001 - First Article - Video (post-sirens)
[The brunette on the video sports quite a few cuts and bruises; it looks like someone didn’t take her first night out seriously enough. From the scene behind her, she’s in the shelter-dugout, for those who would recognize it.] Okay, newsflash of the hour: humans totally have parental instincts coded into them, and it sucks
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So when he actually heard her voice... He almost didn't believe it. And then she kept talking. Six words in, he knew he wasn't imagining it, and picked up his NV. The crystal came to life, flickering the video image on as the recording continued.
Lois.]
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When she says her name and he breaks into a smile, and then he tilts his head and listens; listens for her heartbeat, proves to himself that it's real. It's definitely her.]
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What if she was the Lois from Bruce's world, or worse? What if she was in love with some other Superman? What if she'd never met him? There's a thousand different horrible possibilities.]
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And pretending to himself that every minute spent deciding isn't agony. That he wants to know sooner and get it over with so that he doesn't have to worry about it any more. He pretends to himself that he doesn't want to pull her into his arms and protect her from the Darkness - even though he's listening intently for any sign of monsters going after her, or worse, her going after the monsters - and that it's okay to hold off while he gets his own racing heart under control.
More than that he needs to give her a chance to get her footing, ask some questions, prepare herself for the inevitable, before he goes rushing in and potentially explodes everything in her face.
Is it true? Does he really look different enough as Superman to fool her? He's honestly not sure he believes it. If anything it would be the ultimate ( ... )
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He waits. Paces and waits again, trying to find the right moment. But there's never a right moment, is there? How could there be? Eventually he rips himself away from the rooftop and steps off the edge, the barest jump, that has him gliding in to a soft, undramatic landing at the dug out entrance.
He's going to have to stood to go in there. It's cramped, there's not much room, and it's dark.
Well, it's darker after he flicks off the lightswitch. A little bit of superspeed and there's that rushing feeling she's so familiar with from his days as the Blur.
Show time.]
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However, then the door opens, the lights flick off--and before her brain entirely processes that familiar rush of air, she shrieks slightly and jumps, dropping her NV as she does. It means there's still faint light, but not much, as she whirls around and blinks, trying to peer into the gloom.]
OKAY, new rule, whatever the hell you are you freaking say something before opening the door that isn't supposed to just open on its own like some sort of--
[And then her brain catches up--because, really her mouth just sometimes operates before the rest of her. And Lois just stops, staring, trying desperately to make out... something. Some feature of his face, the symbol on his chest--but unlike the Blur's latest ( ... )
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The color is--okay, so she knows that shield, no question about it. And... he looks right. More or less right. Right angles, right general size (who else in the world would be that big, he made even her feel short sometimes and she's taller than a lot of guys she knows, especially in her heels). And... well. That speed habit, and the shield, and leaving the mark burned into the dugout... Now the city'll know he's been here, she thinks with a bit of a smile curling her lips, color rushing back to her face. That he's watching over this place, too. God, I was so worried about you, idiot farm boy.
The depth of his voice, however, startles her, and for the first time she doubts herself a little. A bit of confusion crosses her face, for just a moment (red and blue, those are Clark's colors, it has to be him) before she ( ... )
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So he doesn't leave her to panic over it for too long. He steps forward and reaches out, placing his hand on her shoulder, and he waits for her fingers to close over his, waits, knowing that this is right, that they're getting off on the right kilter and maybe - just maybe - he can actually do this.]
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(He might be just paranoid enough to worry about that for now.)
And, after seeing him with that knife in his chest, she is just bold enough to turn his hand over, bringing his warm palm to her cheek. He can probably feel the smile she can't suppress, now.
Alternate dimension? Eh, whatever. Clark's safe and breathing and here. The rest she can handle.]
Hi.
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Their last kiss, like this.
His hand is barely out of hers when he's in front of her, lips meeting hers, his hand still against her face but sliding back, fingers curling in her hair, thumb brushing across her cheekbone. It's a tender, desperate I missed you kiss, and he's in no hurry to pull away from it, even though he knows he has to. Even though he knows that if there's any hope of preserving his relationship with her superhero seperate from her dorky partner, he has to pull away.
So it's hesitant that he does so, catching his breath, trying to still the racing of his heart.
Oh, that had been an awful idea, but it had been so worth it. She still tasted just the way he remembered.]
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It is, of course, how she knew it was him--and it's one more confirmation now, because that's him, his touch and his taste and his smell and his warmth and every other little detail she's memorized, that first told her who her hero was. But even after months dating him, of countless stolen kisses and a break-up they don't seem to be holding very well to, kissing him is still...
It's exhilarating, and thrilling, unbelievable and comforting all at once, and she leans up into that kiss with everything she has, to let him know she's there now.
She's heard, after all, that he's been here a while without her. It almost guarantees he's done something stupid ( ... )
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Clark Kent is a very lucky man. What there is between us... It's the heat of the moment, that's all. I wouldn't want to see you hurt.
[His step away is overloud, and he tilts his head slightly.]
It's about time I introduce myself properly. It's been too long that you've known me as the Blur, Lois. My name is Kal-El, of Krypton--
[Deep breath. He switches on the light, his profile to Lois, and slowly turns toward her.]
--But you may call me Superman.
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No, really. She has no idea, but she definitely flinches visibly at the 'heat of the moment' comment, biting her lip to hold back the angry retort. It only works for a moment, though, before her natural reaction to being hurt returns--and unfortunately, Lois' fight-or-flight instinct is usually firmly set to 'fight.']
Guess you hadn't heard the latest on my assignment in Africa, then.
[It's not right, and she regrets it the minute she's said it, but... goddammit, Clark, that hurt like hellHer eyes were still closed, even before he moved away, and now that she can half see, half feel the light being on, she turns away sharply. It's one thing to know and to be gleefully keeping it secret; it's another that he's all but asking her to lie to his face about how well she knows him. And after that kiss--god, it hurts, and her voice isn't quite right. She wants to cry. Decision between being honest--it's not like he'll look any different--and giving him what he wants and maybe what he needs, but she ( ... )
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And when she spins around like that he almost knows that she knows, and Bruce's words from the other night come back louder than ever:
She's the best investigative reporter living. The only reason why you had to tell her in your universe is because she was purposefully blinding herself to the truth.
So what makes you think that she doesn't already know?
She seems to survive just fine without making her voice crack, but she's lost her bluster, and...
And he can't do this to her.
His voice returns to normal, soft--Clark's voice. And he surrenders.]
I told you that you should go. It was the hardest thing that I've ever done.
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Oh god. She's not sure where they go from here.
And even now that it's out there, she's not sure she can turn around and face him right now.]
And yet it's still easier to do that, and to lie to my face when you know Zod's been playing me like a fiddle, and to ask me to pretend to be a blind idiot than it is to do something which might, just possibly, actually let either of us have a functional relationship for once in our lives!
[Because it only takes the once, if we're lucky. That... doesn't really translate well, though, does it.]
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