What a day. The robbery on fifth avenue actually hurt a smidge, courtesy of Apokolips technology. As I fly over the city the wind tears through my suit hitting a tender nerve. The slightest movement aches. The pain I feel wouldn't hold a candle to tomorrow's march to the gallows. I might as well tie the noose around my neck. Cat has decided to have the 'interview of the century' at The Morrison Theater; it's the only theater in the city with a skylight and added bonus it houses 2,000 people. Yay me! My stomach twists into knots at the mere thought of all those strangers waiting for me to trip. I can't decide which is worse, the whole fiasco with Andrina, or being forced to appear in the spotlight. Pete still refuses to clue me in on his grand plan. "The less you know the better," his words from earlier ring in my head. "Just make sure to dry clean your suit." As if a clean suit will matter. Even if the photo isn't published Clark Kent will never be able to show his face in public again. This is my last night of freedom.
Nothing a marathon of Friends and hot coco can't cure. I can already taste the comforts of home, just like Mom used to make it when I got sick. I'm freaking out about nothing. Pete hasn't let me down yet, at least not where it matters. Be more of a Joey than a Ross. Joey wouldn't let something like paparazzi ruin his evening. No. He'll stuff his face with pizza and watch reruns of porn. I could really go for reruns of Friends or AFV. Laughter is medicine for the soul.
The breath is knocked right out of me when I see the intruder in my apartment. Lois Lane sits on my desk twisting a curl mindlessly with one finger as she flips through my high school yearbook. She wears a Daily Planet sweatshirt over her work clothes, and judging by her disheveled appearance has been snooping through my stuff for hours. Her messy black hair is looped into a bun that balances precariously on top of her head, a pen sticking out from one end. The leftover pizza from my fridge sits next to her. I shake my head, Lois is something else entirely. She sees what she wants and takes it no questions asked, may it be a story or something as simple as pizza. It's part of what makes me love her so much. Clearly I didn't love her enough to trust her with my double life.
Is it too much to ask for one quiet night to myself? Apparently so. Clearly heroes don't catch a break. No, they just catch the next lunatic wrecking havoc. I hover outside my apartment window and weigh my options. If I fly in now I'm practically screaming, "Lois you're right! I'm Superman!" Would that be such a bad thing? Obviously Clark. She will only take more risks if she knew. She's better off separated from that mad, super life. She already takes insane risks, you're being stupid. Technically she already knows, so what is the harm really? Iris West-Allen seems to handle the double life swimmingly. But Lois is not Iris. Iris thinks before she jumps head first into a steaming pit of lava.
"I knew it!" Lois explains, jumping off the desk gripping my yearbook to her chest. She grins madly and a part of me worries she has gotten a hold of some Joker gas. "Little Miss Perfect isn't so perfect."
I wince. No doubt she's found the Homecoming picture of Lana and I with the caption, 'Most likely to elope.' It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out Lana Lang and Andrina are one and the same. Lana's disguise is paper thin compared to mine; Andrina simply chooses to forget Lana Lang ever existed. She's a dark mark on her past. I'd go crazy if I had to be Superman all the time. I don't know how Lana can stand it; some people are just born to be famous. Lois snaps pictures with her iPhone, the familiar glint in her eyes she always gets when she's on a warpath. I can't even begin to imagine the dirt she'll dig up on Andrina given the chance. Lana wasn't exactly a saint in High School. She's the star of Smallville's very own version of Lancelot and Guinevere.
This situation calls for tender care. I slip around the front and use the entrance like a normal person. I get a weird look from the homeless guy on the bench when he sees Superman wander into Sunset Village. He shakes his head in disbelief and resumes snoring. Once I'm positively certain the coast is clear and there are no hidden cameras, I twist the ring Zatanna gave me and spin into a change of clothes; securing my blue and red suit inside the ring where it is going to stay for the remainder of the night, pending any catastrophes. I tighten my tie around my neck and dash upstairs. I peek over the rim of my glasses and through the door beyond; Lois is still there now busily going through my closet. She is not going to find any evidence of my Superman suits there.
I fit my key in the keyhole and the door creaks. "Shit!" I hear Lois whisper-scream from the other side of the door and there is a distinct thud as she slams into my coffee table. "Freak's back early." She moves almost as fast as me in her haste to erase any evidence of her snooping. She shoves the box of leftover pizza back in my fridge and kicks the yearbook under the sofa. She glares at the door for a second, decides she's better off hiding from the Man of Steel, and jumps in my closet. I try not to laugh as I open the door to my apartment.
Okay, Lois, I can play along too. I make quite a show of tossing my coat over the chair, and humming loudly and off-key. I rummage through the fridge and grab a soda and sip it slowly, all the while listening to her racing heart. I don't understand that woman some days. She is a riddle. She doesn't need to hide from me. This isn't the first time I've caught her in my apartment. Lois is the Queen of Locks; there isn't a door in Metropolis she can't crack, a fact which keeps me up worrying most nights. Sneaking into my apartment is child's play for her. Admittedly snooping around my home is grounds for questioning, but that never stopped her before when she was trying to prove I was Superman. What gives, Lois?
Of course, back then we were an item, even Superman can get a bit rattled when his ex-girlfriend breaks in, and awkward situations could arise. Ex-girlfriend sounds so cold and heartless. I prefer to say we're on an unofficial break. We are Leia and Han Solo and no matter how much the odds are stacked up against us, we'll always find our way back to each other; I have to believe that. I unbutton my shirt and toss it in the hamper by the closet, acutely aware of her presence. Lois swallows a shuttering gasp. The thin door dividing us does nothing to quelch her beating heart; it is a symphony crying out to be heard. My hand rests on the door handle, itching to rip it open and gather her in my arms like I used to. She'll trace the battle scars on my chest and whisper words of comfort in my ear. Let's be real. She's more likely to throw a knife at my head and call me a liar, but a guy can dream. Lois's breathing slows till it is a whisper of a promise on her lips. I turn the handle.
And there is an insistent knock at my door. I frown, talk about bad timing. Jimmy better not be here with a new angle. I'm in no mood to chase after another story. It is past eleven, even superheroes have to sleep. I chance a peek and swear when I recognize the Goldilocks on my front step. "Aren't you gonna get that Smallville," Lois says below a whisper, still in the closet. I can hear the amused smile in her voice.
My scowl deepens. It wasn't enough Andrina ruined Superman's life too, she had to ruin Clark Kent's life as well. I pull on a black T-shirt and head to the door. I am not about to leave Lana out in the cold hall like leftover trash, Ma and Pa raised me better than this. Maybe she just wants to apologize for last night. I open the door a smidge.
"I brought your favorite!" Lana says gaily, pushing past me with a tray of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies in tow. She forces the hot tray in my arms and I nearly drop it in shock.
She slips off her coat, hangs it over the sofa, and surveys the place with a critical eye. It's a far cry from her gleaming penthouse uptown. There are no elaborate abstract paintings hanging on the wall or million dollar chandeliers. I'm a minimalist by nature; a few hand-drawn pictures cover the otherwise blank walls that kids have given Superman over the years. On second thought, maybe it's not such a good idea for Clark Kent to have those. Lana picks up a framed picture of my parents and I, and smiles wistfully. For a second I see the old Lana, and let my guard down, and I tentatively step towards her. Her eyes swirl with memories of the past. I wonder if she's thinking about the time we snuck into the bowling alley after hours, or the time she told me she could never love an alien. .
"Cosy place you've got." she says grudgingly. I think what you mean is what a boring place. The air between us crackles with unsaid words. She's never apologized for the past and I doubt she is going to start today.
"Lana, ugh . . ." I'm at a loss for words. What the hell are you doing here,comes to mind, but that isn't exactly a kind greeting. "Thanks for the cookies," I say instead, picking one and biting off a piece. The chocolate melts down my throat. It's been a while since I had a home cooked meal that wasn't made in ten seconds or less, by moi. Lana watches me chew in a way that makes my hair stick up on end.
"They do say, the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach," Lana purrs, closing the distance between us, fire dancing in her eyes.'Slut' Lois coughs in the closet. 'Abort Smallville, I repeat abort.' It's an effort to not laugh at Lois's commentary.
I keep my distance. "I'm sure Lex would love your baking skills," I say, setting the tray on the living room table. "You've improved a lot since high school," I pray she gets the message and leaves. "I'm gonna hit the -"
Alarms blare in my head as Lana slips a hand under my shirt and tries to pry it off . Her fingers are cold against my chest, and decidedly feel wrong. I quickly jump away, skittish as a cat and pull my shirt back down.
"Just ah . . you . . . wait a moment," I stutter, sounding like my sixteen-year old self again. "Lana you can't be here!" I find my voice again and straighten up, brushing imaginary dust off my shirt. I try to steer her back towards the door, but she only twists around and wraps her arms around my neck. My skin tingles where she touches me and not in a good way. She's so close I can smell the breath mint on her tongue. I feel like Poison Ivy has her hook in me and I'm powerless against her. At least with Poison Ivy I knew I could count on Batman to knock some sense into me and release me from Ivy's hold. I look frantically towards Pete's room, silently praying he's home. His bed looks like it hasn't been slept in in days. I silently curse. Where are you when I need you, roomie? I suppose if things get too out of hand I could always call Barry to step in, he'll be here in a flash.
"Clark," Lana says my name like a prayer in the wind. "Is it a crime to visit a friend?" She puts special emphasis on the word 'friend' and slightly tightens her hold on me; we have very different ideas of the meaning of friend. She brushes a lock of gold hair behind her ear and bats her eyes at me. There was a time I would have sold my soul to the Devil to have Lana Lang look at me like that. But Lana Lang is dead. I don't recognize the woman standing in my apartment. She wears a white, lace cocktail dress worthy of the Oscars, a far cry from her jeans and flannel wearing days. Her lush red hair has been replaced by barbie-blonde hair dye. The girl before me would never indulge in hayrides or go to a drive-in movie; it is all beneath her.
I bite the inside of my cheek and taste blood. "It is when you're an engaged woman." I unwind her hands from around my neck and step back. Lex is a megalomaniac on a good day, but even he deserves more respect than this. Lana is acting like someone under the effects of Amortentia. I look toward the closet pleadingly and sigh when I realize Lois is gonna be no help. There is a familiar beeping noise and my heart shudders when I realize Lois is recording this whole encounter.
"Are you saying an engaged woman can't have guy friends?" Lana's mouth curls into an endearing pout and she twirls a strand of my hair between her fingers like she used to when we were together. I wish I could pinpoint the moment Lana Lang left Earth and was replaced by an alien specimen.
"We haven't been friends for ages," I point out, my voice taut with tension. "You made your choice when you left."
For a millisecond a flicker of hurt flashes in her eyes. "It was a mistake. I'm only human Clark," she traces the contour of my face, but I step back. As I recall, the fact I am not human proved to be an issue. "You're ten times the man Lex ever would be.
"I just . . Luthor and me - I mean Lex and you," I swallow down my nerves and push up the loose strap on her dress that had slid down; she eyes her concealed shoulder as if it's a math test with 900 problems. Moonlight filters through the open window and falls on her larger than life engagement ring, the kind only Lex Luthor can pull off; it shines like a fallen star on her finger. I should have never opened the damn door. Stupid. Stupid. Supid Clark.
"Lex is ancient history," she says sharply, in such a way it makes me wonder how aware she is of Lex's extracurricular activities. There might be more going on; she isn't telling me. If so, she needs to open her damn mouth and spill the beans. There are better ways to rid yourself of Lex than cheating on him with his archnemesis. She's only asking for trouble if my instincts are right. "You're my future," she steps closer and traces a large S on my chest. "Think of all the possibilities," Lana shoots me a winning smile, her eyes bright and eager. "I can't stop thinking about you after last night."
I can see in her eyes she is imagining Superman making love to her. Never mind that once upon a time she had me eating out of her palm, but chose Paris over me. There was a time her touch turned me into a mindless schoolboy, now all I feel is pity. Pity for the woman mad enough to say yes to marrying Lex Luthor. Pity for the woman who no matter how much wealth she collects is never satisfied. "I love you, Clark Kent," she says in such a way it feels rehearsed, like an audition for a bad Hallmark movie. Lois makes a gagging noise and I'm grateful Lana is too distracted to notice. "Clark I know you feel something too!" No. That kiss was a mistake, every second was torture.
I shake my head. "I'm glad you're not dead, Lana," I say at last, refusing to call her Andrina. I choose my next words carefully with the knowledge Lois is hearing every word. "But my heart belongs to another." Lois snorts loudly and it's a miracle Lana does not hear her.
Her smile crumbles. "You're not a very good liar" Lana swears, but there is a spark of fear in her gaze. "Clark, we're Romeo and Juliet. Our love would be remembered for ages." Somebody flunked English 101, everybody knows Romeo and Juliet die tragically in the end. I hardly think they're an example of a healthy relationship. I've always thought they were rather stupid. I'd much rather be compared to Fred and Daphne; they kick butt and still find time for romance in their crazy life.
"You're right," I say. "I'm not a very good liar." She perks up at that and decides that is an invitation to draw nearer to me, her rich perfume assaulting my nostrils. "Which is why you should know I'm not lying when I say, there is another woman," I say the last bit loudly in hopes Lois would get a clue.
"I don't believe you!" Lana snaps. "You didn't seem to have anyone else on your mind when your lips were locked on mine last night." she says, with a satisfied smirk. That just goes to show how deep the trench has grown between us. "Trust me, a girl knows these sorts of things. What are you so afraid of?" She rests a hand on my chest and I can feel the blood pumping in her veins.
"He's afraid of me," Lois cuts a striking figure in my living room holding a frying pan up like a weapon. She has let her hair down, and it falls in waves over one shoulder, framing her angry face. She aims the frying pan at Lana with a murderous glint in his gaze. That's my girl. I smirk at Lana. There are not many people who can sneak up on me unannounced. "I think you better leave Barbie, this Ken doll is already spoken for," She shoots me a hard look letting me know she's still mad at me. Nobody can accuse Lois of not holding a grudge.
Lana gapes at Lois. "What is she doing here?" Lana says accusingly.
"I live here," Lois says with such confidence I start to believe her too. "The real question is what are you doing in my fiance's apartment?" Wait, what? Does this mean she's not mad at me anymore? Am I off the hook? I'm so confused.
"Fiance?" Lana spits out the word. "I don't see a ring on your finger."
"Oops," she says sheepishly, a faint blush creeping up Lois's cheeks. "I left it in the Fortress with my lingerie." Okay now she's going a bit too far, not that I'm complaining. It's not like I haven't indulged in the occasional fantasy of Lois in the fortress with me, but a lie is still a lie. "Now unless you want a concussion - I warn you I am a Black Belt - I suggest you vacate the building at once. I will not be held accountable for any maiming or permanent injuries," She gives Lana a knife piercing glare, and twirls the frying pan threateningly with one hand. Lana huffs but decides I'm not worth the trouble and leaves, slamming the door behind her.
I release a nervous laugh and assess the damage. Lois looks at me as if she could spit fire. I wince, I've woken the dragoness and there is no quenching her wrath. "You told that Plastic you're Superman but not me!" She whacks me across the chest with the frying pan and it bends against my iron frame. Lois rolls her eyes and glares at the dented frying pan as if to say, 'I rest my case.'
I don't bother to think of a blubbering excuse - the cast iron is faulty, yeah right, your brain is faulty; I don't even buy my own lies any more, they get worse and worse every day. It's a miracle I don't have a nose as long as Pinochio's. I'm so tired of lying to Lois. At least she's talking to me again. I could do with less hitting though. Mom bought me that pan when I first moved to Metropolis. Lois owes me a new one.
"That's not fair, Lois," I say, grabbing the deformed frying pan from her before she can cause any more damage to my apartment. Contrary to popular belief Superman is not made of money. Maybe it's the combination of the last few days or seeing Lois in my place again after getting the cold shoulder for so long; all I'm certain of is that I'm done swimming in the shallow end and ready to take the plunge, if I drown so be it. I've been drowning in my own misery without her.
"If you're going to give me another crackpot excuse . . ."
"Lana knew me before I was Superman." I cut off her rant.
"I swear Smallville I will make it impossible for you to step outdoors without getting mauled by blood thirsty chickens . . ." she falters, her lips parting in shock as she soaks up my words and turns a tentative gaze towards me. "Did you just?" She draws back from me, blinking rapidly in disbelief. Her lower lip trembles like it always does when she's on the verge of a breakthrough and on her way to winning a pulitzer. "It only took a demon attack and the end of the world for you to grow balls."
I'm at her side in the blink of an eye. It is strangely thrilling being able to use my powers in front of Lois as Clark Kent; a weight I didn't even know I was carrying has lifted off my shoulders. My arms have a mind of their own and I lift her up bridal style; just like I did the first time I caught her falling out of a burning plane. I was the one falling that day, not Lois. It took a single glance from Lois to transform me into a wayward sailor being drawn to the depths by the siren's song.
Lois plucks my glasses off faster than I can blink. "You won't be needing these anymore Mr. Kent," she says with a teasing smile. She tosses my glasses behind her without a backwards glance and kisses me. The force of the kiss nearly knocks me off my feet. I hear nothing over her erratic heartbeat, an ethereal melody calling me home. I abandon all thought and hug her against me, relishing the scent of coffee and fresh ink. Her hands claw wildly through my hair, pulling me closer as if she's scared I'll fly away, given the chance, and leave her in an empty room. It wouldn't matter if a meteor shower struck Earth or if there was another alien invasion, nothing would take me away from Lois, ever again. Lois is my home. She tastes of forgiveness and long nights in the bullpen together I never want to end. All is right in the world again with my Partner at my side. We become one, the world fading to nothing around me.
"Clark," she breathes against my mouth, her gaze unfocused. My heart flutters wildly in my chest. I gasp as if coming up after a deepdive in the Arctic. That's the first time she's called me Clark since she put two and two together. A void I did not realize was empty inside me is suddenly filled."What are you going to do?" Lois asks.
I groan. And the moment ends just like that, reality crashing over me. There are so many ways I could interpret that question but I know Lois, she has a one-track-mind set on finding the truth at all cost. She narrows her eyes at me and I start to feel like an onion slowly having its many layers of skin peeled off.
"Way to be a killjoy Ms. Lane," I say, sounding a bit like a wounded pup. She just had to bring me back to Earth and remind me of my appointment at the gallows tomorrow. She jumps out of my arms and gives me her 'what in hell were you thinking' look. It's as if the best thirty seconds of my life never happened. She's back to being all business and no play. How does she switch gears so fast? If it were up to me, we would kiss till the Earth opened up and swallowed us.
"At least this killjoy has a plan" she straightens up as if she expects a gold medal for her efforts. She smacks my Smallville High Yearbook into my arms, grinning madly. It's the same arrogant smirk she wore right before sending Manheim packing, only this time her target is smaller and not worth our time. The book is open to a page showing Lana and I slow dancing in the gymnasium. Senior year The theme had been 'Under the Stars' and Lana appropriately wore a purple galaxy patterned dress. I smile carefree down at her, no life shattering castrosophes weighing me down. There was nothing outside our small bubble of bliss. At first glance the picture is innocent enough, just a pair of high schoolers living in the moment, but there in the background is Lana's unwanted shadow . . . I quickly snap the yearbook shut before the memories overwhelm me.
"We have her Kryptonite," Lois says, oblivious to my discomfort. "The one and only, mild mannered Clark Kent," she laughs holding up her phone and plays the recording: Is it a crime to visit a friend?
"No," I say, setting the yearbook back down. "You are not getting a front row seat to Lana 101," I place it back in the cabinet where it belongs. I can feel Lois rolling her eyes from a mile away. Lana does not deserve to have Maddog Lane unleashed on her. "She's not me Lois," I say, "We'll be ripping her life to pieces if we so much breathe a word of Smallville," I say. Lana has spent her entire life shedding Lana Lang. Smallville holds nothing but misery for her. Lois will only dredge up bad memories. "I can handle the press," I say, trying to convince myself more than her. "Lana is off limits."
"Oh, come on!" she whines. "You can't tell me you haven't considered pushing the two faced bitch under a bus . . . metaphorically speaking," she adds as an afterthought when I give her a hard look. "Clark, she is single handedly robbing Superman of his dignity."
"You're mixing Lana up with Two-Face," I say, taking the leftover pizza out again and plopping down on the sofa. I debate turning the TV on and showing Lois how miffed I am she interrupted our kiss, but I know she means well. Her fears are well founded. Lois would never understand though. Andrina wasn't always the two-faced bitch she is now. Once upon a time she was just a small town girl Fate handed a pack of unlucky cards. If my dad was a professional murderer I would want to hide the truth too. That still gave her no right to screw up my life.
Lois slips on the couch next to me and sighs heavily. "Look," she starts. "I don't pretend to know your history - heck, I don't understand what you ever saw in that tramp," she bites her tongue. "If we sit on our hands and do nothing . . ." she struggles for the right words, and it gives me pause. It's not like Lois to struggle with anything pertaining to words. "We will never be able to be together if your midnight errand goes public." I can't wipe the stupid grin off my face. That only rattles Lois more. "I don't see why you're so happy, mister. Clark Kent is dying tomorrow."
"You said we," I say, my cheeks hurting from smiling too much. "You're not mad at me anymore!"
She punches me in the arm."I'm always mad at you," Lois says. "Get used to it."