd been waiting. Honestly, she couldn't be sure of the exactly number of hours. She'd been in such a flurry to get ready, to have everything just so before he got here. It didn't seem to matter now. She supposed she ought to have just eaten, but she wasn't hungry. At first she'd just assumed he'd had a busy night, but then it got so late she didn't know what to think. She hadn't even checked the clock for the last few hours; didn't see the point. Instead she sat in the dark, on her small sofa, facing outside. She frowned when she saw him in the distance, and stood up thinking it would make her look less pathetic.

"You're late," she said as he landed.

"Yes."

"I guess you must have a good reason, I mean you are Superman." She felt funny, knowing that he might have been doing something important, but upset for having waited so long, "Avalanche, flash flood, earth quake…"

"Not exactly," he looked uncomfortable.

"Pestilence?" Her words were playful, but there was an edge to her voice.

"Uh, no, I—" he shook his head as if thinking better of what he had been about to say. "I kept you waiting a long time, I'm sorry."

"I was afraid you weren't coming." Her words were softer this time, more full of doubt than anger.

"I almost didn't," he replied quietly. She looked up at him in shock, but his face was downcast. Her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"There's something I need to tell you Lois, something I wanted to tell you for a long time. And I almost didn't come tonight because I've been so afraid…" his face was in shadow so that she could only hear his words, not see them. His voice had trailed off for what seemed like an age and finally she couldn't wait any longer.

"You're Superman, what could you possibly be afraid of?" her words were accusatory, but she said them with more confusion than anger.

"So many things," his didn't elaborate.

She felt sorry for him suddenly, he seemed so upset. But at the same time she was angry. Not only was he late, she'd been sitting for hours. She'd been sitting for hours contemplating her life; how miserable Richard must be and how the whole mess was her own fault. They'd never fought, but one day it was as if they had both realized it wasn't going to work. He had kept his house and she had moved her things back into an apartment not unlike the one she had lived in when they'd first met. The only difference of course, was that now one of the back bedrooms was Jason's.

The whole ordeal was disgustingly tidy and a lot more amicable than she deserved. She'd sat alone, wondering how everything could possible turn out happy. Her heart thrilled every time she thought she heard a noise, thinking it was him. She had been so excited when found Superman's note in her mailbox; she'd been almost disgusted with herself. Now she was suddenly frightened.

"You're leaving," there was a quiver in her voice she didn't like, but he shook his head, no.

"You've met someone else then." He looked up at her this time, eyes wide.

"No," he looked horror struck and stepped toward her so he could take her hand. "There could never be anyone else, Lois. Not for me." A sudden thrill went through her. It was the kind of thing you waited your whole life to hear someone say. But the look in his eyes, the fear and sadness there, left a pit in her stomach she was afraid of falling into. And the way he drew her down, so that they were sitting side by side on the sofa, should have made her feel giddy, but instead she felt terrified.

"Are you sick?" she asked. He gave a half chuckle and squeezed her hand.

"No, I'm not sick."

"Please, whatever it is, just say it. You're scaring me," she squeezed his hand back, prompting him. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. And when he spoke, he couldn't look her in the eye.

"I'm not who you think I am, Lois. When we first met, I promised you that I never lie, but I have lied. I've lied to you every day and I've hated myself for it. You have no idea how badly I've wanted to tell you, but I've put it off…for fear. God, I'm so afraid that when I tell you, you'll hate me," he looked at her then, but she didn't answer. "I am Superman and that can't change. But I'm also someone else." He ran his fingers through his hair roughly, and reached somewhere she couldn't see. Bringing out a pair of glasses, he put them on, suddenly looking very foreign.

And yet, not so foreign…he was eerily familiar now.

"Clark?" her eyes were questioning, as if she couldn't quite believe what he was trying to show her.

"I told you I was from Krypton, but I'm also from Smallville," his voice was quiet. "I grew up on a farm; my mother's name is Martha Kent. Yes, I am Clark." Lois didn't seem to hear.

"God, this whole time…what an idiot Lois Lane is," she said it matter of factly.

"I never thought that."

"What, not even once, tell the truth," she emphasized the word, and it wounded him. But she had a right to be angry.

"I am telling the truth, Lois."

"No, I'm ridiculous!" she stood up and walked away from him to the window-box of a balcony. The metal railing was cold, but it felt good on her skin. She pressed her palms to it, hoping to chill her fevered embarrassment. "I'm so ridiculous. So blind. How's it possible I could have been so blind," she spoke quietly to herself, but she knew he could hear her. "Superman is Clark, which means Clark is Superman. God, what does that make me? Not only the most idiotic woman on earth, but the worst investigative reporter in history." She laughed then, but it was hollow. She looked out at the city lights. Where they should have sparkled they blurred. She felt his hand reach out and touch her shoulder; gingerly as if he was afraid she didn't want him.

"It makes sense in my head, you know? Someone as important as Superman must have a secret identity. He deserves to be able to live an ordinary life. To be able to walk down the street without hordes of people rushing after him," she turned so that she could look him in the eye, "I want you to know, I get it, ok? I do. And it's not as if I never thought about it…but why couldn't you tell me?" The tears were flowing now, but she kept on. "After all of it, everything. Why couldn't you tell me before?" He knew what she meant; before Jason, before they'd been together.

"I'm so ashamed, so sorry…" he blinked his eyes hard as he said it, holding back his own tears she realized.

"No, I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to go back. Go back before—back before you lied to me. Before you made love to me and lied," she was sobbing now. "You didn't just lie about yourself, you lied about us." she collapsed against him wanting him to save her from her heartache, to fix it like he always did. His arms held her fast, fingers smoothed her hair.

"Can you ever forgive me?" he spoke in a shuddered whisper and she knew if she looked up at him, that he'd be crying too. She sniffed and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. She wanted to rest there in his arms forever. Wanted to forget that any of this had happened and go on like before. Wanted to tell him that everything was okay, but she couldn't. She put a hand to his chest and he released her.

"I think I'm going to need some time… Clark," she paused as she said his name, it felt so odd to call him that.

"I wish I could go back and do everything differently," his hands slid from her shoulders to hold her hands in his.

"I know you do," her vision blurred with more tears as she squeezed his hands again and let go. She turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. She wasn't sure what to do or say. She was afraid and unsure and worst of all guilty. She ached, over all the harsh words she'd ever spoken to Clark or about him. Knew now that he'd heard and felt every one. She hated herself for not seeing who he really was and for pushing him aside no matter how hard he tried to be near her; to be her friend. She heard his boots click on the concrete of her balcony and whirled around to see him slowly rise.

"Please don't go!" her heart pounded desperately, waiting to see if he would turn around or if he'd leave like last time. Noiselessly he returned and stood quietly waiting.

"Do you always have to fly away?"

"I—thought it was what you wanted." he had that kicked puppy look she hated, it was so like Clark.

"Stop looking at me like that! Do you have any idea how angry it makes me when you look at me like that," she wiped the tears off her face roughly.

"I'm sorry—" he was looking at the ground again.

"No no no, stop. Stop being so goddamn sorry. It's maddening. It makes me feel awful, don't you get that? I want to scream and yell, but I can't do that when you're practically down on your knees begging for forgiveness." They were both quiet.

After a while Lois walked away and sat down, leaning against the arm of her sofa; defeated. Slowly, Clark moved towards her.

"Is it alright if I sit down?" Her face was hidden in her arm, but she nodded. "I've been selfish, I know I have. I knew how wrong it was to lie to you and I did it anyway. I hate myself for hurting you, but even more for being such a coward."

"Didn't you trust me? Did you think I would tell?" she looked up at him fearfully.

"Oh Lois, that's not it at all," he fiddled with the glasses in his hand.

"Then what, I don't understand," she stopped, her lips trying to form the words. "Do you have any idea how guilty I feel for not—recognizing what was standing right in front of me? And, not only not seeing you for Superman, but not seeing you for yourself? Sitting here remembering each moment I passed you over and how that must have hurt you? I knew…I wasn't completely blind. I knew Clark Kent had a thing for Lois Lane, I didn't care." The last words she spoke were soft, barely a whisper. But of course she knew he heard. "I hate myself for treating you that way, and I hate you for letting me. Why did you let me do that? I don't understand." He let her question hang in the air for a long time; so long she wasn't sure he was going to answer. But finally he did.

"I was afraid if you knew who I really was, you wouldn't want me anymore." And there it was. The answer she'd already known.

"Clark Kent isn't some disguise I put on to hide that I'm Superman. I wish he were, sometimes. I guess that's the whole problem. I grew up as Clark. I'm nobody, from a town no one's ever heard of. It doesn't matter that I'm also Kal-El from Krypton. I never lived there. I don't know who that person is or how he should act. It's so much easier to fly around in a cape and prove I'm important through the things I can do, than to try to convince you I'm worthwhile when it's only me. What if I wasn't special," his eyes were downcast.

"Clark," she said, "Clark, look at me," as he did she reached out and brushed his hair away from his eyes. "I don't love you because you can set things on fire with your eyes or because you can fly. If that were the case, do think I would ever have given Richard a second glance? I fell in love with Superman, with you, because no matter whether I about to die in plane crash or kill myself smoking—you were there. I always knew, that wherever I was you could hear me. If I needed you, you drop everything and come running. Don't you know what that means to me, to know you'd sacrifice the safety of the world, to save me? Who am I, how am I special? I couldn't see Clark—I was too busy seeing you. You're not some nobody, you're everything to me. I love you."

"I don't know what to say."

"Just promise you'll never leave me again," she bushed her hand over his cheek, "At least not without saying goodbye."

"I promise," he whispered. He pressed his forehead to hers as she cupped his face in her hands. "I love you so much," he said.

"I know." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped it with her own. She felt like she had him for the first time, that finally he was really hers. His arms reached around her, holding her tightly to him; as if he'd never let go. And she knew she was safe.