A/N: I originally intended the first chapter to be a one-shot piece on Lois and Richard, but, well, I like to please my reviewers and it sounded like you wanted more…
All the Pieces Fall Apart
One more kiss could be the best thing
Or one more lie could be the worst
And all these thoughts are never resting
And you're not something I deserve
In my head there's only you now
This world falls on me
In this world, there's real and make believe
This seems real to me
You love me, but you don't know who I am
I'm torn between this life I lead
And where I stand
You love me, but you don't know who I am
So let me go
Let me go
He would give anything to tell her his secret. To shed the glasses, sweep her off her feet and tell her. But he couldn't. Instead he waved cheerfully and gave her a silly grin, not letting his sadness show when she just gave him an indulgent smile and rolled her eyes a little. It was a morning ritual she didn't know existed.
The scene played in his head as he watched her read a bedtime story to their son. Everyone said Lois Lane loved Superman. It was no secret. He cherished every moment spent with her. Lately, however, some part of him had begun to doubt. He had never lied to her outright, but wasn't it a lie all the same to kiss her and say that he loved her, only to hold back from telling her who he was? He knew he didn't deserve her. Yes, Lois Lane loved him. But he wondered how you could love anyone you didn't truly know.
She watched as he smiled at their son tenderly and tucked him in. It amazed her how easily he had taken to the role—even if it was just while Jason slept. He was so strong, but could be so gentle. How had he learned to be so careful? The longer she watched the more she realized just how little she knew about the father of her child. She could rattle off a list of statistics—height, weight, weaknesses, abilities—but she didn't truly know him. She loved him, she told herself. And she ignored the little voice in the back of her mind asking her if she would still love him if she really knew him, if he became less than the icon wrapped in crimson and cobalt and was just a man.
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