"There's something fundamentally wrong with helping a country that is under fascist rule. If the United States has an embargo against it, so should Superman," says a man in a military uniform, the pompous kind who gestures emphatically as he talks. The seminar had been going on for an hour, and so far Lois had managed to serve as a diplomatic authority on Superman, with Clark chiming in a few times to back her up from the audience. Overall, she felt the seminar was going quite well.

"Superman does not belong to the United States, Sargent Duggan. He's under no obligation to follow our government protocol," Lois retorts.

"Sure, but shouldn't he be under obligation to follow somebody's protocol?" Senator Carson chimes in. "I don't really like the idea that this alien can do whatever he wants."

Lois' eyes flick to Clark, whose darkened gaze and clenched jaw is trained on Senator Carson. He feels her eyes on him, and his expression softens, tossing her one of his patented eyerolls, the same ones he gives her in the staff meetings. Her mouth twitches into a half-smile, as she attempts to maintain her professional composure on stage.

A hand goes up from the student section. "Ah, yes, Ms. Farrow - one of our senior journalism majors - go ahead," Dr. Watterson interjects.

The petite woman smiles at Dr. Watterson. "Superman generally follows the spirit of American democratic law whenever possible," she begins, "but I think he doesn't abide by embargoes or travel bans because his mission goes beyond borders. His mission is very simple. To help people in need," she finishes. Lois meets her eye appreciatively.

"She's exactly right," Lois interjects. "What was your name?"

"Anna Farrow."

"Ms. Farrow is exactly right, This is how Superman sees it. Those innocent people can't help that their countries are led by dictators, or power-hungry war criminals who don't play well with others. Ethically speaking, would he be judged more for watching someone die who he could have helped, or for helping an innocent person in spite of a policy that has nothing to do with them?" Clark and several other audience members nod in agreement.

"It's a good question for all of us," Dr. Watterson says. "Sometimes what is ethical is not what is legal. Sometimes we have to break the law in order to abide by our moral codes. Look at, for example, the Civil Rights movement. Suffragettes. Resistance during the Germans' occupation of the European countries in World War 2."

Sergeant Duggan mutters something derogatory about liberals and vigilantes. Dr. Watterson presses forward, calling on Anna again. "I would argue that his motives are the most ethically pure of any of us, because he operates without borders, and because he seems to hold himself to an impossibly high standard. He's an emblem of hope in part because he's inhuman, and not capable of lying, cheating, losing his temper like the rest of us."

Inhuman. Her stomach turns. To hear Superman called inhuman stings, but she understands it. To hear Clark called inhuman feels almost devastating. Clark, who calls his parents several times a week. Who okay, judging by his historically terrible performance at Perry's poker nights, doesn't even cheat at poker, but has certainly lied to her. Every day since he met her, he's been telling her lies. Loses his temper? With her, absolutely, although in the day-to-day, quiet exasperation seems to be more his style. Her Clark, who brings her coffee and edits her copy and sneaks private commiserating glances at her during overly tedious staff meetings to make her smile. Her partner, who has breathed life back into her in more ways than one, rescued her more times than she can count, and stepped in front of a bullet...for her.

Oh god. He pretended he was dead. Her whole body begins pulsating, her mind in overdrive, right there on the stage. Clark falling backward, her breaking his fall as he collapsed to the floor. Stroking his face, etching his features into her fingertips in utter disbelief, thinking it was the last time she would see him alive. He let me grieve him. Her mind was spinning as the law school's ethics professor droned on about the conflict of morality and the law. Her mind is cast back to that night, and she feels hot with anger and grief.

She had spent what felt like two hours with the police, in a daze in a chair in the corner, answering questions numbly with chaos surrounding her as they secured the crime scene. A sea of droning voices around her talked matter-of-factly all around her about "the victim," her Clark, someone wrapped a scratchy blanket around her shoulders and finally Perry showed up, at which point her shock succumbed to full body sobs. He held her she was like a little girl, stroking her hair and telling her they would never forget him, there would never be another like Clark. Then ushered her out of there to his car and drove her home. Maybe made her some tea before he left her alone to "try to get a little shuteye, darlin." She'd dug out the gray sweater he'd lent her two weeks before, the night they'd gotten that mind-blowing Thai takeout and worked late into the night at his place, one of many such nights recently. He lent her some sweatpants too, but she returned those before she left and kept the sweater on to stay warm on the drive home. The night he died, she sat on her floor in a heap and inhaled the delicious familiar scent of cedar and cloves and Clark, so grateful she hadn't washed it.

Deep down, she knew why she hadn't returned it. For all that had gone unspoken, undefined, and tragically unfinished between them, the proof of his claim on her heart lay folded neatly in her bottom drawer.

So she'd pulled it over her head, wrapped herself up in it and sobbed, falling in and out of a fitful sleep. Each time she woke, she felt the instinctive urge to call him, and then slammed so hard into her new reality that she could hardly breathe, awash in the fresh grief of the dawn. She had felt all of it - her career, her edge, her heart - tumbling with him into the dark abyss. She wasn't sure she would ever feel whole again; it was a heartbreak unmendable by time. And she hadn't even seen it coming. Because a vital piece of her heart had been amputated, and the man who had resided there had been so safely protected in the best friend zone…that he probably hadn't even known he occupied it.

But he hadn't died. Where had he gone during that time? Had he been watching her, sobbing in a heap on the floor? How could he let her grieve him? She looks down at him in the second row, studying his features, the dark chocolate lock of hair that sometimes spills over his brow, the glasses sitting ever so slightly askew on his face. He's listening to Dr. Whatshisname, the law professor, easily the most mind-numbing of everyone on the panel, drone on about ethics and their intersection with the law. Clark's brown eyes catch hers like they have a thousand times before. A warm, supportive smile spreads across his face and he winks at her.

Her heart does a little flip. And then it aches.

She remembers the hug, that same sweater now covered in cement, but oh, it didn't matter anymore, because Clark had come back to her, his strong arms holding her in the tightest hug they'd ever shared. He did not want to leave her. He would never want her to grieve. Clark is the man she's always known. Clark really did die that night, because Clark is human. But Superman is not, and if the world knew his secret, his parents, the Planet – and her, Superman's partner and best friend – they would all become targets. She knows he would do anything to keep her from hurting; he fell to the ground because he had no other choice. He took the bullet for her, and Clark had nearly ceased to exist. Oh Clark.

Why though, oh why, didn't he tell her then? Come to her as Superman and told her everything? Even if he could never have his life back, never be by her side at the Planet again, she could have endured it easier knowing that somewhere in the world, he was okay.

Did he not know how much she cared? Did he not know how completely devastated she would be, to lose her best friend in an instant, the man with whom she spent most waking hours of her day? The man who sometimes understood her stubborn mind better than she did, the man whose belief in her gave her purpose and meaning? Whose steadfast adoration of her thawed her frigid exterior, cracked open her heart and now here it is, right here in the second row of the auditorium at her alma mater: still friend-zoned, gamely playing the part of her boyfriend, casting her supportive looks, still in the dark that she knows who he really is. And he almost died without ever knowing how she really felt. She never told him. Still hasn't told him.

He came back to her, and she tried to tell him, really she did, but he nodded off. She didn't find the courage to try again.

Instead, she chides his unmatched affection for baked goods, particularly donuts. She teases him about his terrible ties, watches him squirm when he's in the hot seat with Perry, gives him loving encouragement with her eyes when he seems insecure. Delights in finding innocent ways to touch him throughout their day. Relishes the zip of electricity that shoots through her when he leans in close over her shoulder, or touches her arm. And she's caught his eyes appreciating her body, she's felt his soft, desiring gazes when she lets him in, she's fallen asleep in the safety of his arms, to the drumbeat of his heart. Oh yes, Clark is undeniably, wonderfully human.

"Ms. Lane?"

She shakes her head, jerking herself from her reverie.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?"

"You probably know Superman better than anyone. Do you agree he should be held to a higher standard?"

She trains her eyes on Clark, whose gaze is already on her, and shifts in her seat. "I'm not sure anyone truly knows Superman," she says thoughtfully. "But I think he already holds himself to an impossibly high standard. And I also know he is more human than people believe."

"Ms. Lane, he's invulnerable. It is the belief of many that his invulnerability also means he doesn't feel emotions the way we do. And he's able to override his feelings and hold himself to a higher standard than the rest."

"I'm not sure any of that is exactly accurate, Dr. Watterson. Superman is invulnerable, and he is, technically not from this planet, but he's as human as any of us. He hurts, he grieves, he feels anger. He does have…a remarkable amount of restraint and self-control over his reactions. But he isn't perfect. He is capable of making mistakes - an innately human trait. He just feels his obligation to help deeply and above all else. I don't even think that it's true that Superman isn't capable of lying. I think, however, that if he were to lie, it would be for a greater good. To protect others."

"Have you personally witnessed Superman lying, Lois, in your private interactions with him?" Tucker Johnson, the weasly TV reporter asks.

"Excuse me, Mr. Johnson?" Lois says warily. It was no secret that Lois, and the majority of the respectable press, had very little regard for Tucker Johnson.

"Well, I don't think it's a secret that you have a cozy relationship with him. Have you seen him lie?"

Of course she has. She's lied with him, to him, and undercover with him. She's watched him weave impressive yarns from thin air to get them out of trouble. But Superman? Superman lied about how Resplendent Man got his powers. He lied about Kryptonite. Both of those lies protected him, and protected the greater good. A lie is only harmful if it hurts others.

"Ethically speaking, I don't think it's always wrong to lie, if you are protecting a greater good. So more to the point, I've never witnessed him being unethical. Superman is the most ethical person I've ever met."

"This is interesting," Senator Carson smirks. "So are you saying that if you witnessed Superman lying, you would protect him?"

"Are you saying that if you witnessed the President lying, you wouldn't?" Linda retorts pointedly. She sees Clark chuckle.

"My ethical obligation as a reporter is to the public, not to Superman. So hypothetically speaking, if Superman lied to protect the greater good, and I found out about it, I would need to weigh my own obligation as a journalist and whether I believe the public has a right to know."

"Is that for a journalist to decide? Or is it a journalist's obligation to report the news and let the public decide?" Tucker Johnson blasts out to the room.

Lois leveled a steely gaze at him. "You ever heard of 'off the record,' Johnson? It's used all the time at the White House, sometimes for matters far more trivial than national security."

"Wasn't it just last year your network was in some hot water for covering up a personal story on behalf of the president, Mr. Johnson?" Jeanne asked pointedly from the audience.

"And how about the information that was leaked out about your network's allegiance to Carpenter? LNN went to great lengths to cover it up. I don't know that you were terribly concerned about letting the public decide on that little matter," Linda King pipes in from the front row, giving Lois a nod of solidarity. Lois returns a grateful smile.

"All right, all right, we're getting a little off-topic here," Dr. Watterson said. "It appears that ethically speaking, as Ms. Lane pointed out, Superman tends to lean toward whatever might benefit the greater good. Now, on the question of might, and power, this has been an interesting point raised by Sergeant Duggan and state Senator Carson: do the leading nations in the world have some sort of obligation to their people to build a defense against an alien as powerful as Superman?"

Lois feels herself grow hot, yet a chill comes down her spine. Defense against an alien. "For what purpose?" she sputters, incredulous. "Hasn't he proven himself more than worthy of the world's trust?"

"Perhaps. But the fact of the matter remains that this alien is so powerful, that if he wanted to, he could achieve total world domination," Sergeant Duggan says with a dramatic flourish.

Lois rolls her eyes. "I suppose that's true, if you're also of the belief that Elvis still walks among us and we didn't really walk on the moon."

"Conspiracy theories are one thing, Miss Lane. But we don't have any idea who Superman really is," Senator Carson replies.

"Superman hasn't given us any reason not to trust him," Anna Farrow retorts. "His actions speak for themselves. He's always operated with our best interests at heart, sometimes endangering his own life in the process. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn't stopped Nightfall."

"Well, that's an excellent point, Ms. Farrow. So, Sergeant Duggan. Does the United States have an obligation to develop any sort of defense against an omnipotent being, even if he hasn't proposed any sort of real threat to society?"

"Absolutely it does," Sergeant Duggan replied easily.

"Well that's ridiculous. Superman is invulnerable," Lois replied. "Nothing can hurt him."

"That's not entirely true, now is it Miss Lane? I believe you witnessed his altercation with Metallo first-hand. He was powered by a green rock called Kryptonite. Many believe that this rock - this meteorite you yourself named Kryptonite - has the potential to render Superman vulnerable," Tucker Johnson says with smug satisfaction.

"I don't believe that's been confirmed," she replies lamely, working to skirt around a lie. "No one can even find this rock. I encourage you hold yourself to a higher journalistic standard than idle gossip, Mr. Johnson," Lois retorted hotly.

Sergeant Duggan interjects. "The fact remains that the United States has an obligation to protect the American people against any threat. Who knows what Superman is capable of. He's not of this planet. We know very little about why he's here, where he came from, and he's not very forthcoming about those facts himself. He operates without boundaries, without any oversight."

Ms. Farrow pipes up again. "I think the bigger question is, why would he spend his days flying around the world doing rescues, sometimes saving thousands of lives in a matter of hours, if he was here to hurt us?" Lois nodded in agreement.

"Perhaps to lull us into a sense of complacency, Miss Farrow. Perhaps the people of Krypton want him to earn our trust so they can take over," Carson interjects.

"Hang on a minute, Senator. Superman has stated that as far as he knows, he's the only survivor of his planet," Clark interjects from the second row.

"That's true. He's also said in an exclusive interview with me, that Earth is his home now," Lois adds.

"What proof do we have of that? And what if he's just a mole, like some people believe? What if there are more of him? What if he procreates with an earth woman? That is of course, assuming that's even possible. What becomes of the human race then?" Senator Carson muses. "Suddenly the human race is overpowered by superspawns."

Lois feels her whole body flush, stunned with overwhelm. "That is quite enough of that, Carson!" she hears herself retort hotly. Superspawns. Earth woman. In this bizarre moment of all moments she realizes she has daydreamed about having a family with him – not with Superman, but with Clark. The fantasy she had with Superman was altogether different, perhaps because he was just that - a fantasy. She never considered the real-world implications of a family with Superman. Nor had she yet realized the possibility that her daydreamed future with Clark might not look quite like she had imagined it would.

She watches as Clark checks his pager, then his watch, looks at Lois apologetically, and ducks out the side door.

"I frankly find this tawdry tabloid speculation disgusting, given Superman's sacrifices for our planet. And were he to…want that, with an earth woman, he has just as much right as the next person," Lois says. "How preposterous to even be speculating on such nonsense."

Jeanne interjects. "I'd argue there are men in Congress for whom I could make a stronger argument against procreation than Superman," she retorts. The audience roars with laughter.

"Agreed, particularly those who favor donning tin foil hats to engage in fear-mongering campaigns over actual productive leadership," Linda adds from the audience.

"Exactly. And what is it any of our business to begin with? Doesn't Superman give enough of himself as it is? He shouldn't have to have his personal life dissected in an ethics assembly. Why are we sitting here debating something we have no control over?" Lois says.

"That's a very good question, Miss Lane, and I'm happy to put your questions to rest," a voice booms from a newly opened door.

"Superman!" Dr. Watterson rises to his feet, flustered.

Superman strides in from the side door, and his eyes immediately find hers. Clark. It's Clark, as Superman. She studies him carefully. He really does look different. He carries himself in a way that makes him look taller. His expressions are stern and wooden, not easy like Clark. The suit is…a distraction all on its own, she realizes. Just as maybe the glasses make him seem vulnerable, human.

But his eyes have only ever looked at her one way, in both guises. And she understands in this moment how her heart had remained so conflicted, long beyond her mind being certain of which man she truly loved.

"Superman, we, uh, well, we didn't anticipate you joining us at our little ethics assembly," Dr. Watterson says with a nervous chuckle. "But you are most welcome; we are honored to have you here."

"I apologize if I'm intruding. Mr. Kent mentioned Ms. Lane was preparing for this, and I had a few minutes to stop by. I only caught the last few minutes of this discussion. I understand and appreciate the need to study my place in our society, but I do want to put your fears at ease. When I arrived on this planet, I was alone. I was sent here by my planet, but have no memory of it, or anything about my people. I quickly realized that despite looking human, I had powers beyond those of a normal human being. I recognized that while this made me inherently different, this was a tremendous gift, and wanted to use these gifts to help. It's the only way I've ever been able to make sense of my place on Earth, is that I was sent here to help. I can assure you, it's as simple as that. There is no hidden agenda. I am here to do what I can to help, that is all," he states. "I'd be happy to take a few questions – yes, the young lady in the front row."

Miss Farrow rises with a poised smile. "Superman, we are wondering if you hold yourself to a higher standard?"

"I'm not perfect. I can't save everyone. Just yesterday, I got a woman to the hospital too late, and as a result, a baby was born without a mother. I arrived at the scene of a massive wildfire last night and there were already people who had perished. I am not human, but I do have a heart. I am not invulnerable to emotion. Those moments are hard to process. But a trusted friend once told me that whatever I can do, it's enough. I live by that every day." He was deliberately avoiding Lois' gaze, to keep the already rampant speculation at bay, but his eyes flicked to hers in appreciation and she felt tingly all over, privately glimpsing new facets of their relationship for the first time. She had always been an ally to Superman, but Lois realizes then that she been supporting him in more ways than she knew.

Tucker Johnson twirls a pen between his fingers with a smug smile. "Superman, a lot has been made of your relationship with the media. You appear to favor certain journalists, even on routine rescues, and some speculate that certain journalists protect you to curry favor."

"There are absolutely journalists I trust more than others with sensitive information. It's not unlike the relationship some in this room have with our current president. Most public figures have their go-to journalists, and I am no different in that regard. Miss Lane and her partner, Mr. Kent are two reporters who I know always operate with the public's best interests at heart, so I trust them and maintain a close professional relationship with them, absolutely. But you can view that preference as an endorsement of their credibility, and nothing more. Many of these stories are sensitive, and I don't always trust just anyone to tell them," he finishes pointedly.

Tucker Johnson smirks. "Many would say Miss Lane has more than a professional association with you, wouldn't you agree, Superman?"

"I believe that Miss Lane is seriously involved with her partner, Mr. Kent," Superman says, his eyes sweeping over to Lois again, only for a moment. She smiles and nods in silent confirmation as his eyes return to burn a figurative hole through Mr. Johnson, and she wonders if he can feel how she sees all the way through to the heart of him now. "They are both close acquaintances of mine, as is their editor Perry White, and I trust them to tell my story because they have integrity, and share in my quest to shine a light on the injustice in this world, and quite plainly, are the very best at what they do."

"There have been a lot of questions raised about your potential to create a dynasty of sorts, Superman. That a union with an earthwoman, if successful, could be a threat to society. For even if you are an ethically moral being, there is no guarantee your children would be. Bad eggs can happen to the best of parents," Senator Carson asserts.

"While I find these personal inquiries to be quite out of bounds, I can also say that in my time living publicly as Superman, it's become very apparent that even my professional associations have consequences. Everyone associated with me becomes a target. I am not interested in subjecting anyone to that sort of scrutiny or danger. But I am also wired differently; I don't require the same personal connections as human beings to remain fulfilled and sustained. What sustains me is my ability to make a difference. I don't know why I was sent here, but helping when and where I can gives me a sense of purpose. So I am very content in living a life of solitude, being fulfilled by my mission to help. I realize my unique origins leave a lot of questions – many of which not even I know the answers to. But I can only give you my word, and the consistency of my actions in striving to make this planet a better place. And I'll also ask that you refrain from attacking those who have so graciously accepted me for who I am," he adds.

"Thank you, Superman. That was eloquently put," Dr. Watterson replies.

"Thank you for having me. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere," he waves a stiff hand to the crowd, and exits the room. With the room's heads still turned to the back, Clark appears at the side door moments later, sliding into his chair unnoticed but to Lois, who watches him from the stage.

"Well, that was a fitting way to end our time. Thank you all for joining us today. I look forward to more lively discussions from you students in the coming weeks," Dr. Watterson concludes.

Lois spies Clark patiently waiting for her with Jeanne and Linda at the back of the room as she makes her way from the stage, through the students eager to speak with her. "We have a women in journalism break-out session through the symposium this afternoon - is there any chance you'd be able to stop by, Miss Lane?" he heard Anna ask. "No gross personal questions, I promise. You are like, basically our idol."

Lois looks at Clark, who urges her to accept from afar with a nod, then smiles back at Anna. "I'm flattered, Miss Farrow. I'll try to, if my schedule allows," she says.

Lois strolls up to Clark, who breaks into a wide grin when he sees her making a beeline for him. Without thinking about it, she steps into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and he follows her lead, giving her a quick kiss like any proud boyfriend would. Just for show. Naturally.

But truthfully, this has been too much, between her own re-examining of the depth of her grief, and the verbal assault on her partner. The dissecting of his whose motives, his personal life, his morals, when she knows that in truth, he is the best man she's ever known, and his heart belongs to her. She has been longing to hold him since the panel began.

When they pull apart he's sweeping her hair back, and stroking her cheek and she's very content to pretend this is real.

"Hi," she says shyly.

"Hi," he says, accompanied by an undeniably blissful smile. "You were magnificent, honey."

She ducks her head a moment, blushing, then beams up at him through her lashes. "Honey. I like it," she murmurs very softly in reply - not for show, just for him, before turning to her friends, keeping her arms slung around his waist. Everything about this feels natural, electric, and real.

"Lois - you really held your own up there. That was intense," Jeanne remarked.

"As tenacious as I remember," Dr. Baldwin smiled. She feels Clark pull her closer against his side in proud agreement.

"I didn't know how much longer I could keep from punching Tucker. And Carson! What a piece of work," Linda adds.

"Well thanks to you both for coming to my aid up there," she looks at Linda sincerely, hoping she sees her appreciation. "The nerve of some people, I swear!" She turns to Clark. "I hope you don't mind that I'm going to be popping through the women in journalism panel later this afternoon."

"I can keep myself entertained," he smiles. "I'm glad you're doing that. That Anna Farrow is a Lois Lane in the making," he says admiringly.

"Well, shall we all go to lunch?" Dr. Baldwin asks. As they turn to leave, Lois feels Clark's whole composure stiffen next to her, his eyes casting off into the distance with a familiar stricken panic.

Lois checks her watch. "Oh, but Clark, didn't you say Bobby told us to call him at noon?" She turns apologetically to their friends. "Bobby's our snitch. We have a top secret story breaking this morning," she explains. Temporarily pulled from whatever he heard, he looks at her, puzzled, his eyes asking her a million questions all at once. Lois' eyes urge him to go along with it.

"Oh - right! I almost forgot. Yes, Lois, and we don't both need to go. Why don't I take care of that so you can join your friends. I don't mind at all."

"Take your time, Clark," she nods, squeezing him as she releases his waist, and impulsively he bends down to plant a quick kiss on her lips before darting toward the stairwell.

"I have to say, Lois, you two are adorable together. I always sensed there was something more between you," Linda remarks.

She watches him disappear into the stairwell, off to assume the identity she unknowingly helped him create.

He's got integrity, and an innate goodness…you know, he's a lot like you.

"Yeah," she says. "I think there always has been."