This is my take on the way Lois Lane finds out Clark is Superman. It's mostly based on the Donner films. What if she had found out in a way we've never considered before? In a totally non-typical or non-traditional manner?

Superman is owned by Warner Bros. and DC Comics. This is a work of fan fiction, no copyright infringement is intended.

NO REAL SECRET

By Pony R.

"So, who is this tall drink of water?" Cat Grant murmured as she stole up behind Lois, who was just rising from her desk in the bullpen of The Daily Planet. Lois looked at Cat to see whom she was referring-to, and was not surprised to see it was Lois' new… anchor, competition (is that with a tion or a shun?), annoyance, newbie… whatever, she thought absently.

"Oh, yeah, Cat Grant, meet… uuuhmm…"

He saved her from further embarrassment. Or maybe indifference.

"Uh, Clark Kent," he squeaked, rising awkwardly from his chair. He was about to get up anyway, as Lois was in the process of closing-up for the night, and Clark wanted to walk out with her. He didn't know anyone else, other than Jimmy (who seemed to be elsewhere, at the moment) and, naturally, he gravitated toward the one person who was, albeit reluctantly, his guide in this new experience, his first day at The Planet. It didn't help that he felt something powerful whenever he looked at Lois Lane. When she actually spoke, it was with seeming indifference much of the time, apparent sarcasm a fair amount of the rest of the time, and a twinkle of humor spiced with warmth and certainly worldliness, just enough of the time to make his emotions alert him that they liked her, too.

He extended a big Kansas paw and goofy grin the brash redhead's way. "Nice to meet you, uh… Cat?"

"That's me," Cat purred.

Right on cue, thought Lois. For some strange reason she couldn't fathom, she suddenly felt the need to get in between Cat and this new man who had just been thrust into her career. Hell, my life, she thought ironically. She decided the best course of action was to meet Clark's eyes, and start walking. Before she could, however, Cat had sidled-up to Clark, and was reaching into her purse. Apparently, Cat was on her way out for the day (or night) as well. As she rummaged inside the black handbag, she said to the tall man before her, "I wonder if you can do me a favor. Just stand still for a second. Ah," she beamed, pulling out a small bottle. It was green and squat, and was obviously a cologne bottle. "Here. Let me see how this smells on you." Before either Clark or Lois could think to react, Cat had dabbed a small amount of the liquid onto Clark's neck, behind each ear. Like a teenager, he ducked away just as she made the second contact, awkwardly fending her off with his arms, causing his blazer to bunch-up around his shoulders.

"Uh, gee, Ms. Grant, I'm not really a cologne kind of guy," he protested, succeeding in taking a step back, re-establishing his personal space. The stuff was clearly discernable in the close area formed by their desks. It smelled similar to Polo, a brand Clark liked because it smelled like a horse farm, but there was something spicier about it, and that tended to clash somehow with the scent's aesthetic appeal. At least to Clark. Looking at Lois for help, he could see that she was trying not to laugh while at the same time also trying not to wrinkle her nose.

"Yeah, Kent's more of a farm boy. I still don't understand why Mr. Kansas here is working the City Beat with me. We'll see how he does on the mean streets of Metropolis," Lois snarked, although it was laced with that twinkle, and Clark couldn't help but smile.

"It's Mister Kent, Lois," he corrected with a sudden dash of… charm? "I come from… Smallville, Kansas." Yes, there was definitely a slight edge of humor playing at his lips and eyebrows. How did they say it in the Midwest? Oh yeah, he was joshing her! All of a sudden, she decided, against her better judgment, that she liked this guy who she would normally have considered an interloper. God help her, she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was that he seemed to… see right through her bluster, her Mad Dog Lane persona, and shine a bright light on the true Lois, the one she rarely showed anybody.

Or maybe she really was just that lonely and desperate.

In any event, she decided to pry him from the clutches of Cat Grant and her traveling cologne counter.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Clark," Cat was murmuring, allowing him to take her small hand in his huge one. "I just wanted to see how this new scent smells on a real man," she explained, taking a sidelong glance at Lois, who was just retrieving her own jacket from the nearby coat rack. Turning back to Clark, one hand placed upon his chest, she moved her face in toward his, and just as it appeared as though she was going to brazenly kiss him, Cat veered off to one side and took in a long sniff of the cologne on Clark's neck. Sighing contentedly, she took a step back allowing Clark his space once more.

Taking one quick look at her new partner, Lois started toward the far end of the bullpen, where the corridor and elevator bays waited. She didn't look back. She knew Clark would follow.

Sure enough, he was already gathering up his own overcoat and heading her way. He reached her before she had gone more than a few feet.

"Sorry about that, Clark. Shoulda warned you about The Planet's own Cougar In Training, Cat Grant. Hey, that's pretty good! Cougar? Cat? Get it?" she joshed back, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Yeah, Lois, that's pretty…uh, good," he agreed distractedly, rubbing at one of the cologne spots drying on his neck. The smell was definitely… noticeable. Cloying, even. It was definitely NOT an appropriate scent for Clark. Shoot, it wasn't an appropriate scent for a corpse that had been sitting out in the sun for a week.

"Boy, she really gotcha with that stuff, huh?" Lois ventured. She couldn't help wrinkling her nose a bit. It was certainly enough to get your attention. It wasn't a bad smell per se, just a really thick one. "I wonder if she buys it in the convenient gallon-size economy bottle!"

"Yeah, I wish she would have asked before dousing me with the stuff," Clark complained. It was embarrassing to say the least. But, the noticeable smell notwithstanding, Clark decided to ask Lois what he'd been planning to ask her since lunch had ended.

"Lois, would you, ah...be interested in a little dinner tonight?"

Turning toward Clark, she smiled, still walking. They were passing behind, and outside of, the glassed-in portion of the bullpen now, headed toward the restroom bay and the elevator banks beyond and around a corner. "Sorry, Clark. I'm booked."

Clark looked a tad deflated. The cologne tried to hold him up, but was failing miserably. "Oh," he managed. Seeing his reaction, Lois decided to take a little pity on him. Normally she wouldn't feel the need to explain herself, but there was just something about this man…

"Yeah, Air Force One is landing at the airport tonight and this kid's going to be there to make sure you-know…" she interrupted herself to turn toward a colleague in the bullpen, on the other side of the glass, who was waving an evening farewell at her… "Oh, g'night...!" she turned back toward Clark and continued as if she hadn't stopped, "…who answers a few questions he'd rather duck."

Impressed and awed, Clark asked. "Gee Lois, don't you ever slow down?"

"Slow down?" she squeaked. "What for? I've seen how the Other Half lives. Take my sister for example: three kids, two cats, and one mortgage. YUCH! I'd go bananas in a week!"

They had arrived at the Ladies Room.

"Well, can I take you to the airport?" Clark tried, hoping to salvage some last chance to be with Lois, even if it seemed like he was simpering. Which he was.

"Not unless you can fly!" Lois ta-ta'd, and moved to enter the restroom. Clark seemed determined to follow. So did that damn perfume. Lois stopped both at the door.

"Uh, Clark?" She pointed to the plaque on the door. It said LADIES, loud and clear.

Clark, apparently, hadn't heard it or seen it. Lois looked at him like he was hogging the drinking fountain.

"Ladies? I'm just gonna…" she explained as she moved through the door.

"Oh, sorry…" Clark stammered. Lois slammed the door.

On Clark's overcoat.

Clark looked down in dismay at the overcoat, stuck halfway into the door. He hoped there weren't any Twinkies or oranges or peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches squashed in the pockets.

"Uh, Lois…?" he knocked timidly on the door. Timidly. It was the Ladies Room, after all.

A split-second later, the door popped open and Lois poked her head out and stuffed a few envelopes into Clark's hand.

"Oh, could you be a dear and mail these for me? Thanks," she machine-gunned the words before disappearing back behind the door, which she closed with a slam. Clark snatched his coat out just in time.

"Oh, sure…!" Clark said to the door. The door regarded him silently. It had better things to do.

Puffing-out his cheeks with a blast of self-defeated air, he arranged his now perma-creased overcoat on his arm, plopped his fedora on his head, and headed out of the area, in the general direction of the Men's Room to wash-off that cologne before leaving the building. The reeking scent dutifully followed him.

In the years that followed, Lois would never forget the chain of events that would come together to cause her life to change forever. In fact, after she had dealt with the shock and post-traumatic stress aspects of it, she considered it quite humorous.

She had found herself hanging from a seatbelt strap in a disabled helicopter teetering from the edge of the roof of the Daily Planet Building some sixty-five stories above the street.

In order to get into this situation in the first place, she had gone directly from the restroom to the roof, there to board the chopper that would take her to the airport for her attempt to ambush the President. Upon takeoff, the chopper had become hung up by its skids on a power cable. Hauling the strapped-down cable up off the roof with it, the cable, abrading against the metal skids and struts, had been stripped of its insulation, wrapping around the undercarriage like a lasso and short-circuiting the machine's avionics. The large helicopter had spun wildly in place, its tail boom and rotor destroying the control shack on the roof during its rampage before losing power and getting caught hanging over the side of the roof of the skyscraper.

Now after several frantic moments of struggling to get out of the chopper only to fall out of the open cockpit door and make a final, desperate grab onto a hanging seatbelt, there was nothing between her high heels and the pavement but seven hundred feet of air. She could still remember the sensation of her fingers being painfully cut as the seatbelt buckle dug into them. She was, literally, hanging by her hands at the end of the rope. As she fell, she instinctively grabbed for something, anything to stop her plunge. Her heart actually, painfully seized in her chest. She had heard that often those who fall from such heights have a heart attack on the way down, and are dead or at least unconscious before the awful conclusion. Lois could only be so lucky. No, her sharp mind would undoubtedly reserve some portion of cognizance in order to experience the sensation of being smashed into a pulp upon impact with the ground, which she was approaching at nearly 120 miles per hour.

Lois Lane screamed.

It was one of the first times she had ever done that as an adult.

As she was trying to form a prayer of hope, supplication, and penitence, she suddenly felt herself hit the ground. Hard.

For some reason, it had come far sooner than she expected. Even in her terrified state, she could still perceive and process the fact that she was only partway down the building's sleek glass facade. She could even still make out the roofs of a couple of the other older buildings along the block, which were not as tall as the newer Planet Building. Had she hit a ledge? She must have; there was someone else here with her, a man.

'Wait a second… we're still falling! Oh my God!!!!! I pulled him down with me!' Lois' mind screamed.

"Easy, miss. I've got you!" he said in a steady, smiling voice. He appeared to be totally relaxed and at ease. Lois frantically looked around, grabbing him in a death hug. To her startled eyes, she realized that not only were they not falling, they were… ascending! Right up the side of the building.

"You've got me?" she cried. "Who's got you!?"

He let out a little chuckle at that point, and lifted the two of them higher into the air, rising up alongside the building she had been flashing past in a death fall just a second before. As Lois looked around and down, her heart suddenly started beating again, squeezing itself so hard she was gripped with terror. She had never been afraid of heights much, but this was something she still was not able to comprehend. Men don't fly of their own accord. She looked at his back, checking for some kind of harness or wire that they might be hanging from. Nothing. How 'bout a crane or a boom? Nope. No jetpack, that was certain.

It slowly dawned on Lois that this man was lifting them of his own accord.

…No. Way.

As her mind and her senses tried to come to terms with the information she was processing while hanging onto an apparently flying man, she suddenly heard a strange sound from above, like a metallic impact, similar to a car accident. At the same time, a frightened roar rose up from the crown on the streets below. The flying rescue man glanced upward. Lois followed his gaze, her head snapping up. What she saw made her gasp.

The disabled helicopter was falling, bearing-down on them, trying for terminal velocity, almost scraping the side of the steel and glass wall.

Lois screamed, terrified and frustrated that she should be saved from dying in the fall only to be squashed by that goddamned helicopter!

Double jeopardy!

The flying rescue man simply smiled, reached out his free arm, and grabbed the falling Bell Jet Ranger by the skid strut the way a teenager would grab a flying Frisbee. He even gently dipped with the downward movement so as not to shake up his charges too much, before resuming his upward climb.

Lois dropped her arm that was shielding her head in stunned amazement. The crowd below went silent.

Then they went wild.

Lois could clearly hear the cheering rise from the streets in a huge wave of elation. She had a hard time feeling the same however, as she was still too stunned and confused to be able to experience anything beyond shock.

As she looked in open astonishment at the man holding her in one arm, and a full-sized heli-fucking-copter!!!??? in his other hand, he looked back at her.

And he smirked.

It was a smirk that said, Kinda cool, huh? You okay?

She looked back down at the ground below them. Yep, it was getting farther and farther away. As she was considering the deeply disturbing view, she suddenly saw that view cut off by the wall along the edge of the roof, and just as quick, they had the broad, safe expanse of roof only a couple of feet below them, and Lois' nerves began to release their clench on her muscles and mind.

Looking to one side, she could see the helipad crew following their approach and descent to the roof's surface with undisguised shock.

And then they were down, the strange man gently placing the chopper down as though he were replacing a trophy on a shelf. It was then that Lois was finally able to step back, and get a good look at this man. She was struck by his bright, primary-colored suit, and billowing red cape. She had never seen anything like it. Then he turned in her direction for a moment.

And thanks to those skin-tight tights, she got a really good look.

Oh… my…!

Ignoring her for only a second, he looked at the stunned crew standing nearby.

"Gentlemen," he barked, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb at the injured chopper pilot, "this man needs help!" His voice was slightly deep, rich, and definitely commanding. It also had a youthful gloss to it; a voice that time had not yet given much of a timbre. He looked back down at Lois, his face becoming filled with warmth and concern.

He definitely had presence, that was for sure. And he made you feel safe, somehow. Or was it just because he could, apparently, fly of his own volition and juggle aircraft with his bare hands?

"Well, I certainly hope this little incident hasn't put you off flying, Miss," he said. He appeared to be a perfectly normal, albeit drop-dead gorgeous, man, and the way he said those words sounded somehow like he was… apologizing. Even in Lois' dazed state, she found something familiar in that tone of voice, and the shape of the jaw and mouth. Her mind began clawing its way out of the haze of shock that was still clouding her thinking.

Something familiar…

"Statistically speaking of course, it's still the safest way to travel," he finished with a grin, and a twinkle in his eye. He was definitely having a little fun with her, trying to lighten her fear. He sounded like a flight attendant. Or an airline spokesman. Or… suddenly, unbidden, her mind flashed back to lunchtime, when she had been walking through the Planet's lobby with Clark Kent. He had used the word "swell." She hadn't heard that in decades. But there it was. And now, something in this strangely-dressed man's speech patterns reminded her of that moment.

And then the smell came over to say hello.

Cat Grant's super cologne.

Lois' nostrils filled with the scent, which easily overpowered the nearby odors of jet fuel and burned wiring and fear. A scent that simply insisted on being the life of the party.

And suddenly in her mind, the image fell together. He didn't have the glasses, and he was standing taller, and his hair had been parted on the opposite side, and had this neat little spit-curl hanging down in front. It looked like he'd had a makeover, but it was definitely him.

No… way…!

As the caped hero turned to leave, Lois found her voice.

"Wait!"

He turned, looking at her with curiosity, and she approached him, wide-eyed, hands trying to help her form the words. She got right up to him, close enough to feel his aura, and smell Cat's surprise, and said, "Clark, what the hell is going on here?"

His smile dropped, and he looked confused for a second. He blinked, and then seemed to recover himself.

"I beg your pardon?" he tried

Lois, despite the fact that she was still in shock, began to automatically switch to reporter mode.

"I said, what the hell is going on here? Did Perry set this up?"

He looked at her the way the Mayor looked when she cornered him on that bribery charge last year that he thought had been successfully made to go away. Like he was hornswoggled. Apparently he knew The Smell was telling-on him.

"I don't think I follow you…" he tried again. God, he was a terrible liar.

"Clark, if this is some kind of joke, I don't like it!" she stated. There was almost steam coming out of her ears, and anyone who knew her would have been able to spot her shifting into Mad Dog Lane mode.

The caped man actually backed up a step, but Lois pressed forward. "I can tell it's you; you not only look the same and sound the same, but you still have that stupid perfume Cat Grant sprayed on you. It's all over you." He folded her arms and dared him to deny it. "So what's going on around here?"

"Um, well," his eyes widened, shifting from side to side. Nope, no answers on that side of her… none over there, either... "you were falling, so I thought I'd help…?" he offered.

"Yes, and I appreciate it, Clark, but why can you fly? Did Perry put you up to this? Who the hell are you, anyway?" she demanded.

Clark suddenly felt the same way he had when his mom had found out he had tried to use his newly-discovered heat vision to cook a hamburger and had ruined the Stoneware skillet he'd been using.

"A friend," he replied, quietly and honestly.

Lois instinctively grabbed his hand, to keep him there. She could feel him trying to move off, and she wasn't going to let him go so quickly.

"Well, yes, that's a good place to start, although we haven't worked together more than one day. Wait a minute! When we got mugged today, why didn't you do something then?" she asked.

The man looked at her for a moment, his eyes widening. He seemed like he was trying to come up with something, but the interrogation lamp was just too bright, the questions coming too fast to think-up answers for. Bad Cop Lois pressed her prisoner a little more.

"Are you working at The Planet as a spy? Are you with the government? Or some kind of weird… I don't know… reality experiment? How can you fly and lift helicopters? Where did you get the ability to do that? And what's with that… suit?" Lois spoke rapid-fire, both out of professional technique and curiosity, while trying desperately to keep her eyes on his, and not on that… suit.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly closed his eyes, let it out in a defeated sigh, and whispered, "That damn perfume!"

Lois couldn't help it; she busted out laughing. Despite himself, so did Clark, but not so loud as the woman he had just rescued.

"Yeah, it's pretty-much a dead giveaway," Lois chortled. "It's all over the place!"

"I tried to wash it off in the Men's Room," he moaned, now trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, good luck with that," she smiled back.

For just a moment, Lois looked at this man, the laughter fading. This man who somehow felt so strange, and somehow so… familiar, so…compelling. Even though she had only met him that morning.

He finally looked deeply into her eyes. "Do you trust me?

Lois looked back into his. She gulped. "Yes. I trust you."

Suddenly she found herself in his arms, the roof dropping away crazily below. She grabbed onto his torso in a death grip. But she could also feel his arms around her, holding her gently but firmly in place. She slowly relaxed.

As she watched the city rolling by below, she realized that they were heading toward her apartment building. Approaching her penthouse patio, he began to descend.

"How did you know where I live?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "I know where everyone lives, Lois."

For a moment, that remark almost made Lois shudder. How much did he know? What kinds of things could he do? Where was he from???

But as she considered these ideas, she looked at this man, and she could feel no true reason to fear him. There was just something about his countenance that inspired trust.

And then they were standing on her patio, surrounded by a jungle of potted plants and the gentle rumble of traffic below. For just a moment, they looked at each other, standing slightly apart after touching down. She looked awestruck. He looked a bit shy, though still… regal, somehow, without really trying to. And somehow, she could still see some of the Kansas corn lurking in there. Maybe it was just because she knew who he was, knew him as Clark, albeit with this new side to him. Or maybe he was showing more of himself to her. He certainly didn't seem to be bumbling or simpering as before.

"Look, before you say anything," she started, "I was doing some thinking on the way over here, and… I think I understand something. If you're keeping this… ability… persona… whatever of you or who you are or whatever…" she stopped her rambling for a second, and recomposed herself.

"What I'm trying to say is, if you're keeping this a secret for whatever reason, or separate, like an… alter ego or something… you can count on me to keep it secret, too. All I wanna know is… I know you're Clark Kent, and we, I guess, are somehow working together, but really… who are you? Are you a government spy or something? Or are you really a reporter and this is all just some kind of weird athletic gift and I just got lucky that you were here and not at some other paper? And if it is some kind of athletic gift, are you even… human? I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound rude or anything… I mean, you must be human, right? You're from Kansas! It must be some kind of karate or something," Lois concluded, as if that settled it.

Clark laughed heartily at that, and gestured toward the patio table.

"Why don't we sit down and we can talk about it, Lois," he pulled out a chair for her. She sat, and he moved to one side, still standing.

"Lois, before we talk, look… you've just had one devil of a scare. Are you sure you wouldn't want to lie down, or at least splash some cool water on your face? Can I get you a glass of water at least? Or some juice?" he asked, indicating the doors to the interior of the penthouse.

Okay, maybe he was simpering just a little. It was actually endearing.

"Y'know, I think a glass of water would be great. Along with a glass of wine, if you don't mind," she agreed.

"Uh, you can have some wine, but I never drink when I fly," he quipped.

"Well, I do!" she retorted. "Bring it on."

"I'll be right back." He smiled, disappearing into the apartment.

He came back a moment later, with three drinks; two glasses of water, and a flute of white wine.

For the rest of her many years, Lois Lane would always remember that first encounter with Earth's first official extraterrestrial, and the man who would go on to become the best partner and husband she could ever have dreamed of. She remembered reassuring him, and keeping the promise, that she would never reveal his secret (at least not without his permission); she remembered how awed and amazed she felt as he told her of his origins and abilities, as well as his wonderful upbringing with his beloved foster parents. She remembered the almost religious feeling she experienced to find that, as they grew to know each other over time, he was just as much in love with her as she was with him.

She remembered the early rocky patches, when she had to deal with her jealousy of the world for dividing his attentions from her. And she remembered working through those feelings the same as any other emergency worker's partner.

She also remembered, among the various gifts she presented him with on his birthday every year, to always give him a little bottle of that hideous cologne as a humorous reminder of the night that changed their lives forever.

But mostly what stayed in her mind all the rest of Lois Lane's days was the thought she had when they had concluded that first evening and he had flown from her roof to begin his public presence on Earth as Superman:

"We're gonna make one HELL of a team!"

* * *