Title: REVELATION [Prequel to CONSUMMATION]

Author: SayItRight

Editor: hellokitty (from Kryptonsite)

Pairing: Smallville's Lois Lane and Clark Kent

Summary: Eleven months into her relationship with him, Lois learns and then reacts to having learned the truth about Clark. [Set post-"Pandora"]

Rating: PG-13 - For mild profanity.

Disclaimer: With the sole exception of this original story, I own nothing. I claim nothing. I am not profiting. I intend no infringement.

Acknowledgments: To the Smallville writing staff, to Tom Welling, and, especially, to Erica Durance: Thank you, thank you, thank you for the inspiration.

Special Thanks: To That'llShowEm (from Kryptonsite), whose feedback to "Consummation" sparked this piece. To hellokitty, who allowed me to borrow her idea for where to set Lois's Revelation. And, to an anonymous party, whose patience and criticisms helped this piece along.

Author's Note: "Revelation" is a story that I wanted to tell, whereas "Consummation" was a story that I needed to tell. Accordingly, "Revelation" paints less of a broad stroke and asks a greater deal of the reader than "Consummation," and, thus, will not be to as many people's liking as the story that came first. "Revelation" consists of five parts, each of which depicts an important event in the seven-day period in which Lois learns Clark's truth, and then reacts to it.

A Final Plea: Please comment. Please critique. The only negative feedback is no feedback.

REVELATION

Day One: Morning

The sound of her cell phone blaring out an all too familiar ringtone fills her ears and her bedroom, and she wakes with a start. Her heart racing from the surprise, she feels for her alarm clock and turns its face towards her. She squints through her sleepy fog and makes out the bright numbers. Groaning, she grabs her cell, presses the "Answer" key, and collapses back into her bed. Not bothering with niceties, she answers the caller with a yawn.

"Good morning to you, too, Miss Lane."

"Save the snark. It's way too early for that," she yawns again, extending her legs and arms, trying to stretch the sleep from her body.

"It's 6:30, Lois."

"Exactly. It's way too early," she retorts, reaching for the cup of water on her nightstand. She takes a sip and washes away the gravel in her voice. "My alarm wasn't set to go off for another hour-and-a-half. This had better be business-related," she warns.

"It's not."

"Social, then?"

"If you don't mind."

"Oh, I mind. And, why do I mind?"

"Because it's 6:30 in the morning."

"Precisely."

"Would you like me to let you rest?"

"I would've preferred you held off on this call until the sun was up."

"The sun is up."

She lifts her head long enough to peer at the dim light peaking in around the borders of her dark curtains. "It's not far enough up," she observes.

"I'll try you again later."

"I didn't tell you to go."

"You didn't exactly ask me to stay either."

"Well…I'm up now so you might as well."

"Because you've missed me?"

"You may be tall, dark, and superpowered, but you're not nearly as charming as you'd like to think you are."

"You have missed me."

"Let's try this again," she deflects, clearing her throat and sitting up to lean back against her headboard. Dropping the sass, she offers, "Good morning."

"Good morning, Lois. How are you?"

"I take from your tone that you're not asking me that generally."

"I'm not."

"Well, to answer your none-too-subtle question specifically, I'm fine. All systems are 'Go.' I got released from the hospital a few days ago and I'm officially off bed rest and headed back to the Planet today."

"Did you actually stay in bed and rest?"

"Thanks to Clark's hovering: Yes."

"How is Clark?"

"Excuse me?"

"How is Clark?"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because, in nearly the year since him and me have been together, you've never asked about him. I bring him up. You don't. Not ever."

"Today, I am. How is he?"

"He's fine."

"Is he there with you?"

"Why does that matter?"

"He's not there with you."

"No. He's not."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. Probably at the farm. He's picking me up after my shift today. He's got some big date planned, I think."

"…Let's not talk about him anymore."

"Why not? You brought him up."

"Technically, you brought him up."

"I always bring him up."

"I don't think I care very much for Clark."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't like Clark. He should be there with you. You're hurt."

"I'm fine. And what's with the attitude?"

"You don't even know where he is."

"Why do I need to?"

"Maybe you don't need to. But, you should."

"What's wrong with you? You've never had a problem with him before. In fact, you're usually the one who talks me down when he and I are fighting or when I don't know what to do with him."

"I don't want to talk about Clark."

She pauses for a moment, wondering if she should press further. Deciding against it, she unfolds her legs, turns around, and lies back onto her mattress, asking, "So…I guess it's me who has to address the elephant in the room."

"What elephant?"

"You're flying now, apparently. I read about it during my two-week tour of duty at Met Gen."

"Oh, that. Yes. I am. Flying, that is."

"I didn't know you could fly. What's it feel like?"

"…Liberating. Like there's no end to me and no beginning to anything else. I feel…totally connected. Totally free."

"That sounds amazing," she muses, closing her eyes and imagining the experience. Before she can think the better of it, she tells him, "You should take me with you sometime."

"Lois…I -"

"- I know. But, just humor me and say you will someday."

"…I will, Lois. I promise."

Reining in her fancy, she takes a deep breath and redirects the conversation. "So, is it hard? Is it like learning to ride a bike?"

"Not really. It's like telling your hand to move. I just think about wanting to do it and it happens. I can't yet go very fast and I can't yet lift things that are very heavy while I'm doing it -"

"- What do you mean by 'fast' and 'heavy'?"

"I can't quite fly as fast as I can run. And I can't lift things that are bigger than, say, a semi-truck while I'm midair. But it's coming along pretty quickly. I just started a couple weeks ago and, back then, I could only lift things the sizes of small cars."

"Why couldn't you fly before?"

"Well, you remember what I told you: My abilities develop over time. I get stronger and faster as the years go by. The flying is just part of it."

"And, all because of our yellow sun, right?"

"Yes…and no."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, um…sometimes it takes…a, uh, a trigger for some new ability to…happen."

"OK. That's vague, even for you."

"Miss Lane -"

"- Don't hide behind the formality. You're not fooling anybody."

"Alright… Okay... Honestly, Lois… I couldn't fly before that night I saved you. You were unconscious, so you don't remember. But I did. For the first time. I just kind of…lifted off. Like I'd been doing it my whole life."

"Well, I'm glad it finally kicked in. Any more blood loss and you'd be having this conversation with my headstone," she jokes, reaching for the magazine on her bedside table and turning over onto her stomach to flip through it.

"You don't understand."

"What's not to understand? You saved my life - again. I'm thanking you."

"It wasn't coincidence, Lois. I flew because of you."

Taken aback by his tone, she stops flipping through pages. Not wanting to assume what he's implying, she evenly offers, "Desperate times. Desperate measures."

"No, Lois… My father, the man who sent me here, told me that I couldn't fly yet because I hadn't accepted who I am."

"Who you are? As in a less gross-looking cousin of E.T.?" she quips.

"I'm serious, Lois. I've been in worse situations than the one I was in that night. But, it was you. It was you, bleeding out in my arms all because you got caught up in something that you could have avoided if you knew…"

"If I knew what?" she asks, discarding the magazine and moving to sit on the edge of her bed.

"…I've wanted to tell you… I've been trying to tell you for months."

Worrying, "Tell me what?"

"…What you mean to me."

"Well," she begins, dismissing his tone, "don't get your blurry britches in a twist. I'm not stupid. I'm still your only contact at the paper. Hell, from what I can tell, I'm still your only real contact outside the superhero world. We talk constantly. You even make a point of answering my calls. So, yeah, I know."

"No, you don't. Lois…You…You're the only person who's ever completely accepted me exactly as I am. No questions asked. Without ulterior motive. Without trying to convince me to be something that I'm not, or that I don't want to be. Your faith in me even comes out in your articles. Even when you started suggesting that I'm not of this world, people seemed to embrace that, because it was coming from someone who believes in me like you do. It's shown me that people are ready to accept someone like me. Lois…you've…you've helped me accept my real identity…my true self."

His candor takes her off guard and she doesn't respond. Realizing that she's stopped breathing, she shakes her head and stands, aimlessly pacing around her room.

"That night, seeing your blood on my hands…I was losing you all over again -"

"'Again'?"

"I-It doesn't…it doesn't matter. I just…I was losing you and it was my own fault. And it shouldn't have taken a situation like that to get me to tell you the truth."

"What truth?"

"The truth that…that I…"

"That what?" she presses, stopping in the middle of the floor.

"…That you are very, very important to me. That you are as important to me as…the sun."

She coughs out a nervous laugh. "I'm flattered. Really, I am. But -"

"- I love you, Lois."

"Oh, god," she winces, bringing her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "A little blood loss and you suddenly pull a Darcy?"

"Don't insult me."

"I'm not insulting you. I just don't know where this is coming from. What changed?"

"I flew, Lois! That's what changed. And it didn't happen in any other situation or with any other person. It happened with you. Believe me, the convenient thing to do would be to deny the significance of that event. But I can't do that anymore. I can't keep denying how much I completely and utterly love you just to keep my life simpler or to keep myself from being honest with you."

"Alright, Super-Stud. We've officially reached the part of the conversation where I need to remind you that I am spoken for. I am very happily spoken for."

"Clark doesn't deserve you."

"Are you picking a fight with me?"

"He doesn't deserve you."

"You are picking a fight with me," she sighs, sitting down in her armchair and propping her feet up on the ottoman.

"You don't even know where he is right now. He could be on the other side of the world and you'd have no idea."

"Well, seeing as he has to pick me up in ten hours, I highly doubt it."

"You're deflecting."

"I don't like your tone."

"He disappears."

"He does not."

"Yes, he does. You've told me so."

"Well… I was exaggerating. He has family obligations, you know. He has leads to chase down. He has a life of his own. He doesn't need to be under me all the time."

"You're rationalizing his behavior."

"He's busy," she tries, with none of the conviction she wishes she felt.

"He's lying. And, you know it."

"I know no such thing."

"Does he call you when he's gone?"

She pauses, knowing she should redirect the conversation. But, despite herself, she answers honestly, "Not really. No."

"Do you call him when he's gone?"

She admits, "No."

"Exactly. You don't call him when he disappears. You call me."

"I call you whether he's here or not," she counters, knowing that she's trying too hard.

"Yeah. But, you never call him when he's gone. You just said so. What does that tell you?"

"That I don't want to bother him when he's busy or when he's away."

"You call me because you know he won't answer."

"You don't always answer."

"And yet, you try anyway. What does that tell you, Lois?"

"Why are you attacking him?" she exasperates, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Answer my question."

"Answer mine."

"I'm not attacking him. I am pointing out that you deserve better than someone who's not being honest with you."

Searching herself, she offers a sincere response: "He's a private person. I respect that."

"You're rationalizing again."

"I'm gonna chalk your hostility up to a bad day at the office or the need for a super-sized nap."

"You know what I'm doing if you call and I don't answer -"

Leaning forward in the chair, she warns, "- Alright, you're bucking a little too hard here, bronco -"

"- I'm more honest with you than he is. I'm more forthcoming."

"Well, you have that luxury, don't you?" she bites back, flustered by his sudden and uncharacteristic assault on her boyfriend. "You venture nothing, you risk nothing in our relationship. You call; you don't call. You answer; you don't answer. You take no real responsibility when it comes to me. Anyone would tell the truth to a stranger."

"You're not a stranger. You mean everything to me."

"I mean everything to him."

"Has he ever told you that?"

"He doesn't have to."

"He should."

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation," she scoffs, rubbing her temple.

"I'm right. And, you know it."

"No, Skywalker. You have no idea what you're talking about," she corrects. "You don't see him light up when I walk into a room. You don't feel the tenderness in his touch. You don't hear him when he says he loves me. You don't know how he falls over himself to make and keep me happy. So, no, he doesn't have to say a thing. I already know."

"You deserve to hear the words. You deserve someone who won't delay being honest with you. You deserve someone who'll tell you in no uncertain terms how he feels."

"I deserve to have my choices respected."

"You're content to spend however long you two are together not having all of him? Giving everything of yourself and never getting everything from him? You're willing to let that happen?"

Repeating the sentiment she's told herself countless times before when Clark's actions become too questionable to ignore, she sighs, "I love him."

"You're excusing him."

"If he were on the line right now, he'd tell you to go to hell."

"You said he doesn't swear."

"He's been dating me for nearly a year. So, when provoked? Yeah, he does."

"He can't fly."

"And you can't take me to the midnight premiere of Deathly Hallows, even though you hate all things Harry Potter."

"What?"

"You can't make me be nicer to my co-workers with just a single disapproving look. You can't play Guitar Hero with me until 2 AM. You can't smile at me so hard my heart starts doing somersaults. Okay? So, don't turn this into a competition because you'll lose the prize every day of the week and twice on Sunday," she cautions, finally remembering why she's in her relationship, for better and for worse.

"Tell me you don't love me."

She takes a deep breath and a pregnant pause. Gently, she tells him, "I do love you. You're a great, dear friend. You're practically my best friend - as far as non-citizen, hardly-reachable, barely-ever-seeable best friends go. But as significant as that love is, the nature of it isn't the same as what I feel for him. Do you understand?"

"No. I don't. I don't understand why you tolerate anything less than the whole truth. You deserve more than that."

"OK, I don't know where this superhero PMS is coming from, but listen: You don't know Clark. You know me. You trust me. So, just have a little faith in my judgment. If he's not telling me things, then he has good reason. I trust him. I love him."

"He's a lucky man."

"He knows that. But I'll be sure to tell him you think so."

"…I'm, uh…I'm sorry for all this, Lois. You're right: I didn't sleep last night. I shouldn't have taken my frustrations out on you."

"Or him?"

"Or him."

"You're forgiven. Superpowered crime-fighters get to have bad days just like everyone else."

"Maybe you're right. So…you saw Deathly Hallows, huh?"

"Yes, I did," she smiles.

"They really stepped it up with the special effects, I thought."

"I know, right! But don't even get me started on Ron's haircut…"

...