Holiday Anthology

A collection from the Lois & Clark Fanfic Archive

December 2012

Christmas was popular on the TV show Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. And it’s popular with fanfic writers, who have written more than 100 Lois & Clark stories that use a holiday backdrop. We couldn’t fit all the stories here — that would make for one very long ebook — but you’ll find them all online at lcfanfic.com. The focus here is on short Christmas stories, ones you can read in one sitting.

Many of the stories you’ll find were written back when Lois & Clark was still airing, perhaps even some during the first season. Many authors will be familiar to you, some dropped into our fandom in the early days to pen a few stories and then disappear, and others are still writing with us today — and for that we are very grateful.

These 20 stories will make you laugh, perhaps bring a tear to your eye, and leave you with warm and fuzzy feelings. Many are set during or after the second-season episode “Season's Greedings,” which was written by the Superman star himself, Dean Cain. In many, a bah-humbug Lois gets the Christmas spirit, or perhaps learns an important secret — or both. And Clark is in for his fair share of discoveries as well.

If you haven’t read these stories before, you’re in for a treat. If you have, you’ll enjoy visiting with old friends. So grab your ebook reader and cuddle up for some Christmas cheer.

If these 20 stories leave you wanting more — and we’re sure they will — please download our spreadsheet and filter for “Christmas.”

***

Recognizable characters in these stories are the property of Warner Bros. and DC Comics. No copyright infringement is intended by lcfanfic.com or fanfic authors, who receive no monetary benefit from their work. The ideas expressed in the stories are original, however. Lcfanfic.com is in no way affiliated with Warner Bros. or DC Comics. It is a nonprofit site run by and dedicated to fans who simply can't get enough of Lois & Clark.

***

Cover image provided by stockphotosforfree.com.

Table of Contents

Holiday Anthology: Introduction

Have a Holly Jolly Christmas ... Or Not - By Gina Blank

Second Chance - By Female Hawk

Real Short Christmas Story - By Zoomway

Homecoming - By Nan Smith

Super Claus - By Paul-Gabriel Wiener

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas + Sequel - By Jennifer Baker

Dear Santa, Love Jon - by Erin Klingler

The Next Day: A Not So Merry Christmas - By Tank Wilson

Culinary Delights - By Melissa Dore

Santa Surprise - By Bob Bartholomew

Christmas Wishes - By Karen Thompkins

Secret Revelations - By Laura S.

Santa's Helper - By Caroline K.

Lonely this Christmas? - By Wendy Richards

All I Want (For Christmas) - By Sue S.

How the Grinch Almost Stole Christmas - By Lynn Baldwin

Christmas In Metropolis - By Shayne Terry

Super Santa Claus Man - By Lynn M.

Christmas Spirit - By CarolM

A Gift From Shetland - By Chris Carr

Have a Holly Jolly Christmas … Or Not

By Gina Blank (sunnset@cadvision.com)

Summary: In Kansas, teen-age Clark Kent is having a great Christmas. In Metropolis, the holiday just keeps getting worse for Lois Lane and her little sister, Lucy.

***

Clark raced home after school so fast that the school bell hadn’t even finished ringing by the time he got in the door. “I LOVE winter!” he shouted.

Martha came around the corner to greet her son. “Hi! How was your day at school?”

“Great, as always, but it’s Christmas Holidays now! Look, it’s been snowing all day! I love the snow!” Clark led his mother to the window where he showed her the snow piled two feet high on the ground.

“I see,” Martha said.

“Where’s Dad?” Clark asked.

“He’s umm … I think he’s in the barn, making room for the Christmas tree.”

“He bought the Christmas tree already?” Clark asked, a slightly hurt look on his face. It was a tradition each year for Clark and Jonathan to pick out the Christmas tree on the last day of school. It was a special holiday father-son activity. Martha even joined them a couple years ago. They had the best time picking a tree.

“Oh, no, Sweetheart,” Martha assured, noticing Clark’s face, “he’s just making room for it, so you boys don’t have to do that when you come home with the tree.”

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out and see him,” Clark said, zipping back outside, not even putting on his jacket. Not that he needed one! “Hey, Dad,” he greeted once he’d reached the barn. His father was in there, clearing away a couple of bundles of hay to make room for the tree that would soon occupy that space.

“Hey, Son! I’ve got the area here ready to let the tree thaw out once we get it. We can go into Smallville after dinner.”

“Perfect!” Clark exclaimed. “And you know what?” Clark asked, pulling down his glasses, “I can see Mom starting dinner right now. Let’s go back to the house.”

“Sure thing,” Jonathan and Clark exited the barn.

While Jonathan locked the barn door, Clark noticed that it had started snowing again. Clark smiled, “I love winter!”

***

“I hate winter!” Lois Lane exclaimed, stomping through the foot-high snow on the still-unshoveled sidewalk.

“I love the winter!” her friend Julie said. The two of them were walking home from school together, as they always did.

“Well, except for the fact that we get two weeks’ vacation, winter bites. It’s the coldest, busiest time of the year. And everyone’s too cheery.” Julie laughed at that. “Except my parents. This is the time of year when they compete with each other the most.”

“They think we love one parent more than the other,” Lucy Lane, who had been listening from behind, continued.

“That’s odd. My parents agree on everything, and if they DO disagree on something, they talk it out until they come to an agreement.”

“Not OUR parents,” Lois continued, “I tell ya, for two people who love each other, they sure disagree a lot… Well, I guess we’ll see you later,” Lois said, noticing they’d come to the corner of the street where the three of them separated.

“Yeah. See ya!” Julie waved good-bye and took of down the road.

Lois and Lucy continued down the other way a block, and climbed up the front steps into their house.

When Lois and Lucy had taken off their coats and winter wear, they moved into the living room to watch TV. When they got there, however, they noticed the TV had been moved, and a large space in the corner remained.

Both knew what that meant; time for the Christmas tree. Sam and Ellen Lane always picked out the weirdest trees. You could tell it was because they couldn’t come to an agreement, and just ended up picking out the first one they saw. Lois and Lucy had even thought that they should go with their parents this year.

But just as the girls turned around to put their winter clothes back on, Ellen came into the front hall from the back room. “I’ll be back in a little while, girls.”

“Where are you going?” Lois asked.

“I’m getting the tree,” Ellen said simply, grabbing her car keys.

“But I thought both you and Dad did that. And Lucy and I wanted to come with you this year,” Lois exclaimed.

“No, it’ll be easier for everyone if I just get the tree. I’ll be back later. Be good!” With that, Ellen closed the front door behind her, leaving the girls by themselves in the house.

“If the both of them can’t even get a tree together, they must have had another argument,” Lois pointed out.

“I realized that!” Lucy snapped, heading into the kitchen for a snack.

Lois rolled her eyes, “I hate winter.”

***

Clark sat cross-legged on the couch speed-reading all the books on the bookshelf in the living room.

“Clark,” Martha laughed, coming into the room, “try reading a book at normal speed — you’ll end up reading all the books in the Smallville Library if you keep speed-reading them!”

Clark looked up as he finished another book. “What can I say? I love to read!”

Martha chuckled, “that’s great. Listen, I just came to tell you that your dad’s outside, and he’s ready to —”

<WHOOSH>

<WHOOSH>

“ — go.”

Clark zipped to and from his bedroom in less than a second fully clothed in winter-wear. “See ya later, Mom.” Martha kissed the top of his son’s head and Clark was gone.

“Come on, Dad — let’s go!” Clark shouted, arriving at the truck. He hopped in on the passenger’s side, putting on his seatbelt.

Jonathan came to the still-open truck door. “I’m coming. I just need to get the rope,” he told Clark. He got the rope from the barn, dumped it in the back of the truck, and they were on their way to the Christmas tree lot.

When they arrived, Jonathan started looking at the trees near the front while Clark moved toward the back. As Jonathan was looking at a tall type of spruce tree, he heard Clark come up behind him. “Not that tree, Dad,” he said softly.

“Why not?” Jonathan asked.

“The branches on the inside are starting to turn brown,” Clark pointed out.

“How do you know that?” When Clark pointed to his glasses, Jonathan nodded in understanding.

“But, I have found a bunch of trees that are green through and through. Follow me.”

Half an hour later, Martha was sitting on the couch, reading a book that Clark had read, although not nearly as fast. She dropped the book beside her as she heard the door open.

“Mom, come look at the tree we chose!” Clark shouted. So Martha got off the couch, put on her boots and coat on, and headed out to the barn. When she arrived, Jonathan was removing the mesh that was wrapped around the tree, and Clark was lifting it into the stand so it could thaw out.

“You like it?” Clark asked.

“It looks lovely. I know the branches haven’t lowered yet, but the tree is nice and tall, and really green. You boys made an excellent choice.”

“Clark made an excellent choice,” Jonathan corrected.

“Well, it sure is a pretty tree!” Martha repeated, “come on, let’s go inside.”

The Kents headed out of the barn, Clark in front. He got ahead of his parents a little, and turned around to make sure they were still there. Clark smiled as he saw his parents kissing under the tree where his Fortress of Solitude was. He was lucky to have parents that cared for each other so much, knowing how many of his friends’ parents were divorced. Clark watched as a pile of snow from one of the tree branches landed on his mother’s head, and how she playfully hit her husband as he started to laugh. Clark continued to head toward the house, wondering if one day, he’d love someone as much as his parents loved each other.

***

“Lois sat cross-legged on the couch reading Arthur Conan Doyle’s ‘Hound of the Baskervilles.’ It had been assigned over the Christmas holidays, and Lois had nothing better to do.

“Tell your mother I’ll be back in a bit,” her father said, coming into the living room.

“Okay,” Lois replied, not looking up from her book. “Wait a minute,” she said, realizing what her father had just told her, “where are you going?”

“Umm … well, I’m going to get the Christmas tree.”

“But Mom’s getting the Christmas tree.”

“Well, she never told me. This is supposed to be a family thing. She shouldn’t have decided on a tree herself.”

“Well, if this is a ‘family thing,’ how come we aren’t going out with you?” Lois asked.

“Umm … because … “ Sam Stuttered.

“This isn’t a family thing at all!” Lois exclaimed, putting her book down and standing up. “You just don’t think Mom can get a good tree. Or you’re afraid she’ll get a great tree, so you just have to get one better. That’s it, isn’t it?” Lois looked at her dad with her hands on her hips.

“I’ll see you later, Lois,” Sam said, heading for the door.

“You know, you always do this — “ Lois started.

“Good-BYE, Lois,” Sam ended, slamming the door behind him.

“Ach,” Lois said, flopping frustratedly back onto the couch. She picked up her book and continued from where she’d left off. Books seemed to consume her. She could escape from what was going on in the world around her. So when the door opened and shut half an hour later, Lois jumped a little. “Dad?” she called.

“Dad?!” Lois’ mom replied, “Why would I be your father?”

“Oh … no reason,” Lois said, seeing her mom come into the room with a fluffy, forest green Christmas tree.

“Help me get this into the family room, will you?” Ellen asked. Lois rose to help her mother move the conifer. “Where’s your father?”

“He’s … umm … out,” Lois said, not wanting to reveal where exactly her father was. She didn’t need to. At that instant, Sam came through the back door, carrying a tall, pointy, pink metal Christmas tree, like Lois had seen on ‘Charlie Brown’s Christmas.’

“What the — ?” Ellen started, peering around the corner to see Sam. “You got a Christmas tree? Why did you get a Christmas tree — you KNEW I was out getting one!”

“You didn’t tell anyone!”

“Neither did you!”

“Don’t change the subject!” Sam bellowed.

Lois managed to listen for about ten seconds before she clapped her hands over her ears and yelled, “STOP IT! Stop fighting! Why do you always have to do this? Why must you always compete with each other?! Do you really think Lucy and I pick favourites?! Well, we don’t! And in my opinion, both trees STINK!!!” With that, Lois ran out of the living room, into the bedroom she shared with Lucy, slammed the door behind her, flung herself onto her bed, and started to cry.

Lucy, who’d been listening to her Walkman like she always did when her parents started arguing, rose and sat down next to her big sister on the bed. She rubbed Lois’ back and listened to her sister. “Why do they always have to fight like this?” Lois sobbed, “Julie’s parents don’t, Peggy’s parents don’t. Whenever they disagree on something, they talk it out and compromise. If Mom and Dad love each other like Julie and Peggy’s parents do, why can’t they solve their problems like mature adults?”

“Maybe they don’t love each other,” Lucy whispered.

Lois lifted and turned her tear-stained face to look at her sister. “What are you saying?”

***

“Mom, if 9(n + 3) is equal to 7n — 3, what is n?” Clark asked his mom from the dining room table.

Martha chuckled, “Oh, honey, it’s been years since I’ve done algebra! … Have you collected the like terms yet?” she asked, drying a dish.

“Oh, yeah!” Clark realized. “Thanks, Mom.” Clark went back to doing his math homework. After about five minutes, though, Clark heard a crash.

“Oh, shoot,” Martha mumbled.

“What happened?” Clark asked, rising from his seat to see over the edge of the table.

“I dropped the plate I was drying, that’s all,” Martha told him, bending down to pick up the pieces.

“No, Mom!” Clark cried, superspeeding his way over to the kitchen, “you’ll cut yourself. I’ll clean it up.” Clark went over to the closet, got the dustpan, and started to sweep up the broken dish.

Martha kissed the top of her son’s head. “You are the greatest son a mother could have,” she commented.

Clark smiled. “Thanks!”

***

“Lois?” Lucy asked her sister.

“Mm-hmm?” Lois replied.

“What’s 4/6 minus 3/10?” Lucy and Lois were both in their room, doing their homework, staying as far away from their parents as possible. Both lay on their stomachs on their beds. If you stood in the two foot space between each bed, and looked at each side, they’d look symmetrical.

“Umm … thirtieths … eleven … 11/30,” Lois replied after a minute. “Lucy?”

“Y’uh-huh?”

“If 3 times (5x — 4) equals 8x plus 2, what’s ‘x’?”

Lucy looked at her sister like she was from another planet. “How should I know?!”

Lois giggled, “I’m just kidding, don’t panic!” Lucy was about to say something when they both heard a crash in the kitchen. “Okay — now panic.”

“What was that?” Lucy asked.

“I dunno — come on,” Lois told her sister, already up and heading for the door. Lois and Lucy peered around the corner of the living room wall to see their mother looking impatiently at her husband.

“Were you guys throwing things at each other?” Lucy asked.

“Lucy!” Lois hissed, not wanting to have been noticed.

“No,” Ellen replied quickly, “I just dropped the plate while I was drying it off. You go back and do your homework, Dear.”

“Okay,” Lucy replied, and went back to her room.

Lois, on the other hand, remained in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. “Maybe that works on Lucy, but it won’t work on me! Look, you can’t smash dishes, okay? You can verbal bash each other all you want — most of the time I can ignore that — but you can’t threaten each other with dishes, because even though you’re acting like immature children, you’re still my parents, and I don’t want you getting hurt!” Lois looked at her parents with tears in her eyes. Things were silent for a moment. But even that minute of peace was soon broken.

“I need a drink,” Ellen commented.

“I’m going out for a walk,” Sam added.

“Wait!” Lois cried to both her parents. “Who’s going to clean up your mess?”

“Well,” Sam said, putting on his coat, “you claim to be more ‘mature.’ Why don’t you clean it up?”

“Sam!” Ellen yelled, but he had already slammed the door and was gone.

“It’s okay, Mom — I’ll do it,” Lois sighed, as she headed to the closet to get the dustpan. Lois took it over to where the mess was, and swept up the small pieces. Not thinking, Lois decided to just pick up the big pieces and throw them out. As she picked up the second large piece, she felt a large pinch in her finger. “Ouch!” she exclaimed, dropping the piece of dishware back on the floor. She looked at her finger. “Mom!” she called, “can you — oh, never mind.” Lois noticed her mother’s already drunken state. “Lucy!!!” she yelled.

Lucy came running out of her room. “What?”

“Get me a band-aid, NOW!” Lois ordered, as she ran her finger under cold water.

Lucy ran to the bathroom quickly, coming back with a band-aid. “What happened?” she asked.

“I was cleaning up the mess,” Lois told her sister.

“I heard you talking to Mom and Dad,” Lucy said softly, bending down to finish sweeping the broken plate. “If it means anything, I think you were really brave to speak to them like that.”

As Lois finished applying her band-aid, she muttered, “Thanks.”

***

“Clark?” Martha whispered, “Clark, Honey?”

Clark rolled over in his bed, and slowly opened his eyes to find his mother looking at her from the doorway. “Wha …?” he mumbled, half-awake.

“It’s 10:00, I thought you might want to wake up,” Martha said, “Besides, there’s a phone call for you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m up,” Clark said, rising from his bed to pick up the phone at the opposite end of the room. Martha left him to talk. “Hello?”

“Clark? Did I wake you?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. What is it?” he asked.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over,” Derek explained, “I know it’s Christmas Eve, so I’ll understand if you’re busy, but my dad bought a ping-pong table as kind of an early Christmas gift, and we just rented a couple of movies …”

“Sure,” Clark replied, “when did you want me to come over?”

“Anytime you’re ready,” Derek told him.

“Okay. See you in about half an hour, ‘kay?”

“Sure thing. See ya!”

The boys hung up, and Clark got dressed. He could have been ready to go to Derek’s in about five seconds … but then how would he explain that to Derek? So, Clark took his time, doing things at normal speed.

Clark entered the kitchen to have breakfast. “‘Morning, Mom.”

Martha, who was stirring a bowl of waffle mix, turned around. “Hi, Sweetie! Who was on the phone?”

“That was Derek. I’m going to his house in about half an hour,” Clark told his mother. “Where’s Dad?” he asked, noticing he wasn’t in the living room, reading the newspaper as usual.

“He left.”

“Left?”

“Yeah, he’s gone into town to get some more milk, and some Christmas candles for the living room. We just discovered our Christmas candles have all been burned to stumps.”

“Oh, cool. You’re not going to decorate the tree ‘till I get back, right?”

“Oh, Clark, we wouldn’t decorate the tree without you! But we don’t want to wait forever. Can you be back here at about 3:30?” Martha asked.

“Oh, sure. No problem,” Clark said.

After Clark had finished his mother’s wonderful waffles, he showered, dressed, and then left for Derek’s house, literally racing over there.

Derek answered the door. “Hey, Clark, come on in!

“Hey, “ Clark responded, stepping inside. As soon as he’d taken off his coat, Derek led him downstairs to the rec room and showed him the ping-pong table.

“Cool, huh? Let’s play!” Derek went to one side of the table, and Clark assumed his position on the other. The two of them played ping-pong for over an hour before they watched the movies Derek had rented.

After the last movie, Clark looked at his watch. 3:25. “Yikes,” he said, “I’d better get home. Our family’s decorating the Christmas tree today. Thanks for having me, though — what a fun afternoon!”

“No problem. I love having people over. Do you wanna get together after Christmas?” Derek asked.

“Sure. Why don’t you come over to my house this time?”

“All right. I haven’t been to your house in a while,” Derek noted as he opened the door for Clark, “Well, see ya later. Have fun decorating the tree!”

Clark waved to his friend as he walked down the street, and as soon as the door to Derek’s house was closed, he raced back home.

“Clark? That you?” Jonathan called from the living room as he heard a door open and close.

“Yeah, I’m home! Let’s get this tree decorated!!!” Clark shouted as he took off his coat and boots.

Clark could hear his parents laugh in response to his excitement. “Well, we’re ready!” Martha exclaimed, as Clark entered the living room.

“Great!” Clark said, opening the boxes with Christmas lights, garland, tinsel, and various hodge-podge decorations.

Martha put on some Christmas music, and the three of them decorated the tree. When they were finished, they all stepped back to look at it. “I think it looks better than ever this year!” Martha said.

“I agree,” Jonathan said, “Clark, you chose a perfect tree!”

Clark looked at the tree. It did look beautiful. Everything was perfect. This Christmas was turning out to be one of the best he could remember. Clark smiled.

***

Lois rolled over in her bed and slowly opened her eyes to find her sister looking right back at her. “Good morning,” Lucy whispered.

Lois groaned, “What time is it?”

“10:30,” Lucy said, looking at her watch. “I’ve been up since 8:00. Mom and Dad were fighting. It’s been silent since 9:00, so they’re probably giving each other the silent treatment again. Careful if you go in there.”

“Well, just because they’re fighting, that’s not gonna keep me from entering the kitchen and having breakfast,” Lois stated, getting out of her bed. Lois had a shower and got dressed, and when she was done, both girls entered the kitchen.

Ellen was in the kitchen vigorously stirring a bowl of pancake batter. “Set the table, please, girls,” she said, knowing they were behind her without even turning around.

Lois and Lucy got out the cutlery and dish ware, and started setting the table for breakfast. “Where’s Dad?” Lucy asked, noticing he was nowhere in sight.

“He left,” Ellen stated.

Both Lois and Lucy stopped what they were doing. “Left as in left to get some more milk from the store, right?” Lois asked. “That kind of left?”

“No, I mean left. As in gone. As in not coming back,” Ellen grumbled, stirring harder.

Lois couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It all registered, but she was not happy at the way things were going. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. She slammed down her handful of forks and knives on the table, and headed for the front closet.

“Lois, where are you going?” Lucy asked, following right behind.

“Out,” Lois said, putting on her coat.

“Lois!”

“Lucy, I am not staying here — not right now.” Lois pulled on her boots and opened the front door. “I’ll be back later,” she told Lucy, noticing the look on Lucy’s face. With that, she slammed the door behind her and took off down the street. Lois ran. She ran down to the end of the block, turned left, and ran some more, until she reached her destination. She rang the doorbell of a very familiar house, trying to catch her breath.

“Lois!” Julie exclaimed, answering the door, “I was just about to call you — what’s wrong?” Julie noticed Lois’ eyes brimmed with tears — but not quite overflowing — and her heavy breathing.

“Can I come in?” Lois gasped.

“Of course!” Julie said, opening the door all the way to let Lois in. Julie let Lois take off her coat and boots, and then asked, “So what’s going on?”

Lois motioned for them to go upstairs. They went up into Julie’s room and Lois closed the door behind them. “My dad … he left,” Lois said, looking directly in Julie’s eyes.

“Oh, Lois, I’m so sorry!” Julie cried, giving her best friend a hug.

“I mean, why would he do that?” Lois asked, separating from Julie so she could pace. “Why at Christmas? — on Christmas EVE, nonetheless! Why so suddenly? And why at a time when Lucy and I need a father figure the most?” With this, Lois sat down on Julie’s bed and started to cry.

Julie sat down next to her best friend, not knowing what to say. “I can’t answer those questions, Lois — I’ll be honest,” she started, “but I’m willing to listen, even if I can’t offer any advice. I won’t go anywhere.” Just then the doorbell rang. “Except now. I gotta answer the door.” Lois stayed in Julie’s room while Julie went to get the door. “Lois?” Julie called a moment later, “it’s for you.”

Lois came downstairs. “Lucy! What are you doing here?”

“I followed you,” Lucy breathed. “I’m not staying at home!”

“Why don’t we all go downstairs and watch a movie or something?” Julie suggested.

“Great idea,” Lois agreed.

After Lucy took her jacket off, the three of them headed down to the rec room to watch Miracle On 34th Street. After the movie, Lois and Lucy figured that it was time to go. “Thanks for having us, Julie,” Lois told her.

“No problem. I’m always here,” Julie looked directly at Lois. “See you soon.” Julie waved to them as the headed down the street.

Just before they reached the corner of the street, Lois stopped. She looked in her coat pocket, pulling out a couple of bills and coins. “Perfect!”

“What is it?” Lucy asked.

“I have an idea … “ Lois said slowly. Lois started to walk again, but instead of turning right to go to their house, she turned left.

“Lois, what are you doing? Our house is THAT way!” Lucy cried, pointing in the opposite direction.

“I know that! But I refuse to let Mom and Dad ruin our Christmas just because they hate each other,” Lois told her sister.

“So you’re going to the school instead?” Lucy asked, confused.

“No, silly. WE are going to the Christmas tree lot. We are going to pick out a tree to make our Christmas more merry. And it’ll be a great tree because it’s one we’ll both decide on, and it will have been bought with love. ..Come on!” Lois started jogging down the block, with Lucy at her heels. When they reached the lot, Lois and Lucy immediately started looking around.

“Awww, Lois! Come look at this one — it’s so cute!” Lucy called from the back of the lot.

Lois joined her sister to see the tree Lucy had spotted. It was a little green spruce tree about two feet tall, at the most. “It is cute!” Lois agreed. “I like it. Do you?”

“I love it!”

“Then let’s get it!” Lois took the tree to the man in charge. “How much is this tree?” she asked.

“Tell ya what. You can have that little tree for free if you like him so much.”

Lucy smiled, “thanks!” The two of them left the lot, tree in hand.

When they got into the house, Lois took the tree to their room, calling to Lucy, “get the popcorn maker and some thread!”

Lucy returned with the requested items. “Why are we doing this in here?” she asked.

“Cuz Mom’s asleep in the living room, and if we don’t need to wake her, I don’t want to.” Lois set the little tree on the bed side table between their beds, and went over to her desk drawer to find anything that would help decorate the tree. She ended up finding ribbons of various colours, and tinfoil in addition to the popcorn. “This’ll be perfect!” she said. They got to work.

When they were finished, they stepped back to look at their masterpiece. “Not bad for two teenagers,” Lucy mused aloud.

“Nope, not at all!” Lois agreed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling better right now!” Silently Lois added, maybe this’ll be a half-decent Christmas after all.

Martha headed into the living room to turn out the lights before going to bed. She stopped, though, when she saw a dark figure sitting beside the tree. “Clark, what are you still doing up?” she asked.

“I was just thinking,” Clark said thoughtfully as his mother sat down next to him. “I was just thinking that there’s someone out there who’s not having a very nice Christmas.”

“Oh, Clark, Honey,” Martha said, “there are millions of people who aren’t having a good Christmas.”

“I know,” Clark said simply, “but there’s someone out there who’s not having a good Christmas, and she deserves one.”

“How do you know this?” Martha asked.

“I just have this feeling,” Clark said, “it’s a feeling like I’ve never had before. Maybe it’s another special power I’ve got. Knowing when people are hurt or upset. I wish I could cheer her up, whoever she is.”

Martha put her hand on Clark’s forehead.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Clark assured his mother.

“Okay,” Martha said warily. “But don’t stay up all night fretting about this girl, okay?” Martha got up, and started to head out of the living room.

“Okay. I’ll go to bed in a little bit. G’night, Mom.”

“‘Night, Dear.”

When Martha had left, Clark stood up and looked out the living room window at the stars in the clear winter sky. “I don’t know who you are, or where you live,” he told the sky, “but whoever you are, don’t worry. Things’ll work out.” Clark didn’t actually know if that was true, but somehow he thought he needed to say that. Maybe even if just to reassure himself.

Clark closed the window curtains, turned off the dim living room lights on his way out, and went to bed. Tomorrow was Christmas.

***

Lois sat in the corner of the bay window in her bedroom looking out across the city, where the Christmas lights on the other houses twinkled a rainbow of colours. As Lois shifted positions slightly, she heard the old wood creak beneath her. She then heard Lucy roll over and wake up from the sound.

“What are you doing?” she asked, half asleep.

“I’m just thinking,” Lois started.

“Oh … “

Lois turned back toward the window. “I’m just thinking of all the people in the world who are celebrating a lovely Christmas this year. I mean, I know there are people who aren’t having a merry Christmas, and I don’t want to sound selfish, but I never thought I’d be one of them … “ Lois turned back to look at her sister, only to find her out like a light. Lois smiled, and then yawned as she realized how late it was.

Lois slowly slid off the bay window, making sure not to make the wood creak, and headed back to her bed. As she settled underneath the covers, though, she thought she heard something. A voice. “Don’t worry. Things’ll work out … “ it said.

“Lucy?” she whispered, “did you say something?” But Lucy was still asleep. Lois was too tired to think of it as anything but her imagination, so she ignored it, although not completely, because that night she slept easier than she had in the past two nights.

***

Clark woke up on Christmas morning and rolled over to look at his alarm clock on the night table. 8:00. Yikes, Clark thought. Last year I was up at 6:00 ready to celebrate. Clark was sure that his family was up already, and so he himself got up and put a robe on over his pajamas. Clark put on his slippers and slipped out of his bedroom, heading down the hall toward the living room.

Clark noticed his mom and dad sitting on the couch, sipping hot chocolate, and just talking. “Merry Christmas,” he said quietly, but loud enough to be noticed.

“Merry Christmas,” Martha said, looking up. “Did you ever find out who that girl was?” she asked. Jonathan gave her a weird look, but she ignored it.

“No, but I have this feeling she’ll be okay.”

Martha nodded, “That’s good … you ready to open presents?”

Clark nodded, and headed over to where he’d been sitting last night, which was also the spot by the tree where he had sat every Christmas since he was about three years old. As he handed his parents gifts from family and friends (and from him), Clark glanced out the window. It was snowing again. Everything was beautifully covered in white. This has got to be one of the best Christmases I have experienced, he thought. Yup. One of the best.

***

Lois woke up on Christmas morning and rolled over to look at her alarm clock on the night table. 9:30. How pathetic, Lois thought. Last year, I was up at 6:00 ready to celebrate. Lois looked beyond the night table and noticed Lucy was still sleeping. Lois decided not to wake her. Throwing back the covers, Lois stood up and headed toward her closet, where she put on a bath robe over her pajamas. She then slipped silently out of her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Lois noticed her mom was asleep — possibly drunk — on the lazy-boy in the living room. So she headed into the kitchen to have breakfast. She poured herself a bowl of Cornflakes and sat down, thinking about the voice she had heard the night before.

Who WAS that? Lois wondered. She remembered she’d heard a boy’s voice. It didn’t sound like anyone from school. Not even Joe Malloy — the cutest guy at Metropolis High. No, this voice was … calming … and caring. But why would some guy she didn’t even know care about her?

He had said that things would “work out.” Lois looked around. It was somewhat true. Her mother and father weren’t fighting anymore, now that they had split up, and she and Lucy had worked out the Christmas tree problem by getting their own. That had been fun. But even though things were less chaotic now than they had been in the last week, Lois realized that for the first time in her life, Christmas was just another ordinary day.

THE END

Second Chance

By Female Hawk <hawka@iinet.net.au>

Rated G

Submitted November 2010

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve. Lois and Clark are together at her window. The carollers begin to sing … and then someone needs Superman. A ficathon 2009 story.

A/N This fic was written for bellarata. Her requests are listed after the story. Thanks for such wonderful prompts! Also many thanks to IolantheAlias for a great beta job.

***

Clark Kent knew this would be a Christmas he would never forget. What he didn’t know was whether he would remember it as the best Christmas of his life — or just another opportunity that had slipped through his fingers.

He gazed out of Lois’s window as below them a small group of carollers sang their festive songs.

Their clear melody carried the palpable magic of Christmas. It combined with the warmth of Lois’s hand in his, the nearness of her bare shoulder against the sleeve of his jacket and the lingering aroma of the food she had cooked. Together, they formed a persuasive whole that worked into Clark and decided for him.

This was not going to be just another opportunity that slipped away.

He turned, very slowly, away from the window and to Lois. She mirrored his movement and suddenly, their faces were only inches apart. Her mouth … the mouth he dreamed of … was so very close.

And he wanted to kiss her more than he had ever wanted anything.

The lure of her lips captured him … enticed him forward … closer … closer.

“Superman! Help! Superman!”

Clark lurched away from Lois, and the suspended millisecond of confusion was long enough to perceive the hurt shock scrawled upon her face. He pulled his hand from hers and raised it, leaning forward in a stance that was far too familiar. “I …”

What could he say?

Nothing.

There was nothing he could say.

And he had to go.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered.

With a few quick strides, he was at her door. Seconds later, he was out of her apartment, into the Suit, and flying at superspeed towards the cry for help.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Clark — still in the Suit — was back at Lois’s door. Situation salvaged. People saved. Everything returned to normal.

Except Lois.

Lois, who was behind that door either very, very angry or very, very hurt.

Probably both.

And all of Superman’s powers combined were not enough to restore that situation.

Clark stared at the solid wooden door, not daring to look through it. If he did, he knew what he would see … Lois — wounded, lonesome, frustrated, confused.

The only thing worse than Lois hurting was the knowledge that he had hurt her.

He slouched against the wall, head low.

He’d come so close. So close to kissing her. So close to seeing if this could be the best Christmas ever.

Instead, it was going to be the worst. He would look back and know that this was a substantial step is the steady decomposition of his friendship with Lois.

Could he do anything?

He certainly couldn’t go back to her as Clark.

Clark was the absolute last person Lois would want with her right now.

But he couldn’t leave her. It was Christmas, and she was alone. And upset.

He tapped softly on her door and listened as her footsteps approached.

Just half an hour ago, he had stood right here, knocking on this door, the star in his hand and hope in his heart at the promise of an evening that had seemed rich with possibilities.

Now the star sat, somewhat precariously, at the top of her tree, and his heart was shattering.

He heard the first of her locks click and tried to arrange his face into a mask that hid his abject despair.

Lois opened the door, and he saw immediately that she had been crying.

Not just crying but sobbing — her eyes were red and puffy.

She’d never touched his heart quite like she did at that moment.

“Superman,” she said in a voice that was thick with lingering emotion.

“May I come in?” he asked. Then, as an afterthought, “Do you have company?”

Lois dejectedly shook her head. “Just me,” she said. She stepped back to let him in and gestured to the table still laden with the untouched Christmas fare she had prepared. “And more food than I’ll eat in a week.”

“We could eat together,” he suggested, desperate to soothe the desolation from her face.

Lois shrugged. “I’m not hungry,” she said. “But there’s plenty there if you want to grab a bite between calls.”

“How do you know I’ve had calls?” he asked quickly.

“It’s Christmas,” she said flatly, her tone totally devoid of the excitement that usually accompanies those words. “People are travelling, the roads are a little icy, people are tired from their preparations, they’re frazzled, and in a hurry. All that adds up to a busy night for you.”

“No one needs me at the moment,” he said softly.

“Thanks for coming,” she said with no discernable enthusiasm. She slumped onto her sofa.

Clark sat opposite her, careful to arrange his cape so it didn’t pull across his neck. “What’s wrong?” he asked. As if he didn’t know.

“It’s Christmas. I’m alone.”

“Not anymore, you’re not.”

In the past, that would have brought a smile to her face. Tonight, it didn’t.

“Want to tell me about it?” Clark asked. As if he didn’t know.

“Not really.”

“Who made you cry?” As if he didn’t know.

She stared at the wall behind him. “Clark,” she said. Her voice had a sharp edge that pierced his heart.

“Oh.”

She said nothing for a long time. Clark searched frantically for something to say, but his mind stubbornly refused to cooperate. Then the dam burst.

“I know Clark is your friend,” Lois said. “And I know I shouldn’t involve you in this, but he is the most frustrating man I have ever met and believe me, that is a big call, and right now, I’d like to tangle two fistfuls of his perfectly groomed hair around my fingers and shake him until his perfectly shaped teeth are rattling around his perfect throat so that the next time he flashes that formerly-perfect smile, I’ll be reminded that under that suave, perfect exterior lurks a man who can be thrown into a brouhaha by an almost-kiss.”

Clark spluttered but tried to turn it into a clearing-of-his-throat-cough-grunt-wheeze. He could only hope that the combination sounded vaguely like support and understanding.

When he’d recovered enough to glance at Lois, she was regarding him with a look that told him he had failed dismally. “How can you be choking?” she asked. “You haven’t eaten any of my food yet.”

“Sorry,” he gasped.

“What are you sorry for?”

Everything.

For telling her he was in love with her and then telling her he wasn’t. For telling her he wanted to be friends and then allowing them to get into situations — like the one at the window — where they threatened to cross the line beyond friendship. For running away, over and over again, and making it worse with inane excuses that totally insulted her intelligence.

For being here now — as Superman — when he should be here as Clark.

“Why does he do it?” Lois asked in a small voice. “Why does he look at me the way he does and then leave me? Why does he act as if he would mutilate anyone who so much as even thought about hurting me and then rip out my heart himself? Why does he laugh with me and then make me wonder if he’s laughing at me behind my back? Why does he seem so trustworthy and then make it clear he doesn’t trust me? Why does he —”

“Lois!”

“Sorry,” she said forlornly. “I don’t expect you to know the answers.”

“I do know the answers.”

“You do?” Her eyes trapped him as he squirmed inside, realising what he’d done. He’d admitted he knew something. And she was Lois Lane. There was no way out of this — at least not without a mountain of lies and an awful lot of super-ducking-and-weaving.

He couldn’t do it.

Clark knew he would look back and remember this as the worst Christmas ever, but he had to tell her.

He knew she would look back and remember this as the worst Christmas ever, but he still had to do it.

There would be some consolation, he told himself — he would never again cause that confused look of betrayal to darken her beautiful brown eyes.

But never again would she look at him with anything other than the reproach he deserved.

Clark pressed his palms together, fingers spread. Then, he breathed deep and forced himself to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you the truth,” he said.

“The truth about what?” Lois asked.

And this was where the rubber hit the road.

Or the sleigh hit the ice.

“The truth about who I am.”

“You lied to me?” Her squeak of surprise … and disappointment … was like a cleaver through the core of his heart. Lois shook her head, not wanting to believe. “Superman doesn’t lie,” she proclaimed staunchly.

“There is something I care about more than the truth,” Clark said. “Something that is more precious to me than everything else. I have lied, believing I needed to lie to protect it. But I realise now that I have damaged it. Irreparably.”

“What?” she said. “What is so precious to you?”

Clark took a long, wobbly breath. “You. My relationship with you.”

“No,” she said, head shaking, hand held up as if to fend him off. “No. That isn’t true. I have thrown myself at you more than once, and you’ve made it very, very clear that you are not interested. Not like that.”

“I have never wanted your adulation.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you to know the man I am when the suit comes off.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Clark wished he could haul them back and stuff them so far down his throat they could never be located again. He looked to Lois, dreading her reaction. She wasn’t laughing at him though. She looked even more rattled than he felt. “I … I’m not sure what you’re suggesting.”

“This …” Clark flicked at the cape with something very close to contempt. “This isn’t who I am. This is what I do.”

She leant forward. “You want me to get to know you as a person, not as a superhero? Is that what you are trying to say?”

He nodded.

Lois leant further forward and offered her hand. He stared at it, yearning for her touch. He shouldn’t take it. But once she knew he was Clark, she would never again …

He couldn’t take advantage of her.

But he did. Because to refuse would hurt her more.

Once his hand was ensconced hers, she spoke. “Superman, you know I’m your friend. We will always be friends. You can come and hang out here anytime you want to. We can chat. And watch movies. And drink coffee. But I can’t be anything more than your friend.”

“I already hang out with you.”

“Not really. An interview here, a rescue there, a chance meeting -”

“You already know who I am when I’m not in the suit,” Clark said. “You know the real me better than almost anyone else. You spend hours with me every day. I frustrate you. I annoy you. I bring you coffee. I confuse you. I watch your back. I trail behind you as you chase down a story.”

Lois laughed, but it was forced and without a trace of humour. “Superman,” she said. “You make it sound like you’ve been stalking me.”

“Not stalking,” he said. “Not really.”

“Then what? How can you say you watch my back and -”

“I’m the one you’re angry with right now.”

“I’m not angry with you, Superman,” she said with such gentleness, his stomach twisted into a sickening mass of apprehension. “A little concerned, maybe. You seem upset. And confused. Have you considered a vacation? Or therapy?”

“You are angry with me,” he insisted. “If you recognised me — the real me — you’d … you’d … you’d probably grab two fistfuls of my hair and shake me until my teeth are rattling around my throat.”

“No,” she said with a fabricated smile. “That’s not you, that’s C…”

The most ominous silence Clark had ever experienced pervaded the room. Lois’s eyes widened and fastened on him. Comprehension slowly dawned in her face, leaving total disbelief in its wake.

He resisted the urge to back away. The tirade was coming. He knew it was coming.

She released his hand and sank back, looking so much like a little girl hopelessly lost that he had to grasp two clumps of the sofa cushion to stop himself going to her.

“I’m sorry, Lois,” he said, knowing he was offering a droplet of water when a Pacific Ocean was required.

Still she said nothing.

She had paled.

Her eyes hadn’t left him.

Clark stood. “I’m sure you’d rather be alone,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Lois.”

He stood and turned towards her door.

***

Lois watched the swish of his cape as he walked away.

His shoulders were stooped, his head low.

Superman was walking out on her.

More importantly, Clark was walking out on her.

Clark!

In a flash she’d rounded him and was standing with her back against the door and her hands flattened next to her thighs. “That’s why you left?” she asked in a strangled voice.

“That’s why I always leave,” he said. “Not because I’m scared of commitment, not because I’m scared of being close — really close — to you, not because I don’t know how I feel about you, not because I’m scared to come right out and say that I love you, but because someone always calls for help right when I so desperately want to be with you.”

There was enough there to keep her head busy for a week. And that was without the mind-rupturing realisation that she was talking to Clark Kent — who was dressed in a body-hugging blue suit and a flashy red cape. “When you walked out tonight, you said ‘I can’t do this’.”

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t go on lying to you. I can’t go on pretending I’m two people. I can’t go on hurting you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Before now?”

“Because I was scared.”

Superman? Scared? “Of what?”

“Of how angry you’d be. Of how cheated you’d feel. Of destroying whatever it is I have …” He glanced to the floor. “Whatever it is I had with you.”

Memories blitzed her mind, connections buzzing.

So that’s why …

That explains …

That’s how he knew …

That’s where he went …

“When Clark was shot at the gaming club a few weeks ago, he wasn’t … you weren’t really dead?” Lois asked.

He shook his head as shame heated his face. “No. I wasn’t dead … but I thought my life as Clark Kent was over — and that was worse than being dead.”

“Why?”

“Because as much as I enjoy helping people, and saving them, and making a difference in their lives when they need it most … the most important parts of my life — to me — happen when I’m Clark Kent.”

You actually look like Clark, Lois thought. Now that you’ve pushed aside that austere barricade and allowed me to see you as you really are — you look more like Clark than Superman. “What’s the best part about being Clark Kent?” she asked.

He looked into her eyes, opening himself further, making no attempt to hide his anguish, his helplessness, his certainty that they were acting out the final throes of their friendship. “Being with you,” he said quietly.

“You can be with me as Superman.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I can’t be with you — not in the way I want to be.”

“Then why am I talking to Superman about this?”

Without warning, he spun — out of the suit and into the tan jacket and black shirt he’d been wearing earlier.

Then Clark stood there … contemplating her … awaiting his sentence.

Now she had enough to keep her mind busy for a month.

She glanced to his hair — sitting in perfect-just-stepped-out-of-the-hairdresser waves, despite having been gelled to his scalp just seconds ago. She should grab it and shake him.

Except … this was Superman.

Lois pushed off the door and stepped past him, walking away.

She took ten slow, deliberate steps. She turned.

He stood there with all the panache of a melting snowman.

He was the strongest man in the world.

Yet he stood there, in crestfallen acknowledgement that she held his happiness in the palm of her hand.

Choices.

She could make this the best Christmas she’d ever had — not that that was saying much. Or she could give vent to the humiliation of discovering that she’d been blind for over a year.

She closed in on him, stopping within touching distance, but careful not to touch him. “Lucky for you, it’s Christmas,” she said, trying to keep her tone even.

His expression shifted from dejection and moved through confusion to give birth to the tiniest seed of hope.

“And also lucky for you Christmas is the season for giving,” she continued.

His mouth fell open, but it didn’t look like speech was going to be possible any time soon.

“And I haven’t given you my gift yet.”

He nervously smoothed his hair, and it took every last ounce of Lois’s self control not to burst into giggles. She stared at the floor, knowing that controlling her mouth may be possible, but that the amusement in her eyes could not be denied.

Recovered, face impassive, she lifted her head to face him.

He had not perceived the dissolution of her anger. He was still stranded on what he thought was a precipice.

From the look on his face, it was the most hazardous precipice he’d ever encountered.

Lois’s heart melted a little more.

Yes, he deserved to be put through a gristmill.

Backwards.

But … she still cared deeply for him … maybe even loved…

And it was Christmas.

“My gift to you is a second chance,” she said.

He swallowed, his throat jumping like a yo-yo.

Lois took his hand from where it hung listlessly by his side. She walked to the window. He followed. At the window she turned. She pointed to the floor. He stood where she directed.

And there they were, back at the window, looking at the empty sidewalk where the carollers had been.

Lois looked up at him. “Last time we stood here, you really wanted to kiss me, didn’t you?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Here’s your chance,” Lois said. “Your second chance.”

His eyes slid slowly to her mouth.

From below, the opening notes of a carol slid through the silent darkness.

If Clark heard, he showed no indication.

His mouth approached.

Her eyes slid closed.

His lips met hers with the slightest of touches.

Then left.

Before she could protest, he was back. His mouth was on hers, and his hands were cupped around her head.

Clark kissed her.

The world swayed.

He kept kissing her — softly, gently, yet with a thoroughness that said he intended to make the very most of his second chance.

When he moved away, he looked into her eyes with a half-smile. “Lois,” he said. “Please believe that I am so sorry for how I handled this.”

“I thought you handled the kiss quite well, actually.”

He glanced to his feet, but she still caught the smile he’d tried to contain. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

She brushed the lapel of his jacket. “Tomorrow, when you fly me to Smallville for Christmas, I want us to stop somewhere and talk this through.”

He nodded his agreement. “Will you forgive me?” he asked. “For everything?”

Lois smiled and then nestled into his chest. His arms cuddled her against him, holding her close. “Did you say you loved me?” she enquired.

“Yes.” His voice resonated differently from his chest.

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” he declared it with such fervour, his voice shook.

She leant back so she could see his face. “Would you say it again?” she asked. “Please?”

“I love you,” Clark said. “I have loved you since I first saw you in Perry’s office.”

“The day in the park … you were telling the truth?”

“Yes.”

“The day in front of the Planet you were -”

“Not telling the truth. I thought -”

“You thought our friendship could be salvaged if you took away the pressure of something more.”

“Yes,” he admitted bashfully.

“That was dumb.”

The mouth — the mouth that had so recently plied her with such expertise that her heart still danced — that mouth curved into his perfect smile. “Very dumb.”

Clark edged closer, wanting to kiss her again. Lois pressed two fingers against his mouth and gently held him at bay. “Do you want to kiss me?” she asked with a shy smile. “Or do you want to hear how I feel about you? I can’t do both at the same time.”

Her options had stunned him. “Ah …” He lifted his hand and skimmed his fingers through her hair, as if he couldn’t quite believe they were here — like this. “Lois, you’ve already made this the best Christmas of my life.”

“I love you, Clark,” Lois said.

He smiled on a big breath.

A breath that began, but never finished.

Because then she kissed him.

THE END

Three things I want in my fic:

1. Season 1 or 2

2. A reveal where it’s Superman that admits he is really Clark Kent (instead of the other way around)

3. A happy ending

Three things I do not want in my fic:

1. Angst

2. Amnesia

3. HG Wells

Real Short Christmas Story

By Zoomway

Summary: It’s the Planet’s Christmas party, and Lois is armed with mistletoe for when her favorite guy shows up.

***

Lois felt as if a current of electricity was flowing through her. She had made up her mind, and was at once thrilled, and frightened by her decision. She wanted the day to be over so she could think about things in peace. The Planet was having its annual Christmas party and all was bedlam. Jimmy had strung temporary speakers so that the Christmas music being played by a local radio station could be heard throughout the city room. People were laughing, talking and singing along, mostly off-key she noted, and everything blended together into a chaotic jumble.

Lois decided to concentrate on unsticking her desk drawer. She hoped that concentrating on something ordinary would keep her mind off of the deeper thoughts that had been plaguing her. She had just placed her hand on the drawer handle when she heard the familiar ‘whoosh’ sound. She knew she would be able to hear that sound above the din of a battlefield. She turned, and saw Superman smiling at her. “I just wanted to stop by and wish you Merry Christmas, Lois.”

“Thank you, Superman. Merry Christmas.”

Superman looked at Lois’ computer and spied a sprig of green and red. “Mistletoe?”

“Um…yes, I guess it is.”

Superman put a hand on her cheek and drew her face towards his. Lois, at the last moment, turned her head receiving his kiss on the cheek. She looked at his perplexed expression and then kissed his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Superman,” she repeated. “Thank you for stopping by.”

Superman, still perplexed, nodded. “You’re welcome,” he said, and ‘whooshed’ out of the city room. Lois sighed and began rattling her stubborn desk drawer. She glimpsed Clark entering the city room. He was straightening his tie as he smiled and nodded to the Christmas revelers. “Clark!” She called out waving her free hand. “Can you help me with this thing?”

“What’s the problem?”

“It doesn’t seem to be working right.”

Clark grabbed the drawer, and then Lois grabbed his hand. “I don’t mean this, Clark,” she said softly and pulled his hand away from the drawer. “I mean this.” She indicated the mistletoe. “Oh,” Clark swallowed nervously. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Let’s find out.” She said, and wrapped her arms around Clark’s neck and pressed her mouth against his. After a moment, their lips parted. “Merry Christmas, Clark.”

Clark smiled broadly. “Merry Christmas, Lois,” he said, but did not release her. “That’s the best Christmas present I can ever remember receiving.”

Lois looked at him lovingly. “Do you know what the best part about giving a kiss as a present is, Clark?”

Clark pulled her in closer. “Tell me.”

“Well, when you get a regular present, and you don’t like it, you return it, but with a kiss, you only return it if you ‘do’ like it.”

“In that case,” he said, and returned her kiss with pleasure, gratitude and a large measure of passion.

As their kiss lengthened and deepened, they were completely unaware of the disc jockey’s voice coming over the radio speakers. “And now, a Christmas request from Perry White, the editor of the Daily Planet newspaper.” The radio began to blare the Hallelujah Chorus.

THE END

Homecoming

By Nan Smith

Rated: G

Submitted: February, 2005

Disclaimer: The familiar characters and settings in this story are not mine. They are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions and whoever else can legally claim them, nor am I profiting from their use. Any new characters, scenes, dialogue and the story itself belong to me.

This is the sequel to “How I Spent My Christmas Vacation.”

***

Metropolis was nearly the same as she remembered. Nearly, but not quite.

It hadn’t been apparent last night. Of course not. She’d seen only the dim alley behind Clark’s apartment and the almost equally dark street in front. How different could they be? But walking along beside him, clad in the sweats that he’d bought for her, she could see the changes.

Metropolis was darker than it had been. Not darker in the sense of lighting, of course. That would be silly. No, darker in the sense that it was shabbier, dirtier. People were more suspicious. Here and there individuals still toted weapons openly, although, Clark had told her, it had already improved over the way it had been a year before when Perry White had defeated Tempus for mayor, and Superman had made his debut. It had been headed this way when she had gone to the Congo, she recalled. That was why her trip to discover the source of the weapons flooding Metropolis had been so vital. Well, she had found the source all right, and, but for Clark’s intervention, would have died in the effort. Hopefully, with Tempus marooned on a tropical island, who knew how long in the past, that particular problem was solved, even if she could never write about it. Besides the fact that such a story would establish her as a wacko, it would be just as well if no one ever recorded the true facts, not even in a diary. They didn’t want some scholar in the future, studying their lives, to find it and get curious enough to go back and rescue the nutball, just out of academic curiosity or something. Academic curiosity got more people in trouble than you could count. Let marooned Tempuses lie. The world was safer that way.

In any case, Clark had said that the two of them, together, were the factor that saved their society from this downward spiral, although it looked like it might be a long, difficult job. Well, she had never shirked from a difficult challenge, and this time, like it or not, she had a partner: someone who had to be there to help — not that that was a bad thing.

She glanced at the man who had saved her life and become a good friend in such a short time. He was walking along beside her, looking almost impossibly handsome in jeans and a leather jacket, although she knew very well that he didn’t need it. Still, he’d remarked, it made him less noticeable when he went out in public. Somehow, she thought he didn’t want people to notice him — not surprising at all. Living in the public eye must be a pain-and-a-half.

The ringing of the telephone had awakened her at seven this morning, and she’d heard him answer, then a note of resignation had entered his voice as he’d tried to explain to the reporter on the other end that he’d had an emergency and been forced to leave unexpectedly. No, it was nothing he could talk about and he had no comment.

That had been the beginning until he’d just stopped answering the phone. Then the media had started to collect across the street. He’d taken one look, said something under his breath, and told her to stay there, out of sight, while he got her some clothes. Then he had spun into that incredible red and blue outfit, that showed every muscle and contour, and streaked out of the apartment just fast enough to let the crowd see him but not stop him.

She couldn’t have moved if she’d tried at that point. She’d known he was well built — that would have been impossible to miss when he’d been sopping wet from a dip into the prehistoric Pacific — but wow! That outfit was just so much … more!

He’d been back within moments with the sweat suit, looking annoyed. She had no doubt about what had annoyed him.

“I guess they’re all after you to find out where you went for two days,” she said.

He nodded. “Usually the agreement is that they’re not supposed to bother me except when I’m in the Suit,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the red, blue and yellow creation, “but now they think I’m holding out on them and I guess that makes them think the gloves are off.”

“In that case,” Lois said, “it’s time to get tough. The next time one of them wants a quote from Superman, you tell them that if they can’t abide by the agreement, then you won’t either. They either leave you alone when you’re not on duty, or you’ll give the quote to a reporter who believes in honoring deals.”

“Who would that be?” he asked.

“Well, maybe me,” she said innocently.

His annoyed expression dissolved into a small grin. “I’m sure that’s a completely selfless offer, too,” he said.

“Oh, absolutely,” she said. “Seriously, though, it won’t hurt to make them suffer a little. They need to see that the deal works both ways. If they break their end, you break yours, and you see to it that they don’t get any quotes.” She glanced toward the door. “Other than that, how are we going to get out of here without them seeing me? I can just see the news if they find out there’s a woman in Superman’s apartment.”

“Well, this apartment has a back door into a hallway. Floyd has put his foot down about reporters on the premises — he calls the cops and has them hauled off to jail for trespassing and harassing one of his tenants — so you can go out that way, and just leave openly by the building’s front door. I’ll fly out in my Suit, change into my civvies and meet you at the deli on the corner, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds good to me,” she had said. “Why is your landlord so set against reporters, anyway?”

“Let’s say, Superman pays him a little extra for the service,” Clark said. “And the police cooperate, as a thank-you for my help.”

“Bribery in a good cause,” Lois said. “Good idea. Okay, let me get changed, and we’ll put this little plan into action.”

And that was how they’d wound up walking openly down the street, leaving the media to watch an empty apartment.

Fortunately, the department stores were open on Christmas Eve, as last-minute shoppers hunted frantically for last-minute gifts. Clark had flown them to the new shopping mall, and they had gone in openly to purchase her something for casual day wear, a professional outfit for the Daily Planet when she returned in a couple of days, and something to wear to the Mayor’s for Christmas dinner. Clark had also picked up several boxes of Christmas ornaments. He paid cash, leaving no trace of Superman’s purchases in the establishment. Now they were walking toward a Christmas tree lot.

“I thought I’d buy a bigger tree than the one in the apartment,” he said. “Would you like to help me decorate it later tonight, after dinner?”

Any opportunity to spend more time with him was looking more and more attractive the better she got to know him. “Sure, but don’t you have somewhere to be on Christmas?” she asked. “Family or something? I know you said your parents were gone, but surely you have brothers or sisters or something, don’t you?”

He shook his head. “Mom and Dad couldn’t have kids, so I was the only one they had,” he said. “There’s always lots of groups that want me to come by for various events, but they’re just interested in the free publicity.”

“So what do you do on Christmas?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he said. “I usually go to the office and cover for someone who’d like to be with his family for the day. Tomorrow, maybe I’ll take you to see your family members instead. And we still have to come up with some explanation for where you were all this time.”

“I guess I’m going to have to see if I still have a job,” Lois said a little glumly.

“Well, actually, even though you’re assumed dead, I don’t think they ever officially terminated you, so as far as I know you do,” he said. “I don’t think they can fire you if you were absent on business for the Planet. Why don’t we say you were kidnapped by the gunrunners, and you just now escaped? It’s actually true.”

“For a basic story, that’s probably where to start,” she acknowledged, “but we’re going to need more than that to explain nearly five years’ absence.”

“Well, I’m led to believe you’re pretty inventive,” he said.

“I guess I have that reputation,” she agreed with a small grin. “How about this? I was kidnapped by the gunrunners and escaped, but was hurt while getting away — without any identification, of course — and lost my memory? And when I started to remember, I was in the South Pacific, with no way to know how I’d got there and no way to prove who I was or where I’d come from. You got a message from someone who you’ve had trying to trace me and came to see if he’d found me, and you brought me back to Metropolis last night, but you had to spend two days looking for me, which was why you were gone that long. My memory of the last few days is understandably pretty hazy, although everything up to the time of my accident came back when you got me back to Metropolis — but everything else is a blank. You have no comment because you’re still investigating some aspects of the whole thing. What do you think?”

He stared at her and then chuckled. “That’s incredible. It has enough truth to it that I won’t have to lie and when anyone asks something you don’t want to answer, you can just say you don’t remember. And of course there’s no way for anyone to disprove it. That’s the official story, then.”

She nodded. “After all, the earliest time you saw me was in the ocean. That was even before you saw me in Brazzaville — technically anyway. I’d like to know what happened to Tempus after we left,” she added. “Not enough to go back and check, though.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It would be nice to know if he ever got off the island, though.”

“I hope,” Lois said, a little maliciously, “that he lived the rest of his miserable life there, alone. It would serve him right. I wonder if there’s any way to check.”

“Well, we could fly there,” Clark said. “The cave is probably still there unless they’ve developed the area and demolished it. I guess we could take a trip sometime and see what we can find out.”

“Maybe after Christmas,” Lois suggested. “There’s probably going to be too much to do for the next couple of days, but after that, maybe …”

“It’s a date,” he said, and suddenly his mouth snapped shut. “I don’t mean — I mean —”

Listening to him flounder, for a minute she couldn’t understand why such a simple remark should throw him completely for a loop. Was he that concerned that she not think he was interested in her? That was a disheartening thought. It was true that most men regarded her as far too aggressive for their taste, but she had secretly harbored the hope that such a superior specimen wouldn’t feel as threatened.

“Clark, it’s all right,” she said. “I know what you meant.”

He looked relieved, which made her heart sink farther. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to date you,” he said, inadvertently shoving his foot deeper, “it’s just that you’ve barely met me, and I wouldn’t want you to think that —” He stopped. “I mean —”

She sighed. “Oh don’t worry. Mostly I scare men away, Clark. I understand.”

He stopped in his tracks. “No, you don’t,” he said. “I think you have entirely the wrong impression.”

“Believe me, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. You don’t scare me at all. It’s just that you don’t know me very well, and I don’t want you to think I’m jumping the gun. After you’ve gotten to know me better, I’d actually like to ask you for a date.”

“You don’t have to worry about my feelings. I won’t be insulted.”

“I’m not — at least that way,” he said. “Lois, do you have any idea what the world knowing I’m Superman has done to my life?”

“I can guess,” she said wryly.

“Well, it’s pretty much wiped out any chance I had of having a normal life,” he said. “All I ever wanted was to live quietly, have a job, meet a girl, maybe get married and have a family someday. If Tempus hadn’t ‘outed’ me like he did, I might have had that. Now — well, you saw what happened this morning when I wouldn’t tell them everything about what I’ve been doing for the last two days. It’s always like that. I don’t dare have too many close friends, because the Press hounds them for details about my life. I don’t date. Not only would the Whisper follow me around to record every breathless moment, but I can’t be sure that a woman wants to date me because I’m me, or because I’m Superman. With you, it seemed different. You treated me differently from the start. I just don’t want to scare you away, or have that change. I like you too much.”

Not intimidated after all? “You don’t scare me, Clark. Not a bit. And the thought of the publicity doesn’t bother me. I can deal with the press. As a matter of fact, I was thinking that you need someone to run interference for you. They’re pushing you around way too much.”

“Do you want the job?”

“I accept,” she said. “And if they try to follow us around when we finally do have that date — if you still want to, after you’ve known me for a while — they won’t know what hit them. Trust me.”

The worried look on his face had changed gradually as she spoke, and now had become a full-fledged grin. “You’re hired, Ms. Lane. Your duties start immediately.”

She stuck out a hand and he took it. “It’s a deal,” she said. “Now, let’s go buy that Christmas tree.”

***

Together, Lois and Clark strode up the walk to his apartment, Clark carrying the five-foot tree casually in one hand. The media aimed their cameras instantly at the two of them. “Superman!” someone shouted. “Who’s the lady? Is this why you’ve been gone since Sunday?”

Clark turned to face them. “This is my new representative,” he said, sounding more remote than Lois had ever heard him sound. “If you want any information or statements about my business in the future, you’ll have to go to her. I’ll be notifying your papers of the details the day after Christmas.” Without further comment, he opened his door and allowed Lois to enter ahead of him.

“Good,” Lois said, as he shut the door behind them. “Did you get their cameras?”

He nodded. “All the film is exposed. There was a video camera there, too, but I heated the insides enough to scramble any recordings. They won’t get any more, either.”

“Very good,” Lois said. “They’re going to find out the hard way that you can make it awfully difficult to get anything newsworthy about you. No quotes, and almost no pictures. We’ll let them stew for a while. You’re to answer no comment if they ask you anything, and direct them to me — and I can be a real … well, you get the idea. We’re going to make their lives as difficult as possible for a couple of weeks, then we’ll make them an offer — on our terms. Ten to one, they’ll be so relieved not to have to deal with me anymore, they’ll grab it.”

He was grinning at her. “I like it,” he said. “Perry was right: you’re brilliant.”

“I’m glad you noticed.” She glanced at the clock on one of the bookshelves. “It’s only one o’clock. Plenty of time to set up the tree. Why don’t we do that, then we can get ready for Perry’s dinner party.”

“Good idea. I want to give Alice a call, too. And I need to let my boss at the Planet know that I won’t be in until the 26th.” He shrugged. “I’ve got kind of a flexible schedule because of my other job.”

“I guess you’d have to,” she said.

Ten minutes later, Clark had set up the tree and they had begun to string the lights. Just as they finished, she saw him lift his head. “Uh oh.”

“What is it?”

“A gasoline tanker skidded on the Bayside Expressway. It’s overturned and there’s gas leaking. I have to —”

“Let’s go,” she said. “I want to see you in action — and it’ll be our first chance to remind the media who’s in charge here. We can finish decorating the tree when we get back.”

“Ms. Lane, I like your style,” Clark said. He held out his arms.

***

Little glittering flakes had begun to sift down from the sky as Lois and Clark flew through the evening air toward the Mayor’s residence.

The media had been understandably miffed today when Clark had refused to comment on anything about the rescue, and seemed somewhat baffled by his new attitude. He was such a genuinely nice person, Lois thought, that they’d gotten into the belief that they could do pretty much anything that they wanted and he’d still cave in and give them what they asked for. Well, they were in for a surprise. After the tanker accident, she’d stood before them outside his apartment, and told them that Mr. Kent felt that, since they had violated their promise — again — to respect his privacy when he was in his civilian guise, he felt no obligation to give them quotes about Superman’s work. Exclusive quotes, as well as personal interviews, would henceforth only be available on a case by case basis, through her, and only to those who had not violated the agreement. Clark had made sure that none of the cameras aimed at her had managed to get a clear picture of her, and she had gone into his apartment to help him finish decorating the tree with a feeling of accomplishment. A short time after that, the crowd of media outside Clark’s home had quietly dissipated.

The representatives of the Press knew when they could push someone around and when they couldn’t. They’d got her point pretty quickly, she thought. Clark might not know how to protect himself from such people, but she did, and she had no hesitation playing hardball. It was high time someone protected Clark, and it looked like that might be her second job in the future.

They landed on the Mayor’s back porch and Clark knocked.

“Anyone around?” Lois asked.

Correctly interpreting her question, Clark shook his head. “No press,” he said. “I told Alice I was bringing a date, so I’d come by air and would land in back. She understood.”

“Yeah, I guess she would.” The door opened, and a woman that Lois took a second to identify stood there. Alice White had lost a good twenty pounds since Lois had last seen her, and she’d traded that horrible red hair for a soft, much more natural blond shade. She’d changed her style of makeup, too, and looked both more dignified and genuinely beautiful.

“Clark!” she said. “Come in! Perry and I were wondering if you’d actually escape the media and make it here.”

“Well, there’s a story about that,” Clark said. He stood back to let Lois enter ahead of him and followed her in. “Alice, this is my date. I didn’t want to mention her name over the phone, but I think you know her.”

Alice had barely glanced at Lois, other than to offer her a smile when she opened the door, but now she stopped and looked more closely. She blinked, blinked again, and suddenly her face went two shades paler. “Lois?” she whispered.

“Oops.” Clark caught her arm. “Are you all right?”

Alice took a deep breath and then a second, and nodded. “I’m fine. Lois? Is it really you?”

“It’s me,” Lois said.

Alice turned her head. “Perry!” she called. “Come here, quick!” She turned back to Lois. “Oh honey,” she said, “This is wonderful! Clark, is this why you’ve been gone?”

“Yes.” Clark nodded, still keeping one hand on her arm. “Are you sure you’re all right, Alice? I didn’t mean for it to be such a shock.”

“No, I’m fine. Perry’s going to be thrilled! Perry!”

“I’m right here,” Perry White’s voice said, as Lois’s former editor stepped into the room. “What’s so all-fired important? Hello, Clark.”

“Hi, Chief,” Clark said. “I have someone here that you want to meet.”

Lois stepped forward. “Hi, Perry.”

***

“Dinner will be served in about an hour,” Perry said, leading them into the sitting room of the Mayor’s residence. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Lois since he’d first seen her. “I want to know what happened. We have a little while before Jerry and his family get here. It’s a private party tonight,” he assured Lois quickly. “The big formal one isn’t until tomorrow.”

“That’s a relief,” she said.

“She’s the real Lois this time, isn’t she?” Perry glanced at Clark.

“As real as they come, Chief,” Clark said. “She’s why I haven’t been around for a couple of days. I got a call from someone I’ve had looking for her for … quite a while and had to leave without warning. We actually got back last night.”

“Sit down,” Perry said. “I want to hear all about it. Where did you find her?”

“In the South Pacific,” Clark said. “It’s quite a story …”

“The South Pacific?” Perry said. “What the dickens were you doin’ there?”

Lois shrugged. “I don’t know. The last I remember of Brazzaville was on April 21st, 1993. The gunrunners kidnapped me. I managed to escape, but — “ She shrugged. “Something happened — I don’t know what — and the next thing I remember was being somewhere in the South Pacific, and Clark was there …”

Perry listened as she told the story, with Clark interjecting the occasional comment. When she was done, he shook his head.

“That’s incredible! So there’s four — nearly five — years missin’ and you don’t know what happened during them?”

“No,” she said. “I know I’m all right physically. Clark made sure of that — just no memories but …” She let the words hang. “I know what happened up until then — I remembered as soon as we got back to Metropolis. But the rest is a blank.”

“Shock, maybe,” Alice said quietly. “Maybe it will come back eventually. In the meantime, we’re just glad you’re back, Lois. Have you let your family know yet?”

“Not yet. We’re going to do that tomorrow,” Clark said. “She’s been getting acclimatized to the new Metropolis. I figured I could fly her to her sister’s tomorrow. From what Lucy told me, her mother will be there. Her dad’s off on some sort of medical mission to Uganda, I think. We’ll have to try to get a message to him. Maybe Lucy will know how to do it.”

“Maybe,” Perry said. “I could make some inquiries for you if she doesn’t.”

Lois nodded. She didn’t like fibbing to Perry, but the real story would probably get Clark and her committed. “I guess I should probably notify the Planet as soon as possible that I’m back, too,” she said.

Perry grinned. “Do it Monday,” he advised. “Right now, nobody with any real authority is going to be around. I used to run one of those places, you know.”

Clark grinned. “I do seem to recall something of the sort,” he said. “We miss you, Chief. The new guy is okay, but he just doesn’t have your touch.”

“Well, I’ve been talkin’ to James,” Perry said. “He tells me that I can have my old job back if I want it, after my term is up. I may take him up on it.” He nodded at the television. “I noticed that Superman news has been pretty much blacked out today. There was a blurb on LNN about you bein’ back, and then nothing else. Someone reported you helped out at an accident, but nobody seemed to have any pictures, and then there was something about you havin’ a spokesperson and that she’d issued a statement that you weren’t talkin’ to the Press except through her. What’s goin’ on? Since when do you have a spokesperson?”

“Well, Lois thought I needed one,” Clark said. “She says I’m not tough enough with the Press, so she decided to handle it herself.”

“You’re not,” Alice said. “Lois is just the right person to deal with them for you. They won’t be able to push her around.”

“That’s for sure.” Perry grinned approvingly at her. “It’s great to have you back, honey.”

“I think so, too,” Clark said quietly. “She’s everything you said she was, Chief. And then some.”

***

The dinner party at the Mayor’s was a major success from Lois’s point of view, even though it was probably one of the quietest social occasions she could remember. When she said goodbye, her old boss hugged her and told her she was welcome anytime, and that if she had any trouble getting her spot back at the Planet, he’d speak to James personally. Besides that, he was going to need a new press secretary pretty soon, and if she wanted the job, all she had to do was say the word.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she told him. “It’s nice to know I have some options.”

“Where are you stayin’?” he asked.

“She’s staying with me until we can find her a place,” Clark said. “It’ll probably only be for a few days.”

Perry nodded. “Good. Then I won’t worry. You call me if you need anything, honey. You understand?”

“I understand,” Lois said. “I will.”

They took off into the clouds of snowflakes filling the air. Moments later, they were hovering over Clark’s apartment.

“Anything?” Lois asked.

“Nope. I guess you made your point,” Clark said.

“They’re probably hoping that you might change your mind if they’re good for a while,” Lois said, somewhat cynically.

“Probably,” Clark said. He dropped to the balcony of his apartment and opened the door for her.

Inside, Lois went into the bathroom to change into the sweats, as they were considerably closer to her size than the borrowed items she had worn last night. When she emerged, Clark was standing by the window, looking out at the snow falling quietly on the street. He held a shoebox in one hand, and as she watched, he took something from it and set it on the windowsill next to the tiny Christmas tree that had been there the night before when they had arrived from the past.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I thought I’d set up my mom’s manger scene,” he said quietly. “It never seems quite like Christmas without it.”

“Oh.” She moved over beside him. “May I help?”

“Sure.” He held out the box. Lois reached in and selected one of the china sheep. “These are old,” she said.

“They belonged to my parents,” he said. “Mom said they belonged to her mother, too. I think her grandmother bought them in Boston back in the 1800s.”

Carefully, Lois set the tiny figurine on the windowsill next to one of the shepherds. “That looks right,” she said.

Clark nodded and set a donkey opposite the sheep. Lois selected a winged angel and placed it beside the tree. “There. You know, Lucy and I used to set up a manger scene every Christmas, even when Mother was so drunk that she didn’t know what season of the year it was. Ours was plastic, but it was the spirit of the thing that counted. It made it seem a little more like Christmas.”

“I wish I could have been there,” he said. “My Christmases weren’t really Christmases after I was ten. My parents died that year, and it was never the same. If I’d known you, maybe we could have helped each other. At least we wouldn’t have been alone.”

“I wish you had been,” Lois said. “You know, I haven’t had a Christmas I enjoyed since before my Dad left home. This time it’s different, and I’m not even sure why.”

He smiled at her. “I’m not sure, either, but I’m glad it is.” He placed the final figurine on the sill. “That looks all right, don’t you think?”

She adjusted the donkey with the repaired leg a fraction of an inch. “There. That gives more balance to the scene.”

He surveyed it critically. “You’re right. I like it.”

“I wish I had something to give you tomorrow morning,” she said. “I’m afraid that will have to wait until I collect my back pay.”

“I think I can wait.” He turned and opened the drawer of one of the end tables. “I did get you something, though.” He removed a small, square object wrapped in tissue paper. “I couldn’t resist. A combination Christmas and Welcome Home gift.”

Somewhere, not far away, carolers were singing. Lois took the small object. “Clark, it isn’t fair that you’ve given me something and I have nothing to give you.”

“You’ve given me something just by being here,” he said. “A good friend to spend Christmas Eve with.”

Clark was lonely, she thought. She could sympathize completely. Christmas had been like that for her, for years. Now, suddenly, and much to her surprise, she realized it wasn’t so anymore. Being here with Clark had changed all that.

“Open it,” he urged. “From what you said back during our trip across the ocean, I thought this might be to your taste.”

Carefully, she pulled at the ribbon, and pulled off the paper. A white, cardboard box met her gaze, and she opened it.

Inside lay a single piece of chocolate in the shape of the emblem she had seen on the chest of his red and blue suit, and beneath it a card. She opened it.

“I can’t read it,” she said. “Can you translate?”

He nodded. “It’s a gift certificate for a box of Swiss chocolate, from a place I know in Switzerland,” he said. “I thought I could take you there tomorrow before we fly out to see your sister, and you could redeem it in person. Go ahead and try the chocolate.”

She bit into the chocolate S shield, and closed her eyes, savoring the luscious stuff. “Mmm. You do know how to charm a girl, Mr. Kent.”

“You like it?”

She took a second bite. “Do you know how much I’ve missed chocolate the last few weeks?”

He grinned. “I sort of figured you had.”

She took the final bite. She saw Clark watching her as she slowly chewed and swallowed. “You picked the perfect gift,” she told him. “But I’m holding you to that trip, tomorrow.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said.

The carolers were closer. Clark looked out at the snowy street, and she moved up beside him. He put his arm around her waist just as, in the distance, the big clock on City Hall began to chime ten.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Merry Christmas, Lois. And welcome home.”

THE END

Super Claus

By Paul-Gabriel Wiener <pgwfolc@netscape.net>

Rated: G

Submitted: January 2002

Author’s note: This one was sort of slapped together. It started when my dad mentioned a rather cool program his office participates in, run by the local paper. I put it together with an odd email I’d gotten a few years back, added in a random image that popped into my head, tossed in something I’d seen on Ripley’s, and ended up with this. It’s not my best story, but it’s far from my worst. :) Read it on its own terms and, hopefully, enjoy!

***

“Hi, Jimmy. What are you laughing about?”

“What? Oh, hey, CK. It’s an email a friend sent me. Someone calculated that the reindeer would have to pull his sleigh at mach 4 to allow Santa to make all his deliveries on time.”

“Mach 4? Really? That’s all?”

“CK, are you kidding? Most MISSILES only do mach 3.”

“Well, sure, but Superman could hit mach 7, easy. Though I suppose air friction would burn up the bag of toys.”

“Actually, STAR labs just developed a new polymer. It’s strong, flexible, heat-resistant, and nearly frictionless.”

“What did they make it for? Some new NASA project or something?”

“Actually, it’s for their rocket luge team.”

“Rocket luge?”

“It’s a new sport. Basically, it’s just like regular luge, but they use small rocket engines so they can go faster.”

Clark hastily shook off the thought of Dr. Klein zooming down a bobsled track in a rocket-propelled sled. “So they developed an entirely new polymer…”

“To make luge suits.”

“Of course. And it can stand up to air friction at mach 4?”

“STAR labs has a tendency to overdo things when they’re designing something new.”

Clark chuckled. “True. Oh, looks like the morning staff meeting is getting started. See you later, Jimmy.”

“Later, CK.”

The staff meeting was moving slowly, as usual. Perry tried to keep things going briskly, but he also had to hear from everyone. To Perry, even the smallest department was a crucial part of the paper.

The meeting was winding down when someone from classifieds mentioned something that caught Clark’s attention. “Our ‘Adopt a Family for Christmas’ program needs more publicity,” he said.

“‘Adopt a Family?’” Clark asked, confused.

“See?” the staffer exclaimed. “Even our own people don’t know about it!”

“So why don’t you explain it?”

“Well, it’s simple. Families in need send us a ‘wish list.’ Then, people contact us, and we give them a copy of one family’s list. The donors buy whatever is on the list, and send them to us. We deliver the gifts to the needy families. It’s all done anonymously, of course.”

“People can afford to buy things for a whole family?”

“Well, usually, it’s corporations. We also get groups of people who chip in together.”

“I’ve never heard of the program before. He’s right, Perry. We need to get this more publicity.”

“I’d love to, Clark, but it’s expensive enough just running the program. We put notices in the paper, but we don’t have the budget to advertize it any better.”

“What if we do a story on it?”

“A story about our own paper? I don’t think that would look very good, Clark.”

“What if I could get a celebrity to back it?”

“Like who, Clark?”

“What about Superman?”

“Anything Superman does is news. If you can get him to do it, Clark, I’ll run the story.”

Clark smiled. “I think I can arrange that, Chief.”

The meeting ended soon after that. He rushed through his morning work as quickly as he could, then left the building on his lunch break. As Superman, he zipped around the city, making arrangements. He paid visits to Mr. Stern, the Superman foundation, and several other locations, including STAR labs. Then, he flew into the Daily Planet newsroom for a talk with Perry. The superhero talked to his alter ego’s boss for a while, zipped out to get a glass of water to help Perry get over his shock, talked a little more, and then flew back out of the newsroom.

The next day, Superman held a press conference in front of the Daily Planet offices. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he started, “thank you for coming on such short notice. As some of you may know, the Daily Planet runs a program called ‘Adopt a Family.’ My friend, Clark Kent, just told me about it yesterday.” The superhero went on to explain about how the program worked. “I think it’s a wonderful program, but it needs more… More attention, more people, and more scope. So, I’ve decided to involve myself personally.

“This year, the Daily Planet, in conjunction with the Superman Foundation, will be running the ‘Adopt a Family’ program globally. Families in need, of any religion or nationality, can send in their lists to their local Daily Planet or Superman Foundation offices. Those who wish to adopt a family or donate anything may do so through either office, as well. More information will be made available at dailyplanet.com and superman.org. Then, on Christmas Eve, I, personally, will fly around the world and distribute everything.

“Are there any questions?” There were only a few, mostly just reporters checking details and trying to get good sound bytes. Superman ended the conference soon after, thanking everyone for their time.

That evening, the Daily Planet ran the story on the front page, the headline boldly proclaiming “Super Claus! Superman to deliver toys around the world!”

With Superman personally involved, the program got all the publicity anyone could have wished, and more. Lists and donations came flooding in. It was a nightmare trying to coordinate everything, but everyone involved agreed that it was well worth it.

On Christmas Eve, there was a gigantic bright red sack of toys waiting on the roof of every distribution center of the Daily Planet around the world. The sacks, made of the luge suit material, had been donated by STAR Labs, where volunteers from the staff had worked hours to make them.

Superman, starting in Metropolis, and working his way around the time zones, zoomed from house to house, shelter to shelter, and street to street, dragging the local sack behind him. It was a night to exhaust even him (particularly without sunshine to recharge his powers as he went), but when he finally got back to his home city, he was more than happy with the results. He’d delivered literally millions of donated toys and gifts. The sheer volume of the donations had been astounding. The night’s work had significantly raised global awareness.

Maybe a single toy wouldn’t make much of a difference in the lives of some of the children he’d made deliveries to that night, but maybe having something to believe in would.

With that thought, the weary hero fell into a well-deserved slumber.

THE END

I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas

By Jennifer Baker

Summary: Clark gives Lois a very special Christmas in Smallville.

***

“Lois, maybe you shouldn’t go out right now. The weather man said its supposed to snow and…”

“Clark, I’ve never let the weather tell me what to do! And besides, you know those guys are always wrong. It doesn’t look a thing like snow.” Lois peered out the kitchen window of the Kent’s farmhouse, up at the clear gray sky.

“I’d still rather you didn’t go, Lois. You don’t know how harsh these snowstorms get in Kansas.”

“Oh, really. We do get snow in Metropolis, farmboy. I’ll be fine.” She smiled up at him, patting his cheek. And with that, she breezed out the side door and was gone.

Martha Kent walked into the kitchen just as the door closed, a basket of apples in her arms. She found her son standing there staring at the door and shaking his head.

“Where’s Lois, Son?”

Clark turned to face his mother. “She’s driving into town to do some last minute shopping. I told here there was a storm coming, but, you know Lois.”

Martha chuckled softly. “Well, its only a twenty minute drive. I’m sure she’ll be fine. You can’t protect her all the time.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Clark shrugged, obviously not convinced.

Martha smiled at her son and handed him the apples. “Here, Clark, help me peel. Apple pie for Christmas Eve, your father’s favorite.”

Clark sat down at the table with the apples. His mother sat down across from him and handed him one of the two knives she’d picked up from the counter. They peeled in silence for a few minutes, with Martha periodically looking up at her son. Eventually, he put the knife down and looked up at her.

“I just hate it when she does that, Mom.”

Martha also put down her knife. “Does what?”

“Doesn’t listen to a word I say. At least here, you’d think she’d listen. I mean, I grew up here. I should know what the weather is like, right?” Clark paused for a minute, bracing himself. “And do you know what really burns?”

His mother just looked at him.

“If it had been Superman talking to her, and not me…”

At this comment, his mother laughed gently.

Clark looked up at her with a soft smile. “You know what I mean. Superman could have told her the sky was falling, and she would have believed.”

“So are you saying she always listens to Superman?”

“Yes…I mean, no, not really,” Clark quickly amended, thinking of several instances when Lois had, in fact, ignored Superman’s advice.

“Then what’s the problem, Dear?”

“I don’t know, mom. I just get so confused!” And with that, Clark picked up his knife and went back to peeling.

Martha just looked across the table at her son. She shook her head sadly, knowing that she was unable to solve this problem as easily as she had solved the problems of his childhood, with a kiss and a hug. Still, by letting him talk it out with her, she hoped that, maybe, he might come closer to solving his own problems.

Martha’s thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of her husband. “Starting to snow out there,” he commented unnecessarily, brushing the snow off his coat. He noticed that Lois was missing. “Where’s our guest?”

“She drove onto town, Dad,” Clark answered. “I guess she saw something down there the other day she just had to get for tomorrow. I tried to warn her about the snow…”

“I understand Son,” Jonathan cut him off, having received a warning look from his wife, “but I was hoping she’d be here when we went to get the Christmas tree. Being from the big city, she’s probably never actually chopped down the tree on Christmas Eve. I thought she might enjoy going with us.”

“She should be back in time, Jonathan. We can all go then.”

“If the snow isn’t too bad,” Clark added, staring out the window, where the snowflakes were beginning to block the view of the gray winter sky.

***

On her way into town, Lois had also noticed the snow. But, since it was only a light snow, she wasn’t too worried. After all, the sky had been clear all week. And besides, she had to get that book Mrs. Kent — no, Martha — wanted. She had seen it while shopping with Clark yesterday, but hadn’t known Martha wanted it until Martha had mentioned the book last night. Lois had gotten Martha a little something back in Metropolis when she had first been invited to spend Christmas with the Kent’s, but it wasn’t really personal. And after the way the Kent’s had treated her, like part of the family, she had to get something really special.

Besides, if Clark wanted to go all overprotective, telling her not to go because of the snow, well, she would show him. She could take care of herself. Although, now looking up at the sky, the snow did seem to be picking up. But she was almost to town, and the snow would probably be lightening up by the time she was done at the book store.

Lois finally made it to town. She couldn’t imagine living twenty minutes away from the nearest book store. But, she had to admit, at least there was a book store in this town. It could have been worse.

Inside the store, she quickly found the book Martha wanted. She never would have though Martha Kent the type to be interested in this sort of thing, but if there was one thing she’d learned, it was that Clark’s family could always surprise her. As she was paying, the cashier noticed the title of the book. “The X-Files,” he commented as he handed her the change, “Isn’t this based on that TV show? I heard its supposed to be pretty popular. Don’t get it myself. But to each his own.”

Lois just smiled at him, since he was obviously too stupid to understand any explanation she could give. With the book under her arm, she left the store.

Outside, the snow was definitely getting worse. Lois quickly started the car, hoping to make it back to the farm before the roads got to bad. She glanced at the car clock. She’d only been gone thirty minutes. She could still make it back to the farmhouse before the snow got too bad and it got dark. After all, how bad could the weather get in twenty minutes?

Clark looked up at the clock in the living room. “Lois has been gone for over an hour. I’m really getting worried about her.”

“Well, maybe she had trouble finding what she wanted, Clark,” his father suggested.

“Yeah, but… I just don’t know. Lois isn’t the kind of person who usually has trouble finding what she wants. Maybe I should go looking for her.” He started up from the couch where he and his parents had been reading Christmas stories and sipping cider.

“Clark,” his mother said, laughing, “she’s hasn’t been gone THAT long. I wouldn’t send out the dogs yet.”

“I guess not,” he sat back down. “I just keep feeling like something’s happened to her.”

“Clark, I’m sure she’ll be fine. However, we really can’t wait any longer on that tree. It’s going to start getting dark soon. Why don’t you come out and help me find one. It’ll make the time go faster. Your mother can wait here for Lois. By the time we get back, I’m sure she’ll be here.”

“Okay, Dad, let’s go.”

Jonathan and Clark pulled on their jackets and went outside. Like they had every winter for as long as Clark could remember, his father let him pick out the tree, but Jonathan reserved the actual chopping for himself. Clark could have done it himself in half the time, but as Jonathan had told him the one time he had volunteered, it wasn’t having the tree, but the getting of it which counted. So they performed the ritual as always.

This year, however, Jonathan noticed that Clark seemed a little preoccupied. He kept looking over his shoulder, back toward the house. Jonathan said nothing, though. He knew how much Clark had wanted to share this Christmas tradition with Lois, and knew his son was hoping she would make it back and come outside to join them.

Jonathan, for his part, had wanted Lois to help with the tree. Unlike some parents, he wasn’t jealous of his son’s affections. If Lois was important to Clark, then she was important to him. Furthermore, he hoped, by inviting her to spend Christmas with them, that she might begin to understand Clark a little better. Then, maybe she might even come to see him as something more than a friend. Wishful thinking? Maybe, but then, Clark was his only child, wasn’t he?

As Jonathan was finishing chopping down the tree, Clark glanced at his watch. “Dad, it’s been over an hour and a half now since Lois left. I think I’m going to go see if she’s back. Wait right here.” With a whoosh, Clark was gone.

Inside the kitchen, Martha was busy preparing dinner when Clark banged through the door. “Mom, is Lois back?”

“No, she’s not son.”

“Look, mom, I’m really getting worried. Lois should have been back long ago. I can’t wait any longer. When Lois left, she was only wearing a light coat, good for Metropolis winters, but not much else. She could be lying in a ditch somewhere, freezing, while I’m out there helping to cut down a blasted Christmas tree. I’m going to go see if I can find her.”

By the time Martha turned around to answer, her son was gone in a blur of red and blue.

***

Flying high over the fields, Superman sped towards Smallville at top speed. He wanted to ensure that Lois was not still in one of the shops. He could have done this by calling from home, but since he didn’t know which store she had visited, this would be faster. Besides, somewhere deep within, he had a feeling that Lois was in danger.

He’d had this feeling before. Quite a lot, actually. He had once described it as sort of an extra sense, this ability to know when someone he loved was in danger. It started with a certain uneasiness he couldn’t shake off, and generally evolved into full panic. Like the time Lois was thrown into the lake in a barrel. He’d known she was in trouble long before he could hear her screams.

Arriving in Smallville seconds after leaving the farm, he quickly looked in the buildings with his x-ray vision. She wasn’t in any of them, and her car wasn’t outside, either. Something must have happened between town and the farm. Turning around, Superman sped back towards the farm.

This time, however, he flew a little slower. The snow was so deep by now that the entire car could have been buried in the drifts, so he was forced to use his x-ray vision to scan every inch of the road back.

About half way to the farm, Superman found the car. It looked as if Lois had run off the road and crashed into a tree. The car had then been buried in the snow. Quickly burrowing through the snow, Superman got to the inside of the car — but no Lois.

Thinking rapidly, he realized that she must have planned on walking from the car to the farm. Not being raised in the country, she didn’t know that the safest place to stay was with the vehicle. Moreover, because she was not wearing proper cold weather clothes, she was in real danger of freezing to death. Superman shot back into the air, this time searching for a lone figure in the snow.

He found her about a mile down the road. She was huddled against the base of a tree, barely conscious.

“Lois?” he asked gently, shaking her slightly. She looked up at him through half open eyes.

“Uh… wh..who are you?” she mumbled, obviously not recognizing him.

“Come on, let’s get you warm.” Tearing off his cape, he wrapped it around her shivering form. She was even cold to the touch. Scooping her up in his arms, he headed home.

***

Martha and Jonathan were in the living room, setting up the Christmas tree, when Superman came in carrying a freezing Lois in his arms. He set her down in front of the fire and, in a flash, returned carrying his huge down comforter.

“Here, let me take that,” his mother said, grabbing the comforter. “Go get her some dry clothes, Jonathan. And you, Clark…Change out of that wet costume.”

“Mom, I’m not going to catch cold,” Clark complained, wanting to stay near Lois.

“I know, dear, but I don’t want you to get her wet again after we dry her off. And when your done changing, make some tea, the poor things going to need some to warm her up. Now get.” With that, the Man of Steel went to do as his mother told him to do.

By the time Clark returned with the tea a few minutes later, Martha had changed Lois’ clothes, wrapped her in the comforter, and settled her down on the sofa near the fire. From outside came the sound of wood being chopped, as Martha had sent Jonathan out to get more firewood.

“Thank you, Clark,” she said, taking the tea from him. “Now, help me prop her up.”

Clark slid onto the end of the sofa, and pulled Lois against him, into a half sitting position. Martha sat on the edge of the sofa and placed the tea to Lois’ lips. “Now, drink this dear.”

Still barely conscious, Lois responded to Martha’s gentle tone, and slowly sipped at the tea. After a few minutes she grew tired, and her head nodded against Clark’s chest.

“Now, let her sleep son. And I’ll call Dr. Wilcox to see if there’s anything more we should do.”

As Martha left the room, she looked back to see Clark sitting there in the firelight, gently brushing Lois’ hair back from her forehead. Smiling slightly, she went to make her call.

When Lois woke up, she couldn’t remember where she was. Her last memory was of trudging through huge snow drifts, desperately trying to get back to the Kent’s farmhouse before freezing to death. She had crashed the car into a tree, not even having realized she was no longer on the road. The blinding snow had made telling the road from the fields nearly impossible, and it was just luck that she had gotten as far as she had. Then, sitting in the dead car, she had thought the Kent’s farmhouse was a lot nearer than it was, so she had foolishly gotten out and started for the farm. When she could go no further, she had fallen down besides a tree, knowing that she would probably be dead before anyone could find her in the snow.

So, where was she now? Looking around, she slowly realized that she was in Clark’s room at the farmhouse. Clark himself was in a chair next to the bed, softly reading “A Christmas Carol” out loud. He held one of her hands in his own. Looking at her tiny hand resting in his, she realized for the first time just how strong and gentle Clark was, and, unconsciously, she squeezed his hand.

Clark looked up, straight into her eyes, and the caring she saw there stirred her more than she could ever admit. “Lois. You’re awake. How are you feeling? Are you okay? Are you warm enough? Are you hungry? My mom made some soup…?”

He was so kind, and after all the worrying she had put him through! It wasn’t fair. “No, I’m okay. A little cold, maybe. But that’s all. Well, actually, maybe not. Actually, maybe I’m a little… well… I’m a little embarrassed. I mean, stupid Lois, rushing off into danger yet again. Not taking anyone’s advice, or thinking of anyone else, huh?” As she spoke, she slowly began to cry, until at the end there were tears running down her cheeks.

“Shhh, Lois, its okay,” Clark murmured, softly wiping her cheeks with his finger. “We all make mistakes.” Part of him hated seeing her like this, so vulnerable, while the other part cherished these glimpses of her soul.

“But I seem to make them on a regular basis. Why do you put up with me, Clark?”

He smiled gently. “You’re not always thinking about yourself, though, are you Lois?”

“What do you mean?”

He held up the book that had been found in Lois’ jacket pocket — the one Martha had mentioned wanting just the other night. “The book my mom wanted? Lois, you didn’t have to rush right out and buy it, you know?” he admonished with a smile.

She smiled back, weakly. “I know, but your parents had been so nice to me… I wanted to do something nice in return. And now look, I’ve completely ruined their Christmas…” As she talked, she began to cry again, even harder.

Moving to the edge of the bed, Clark pulled her against his shoulder. “Their Christmas isn’t ruined, Lois. It’s only 8 o’clock on Christmas Eve. There’s plenty of Christmas left.”

“And we’d be more than happy if you’d share it with us,” Martha broke in, from where she was standing in the door. “Sorry, kids, but I heard voices in here and I thought I’d just peak in to check on the patient. Lois, you weren’t out there long enough to be in serious danger, so Dr. Wilcox says you can get out of bed as soon as you feel up to it. Just don’t do anything really physical for a day or so.”

With that, Martha went back out the door. Clark turned to Lois. “See, its okay. No one’s mad. We’re just all glad your okay. Now, do you feel up to joining us, or do you want to get some more sleep?”

“I’d like to join you, if you’ll just give me a minute to change?”

“Sure, see you in the living room in a few minutes.”

***

That evening, the Kents had their traditional Christmas Eve dinner of fresh turkey, yams, and apple pie. Lois joined them as well, a little tired and not very hungry, but the obvious love around the table did a lot to revive her spirits.

Later, Lois sat on the sofa while the Kents trimmed their Christmas tree. Then, the four of them sat by the tree singing carols and roasting chestnuts. It was the best Christmas Eve of Lois’ life. In her family, her mother had always put the tree up during the day when Lois and Lucy were at school and her father was at work. Furthermore, they had never had a real tree, and the smell of pine mixed with the smell and feel of the roaring fire conjured up every Christmas story she had ever heard. By the end of the evening, the genuine Christmas spirit in that tiny little farmhouse had brought about a nearly complete recovery.

For Clark Kent, it was also the best Christmas Eve of his life. Lois was okay, and she was there, spending Christmas with his family. As importantly, she was having a good time. The three people Clark loved most in the world were all in that one room sharing Christmas Eve, putting an extra festive edge on everything he did that evening.

Late that night, after Martha and Jonathan had gone to bed, Clark and Lois sat together on the sofa. They were both too excited to sleep. Clark was just finishing reading “A Christmas Carol”. As he closed the book, he looked up to see Lois still sitting there thoughtfully.

“Clark, I’ve just been thinking about what happened while I was out there in the snow.”

“Yes…” Clark began, afraid that he knew what was coming- that his blue and red alter ego was about to come between them once again.

“I’m starting to remember what happened. I was lying out there in the snow, freezing when suddenly…”

“Yes.” Clark said sadly, his worst fears confirmed.

“You were there.”

“What…?” Clark began, then quickly regained his composure. “I mean, how can you remember?”

“I remember. You were standing there, in the freezing cold. You risked your life to come find me. You saved my life tonight, Clark.”

“I…” She was looking at him with that look, the one usually reserved for Superman, and his heart melted.

“And then, later, when I woke up. You’ve always been there for me, Clark. You are the kindest, strongest, best man I’ve ever known. Whatever I’ve done, no matter how, well, you know, reckless its been, you were always there, supporting me. And you’ve never been afraid to tell me when I’ve gone to far, either. You’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had. The best friend anybody’s ever had. But I just don’t want to go on this way. I wanted to tell you last spring, right after Lex died. But I couldn’t. I was too afraid then. Too afraid of losing your friendship.”

“Lois, I…” She put a finger over his lips.

“No, before you say something to change my mind,” She took a deep breath. “I love you, Clark Kent. I think I have for a very long time.”

Clark smiled. Really smiled, for maybe the first time in his life. “And I love you too, Lois. I didn’t tell you before because I was afraid…” She smiled encouragingly. “Afraid that my love would ruin our friendship, or that you wouldn’t understand why…” He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “But I do love you Lois, and I have from the very first moment I saw you.”

Maybe he would tell her tomorrow, maybe not. But for now, Clark Kent was going to enjoy the long-deserved and hard-won spoils of victory. And so, cupping her head in his palm, he pulled her towards him under the flickering lights of the Christmas tree.

End of Part 1

***

I’M DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS: THE SEQUEL

Lois Lane woke with a start. “Superman.” For the first time ever, she said that name with a note of disgust. She had been having the most wonderful dream. She and Clark had been kissing again, only this time, instead of Clark holding her when she opened her eyes, it was Superman. Which made no sense. They didn’t kiss anything alike. For one thing, Clark wore those glasses. She smiled to herself, remembering. That had required some maneuvering last night.

Lois shook her head. It was no good avoiding the real issue. She was going to have to do something about her relationship with Superman. Unfortunately, despite her feelings for Clark, she still cared very deeply for Superman. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do. But at the same time, she could no longer ignore her feelings for Clark. With a sigh, Lois rolled back over. She was going to have to figure it out eventually, but for now, she just hoped she could back to dreaming as quickly as possible.

For his part, Clark Kent didn’t even try to sleep. Long after Lois had gone into his bedroom, he lay on the sofa, staring into the fire. She had kissed him, Clark Kent, knowing full well who she was kissing. He smiled to himself. Sure, they’d kissed before, quite often actually, but never like that. Never without some life-and-death situation threatening. And he knew she wanted more. The way her body had responded last night was enough to tell him that. But he wouldn’t have her like that, without her knowing his secret. Without her knowing that he was Superman. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life, but he wanted her for a lifetime. He was already going to have enough trouble when (and it was definitely a when, now) he finally drummed up enough courage to tell her.

Imagine that, he thought ruefully. The great “Man of Steel” scared of a woman. He knew Lois enough, though, to know that his fear was entirely justified. She wasn’t going to react well to his “lying” to her for over a year. And if they slept together…he might lose her twice, as Superman and as Clark. He also knew that, the longer he put off what was now inevitable, the harder the final disclosure would be.

So, lying there on the sofa, he desperately tried to figure out how to tell her without losing her forever. Around 2 am, he rose silently and, moving to the door, stepped out into the snow.

***

As she was every day, Martha Kent was the first person awake Christmas morning. She quietly slipped into the kitchen, where she began to prepare breakfast. So it was that the rest of the household woke to the smell of coffee and sticky buns baking in the oven.

Lois entered the living room just as Clark and his mother brought a platter piled high with buns and the coffee service into the living room.

“It’s a tradition,” Clark explained, answering Lois’ questioning look. “Every Christmas, my mom makes sticky buns and we eat them while unwrapping presents.”

“How…nice.” Lois replied, absently, smiling at Clark. She felt as if she was looking at him for the first time. How could she had never before noticed that gleam in his eyes, or the curve of his chin, or the way he returned her smile with a cockeyed one of his own?

Martha watched this interchange without saying a word. It was obvious to anyone that something had happened last night, but she knew better than to ask. When Clark wanted to tell her, he would.

While Lois helped Clark and Martha arrange breakfast on the coffee table, Jonathan Kent entered the house from outside. He carried a pile of firewood in his arms. “When I woke up this morning, I noticed we needed more wood. We seem to have gone through a lot last night.”

“Oh, Jonathan,” Martha scolded. “We had to keep Lois warm..”

“I’m sorry for any inconvenience, Mr. Kent… I mean, Jonathan.”

“That’s all right, dear,” Martha responded, shooting a look at her husband. “Jonathan was only teasing.”

They all sat down in front of the fire, and Clark began passing out the gifts. The Kents traditionally took turns opening, with Clark going first. This Christmas, they had decided to let Lois go first as their guest. Clark handed her his present, with a shy smile. “I hope you like it.”

Lois took the gift. It was wrapped in traditional, red, and green paper. Traditional, that is, if you ignored the dinosaurs prancing across the paper. Lois looked up at Clark, “Dinosaurs? I should have figured.”

He shrugged, “Well…”

She went back to work on the present. She started to unwrap very meticulously, but, when the tape proved to stubborn to undo, she quickly ripped the paper off to uncover a small, rectangular box. Opening the box, she found a beautiful, solid gold necklace. “Oh, Clark…its beautiful.” Lois held it up, and the light glinted from it in a thousand directions.

“Well, I, uh, figured it would go well with your brown suit,” he replied, obviously thrilled that she liked the necklace.

Handing the necklace to Clark, Lois turned her back to him. “Put it on…” she demanded, and then, realizing her manners, she added with a smile, “please?”

Clark obliged, stumbling a little with the clasp. When he had finished, Lois turned around and gave him a huge hug. “Thank you, Clark.”

“You’re welcome.”

When neither one of them seemed willing to end the embrace, Martha cleared her throat discreetly. “Uhum, Clark? I believe its your turn next?”

Clark and Lois broke their embrace, obviously embarrassed. “Sure, Mom.”

Lois went to the tree and got her present for Clark. “I hope you like it…”

As Clark unwrapped the gift, she added, “Maybe now you won’t always have to run off in the middle of something because you’ve forgotten an appointment.”

As Clark finished unwrapping, he began to laugh. “It’s perfect, Lois, thanks.” He held it up so his parents could see it. Lois had given him an electronic organizer.

“Well, I figured it was about time you entered the 1990s.” This time, Lois and Clark only hugged briefly before Clark went to get the next gift.

Eventually, all the gifts had been unwrapped, except for one. Clark brought it out from under the tree.

“Whose is that, Son?” his mother asked, “I don’t recognize it?”

“Well,” Clark replied, reading the attached envelope, “I guess its for Lois…from Superman.”

“It wasn’t there last night, was it?” Lois sounded a bit apprehensive. She’d been trying to put the whole Superman thing out of her head, at least for the moment.

“Um…” Clark desperately searched for an excuse, since he had placed the gift there himself, late last night, “I, ur, mentioned to Superman that you’d be spending Christmas here. He must have dropped it off last night while we were asleep.”

She took the gift, and opened the card. “It says I’m supposed to open it alone,” she said, looking up at Clark, hoping he wasn’t going to be hurt by the suggestion.

“Sure, go ahead, open it in my room.” Clark tried his best to add just the right amount of resentment into his remark.

Taking the box, Lois went into Clark’s room and sat down on the bed. She tore off the paper, and found another note inside, attached to the box itself. “Lois,” it read, “I’ve wanted you to see this for a long time, but I’ve never had the courage to give it to you before. Merry Christmas. Superman.”

Trembling, Lois opened the box. Superman’s globe was nestled in the tissue paper inside. Lois reached in to take it out. As she touched it, it started to glow, and she began to see images from Superman’s past. Because it had already shown these images, the globe told the story all at once, instead of in sections as it had before.

As Lois watched, she saw Krypton, his home planet. She saw his parents searching for a home to send their son, Kal El, to when their planet exploded. She saw them discover Earth, and she heard Jor El declare that they were sending Kal El there, to Kansas.

As Lois continued to watch, she saw the new parts of the story, the parts Lex Luthor hadn’t seen. For the globe’s story did not end with Kal El’s departure from Krypton, but, with the knowledge gained through its link to him, continued to show the rest of his life. So Lois saw how Martha and Jonathan found the infant in their field and raised him as their son. She saw him grow, and travel the world as a journalist, until finally settling in Metropolis…

When the globe stopped, Lois just sat their in silence, her mind racing. Clark Kent was Superman? It seemed impossible, but, the more she thought of it, the more obvious it became. All those hasty exits, and terrible excuses. All those nonsensical comments. And, most significantly of all, her own confused feelings. Lois finally understood how she could have felt such strong feelings for two men at once. How she could have longed after Superman one moment, and Clark the next. She had loved him, as both Clark and Superman, for a very long time.

If only she had known sooner. All the time and trouble that could have been saved. She’d been denying her own feelings for Clark for over a year, and all because of Superman.

Sitting there, Lois slowly realized that she should have felt betrayed, but, strangely enough, she didn’t. Seeing Clark’s life through the globe had given her a new insight, allowed her to see him as he really was. And so, she was able to understand that Clark wanted to be accepted for himself, and not for the things he could do. He hadn’t told her because he wanted her to love Clark, and not a superhero.

“Lois?” She turned around then, to find Clark standing in the doorway, shifting nervously. She had never seen him look so scared. “Are you okay?”

She stood up and crossed to him. Holding both his hands in her own, she looked up into his face. As tears began pouring down her cheeks, she replied, “Clark…I don’t think I’ve ever been more okay in my life.”

“You’re not mad?” he asked, unable to believe his good fortune.

“Well, I think I should be…would be…if…” she broke off, unsure how to continue. “I love you, Clark. The real you.” She smiled through her tears. “And I guess now, I don’t have to worry about breaking the news to Superman.”

Clark let out a deep breath. He’d been holding it in since entering the room. “I was so afraid. I’ve wanted to tell you, but I was so scared you’d get mad. I didn’t want to jeopardize our partnership, or our friendship, or anything else we might be developing. But I couldn’t let our relationship go, well, further, without telling you. I’ve never wanted to lie to you Lois, I was just so scared…”

Before he could say another word, Lois slipped into his arms. Pulling his head towards hers, she proceeded to prove in a manner infinitely better than words that Clark had nothing to be afraid of in the world…

THE END

Dear Santa, Love Jon

By Erin Klingler <erinklingler@cableone.net>

Rated: G

Submitted: November 2001

Author’s Note: This is just a short, sweet, little Christmas story that I got inspired to write one morning during the holidays. I hope you like it. :) As always, any and all feedback is welcomed.

***

Dear Santa,

My mom and dad wanted me to write you a letter, telling you what I want for Christmas. So just to be able to tell my mom the truth, that I did tell you want I want, here goes.

I want one of those scooters that are so hot this year. All my friends are asking for them this year, too, and it would be fun if we could ride our new scooters together. But I know it’s not going to do any good to tell you what I want because, the truth of the matter is, I already know that you don’t exist.

Well, I shouldn’t say that. I know you did exist. Sort of. I know that Saint Nicholas would ride around town on a donkey and drop bags of gold down the chimneys of the poor people. He was such a wonderful man…a true saint. So when he died in 342, others decided to carry on his giving tradition and reserve the season of Christ’s birth for the showing of their love for mankind. And that’s how the myth of ‘Santa Claus’ came about.

I used to think you were the absolute greatest, Santa. I used to count down the days until Christmas Eve when you’d come down our chimney while we were asleep, to leave presents underneath the tree for me, my brother Clark jr., and my little sister Laura. I used to do everything I could to stay awake to catch you sliding down our chimney with our presents, and I always worked extra hard in those last few weeks before Christmas to be extra nice to my sister and my brother, in the hopes that it would make up for a year’s worth of teasing and quarrelling.

But this year, things are different. I know you’re not watching me through some magic ball from the North Pole, making sure that I’m being good. I know that I no longer have to impress you to guarantee myself good gifts. I’m growing up, Santa, and I no longer have you up on a pedestal in my mind.

That honor is reserved for my dad.

You see, Santa, this past year I found out that my dad is Superman. Yes, Superman. The man who flies around the world in a tight suit made of red and blue, instead of your loose one made of red and white. And he doesn’t bring gifts to people by sliding down chimneys and depositing them under their Christmas trees. He brings entirely different kinds of gifts to the people of the world.

Let me back up a bit. First of all, Dad doesn’t know that I know. As far as he knows, in my eyes, he’s still the same, normal, everyday—though sometimes a bit too stern and overprotective—dad, not the hero the whole world worships and relies on to keep them safe from harm.

I found out about Dad by accident, really. I was up waiting for him one night to get his help with my math assignment, but I’d fallen asleep on the couch in the front room while waiting. I must’ve been asleep for a while, because I remember waking up to the sounds of our grandfather clock in the front hall chiming twelve. My mom must’ve thought I was already in bed, or else she would’ve woken me up and shepherded me upstairs.

So anyway, as I was lying on the couch hearing the clock strike twelve and trying to convince myself to get up to go upstairs to bed, I heard a sudden ‘whoosh’ and felt a cold breeze wash over me. I was too startled to do anything but lie there, a little scared, I must confess, as I waited to see what would happen next.

In the next moment, I heard my mom’s voice call quietly from the kitchen, “Clark, is that you?”

Then I heard my dad’s voice whisper back, “Yeah, it’s me.”

Lying deathly still on the couch, I heard the sound of my mom coming out of the kitchen, and Dad’s footsteps crossing the hardwood floors of the dining room. I wrinkled my nose at the sound of the kissing noises that followed. Then there was a quiet moment, followed by the sound of my mom’s low, contented sigh as they were no doubt hugging. Yuck.

But then I heard my mom’s voice again. “How did it go?”

It was quiet again for a moment, and when I finally heard Dad’s voice, his voice sounded funny, like he was having a hard time getting the words out. “I put the fire out, but I didn’t get to one of the apartment’s tenants, an older man, in time. He was pretty badly burned by the time I got to him, and I flew him to the hospital. He’s alive, but he’s going to have a really tough recovery.”

“Oh, Clark, I’m so sorry,” I heard my mom say, her voice sounding just like it did last week when she hugged me after my basketball game when I’d missed my last-second lay up, causing my team to lose.

There was a silence that echoed throughout the house before I heard my dad’s voice again. “I know I shouldn’t blame myself. But I can’t help thinking that if I’d just gotten there sooner…”

“You can’t blame yourself,” my mom insisted. “As fast and as strong as you are, you just can’t save everybody from everything.”

I heard my dad sigh. “I know. But seeing people in pain, and wondering if I could’ve done anything differently…it just never gets easier. Even after all these years…”

At that point, I couldn’t help myself. I very quietly used my elbow to push myself up from where I lay, and very, very cautiously, peered up over the back of the couch. My eyes widened when I saw my dad standing there, dressed in the famous red and blue Superman suit, hugging Mom tightly. I was surprised to see a tear running down my dad’s cheek.

They stopped hugging a few moments later, and I watched my mom smile tenderly at Dad—Superman—and reach up to gently wipe the tear from his cheek. Then she reached for his hand and took a step backwards toward the stairs.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” she said, sounding very mom- and bossy-like. “You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep. And we can call the hospital in the morning, if you want, to see how that man is doing.”

Dad nodded as he let Mom lead him toward the stairs. “I’d like that.” Then, changing the subject, he said, “How’d things go for you? Are the kids all asleep?”

Mom nodded and smiled. “Finally.” But then, from where I lay, I spotted a look of confusion change her features. “Although, Jon wanted you to help him with his math. He refused to let me help him. But I guess he ended up going to bed.”

“I’ll make sure to ask him tomorrow over breakfast if he still needs help,” Dad said as I watched them flick off the front hall’s light and start up the stairs to their bedroom.

What they said after that, I don’t know. I could hear the sound of their voices, but I couldn’t make out the words—even if I had been able to think clearly. I continued to lay on the couch for a long time in the dark, listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, and trying to come to terms with what I’d just seen and heard.

The dad I thought I knew wasn’t all that I thought he was. He’s much more. He’s the man who cheers me on at my basketball games, helps me with my homework and listens to my gripes about school and friends. He’s there for me when I need him, even though he does dash out for strange reasons from time to time— but now I understand why.

But he isn’t just that man, my dad. He’s also the superhero who helps others with their problems, using every power in his being to make the world a better place for everybody. He selflessly does what he can to help, to create a world that would be as good as it can be for me, for Clark jr., for Laura, for my mom, for my grandparents, for my friends. And even for those people who he’s never met.

So I hope you understand why I don’t have you up on a pedestal any more, Santa. Because, you see, I have a new hero in my life. And no, it’s not Superman.

It’s my dad.

Have a Merry Christmas, Santa, even if I don’t believe in you any longer. But now, I have new people to believe in.

Your friend,

Jon

The Next Day: A Not So Merry Christmas

By Tank Wilson <TankW1@aol.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: December 2010

Summary: After the “Season’s Greedings” episode, Lois hears that a plane with a stop in Wichita has crashed, and she fears the worst.

***

Lois Lane still had a smile on her face as she slipped under the covers and made ready to finally call an end to this magical night. It had been the one of the best Christmas Eves she’d ever had… no, it had been the best. Nothing had gone as she had planned, but it couldn’t have gone better.

She’d gone to a lot of trouble cooking a big holiday turkey dinner. Something that was a major undertaking for her. She’d been disappointed that Clark had plans to go home for the Holiday but was hardly surprised. If Jonathan and Martha were her parents, she’d look forward to visiting them too. She also knew that her own family was out of the question. She wanted to enjoy this Christmas Eve, so even if her parents had been available, she’d have never thought to invite them. She was a bit sad that Lucy wasn’t going to be able to come, but she had some new boy toy that she planned to spend Christmas with.

Still, she had looked forward to having a great time at dinner with Perry and Jimmy. They were her family anyway, her Planet family. Then, as the day progressed, those plans had begun to fall apart. Perry’s family had suddenly appeared in town, and Perry’s true Christmas dreams had come true. Unfortunately, that meant that he’d had to skip her dinner. She had understood completely and was happy for him. Jimmy was still ready and actually was looking forward to the dinner, but in her young friend’s case, Lois had sabotaged herself.

She had taken it upon herself to patch up the misunderstanding between Jimmy and his latest object of desire, Angela. So, instead of coming over to sample her big-deal meal, Jimmy was spending his Christmas Eve with Angela.

So, despite all her advanced planning and the work she’d put in, it had looked like it was going to be just Lois and some tired old Christmas special on television… again. But then there had been a knock on her door, and everything had changed. Clark had come by.

When she’d asked, he had made some lame comment about the airport being snowed in. Of course, there hadn’t been any snow. Clark was just being Clark. He’d found out that her dinner plans had fallen apart, so he’d showed up… and the night had been wonderful.

Lois reached up and turned out the light on her bed stand, but the smile was still on her face as sleep finally claimed her.

***

Lois stepped off the elevator and moved leisurely toward her desk. She was a few minutes late but wasn’t concerned about it. It was only going to be her covering the city desk today. Even Perry wouldn’t be in on Christmas day. The assistant editors all took turns covering the various holidays, and this day, she would be reporting to Dave Majors. He was a nice enough guy, but someone with very little actual experience. It was his turn.

A skeleton crew of reporters and staff was responsible for putting together the stories that Dave would have to assemble into something resembling an issue from a major metropolitan newspaper. Even though it was Christmas, the definition of a slow news day, the Daily Planet would still hit the newsstands tomorrow morning.

Due to her situation with her family, Lois often volunteered to take the Christmas shift. It allowed many of her colleagues the opportunity to spend the day with their families and loved ones. In the past, it had never made any difference to her since most of the time she’d just be sitting home being bored by bad television and the continual assault of Christmas music on the radio.

Luckily, the after-holiday sales ads took up a large amount of the space in the paper, but she was still expected to fill her share of column inches. Often, this was accomplished by pulling stories off the newswires and rewriting them to show a local perspective. Lois had been running late, so she hadn’t watched any news on LNN as she got ready, nor had she listened to the radio on her way over. She just couldn’t take any more Christmas carols blaring out of her car stereo.

Lois booted up her computer and was getting ready to scan the news feeds when Dave stuck his head out of the office. “Lane,” he shouted. “What are you doing here?”

Confused, Lois met his irritated gaze. “I’m looking for something to write about.”

“Well, I don’t know how you missed it, but get down to Metropolis International. A passenger jet crashed shortly after take-off about an hour ago. See what you can find out.”

“I’m on it.” Lois leapt out of her chair, and grabbing her bag and coat in one motion, she headed for the elevator.

Traffic was light, and the highways were in decent shape, not having had any appreciable snowfall in several days. Metropolis International Airport was located a few miles outside of the downtown area, on the edge of a first-ring suburb called Blakesborough. Blakesborough had started out as a refuge for the noveau riche, and like so many other areas which had started out the same, it had almost immediately begun its slow, steady decline. It was now considered a suburb “in transition.”

Before she was close enough to see the tower and the main terminal buildings of the airport, Lois saw the smoke that marked the site of the crash. It took several minutes to get her Jeep close to the scene. As it was, she still had nearly a half-a-mile hike to get to where onlookers and other members of the media were constrained by hastily erected barriers and security.

“Have they given out any official statement yet?” Lois grabbed the first shoulder she came upon. The man turned and frowned at her. He shook his head.

After working her way toward the front of the crowd, she could see fire-fighting and other emergency vehicles surrounding the still-flaming, broken fuselage of the 727 jetliner. They were quite a distance away, so she couldn’t see anything in any detail. Lois made a bit of a pest of herself by asking questions of everyone around her. Apparently, things were finally starting to calm down. The last of the ambulances left about a half an hour ago. The emergency crew was letting the fuel burn itself out and was concentrating on keeping the blaze contained within a secured perimeter. Since the plane had just taken off, it had full fuel tanks. The plane had been burning for over an hour, but now it looked like the fire fighters would have it totally under control within a few more minutes.

Lois saw an official-looking man approaching a portable stage that had been put up by several men wearing FAA coveralls. There was no electricity available to set up microphones, so the gentleman waved his hands, asking for quiet. Surprisingly, he got it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a brief statement to make.” He paused for a moment and consulted a piece of paper in his hand. “Metro Air flight 731 from Metropolis to Los Angeles, with a stop in Wichita, suffered some sort of, as yet undetermined, mechanical failure and went down six minutes into its flight. As soon as it’s safe to do so, crash investigators from the FAA will examine the wreckage and try to determine the cause of the crash.”

“Were there any survivors?” Someone to Lois’ left shouted out the question. She saw the grim look on the man’s face.

“You can understand that we can’t release the names of anyone on the flight until next of kin can be notified, but as far as we can tell, there were no survivors amongst the passengers or the crew.” He crumpled the paper in his hand. “There will be a formal press conference back at the main terminal in one hour. Any questions you have will be answered at that time, but please realize that there probably won’t be much information we can give you.”

Lois’ lower lip had been tightly pinned between her teeth ever since she heard the word “Wichita” come from the mouth of the airline official. A cold fist currently held her heart in its icy grip. She needed to get to the main terminal as soon as possible. She had to know how many flights to Kansas had been scheduled to leave Metropolis that morning.

***

After a call to Dave, to let him know that she was waiting for the official press conference, she moved over to stand with her fellow reporters. On her way to the area set aside for the conference, she had scanned as many departure video screens as she could. No plane that she saw, other than Metro Air 731, was scheduled to be going anywhere near Wichita, or even Kansas.

She’d tried calling Clark at home a couple of times, only to get his machine. She didn’t have the nerve to call his folks in Smallville. What if he wasn’t there?

She knew that Metro Air wasn’t the only airline to use Metropolis International, but it was the largest. M.I. was a Metro Air hub, so they had the most flights. Still, she knew that Clark would have had other options, so she made the effort to check the departures on all the other airlines while she waited for the press conference to begin. No one else had any flights to Kansas on Christmas day. With each screen Lois checked, the fear in her heart grew a little stronger, and her hope a little dimmer.

Her attention was drawn back to the podium that had been erected at one end of the concourse. A different gentleman from the one who had addressed them at the crash site walked up to the microphone. Lois quickly pushed her way up near the front.

“Ladies and gentlemen, while it’s still early in the investigation into the crash of flight 731, we do have some information to impart.” This man, like his predecessor, paused and consulted a piece of paper he held in his hand. “It appears that the crash was precipitated by mechanical failure to the starboard engine due to the ingestation of foreign matter causing irreparable harm to that engine.”

Lois frowned along with all the others standing near her. Someone off to her left shouted his frustration at the official. “What the blazes does that mean?”

“A flock of birds crossed the flight path of Metro Air 731, and several were sucked into the engine, causing the critical damage.”

Lois heard a low chuckle next to her and looked over to see who would think such a catastrophe was funny. It was Leo Nunk, the bane of all legitimate news people. She glanced down at his notepad and scowled. Nunk had written in large quotation marks, “Flock of Seagulls brings down Jet”. She was tempted to cause the man bodily harm, but it would only encourage him.

Her attention was drawn back to the podium when someone called out a question regarding any survivors. Lois allowed herself a glimmer of hope, only to have it dashed by the look on the man’s face.

“I’m sorry to say that the entire passenger list and crew have been accounted for… and there were no survivors.”

Lois felt herself go numb all over; she was finding it hard to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when she was just beginning to realize just how much…

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to go there; not now. It had to be a mistake. Clark must have missed his plane. But then why hadn’t he answered when she called? She had to know. She had to find out. She turned her attention back to the man.

“It’s company policy not to release the names of the victims,” he continued, “for at least twenty-four hours. This will give us time to notify all the next of kin.” He folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. “That is all for now. We will let the media know if there is any new information to be disseminated.” He began to walk off the impromptu stage.

Lois rushed up and grabbed him by the arm. “Excuse me. I know you can’t release the passenger list, but I think my partner might have been on that plane. I just have to know if he was on board.”

He stopped and faced her, his expression grave. “I’m sorry, Ms…” he looked at her press pass, “Lane, but even if I was allowed to give you that information, I can’t help you. I don’t have it.”

Lois was about to plead her case, but the man shook off her grasp and strode quickly away. In a few moments, she found herself standing in the crowded concourse… alone.

***

It had been a frustrating hour for Lois since the press conference. She had called in the story, such as it was, and Dave had told her that he’d prep an informational piece in case nothing new came up before press time, but that she should stay there and follow up any leads she could find.

Lois had leads to follow, all right, but they tended to be more focused. First, she canvassed the various airlines, checking and double-checking their schedules. She confirmed that there had been no flights scheduled to land anywhere near Kansas in the last twenty-four hours. If Clark had planned to fly out to see his parents today, as he had told her he was going to, then he had to have been on that flight.

She no longer had any choice. She had to call Clark’s folks.

It was with a growing sense of dread that she approached a pay phone in the concourse. She had the Kent’s phone number written down in the little address book she kept in her bag. Her hand shook ever so slightly as she dialed the numbers. It only rang twice.

“Hello. Kent residence.”

“Hel-lo,” Lois’ voice cracked. “Martha, is Clark there?”

“Oh, hi, Lois. No, Clark’s not here. He—”

A sob escaped from Lois’ throat as she slammed the phone down. Oh, God. It was true. Clark had been on that plane. It was the only explanation.

***

Lois sat in one of the chairs in one of the departure lounges, staring out the window. She didn’t really see any of the activity that was going on out on the tarmac; she didn’t really see anything. Her focus was inward. It was on the ever-deepening pain that assaulted her heart, on the cruel mockery that the fates had decided to make of her life.

All her life, Lois had been a strong-minded, independent woman. She had never needed a man to “complete” her or to fulfill her. But like most people, she did crave companionship. It was just that those few times she had allowed herself to be vulnerable to someone, it had wound up as a federal disaster. She had convinced herself that all men were like her father, and if that was the case, then she would be fine all by herself.

Then Clark had come along. She couldn’t really pinpoint the exact time when he had changed from the annoying hack from Nowheresville that she had been saddled with to her trusted colleague and friend. But he had. He was her best friend… and maybe something more. But now whatever promise their relationship might have once held was gone. Clark was gone, and she didn’t know what she would do without him in her life anymore.

Suddenly, her tears burst forth, as if the crumbling earthen dam that had been her emotional bulwark could no longer hold back the tide that had been threatening its defenses for so long.

***

Martha Kent hung up the phone, her face a mask of confusion.

“Hey, Ma, what’s up? Who was that on the phone?”

She looked over at her son, her bewilderment still evident. “That was Lois. She asked to talk to you. I told her you weren’t here, but before I could tell her you were out in the barn with your father, she hung up.” Martha frowned. “She sounded really upset about something.”

Now Clark was frowning as he walked over and picked up the phone. “I hope nothing is wrong.”

He dialed the number and waited until her machine answered. “Lois, this is Clark. Mom said you called. I’m sorry I wasn’t available, but I was out in the barn with Dad. Call me back.” He turned to Martha. “She’s probably at the Planet. I should have thought to call there first.” He dialed a number as familiar as his own. It rang several times. Clark was just about to hang up when someone answered.

“Lois Lane’s phone, this is Lacy Prescott. Can I help you?”

Clark had to wrack his brain to remember that Lacy was a new researcher hired only a few weeks ago. “Lacy, this is Lois’ partner, Clark. Is she there?”

“No, she left a couple of hours ago. I think Dave has her covering the big crash.”

“Crash?”

“Yeah, a jetliner crashed shortly after take-off from Metropolis International this morning. I think she’s there. Can I take a message?”

Clark ran his hand through his hair. “Just tell her I called.”

Clark strode into the living room and turned on the television. He flipped through the channels until he came across LNN news. Martha followed him.

“What is it?” She asked. Clark held his hand up as he concentrated on what the anchor Barbie was saying.

“…officials still refuse to release any names of the victims from Metro Air flight 731, but they have admitted that there were no survivors. Now turning to international news…”

Clark flipped off the set and moved over to the small corner desk where his laptop sat. It took a few moments to boot it up, but the screen soon came to life. After connecting to his folks’ internet provider, Clark spent the next several minutes scanning page after page of information. Finally, he shut the computer down.

Martha, who had been standing, watching her son with growing concern, could contain herself no longer. The look on Clark’s face scared her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“There was a plane crash out at Metropolis International.”

Martha reached out and placed her hand on her son’s shoulder. “Oh, honey, that’s terrible. But you do know that you couldn’t have done anything about it? Even if you’d been in Metropolis, it’s highly doubtful that you’d have found out about it until it had already gone down.”

Clark shook his head. “I know, Ma. I’ve learned to accept that I can’t be everywhere. But that isn’t what I was checking into. You said Lois sounded upset, so I looked up some information on that flight.” Martha nodded. “Apparently, the main destination of Metro Air flight 731 was Los Angeles, but they had a stop scheduled for Wichita.”

Martha held her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my.”

“I told Lois that I was taking an early flight out to here, after I left her last night.”

“You don’t think… Do you think that she thinks you were on that flight?”

Clark shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s possible. You did say she sounded upset.”

Martha slowly walked over and sat down at the kitchen table. Her eyes were misted. “Oh, Clark, you can’t let her think that.”

“So, what can I do? Lois doesn’t have a personal cell phone, and I know her beeper still hasn’t been replaced from when she lost it during our last investigation.” Clark sat down next to his mother.

She grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Honey, you know what you have to do.”

Clark grimaced. “You’re right.” He stood and spun into the suit. “I’ll call you and Dad tonight.”

“Just make sure that Lois is all right.”

He nodded, and then in a red-blue blur, he was gone.

***

Lois was still sitting, staring out the window at the airport. A few tears still rolled down her cheeks, but not enough so as to draw any attention from the folks seated nearby. She had chosen a seat away from the main body of passengers waiting for their flight to be called.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Lois, can I take you home?”

She turned and found herself staring into the bright blue spandex-covered chest of her oft-time savior. Unfortunately, for all the occasions he’d been in the nick of time to save her butt, he hadn’t been there this time. She stood and threw her arms around him.

“Oh, Superman, he’s gone. Clark is gone.” The waterworks started in earnest anew as she buried her face into his chest, soaking the iconic red and yellow shield.

He gently stroked her hair. “Shhh, it will be okay. Let me take you home.” He felt her nod.

While hundreds of thunderstruck airport patrons watched, Superman gently guided the distraught Lois through the airport and out into the clean, crisp air.

Superman wrapped her close to his body to provide additional protection against the cold, but the flight was a short one, and in only minutes, they were landing on the front steps heading into Lois’ building.

As if in a trance, Lois walked up and let herself into the building. Superman followed. Another minute later, she had managed to unlatch all the locks to her door and was stepping into her foyer. She didn’t look behind her, as she just dropped her bag and coat on the floor. She was hardly aware that Superman had closed the door behind them.

Lois stared listlessly into her apartment. It seemed suddenly cold and empty of life. The little tree that she and Clark had laughed about stood forlornly in the corner. The bright star on its top was the only thing that didn’t appear gray to her eyes, and even that had lost much of its brilliance from the night before.

The only thing that hurt worse than the fierce ache she felt in her heart was the knowledge that it would never go away. In so short a time, Clark Kent had become her best friend and maybe something more, and she wasn’t looking forward to a life that didn’t include Clark in it.

The blinking light on her answering machine caught her attention. If this had been a short time earlier, she might have felt a surge of hope that it was Clark calling after receiving one of her messages. But the certainty of her despair had quashed that hope. It was probably just Dave wondering where the heck she was.

She pushed the button and nearly fainted when she heard Clark’s voice coming from her machine. She turned toward Superman, her eyes wide in wonder. “He’s… that’s… that’s Clark?”

Superman nodded. “That’s what I came to tell you, Lois. Clark was never on that plane.” Superman looked nervous. “Lois… I—”

“You?” She walked up to him and put her hand on his chest. “Oh, of course. Why didn’t I think of it as a possibility earlier? You’re his friend; you probably flew him out to the farm.” She flailed one hand about, as if it could help her think. “What… was it like some sort of Christmas present?”

Superman stepped back and stared at her like he did when he had a hard time following her leaps of logic. Clark did that, too. She blushed.

“Um… yeah, I guess you could call it that.” He began to raise his hand toward his hair and then stopped himself. “I, um, gave him a ride to his folks’ place. After I heard that he’d stayed in Metropolis to attend your dinner party, it was the least I could do. It’s what friends do.”

Lois slowly sauntered back close to Superman, and using her finger, she traced the “S” on his chest. “Am I your friend?”

A wary look came over the Man of Steel. “You know that you are, Lois.”

She bowed her head and whispered into his chest, knowing that he could hear her. “Could I get a ride… somewhere?”

“Sure, Lois.” He smiled at her. “Where would you like to go?”

“Smallville. More specifically, the Kent farm. I need to see Clark.”

“I can do that.”

fin

Culinary Delights

By Melissa Dore missy@ocean.nova.edu

Summary: A truly delightful story that explains how Lois, legendary for her lack of talent in the kitchen, came to prepare the holiday feast seen at the end of the episode “Season’s Greedings.”

Ok — this started as it’s own story, but with “Seasons Greedings”, I had a way to put it all in perspective. Normal Disclaimer stuff…etc etc.

***

Lois was drying her hair when it hit. Thanks to those stupid space rats, she had “disinvited” everyone from her Christmas eve party, and she had canceled the caterers. Now she had re-invited everyone, and though most sent there regrets, it looked like Perry and Jimmy were going to come over. She’d even asked that nice man from the Orphanage, but he said that Christmas eve was a busy night for him. One problem, the caterers couldn’t come. That meant Lois was on her own.

“Oh, well…How hard can it be?? Just a turkey and some vegetables, and something chocolate for desert.” Lois shrugged, pulled her coat over her sweatshirt, and went to the grocery store.

The store was absolute chaos. Everyone was doing their last minute shopping before the store closed for Christmas. After grabbing a cart from some lady that had only two items (Lois knew she was going to have many more), she pushed her was to the Dairy section.

When she thought no one was looking, Lois pulled out her Bon Appetit magazine and started thumbing down the index.

Hmmm, she thought. I need milk for the potatoes, Cheese for the hors d’oeuvres, butter for the bread, and whipping cream for the desert. She looked up, and gasped. There were over 16 varieties of butter looking at her. There was margarine — fat, low-fat, no- fat, salt, no-salt, low-salt, spreadable, churn style, mixed with butter, butter mixed with margarine, margarine made of canola oil, sunflower oil or corn oil. Lois sighed, it’s Christmas straight butter will do. She found the first package that said “100% butter”, and grabbed it.

With one item in her cart, Lois moved down to the Milk and Cream section. She almost forgot the cream cheese (to go with the candy cane like caviar appetizer), and bumped into the cart behind her. She heard an “oof” and looked around to apologize.

“Mrs. Kent!” Lois was startled, she had thought that Clark’s parents had gone back to Smallville.

“Lois! What a pleasant surprise!” Martha Kent had managed to upright herself and was grinning from ear to ear. “Might I ask what you’re doing here?”

Lois looked down at her one package of butter. “I’m…I’m cooking for my Christmas party tonight! I just needed to pick up a few things.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful! what are you having?”

Lois thought that with that red hat, and that infectious grin, Martha could have been an elf.

Lois looked at Martha. She could do this on her own…couldn’t she?? Lois was beginning to have her doubts, the margarine choices had taken over ten minutes, the rate she was going, she’d be here all night, and would have to serve everything raw.

“Well…Mrs. Kent..”

“Please, call me Martha.”

“Well,…um … Martha … I was going to do this …” and Lois pulled out her Bon Appetit holiday issue.

“Ohhh…Bon Appetit! and the holiday issue too! You know, I’ve always wanted to try those recipes, they’ve always looked so good.”

Lois’s hopes were raised. “You do?”

“Yes, I’ve always wanted to try some of these recipes, but Clark and Jonathan are such sticklers for tradition. Once I tried to have a Japanese Christmas party with Sushi, you would not believe how fast that was vetoed!”

Lois, thinking of Clark’s reaction to Christmas, could well believe it. She nodded in understanding.

Martha looked up at Lois with very wide eyes and asked, “Do you think I could possibly help you with this party? I mean, I’ve always wanted to try these recipes, but I’ve never had the chance. Could I help?”

Lois thought she managed to keep her astonishment and relief thoroughly covered. Here was the answer to her silent prayer!

“Mrs. K…Martha, that would be wonderful! You know how chaotic it gets in the kitchen before a party, and I was afraid I wasn’t going to have all the time to do the dishes I wanted to do, by myself!” Lois paused and looked at Martha, “Are you sure you don’t have something else to do? I mean you came to Metropolis to go Christmas shopping, and with all these Space Rats, I’m sure you didn’t get much done.”

Martha smiled. “Lois, as a matter of fact, I’ve been done with most of my Christmas shopping for quite a while. We came to Metropolis as an excuse to see Clark, and to let Jonathan find me my Christmas present. If I could help you, it would let Jonathan have the perfect excuse to go off and find my present!”

Lois laughed. Martha certainly knew how to make a person feel at ease. “Martha, that would wonderful. The truth is I was a little nervous about cooking this meal, I mean, Desert is no problem … as long as it’s chocolate, but the turkey and the vegetables …”

With a laugh, Martha put Lois pound of butter in her cart. “You sound just like Clark! When he was a small boy, I raised him on fruit for snacks, then in elementary school, Peter introduced Clark to the wonders of sugar and chocolate! For almost six months, Clark wanted marshmallows on everything, he even wanted them on his spaghetti!” Martha chortled at the memory.

Lois laughed out loud. All she could think of was Clark stuffing marshmallows in his mother’s sauce pot. What a wonderful memory. She looked up to see Martha staring at her with a very serious face. “What?”, Lois asked.

“We need to make a list, we’re running out of time, and we have to get everything in one shot. Otherwise we’re flat out of luck.”

So Lois and Martha pulled out the magazine, chose the items they wanted to make, and made Lois’ first grocery list.

***

Martha Kent was surprised how well the shopping went. The only argument that she and Lois had was over the turkey and stuffing. First of all, Lois wanted to buy a frozen turkey. Martha had to reason with her, that unless she wanted to postpone the party until tomorrow., and have a turkey doing the backstroke in her bathtub all night, she needed to get a fresh one. Once a turkey was selected, Martha headed over to the bread aisle.

“Martha, why are you getting day old rolls? I’m not skimping my guests on stale rolls!”

“They’re for the stuffing for the bird, Lois. I usually make my own biscuits for stuffing, but we don’t have the time or oven space!”

“Why do we need to make stuffing? It’s already in the turkey. They always include a nice yellow bag of stuffing in each turkey.”

Martha almost choked. “Lois, have you cooked a turkey with that bag in it?”

“No … but then, I’ve never cooked a turkey. Mom used to take the bag out, and when I asked her what was in it, she said ‘stuffing’.”

Martha sighed in relief. “Lois, that’s not stuffing. It’s usually the neck, liver and heart. I don’t use it, but some people cook those up as well.”

Lois made a horrified face. “You mean…ew! Eww ew ew ew! Oh, thank you for telling me, I was just going to leave the “stuffing” in there … oh I would have gotten everyone sick!”

“Maybe not sick Lois, but the bird would have tasted horrible. The paper might have caught fire, and your turkey would toast!” Martha laughed, “But that’s not going to happen, so let’s pay for our food, and get out of this madhouse!”

***

Once they got back to Lois’s apartment, and had unloaded every thing, they got to work. Martha put Lois to work cleaning out the Turkey. She did surprisingly well, for her first bird. Lois only made one “ewwww” while cleaning out the inside.

“You know Martha, I’ve seen murders and bombings in my line of work, but this is truly gross!”

“You get used to it dear. You can throw out the umm…”stuffing”, but I would advise taking outside, as soon as possible, it can stink up a house really fast.”

With that advise, Lois threw the stuff in a garbage bag, and headed for the dumpster. The last thing she needed for this party, was a smelly apartment.

When Lois came in, Martha had the stuffing ready for the bird. “Ok, Lois, ready to stuff the turkey?”

“ohhh…I thought you could do that, after all I cleaned that thing, you should have some of the fun.”

“No, Lois. It’s your bird. If you stuff it, you can say you made this turkey, all by yourself. Just grab the back end, think of your worst enemy and STUFF!”

This started Lois and Martha into a giggling fit. Lois was laughing so hard, that she didn’t even notice when she had finished stuffing the bird.

“You know, Martha? That wasn’t so bad?!”

“See, you’ll be a gourmet cook in no time! The key is to laugh at the gross parts, and follow the recipe to the T. When you have more experience, you can fool around with amounts, but meanwhile, follow the instructions! That’s what they’re there for!”

As they stuffed the Turkey, glaze, stuffing and all into the oven, Lois began to relax. She could do this!

For the next several hours, Martha showed Lois how too prepare the vegetable, and how to set everything up so all the food would be done at the same time. Lois work hard, and never noticed that she was following Martha’s lead. Slowly the food was almost done. The turkey was turning a nice golden brown, and it was time to set up the table.

“Well Lois, I’m afraid I have to go.” “Uhh, why? I mean, we’re not done! What about the turkey, and the vegetables! I’ll overcook them by myself.” Lois could feel some of her self confidence about cooking ebb.

“Well Lois, unless I leave now, I’m going to miss my plane home. As it is, I should have called Clark to tell him where I am. Your meal will be wonderful! I’m sure your guests will love it, and you can be very proud, because you did it yourself!”

Lois looked around. The smells were wonderful, and she did feel very proud of herself. Her first real meal, and it’s going to be great!

Lois hugged Martha. “Thank you! I couldn’t have done this without your help!”

Martha hugged Lois back. “You’re quite welcome Lois. It was fun to try those really gourmet things. Thanks for letting me come over.”

Lois looked down at this small woman and felt wonderment. She knew this wouldn’t have been possible without Martha, but here Martha was saying Lois was the gourmet!

“Ohh, can I give you a lift to the airport? I don’t want you to miss your flight!”

“No thanks, Lois. You need to keep an eye on your food, and set up the table. I’ll catch a taxi.”

With those words, Martha picked up her coat, bundled herself up and headed for the door.

“Thank you again, Martha. Please, stop by when your back in Metropolis. I’ll fix you a gourmet meal, all by myself!”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it!” With this, Martha gave Lois a final hug, and left the apartment.

When Martha got outside, she was about to hail a cab, when she heard a voice from above her.

“Excuse me ma’am, could I give you a lift?”

“Why…Thank You Superman. I was afraid I would miss my plane!”

With this, Clark picked his mother up and started to fly to the airport. “So…how did the afternoon go?”

“Oh it was wonderful Clark. Lois is on her way to becoming a good cook. She just needed some direction. I’m glad you told me that she was having this party. Ever since you told me her four food groups were “phone, fax, e-mail and delivered”, I wanted to let her know how much fun it is to cook. I hope everyone likes it.”

“I’m sure I will, Mom. I’m sure I will.”

THE END

Santa Surprise

By bobbart — Bob Bartholomew <bobbart_99@yahoo.com>

Rated: G

Submitted: January 2009

Disclaimer: This is a fanfic based on the television show, Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman. I have no claim on the pre-existing characters whatsoever, nor am I profiting by their use. The new story elements are mine. No infringement is intended by this work.

Time frame: Post Season 4 Continuity note: This story shares some elements with this author’s “Luck and Consequences” but those are incidental and no familiarity with LaC is necessary to understand this story.

As has often been the case, I have to thank Dandello for the beta read and the ongoing writing 101 lessons.

This is for Classicalla.

***

As Clark fished the presents out of the car, Lois pondered the first all-Lane family gathering in years. They were meeting at Ellen’s apartment for a big post-Thanksgiving pre-Christmas tree-trimming party. In years past, Lois’s family had not dared to try anything like this since her parents had a bad habit of fighting on first sight. However, these days Ellen and Sam were getting along much better.

Despite all of the positives, as Lois approached the door to her mom’s apartment she suddenly spun around and addressed her husband.

“Clark, I think we should go home!”

“Is something wrong? Is it something with the baby?”

“No. I just don’t think this is a good idea. My family gatherings never go right. We can still leave. We haven’t gone in the door yet!”

“Lois!”

“We can say that we got sick!”

Clark put on his most understanding look. “We’ve been over this several times. You know that things have changed. Honey, this will be fun.”

Lois got a doubtful look on her face. “Well…”

“Besides, when will we find a better time to tell your family about the baby? If we duck out now, you know how hard it will be to bring this up later. And it won’t be very long before your condition will be too obvious to ignore.”

Lois looked up with a hurt puppy dog look and asked shyly, “You aren’t going to let me duck out of this are you?”

“Nope!” Then Clark, arms full of presents, leaned over and kissed his wife on the forehead. “Now, turn around, put on a big smile, and knock on that door.”

With a resigned look, Lois turned and knocked on the door. From inside she could hear the familiar voice of her sister yell, “I’ll get it!”

As the door opened, she realized that she had come face to face with-an abomination! Lois stared openmouthed at the space above her sister’s head.

Lucy laughed and said, “C’mon, Sis, it’s not that bad.”

“It” was a huge, broad brimmed green hat shaped like a Christmas tree. It must have been a foot tall and was covered with tiny ornaments, flashing lights and fake snow. On the brim of the hat was a Santa’s sleigh complete with tiny reindeer and Santa himself. At the top of the tree was a crystal star. It was rotating slowly and every so often would twinkle with the refracted light from miniature lights on the tree.

Lois recovered from the shock of the hat just enough to say, “Yes, it is.”

Lucy seemed more than ready for that reaction as she only giggled softly and said. “But wait, there’s more.” And she reached up and touched a spot on the brim of the hat.

Suddenly, a very tinny version of “Jingle Bells” started coming from the hat.

This passed Lois’s limit and she simply started laughing. “Lucy, where in the world did you get that?”

Lucy reached up to the hat again and stopped the music before answering. Then, with a proud look on her face, she replied, “I made it. I’m taking an art class and I thought it would be perfect for a Christmas hat party.”

From over her shoulder Lois heard Clark’s voice. “Hi, Lucy. Nice hat. Can we come inside?”

“Hi, Clark. Sure, come on in.” Lucy stepped back from the doorway so that they could enter while she continued to speak. “A bunch of my friends started doing hat parties. They’re sort of like costume parties but everyone wears a hat. There’s usually a door prize for the hat categories like best or most original.”

Lois had to fight the temptation to ask if there was a prize for the ugliest. But Lucy was in such a good mood that she decided to keep her sarcasm to herself.

About this time Lucy leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Really, it’s mostly just an excuse to get together, act silly, and drink too much.”

Lucy was obviously in a good mood. Considering that she was staying here with Ellen, that was a very good sign.

Clark was already heading over to the tree to deposit his load of presents. Just as he reached the tree, Sam came in from the kitchen. He bellowed a cheery, “Hi Clark,” and headed quickly over to Lois. He gathered her in a deep hug as he said, “Merry Christmas, Princess.”

This was as joyous as she could remember her dad ever being. She greeted him with a sincere, “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”

Before she could even catch her breath, Ellen was there with her own hug and greeting. “Merry Christmas, honey. I’m glad you could make it over tonight.”

These greetings alone had already set the Lane family record for the most positive emotions that Lois had ever seen when everyone was under the same roof. While she was still trying to digest the reality of the strange “happy” Lane family, she heard Sam speak up. “C’mon everybody. Let’s catch up a bit before dinner’s ready.”

Sam waved Clark to the loveseat right next to the festively lighted Christmas tree. There were also three chairs set up nearby in what was clearly planned to be the social center for the evening.

Clark was already seated in the spot next to the tree. As the rest of the family gathered and started to take their seats, Clark spoke up.

“Lucy, that’s a great hat.”

Lucy smiled, “Thanks, Clark.”

When she reached the loveseat, Lois heard Clark mutter softly, “I really love that hat.”

As she sat down, Clark pulled her into a quick embrace, and she felt what she would swear was a somewhat sloppy kiss on her temple. “Hi, Beautiful. I missed you!”

She pulled back just enough to see a big grin on her husband’s face.

“Clark, are you okay?”

“Sure, Honey. I just feel good tonight.”

Something about his reply didn’t sound just right, but before she could ask him any more questions, Ellen spoke up.

“So, what have you two been up to lately? We haven’t heard much since you two took that vacation a few months back.”

“Well, not too much has been happening-except that I’m pregnant.”

The next few minutes were filled with a flood of congratulations and hugs. When it settled down, everyone was back in their seats, but the sense of energy in the room was palpable.

It was Ellen who first asked the classic question. “When is the baby due?”

Lois answered, “The middle of June.”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment and then spoke up. “Wouldn’t that make the time of conception sometime when you two were on that vacation?”

Before Lois could answer, Clark spoke up. “Yeah. That was some vacation.” Then Clark leaned in and started nuzzling her neck.

She couldn’t help but look at her husband. His voice didn’t sound right and this show of affection certainly wasn’t normal.

Before Lois could decide what to do about Clark’s behavior, Lucy spoke up. “So, where did you two go on that trip? The one time we talked, you were a bit vague about where you went.”

She replied with a noncommittal, “We were several places.”

Then Clark, his voice still sounding strangely sloppy, added, “Yeah. Lots of places.”

She couldn’t help but think that he sounded drunk. But Clark wasn’t finished yet. He pulled back from her neck and said, “I really loved that little island.”

It was clear from the looks being directed at Clark from around the room that the rest of her family thought he’d been drinking. With an air of disapproval Ellen asked, “So you were on an island somewhere. Was it anywhere that we would know?”

Whatever was wrong with Clark, he seemed to be talkative. With a half-laugh he quickly replied, “No name for our island. Too small. No people.”

This seemed to catch Sam’s attention. “So, was it someone’s private island? It must have been difficult to get there.”

Clark now seemed happy to answer every question that came his way. “Nobody owns it. I found it flying and we just flew there.”

Now it was definitely past time to get her loopy husband alone. But before Lois could act on that thought, it was Ellen’s turn to throw Clark a comment. “I didn’t know you could fly a plane.”

Lois had to stop this. “Clark, we need to go to the other room for a minute!”

But Clark seemed to be listening to everyone but her. Still in a sloppy, slurred speech he said, “I can’t fly a plane. We just flew.”

Before she knew what happened, Clark had encircled her with both his arms and said in almost a shout, “Lois loves to fly.”

Lois felt herself lifting off of the loveseat. They were floating. So much for secrets!

The room had gotten very quiet. Lois was able to twist her head around to see the rest of her family sharing the same dumbstruck look on their collective faces.

It was time for some semblance of damage control. With as much anger in her voice as she could muster, Lois shouted, “Clark! Back on the ground! Now!”

The dopey smile was replaced with one reminiscent of a child whose hand was just slapped for being in the cookie jar before dinner. He brought them back to the loveseat and, she had to admit, very gently, put her right back where she started. Then Clark sat very still with his hands in his lap apparently wanting to be careful not to get her mad again.

She needed to figure out what was wrong with Clark but first there was her family. She scanned their still-in-shock faces and took a deep breath. “As you’ve probably already figured out, Clark is…”

“Superman!” Lucy yelled. “I can’t believe it Sis, you actually married Superman! Way to go!”

Lois realized that while Lucy was animated, both of her parents had much more thoughtful looks on their faces. She watched as Sam turned to Ellen and said, “I told you so.”

This really caught Lois off guard. “Daddy, what are you talking about?”

Sam turned back to Lois. “Honey, remember two Christmases back when ‘Superman’ was so sick,” and he nodded at Clark. “It was hard not to notice the way you looked at him when we thought he might die. Then, when Clark ‘came back,’ your reaction to having him with you seemed, well odd. Since then, we’ve seen you and Clark together and it’s easy to tell how you two feel about each other. Lois, it wasn’t that much of a stretch to wonder about you and Clark and Superman. Your mom and I actually talked once about if Clark could be Superman, but we figured that if he was, you had your reasons for keeping it secret.”

Lois felt like crying, she had done to them the same thing that Clark had done to her. “Dad, Mom, Lucy, I’m sorry for keeping this secret. Superman has enemies and it’s a very dangerous thing to know. If you slip even once, your lives could be in danger.”

Suddenly she remembered her now quiet husband. She turned to him. “Clark, are you okay?”

He looked back at her shyly. “I just felt so good. Honey I’m sorry I made you mad. I won’t do it again.”

She reached over and held his hand. This wasn’t like Clark at all. Then it hit her, the only time she remembered Clark acting strangely in a way that even resembled this, was around red Kryptonite. But what would Kryptonite be doing here? She glanced around the room and very quickly her eyes locked on the tree with all those glowing lights.

“Mom, Dad, are there any ornaments on the tree that glow on their own?”

Ellen replied, “Why yes. I found this odd red one in a curio shop in Kansas City a few years ago.” Ellen got up and stepped over to the tree. She reached in among the branches and took out what was obviously a chunk of red Kryptonite carved into the shape of Santa.”

“Mom, would you please take it to the far end of the house.”

At Lois’s tone, Ellen quickly had the glowing ornament off of the tree and was out of the room heading for the back of the house.

Lois’s attention was on Clark. “Honey, are you all right?”

Clark had the look of someone recovering from a blow to the head. After a few seconds he looked around the room with a sort of ‘Where am I?’ look on his face. Another second or two later, he looked over to her and asked, “What happened?”

Lois responded, “What do you remember?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Please tell me we didn’t float around the room.”

“We did. Do you remember the red Kryptonite on the tree?”

“There was Kryptonite on the tree?”

“Yes. Mom found a glowing red crystal ornament in Kansas City. It was on the tree.”

“Wow. I guess we should be thankful that it wasn’t a glowing green ornament.”

At this point Ellen returned. “What about glowing green ornaments?”

It seemed to be time to fill in the family on some important Superman information. “Mom, please sit down and I’ll try to fill in some details.”

After Ellen had taken her seat Lois continued. “As for Clark being Superman, please think of Clark as being Clark. Try to think of Superman as part-time volunteer work that he does as a community service. Now, about the ornament, there are two things that can affect Clark. They are red and green Kryptonite. The red does funny things and can affect his mental state. I should have realized what was happening sooner. There’s another kind that looks the same but glows green. It causes Clark a lot of pain and can severely hurt him.”

At this she turned to her mom and asked, “Did the place where you bought the red ornament have any that were green?”

Ellen replied immediately. “No. I did ask about green ones, but the man in the shop told me that the artist had made them only in red.”

Finally, Clark seemed aware enough to participate. “Thank goodness for small favors. At least there don’t seem to be any green Kryptonite ornaments in circulation.”

Sam interjected, “Lois, your baby… Is it … well, Clark’s?” This brought four angry stares from the rest of the room. Very quickly Sam tried to explain. “I’m sorry about how that sounds, but Son, you’re an alien, aren’t you?”

Lois answered stiffly. “Daddy, the baby is Clark’s. He’s a very human- compatible alien.” And at this she turned and gave her husband a quick kiss, and then continued. “And, based on what Dr. Klein tells us, this baby is probably going to have abilities like his dad.”

This brought a moment of silence from everyone but Lucy who simply said, “Wow.”

Sam still had more to say. “Lois, aren’t you worried about the baby and the Kryptonite? After all, look how it affected Clark.”

Lois smiled at this. “I would be, but when we found I was pregnant we asked Clark’s doctor about how Kryptonite would affect the baby. He said that green would be very bad but his tests said that red would be harmless. We’ll get tested but…” she turned to Clark, “Honey, would you take a look?”

Clark tipped his glasses for a moment and stared at Lois’s abdomen. “Look’s fine. Heart zipping away like normal.”

This casual display of abilities left Ellen and Sam speechless. However, Lucy responded with an energetic, “That is so cool!”

At this, Lois leaned in and collected a hug from her husband. “Good. We’ll still see Bernie on Monday just to be careful.”

Apparently, Sam still wasn’t done yet. “But what about…”

Clark cut him off. “This will probably go on for some time. Can we continue this over dinner? I just heard Lois’s stomach growl and she is eating for two.”

As they started to get up, Lucy stepped over to Clark. “Lois has always said that flying with Superman is fantastic. Will you take me flying sometime?”

Clark elevated his eyes slightly then answered. “I will on one condition. I want to borrow that hat to wear to the Planet’s office Christmas party this year. It’ll go perfectly with the tie that I plan to wear.”

THE END

Classicalla’s requests for fic:

1. A Clark / Superman revelation but an unusual one. 2. A pregnancy — preferably Lois’ pregnancy. 3. A hat that someone made. (Blame Elisabeth =} )

Preferred season(s)/holiday : Christmas (or Thanksgiving)

Three things I do not want in my fic: 1. Lex 2. The baby’s birth. 3. Nutcrackers.

Christmas Wishes

By Karen Thompkins <brianamarie@carolina.rr.com>

Rated: G

Submitted: November 2003

Author’s note: I have to admit, this is one story that comes straight from the heart. My eldest brother is being deployed this December, and he won’t be able to spend Christmas with us. A few comments made by my younger brother when he heard the news gave me some ideas for this story. Thanks to Wendy for reading this on such short notice, and giving me some great ideas and comments.

Dedication: Yes, there is one. To all the service men and women overseas and their families this Christmas season. And especially to my brothers: Jim, wherever they send you, be safe; and Tim, I wish I could make this true for you.

***

Lois groaned as she set another letter in a large pile next to the kitchen table. “Who do they think you are, Santa Claus? Or Bill Gates?”

Clark laughed as he read another letter. “I’m not sure. Kids don’t realize that toys cost money, most of the time.” Superman had offered to fulfill ten children’s wishes “within reason” to help the local Christmas charities. He had told them he would go through the letters himself, as sometimes the charities weren’t sure exactly which wishes Superman could make come true. Which was the reason Lois and Clark were going through mailbags of letters.

Lois plucked another one out of the bag. “Here’s one. ‘Dear Superman. This year for Christmas I want a dolly, and a toy truck like Bobby has, and a kitty. Love Sally, age 7.’ I’m sure he’ll just fly right up to the North Pole, he’s good friends with Santa.”

“They aren’t all like that, you know.” Clark waved a letter at her. “‘Dear Superman. All I want this year is my Daddy back. Mommy said he went up to Heaven, but I know you can fly really high. Can you bring him back for me?’ Those are the ones that get to me. And the ones that want me to make someone well.” He added that letter to a pile to be forwarded back to the charities.

Lois let out a sigh as she read the next letter. “Here’s one you might be able to do. ‘Dear Superman. This year, I don’t want toys or presents or clothes or anything. I’m asking Santa for those, because I know he can’t bring me what I really want. You see, the only thing I want for Christmas this year is my brother. Lee is being ‘- I think he was trying to write deployed here, but he couldn’t spell it — ‘sent over to where the fighting is this month. I’m afraid he’s not going to come back, or I’ll never see him again. Please, Superman, is there any way you can get my brother here for Christmas? Thank you very very very very very much, Timmy, age 11.’”

“Put that in the keep pile. We can have Jimmy track down the information and see if we can’t get in touch with his commanding officer or someone. Here’s another one who just wants to fly. We can keep that one in, too.”

“Whew, last one. And that one wants toys too. That part’s done. What’s next?” Lois looked around at all the papers lying on and around the table.

“Well, we’ve got a few more than ten kids here in the keep pile, so we probably need to whittle that down a bit. Here, hold these down.” Clark set two piles of papers on the table, and whirled around the room. Papers magically disappeared from the floor and reappeared in the mailbags as the miniature tornado flew around the room. A minute later, order triumphed over chaos to reign again.

“That’s better. Now, I’ll take that pile to give back to the charity tomorrow.” Clark took one pile and set it on the counter, out of the way. The room was silent for the next few minutes as they pored over the letters again, trying to determine which children would receive their special wishes that year.

***

Timothy looked around the dining room at his family sitting around the table, talking happily and eating breakfast. Every other year was a big treat for him, since that was when his big brother and sister came and spent Christmas with the rest of the family. Everyone was there this year. Everyone but Lee. It scared him to think that his brother was way on the other side of the world surrounded by people he didn’t know. Timmy had heard enough on the news to know it was a scary place. He let out a big sigh at the thought of it.

His sister reached over and squeezed him in a hug. “Don’t worry, he’s fine. We might even be able to call him later.”

“I know, sissy, but it’s not the same. I want him here.”

“So do we.” She hugged him again, and dropped a kiss on the top of his head. Timmy glared up at her for the kiss, which only made her laugh. Sisters. Suddenly, she cocked her head, listening to something. “Wait a minute…what in the world? Is that what I think it is?”

A moment later, the jingling of bells could be heard above the house. Even in a small town, bells weren’t something that were normally heard. Suddenly, the bells stopped, and a knocking at the door was heard.

Timmy knocked over his chair in his haste to get to the door, and was first one there to open it. Standing there was a large man in a blue suit and a red cape. It was really him, it was really Superman!

“Mr. Timothy Jones?” Timmy nodded, afraid that if he spoke, the man in front of him would disappear. “I’ve got a present for you.” The rest of his family stood behind him, unable to believe their eyes, unsure if that really was the Man of Steel in front of them. Superman stepped to the side, revealing a young man dressed in an army field uniform, a red bow on his head instead of a green cap.

“BUBBY!” Timmy launched himself at his brother, nearly knocking him back as hugged him tight. After a moment, everyone else got over their surprise and crowded around the young serviceman.

Once they’d gotten the initial hugs out of the way, Timmy’s dad looked at Superman. “I don’t understand. How…?”

“Timmy wrote me a letter about wanting his brother home for Christmas. Luckily, it was one wish I was able to grant. I flew over and spoke to his superiors, and they were kind enough to let him come home for the day.” Superman knelt down next to Timmy. “I’ll have to fly him back later, but you’ll have a few hours together. Is that okay?”

Timmy nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced up at his brother, then threw his arms around Superman’s neck. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good Christmas.”

“I will, now that my brother’s here. Hey, you wanna come in for some breakfast?”

Superman grinned. “No, thank you, I still have things to do and places to be. Yours wasn’t the only wish on my list today. I’ll see you later.”

Superman got his own round of hugs and handshakes before he was allowed to leave. He waved at the Jones family as he rose into the air, a big smile on his face.

***

Clark looked down at the happy family below before starting his flight back. He had actually “granted” most of the wishes the day before, leaving only the Christmas-specific ones for that morning. The lucky ten kids had actually turned into seventeen by the time he was through. He wished he could grant every child their wish, but the ones that he could made a big difference. It was worth it to see the happy smiles on their shining faces.

Clark pulled a paper out of a hidden pocket in his suit, and noted the last wish on his list. A little girl in Florida wanted a snowball for Christmas. All he had to do was first stop by his house and pick up a cooler before heading south via Vermont. Once that was done, he could spend the rest of the day in Smallville, where his parents and Lois were just waking up. He was very thankful that he could spend a semi-quiet day surrounded by his whole family, and was looking forward to it. He just hoped that one day he would be able to share it with his own children.

THE END

Secret Revelations

By Laura S. <lyshaheen@aol.com>

Rated G

Submitted September 2007

***

The Planet had been transformed. Completely and utterly transformed. Evergreen boughs snaked their way between the desks, twisted onto unsuspecting rails and other surfaces. Strategically placed mistletoe lent a festive air to one massive arch, and a brightly bedecked Christmas tree stood sentry over the rest of the office. Each desk had an envelope bearing its occupant’s name in a typewriter’s unrevealing script.

Clark Kent finally recovered from his shock at the substantial renovation his place of work had undergone and gave the entire office a bright, boyish smile. Christmas time. Finally. It was December first and the Planet staff had been amazing in their quick and beautiful transformation of the building. A light snow had fallen the previous evening, dusting the ground outside with a layer of powdered sugar. It was already beginning to melt, but it still sent a sharp zing of excitement through Clark whenever he glanced outside the Planet’s big bay windows. Which he did. Frequently.

Looking over at his partner’s desk, a habit that was quickly becoming tradition, he saw Lois had just arrived as well. Clark prepared a cup of coffee the way Lois always took it and made his way over, not quite shaking the residual effects of his smile.

“Morning Lois,” Clark set the coffee on her desk and spread his arm wide, gesturing to the decorations. “Isn’t this incredible?”

“Hi Clark,” Lois grabbed the coffee and took a cautious sip. After the first warming mouthful, she took another, sighing blissfully. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “But don’t you think the office looks amazing?”

Lois glanced around, as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh yeah, the crew always does a pretty decent job.” This said, she returned to booting up her computer.

“Pretty decent?” Clark asked incredulously. “It looks gorgeous.”

“I suppose,” Lois took another sip of her coffee and finally set it down. “It’s freezing out there! This definitely hits the spot.”

Clark was about to respond when a booming voice filled the office.

“All right folks! Listen up!” The office hubbub subsided slightly as the masses gave their attention to their editor-in-chief.

Perry White had a hand raised in an effort to quiet the crowd and when the office had reached an acceptable level of quiet, he spoke again.

“I know everyone has noticed the new decorations, so let’s give Jenna McKinley a round of applause for her hard work.” The Planet staff clapped politely and then turned their attention back to Perry. “It’s time for the Daily Planet’s annual Secret Santa! All right now, there’s an envelope on your desk with your name on it. Inside there’s someone who works in this office. You don’t have to participate, but it’s always a nice thought. You can buy one big gift if you’d like, but many choose to use the month of December to do some nice things for their Secret Santa. Doesn’t have to be anything huge, just that little extra. Now I want everyone to make an effort this year!”

Was it Lois’ imagination, or did Perry’s eyes linger on her a moment longer than necessary?

“Ok… well we have a paper to get out! Open your envelopes and get working on your assignments. Paper won’t print itself! Clark! In my office.”

Clark gave Lois a quick grin and followed his retreating boss into his office.

With an absent wave at Perry, Lois logged onto her screen name, checked her email, and listened to her phone messages. The envelope lay untouched on her desk. She glanced over at Clark, who had since returned from Perry’s office and saw him reading the paper inside and grinning widely.

For a moment she felt a pang in her heart. Whoever had been lucky enough to get Clark as his or her Secret Santa would be in for a treat. Lois expected nothing less from the man she considered to be the most kind and generous on the earth. In fact, it looked like Clark had already started scribbling a list of ideas. She bit back a laugh at this characteristic Clark behavior. He was so…well… Clarkish. It wasn’t a word, but it should be. “Characterizes sweetness personified.” Lois grinned slightly at her internal musings and finally picked up her envelope.

Guess she should find out who she’d have to go buy the latest bestseller for. Lois tore the top of the envelope and pulled out a piece of computer paper with a single name stamped boldly across the middle.

Clark Kent.

Lois slumped in her desk. Of all the people…! She’d have felt perfectly fine with getting Ralph or Whats-His-Name from Sports the whatever bestseller that was out, but Clark?

Clark was different. Clark was sitting there making out a list of possible things to do for his Secret Santa, most probably all considerate and well thought out, and she was debating which author to go for, Grisham or King.

Lois pushed the thought from her mind, however and sighed in resignation. Clark would understand… He was just that kind of guy. And speak of the devil… they needed to go meet with a source. She called his name and he stood immediately, flashing her a smile and holding out her coat.

“You ready?”

Lois nodded and slipped an arm through the proffered sleeve. “Let’s go.”

***

The next morning, when Lois entered the office, the first thing she noticed was the fresh cut yellow rose sitting in a vase on her desk. She held it up gingerly, inhaling its delicate fragrance. Under the vase was an index card, printed on with an ordinary type from the computer.

Yellow is for friendship. And a rose deserves a rose. Have a good day. -Your Secret Santa

Lois read the card and gasped. Clark… images from a not so distant memory flashed vividly across her mind. The Prankster, the beautiful yellow roses she had callously thrown coffee over, Clark saying “Those roses cost me fifty bucks.” Yellow is for friendship…

God, it was just so…Clarkish! That word again. She glanced over at his desk, where he was sipping a cup of coffee, a cup he had gotten himself, she thought guiltily.

Well, getting his coffee for him would have given the game away! She argued valiantly with herself, but she couldn’t ease the slight guilt coiling in her stomach as she took in the rose again.

Perry came out of his office with a furry Santa hat in one hand and a broad grin on his face. “My Secret Santa has struck!” He placed the hat on his head and gave his best impression of the Big Guy.

Lois shook her head, hiding a grin. The men in her life always turned a little mushy when it came to Christmas. She snuck another sideways glance at Clark, who was smiling at Perry and clapping him on the back.

“Nice impression, Chief.”

“Well you know the King played Santa Claus a time or two… bless his soul. Does a heart good.” Perry noticed the rose on Lois’ desk and beamed at her. “I see your Secret Santa has been busy!”

Lois nodded and smiled at Clark. He caught her eye and grinned back.

“Have you gotten anything Clark?” Perry eyed Clark’s empty desk, but Clark merely shrugged. “Not yet, but I’m not expecting anything huge! I really don’t even need anything, I’m pretty happy.”

If anybody else had said it, Lois thought, it would have sounded completely insincere, but she could tell Clark sincerely meant it. Boy scout. But even her inner voice couldn’t dredge up much cynicism.

Over a couple desks, Jimmy Olsen unwrapped his first present, a pack of baseball games and gave a delighted laugh. He hadn’t owned baseball cards in a long time. Ignoring the stack of work mounting beside him, he ripped open the casing and spent the next hour carefully examining each one, unable to keep the grin off his face.

***

Three days later, a neatly wrapped package lay innocuously on Lois’ desk. It was wrapped in shiny silver paper and had a green satin bow on top. She eagerly tore the paper and couldn’t help but laugh when she saw the VHS she pulled out.

Dr. Suess’ ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’

She hadn’t seen this movie in ages, but she and Lucy used to watch it religiously on Christmas Eve. She eagerly turned it over and scanned the back. At least she’d have some company on Christmas when Clark returned to Smallville and she returned to her usual TV dinners and popcorn. She glanced guiltily up at Clark’s again empty desk.

She hadn’t really done anything for him… well she had allowed him to put the byline as Kent and Lane for once instead of the other way around, but that had really been because of the outcome of a bet lost a week or so ago.

The partner in question was currently leaning back in his chair, a pencil stuck behind his ear as he listened carefully to whatever the person he was speaking to was saying. Lois caught his eye and gave him a small smile, which he returned twice over, straightening and giving her a quick wave.

Lois laughed at his antics, because waves just simply weren’t done at the Daily Planet, but somehow Clark made it work.

Jimmy picked up the manila file folder containing the information Clark had asked him to compile and taped it to the blue and red toy car he had received two days previously. After a final check to make sure the file was secure, he picked up the remote and set the car gingerly on the floor. Her fiddled with the controls and soon the car was zooming happily up to Clark’s desk, running into his leg. Its rubber wheels squealed in protest at the obstacle in its path, and Clark grabbed the file, laughing.

Perry White watched the interaction under the guise of a disapproving eye, but inwardly he was beaming. Christmas was his favorite time of year and to see the two employees he regarded almost like sons enjoy themselves affected him too. He glanced at his desk, which someone had recently organized. His shelves were now all neatly labeled, the clutter gone, and a bag of cinnamon gummy bears, his absolute favorite, occupied the space on the newly polished cherry wood of his desk.

His Secret Santa had struck again.

***

Two weeks later, Clark’s desk was still empty.

And Lois felt like a grade A heel for it. She had tried, honestly, but when she had attempted to get him coffee, he had beaten her to it, and when she went to place the Snickers bar on his desk, he had returned, whistling happily and she had to pretend she was making her way to the printers.

People were starting to whisper, as they too noticed that Clark Kent, who they had been certain had been giving so freely, was being so let down. There were general grumblings on who the scrooge could be, and Lois found herself trapped in a conversation with a female coworker who was complaining vehemently on his behalf. After she had categorized a list of his pleasing assets. When the woman had started on about Clark Kent’s cute bu—, Lois had excused herself and beat a hasty retreat to the relative safety of her desk.

Besides, she was piqued that her naive partner was being so shamelessly ogled.

He was her partner.

And he was currently staring at her.

Lois straightened, nervously smoothing out her skirt. He was on the phone again, but instead of staring up at the ceiling, phone in hand, as was his usual habit, he had the phone resting on his shoulder. And he was staring at her, brown eyes slightly sleepy and a curious half smile on his face.

Lois tore herself away from his unfocused gaze and zeroed in on the news ticker on Yahoo! instead.

“Superman Saves Millions from Typhoon in India”

Ah yes. Clark had gotten the exclusive and typed it up this morning. Apparently Clark had been up all night, just like Superman. She started determinedly at the screen. Sleepy brown eyes were normal. She saw them all the time, on herself mostly, but on Clark too, when they’ve been on assignment and pulled an all nighter.

But yet they still managed to find that weak spot in her heart.

***

Only three days until Christmas. So far her Secret Santa had outdone himself. She had received the yellow rose, the movie, some of her favorite candy, a coupon for a free gallon of rocky road (that present had been especially well appreciated), and finally, a delicate glass reindeer to bedeck her Charlie Brown Christmas tree with. And there was more… she was sure of it. Sometimes she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what, but things had been going smoothly for her, too smoothly. Almost as if someone had been anticipating her needs and actions.

Perry had been overjoyed with his stack of presents: the Santa hat, the massive cleaning job on his desk, an Elvis’ Season Hits CD, some more cinnamon bears and finally a restored Elvis record, the one missing from his precious collection.

In addition to the toy car and the baseball cards, Jimmy had received a Metropolis Tigers baseball cap and a thick, high quality reporter’s notebook.

And Clark Kent had not received a single gift.

But he never mentioned it, never gazed longingly at the stack on Jimmy’s desk, or made seemingly off hand comments about his lack of presents. He just went through his business as normal: getting Lois a cup of coffee every morning, walking her home on icy nights, providing a sounding board for some of her off hand schemes.

Each day, when Lois returned home, she’d agonize over what to do, but she always told herself there was a tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d run over to Barnes and Noble to get that mystery book by the author he liked. After she chased this lead, she’d go sniff out his favorite candy. Later. And then it was December 23, and Secret Santa’s were to be revealed on the 24rd.

And it was on that night that Lois thought of her gift.

***

“All right, folks!” Perry was decked out in his Santa hat, addressing the crowd yet again. “Time to fess up and admit who your Santa was. Circle up.”

With a steady amount of good-natured groaning, the room dutifully circled up and Perry started.

“Okay, I admit, my Secret Santa was Robert Cayman.” The shy copy boy raised his head in surprise.

“Really? That was you Mr. White? Thanks for the stuff!”

It continued in a circle. Jenny from marketing had Jimmy as a Secret Santa and Lois could already see him eyeing her appreciatively. Some things never changed.

A couple people later, it was Clark’s turn. Lois smiled at him, already anticipating his words. “I was lucky enough to have my partner as my Secret Santa…”

“—enough to have our favorite editor…”

Lois didn’t hear the rest of his words; her heart was pounding too fiercely in her chest. Clark wasn’t her Secret Santa?! She must have spoken something to this effect because the attention in the room soon focused on her.

“No, Lois, I had Perry. You thought I was your Secret Santa?”

Lois blustered slightly, embarrassed to be wrong in front of the entire room. And did he have to look so smug? It was enough to make her almost regret the gift she had planned. Almost. All right, in fact she was looking for any excuse to drop the idea and get him that book after all. Better late than never, right?

“So who had Lois?” Perry spoke up a moment later, voicing the thought on the newsroom’s mind. Lois had been watched with envy throughout the month. If Clark hadn’t been the one spending such time and effort on the obviously meaningful gifts, then who had?

“Uh… I did Chief.”

The room did a double take as Jimmy Olsen fessed up.

Jimmy had been the one picking out these amazing little presents?! She had to admit the “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”gift was admittedly a clear indication of Jimmy’s modus operandi, but how had she been so mistaken!?

“T-thank you Jimmy,” Lois stammered out, still unable to clearly voice her appreciation.

After this minor bombshell had been dropped, Perry turned on Lois next.

“So Lois, who did you have this year?”

“Oh, I had Clark.”

As soon as the words had left her mouth, she regretted the cavalier way she had said it. In her excitement over the present she had planned for Christmas Eve, she had completely forgotten how she must look to the crowd. The office Scrooge, not even considerate enough to spend some time on her partner. Lois shrugged slightly and Perry moved on. Oh well, she had been the object of office gossip a few times now and the novelty had mostly worn off. She didn’t care what these people thought of her. Well, she cared about Jimmy and Perry, but they’d understand her. And she cared about Clark; above all she cared about him. She looked up, hoping to catch his eye and give him a smile but she froze when she took in his face.

He looked completely normal, smiling an easy smile and laughing with the rest of the crowd. But his eyes… keen, intelligent, caring and sometimes sleepy were none of those now. They were hurt. Had she known him a bit less intimately she would have missed it altogether. In fact, she doubted even Perry or Jimmy could see past the million watt smile.

But she could.

Clark Kent hadn’t cared when he hadn’t received a gift, that she was still certain of. But he was devastated when it appeared that his partner hadn’t cared about him enough to even extend an effort.

And when he finally met her eyes and his forced smile faded, Lois felt like the lowest life form on the planet.

***

“Clark!”

He was on his way out of The Planet, having already left the newsroom. For a moment Lois wasn’t sure if he would stop, but he finally turned around and met her gaze. He had avoided her all day, she was sure of it.

“Hi Lois,” he said casually, his eyes still betraying him.

“Clark… Clark I know you think I’m the least human person you can probably care to name, but I need you.” She spoke the last part thickly, emotion clouding her throat.

Clark’s eyes immediately flashed from hurt to worry.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” He gently gripped her shoulders and ran a comforting hand down her back.

“I… I just need to see you tonight; can you come over around seven?”

“Of course I can, but are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

Lois shifted anxiously from one foot the other, seemingly wrestling with her conscious.

“I’m sure,” a beat passed and Lois seemed to come to a decision. Standing on her tip-toes, she pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Clark.”

And in a flash of bright red coat and black scarf, she was gone.

***

The knock on the door sounded at exactly 6:59.

Lois nervously checked herself in the mirror one last time and did a slight twirl. She had on a burgundy Christmas dress purchased for the occasion and her hair was falling naturally, wavy rather than the ramrod straight she preferred at work.

Her nerves were shot.

It’s just Clark, Lois told herself firmly. After checking to determine that yes, it was Clark, she took a deep breath and swung the door open wide.

He was dressed for the occasion, nice khaki slacks and a black sweater paired with his long black overcoat. Clark looked… good.

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly. Lois started to smile, but something in his voice stopped her. It was quiet, reverent, but it bordered on sadness rather than the normal buoyant cheerfulness he usually had in abundance.

“Thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself,” Lois returned the compliment, trying to suppress the urge to wrap him in a hug. She held the door open wider and he stepped past her into the room.

“Hey…” His voice finally held a note of enthusiasm. “You decorated!”

Lois shrugged. “I decided I should probably spruce it up a little bit… No tree jokes!” She caught him just as he was opening his mouth and he snapped it shut, a delicious twinkle finally sparkling in his eye.

“You know me too well.”

He offered her the wrapped box in his hand. “This is for you, Merry Christmas.”

“I have something for you too,” she replied, taking the box from his hands. “Sit tight here and I’ll get it, but I also have to tell you something.”

Clark nodded and sat down while Lois ducked into her room to pull out Clark’s gift. She returned to find him idly flipping through the book of photographs she had tucked under the coffee-table’s shelf. He was smiling at a page, when she came and sat beside him.

“Remember this?” He pointed to a picture of the two of them at the Smallville Corn Festival. Lois choked down laughter as she remembered the day.

“My God, could I have been any denser that trip? After insulting your birthplace, I called your father a cross dresser to your mother’s face and THEN proceeded to insult both of their intelligences but implying that they didn’t know what a fax machine was.” Lois leaned her head back and closed her eyes in embarrassment.

“I’m surprised you’ve stuck with me this long.”

Clark grinned and gave her hand a friendly squeeze. “You were worth it.”

Their conversation lulled for a moment and Lois swallowed hard. Before Clark could remove his hand, she tightened her grip. The teasing glint in his eye mellowed somewhat, grew serious.

“I have something to tell you, Clark, it’s about the Secret Santa.”

Lois could almost feel him distancing, but she forced him to look her in the eye as she continued. “I know what you think, and I’m sorry for causing you that kind of pain,” Lois said softly. “Believe me when I say hurting you is the last thing I’d want to do.”

For the first time Clark voiced his feelings. “It doesn’t bother me that you didn’t go all out, I know Christmas isn’t your thing,” he said quietly, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. “I just thought I meant enough to you that you might leave a note or something.”

His tone wasn’t accusing, in fact he spoke mildly, but Lois could see the hurt as clearly as she could see the white lights twinkling on the tree behind him.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you, I didn’t forget… I have… I have a gift for you, and it’s not just your Christmas gift, because I have that too,” Lois held up the box and gave him a quick smile. “My Secret Santa gift to you, well, isn’t so secret anymore, obviously. But that’s not all, it… you might not want it. And that’s what scares me the most.”

“I can’t imagine you giving me anything I wouldn’t love, Lois.” Clark’s interest was piqued; he didn’t think he had ever seen Lois quite so fidgety and nervous. “What is it?” He manfully resisted adding the endearment he privately had taken to calling her.

“Our life is built on words, Clark. Our jobs, our private correspondence… through it all, it’s our words that intimately connect us,” Lois swallowed hard and continued. “And so that’s what I based my Secret Santa gift on, words. But some words can be empty if not spoken with the right inflection, the right amount of passion. And that’s why I couldn’t leave this note on your desk, or somewhere impersonal. I had to give it to you in person, if only so you could understand that they mean something to me. And it’s my gift to you.”

Lois reached behind her and pulled an envelope out. It was plain white, nearly identical to the ones that had contained their Secret Santa names in the first place. Clark’s name was penned neatly on the front.

Unexpectedly moved by Lois’s speech, though still at a loss to understanding what it was all about, Clark thumbed open the envelope, pulling out a plain sheet of computer paper, folded over twice.

He opened the paper—the words on the page were nearly as brief as that first letter. But Clark suddenly dropped the paper with a gasp, his gaze immediately locking on Lois’ piercing brown one.

A moment later he had pulled her to him and they were kissing, a sweet, gentle kiss that portrayed both pent up emotion and deep and mutual love.

The paper fluttered unheeded to the ground, the simple words speaking eloquently. The couple on the couch continued to kiss, finding the solace both had sought. A breeze from the window pushed the paper up against the couch, face up. Lois’ Secret Santa gift for Clark, a gift of three words and yet so much more than that.

“I love you.”

Outside, it began to snow.

***

Merry Christmas, everyone. : )

Santa’s Helper

By Caroline K. <kalinalea@gmail.com>

Rated PG13

Submitted November 2007

***

“I’m not doing this,” Lois said for the tenth time since they’d left the Daily Planet. “You can do it if you want, but I’m not doing it.”

Clark sighed and counted to ten.

“And Perry can’t make us do it,” she added when he didn’t respond. “It’s not like it’s in our contracts. I’m not doing it.”

“Then go back to the newsroom!” Clark snapped, his nearly legendary patience exhausted. Because he didn’t particularly want to do it either, but he didn’t see the point in spending the day complaining about it. “Just forget it, Lois, and go back to the newsroom and tell Perry you’re not doing it!”

She looked outraged, and then, in a split-second moment of calculation, she arranged her face into a pout instead. “You yelled at me.”

Wounded tones. She was very good at wounded tones.

Clark sighed again. He’d sighed so many times since they had left the newsroom that he thought he might be deflating. With every sigh, the air was escaping his body little by little, and if she kept it up, he’d probably lose so much air that he’d just sag to the pavement like an empty balloon.

An empty balloon wearing a business suit and glasses.

That would teach her, he thought, picturing the sorry, saggy little puddle of Clark-clothes on the sidewalk.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” he told her, with the absolute last scrap of his patience. “But I’d like to point out that you’ve been yelling at me ever since we left the office.”

She sniffed. “That’s different.”

He thought about not taking the bait, but then he realized that this had the potential to be one of those conversations that led to make-up sex… and Lois wasn’t the only one who could be calculating.

“How is it different?” He added just the slightest touch of belligerence to his tone. Just a hint, so she’d know that he was still annoyed.

“It just is. It’s not the way we operate. I gripe, and you make me feel better. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Well, what if I want to change the way we operate? What if I want to be the one to gripe a little?”

“Then you should have negotiated for that a long time ago. There was nothing in our marriage vows about you getting to gripe.”

He grinned. She was completely nuts, but he adored her. “There was nothing in there about you getting to gripe either.”

She shot him a triumphant look. “But I had a long-standing history of griping, which you knew when you entered into the marriage. If you’d wanted to gripe, you should have mentioned it. It’s a legal thing. Like a preexisting condition.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical term.”

“Whatever.” She waved a hand carelessly in the air, nearly knocking the hat off of a little old lady who was passing by. Clark shot the woman an apologetic glance as Lois went on. “You should have put a griping clause into your vows.”

“Yeah, because that would have been really romantic. Gorgeous sunset, surrounded by friends and family on a hilltop in… Hey, does it ever bother you that we have no idea where we got married?”

It was her turn to sigh. “I try not to think about it.”

“Yeah, me too.” He shook his head as if to clear it, which was something he nearly always had to do when he thought about their wedding. “Anyway, wherever we were, it wasn’t exactly the time to be bringing up griping privileges.”

“Your loss.”

“Not really,” he answered smugly. “Because in the time it’s taken to discuss it, we’ve gotten to the costume shop.” He gestured at the store window in front of them. “And you’ve been so busy deciding who had griping privileges that it’s been at least three minutes since you griped.”

“Well, I’m still not doing it.” Her eyes flashed up at him and she folded her arms across her chest.

“Fine. Don’t do it. You can help me pick out a Santa costume, and I’ll find someone else to be my elf.” He pushed open the door and a bell jangled overhead. “The new girl in advertising would be a good elf, don’t you think? She seems really sweet – like she’d be good with kids.”

“She makes Cat Grant look like Carol Brady,” Lois groused.

“Hey, I could look up Cat!” Clark suggested innocently, as he fingered a Batman costume. “She always liked me.”

“Cat liked anyone with a…”

“Lois!” He shot her a disapproving look and then added in a lower voice, “Feel how heavy this thing is. I couldn’t stand it. It would make me claustrophobic.”

“The Santa costume probably will, too!” she said, as if struck by inspiration. “That heavy coat… the beard… and you’ll need padding. You’ll hate it.”

“Probably. But the children will love it, and I’m the kind of guy who’s willing to make the sacrifice for a bunch of great kids who’ve gotten a rough start in life.” He gave his wife a pointed look.

“Sheesh, Kent. You forgot to cue the violins before you said that.”

He sighed again.

“Can I help you folks?” A fresh-faced blonde who didn’t look more than nineteen years old came out to greet them, giving Clark an extra-wide smile.

“Yes, please,” Clark said prayerfully, wanting to get the whole experience over with. “I need a Santa costume.”

“Oh, you’re going to be Santa!” she squealed, looking at Clark adoringly. “That’s just so sweet!”

“I was just saying the same thing.” Lois gave the girl a saccharine smile.

“Our Christmas section is over here.” The girl took Clark’s arm possessively and steered him to the back of the store. He shot Lois a desperate look, but she just rolled her eyes and trailed along behind as they threaded their way through racks of costumes. Superheroes, villains, monsters, and finally, the back corner, which was a sea of red, white, and green. One whole wall held Santa costumes and assorted accoutrements, and several free-standing racks held elf costumes, snowmen, and reindeer.

“See, here are the Santas, and this is our nicest one… feel how soft the coat is.” She stroked the plush Santa suit rapturously. “It’s a little more expensive,” she warned him, “but really, it’s worth it. Some of the other Santas have told me that the cheaper ones can chafe… you know, in places guys don’t like to be chafed.”

She tittered and winked at him, and he felt himself start to blush, which was stupid since he’d never chafed anywhere, ever, and wouldn’t this time, either, but why wasn’t his wife coming to his rescue? What had happened to teamwork, partnership… good old-fashioned jealousy?

“Er… that’s okay,” Clark said hastily. “I’ll take that one, I guess.” The Daily Planet was paying for it, after all, and Perry had told him to get whatever he wanted. “What do you think, honey?” He put just the slightest emphasis on the ‘honey.’ Just the slightest. His own private cry for help.

“Oh, it’s definitely you, honey,” Lois simpered. “You know how I love you in red.”

Clark shot her a glare.

“Of course,” she cooed, “nothing could top the way you looked in that telegraph operator costume that time…”

“Telegraph operator…?” The blond girl looked confused. “I don’t think we have that one.”

“Well…” Lois gave the girl a broad, conspiratorial wink. “That was back when we were newlyweds… trying new things. Trust me, he made it work for him.”

“Lois!” Clark’s face was flaming.

“Uh…” The poor girl seemed completely flummoxed, but she’d let go of Clark’s arm, so that was progress of a sort. If he was still speaking to Lois later, which seemed unlikely, he might even thank her. “Do you know your size?” She sounded more businesslike now, probably ready to get the couple with the costume fetish out of her shop.

“Uh, no. I guess not. I’ve never done this before. The place I work does a little party for the kids at Coates Orphanage every year,” Clark explained, wanting to sound as completely normal as possible. “Usually my boss plays Santa, but this year, he’s going to be out of town.”

“She doesn’t need to know all of that, Clark.” Lois reached up and grabbed a suit. “Here. Start trying these things on so we can get out of here. I’m starving.”

“And my wife is interested in one of these elf costumes,” he said, feeling that he was overdue for a little revenge. He reached behind Lois and grabbed the first elf-like thing he saw. Red and white striped tights dangled beneath a skimpy green dress with huge red buttons. “Oh, honey, this is great!” he enthused. “I think I might like you better in this than in that concubine costume you wore that time.”

“Um, why don’t I let you two look around a bit?” The shop girl edged away from them. “Just… take whatever time you need. The dressing room is back there.” She nodded in the direction of a door and then practically ran to the front of the store.

“Nice touch,” Lois told him, once the girl was gone. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

He grinned. “I learned from the best.”

“Well, it got rid of Blondie, so I’m not complaining. But seriously, pick a Santa suit and let’s get out of here.”

“I will… once you’ve picked your elf costume.” He gave her what he hoped was a winning look and shook the hanger at her. The costume jingled merrily, which made his day. “Come on… go try this one on.”

“Are you crazy?” she asked. “That costume isn’t going to hide this bump.” She put her hand protectively over the slight swelling of her abdomen. “There’s no such thing as a pregnant elf, Clark.”

“Sure there is! How else would they get more elves?”

“Who is they?” she demanded. “Who is it that you think is out there breeding elves?”

“Lois, compared to some of the things we’ve experienced, elf-breeding doesn’t even rate as interesting. It’d be like… page four at best.” He shook the costume at her again, mostly because he knew how much the sound of the bells would annoy her.

“I’m not being a pregnant elf!” she snapped.

“Please?” He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes. “I don’t want any elf but you, Lois.”

“What kind of a message would that send to the kids?” she demanded. “If I wore that, I’d be the naughty elf. The elf that’s sleeping with the boss. The one who got caught in the back seat of Santa’s sleigh. Is that what you want?”

He grinned. “Is this a trick question? Because you had me at ‘naughty elf.’”

She cracked a smile in spite of herself. “There’s a time and a place for everything, Clark, and I don’t think the orphanage Christmas party is the place to act out your elf fantasies.”

“I don’t either,” he told her more seriously. “But it’s a great place for us to spend some time together celebrating Christmas with the kids. Really, Lois, why is this bothering you so much?”

“I’ve never liked Christmas. You know that.” She was staring down at the Santa suit in her hands, and Clark reached over and tipped her chin up, making her face him.

“I don’t believe you.” He shook his head. “We’ve had great Christmases the last few years. So what is this about?”

“I just don’t want to do it! Why does there have to be a reason?”

Clark put the elf costume back on the rack. “Because there is. There has to be. You’re not this stubborn without a reason. So what is it? Why is spending one night with the orphans such a big deal to you? All you have to do is hand out a few gifts and entertain them a little while they’re waiting to talk to Santa.”

“Exactly!” she snapped. “I have to entertain children. When have you ever seen me do that, Clark? When have you ever seen me even willingly talk to a child? I don’t talk to kids if I can help it because I never know what to say. Kids adore you. They look at you like you’re some kind of hero even when you’re not dressed as… you know.” She made a little flying motion with her hand. “But they look at me like they’re afraid I’m going to bite their little heads off or shove them into the oven. And I don’t need a whole night of that right now.”

“And would all of that have something to do with this?” he asked, putting his hand gently on the swell of her belly. “With the fact that next year, we’ll be playing Santa for our own kid?”

“Of course not,” she huffed. “Our kid won’t even be able to talk next year.”

“But it will the year after that.” He smiled. “If it’s a girl and she takes after you, we probably won’t be able to get a word in edgewise.”

“You’re hilarious.”

He took the Santa suit from her and hung it on the nearest rack, and then he pulled her into his arms. “Lois, you’re going to be a great mom,” he told her, hugging her close. “You might not be a baking-cookies, stitching-samplers kind of a mom, but you’re going to be the perfect mom for our child. And when it comes down to it, you’re going to know the right things to say. Remember when you were kidnapped by Kripstly? You were locked in a room with all those frightened children, and you comforted them.”

“By telling them a story about Superman,” she mumbled into his chest. “So what happens when I run out of those?”

“You’ll think of another one. And then another one. Trust me, honey, talking to our child is going to come naturally to you.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll be good with the orphans.”

“Give it a try,” he begged. He smiled down at her. “Be my naughty elf… please?”

She giggled, and he knew he’d won. “Will I get to sit on Santa’s lap?” she asked, batting her eyes at him and lowering her voice seductively.

“Oh, yeah,” he assured her. “Santa’s looking forward to it…”

THE END

Lonely this Christmas?

By Wendy Richards <wendy@lcfanfic.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: December 2005

Author’s note:

This story is dedicated to all the wonderful readers and commenters who posted such amazing, fantastic feedback on 24 Hours for me, on the message boards, in IRC and in email. I simply can’t describe how your kind, enthusiastic words made me feel. Even the yelling and threats as you waited for new instalments! I don’t think I have ever had such a wonderful reaction to a story, and I love you all :) Thank you.

Special thanks go to Chris Carr and Kaethel for BRing this at incredibly short notice and catching a few glitches. Compliments of the season to you!

And to everyone else: Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice or whatever you celebrate. May you have a peaceful and fun season.

***

“So, what did you think of the movie?”

I smile up at Clark as we walk out of the cinema together. I’m glad he persuaded me to come. Before, I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy this film, but from the first few minutes I was enthralled. And so was he, I could tell.

“I loved it.” Moving closer to him, I slide my hand through his arm. He likes it when I do that, and I do too. I think he knows that. I hope he does, anyway. He’s such a wonderful, special friend. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost him.

And I do know what it’s like to lose him. I did lose him, briefly… but I don’t like to think of that time. Never want to think of it again if I can help it, but I know I won’t forget the lesson I learned then.

Life is precious. He is precious. And I’ll never let him doubt that.

“It reminded me of Superman,” I say as we walk. “In fact, it really made me think about him…” There’s sadness in my voice. The movie really affected me on one particular level.

“Superman? Why?” Clark’s surprised, and I can also hear a note of something in his voice that I haven’t heard for a long time. Irritation. I know he doesn’t like it when he thinks I’m obsessing about Superman.

“Think about it, Clark.” I shake his arm a little. “The alien in that movie… he was all alone. His planet was destroyed. He had no home. Nowhere to go. No-one to call his own, to feel… well, affinity with. And all he encountered were people calling him an alien. A thing. They were afraid of him, and all he wanted was to belong.”

“Oh, right.” Clark frowns a little. “But Superman’s fine. People don’t distrust him — okay, there was all that stuff with Trask last year, but no-one’s calling him a thing and demanding that he leave Earth. I think he feels he belongs here.”

“But he’s still all alone.” I stop walking for a moment, lost in thought.

“He has friends,” Clark points out. “You. Me. And that’s just for starters.”

“Yeah, but still…” I hesitate. It’s really not the same, is it? “He has friends, yes. But he doesn’t have anyone special. Anywhere special.”

Clark stops walking and looks at me. In the light of the street- lamps, I can see he’s rolling his eyes. “Is that what this is about, Lois? You want to be ‘someone special’ to Superman?”

“No!” I drop his arm like a hot potato and stand glaring at him. “Clark, you should know better than that by now, and I’m hurt that you don’t!”

He’s breathing heavily, but after a few moments he calms down. “Okay. Yeah, you’re right, Lois.” And he pulls a face. “I’m sorry.” He offers his arm again; after a minute hesitation, I take it and we continue walking. “So, what did you mean?”

I’m tempted not to talk about this to him any more. But he is my friend — my best friend — and I don’t want to argue with him. Or have anything I can’t talk to him about. He’s special to me, after all. And he’s part of what I’m thinking. Planning.

“Christmas.”

“What about Christmas? It’s the end of this week.” Clark grins. “You want to buy him a Christmas present?”

I shrug, hoping he won’t see my blush. “Maybe.”

“Oh.” There’s a strange inflexion to his voice I can’t identify.

“But it’s not that. What are you doing for Christmas, Clark?”

“Going to Smallville. You know that. I even asked you to come with me.”

He did. And, actually, I’m wishing I’d said yes. But I thought that maybe Lucy would be in town this year and, anyway, we can’t both have two days off together.

“See? You have somewhere to go. Somewhere you belong. And I have my family.” Not that I intend spending Christmas anywhere near my parents. “Where does Superman have to go? Who will he be spending Christmas with?”

There’s a pause. Then, “I see,” Clark says quietly. “I guess when you put it that way it makes sense.”

“Yes. And that’s why I want to do something about it.”

“What?” Now he’s openly curious, and even… sounding a little alarmed? But why? This is a good idea. I know it. It’s a great idea. And not even Clark is going to put me off it.

“I’m going to invite him to dinner.”

“What, on Christmas Day?” Now Clark really does sound worried. Why, I have no idea at all.

“No — you won’t be here then.”

“What have I got to do with this?”

“I want you to come too, of course!” I shake him. Why does he keep missing the obvious? “I want Superman to have a special Christmas dinner with his closest friends. And, unless there’s anyone else I don’t know about, that’s you and me.”

“Oh.” Clark really doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. “Lois, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, you know he’s always busy. How can he commit to something like this when he doesn’t know what could come up? If there’s an emergency somewhere, he’ll have to go.”

“I know that!” I glare at him. Why can’t he get into the spirit of this? “Clark, why can’t you see that all I want is to do something nice for Superman? Okay, if something happens and he has to leave, I’ll deal with it. But at least I can try, can’t I?”

He sighs. “Yes. You’re right, Lois, and it is a kind thought. I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it.”

“So you’ll pass on the invitation? You’re more likely to see him than I am.”

“Yeah.” He blows out a breath. “I’ll tell him.”

“And you’ll be there yourself?”

He looks indecisive for a moment. Then he gives me a resigned smile. “Of course I will, Lois.”

***

I get busy on the arrangements — after all, the dinner-party is only a few days away. Clark, though, seems distinctly unenthusiastic about it. I begin to worry that he might say he can’t come.

But then he tells me that Superman will be there. And that he’ll come himself, but he might be a bit late. Okay. I can live with that. And it’s not as if I’m not used to Clark being late, or suddenly disappearing. Just one of the mysteries about my partner that I’ve learned to live with. Because, even though it irritates me, he’s worth it.

So I busy myself with preparing the menu for dinner, checking my recipes to be sure that I can actually cook the meal without yet another culinary disaster, buying ingredients, choosing wine, decorating the apartment, choosing the perfect Christmas presents for Superman and for Clark.

Superman’s the easier of the two, much to my amazement — I’d thought that Clark would be easy while I’d have to rack my brain to come up with something suitable for Superman. But, actually, Superman turns out to be much, much simpler.

There’s so little he needs. I don’t know if he has a home, or what sort of place it would be if he did. He doesn’t have a car, or at least I assume he doesn’t — what would he need one for? I don’t know if he has anywhere he can keep things — possessions. So, if I give him something like a book or a CD, where would he put it?

What I want is to make sure that he knows beyond any doubt that he has friends. That he belongs. That he is loved. That has far more meaning than some commercially-produced object any day.

And then I find it.

It’s a Christmas ornament. An embracing trio, standing close to each other, arms around each other. It’s supposed to represent a family, and in a way I can’t help but feel that’s appropriate.

The family Superman doesn’t have on Earth; the family I want him to feel that he does have.

Me. And Clark.

The three of us; friends together, supporting each other, caring for each other.

I want Superman to know that we’re here for him any time he needs us. That he has friends. That he has a place where he can belong. People who love him and care about him. Who don’t want to make demands on him, or want him only for his powers. Who just care about him because he’s the man he is — caring, ethical, decent, gentle, loyal, affectionate, a good friend.

How better to show him than this?

Even if he doesn’t have anywhere to keep it. He can leave it at my apartment if he likes. Or Clark’s. The point is that it’ll be his. And I hope he’ll understand its message.

Clark, now, is much more difficult.

What can I possibly get Clark?

The thing is, he’s so easy to please. I could get him anything and he’d be delighted. Claim it’s what he’s always wanted. Hug me and tell me that he’s touched. Even if I just got him a new tie or pen-holder for his desk.

But I don’t want to do that. I want to get him something that shows him exactly how special he is to me. How much I care about him. How much our friendship means. How well I know him. And that tells him that I love him.

Because I do. I love Clark.

How ironic that it’s him I love after all, and not Superman.

It’s taken me so long to admit the truth. Too long. If I’d known it before now, I could have had him. I know that, and in the middle of the night I often wake up and curse myself for it. I tried to tell him, after he was dead and was alive again and I had him back when I never thought it could happen. But he was asleep and didn’t hear me and I…

Well, I just haven’t had the courage to try again.

But maybe, just maybe, if I find the perfect Christmas gift for him, he might realise. And, if I’m so very lucky and this turns out to be the special Christmas I’m hoping for, he’ll love me too.

Maybe. I can only hope. And dream.

***

Almost at the last minute, I finally find the perfect present for Clark. And then it’s rush, rush, rush to get everything ready in time. I leave work early for the first time in I don’t know how long. Hurry home, throw turkey into oven, set wine to chill, run a scented bath, lay out my special Christmas clothes. Then, bathed and dressed, I have everything else to prepare: vegetables to peel and cook, table to set and decorate, candles to arrange, music to choose.

After all, this is going to be the most special Christmas dinner I’ve ever had.

I’d hoped that Clark might come over early and help. But it seems he meant it when he said he might be late. He hadn’t been in the newsroom when I left, and I’d returned home to a message on my answering machine. He’s going to be delayed, it says. He’ll be as quick as he can, but can’t say how late he’ll be. Superman and I should go ahead without him, but he will be here later.

Damn him anyway! This was supposed to be special! How can he do this to me?

But Superman is still coming, and he’s the whole reason I’m doing this, after all. Even if I had high hopes of Clark… but obviously I’m wasting my time there. The mistletoe I’ve hung in a couple of strategic points in the living-room might as well not be there.

Of course, I might just get a Christmas kiss from Superman. That’d be nice… but he’s not who I most want to kiss me. Not any more.

It’s all ready. It’s seven o’clock, and neither of my guests is here yet. Why does this always happen to me?

But… wait… there’s a sudden wind outside the window. Superman’s here.

Strange. I’m expecting that little flutter I always get in my stomach when I hear him arriving. And it’s there… but it’s nothing like before. There’s excitement, all right, but none of the rush of anticipation I usually have. And then I realise why. I’m looking forward to seeing him, to spending an evening with him — but as a friend.

I’m not in love with him any more. I love him — I think I’ll always love him — but I’m in love with Clark. And he’s the one I’m really getting butterflies in my stomach about seeing.

I go and push the window open, and seconds later Superman’s standing in front of me, as magnificent as ever, his cape fluttering in the breeze of his arrival. I smile at him in welcome, and he smiles back, warmth and affection in his gaze.

“Hi, Lois.”

“Superman — thanks for coming.” And I’m annoyed with myself — I almost stuttered. I’m way past that phase by now.

He shakes his head fractionally. “No, thank you for inviting me. It’s very thoughtful of you.” And he leans forward and kisses my cheek. I feel… warm, and just a little shaky. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Superman.” I smile at him again, knowing I’m blushing. “It’s nothing. I just wanted to have a little Christmas party for my two best friends, that’s all.”

Is it my imagination, or does he look very slightly uncomfortable? Doesn’t he like the idea that I think of him as that close a friend?

To get us past the apparently awkward moment, I add, “Clark’s going to be late, unfortunately. He called and left a message.”

Superman nods. “Yes, he told me.”

“Okay. Yes. Good.” So, now what? Should I wait dinner for Clark? I should, shouldn’t I? But Superman’s here, so what do we do while we’re waiting?

Oh. Right. “Can I get you something to drink? A glass of wine?”

“That sounds nice.” He follows me towards the kitchen and waits while I pour. This is awkward. What can we talk about? Why do I feel so nervous? I’m a reporter. I’m used to having to make conversation with people. And anyway, he’s not a stranger. He’s my friend!

“So…” he begins, just as I begin to speak, too.

He stops, grins a little, then says, “You go ahead.”

“Oh, I was just going to ask how your day was. Has it been busy?”

He doesn’t meet my eyes, which is strange. “Pretty quiet, actually. I did get called to a robbery at a CostMart earlier today — lots of money in the tills this time of year. Oh, and there was a pile-up on the turnpike about an hour ago — people driving too fast for the road conditions, as usual.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Not badly, thankfully. Just cuts and bruises. The only people who’ll really be hurt are the insurance companies.”

He must be feeling relaxed. He doesn’t often joke. I smile in return, then gesture towards the sofas. “Would you like to sit down? While we wait for Clark, I mean.”

“Oh, sure.” He lets me lead him over. I can see another awkward silence coming, so I change my plans. I’d been going to wait until Clark got here before doing presents, but there’s no reason why I can’t give Superman his now.

So I make a detour to the tree and grab the gift-wrapped parcel. “This is for you, Superman,” I say, handing it to him.

He looks startled. “Lois, you didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to.” And I make him take it.

He plays with the package for a few moments before tearing off the paper. And then he just stares at the ornament, tracing the shape of the embracing figures with his fingertips. “This is beautiful, Lois. I really didn’t…”

“It’s sort of a symbol, really.” I rush into speech, needing to explain to him what it means, why I gave it to him. “The figures… well, they represent you and Clark and me. I… well, I know you’re the only Kryptonian left and so you don’t have any family or home or anything, but you know we’re your friends. And this… well, it’s just saying that we care about you and we’re here for you. Any time.”

He’s silent for a long time. And he’s just staring down at the figurine.

Was this a mistake? I should never have bought it. Never have given it to him. What if he doesn’t see things the same way? Maybe he doesn’t think of us as friends the same way we do…

“Lois?”

I jerk my head around to look at him. “Yes?”

“I… don’t think I’ve ever been so touched in my life. This is… really thoughtful of you. And I just don’t deserve it.”

“What?” I stare at him.

“You think I’m alone. That I don’t have anywhere to go, anywhere to belong. And this… what you’ve done, arranging this evening for me, this beautiful figurine…” He gestures to it. “It all reminds me that I’m here under false pretences. That I haven’t been honest with you. And it makes me uncomfortable, Lois. More than I’ve ever been around you.”

What is he saying? This isn’t making sense. “Superman…?” He hasn’t been honest with me? About what? “False pretences?”

“I’m not… as alone as you think I am. Yes, I’m the last Kryptonian, but that’s not all that I am.”

I’m lost. I’m not stupid. I know I’m not. I’m an intelligent woman; in fact, I’m considerably above average intelligence. And yet I’m listening to him talking and not one word is making sense.

“Superman, I don’t understand. What are you trying to tell me?”

He swallows. Looks very uncomfortable — embarrassed and awkward. And… almost ashamed. “I can’t do this, Lois. I can’t let you think that I’m… alone, without a family, without anywhere to belong. It’s not fair of me.” He stands, and I’m left staring at him, gaping.

He has a family? What? Is he married or something? And he never told me?

“Superman…?”

He’s looking very guilty now. “I have to go, Lois. I’m sorry.”

He can’t leave!

“But… aren’t you going to tell me what you’re talking about? What family? Where?”

He takes a deep breath. “I have to go. But you’ll understand soon, I promise.”

And then he’s walking to the window and, before I can call him back, plead with him to tell me what’s going on, he’s gone.

The curtains flutter in his wake, and I’m alone.

***

What a disaster.

My carefully-planned Christmas dinner-party for my two best friends, ruined.

Abandoned by Superman, who didn’t even have the decency to tell me why he was leaving. And Clark hasn’t even bothered to turn up.

I want to cry.

Then there’s a knock at the door.

It must be Clark. Part of me just wants to crawl into my bedroom and pretend I didn’t hear him, but then I know I want to see him. I need him to hug me and comfort me and tell me that I didn’t do anything wrong. That I didn’t scare Superman away by being too… I don’t know, intrusive or something.

I open the door. It is Clark, standing there in chinos and a soft black cotton shirt and looking positively yummy. He’s holding a brightly-wrapped package with a red bow on top. And he’s smiling as if he’s delighted to see me.

“Clark!” I grab his hand and tug him in. “At last!”

“I’m sorry I’m late, Lois,” he says immediately. “I really couldn’t help it.”

“Superman’s gone,” I tell him. “You just missed him.”

He just nods. That surprises me — why isn’t he asking why Superman left? But then I realise that he probably thinks he went to some emergency or other.

“So it’s just you and me, then,” he says. “I’m sorry — I know it’s not how you planned it.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. The main thing is, you’re here.” And that’s completely true.

He smiles then. “Merry Christmas, Lois.” And he inclines his head towards me. He’s aiming for my cheek, of course. I catch my breath and wonder if I dare… then I remind myself that it’s Christmas and that we’ve kissed before and…

Well, it is Christmas.

I hold my breath, turn my head and his lips meet mine.

For an instant, he hesitates, his mouth on mine, his hand lightly on my shoulder. And then, as I reach up to slid my arms around his neck, he sighs a little and parts his lips over mine. And we kiss.

Clark is a wonderful kisser. I’ve known that for a while. Being stupid and blind where he was concerned, though, I never did anything about it when it would’ve been easy. Which is why we’re where we are now. With me having rejected him for Lex Luthor — of all people! — and him having told me that he lied when he said he loved me.

But this is Christmas, a time for new beginnings, and I can always hope. And wish.

He ends the kiss at last, raising his head and giving me a questioning look, his head tilted to one side in enquiry.

I can feel myself blushing, but maybe he won’t notice. And I look upwards, pointing with one finger, just hoping that we are close enough to the mistletoe for it to be a good excuse.

Well, we’re not directly under it. But it’s no more than about a foot from where we’re standing.

He grins. “I see. But, you know, it counts as a real kiss if you’re not standing right under it…”

He’s teasing. I can see that he fully expects me to give him a thump for that. But this could be the opportunity I was looking for… And I lean up towards him again. “Sounds okay to me,” I whisper, and brush my lips over his.

“Me too,” he whispers back, and kisses me again.

This kiss is longer. Deeper. There’s heat and there’s intensity… and playfulness and teasing and the deep affection of friends who care for each other very much.

Who love each other.

I know Clark loves me. Even if he isn’t in love with me, he loves me as his best friend. And maybe that’s enough to start with. At least I’m pretty sure he’s not in love with Mayson Drake, so there’s got to be a chance.

This time, when he raises his head, his hand comes up to rest against my cheek. “Wow, Lois,” he murmurs. “That was… really something.”

“Yeah.” I grin at him. “You’re pretty good at this, Kent.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He studies me, his gaze warm and affectionate and with a question in his eyes. “So… what was that really about?”

I shrug, feeling embarrassed again. Does he need me to spell it out? I want our friendship to change. Surely that must be obvious. And he knows how hard this is for me. He knows how difficult I find it to trust men…

“I… can’t I kiss my best friend?”

“Of course you can!” he exclaims. “I just can’t help feeling that was more than a kiss between friends.”

“And if it was?” I ask him. “Would that be a problem?”

His eyes widen. “You need to ask? Lois, I would love that. You have to know that.”

I do?

“Really?”

He gazes down at me. His eyes are ablaze with something I’ve never seen in them before. Something I realise suddenly that he’s never let me see before.

And… suddenly I’m scared.

It’s not that I don’t want him to say that he loves me or anything like that. There’s nothing I’d like more. I think what scares me more is that he won’t say it.

So I take a couple of steps away from him, ducking my head. “Well, anyway… umm… can I get you a glass of wine or something?”

“Lois.” Something in his tone makes me turn back to him. “I’m still your best friend. Just because we might be… more… doesn’t change that.”

He’s right. And I smile at him. Because he’s still Clark and he’s still the one person in the world I feel most comfortable with.

“Anyway, yes, I’ll have a glass of wine,” he continues, in a completely normal voice. “But I want to give you this first.” And he holds out the package he still has in his hand.

I take it, excited to find out what he’s chosen for me. I rip off the paper, to reveal a jeweller’s box. Surprised, I look up at Clark, to find him watching me expectantly. So I open the lid… and see something I recognise.

It’s a gold brooch, all delicate Celtic curliques and scrollwork. I remember exactly when I first saw it. We were trying to track down where a particular custom-made ring had been manufactured, and this brooch was in one of the jewellers we visited. I’d loved it on sight, but knew I couldn’t justify the cost. Not when I was still making payments on the Jeep, and saving for a vacation, and my rent had just gone up…

I stare up at him. My eyes are alight, I know it. I’ve never been given such a beautiful gift — or one that means so much to me. “Clark! How did you know…?”

“I saw you looking at it.” He’s grinning, happy that he’s made me happy. “I could see how much you liked it. So it was the perfect present, I thought.”

“You couldn’t have chosen better.” I fling my arms around him and hug him. “I love it! And it’s really sweet of you. Thank you!”

I know I should protest that it’s too expensive and he shouldn’t have, but really he couldn’t have chosen anything I’d like more. And, if he feels about me the way I do about him, the cost doesn’t matter.

I take it out of the box, admiring it all over again, and pin it to my dress. It looks beautiful there — and I can see from Clark’s expression as he looks at it — at me — that he thinks so too.

Then I pull away from him, rushing over to the tree. I want him to have his gift too. So I hand him the parcel — less expertly- wrapped than his, but that doesn’t matter. He takes it and I can see the happiness in his face. Whatever it is, he’s going to tell me that he loves it and I couldn’t have got him anything he’d be more pleased with.

I only hope he means it as much as I meant it about his gift.

He’s more careful than I am about unwrapping — doesn’t tear the paper to shreds, but lifts it gently at the corners and joins. Which makes me impatient, because he takes longer than I do. Finally, though, he’s taking the paper off and revealing what’s underneath.

“Hey!” he exclaims. “Where did you find this?”

“Oh…” I shrug, trying to pretend that it was easy, no trouble at all, just a lucky discovery. “You know me. I know guys who know guys.”

Which is true, but it took me the best part of a week, hours spent on the phone and in emails, and lots of favours called in, as well as a chunk out of my savings, to find it and then get it in time for tonight.

“Yeah, well…” He’s smiling in amazement and happiness. “Do you know how much I love this book? And you got a signed first edition! In mint condition, too!”

That had been a real stroke of luck. And all the effort is so worth it — he’s really pleased. Of course I know that To Kill a Mockingbird is his favourite book. We’ve talked about it often enough — and watched the movie.

“I’m glad you like it,” I tell him.

“Of course I love it!” And suddenly he’s hugging me again, the way we’ve hugged so many times before, only this time I’m just so completely conscious of him, of being in his arms, of being close to him.

And then we’re staring at each other and my breath is catching and I can’t think of anything else other than kissing him.

And then I am, and he is, and nothing else matters other than the feel of his lips on mine and mine on his.

***

Eventually, we move away just a little, neither of us seeming to want to stop touching. And I know now, without Clark having to say the words, that he loves me just as much as I love him. And I know that things will never be the same between us again.

And I couldn’t be happier about it.

He smiles then. “This really isn’t working out the way I’d planned.” He sounds rueful, but amused. Happy.

“Is that good or bad?”

“Oh, it’s good, believe me!” And he grins. “But there was something else I wanted to give you before we got so carried away.”

“Something else?” I glance down at the brooch. “But you’ve already given me this!”

“This is different.” And he reaches into his trouser pocket and takes out a sheet of paper, handing it to me. I unfold it.

At the top, there’s a very well-drawn picture of Superman’s S- shield. And the paper reads:

This entitles Lois Lane to one Super flight of her choice, at a time of her choice, disasters and emergencies permitting, to be redeemed on presentation of this voucher.

It’s signed Superman.

And the whole document — gift certificate, whatever it is — is written in Clark’s handwriting.

I stare at him. “How did…? You wrote this! Did he ask you to write it for him?” Had Superman not been able to spare the time to do it himself?

Clark looks back at me, his expression almost anticipatory. He takes a deep breath suddenly and then reaches into another pocket. From that, he produces the figurine I gave Superman.

He has that, too? But how? Superman flew off just before Clark arrived. Unless they’d met outside and Superman asked Clark to look after it for him…

“Lois.” Clark’s voice had dropped an octave suddenly, and I realised that his tone and the way he was looking at me meant that he was trying to tell me something important. Something very important…

“I told you that you’d understand soon,” he murmurs.

And I just stare.

It can’t be. He can’t be.

No. Not Superm…

But he’d said he’s not alone. That he has a family. Friends. Somewhere to belong.

Clark has a family. He has lots of friends. And he definitely has somewhere he belongs. Smallville. The Planet. Metropolis.

He’s still watching me. “You do understand, don’t you?”

I’ve been motionless, almost rigid, staring at him. Suddenly, it’s as if his words free me, and I move towards him. Stretching up, I take off his glasses. And I see the eyes that looked down into mine so apologetically only half an hour earlier.

“It’s you,” I say, realising afterwards just how dumb that sounds.

He nods. He takes his glasses from me, folds them and puts them in his shirt pocket. It’s an unspoken message that he’s not disguising himself from me any more.

“But… why…?” God, I’m making an idiot of myself. I’m never this inarticulate. Lost for words? Not me! I’m always the one ready with the penetrating questions, the dagger-like riposte that ensures that no-one gets away from me with secrets intact.

Yet Clark’s had this secret from me for as long as I’ve known him. And he’s just given it up to me willingly.

And something else… That gift certificate in his own handwriting. He’d intended to tell me. This isn’t just spur of the moment.

He’s watching me, looking concerned. I wonder if he’s afraid that I’m going to faint from shock, or start yelling at him for deceiving me. “Why what, Lois? Why didn’t I tell you before? Or why now?”

“Let’s start with why now, shall we?” I say. Why he didn’t tell me before is likely to take up a lot more time.

“Because of what you did, Lois. Everything you said. When I was here earlier, as Superman… like I said, I realised that I was being such a hypocrite, letting you do all this nice stuff because you felt sorry for me being alone. I couldn’t let you go on thinking that. I couldn’t go on lying to you. I knew I had to tell you.”

I’m not sure how much sense that makes. “It never bothered you before. That I thought you were a different person, I mean.” And, as something else occurs to me, I add sharply, “It didn’t bother you that I thought you were dead!”

But the way his expression changes when I say that shows me that I’m completely wrong. “It bothered me, Lois. I hated doing that to you.”

Tentatively, as if he’s afraid that I’ll reject him, he raises his hand to my face, touching my cheek with his fingertips. I don’t move. “I’ve had to take drastic action before when I’ve been in danger of having my secret revealed. I’ve always just moved on. Started again somewhere else. This time… well, the only difference would’ve been that I’d have had to take a new name. A different identity. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to come back, as Clark — and you’re the reason why.” He pauses, studying me, then adds, “Because I love you. And because you missed me.”

I love him too.

I could be mad at him. For dying, and for so many other reasons. I might be mad at him yet. We’ve got the rest of our lives for me to yell at him, after all.

But I love him. And he’s just said he loves me. And he’s just told me something that I know is the biggest secret he possesses. The most dangerous secret he possesses. I’m not a fool. I know what it would cost him if that information got out. Him, and his parents. And he’s entrusted me with that, because he didn’t want to lie to me any more.

I have to tell him. “I love you, Clark.” As he begins to speak, I place a finger over his lips. “Don’t get complacent, Kent. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. And a lot of apologising and sucking up. Including letting me cash in on that gift certificate! But it’s Christmas and I love you, so I’m not going to make you start tonight.”

Suddenly, he smiles again. And it’s a smile I’ve seen on both pairs of lips — Clark’s and Superman’s. And I wonder how it is that I’ve never realised before.

“I love you, Lois Lane,” he says, and it sounds like a vow. “I love you, and I’ll never lie to you again.”

“Well, that’s a start.” I try to look chiding, but fail miserably. The look in his eyes, the way he sounds when he tells me he loves me, just can’t help but make me smile back. After all, I’ve just got everything I wanted for Christmas — and more than I ever thought possible.

Somewhere in the distance, a timer buzzes. The turkey’s almost ready and I need to put on the vegetables. Clark realises what it is too, and he touches my hand. “Come on. I’ll help you do whatever needs doing.”

We walk to the kitchen together. He gives me a sidelong glance as he starts work. “I hope you don’t mind that there’s just two of us for dinner, instead of three.”

Well, I already knew there’d only be two, because Superman left… But there are only two because he is Superman. There always were only going to be two.

And then I grin. I look up at him, standing next to me, the man I love, my boyfriend, my Super man. “That’s okay,” I tell him. “I think three would’ve been a crowd.”

He laughs, a happy, humorous, joyful sound. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

We work together for a few minutes, doing what needs to be done, and then he catches my hands suddenly, turning me to face him.

“I love you, Lois. You can be as mad at me as you like. You can yell at me all you want. But don’t forget that, okay?” And his eyes are serious and so, so loving. And he’s just everything I’ve ever wanted, and I love him so much in return.

Maybe I won’t yell at him. Much.

I say nothing, though. Instead, I reach up, wanting to kiss him. He grins slowly. “There’s mistletoe here too?”

I shake my head. “Do we need it?”

“Absolutely not,” he whispers, before his lips cover mine. And, even with everything else he’s given me, this kiss is the best Christmas present yet.

THE END

All I Want (For Christmas)

By Sue S. <sistersuze (at) gmail.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: May, 2012

Summary: This is a WAFFy continuation of “Witness.” It picks up right after Lois asks Clark to walk her home.

This is fluff, pure and simple. I had an hour to kill at work this afternoon and this is what happened. I realize I’m using characters that don’t belong to me, but since I’m not getting paid for writing this, it seems like maybe the lawyers could let the copyright infringement rules slide.

***

A light snow was falling as Lois and Clark left the Daily Planet. Lois told herself she was only holding Clark’s arm so tightly because the sidewalks might be slippery, but the truth was she that enjoyed the possessive nature of the gesture. They turned north on 24th street and headed in the direction of Centennial Park.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” Lois asked.

“I’m flying to Kansas on Christmas Eve to spend the weekend with my folks.”

“That sounds nice,” she answered. Deep down, though, a little spike of disappointment shot through her. Not that she’d ever admit to anyone that she sorta, kinda had hoped Clark would be all alone in Metropolis for the holiday. She’d had a particularly vivid dream the night before that had featured saving Clark from a lonely Christmas morning. Now, with only one day left before he went home, she suddenly found that she already missed him.

“What about you?” Clark asked. “What are your plans?”

Lois shrugged and unconsciously tightened her grip on his arm. “Oh, I don’t know. I always say I’m going to take the day off, but I usually end up at my desk by mid-morning. You’d be amazed how much you can get done when the newsroom is practically empty.”

He shot her a knowing grin. “Christmas is a slow news day, isn’t it? What do you work on?”

“I clean out my drawers and organize my desk. I give a proper sendoff to the plant I’ve managed to kill that year. Then I can bring a new plant to work on January 1 and get started on ignoring it to death.”

“Have you ever considered getting a fake plant?”

“Sure. But where’s the fun in that?”

“Wow, a real plant killer.” Clark shook his head in mock horror. “I’ve heard rumors about people like you — I just didn’t want to believe they were true.”

“Oh, the rumors don’t even come close.” Lois answered with a laugh. They had reached an intersection and had to wait for the light to change. Now that they weren’t moving it seemed a lot colder than when they had left the Planet. She shivered a little and moved closer to Clark. “I, uh,” she started hesitantly and cleared her throat to find her voice. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, Clark, for saving my life the other day.”

“I’m just glad I was there.”

“Me, too.” Lois hesitated for a moment and then decided there was never again going to be a better time to bring up this topic. “I’ve been thinking about that. How is it that you just happened to be outside my apartment at six o’clock in the morning?”

The light changed and they moved to cross the intersection. Lois waited, but even after they reached the opposite sidewalk, Clark still hadn’t answered her question. She decided to try another tack.

“How long were you out there?”

Clark shrugged. “Not long,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

“You didn’t spend the whole night outside my apartment, did you?”

He shook his head. “No. Not the whole night.”

Lois’ instincts told her that while Clark might not have been out there all night, he had to have been there most of the night. It had been freezing that night, at least as cold as it was now. If anyone else had just semi-confessed that they had camped outside her apartment in the bitter cold it would have felt creepy and stalkerish. Somehow the fact that Clark had been right about someone trying to kill her made it possible for her to forgive his overzealousness.

“It was really cold that night.”

He nodded but didn’t elaborate.

Lois gave his arm a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They had reached the south end of Centennial Park. It was Lois’ favorite part of the sprawling urban parkland. Snow was still lightly falling, framing the long row of bare elm trees that stretched out before them. Only a few other walkers were braving the elements tonight, but they were so far away that it almost felt like the park belonged only to her and Clark. Lois tipped her head, letting it rest against Clark’s shoulder as they ambled beneath the natural canopy.

“I’ve been trying to think of something to get you for Christmas. I mean, what do you give to the guy who saved your life?”

“Three times,” Clark pointed out with a grin. “I saved your life three times in a single twenty-four hour period.”

Lois lifted her head from his shoulder in mock-indignation. “Says you. The way I remember it, you only saved me twice. Be happy with twice, Clark. Not even Superman has saved me twice in one day.”

“I’m sure he would if you needed him to.”

“Don’t change the subject. I was asking what you wanted for Christmas.”

“I think your being alive is present enough.”

“You do realize that there are still three more days to go? It’s not out of the realm of possibility that I won’t make it to Christmas. I could get struck by lightening or get hit by a bus or eat some mistletoe in the next three days.”

“Why would you eat mistletoe?”

“I’m not saying I would. I’m just saying it could happen.”

“But why mistletoe?” he persisted.

“Because it’s a poisonous little plant that people string up all over the place for the holidays. It’s everywhere, Clark. There’s some hanging up right now outside Perry’s office. I have to be careful not to go past it when Ralph’s in the vicinity. Did I ever tell you that he kissed me a couple of years ago at the office party?”

Clark wrinkled his nose in disgust. “He did?”

“Be glad you’re not female or I’m sure he’d try and nail you, too.”

“Would it disgust you if I took advantage of some mistletoe?”

“To kiss Ralph? Yeah, I think that would disgust me.”

He laughed. “No. To kiss you.”

“Oh.” Her heart began to race at the thought of kissing Clark. “Uh, no. I don’t think so. That would be okay.”

“You can consider it your present to me, if you’re still determined to give me something.”

Her excitement at kissing him diminished as she fully comprehended how it was going to happen. Tomorrow morning at work he’d give her a quick peck on the cheek outside of Perry’s office. Maybe he’d kiss her lips, but it wouldn’t be nearly as romantic as the dreams she’d had about him. Any enthusiasm she’d had for the idea left her as swiftly as it had arrived.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have something, I don’t know, more tangible?” she asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Really? That’s all you want for Christmas? A kiss outside Perry’s office?”

“Actually, I wasn’t thinking of the mistletoe outside Perry’s office.”

“Where then?”

“Come on.” His free hand patted hers. “We’re almost there.”

They had reached the stairs that led down to the fountain in Centennial Park. A solo saxophonist was playing “Silver Bells” as they passed through the arcade beneath the terrace; the music echoed off the beaux-art tiles. Lois saw it then, hanging from the middle arch framing the fountain’s plaza, a large sprig of mistletoe. She was suddenly nervous at the thought of kissing Clark. What had she eaten for lunch?

“What about here?” Clark asked and turned to face her beneath the mistletoe.

Her heart pounding with anticipation, Lois could only nod.

Clark’s hand touched her cheek. He wasn’t wearing gloves and yet his hand was warm against her skin. His fingers stroked into her hair and her head tipped back in response. Clark started to lean closer and Lois closed her eyes. In the expectant seconds as she waited for his kiss, Lois remembered the solid comfort of Clark’s arms around her as he slowly rocked her on her kitchen floor. There was no one else like him, no one else who had ever made her feel that safe and cherished — not even Superman.

Lois sighed at the soft touch of his mouth on hers. He took her lower lip between his in a sensual pull that made her entire body feel heavy. Their breath mingled and then he was leaving her, lifting his head.

“Merry Christmas, Lois,” he whispered. A snowflake landed on her cheek and he brushed it away. The tenderness of that faint caress sent a wave of longing through Lois that wasn’t at all sexual. She simply didn’t want to lose this moment and the way being this close to Clark made her feel.

She managed to give him a shy smile and a breathless, “Merry Christmas, Clark.”

Clark half-turned and offered her his elbow. Lois took hold of his arm again and they walked together into the plaza as snow started to fall in earnest. She already knew what she was going to give him for Christmas next year — assuming she could wait that long before kissing him again.

THE END

How the Grinch Almost Stole Christmas

By Lynn Baldwin (LBALD@aol.com)

Summary: A strange villain plots to keep Christmas from Metropolis.

***

“Clark, I hate to do this to you son,” boomed Perry White’s voice over the telephone line. “I know it’s Christmas Eve and you were planning to leave for Smallville tonight, but I need you and Lois down at the Planet pronto. Something big is going on.”

“That’s no problem, chief. I can always fly to Smallville tomorrow. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Five minutes later, Clark stepped off the elevator and into the Daily Planet newsroom. He had arrived just seconds after Lois, judging by the unmelted snowflakes still clinging to her dark hair.

“Clark!” Lois exclaimed, as she surveyed his outfit: a sleeveless sweatshirt and sweatpants. “It’s freezing out there! Where’s your coat?”

Clark self-consciously compared his clothing to Lois’ parka, scarf, boots and earmuffs. “Uh, um, Perry said it was important. I guess I just ran out the door without thinking.”

“Well, you won’t do us any good if you get pneumonia, Clark,” Perry said, motioning for Clark to have a seat next to Lois at the conference table. “At least you’re here. I couldn’t even get Jimmy out of bed.”

Lois suppressed a yawn as she asked, “So what’s going on?”

“Well,..” Perry answered, yawning as he reached for his fifth cup of coffee of the evening, “Look at this.”

He turned the large-screen TV on via remote control.

“Every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot…” a familiar voice narrated as images of Dr. Seuss’s kingdom filled the screen.

“You asked us down here to watch a Christmas special?” Lois asked incredulously.

“Of course not, Lois,” Perry answered gruffly. “And if I did, it would be “A Christmastime Tribute to Elvis,” not this drivel.”

“This is not a special,” he continued. “It seems to have taken over the airwaves.” He quickly switched the channels on the remote, demonstrating that “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” was on every channel. “It’s been on for hours and nobody seems to know why or how. I’ve talked to all of my contacts at the networks and they don’t know anything. I even checked with Stormin’ Norman and he doesn’t know anything.”

“Well, chief, it’s not exactly a matter of national security,” Clark ventured, playing with his tortoise-shell rimmed glasses.

“I know it may not seem like much of a story, but I smell something big here. And this nose is never wrong. I wouldn’t intrude on you kids’ Christmas Eve if I didn’t think it was important, now would I?”

“Of course not, chief,” Lois answered with a yawn, bundling up in her parka, scarf and earmuffs. Clark just nodded in agreement.

“Why don’t put this on, Clark,” Perry suggested, motioning to a coat slung over the empty chair by Jimmy’s desk, “I’m sure Jimmy won’t mind.” Clark did as told, squeezing his large frame into Jimmy’s leather bomber jacket.

***

In his hurry to arrive at the Daily Planet, Clark hadn’t even noticed the strange phenomenon he was now witnessing outside. Although the dark streets of Metropolis were nearly deserted, the few people who wandered all looked exhausted. And this wasn’t your typical “too much Christmas shopping and eggnog” kind of tiredness — everyone was yawning like crazy! In fact, the blank stares on some of the passersby were those of sleepwalkers.

As Lois and Clark passed by an electronics store, Clark observed a small group of people standing outside of the store’s glass windows. They were seemingly mesmerized by eight television screens, each one filled with the evil grin of the Grinch.

In her hurry to get wherever it was that they were headed, Lois trudged ahead through the snow, her head down against the bitter wind. Suddenly, a fast-approaching noise caught Clark’s attention. He spun around to face an out-of-control taxi, careening towards the people on the sidewalk. With a quick glance at the back of Lois’ head and a swooshing sound, he was in front of the car before it could harm anyone. The sight of Superman woke the driver out of a deep sleep.

“Hey, Superman, thanks. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was driving along Main Street listening to “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” on the radio, the next minute you’re holding my fender.”

Clark nodded to the driver as he pushed the car back onto its path. He worried for a moment about how to explain his sudden absence and reappearance to Lois, but he was relieved of that problem when he spotted her a few feet away. She was lying face down on the snowy sidewalk, snoring loudly.

“Lois, Lois, wake up,” Clark said, shaking her gently. Her only response was to stir slightly. Still dressed as Superman, Clark scooped her into his arms and flew up into the night.

“Help, uh, oh…Superman…what ..what happened? Where I am?” Lois asked groggily, slowing opening her eyes to find herself on the sofa in her own apartment. She saw Superman looking down at her with concern.

“I’m not really sure what happened, Lois, but everyone in Metropolis seems to be under some kind of sleep spell.”

“What about…” started Lois.

“I took Clark home also,” Superman answered before she could finish the question. He’d have to think of something so that Lois wasn’t always asking “Where’s Clark? What happened to Clark?” although the fact that she always asked made him quite happy.

Lois sat up and reached for the remote control. “Let’s see if there’s something about this on the news.”

“His heart was two sizes too small…” Click. “two sizes too small…” Click. “sizes too small…” Click.

“It’s still on all the channels,” Clark said, “Maybe Perry had a point when he said that something was going on.”

“How do you know what Perry said, Superman?” Lois questioned.

Clark glanced down at his red-booted feet. “Uh, Clark told me.”

“I’m going to call him and see how he’s doing,” Lois said, turning around to pick up the phone. Before she’d gotten to the second number, Superman had disappeared out the window and into the night.

***

Clark picked up the phone in his apartment with one hand and reached for the television remote control with the other. “Hi, Lois. Yeah, I’m feeling a little better. How about you?”

“I … um …yawn … well, yeah,” Lois managed to utter. “Got any ideas?”

“Well, no,” Clark started to say, before he noticed something that changed his mind. He turned up the volume on the TV and listened carefully.

“I must find some way to find some way to stop Christmas from coming,” said the Grinch, followed by a much fainter background voice, “There will be no Christmas this year. Sleep, Metropolis, sleep.”

“Clark? Clark?” Lois’ insistent voice broke Clark’s concentration. He faked a noisy yawn into the phone.

The voice of the Grinch droned on, followed again by the fainter voice, “Christmas no longer exists. Sleep, Metropolis, sleep.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Clark!” demanded Lois. “Why don’t you come over and we’ll see if we can’t figure this thing out.”

“Okay, Lois.”

“Clark, I’m still kind of sleepy. I’ll be waiting for you in bed.”

“Alright,” replied Clark, with an audible smirk in his voice, as visions of Lois in a negligee danced before his eyes.

“You know what I mean!” Lois said, “And hurry up!”

With a billow of his red cape, Clark was out of his apartment and flying high above the city. Using his superhearing, he honed in on the sound which was unintelligible to the rest of Metropolis. His job was made easier due to the strange silence of the city. Apparently, he was one of the few people not susceptible to the hypnotic effect of the subliminal message.

Clark had identified the transmission as coming from the riverfront district and was heading in that area when he heard an all too familiar voice from afar.

“Clark? Clark? If you’re there, pick up. Where are you?” Lois slammed down the receiver without bothering to leave her name and number after the beep.

Clark realized he had to go to Lois. If left alone, she might do something rash. Besides she’d be furious if he got the story without her. After all, they were partners — even though at times it seemed more like a threesome!

Moments later, Clark knocked on Lois’ door, this time more appropriately dressed in a ski jacket and boots.

“What took you so long?” Lois demanded as she opened the door for Clark. She still looked rather groggy and Clark noticed that she was wearing two different socks. He’d been around her enough in the morning to know that she wasn’t at her most cheerful immediately after waking up, so he decided not to comment on her fashion faux pas.

“I did a little digging,” Clark started to explain as he entered the apartment.

“Without me?” Lois screeched.

“Well, you didn’t sound like you were in any shape to help,” Clark replied.

Lois approached Clark and hit him teasingly on both shoulders. “It’s not fair. How come you’re so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed while I’m struggling to stay awake?”

“Um, well…ginseng!” he unexpectedly answered.

“Wh-What?”

Clark dashed around the corner into the kitchen. In a matter of seconds he was at his apartment and back, returning with a teabag. He placed the teabag into a mug of water, then zapped it with his heat vision.

“Yeah, ginseng, it’s a natural stimulant. Drink this,” Clark said, handing Lois a mug of steaming tea.

“How did you…” she started to question, eyeing him curiously.

“Drink it while it’s hot. We’ve got work to do,” instructed Clark.

***

Moments later the two reporters were in Lois’ Cherokee, heading towards the river. “So Superman told you that “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” contains a subliminal message that is putting everyone asleep?”

“Yes.”

“That’s crazy, “ Lois said, thinking for a minute, “But I guess if you think about it, a lot of weird things go on around here.

Clark replied with a knowing look, “That’s for sure!”

“Well, partner, let’s find out who’s behind this … and why!” said Lois.

They parked the jeep a few hundred yard from the river, then got out to walk. Clark listened for a minute, then instructed, “This way.”

“How do you know?” Lois asked.

“Just a hunch. C’mon, Lois, trust me,” Clark pleaded as he moved towards the building he indicated. Surprisingly, Lois followed. Clark led the way to a deserted warehouse, a three-story brick building with broken windows which looked like it had seen better days. As they cautiously approached the door, Lois noted that it was barred with a sturdy-looking piece of metal. Clark stepped in front of Lois, obstructing her view, and gently pushed on the lock. It broke off in his hand.

He turned to face her, pretending to pant slightly and commented, “It must have been rusted through.”

For a brief moment, Lois looked at him suspiciously. It was funny how locks just happened to be “rusted through ,” doors just happened to “be left open,” and fences always contained holes whenever Clark was around. But these suspicions left her mind just as quickly as they had entered as her senses heightened to focus on the task at hand.

Lois and Clark crept into the darkened building. The two voices Clark had heard on TV, the Grinch’s and the subliminal message, were very strong here. Clark almost commented on this before he realized that they weren’t audible to Lois. With a sweep of his X-ray vision, Clark saw that there was nobody on the first floor. Lois came to the same conclusion minutes later and motioned for Clark to follow her up a rickety wooden staircase to the second floor. They had almost reached the top when Lois misjudged the distance between the unevenly spaced stairs and started to fall. A strong hand quickly balanced her.

“Thanks Clark. Good reflexes,” Lois whispered, turning around to smile at Clark.

“Shh,” Clark motioned, index finger to his lips.

“Do you hear something?” Lois whispered, once they’d reached the top of the stairs.

“…but whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes…”

“Yes, “ Clark answered, knowing that she was still not hearing the second voice he detected, “Christmas is stupid. Sleep, Metropolis, sleep.”

“What the…” Lois started, but the words caught in her throat as a light was suddenly thrown on, illuminating a completely unexpected sight. A white-haired man, dressed in a red suit and fur-trimmed hat was seated behind a bank of audio-visual equipment. The equipment whirred and clicked as he adjusted dials and knobs, while looking up occasionally at a small TV set showing “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.”

“Santa?” Clark asked.

Lois shot her partner a killer look. “Yeah, Clark, and I’m the Easter Bunny. Get real. Now who are you?” she asked, directing her question to the man. He got up from his chair, revealing that he was only four feet tall. He also revealed a rifle, which he was pointing right at them.

“No, I’m not Santa. I’m one of his elves, or at least I used to be,” the man said with a straight face as he approached Lois and Clark with the gun.

“You used to be one of Santa’s elves? What happened?” Clark asked in an even tone.

“Clark!” Lois screamed in dismay, “Don’t tell me you believe this garbage! This man is obviously crazy!” Lois stomped her foot to illustrate her position as she stifled a yawn.

“Sir, you’ll have to excuse my partner, “ Clark said gently to the strange man who was still pointing the gun in their direction.

“I suppose you still believe in Santa Claus, Clark,” Lois said sarcastically, interrupting Clark’s comments to the elf.

“Well, yes,” Clark answered, “I…”

The elf interrupted with a glare as he moved closer to Lois and Clark. “Okay, you two. I really don’t care if you believe me or not. Santa didn’t believe in me either; that’s why I’m here.” His small frame shook with anger. “He laid me off! Said I had a bad attitude! Can you believe it?”

“So you decided to ruin Christmas for Metropolis, “ Clark surmised.

“By putting everyone to sleep?” finished Lois, a stunned expression on her face as she looked down at the little man in red.

“That right!” the elf answered with a cackle, “If everyone sleeps through Christmas, it’ll be as though it doesn’t exist. I’ll show that fat, jolly Kris Kringle!”

Lois asked with a yawn, “How come you’re not falling asleep?”

“What are you, a reporter or something?” asked the elf.

“Well, as a matter of fact, yes. Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” Lois answered, proudly displaying her press badge.

“Well, then Ms. Lane, this will be your last interview,” the elf replied, as he moved to within feet of Lois and Clark, his tiny boots echoing on the wooden floor. “I’m an elf. My molecular structure is different than yours,” he continued, looking directly at Clark. Clark faked a yawn. “But that doesn’t really matter now. What matters is that now that you know my secret, you can’t be allowed to report it. So I’m afraid I have no other choice.” He raised the rifle and prepared to shoot.

But Clark was faster. He rapidly brought his hand to his mouth as though to cover a yawn. Through the opening between his thumb and forefinger, he blew a strong blast of air. The elf toppled backwards slightly, as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Instantly, Clark was upon him and reaching for the gun.

The elf was much quicker than he appeared. With a crack, a bullet left the barrel of the gun and headed directly for Clark. Lois covered her eyes and screamed. In that instant, Clark plucked the bullet out of the air, while momentarily blinding the elf with a beam of low-intensity heat-vision.

“Clark, Clark, are you okay?” Lois shrieked. Tears of joy welled up in her eyes when she saw that he was. “I heard a shot. I must have covered my eyes. What happened?”

“He missed, “ Clark responded, as he ground the bullet to a powder with his fingers, letting it slide to the floor. “Go call the police. I’ll cover him,” Clark said, motioning with the gun to the elf, who cowered on the floor.

“No, Clark, you call the police. I’d like to stay here and talk to Mr. Elf for a while.

“Whatever,” replied Clark, handing over the gun. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he admired Lois’ gall — she’d just been through a terrifying experience, but she wouldn’t give up the chance to get a story. Clark dashed for the stairs, then returned a minute later in a whoosh of blue and red.

“It looks like you’ve got everything under control here, Lois,” he announced, standing with his arms crossed over the S insignia which covered his broad chest.

“Superman!” Lois exclaimed, “Yes, well, to tell you the truth, Clark did help me,” she explained, surprising Clark with her willingness to share the credit.

Clark strode over, his cape flowing behind him, and gently removed the gun from Lois’ hands. He bent the metal, then, using it like a handcuff, imprisoned the terrified elf against a metal post. Next, Clark approached the television equipment. The clicking and whirring came to a halt due to a blast a heat vision. The monitor went blank. Clark noted with satisfaction that the two voices he’d been hearing all evening — that of the Grinch and the subliminal one — were replaced by the normal noises of Christmas Eve throughout Metropolis.

Clark floated towards the window, then stopped in response to Lois’ voice, “Wait, Superman.”

He flew back to where she stood. “I just wanted to wish you Merry Christmas, Superman,” Lois said with a smile as she planted a kiss on the man of steel’s cheek. Clark responded in kind with a gentle kiss on Lois’ cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Lois.” He turned and flew out the window. Seconds later, Clark returned, accompanied by the sirens of Metropolis’ finest.

***

Lois and Clark walked back towards the jeep. “What a way to spend Christmas Eve, huh, Lois?”

“You know, “ suggested Lois with a smile at her partner and friend, “It’s not over yet. How about coming back to my place and helping me decorate my Christmas tree?”

Clark refrained from making a sarcastic remark about the fact that it was the day before Christmas and Lois still had not decorated her tree. He knew that she was a procrastinator, and besides, there was no one he’d rather spend the rest of Christmas Eve with.

***

Clark suppressed a laugh as he looked at the pathetic little tree Lois had positioned on a table in front of her open window.

“I felt sorry for it,” Lois explained, noticing Clark’s look.

“You’re a good man, Charlie Brown,” Clark teased, gently squeezing Lois’ hand.

Unexpectedly, Lois returned his squeeze, then turned to face Clark. “Clark,” she said, looking directly into his chocolate brown eyes, “Tonight really made me think. For a minute there, I thought I was going to lose you. It made me realize how much I care.” She reached up and gently caressed his face.

“Oh, Lois,” Clark sighed, as he bent down to meet her mouth in a tender kiss.

Lois pulled back slightly. “Clark, please take your glasses off. I’ve never seen you without them and I’d like to.”

Clark hesitated slightly, then slowly reached up for the tortoise-shell frames.

Swoosh — the curtains danced as Lois felt a familiar puff of air. She spun around to face the window, but not before Clark noticed that she looked a little disappointed, not thrilled like she usually did when faced with a fly-by visit by Superman.

Clark pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. “Look, Lois,” he said, pointing towards the window at the source of the breeze.

A large red sleigh, pulled by a team of nine reindeer, floated by the apartment building. The red-suited man seated inside cracked the reins as he shouted in a jolly voice, “Merry Christmas to all … and to all a good night!”

THE END

Christmas In Metropolis

By Shayne Terry <byron212@yahoo.com>

Rated: G

Submitted: December 2001

All recognizable characters are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros and December 3rd productions.

***

The snow crunched beneath her feet, and Lois cursed sullenly to herself. Christmas always caught her by surprise, and this year was no exception. Despite the ribbons and wreathes, mistletoe and trees, the ten thousand signs that Christmas was coming, Lois had managed to blissfully wrap herself in her work until today.

The advantage to waiting to the last minute was that the crowds cleared off some, though that seemed to be less true with each passing year. If Lois could, she’d have ordered everything by catalogue. She had great hopes for the Internet; over the next few years she expected e-commerce to explode. People would be deliriously happy to escape the madhouse of shopping hell, would jump the bandwagon by droves.

Clark refused to believe her, of course. He’d grown up in a Rockwell painting, all perfect rural Americana. It had left him permanently scarred, with an unwarranted optimism about life that was sure to be disappointed sooner than later. He probably thought shopping for his family was “fun”.

He probably bought his gifts six months in advance, not on the night before Christmas, when the stores closed early and the pickings were slim. Preparation was important, he’d say, and all Lois would be able to do was scowl at him.

Christmas was probably something he looked forward to; great food,family spending time together, gifts exchanged. Lois had never thought that she’d envy an untalented hack from Nowheresville, but she did. She’d felt more at home in the short time she’d visited Smallville than she ever had at either of her parents’ houses. There was something about Clark’s parents that just made you want to trust them.

Clark probably never had to worry about a Christmas where his mother came in drunk,or his father brought in yet another of an endless array of floozies. He certainly didn’t have to worry about a younger sister that ducked out as early as possible, leaving him stuck in the middle of an endless round of recriminations, an eternal rehash of past transgressions.

Lois hated Christmas, and she hated that she envied Clark.

He wasn’t even untalented. While he didn’t have her undisputed journalistic edge, he had a real talent for finding the human aspect of a story. He was able to find the emotion, the sheer humanity of a story faster than anyone she knew, and he was eloquent in writing about it. She admired him his ability to open himself up the way he did, to wear his heart on his sleeve.

Clark Kent had never had to develop the defenses she’d had to,because he’d grown up with people who would never hurt him. His family loved him, and of all the people she’d ever known, his family was the least dysfunctional.

Life for him was simple. He loved unreservedly, and fought for truth and justice. In many ways, the qualities she admired in him were reflections of what she admired in Superman, only diluted.

For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder where Superman was spending his Christmas, before deciding it didn’t matter. If Clark was prose, Superman was poetry. He was the goodness of man with all the distractions of everyday life stripped away. He was the embodiment of an ideal, and deep down, Lois knew he belonged to the world.

Reaching the curb, Lois scowled again, struggling with the bags of gifts in her arms. She’d have to set at least some of them into the snow, risking getting them wet in order to open the door to her jeep.

“Let me get that for you.”

Lois was startled to hear Clark’s voice behind her, and as she turned, she started to slip on the ice by the curb. Before she could fall, Clark caught her.

His hands were strong and warm, more than she’d ever have imagined.

Silently, he took a number of her bags, and Lois did her best not to look up at him, instead fumbling for her keys to open the jeep door.

“What are you doing here, Clark? I’d have thought you’d have been home by now.”

She allowed herself to look at him, finally, as the last bag was shoved into the back of the jeep. That he was an attractive man had never been a question. Lois had realized that from the moment she’d first really looked at him. At the time, it hadn’t mattered. Handsome men were a dime a dozen, and usually, they had egos the size of Manhattan.

Recently, though, she’d been forced to look at him differently. The hours she’d been under the influence of the pheromone had forced her to look at her attraction for him. That he hadn’t responded in turn was something Lois had mixed feelings about. She was glad they hadn’t done something together that would have changed their relationship forever; they worked well together, and she wasn’t ready to see him leave.

Still, his lack of response was rather insulting. Eventually she’d had to conclude that he’d had a cold. The fact that he hadn’t SOUNDED as though he’d had one made no difference.

“I’ve got a flight out in a few hours,” Clark said. “I still have a few things that need attending to before going home.”

Lois nodded absently, not taking her eyes off him. They’d spent a weekend together as newlyweds less than two weeks before, and ever since, she’d wondered what he thought about her. Was she still the abrasive partner, Mad Dog Lane, the woman who’d driven every other person in her life away? Or was she something more?

“What could you possibly have left to do here, Clark?” Lois said, “I know you like to get your shopping done a year in advance.”

Clark’s lips quirked. “At least I don’t have to go digging through the reject piles an hour before all the stores close.”

“I’ve been busy,” Lois said shortly. “I’m covering the Superman Children’s Benefit tonight you know.”

At least that meant she wouldn’t have to spend Christmas eve with her family. One day a year was more than enough. She’d seen the stricken look on Clark’s face when Perry had assigned it to him; covering it had been the least she could do.

“I never thanked you for covering for me,” he said quietly.

Shrugging, Lois said, “What are partners for?”

That was the greatest statement of friendship she could make at the moment, with envy and the emotional barriers of a lifetime lying between them. She could only hope that he’d accept it in the spirit it was intended.

“Still,” Clark said. He hesitated, then pulled a small white box from his trenchcoat pocket. “I wanted you to have this as a token of my appreciation.”

Lois stared at the box for a moment, then groaned internally.

“I didn’t get anything for you,” she said. “I didn’t know we were…”

Gift giving in her family had always been a game of one-ups-manship and hurt feelings. She didn’t want any of that between herself and her partner.

Clark grinned. “If I’d expected anything from you, I’d have mentioned it. Covering the Charity thing on Christmas eve is a pretty big deal. It’s more than enough for me.”

Hesitantly, Lois took the box. It wasn’t wrapped; and it didn’t have anything written on it either. She opened it without a word.

“You got me a membership to the cheese of the month club?” The incredulity in her voice was almost impossible to cover. She couldn’t help grinning.

Clark looked a little hurt, so Lois said “It’s very nice. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Before he could reply, his head snapped around, as though surprised by something only he could hear. A familiar, desperate look came into his eyes and he said, “My parents gave me a membership last year and I loved it. In fact, I think I forgot to go pick up a shipment, and I’d hate to leave it over the Christmas holiday.”

A moment later he was gone. Lois waited until he was out of earshot before laughing out loud.

She’d been foolish to envy Clark his Norman Rockwell childhood. While it was true that he had a family he could look forward to going home to, it was also true that he’d always have a little bit of the country bumpkin in him.

Cheese of the month club. It was still funny, but Lois probably shouldn’t have laughed. She’d make it up to Clark when he came home. He really was the ideal partner, and unlike most people she knew, he genuinely cared.

Lois slipped the package into her pocket and grinned as she slipped into the driver’s seat.

Life really wasn’t as bad as she’d been making it out to be. As long as she had friends like Clark, she could bear to spend one day a year with her family.

The warm feeling he left behind was just a bonus. Sometimes it was the smallest things that could make a person’s day, and Clark was a master of them all.

THE END

Super Santa Claus Man

By Lynn M. <mccreadie67@hotmail.com>

Rated: G

Submitted: December, 2003

***

Five-year-old Emma Kent wiggled under the heavy weight of her covers, turning this way and that in a vain attempt to find the position that would push her over the edge into sleep. She spared a glance across the few feet that separated her twin bed from her little sister’s, wondering how Gracie had managed to fall asleep so easily. Didn’t she have any idea what was going to happen that night? What momentous event was about to occur that would forever change the scope of their young lives? For crying out loud, it was Christmas Eve!

Apparently Gracie didn’t have a clue, because by the dim glow of their Cinderella nightlight, Emma could clearly make out her sister’s dark curls springing from beneath the matching Cinderella bedspread, and Gracie wasn’t moving.

“Gracie?” she whispered loudly into the darkness, just to see if maybe Gracie was only pretending to be asleep. “You awake?”

When only Gracie’s deep breathing filled the silence, Emma sighed in resignation. How was it possible that her sister’s night would fly by, bringing Christmas morning to her in no time at all, while the minutes would drag for Emma simply because she was awake? It must be the same reason that an hour spent at the playground always went by a lot quicker than an hour shopping for a new washing machine at Sears.

Deciding that maybe a drink of water or a change of scenery might be the cure to her excitement-induced insomnia, she crept out of her bed in direct defiance of her mother’s warning that Santa would surely pass right by their house if he even suspected that they had not yet fallen asleep. Padding softly to the top of the carpeted stairs, she paused, turning her ear toward the lower level. It wouldn’t do for her to catch Santa in mid-delivery, and she certainly didn’t want to chase him off before he’d finished, thereby shortchanging her and Gracie of their fair share of the booty in his sack.

When she heard nothing that would indicate a fat man in the process of unloading some of his burden, she tiptoed down four steps until she was able to peer through the wooden banister into the living room. The Christmas tree was blazing with colorful lights. Gobs of tinsel, artfully applied by two pairs of eager hands, shot prisms of light in every direction, a sight that always made Emma gasp when she saw it. She was sure their tree had to be the prettiest one in all of Metropolis.

Suddenly, she heard the gentle woosh of air from the swinging doors that led to the kitchen and her mother’s voice came into the living room. With a panicked jerk, Emma pulled back into the safety of the dark stairwell.

“…orphanage. It’s a great cause, but for Pete’s sake, it’s after eleven.”

A deep voice responded. “I didn’t expect to be so late, but there were a lot of reporters wanting photos.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” her mom complained in a voice that Emma knew meant she’d reached the end of her rope. “Don’t they know you have a life, too?”

“Honey, Superman and Santa Claus don’t have a life.”

Curious, Emma risked the danger of discovery by leaning forward to peek through the banister. The sight before her made her breath catch in her throat. Standing right in the middle of her very own living room was none other than the man himself. Santa Claus!

And he looked just like he did in all of his pictures. His red suit was trimmed with cottony fleece, and his hat even had a ball of white fluff on the end of it. He had black boots and a wide black belt wrapped around his tummy, secured by a shiny gold buckle. But most amazing of all was his long white hair and thick, creamy beard.

She’d seen Santa Claus at the mall, of course. But those guys were just helpers. This was the real deal, and he looked even better in person. Emma scanned the room. When she failed to see the infamous sack stuffed with toys, she frowned. Maybe he’d left it in his sleigh while he checked to make sure she and Gracie were asleep.

“Well, at least Santa only has to work one night a year,” her mom was saying.

“That’s true,” Santa said with a chuckle, making his big tummy bounce up and down just like in the story where his belly was a bowl full of jelly. He reached up to stroke the white whiskers covering his chin. “So, you like the beard?”

Her mom laughed, a wonderful sound that filled Emma’s small body with joy. She loved to hear her mom laugh. “It has its…merits.”

“Come here and I’ll stuff your stocking…” he said with a low rumble, stepping toward her mom. Her mom tried to dodge away, but Emma knew for sure that she’d seen her mom move a lot quicker than that.

Emma’s large brown eyes widened as Santa Claus grabbed her mother and pulled her into a tight hug. Her mom giggled as he took his thick, snowy beard and rubbed it against her cheek. Suddenly, her mom’s hands went to wrap around Santa’s neck, and she stopped laughing.

Santa Claus was kissing her mom! Just the same way Daddy kissed her when he thought that Emma and Gracie were busy watching their Rapunzel Barbie video. Holy Cow! And her mom wasn’t even complaining.

Confusion warred with horror in her small chest, and Emma backed slowly up the stairs on her bottom. When she reached the top, she placed her elbows on her knees and perched her chin into the cradle of her small hands, trying to wrap her brain around what she had just witnessed.

The funny thing was, this wasn’t the first time that Emma had caught her mom kissing someone who wasn’t her dad. She didn’t understand a whole lot about that lovey-dovey stuff, and it completely eluded her as to why her mom and dad liked to kiss so much. The one time Josh Richards had kissed her after snacktime, she’d just thought it was really gross that his slobber was all over her cheek. If kissing boys was always such a wet proposition, she’d be happy to forgo the whole thing altogether.

But still, in five years, enough of the world’s wisdom had filtered through for her to know that when a man and a woman were a mom and a dad, and when they hadn’t gotten one of those divorce thingies, they were only supposed to kiss each other. Unless, of course, it was your grandpa or grandma or your uncle or aunt and you were visiting. But they weren’t supposed to kiss other people’s moms or dads. She had a slight suspicion that it was that kind of kissing that led to people trying to find one of those divorces.

Now, with the image of her mom kissing Santa fresh in her mind, she pulled forth the other time she’d seen something like this. That time, because she’d been a much younger kid just turned five instead of the now- worldly almost six, she’d been equally shocked. Because then, the man that her mom had been kissing had been none other than Superman.

She’d come home directly from kindergarten instead of going to Megan’s house for their playdate because Megan had called her a butt-head right in front of Mrs. Barker. Completely outraged by such an insult, Emma had burst into the kitchen, looking for a sympathetic ear in the form of her mother, when she’d been stopped dead in her tracks. Her mom had been sitting on the counter — an outrage unto itself in that Emma was strictly forbidden to do such a thing — and standing in front of her had been Superman! He had been kissing her, and her mom’s feet had been kicking his long red cape so that it had billowed out behind him. Her arms had been wrapped tight around his big shoulders, kind of just like the way her mom was kissing Santa Claus right downstairs.

When her mom had seen Emma standing in the kitchen, she’d stopped kissing Superman and had turned nearly as red as his cape. Superman had flown away really fast. Then her mom had asked her if she wanted to help make special cupcakes and had promised her that she could lick both the spoon and the bowl and have a whole scoop of chocolate frosting. She also got to put the sprinkles on all by herself.

It was shortly after that afternoon that her mom and dad had sat her down on the couch and told her that she was growing up. And that sometimes families had secrets that they could share only with each other. And because she was old enough and could be trusted, it was OK for her to know the biggest secret in their family.

Now, as she pondered the enormity of that one family secret, she wondered if perhaps that was only a little part of it. Maybe the fact that Daddy was Superman wasn’t the real secret, at least not the most important one. Was it possible that, in addition to being Superman, her dad was also…?

Her mind spun. There was no way her dad could be Santa Claus. Santa had white hair and a beard. And he was fat. Her dad was just big with a lot of really hard muscles. He didn’t have a big tummy like Santa.

Still, Superman could fly and Santa’s sleigh flew. Maybe that was how it made its way across the sky. Maybe it wasn’t magic reindeer at all, but instead just another Superman trick.

And Superman was really strong. She had trouble even carrying her Barbie townhouse up the stairs to her room when she wanted to keep Gracie from bugging her. If Santa’s bag was full of toys and stuff for every single kid in the whole wide world, it would have to be really, really heavy. So he’d have to be super- strong to carry it.

As she thought of all of those toys, another realization caused her heart to pound fast inside her chest. Santa sure had a lot of toys to deliver, and Mrs. Barker was always pointing to the globe sitting in the corner of the kindergarten room and saying how big the world was. Santa would have to be super-fast to get to all of those houses. Superman was super- fast.

All of the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. It all made perfect sense, and Emma wondered how she could have been such a dummy for all of these years. That was how Santa knew if kids were sleeping or if they were being good or bad. He used his x-ray vision. And when he needed to go down the fireplace, he just used his cold-breath to put the fire out and then lit it back up again with his hot-eyes.

Of course, none of that explained why Santa was fat and had a snowy white beard. But then again, Superman wore a costume, so why couldn’t it be that her dad just had another different one for when he was Santa?

Besides, if all of that evidence wasn’t enough, it had to be the reason why Daddy always wanted them to leave the chocolate chip cookies on the plate next to the milk instead of the gingersnaps. He said it was because he’d heard that the chocolate chip ones were Santa’s favorite, just like his. And Emma knew for certain that Daddy never ate gingersnaps.

Well. That was it. The S stood for Superman and for Santa Claus.

Satisfied that she’d solved the riddle and that her mom and dad probably wouldn’t have to buy one of those divorces just because Mom kissed Santa, Emma returned to her bed. All of that thinking had actually made her kind of sleepy. Besides, now that she knew that Santa was in actuality her dad, somehow it seemed like a little-kid thing to not be able to sleep just because it was Christmas Eve. She flipped her pillow over and laid her cheek against the cool pillowcase.

She wouldn’t tell Gracie what she’d figured out. Gracie was still way too little to keep such important secrets, so Emma would wait until she had turned at least four before breaking the news to her. After all, as the big sister, it was her job to teach Gracie the really important stuff.

As she drifted off into sleep, Emma smiled to herself. Maybe she’d better not tell Mom or Daddy that she’d figured out about Daddy’s other job. They were always giving her worried looks, and she guessed they were scared she might accidentally tell everyone their family secrets. But she’d show them. She could keep secrets.

After all, they still didn’t know that she could fly.

THE END

Christmas Spirit

By CarolM <carolmfolc@gmail.com>

Rated: G

Submitted: July 2009

This was a 2007 ficathon story for Jessi/Cape Fetish. Thanks to Beth and Nancy for betaing. Thanks to Labby for GEing and for reminding me that this wasn’t submitted yet :).

***

“Clark, what in the world are you wearing that thing for?” Lois glared at him.

“It’s Christmas, Lois. It’s a Santa hat. You’re an investigative reporter. Surely you can figure it out.” Clark sat in his chair, leaned back, laced his fingers behind his head and grinned at her.

She glared back. “It’s November.”

“It’s the day after Thanksgiving. It is now officially the Christmas season.”

He opened the shopping bag he’d brought in with him and took a couple of decorations out of it – a Coca Cola polar bear, complete with Santa hat; a penguin with a present in front of him; a box with a twelve inch, pre-decorated tree in it; and another box with a candy bowl in it. He took the bowl out of the box, pulled a bag of assorted Christmas candy out of his bottom drawer and filled it. He opened a box of candy canes and stuck them in the pencil holder of his new Desk Friend. The Christmas tree went to one side and he stuck the penguin on top of his computer monitor.

He held out the polar bear towards Lois. “You want it?”

She’d been watching him with one raised brow. “No. Thank you. No, not thank you. Just no.”

“Lois, you need an infusion of the Christmas spirit.” He set the polar bear on the other corner of his monitor.

She shrugged. “I like my Christmas spirit just fine.”

“You have no Christmas spirit.”

“And I like it just fine.”

Clark flipped through his day planner – they were both scheduled off on Christmas Eve – but he’d already known that. “Do you have plans for Christmas Eve?”

Lois sighed. “No. I don’t. I’m working Christmas Day but not Christmas Eve.”

“Good. Then you’re coming to Smallville with me.”

She raised the eyebrow again. “How exactly do you figure that? I have to work the 23rd and Christmas Day.”

Clark grinned as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “I happen to know someone who can get you there and back pretty quickly and I bet I can get him to do it for me.”

“You’d get Superman to fly me to Smallville just to ‘infuse’ me with Christmas spirit?” She smirked.

“Yep.”

She sighed. “Fine. If it’s important to you, I’ll go. But isn’t Christmas Eve a bit late if you really want me to have the Christmas spirit?”

He frowned. “You’re right.” He flipped back a few pages. “How about tomorrow night then?”

“That’s bit early, isn’t it?”

“You’re really ‘glass half empty’ this time of year, aren’t you?”

Lois shrugged. “It’s just all the crass commercialism. Doesn’t do much for me.”

“It doesn’t do much for me either, but the rest of Christmas… Helping others, finding the perfect gift, giving it to that person and seeing their face light up when they open it, spending time with family and friends – that doesn’t appeal to you?”

“Clark, you grew up in a Norman Rockwell painting. Not all of us did.”

“Maybe. And maybe you wouldn’t want to live there, but it sure is nice to visit sometimes, right?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“Then come with me for a visit?”

Lois sighed. “Sure. Why not?”

***

The knock on the window didn’t startle her. She would have left it open, but it was just too cold for that. “It’s unlocked,” she called.

It pushed open and the familiar red and blue clad superhero floated in. “Good morning, Lois. Are you ready?”

She nodded. “Ready for all the fun on the farm,” she said sarcastically.

Superman just looked at her.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m ready to go.”

“Good.”

He scooped her up and floated out the window, stopping for her to turn and pull it shut behind her.

The trip was short and before Lois knew it they were landing in the snow-covered walk of Martha and Jonathan’s house.

“Let me get you up on the porch so you don’t slip.”

A second later, he set her down on the cleared-off porch.

“Uh, Superman?”

“Yes, Lois?” he said, looking down at her.

She pointed up.

He looked up then smiled back down at her. “Up to you.”

“Well, it is tradition and Clark is insisting that I need more Christmas spirit…” She shrugged.

Superman laughed – something very few people ever got to hear, and she was one of the privileged few. “Well, okay then.” He cupped the side of her face and leaned down slightly to brush her lips with his own. “Merry early Christmas.”

Lois smiled and patted his ‘S’ lightly. “You too, Superman.”

He lifted slowly up then zipped out of sight.

A second later, the door opened behind her.

“Good morning,” Clark said with a smile.

“Good morning.”

He pointed up. “You’re under the mistletoe, I see.”

She smiled at him. “That I am. Superman kissed me before he left, so you can’t say I’m not in the holiday spirit.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Being kissed by a superhero counts as holiday spirit?”

“It does in this case,” she huffed.

“Do mere mortals stand a chance?”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “You have about two seconds before I go inside. I’m going to freeze if you wait any longer and I refuse to give you any more ‘no Christmas spirit’ ammunition.”

He crossed the porch and stood in front of her, cradling her face in hand before lowering his lips to hers.

He kept the kiss gentle and undemanding, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him. When he moved back, he smiled at her. “Wouldn’t want you getting cold now, would we?”

She smirked at him. “You wanted to get me under the mistletoe the minute we met, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, but didn’t move. “You warned me not to fall for you – you didn’t have time for it, but it was too late by then.”

“So is this some sort of plan to get me some Christmas spirit and impress me at the same time? A two birds with one stone thing?”

“Maybe. And you had fun the last time you were here,” he pointed out.

Lois sighed. “I guess, but I’m still getting cold.”

Clark laughed and ushered her into the warmth of the farmhouse. “Mom! Dad! Lois is here.”

“Lois!” Martha came out of the kitchen and gave her a big hug.

“Hi, Martha.”

“Merry early Christmas,” Martha said, leaving an arm around her and steering her towards the kitchen. “We’ll have you full of the Christmas spirit in no time.”

She sat Lois at the kitchen table and gave her a mug of hot chocolate. “Today we’re going to take a bunch of baked goods to some of the Smallville folks. We’d hoped you’d join us.”

Lois took a long sip of the delectable drink. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”

Clark winked at his mom. “If that doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit…”

Martha smiled back. “Nothing will.”

***

Lois arrived back at the Kent house feeling better about Christmas than she had when they left.

Every place they’d gone, every person they’d seen, there had been smiles and thank yous and holiday cheer. A few years earlier it would have been enough to make her want to barf, but maybe Clark was rubbing off on her.

Or maybe it was Smallville. Maybe it was the… genuineness of people here. People were genuinely happy to see you when you walked in the door and genuinely sad when you left.

Clark walked up behind her, close but not touching. “Penny for your thoughts.”

“Jimmy says it should be a dollar. Inflation.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back towards him, looping his arms loosely around her. “I’d pay anything you asked for your thoughts,” he said quietly.

“And I’ll give them to you for nothing,” she said in equally quiet tones.

“So what are you thinking?”

“How nice it is here. How different it is from growing up.”

“Good different?”

“Very good.”

She turned in his arms and wrapped hers around his waist, resting her head on his chest. “Clark, why does it take a trip to Smallville to get me in the Christmas spirit? Every year?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but I’ll bring you as often as you need.”

She smiled slightly. “And why do I feel the need to not know who you really are?”

“Because it gives some of the magic back? Because Superman’s not just an ordinary guy from Smallville and you can still believe he’s perfect and there really is a Santa?”

“Maybe. Even without the powers though, you’re anything but ordinary, Clark.” She held him a little closer. “It wasn’t the powers that made me love you. It was you. You finding out who I really am and loving me anyway. You made me feel like I was worth loving for the first time in a long time and that had nothing to do with your superpowers.”

He kissed her hair. “You are worth loving. You always have been. Some people were too stupid to see it and as much as I hate that they hurt you, I’m kind of glad they were stupid. Because if they had seen how wonderful you really are, you would have been with someone else long before I showed up.”

“I don’t know about that…” she said, her voice trailing off.

He tipped her face towards his and told her the same things he always did.

He told her the truth as he saw it. The things only he knew she needed to hear.

Because every time the topic came up, it was the same. And he would tell her as many times as she needed to hear it. As many times as it took to erase the other messages she’d been given over the years.

‘Other women are more important than my family.’

‘Alcohol is more important than my daughters.’

‘Ninety-eight means two points for improvement and really means that you’ll never be good enough, you’ll never quite measure up.’

‘I’d rather be off with a new boyfriend than spend time with my sister who practically raised me because she’s a reminder of how dysfunctional my family is.’

She’d been told those things for years and even though her parents were doing better these days and Lucy seemed to be settling down, it took time.

And someday she wouldn’t need a trip to Smallville to get into the Christmas spirit, but they’d probably come anyway.

Because it was tradition.

Because in Smallville, there had never been memories for her to forget.

Because in Smallville, she’d started to realize what it meant to fall in love.

Because in Smallville, she’d always felt loved.

Unconditionally.

Because she always had been and she always would be.

Because he loved her.

It would take time.

Time and love.

And he had more than enough of both.

FIN

***

Jessi/Cape Fetish wanted…

Three things I want in my fic:

1. Lois/Superman interaction (whether or not she knows the secret)

2. Clark in a Santa hat

3. Lots of nice L/C WAFF

Preferred season(s)/holiday [if applicable]: No preference

Three things I do not want in my fic:

1. Next-gen

2. A-plot

3. Song fic

A Gift From Shetland

By Chris Carr <carrcmh@yahoo.co.uk>

Rated: G

Submitted: January 2004

INTRODUCTION:

Although the show makes it obvious that Clark travelled extensively in the years before he settled in Metropolis, we are told very little about the places he went to. We know even less about the people he met. But Clark is a likeable man. Despite maintaining a cautious distance from those around him, he nonetheless seems to have a gift for making friends. It’s hard, therefore, to believe that he would have forged no lasting relationships before he started work at the Daily Planet.

That, then, was the starting point from which this story grew. The final result? Well, you’ll have to read on to find out where my musings led me.

I apologise in advance for any mistakes I have made in getting cultural and geographical nuances right. While I’ve tried to do my best here, I am by no means an expert. The Shetland Islands are beautiful, but, alas, I know them only as a visitor, not as a resident.

With many, many thanks to Yvonne for beta-reading. Thanks, also, to Wendy for suggesting “Grannanna” as a term of endearment and the kind people on IRC who found a few things for me to alter. :) Thanks also to the folks at the Lois and Clark Fanfic message boards for saying such lovely things. :)

DISCLAIMER: This story has been written for fun, not profit. No attempt is being made to infringe any existing copyrights held by December 3rd Productions, Warner Bros, D C Comics, or any other copyright holders.

***

As Winnie Byrne, nee Eunson, grew older she found herself remembering the old days more and more. She remembered life in the old croft house, which had long since been abandoned. These days, gutted of its contents, its timbers, windows and thatch, it was a ruin, barely more than a pile of stones rising out of the long grass on the other side of the voe. She remembered sleeping in a box bed — a cupboardlike arrangement with sliding doors that had been set into the wall of the bedroom. She had shared it with one of her sisters and some friendly fleas.

Winnie remembered the long summer days and the not-quite darkness of the short summer nights that the Shetlanders call the simmer dim. In her memory they were times of endless sun, the kind of perfect summers that only exist in an adult’s memory of childhood.

Winnie remembered the long, dark winter nights, and the evenings spent huddled around the peat fires as she listened to her father telling stories while he mended the fishing nets and her mother taught her to knit.

Along with more recent ones of her own, Winnie had passed her father’s stories down to her children and her children’s children. Now she was passing them on to her first great grandchild, Jessi.

Winnie told Jessi how life had been when she was young. She told Jessi about the doomed love her sister had had for a Norwegian fisherman, who had been a refugee on the islands during World War II. She told Jessi what life had been like before oil wealth had come to Shetland. But most of all, she told Jessi about the old beliefs.

Of course, in more enlightened days, children no longer believed in the selkie folk or the trows. And Winnie Byrne, nee Eunson, also knew better than to believe in such nonsense.

And yet…

When Jessi pointed out a stranger on the beach, Winnie’s first thought was of the stories she had learned at her father’s knee. She remembered the legends of the selkie and of the Finn because who, or what, else could have emerged out of the tempestuous sea in human guise?

***

“Grannanna! Grannanna!”

“What is it, Jess?” Winnie asked. She lifted her eyes from her knitting to look at the eight year old who was kneeling on the window seat. Jessi was pressing her nose against the glass so that she could peer around the rivulets of water that were streaming down the window pane.

Jessica turned her head slightly and replied, “There’s a man down on the beach!”

“People come down to visit the beach all the time, Jessi,” Winnie said. “There’s no need to make a song and dance about it.”

“People don’t come down here on a day like today,” Jessica argued in the patented manner of a child talking to a particularly dense adult. As if to reinforce her argument, the wind chose that moment to howl particularly loudly around the eaves. “In any case, that’s not the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing is that he wasn’t there a moment ago. He just… appeared. It was like magic.”

Winnie shook her head. “You must be mistaken,” she said. “He probably just walked down by the side of the house.”

“Grannanna!” protested Jessi, as well she might. It was, even to Winnie’s ears, a feeble suggestion. For one thing, there were no trees anywhere on the island, let alone around the house, to hide a fully-grown man from view. For another, Jessi had spent the last half-hour staring out of the window, watching the lashing rain and wishing petulantly and vociferously that she could go outside. Moreover, Jessi was the most observant child Winnie had ever known. If Jessi said the man had just appeared from nowhere then, as improbable as it sounded, Winnie was inclined to believe her.

Winnie carefully heaved her arthritic body upright and put her knitting to one side. “Let me see,” she said.

Jessi shifted sideways so that Winnie could peer over her shoulder. Like Jessi, Winnie had to press her face close to one of the window panes so that she could squint around the glistening streaks of water that were streaming down the glass.

They watched the stranger pace along the sand, getting wetter and wetter, his dark hair plastering against his skull, his jeans clinging wetly to his legs, and his jacket darkening by the second with all the water it was absorbing. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his shoulders were hunched against the wind.

Jessi looked up at Winnie and asked, “What’s he doing?”

“Just walking, by the looks of it.”

“Why?”

Winnie frowned and said, “I’ve no idea, Jessi.”

Winnie Byrne’s life had been a difficult one. She’d known hardship and sorrow, yet there was no bitterness in her heart. She knew the meaning of compassion and she shivered in automatic sympathy with the stranger. What kind of a fool came out into a spring storm dressed only in a light summer jacket and jeans?

The elderly clock on the mantelpiece ticked wheezily as they watched, and the frown lines on Winnie’s forehead carved themselves deeper as her concern grew. Finally, she could stand it no more. No matter who he was, he had to come in out of the driving rain.

“Stay here,” Winnie said. “I’ll only be a minute.” Then she went into the porch, pulled on her boots and shrugged on her oilskin coat. She pulled the hood over her head and held it tightly closed with her left hand as she opened the front door with her right.

The wind was fierce, and Winnie could taste the salt spray that was blowing off the sea when she licked her lips, where it mingled with the rain. There were whitecaps on the water, and the waves pounded against the sand, foaming angrily.

The storm pushed at Winnie; she pushed back, determined to defy it. Maybe, had she not been struggling so hard, she would have realised that the stranger was not fighting the storm. Instead, he seemed immune to its fury, walking around in it as if it were nothing more severe that a light July shower. However, it would only be later — much later — that Winnie would think about that.

As it was, Winnie concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, taking a route down to the shore that avoided all the cotton-grass and moss-covered bog. The grass, normally ankle-deep, was almost flattened by the wind, and the few sheep she could see were huddling miserably in the lee of the house.

Winnie made it onto the beach and called out, but her words were ripped away by the storm. She couldn’t hear them herself, so there was no way that the stranger should have been able to. Yet, he turned around to look at her, his whole face a question.

He mouthed something, but Winnie had no hope of deciphering the words. Her “I can’t hear you!” should have been futile, too, so she reinforced it by pantomiming a cupping of her ears and then beckoning him towards her.

He came, and when he drew level with her, she yelled in his ear, “You should come along inside, before this weather is the death of you!”

Winnie surely imagined his response: a wry laugh and the words, “The wind and rain can’t hurt me!”

“Don’t be a fool, man!” she shouted brusquely. “You need warmth. And, I dare say, some tea wouldn’t hurt, either!”

He smiled at her, either amused by her manner or grateful for her care. Winnie wasn’t sure which. All she knew for sure was that his was a gleaming white smile.

It was a movie-star kind of smile, Winnie thought. It made her ageing heart skip beats and remember how it felt to be young. If she had been fifty years younger, she might have been attracted to him. Even now, in her seventies, she could appreciate the beauty of his smile. She was old, not dead!

Then again, Winnie Byrne, nee Eunson, had always been a one- man kind of woman. Arthur had stolen her heart the moment she had first set eyes on him, back when she was only fifteen. She’d had to wait impatiently for three years before he’d got a clue, then another four before they’d finally married.

This young man would never have stood a chance with her.

It was easier going back to the house, with the wind at their backs and their arms intertwined together to give them added balance. Indeed, so strong were some of the gusts that once or twice Winnie was sure that she would have been swept off her feet were it not for the stranger’s firm grip.

Winnie opened the front door and ushered the stranger in before her. It took the two of them to push it shut again. Then she called out, “Jessi! Fetch me some towels and blankets!” as she began to peel off her waterproofs.

The stranger and she stood in the enclosed porch and looked at each other. Even though Winnie had lived on the islands all her life, she could not be described as na‹ve. She knew exotic when she saw it, and this young man was certainly that. She’d never seen a face quite like his, not even amongst the tourists who sometimes passed through. His wet hair gleamed like onyx, his cheekbones were chiselled high, and his eyes were of the gentlest, deepest brown that she’d ever seen in a man. They were seal’s eyes, Winnie thought, and she shivered.

Seal eyes… and he’d come from the sea. And she remembered all the stories she had learned at her father’s knee some seventy years before.

But Winnie was a wise and practical woman. She was too sensible to entertain the mad thoughts that had just come to her, so she pushed them away and busied herself with more practical matters.

Jessi bustled in self-importantly with a huge pile of towels and blankets. It looked as though she had the entire contents of the linen cupboard gathered precariously in her little arms.

Winnie passed a bath sheet over to the stranger — now their guest — and bade him to dry his hair. Then she led him through the house to the bathroom. She told him to go inside, take off his wet things and pass them to her so that she could hang them up. “I’m sorry,” Winnie said, “but it’s been a few years since there has been a man in the house, and I’ve nothing to offer you to wear except blankets until your own things are dry. Now, take a good, hot shower and get the chill out of your bones!”

He smiled again, and again Winnie saw a flash of perfect white.

***

By the time she heard the plumbing give the tell-tale clank that told her the stranger had switched off the water, Winnie had put his clothes on a clothes horse in front of the fire in the living room, had made a pot of tea and had set some bannocks and jam out on the kitchen table.

Winnie felt, rather than heard, his arrival, and she turned to find him hovering self-consciously in the doorway. He’d wrapped one of the blankets around his midriff as though it were a generous bath towel and he’d draped another around his shoulders in the manner of a cape. Tanned forearms, hands and feet poked out from beneath the voluminous material.

“Come in, come in and sit down,” Winnie said. She managed, with an effort, not to stare. Then she called, “Jessi! Come and have a drink with us!”

The clatter of what Winnie guessed to be pens and paper being dumped unceremoniously onto the coffee table in the living room and the thud-thud of small feet told Winnie that Jessi was doing as she had been told.

“How do you like your tea…?” Winnie let an unspoken question hover behind the verbal one.

Her perceptive visitor answered both. “Without milk, please, Ma’am. And… I guess I should introduce myself properly. My name is Clark Kent.” He took a couple of steps forward and held out his hand.

His palm felt warm against hers, and her hand was very small in his. For some reason, his touch made her want to blush, so she withdrew as quickly as she could without seeming rude. Then she busied herself with the tea-pot.

“I’m Winnie Byrne,” she said. “And this-” she paused to gesture at Jessi, who had just arrived, “-is my great granddaughter, Jessica.”

“Jessi,” corrected the child with a slight whine and a scowl.

“Sorry. This is Jessi.” Winnie looked at Clark, letting their gazes lock over the child’s head. “She’s only Jessica when her mother is really cross with her. Isn’t that right, Jessi?”

Jessi, still scowling, nodded and scrambled into a chair. Perhaps she didn’t like the reminder that her parents could ever be angry, or perhaps she didn’t like the fact that her great grandmother would reveal that she could be naughty to a visitor.

Clark laughed. It was a rich sound that filled and warmed the kitchen. “Oh, I know just how that works! Most of the time I’m just plain old Clark, but when my folks get mad, I become ‘Clark Jerome Kent’!”

Jessi looked up at Clark and her scowl shifted into a shy smile. Winnie was tempted to smile, too, but before she did she wanted some answers from the young man. After making sure that all three of them had everything they needed, Winnie sat down, took a sip of her own tea, and asked, “So, where are you from, Clark?”

He chewed and swallowed his mouthful of bannock, taking slightly longer about it than Winnie thought was strictly necessary. It was as though he was delaying having to answer, though why such a question should be difficult was beyond her… unless, of course, he had something to hide.

Finally he said, “Kansas.”

“In the USA?” asked Winnie. She couldn’t help being surprised at his answer, even though she had already noted his accent. They rarely got visitors from America on the island. She couldn’t remember ever having met one so early in the season. Nor would she have expected to because neither of the bed and breakfasts took bookings before Easter. Yet his answer seemed to be too improbable to be a casual lie.

He nodded. “My parents have a farm there, near the town of Smallville.”

What an odd name! Winnie thought. It seemed almost too mundane to be true, but if it was a lie, it wasn’t a very good one. She had never heard of Smallville. Then again, there were many places she had never heard of, so that proved nothing either one way or the other.

She tried again. “And what brought you out here on a day like today?”

“I…” Clark definitely seemed at a loss this time. “I was upset about… something. And I needed time to think, so I got out of the house and started… walking. And before I knew it, I was on your beach.”

Winnie eyed him sceptically. She’d raised enough children to recognise an evasion when she heard one. “One thing you should know, young man, is that everyone on this island knows everything about everyone else. And I know that you could no more have walked here than you could have flown!”

The strangest expression flitted across the young man’s face. It was a blend of embarrassment and unease, both of which Winnie put down to his being caught in the lie. It crossed her mind, then, to wonder how sensible it had been to invite this man — little more than a boy, really — into her house. It was an uncomfortable feeling; distrust didn’t come naturally to Winnie Byrne.

“How did you get here, mister?” asked Jessi. Winnie was grateful to her great grandchild for asking the question. She, herself, would have found it difficult to ask for information in quite so direct a fashion. However, coming from a child, the words could never be seen as rude. Jessi didn’t sound wary, just openly curious. “I know! You came on the boat, didn’t you?”

Winnie shook her head. “He can’t have done. The ferry doesn’t run on a Sunday. You know that, Jessi.” She flicked her eyes at Clark, wanting to see his reaction to that bit of information. However, he was looking down at his hands, so she couldn’t see his expression.

“So, how did you get here, mister?” demanded Jessi.

He looked up again, and across at the child. There was a strange kind of dismay lingering around his eyes, even as he forced himself to smile. He flicked a glance at Winnie, then began to speak. “I’m a poor shipwrecked sailor, the sole survivor of a ship lost far out to sea.”

Not true, thought Winnie, and she wondered at the way the lies flowed with ease from his mouth. She was certain he was lying, not only because of the teasing note he had injected into his tone, but also because his clothes were all wrong for a sailor, just as they had been wrong for taking a stroll in a Shetland storm. What she wasn’t certain about, however, was his motive for telling the lies; was he trying to evade, to deceive, to beguile or to entertain? Did he mean them any harm? She wished she could know for sure.

Meanwhile, she saw Jessi’s eyes light up at the promise of a story, and she decided to let Clark weave his tissue of lies for a little longer. Maybe she would figure something of the mystery out if she observed him for a while.

***

Clark had just concluded his story when a grizzled mongrel tottered into the kitchen. The dog moved stiffly and uneasily, and his paws scratched and slid against the vinyl floor.

“Well, look who has woken up at last!” said Winnie fondly. She reached out from her chair and scratched the top of the dog’s head.

The dog sniffed the air, then turned curious eyes towards the stranger. He gave a vague wag of his tail and tottered over to investigate Clark more closely.

“Don’t mind Haggis. He’s as friendly as they come, just a little old and arthritic. He’s rather like me, really,” chuckled Winnie.

“Hi, there, old fella,” said Clark, leaning over, and offering a hand to the dog for him to smell. “Haggis, is it?”

Haggis woofed in lethargic agreement, sniffed Clark’s skin, and decided that he approved. Then he rested his chin on Clark’s lap and raised soulful eyes at his new acquaintance.

“My grandson — Jessi’s uncle, that is — named him,” Winnie said.

Clark scratched Haggis behind the ears, prompting the dog to push his greying head even further across Clark’s lap in appreciation. Then the dog lifted his chin a little, tilted his head to one side and whined, his eyes flicking from the remains of Clark’s bannock, which lay abandoned on his plate, to Clark’s face and back again.

“Now, don’t go believing any of that dog’s nonsense,” warned Winnie. “He’s no more starving than I am!”

Winnie and Jessi watched Clark pet the dog. After a while, Jessi slid off her chair and moved to crouch next to the pair and wrapped her arms possessively around Haggis’s chest. Clearly she had reached the limits of her eight-year-old ability to share. If Winnie were not careful, Jessi’s famous temper might begin to fray.

“If we’re all done,” she suggested, “perhaps we might move into the living room. The chairs in here are a little hard, don’t you think?” It wasn’t entirely an excuse, made to defuse any tantrums that might be coming her way, either. If Winnie stayed in one place for too long, she could feel her joints begin to stiffen in protest. She would feel more comfortable if she moved around a little bit.

She braced her right hand on the table to increase her leverage as she tried to stand. She could have managed perfectly adequately on her own, but she didn’t need to. She felt a warm hand brace her elbow and heard Clark murmur, “Here, let me help you, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” she said, and she meant it. His was a tiny act of kindness, but it showed an unusual degree of empathy, she thought. Not many strangers would have thought to help her in that way. Indeed, only the closest of her family knew to do it.

She felt herself soften towards the stranger just a little bit more, then struggled to resurrect her guard. She didn’t want to let it slip just yet.

***

As Clark looked around, Winnie saw her living room anew. It was a small room as befitted such a small house. The walls were covered with a pink floral wallpaper, the pattern faded with age. Two framed prints of landscapes faced each other from opposite walls.

Jessi’s colouring pad and felt-tip pens lay scattered across the coffee table and floor, and Winnie’s abandoned knitting was resting in a bundle in the old wing chair closest to the fire. The fire, itself, was currently blocked from view by the clothes horse upon which Clark’s clothes had been set out to dry.

Beyond that day’s disorganised mess was the more ordered clutter of a lifetime’s accumulated knickknacks. There were delicate china boxes and figurines along the window sills and framed photographs aplenty atop every available surface. There were pictures of weddings, christenings and parties, and there were portraits of smiling gap-toothed children in school uniforms and self-conscious looking adults in their Sunday best. There was at least one picture for every member of Winnie’s large family.

Most prominent of all, on the mantelpiece, stood two black and white photographs, one on each side of the wheezing clock. The one on the left was a wedding photograph. By modern standards, it was of poor quality, grainy, poorly focused and sepia with age. The couple within appeared stiff as they stared sternly into the camera’s lens.

Winnie had still been slim when that picture had been taken and, according to Arthur, she had been beautiful. Winnie didn’t know about that; all she knew was that Arthur had been the most handsome of men and that no picture could ever have done him justice.

The photograph on the right came close, however. It was a head and shoulders portrait that one of Winnie’s children had taken on Arthur’s fiftieth birthday. Whereas she had widened and lost her looks as she had aged, Arthur had merely become more distinguished. His hair had greyed and the lines on his face had become more deeply carved as the years had passed, but he had never gained weight or lost his hair. And, somehow, the picture had managed to capture the twinkle in his bright blue eyes and the hint of his trademark smile that was playing around his lips.

For some reason, Clark seemed drawn to the photograph. He walked over, stopping a couple of paces short of the mantel, and gestured towards it. “Is this your husband?”

Winnie nodded. “Yes. That’s my Arthur. He’s dead now, though.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

It was nice of him to say so, Winnie thought grudgingly. She still had her concerns about him, but she had to admit that he had good manners. Someone, somewhere, had taught him well.

Since he was next to the fire, he fingered his clothes and said, “I think they’re dry now.”

Winnie did not believe him — how could they have dried already? — so she checked for herself. Her eyebrows rose a fraction. Surprised, she said, “And so they are. But you can’t leave until the storm eases. Otherwise you’ll be right back where you started.”

Clark nodded, then turned to look at the window. He seemed to stare out into the impenetrable darkness. Then he said, “I think the rain’s stopped. I should be fine.” He glanced sheepishly down at the blankets he was wearing. “In any case, I think I’d like to get changed.”

Winnie thought his discomforted embarrassment was rather endearing. “Very well. You know where the bathroom is.”

While he changed, Winnie took a look out of the front door. Clark was right: the rain had stopped. How had he known that? She shook her head, perplexed.

***

The wind had veered around to the north and had dropped down to a stiff breeze. There was a noticeable bite to the air that had not been there earlier. Above them, broken clouds scudded past, revealing glimpses of the glittering stars and crescent moon beyond.

“Good-bye, Mrs Byrne. Thank you for everything.”

Winnie didn’t say “You’re welcome.” She wasn’t entirely sure that he was. Certainly, he was a likeable boy, but… She stopped herself from shaking her head. She still had so many unanswered questions!

Clark held out his hand, just as he had done earlier in the kitchen.

Winnie took his hand and shook, and was pleased that the darkness hid her blush.

Then Clark turned away and began to walk. Winnie watched for a minute before retreating inside. When she looked out through the living room window, he was nowhere to be seen.

She pondered for a moment on his disappearance, then turned her attention back towards a more immediate problem. Jessi’s parents would be coming by soon to collect her, and the child’s belongings had somehow managed to scatter themselves throughout the house. She stiffly bent over and began to gather the various bits and pieces together even as she called Jessi to come and help.

Winnie’s thoughts lingered on Clark as she and Jessi tidied. She was sure that she would never see him again.

She was wrong.

***

It was a cold, clear day in early January, during that dead time following the turn of the year. A thin smattering of snow covered the ground, but the sky was clear and serene. The feeble sun hung low in the midday sky, casting long shadows across the ground. All too soon it would pass below the horizon again, and another long winter’s night would begin. Winnie had to make the most of the precious hours of daylight while she could.

Winnie was dressed in coat, hat, scarf and gloves. Her cheeks were pink where they had been pinched by the cold and her footsteps were as brisk as she could make them. Haggis was having a hard time keeping up with her. Winnie suspected that he meandered off as often as he did to investigate a myriad of exciting smells so that he could hide his age and decrepitude.

Suddenly Haggis barked happily and scampered with uncharacteristic energy past her. Winnie looked around to find the cause of the commotion.

It took a moment for her to recognise and remember the young man who was now crouching down, making a fuss of the dog. It had been almost a year since they had met, after all.

“Clark!” she exclaimed. “This is a surprise!” She wondered whether it was a welcome one.

“Hi, Mrs Byrne.” Clark smiled readily and warmly as he stood up. His smile was just as dazzling as she remembered. “I was passing by, and I decided to take another look at the beach. I wondered what it looked like when there wasn’t a gale blowing!”

“And what do you think of it?”

Clark inhaled deeply and said, “It’s beautiful.”

Winnie nodded, pleased with his approval. Of course, it was no less than the beach deserved.

“I never saw a real beach when I was growing up,” Clark said. “Except on television, of course. But that never prepares you for the real thing. This” — he waved a hand to encompass the sea and the sand — “is wonderful.”

“So what was it like, where you grew up?”

“Oh…” Clark shrugged. Winnie watched him as he searched for the words he needed to describe… Where was it he had said he was from again? Ah, yes. Kansas. “Mostly flat,” he said eventually. “A few trees. Some hills. Acres and acres of farmland, of course. Lots of corn, although my parents keep cattle, too.”

“It sounds nice,” said Winnie, more out of politeness than with any real conviction. She couldn’t imagine anywhere without the sea.

“It is nice,” agreed Clark.

They fell into step and walked silently a little way down the strand. Then Clark asked, “How’s Jessi?”

“She’s fine. Doing well in school.”

“That’s good.”

“And yourself?”

“Pretty much the same,” said Clark.

Haggis, Winnie noticed, as they wandered along the beach, appeared to have wandered off again. She was beginning to wonder where he had got to, when he suddenly broke into a full-throated frenzy of barks. Something had to be very wrong, thought Winnie, to make him react like that!

She broke into as much of a run as her tired, old legs could manage, and she mentally cursed the way the years had aged her. Oh, to be able to run as she had done, back when she was young!

The way Clark was running now.

The young man tore along the beach, guided only by the sound of the dog’s alarm call. Then he disappeared from view, into a small gully that channelled water down from the hills behind the house.

When Winnie, out of breath, caught up with him, he was kneeling down, crooning at a sheep that lay in the bottom of the gully, tangled in what remained of a barbed-wire fence. She scrambled as best she could over a few scattered boulders to join him.

“Oh!” she breathed in horror. “That’s my ram! He must have fallen down from the field up there, and pulled the fence along with him! Is he all right?”

“I think so, yes. Just a bit panicky. He’ll be fine, once we get him out of this mess.”

She crouched down, her joints protesting vehemently as she did so, and added her soothing voice to Clark’s. Between them, they persuaded the ram to stop struggling, then they carefully worked together to release him from the wire.

Finally the ram was free. As if to reassure Winnie that he was fine, he immediately scrambled to his feet, bleated loudly, and scrabbled his way up a steep slope and out of sight.

“Well, there’s gratitude for you,” laughed Clark. “He didn’t even stick around to say thank you!”

“Then I’ll just have to say it for him, won’t I?” said Winnie. Then, to reinforce her point, she added, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs Byrne. Now, if you can lend me some tools, I’ll fix the fence for you before anything else can fall down here.”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble…” Winnie said doubtfully.

“It’d be no trouble, really.”

“Well, if you’re absolutely sure… To be honest, that fence has been worrying me for a while. My grandson, Doug, promised me a couple of weeks ago that he’d take a look at it just as soon as he had a moment. But he doesn’t have much spare time these days, not now he’s started working full time at the oil terminal.”

“Well, I’ll fix it now,” said Clark. “Then you won’t have to worry about it any more.”

“Well, then… Thank you! I’d appreciate it. And when you’re done, you must come in and have a bite to eat. You’ll have earned it.”

***

“You’re a good worker,” Winnie said a little while later. They were once again sitting at her kitchen table, this time with tea and fruitcake in front of them. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing, really, Mrs Byrne. I’d have done the same for any of the neighbours back home.”

Winnie considered him for a few seconds, then said, “Maybe you would, but that doesn’t mean that I appreciate your efforts any less. That ram’s a good breeder and I’d hate to see anything happen to him.” She remembered the way Clark had calmed the sheep down, and she added, “You’ll make a good farmer, one of these days.”

She glimpsed a flicker of something in Clark’s expression. Then, tentatively, he said, “I don’t think I’m going to be a farmer.”

“Why not? You’re obviously a natural with stock.”

“I…” He shook his head. “I just don’t think it’s for me, you know?”

Winnie didn’t know, so she said nothing. Instead, she waited patiently for him to say something more.

“I… I don’t seem to fit in around Smallville any more. Back when I was a little kid, everything was fine. But then… I guess I started to grow up. I began to change. And last year when I found out that I could-” He stopped abruptly and shook his head. “No, farming’s not for me.”

“What will you do instead?”

“I’m not sure, but right now I’m in school — what you’d call university, I guess — and I think I’m going to major in journalism.”

“Journalism?” Winnie asked. “Like for a newspaper?”

Clark nodded.

“You’ll need a lot of learning for that, I would imagine.”

“I guess so,” Clark said. He didn’t sound unduly worried, though.

“Your parents must be proud of you.”

Clark nodded. “I think they are. But my dad never says much and I think he’s also a little disappointed with the way things are turning out. He always wanted a son to pass the farm on to, but since I’m an only child, that’s not going to happen. My mom, though… She’s great. I think she might have gone to university, if she hadn’t married my dad.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes and sipped companionably on their tea. Winnie thought about what he had just said, and the way he’d said it, then cut Clark another piece of cake. Finally, she said, “Having more children wouldn’t guarantee that there would be someone for your dad to pass the farm on to, you know. Take my children, for example. Three of them have moved away from these islands altogether and, of the two that stayed, only one is a crofter. The other works as an estate agent in Lerwick.”

“So what will happen to this place when you…” Clark trailed off uncomfortably.

“When I die, do you mean?”

Clark nodded.

“Don’t be embarrassed to say it, boy! It’ll come to us all, you know!” Then more soberly, Winnie said, “I don’t know what will happen. But I gave up worrying about it a long time ago.”

That wasn’t strictly true, of course. Although she tried not to think about it, she never really succeeded in banishing her worries altogether. She couldn’t imagine this land without a Byrne to work it. However, unless one of her descendants had a change of heart…

“Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that all a parent really wants is for his or her child to be happy. If you would rather do something other than take over your father’s farm, you shouldn’t feel guilty about it. No right thinking parent would want to stop you from being happy, and I bet that’s just as true about your father as it is for anyone else. And if he doesn’t say that he wants you to stay on the farm, then all that means is that he’s leaving the decision of what you do up to you. His silence is a gift, Clark. You should treasure it.”

Winnie watched as Clark let her words sink in. She could see tension she hadn’t even realised was there leave his shoulders. It was obvious to her that Clark had been wrestling with the issue of his future for a long time, and finally he was making peace with the decision he had made. Eventually he said, “Hearing that… It helps more than you can possibly imagine. Thank you, Mrs Byrne. Thank you so much!”

***

From then on, theirs was an odd kind of friendship. It hovered somewhere beyond casual acquaintance but it was less than intimate. Years passed, and their distant affection for one another was punctuated by occasional visits by Clark, who, after earning his degree, had decided to travel around the world. He seemed to take odd jobs where and when he could, but he never stayed long in any of them.

Clark would drop by and tell her stories of exotic places she had barely heard of. He would bring small gifts at Christmas and Winnie would tell him that he should not waste his money on her. He would do little jobs as and when they needed doing on the croft, and Winnie would make him tea and tell him about her ever-expanding family.

And then she would ask him when he was going to marry, settle down, and raise a family of his own, because that was the kind of life she understood best.

Although Winnie still wondered where Clark came from, her wariness eased. He gradually won her trust and regard, and that was all that mattered.

***

Winnie reached up stiffly and placed the star on the top of her Christmas tree. Then she stepped back to survey her handiwork. She nodded, satisfied.

At eighty-three years old, she had long since ceased to be overly bothered about Christmas. However, her children, her grandchildren and, most of all, her great-grandchildren expected her to make an effort. Her children and grandchildren saw such efforts as reassuring evidence that the passing years were only slowly taking their toll on the family matriarch. For the youngest of her great grandchildren the fact that it was Christmas was reason enough for them to think that Winnie ought to make a fuss over the season.

So, for all their sakes, Winnie had carefully hung Christmas cards across the chimney breast and tinsel around the door frames. She’d taken most trouble, however, over the Christmas tree she’d positioned on an occasional table in a corner. That she had decorated with love.

And memories.

Each glass ball carried a memory with it. And, when the children, grandchildren and great grandchildren came around, she would tell them about those memories, and they would listen, never tiring of Winnie’s stories. Or, rather, if they did tire of the stories she told, they hid it well.

Winnie and Arthur had bought the first few baubles together, soon after they were married. They’d thought the baubles were a wicked extravagance, back when times were lean. For years they had made do without a tree; they’d hung the glass balls in the windows of the house instead. Other decorations had been added to the collection later, most as little tokens of affection from each other. And slowly, over the years, the collection had grown.

Some of the baubles had been made by her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. These were the handmade ones, mostly rough, ready and cheap in materials, but infinitely precious in every way that counted.

Winnie missed Arthur. After nearly fifteen years alone, she knew that she always would. They’d loved each other all through their forty-six years of marriage.

She turned away from the tree and walked over to the fireplace. She picked up the photograph off the mantel and smiled down at her husband’s face. She ran her fingers lightly across the glass, caressing it as gently as she had once caressed his cheeks. “The house looks good this year, Arthur,” she whispered. “Even if I do say so myself.”

Her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Come in!” she cried. “The door is open!” She carefully replaced the photograph on the mantel and turned around just in time to see her visitor pause on the threshold.

“Hi, Mrs Byrne. I was… in the neighbourhood, and I just wanted to drop in to wish you a merry Christmas. Also, I wanted to give you this.” He held out a small gift.

She eyed him and tried to chastise him. “You shouldn’t have!” Unfortunately, she knew that the severity in her words was at odds with her tone and the twinkle in her eyes. Her pleasure shone through as she reached out and carefully took the gift from him. She placed it under the tree and said, “There. It looks just right, don’t you think?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sit down, sit down, and I’ll make you tea!”

“Tea would be great, Mrs Byrne, but let me make it. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re no bother, lad. You know that.”

Clark smiled at her use of the endearment, probably thinking it incongruous that she would call an adult in his twenties a lad. However, these days, everyone under the age of seventy was a lad to Winnie. Clark, although he didn’t know it, had a lot more growing to do before Winnie would even think to call him a man.

***

More years passed. The croft became too much for Winnie to manage, so she rented out the land and sold her stock. Now the sheep that grazed her grass belonged to someone else. She became more and more house-bound. Increasingly she relied on the visits of others to keep her links with the outside world alive.

Jessi’s parents moved off the island, moving to Aberdeen. Jessi, herself, went to college, then met a banker and settled down in Dundee. Winnie’s family continued to grow as more great grandchildren came along, but they dispersed, moving across Shetland and then across Scotland. Jessi’s uncle — the grandchild who, so long ago, had named her dog — had taken his family even further afield. Now every birthday and Christmas Winnie would receive several parcels with Vancouver postmarks. She had an ever-increasing collection of photographs of Canadian great grandchildren who she had never seen.

And through all the changes, Clark remained a constant. He never forgot her. She never quite knew how he managed it, given all the travelling he seemed to do, but he remained a more regular visitor than many of her own family.

***

“Now, tell me, have you met that special someone yet?”

They were sitting in Winnie’s kitchen, a fresh pot of tea and a plate of digestive biscuits in front of them. At Winnie’s question, Clark looked up from the plug he was rewiring.

To her surprise, instead of the automatic no she had become accustomed to over the years, this time some colour crept into Clark’s cheeks. He sucked on his lower lip for a moment or two, then shyly said, “I think so, yes.”

“Go on,” prompted Winnie.

“You know I moved to Metropolis a couple of years ago?”

Winnie nodded. Clark had told her that much before. She thought he worked for a newspaper there, but he had been sparing of the details. Besides, the name would have meant nothing to her, given that they were lucky to get the British dailies on her island, let alone anything more exotic.

“Well, I have a colleague. Her name is Lois, and she’s beautiful and brilliant. I think I fell in love with her the minute I saw her, but it took me a while to admit it to myself, let alone confess how I was feeling to my folks.” He laughed. “Of course, it turned out that they’d figured things out months before!”

Winnie nodded and smiled. She liked hearing about his parents. They sounded like a lovely couple.

“The only problem was that Lois didn’t feel the same way. But… I think she might be…”

“Coming round to your way of thinking?”

“Yeah. There have been a few times in the last few months when there has been something about the way she’s looked at me. It’s not the same as how she used to. It’s like…” The colour in his cheeks heightened.

“Like?”

“Like she knows something has changed, and she’s trying to figure out what it is.”

“She doesn’t know?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“But you think she’s falling for you?”

“I… I’m not sure, but I’m hopeful. Plus, there’s something else.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Something happened at Christmas. I knew that Lois was going to be alone, you see, so I made an excuse to stay in Metropolis with her. We held hands, watched the snow fall and listened to carollers together. And, for a moment there I thought we might even kiss.”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“And then, last week, I was kidnapped-”

“Kidnapped! Clark! What kind of a life do you lead?”

“It was nothing. Just a couple of mad scientists with a cyborg.”

Sometimes Winnie wondered how many of Clark’s stories were true and how many were figments of his imagination. She could tell that he was still evasive at times, but, unlike during their memorable first meeting, his evasions tended to manifest themselves in omissions rather than outright untruths. So, were his stories of kidnappings, near death encounters with gangsters and the like actually true? Or were they tall tales, like his fabrication of a shipwreck had once been? In many ways, she hoped the latter was the case because, if his stories were true, she could only be scared for him, even if he seemed to take all these things in his stride.

“Anyway, Lois came to rescue me. It was an incredibly reckless thing for her to do, but really brave, and I figure that has to mean something. Plus she told a mutual friend that there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for me.” He said the last with a mixture of bashfulness, pride and awe in his voice.

“So what’s stopping you getting together, if she feels that way about you?” asked Winnie.

“I don’t know. I guess… the timing never seems right or something. And I don’t want to pressure her into doing something before she’s ready. She’s been hurt so many times before and…” He shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“But you like her, this Lois?”

“Oh, yes! I think… No. I know that I love her. And I’ll wait for her for as long as it takes her to realise that she feels the same way about me. But the waiting is just so frustrating sometimes!”

“I waited years for my Arthur,” said Winnie. “The waiting was frustrating for me, too, Clark. But patience is a virtue. Just you remember that. And your patience will be rewarded, I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Mrs Byrne. That makes me feel a lot better. Here, do you want to see her picture? I have one in my wallet.”

***

Several more years passed. Winnie found her little house harder to manage and she became increasingly reliant on the kindness of her neighbours and the strangers social services sent around. When she had visitors, she tended to sit back and let them do the talking. She spoke less and listened more, and she was content.

Still Clark visited.

Somewhere along the line, Clark’s patience had been rewarded, just as Winnie had predicted it would be, and he and Lois managed to get together. There had obviously been more than a few bumps in the road along the way, but Clark never went into details, and Winnie, now used to his occasional fits of secrecy, didn’t bother to ask for them. He was, however, far more forthcoming about his wedding ceremony, a wonderfully charming affair that took place in the middle of nowhere, with only immediate family and intimate friends present. It sounded terribly romantic to Winnie, and Winnie liked nothing better than a good romance.

More time passed.

Lois and Clark adopted a child, a little girl they called Rose.

Clark proudly brought photos of both Lois and Rose for Winnie to see and Winnie laboriously knitted a pair of pale yellow booties.

***

The last time Winnie Byrne saw Clark was the summer before her ninety-fifth birthday — the summer before she died. She was sitting in the conservatory her children had built on the back of her house for her eighty-fifth birthday, painstakingly knitting a sweater for her second youngest great grandchild. There had been a time when her fingers danced nimbly, wrapping the wool around the needles and manipulating the pins with ease. Nowadays, though, the once automatic task required effort. As with so many other things, she found her ease at knitting slipping away. She had grown slow with the passing years.

Still, she wasn’t going to give up, just because she was slowing down. Not a bit of it! So, she resigned herself to taking her time, working on the basis that managing a little, while worse than a lot, was far better than none at all.

It had been a perfect summer. It had been like the endless summers she remembered from her childhood, she thought, a smile gracing her wizened face. The sun, which was now easing down towards the western horizon, had shone every day since the beginning of July, the temperature had been a couple of degrees warmer than was usual, and the wind had seldom been more than a light breeze.

Winnie lowered her knitting and turned her incurious watery eyes towards the fields that her neighbour, Tom, farmed these days. The good weather had brought the crops on well. The harvest was going to be early this year. Then she turned her gaze back towards the beach.

The water was a vivid shade of turquoise and the sand a pale stripe of creamy-white. From time to time she could hear the eerie, strident cries of the oystercatchers. If she chose not to seek them out, it was not because her eyes now lacked the power to do so. In fact, her eyes were almost as acute as they had ever been. Rather, it was because she did not have the inclination to take the time to look. So attuned was she to her home that she didn’t need to see the oystercatchers to know they were there. Nor did she need to look for the dunlin or the ringed plovers to know that they were also probing the beach for food, or that the shags and eider ducks were bobbing in the water, a little way from the shore. That they were there was a given, and that, for Winnie Byrne was enough.

She let her arthritic fingers rest, laying them, still wrapped around the knitting needles, in her lap. She closed her eyes, letting her imagination alone paint for her the burnished oranges and reds of the setting sun. As with everything else, she didn’t need her eyes to see it.

It was night when she awoke, and she realised that she had dozed for far longer than she’d intended. The hills were black silhouettes against the navy sky, and the moon had risen, one of the biggest, creamiest moons that she could remember having ever seen. It reflected on the water as a stripe of white, a bright band of dappled light across the sea.

It was a night for lovers, she thought, remembering the times she had spent watching the moon with her husband, back in the days when their marriage was new… and in the days when it was not so new, too. All that was needed, Winnie thought, was a couple of lovers to make the moment perfect.

And then she saw them.

Like the gently rolling hills that framed the voe, they were black silhouettes, but she didn’t need to see his features to recognise the man.

As she watched, Clark came to a halt, turned his back to her, and put his arm around his companion. Winnie had never met Lois, but Clark had spoken about her often enough for Winnie to guess that this was she. Winnie knew how to read body language, and who else would Clark lean so close to as they strolled along the sand?

Winnie watched as they stopped and turned to face the sea. She watched the way Clark wrapped his arm around Lois’s shoulders, the way Lois allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace, the way she moulded herself against his side and leaned her head against his chest. Clark rested his cheek against her hair, and together they looked at the sky.

Winnie knew it was her imagination — there was no way she could hear them from this distance — but she fancied that she could hear them whisper sweet nothings to each other in the quiet of the night. Or maybe what she was hearing was the sound of her own memories, the words that her husband had spoken to her when they had strolled along the beach, looking at the moon, some seventy, sixty, fifty, forty or even thirty years before.

Then she saw the couple move in the intimate dance of lovers. Lois moved into Clark’s arms, her face turned up towards his. He lowered his head and they kissed.

And then they floated, spiralling lazily in the still night, the lightness of their spirits making them lighter than air.

Winnie wondered why she wasn’t surprised by the way the two lovers were drifting above the ground. Surely she should have been. Maybe it was because of her age. Maybe she was dreaming. Or maybe it was because she had always known that Clark was different. It was just that she had long since learned not to care about those differences. Whatever the reason, she felt neither shock nor alarm at what they were doing.

Instead, Winnie thought about Arthur. She had never floated in his arms, but she didn’t need to have done it to know how it felt. She remembered the way his arms had held her safe, the way his fingers had felt against her skin as he’d caressed her cheek in a prelude to their kisses, and the way his lips had felt against hers.

Down on the beach, Lois and Clark drifted slowly back down to earth. Clark took six steps backwards, looking as though he was being torn reluctantly out of Lois’s arms.

Then he began to spin.

When he came to a stop seconds later, it took Winnie a moment or two to work out what precisely it was that she was seeing.

The way the cape fluttered behind him as he walked… the outline of his body where the costume hugged close to his flesh… There was only one man that this could be: Superman.

She watched, fascinated, as he walked towards Lois and then effortlessly swept her up into his arms. Lois wrapped her arms around Clark’s neck and tucked her head under his chin.

He levitated a few feet off the ground for a few seconds, allowing them one last look at the moon, before he rocketed upwards, vanishing from Winnie’s field of view.

Twenty years after they had first met, and long after all Winnie’s questions had ceased to matter to her, Winnie Byrne finally had her answers.

Clark had no more come from the sea than she had. He had come from the sky.

***

A stranger came to the funeral of Winnie Byrne, nee Eunson, although it seemed to the rest of the family that he had been no stranger to her, nor she to him.

He stood quietly towards the back of the mourners, trying — and failing — not to draw attention to himself. He drew attention through the mere fact of his presence.

He was a good-looking man, possessed of the kind of features that Jessi had swooned over as a teenager, back before she’d met blonde-haired, blue-eyed William and had fallen in love for real. The stranger had dark hair, dark eyes that were half-hidden behind wire-framed glasses, skin the colour of pale honey and straight white teeth that flashed brightly when he smiled. He didn’t smile often, though, because to do so would not have been appropriate at a funeral.

After the service was over and the mourners began to disperse, the stranger edged forward diffidently and held out his hand to Jessi. “I’m Clark,” he said. “We met once before. I think you were about eight at the time. Maybe you remember me?”

Jessi, momentarily distracted by her new daughter, Winifred, who chose that moment to begin to fret, shook her head automatically.

“Oh…” said Clark. Then he flashed a quick smile before ruthlessly suppressing it. “I’m sorry for your loss. She was a lovely person.”

“Yes, she was.”

Jessi plucked the baby out of her buggy and cuddled her into silence. Then she looked more carefully at Clark. Suddenly she remembered an afternoon long ago, back when she was a child. She remembered rain and wind and the man on the beach. She remembered sitting at the kitchen table in her great grandmother’s house, entranced by the fabulous story he had spun about being shipwrecked and swimming for days across the storm-tossed North Sea.

Her mouth opened in a small “o” of belated recognition.

He was about to turn away when Jessi said, “Wait! I… I do remember you!”

After he had left, her great grandmother had advised Jessi not to believe a word of Clark’s story; it had been just one more tall tale, like the tales of the selkie folk and the trows that Winnie herself told. Jessi, Winnie had warned her severely, was never to believe the glib lies that flowed from the mouth of a man from the sea.

Looking at him now, Jessi was sure her great grandmother had been right. His story of shipwreck and adventure had been nothing more than a nonsense created by his imagination. Except for the expensive suit, designer glasses and American accent, he was, Jessi decided, just an ordinary man.

But it didn’t matter what he was. All that mattered was that he had cared enough to come, and that made Jessi think warmly of him. So, prompted by something more than politeness, Jessi invited him to join the rest of the mourners back at Winnie’s house.

No. It was Grannanna’s house no longer. It was Jessi’s house now.

Jessi had missed the islands terribly once she’d moved away and her husband had never much liked his office job. So, after much discussion, they had decided, with the blessing of the rest of the family, to take over the croft. Their new life would be a struggle, Jessi knew, but they would manage somehow, just as Grannanna had done for all those years.

Jessi looked down at little Winifred, who was now sleeping contentedly in her arms, and she knew with a certainty that she could never have explained that their decision to move was the right one. Little Winnie would be happier here than she could ever have been in Dundee.

Clark shook his head, murmured something about Jessi’s kindness, and declined her invitation. “I have to be getting back,” he said.

Jessi didn’t think his excuse odd until later, when she realised that Clark hadn’t had a car and that there were no buses running on a Sunday. It was as though the American had appeared out of nowhere and had vanished back the way he’d come.

Just as he had done, all those years before.

Clark was to remain a mystery, however, a mystery equalled only by an odd bequest Jessi’s great grandmother had made in her will.

With one exception, Winnie Byrne, nee Eunson, had left what little she owned to be divided up among her remaining family. The exception was a sum of one hundred pounds, payable to the Superman Foundation.

THE END

Table of Contents

Holiday Anthology: Introduction

Table of Contents

Have a Holly Jolly Christmas ... Or Not - By Gina Blank

Second Chance - By Female Hawk

Real Short Christmas Story - By Zoomway

Homecoming - By Nan Smith

Super Claus - By Paul-Gabriel Wiener

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas + Sequel - By Jennifer Baker

Dear Santa, Love Jon - by Erin Klingler

The Next Day: A Not So Merry Christmas - By Tank Wilson

Culinary Delights - By Melissa Dore

Santa Surprise - By Bob Bartholomew

Christmas Wishes - By Karen Thompkins

Secret Revelations - By Laura S.

Santa's Helper - By Caroline K.

Lonely this Christmas? - By Wendy Richards

All I Want (For Christmas) - By Sue S.

How the Grinch Almost Stole Christmas - By Lynn Baldwin

Christmas In Metropolis - By Shayne Terry

Super Santa Claus Man - By Lynn M.

Christmas Spirit - By CarolM

A Gift From Shetland - By Chris Carr