so this will be short, only like five chapters or less. I have to get this off my chest lol. this movie has me all kinds of fucked up and it's been months since it first came out. but I hope everybody likes it.

~temporary insanity

PROLOGUE: In His Memory

Sitting at her desk, her fingertips frozen over the keyboard, her mind filled with everything and nothing at the same time, her whole world seemed frozen, like the night outside.

"Go home, Lois."

She shook her head. "I'm... I'm almost done."

Perry White, her boss, editor, and friend, arched an eyebrow as his hand landed on the edge of her cubicle, his arm bending at the elbow as he leaned on it. "Are you? Are you really?" He nodded at her computer where the word processor had three words and a blinking cursor.

She glared at the keyboard. "Yes."

He sighed. "Lois, you and I have known each other a long time. I supported you when you did that story that caused a class action law suit against the pharmaceutical factory here in Metropolis. I supported you when you went boots on the ground with the first division. I know that you didn't want to just write those stories, you wanted to live them. Clark was no different, was he?"

She swallowed, her soft, strawberry blonde waves falling into her face as she hung her head in defeat. "He was more than just a story. He was more than... he was more than anybody could have imagined."

"Nevertheless, you found a way not just to write about him, but to be in his life and in his story."

"No. He... he became the most important part of mine." She gave into her tears. "What do I do now?" she whispered.

Perry let his hand rest on her shoulder, squeezing it. "What you do best, Lois. Tell it. Tell your story."

That thought followed her for two days, plaguing her dreams and nightmares, swirling in her tea, screeching in the train's wheels on her way to work, where it blinked at her from the same word document with three words and a tiny black line.

|what

|next

|what

|next

She was tired. She just wanted him to come home with flowers and dinner again. "I was gonna cook dinner—surprise you."

"I don't care what they're saying." His face that day had changed from happy to see her to severe in an instant. His expression was always a window for his emotions. "I didn't kill those men if that's what they think."

"I just don't know if it's possible for you to love me and be you."

He hadn't answered her. All the things he said to defend himself to her, he never said to the world. Maybe it was because her opinion was the only one that mattered to him—well, besides his mother's. He had a way of answering those questions without saying anything at all. When they were together, just Lois and Clark, sipping wine and talking about their stories, his recent travels and her recent adventures, he always looked at her and smiled with this expression of love and indulgence, like everything she said was special and important, even if it was something as stupid as 'the line at Starbucks was ridiculous' or something.

When she got indignant about her most recent bickering session with Perry, he'd sit on the floor and watch her pace as she read her piece to him and explained to him why this was her best work yet and she had no clue why Perry wanted her to include something, or take something out, or edit it down to only half a page. His lovingly indulgent blue eyes also held amusement then as they followed her movement back and forth, blocking his way of the television. And then, when she finally ran out of steam, he'd simply stand up, take her paper from her hands, and replace it with a glass of her favorite wine. Then he'd pull her in for an embrace and kiss the top of her head, and she knew that was his way of saying that she'd figure out what Perry meant tomorrow.

She usually did. He was balm for her insecurities that way. And when she got it right, he'd look at her with pride in his eyes, and a tiny smile would pull at one side of his face as he shook his head, the only indication he gave that he always heard their arguments even though Perry's door was always closed, and knew that Perry gave in with a sigh and grudgingly agreed to print her article.

She sat up straight.

Her article. Her article about Superman... the one she Woodburned. She'd gone all over the United States and all over the planet to find out about him, about how he'd worked, about what drove him. She understood the depth of his loneliness as she interviewed all the people he'd saved, people he'd had to run from. She understood that he felt his uniqueness very keenly, which he perceived as lack of humanity. While she was on a quest to find out about the man that saved her life, he was on a quest to figure out why he was never like the people he ended up rescuing.

Now she was going to go around the world again to understand something else... the depth of his selflessness. She stood and walked into Perry's office without knocking. "I'm going to do an in depth look into the life of Superman."

He looked up. "What?"

"I'm going to find and talked to the people he interacts with as Superman. And I'm going to find out where he goes to be alone."

Perry sighed. "You mean, where he went."

Lois's throat tightened. "Where he went."

"And naturally, you want me to fund this."

"Of course."

"You know that you can find news and video archives of almost any incident with him involved. Here in the Planet, even. You don't have to go anywhere."

"Yes I do."

"Why?"

"Because this isn't about the fact that he saved them—he saved all of us! No. This is about who he is to them. Because three days ago, he was someone everyone had to be afraid of, someone whose integrity needed to be questioned and now... now if there's a single doubt still that he would do anything for us stupid, stubborn humans, it needs to be put to rest. It needs to be put to rest so that he can be."

"Lois, this story is already everywhere."

"But no one can tell it like I can."

Perry thought about what she was asking. She was asking to tell her story as well as his. He understood that she wanted to memorialize him... grieve for him but also help the world understand what he was, and what he was like. But everyone had their ideals about him as a god, as a savior, as a soldier... as someone who was never really one of them. But no one except his family and those in the Planet knew what he was like as a man.

"Fine. You're going to write his story in two parts. What he was like as a person; Clark Kent, the one we all know here. Feel free to pull any and all of us aside, talk to his child hood friends, whatever you want. You will also write about his endeavors as Superman. You will be given a travel budget for this assignment. You can start after the funeral services."

Lois smiled a shaky smile. "Thank you."

At night she drew herself a bath, carefully adjusting the temperature and adding the soaps, salts and oils she normally did, watching the bubbles turn white. She always found it interesting that the pure white froth floated above the water. She knew scientifically, it just had to do with the fact that air was trapped in them and there was no chance that air would stay under the water, it would always free itself from its depth and rise up.

She hiccuped as more tears came. He was never going to stay here. He was always going to rise up. He was air to this planet. Fresh, unpolluted air.

She slipped her clothes off. Her shirt, skirt, tights, and panties making a pool around her feet. Her bra was last. She slipped it off and stepped carefully into the full tub, letting the warmth work its way through her skin, into her muscles, into her bones. It made her shiver. She shut her eyes and leaned back, her mind sinking into the warmth around her, and the warmth of her memory.

"Clark—you're going to flood the apartment."

"Uh huh." His boyish grin and mischievous eyes were only distracting for about two seconds before he peeled his shirt off, and his chest and defined abdomen came into view to distract her instead.

She was all giggles as he splashed into the tub with her, jeans and all. His glasses tumbled somewhere, but if he didn't care, she didn't either. It wasn't like he needed them, anyway. His tongue found that spot on her neck, and her giggles cut to gasps and soft moans as he loved her.

It took two hours to clean up the bathroom. And he'd ruined his shoes. He hadn't cared, though. He'd just shrugged and sighed in relief that he wasn't sloshing around in them anymore. They made dinner together that night, laughing and spraying each other with the sink water, and feeding each other taste tests while he told her about growing up on the farm. He made her turn the news off, a frown pulling his eyebrows toward each other and making his clear blue eyes cloud with something she realized later was pain.

She opened her eyes, and tears immediately made their escape. The whole 'is he our enemy or not' saga had cut him more deeply than the abominate monster that had taken his life. The thing that stung the most about his death was that he died thinking the entire planet blamed him.

The truth was that his instincts were always right, and that LexCorp had used that to turn the world against him and eventually kill him. She wasn't sure which of the two was more cruel.

Pulling herself out of the bath, she set about draining the tub and finishing her shower, quickly rinsing off suds and washing her hair.

He'd blamed himself for the bombing at the Capitol Building when the truth was very different. She'd seen how the light in his eyes was dull, snuffed out by what the media was saying. "I'm afraid I didn't see it because I wasn't looking."

"No one stays good in this world, Lo."

It broke her heart that he didn't know that he did. He stayed good until the bitter end. But her opinion wasn't the only one that mattered after all.

The wake was hard. Perry had flown her and the whole team to Clark's hometown of Smallville, Kansas. The town had made navy and red, and black and gray S symbol flags, and alternated them with American ones all the way down Main Street. Outside the town, trees were decorated with ribbon, and the funeral home was full but quiet as friends and loved ones their goodbyes to the Man of Steel.

Martha was kind to her from the start. When they first met, neither woman had any idea Lois and Clark would fall in love. Martha was leery of her, to be honest. She didn't want to talk to her at first, but Lois was pretty good at presenting herself a certain way, a way that made her seem friendly, and not the enemy. Also, maybe Martha saw some of her own curiosity in her questions, and maybe drew her own conclusions about the impact her son had on the younger woman's life.

Then, Clark asked her to come to Kansas with him. For thanksgiving. She was completely shocked at first, but they became friends over the last two years. Now, Martha looked at her and wept. She let her own tears fall as she neared the viewing area where Clark lay, his hands folded calmly over his stomach, his eyes gently closed. He looked like he was asleep.

She was up a million times it seemed like, just watching his muscular chest rise and fall, watching his calm face as he rested. Most times, she ended up using one of his arms as a pillow, and throwing a leg or something over him. He never shifted; his arm never fell asleep, he didn't ask her to move because he was uncomfortable. He probably never even noticed. But she felt how safe he felt in her bed, in her home. He always rested so easily, smiled so effortlessly...

She choked a sob. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered, leaning down to his peaceful, still face. "You were always good, Kal. I'm going to make sure they never say anything different. I promise." She entwined her fingers with his and gave a gentle squeeze. And just like when he was asleep, even though he never noticed, she swore she felt the tiniest squeeze back.

She watched them close the casket after the viewing, and something inside her cracked. It was a permanent fault line in her chest now, that ached always since she thought of him always. She hoped over time she'd be able to think of him without pain, but for now, she was drowning in the waves of it until she was strangely numb.

The funeral was long and short at the same time. She was not anticipating being only one of two people who could speak for his personality in detail. She was both dreading and waiting for the moment when she could tell everyone in attendance about the good times, his smile, their stupid fights, their life together. The way he started talking about the future with hope—as long as she was at his side. The ring his mother gave her the day before. "I wear you on my chest," he told her once, two months before the day in the desert. "You are hope to me."

But she never wanted the moment to come when they lowered him into the ground forever. Alas, it came, and she watched them lower him down. There was a feeling of helplessness that ripped her apart. She felt it when She stayed hours after everyone was gone, her body and mind numb as she stared at the simple wooden box.

"You were my world too," she said to the empty space in front of her. "You were hope to me. You will always be."

With a final handful of dirt, she shoved her hands in her pockets and walked alone to the rental car at the end of the long path out of the graveyard. She was going to get to work now. She was going to make sure his memory was the brightest spot in human history.

"You're digging up snakes, Lo. It's kind of dangerous, don't you think?"

"That's why I didn't tell you," she sighed. His look of disapproval said everything he wasn't able to say out loud, as Perry interrupted with something about a plane to catch.

She rushed to log out of her computer and head home to pack some essentials, but he grabbed her hand. "I love you," he said quietly. "Please, be safe."

His worry for her made her relent. "I love you too. I promise I'll call you."

His lips quirked up in that tiny, amused smile. "I know."

She kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger against the smooth skin of his cheek. He responded by squeezing her hand and turning back to his desk where Perry was waiting. The way he walked told her he'd be paying very careful attention to what was happening in DC.

That wasn't the first time they'd argued about an assignment of hers. She was always rushing off to somewhere, and more than once, his eyebrows had furrowed as she explained to him what her newest adventure would be. He'd tell her it was dangerous, and she'd smile and say she'd be fine. He always sighed and gave her that small, patient smile. He knew she liked her independence, that she liked to live each story and adventure with her own senses. He knew he didn't have a say in her assignments—he was mostly reminding her not to be reckless. She admitted that since she was extremely confident in his ability, she'd gotten quite a bit more reckless in her endeavors, but when she got home safely, he was always waiting for her with some special detail. A flower on her desk at work, a note on the fridge, a romantic night.

More than once, his expression as he showed up and glared at the bad guys also included a glare for her that read, "I told you so." But he never said it out loud. When she got home because he brought her home after something dangerous, he always gave her that patient smile, checking her over to make sure she was okay, before taking off again. She managed to thank him once, and he just grinned, his eyebrow arching just a tiny bit. "Try not to thank me, Lo." Then, with a peck on her lips, he was off again.

Over the two years since he'd become Superman, she found that he enjoyed it. He'd liked honing his powers, using them to save people from death. She always asked him about everywhere he went, and the people he saved. He always said, "I couldn't let them die, Lo." When she asked why, he said, "I know I'm just one person—I know that there are millions of people in trouble all the time. But every person I can help is someone who is loved as much as I love you. And if I were just some guy, I would want Superman to save you every time. So I will try."

Lucky for her, Clark wasn't just some guy. He was the Man of Steel. But even he doubted himself. "Maybe it's just an exercise in futility. Maybe I won't always save everyone. How can I? But I can't stop doing this. This is my home now, and I... I have to help somehow."

She deleted the three words on the word document, and began to write.

Clark Kent: The Man in Superman