Guilty Until Proven Innocent

By: ML Thompson <thomplaw@tbaytel.net>

Rated: PG-13

Submitted: January 2006

* * * * * * * * *

This is a fanfic based on the television show, Lois and Clark:  The New Adventures of Superman. No copyright infringement is  intended. I'm borrowing these characters for a little fun and not  for any profit. For a complete disclaimer, go to:  http://www.thompsonlawoffice.ca/Disclaimer.htm .

IMPORTANT (MUST READ TO UNDERSTAND THIS STORY): Before you read  this story, it is important to understand one thing. In The  People v. Lois Lane, Elroy Sykes was killed, and during the same  episode, Lois Lane stood trial for his murder. In real life, much  more time would have passed. So in my story, it is assumed that  Elroy Sykes was shot and killed sometime during season three.  Lois was arrested and released. She continued to work at the  Daily Planet until she stood trial during The People v. Lois Lane  in season four. This must be clearly understood or this story  will get confusing. One more thing, I change the season for this  story to early fall.

A GAME ('NAME THAT EPISODE'): When I was writing this story, it  suddenly occurred to me that I might very well end up referring  to something from every episode of Lois and Clark from the Pilot  to Dead Lois Walking. Did I do it? I think I did. So... while  you're reading, see if you can find something - a quote, a  reference, a minor character, a plot, etc. - in this story for  each episode of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman  from the Pilot to Dead Lois Walking. I've listed the episodes at  the end of this story to assist you if you want to play this  game. If you can't find something from a particular episode,  email me at thomplaw@tbaytel.net

My thanks to Gerry and Carol for their Beta reading work. Not  only did they help me with writing, grammar and plot holes, but  on this story in particular, they both gave me some good ideas to  help with my A-Plot when I got bogged down. Thanks so much, guys.  Also, I'd like to thank everyone on the fanfic message boards for  answering my many questions. Finally, thank you, Rachel, for  editing this story for the archives.

* * * * * * * * * Guilty Until Proven Innocent By: ML Thompson January 2006 PG-13 * * * * * * * * *

Part 01

"Will the defendant please rise?"

Lois trembled as she forced herself to her feet.

"Lois Lane, the people of Metropolis have found you... guilty of  murder in the first degree."

The entire room became a whirl of colors as she fought to remain  standing. Through the fog in which she was engulfed, Lois could  hear startled gasps of disbelief. Then the noise of the courtroom  was lost in the pounding behind her own eyes.

"Bailiff, take the defendant into custody. This court is  adjourned."

She was barely aware of hands grasping her from behind, placing  handcuffs on and forcing her from the room. It couldn't be. This  was a dream - a nightmare. Any moment she was going to wake up.  The judge hadn't really pronounced her guilty. And yet  everyone... even Perry... even Perry had turned on her in the  end.

She glanced over her shoulder as she was escorted none-too-gently  through the doors at the side of the room, looking back into the  courtroom for a friendly face but found none. No one was there  for her. When it really mattered... Not even her mother and  father had bothered to come.

Doors slammed closed behind her as the light began to fade. It  was over. Everything was over before it really had a chance to  begin.

* * * * * * * * *

Perry stared absently at the television screen, lost in thought  as he watched District Attorney Clemmons give a press conference  on the screen in front of him.

"...the tragic fact that Ms. Lane was one of our leading citizens  is only further proof that in Metropolis, no one is above the  law. I believe the sentence of death is wholly fitting. The crime  itself, caught on video tape, the motive, established by the  shocking testimony of Perry White, Editor of the..."

"Turn that noise off!" Perry shot back, sending one staffer  scrambling to turn the television off while the rest headed back  to their assigned desks.

Still, Perry stood, staring blankly at the dark television  screen. He hadn't testified. He really hadn't. And he'd called in  every favor he could, trying to persuade someone, anyone to get  involved. He'd gone all the way up to the governor of New Troy.  But no one was willing to help. No one. 'It would be political  suicide' Perry had been informed more than once.

Making his way back into his office, he sank into the chair  behind his desk, lost in a feeling of hopelessness. Lois Lane...  his Lois Lane... the woman who was like a daughter to him, whom  he had known since she was a journalism student hustling her  first summer job to the remarkable reporter he knew today, had  been sentenced to death. And he, it seemed, was powerless to stop  it.

No. He was not going to think like that. He would find someone  who would listen. He would make someone understand and intervene.

* * * * * * * * *

A shiver of fear rippled through Lois' body as a loud clang  echoed through the enclosed place announcing the closing of the  doors. Trapped. The short amount of time she'd spent in the jail  before her trial felt like a picnic compared to this place - The  Metropolis Women's Prison. Only the hardest criminals were  trapped inside these walls. And the clanging of the doors told  her in a way that even her conviction had not, that life as she  knew it had effectively come to an end. Inside these walls was  where she would spend whatever remained of her life.

No hero would come riding in on his white horse to sweep her into  his arms and ride her off into the sunset. No such creature even  existed - except, perhaps, in the twisted musings of fairytale  authors.

No. She was trapped in a nightmare from which there was no hope  of waking. The walls seemed to close around her. She'd never  believed herself claustrophobic until this moment. Now the shrill  noise in her head, the lack of oxygen in the room, the press of  human flesh around her as she was crowded together with a dozen  other women was overwhelming. She closed her eyes momentarily,  trying to gain some semblance of control. She accidentally  brushed against another woman and was shoved away as a spat curse  was hurled in her direction. She quickly opened her eyes,  glancing over at the woman she had touched, swallowing hard when  she spotted a woman who was a good four inches taller and  significantly more muscled glaring at her.

Fear. Fear of the unknown, certainly. Fear that every woman  around her was a potential threat. If they all turned on her at  once, what hope would she have? She wasn't supposed to be here.  People like her did not end up in places like this. It was  unimaginable. It was unthinkable. It was happening.

The stench of all the unwashed bodies which had passed through  this place seemed to rise up around her, permeating every pore of  her body, leaving her feeling as if she'd never be clean again.

"Okay! Strip!"

Lois looked in shock at the matron who had just entered the room.  She thought she'd already experienced every humiliating procedure  of being checked into jail. First, they locked you behind bars,  effectively limiting your life to four square walls. Then they  took away your humanity, treating you as little better than a  piece of meat. But stripping in a crowd of women... This was new.  Surely she couldn't mean it!

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was limping slightly as she entered her cell with four other  women. She kept her eyes directed towards the floor, not wanting  to meet anyone's eyes while still trying to recover from the  check-in procedure. Cavity search. She'd heard the words before.  She'd even thought she understood what they meant. But nothing  could have prepared her from having cold hands on her, searching  out the most private places of her body for contraband. She had  simply had no idea how much the procedure would hurt - both  physically and mentally. It was the final step in dehumanizing  her, and she felt completely broken.

For years, criminals had tried to break her, without success. But  in one day, the state had done what no criminal had ever been  able to do. She had heard stories about prison changing a person,  but until now hadn't really understood what that meant. This  place was already changing her, making her feel less human and  certainly less in control.

Another door clanged shut behind her and the guard walked away,  leaving Lois standing where she was, working up the nerve to look  at her new home.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Lois Lane."

Lois' head shot up in shock. Not only had she been recognized,  but the voice was familiar. Still, it took her a moment to put a  name to the face. Or... Well, not exactly a name. She'd never  heard the woman's name. But she did know where she knew her from.  Lenny Stokes. She was one of the women Lois had dubbed the Amazon  women. Officially, bouncers from Lenny Stoke's club.  Unofficially... Lenny's Stoke's hit-men - or women.

"Okay, look," said Lois, desperately searching for a way to calm  down the approaching woman. "We all have to live here. So what do  you say we let bygones be bygones?"

"You're the reason I'm here. When the police took down Lenny  Stokes, they arrested me, too."

"Well, now, you must admit that helping Lenny blackmail the city  of Metropolis by destroying buildings using sound might have had  something to do with why you were arrested." Lois began backing  up until she was against the bars of the cell. "Not that I have  anything against it, mind you. I've made some pretty stupid  choices when it comes to men, too," Lois said, trying to back out  of her previous statement when she saw the look in the eyes of  the woman before her. "You know, it occurs to me that we've never  been properly introduced. I'm Lois Lane and you are..."

"The last thing you're ever going to see."

"Sort of long. Could I just call you 'last thing?'"

The other woman struck out at Lois who ducked at the last moment,  skirting under the woman's arm to put her behind her attacker.  The woman's hand slammed into the bars with a force that made  Lois cringe.

"What do you say we make a fresh start here?" Lois asked in  desperation as the woman turned towards her, the look of fury on  her face even more intense now. In the corner of her eye, Lois  was aware of the other two women passively watching them as if  enjoying a mildly entertaining sporting event. But she didn't  have time to worry about them at the moment. "I really don't want  to hurt you."

"Hurt me?"

"Well..." Lois gestured to the woman's bloody hand.

Three quick steps was all that was required for Lois' attacker to  cross the room. She swung, once again. Lois ducked and struck out  at the same time, using her best karate chop to hit the woman in  the stomach. Lois flinched from the pain in her hand, losing her  balance slightly from surprise at the woman's lack of reaction.  That one second's hesitation allowed the woman's hand to plow  into the side of Lois' head. A piercing pain shot through Lois.

She raised her hand, just in time to prevent a second blow from  landing. Still, the force of the deflected punch was enough to  knock Lois off her feet. She scrambled backwards, away from her  attacker, hands and feet on the floor beneath her. Her hands  being occupied was her fatal error as the woman's foot came up,  plowing into her nose. And suddenly, almost mercifully,  everything went black.

* * * * * * * * *

"Who did this to you?"

Lois regained consciousness slowly. Opening her mostly good eye,  she tried to focus on the people standing beside her bed. Her bed  and yet... she was not in her cell. Unlike the dull gray of the  room she'd been in, the walls of this room were white.

"Where..." Her voice cracked, and she smacked her lips together  in an attempt to create moisture. "Water?" she asked.

"Tell us who did this to you."

The voice of the woman in a guard's uniform was unsympathetic.  Lois looked away, focusing on the far wall. Surely while she was  lying there, every muscle in her body screaming out in pain, they  could show a little compassion - recognize that she was, at the  very least, human. Why should she answer their questions if they  were determined to treat her as if she didn't matter anyway?  Besides, she'd heard that fingering another inmate was the surest  way to the grave. If she at least believed she could trust these  people... But they saw her as no better than the other 'animals'  inhabiting this place.

"No one," she finally said, looking back at the woman questioning  her, defiance in her expression. "No one did this to me."

"Really." The resulting word showed a complete lack of belief.  "Then how did this happen?"

Lois kept her eyes on the woman. "I fell off my cot," she said,  daring the woman to challenge her.

"Hmph." The woman almost sounded as if she had expected the  response.

Lois closed her eyes, taking a breath of relief when the woman  and the two others with her turned and left. Lois just wanted to  sleep, to stay in this bed. But... what were the chances that she  wouldn't be returned to her cell? She felt a stab of fear. Even  if that Amazon woman didn't attack her immediately, what happened  when Lois had to sleep? No. No, she wouldn't think about that.  She'd find a way. She just... She groaned. She just needed a  little sleep. When she got a little stronger, she was certain  she'd be able to think of something.

"How you feeling?"

Lois opened her eyes again, surprised by the gentle voice and  hands as they helped her into a sitting position and put a glass  of water into her trembling hands. Lois took a sip, flinching  slightly as she swallowed.

"In addition to a broken nose, you've got a couple of cracked  ribs," said the new woman.

"What's... What's your name?" Lois asked. It was the first time  she'd asked for a person's name since she'd been brought to this  place. It was also the first time she'd wanted to know a person's  name. But then, this was the first person who had treated her  like a human. She gave the young woman a wobbly smile.

"Sandy Steward."

Lois gasped slightly when she pulled in a breath.

"It will hurt for a while. But there's no permanent damage."

She released Lois, allowing her to lie down again.

"Great," muttered Lois. "But for now it hurts to breathe."

"It will take some time," Sandy responded, moving away from the  bed to check on another patient.

Lois watched her go, but her mind was elsewhere. Time. It would  take time. And then what? Going back to a cell with a woman who  quite clearly wanted her dead. Lois closed her eyes. Later. She'd  worry about that later.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois forced one foot in front of the other, ignoring everything  around her except for the place where her next step was about to  land. She was dreading going back to her cell. But after a short  time in the infirmary, she'd been informed that the bed was  needed. And since she was... How did they put it? Ambulatory? Why  did that word make it sound as if she should be carried instead  of walking? Anyway, since she was considered ambulatory, she was  being moved back to her cell.

She wished she could have had a little bit more time. Time to  heal. Time to figure out how she was going to deal with Ms.  Amazon. It crossed her mind to wonder if she'd done the right  thing - not telling the authorities that she'd been beaten up.  She glanced briefly at her escort. Maybe she should tell her.

No. No. That was probably not a good idea. Did she really want  the reputation of being a snitch in this place? Or what about  solitary confinement? She wasn't entirely sure what that entailed  - and wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. It sounded safe  enough. But the idea of spending the next few years without any  human contact except for her guards... No. She'd rather avoid  that - except, perhaps, as a last resort.

She came to a stop when her escort did, still not looking up.

"Well? Are you expecting an engraved invitation, princess?"

Lois looked around before glancing back at the guard in  confusion. "But... I thought I was being taken to my cell?"

"This is your cell."

Lois' eyebrows rose.

"Someone must have decided that the princess needed her own  cell."

Lois let out a breath of absolute relief. She didn't give a damn  what her escort thought or what she was called... not as long as  she could sleep at night without the fear of being stabbed in the  back.

"Well, do I have to stand here all day, holding the door open?"

Lois quickly stepped into the cell, flinching slightly, but  almost in relief, when the door clanged closed behind her.  Standing in the entranceway, she checked out her new  surroundings. The concrete room was no more than five feet by  nine feet. It contained a single cot, a toilet - her very own  toilet - and a small alcove which might service as a desk.

"Hey, you."

Lois spun around to see a small mirror being held just outside  the cell and in it was reflected an African American woman who  appeared, at least from the small reflection, to be quite a bit  older than Lois.

"What's your name, child?"

"Lois."

"Well, Lois, it seems you and I are neighbors. I'm Wilma."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois curled up on her cot as tears began to form in the corners  of her eyes. Never had she been as terrified. Maybe her immediate  concern of being killed in her sleep had dissipated. But that  didn't take away the overwhelming terror of what awaited her in  the future. The state wanted to kill her. How had she got into  this situation?

No. No. She was not going to think about that. She wasn't. After  all, what good would it do to go through all of it again? It had  been almost a year now since the death of Elroy Sykes. She'd gone  to work and continued to write stories from the time she was  originally released to the day of her trial. But whenever she  wasn't working, the questions were always the same. They said  time healed all wounds. But this one seemed to get deeper every  time she went through the events of that horrible day. So why  couldn't she stop dwelling on it? Sleep, when it finally came  some time later, was a welcome escape.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois stepped into the park and looked around.

"Glad you made it."

Lois turned to find Sykes standing behind her holding a pistol.

"Hey, wait a minute, Sykes..." Lois began backing away.

"Relax, Lois," Sykes said, popping the clip out of the gun. "Not  loaded. See? It's for demonstration purposes only. Here. You take  it." He held the gun out to her.

"No thanks," Lois said, refusing to take the gun. "I don't do  guns."

"What? Afraid you'll break a nail? You wanna know how Big Mo got  offed, or don't you?" He tossed her the gun.

Catching the gun was nothing more than a reflex action.

"Okay, okay, now imagine I'm Big Mo," Sykes continued. "Six feet,  five inches of repressed anger and body odor, right? And you're  the guy whose facial features I'm gonna rearrange for rattin' on  me - or so I think."

Lois' hands had dropped so that she was no longer pointing the  gun at Sykes. He reached out, lifting the barrel so that the gun  was once again pointing in his direction.

"You wanna hold that up a little higher? Thanks. You're a sport."

Lois held the gun as directed, just wishing he'd get on with his  stupid story - and seriously starting to wonder if this was a  waste of her time.

"Surprise, surprise, all of a sudden Zabrinski ain't so brave  anymore. He starts pleading with the guy. 'No, don't shoot. I got  a wife and kids at home. And then - bam! - that's it. Hasta la  vista, baby!"

Lois jumped when the gun in her hands jerked back and a loud  sound echoed in her ears. It took her a moment to realize what  had happened. She took a stunned step forward, looking down in a  daze to see...

...her lifeless eyes staring back at her.

Lois jerked awake, covered in sweat and breathing heavy. Every  night. Every single night. And she still didn't know whether...  No. No. She was not going to do this. She'd asked herself these  same questions a hundred times before her trial. And there were  no answers to be found. She knew that. And she was not going to  drive herself crazy for whatever time she had remaining to her  with questions that could never be answered.

Part 02

* * * * * * * * * Three Weeks Later * * * * * * * * *

Clark stood, looking in awe at the globe in front of the Daily  Planet. He could hardly believe the emotions running through him.  The energy of the place seemed to draw him in, giving him the  feeling that finally, after all this time, he was where he  belonged.

He'd originally planned to come to Metropolis three years ago.  He'd even managed to set up an interview with Perry White. But  when his father had suffered a heart attack and undergone a  triple bypass, his presence had been needed on the farm. He  didn't regret his decision. Not one bit. Not if the alternative  was that his parents would lose the farm. Still, he'd put his own  life, his own dreams on hold to help out.

In fact, until about a week ago, he'd practically given up hope  of ever working for the Daily Planet - until a notice that the  Daily Planet was looking to fill a spot on the city beat had been  posted in several major papers. When he'd first seen it, his  heart had jumped. Finally, a chance to fulfill his dream. He'd  cut the article out and stuck it in the pocket of his shirt. But  by the time he'd reached home, he'd all but dismissed the idea.  His folks still needed him in Smallville.

Of course, by dismissing the opportunity from his mind, he'd  managed to seriously underestimate his parents. His mother found  the article while going through his pockets before doing a wash,  and she and his father sat him down and, after a long talk,  convinced him that by hiring a boy to help part-time, they could  manage without him.

His spirits had soared. He'd called his old college prof, once  again asking for him to put in a good word with Perry White and  once again had a chance to be interviewed by the legend himself.  Of course, being granted an interview and actually being hired  were two entirely different things. His experience in journalism  was limited mostly to foreign countries and small papers. And,  other than his part-time work as editor of the Smallville Post,  there had been a three year gap since his last job. All of that  combined to make this a long shot at best. Still, he couldn't  shake the feeling that he was finally home.

"Hey, you comin' in or not?"

Clark's eyes snapped back to the front of the Daily Planet to see  someone holding the door open for him.

"Sorry," Clark said sheepishly, making his way inside.

* * * * * * * * *

"Where are those pictures? Jimmy?" Perry bellowed across the  newsroom. "Damn. Where the Sam Hill is that boy?"

Turning around, he stormed into his office and slammed the door.  He knew Jimmy... well, and everyone else at the Daily Planet were  avoiding him today. And he knew he was being too hard on  everyone.

The mood in the newsroom had been somber since Lois' conviction.  And he knew most of that was due to him. But try as he might, he  couldn't seem to snap out of it.

There didn't seem to be anything he could do for Lois. He'd gone  to see her, of course. And she claimed to have forgiven him for  'his' testimony. She even claimed to believe that he had no  memory of it and was, in fact, certain that he had not been the  one giving testimony. But since he was unable to prove it, no one  who could help Lois wanted to listen. Even her lawyer had told  him that witness remorse - which is what she had called it - was  not grounds to set aside a conviction.

Of course, he had no intention of giving up. He would continue to  cooperate with her lawyers on her appeals and even, if he could  think of a way to use them, call in every favor he was owed. He  was not going to give up without a fight - he just had no idea of  where to direct that fight. And Lois' current attitude - almost  one of resigned acceptance - wasn't helping. She should be  throwing all of her energy into appealing this decision. Instead,  she seemed almost... relieved. He couldn't understand it at all.  Lois was the most determined fighter he had ever known. Why was  she now so... passive? He had to admit that he had the distinct  feeling that there was something she wasn't telling him. But  every time he raised the issue, she simply changed the subject.

But today he felt almost as bad as he had when he realized that  his supposed testimony had helped convict Lois. He was betraying  Lois once more, this time of his own free will. But the suits  upstairs had insisted that it was time to find her replacement.  And until he could find a way to right this wrong, this  miscarriage of justice, he had no choice but to obey. But that  didn't mean he had to like it. And he didn't. Not one little bit.

He sank down into his chair, picking up the resume for the next  candidate and looking at it in disgust. Lois had been, by far,  the greatest journalist he'd ever had working for him. Hell, she  was probably the greatest journalist he'd ever had the privilege  of knowing. How was he expected to replace her? Especially by  someone who's last job, nearly three years ago, had been working  for the Borneo Gazette - well, unless one considered 'Part-time  editor of the Smallville Post' a job?

There was a tentative knock on his door.

"Yes!"

The door opened a crack. "There's a Clark Kent here to see you,  chief."

Perry grunted, not bothering to rise from behind his desk, but  still gesturing with his hand for Jimmy to let in the latest in a  string of interviewees. This one seemed the least promising one  to date. The only reason Perry had agreed to give him an  interview was at the request of Professor Carlton. He seemed to  think the young man was exceptional. But now, having looked  through Kent's resume, Perry knew this was a waste of time.

"Mr. White?"

Perry finally looked up to see the good-looking, dark-haired man  standing in his doorway. Reluctantly, he pulled himself together,  rising to his feet and making his way around the desk. It wasn't  this man's fault that Perry's favorite reporter was facing a  death sentence. And it wasn't his fault that Perry was being  forced to find her replacement.

"Mr. Kent, I believe," he said, offering the young man his hand.

Kent took the offered hand and considering how tightly he  squeezed, Perry was left with no doubt that the man in his office  was nervous. His grip was just short of being painful.

"It's a real honor to meet you, sir," Kent said. "I did a paper  on you in college. Your hard hitting coverage of the war in  Vietnam was exceptional."

Perry actually smiled, probably for the first time since Lois'  conviction. Whether Kent's comments were true or not, he  certainly had 'sucking up' down to an art form. He gestured the  young man to a seat and began asking him all the appropriate  interview questions. Kent had brought some of his work, which  Perry looked at with interest. However, it was quickly obvious  that his initial observations had been correct. Kent was simply  not qualified for the job.

"I'm sorry, son," Perry said after informing Kent of his  decision.

Kent gave him a sad smile. "I understand, sir. Well, thanks for  your time. I suppose I knew it was a long shot."

Perry watched, kind of sad to see him go, as Kent walked to the  door to his office.

"Oh, right," Kent said, turning back towards the older man. "I  just wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about Lois Lane's  conviction. I've read her stories for years. Her reputation for  getting to the bottom of a story is almost legend. I figured I  could learn a lot by working with her. Her conviction was a great  loss to all of us." He waited for a couple of seconds before  giving a small nod. "Nice to meet you, sir." Turning, he headed  towards the elevators.

Perry knew he was expected to respond. But the lump in his throat  at the young man's thoughtful, and obviously heart-felt words  made that impossible. He moved over to the door as he watched  Kent press the button for the elevator and wait for it to arrive.

"Kent!"

Clark Kent turned back around.

"When can you start?" Perry asked.

Kent's facial expression was comical, as if he could hardly  believe what he'd just heard. Perry almost burst out laughing. He  wasn't entirely sure what had just possessed him to do that. But  for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to regret it either.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark ran a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair  and looked around the nearly deserted newsroom. He had known if  he got the job at the paper that he would have to pay his dues.  He simply hadn't realized how frustrating it would be.

His first assignment had been a dog show. Now that might have  been interesting except for one devil-dog who had managed to  destroy Clark's best pair of dress pants. Clark's only  consolation was that he wasn't vulnerable or the dog would have  left teeth marks on his lower calf as well.

Then he'd gone on to cover a press conference where the mayor  droned on about how the new study into crime statistics which  showed violent crime up from last year didn't really indicate  that the city was becoming more violent. Clark still wasn't  entirely sure how that worked. But like a good soldier, he'd  written the story.

But by far the worst part of all of it was that on both stories,  he'd been partnered with Ralph... Could the guy be any more  crude? Every woman was ogled - if she were lucky. The unlucky  ones were subjected to what the man considered 'wit'. And working  with him had been... almost humiliating. The man treated Clark  like his 'protege.' But if there was one thing of which Clark was  absolutely certain it was that whatever Ralph might have to teach  him, Clark didn't want to learn.

No. It was time Clark took matters into his own hands. And that  meant that he had to find a lead of his own and turn it into a  story which would convince Perry that he had the ability to do  more than grunt work. That was why he was there after hours,  slaving over AP stories coming over the teletype machine,  reviewing every announcement being sent into the Planet. He was  determined to find something, anything to investigate - even if  he had to use his own time to do it.

But as the newsroom grew increasingly deserted, Clark found  himself still without a solid lead.

"Kent!"

Clark looked up at the sound of his boss yelling from the doorway  to his office. "Yes, sir?" he asked, immediately rising to his  feet.

"What are you still doing here? You handed your story in hours  ago."

Clark smiled. "Guess I'm still having problems believing I'm  working here - can't quite bring myself to leave. It's as if I'm  afraid of waking up from a really good dream."

Perry studied him for a moment before a smile quirked one corner  of his mouth. He walked towards Clark. He didn't speak again  until he was standing next to Clark's desk. "Tell me something,  son. Have you been kissing the blarney stone?"

Chuckling, Perry made his way back to his office. Clark had just  turned his attention back to his work when he overheard a woman  speaking to Jimmy.

"Who's the new tight end?" the woman drawled.

He kept his eyes cast downward. The last thing he needed was the  distraction of a workplace romance. He just didn't have time for  it.

"His name's Clark Kent. He's..." Jimmy's voice trailed off.

Clark knew why a moment later when a shadow loomed over his desk.  She had obviously walked away from Jimmy without waiting for him  to finish his comment. Realizing he had no choice, he looked up.

"Hello," the woman said, her tone of voice itself being enough to  convey her interest even if her eyes hadn't been running over his  body. "Catherine Grant - 'Cat's Corner.'"

"Yes, I've read your column."

"Then my reputation precedes me," Cat purred.

Clark gave her a polite nod and looked back at the papers in  front of him.

"I know what it's like to be new in town. I'd be happy to show  you around."

Clark looked back up, wondering how he was going to get out of  this. After all, the invitation itself sounded innocent enough.  But the woman sitting on the corner of his desk was quite  obviously a predator - sizing up her prey. There was nothing  innocent about her proposal.

"That's very nice of you, Ms. Grant."

"Cat."

"Cat," he corrected, pretending not to notice the way she could  interject so much sex into the single word. "Maybe when I get  settled." Hopefully she'd understand that brush off.

"It's a date," Cat said loudly, getting off the corner of his  desk and, without giving him a chance to respond, heading away.

Sighing, he watched her go before looking back at the work in  front of him. Why was there always a woman like her in every  newsroom? Well, he'd just have to do what he could to avoid her  for a while. Maybe then she'd get the message.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois' pulse raced as she sat down on her cot, tucked her legs up  under her and picked up the precious object. Getting one of these  fully intact was a small miracle in the world in which she now  existed. Lots of papers were delivered to the prison. But unless  one was there early, it was almost impossible to get one that  wasn't already torn apart. And if there was one thing Lois hated,  it was getting part of a paper.

But today, she'd been lucky. One of the guards had given it to  her. He was a man somewhere in his mid-thirties by the looks of  him. His name was Michael... Oh, what was his last name? He had  the beginnings of a receding hairline and wasn't exactly what she  would call handsome. On the other hand, he was built like a brick  wall. Obviously he worked out regularly. He had given her this  precious object saying that he was aware of what she had done for  a living and thought she might like it. She had been touched. She  wasn't sure she'd ever received a more thoughtful gift. She'd hid  it under the mattress on her cot. Only now had she dared to  remove it.

The morning edition of the Daily Planet.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it, her eyes focusing  on the Daily Planet symbol at the top. Tears came unbidden to her  eyes, but she fought them back. In the short time she'd been  behind bars, if there was one thing she'd learned it was that  crying was something she could not afford to do. It was regarded  as a sign of weakness. And weakness was a sure way to the  infirmary - especially for her. She'd put a number of these women  behind bars in the first place. So far, her only serious  encounter had taken place on her first night. As a result, there  had been no need to put her in solitary. But there had been a few  close calls.

Pulling herself together, she took her time reading the front  page. It was international news. But then, since her  imprisonment, there hadn't been any really juicy local stories.  Not that that necessarily meant anything. She was well aware that  at times news in the city could be slow. And now might just be  one of those times. Still, part of her liked to think that the  reason there wasn't more city news was because she wasn't out  there, pounding the pavement and breaking the stories.

Once she'd read everything on the front page, she carefully  flipped the paper open as if handling the most delicate of  manuscripts, expecting it to fall apart at any moment. On page  three, she found the city section. She read slowly, taking the  time to picture her colleagues as they dug up information and  interviewed sources. A story by Myerson about a fire in Suicide  Slum. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing the scene he  was creating with his words, imagining herself there, fighting  with other reporters to dig for the story behind the story. But  this time, there appeared to be no story behind the story. A  normal household cooking accident in an apartment building. No  one injured. Emergency response time was good. Everyone safely  evacuated. The only real damage was to the apartment building  itself.

Moving down the page, she spotted a second article. A story about  the increase of violent crime in Metropolis. She snorted. She was  one of those statistics. After all, she had been convicted of  first degree murder. She almost skipped reading the article when  she saw Ralph McDonald's name on the byline. But... Ralph's name  wasn't the only one on the byline. Clark Kent.

She realized immediately who he must be and had to fight against  a sudden stab of pain that shot through her heart. Her  replacement. She searched her mind for a minute, trying to think  if the name seemed familiar. It didn't.

She'd known Perry would have to replace her, of course. Or would  have if she'd thought about it. But this... Her mind flashed to  the newsroom, seeing a slightly overweight man with a bad toupee  and ill-fitting suit setting a cup of coffee down on her desk. In  her mind's eye, the coffee sloshed slightly over the edges of the  cup. But did the man notice? No! Of course not. Instead, he  pushed her notes off to the side and right into the puddle of  liquid without as much as a passing thought.

She jerked back to her current surroundings, finding it almost  more painful to realize that the cold, impersonal jail cell in  which she found herself now was more comforting than her image of  the newsroom.

She returned her gaze to the paper, staring at the unfamiliar  name for so long that the letters began to bleed together. Clark  Kent. Who was he? She knew most of the journalists in the city.  She also knew, at least by reputation, most of the top  journalists at other papers in the country. And Clark Kent was  not one of them. She felt a moment of anger. How could Perry  replace her with some hack from nowheresville? At the very least,  he should have raided another paper, cajoling one of their top  people into changing alliances.

She briefly skimmed the article, knowing what she would find.  Suddenly she stopped, going back to the beginning and this time  reading more thoroughly. It was not what she expected. She had  expected Ralph and what she had... Well, it wasn't Kerth material  by any stretch of the imagination. It was shallow and did nothing  more than give the details of the report and the Mayor's reaction  to it. It contained no examination of the underlying causes of  the rise of violent crime in Metropolis and nothing, beyond the  Mayor's promise that this was being taken seriously, to explain  what steps were being taken to curb the disturbing trend. But  what caught her attention was the writing. Ralph had not been the  one putting pen to paper - so to speak - on this story. Her eyes  flicked back to the byline. Clark Kent, it seemed, if nothing  else, was an elegant writer.

Of course, she still hated him. She had to. On principle. Well  that and for not even bothering to clean up his spilled coffee so  that her notes didn't get ruined.

"Enjoying the paper?"

Lois looked up to see the guard, Michael... whoever... standing,  watching her through the bars. "Very much. Thank you. I can't  tell you how much this..." She gestured at the paper. "...means  to me."

Her words were completely sincere. But the slight smile he gave  her in return... No. She was reading too much into it. He'd been  considerate - nothing more. And if she kept reading things into  it every time someone was nice to her... No.

He gave her a small nod and moved on down the line. See? Nothing  more than a friendly act of human compassion. She turned her  attention back to the paper.

As she continued to read the remainder of the article, she felt  her pain and anger turn to something else. Depression. Her life  really was over. Even her desk at the Daily Planet was now  occupied by someone else. She had really and truly ceased to have  a life outside these four walls.

It would be years, she knew, until the sentence of death would be  carried out. Appeals to be prepared and argued. The state had to  be sure that every 't' had been crossed and every 'i' had been  dotted before sticking a needle into her arm to end her life.  But... At this point, it hardly mattered. Her life was already  over. It had ended the moment that man, Clark Kent, first sat  down behind her desk.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 03

"Damn!" Perry exclaimed, slamming down the phone in disgust.

"Is everything all right, sir?"

Perry looked up to see Kent standing in the doorway. It was the  next evening and Kent was once again in the newsroom well after  most of the staff had emptied out. If nothing else, Kent was  obviously a hard worker. Either that or he simply didn't have a  life beyond the walls of the Daily Planet. Either way though,  Perry couldn't say he minded the boy's intrusion tonight. "Ahh...  It's nothing. I've just been summoned to another one of those  dang-fooled budget meeting with the boys upstairs tonight.  Wanting to challenge our expense accounts again, no doubt. Or  something equally as infuriating. At least you'd think they'd  provide advance notice of evening meetings instead of springing  them on us at the last minute. It's almost as if they expect me  not to have a life outside this place."

"You had some big plans for the evening I take it."

"Sort of. And..." Perry waved his hand at the phone. "I can't  even get word through that I can't make it tonight. You'd  think..." His voice trailed off as he looked contemplatively at  Clark. "Son, would you consider doing me a huge favor?"

* * * * * * * * *

Lois had found herself glancing at the clock almost every five  minutes today. Even though she knew he would not be there until  the evening, she couldn't stop from looking. As she folded  laundry, she watched the clock. As she ate her meals, she watched  the clock. Perry had taken to visiting her every Tuesday and  Thursday evening. And it was Thursday.

Perry was the only link she had to the outside world these days.  He was, after all, the only one who visited her any more. Before  the trial, others had come, colleagues mostly. But her mother had  come once, with her sister, before declaring that she couldn't  stand to see Lois like this and wouldn't be back. But... well,  that was her mother. And she supposed that at least she'd tried.  Her father hadn't come at all.

So when Lucy had returned to California, Lois had been left  alone. Lucy had wanted to stay longer, but Lois couldn't bear the  idea that her sister was putting her life on hold for her. So  she'd sent her away.

But still, Lois couldn't quite help but resent her mother. If the  visits were hard on Ellen Lane, it was nowhere near as hard as it  was on Lois to be abandoned to this hell hole by her entire  family. After all, Lois was well aware that these visits were  equally hard on Perry. She knew she should tell him that he  didn't need to come. But... she hadn't been able, so far, to  force herself to do it. His visits were the only thing she had to  look forward to - even if it hurt to see the pain in his eyes at  every visit.

Besides, today she had a bone to pick with him - a bone named  Clark Kent. She intended to give him a piece of her mind about  hiring that hack. At the very least, it would lead to a spirited  discussion. And if there was one thing Lois missed, it was  spirited discussions - at least ones where she knew she was still  going to be alive at the end.

She spotted one of the matrons coming towards her and smiled. It  was time. Perry must be in the visitors' room, waiting for her.

"Lane, you've got a visitor," the woman said, confirming her  hypothesis.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois walked slowly towards the man on the other side of the glass  barrier separating the prisoners from the general public. When  she'd entered the room, she immediately scanned it for Perry -  confused when she didn't spot him. She'd turned towards the guard  who gestured her towards the good-looking, dark-haired man  currently standing, his mouth hanging slightly open, on the other  side of the glass.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she made her way towards  him. She was certain she didn't know him. So what would he want  to see her about? Of course, her curiosity at finding a strange  man there to see her couldn't quite quell her disappointment at  not seeing Perry. In many ways, it was like expecting an  important phone call only to discover that the person on the  other end is calling to offer a long distance deal. On the other  hand, she couldn't say that the piece of eye candy in front of  her was a completely unwelcome sight. It was odd the things one  noticed when locked away from the world in a woman's prison, she  reflected as she took a seat on her side of the glass.

When he didn't sit immediately, she cocked an eyebrow in  amusement. She was the one in prison, yet he was the one  currently looking as if he'd not seen a woman in years.

He seemed to notice her expression and quickly shook his head, as  if trying to get his mind back on whatever track had brought him  there. He sat, picking up the phone beside him. She did the same.

"Yes?" she asked in amusement when he didn't say anything.

"Perry asked me to tell you he couldn't make it tonight," he  blurted out.

She felt her heart sink. Perry's visits were one of the few  things she had to look forward to these days. And besides, she  had to bawl him out for replacing her with...

"What's your name?" she suddenly asked, causing the man on the  other side of the glass to look directly into her eyes for the  first time. She felt confused at the unexpected jolt to her  heart. She really had to have been in this hell-hole too long if  she was able to be swept away by a pretty face. In a way, her  immediate physical reaction to him made her dislike this  messenger boy even more. He reminded her, only too clearly, of  what she would never have again.

"Clark Kent," he answered.

"I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"You're the hack Perry hired to replace me!" She knew she was  being unfair, but she didn't particularly care. How dare this man  come here - expecting to take Perry's place? How dare he take her  place at the Daily Planet? And how dare he rub her nose in the  knowledge of what she could never have again?

Kent seemed to recoil slightly from the verbal assault. "I'm  sorry... I didn't..."

"Didn't what? Didn't expect me to know who you are? Figures.  Perry should have been out raiding the competition to find  someone to replace me. And instead, he hires..." She gestured  towards him, letting her eyes wander slowly over his body. "If I  didn't know Perry, I'd think he hired you for window dressing."

"Now hold on a minute," Kent responded, showing some spirit for  the first time. "Maybe I'm not the reporter you are, Ms. Lane.  But I'm not some hack either. I've worked at papers all over the  world. The Borneo Gazette. The Kazekstan Times. And how dare  you..."

"Where are you from?" she interrupted.

"Smallville, Kansas."

"Figures."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Perry could have got someone from the Washington Post or the New  York Times. But who does he get? Some leftover of the Smallville  Gazette!"

"The Smallville Post."

"I knew it!"

"And I'll have you know that I wasn't some leftover. I was the  editor."

"Oh, sorry. That makes all the difference," Lois responded  sarcastically.

"You sure have a lot of opinions for someone on death row!"

She felt as if she'd been slapped and saw a moment of confused  regret pass through his eyes. He suddenly stood, still holding  the phone.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have said that. I'll just...  Anyway, Perry asked me to tell you that he's sorry. He'll be here  next Tuesday. But there was a meeting he couldn't get out of  tonight. I'm obviously making you miserable. That wasn't... I'm  sorry. I'll just..." He gestured behind him.

"Oh, right. I'm sure you have other places to be. Don't want to  spend too much time with the convicted murderer - can't be good  for your wholesome country boy reputation."

"Goodbye, Ms. Lane," he completed quickly before hanging up the  phone and making a quick dash for the door.

Lois sat there for a long moment, trying to figure out exactly  what she was feeling. He was gone. As she'd suspected, he was a  hack from nowheresville. He'd deserved everything she'd dished  out. So why was it when he'd reminded her of her current  position, that she had felt as if he'd reached in and torn out  her heart? She'd almost managed to forget her current situation  while tearing a strip off of him. So what was it about Mr. Kent  that left her feeling as if...

She groaned. She wasn't that shallow - was she? She hadn't  seriously been swept away by a pretty face - okay, well, a pretty  face and an obviously impressive body even if he did try to hide  it under the sloppy suit. She was Lois Lane for crying out loud!  So why had it hurt so much when he'd made it very clear that he  saw her as nothing more than a convicted murderer? Had she  really, seriously wanted him to see her as a wom... as one of the  best journalist in the world? She glanced down at the dull gray  prison uniform and gently touched the remnants of her black eye -  not that there was much chance of him seeing more than a murder  convict when he'd looked at her in this outfit.

She also couldn't quite understand why she'd been so...  condescending towards him. It wasn't his fault that she was in  prison facing a death sentence. But something about him...  something she couldn't quite name just seemed to bring it out in  her.

"Lane, let's get a move on. Other people are waiting."

Lois rose to her feet and with one final glance at the door  through which Clark Kent had disappeared from her life, headed  back to her lonely jail cell.

* * * * * * * * *

She was the most infuriating woman Clark had ever known! He'd  been doing Perry a favor. And yet, almost from the moment he sat  down, she'd been on the attack. A hack! How dare she? She knew  nothing about him. And okay, so maybe he was from Smallville,  Kansas. But that was no reason to treat him the way she had. In  fact, he was proud to be from Smallville.

So what right did she have to talk to him that way? Okay, so  maybe he'd been a big fan of hers since she'd brought Lex Luthor  down - choosing truth over a man she was supposed to love. He'd  imagined her to be a woman of strength who had sacrificed her own  heart for the safety of strangers.

How could he have been so wrong? Not that he knew why he should  be so surprised. After all, she'd been convicted of murder. Maybe  Luthor had simply done something to infuriate her. Maybe he'd  cheated on her. That was probably the only reason she'd brought  him down. The disappointment he felt when that thought sunk in  was palpable. So what had he expected? An angel?

On the other hand, she certainly looked like an angel. When she'd  first walked into the room, his heart had flipped over and come  to a complete stop before it started jack-hammering, pounding  against the side of his chest. But that was before she'd opened  her mouth.

What was he thinking? Even after she'd started talking he'd been  unable to help but notice how incredibly beautiful she was. She  could even look good with the remnants of a black eye and in  prison gray.

He groaned. He wasn't that shallow - was he? He hadn't seriously  been swept away by a pretty face - well, okay a pretty face and a  great figure. She was a convicted murderer - someone who didn't  value human life. So what was he thinking? How could he possibly  be attracted to someone like that?

No. He wasn't shallow. He'd been reading her work for years - and  had half fallen for her just through her words. She'd been  responsible for the downfall of Lex Luthor - the third richest  man in the world. The imprisonment of The Prankster had been her  doing. Both Bill Church Sr. and Bill Church Jr. - the heads of  Intergang - were serving long prison sentences because of her.  The capture of one of Intergang's most dangerous assassins, Diana  Stride, had been because of her hard work. Exposing Daniel Hansen  - a state senator who was running for Governor of New Troy - was  entirely her doing. And then, of course, his favorite - she had  been responsible for the capture of Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde  and Al Capone. So was it any wonder that he'd been knocked off  his feet when he'd discovered that the woman who had broken such  incredible stories was also the most beautiful woman he'd ever  seen?

What was he thinking? She was a murderer! He'd always respected  human life. She was a woman who had deliberately taken a life -  with no regard for his family and friends, with no regard for the  sanctity of human life. Even if she weren't in prison, facing a  death sentence, they'd never have a future together. So how was  it he could still find himself drawn to her?

Growling, he picked up his pace, jogging through the darkened  streets until he spotted a park with a secluded patch of trees.  Darting into the trees, he took to the sky, determined to out-fly  the completely inappropriate feelings he was having for this  woman.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois sank down onto her cot, contemplating the odd thoughts that  seemed to run through a person's mind when her life was  effectively over. That was one of the ironies of being on death  row - she was alive and yet she wasn't. And so, although her  heart continued to beat, she suddenly found herself looking at  life through the eyes of the dead - contemplating things from a  completely different perspective.

And the things one missed... A hot bath, taken in the privacy of  her own apartment was probably first on the list. But a close  second was embodied in the man who had come to see her tonight.  More than anything else, that was what she resented most about  Mr. Kent. For reasons she refused to analyze too deeply, he  represented strong hands running over her body, a body which  became harder as hers melted, the feel of whiskers brushing  against her face as they kissed. She swallowed hard, suddenly  fighting back tears. Never again would she know what it was to  get lost in a man's arms for a moment of blind passion.

Not that she'd been with a man for quite a while. Nor had it been  much of a priority in recent years. Nor even that her previous  experiences in that department had been completely satisfying.  But looking at it through the eyes of one who was already dead...  She pulled in an involuntary ragged breath.

She had felt an odd sense of abandonment when Kent had walked out  on her. And she didn't even know him. But there had been  something about having him there. Something she couldn't quite  put her finger on. Suddenly, she snorted. Unlike when Perry would  come to visit her, there had been no pain in Kent's eyes when  he'd been talking to her. It had been a welcome change. Maybe if  he came back... What was she thinking? He wouldn't be back. Not  after the way she'd treated him.

But that was a good thing, wasn't it? After all, she certainly  didn't need the constant reminder of what she could never have.

But then, wasn't that only fitting? After what she had... No! No.  She wasn't going to continue torturing herself with this. There  were no answers - no quick fix that would solve everything. So  why was it she kept trying to rewrite the past? It was over. She  was convicted. And that was the end of it. She had to let it go  and accept her fate.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Lois looked up at the guard, Michael... Oh why couldn't she ever  remember his last name?

"Did you enjoy the paper?"

"Yes. And thanks, by the way," said Lois, getting up from the cot  to join him at the bars.

"You know I could arrange for you to get a fresh copy every day."

Lois' heart skipped a beat before caution suddenly kicked in. A  one time act of charity was one thing. But a regular act of  kindness... "In exchange for...?"

The smile that curved at his lips left a queasy feeling in Lois'  stomach.

"I'm sure we can work something out." His hand came up to her  face.

Without thinking about the consequences, Lois instantly stepped  back. The look that replaced his smile caused Lois' spider-sense  to kick in. She was in danger and she'd tipped her hand. Without  further response, he turned and walked away. Lois let out a  breath of relief, walking back to the cot to sink down onto the  side.

"Lois."

The woman in the cell next to her, using a stage whisper to say  her name caused Lois to scoot down to the end of her bed. She  couldn't see the woman, but if they were both sitting near the  bars, they could hear each other well enough. Wilma. Lois had  come to know the woman a little bit over the past few weeks. In  fact, she was the only other prisoner Lois really did know. She  was older than Lois and her life had been very different.

Wilma had spent most of her life behind bars. Growing up in a  poor home in Suicide Slum, she'd taken to the streets in her  early teens after her step-father had decided to pay her a little  midnight visit. She'd quickly fallen in with the wrong type of  people and had picked up quite a crack habit - back when it was  actually called 'free-basing'. She hardly remembered the robbery  that had resulted in two deaths which was the event that had  brought Wilma to this prison as Lois' neighbor. Wilma, it had  been proven, was not the shooter. But with her attendance at the  robbery, she'd been found as guilty as if she were the one firing  the gun - and sentenced to share the same fate.

And in spite of all that, Lois actually liked the older woman. In  prison, Wilma had managed to kick her drug habit and was  currently working on getting her high school diploma - although,  since she was also on death row, Lois wasn't entirely sure of the  reasons behind such a goal. But Wilma knew the workings of the  prison - and she shared them with Lois. So when Wilma whispered  her name, Lois was quick to respond.

"What is it, Wilma?"

"Who was that guy I saw you's talking to in the visitor's room  earlier?"

Lois hadn't noticed Wilma there. "No one. An errand boy my boss  sent to tell me he couldn't make it tonight."

"Mmm... mmm... mmm... I can think of some 'errands' I'd like him  to take care of for me. Yep. I'd give him a workout he wouldn't  soon forget."

"Wilma!"

"Oh come on. You can't tell me he didn't get you's blood pumping  just a little hotter than normal."

"It's not like that," Lois said defensively. "He's... nobody."

"Yeah, and you's just a convict."

Lois' breath caught in her throat.

"Besides, what's the harm in a little fantasizing? I say if your  boss does come by again, you tell him to send the errand boy back  to take care of a little business."

"I'll tell you what. How about I send him your way?"

"Oh, girl! You do that, and I'll love you forever. Wilma knows  what to do with a fine specimen like that even if you's don't."

Lois chuckled as she moved away from the bars. Still, she  couldn't quite shake the unexpected feeling that she didn't want  Wilma anywhere near Clark Kent. As she puzzled over that, she  quickly changed and crawled beneath the covers on her cot, turned  on her side and pulled the pillow up so that she could wrap her  arms around it, her thoughts suddenly consumed with Clark Kent.  'What's the harm in a little fantasizing?'

She closed her eyes, allowing the image of Clark Kent's hands on  her body and his lips plundering hers to fill her thoughts. Her  breathing deepened as her hands drifted down her body. Nothing  would ever come of this, after all. In all likelihood, she'd  never even see Kent again. Tears came unexpectedly to her closed  eyes as she quietly sought a brief escape from the walls of the  prison in the illusion of Mr. Kent.

* * * * * * * * *

"Yes!" Perry looked down at the paper clutched in his hand. It  was the first real lead for a story he'd seen in almost a month.  It screamed 'weird' and weird sold papers. Now he just needed...  His thought instantly trailed off. The person he needed was no  longer working for the paper.

He walked over to the door and looked out into the newsroom, some  of the previous excitement having died with this unexpected  dilemma. For just a moment, in the flush of what his gut was  telling him was a big story, he'd forgotten. But now... To whom  did he assign this story?

Myerson! No. He was off to that conference tomorrow. Eduardo  Friaz? No. He was tied up at the moment. He caught sight of  Ralph. No. Absolutely not. If anyone could make a mess of this  story, it was Ralph. He crinkled his eyebrows in thought when his  eyes caught sight of...

"Kent!" Perry yelled across the newsroom sending his newest  reporter scrambling to his office.

Once the story was assigned, Perry sank back behind his desk.  Lois. He'd been pounding the pavement, burning up the phone  lines, putting in time, trying to find someone who would listen.  And so far, he'd found no one. He was entirely unsure where to go  from here.

* * * * * * * *

Part 04

Clark looked at the rundown apartment building in one of the not  so good neighborhoods in Metropolis and, once more, checked the  address Perry had given him. This was the place. Not that he  really needed to double check. After all, the two police cars and  the coroner van sitting out front were a pretty big hint.

He made his way to apartment 101 and stood outside the open door,  watching and listening as the coroner did his work on the man  lying dead on the floor. A plain clothes officer was standing  with his back to Clark.

"Excuse me," Clark said. "I'm from the Daily Planet and I was  wondering..." His voice trailed off when the officer turned  around. "Inspector Henderson?" asked Clark.

Henderson's face broke into a smile. "Sean's friend. Clark Kent?  Right?"

"Yes, sir. I didn't realize you worked for the MPD."

"Transferred in about four years ago now. Boy, time passes fast.  So you're with the Daily Planet now?"

Clark nodded.

"I heard they hired someone to replace Lane. Never guessed it  would be a kid from Smallville. So what can I do for you?"

"Well..." Clark gestured to the room.

"Name's Theodore Cooke," Henderson said, checking his book while  walking further into the room with Clark beside him. "Early this  morning one of his neighbors heard him scream bloody murder - and  so he called us. The guy was dead when we got here."

"Anyone seen entering or leaving the room?"

Henderson shook his head. "According to the coroner, Cooke was  electrocuted."

"So what are you saying? This was a normal household accident?"

"Not exactly..." He pointed towards the man's body. "Notice  anything unusual?"

Clark examined the man. He was dressed casually, nothing unusual  there. But... "The phone."

"Very good. Yes. It seems he received a powerful jolt of  electricity over the phone line."

"Does this sort of thing happen often?"

"I've never heard of such a thing before. We don't know is if  someone purposely sent a jolt of electricity over the line - if  such a thing is even possible. Or if this was some sort of freak  accident."

"What's your guess?"

Henderson shrugged.

"Any ideas who or what might be behind it?"

"Your guess is as good as mine at this point."

Clark glanced around the room in frustration. There had to be  something... some hint that would tell them more about what had  happened. His eyes focused on the phone, still grasped in the  dead man's hand.

"Do we know who he was talking to?" asked Clark.

"We're working on that at the moment."

"Could you let me know what you find out?"

"Sure." Henderson turned and looked at him quizzically for a  moment. "So you're Lane's replacement, huh?"

Clark felt his heart take an unexpected jump at the mention of  her name. "I guess so."

"Funny."

"What do you mean?" Clark asked, not sure if he should be  offended or not.

"Well, you and Lane are just so different. What? Is the Planet  trying to take the 'soft and gentle' approach now?" Without  waiting for an answer, Henderson headed outside.

Clark hesitated for a moment, lost in thought, before impulsively  running after Henderson. "Inspector?" Clark said, grabbing  Henderson's arm. "What can you tell me about Lois Lane?" He  wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to ask Henderson  that. He'd decided only last night to put all thoughts of that  irritating woman out of his mind.

Henderson's expression got unexpectedly soft. "She was the most  uncompromising person I've ever known. Always where she shouldn't  be. Always out there - over the edge."

"So what are you saying? That she'd skirt the edges of the law to  get the story?"

"Hell no. She'd go all the way over the edge."

"Then why do you sound... I don't know. ...almost impressed?"

"Three reasons. First, she never got caught. That takes brains.  Second, her heart was always in the right place. She cared about  the people of this city more than she cared about the awards they  kept handing out to her. Oh, she'd never admit it, of course.  She'd maintain that she was just in it for the story. But..."  Henderson shook his head.

"That's two reasons."

"What?"

"Well, you said there were three reasons you were impressed."

"Oh right. Well, let's see now. Brains, heart and... Well, in  case you didn't know, she's a knock out. Brains, heart and  beauty. If I were a few years younger, and a few vows freer, I'd  have done everything possible to get that woman to notice me.  Never had any doubt what Lex Luthor saw in her."

"Well, if she's the paragon of virtue you seem to think she  was..."

"I don't think I called her a paragon of virtue."

"...how did she end up convicted of first degree murder?"

Henderson paused. "Honestly... I don't know."

* * * * * * * * *

"Hey, Lane."

Lois looked around at the sound of a none-too-friendly voice  calling her name and rolled her eyes when she spotted the owner.

"What do you want, Carlin?" she asked. Arianna Carlin was Lex  Luthor's first wife. Although long divorced before Lois had ever  become involved with Lex, Arianna Carlin seemed to regard Lois as  some sort of home wrecker. Lois, of course, had managed to  complicate things further by being the one responsible for  Carlin's arrest when she tried to wreak revenge against the  people she deemed responsible for Lex's demise - Lois, Inspector  Henderson and Perry White.

However, out of all the women she'd put in prison over the years,  Lois feared Carlin less than most. She could talk a good game.  But when it came right down to it, she was all... okay, well,  mostly talk.

"I'm going to make you pay for what you did."

"Take a number," Lois muttered before taking a step when the  guard with her gave a tug on her arm, forcing her to continue on  her way to the laundry to put in her shift of folding sheets.

She had just folded her first sheet when she caught an image  moving in the corner of her eye. Carlin's warning still echoing  in her head, she quickly glanced in the appropriate direction.  She almost dropped the sheet when she recognized the man standing  in the doorway.

"Max?" she asked in confusion.

"Hi, Lois," the man responded, making his way into the room.

Even though Lois knew she was alone, she still glanced around -  in part to see if anyone else was there and in part because she  wanted to be sure she wasn't dreaming.

It had been almost a year now since she'd last seen the doctor.  And although for a time they had been... involved, the memory  wasn't altogether pleasant.

Dr. Maxwell Deter was a psychiatrist. Lois had lost her memory  when kidnapped by Lex Luthor in some twisted attempt to get her  to love him again. After she'd been rescued, Deter had become her  doctor. As she'd begun to recover, she'd grasped onto Deter,  falling hard for him the way she had since learned many patients  did for their doctors. But unlike what was expected, Lois'  therapy sessions with Max had quickly turned sexual. It wasn't  until she'd begun to get her memory back and realized that he was  manipulating her into giving up her job at the Daily Planet to  follow him to France - something she'd never have even considered  if she'd had her memory - that she'd ended the relationship -  with a right hook to the chin.

She had briefly considered having him brought up on professional  misconduct charges. But then she'd decided against it. He'd come  to her, telling her how sorry he was for everything and  persuading her that nothing like that had ever happened before.  He'd seemed truly heartbroken. She'd felt bad for him - and not  all together convinced that she was completely guilt free in  their affair. So although she hadn't been willing to see him  again, she hadn't had the heart to report him either.

And now here he was, bigger than life, standing in the prison  laundry room. "What are you doing here, Max?"

"I work here."

"What?"

"Yeah. I've been doing more and more work in both the men and  women's prison since... well, since we broke up. I guess I felt  bad enough about my conduct with... you, that I felt a need to  give something back."

"Don't they pay you?"

"Of course. But not nearly as much as I was getting in private  practice. I'm sorry I haven't come by to see you sooner. But...  well, I guess I was just a little concerned that you'd be  embarrassed to see me under these circumstances."

"Hmm," Lois said, returning to folding her sheets.

He came over, placing a hand on her arm to stop her. "I know how  hard this has to be for you," he said softly. "I know how much  you've always valued human life. If someone provoked you so badly  that you killed them, it has to be eating you up inside."

She crinkled her eyebrows, feeling that same piercing pain in her  chest she always got when she thought about Sykes.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm here. And if you ever need to  talk..."

"I don't," she quickly interrupted.

"That's fine." Deter removed his hand from her arm. "But some day  you might and I just wanted to let you know that when that day  comes, all you have to do is contact me. I still care for you,  Lois." He turned, walking towards the door.

Lois watched him go, confused by the encounter. Part of her  really wanted to take him up on his offer. After all, he was  right about one thing. The death of Sykes was eating her alive.  The problem was that in spite of his soothing words, she didn't  trust him. And so it was with the feeling that she was very much  alone that she watched him go.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark glanced up at the clock. It was almost midnight. His story  about Theodore Cooke had been finished hours ago. He still didn't  know what had happened. But he'd managed to write up his  preliminary story about the man's unusual death. He had insisted,  however, that they avoid using the word 'accident' or 'murder'  when referring to Cooke's death. Until they knew more, there was  simply no way to know which it was. And Clark had every intention  of getting to the bottom of that particular mystery. He just  wished he had a better idea of where to start.

Henderson had managed to trace the call to a public phone booth  near the ferry landing. But since no prints were found, and no  body was located near the phone booth, it didn't appear that  anyone else had been killed by the electrical charge that had  gone through the phone line. So at the moment, Clark was at a  dead end.

"You here again?" Perry made his way over to Clark's desk.

"Umm... Yes, sir," Clark responded, quickly closing the  manuscript he was reading.

He wasn't quick enough for Perry, who flipped open the manuscript  and came around to Clark's side of the desk to see what he was  reading. His eyebrows rose as he looked back at Clark.

"I ran into an uncle of an old college friend of mine today.  Inspector Henderson."

"You know Henderson?"

Clark nodded. "Anyway, he said some things that got me  wondering..." He gestured to the manuscript.

Perry nodded solemnly. "Find anything interesting?" he asked,  pointing to Lois Lane's trial transcripts.

"Lois Lane claimed that she didn't fire the gun. But the tape  showed that she did."

Perry nodded.

"Well, I don't quite understand. Her testimony was given 'after'  the tape was shown. If she was lying, shouldn't she have tried to  come up with something more believable? She could have claimed...  I don't know. Self-defense or something."

"So what are you saying?"

"I don't know," Clark responded, closing the manuscript once  again. "Mr. White, I just... Well, you testified against her. So  I take it you think she's guilty. I'm just wondering..." His  voice trailed off, unsure of what to ask.

"Kent, there is one thing you have to understand. In no way and  at no time did I ever testify against Lois Lane!" Perry stormed  back into his office.

Clark sat in stunned silence for a long moment before turning off  his computer and rising from his desk. He'd made a mistake. A big  one. But... what had his mistake been? He'd simply said what  seemed obvious from the transcripts. So why had Perry become so  angry?

So many things didn't make sense to him. The contradiction  between what the conviction said about her and what Henderson had  said. Perry White had testified at her trial - telling the jury  about her explosive temper. And yet he denied giving such  testimony. Did that mean the transcripts were wrong? But if Perry  had testified against Lois, why was it that Perry still visited  her? And why would she still see him? None of this made any sense  to Clark.

He growled in frustration as the elevator doors closed. He knew  what he was doing, of course. He didn't want her to be guilty and  so was finding holes in the case where there were none. Lois had  probably simply told that story to the police upon her initial  arrest - before she knew about the existence of the tape - and  thereafter had been unable to change her story.

Besides, why should he care? That woman was completely  infuriating. Giving his head a brief nod, he determined to leave  all things Lois Lane behind him. What did she matter to him  anyway?

* * * * * * * * *

Lois looked outside her cell. No one was there. Sitting down on  her cot, she withdrew the crumbled pieces of paper from under her  shirt. The Daily Planet. She'd managed to pilfer it from the very  limited supply of papers provided to the jail. But she'd brought  it back here with her because she wanted time to devour it in  peace.

It was crumpled, and she had to take a moment to straighten it  out. Still, it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. The  irony of that thought was not lost on Lois. When she'd been  working at the Daily Planet, there had been copies of the paper  everywhere. She had even, on occasion, pilfered a few extra  copies at the end of the day to pack up items or for other  purposes that had nothing to do with reading. What she wouldn't  give to have those copies now.

Focusing on the front page, below the fold, she looked at the  article that had caught her eye when she'd first seen the paper.  'Local Man Killed In Freak Electrical Incident. By: Clark Kent.'  She'd been thinking about the headline for the past hour.

Normally, she wouldn't have even caught the careful wording of  the headline - she'd have already been engrossed in reading the  story. But since she hadn't had a chance to read the story until  now, she'd done nothing but think about the headline - in  particular, the use of the word 'incident.' A more natural way of  writing the headline would be 'Local Man Killed In Freak  Electrical Accident.' So why had Kent chosen the word 'incident'  - assuming he had, of course, any say in the wording of the  headline? Was there a hidden implication there that the  'incident' was not an 'accident'?

She turned her attention to the article. Theodore Cooke, 49, was  an engineer who had worked for the past twenty-seven years for  the Metropolis Transportation Department. He'd been married for  twenty-three years and had two teenage children. Shortly before  his death, he'd separated from his wife and moved from the  suburbs to a rundown bachelor apartment in downtown Metropolis.

Apparently he'd been killed by some sort of electrical charge  that had come through the phone line. Kent had interviewed a  representative from the phone company who had sought to assure  the public that a protective device inside all phones prevents an  electrical charge from being transmitted through the phone line.  They also sought to assure the public that they were in no  danger. How they could make such assurances in the light of  Cooke's death, Lois wasn't sure. However, she could understand  the reason they might attempt to reassure the public. After all,  in this day and age, the entire city could be brought to a halt  if people were afraid to use their phones.

However, like the title, nowhere in the story was the word  'accident' used. Lois wondered if that meant Kent had a hunch  foul play was involved. Still, there was no indication in the  article itself that this was anything but a horrible accident.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark paced nervously as he waited for his turn. He still wasn't  entirely certain why he was there. No. That wasn't true. He was  there to apologize. He had tried to put Lois Lane behind him. But  until he made things right with her by apologizing for implying  that she was nothing more than a convicted murderer, he wouldn't  be able to do that.

"Clark Kent!"

Clark turned towards the man speaking his name.

"You're next."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois' eyebrows crinkled in confusion when she saw who was waiting  for her in the visitor's room. She'd thought never to see him  again. Of course, when she'd been told she had a visitor, she'd  been apprehensive. Although it was exciting to have a visitor,  since it was a Saturday evening, she'd known it wouldn't be  Perry. But never in her wildest dreams had she imagined it would  be him!

She sat down cautiously, picking up the phone as she watched him  closely through the glass. "So... Mr. Kent. Back for more abuse?"  She wasn't entirely sure why she'd felt the need to say that.  What was it about Kent that seemed to bring out these comments?

"I just came to apologize."

"Apologize?" She was confused.

"I said some things... Well, one thing really... that I feel I  need to apologize for. I said something about you having a lot of  opinions for someone on death row. I shouldn't have said that.  And I'm sorry. It's been bothering me and I just wanted to get  that off my chest."

She shook her head in disbelief. "I knew it. Kent, if you plan on  being a reporter at any time in the near future, you're going to  have to grow a thicker skin." God, what was wrong with her? Why  was she treating him like this? And why couldn't she seem to stop  herself from being a bitch whenever she talked to him?

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"If you let something like that bother you, go back to  Smallville. You weren't cut out for city life - let alone being a  reporter for a big city paper."

"I don't think a person has to be rude to get the story."

"And that's why you'll never get the story. Take, for example,  that piece of fluff that appeared in today's paper. I mean,  where's the story? Some guy dies in a freak electrical incident.  I know you don't think it was an accident. And yet all you tell  us is that the telephone company doesn't want us to worry and a  whole bunch of sappy stuff about the guy's family." Why couldn't  she just shut up about this? He hadn't done that bad a job.

"Oh, and I suppose you could have done a better job."

"Damn straight. Who were the guy's enemies? Was there anything  unusual about his finances? Why didn't you ask Jimmy to get those  for you? Why were he and his wife separated? Could she have  murdered him? Or maybe she hired someone? If so, who would have  the technical knowledge to kill someone in such a unique way?  Maybe he had enemies at work. Maybe he stepped on someone's toes.  Do some digging!"

"You're one to talk. When was your last story?"

Lois felt unexpectedly abandoned when he left. She wasn't  entirely sure why she'd been so condescending to him. He was  obviously a decent reporter. He just needed a little experience  and guidance and he might even become a great reporter. But there  was something about him - something that just brought out the  worst in her. Well, next time he came... What was she thinking?  There was no way he'd be back again. She'd definitely seen the  last of Clark Kent. She wasn't entirely sure why that thought was  so disappointing.   * * * * * * * * *

He couldn't believe it. He'd done it again. He'd gone there to  apologize and instead, he'd insinuated, once again, that her  opinion didn't matter - given her conviction. What was wrong with  him?

She just made him so damn angry.

That was no excuse, of course. He should have held his tongue,  even thanked her for her ideas. After all, she had given him a  number of angles to pursue in the investigation. And since for  the past day he hadn't managed to get anywhere, he couldn't say  that he didn't appreciate her input.

It was just that superior tone - starting with her comments about  him growing a thicker skin. Instead, she could have apologized  for some of her comments. But apparently, she didn't think her  comments needed an apology. In fact, in her opinion, the fact  that he'd come to offer her one proved her comments on Thursday -  that he was a hack who was in way over his head working as a  reporter in the big city.

Well, that was it. He was done with Lois Lane. Besides, in spite  of his unexpected pull to this woman, she wasn't his type. A  person who didn't respect human life was not someone he wanted as  a partner. He snorted at the unamusing thought that she would  laugh in his face were she to ever know that he was having these  feelings for her. No. Someone that cold, that callous was not  someone he would even want a relationship with - if such a thing  were even possible.

On the other hand, what must it be like for her - in prison,  seeing life pass her by, knowing that it was just a matter of  time before the state would stick a needle in her arm? Maybe he  should try to keep that in mind when he spoke to her in the  fut... What was he thinking? She'd made it abundantly clear that  she had no interest in seeing him ever again. And if that was the  case, then he was only too happy to oblige her.

His jogging came to a halt when his ears picked up the sound of  tires squealing on concrete, metal crunching metal and screaming  children. Looking through the building beside him to the street  on the other side, he instantly saw the source of the noise.  Three cars, going on four, were involved in a traffic accident.  And from where Clark stood, it looked bad. Without thinking  through the possible consequences, he took off towards the  accident sight.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was making her way through the common area when something on  the television caught her attention. How long had it been since  she'd seen the news? She made her way over to the only chair in  the area that she felt safe sitting in - mainly because it was  against the wall. She had just taken a seat when a story came on  about a terrible traffic accident. Five people had died.

But that didn't seem to be the focus of the story. The network  helicopter had caught a single man who was pulling people from  burning cars without, it appeared, any concern for his own  safety.

Lois gasped, involuntarily rising to her feet and making her way  closer to the television when the camera focused in on the man's  soot covered face as he leaned over a young woman, performing CPR  until rescue workers could arrive.

"Hey, ain't that your man?"

Lois turned to see Wilma standing beside her.

"Umm..." Lois turned back to look at the man on the screen once  again. If that wasn't Clark Kent, then he had a double. "I think  so."

"Hey, Lane!"

Lois turned towards the sound of a woman's voice. Completely  distracted by what she'd been watching on television, she hadn't  seen the woman approach. Suddenly, she seemed surrounded. She  looked for Wilma but couldn't see her anywhere. Women were  suddenly pushing against her from every side. As she was turning,  trying to figure out the source of the greatest threat, she moved  back, trying to get a solid wall behind her. Faces blended  together, not allowing her to recognize any of them. She never  even saw the homemade prison knife, known as a shiv, before it  was buried in her side.

Pain. Confusion. Hands pushing at her. Bodies crowding in around  her. She grasped at her side. She wasn't even sure of what had  happened until she looked down and saw blood on her hand.

Suddenly, whistles sounded, screaming in Lois' ears. And then...  she was alone, standing in the middle of the room.

She tottered on her feet for a moment before collapsing to her  knees, holding her side. Death was upon her. And... it was almost  a relief. She would, finally, be free from the terror that  surrounded her every waking minute, the nightmares and the guilt.  It was finally over.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 05

"I got out of there before anyone found out who I was."

"But we saw you on television, honey," Martha responded over the  phone. "Other people might have recognized you, too."

"But the cameras didn't catch me doing anything super. I was just  one of a number of people trying to help out at a bad accident.  And those people who might have noticed something... unusual...  well, they were kinda out of it. I doubt anyone would believe  them."

"Metropolis isn't the country, son," Jonathan added. "You can't  just do things and expect no one to notice. Maybe moving to the  big city wasn't such a good idea."

"No, Dad. I need to stay here."

"Why?"

Clark wasn't sure what to say. He supposed he could say that he  had always wanted to work at the Daily Planet. And that would be  true enough. But... he couldn't quite bring himself to lie to his  parents. Work was not the draw of this place. The reason he  wanted to stay in Metropolis was... No. It was crazy. She was the  most infuriating woman he'd ever met. She was a murderer. And yet  when asked why he couldn't leave Metropolis, her face was the  immediate thing to spring to mind.

"I just feel... as if this is where I'm supposed to be."

"Okay, well, just be careful. If some nut with a camera catches  you pulling one of your stunts..."

His father didn't complete his statement. It wasn't necessary.  Clark knew exactly what his father was afraid would happen.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll be careful."

* * * * * * * * *

He knelt in front of her on the bed, his hand coming up to tuck  her hair behind her ear. She smiled at the tender look in his  eyes before allowing her eyes and hands to drift over his  pectoral muscles. The thin material of his crisp, white, dress  shirt did nothing to keep her from feeling the strong muscles  underneath.

Her hands left his chest to push the edges of his suit jacket off  his shoulders. He allowed it to fall unheeded to the bed. Moving  slightly closer, she ran her hands down his colorful tie before  coming up to work on the knot.

"Lois."

She closed her eyes briefly, her hands stilling on his tie,  allowing the sexy, husky tone in his voice to penetrate, sending  a shiver involuntarily through her body. Never before would she  have believed that she could feel so aroused just by the sound of  a man's voice.

Sliding the tie from around his neck, she dropped it on the bed  before turning her attention to the buttons on his shirt - only  to find herself prevented from completing her task when his hands  came up to cup her cheeks.

She looked into his eyes and found herself unable to move as he  swayed slowly closer. His eyes drifted to her mouth and she found  herself sucking in her bottom lip. She couldn't seem to stop from  shaking. Her eyes drifted closed as she waited for his lips to  find hers.

"I suppose you fell off your cot again."

"Huh?"

"Did you fall off your cot again? Or are you going to tell us  what really happened this time?"

Lois forced open her eyes to see the same guard who had  questioned her after her last beating standing over her cot in  the infirmary. She took a breath and felt tears spring to her  eyes when pain shot through her side.

"You're becoming a real problem, Lane."

Lois closed her eyes and attempted to go back to the unidentified  man of her dream. It had been so warm and pleasant in her dream.  It was the first pleasant dream she'd had since that fateful day  when Sykes had died. This dream-man had been... Her eyes suddenly  snapped open. Oh god. No. Kent. It couldn't be. She wasn't  dreaming about him. She wasn't! He was just some amalgamation of  all the good-looking men she'd known. Not that Kent was good- looking. She didn't even notice things like that. It must be this  place - well, that and Wilma's comments after she'd first met  Kent. She was just lonely and more than a little scared.

"Fine!" the woman said. "If you want to let them kill you, who am  I to care."

Lois cringed when the woman walked away. Was she doing the right  thing in not telling the authorities what had happened? Not that  she really knew what had happened. Maybe she'd talk to Wilma  about it when she got out of the infirmary.

* * * * * * * * *

"Jimmy, is there some way I can get a look at Theodore Cooke's  finances?"

Jimmy smiled. "Leave it to me," he said, turning away from Clark.

"Jimmy!"

Jimmy turned back towards Clark.

"Just tell me if it's legal."

Jimmy's smile widened. "You don't want to know."

Clark nodded and let out a breath. He couldn't say he was  completely comfortable with the idea of Jimmy getting those  records illegally. But Lois must have known how Jimmy would get  the file when she told him to ask Jimmy. He groaned, dropping his  head into his hands. Now he was taking advice on legal propriety  from a woman who had been convicted of murder. Still, he didn't  call Jimmy back.

Instead, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and picked  up the phone.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark looked around the slightly run down offices. The city of  Metropolis couldn't go wrong by giving this place a fresh coat of  paint.

"Mr. Kent?" a man asked, approaching Clark.

"Yes, sir. I take it you're the man I spoke to on the phone.  Richard McMillan. I'm glad you could meet with me."

"No problem. Cooke was one of our most reliable employees. It was  a terrible shock to all of us. So what can I do for you?"

"Well, I'd like to talk to you and to the other men he worked  with - see if I can make sense of all this."

"I got the impression it was some sort of freak accident."

"Oh, I'm sure it was. But since he was an engineer... Well, with  the telephone company saying that there is no need to worry..."

"You're wondering if someone here can give you more information  about how something like this could happen. Well, I can't speak  for anyone else, but I don't know how it could have happened. But  then I don't know much about phones. I'm sorry. But I'm at a  loss. Maybe someone else here could help you - but I really  can't."

"Well, I also want to find out a bit more about the man himself."

"Uh... Well..." McMillan directed Clark further into the building  and then didn't speak again until they were walking together down  a long, bleak hall. "I didn't know him well on a personal level.  You know how it is. As his boss, I didn't want to let the  relationship become too personal. But..." He stopped by a door.  "Toby Heisler and he were friends. Went out for beer after  work... that sort of thing." He knocked on the door before  opening it.

"The reporter I told you about is here," McMillan said to the man  seated behind a desk.

"Oh yes," Heisler said, rising from behind his desk and coming  over to offer Clark his hand. "Toby Heisler."

"Clark Kent."

"Well, then. I'll just leave you in Toby's very capable hands,"  McMillan said before, without waiting for a response, turning to  leave the room.

"So, Mr. Kent, how can I help you?"

* * * * * * * * *

"So what did you do to upset Remi?" asked Wilma through the walls  between their cells after Lois was escorted back to her cell.

"Remi?"

"It's all over the prison. Didn't you see her?"

Remi? Who was Remi? Did she even know a Remi? She could think of  a lot of people in this place who wanted to see her dead, but  what had she ever done to make someone named Remi feel that way?

"I don't know what I could have done," Lois responded honestly.  "I don't remember any Remi. Given the number of people here who  already want me dead, I've been trying not to offend anyone  else."

"Oh, child. Remi is the one person you's don't want to piss off.  She used to work for some military type group."

"She was a terrorist?" Lois asked as pieces began to fall into  place. The Daily Planet. Two years ago. The terrorists who dug up  a safe in Perry's office that had Dragonetti's money in it. Pino  'Pretty Face' Dragonetti. One of Metropolis' most dangerous  gangsters during prohibition. The terrorists who were trying to  rob his safe had been caught when Lois had managed to break away  from the woman who was about to kill them and call the police.  Remi. She remembered now.

It had been that night - and in particular the comments Remi's  partner had made about it being better to have the police on his  tail than Lex - that had first made her suspicious of Lex Luthor.

And Remi was inside this very prison. Oh god. "Wilma, should I be  telling the authorities about Remi's threat?"

"Oh, don't do that, child. That's a sure way to the grave."

Lois closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall of her  cell. If she reported the threat, she was dead. And if she didn't  report it... well, it was entirely possible the result would be  the same. But then, did it really matter? After what she had  done... She gave her head a sharp shake. The issue was how to  deal with Remi - nothing else.

* * * * * * * * *

"Thanks, Jimmy," Clark said as he took the sheaf of paper from  the younger man.

"Hey, that's what I'm here for, C.K."

Clark smiled at Jimmy while rolling the nickname around in his  mind.

"If you need anything else, just yell." Jimmy turned to walk  away.

"Jimmy." He waited until Jimmy was looking at him before  continuing. "There is something else." He hesitated, not entirely  sure he should ask.

"What is it?"

"Well... What did you think of Lois Lane's conviction?"

Jimmy's eyebrows went up. "That it stank. Lois couldn't have  killed that guy the way the prosecution claimed."

"But even Perry White said she had a hair-trigger temper."

"She did. Don't get me wrong. I remember once when someone left  the cream out on the counter instead of putting it back in the  fridge, and she went ballistic. But Lois would never kill someone  in cold blood. If she did kill him, and I'm not saying she did,  it was in self defense or something. Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious," said Clark. When Jimmy continued to stare at him,  he spoke again. "Thanks, Jimmy."

"Sure thing," Jimmy said before turning and heading away.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was more than a little surprised when she looked around the  room. It was obvious that she was in a visitor's room, but this  one was much less formal than the one she had used previously.  Tables of various sizes were scattered everywhere and people were  talking around them in a much more casual manner.

But why was she there? It was Monday night. Perry didn't usually  visit until Tuesday. She flinched slightly at the pain in her  side as the matron took her arm and directed her towards one of  the smaller tables.

"Sit here," the woman said without ceremony.

Lois took a seat, lost in thought. There was only one  possibility. Kent. But... no. That wasn't possible either. Kent  wouldn't be back. Maybe her sister. But her sister was living in  California. Not that Lucy couldn't have flown in. And, of course,  she would never know if she had. Maybe that was why she was being  brought to this casual setting. Maybe it was reserved for family  members. That must be it.

So she was shocked when Clark Kent entered the room and was  directed to her table, carrying a sheaf of documents and a small  paper bag.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark couldn't help but feel some small sense of satisfaction  when he saw the shocked expression on Lois' face. Apparently, she  didn't know everything.

Of course, that brought up the question of why he was here -  again. It had nothing to do with any unrealistic attraction he  might have for the woman. After all, he wasn't attracted to her -  except perhaps on some very superficial level. But he'd never  been one to allow his hormones to control his actions. No, he was  here because he needed her help. Nothing more. And if, as she  seemed to think, she was a great reporter, surely she wouldn't  say no. She was just another source.

"Well, Mr. Kent. You really are a sadist, aren't you? Back for  more abuse?" The words seemed to roll off her tongue easily.

His hackles immediately rose - until he saw an almost smile cross  her lips and a slight twinkle light up her eyes. She was happy to  see him. He felt his heart soar. He wasn't entirely sure why she  felt this overwhelming need to insult him, but her eyes didn't  match the continuing disdain of her words. He was certain now  that he'd been right. Her attitude, although he didn't understand  it fully, was some sort of defense mechanism - and suddenly he  didn't find it the least bit insulting.

"I just want to find out if you're as good as you seem to think  you are," he said, keeping his tone as dry as hers. Sitting down,  he handed her the papers.

She glanced at the papers before glancing back at him in  confusion. "What are these?"

"The information I collected on Theodore Cooke."

A look of hopeful disbelief flashed in her eyes as she looked  back at the papers and he could almost swear she was drooling.  Her hand touched the top of the pile with what was almost a  reverence before she seemed to realize what she was doing.

"So why would I help you?" She drew her hand back.

Clark shrugged. "Got something better to do?"

"And how did you..." She gestured around her. "...arrange this  anyway? I wouldn't have thought they'd let you bring me these."  She pointed to the papers.

"Well, it was a pretty thorough search."

By the way she flinched, he was fairly certain she knew what he  was talking about. No doubt she'd been through worse.

"But as for why you should help me..." He put his hand on the  paper bag he'd set on the table and pushed it across to her.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois studied the bag warily. It was a plain brown paper bag with  a suspicious grease spot on the bottom. And the smells that were  emanating from it... She quickly grabbed the bag and opened it  up, withdrawing a large chocolate chip cookie.

"Homemade," said Clark as if tempting her with the cookie would  make her agree to help him.

Not that there was any doubt that she would - even without the  bribe. Just the thought of digging her teeth into a story, any  story, was enough to make her feel more alive at this moment than  she had since coming to this place. Still, she wasn't about to  refuse the cookie if he was foolish enough to give it to her. She  raised her hand to take a bite of the cookie.

"Hey, wait!" said Clark, reaching out to prevent her hand from  reaching her mouth.

"No touching!" the guard at the side of the room said.

Clark quickly let his hand drop back to the table. Still, she  didn't move her hand closer to her mouth.

"What?" she asked.

"So... do we have a deal or not?"

Lois narrowed her eyes and studied him. "Do you really think I  can be bribed with some..." She looked at the cookie and felt  moisture gather in her mouth. It looked incredible. It smelled  incredible. And it was soft, she could tell that much by the way  her fingers were leaving indentations. The chocolate pieces were  large, taunting her as chocolate always did. She licked her lips.

"You were saying?" asked Clark, obviously amused.

She looked back at him. "I have one condition."

"What?"

"Next time you come, you bring me a copy of the Daily Planet."

"Don't you get it in here?"

Lois shrugged. "It's just hard to get a copy that hasn't been  completely torn apart. Often you read one part of a story only to  realize that when it instructs you to turn to page C-24 to read  the rest, that the page you need is missing."

Clark's eyes seemed to soften into something that was almost  like...

"Don't give me that look!"

"What look?"

"Like you're pitying me." She shoved the cookie back in the bag  and rose suddenly to her feet, gasping when the pain from her  side hit her.

"Are you okay?" asked Clark, rising to his feet as well and  reaching out as if he would steady her.

"No touching."

He snapped his hand back. "Look," he said slowly, as if he had  suddenly realized how close she was to simply walking out on him  - story or not, "I'm not pitying you. I just..."

"You just...?" She eyed him warily.

"I just... wish things weren't so difficult for you."

She sank slowly back into her seat as did he. "Well, I guess I  can't have my replacement being an embarrassment. After all, what  would it say about me if Perry hired some hack..."

"...from nowheresville..." Clark added seriously.

"...from nowheresville," Lois continued, "to replace me?" She  couldn't quite prevent the slight smile that quirked at the  corners of her mouth as she finished. When he looked as amused by  their banter as she felt, she quickly cleared her expression. "Of  course, I'll take the cookies too." She reached into the bag with  a vengeance and withdrew a cookie. "And the Daily Planet," she  added as an afterthought. Then her mouth was too full to continue  talking.

"Mmm..." she moaned, closing her eyes and allowing the freshly  baked cookie to be experienced by every taste bud in her mouth.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark had to force himself to close his mouth as he watched her  savor the cookie. He wasn't entirely sure he had ever seen  anything as erotic in his entire life. He forced his mind onto  other topics.

"Well, are you going to look at those papers or not?" he  demanded.

She opened her eyes, her expression telling him that she thought  he was a spoil-sport.

She chewed the piece of cookie and swallowed. Clark found his  eyes drawn, as if by a magnet, to her throat and had to force his  gaze back to her eyes. By the amusement he could see in her eyes,  he suspected she was well aware of the effect she seemed to be  having on him.

"You in a rush?" she asked, her gaze drifting to his left hand.

He looked down at his hand when it suddenly occurred to him what  she was asking. His heart did a small flip. "I'm not married, if  that's what you're asking?"

"I'm not. Why would I care if you're married? It's not as if I'm  exactly dating these days." Her tone of voice was so casual that  he found himself wondering if he had misunderstood. "So..." She  set down the cookie, abruptly changing the subject. "...what do  you have for me to look at?" She began flipping through the  papers.

"These are Theodore Cooke's financial documents," Clark said,  glancing at the guard. "Jimmy got them for me."

Lois followed his look and then returned her gaze to him. A small  smile quirked at one corner of her mouth. "I knew you were too  soft for this job. It bothers you that... Jimmy got them." She  didn't dare say more than that knowing where they were.

"Are we back to that?" asked Clark tiredly.

"Are you saying it doesn't matter to you where Jimmy got this  information?" she challenged.

He shifted uncomfortably.

"A boy scout. That's what you are. I knew it as soon as I saw you  on television performing CPR on that woman." She saw Clark flinch  from her words. "You're going to have to lose that soft streak to  make it in this business."

"I don't think one has to lose compassion to 'make it,' as you  say."

"Maybe not. But it doesn't hurt."

Clark shook his head. "You're not as tough as you pretend to be,  Ms. Lane. You think I can't see right through you. But I can."

"Then you need to get a new prescription. Your glasses are  faulty."

"Can we get back to the papers?" Clark asked in exasperation.

Still, Lois couldn't quite keep the grin off her face as she  turned her attention back to the papers in front of her. She had  to admit, she was enjoying this. "Sure thing, boy-scout."

In her peripheral vision, she could tell he was rolling his eyes.

"Have you gone through them?"

Clark nodded. "Until about a year ago, the only deposits were  from his pay. Then two thousand dollars extra was deposited every  month."

"From whom?"

Clark shook his head. "I had Jimmy check it out. The deposits  were made in cash. When I talked to his wife, she told me that  their eldest son has some sort of life threatening liver ailment.  He's apparently on a transplant list. But the medication he needs  hasn't been approved for payment by Cooke's insurance through the  city. It costs..."

"...two thousand dollars a month?"

"Two thousand dollars a month," Clark confirmed.

"So he found a way to raise the extra money. Did she have any  idea how?"

"I didn't tell her about the deposits. But when I mentioned that  that must have been expensive, she told me that her husband  handled all the finances."

"So he never told her where the money was coming from - either  that, or she's not going to tell you."

"Anyway, she said that one night he came home and, out of the  blue, announced that he was moving out."

"Were they having problems in their marriage?"

"She told me that the illness of a child takes its toll on a  marriage. But that, no, she hadn't realized how unhappy he was  until he moved out. But I've got to tell you, she seemed  devastated by her husband's death. I don't think she was  involved. Oh, and I talked to Henderson. The phone company told  me that it isn't possible for someone to send an electrical  charge over the phone lines because of a protective device inside  the phone. So I passed the information on to Henderson. He had it  checked out and got back to me. Apparently, the device was  removed in Cooke's phone. So we know for certain now that it  wasn't just an accident."

"Did they do DNA tests, look for hairs, that type of thing?"

Clark nodded.

"And?"

"Nothing. Whoever did this must have had some knowledge of  forensic science."

"Try every criminal in the city," muttered Lois. "What about his  co-workers? Did you talk to any of them?"

Clark nodded. "I spoke to a..." Clark removed his notebook to  look up the name. "Toby Heisler. He and Cooke seemed to be good  friends as well as coworkers. He said that Cooke was  understandably upset by his child's medical problems. But that he  thought he was coping with it. He was surprised, though, when  Cooke left his wife. Heisler had thought Cooke's marriage was  solid."

"Maybe he moved out when he realized that... whatever he was  involved in was getting too dangerous and didn't want his family  caught in the crossfire. That would mean the key is figuring out  where the money came from."

"In other words, 'follow the money'," Clark replied  sarcastically.

"I heard that Deep Throat never actually said that. It was just  added to the book for dramatic purposes. So what are the  possibilities? Some sort of illegal business."

"Or maybe just working under the table - to avoid paying taxes on  what was obviously some desperately needed money."

"Or maybe he was threatening someone or blackmailing someone."

"Or maybe he found a rich benefactor who just wanted to help  out."

"Do you have to find the most respectable explanation every  time?"

"Do you always have to think the worst?"

"The number of times I'm right is probably greater than yours."

"You have got to be the most cynical person I have ever known."

"Yeah. But at least I don't go through life being constantly  disappointed." Smiling, Lois picked up her cookie and took  another bite.

Clark shook his head in disbelief as he watched her. "Of course,  the money might have nothing to do with his death."

"True. But I think it's our best lead at the moment."

"Our?"

"Of course. You'll mess it up if I let you do it on your own,  boy-scout." She licked the lingering chocolate off her fingers.

He watched her for a moment in utter fascination. "So how do we  go about tracking the money?"

Lois narrowed her eyes as she thought about that. "Find out who  his friends are, what clubs or bars he frequents, what sports  events or activities he takes part in. Track down every job he's  worked on in the past year - focus particularly on the time when  the money started pouring in. Someone, somewhere knows where that  money was coming from. All we have to do is find him or her."

* * * * * * * * *

Part 06

Clark stepped out of the cab and looked around the docks where  the ferry to St. Martin's Island left the mainland. It had come  as a bit of a surprise to learn that Cooke had been in charge of  some major work for the city at the ferry landing about a year  before - about the same time the first two thousand dollar  payment had been deposited into Cooke's bank account. After all,  the phone call to Theodore Cooke just before he died had come  from a phone on this dock.

He spotted a phone booth and made his way there. Henderson had  told him that the phone had been searched for prints, but none  had been found. Tilting his head to the side, Clark considered  this information. Then he lowered his glasses and, using his  enhanced visual abilities, looked closely at the phone. It was  covered with prints which meant... either Henderson had lied to  him, which Clark found hard to believe, or whoever had placed the  phone call to Theodore Cooke had deliberately removed his or her  prints after making the call.

After examining the phone, Clark nosed around, just taking in the  feeling of the place, trying to figure out what had happened to  Theodore Cooke about a year ago. Suddenly, he was struck by the  realization that walking out there, something he took for  granted, was something completely out of Lois' reach. If the  death sentence she'd been given were carried out, it was  something she'd never do again. He pulled in a jagged breath as  that thought sunk in. Never would he have the chance to be by her  side, doing something as simple as walking on a beach or watching  the seagulls chasing each other through the air.

He quickly rebuked himself. Elroy Sykes probably had family. And  Lois had taken his life. Just because he was having very  inappropriate feelings for a woman who had no respect for human  life didn't mean that she should be forgiven for taking the life  of another human being.

He walked between the cars waiting for the ferry to arrive, going  over to the railing so that he could watch as the ferry  approached the dock. There was something so peaceful, so tranquil  about the entire scene. One's troubles seemed to fade away under  the bright blue skies, the smell of water in the air, the cool  breeze teasing his hair. Clark closed his eyes, forcing his  feelings of self-pity to the back of his mind. He took a deep  breath and let it out again.

Boom!

And in an instant, the tranquility was gone. Clark's eyes snapped  open. People were shouting, pointing. He looked in the same  direction as everyone else and saw the ferry, dark black smoke  rising out a gaping hole in her side. Water rushed in through the  open hole, bringing the boat to a halt. So close to the shore and  yet so far. All those people.

Clark looked around in desperation. He had to help them. But  everywhere he looked, people were staring, watching the boat. He  spotted a black wool cap lying on a bench nearby. The owner  seemed to have abandoned it to get a better look at the disaster.

Clark hesitated for only a moment before snatching up the cap and  rushing for the privacy between two buildings. Tearing off his  jacket and tie, he tossed them to the side and pulled the cap  over his hair. Pulling the cap down as far as possible, he  discovered that it covered his face to his nose. He quickly  burned two eye holes into the material and then, realizing he  didn't have time to worry about the consequences, took to the  air, diving into the water. Swimming under water, he came up  inside the damaged vessel.

Unless one counted the occasional shower of sparks, the only  light was coming through the hole in the side of the boat. Yet in  the darkness the sounds of the terrified people could not be  missed.

The mass of people trying to get topside was out of control,  jamming together into the small stairways. Clark glanced around  before an idea came to him. Quickly dispensing with his wool cap  and placing it in a safe place so that, if necessary, he could  retrieve it later, he moved quickly.

"This way!" Clark yelled as if he were just one of the passengers  - albeit, a passenger with an idea.

People, desperate for any means of escape, didn't even question  where Clark was taking them. Heading for the hole in the ship,  Clark began discretely tearing planks from the ship and giving to  them to people as they entered the water. Once they were safely  on their boards, he gave them a cautious shove towards the hole.  As he stood waist deep in the water, he used his feet to create a  current that would take the people, with very little effort,  safely through the hole in the side of the boat.

Once all the people who were on that level were safely through  the hole, Clark dove beneath the surface. Swimming through the  hole, he breathed out, giving the survivors that final current to  get them safely to shore before he himself returned to the ship.

Once back inside, he grabbed his wool cap and put it on for a  final search of the ship, both above and below the water level.

Clark felt his stomach lurch when he saw the number of people  already dead below the water level. He tried bringing a few to  the surface to revive them, but the task soon proved to be a  fool's errand. He was just about to give up, to check on the  people on the top deck, when the sound of quiet, labored  breathing caught his attention. Focusing in on the sound, he  spotted an older man, unconscious, trapped in the exploded  fragments of twisted wood and metal. The water was rising quickly  now. In no more than a minute, he'd be completely submerged below  the water line.

Clark didn't wait. He slipped the wool cap back on over his face  and flew to him.

When he got to the man, he paused. The man was bleeding badly.  Not only that, a metal pole from a former shelf on the side of  the ship was spearing his leg, pinning him to the side of the  ship. Clark could get him out, using a little welding and tearing  some of the planks off from around the hole. But to do so would  widen the hole and cause the ship to sink faster.

Glancing up, he x-rayed through the decks to see the people on  the top level. They were managing to get off quickly. And once he  was done rescuing this man, he was sure he could give them a hand  as well. Besides, this was the only chance he had to save every  person still alive on the ferry.

He quickly went to work, using his laser vision to do some  welding and soon the man was free from his trap. But Clark didn't  dare remove the pole from the man's leg - for fear that it would  make the bleeding worse. Clark used his heat vision to cut the  ends off the pole, quickly bandaged the wound as best he could  and then turned his attention to getting the man out of the ship.  Tearing away some boards and metal from the side of the ship, he  enlarged the hole which was now mostly under water. Then,  cradling the man in his arms, he flew out the hole, carrying his  precious cargo.

Finally landing again between the buildings where he had created  the masked man, he tore off the wool cap and stuck it in his  pocket before carrying the man as fast as would normally be  possible to the emergency workers who were already beginning to  arrive at the docks.

When he had delivered his patient, he made his way back to the  edge of the dock and watched, realizing quickly that he couldn't  very well help the others. Emergency crews were providing  assistance. And even though Clark had to admit they seemed to  have things under control, he stood, his fingers creating  indentations in the metal railing on the dock as he waited  impatiently, concerned that the larger hole was causing the ferry  to sink even faster. It was tilting dangerously to the side. If  even one extra person was lost because of his actions, he'd never  forgive himself. So he stood, frozen to the spot, ready to spring  into action if necessary. One human life was simply too high a  price to pay for protecting his secret.

He finally resumed breathing when the final passenger was safely  on shore without any assistance from him. He just wished there  was a way for him to help openly. Maybe he'd discuss the problem  with his parents tonight. In the meantime, he had a job to do. He  removed his notepad from his pocket and was about to take his  first notes when he realized the paper was soaking wet. Okay,  well, he'd need another notebook, but there was still a story to  get here.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark felt quite proud of himself when he stepped into the  newsroom. He'd called Perry to let him know that he happened to  be at the ferry disaster so that Perry wouldn't send another  reporter. But then he went to work and he had the beginnings of  what he believed would be a good story.

Apparently, there had been some sort of explosion below deck.  Although Clark couldn't be certain, from what he'd seen, he was  fairly confident that one of the engines had exploded. By using  his x-ray vision, he took a look at the remnants of the burned  out engine. Although he wasn't entirely sure, he suspected the  explosion had started there given the greater damage in the area.  Of course, most of these observations would require confirmation  after the disaster was analyzed by experts.

Still, Clark found himself wondering if Cooke's death was somehow  connected to the ferry explosion. The two thousand dollar a month  payments had started while Cooke was working on these docks about  a year before. The phone call which had led to Cooke's death had  been made from these docks. And then, shortly after Cooke's  death, there was a terrible accident involving the ferry. It  seemed like a lot of coincidences unless there was a connection  between the events. He would get input on that angle when he  visited Lois after work this evening.

But in the meantime, Clark had managed to get a couple dozen  interviews - including an interview with the ferry captain and  the dock-master. It was a good preliminary story.

He saw a crowd gathered around a television. It was quickly  obvious that they were watching scenes from the ferry disaster.  Spotting Perry in the crowd, he made his way over.

"I got the ferry story, sir," Clark informed Perry.

"Come," Perry instructed before leading Clark towards his office.  Once they were safely inside and the door was closed, Perry spoke  again. "Whatcha get?"

Clark quickly outlined the story as he saw it. When Perry didn't  react, he mentally reviewed the story in his mind, wondering what  he had missed.

"Come here, son," Perry said mysteriously before leading him back  out into the newsroom and over to the television.

Clark felt the blood begin to pound in his ears when the  unfolding story began to penetrate his brain.

"So as you can see, this 'demon,' as he's been nicknamed by the  press, was actually captured on amateur video tape tearing planks  off the side of the ship to make it sink faster," the anchorman  was saying while the video played in the background. "And then...  and this is the part that would be impossible to believe if not  for the confirmation of a dozen different witnesses... as you can  see, the man-shaped creature flew out of the ship. He seems to be  carrying something - although no one knows what - from the boat.

"Experts are unanimous in their opinion that the 'man,' if you  will, is a terrorist. But no one seems to know where he came  from, who he works for, where he got his extraordinary powers or  what exactly he is. Is he human? Is he some sort of genetic  freak, an alien, a human experiment or some demon who has  appeared in human form? And how many more like him are out there?

"The military, so far, has refused to comment officially, but  unnamed high-level sources inside the Pentagon inform us that the  military is on full alert - although others are officially  questioning what the military can be expected to do against a  flying demon who has the strength to pull the side off a ship."

No! The anchorman continued on, but Clark was no longer  listening. It was a mistake. He had been trying to help. How had  things been so horribly misinterpreted?

* * * * * * * * *

Watching the news was not a big pastime in prison - normally. So  Lois was more than a little surprised when she entered the common  room to see everyone gathered around the single television in the  corner. Mindful of what had happened the last time she'd been in  this room, she was cautious as she made her way closer. But no  one took any notice of her, being completely engrossed in what  was playing on the screen.

At first, she thought the flying man she could see on the screen  was a joke. She could hardly believe that the newscaster was  treating it seriously. She wasn't sure how it had been  accomplished, but there was one thing of which she was absolutely  certain - men couldn't fly. Neither did she believe in demons. As  for genetic manipulation or other such options... She couldn't  buy those explanations either. No. There was only one  possibility. This was a hoax.

"What are you doing to protect us?" one of Lois' fellow inmates  demanded of a nearby guard.

"Yeah. What if he comes here?" another added.

"We've got no way to protect ourselves," a third put in.

After that, Lois was unable to hear the individual comments as  everyone began talking at once, turning quickly on the guards.  Lois instantly backed away. Whistles began to sound. The prison  alarm went off. One of the guards was attacked.

The following minutes were like a nightmare as guards attacked  inmates, inmates attacked guards and inmates attacked inmates -  all with the deafening scream of sirens in the background.

* * * * * * * * *

"Jonathan! Get in here right now!"

Jonathan dropped the bucket of milk and ran at full steam towards  the house. There was fear in his wife's voice and, as a result,  there was fear in his heart. He was both relieved and surprised  when he saw Martha standing watching the television.

"What was so urgent you made me drop the milk?" he asked, coming  up behind her and wrapping his arms around her small form. "A  television show?" However, he was too relieved that she was okay  to be truly annoyed.

"Shhh."

Surprised, he turned his attention towards the television.

"The biggest concern at the moment," the general on the screen  was saying, "is whether or not there are more of them out there.  We can only assume that these flying men were after something on  that boat." He pointed to the image of the man flying with his  back to them, obviously holding something in his arms. "If we  knew what that was, we might have some idea as to the object of  this particular attack. Right now military intelligence is trying  to determine what that might be."

Jonathan gasped, pulling away from his wife as a sharp pain  suddenly pierced his chest. Grasping at his shirt, he stumbled  back onto the couch.

"Jonathan!" Martha gasped. "Are you..."

"It's okay, Martha," Jonathan was quick to reassure her. "I'm  fine. It's just..." He pointed at the television screen. Martha's  gaze followed his to the television. She sank next to him on the  couch and they stared in stunned silence as their boy was  crucified by the press.

"There is hope, though. For years now, the government has been  funding an agency known as Bureau 39..."

* * * * * * * * *

Clark was trembling as he stepped into his apartment. By the time  Clark had left the Daily Planet, people had begun to gather on  city streets, many bearing placards that said everything from  'Alien Go Home' to 'The End of the World is Here.' There were  signs, as well, calling on the government to take action against  this new threat.

He almost dreaded what he would see when he walked over to the  television and flicked it on.

"...so that's when I first saw The Demon, or whatever he was..."  The caption under the picture of the man talking identified him  as Dr. Bernard Klein, Director At Star Labs, passenger on the  ill-fated ferry. "At first, of course, I thought it was just my  old eyes playing tricks on me. After all, a man flying under his  own power contradicts everything we know about principles of  gravity and flight. But so many other people around me saw it too  that I finally realized it must be true. Either that or someone  must have found a way to create mass hallucinations. But even if  that were true, it wouldn't explain how a hallucination could  have been caught on videotape.

"The entire episode was terrifying and I wasn't thinking very  straight. I was trapped in my car in the belly of the ferry,  where I usually stay during the trip across. I spend the time  doing paperwork. Anyway, as a result, I nearly didn't get out. By  the time I did get out of my car, all the life jackets had been  taken. So it was pretty scary there for a while. Some guy was  helping us get out through the hole in the side of the ship. I  still don't really remember the trip to shore.

"So when I saw The Demon, my mind was still a little cloudy. But  when I did get a chance to think about it, I began to wonder if  someone invented some sort of android that could fly. Now I know  that sounds a little far-fetched. But science is advancing at an  extraordinary pace. I'd personally love to examine such an  android. You see, in my work..."

"Yes, well, thank you Dr. Klein. We're so glad that you got out  safely."

"Oh, yes. Well, thanks."

Dr. Klein sounded slightly embarrassed as if being cut off made  him suddenly realize that he was rambling.

Clark let out a breath. A noted scientist had been on that ferry  - a scientist who, unless Clark had mistaken the excitement in  the man's voice, would be more than thrilled to study him in a  lab and dissect him like a frog - his father's old warning echoed  through his head. His casual dismissal of his parents' concerns  seemed so hollow to him now. Maybe his father had been right.  Maybe he'd been reckless in coming to the big city. And at the  moment... he couldn't say that he wanted to do anything more than  curl up in his bed at the farm and sleep until this nightmare was  over.   Why did people do that? Why did they create catchwords and  phrases that were meant to produce certain feelings in the person  hearing them?  Ground Zero. Weapons of Mass Destruction. The Evil  Empire. The Demon.

How could one hear that name and not believe he was evil? It  assumed facts not in evidence - or well, he guessed from the  public's point of view, it was based on facts. After all, the  video had caught him 'tearing the side off the ship to make it  sink faster.'

So now what did he do? Did he stand up and say, 'Hey, it's okay.  It was only me - Clark Kent?' Would that do any good? And what  would happen to his parents? They might not be able to hurt him,  but his parents? Would they be lynched for harboring The Demon?  How could he have put them in this position?

He had just sat down on the couch, burying his head in his hands,  when the phone rang. He knew who it was even before he answered.

"Hi, Mom and Dad," he said the instant he picked it up.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 07

Perry paced in the waiting room at Metropolis Women's Prison.  What was taking so long? No one had come to get visitors since he  had first arrived. And the room was starting to fill up fast. In  the distance, he could hear the sound of sirens. Unable to stand  not knowing for a minute more, he walked over to the counter.

"Can I help you, sir?" asked the guard behind the counter.

"Yes. I'm wondering if you can tell me what's going on?"

"Sorry, sir. You're just going to have to take a seat with  everyone else. I'll let you know when you can see..." He looked  down at the list. "...Lois Lane."

"I'm the editor of the Daily Planet. And unless I get some  answers right now, this place will be crawling with reporters  before you can sing the first verse of Jailhouse Rock."

The young man looked panicked for a moment, as if trying to  figure out how to cause the least amount of damage. He'd been  told to keep things under control in the visitor's area. And if  this place were crawling with reporters, his superiors would not  be happy. On the other hand, this man was the editor of the Daily  Planet... "Just a moment, sir," the guard responded before rising  from behind the counter and heading towards a door.

He was just about to step through, probably in an effort to find  someone else to make the decision for him, when Perry started  singing.

"The warden threw a party in the county jail. The prison band was  there and they began to wail."

The guard stopped and looked back in disbelief.

"The joint was jumpin' and the band began to sing. You should've  heard those knocked out jailbirds sing. Let's rock. Everybody,  let's rock. Everybody in the whole cell block was dancin' to the  Jailhouse..."

"Okay, okay," the guard said, rushing back over to where Perry  was standing. "I was told to keep things calm out here. Just  don't call your reporters. I'm sure the prison will make a  statement once this is over."

"What's over?"

"There's been an... incident. I don't know the details. But the  guards are trying to get things calmed down. Until that happens,  no visitors are allowed inside."

* * * * * * * * *

"But that's just it. People are panicking. How can I sit by and  just let that happen?" Clark ran his free hand through his hair  in frustration.

"Telling people who you are won't stop it."

"How do you know that, Mom? Maybe if I tell them..."

"Tell them what?" asked Jonathan. "Clark, your mother's right.  Even if you stand up and say that you are the masked man, it's  not going to calm the panic. In fact, I suspect it will make it  worse. After all, when your full history comes out, people will  begin to suspect their neighbors of being 'another demon.' You  can't even tell them how you came to have these powers."

"So what do I do?"

"I think you just lie low - give things some time to calm down.  Without any new 'sightings,' people are likely to relegate this  incident to the back of their minds," Martha said. "They might  even decide it was some sort of elaborate hoax. I think that's  about the only thing you can do."   Clark let out a slow breath. His folks were right. He couldn't  answer people's questions. He knew he wasn't some sort of demonic  presence made manifest. But other than that... What did he really  know about himself? Was he an alien? Was he some sort of genetic  freak or experiment? He simply didn't know anything about who he  was or why he was there. These questions had haunted him most of  his life. And he was no closer to finding the answers now than he  had been when he'd first asked them. How could he tell people  what he didn't know himself?

* * * * * * * * *

Clark made his way through the security doors and into the  Metropolis Women's Prison with a copy of the Daily Planet tucked  under his arm. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he needed to see  Lois tonight. He knew, of course, that she was likely to ask all  about today's ferry disaster. And that thought had kept him from  coming immediately after work. But he just felt... for some  reason, with his world falling apart, he wanted to see her. He  was so lost in thought that it took him a moment to realize that  there were wall-to-wall people - far more than he had encountered  on previous visits.

"Clark?"

Clark turned towards the sound of his name, stunned when he saw  Perry. For a moment, he had the intense desire to turn around and  run. Not only had he 'missed the day's story' as far as Perry was  concerned, but he wasn't entirely sure how to explain his  presence at the prison.

"Perry?" he said awkwardly.

"What are you doing here?"

"I... uhh... I just wanted..." He looked around uncomfortably,  hoping for some inspiration. He really didn't want to tell Perry  that he was there to see Lois. It wasn't that he minded Perry  knowing that he was working with Lois on the Cooke story. In  fact, he intended, should they get the story, to talk to Perry  about including Lois' name on the byline. No. It was that... For  reasons Clark couldn't quite name, he liked the idea that no one  knew about his little visits to Lois. These visits belonged to  him. And he didn't want to share them with anyone else - at least  not yet. But...

"Are you here to see Lois?"

"Umm... Well, sort of, I guess."

"Uhh..."

Clark squirmed uncomfortably at the knowing tone in his boss'  voice. "No. It's nothing like that."

"Like what?" Perry asked innocently.

"I just..." Clark suddenly noticed the copy of the Daily Planet  he was squeezing to death. "I just came to give her this." He  held up the paper. "Since you're here, I guess I could just leave  it with you." He handed Perry the paper and was about to leave  when it hit him that he still didn't know why there were so many  people there. "What's going on?" he asked, gesturing around them.

"There was some sort of... incident. That's all I've been able to  get out of them so far. But the sirens stopped some time ago and  they haven't sent us all home yet so... Clark? Clark?"

But Clark had stopped listening and was currently looking through  the walls, stretching out with his x-ray vision as he let wall  after wall drop from view in his desperation to know one thing  and one thing only. He let out a breath of relief when he saw  Lois safely in her cell.

"Clark? Are you all right, son?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine. Well, I guess I should..." He gestured at  the door behind him. He didn't wait for Perry's response before  making his escape.

* * * * * * * * *

It was close to ten o'clock before Perry was told that he had  five minutes visiting time. He gave the paper to the guard and  made his way into the visiting room. Lois was already seated,  waiting for him. His face lit up in a smile when he saw her. He  had to admit, when he'd been told about the incident, he'd been  concerned.

Taking a seat, he picked up the phone. "How ya doing, honey?"

"Fine. For a little while there, I wasn't sure. But I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"Things got a little... intense after the news report about The  Demon. So what's the word on him?"

"Not much more than what you probably already know. Kent was  apparently at the docks when the ferry disaster took place."

"Really? What did he have to say?"

Perry studied her for a moment before voicing his thoughts,  curious to see how she would react. "He was right there, and he  completely missed the story. He came back with a number of good  interviews about escapes from the ferry. But nothing about  this... terrorist, or whatever he is."

"Kent's new, Perry. You've got to cut him some slack."

Perry smirked. He didn't know what had happened during previous  visits been Lois and Clark, but something had if Lois was  defending him for missing the story.

"What?" Lois demanded.

"Nothing, I just..." He looked at the guard standing near the  door. "Could you give her that item I gave you?"

"Perry, what's..." Her voice trailed off when a guard came over  and handed her a copy of the Daily Planet. She looked up at Perry  in confusion.

"Ran into Kent in the waiting area. He took off pretty quickly  when he saw me, but he asked that I give you that. He had much  the same look on his face when I caught him here as is on your  face right now."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lois responded,  breaking eye contact.

Perry threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"Okay, cut it out, Perry. It's not funny."

Perry finally got his laughter under control, especially when the  implications of what he now suspected began to set in. "I just  hope you know what you're doing, honey. You could seriously break  that boy's heart."

Even though she was refusing to look at him, he could see a  pained expression crinkle her forehead. Then she let out a  breath. "It's not like that, Perry." She finally met his eyes.  "Really, it's not. I like his company. And we've been talking  stories. I've been giving him a few tips. Nothing more."

"Lois, honey, I didn't get to be editor and chief because I can  yodel - which, by the way, I can. Yodel-a-eh-hoo."

The smile that Lois gave him in response cut through the tension  he'd felt in the air after his expression of concern for Clark  Kent. He'd said what he needed to say. The rest was up to her.

"So, Perry, tell me everything you know about this demon," Lois  said, getting them off the Kent issue and obviously desperate to  get every last detail of this new story.

He immediately began filling her in on everything he knew.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was lost in thought as she lay on her cot, staring at the  drab gray ceiling. Perry was wrong. Lois had no doubt about that.  She'd been nothing but insulting to Clark Kent since the moment  she had first laid eyes on him. There was no way he was  developing feelings for her, beyond, perhaps, the feelings of  respect for a fellow reporter. He wouldn't be seeking her help  with his story if he didn't respect her abilities. But beyond  that... No. Clark's heart was in no danger of being broken when  the state finally got around to sticking that needle in her arm.

As for her... Well, it didn't really matter what she thought.  After all, it wasn't as if anything could come of it anyway. But  it was nice to have something to think about in this place other  than... well, this place. And if there was anything she could say  about Clark Kent it was that he gave her things to think about.  The story, of course. But beyond that, he was... "cute."

Okay, so she'd said it. He was cute. Everything from those  bedroom eyes... Oh yeah. She'd noticed those eyes, even if he did  hide them behind glasses. ...to that muscular body, even if he  did disguise it with ill-fitting suits. But was he her type?

Hell no. He was too laid back, not nearly ambitious enough for  her. In the real world, she'd scare him off before they even made  it past first base. He was the home in the suburbs. She was a  condo downtown. He was supper on the table every night at six.  She was take out food at midnight. No. They had nothing in  common. But as far as his looks were concerned... She wasn't  entirely sure she'd ever found a man as attractive as Clark Kent.  Of course, she was trapped in a women's prison so it wasn't as if  she was making regular comparisons. Not that in the current  situation there was any harm in a little fantasizing.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept away by those  fantasies.

* * * * * * * * *

If the day could get any worse, Clark wasn't entirely sure how.  He hoped his mother was right and things would calm down. But so  far, there was no sign of it. Everyone was obsessed with The  Demon. In fact, Perry had suspended research on all other stories  to put all his reporters on 'getting the story' about The Demon.

But Clark had the story. So although he'd gone through the  motions, he felt like a complete fraud when he returned to the  newsroom with nothing new.

But that wasn't the worst part. He'd only put in a brief  appearance at the docks. He was afraid that if he stayed long,  someone might recognize him from the ferry the day before -  especially given all the television cameras at the docks. The  docks had become a center for every nutcase seeking camera time.  The Neo-Nazis were claiming it was a Zionist plot. Groups  obsessed with Aliens were divided into two groups. One telling  the 'alien' to go home. The other welcoming him - and usually  inviting him to a party. Religious groups grasped onto the demon  concept. Government conspiracy groups were convinced the entire  thing was a hoax to create fear in the population which would, in  turn, allow the government to curtail civil liberties thereby  making the government even more powerful.

There was one thing, however, that he'd learned from his trip to  the docks. He'd managed to get a closer look at the ferry's  engine. And he'd seen the remnants of what appeared to be some  sort of remote control device. That meant, if he were right, that  the bomb might have been set off by remote.

The problem was that everyone, even the experts analyzing the  disaster, was so focused on The Demon that Clark wasn't entirely  sure they would follow up on it. That left the task up to him.  He'd called Henderson and without telling him he had spotted a  remote since he couldn't explain it without admitting that he  could see through walls, told Henderson that he'd picked up a tip  that there might have been some tampering to the engine.  Henderson had promised to follow up on it.

During that phone call, Henderson also told him something that  Clark found surprisingly coincidental. In addition to the removal  of the safety device that prevented someone from getting an  electrical shock through the phone line, they had also found a  very small remote device inside the phone. Henderson had  speculated that someone had called Cooke to make sure he was  holding the phone before using the remote to send the shock.

After hanging up the phone, Clark leaned back in his chair, lost  in thought. There was something... something nagging at the back  of his mind. Remote control. What was it about that concept that  was troubling him?

"Jimmy!" he exclaimed when he spotted the young man heading  across the bullpen.

"What's up?" asked Jimmy, making his way over to Clark's desk.

"Could you get me a list of..." He hesitated. What exactly was he  looking for? "Scientists, engineers, weapons experts that type of  people."

"That could be a huge list, C.K."

Clark clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, I  think you can limit it to people in New Troy. But I can't think  of a way to narrow it down more than that."

"You thinking that this demon was created by some scientist?"

"Something like that," Clark replied in resignation.

"I'll get right on it."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois stared at Clark in disbelief.

"Come on, Lois. I need your help here. Jimmy gave me this list of  scientists. But to me it's just a list of names. You must  recognize some of them - tell me who among them might be able to  send that electrical charge over the phone to kill Theodore  Cooke."

"Clark, what are you doing?"

"Investigating Theodore Cooke's death. What did you think..."

"Are you seriously telling me that Perry doesn't have everyone  investigating The Demon?"

Clark shifted uncomfortably. "I just figured... They've got  enough people investigating that guy. What do they need me for?"

"The 'guy', as you call him, not only killed almost a hundred  people, he also... if I recall correctly... flew! This isn't just  another story. This is THE story. No one is going to care who  killed Theodore Cooke."

"Maybe that's all the more reason I should," Clark said  stubbornly. "Besides, I'm thinking that there might be a  connection between the ferry disaster and Cooke's death."

Lois sat up straighter. "How do you figure?"

"Well, first, Cooke's extra two thousand dollar a month payments  started when he was doing some work for the city at the ferry  docks."

"Okay," said Lois slowly, obviously still not convinced.

"The phone call when Cooke was killed came from the docks."

"So...?"

"When I was snooping around there today, I noticed what looked to  me like some remote transmitter attached to the engine that  exploded. Then I talked to Henderson, he said that a remote  device was also found in the phone that was used to kill Cooke."

"If a remote control on the ship was used to cause the explosion,  I would have thought it would be destroyed. Besides, I thought  The Demon was responsible."

"The fact that the transmitter wasn't destroyed makes me think  that it was connected to the explosion."

"How do you figure?"

"Sometimes, items at the very center of an explosion won't be  destroyed. I don't exactly understand why, but..." He shrugged.

"Still, that doesn't mean..."

"Cooke was killed by someone who had some knowledge of science.  The explosion on the ferry was caused by someone with a knowledge  of science. A remote seems to have been used in both cases. And  with the connection to the docks..."

"I don't..." Lois' voice suddenly trailed off. Suddenly, her eyes  lit up. "Maybe this 'demon' is actually some sort of science  experiment! A remote controlled android or something!" she  exclaimed. "Clark, you just might be a genius - even if you did  miss that final connection."

"That's not..."

"Come on. Do you have a better explanation? Or are you one of  those who actually think The Demon is some sort of physical  manifestation of a spiritual force?"

"Of course not. But... please don't call him a demon. We don't  know he's evil."

"Other than sinking the boat, killing dozens of people?"

"How do we know that he wasn't trying to save the people on the  ferry?"

"Heroes don't wear masks."

"Maybe some do."

Lois rolled her eyes. "Figures."

"What?"

"Clark, you always have to find the most unbelievably optimistic  explanation, don't you. But if it looks like a duck, quacks like  a duck..." Lois kissed the tips of her fingers. "...tastes good  with plum sauce..."

"It could still be a swan."

Lois rolled her eyes. Still, she looked down at the list of names  he'd given her. "Joey Bermuda," she said slowly as she spotted  the first name she recognized on the list. "He is also known as  'The Handyman'. Now, if there was a remote controlled bomb, Joey  might be responsible. He used such a bomb to kill Mindy Church. I  was interviewing her at the time. I barely escaped with my life.  He seems to take a great deal of pleasure in finding unique ways  to kill people. Always said it was important to take pride in  one's work. Later on, he almost managed to kill me - I guess I  was getting too close - by having my microwave transmit a...  sound of some sort."

"How did you get away?"

"I managed to crawl out the door and call the police. We caught  him because of an android my father... Anyway, that's neither  here nor there. Joey Bermuda would have the ability to kill using  both an electrical charge through the phone line and a remote  control. There is one thing, however."

"What's that?"

"Joey never kills people for the fun of it. He is a contract  killer - which means if he is involved, he's working for someone  else."

"Any idea who?"

"Well, he was doing a lot of work for Intergang for a while.  So... I don't know. With both Bill Churches in jail and Mindy  Church dead, I don't know who the head of Intergang might be  these days. After the microwave attack, the police raided his  place. They discovered evidence implicating him, not only for his  attack on me, but also for the death of Mindy Church."

"But if they found this evidence, isn't Bermuda in prison?"

"He got off on a technicality. Apparently the search warrant  wasn't in order."

"Okay, so check out Joey Bermuda," said Clark, making a note.

"Alfred Carlton committed suicide after it was discovered that he  was experimenting with making children smarter," Lois said,  coming to the next name on the list. "Jefferson Cole was a  scientist for Star Labs. He was in weapons research."

"Was?"

"Well, he was working illegally on some unusual weapon that  would, at least in theory, kill all living things and still leave  infrastructure in tact. There was talk that he had plans to sell  the completed product to a terrorist group."

"Charming."

"Oh yeah. That was our Professor Cole all right. Charming. Dr.  Klein leaked the story to me, and I brought in Inspector  Henderson. When they hauled Cole away, he was spouting curses,  promising that he would get his revenge on all three of us. But,  unlike Joey, the last I heard, Cole was in prison. But he would  certainly have the ability to kill Cooke and to cause an  explosion on the ferry. I suspect he was even brilliant enough to  create that 'demon.' At least, he was always telling everyone how  brilliant he was. I suppose he could be helping someone on the  outside."

Clark added Jefferson Cole to his list.

"Marcus Daitch. He became the director of EPRAD after Toni Baines  was killed in a freak helicopter explosion. I guess if anyone  could create some sort of flying demon, it would be EPRAD. But as  far as I know, he's never been involved in any illegal dealings.  I also know Veda Doodsen."

"Who is she?"

And so began a long recitation of the scientists Lois had had  dealings with over the years. Veda Doodsen, Charles Fain and  Stanley Gables. Then Lois came upon a name that made her pause.

"Kyle Griffin," she said slowly.

"Who is he?"

"Kyle Griffin - also known as The Prankster."

"Right. I've heard of him."

"He had a big oaf working for him named Victor. Griffin was the  brilliance behind the schemes, but he wasn't the genius who  created the devices. That was Victor. I doubt one could have  survived without the other. At one point, they both worked for  Griffin's father, Edwin Griffin. He had a toy company."

"As in remote control toys?"

"That was their specialty, if I recall correctly." Suddenly, Lois  sat forward in her chair. "And on one occasion, they actually  killed someone by sending an electrical charge through the phone  line."

"What? Why haven't I heard of this?"

"We were never able to prove definitively that Griffin was behind  it."

"So how well did you know this Griffin character? Or, well, let  me guess. You're the one responsible for sending him and his  cohort, Victor, to jail."

"Sort of. And, boy, do they hate me. Well, that's not exactly  true. Griffin hates me with a vengeance. Victor... Well, Victor  seems to have a bit of a crush on me. Don't look at me like that,  Clark! Some men actually do seem to find me attractive!"

"No, I didn't mean..." Clark began, flustered.

"Anyway," Lois continued, dismissing Clark's discomfort, "Victor  would certainly have the ability to create a remote control that  would cause an explosion on the ferry. And we already know that  they were likely the ones who killed before using an electrical  charge through the phone line. I tell you, for a while there, I  was terrified every time I picked up a phone."

"So where are Griffin and Victor now? Oh, wait. Let me guess, in  prison."

"No actually. They broke out of prison by creating a type of  freeze machine. It gave off a blast of light that would, for a  period of time, freeze everyone they used it on. They even tried  to kidnap the President of the United States. Anyway, Professor  Hamilton created contact lenses that would keep a person from  being frozen. I managed to get to the President in time to stop  the kidnapping, but Griffin and Victor escaped before the secret  service men were able to arrest them. I lived in fear for quite a  while after that. But they simply... vanished. I have no idea  where they might be at the moment."

Clark added Kyle Griffin and his partner, Victor, to the list of  people to check out.

Lois continued running through the list of names. Emil Hamilton,  who she dismissed immediately. He might be a little eccentric but  he wasn't a murderer. Henry Harrison, a computer genius. Stuart  Hofferman who had been her source on a story. These she also  dismissed out of hand.

"Bad Brain Johnson," she said slowly. "He's dead. But his  brother, Herkimer Johnson, is still alive. Herkimer claimed that  he was the one who actually invented all of Bad Brain's toys.  Herkimer would certainly be capable of creating the devices  necessary for both tasks. I think he might even be capable of  creating The Demon"

"Where is he now?"

"In prison. But he wasn't overly concerned about human life. I  can see him killing all those people on the ferry - just to try  out some new invention. And given that he let Bad Brain use his  inventions before, I don't think it's off the wall to think that  someone might be acting for him again. Did you know that as a  boy, he actually built a real, working electric chair? When his  mother found out that he was a real criminal now, she was so  proud. It was... sick."

"So I see what I can find out about Herkimer Johnson."

Gretchen Kelly was crossed off the list since she was dead. Lex  Luthor had killed her following his rise from the dead. Clark had  sensed some... sadness in Lois at her mention of Luthor's name.  But he didn't feel at liberty following up on it. Dr. Bernard  Klein was also crossed off the list. Lois was simply unable to  believe he could be involved. Eugene Ladderman, a computer expert  was dismissed as a suspect. His science experience was not in the  appropriate fields. Then Lois hesitated, her finger running  cautiously over the next name.

Clark looked over. "A relative of yours?"

"My father." Lois gave Clark a sad smile and a small shrug. "If  anyone would be able to create a flying cyborg, it's him."

"Lois, I'm sure your father isn't involved."

She looked up at him, not nearly as confident and for just a  moment, he was tempted to tell her that no one had created a  flying cyborg. Still, reason kicked in at the last moment, and he  held his tongue.

"My father started out doing research to create working body  parts for people who had been in catastrophic accidents. But a  few years ago, I discovered that he was behind a plot to  create... superhuman body parts for prize fighters."

"What did you do?"

"I wrote the story. Anyway, he disappeared for quite a while  after that. I've actually only seen him once since. Last  Christmas. He and my mother, not knowing that the other was going  to show up, ended up at my place on Christmas eve uninvited." She  gave a humorless laugh. "My father showed up with a... date."

"That must have made things uncomfortable."

"My parents divorced when I was twelve. But, yeah. And that is  putting it mildly. But that wasn't the worst part. Turns out his  'date,' Baby, was actually a cyborg. It was probably my worst  Christmas yet."

"I'm so sorry, Lois."

She shrugged, feigning indifference. "I haven't seen my dad since  then. I'm not even sure where he is these days. But if the past  is anything to go by... Let's just say that my dad might not be  involved in the ferry disaster. But it wouldn't surprise me to  find out that he invented the cyborg. He'd consider creating a  flying cyborg a great achievement - without thinking through the  consequences. And he could be working for anyone - provided they  had enough money to fund his experiments. I really think you have  to add him to your list."

Clark's pen hovered over the paper for a long moment. Finding  someone who could create flying cyborgs was not even a question.  Still, he couldn't tell Lois that. So, after a moment of  indecision, he added the name 'Dr. Sam Lane' to his list.

Fabian Leek who was working on cloning was dismissed as a  suspect. As was Harold Light who had been killed a couple of  years previously. Dr. Isaac Mamba, Lois announced, was exactly  the type to be involved in something like this, but since cloning  wouldn't explain how the man flew, he was crossed off the list.  Dr. Elias Mendenthall had been involved in the creation of  assassins through mind control. But other than that, he hadn't  seemed to be much of an inventor. Allan Morris had invented a  suit that made the wearer invisible. But invisible wasn't a  quality present here. Nell Newtrich's inventions seemed to run  exclusively in the field of lasers. So far, Lois hadn't run into  the Newtrich sisters in prison, but it was a big place - although  the mere thought of running into Lucille Newtrich left Lois  feeling anxious. Lucille wouldn't even have to try to kill her.  After an hour alone in the same room with that woman, Lois would  want to kill herself.

"Thadeous Roarke."

"Who's he?"

"He's a weapons expert. If we hadn't stopped him in time, he  would have set off a signal that would have caused a weapon that  Lex made for the military to overreact during a test and destroy  all of Metropolis with a giant tidal wave."

"Sounds like a suspect."

"I agree. And he managed to escape from prison a couple years  ago."

"Sounds like a lot of people escape from prison around here."

Lois laughed. "Yeah. But only the guilty ones."

Clark filed that little comment away in his mind as Lois looked  back at the list.

"Oh, here's a candidate," she said. "Vasili Sawchenko." To  Clark's lost look, Lois continued. "He went by the name of Lucky  Leon. But when we dug into his background, we found out that he  was the former Chief of the Technical Department, Executive  Action Section, First Chief Directorate, KGB. Sort of a 'Q' from  the James Bond movies - but for the other side, of course. He  actually used a remote control to try to crash Jimmy's car."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Fortunately, at the last moment, Jimmy just turned off his  car and it came to stop. But Sawchenko used a lot of unusual  weapons. I wouldn't put it past him to blow up the ferry just to  demonstrate some new weapon. If The Demon is some sort of remote  control device, I'd say Lucky Leon is one of our top candidates"

"Isn't he in prison?"

Lois shook her head. "He only served about a year. I think he  made some deal with the government. He had a lot of Russian  intelligence to trade, after all."

"But the Russians are our friends."

Lois didn't respond. She simply rolled her eyes.

She ran through the next few names quite quickly. Winslow Schott,  Larry Smiley, Martin Solsvig, Spencer Spencer and Lenny Stokes.  She hesitated once again on the next names.

"Emmett and Rollie Vale. Yeah. I'd say they are possibly  involved."

"What did they do?"

"The Vale brothers created a robot using a plutonium power  source. But they were still having problems, so they added a  human brain. Actually, they used Johnny Corbin's brain. He was my  sister's boyfriend. Although why they chose his brain is still a  mystery to me. The robot was undoubtedly smarter and definitely  less insane."

"What happened to them?"

"They got away. But not before they removed the plutonium power  source from Johnny Corbin - killing him."

"So they're still out there somewhere?"

"Yeah. But they had the potential to create this flying demon."

Clark's pen hovered over the list for a moment. But then he wrote  down the names. Still, he was lost in thought as Lois ran through  the rest of the list. Annette Westerman, Ryan Wiley, Claudette  Wilder, Katherine Wilder and Jason Xavier. All of them had used  science for evil purposes. But none of the last few seemed to use  the same type of science that would have been needed in this  case.

Finally, Lois leaned back in her chair. "The rest of the names  are unfamiliar to me."

Clark nodded slowly. Even if he removed those that seemed to  specialize in robots or cyborgs, he was left with six good  suspects. A couple of them seemed to be in prison. But even from  prison, it was possible that they were somehow involved.

"So... what's your next step?" asked Lois.

"I'm going to try to track these people down. Maybe look to see  if there is any connection between them and Theodore Cooke."

"Good. So you'll let me know what you find?"

"Of course."

"'Cause the creature who killed all those people... If he is some  sort of creation, then the bastard who created him has to be  caught. If not, then The Demon has to be caught, made to pay for  his crimes. Just give me five minutes in the same room with him.  He'll be walking funny for a year."

Clark cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"What?"

"Nothing. Well, okay, I've been thinking about the Cooke  connection. Cooke had been receiving payments and he worked for  the city in Transport. And then with the ferry disaster... Maybe  someone wanted a favor from that department."

"Possibly. Of course, the ferry connection would suggest that  they were transporting something illegal."

"Or wanting special treatment for their goods."

"But then why would someone plant a bomb in the ferry to blow it  up? They'd be blowing up their own property. But if it is some  sort of smuggling operation, my money would be on Vasili  Savchenko, Lucky Leon. I got the distinct impression that he had  connections to the Russian Mafia."

"Still, that doesn't answer why he'd want the ferry blown up."

"True. Unless they were trying to sink something that they didn't  want discovered. Sink the ferry, lose the stuff. But what stuff?"

* * * * * * * * *

Part 08

Clark sank down on a bench outside the prison completely  depressed. Their brainstorming session had gone well. On the  other hand, from their discussion it was painfully obvious that  if Lois knew he was The Demon, as she still insisted on calling  him, she'd hate him. She'd never believe he'd been trying to help  out at the disaster. Not that anyone else would either. But for a  reason he wasn't quite ready to name, what Lois thought mattered  more than anyone else.

As he sat in the dark, he allowed the walls of the prison to fade  from view until he could see Lois. She sat on her cot, reading  the copy of the Daily Planet he had brought her. He leaned back,  just enjoying how engrossed she was in the paper. And for the  first time since he'd seen the news report about The Demon, he  felt at peace. Time passed. Clark had no idea how much. People  walked by. Clark ignored them. Instead, he drew strength from her  simple activity.

Focusing his hearing, he could pick up her quiet breathing, even  the slow beat of her heart. Suddenly, he was lost in the image of  her, curled up on his sofa, reading the paper after a hard day's  work. He allowed the image to move forward until he was part of  the picture. She looked up at him, his heart melting as he got  lost in her doe-like eyes.

"Hi."

He was jolted out of his daydream by the harsh sound of a man's  voice. For a moment, Clark thought the man must be addressing him  until... He saw Lois' head shoot up and drew back slightly to  realize that a man, standing in the doorway to her cell, was  addressing her.

"You're going to ruin your eyes, reading by that pitiful lamp,"  the man said.

Only then did Clark realize that sometime since he'd started  watching, the prison had gone dark. There were a couple of cells  where people still had lamps on. Otherwise, the place was locked  down for the night. Except for Lois' cell.

"Max... Hi." She rose to her feet. "I guess I didn't realize how  late it had gotten." Her voice was measured, cautious. "Anyway,  thanks for pointing that out. I guess I should be going to bed."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk? I made sure no one will be  down here for at least half an hour. We're all alone. When you  didn't take me up on my offer the other day, I realized that you  need my help more than I thought."

Lois let out a breath. "Look, Max, I know you are just trying to  help, but I really don't want to talk about this."

"Then what do you want to talk about? I noticed from your  visitor's list that the Daily Planet's newest reporter has been  hanging around a lot lately."

Clark's eyes shot back to Lois. There was a noticeable increase  in her heart rate.

"Lois, Lois, Lois." Max shook his head slowly. "You're  transferring again - allowing yourself to be swept away by a man  who you seem to regard as your means of escape. Not literally, of  course. But by involving you in his investigation, he's keeping  you from properly dealing with the reality of your situation.  He's keeping you connected to the outside world - making you  think there's life beyond these walls. It's not healthy. You are  on death row. There's no means of escape. Accept that."

Clark's eyes flicked back to Lois. She had narrowed her eyes and  her arms were folded defensively across her chest.

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

"Everything about you is my business. I'm the only one who can  help you - the only one who really cares about you." The man was  moving closer. "The sooner you realize that I'm your only real  friend here, the better off you'll be."

Lois cocked her head to the side. "I'd be careful if I were you.  If I ever report your conduct during my amnesia, you're going to  be..."

"And who is going to believe a convicted murderer?"

"Excuse me?"

Lois was trying to sound annoyed, but underneath, Clark could  sense her fear. Her eyes darted to the sides of the man as if  looking for a means of escape.

Max smirked. "Come on, Lois. It's not as if we haven't done this  before. And who knows, you might actually enjoy yourself. I don't  recall you complaining too much before." As he spoke, he moved  slowly closer.

Lois' careful retreat matched his movements until her withdrawal  was blocked by the back wall of the small cell. "Look, Max. We're  over. Whether I'm in prison or not isn't going to make a  difference."

"And you've got better prospects?" He placed his hand on the wall  next to her head. "Or do you think Clark Kent, all American boy,  is going to be interested in you after what you did? Come on,  Lois. Even you can't be that delusional."

"I'll scream," she warned.

Max chuckled. "And when they come... if they come, I'll just tell  them I was trying to prevent you from escaping." His final steps  to close the distance between them were fast.

Lois struck out, her fist connecting with his nose.

"Bitch," he growled. "That's the last time you're ever going to  hit me." Grabbing her arms, he pinned her against the wall as his  lips landed hard on hers.

Clark didn't remember the trip into the prison. All he knew was  that a moment later, he was standing in Lois' cell with Max lying  unconscious on the floor.

"What... Where...?" Lois stuttered as if trying to figure out  what was happening.

"Are you all right?"

"But how did you..." She made her way past him, looking out into  the darkened hallway as if hoping that it would give her some  insight into what had just transpired.

"Come on," Clark said, stepping out into the hall.

"What? And go where?" Lois asked, looking at Clark in disbelief.

"We've got to go now! He could wake up any minute. And if he  does, it's over."

Lois looked back at Max.

"If you're here when he comes to, he's going to claim you  attacked him. We have to get you out of here now!" Clark  whispered harshly.

"But..."

"Come on!" Clark stretched out his hand towards Lois.

Lois hesitated for only a moment more before taking the offered  hand and nodding.

* * * * * * * * *

"Wait!" whispered Lois. They were safely out of the prison and  heading as quickly as possible away from the compound when she  spotted something she needed.

"What?" asked Clark.

Without answering his question, Lois headed through the dark  towards the prison warden's house. Some clothes were hanging out  on a clothesline.

"Lois, what...?"

"His wife is about the same size as I am," she said, quickly  removing a pair of slacks and a hooded sweatshirt.

"You're... stealing them?"

She turned towards him, only able to see his face partially  through the darkness. "I'm borrowing them," she said firmly. "I  just broke out of prison. It's not as if I want to walk out on  the streets in clothes that announce to the entire world that I  just escaped from prison. Do you have a better idea?" She began  stripping off her prison clothes.

Clark quickly turned away.

"Well... Are we going to stand around here all day?" asked Lois  as she was pulling on the sweatshirt.

* * * * * * * * * *

He had just helped a convicted murderer escape from prison. That  thought didn't fully sink in until he was seated, with Lois, in  the back of a darkened cab headed in the general direction of his  apartment. 'Not the best mode of transport for a prison break.'  That had been Lois' only comment when, after they had escaped, he  began looking for a cab. As a result, when they climbed inside,  Clark directed the cabby to an address that was only in the  general vicinity of his apartment.

He glanced over at Lois. She was staring straight ahead,  obviously lost in thought. What was she thinking? Was she  thinking about that Max guy? There was obviously some sort of  history between the two of them. Was she thinking about what had  almost happened in that cell? Or perhaps she was wondering, as  was he, about what was supposed to happen now. Clark hoped she  had some idea. Because his mind was drawing a complete blank.

The idea of breaking Lois out of prison had never even crossed  his mind until he'd found himself, her hand lost in his, leading  her away from what he saw as a very real threat. Getting her away  from that man had been his only thought. But now what?

He let out a slow breath. In his peripheral vision, he realized  that his breathing had caused Lois to look in his direction, but  he didn't return her look. Still, he couldn't help wonder what  was going through her mind.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark opened the door of his apartment and flicked on the light  before stepping to the side to allow Lois to enter. She hadn't  said a word - not during the ride in the cab, not during the walk  afterwards to his apartment. But then, he hadn't said a word  either - mostly because he had no idea what to say. What did one  say to a convicted murderer after busting her out of jail -  especially when he didn't know exactly why he had done it?

"So..." she said slowly, "...this is your place."

"Yeah."

Clark stood just inside the closed door as Lois made her way down  the stairs, taking everything in. She turned around and looked at  him and he could see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

"So... the boy-scout's having second thoughts about breaking a  murderer out of jail."

"Are you?"

"Am I... what?"

"A murderer."

Without answering the question, she turned away from him,  wandering slowly through the living room until she stopped to  pick up a picture of Clark with his parents.

"Well," he finally said, "it's late. Why don't you just..."

"Why did you do it?" Lois interrupted, turning suddenly towards  him.

He didn't ask what she was referring to. It wasn't necessary. "I  don't know," he answered honestly. "I didn't really think it  through. But when I saw that guy manhandling you..." He shrugged.  When he saw her eyebrows rise, he quickly changed the subject.  "To tell the truth, I don't even know what happens now."

"Well, if you're expecting... something... in exchange for your  assistance, you can forget it."

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on," Lois responded. "You know exactly what I'm talking  about. Don't try to hide behind that..." She gestured, sweeping  her hand in an up and down motion towards him. "...all-American  boy-scout image. I was handling Max. And I can handle you, too."

"You think..."

"I don't think. I know that even if you put on that boy-scout  image, you don't do something this drastic without expecting  something..."

"Ms. Lane," he interrupted, his temper rising, "I assure you,  sleeping with you is the last thing on my mind."

"Yeah, right." She turned away from him.

He covered the distance between them, taking her by the shoulders  and turning her towards him. His lips landed on hers, pulling  away again before she could react and releasing her. He smacked  his lips together. "Nah. Not my type." He couldn't help but feel  a small sense of satisfaction at the stunned look on her face.

He walked away, going into his room. She was still standing,  looking at him in confusion when he returned carrying some  sheets, a blanket and pillow. He handed them to her. "The couch  makes up into a bed. Goodnight, Ms. Lane. It's past my bedtime.  Feel free to raid my kitchen if you're hungry."

Without waiting for her response, he turned, walking back into  his bedroom, only starting to breath again when he was finally  alone. The kiss... That first kiss... The temptation to continue  when he felt her lips pressed lightly against his had been  overwhelming. He'd never known he could feel such desire. He'd  been hard pressed to follow through on his initial plan... In  fact, he'd been having problems remembering there even was a  plan. It was just that that woman... Never had he met someone who  could make him so completely furious and still bring every  molecule in his body to life at the same exact time.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois stood for a long moment, just staring at the doorway to what  was obviously Clark's room. What had just happened? She wasn't  entirely certain. Her fingers came up and lightly touched her  still-tingling lips. When he'd stormed across the room and kissed  her, she'd been too stunned to react. And given what she'd just  accused him of and her earlier encounter with Max, his aggressive  behavior should have scared her. But she couldn't say she'd been  scared. Aroused, yes. Scared, no. In fact, after he had kissed  her and walked away, she'd been tempted to go after him - insist  that he finished what he'd started. How pathetic was she? Even  his comments about her not being his type had barely registered.

She made her way absently into the kitchen, opening a cupboard.  Ho-Hos. Ding-Dongs. Twinkees. Snickers. She glanced at the  bedroom in confusion. How was that possible? Putting the small  mystery aside of how someone could eat like an eight year old and  still look like Mr. Hard-body, she turned her attention back to  the issue at hand - her attraction to Clark Kent.

It had to be prison life that made her react to him the way she  was. Men weren't exactly in supply - well, except for Max. She  shivered slightly. If it hadn't been for Clark's interference...  In the real world, she'd have been completely confident in her  ability to deal with Maxwell Deter. But in prison... She'd feared  that even if she fought him off that time, she wouldn't be able  to the next. And given the fact that her every movement was  monitored while he had the free run of the place, she would never  know where the next attack might come from. So when Clark had  shown up...

Her thought trailed off. How had Clark even known she was in  danger? And how had he gotten into the prison? When she thought  about it, she wasn't even entirely sure how they had got out.  She'd simply followed as he'd led her, almost as if he had a  sixth sense about how to avoid people, through the prison. In  fact, thinking back now, she had to admit it was odd that so many  of the prison doors had been left unlocked.

Of course, she should never have left. On the other hand, what  were they going to do to her? They could only kill her once,  after all. Still, they could do something to the boy-scout. She  pulled in a breath. She was safe enough. They had no leverage on  her. But Clark... She never should have allowed him to put  himself in this position. She ran a hand through her hair.

Hopefully, they would think that he was too much of a boy-scout  to break someone out of prison. After all, he was the only one,  other than Perry, that ever came to visit her anymore.

But it wasn't as if she could do anything about it tonight. And  in the meantime, there was something she wanted, desperately  wanted to experience again before she died. Her heart rate rose  at the mere thought of knowing such ecstasy once again. She  walked to the door of Clark's room and looked inside. He was in  bed. She waited until he looked up before speaking.

"I was wondering..." She hesitated momentarily, unsure how he  would react. Would he think she was being too forward? "...do you  have a bath tub?"

* * * * * * * * *

Clark sat up on his bed and put on his glasses. For the past ten  minutes, he'd been trying to sleep. But the sounds coming from  his bathroom were making that impossible. The silky sound of her  clothes sliding off her body and falling to the floor. The  delicate sound of her foot slipping into the hot water. The soft  moans she'd made while relaxing into the water. Since then, her  gentle murmurs of enjoyment had been completely distracting. How  was he supposed to sleep with all that ruckus going on?

Getting up, he slipped on a pair of jeans and pulled a t-shirt  over his head. Maybe a glass of milk would help. He had just  filled his glass and was turning around when he spotted her,  standing in the doorway to his room, her body lost in his  bathrobe.

"I found this on the back of the door. I hope you don't mind."  She pushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear.

"No. No. That's..." His voice trailed off. God was she sexy.  "Umm... Look... would you like..." He gestured to the milk he was  holding.

She nodded, making her way to the table and taking a seat as he  turned to busy himself with getting her a glass of milk, glad for  the chance to compose himself before having to talk to her again.

"I've got a few questions," she said. "I mean, I don't want you  to think I'm ungrateful for your help tonight, but... Well, how  exactly did you know I needed your help? And how did you get into  the prison?  And for that matter, how did you get me out? I mean,  that seemed a little... easy to me."

"Did you want it to be difficult?"

"No," Lois said, taking the milk. "That's not what I meant. I  just..."

"'Cause I would have thought you would appreciate me getting you  away from that thug."

"I didn't say that... No, Clark, I just wanted to know..."

"I could have just let him attack you - if that is what you  really wanted. You should have just told me you wanted to be  attacked. I would have understood."

"I didn't mean..."

"I should have known. Given the way you've treated me since we  first met, why did I bother? You're too tough to need my help. Is  that it? Would you rather I'd have left you there?"

"Would you just answer my questions?" asked Lois, her temper  obviously rising.

"Why should I? It's not as if you appreciate what I did for you.  I saved you from that creep and all you can do is demand more."

"It's not... Well, now that you mention it, I'm perfectly capable  of taking care of myself. I didn't need you to come riding in on  your white horse to save the day. I've been taking care of myself  all my life. And I can do it now." She slammed the glass down on  the table, causing a small amount of milk to slosh over the edge.  "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep!"

"Fine!" Clark rose to his feet, pleased with himself for managing  to distract her from her questions. Breaking her out of prison  had all happened so quickly that he hadn't managed to come up  with a believable story - if such a thing existed - for being her  rescuer. Better to have her mad at him than have her pursuing  these unanswerable questions.

"Fine!" Lois responded, turning on her heal and storming towards  her unmade bed.

He watched as she slapped the sheets on the bed with a vengeance.  If he were vulnerable, he'd be glad he wasn't that bed. When she  was finished, she turned towards him. "Would you mind getting out  of my bedroom?" she asked. "I'm not wearing a whole lot under  this."

His gaze drifted to her hands which were on the knot holding the  robe together. Although his mind was telling him he had to leave,  he seemed unable to obey. He stood there in stunned silence, his  eyes riveted to that knot.

"Fine!" she said, beginning to pull at the knot, as if she no  longer cared if he were there or not - that she'd decided to go  to bed, regardless of what he did.

Even the sudden knocking on the door didn't immediately cut  through the fog he was in. It was not until Lois' hands stopped  and her eyes met his in desperation that the possible meaning of  the knocking penetrated his brain.

"Mr. Kent! Open the door. It's the police."

"Clark."

Her voice, a whispered plea, finally snapped him into action.

"Come on," he said, rushing past her to his closet.

"They're going to look in the closet."

He smiled, pulling on the tie rack to reveal a hidden closet  inside. She stared at him for a moment before dashing into the  enclosed space.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois leaned her forehead against the inside of the closet. How  had she allowed this to happen? Her clothes were in the washroom.  The couch in the living room was made up into the bed. There were  even traces of some perfumed bubble-bath she'd found in Clark's  washroom - probably something either his mother, a sister or  girlfriend had left in his apartment - in the tub. They would rip  this place apart looking for her. And although she was concerned  about going back to prison, she was terrified about what they  would do to Clark for helping her.

Hearing voices in the next room, she placed her ear against the  door.

"Why would you think I'm involved?" she heard Clark ask.

"Other than Perry White, you're the only one visiting her these  days."

She recognized Inspector Henderson's voice.

"We've been working together on the Theodore Cooke story," Clark  responded. "Why would I bust her out of prison? I've only known  her for about a week."

A week. Had it really only been a week? Part of her felt as if  she'd known him a lot longer.

"And so you're saying that you have no idea where she is?"  Henderson asked.

"You mean right now?" asked Clark.

Lois closed her eyes. The boy-scout was obviously a bad liar. The  long pause told Lois that Henderson recognized that Clark was  avoiding the question, too.

"As you can see, no one is here," Clark continued, sounding  nervous.

Lois gave her head a slight shake. The couch made into a bed. Her  clothes in the washroom. How could he even pretend she wasn't  there? She could hear men searching the apartment. They would  undoubtedly find the evidence of her any second. There was no  more speaking, leaving Lois to imagine the moment when the door  would undoubtedly be thrown open and she would be found - sending  her back to prison and leaving Clark under arrest.

Why had she let him break her out in the first place? He was such  a sweetheart. He'd never survive going to prison. Being in a  woman's prison was certainly no picnic. But a men's prison... No.  Clark couldn't go there. She couldn't stand to think about what  they would do to someone like him - how they would change him.  That wide-eyed innocence would be gone within a week. And, like  everything else, it would be her fault!

She closed her eyes. Maybe if she just gave herself up... But,  no, she couldn't do that. Not until she made some sort of deal  that would protect Clark.

"So... how did she break out of prison?" she heard Clark ask.

She pressed her ear closer to the door, anxious to hear the  answer to that herself.

"She assaulted the prison psychiatrist and then got through an  unusual number of broken locks unseen to simply walk out of the  prison. Security at the prison is baffled."

"Didn't they have security cameras?"

"The cameras happened to go down just before the whole incident."

"Well, the prison does seem to be a bit run down. Maybe they just  don't check the locks or security regularly."

"They check both every night."

Lois crinkled her eyebrows. Clark was hiding something. Had he  been trying to break her out of prison even before she'd been  attacked by Max? The actions he'd taken to get her out were far  too complex to be a spur-of-the-moment decision. It would take  time and planning to disable the security system. Henderson's  next words brought her back to the subject at hand.

"If you hear from her, I trust you'll let us know."

Lois wasn't entirely sure she heard right. How could they not  know that she had at least been there?

"Of course, Inspector."

She heard what sounded like a door closing and then... silence.  She stood, frozen to the spot when... She lurched forward when  the door opened and almost fell into Clark's arms. He reached  out, steadying her.

Looking around, she couldn't believe what she saw. The couch was  back to being a couch. She pushed past Clark, making her way to  the washroom. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen. Spinning  around, she looked at Clark for an explanation.

He didn't provide one. Instead, he walked over to a window,  opened it and pulled her neatly-folded clothes and shoes in from  the ledge outside, handing them to her.

"I think we should get you out of here," Clark said.

Lois nodded. She couldn't agree more.

* * * * * * * * *

"Wait!"

Lois was about to open the door when Clark's urgent word stopped  her.

"They're out there."

"How do you know?"

"I... Well, I just think they probably are. I don't think they  believed me when I told them I didn't know where you were."

Now that Lois could believe. If there was one thing the boy-scout  couldn't do, it was lie. That was what made this whole thing so  confusing. He'd been in that prison when she'd been attacked.  Only one explanation made sense - he'd been planning to break her  out of prison even before he'd seen her with Max. It was the one  oddity in the small town boy's character.

"So what do we do?"

Clark led her through his apartment to a window that led onto a  small balcony out back. He stopped her, lowering his glasses  slightly on his nose as he gazed out into the darkness.

"It's clear," he said.

She wasn't sure how he could possibly be sure, but for some  reason, she believed him. He opened the window and she skirted  through. He followed.

She wasn't entirely sure about this as an escape route when she  noticed the rackety old fire escape ladder. Still, there wasn't  much choice. She pulled at the ladder, adjusting her position to  get a better grip on it when it didn't budge.

"Here," Clark said, reaching around her and easily pulling it  down.

She climbed out and began scurrying down the ladder. Clark  followed. She reached the bottom and looked down. There was still  a good ten feet to the ground. If she got out of this, she was  going to insist that Clark write a story on fire escapes that  didn't really let people escape. She hesitated, not entirely sure  what to do now. She could jump, of course. But... the ground  looked unforgiving. Not that there was much choice.

"Here, let me..."

Lois gasped when Clark began climbing past her. "Clark, there's  not enough room for..." Her voice trailed off when she realized  he was doing it.

Then she heard a loud creak and looked up just as the bolts  holding the ladder in place snapped. She felt Clark's arms around  her. Time seemed to slow down and, as was often the case during  an accident, she felt as if she were falling in slow motion. She  struggled in his arms, realizing they both stood a better chance  of avoiding injury if they hit the ground and rolled, free of  each other. She was still grasping at the ladder. But it was torn  from her grip and suddenly... she felt Clark hit the ground  beneath her.

"Clark!" she exclaimed, rolling off him. He had broken her fall,  but what of him?

"I'm fine," said Clark, scrambling to his feet and holding his  hand out to her.

She stared at him in disbelief. How was it that he wasn't hurt?  She spotted the ladder lying close by. It was a small miracle  they hadn't come down under that heavy piece of metal. If it  hadn't somehow been torn from her grasp, they would have.

"How..."

"Come on!" Clark interrupted with an insistent whisper. "If they  heard our commotion, they might come to check it out. We don't  have much time."

Grabbing his hand, she allowed him to help her to her feet and  then joined him as he dashed further into the alley towards the  street behind his.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 09

Lois took the key Clark gave her and made her way towards the  room. Cautiously, not entirely sure what type of room she'd find  on the other side, she inserted the key in the lock and opened  the door. She let out a breath of relief when she saw what  appeared to be a decent room. She was even more relieved to  discover that it smelled clean.

"I've got the room right next door," said Clark.

She turned back towards him, slightly confused. He could just go  back to his apartment. She could fend for herself from here -  especially if he wasn't planning to stay with her. Still, she  nodded, almost disappointed when he headed towards his room.

Stepping further into the room, she pulled the door closed and  looked around. It was a modest room. She spotted an open door and  made her way to the washroom. Turning on the light, she looked at  herself in the mirror, reaching up automatically to fix her  ruffled hair. Leaning closer, she studied her face. Her black eye  had almost faded now. In fact, she looked quite... decent.

Satisfied, she turned back into her room. Now what did she do?  She spotted another door. Curiously, she made her way towards it.  Opening it, she saw a door on the other side. She smiled. Without  thinking it though, she knocked.

A moment later, the door opened.

"Hi," said Lois somewhat sheepishly.

"I didn't know these were adjoining rooms."

"So... Are you planning to go to sleep? I wouldn't mind some  company for a while. I'm not sure I could sleep after... well,  everything. I've got some..." She glanced back into her room,  suddenly realizing that she really didn't have anything to offer  him. "...water."

"Oh, really," Clark replied in amusement. "Well, how can I turn  down an offer like that? I'm fairly certain I didn't get any of  that in my room."

Lois chuckled. "Well then, come on in."

Clark settled into the only chair in the room, a wooden,  straight-back chair that had been pushed up against an undersized  table. He grinned when she emerged from the washroom carrying a  glass of water.

"It's a full-bodied, tap-fresh 1996 water," Lois said handing him  the glass.

He sniffed the liquid before taking a small sip and swilling it  in his mouth before swallowing. "Very refreshing. Just a trace of  iron. Aged just right."

Lois chuckled as she settled back on the bed, propping herself up  against the headboard.

"So are you ever going to answer my question?" asked Clark,  regarding her seriously.

"What question?"

"Are you a murderer?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "No."

"No - you're not a murderer. Or no - you're not going to answer  my question."

"I'm not going to answer your question."

"I think, maybe, you just did."

She narrowed her eyes, studying him seriously for a long moment.  Then she looked away.

He let out a breath. "Come on, Lois. I think you owe me something  here."

She looked back at him, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Okay, so maybe I didn't put that right," Clark conceded. "It's  just... Whatever the answer is, can't you tell me?"

Her expression softened. "No, Clark. I can't. You're going to  have to work out the answer for yourself - if you really want to  know."

"I don't understand. Is it because you don't want to lie to me -  and don't think I'll like the truth?"

She chewed on her lower lip for a long moment, lost in thought.  When she spoke, her voice was slow, each word considered. "If I  say, no I'm not a murderer, you won't believe me. On the other  hand, if I say yes, you'll regret your decision to break me out  of prison tonight. So what do you want me to say? You're going to  have to decide for yourself whether you think I'm a murderer."

Clark rose from his chair, coming over to take a seat, facing  her, on the side of the bed. "Just tell me the truth - whatever  it is."

Lois hand, almost of its own accord, came up to his face, almost  touching his cheek before she realized what she was doing. She'd  acted instinctively, responding on some primal level to the  sincerity in his voice and eyes. She let her hand, unfulfilled,  fall back to her lap.

"The truth," she said softly, breaking eye contact. Giving a  small shake of her head, she continued. "Honestly... I don't know  anymore." There was a long moment of silence until she finally  looked up. He was waiting patiently for her to continue. "I  remember holding the gun. I remember pointing it at Elroy Sykes.  And then... I remember it going off. I swear... I don't remember  pulling the trigger. But..."

"But...?"

She let out a slow breath. "Perry doesn't remember testifying  against me."

"I don't understand."

She shrugged. "Perry swears he didn't testify against me. But I  saw him, Clark. It was one of the most painful moments of my  life. He's been more of a father to me than my own ever was. He's  my mentor, for crying out loud. I would never tell him this...  for fear of hurting him. But I really think he just blocked it  out because it was too painful for him to remember. At least,  that's the only explanation I can think of for him not  remembering. And it's not as if he said anything that was  patently untrue. He just sort of crumbled under cross-examination  - admitting that I have a temper - which I do. What if I'm just  blocking out pulling the trigger?" She met his eyes then,  desperate for a reaction - and yet at the same time, terrified of  what she might find. She was surprised when he smiled. "What?"

"When I asked for the truth, I didn't know what I'd get. But in  all my musings... it wasn't that."

"You're making fun of me."

"No. God, no. Lois, given what you've told me, I seriously doubt  that you pulled the trigger. But even if you did, what you just  told me is that you're no murderer."

"I don't understand."

"Lois, did you set out to kill Sykes?"

"No."

"Do you remember feeling... at any point, angry enough to want to  kill him."

"Well, he was making me a little crazy... going on and on about  some stupid story that..." When she saw his eyebrows go up, she  skipped the story. "No. I guess not."

"There are two elements to a charge of murder. One is the actual  pulling of the trigger. Even if you did that, it sounds to me  like an accident. You didn't have the mental element necessary  for murder."

"So you don't think..."

"...that you're a murderer? No. No, I don't."

She wasn't entirely sure where the tears came from. And other  than a couple that escaped, she managed to fight them back. In  fact, she could hardly believe the freedom she suddenly felt, as  if her fear that she might have actually murdered Sykes had been  like a weight around her neck and that Clark's words had finally  cut that rope, allowing her for the first time since Sykes' death  to be truly free.

"I'm just not sure it's going to help you now," Clark said.  "After all, once you've been found guilty, the issue is no longer  whether or not you did it - just whether procedure was properly  followed in obtaining your conviction. Well, unless new evidence  appears that was not available at the time of trial. Of course  that..." His words were cut off when Lois' fingers came up to his  lips, lightly touching them. He crinkled his eyebrows in  confusion.

"It doesn't matter."

"How can you say it..."

"It doesn't matter, Clark. What you just did for me..." She gave  her head a brief shake. "Thank you."

He suddenly seemed to understand. "You're welcome, Lois," he said  softly.

They stared at each other for a long moment and the sizzle in the  air which seemed to be present whenever they were together turned  to something more akin to simmering. Lois was suddenly overcome  with a desperate desire to feel her lips, once again, pressed  against his. She was almost certain he felt it, too. And then,  when neither moved to fulfill the fantasy, the moment passed.

"Well..." said Clark, shifting uncomfortably. "...I guess I  should..." He gestured towards the door to his room.

Lois nodded and then, when he rose, moved to her feet herself.  She paused, pulling in a sharp breath when a pain pierced her  side.

"What?" Clark asked, turning towards her in concern.

Her hand had automatically gone to her side and when she withdrew  it, it bore fresh blood.

"Lois, you're bleeding." Clark was back in less than a heartbeat,  moving her back to sit on the bed.

When she was again seated, he began pulling up the edge of her  sweatshirt.

"Hey!" Lois exclaimed, getting the material out of his grasp to  pull the sweatshirt back down.

"I'm sor..."

Lois was left with the distinct impression that he was about to  apologize when he suddenly stopped. Still, the increased color in  his cheeks told her that he was embarrassed by his impulsive  action. Then he seemed to regain his composure and his  embarrassment was replaced by a look of determination.

"Let me look at it," he said softly, but with a distinct air of  authority she'd not seen in him until now. "I have some first aid  experience," he continued. "Unless, of course, you want me to  take you to a hospital. But someone is going to look at it."

He gave her a moment to let that digest.

"Come on." He gestured for her to remove her sweatshirt. "Let me  take a look."

She looked at him for a long moment, assessing his motives. But  then, she grabbed onto the bottom edge of the sweatshirt and  pulled it over her head. She saw him swallow hard. She was still  completely decent. In fact, her prison bra covered her more  completely than the skimpy bikini she had kept buried in the  bottom drawer of the dresser in her bedroom. Still, there was  something about sitting in front of him in her bra that caused  her cheeks to burn with color - even if she was suddenly wishing,  or perhaps because she was suddenly wishing that her current  underwear was a little more... sexy.

His initial reaction to the removal of her shirt was masked so  quickly that she couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined it. He  immediately turned his attention to the bloody bandage on her  side, just below her rib cage. It was obvious by the placement of  the wound that Remi had been aiming for her heart. He looked up,  meeting her eyes, silently asking for an explanation.

"I got stabbed with a shiv earlier this week," Lois explained.

"Lois!"

"It was no big deal. Someone with a personal grudge. Anyway, I  must have pulled a couple of stitches when we fell off the  ladder."

He seemed to ponder that information for a moment before turning  his attention back to her wound. She kept her eyes on his face  while he gently removed one corner of the bandage before, with a  swiftness that caused her heart to leap into her throat, tore off  the remainder of the bandage.

She glanced down, realizing that her assessment had been correct.  She had pulled at least two stitches from the wound. Feeling a  little lightheaded when she saw the blood, she was forced to look  away. How was Clark going to fix this?

He got up and made his way to the washroom, returning a moment  later with a washcloth. "Hold this over the cut," he said before  walking to the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was surprised by how quickly Clark returned carrying a brown  paper bag. Given that she'd not seen a drug store near the motel,  he must have found a cab almost upon stepping out the door. After  removing a number of items from the bag, he silently went about  making up some concoction using the room's kettle.

"What are you making?" she asked curiously.

"Just a homemade remedy. It will stop bleeding and even help the  wound heal faster."

"That sounds... good," she replied hesitantly.

"So tell me about this Max guy," Clark said.

Lois got that funny feeling again that Clark was purposely  changing the subject. Was there something about this witches-brew  that he didn't want her to know? Still...

"There's not much to tell."

"That's not the impression I got." He glanced at her over his  shoulder.

She shrugged slightly. Well, it wasn't as if her relationship  with Max was some great secret. And after what she'd already  confessed to him earlier, it wasn't as if he didn't already know  what woke her up in a cold sweat almost every night. What was Max  compared to that?

"I got involved with Max about a year ago," she said. "Shortly  before the whole... Sykes thing. Anyway, I'd lost my memory and  he was my doctor - psychiatrist."

"That man was your psychiatrist? And you got... involved? That's  sick."

"Yeah, well, ethics was not one of Max's strong suits. Besides,  sick would have been sleeping with me - which he did under the  guise of 'therapy.' But what he did next has to qualify as...  obsession."

"What did he do?"

"While I was still... foggy about the details of my life, he  convinced me to quit my job at the Daily Planet - something I  would never have done if I'd been in my right mind - and agree to  go to some hideaway he had in France."

"So he wanted to... take you away from all this?"

"Make me his prisoner, more likely." When his eyebrows rose, she  shrugged. "Men seem to have a bit of a problem with my dedication  to my job - as if it's their great competition for my affection.  A couple of them have tried to get me to give it up for them."  She got a slightly sheepish grin when she continued. "Although,  to tell the truth, my job has been always been more... satisfying  than most of the men in my life." She was surprised when Clark  colored and turned back to his task. "Anyway, I got my memory  back just before I ran away with him - of course, not before we  became..." She didn't complete her sentence other than to make an  erratic gesture with her hands.

"Lovers?" Clark asked, reminding her that he'd not seen her  gesture given that his back was turned.

"Anyway," Lois continued, "when I realized what he was trying to  do, I knocked him out."

Clark turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

"A right hook to the chin," Lois clarified with more than a  little pride.

Clark smiled before turning back to his task.

"When I ran into him in prison a week or so ago, I was...  stunned. He was a big name psychiatrist - Perry made sure I had  the very best. He was even recommended by Dr. Klein who had known  Max since he was in medical school. I hadn't realized that he was  working at the prisons. I guess he heard I was there and decided  he stood a chance now - given the obvious lack of... choice in my  life now."

"If he thought that was enough to win you over, something tells  me he never did know the real Lois Lane," Clark said, bringing a  cup bearing his warm brown paste over and taking a seat next to  her on the side the bed.

She smiled, even as she allowed him to remove the washcloth she  was still holding over her wound. She was skeptical about his  proposed treatment. However, it smelled awful enough to have some  medicinal value. So she did nothing to stop him as he began  gently probing her wound. In spite of the gentleness of his  hands, she flinched as he touched her. Turning her attention to a  print hanging on the far side the room, she forced her mind away  from the pain.

She pulled in a sharp breath when she felt the burning that  resulted when he applied the mixture. Still, when she looked back  down a moment later, she was amazed. The wound was as closed as  it had been before she'd pulled out the stitches - maybe even  more so.

"That's amazing," she said, her hand coming down to touch the  wound. "Almost better than getting stitches. Have you ever  considered patenting your witches' brew?"

He swatted her hand away. "You'll get germs in it," he said,  taking some of the bandages he'd purchased at the drug store and  dressing the wound.

"Is there anything you can't do?" she asked curiously.

"I'm not much good with laundry," he replied. "Whites with  whites." He shook his head. "Always confuses me."

She giggled.

"Anyway," he said, rising from the side of the bed, "we probably  should get some sleep. I'm tired and I've got a feeling tomorrow  is going to be a long day."

She nodded, wordlessly watching as he made his way to the door  separating their rooms. When he glanced back at her before going  through, she spoke. "Clark... thanks." She wasn't entirely sure  what she was thanking him for - breaking her out of prison,  giving her troubled mind peace or treating her wound. What did it  matter? For all of them, she was extremely grateful.

He smiled. "You're welcome, Lois," he replied softly before  stepping through the door and closing it gently behind him.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois lay in bed, staring at the ceiling - just like she'd been  doing for the past hour. Clark had given her the greatest of  gifts tonight - peace of mind. Oh sure, she still felt bad if she  did pull the trigger by accident. But an accident was a far cry  from murder. And even if Elroy Sykes was one of the lowest forms  of life imaginable, he was still a human being. The mere  possibility that she had murdered a fellow traveler of the planet  had been eating at her, slowly sucking the life out of her. Now  that she'd finally confessed her fears and heard his assurances,  she felt... alive for the first time in months.

She glanced at the bedroom door as a very different memory  crossed through her mind - hiding in the closet at Clark's  apartment during a police search. Her fear for Clark. He'd taken  the ultimate risk for her tonight. But...

She couldn't let him do that. Agreeing to escape from prison had  been an impulse decision. But she had to go back. Oh sure, there  was some small part of her that wished they could just get lost  somewhere together, ride off into the sunset or something  similar. But if there was anything that Lois Lane was, it was a  realist. The airports, rental agencies and bus stations would all  be under surveillance. By now road blocks would be erected on  every road leading out of the city. Even now the police were  likely searching motels. Eventually, she would be caught. And if  Clark was with her when she was... No. She couldn't let that  happen.

Her mind drifted to the flying demon. Now if only she had some  way of contacting him, maybe... She dismissed the thought  immediately. Out of the frying pan, into the fire was the thought  that instantly sprang to mind. No. She would return to prison.  That was a given. The only thing she could control was whether  Clark would be made to pay for helping her.

She got out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her and made her  way to the door separating her room from Clark's. As she placed  her hand against the hard surface, her thoughts were consumed  with the man on the other side of that door. He'd given her so  much. In return, she had to find a way to turn herself in that  would ensure his protection. She thought she had an idea about  where to start.

She began turning away when she hesitated, turning back around as  if drawn by some unseen force. Her hand landed on the doorknob.  Slowly, she turned, opening the door separating their rooms. She  half expected to see his door closed on the other side. On the  other hand, she wasn't exactly surprised when she didn't. She  stepped into the doorway.

The light from the neon sign of the motel was coming through the  window, flicking on and off in a red glow. She watched the light  repeatedly hit his face in a hypnotizing fashion.

Crossing the floor to his bedside happened before she could even  think through the ramifications. And so she found herself  standing beside him, running her eyes down his face, the small  stubble covering his cheeks and chin, his bare chest to where it  was covered by the blanket. Every inch of him was a marvel to  her. Even asleep he was easily the most gorgeous man she'd ever  seen. And that was why she would have to tell him, once she was  back in prison, that she didn't want him coming to see her  anymore.

She was under no illusions. As he had said, now that she'd been  found guilty, her innocence, as far as the courts would be  concerned, was no longer in doubt. That meant finding a ground  for an appeal would be difficult. But now, with her burden  lifted, she felt ready to take on that challenge. Still, she  couldn't take the risk of breaking this man's heart. If she were  not cleared, the state would still eventually stick that needle  in her arm. She would not let him hang around to watch that  happen. Besides, the court process could take years. She wouldn't  let him give up his life waiting for something that might never  happen.

And even if she were cleared, what chance did a cynical city-girl  and a gentle country-boy have at making a relationship work?  None. They, quite simply, would quickly discover they had nothing  in common. Of that, she was certain.

She sat down next to him on the bed. Unable to resist, her hand  came up and she began lightly tracing the hard muscles of his  chest. A low growl rose deep in the back of his throat and for a  moment her hand stilled. When he didn't wake up, she continued  her exploration, refusing to think through the implications of  what she was doing.

"Lois, what...?"

"Shhh." Her hand came up so that she could place her finger over  his lips.

He acceded to her request and after a moment, she almost forgot  that he was awake as her finger began to trace the muscles of his  neck down to where it fastened head to shoulders. She could feel  his blood pounding beneath her fingertips. Each touch was a  mystery, something to be savored and burned eternally into her  memory. She was acutely aware that she might never again feel a  man's skin beneath her hand.

Flattening her hand, she ran it slowly down his chest. She could  hear him suck a gasp of air into his lungs and hold it as she  dragged the palm of her hand across his nipple. She allowed her  hand to conform to the shape of his body as she continued her  exploration, feeling every muscle shift and respond in accordance  with her touch. Her hand slipped lower, beneath the edge of the  blanket to run over the muscles of his stomach, feeling them  tighten and roll as she moved her hand slowly across it, soaking  in every nuance of his body's responses to her actions.

His hand came up to cover hers, stopping her increasingly  dangerous exploration. She met his eyes in the half darkness of  the room.

"I'm not sure this is a good..."

His words trailed off when she leaned in, touching her lips  gently to his. Savoring the texture of his lips under hers and  the taste of his mouth. She pulled back, her gaze lost in his for  a long moment before her eyes drifted closed and she moved back  in, deepening the kiss, exulting in his participation. His free  hand ran through her hair as he returned her kiss, sending heat  tingling through her body down to the very ends of her toes.  Never had she known anything like it.

Without breaking the kiss, she turned her hand, the one he was  holding against his stomach, over beneath his so that their hands  were grasped. Sitting up, she raised their joined hands so that  they were resting on the place where the sheet wrapped around her  was held together. Her eyes didn't leave his as she slipped her  hand out from under his, leaving his there to make the ultimate  determination. She felt a marked increase in her own heart rate  as she waited. The choice was his. She wanted this - this one  moment in time. She wanted, even if it were only once more, to  feel the strength of a man's body pressed tightly against hers, a  man's hands touching her, a man moving inside her. She had  nothing to offer him but tonight. But if he wanted it, it was  his.

His eyes rested on his hand for a long moment and she held her  breath as she waited for him to work through the ramifications.  An involuntary whimper escaped from the back of her throat when  he pulled, causing the sheet to fall silently to the bed.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois lay, half dozing and completely content, her head resting  against Clark's chest, listening to his breathing settle into the  regular pattern of sleep. The images of the past couple hours ran  through her mind and she burned them into her memory, determined  never to forget one second, one sensation. Tears fought for  escape - although not entirely sad tears. Tears of release  perhaps. Regret, too, that she might never again experience such  ecstasy. But mostly relief that she could still feel things other  than terror and guilt. She wondered if Clark would ever  understand exactly how much he had given her tonight.

She raised her head, allowing herself the luxury of looking at  him, watching as he contentedly drifted off to sleep. Suddenly,  as if realizing he was being watched, he opened his sleepy eyes  halfway, a smile settling on his lips when his eyes met hers. She  smiled, too. She couldn't help it.

"I love you, Lois," he said softly before his eyes closed one  final time and drifted into peaceful sleep.

But unlike him, she was suddenly very much awake. Not for one  second did she believe that he was really in love with her. It  was... stress. It was... the situation. At the same time, he  believed he was in love with her - and in this situation that was  all that really mattered. In all of her actions, she'd never once  expected this. She'd not for one moment thought... or maybe  allowed herself to think that he saw this as anything more than a  moment... albeit an incredible moment in time. Oh god. What had  she done? 'I just hope you know what you're doing, honey. You  could seriously break that boy's heart.' Perry's warning rang  hollow now.

Moving as carefully as possible, she slipped out of Clark's bed,  picked up the sheet from the floor and made her way as silently  as possible to her own room. Once she was dressed, she went to  her bathroom to wash away the tears now flowing freely down her  face. It was a few minutes later before she was again in control.  After taking a moment to write a note, she headed back to his  room. She stood for a long moment watching him sleep before  placing the note on the night table beside him and, with one  final look back into the room, slipping out the door just as the  first evidence of morning began lighting up the eastern sky.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois made use of the shadows in the alley as she carefully  checked out the area. She suspected that men might well be  staking out Perry's home. And she had no doubt that they would  have someone at the Daily Planet. But what she hoped they didn't  know, at least yet, was that Perry stopped every morning to pick  up a donut at the Crispy Cream on the corner of fourth and  Memorial. Still, she wasn't about to take any chances. So she  searched the area carefully, standing in the shadows, making  certain no one was watching the place. Then, once she was  satisfied from one angle, she backed off, only to come at the  donut shop from another angle.

Having checked out the shop from four different angles and still  not having seen anything out of place, she pulled up the hood on  her sweatshirt and made her way quickly across the street. Once  inside, she made her way to the back corner where she could see  everything taking place in the restaurant and have access to the  backdoor.

She had been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes when Perry  walked in the door. She stood, the movement catching Perry's  attention. When she was sure he had seen her, she turned, heading  out the back door.

She had just stepped outside when Perry caught up to her.

"Lois, what..."

She shook her head, looked around and led him through an alley to  a restaurant on the next street over. She waited until they were  both seated at a booth before speaking.

"I'm hoping you're treating," she said. "I don't exactly have any  money."

Perry instantly pulled his money clip from his pocket. Keeping  only twenty dollars to pay for breakfast, he handed the rest to  her.

"Does that help?"

"You don't have to..."

"Of course, I do, honey. When the police visited me last night, I  figured there must be some mistake. I didn't figure you for the  fugitive type - especially given your attitude the past few  weeks."

"I didn't figure me for that type either. It just sort of...  happened."

Their conversation ended when a young woman came over to take  their orders. They told her what they wanted and waited until she  was gone before resuming their discussion.

"You just happened to escape from prison?" asked Perry.

She ran a hand through her hair. "I know how that sounds, Perry.  But... well, I guess you had to be there."

"So... what's the plan?"

"I need your help. I want to turn myself in."

"You don't need my help for that. Just walk up to the first cop  you see and tell them who you are. There's a state wide search  being conducted for you."

"Well... I've got a condition."

"A condition."

"I will turn myself in, but only if they agree that they won't  ask any questions about how I escaped or prosecute anyone who  might have helped me."

Perry narrowed his eyes and she could tell he was trying to  figure out who her conspirator might have been. "Was Maxwell  Deter involved?" he asked.

"What makes you ask that?"

"When I heard the name of the prison psychiatrist who you  allegedly assaulted during your escape, I figured there was  something fishy going on."

"Did you share that with the police?"

"I can't believe you even have to ask. I might not quite  understand why you'd break out of prison when you haven't even  been actively working on your own case since your conviction, but  I would never betray you like that. You should know better!"

"I do, Perry. It's just..." A mischievous look appeared on her  face. "Maybe if you are talking to the cops again, you could  mention my past relationship with Max."

Their conversation ended again when the waitress returned with  their orders. Perry watched her leave before turning back to  Lois.

"So I take it Deter's not the one who helped you?"

"Perry, don't do this."

"What?" Perry asked innocently.

"Try to figure out who might have helped me. I'm not telling even  you."

He let out a breath. "Okay, if you're serious about this, I'll  contact your lawyer. She should be able to make the arrangements.  In the meantime..." He pulled his key ring out of his pocket,  removing two keys. He handed her the first key. "Ralph got drunk  on assignment again yesterday. He claimed, of course, that he was  following a lead on The Demon and had to blend in. Anyway, one of  the Planet's cars is parked down in front of Lenny Stoke's old  club. And this..." He gave her the second key. "...is the key to  my cabin. You should be safe enough out there. It's in the boys'  names - so I doubt the mod squad will find it."

"Won't there be road blocks heading out there?"

"I doubt it. They aren't likely to waste their precious resources  watching a road that leads up into the hills - but nowhere else.  They'll be watching roads leading out of the city."

"Are you sure you want to get this involved, Perry?" She held up  the keys to demonstrate her meaning. "I could just contact you  again when you've had time to contact my lawyer. I really didn't  expect you to..."

"Would you stop? Of course I want to help."

Lois let out a breath of relief. "Thanks, Perry."

She rose.

"Sit down and eat your breakfast," Perry said, spearing a piece  of sausage with his fork. "I don't like eating alone."

Lois hesitated before sinking back into the booth. She really  should just go. But after leaving Clark the way she had this  morning, she felt so depressed. And being with Perry... being  with someone who honestly cared about her... she couldn't quite  bring herself to leave.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Huh?" asked Lois, looking up from her food.

"Well, you've been pushing that food around your plate since they  first brought it. Have you even had a single bite?"

"Oh." She instantly took a bite of eggs.

"Honey, what is it? I mean, I've seen you depressed before, but  today... You look like someone stole your teddy bear."

She gave him a sad smile. She figured he was right. That was  exactly what she'd lost. Even if at some point she was able to  prove her innocence, and even if at that time, Clark was by some  miracle still available, he'd never forgive her for what she'd  done to him. She wasn't entirely sure why that thought was so  depressing.

Actually, she knew why that thought was depressing. It wasn't  that she was falling for the boy-scout. It wasn't! It was just  that she hated that she'd hurt him. She'd never meant to, but  that hardly mattered now.

"I'm fine, Perry," she said, pushing some more food from one side  of her plate to the other.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark woke feeling utterly content as the warm rays of sunlight  fell across his bed. Moaning happily, he reached out to find  Lois, his eyes coming open when her spot next to him on the bed  was empty. It wasn't even warm.

"Lois?" he asked sitting up.

When there was no response, he pulled the sheet from the bed,  wrapped it around himself and made his way to her room. Maybe she  hadn't been able to sleep and had gone back to her own bed.

It only took him a moment to realize she wasn't there. Panic set  in almost immediately. Had she been captured during the night?  What if she had been and he'd slept through it? No. No, that  didn't make any sense. If the police had shown up, they'd have  arrested him, too.

So where was she? He knew of course, what had happened. Sometime  during the night, she'd crawled out of his bed and left. His  heart sank. He'd really believed that they'd shared something  incredible. Obviously, she didn't feel the same.

Making his way back to his bed, he sat down, only then noticing  the piece of paper lying on the night stand. His heart pounded as  he reached for it, hoping against hope that she'd just gone out  to get them some breakfast or something equally as harmless -  well, not harmless exactly since it could result in her capture.  But something that didn't indicate that, to her, their night  together meant nothing.

His breath coming quickly, he gathered his courage before opening  the single sheet of paper. Her note consisted of four sentences,  each set out in a separate paragraph.

'Thank you.'  'I'm sorry.'  'I'm turning myself in.'  'Please don't visit me in prison anymore.'

His heart sank. The only part that gave him any sort of hope was  the way she signed it. 'Yours...' followed simply by the letter  'L'.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 10

Perry was puzzling over one of Ralph's sentences when he realized  someone was standing in the doorway to his office. He looked up,  surprised to see Kent standing there.

"Where've you been?" asked Perry. "The job starts at eight -  not..." He glanced at the clock. "...ten to eleven."

"I'm sorry, sir. I slept in."

Perry nodded. "Don't worry about it, son. It happens. Just make  sure it doesn't happen too often."

"Thanks, sir. It won't."

Perry looked back at the document in front of him. What the hell  was Ralph trying to say? Or did he even have a point? He looked  up again when he realized that Kent was still standing in his  doorway.

"Was there something you wanted?" Perry asked.

"Yes, sir," Kent said, stepping into the office and closing the  door behind him.

Curious now, Perry gestured the younger man to a seat and studied  him carefully. Kent was... well, rumpled was the only way Perry  could think of to describe it. Not only was he wearing an old  pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but he didn't even look as if he'd  combed his hair. And his eyes... Perry's own eyes narrowed. He'd  seen those same haunted eyes once already today.

He leaned back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head.  "So are you going to sit there all day studying your hands or are  you going to tell me what brought you into my office today?"

"Sorry, sir. I just..." His voice trailed off.

"Don't be sorry. Just tell me what you want."

"I... Sir, you have to tell me where Lois Lane is."

"How would I know?" Perry asked in response, tilting his head to  the side. This was getting curiouser and curiouser.

"I was at the police station this morning. So I know that she  hasn't turned herself in yet. I waited outside, but she didn't  show up. I even went by her apartment. She hasn't been there."

It crossed through Perry's mind to remember that he still hadn't  put Lois' things into storage. He'd been meaning to. She had  asked him to, after all. He'd just... been putting it off. It  seemed so permanent. He turned his mind back to Kent's comments.  "Were you expecting her to turn herself in?"

"Please, Mr. White, I know you don't have any reason to trust me.  But I don't have time to play games. I need to find her before  she turns herself in. You have to tell me where she is."

"And what makes you think I would know?"

"You're my last hope. I know she thinks of you as a father. If  anyone knows where she is, it's you. Please, Mr. White."

Perry let out a long slow breath. "Well, if you're going to  accuse me of harboring a fugitive, you might as well call me  Perry."

"I'm sorry, sir... Perry," Clark corrected. "I'm not trying to  accuse you of anything. I've just run out of options here."

"And if you were to find her, what would you tell her?"

"That she can't do it."

"Excuse me?" Perry asked.

"She's not safe in prison. We'll find a way to prove she's  innocent. But until then, she can't go back."

Perry clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he  considered this information. "Are you sure she's innocent?" he  finally asked.

"Yes. Aren't you?"

"Yes. But you've only known her for a week. I've known her for  years. So how did you reach this conclusion?"

"Something she told me before bed last night. Please, Mr...  Perry. I need your help. Do you know where she is or not?"

Perry's eyebrows had shot into his hairline at Kent's first  statement. Clark seemed slightly confused by Perry's reaction and  Perry could almost see him reviewing his comments. He knew the  moment his slip sunk in when Kent's face suddenly went white.

"I mean... when I went to see her yesterday evening. That's when  she told me... well, what she told me that convinced me that  she's innocent."

He didn't sound very convincing. And suddenly, everything fell  into place in Perry's mind. Lois' haunted expression earlier.  Kent's haunted expression now. And particularly... Lois'  determination to make a deal that would prevent the prosecution  from laying charges against anyone involved in her escape.

"Please, Perry. Can you help me? She's been attacked in prison on  at least two occasions that I know of - and who knows how many  times that I don't. I don't think she'll survive if she goes  back.

"Come on, Perry," Clark continued when he still didn't respond.  "You know that Lois is responsible for a lot of the people being  behind those walls. It's too dangerous for her to go back. I  promise, we'll find a way to clear her name. But that's not going  to do any good if she's already dead. Please. Help me help her."

The young man was practically begging now. Perry eyed him  carefully, trying to decide what to do. Lois was quite obviously  hiding from Kent as surely as she was hiding from the police. She  wouldn't appreciate it if he told Kent where she was. On the  other hand, the man currently sitting in his office made some  good points. Not to mention that Kent was obviously in love with  his surrogate daughter. And maybe this was one relationship from  which Lois shouldn't be allowed to run.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois picked up the copy of the Daily Planet she'd purchased when  she'd stopped for gas and walked out the door to the cabin.  Stopping just outside, she took a deep breath. She'd be back  behind bars soon enough. In spite of what had happened last night  - or was that this morning - she intended to enjoy every second  of freedom for as long as she had it. And given how beautiful the  early fall day was, it was a perfect day for 'being on the lam.'

Once she arrived at the dock, she took off her shoes and sat  down, dangling her feet in the slightly nippy water. Perfect. It  was absolutely perfect. She couldn't think of a single way to  make it any better... unless, perhaps, Clark... She instantly  pushed that thought away. Last night had been... nothing more  than a lapse in judgment. She couldn't allow herself to think  about him.

Directing her mind back to the paper in her hands, she opened it  up and looked at the picture on the front page. The Demon - or at  least the best picture it seemed anyone had of him. He was  partially in profile - the top part of his face obstructed by a  black wool cap. She squinted, as she was sure hundreds had done  before, trying to make out what he was carrying. But he was  turned away from the cameras.

Realizing it was a fool's errand, she quickly gave up - seeing  what else she might be able to learn from the photo. There was no  reason for her to do this, of course. After all, all of her  energy should be going into finding a way to prove her own  innocence. But the reporter inside her couldn't quite let it go.  She wondered if Clark was following up on all the scientists  they'd discussed the previous day. Had it really only been  yesterday that they'd been sitting, throwing insults at each  other, in the prison visiting room?

Suddenly, and much to her surprise, she was struck with a thought  that caused her to giggle. 'Ahh. The good ol' days.'

Clearing her mind, she looked at the articles that accompanied  the picture. There was nothing new, really. Just a few more  interviews with passengers who had escaped the ferry. Except for  one thing... an interview with a Colonel Jason Trask of Bureau  39, promising that they would catch The Demon. Trask didn't seem  to care exactly what he was. He promised the public that they had  been preparing for this eventuality for years. Lois rolled her  eyes. As if the army could think creatively enough to find  someone who didn't want to be found. And even if they did... What  would they do? The man... or whatever... would simply fly away  before action could be taken.

Now if she were looking, where would she start? She clicked her  tongue against the roof of her mouth before smiling. Other than  Clark's idea, she'd start by finding out exactly what this Trask  character might know. And she wouldn't do that by asking  questions. She looked at the byline of the article. Myerson. Yep,  that was his style all right. Direct. And at times, it worked.  But this was definitely a story that required a little...  sneakiness. When she saw Clark again, she'd tell him...

She growled in frustration. She wouldn't be seeing Clark again.  So why did she insist on continuing to think about him?

Still, her mind drifted to his comments about The Demon. He  seemed convinced that this demon was one of the good guys. The  position was completely untenable. Everything they knew  contradicted that idea. Yet Clark wasn't an idiot. So what was he  seeing that everyone else was missing?

She looked back at the picture, for the first time noticing that  The Demon seemed to have a great build. Broad shoulders. A white,  what appeared to be dress shirt that, wet, did nothing to hide  the impressive definition of his back muscles. Her mind instantly  took her back to running her fingernails over equally impressive  muscles the night before. There hadn't been an ounce of fat  anywhere on Clark's body. Just touching him had been erotic.

She shook her head. What was she doing? She would think about  every little detail of their night together in the coming months  - even years. Of that she was sure. But she'd wait until she  could do so without the fear that her attraction for him would  affect her determination to end their relationship. Still...

Her eyes drifted back to the skin tight shirt on The Demon. If he  was an android, whoever had built him had definitely done their  job - just as long as it wasn't her father. The idea that she  could be drooling over something her father had made left her  feeling sick to her stomach.

Still, that didn't explain why Clark was so determined to defend  him. But then there were a lot of things about Clark that made  absolutely no sense. When she'd first met him, she had  categorized him as a farmboy. No secrets there. Since then... so  many things had occurred that were so strange that she could  almost believe the past twelve hours were nothing more than a  bizarre dream.

Somehow Clark had known she was in danger - although, how that  was possible, she had no idea. Then there was the escape from  prison. Not to mention the cops search of Clark's apartment. How  had he managed to get the apartment cleaned up so fast? And then  there was their exit from his apartment. She stretched her legs.  She didn't have a single sore muscle from their fall. Of course,  maybe Clark... Her thought trailed off. No. She'd explored every  inch of Clark's body last night - quite thoroughly, as she  recalled. And he hadn't had a mark on him.

But shouldn't one of them at the very least have had some  bruises? She thought again about the fall. It had seemed to take  forever. Almost as if they had been floating... or perhaps... Her  eyes shot back to the picture on the front page of the paper and  her heart leapt into her throat. No. That was crazy. Absolutely,  positively crazy.

On the other hand, it would explain how he got into the prison.  And given the strength The Demon had shown by tearing the side of  the ferry, he'd certainly have had no problem forcibly opening a  few prison doors. She flashed again to their escape from Clark's  apartment. She'd tried to pull that ladder down on her own. And  yet, when he'd reached past her, it had only taken him one hand  to do it. She hadn't thought much about it at the time, but  now...

No. No. No. This was crazy. Clark was a boy-scout. There was no  way he could be responsible for almost a hundred deaths. On the  other hand, it would explain why he had broken a convicted  murderer out of prison. He wouldn't care whether or not she'd  murdered one person if he had murdered a hundred. She still  didn't know how he'd disabled the security cameras or known she  was in trouble, but...

She shook her head. Great. Now he was The Demon simply because he  had helped her. Still, something about Clark was... off. And as  much as she hated to admit it, what did she really know about  him? Other than the fact that he was easily the gentlest lover  she'd ever had. How could a man with such a tender touch be...  Her thought was cut off by the sound of a car heading up the  gravel road.

She moved quickly. Grabbing her shoes, she pulled them on and  tore, as fast as humanly possible, into the woods. Ducking behind  a fallen tree, she looked cautiously above it as a car drove up  to the cabin. Jimmy's car.

She was about to get up when something made her hesitate. Just  because it was Jimmy's car didn't mean Jimmy was inside.

A small gasp escaped her lips when Clark stepped out of the car.  He seemed to look right at her and her heart began pounding  painfully as she ducked down behind the log. When, a moment  later, she heard him knocking at the cabin door, she peeked over  the log again, giving her head a slight shake. She could almost  believe she was losing her mind - thinking he'd heard her  startled gasp from that distance.

She didn't emerge from her hiding place as she watched him.  Having decided she wasn't going to answer, he wandered down to  the dock, leaning over to pick up the paper she had been reading  earlier. He looked around again, briefly looking in her direction  causing her to duck down once again. Then he took off his shoes,  sitting down as she had been only moments before and opening up  the paper.

As he sat there reading the paper, she studied him. He looked as  if he was settling in for a long wait.

"If you're out there, I hope you can hear me."

His words cut through her musings. He wasn't shouting. But in the  quiet, they were certainly loud enough for her to hear him  without effort.

"I found out where you were from Perry," he began slowly. "And I  promise, if you just want to go back to prison, I won't stop you.  I just want you to hear me out."

He paused as if hoping she would abandon her hiding place. But  given her questions about whether he was The Demon, she didn't  budge.

After a moment, he sort of nodded before continuing. "Okay, well  then let me just say a few things. And then, if you still don't  want to talk to me, I'll go."

She gave a small snort. Yeah, sure he would. He was The Demon and  apparently he'd chosen her as his mate. What were the chances he  would let her go? He was a cold-blooded killer. Still, she  watched as he ran his hand through his hair. Hair that was so  soft that... No! What was she doing? Had she completely lost her  mind?

"This isn't about us, Lois. You don't want to be involved with  me. Maybe you even regret last night. Okay, I can understand  that, but..."

She watched him look down at where he was dragging his foot  through the water.

"...you should know that it was the most incredible night of my  life."

Her eyes moistened. Could The Demon really have loved her so  unselfishly?

"But I promise..." He seemed to have problems working up the  courage to say his next words. "...if you don't want to be  involved with me, I'll never bring the subject up again."

Would a mass murderer say something like that? Okay, well, maybe  a mass murderer would. But Lois couldn't believe that someone  with no conscience, which must be the case with The Demon, would  struggle telling her what must be a lie. He would just say  whatever he thought she wanted to hear with no worry about it -  since he would have no intention of keeping his promise.

"But you've got to at least hear me out. You can't go back to  prison. You must know that. I know of at least two times when  you've been attacked. How many times have there been that I don't  know about? Where did you get the black eye you still had when we  first met? How many threats have there been? How many of those  women would like nothing more than to be left alone in the same  room with you? And what chance do you have to avoid it if someone  like Maxwell Deter is determined to make you pay for not giving  him what he wants? Do you really think he'd hesitate to give one  of those women her fondest dream?"

He gave her a moment to let that sink in. He was right. Being in  prison had, until now, been dangerous. But returning now, with  Maxwell Deter out to get her, could be downright fatal. He could  make arrangements that would 'accidentally' leave her alone with  someone like Remi. Or one of other women who wanted her dead. And  then he could sit back while she died a horrible and painful  death.

"If you want to prove your innocence, I can help you with that,"  he continued. "I promise, Lois, I'll help in any way I can. But  until we find the proof we need, you have to stay in hiding."

"Why do you care?" she yelled towards him, not coming out of her  hiding place.

He looked in her direction before looking back at the water. "I  think you know the answer to that."

She studied him carefully. The hang-dog look on his face told her  that her exit had hurt him. Yet, he was still offering to help  her. And suddenly, she realized the entire idea of Clark being  The Demon was insane. There was no way this man was The Demon. He  didn't have a cruel bone in his body.

Standing up, she slowly made her way towards him. She had to  admit, he looked good - even if he was wearing the same clothes  as the previous night. But then, he'd looked good then too. That  black t-shirt was to die for. Suddenly, she had images of getting  her hands under that t-shirt and... She shook her head. She  couldn't think like that. For both their sakes, what had happened  last night couldn't happen again.

He watched as she closed the distance between them. He didn't  move. When she was standing next to him, she again removed her  shoes and sank down onto the dock beside him. They sat in silence  for a long moment.

"This doesn't change anything between us, Clark," she said  softly. "I'm not interested in starting a relationship with you."  She cringed even as the words left her lips. But it was the only  thing to do. The only thing that was fair to either of them.

"I know," he said softly.

"What happened last night was a..." She hesitated.

"...mistake?" he completed.

She chewed on her lower lip. She could think of a lot of ways to  describe last night. And she couldn't quite consider it a  mistake. Still, for his sake, she had to make a clean break. Even  if they were able to come up with a way to clear her, there were  just too many reasons that a relationship between them wouldn't  work. "Yes," she said softly not able to look at him.

There was another long moment of silence.

"Just so you know," he began, pulling his feet out of the water  and standing. He waited until she looked up at him before  continuing. "It wasn't a mistake to me." Without waiting for her  response, he pulled on his shoes and headed for the car.

She watched him go, lost in thought. "No, it wasn't," she  whispered softly. In spite of everything, she couldn't quite  bring herself to regret what had happened between them. She knew  she should, but she just couldn't. She saw his footsteps hesitate  slightly and wondered if she'd spoken louder than intended. But  then, without looking back, he continued on his way.

For a moment, she was tempted to reconsider her position. But  then common sense kicked-in. There was no way they would ever be  able to make a relationship between them work.  And if in the  future, they were both employed for the Daily Planet... She had  already seen what could happen by getting involved with a  colleague. No. It was best if she kept Clark Kent at a distance -  no matter how much it hurt to watch him walk away.

* * * * * * * * *

In spite of their talk on the docks, Clark couldn't help but be  amused by the curious look on Lois' face as he began bringing box  after box into the cabin from the car.

"What's all this?" Lois asked.

"Well..." Clark opened the first box. It was filled with papers.

"What's..." Her question trailed off as she seemed to recognize  the transcripts, documents and tape from her trial. "Guess we  sort of need these if we're going to find a way to clear my name  - assuming there is a way."

"What do you mean 'assuming there is a way?'"

Lois let out a breath. "I just mean, I was holding the gun.  Assuming I did pull the trigger, how do we prove that I didn't  mean to kill him? And then, even if we do come up with something,  how do we make it new evidence that wasn't available at the time  of trial?"

Clark stopped piling boxes and rested his hand on top. He let out  a slow breath. "I think we take this one step at a time. We start  out by assuming that you didn't fire the gun. And only when we've  exhausted that possibility do we look for things that show you  didn't mean to kill Sykes."

"Such as..."

"Well... Did you bring the gun with you?"

"No. Sykes brought it. Said it was for demonstration purposes  only."

"Demonstration purposes?" Clark raised his eyebrows. "He brought  a loaded gun for demonstration purposes?"

"You think... there was more happening here than we discovered  before the trial?"

"I'd bet on it." He opened up another box.

"Where...?" She began searching excitedly through the box,  finally holding up her favorite pair of old blue jeans, holding  them to her chest and looking at him with a look of absolute  gratitude.

Clark shrugged. "After I convinced Perry to tell me where to find  you, he got Jimmy to loan me his car and then told me that I  should stop by your place to pick up some clothes for you." Clark  made his way to the door. He had two more things to bring in.

When he returned, he was holding a brown paper bag, teaming with  groceries and a black laptop. He set the groceries on the table  and then presented her with the laptop. "Perry also suggested you  might want your laptop."

She put down the jeans and picked up the laptop lovingly.  "But..." She glanced around.

"The cabin has a telephone, so you can hook up to the internet.  Jimmy installed a program that will prevent any email you send or  receive from being traced. And there's a generator. I've got gas  for it in the car. Along with..." He glanced around until he  spotted a small television on the floor. "He said there's both a  television and a VCR. The television only has rabbit ears - and  lousy reception. But it will allow us to watch the tape presented  at your trial. Perry told me to put myself at your disposal."

"But... what about the Cooke story?"

"All my stories are on hold until we find a way to prove your  innocence."

"You guys thought of everything, didn't you?" Lois said softly.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark leaned back in his chair as he and Lois finished watching  the tape of her shooting Sykes for the sixth time.

"I told you there wasn't anything there," Lois said in  frustration.

"I'm not so sure," said Clark, moving his glasses down his nose.  "I think... Let's see that again."

"What? You near sighted or something?"

"Oh... Uhh... Sometimes just looking at something without my  glasses can give me a different perspective." Ignoring Lois'  puzzled look, he hit the playback button one more time.

"What are we looking for?"

"I just thought I caught... There!" Clark quickly pushed the  pause button.

"What?" Lois moved closer, squinting at the small image on the  screen.

"Did you ever try enlarging the image of your hand when the gun  went off?"

She squinted at the screen again, obviously trying to see what he  was seeing.

"Lois, I can't be sure until we have it enlarged - maybe even  computer enhanced. But at the moment the gun went off, I don't  think your finger is even on the trigger."

"And you can see that?"

He shrugged.

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, I'm not sure what you think  you're seeing, but I guess it couldn't hurt to try."

Clark's eyebrows crinkled. "But if no one pulled the trigger..."

"...how did the gun go off?" Lois asked, completing his thought.  "Clark, I don't..."

"What?" he asked when her voice unexpectedly trailed off.

"This might be a crazy idea, but..."

"What?"

"Well... Cooke was killed by a remote controlled device that was  put in his phone."

"Right, but..."

"And you say the ferry had some sort of remote to trigger the  explosion. And we've speculated that The Demon might be a remote  device."

"I don't..."

"So what if the gun was being controlled by some sort of remote  controlled device?"

"But... that would have to be some pretty specialized work - to  have a remote controlled... what? Bullet?"

"But so is putting a remote control in a phone that could  electrocute a man. And a remote controlled cyborg that can fly...  Now that's some specialized work. What's a remote controlled  bullet next to that? And you know, they never did find the  bullet."

Clark cringed slightly. 'A remote controlled cyborg that can  fly.' Was that a step up or a step down from being considered a  demon?

"What? You don't agree?"

"No. It's not that. I just..." His voice trailed off. After all,  what could he say?

Lois got up and walked over to the counter to pour herself  another cup of coffee. "Clark, you're new to this. You've got to  go with your hunches." She turned back towards him. "So... we get  Jimmy to dissect that video. And in the meantime, we follow up on  your story. After all, even if it's not the same scientist behind  all of this, in every case, we're investigating scientists. And  every one of those scientists we discussed yesterday has a  personal grudge against me."

"So... where do we start?"

Lois thought about that as she took a sip of her coffee. "We talk  to Dr. Klein."

"Why him?"

"He knows most of the scientists in the city. He'll know if there  are any other scientists we should be looking into."

Clark squirmed. He knew that name. Klein was the scientist Clark  had seen on television who wanted to dissect him like a frog.

"What?"

"Nothing," Clark responded. "Dr. Klein it is then. Just... well,  do you think it's a good idea for you to see him? After all, you  are a fugitive. I could always talk to him, find out if he knows  anything."

"Relax, Clark. He's a friend. He won't turn me in. We just have  to meet him somewhere other than in the lab. After all, with all  the security there, someone is bound to recognize me or at least  recognize my name. So..." She set her cup of coffee on the  counter. "What are we waiting for?"

* * * * * * * * *

Clark spotted the nervous scientist the moment he entered Ralph's  Pagoda. He was sweating, obviously uncomfortable about something.  Clark's senses went on high alert as he looked around, inside and  outside the restaurant as Lois waved to Klein. When he didn't see  the police waiting to storm the building, he relaxed slightly.

"Over here," she said at something just sort of a yell.

Clark cringed. Did she really have to announce that they were  there to everyone in the universe? Her hair might be pulled up  under a cap and she might be wearing a pair of sunglasses, but to  Clark, she still looked like Lois Lane. Did she really think that  a pair of glasses and a different hair style served as an  effective disguise?

"Relax, Clark," she said, as if reading his mind. "People see  what they expect to see."

Clark let out a slow breath, but didn't respond.

Dr. Klein spotted them and headed in their direction. He glanced  around nervously before taking a seat at their table. "Should I  have worn a disguise?" he asked. "I mean, it never occurred to me  that...."

"Dr. Klein, it's fine," Lois said, cutting him off. "This is  my..." She stumbled slightly, as if not exactly certain how to  refer to him.

"...partner," Clark said.

"Partner," Lois agreed. "Clark Kent, this is Dr. Klein. Clark is  helping me prove my innocence."

"Don't you think breaking out of prison makes it seem like...  Have we met before?" Klein asked Clark, cutting off his own  thought.

"No," said Clark.

"I'm sure we have," Klein continued, staring at Clark until he  started squirming uncomfortably. "I know!" Klein suddenly  exclaimed. "You're the guy on the ferry who was helping everyone  escape."

"No," said Clark, panic rising in his chest. "You must be  thinking of someone else." He glanced over at Lois, hoping she  wasn't buying the scientist's comments. She was listening  intently, and obviously thinking, but beyond that, he could get  nothing. Besides, the man thought he recognized him as someone  helping to save lives. So there was no way Lois would make the  connection between Klein's comments and The Demon. "I was on the  docks," he said, suddenly struck by an inspiration. "That must be  where you saw me."

Klein studied him for a moment before nodding. "I guess that must  be it. Anyway, what exactly did you call me here for?" he asked,  turning his attention to Lois.

"Uhh..." She removed some papers from her briefcase and handed  them to Dr. Klein. "...we think the guy we're looking for knows  how to make... incredibly complicated remote control devices."

"Most toy makers could do that," said Klein.

"But this guy had to make a bullet fire by remote control -  without leaving any evidence of it on the gun itself."

"So the remote control would have to be small enough to fit  inside the bullet itself." Klein's eyebrows rose. "Now that would  take some ingenuity."

"We've highlighted a number of names already. Do you see anyone  else on that list who might be capable of creating that type of  remote?"

Klein's eyes ran down the list. "What about Winslow Schott? He  was a toy maker?"

"Yeah, but he preferred making teddy bears," said Lois. "Besides,  last I heard, when he got out of prison, he married Margaret  Duffy."

"His assistant?" asked Dr. Klein in disbelief.

Lois nodded. "They worked next to each other for twenty years  before she finally worked up the nerve to tell him how she felt  about him."

"I don't think I've heard about this guy," said Clark, looking at  Lois who did not return his gaze.

"You must have heard about Schott," said Klein. "He was the toy  maker who got fired when children didn't like his toys. Deciding  that children were cruel and had to be taught a lesson, he  created the Space Rat. It was an instant success - until it was  discovered that it shot a chemical out of its gun that made both  children and adults act like greedy children. The entire city  went crazy. I was working on an experiment into the mating  rituals of primates - chimpanzees in particular. And when I  recovered from the chemical, I discovered that I..." He suddenly  cleared his throat. "Well, that's really beside the point. Lois  was the one who stopped him before he could infect the city's  water supply."

"So he could have a grudge against you?" Clark said, looking at  Lois again.

"I guess."

Clark crinkled his eyebrows. She seemed to have become  deliberately vague when addressing him. When she again addressed  Dr. Klein, Clark knew something was wrong. He just wasn't  entirely sure what that was.

"I'll check it out. But... Well, I really don't think it's him,  Dr. Klein. They claim I was the one who finally got them to admit  their feelings for each other. I even got an invitation to their  wedding. Anyone else on the list that stands out?"

Klein checked the list again before shaking his head. "Except for  the ones you've already highlighted, I don't see anyone with the  type of expertise you're looking for." He glanced at the names  one more time. "I see Jefferson Cole is on your list."

"Yes. Why?"

Klein shrugged. "Nothing really. He was a brilliant man - too bad  he turned out to be an insane criminal bent on world destruction.  Sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"What about you, Dr. Klein?" Clark asked. "You must know a thing  or two about remote controls." Clark ignored the steely look Lois  was suddenly giving him. He didn't trust Klein. He'd given them  nothing of any use. Not to mention how nervous Klein was when he  first arrived. Someone had to ask the question. And if, for  whatever reason, Lois wasn't prepared to do it, then he would.

"Well, yes. I've used remote controls in several of my projects  over the years but..." He looked between Lois and Clark. "You  can't really think I'm a suspect. Lois, you can't actually  believe I'd hurt anyone. Especially not you."

"Of course not, Dr. Klein," Lois jumped in giving Clark a look of  warning.

Clark didn't even bother to acknowledge the look. His gut was  telling him that, at the very least, Dr. Klein knew more than he  was saying. And he was not about to be intimidated by anyone -  not even the great Lois Lane.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 11

Lois hadn't said a word to him since they had left the  restaurant, except for the odd grunt of acknowledgment or a terse  'yes' or 'no.' He wasn't entirely sure what was bothering her.  After all, she'd been... distant even before he'd challenged her  good friend, Dr. Klein.

"So what makes you think you can trust Klein?" he finally asked,  steering Jimmy's car through traffic.

She shrugged.

He let out a breath. "Are you going to at least tell me what I  did to make you so mad?"

"Okay, fine! You want to know. You were just... rude, Clark."

"Aren't you the one that told me you have to be rude to get the  story. Besides, you were mad at me before that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lois said even as she  folded her arms across her chest and turned slightly away from  him in her seat.

He let out a breath. "Fine, Lois. Whatever."

They drove along for a moment in silence. "So this... Bobby  Bigmouth. What do you think we can get out of him?"

She shrugged again. "If I knew that, I wouldn't need to talk to  him. I hope you at least remembered to tell him that you had two  large pizzas for him. After all, without my name, he's not likely  to show up unless he seriously thinks it's worth his while."

"You were listening to the call. Why don't you tell me what I  said?" Clark responded petulantly.

She didn't answer him.

Clark shook his head. What had he done? It was obviously  something awful. Or, perhaps, she just got this way sometimes. He  couldn't say he particularly liked this side of Lois Lane.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, it suddenly registered that they  were being followed by a black SUV. He silently kicked himself.  He'd been so caught up in his little squabble with Lois that he  hadn't been paying attention. For all he knew, they might have  been following ever since he and Lois had left the restaurant.

He took a closer look. Two heavy set men were sitting in the  front seat. To Clark's mind, they didn't seem like police.  Besides, if they were the police, why wouldn't they just stop  them?

"Look..." Lois finally said. "I'm just not sure this partner  thing is going to work out between us. Maybe it would be better  if we told Perry..."

"Lois, I think we're being followed," he said quietly,  interrupting her.

"What!" Lois exclaimed, immediately turning in her seat in an  attempt to see for herself. "Turn here," she instructed.

Clark did as he was told, making a quick left turn onto a side  street. The SUV followed.

"We're definitely being followed. Although... I wonder why they  don't even seem to be making an effort to keep us from realizing  it."

"So... what do you suggest? Do we try to lose them or..."

"We try to lose them," Lois responded, scribbling something on  her notepad.

Giving a small shrug, Clark pushed the gas peddle down as he  began weaving his way through the streets. They were in the  warehouse district. Surely they'd be able to lose these thugs in  some back alley.

"There!" Lois exclaimed.

Seeing what she was referring to, he took a quick look in the  rearview mirror to be sure the SUV hadn't turned the last corner  and, without slowing down, drove into an open garage, slammed on  the breaks and turned off the engine. They both waited, watching  silently until the SUV drove past the open doors of the building,  still looking for their target.

They both let out identical sighs of relief.

"That was close," said Clark.

"Any idea how long they were following us?"

Clark shook his head. "I'm just annoyed with myself for not  picking up on it sooner."

"Well, it's not as if I spotted them either."

Clark glanced over at her. She was still refusing to look at him,  but that was the most civil thing she'd said to him since their  meeting with Dr. Klein.

"I figure we wait a few more minutes," began Clark, "and then we  can..."

"Damn!" Lois exclaimed, interrupting Clark when the black SUV  pulled in behind them, leaving them trapped.

"Come on!" Clark exclaimed, pushing open the door and holding out  his hand to Lois. When she grabbed onto it, he half pulled her  over the single front seat and out the door with him. Keeping her  hand grasped in his, he heard the first of several gunshots.

"The boss wants her alive," he heard a man hiss. "So aim for the  legs."

Clark didn't stop to ponder this information. Instead, he pulled  Lois in front of him and let her take the lead, making sure his  body was, at all times, placed between her and the men with the  guns. He didn't care if they were aiming for her legs or not. He  wasn't about to let her be hit by a bullet. He wouldn't be hurt  by a bullet. Or at least he didn't think he would. He'd never  actually put that theory to the test. But at least he stood a  better chance than she did.

She led him on a complicated route through the warehouse, between  boxes and down alleys. Twice, she attempted to head back to the  door, but the thugs following them continued to block their exit  until... "This way," she said, heading towards a set of stairs.  Clark hesitated slightly. Where exactly were stairs going to take  them - except to trap them in the building? But a commotion  behind him and a couple of additional shots firing persuaded him  that she was right. They didn't have much choice.

She ran past the door to the second floor, throwing it open  before disappearing out the door up one final flight of stairs to  emerge on the roof of the warehouse.

The door closing behind them was all the time it took for Lois to  move again, heading towards a large brick chimney. She had just  ducked behind it, Clark close on her tail when Clark heard the  men exit the building. The sound of a gun firing and something  hitting his shoulder was almost instantaneous. Not stopping to  worry about it, he dove with Lois behind the chimney.

"We know you're hit," said a man from the other side of the roof.

Lois' eyes shot to Clark. He could see fear in her expression. He  quickly shook his head. She seemed to relax slightly.

"This is just stupid," the man continued. "There's no way out.  Why don't you just give yourselves up? Save us all a lot of  trouble. We really don't want to kill you, but if you keep this  up, someone is likely to get hurt."

"Okay, so now what's the plan?" Clark whispered

"Well... you could always just fly us out of here," Lois  whispered back.

Clark's eyes shot to Lois. He couldn't have heard her right. She  couldn't have possibly suggested...

"What are you talking about?" Clark hissed back.

"If we don't go now, we're as good as caught," Lois continued.

Clark cautiously peeked around the edge of the chimney - only to  snap his head back just as another bullet whizzed past his head.  The men might not want to kill her, but the same obviously did  not apply to him. Not that they could necessarily kill him. But  if they kept trying, it was only a matter of time before he  revealed his secret anyway - and not just to Lois.

He glanced around in desperation. There had to be another way out  of this. He looked back at Lois and saw that she was watching his  every expression intently. And suddenly he found himself  wondering if she had planned this. Not the men with guns, of  course. But this idiotic hiding place. Had she deliberately put  him in this position so that he would have to reveal himself to  her or let them be caught by the bad guys?

Taking one final glance around the side the chimney, he suddenly  realized that it didn't matter. He couldn't risk letting them be  caught.

* * * * * * * * *

Even though she was half expecting it, Lois gasped when Clark  swept her up in his arms and hurled them over the side of the  roof. And then they were falling. She closed her eyes tightly and  clung to his neck, praying that she wasn't wrong. But when she  had realized there was no way out, she'd figured their only  chance of escape was to take them to the roof and hope that her  hunch about Clark was right.

Although she wasn't entirely sure hope was the right word. After  all, if she was right, then Clark and The Demon were undoubtedly  one and the same.

Their fall ended suddenly and... She peeked open her eyes, not  entirely sure what she would see. She was surprised that instead  of the buildings of the warehouse district, what she saw was...  trees flying below them at an incredible rate of speed. It took  her a moment to realize she had that backwards.

Her arms automatically tightened around Clark's neck. They were  flying! They were actually flying! How was that possible? Men  couldn't fly - not without some sort of mechanical device,  anyway. But... Clark Kent was actually flying?

She spotted Perry's cabin up ahead as their flight slowed and  Clark floated towards the ground. As soon as Clark's feet touched  down, she moved quickly to get out of his arms. She wasn't sure  whether to be relieved or terrified. Once she had put some  distance between them, she stopped and turned back towards him.

He was The Demon - the one who had torn the side off the ferry,  killing almost a hundred people. And the man who had just saved  her life. Her heart and mind felt as if they were being torn in  two. She would have to move carefully - not do anything that  would upset him. Otherwise, he could easily snap her in two with  his bare hands.

"How did you know?" Clark asked.

She wasn't quite able to look at him. "I've had suspicions for a  while..." She stopped to get the slight tremor out of her voice.  "Well, I did once I thought about all the strange things that  have happened since I met you. But I didn't know until I saw how  uncomfortable you got when Dr. Klein recognized you. I kept  telling myself I was wrong. That you couldn't be The Demon.  But..." She finally looked up, gesturing to him, for the first  time in her life at a complete loss for words.

"Lois..."

"How could you do it, Clark? All those people!" She suddenly  found her voice and as she spoke, even she could hear the anguish  in her words. She'd allowed herself to fall... to care about him.  And now to find out that, unlike her, he placed no value in  truth, justice or human life was heartbreaking. Wisdom deserted  her. The determination to watch her comments deserted her. She  was well aware of the risk she was taking in confronting him so  directly, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. She had to know.  "And if all of this is connected... Theodore Cooke. The ferry. My  conviction. Clark, were you responsible for my conviction, too?"

"No! Lois, I swear to you I wasn't responsible for any of it. I  didn't kill those people. I was trying to help. Come on, Lois.  Think about this. You know me."

"Do I? Do I really? Clark, after..." She made a wavy motion with  her hands as her mind flashed back to flying in his arms only  moments before. "How can you say I know you? I don't even know  what you are. What exactly are you?"

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "A man, Lois.  I'm a man."

"Are you?"

"If anyone should know that, it's you."

She flinched slightly at the reminder of the previous night. Of  touching him. Of being touched. He had all the parts of a man.  She could certainly attest to that, but... Had she slept with an  android or a demon or... Her mind went blank with other  possibilities. She suddenly felt dirty. She rubbed at her arms in  a subconscious effort to cleanse his touch from her body.  Suddenly, her eyes caught his - and she froze. She could see  there an expression of despair, as if reading her mind and  realizing how dirty she felt. Her hands immediately ceased their  movements.

"Lois..." he began, reaching towards her.

Without conscious thought, she took a step back. His hand dropped  and he turned away.

"Maybe it would be best if I just left," he said.

She could hear the hopelessness in his voice. She was surprised  by the way it pulled at her heart strings. "No! Wait!" She  reached out automatically to touch him. Her hand stopped when she  realized what she was doing. Still, taking a deep breath, she  allowed her hand to touch his arm. He felt human enough. At least  she hadn't been a complete fool in believing he was.

He turned back then, his hand looking down at where she was still  deliberately touching his arm. "What do you want from me?" he  asked as he looked up to meet her eyes.

"I want..." Her voice trailed off. She wanted so many things. She  wanted this to all be some horrible nightmare. She wanted to  believe that he was a good man. She wanted to wake up, still in  his bed with him sleeping peacefully beside her. She felt tears  congregate in the corners of her eyes. "Just tell me... what you  are? Are you an android? Did my father create you? Was this some  sick attempt by my father to find me a..." She gestured towards  him, not entirely sure how to complete her question.

Her father had never approved of her boyfriends - always thought  she could do better. Had he made Clark as some sort of perfect  mate for her? It would certainly explain Clark's attraction to  her. Maybe he had been programmed to love her. And maybe he had  been stolen to do his new master's bidding - sinking the ferry.  It was... preposterous. But then, so was flying above the trees  in this man's arms. She felt a tear escape her eye to slip  unheeded down her face.

Clark ran his hand through his hair. "Why don't we sit down? I  promise. I'll tell you everything I know."

Lois' eyes narrowed. What exactly did he mean by that? Why not  just tell her now? Why did they need to sit down to do it? "I  don't want to sit down. Just tell me what you are."

"Honestly... I don't exactly know," Clark said, looking very  close to tears himself.

* * * * * * * * *

'Honestly... I don't exactly know.' The words echoed through  Lois' mind as she poured herself a cup of coffee and took a seat  at the table in the cabin. How was that possible? Unless, of  course, he was an android and couldn't remember anything back  before he was made. Or maybe he had his mind wiped periodically  by...

"Lois, are you okay?"

She looked at Clark. Was she okay? She wasn't exactly sure. Maybe  she was having some sort of nervous breakdown. Maybe she was  still in her cell at the Metropolis Women's Prison and she was  imagining all this to keep herself from focusing on what Max was  doing to her. Maybe she was...

"Lois?"

"What?" she snapped, annoyed at being forced out of her internal  babble.

"She speaks," said Clark.

She couldn't quite tell if he was being facetious or if he was  just trying to get some sort of response from her. If it was the  latter, how should she respond? Come to think of it, if it was  the former, how should she respond?

"Lois, would you just relax? You're making me nervous. Maybe just  have a sip of your coffee or something."

Her nervous? Hah. That was a laugh. In fact, hah, hah, hah. That  was hilarious. So why wasn't she laughing on the outside? Well,  maybe she just didn't feel like laughing on the outside. But she  was certainly laughing on the inside. In fact, hah, hah, hah,  hah, hah. Hah. She added the last one for good measure. Quickly,  she lifted her cup and took a sip of coffee.

"Okay, what if I just start talking?" asked Clark. "Tell you what  I know."

She nodded. Talking was good. So why wasn't she doing any of it?  Normally she talked. She knew how to talk. She really did. In  fact, she was a brook. So why couldn't she talk right now? "I can  talk." There. She'd said something.

"Lois?"

Of course, it might not have made a lot of sense. But, hey, at  least she'd made the effort, right?

"Lois, please. You have to get a grip."

A grip. Oh yeah. Her eyes drifted down that tight fitting black  t-shirt. There was nothing she'd like better. God. What was she  doing? For all she knew, he'd killed almost a hundred people on  the ferry! He'd said he didn't. And she believed him... or did  she? Until she knew for sure, how could she be thinking about how  sexy he was?

She quickly closed her eyes, raising her coffee cup to her lips  once again. A grip. Yes. She had to get a grip. She forced  herself to concentrate on the slightly bitter taste of the  coffee. Swallowing, she took a deep breath. Calm. Collected.  There was no reason to panic - well, other than the fact that a  few minutes ago she'd been flying in... She felt her heart rate  began to pick up again and pushed away that line of thought.

"Would this be easier if I just came back later? Gave you some  time to..."

"No!" Lois opened her eyes, forcing herself to focus. "No, I'm  ready to do this now. I thought I knew you. I thought you were  decent and straight up guy. I thought you were the last honest  man. I thought you were... you were... I thought you were Clark  Kent. Who are you?"

* * * * * * * * *

Clark felt a small pain in his chest. She was doubting everything  - even his name. Maybe that was his way out of this. Maybe he  could convince her that he wasn't the real Clark Kent - that he  was an android made to... No. Not only was he certain she'd see  through his lies, but he didn't even have enough time to make  such a complicated lie sound believable.

Still, did he dare tell her the truth? After all, if he told her  everything, she could ruin his life. On the other hand, she could  ruin his life right now.

He sighed. Only one choice existed - to tell her everything and  hope that she would understand why no one could know.

"Are you going to answer my question?" she asked. When he looked  confused, she continued. "Is your name really Clark Kent?"

"Yes. Or at least, it's the name my adoptive parents gave me. I  don't remember my real parents. I don't even know exactly where  I'm from."

He got up from his chair and began to pace, knowing that every  word he said could find themselves into an award winning article  for the Daily Planet. Still, there was no choice. She was too  smart to be fooled by half the story. He'd have to trust that her  sense of justice and fair-play would win out in the end. "All I  do know is that for as long as I can remember, my parents were  Martha and Jonathan Kent from Smallville, Kansas. I don't exactly  remember when they told me I was adopted. When I was younger,  they told me what they told the community - that I was my  mother's sister's illegitimate child. I didn't know the truth  until years later - when I was in my early teens.

"The truth is..." He hesitated, still struggling with what he was  about to reveal.

* * * * * * * * *

Why she did it, she wasn't entirely sure. But when he couldn't  seem to continue, she suddenly found herself rising to her feet  and making her way over to where he was standing, looking  completely forlorn. She placed her hand on his arm and, when he  met her eyes, spoke. "It's okay, Clark. Just tell me."

His expression softened as he obviously reached a decision. "I'm  sorry. My father just drilled it into my head over and over ever  since I was a child. 'Don't tell anyone. They'll take you away to  a lab and dissect you like a frog.'"

She felt a sharp pain in her heart and an unexpected need to  reassure him. "Well, look at it this way. If I call them to come  and get you, you're not the only one who's going to find himself  locked up."

He actually smiled at that, reaching out to gently cup her cheek.  When she shrank from his touch, he lowered his hand. She forced  herself not to notice the expression of resigned disappointment  that crossed his face.

"So..." she finally said. "Tell me."

"Mom and Dad don't know much. But apparently, one night they were  driving into town when they saw what they thought was a meteor  land in Schuster's Field. Well, you've got to know my mom. She  made my dad pull off the road so that they could take a look."

Lois couldn't help but smile at the fondness with which he spoke  of his adopted parents.

"What they discovered was... a small space ship."

"What?"

Clark shrugged. "Dad had an old crowbar in the back of their  pickup so he went and got it. They pried it open and found a  single passenger - a baby. Me."

"Are you sure your folks aren't just pulling your leg? I mean, it  seems a little..." Her voice trailed off when he was suddenly  floating about six inches off the floor. "Oh, right," she said,  stumbling back until she was able to sink into her chair once  again. "There is that."

"There is that," Clark agreed. "When I was a baby, there was  nothing too... odd. But as I grew up, I discovered I could do a  lot of things that other children couldn't."

"Like fly."

"Not at first. In fact, flying was the last thing to develop."

Lois felt as if she'd just stepped into the twilight zone.  "Okay," she said slowly, hoping her brain was not about to  overwhelm her once again. "I know about the strength thing,  but... is there more?"

Clark nodded.

She swallowed hard. "How much more?"

* * * * * * * * *

Lois' hands shook as she poured herself another cup of coffee. X- ray vision. Lasers that shot out of his eyes. Freezing breath.  Superstrength. Superspeed. Flight. Invulnerability. Enhanced  senses - including hearing, eyesight and smell. Each revelation  had been backed up with a demonstration. She felt as if her mind  was on overload.

"If you're invulnerable..." She kept her back turned to him,  supposedly to stir some milk into her second cup of coffee.  "...can you feel... I mean last night..." Her voice trailed off.

Clark didn't need her to complete her thought. "I felt every  touch," he said softly.

She didn't respond except for a small nod of the head. She  refused to think why that was so important to her. But it had  been preying at the back of her mind since he'd mentioned that,  at least in his experience to date, he was invulnerable.

"So then... you were found in a space ship..." Lois said quickly  changing the subject.

"Right."

"What exactly are you saying? That you're some sort of..." She  gestured towards him, struggling to find the politically correct  word. "...alien?"

"I don't know. I guess that's a possibility. But... well,  remember that I was found at the height of the cold war. My folks  figured I might be some sort of Russian experiment. A few days  later, some... men showed up, asking all sorts of questions about  a 'meteor' that had come down in the area."

"Who?"

"My folks didn't know. Some sort of government men. Mom and Dad  didn't tell them anything. Mom told me they were scary."

"Your parents... your adoptive parents, I mean, just... what?  Kept you?"

Clark nodded. "They couldn't have children of their own. And they  figured if I was put into some space capsule as a human  experiment, then whoever would do that didn't deserve to raise a  child. So..." Clark shrugged. "That's really all I know."

"Couldn't you find out more by... I don't know. Maybe examining  the space ship. Surely it would give some clue to your origins.  Russian words on the side. American markings. Something."

"It probably would tell me something. My father, afraid that  someone might find it, buried it. But a few years ago when we  went to dig it up - for that very reason - we discovered it was  gone."

"Gone - as in... gone?"

"Yep. So..." Clark finally said after a moment of silence, his  voice conveying tension. "...are you going to tell anyone?"

She crinkled her eyebrows. "Tell anyone... what?"

"You know. About me."

"Oh." She took a sip on her coffee, watching him intently over  the rim of her coffee cup. "Tell me what happened at the ferry."

"Aren't you going to answer my question?"

"Tell me what happened at the ferry," she said again.

Clark let out a slow breath. Still, after a moment, he acceded to  her request. "I was down at the docks, following up on the Cooke  story, when there was an explosion on the ferry. I spotted a wool  cap someone had left sitting on a bench and I dashed between two  of the buildings and put it on, using my laser vision to create  eye holes. I immediately jumped into the water and swam through  the hole in the boat to see what I could do to help. That's about  it."

Lois shook her head. She had so hoped he would just tell her the  truth. "That's not everything, Clark. There's more to the story.  Why won't you just tell me what happened? Maybe some mad  scientist did something to you, made you unable to resist his  orders. If that's the case, maybe we can find a way to..."

"What are you talking about?" he interrupted.

"The video tape caught you tearing boards off the side of the  ship. Experts said that it caused the ship to sink faster. Clark,  you weren't helping people. You were killing them."

"No! Okay, yeah. I did tear some planks off the ship. But that's  because it was the only way I could save someone's life."

"What are you talking about?"

"After I got everyone out of the lower levels, I did a final  search. I found a guy - unconscious and bleeding badly. There was  a pole spearing him to the ship - through his leg. The water was  coming up quickly. I didn't have much time. I cut him free using  my laser vision. But by the time I had him free, the hole was  already under water. Considering how badly he was bleeding, the  only way I was able to get him out was through the side of the  ship. So I took a calculated risk. I realized everyone on the top  deck was well on their way to getting off the ferry. So I  enlarged the hole and flew my passenger out through it." He  picked up the paper and tossed it in front of her on the table.  "The 'cargo' everyone is talking about... It was a man. When I  got him back to the dock, emergency workers were already  arriving. So I took off the wool cap and delivered the man to  them."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Call the hospital," Clark said in frustration. "Ask them if they  have a man there that was speared through the leg with a steel  pole. Or... believe Dr. Klein. He recognized me. He saw me  helping people get out through the hole in the ship."

She was silent as she digested this information. "There's one  thing I still don't understand."

"What's that?" asked Clark, his frustration level rising. She was  still not promising to keep this information to herself. And  given her reputation, he could almost see visions of a Pulitzer  dancing behind her eyes. Still, there was no going back now.

"Well, if you're so scared of people finding out about you - you  know, putting you in a lab and dissecting you like a frog - why  take such a risk?"

"What was the option - letting all those people die?"

She studied him for a long moment. "The car accident."

"What?"

"The car accident a couple days before the ferry incident. You  were... helping out there, too."

"So...?"

"So... why not just come out to the world? Why not stand up and  say, 'Hey, here I am. I can help.' After all, if you're really  invulnerable, they can't really dissect you. And if you're as  strong as you seem to be, and can fly, they're not going to be  able to lock you up either. If you really want to help, the way  you claim, why all the... deception?"

Clark thought carefully before responding. "What type of life  would I have if I did that? I'd be the 'freak' or the 'alien.' No  one would ever look at me the same again. People would want to  use me. Others would recoil from me in fear. I'd never have any  privacy. People would pick through my garbage - wanting to know  what the alien ate. Paparazzi would follow my every move. And  then there's my parents... What would some lunatic do to them?  You know how people are. They'd never have a moment's peace -  never be safe.

"I've been trying to help when I can," Clark continued. "But I  just can't risk going public. Besides, to go public right now  would be a disaster. People think I'm some sort of demon who blew  up a ferry and killed almost a hundred people. And even if I tell  them the truth, what are the chances that they'll believe me?"

"I believe you," she said, suddenly realizing that she did. He  was such a bad liar. She'd figured that out early on. She knew  when he was lying. And she knew when he wasn't. And right now, he  wasn't.

Clark's expression softened. "Yeah, well you're exceptionally  smart. But the rest of them... It's not as if I can even tell  them where I came from or what I am. How can I go public?"

Lois nodded slowly as she let that digest. "I won't tell anyone."

"What?"

"I think you heard me. You're right. You certainly can't come  forward right now. The press would crucify you before even  hearing your side of the story. Don't look at me as if I've just  grown another head. I'm perfectly capable of keeping a secret!"

"But you said it yourself. This is THE story."

She shrugged. She wasn't quite sure why she was willing to keep  his secret. And she wasn't about to analyze it. But... she  couldn't do it. She couldn't do it to him. She couldn't do it to  the parents he so obviously adored.

"Thank you," Clark concluded softly.

"But if you ever do decide to go public..."

"You'll get the story. I promise."

She nodded. She couldn't have him thinking she'd completely lost  her edge, after all. And... "I still have a couple questions,"  she informed him.

"Okay."

"Well... how did you know I was in danger - when you broke me out  of prison, I mean."

Clark shifted uncomfortably.

"What?"

"Well, it's sort of..." He let out a breath. "Okay, well, after I  visited you at prison, I was sort of depressed."

"I thought it was a good conversation. We covered a lot of  ground."

"It was - except that you were absolutely convinced that The  Demon was enemy number one."

"Oh."

"Anyway, I sat down on a bench in the park across from the prison  - to think. And... Well, I sort of ended up watching you read the  paper. Using my x-ray vision."

"But it was hours after you left before Max stopped by."

Clark shrugged.

"Oh."

"Anyway, that's how I knew... I really didn't think through what  I was doing - or how I would explain it. All I knew was that you  were in danger and that I had to get you out."

"But you were still thinking clearly enough to disable the  security cameras. How did you do that?"

"I've gotten pretty good over the years at avoiding security  cameras. I just shot them a blast of laser vision as I went past.  I didn't even think about it. Getting you out was more difficult.  After all, I couldn't do anything that was too... obvious."

"Yeah, well, it did take me a while to put things together."

"Not so long," said Clark. "In fact, less than a day."

"Still... I could have been quicker. I just kept telling myself  that there was no way someone who could touch me like..." Lois  cleared her throat. "...who was as gentle as you could be The  Demon."

* * * * * * * * *

Part 12

"Come take a look at this, Clark."

Clark turned off the heat on the stove, set down the spatula he  was using to cook the stir-fry and licked his fingers as he  walked over to where Lois was staring at her laptop. After they  had finished their talk, Clark had gone back to the city to pick  up Jimmy's car from where it was still sitting in the warehouse.  Clark had immediately become suspicious when it was simply  sitting as it had been, untouched. A quick check of the car had  turned up the reason. A small tracking device had been installed  next to the left rear tire. Someone had obviously been hoping  they would return for the car so that they could be tracked back  to their hiding place. Crushing the small instrument in his hand,  he quickly reduced it to dust before climbing into the car and  driving off.

Once he was certain he was not being followed, Clark's next task  was to go to the place where they had been scheduled to meet with  Bobby Bigmouth. Since he was almost two hours late, he was not  surprised that the man was not there.

His final task was to return Jimmy's car. He'd quietly parked it  back where he'd found it and stuck the keys under the front mat.  Then, without taking time to go into the Daily Planet, he had  returned to the cabin. He would send Jimmy an email later to tell  him the car was returned. He didn't really need it, after all.  Lois had one of the Daily Planet staff cars. And he didn't need  his own car to keep Lois from knowing his secret anymore.

When he'd arrived back at the cabin, it was getting late. Lois  had been swamped in research on the web and so he'd taken it upon  himself to make supper. She'd given him a funny look, but had not  said anything as he began whirling the knife, chopping and dicing  with ease.

He had to admit, now that he'd told Lois everything, he was  having mixed feelings. In some ways, it felt as if an incredible  weight had been lifted from his mind. She knew who he was and  seemed to believe he hadn't killed all those people. She didn't  even seem to hate him. But in the back of his mind, he couldn't  help but wonder what she was thinking every time she shrank from  his touch. She'd been doing that since before he'd told her  everything. On the other hand, she'd told him she'd been  suspicious for some time before that. Did he now repel her? He'd  seen how pale she'd gone when he'd referred to their night  together - as if the mere thought of intimacy with him left her  almost sick to her stomach.

He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. He was  determined to keep things in perspective - even if every time she  recoiled from his touch, it left him feeling... betrayed. She  might just be trying to come to terms with some... unusual facts.  But in some ways, her reaction to him had confirmed his worst  fears about how people would treat him if they knew the truth.

"Look," said Lois, pointing to the computer screen.

"What is it?"

"You were right, Clark," she said, looking at him over her  shoulder.

"What else is new?" he asked, fighting off the way his heart  started pounding in response to the twinkle in her eyes.

She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "Anyway, look," she  continued, rubbing her sore elbow.

"I told you," he said when he looked at the picture on the  screen.

"Yes, you did. But, Clark..." She turned towards him a big smile  on her face. "I didn't believe it. My finger..."

"...was nowhere near that trigger when the gun went off."

Whether she threw herself into his arms or he pulled her into his  arms, Clark wasn't entirely sure. But a moment later, he was  holding her, swinging her off her feet as they laughed together.

"I didn't kill him, Clark," she said burying her face in his  shoulder. "I really didn't."

He slowed, allowing her feet to return to the ground. She pulled  back far enough to look at him but not far enough to get out of  his grasp and their laughter suddenly died as a familiar tension  encompassed them.

"Lois," Clark whispered.

And suddenly, she was no longer there.

Clark knew instantly why she'd disappeared. She knew what he was  - and was repulsed by him.

"Anyway," she said, stumbling to find words, "I didn't kill him -  not even accidentally. You have no idea what a relief that is."

"I think I have some idea," Clark responded, quelling his  disappointment. "I'm so happy for you, Lois."

"Well, if it hadn't been for you seeing..." Her voice trailed  off. "Did you use your... vision gizmo to see it?"

Clark's eyebrows shot up. "Vision gizmo?"

She shrugged.

"Vision gizmo works. Yeah. I enlarged the image. So I knew that  when Jimmy did the same, he'd see what I saw."

"I can't believe I never thought to do that." She gave a self- depreciating chuckle. "I guess I've missed a lot of things in  this investigation. I've been a little... off my game, I guess."

"Well, given that you thought you might have really killed him, I  guess you weren't looking for another possibility."

"True. Still... Anyway... thank you."

"Hey, no problem, Lois. We're a team right? We help each other  out."

"Just like we're going to find a way to clear you from  responsibility for the ferry disaster when we discover the real  culprit," she said.

He smiled. "Well, thanks. But something tells me that it might  take a lot more than finding the real culprit to get people to  trust someone already nicknamed 'The Demon'."

"Clark..."

"So, anyway, what else have you found?"

"Oh, right. Well, I did a preliminary search on each of our six  suspects."

"Six?"

Lois nodded. "I crossed the Vail brothers and my father off the  list. After all, we're no longer looking for someone who can  create an android. I have to tell you, crossing my father off the  list felt pretty good."

"I bet. But that still leaves eight."

"How do you figure?"

"Joey Bermuda," he began, running his eyes over the list, "also  known as the Handyman, Jefferson Cole, Kyle Griffin, Herkimer  Johnson, Thadeous Roark, Vasili Sawchenko, also known as Lucky  Leon, Winslow Schott and Dr. Klein."

"Clark, Dr. Klein isn't..."

"He was nervous about something when we met up with him this  morning."

"Bernard gets nervous if he thinks he misplaced a paperclip.  Meeting with a fugitive... I'm surprised he didn't have a heart  attack."

"Still... those two thugs found us somehow."

Lois had no good answer for that. Hesitantly, she added the two  additional names to the list.

"So what did you find?" asked Clark

"Well, I think we can safely cross Thadeous Roark off our list."

"Why's that?"

"After his escape from prison a couple of years ago, he went down  to South America and got involved with a guerilla group there. He  was killed when government troops raided their hideout."

"You're right. He doesn't sound like our bad guy." Clark picked  up a nearby pen and crossed off Thadeous Roark.

"Kyle Griffin, together with Victor and his father have  completely disappeared. What I did discover is that Griffin's  father sold his toy company. The profits from the sale were  deposited in a Swiss Bank account."

"So it could be them - but right now we have no way to find  them."

Lois nodded. "In fact, Griffin would be my number one suspect -  which is why he was among one of the first I researched. But...  well, without any idea where he might be, I can't even say if  he's still in Metropolis. Besides, there is one thing that  doesn't seem... in character."

"What's that?"

"Griffin always wanted to rub my nose in my... humiliation. It's  been a month since my conviction - and almost a year since Elroy  Sykes died. I can't quite believe that he'd wait this long  without at the very least giving me... a hint of some sort. Maybe  just a postcard saying... 'Couldn't have happened to a nicer  person' or something."

"Well, think about it. Maybe there's something you've overlooked.  After all, from what you've told me, I suspect you haven't really  been thinking in terms of being framed."

"That's true. Okay, I'll keep on it."

"So who else?"

"I didn't get a chance to check on Jefferson Cole and Herkimer  Johnson. I assume they're both still in prison."

"Okay, so I pay each of them a little visit."

"What do you mean 'you'?"

"Lois, what are you going to do? Walk into the men's prison  visiting room?"

"I could get some phoney ID and wear a disguise."

"And... are you telling me neither Cole nor Johnson are going to  scream out your name to everyone the moment they see you?"

"I suppose there is that," Lois said, a definite pout in her  voice.

"So who does that leave?"

"Umm...  Joey Bermuda. He got off on a technicality. Apparently,  there were problems with the search warrant. I tracked down a  current address for him.

"Then there's Vasili Sawchenko, or I guess it's still Lucky Leon.  He made a deal with the government. I'm not sure of the exact  details. They seem to be pretty hush, hush. I sent Jimmy an email  asking him to dig into it. But it seems Lucky Leon is back in  business - selling his desk friends and golf friends. I got both  his business and his home addresses."

"So that only leaves Winslow Schott."

"I'll get an address for him, too. But I really doubt it's him.  Of course, it could be some brilliant mad-man that I haven't  encountered before."

"True. But it seems a little odd that someone would frame you if  they didn't know you."

Lois' eyebrows shot up.

"That's not exactly what I meant. I just meant..."

"I know what you meant, Clark."

"Oh, there is one other thing. I don't know if you heard. But  when we were running away from the men with guns this afternoon,  I heard one of them say something about 'the boss' wanting you  alive."

Lois shivered.

"What?"

"Well, when he was alive, Lex was called 'the boss.'"

"So what are you saying? You think Lex Luthor is still alive?"

"I don't... No! No, I saw a building collapse on him. He's dead.  It's just... Well, I saw him jump off the top of Lex Towers, too,  and he came back after that. I guess... I just can't be sure.  Besides... well, having me framed for murder and sent to prison  because I rejected him would be just his style. Did you know that  he kidnapped me on the most important day of my life?"

"What day was that?"

"It had been announced that I had won the Pulitzer Prize for my  story about Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde and Al Capone. The Daily  Planet paid the expenses for my trip to Columbia University and  even provided me with a limo. I got in, on my way to the luncheon  where the award was being presented, and the entire thing filled  with some sort of sleeping gas. When I came to, I found out I had  been replaced with a clone. A clone was the one who received my  Pulitzer!"

"Lois..." He couldn't help but respond to the pain in her voice.

"Then I lost my memory while trying to escape and Lex managed to  convince me that we had been wrongfully convicted of... I'm not  sure. Some crime. ...and were on the run from the police. I  almost shot Perry when he came to rescue me. So is Lex capable of  sending me to prison... yes. And he knew enough scientists - had  most of the city's scientists on the payroll in fact. The only  question is... is he alive? I don't think so. But I didn't think  so once before."

"So we keep our eyes open for anything Luthorish as well."

"I guess so," Lois responded, none-to-happy with the prospect.

"But you know, 'the boss' is pretty generic. They could be  referring to anyone."

Lois didn't respond verbally - just a simple nod of the head.

"What about the license number I saw you writing down when we  were trying to lose those men this afternoon?" Clark asked in an  obvious attempt to get her mind off Luthor.

"Oh, right. Well, I traced it to a rental agency. But... I'm not  sure there's much there. The name on the rental agreement was  Michael Corleone."

"That's the name of one of the characters in 'The Godfather.'"

"Well, that confirms my theory that they used a phony name. But  then all they would need is some phony ID. And I didn't recognize  them so I don't know where that gets us."

"With a lot of work still to do." He turned his attention back to  the stir fry. "Just give me a few more minutes and I'll have  supper ready. Why don't we eat while we try to decide on our next  move?"

* * * * * * * * *

Dinner dishes were put away and night had fallen before Lois  raised a subject that had been on her mind for quite some time.  They had laid out their plan for tomorrow and there really wasn't  anything more they could do tonight.

"So..." she asked nervously "...are you staying here for the  night?"

"Is that an invitation?"

Lois glanced nervously at the only bed in the cabin.

"I'm sorry," Clark said immediately. "I told you, I'd let... that  go. I shouldn't have brought it up. No. I'll just fly back to my  apartment. Probably better anyway. The police might find it  somewhat odd if I don't put in an appearance tonight."

Lois nodded, still not entirely relaxed.

"Well..."

"Well..."

There was a long moment of awkward silence.

"Tomorrow, I'll go directly to the prison - talk to Herkimer  Johnson and Jefferson Cole."

"Good plan," said Lois, glad for the transfer to talk about work.  "And I'll see what else I can dig up on our suspects. We'll meet  back here later."

Clark nodded and walked to the door. Opening the door, he turned  back towards her. "Goodnight, Lois."

"Goodnight, Clark."

He hesitated for a moment and she watched his eyes, almost  involuntarily, flick down to her lips before he turned and walked  out the door.

As soon as he was gone, she closed the door behind him, leaning  against it. She wasn't entirely sure anything had ever been more  difficult than sending him home tonight. If this was an example  of what not sleeping with Clark was like, she was in serious  trouble.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark went about his normal nighttime routine in something of a  fog. Returning to his apartment had been the right thing to do.  When he'd arrived, he'd noticed that his apartment was under  surveillance. Still, he couldn't quite shake the memory of his  last minutes with Lois.

She was still repulsed by him. For a moment, he'd been tempted to  kiss her goodnight. But then he'd heard her heartbeat increase in  fear of his touch. He had to be more careful. No more half- serious jokes about spending the night. No more reaching out to  touch her. Such things made her seriously uncomfortable.

He supposed he should just be grateful that she didn't plan to  tell his secret to the world. Unless, of course, she was just  telling him what he wanted to hear. Maybe she was still  struggling with what she was going to do. Maybe her discomfort  around him was because of her indecision.

After turning out the lights, he climbed into bed. What he  wouldn't give to know what she was thinking. But he hadn't dared  ask her. What if she confirmed his fears? What if she was  repulsed by him?

* * * * * * * * *

Lois' first task was to put away the clothing Clark had brought  her. She hesitated when she came to the underwear he had included  as her thoughts drifted to the image of him going through her  underwear drawer. A smile pulled at the corner of her lips when  she realized that he'd included some of her... sexier, less  comfortable items. Then she came across something that sent her  blood pressure souring. A couple of years ago... on impulse...  she'd purchased a black teddy from Victoria's Secrets. She'd  never actually worn it. But... Clark had included it in the items  he'd brought. She couldn't help but be amused, her thoughts still  on that teddy as she climbed into bed, wearing an over-sized t- shirt.

Lois' hand drifted down her body, following her memories of his  touch with her own. His eyes, dark, filled with passion, looking  down at her in a kind of awe. His hands, gentle but strong,  constantly searching and responding to the small changes in her  expression or breathing when he found a spot that was  particularly sensitive. His lips. His taste. His feel. His smell.  All of it was still fresh in her mind - bringing her body quickly  to the point of release.

She shouldn't be giving into her memories. She knew that. The  sexual tension between her and Clark was almost overwhelming as  it was. She was certain he must feel it, too. Every time they  touched, she felt sparks throughout her body, sending unwanted  signals to her brain - signals that could very well send her back  into his arms. But nothing had changed since the previous morning  when she'd left his bed. With her future so uncertain, she had  nothing to offer him. It was best, under the circumstances, that  she not let him get his hopes up.

Besides, even if she were cleared, a relationship between them  didn't stand a chance. Clark didn't understand this. But she did.  And given that they could end up as colleagues at the Planet, it  was best that they keep things... strictly professional.

She knew all this. But it still didn't make sending him home  tonight any easier. As the hour had grown later and thoughts had  turned to sleeping arrangements, she'd become more and more  distracted. She quietly rebuked herself. There was little chance  that he didn't know how easily he could affect her. And as long  as she allowed her feelings, her desires to be so transparent,  she was going to keep him bound to her, keep him hoping.

Still, that didn't stop her from closing her eyes and allowing  her hands to provide her with the relief she craved.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark wondered which of his two suspects to talk to first as he  made his way to the men's prison first thing the next morning. He  finally decided on Herkimer Johnson. Herkimer was the weaker of  the two. Clark had an idea about how to blind side them with the  real reason he was there. He'd try it out on Herkimer and then  perfect it on Cole.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm Clark Kent of the Daily Planet. And I'm wanting to meet  with Herkimer Johnson."

The man checked his list. "Are you sure he's in prison here?"

"I thought so."

"Well, I don't seem to have him. But the name seems familiar." He  rose from behind the desk. "Just let me check on something."

Clark waited patiently for the man to return. If Johnson wasn't  there, they would have to figure out where he had been  imprisoned. That could take additional time. Still... it wasn't  as if there would be much choice. Unless, of course, Johnson had  escaped or been released. Lois might not have heard.

"I'm sorry that took so long," said the guard, returning to the  desk.

"Were you able to find out where Herkimer Johnson is?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well..."

"I'm sorry to tell you this. But... He's dead."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was almost overwhelmed at the amount of information Jimmy  had sent her. First thing in the morning, she sent him an email  asking for the financial records of Joey Bermuda, Jefferson Cole,  Kyle Griffin, Herkimer Johnson, Vasili Sawchenko and Winslow  Schott. She'd almost asked for Dr. Klein's records, too. But  then, as she'd been typing up the email, she'd realized just how  ridiculous it was to even think of Bernard Klein as a suspect.

And right now she was just as glad that she hadn't asked for the  additional information. Because the email was taking forever to  download. Still, once it had, she found herself looking through  thousands of eye-twisting numbers. This was her least favorite  part of any investigation - the paperwork.

At first, she focused on one issue - two thousand dollar monthly  withdrawals starting about a year before to match the payments  made to Theodore Cooke during the same time period. When she  couldn't find any corresponding withdrawals, she turned her  attention to the rest of their suspects' financial records -  looking for anything that raised a red flag.

In doing so, she found a number of things that seemed slightly  suspicious. A fifty-thousand dollar payment had been made to Joey  Bermuda about a week after the death of Elroy Sykes. Winslow  Schott had pulled a large amount of money - almost seventy- thousand dollars - out of his account around the same time. But  Lois couldn't quite see Schott working with Bermuda.

Lucky Leon had the most complicated financial records - mainly  because of his business interests. As a result, even though she  was unable to find two thousand dollar a month payments in there,  it would be easy enough for Lucky Leon to hide those payments  amongst his expenses.

Another odd thing was that Herkimer Johnson's bank account had  been closed about six months before. And, according to Jimmy,  there were no new accounts. She knew the account had not been  closed just because of Johnson's incarceration because she did  have a current account for Jefferson Cole. On the other hand,  Cole's account activity had been pretty minimal since he'd gone  to prison.

Jimmy had been unable to find any financial information on Kyle  Griffin since the sale of Griffin's father's toy company and the  deposit of the funds into a Swiss Bank account. Jimmy had  apologized, saying that he had been able to break the code on the  Swiss account but that he would keep trying. Lois let out a  breath. Her most likely suspect. And there was no indication that  he was even alive. Yet she was convinced he was out there  somewhere. If it hadn't been for the oddity of Griffin not  taunting her with her conviction, she'd be absolutely convinced  that he was the one behind all this. It was just so... his style.

She'd also managed to get one more piece of information from  Jimmy. And she'd done a little bit of digging. But she would wait  to talk to Clark before following up on it.

Once she'd finished her research, she checked the clock. Clark  wasn't back yet. She puttered around the cabin for a while,  growing increasingly bored. She wasn't used to waiting around.  She was a reporter. She should be out pounding the pavement,  following leads, not trapped... Her thought suddenly trailed off.  Opening the cabin door, she spotted the car parked outside. Clark  would never approve, of course. He would say it was too  dangerous. But she didn't exactly need his permission, did she.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 13

Jefferson Cole looked almost exactly the way Clark expected.  Older than Clark. Very distinguished - although how he managed to  pull that off in his prison greys, Clark was entirely uncertain.  Maybe it was in the way he carried himself. But he looked every  part of the distinguished scientist - maybe even more so than Dr.  Klein.

"My name's Clark Kent. I work for the Daily Planet," Clark  explained when Cole picked up the phone.

"Uhh... yes. I've seen your byline. So what does the Daily Planet  want with me?"

"I'm working on a story and I was told that you were a brilliant  scientist and I thought..."

"Am."

"Excuse me?"

"You said I was a brilliant scientist. I am a brilliant  scientist."

Clark made a mental note. This man had quite an ego. "Sorry. Of  course that's what I meant."

The scientist looked appeased.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you'd let me pick your brain for a  moment." When Cole gestured for him to continue, Clark spoke  again. "I'm wondering what you think about this new flying man.  There's been some speculation that he might be an android -  perhaps even a remote controlled android."

"I've not heard that."

"Well, that's what I heard. Anyway, the people I've spoken to  said that you knew something about remote controls. And I was  wondering..."

"Who did you hear this from?"

"Just around." Clark tried to look as innocent as possible. In  point of fact, he'd never heard remote control devices mentioned  in connection to Jefferson Cole. But if Cole knew anything, Clark  didn't think the man's ego would let him play dumb.

"Well, remotes aren't really my specialty. But obviously I know  more than most. So what were you wondering?"

"Have you ever created your own remote?"

"Can't say that I have. But it would be a simple enough procedure  should I decide to do it. Basic electronics." He took a closer  look at Clark. "Well, simple enough for someone like me. You  might have some problems."

"I'm sure you're right," Clark responded, continuing to play up  to the man's ego. "So... what about size? Would it be possible to  create a remote small enough to fit in... I don't know..." Clark  struggled, as if trying to think of an example. "A bullet?"

"I've never heard of one that small. But then if it was needed to  control an android it wouldn't have to be particularly small,  would it?"

"I suppose not," said Clark, trying to pretend that idea hadn't  occurred to him.

"Well, is that all you wanted."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for your time," said Clark. At least he had  his answer. Cole hadn't looked at all shocked at the reference to  a bullet. Nor did he seem the least bit defensive about this line  of questioning. Maybe he wasn't the one who had framed Lois.

Clark was just about to stand up when Cole's voice stopped him.

"You're new to the Daily Planet, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. Just a couple of weeks now."

"Lane's replacement?"

"I suppose." At least, that was the way Lois saw him.

Cole smiled. "Well, Kent, it's too bad about your predecessor -  although one could argue that cocky little reporter should rot in  a hellhole prison for the rest of her miserable, worthless life.  But that's just some peoples' opinion. Of course, Sykes was a  buffoon. His death wasn't exactly a tragedy. Still..." He  grinned.

"But I guess you benefited pretty well from Lois Lane's  conviction for his murder," Cole continued. "Funny how those  things work out. Hope you enjoy the new job. And you're welcome."

"I'm welcome?"

"For the information on remotes," Cole clarified.

"Of course." Clark was lost in thought as Cole stood up and  regarded him with a look that Clark couldn't quite name before  turning to leave the room.

"Memo to self..." Cole said under his breath, but loud enough for  Clark to hear. "...Lane's replacement is an idiot."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois pulled the car off to the side of the road and looked  around, checking to be sure the place wasn't being watched. On  the other hand, she wasn't sure why it would be. This was  probably not on the police's top ten list of places to look for  Lois Lane. But she was determined to figure out for herself if  Winslow Schott was really grateful for her interference in his  plot against the children of Metropolis. She could only do that  by talking to him personally. And by not informing him that she  was coming first, it wasn't as if he would have time to call the  cops.

She got out of the car, still not quite believing what she was  seeing. She pushed open the door to the business, causing a small  bell over the door to jingle.

"Can I help you?" asked an older, African-American woman.

"Miss Duffy?"

"It's Mrs. Schott now. Do I... Lois Lane?"

Lois nodded.

"Oh, it's so good to see you."

Before Lois could react she was lost in a huge bear hug.

"Winslow will be so pleased."

"So..." Lois said, escaping the woman's grasp. "...how did this  all come about?"

"You mean the toy store? Well, when Winslow was in jail, he  finally realized that the reason he was so devastated when the  children didn't like his toys was because of how much he loves  children. So when he got out of jail, we came up with enough  money to put a down payment on this place."

Lois nodded. Well, that explained the large withdrawal from  Schott's account about a year before.

"Of course, Winslow claims that he's just in it for the business,  but... Well, come with me."

Lois followed as Margaret Schott led her through the store until  Lois was standing in the entrance way to what could only be  described as a rumpus-room. Mats covered the floor and toys were  scattered everywhere. But most astonishing was that there were at  least a dozen children playing in the room.

"Winslow says that it's important for the children to have a  chance to play with the toys before purchasing them. But... well,  parents often come by and drop their children off for the  afternoon."

"And you don't stop them?"

"Well, I might be tempted but.." She pointed to a group of  children who were piled on the floor. "...Winslow loves it."

Before Lois could ask what Margaret meant, there was a loud growl  and suddenly, much like the phoenix rising out of the sea,  Winslow Schott rose up from the pile of children, sending them  flying to the mats, roaring with laughter.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark was diverted from his trip back to the cabin by a store on  the side of the road. He opened the door and stepped inside, not  entirely sure what he would find. Lucky Leon's.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" asked a salesclerk.

"No," Clark replied.

"That's fine. Just let me know if I can be of assistance."

Clark nodded before directing his mind to the store itself,  wandering through aisles, looking at various items. Desk friend.  Shower friend. Kitchen friend. Garage friend. Living room friend.  Clark wasn't sure he'd ever seen so many friends. But the oddest  part was the number of bowls of fresh fruit sitting everywhere.  Wandering into another part of the store, he spotted a golf set  up. Along one wall was what appeared to be a golf green and at  the end of the green was a net. Picking up a golf club, he  examined it carefully. There were sensors in the club itself.

"Try it."

Clark looked around at the sound of the accented voice to see a  bear-like man standing watching him. Without responding, Clark  stepped up to the ball and after lining up, took a swing.

"Sliced to the right," said a prerecorded voice. "Next time don't  swing your shoulders so much."

"Ya nenavizhu etu glueuyu igru," Lucky Leon murmured.

"If you hate this game, why do you make it?"

"You speak Russian?"

"Da."

"Uhh... It is so good to hear the mother tongue. But you are an  American, nyet?"

"I am."

"America is a great country." He walked over to a bowl of fruit  sitting nearby. "Would you like a banana?" When Clark shook his  head, Leon picked one up. "Would you believe that I was twenty  five years old before I tasted my first banana. Now I'm an  addict. I love the U.S. So... How many of my golf friends would  you like?"

"I don't think golf is really my game."

"Well, I have soccer friend or baseball friend."

"Sorry. But... Well, my nephew is celebrating a birthday soon.  And he has a thing about remote control devices. What's the  smallest remote controlled receiver device you have?"

"Personally, I hate remote controls. If you're not there, why do  you need a remote? But... I have something to make your nephew  very happy. My phone friend."

When Clark looked skeptical, Lucky Leon led him across the store  to where a hideous looking contraption sat. On it was a phone and  what appeared to be some sort of computer pad. Clark looked up at  Lucky Leon.

"Now let's say you get a call." Lucky Leon picked up the phone to  demonstrate. "It's an important call. You're given a message and  you look around, but you can't find a pen. Well..." He wrote with  his finger on a pad and, on a table nearby a pen began to move  from where it was sitting in a special holder on a pad of paper.

Clark made his way over. "Is the remote in the holder or the  pen?" asked Clark.

"The transmitter is in the pad here. The receiver is in the pen.  As I said, it's the smallest remote receiver we have."

Clark picked up the pen and quickly examined it over his glasses.  There was a very small remote receiver device inside. And  although he figured it made more sense just to keep a pen and pad  of paper next to his phone... "How much?"

"Yours for only fifty-nine ninety-nine. And I'll throw in a bath  friend absolutely free."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois sat in the car, doors unlocked, in downtown Metropolis. In  spite of having her hair pulled up, wearing a baseball cap and a  pair of sunglasses, she felt... exposed. She checked the mirrors  one more time, relaxing slightly when she didn't see anything  only to jump when Bobby suddenly sat up in the back seat.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Lois demanded.

"I thought the state was already planning to do that," said  Bobby, reaching over the seat to pull a piece of pizza out of the  box sitting next to Lois. "Hey, what happened to the cheese?"

"It didn't come with cheese," Lois said, knowing she sounded  guilty.

"Well... I guess I can live without it this once. After all,  you're on the lam. I doubt you've got a lot of money. So whatcha  want?"

"I think there is a connection between my conviction, the murder  of Theodore Cooke and the ferry incident. Can you tell me  anything?"

"Well, I don't know about your conviction. But I do know that for  the past year there has been a rather intent search taking place  for someone who worked on the docks. After Cooke's death, the  search stopped."

"Any idea who was doing the searching?"

Bobby shook his head.

"Well, any idea why they might have been searching for Cooke?"

"From what I heard, this person had... overheard a private  conversation which had taken place on the docks. And they were  paying blackmail money to keep him quiet. Talk was that the  reason they were so anxious to find him was because they couldn't  proceed with the next stage of the operation until he was  neutralized."

"The ferry explosion," Lois murmured.

"Ya think?"

"Just an idea. Great, Bobby. Thanks. If you hear anything else,  do you have access to an email account?"

"Of course. You can get great prices on buying food in mass  quantities on the net. My favorite is Meats R Us dot com. So  what's your email address?" Once she'd given it to him, he  reached over the seat to grab the pizza box before stopping.  "Actually... why don't you keep that? Who knows when you'll have  enough money to eat again."

"It's not..." But before she could finish, Bobby had disappeared.

Shaking her head, she started the car and pulled onto the street.  She'd obtained what she needed. Now... she wanted to get out of  there as fast as possible.

She was half way back to the cabin, in a rather deserted area of  the city, when she glanced in her rearview mirror and spotted her  worst nightmare. A black SUV.

* * * * * * * * *

"Lois?" Clark pushed open the door to the cabin and dropped his  purchase from Lucky Leon on the floor inside before making his  way quickly through the small space. "Lois?" he asked again,  turning around, even though he knew she wasn't there. All her  stuff was there. The transcripts from her trial were there. Her  laptop was still sitting on the kitchen table. But... no Lois.

What had happened?

Why wasn't she there?

Had the police found her?

Had the men in the black SUV found her?

Each question left him feeling increasingly anxious. He rushed  outside. "Lois!" he yelled, spinning around in the open space in  front of the cabin. He floated off the ground to get a better  view and tried spinning again, looking for her.

The car wasn't there. Did that mean she'd gone somewhere? Or did  that mean that after they'd captured Lois, they had towed the  car?

"Lois!" he yelled again.

Still, there was no answer. He forced himself to calm down,  closing his eyes and, while still floating about ten feet above  the ground, concentrated on what he could hear. A squirrel was  chattering away in the trees. The wind was whipping at the  leaves. There was the gentle swoosh of the water as it hit the  dock. But no Lois. No soft human breathing. No tell-tale 'thump  thump' of her heart.

Suddenly, he was struck by a thought. He turned towards the  docks. A rowboat was pulled up on the shore. Otherwise, no boat.  But... had there been any other boats when he'd been there the  previous day? He wasn't entirely sure. What if she'd taken a boat  out and had an accident? She could be somewhere in the lake,  fighting for her life.

Taking off, he headed over the water, skimming just above the  waves as he examined every inch. With all the small coves, it  took him some time before he was satisfied that whatever had  happened didn't involve Lois being in the water.

Suddenly, he heard something. Zipping back to the cabin, he  landed just in time to see a Daily Planet car coming down the  gravel road and behind the wheel of that car...

Clark let out a breath of relief.

...Lois.

* * * * * * * * *

"Do you mind telling me where you've been?"

Lois looked at him as she got out of the car and closed the door.  "And good morning to you, too," she said sarcastically, carrying  the pizza box toward the cabin.

"I've been going out of my mind. How can I protect you if you go  wandering off every five minutes?"

"I don't recall asking for your protection!"

Clark ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just  meant..."

"Clark, the last I checked, you weren't my father or my husband  or even my boyfriend." As she spoke, she stormed towards the  cabin. "So I don't see what business it is of yours if I..."

"I thought I was your partner."

"That doesn't give you the right to lecture me."

"But we had decided that you were going to stay here, see what  you could dig up, while I stopped by the prison."

"I finished early. And... are you telling me that you wouldn't  take the time to do something else if you thought..." She caught  something on his face. "You did, didn't you? You did something  else before coming here that you didn't discuss with me first."

"Well, yes, but..."

"And do you hear me lecturing you about it? No! Of course not!  We're partners. And I trust you. So why can't you trust me?"

"This isn't about trust."

"Then what's it about, Clark?" she asked, slamming the pizza on  the table and spinning towards him.

"Fear."

His unexpected response brought her thoughts to an abrupt halt.

"When I came back and you weren't here..."

Her anger melted at the look on his face. He'd been scared for  her. This wasn't about controlling her movements. This was really  about fear. "I'm fine, Clark. I did a little leg work on the  story. It was no big deal." She didn't bother to mention her  moment of fear when she'd seen a black SUV following her. It had  turned off after a couple blocks. But, still, there had been that  moment... But Clark didn't need to know about that. "Look, I've  only got a limited amount of time before the police find me. I  need to do everything I can to find out who set me up before that  happens. And if that means taking some risks, I've got to do  that. Besides, Clark, I've been a reporter for a long time. I'm  not too bad at taking care of myself."

"I didn't mean to imply..."

"So what did you find out?" Lois said, changing the subject. "Do  you think that either Cole or Johnson are behind all this?"

"Well, it's not Johnson."

"How do you know?"

"Apparently prison life didn't agree with him. He was killed  about six months ago."

"Oh god," breathed Lois. "I mean, he was a bit of a wimp -  probably became everyone's favorite whipping boy." She shook her  head slowly. "He really never had a chance, Clark. Not from the  second he was born. His mother wanted her sons to grow up and  become criminals. And now she's lost both - Bad Brain and  Herkimer."

"Well, Cole doesn't seem to be having any problem adjusting to  prison life."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know what he was like before going to prison, but..."

"Arrogant, cocky, haughty, superior, overbearing, insolent..."

"Okay, okay. I get the picture. Well then, he hasn't changed a  bit."

"So... what did you think?"

"At first, I was ready to write him off. I asked him about small  remote controls - the size that could fit in... say a bullet..."

"And...?"

"He didn't even blink funny. But then, just as I was about to  leave, he said a few things that got me wondering."

"Such as."

"Well, first, when he realized I was your... replacement, he  started talking about your conviction. He didn't seem too unhappy  about it."

"A lot of people aren't unhappy about it, Clark."

"No. But then he said something that makes me think he knew Elroy  Sykes."

"What?"

"He commented that Sykes was a buffoon and that his death was no  big loss."

"And how would he know that if he didn't know Sykes?" she asked,  completing his thought. "Still..." she continued thoughtfully.  "...I guess he just could have heard gossip around the prison.  Anything else."

"Yes. He made a comment about me benefitting from your conviction  - because I'm the one who got your job."

"So...?"

"Then he said, 'You're welcome.'"

"'You're welcome?'"

Clark nodded. "When I asked what he was talking about, he said  for taking the time to answer my questions about remote  controls."

"But you didn't believe him?"

"It was in the timing. One minute, he was telling me how I had  lucked-out because of your conviction. The next he's saying  'you're welcome.' So, no, I didn't believe him."

Lois nodded slowly. "Okay, so he's still on the list. Now you  indicated earlier that you'd done something else this morning."

"Oh, right. Lucky Leon. On my way back, I walked past Lucky  Leon's retail store. So... I went inside. Met the man himself."  As he spoke, Clark walked over to where his purchases were on the  floor next to the door and picked them up. Coming over to the  table, he placed them on it.

"What's this?"

"I made a purchase." Clark moved the box containing the phone  friend to the side. "He threw in the bath friend for free. Would  you like it?"

"Not on your life," said Lois. "In fact..." She walked over,  holding open the door.

"Lois?"

"Get it out of here, Clark."

"What?"

"When I was investigating Lucky Leon the last time, he gave me  one of those. Turns out it had a remote controlled camera in it.  If I had actually put it up in my shower..." She didn't complete  her thought. "Get it out of here."

Clark's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Oh," he said,  understanding sinking in. Without going to the door, he tossed  the bath friend through it, bouncing it off a rock to land in the  lake.

Lois watched in awe through the door as the box slowly became  waterlogged and sank below the surface. "Nice toss."

"Thanks. Anyway, the reason I bought this is because..." He  opened the package, removed a pen and handed it to Lois.

"If you wanted a pen, I have a number of them here."

"No." Taking the pen back, he dismantled it until he was holding  a small device in his hand.

"What's that?"

"The smallest remote receiver Lucky Leon makes." He placed the  remote in Lois' hand.

"Is it small enough to be placed in a bullet?"

"Uhh..." Clark pulled one final item from his jacket. A small box  of bullets. "The gun that killed Sykes was a 9mm semiautomatic.  So I picked up a box of bullets."

Lois moved closer, holding the remote against the bullet to see  if she thought it would fit.

"Here," said Clark, taking the bullet.

Lois' eyebrows rose when he easily removed the lead from the  bullet, emptied the powder and handed her the empty shell casing.  She took the casing and was able, maneuvering it carefully, to  fit the remote into the casing. "It's tight. But... I suppose it  could work. So then, Lucky Leon is definitely still on the list.  Did you do any snooping when you were at the store?"

"I told you..."

"No. I mean, did you sneak into his office and go through his  files - anything like that."

"Of course not. That would be a breach of his privacy."

"Pfff. Okay, well we need to make a trip back there, look around  a little more."

"Lois, I don't think..."

"Do you want to know what I found out?"

"I..." He let out a breath at her obvious intention to change the  subject. "Okay, what did you find out?"

"Well, first, I went to see Winslow Schott."

"What?"

"Don't look at me like that! I haven't lost my mind."

"But what if he had turned you in?"

"I figured even if he wanted to turn me in, I could be out of  there before he had a chance. Do you want to hear my story or  not?"

Clark gestured for her to continue.

"Okay, well I think we can safely cross Winslow Schott off our  list."

"What makes you so sure?"

"He really wasn't in revenge mode. In fact, I think he's found  his niche in life." Lois proceeded to fill Clark in on what she'd  seen at the Schott Toy Store. Afterwards, Clark was forced to  concede that Schott was not likely involved. "And then I met with  Bobby Bigmouth. Don't say it, Clark. It's getting redundant."

"I didn't say a thing."

"Hmph."

"So what did you learn from... Is his name really Bigmouth?"

Lois shrugged. "I've never heard him called anything else.  Anyway, he told me that word on the street is that for the past  year someone has been looking for a person who overheard a  conversation on the docks."

Clark was nodding thoughtfully when Lois finished filling him in.  "So then we have to find out who was making two thousand dollar a  month payments."

"I already looked into that. I couldn't find any such payments in  the financial records of any of our suspects. Well, except for  Kyle Griffin... Jimmy couldn't find his financial records."

"Then chances are that our list of suspects is incomplete. Did  you look at everyone's accounts?"

"I didn't look at Dr. Klein's."

"Lois!"

"Forget it, Clark. Dr. Klein didn't do this. He was on the ferry,  after all. Why would he blow up the boat when he was on it?"

"Maybe the explosion got away from him. Maybe he set it off too  early. Maybe he wasn't even on the ferry. I don't know. But,  Lois, I think you're letting your personal feelings get in the  way here."

"There's more chance that Lex rose from the dead again than that  Bernard did this. After all, Lex rose from the dead once before.  And you said it yourself, the men chasing us talked about 'the  boss'."

Clark let out a breath, running his hand through his hair in  frustration. "Lois..."

"Look, Clark, you aren't going to convince me that Dr. Klein is  involved."

"So... where do we go from here?"

"We get creative."

* * * * * * * * *

Part 14

"I don't know about this, Lois," Clark said, looking around the  dark alley.

"Would you just be quiet?" Lois responded as she proceeded to  work the locks on the back door to Lucky Leon's warehouse. "This  is supposed to be a stealth mission. Are you trying to get us  caught? By the way, you did take out the security cameras using  your vision gizmo, didn't you?"

"Yes. I told you I would and I did. I just think that maybe we  shouldn't be..."

"Relax, Clark. What are they going to do to me if they do catch  me? Send me to jail? And if... There." A satisfying click echoed  in the abandoned alley as the lock gave way to her efforts.  Turning the knob, she started to open the door.

Suddenly, Clark pulled her back just as a small dart whirled past  her head.

"What was that?" Lois exclaimed.

"Some sort of dart." Clark carefully stuck his hand through the  doorway, waving it, and... caught a second dart.

"Some sort of security system," Lois decided. "It's a lot like  the way he killed people back when I was investigating his story.  What are you doing?" she asked, watching Clark smell the dart.

"It's got something on it. Poison, maybe?"

"I'll lay two to one odds on it being synthetic curare."

"How do you know?"

"Call it a hunch. So... can you disable that thing?"

"Uhh... yeah. Sure." He looked around the door, catching a third  dart just before he zapped the security device inside. "All  clear."

"You're sure?"

Clark nodded.

"So... Are you coming?" Lois asked, stepping into the warehouse.  "You don't have to, you know. If you're afraid of getting caught,  feel free to wait in the car. I can do this alone?" Without  waiting for his response, she snuck through the door.

The large storage room was lit only in the most minimal of ways,  leaving the entire space not much more than a collection of  shadows. As Lois entered, each step sounded loud in the quiet  room. Once inside, she turned to see that Clark was following,  closing the door carefully behind him.

"What now?"

"Now... We look for an office. Offices have files. Files contain  records. Get the picture?"

Clark let out a breath, but otherwise didn't respond as Lois led  him between the piles of boxes towards a door on the far side of  the room. Opening the door, she quietly swore.

"A closet," she informed him, turning in an effort to determine  where to go next.

"Just a second," said Clark, lowering his glasses down his nose.  "This way."

"What did you do?" Lois asked as she followed while Clark led  them in a new direction.

"Just used a bit of x-ray vision to figure out where the office  is. Figured it could save us some time."

"You could come in handy," Lois confessed. "I'll take two."

Clark glanced over his shoulder at her, but she wasn't looking at  him. She was looking past him at the door they were heading  towards. When they reached it, she stepped by him to enter.  Inside was an office. Large file cabinets were pushed up against  every wall.

"This is going to take some time," Lois said, doing a slow  circle, trying to figure out where to start.

"Maybe I can help with that, too."

"What..." Lois began when he took her by the shoulders and pushed  her back out of the way before becoming a blur.

"Well, financial records are over there. This section is devoted  to his inventions. And... I found... what might be something."

Lois stood looking at him in complete disbelief.

"Do you want to look at it or not?" he asked, holding the file  out to her.

"Are you telling me that you read all these files?"

"Well, no."

"Oh, good. You had me..."

"I just skimmed them - trying to figure out where we should  look."

"Oh."

"Do you want to take a look at this or don't you?"

Lois moved, somewhat cautiously, closer. "What's this?" she  asked, taking the folder.

"It seems to be Lucky Leon's file on remote controlled devices."

Lois moved over to a desk, laying the file out as she began  flipping through it. "Did you find anything to indicate that he  made a remote device to fire a bullet without pulling the  trigger?"

Clark shook his head, even as he looked at the file over Lois'  shoulder.

"But I wouldn't have really expected it," he continued. "I mean,  he's not likely to keep evidence that he was involved in Syke's  death - or in framing you."

"You'd be surprised by the incriminating information people  keep." She finished looking through the file before turning to  look around the room. "There."

"What?"

Without explaining herself, she moved to the far side of the  room, feeling around a bookcase covering one of the walls.  Suddenly, the bookcase gave way, swinging open to reveal a secret  room.

"How did you know...?"

"I've been doing this a long time, Clark. I might not have x-ray  vision, but I'm not easily fooled either."

"I noticed," said Clark, following her into the room. "Still..."

"Okay, if you must know... Shortly before my trial, I was  investigating a story about a woman named Myrtle Beach. She was  known as 'The Wedding Destroyer.' Her psychiatrist, Dr. Voyle  Grumman, had a set up just like this one. Turned out he'd been  manipulating her, using her grief over being jilted to see how  far he could push her into ruining other people's weddings."

"Boy, what is it about Metropolis and psychiatrists? First,  Maxwell Deter seduces you when you're his patient and now this.  Are there any trustworthy psychiatrists in this city?"

"My sister used a Dr. Friskin, and she was okay - not that I  would trust a psychiatrist again, of course. But..." Her voice  trailed off as she became engrossed in her search of the secret  room.

An hour of searching turned up quite a bit. Details of Vasili  Sawchenko's deal with the government. Names of contacts in the  Russian Mafia. Details of weapon programs he'd initiated while  he'd still been working for the KGB. If Lois hadn't been  distracted by the need to find out if he was responsible for her  conviction, she'd have found a thousand other stories there. But  as it was, there was no evidence that directly linked Lucky Leon  to any of the incidents that they were investigating - Cooke's  death, the ferry disaster or her conviction.

"So..." asked Clark, "...what do you think? Are there any more  felonies we can commit tonight?"

* * * * * * * * *

"Okay, when I asked if there were any more felonies we could  commit tonight, I wasn't exactly serious."

"Would you relax?" Lois said in exasperation as she continued to  work on the lock to Joey Bermuda's place. "You said no one was  home."

"Just because no one is home doesn't mean we should be breaking  in. Breaking into someone's workplace is one thing. But this is  someone's home."

"There!" She rose, pushing open the door.

Shaking his head, Clark followed her into the house. A quick  search turned up a work space in the basement. Tables covered  with various pieces of metal and plastic. Plans and paper all  over the place.

Lois made her way over to what appeared to be a large, albeit  unusual, gun set up on a stand. Beside it, on a work bench was a  remote control. Picking it up, she pressed a button on the remote  and then jumped when the gun fired at a target on the other side  of the room, sending a laser out to burn a hole in the large  piece of plywood.

"Whoa!" said Clark.

"Well, that proves the 'using a remote to fire a dangerous  weapon' theory."

"Yeah, it does," said Clark, moving his glasses down his nose to  examine the weapon. "Although this is a laser gun. No bullets.  So..." He took a look around the room again, glancing through the  various file cabinets until... "Lois, come take a look at this."  He headed towards a particular cabinet, opened it and withdrew a  red file folder.

Lois joined him. The folder was marked with two initials. M.D.  Underneath the initials was a postal box. And inside, the thing  that had obviously caught Clark's attention. A photograph of her.  And... She quickly flipped through the other photos inside.  Theodore Cooke. Dr. Bernard Klein. And Inspector Bill Henderson.  All the photos appeared to have been taken without the subject's  knowledge - as if they were surveillance photos.

"Clark, what..." Lois' question trailed off when there was a  sound on the floor above them. Someone was home.

Clark looked around quickly. Lois followed his gaze. There were  no windows. No back exits. Without busting them through the  walls, there was only one exit - the stairs and the door, on the  other side of which was Joey Bermuda.

"What..."

"Come on," Lois whispered, grabbing his arm and pulling him with  her behind the wooden target used for the laser gun. The only  problems were the number of small holes burned into the wood and  the fact that if Joey should decide to fire the gun again, one of  them might be hit.

They had just vanished behind it when the door at the top of the  stairs opened and Joey Bermuda, the Handyman, began to descend.  Clark used his x-ray vision to watch through the board as Joey  made his way to the desk and took a seat before picking up the  phone. As he dialed the number, Clark looked back at Lois who was  again looking through the red file. He shook his head. They were  trapped, waiting to be discovered and she was taking time to look  through the file. He was even more stunned when she removed a  small camera from her pocket and took a picture of one page in  the file.

The camera clicked and flashed, causing Clark to flinch.

"Lois," he hissed, quickly glancing through the board to see if  Joey had noticed. He hadn't.

"Look," she responded, handing him the page she'd photographed.

And suddenly, Clark understood. It was a schematic for producing  a remote controlled bullet. He turned his attention back to Joey  when the man began speaking into the phone.

"It's me. I want to know where my money is."

Clark cranked up his hearing to listen to the reply.

"You didn't do the job. Why should I pay you?"

"Who's he talking to?" whispered Lois, causing Clark to jump.

"Shh."

Lois fell silent.

"I did the job you wanted. It's not my fault if it didn't work. I  told you there was a risk in doing it that way. And, of course,  you still owe me for taking care of that other problem for you,"  Joey responded.

"That other problem wouldn't have existed if you hadn't insisted  on meeting on the docks in the first place."

"Either way, you owe me. I'm a family man. I have a family to  take care of. And I'm not about to do any more work for you until  you pay me for the jobs I've already done."

"Well, you can't move until Lois Lane is back in custody anyway."

Without responding, Joey slammed down the phone in frustration.

Clark continued to watch while Joey sat there for a long,  breathless moment before storming up the stairs, slamming the  door behind him.

Lois and Clark both let out identical breaths of relief.

"So... could you tell who was on the other end of that phone  call?"

Clark looked over at Lois. "You're assuming I could hear both  sides."

"Hey, you're the one who told me that you have extraordinary  hearing. On the other hand, if you couldn't..."

"I heard."

"So... who was he talking to?"

"I don't know. The man never identified himself."

"Well, did he have a Russian accent?"

"No."

"I guess that rules out Lucky Leon. Anything else, his voice  patterns, anything. Did the voice seem familiar?"

"It might have been. But... I don't know. But he did sound like  he was educated."

"Okay. So what did he say? I could only hear one side of that  conversation."

"Basically, Bermuda was demanding payment for a job. The man on  the other end didn't think he'd done the job."

"I assume that means whoever Bermuda was supposed to kill isn't  dead."

"I agree. But then Bermuda said he had already told him that  there was a risk that the job wouldn't... go off as planned. And  he reminded the man on the other end of the line that he had  taken care of the Cooke problem and wanted his payment for that.  So that's when the person he was talking to made a comment that  if Bermuda hadn't insisted on meeting with him at the docks in  the first place, there wouldn't have been a Cooke problem."

"In other words, if they hadn't been on the docks, Cooke wouldn't  have heard the conversation between Bermuda and our mystery man  and wouldn't have been able to blackmail them."

"That was my thought. Oh, and one more thing, obviously the job  isn't finished. But the man on the other end of the line said  they couldn't do more until you were back in custody."

"Okay, so we know Bermuda is involved. But..."

"Who is he working for?"

"And why?"

* * * * * * * * *

"Mayson Drake," Lois said slowly.

"Excuse me," Clark asked when Lois broke the silence between them  as they drove back to the cabin.

"The initials on the file. M.D. I'm just trying to think of  people with those initials."

"So who is Mayson Drake?"

"She's... No. It couldn't be her. I saw her die." When she  realized Clark was looking confused, she continued. "Mayson Drake  worked for the D.A.'s office. She was killed when she got too  close to a plot by Stanley Gable. She died in my arms."

"So there's no chance it could be her? That she could have  survived somehow?"

Lois shook her head. "No. Besides, she was my best friend. She'd  have no reason to frame me. But... the initials." She clicked her  tongue against the roof of her mouth as she tried to think of  someone else with those initials. "I know! Marcus Daitch. He's  the director of EPRAD."

"Didn't we already decide he wasn't involved?"

"Yes. But that was before we found a file with his initials on  it."

"But... well, what motivation could he have for any of it? For  example, can you think of any reason he'd want you to go to  prison?"

"No," said Lois frustrated. "Still, just because I can't think of  a reason doesn't mean he doesn't have one. Maybe..." She  hesitated as a new idea sank in. "Maybe they wanted me in prison  to keep me from investigating when they did... whatever it is  they're doing."

"Maybe. But... Lois, as good as you are, there are lots of people  investigating the ferry disaster. I can't believe they would feel  the need to send you to prison just because they were afraid you  might find something. Why not just wait and see who gets too  close and then kill them? But the guys at the warehouse earlier  made it clear that whoever is behind this doesn't want you dead.  But don't we have enough now to... say, go to Henderson?"

"No. Clark, all we have is a phone conversation - only one side  of which we could report without telling Henderson about... your  unique abilities. And the schematics for a bullet that can fire  on its own. There's nothing to connect it to the shooting of  Sykes. And as much as I trust Henderson, he's still a cop. He'd  have to turn me in."

"We've at least got to let him know that we found his picture in  that file."

"You're assuming that the people whose pictures are all targets.  And with myself and Cooke, I think that's a logical assumption.  But... See!" she suddenly exclaimed, cutting herself off. "I told  you that Dr. Klein wasn't involved. His picture was one of the  pictures..." Her voice trailed off again as another idea struck  her. "The ferry disaster. He was on that ferry. What if the whole  thing was orchestrated to kill him."

"Are you saying that someone would kill a hundred people in an  attempt to kill just one man?"

"You're the one who said that, according to our mysterious  caller, he wasn't paying because Joey Bermuda hadn't done the  job. And if the target was Bernard Klein, then when he lived,  Joey failed."

Clark let out a slow breath. "Okay, well, maybe that's true. But  right now, we have a lot more questions than answers."

"Except, I think we can safely say that Joey Bermuda is  involved."

* * * * * * * * *

Part 15

The next morning Lois and Clark dedicated themselves to learning  all they could about Marcus Daitch. Clark interviewed the man  while Lois dug up everything she could find about his finances  and his family. By noon, when they got together, they were both  frustrated. After finding the initials M.D. on the file, Daitch  had become their primary suspect. But so far, nothing other than  his initials connected Marcus Daitch to the ferry disaster, Cooke  or Lois.

On the other hand, they still had a postal box to check out.

After pulling up in front of the appropriate postal outlet, they  got out of the vehicle and went inside. When Clark walked up to  the counter, he noticed that Lois hung back, pretending to check  her box. It only took Clark a moment to realize why. Her picture  was prominently displayed. He moved as inconspicuously as  possible to block the picture. He had heard that fugitives  pictures were posted at post offices, but until now, he hadn't  realized it was true - except in old westerns.

"I was hoping you could help me out," Clark said to the pretty  young woman behind the counter. "I need to find out who owns a  postal box."

"I'm sorry, sir," the woman responded. "We can't give out that  information."

In the back of his mind, Clark realized that Lois had walked  outside. He assumed it was to ensure she wasn't seen.

"Surely there are exceptions," said Clark, giving the young woman  his most disarming smile.

She seemed to melt a bit. "I'm sorry," she said again. "It could  get me fired."

Clark nodded slowly. "Please."

"I can't."

Something subtle in her tone of voice this time told Clark that  there was no point in pushing anymore. Giving a brief nod, he  turned to leave, stopping only for a brief moment to x-ray Box  336. There was something inside - a box addressed to M.D. Letting  out a breath of frustration, he walked out the door to where Lois  was leaning against the outside wall waiting for him.

"Get anything?" she asked.

He shook his head. "For a moment I thought she was going to help  me out. But no. I did find something, though."

"What?"

"There is something in that postal box."

Lois' eyebrows rose. "Did you... buzz buzz... the box?"

"Buzz buzz?"

She smiled.

"Yeah. And I noticed a couple of things. First, the box itself.  There was no return address. But it was obviously mailed  somewhere in Metropolis from the postal mark. And the condition  of the box and the stickers on it tell me that it went through  the mail as opposed to simply being placed inside the box by  someone with a key. Inside the box is some sort of...  contraption. I haven't seen anything like it before. I have no  idea what it's for." He took the notebook and pen out of Lois'  hands. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching before,  at superspeed, sketching the object he had seen.

"Okay, now that's just showing off," said Lois, bumping his  shoulder as she took the notebook from him.

"Does it look like anything you recognize?"

Lois shook her head.

"So... how do we go about finding out?"

"I suggest we take it to Dr. Klein."

"But, Lois, if he's..."

"He's not involved. If he was, his picture would never have been  in that file. He's a target, too."

"Maybe but..."

"Let's discuss it later. Right now, we need to figure out who  owns that box."

"And how do you suggest we do that?"

Lois grinned. Grabbing his arm, she led him around to the back of  the building. "No one will notice if you take a little hop up  onto the roof from here."

"What are you...?"

"Trust me. I need to go back inside. Just keep an eye on me,"  said Lois, turning and heading back to the front entrance of the  post office.

"But, Lois, your picture. It's up in the post office. What if  someone recognizes you?"

"Don't be a worry-wart. No one ever looks at those things. Just  be ready when your chance comes to see who is renting the box."

Without explaining further, she disappeared around the corner. He  stared after her for a moment. He'd thought she'd left the post  office to avoid being seen because of the poster. But... maybe  she'd just doubted that the direct approach was going to work. So  what did she have in mind? Taking a quick look around, he hopped  up on the roof and took up position where he could watch easily  as she walked into the post office and up to the same young woman  he'd been talking to earlier.

"I'd like to pay my account for my post office box," she said.

"What's the number?"

"Box 336."

The woman pulled a book from behind the counter, opening it up to  the appropriate box number. Clark suddenly realized why he was on  the roof. His eyebrows went up when he saw the name on the  account.

"It's already paid for the next year."

"Oh really," said Lois, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. You originally paid for a year. Then, about a month ago,  you paid for another year."

"My associate must have paid it. I just wish he had told me.  But... you know men."

Lois and the woman shared a knowing look before Lois turned and  walked out of the post office. Clark watched in awe, almost  unable to believe how easily she had adapted to using his powers.  Looking around again, he hopped off the roof, heading over to  where she was waiting for him by the front door, looking smug.  She was smart - and fearless. And he wasn't sure he'd ever  admired her more.

"So what did you...?"

He held up his hand, cutting her off when he heard someone  inside.

"She was just in here!" said the woman to a colleague excitedly.

"We've got to get out of here." Clark took Lois' arm, hustling  her to the car.

"What is it?"

"They recognized you."

"Then let's get out of here." Even as she spoke, she started the  car, screeching the tires as she swerved into the traffic. "So...  what did you find out? Who rented that box?"

"You're not going to believe this... The name of the person  renting the box is... Dr. Klein."

"But the initials on the file were... M.D.!" she exclaimed.  "Medical Doctor."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois carefully picked the skin off the fried chicken they had  picked up in town. She glanced around, wondering where to put it,  before deciding on Clark's plate. The act had been... a bit of a  prank. But the way he simply ate it without comment left Lois  with a strange - and yet familiar - feeling in her gut. There was  something... almost intimate about him eating her food. She  wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

"I can't believe Dr. Klein is involved," said Lois. "What reason  would he have for framing me? Are you certain his name was on the  postal box?"

Clark nodded. "I'm sorry, Lois."

She gave her head a shake, trying to put the sadness behind her  but was unable to do so. She considered Bernard Klein a friend -  a position she gave to very few people. And now, the sense of  betrayal was staggering. If he could turn on her, why not Perry  or Jimmy or even Henderson? And what about Clark? Could he be  trusted?

"Are you going to be okay?" Clark asked.

"Yeah, fine," she lied. "I guess our next step is to get hold of  Dr. Klein's financial records."

"I can take care of that if..."

"No, Clark. I'll do it. Besides, you need to find out anything  you can about that contraption in Dr. Klein's postal box."

Clark seemed to regard her carefully before nodding.

"Well..." She rose to her feet. "...we should get these dishes  cleaned up and get to work." She was carrying her dishes to the  sink when she stopped and turned back towards him. "Oh, that  reminds me. Well, not reminds me exactly since this has nothing  to do with our investigation, per se. Actually, that's not  exactly true since the ferry incident and your activities are  connected, but..."

"Lois!"

"Oh, right. Well, when I emailed Jimmy this morning, I asked him  to give me the business address of Jason Trask."

"Who is he?"

Lois' eyebrows shot up as she looked over at him.

"What?"

"Clark, he's the guy Myerson interviewed. The one who runs this  Bureau 39 that is promising to bring The Demon to justice."

"Why did you get his address?"

"Your parents told you that after your 'spacecraft' - or whatever  it was - landed, government people came around asking questions."

"So...?"

"After that, the spacecraft disappeared."

"What are you getting at, Lois?"

"When Myerson interviewed Trask, he made a comment that for years  the government had been preparing for this."

"Are you suggesting Trask is one of those government people?"

"I'm suggesting he might be with the same organization. I say we  at least check it out. Besides, I did a little digging. And I  found something." She walked over to the documents covering her  bed. It only took her a moment to return with a newspaper  clipping.

"What's this?" Clark asked, taking the clipping and reading the  headline. 'UFO Sighting Really Swamp Gas.' It was from the 1960s.

Lois came around beside him. "Take a look at the picture."

The picture accompanying the article was of several Air Force  officers. Clark studied it closely.

"That's Jason Trask," Lois said, pointing to the much younger  Trask in the picture.

"The Blue Book Project," Clark said reflectively. "I've heard of  that. But the Air Force got out of the UFO business in the late  sixties."

"So they say. But, Clark, Trask is involved in the government's  investigation of the ferry incident. The fact that he was  involved in The Blue Book Project... Well, I don't know about  you, but Trask's involvement in both seems a little...  coincidental. I don't believe in coincidences."

"What's the address?"

"Oh, no. That's not going to happen. If you're going to check it  out, I'm going with you."

"But, Lois..." His voice trailed off at the look on her face.

"Oh, and I found out that this guy..." She pointed to another man  in the picture. "...is General Berton Newcombe. I've also got his  address."

* * * * * * * * *

"So you're Clark Kent and Lola Dane of the Daily Planet?"

"Yes," said Lois, stepping forward to shake Jason Trask's hand.  He wasn't showing it, but she could feel Clark's nervousness. She  supposed that was understandable since he was the man Trask was  looking for. "We were wanting to ask you some questions for our  story."

"I already gave the Planet an interview," Trask said.

Given that Trask didn't seem to be inviting them in, Lois pushed  past him, taking a seat at his desk. Clark hesitated for a second  before following her. As she sat down, Lois noticed that pictures  from the ferry disaster were littering the desk - most of them  were stills of Clark flying out of the ship. A quick glance  assured Lois that they had been taken from the now familiar video  - nothing that provided a clear look at the flying man.

"Yes. That would have been Myerson," said Lois when Clark,  distracted by the photos, hesitated.

"Do I know you?" asked Trask, focusing his attention on Clark.

"No," Clark said a little bit too quickly.

"We came across some information in our investigation," Lois said  immediately, hoping to distract Trask's attention from Clark.  "And we thought... Well, maybe it's best if I just show you." She  withdrew a copy of the newspaper article from the 1960s and  handed it to him.

"Yes. I was part of Project Blue Book," Trask confirmed,  diverting his attention from Clark. "But I'm sure you know that  the Air Force got out of the UFO business in 1969."

"So we were told," Lois continued. "But given the... unusual  events at the ferry, we just thought... Does the government  suspect that the flying man is an alien? After all, they  appointed you to head up the investigation. And given your  history..." She shrugged.

"Ms. Dane, I am not in a position to comment on the work I've  done for the military. I'm afraid that information is classified.  Let me just assure you that every angle is being covered."

Lois noticed that Clark had now recovered and was casually  looking around the office over his glasses.

"Are you the only one investigating this?" Lois continued. "Or  can we assume you are just the front man for a larger force?"

"You can assume whatever you like," said Trask, rising to his  feet. "But rest assured of this, the government is taking this  matter very seriously. We will get to the bottom of it - and do  whatever is necessary to insure the safety of the public."

"And how are you going to do that?" asked Lois, also rising from  her chair.

"By whatever means are necessary. Now if you'll forgive me, I  have other matters to attend to." He moved to the door, opening  it for them.

Lois hesitated for a moment, looking over at Clark. He seemed to  have finished his covert search of Trask's office. Giving a brief  nod, she headed for the door, Clark following. She said goodbye,  thanking Trask for his time, before heading out of the government  building. She waited until she got outside before turning to  Clark.

"What did you see?" she whispered excitedly.

"Roswell, New Mexico, 1947; White Mountain, Arizona, 1975; Gulf  Breeze, Florida, 1986; Voronezh, USSR 1989 and Smallville,  Kansas, 1966."

"Well, I recognize Roswell, New Mexico... But the rest..."

"They were dates and places of UFO sightings. In one of his file  cabinets are files marked with each of those names and dates. And  then, there is Smallville..."

"So we go back after dark and..."

"Lois, I don't want you involved in this. I'll go back tonight  and do some snooping. I'll tell you what..."

"Clark, why do you do this? We both know I'm going to come. So  why do you even bother trying to tell me to butt-out?"

Clark let out a frustrated breath.

* * * * * * * * *

After interviewing Trask, Lois and Clark went to talk to General  Burton Newcombe. Retired. They were hoping, given that he was  retired, he'd be more forthcoming than Trask had been.

"So what does the Daily Planet want with me?" asked Newcombe,  leading Lois and Clark into a small office full of military  memorabilia.

"We've been working on a story. And in the process, Project Blue  Book came up. You were involved in that operation, weren't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I was," Newcombe answered cautiously.

"I understand it was cancelled in 1969."

"Officially, yes."

"What does that mean?" asked Clark.

Newcombe just looked at him, not responding. "So what exactly was  it you wanted?"

"Jason Trask." Lois noted that Newcombe actually flinched. "Do I  take it that you're not exactly a Trask fan? Word is that he's  the one investigating the flying man from the ferry incident. We  interviewed him this morning. He wants us to believe that we have  nothing to worry about, that the government has things under  control."

"He said that, huh."

"Why? Are you saying it doesn't?"

Newcombe hesitated. "If you are worried he won't find the flying  man... don't be. I'm sure he will. But..."

"But..."

Newcombe got up and went to look out the window.

"Have either of you ever had to keep a secret? A huge secret?" he  asked without turning to look at him.

"Sure," Clark replied.

Lois glanced at Clark, realizing immediately that if anyone could  answer that question in the affirmative, it was Clark.

"Keeping a secret eats away at you. It's just a nibble at a time,  but it adds up. And one day, you wake up and realize it's  consumed everything inside you." He turned back towards them. "We  were just a small group when we started, but we all took special  oaths on the same day. August the second, nineteen forty-seven. I  was about your age." He hesitated. "But Trask... He was a  fanatic. When the government tried to dismantle Project Blue  Book, he went crazy. They finally gave him his own group, just to  get him to shut up. For years he's been investigating every  reported UFO sighting. And his methods... He follows no law but  his own, no rules but his. And he has some powerful allies. He'd  never have got Bureau 39 if he hadn't. I've never really known  who his allies were. So if you ask whether or not I think he will  find the flying man, the answer is yes."

"But..." prompted Clark.

"He won't be looking for this man to stand trial."

"Are you saying he'll kill him?"

"And anyone who stands in his way."

"So how do we stop him?" asked Lois.

"From what I hear he has offices set up in the FBI building. But  that won't be his main base of operations. He'll have...  somewhere else. And getting to him there... A man like Trask  would no doubt be protected by an impenetrable security system."

"Every system has a flaw."

Newcombe removed a small card, about the size of a credit card,  from his desk drawer. "Not this one," he responded. "I designed  it myself. You'd need someone on the inside, or someone who'd  been on the inside, to help you out. Now, assuming you could find  such a person, you'd have to hope that person found a man like  Trask so repugnant and his methods so un-American that he would  choose to help you." He deliberately placed the credit-type card  on the corner of his desk. "That's a tall order." He turned  towards the collection of rifles in a cabinet on the wall.

"I'm going to count to three," Newcombe said. "When I turn  around, I expect you to be gone. One..."

Lois and Clark got to their feet.

"Two..."

Lois reached out and grabbed the card off the corner of the desk.

"Three..."

They heard his final word just as they disappeared out of the  office.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark looked around nervously, using every one of his enhanced  senses to search for danger as Lois worked on the lock on Jason  Trask's office. It was one thing breaking into a warehouse or a  home owned by a civilian, but they were busting into an office in  an FBI building. Were they completely insane? Already once,  they'd almost been caught - trying to get past building security.  Only some serious flirting by Lois had saved their butts. Clark  had to admit that while he'd been impressed, he'd also found  himself vaguely jealous. It was an unsettling feeling. But it was  not nearly as unsettling as the fear that she would get caught.

Still, he had not been able to persuade her not to come. He'd  never known anyone as stubborn as Lois Lane. It was infuriating.  It was... fascinating.

"I got it," Lois whispered, pushing open the office door.

He quickly followed her inside, pulling the door closed behind  them. It took less than a minute for them to find the files.  Ignoring the rest, he opened the one pertaining to Smallville.  The file confirmed what Lois had suspected. Not only had this  government agency been snooping around Smallville shortly after  Clark's arrival, looking for a ship that had crashed in the area,  but they had actually...

"Lois, look at this."

She turned from where she was going through Trask's rolodex.  "Whatcha find?" she asked, coming over to join him.

"They took my ship," he said, pointing to the file. He glanced  around the office. "Somewhere, they have my ship. But... it's  obviously not here."

"Well, I might have an idea about where it is," Lois responded,  guiding him to the desk where she pulled a card out of the  rolodex. "A furniture warehouse on Bessolo Boulevard."

"What makes you think that's the place?"

"A furniture warehouse? Clark, it's the only address in his  rolodex that doesn't fit with what we know of Trask. Why else  would he keep the address of a furniture warehouse?"

"Okay, then..."

"Don't even say it, Clark. If you're going, I'm going."

"I know," Clark conceded. "I was just going to say that it's  getting awfully late. And we've had a lot of late nights  recently. Personally, I'm exhausted. Why don't we do it tomorrow  night?"

Lois glanced at the clock before nodding.

"Good," he said. "Now, let's get out of here without getting  caught. Then you can take the car back to the cabin. I'll head to  my apartment. I'll meet up with you again in the morning."

* * * * * * * * *

As Clark snuck through the darkened alley next to the warehouse  on Bessolo Boulevard, his mind drifted. Clark was glad he hadn't  told Lois that one of his powers was that he needed very little  sleep. He appreciated her support and her help, but this was one  job he had to do himself. If they had been caught breaking into  the office at the FBI building, they'd go to jail. If they were  caught at the warehouse... given what General Newcombe had told  them about Trask, Clark suspected they'd be killed. Clark was not  about to let Lois risk her life for him.

There was one disadvantage in not bringing Lois - or even telling  her he was going. She was the one in possession of the card from  General Newcombe. But he'd not dared ask her for it. She would  have put two and two together fast enough to make his head spin.  And she would never have accepted being relegated to the  sidelines. But he simply couldn't put her in danger.

He walked around the building, casing the place. The lock on the  front of the warehouse had card access. He assumed the card Lois  had would open that door. But... A quick peek through the wall  showed that additional security had been added since Newcombe's  time. A combination lock on a second door inside. So in all  likelihood, the card would have done no good. In fact, it may  have simply trapped them inside.

A quick look through the walls indicated this was no normal  warehouse. In addition to reinforced steel walls, there was an  inner wall made of solid concrete. But none of that kept Clark  from seeing what was inside. There were a variety of what could  only be described as... spacecrafts. At least, that was the only  conclusion Clark could reach when he looked through the tarps  draped over some very unusual devices.

His heart rate increased. Maybe one of those was his. He looked  around again, making sure he was alone, before leaping onto the  roof of the warehouse.

There was a doorway on the roof. The door was locked. He  considered his actions for a moment before deciding simply to  force his way in. He gave the door a push, breaking the lock. It  might not be the most subtle entrance, but chances were they  didn't check this particular door on a regular basis.

Making his way down the stairs, he quickly conducted a search,  coming to a complete halt when he found himself staring at a  familiar symbol. On one small spacecraft, he found an S-symbol -  the same one he'd seen on a blanket his mother had shown him when  he'd asked for details about his origins. His ship. It had to be.

How he knew the other item was there, he wasn't entirely certain.  But sitting next to the ship was a small ball that almost seemed  to call to him. He was almost in awe as he picked up the small  item.

"Krypton," he whispered, suddenly knowing, although he didn't  know how, where he was from. He watched in fascination as the  images on the ball shifted, from images of Earth's land masses to  land masses unfamiliar to him.

Knowing he couldn't stand around all day, waiting for someone to  find him there, he gathered up the globe and the ship and, taking  a slightly different route to see if there was anything he had  missed in his search, began making his way back to the stairs.

Suddenly, the room began to spin. He stumbled slightly as  unbelievable pain pierced his entire body. He collapsed to his  knees, the ship and the globe tumbling out of his grasp. He  attempted to reach for them, but the pain was too pronounced. His  head pounded. His heart felt as if it were being torn in two.  Bile rose in his throat as his stomach rebelled. And then... the  blackness overtook him.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 16

"Clark!"

Lois. He loved her voice. Even when she was mad at him, he loved  listening to the sound of her voice.

"Damn it, Clark Kent! Can you hear me?"

Yep. Even when she was mad, she had a beautiful voice. But... why  was she mad? Oh, right. He remembered. He'd... lied to her about  something. He couldn't quite remember what. But he was certain  he'd lied about something.

"Come on, Clark. Look at me. Make a noise. Something. Anything."

Okay, now she sounded scared. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard fear  in her voice before. But... what was she scared of?

"Don't do this to me."

Suddenly, something penetrated the fog clouding his mind - pain  coursing through every sinew of his body. He groaned.

He heard her gasp for breath, as if she hadn't been breathing  previously.

"Okay, you're going to have to help me. I can't do this alone."

He forced open his eye, regretting his decision almost  immediately when the bright lights of the room blinded him.  Still, he attempted to bring into focus the face hovering above  his. Lois. What was she doing there?

"Come on, Clark. That's it. I need you to help me get you out of  here. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Pain." It was all he seemed able to get out.

"Do you know where it's from? Did someone find you here?"

"Pain."

She let out a breath. "Okay, we'll worry about that later." She  began struggling to get him up. "Come on, Clark. That's it. You  have to walk. I can't carry you."

He forced himself to his feet, relying heavily on Lois' support.  She fought not to buckle under his weight. He took a couple of  steps forward before he caught sight of the small ship he'd been  carrying earlier. He stopped.

"The ship," he gasped out.

"I can't carry both you and the ship," said Lois in frustration.  "If I get you out of here, I might be able to come back for it.  But right now we need to get you out."

"The globe."

She paused. "Okay..." She moved him over to where he could lean  against a wall before going back to pick up the small globe.  "Okay, let's..." Her voice was cut off by the sound of someone  entering the main doors.

"The roof," Clark gasped.

"Clark," she whispered, "you can barely walk. How are you going  to fly?"

"No choice. The roof. Fall slowly."

In less than a moment, he was being pulled towards the stairs.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois panted as she half dragged his heavy form up the stairs. She  only hoped he was right. After all, from the sound of the voices  coming from below, they realized someone had broken in. Maybe,  though, when they didn't find anyone in the main part of the  warehouse, they wouldn't think to look on the roof. Because if  Clark couldn't fly - which she very much doubted at the moment -  and couldn't... what was it he had said? ...fall slowly, they  were in serious trouble. Still, with the doors on the main floor  inaccessible, there hadn't been much choice. The warehouse  resembled a fortress. One exit. No windows. The roof really was  the only option.

When they were finally on the roof, Lois allowed Clark to rest  while she propped a piece of piping against the door, placing one  end against the door and the other into a crack in the roof,  hoping it would make the men below hesitate should they decide to  search the roof.

Having finished her task, she ran over to a wall, hoping to see a  fire escape or... something... anything they could use to get  down. Nothing. Turning, she hurried to the second side. Vehicles  that hadn't been there earlier were parked outside. Five... No,  six. She headed for a third wall, looking over just as the sound  of men pounding against the stairway door reached her ears. She  looked over the edge, evaluating and nearly dismissing what she  was seeing. But then she heard gunshots. The pole she'd used to  prevent the door from being opened wasn't going to hold much  longer. 'Fall slowly.' Well, they really didn't have much other  choice.

Rushing to Clark, she grabbed him, helping him struggle towards  the edge. Just as she heard the door crashing open, she jumped,  pulling him with her only then realizing he had no powers  whatsoever. They were in a free fall. Cringing, she held her  breath as she waited for impact.

"Umph." The garbage bin, full of rotting food, was not the most  appealing landing place, but at least... "Clark?"

He groaned.

...they were alive.

Not pausing to savor their good fortune, she began struggling,  pushing Clark over the side of the garbage bin and onto the  street before jumping over herself.

"They're down there!"

Grabbing Clark, she began half running, half pulling him, towards  the place where she'd parked the car.

* * * * * * * * *

"Lois?" Clark looked around. It took him a moment to realize  where he was - tucked into bed in the cabin.

"I'm right here," Lois said, hobbling over to sit on the side of  the bed.

He looked down at her foot. It was wrapped with a pressure  bandage. "Are you okay?"

"You're asking me that?" she asked in disbelief.

"Well..." He pointed to her foot.

"A sprained ankle. Don't look so worried, Clark. I've had my  share of sprained ankles over the years. I'll be fine. How are  you?"

"I'm..." He shifted positions, attempting to sit up. Giving up,  he collapsed back onto the bed. "I don't understand."

"What?"

"Well... I thought you were going to go back to the cabin. What  made you come to the warehouse?"

"Oh, I was on my way back to the cabin," Lois said. Clark missed  the warning tone in her voice.

"So... what brought you back?"

"You couldn't look at me."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not that good a liar, Clark. When you were telling me  that we'd leave the warehouse until tomorrow, you couldn't look  at me. It didn't hit me until I was half way back to the cabin,  but when it did hit me, I realized you were planning to search  the warehouse by yourself. Dumb move, by the way. And if you ever  do that to me again..." She left the threat unfinished.

"I just thought it would be better..."

"And it almost cost you your life." She was obviously mad at him.

"So how did you get in?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.  "I know the card probably got you through the first door to the  warehouse. But I noticed there was a combination lock inside that  door. How did you..."

"August second, nineteen forty-seven. Eight right, two left,  forty-seven right."

"What?"

"The date all of them had taken the oath - at least according to  what Newcombe told us."

"How did you know that would be the combination?"

"I didn't. But it made sense - given how much of a fanatic  Newcombe seemed to think Trask was. You gave me quite a scare,  you know?" She reached up, gently stroking his cheek. "When I  first saw you lying on that floor..." Her voice cracked. She  cleared her throat, not quite able to meet his eyes. "When I  first tried to wake you up..." She paused. "I would try dragging  you to the door, have to take a break, try to wake you and then  pull you a little further. I was at the end of my rope when I  finally woke you up." She shook her head. "Then when we got into  the car, you passed out. I couldn't even wake you up enough when  we got back here to help me get you inside."

"So then how..." He gestured around him.

"It took me almost an hour. And that was with more breaks than  you could imagine. Clark, has anyone ever told you that you're...  heavy?"

"I think I have a dense molecular structure," Clark explained.  "At least I've always been a lot heavier than... I look." He  gestured to himself.

"Well, anyway, it's good to see you... awake." She gently brushed  the hair out of his eyes. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I don't exactly know. One minute, I was carrying the ship and  globe out of the warehouse. The next, I was crumpling on the  floor in pain."

"So no one did that to you?"

Clark shook his head.

"Has anything like that happened before?"

Again, Clark shook his head.

"How do you feel now?"

"Sort of weak. But otherwise... the pain has stopped."

She looked worried.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Lois," he said trying to reassure her.  "So... if I recall correctly, you managed to get the globe."

"Is that what it is? I looked at it several times trying to  figure out why it was so important to you." She got up and hopped  over to the kitchen table, picked up the globe and hopped back.

"It told me where I'm from," he said when she handed it to him.

"What?"

Clark shrugged. "I don't exactly know how it did it, but... The  moment I picked it up, I just knew where I was from."

"So... Don't keep me in suspense. Where are you from?"

"Krypton."

"Krypton?"

"I'm an alien, Lois."

She got off the bed, moving back over to the table keeping her  back to him.

He sighed. She was obviously not happy with this information. He  supposed he could understand that. After all, until this moment,  she had been able to tell herself that she had slept with a human  - even if it was one who... had some unusual abilities. Now that  she knew the truth... He couldn't say he blamed her. He, too, was  feeling... odd about the information. Still, it was hard watching  her and realizing exactly how uncomfortable Lois felt with the  thought of sleeping with an alien.

He turned his attention to the globe that was now sitting on the  bed beside him. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hands. It  was warm. He was just about to comment when the globe floated out  of his hand and a bright light lit up the room, causing Lois to  spin around just as a hologram of a man appeared in the middle of  the room. On the man's chest was a symbol Clark recognized. The  S-symbol.

"My name is Jor-El," the man began. "And you are Kal-El, my son.  The object you hold has been attuned to you. That you now hear  these words is proof that you survived the journey in space and  have reached your full maturity. Now it is time for you to learn  your heritage."

Jor-El's image faded to be replaced by what appeared to be more  of a television screen, where Clark could watch the action. Two  people worked on a small ship. One was Jor-El. The other was a  woman. Although neither image spoke, Jor-El's voice could be  heard.

"Time grows short and we continue to work. Hope and desperation  drive us in equal measure. Lara works by my side. She is tireless  and endlessly patient. Considering what is soon to come, this is  my greatest consolation: that we are together."

Both the people in the lab looked around in fear, finding solace  in each other's arms as a tremor shook the ground.

"The pattern of core disintegration continues to accelerate. The  chain reaction has begun. As panic spreads, the population  awakens, too late, to its fate. Our future is inevitable."

There was another tremor.

"At last the computers have located a suitable destination: a  planet physically and biologically compatible with Krypton whose  inhabitants resemble ours, and whose society is based on ethical  standards which we, too, embrace in concept if not always in  deed."

The image of Jor-El and his wife in the lab suddenly faded to be  replaced by an image of Earth.

"The inhabitants call it simply, Earth."

The image returned to Jor-El and Lara. Clark watched as the top  of the ship was raised and an infant boy wrapped in a bright blue  blanket was placed inside.

"Kal-El, our child, you will be the last son of Krypton."

Jor-El sealed the spaceship door. Lara lightly touched the  capsule as the infant reached for her and another tremor began.

"We give you to Earth, to a realm called America, and a place  called Kansas. Remember us, but do not regret our passing. All is  fate."

And suddenly, the picture changed. Instead of his parents, Clark  was looking at a small ship flying through space just as a planet  behind it flashed with the light of a blinding explosion. And  then the light faded as the globe floated back to the bed and  silence filled the small cabin.

It took Clark a moment to remember that Lois was even in the  room. He glanced over at her. She had sunk into a chair at the  table, looking as stunned as he felt. There were even traces of  tears on her cheeks.

"Wow," she finally said softly.

"Yeah."

Silence fell for another long moment.

"Well, I guess that answers your questions about where you came  from."

"Yeah. But..."

"What?"

"Well, to find out that you're from a planet called Krypton and  then to realize that... what did he call me? The last son of  Krypton."

Her expression softened. "It's got to be tough."

He shrugged. "Better to know... than not to know."

"Is it?"

Clark struggled with that question for a moment. "It will be," he  finally responded. "But..."

"What?"

"It's just... Krypton. I've heard that name somewhere before. I  just can't quite place it."

"Maybe it's just familiar to you because you heard it as a baby  and somewhere in the back of your mind, it stuck."

"I guess, but... I know!"

"What?"

"Well, a few months ago..." His voice trailed off as he thought  back.

"Clark?"

He brought his mind back to Lois. "Sorry. I was just remembering.  A few months ago, a couple came to Smallville for a few weeks. We  met... even had dinner together one night. They claimed they were  thinking of moving to Smallville - looking for a quieter life.  Anyway, one day, just before they simply disappeared, I overheard  a part of a conversation between them."

"What did you hear?"

"It went something like... 'He may be the first Lord of New  Krypton, but he's not prepared. We're going to have to take care  of Lord Nor on our own.'"

"You're sure you're remembering right?"

"Yeah. Their names were Sara and Ching. I remember thinking Ching  was an odd name - given that he didn't look oriental. But if what  I heard was true..."

"Then somewhere out there, some of your people have set up a new  colony."

"I suppose, but... Why wouldn't they have introduced themselves?  And what did they think I... assuming I was the one they were  talking about... was not prepared for?"

"I guess that's just one of the great mysteries of the universe  that will likely never be answered."

"But it's too bad. I mean, if they were Kryptonians like I am...  I guess it would have been nice to know more about my history, my  family."

She nodded slowly. "Well, now that the light show is over, you  better get some sleep."

"What about you?" he asked. "I suppose we could always share. I  promise not to try anything. Not sure if I could, anyway."

"That's okay, Clark." She picked up a blanket that he hadn't,  until now, noticed on the table. Getting up, she hopped over to  the only comfortable chair in the room and sat down. A single  candle sat on the table beside her.

"You know, I could always take the chair," he said, struggling to  rise to a seated position.

She watched, a look of amusement on her face until he finally  gave up. He was just too weak to move.

"Or not," he said.

"Goodnight, Clark," she said a touch of humor in her voice even  as she leaned over to blow out the candle, snuggling further into  the chair and pulling the blanket over her.

"Goodnight, Lois," he responded, blowing out a similar candle  sitting on the night stand beside him. And the room was suddenly  left in darkness.

Clark lay in the dark, thinking about everything he had learned  while at the same time listening to Lois' breathing settle into  the regular pattern of sleep. Yet, try as he might, he couldn't  sleep. Everything just kept going round and round in his mind.  Lois' aversion to him - the fact that she didn't even want to  sleep next to him attested to that. Finding out he was Kryptonian  - the last son of Krypton. Questions about why his parents were  unable to save themselves. The questions about Ching and Sara.  Even questions about what he was going to do about Trask.

It was, in fact, a long time before he was finally able to drift  off into a troubled sleep.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 17

Birds singing.

Clark woke, unsure of where he was. And then, slowly, the events  of the previous night flooded back. Cautiously, he tried moving.  He groaned, feeling every one of his muscles, but with some  effort was finally able to sit up on the edge of the bed.

Glancing around the cabin, he realized Lois wasn't there. He  stretched out with his hearing, searching for her only to realize  that things seemed quieter than normal. Something was wrong. He  tried looking through the walls of the cabin, but was unable to  do so. What was wrong with him?

Placing a hand on the bed, he used it to assist himself in rising  to his feet. He was heading for the door when he hesitated,  looking down at himself. He was in his underwear. Lois must have  removed his clothes when she got him into the cabin the previous  night. But where... He spotted his jeans sitting hanging across  the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Once he'd pulled on his  jeans, and without worrying about his shirt and socks, he made  his way to the door.

Every step took effort. Muscles that he'd never really had to  work rebelled against the exertion. When he got to the door, he  had to steady himself before opening it and stepping into the  blinding sunshine.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust. Finally, he looked around.  Hearing the soft splash of water coming from down by the lake, he  turned his attention there. Lois. He spotted her immediately,  coming up from below the surface of the water.

He headed towards the shore, about to call to her, when she stood  up, shaking the water out of her hair. His feet instantly came to  a halt and the greeting died on his lips. She was bathing and, he  didn't exactly need superpowers to see that she was naked. He  stood, frozen to his spot. Not able to move closer and not able  to look away.

She was almost at the shore when she spotted him. Their eyes met  and locked and he saw her hesitate for a moment. Then a small  smile quirked at one corner of her mouth and she resumed her  journey towards him. When she got to shore, she picked up her  towel, wrapping it around herself before walking up to where he  was still standing.

"If you'll put your tongue back in your mouth, Mr. Kent, I  believe we have work to do," she said, heading past him towards  the cabin.

* * * * * * * * *

She shouldn't tease him. She knew that. But when she'd looked up  to see him standing only a matter of yards in front of her, there  had really only been two options: embarrassment or humor. Okay,  well maybe there had been one other option. And even if she was  only prepared to acknowledge it silently to herself, it was the  first thing that had gone through her mind - lying down on the  beach and begging him to take her.

She simply hadn't expected him to be up so soon. When she'd gone  to the lake to bathe, he'd been sound asleep. To discover Clark  standing there when she'd emerged from the water, looking at her  much the same way he had when he'd come to the prison that first  day, she'd found that embarrassment had been the furthest thing  from her mind. No. Making light of the moment had been the only  option.

Still... the thought of lying on the beach, the warm sun beating  down on their sweat-soaked bodies as they... No! No, she was  definitely not doing this. Not here. Not now. Not with him within  calling distance. She'd been so good the previous night -  sleeping in that uncomfortable chair even after being offered  another, incredibly tempting, option. She was not about to ruin  it now by letting her thoughts take her in a direction her body  was only too eager to go.

As she finished dressing, she heard a tentative knock at the  door.

"Come in, Clark," she responded.

He opened the door, looking inside cautiously, much like a mouse  about to enter a room filled with cats. She rolled her eyes. It  wasn't as if he hadn't seen it before, after all.

"I said, 'come in,'" she repeated.

He stepped inside, but seemed unable to look in her direction.

"Well, look, if it's going to make you so uncomfortable, we could  even the score. You could strip for me."

His eyes darted to hers in disbelief.

"Relax, Clark. I'm kidding." Walking past him, she lightly tapped  his bare chest. He almost seemed to jump out of his skin. "It's  going to be a long day," she mumbled to herself, only realizing  afterwards that, given his abilities, he'd probably heard her.

"What?" he asked.

She turned to look at him. "Didn't you hear what I... Clark, how  are you feeling?"

"A little stiff and sore. But other than that..." He shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes. "Stiff and sore? But if you're  invulnerable... Clark, after that incident in the warehouse last  night... Do you still have your... powers?"

He shifted his weight, standing on one foot and then the other,  confirming her suspicions.

"None of them?" she asked.

He seemed to concentrate for a long moment before shaking his  head.

"So... no x-ray vision? No flying? No enhanced hearing? Nothing?"

To each new inquiry, he shook his head.

She sank down into a kitchen chair. "Has this ever happened to  you before?"

"No."

"Wow," she said softly before looking back at him. He was still  standing just inside the door. "Clark, would you just sit down?"  she asked annoyed now. His lack of comfort had been... almost  charming at first. Now it was getting downright irksome. Unless  of course, while he'd been waiting outside, he'd been somewhat  less successful in fighting off the images of an interlude on a  deserted beach. She almost smiled. "Come on, Clark. Sit down,"  she repeated, much more softly this time. After all, she knew  what he was fighting.

This time, he took a seat at the table, scooting the chair up a  little closer to the table edge than normal. And this time, she  did smile. Putting the thought out of her mind, she concentrated  on the question at hand. "So I take it you still don't know what  happened last night - when I found you passed out on the floor of  the warehouse."

"No idea whatsoever. All I know is, for the first time since I  was a child, I experienced pain. And I haven't had my powers  since. Although... now, I feel... almost human, I guess." He gave  her a self-depreciating smile.

"So what do you want to do? See a doctor? I could give you a ride  into..."

"And what's a doctor going to do for me?" asked Clark.

"I don't know. Maybe he could..." Her voice trailed off when no  ideas came.

"Exactly. No, I guess for now we just keep going on our  investigation and..." He shrugged. "Besides, I've always wanted  to be normal. Maybe now, maybe as a result of exposure to  something in that warehouse, I am. How is that a bad thing?"

Lois forced her smile to match his. But inside... something tore  at her. Normal was... normal. But Clark wasn't... normal. And it  worried her.

"So... what's on for today?" Clark asked in a blatant attempt to  change the subject.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark returned to the cabin somewhat frustrated. He'd shown the  sketch of the contraption in Dr. Klein's postal box to the  science editor at the Planet. He'd even followed up with a couple  of scientists that the editor had recommended and had turned up  nothing. He only hoped Lois was having more luck.

"Hi, Clark," Lois said without looking up from where she was  engrossed in the computer screen.

"Whatcha got?"

She waved him over.

Leaning over her shoulder, he was suddenly lost in the flowery  smell of her freshly washed hair. And, almost immediately, his  mind slipped back to seeing her bathing this morning.

"So... what do you think?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Huh?"

"Well, I never realized how much a director of Star Labs makes. I  knew Bernard had all that family money, but... Clark, would you  pay attention?"

"Sorry," Clark muttered, forcing his attention to the screen.  "That would easily give him a seven figure income."

"Yeah. That's what I was saying."

"I think I went into the wrong business."

"You and me both."

"Did you find those two thousand dollar a month payments to  Cooke?"

"No. But I did find this." She scrolled down the screen to see a  seventy thousand dollar cash withdrawal a couple of days before  the payment had been made to Joey Bermuda shortly after Elroy  Syke's death.

Clark let out a breath. "Anything else?"

"Well, yeah. This can't be about money, Clark. After all, Bernard  has no costly habits. No mortgage payments. No expensive trips.  Basically, he just goes to work and home. He doesn't even take  vacations. He has his motorcycle and a nice car - or had a nice  car before the ferry disaster. But otherwise... He brings in far  more money than he spends every year."

"So then, what's this all about?"

Lois shrugged her shoulders.

* * * * * * * * *

"Explain to me again why we're doing this in broad daylight,"  said Clark, glancing around nervously. They'd left the cabin and,  after taking the ferry over to St. Martin's Island where Dr.  Klein lived, were breaking into his house in broad daylight. The  only concession Lois had made to Clark's objections was to agree  to pick the back door so that not everyone passing by on the  street would see them.

Still, breaking into a house in this quiet neighborhood, Clark  felt so exposed. His eyes automatically sought out Lois. Speaking  of 'exposed'... No! No, he was definitely not going there.

"We are doing this during the daytime because Bernard is at Star  Labs during the daytime - he comes home at nights. At least most  of the time. And since he lives alone... Would you quit looking  at me like that?"

He jumped slightly. She wasn't even looking at him. So how did  she know that he was thinking about seeing her emerge from the  lake this morning?

"I haven't lost my mind," she continued. "This is the best time  for us to break in."

"I don't even have my powers so I can't even know if someone has  spotted us."

"Relax, Clark. I've done this lots of times. People don't get  involved. There." The word was accompanied by the sound of a lock  clicking open.

"Boy, that was loud - even without the benefit of superhearing,"  Clark said, sneaking into the house after Lois. They had done  this so many times in the past few days. He was beginning to  understand what Henderson meant when he said that Lois was known  for going way over the line. If he was vulnerable now, in  addition to having lost his powers, he was certain she was going  to be the death of him.

"Pfff."

"Okay, so where do you suggest we start this time? I really hate  doing this the same way every time. Surely by now you've found  different ways to make breaking and entering interesting."

"Would you quit it, Clark? We start..." Her voice trailed off as  she looked around. "Did you know that I've been here before?  Christmas last year. He had some people over. I was one of them."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. She allowed it for a minute but  then stepped away.

"Well, let's get to it."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois stared in disbelief at the document in her hands. So far  they had not found anything pertinent to the investigation. But  she couldn't help but be slightly astounded by the only thing  she'd found of any interest.

"What do you have there?" Clark asked, coming over to where she  was standing.

"Nothing of any importance."

"Then why do you look so fascinated?" He looked over her  shoulder. "Dr. Klein's will?"

She nodded.

"Lois, I think that's a little personal. I mean, it's not as if  it's relevant to our investigation. We really have no right to be  looking at it."

"Yeah, I know," she said. "I knew Bernard didn't have any  children. I just... I hadn't realized how close they were. I knew  Bernard had taken him under his wing while he was still in  medical school and had recommended him to Perry when I had  amnesia. But..." She shook her head.

"So who's the big winner?"

Lois smiled. "Just can't resist knowing, can you? I thought  Bernard was entitled to his privacy."

"I guess you're a bad influence on me. So who's going to inherit  Dr. Klein's estate?"

"Max Deter."

Clark cocked his head to the side. "The guy who attacked you in  prison?"

Lois nodded. "He's Dr. Klein's sole heir."

"Hmm. Do you think that's important?"

Lois shook her head. "It just surprised me. So..." She froze when  she heard a car door slam.

"Any suggestions?" Clark asked.

"Out the back," she responded before both of them began dashing  for the back door.

"Eek!" Lois exclaimed, flinching slightly when her already sore  ankle twisted.

"Are you okay?" Clark asked, reaching out to steady her.

"Yeah. Let's just..." As she spoke, she reached for the door  handle, only to stop completely when the back door swung open and  Dr. Klein was suddenly standing in the doorway.

"Hi," said Lois, feeling both sheepish and even a little scared.  If Dr. Klein was the one responsible for the ferry accident then  he had no respect for human life. And if he had framed her, he  really didn't care what happened to her either.

"Hi," responded Dr. Klein.

"So... what are you doing here?" Lois asked.

Both Dr. Klein and Clark had the same reaction. Their eyebrows  rose and they stared at Lois in disbelief.

On the other hand, Lois thought, there were two of them and only  one of him. And even without his powers, Clark seemed like a  pretty strong guy. Besides, Lois had never believed in playing it  safe.

"Bernard, did you frame me for the murder of Elroy Sykes?" she  asked.

Both Dr. Klein and Clark again looked at her in disbelief.

"No!" exclaimed Klein. "What would even make you think I'd do  something like that?"

"Then why does Joey Bermuda know your postal box number?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We found your postal box. We know he calls you M.D. Does he even  know your real name?"

"I don't have a postal box. Why would I? And I still don't  understand why you think I have any contact with Joey Bermuda."

"Then you do know him," Clark said.

"Of course. He worked for Lex Labs - weapons technology - before  Lex Luthor's death. After that, I heard he got involved with the  wrong people and got into some... not so nice stuff. But I  haven't had contact with him for... I don't know. Seven, eight  years."

"Then you'd give the police permission to trace your phone  records from last night?" Lois asked.

"Sure."

"Both here and at Star Labs?"

"I don't see why not. But I don't know what you think..."

"We think you received a call from Joey Bermuda last night," said  Lois.

"I didn't. And if checking my phone records is going to convince  you that I had nothing to do with..."

"You could have used a pay phone."

"But I thought you said he called me?"

"You could have had a prearranged time for the call."

Klein ran his hand through what remained of his hair. "I was at  the lab all night. That's actually why I came home early today."

"How do we know that you didn't leave at some point to receive  the call?"

"Security keeps records of everyone going in and out. In point of  fact, they also keep records of all phone calls."

"Records can be altered. Besides, you could use someone else's  I.D."

"Visitors are allowed in and out with visitor cards. But  employees... well, we use retinal scans. No one but me can use my  eyes. And I can't use anyone else's eyes."

Clark picked up the phone. "Call security. Have them send over  the records from last night - everyone who went in and out of  Star Labs last night - and every phone call made and received."

Klein let out a breath. "Fine," he finally said, taking the phone  from Clark and placing a call.

* * * * * * * * *

"So do you believe me now?" asked Bernard Klein as Lois and Clark  looked through printed copies of the security records.

"Would you excuse us a second?" asked Lois before, without  waiting for an answer, pulling Clark over to a secluded corner of  the room, where, if they whispered, Klein would not overhear  them. "What do you think?"

"Well, since he wouldn't have known that we'd be at Joey  Bermuda's last night, why would he tamper with Star Labs' records  before coming home?"

"Besides," added Lois, "Joey Bermuda was the one placing the  call. So that would mean if he called Star Labs he would have to  go through the front desk. Bermuda didn't ask for anyone."

"Otherwise we would have heard a name."

"Right."

"And I guess anyone could have rented a box in Dr. Klein's name."

"But why would they rent it in his name? Was it just... a cover  of some sort? Or were they trying to frame him for framing me? It  doesn't make any sense, Clark."

"So what's the verdict?" asked Klein from the other side of the  room.

"We don't think you're involved," Lois said. Then she walked  closer to the scientist. "But... you might be able to help us  with something."

"Are you sure, Lois?" Clark whispered.

She turned back towards him. "I'm positive, Clark. I know you  haven't known me long, but you've got to trust my instincts here.  Bernard isn't involved."

* * * * * * * * *

"I'm not so sure about this," said Klein as the car pulled to a  stop. "Shouldn't I, at the very least, be wearing different  clothes? I mean, this leather jacket... Shouldn't I put on a suit  or something? Maybe they'll think I'm just some punk trying to  steal things from the post office. And how should I act?  Shouldn't we rehearse this first? See how it goes in a controlled  environment? Run some tests or something? Maybe I should pretend  to have an accent or something?"

"Dr. Klein, your name is on the account," Clark said. "All you  need to do is..."

"...go into the post office and say that you lost your key," Lois  completed. "They'll ask for I.D. Show it to them and they should  be able to give you access to the box."

"But shouldn't I be wearing gloves to keep my fingerprints off  the box?"

"That box went through the mail. That means it's going to be  covered with any number of prints. We'll never find out who sent  it by looking at the prints on the box. Maybe the... whatever is  in the box might have prints, but the box itself isn't going to  do us any good."

Klein nodded and put his hand on the door handle. Suddenly, he  pulled his hand off the handle as if it has burnt him. "I don't  know about this."

"It will be okay, Bernard. We really need your help here," Lois  said.

Klein took a deep breath and nodded again, gathering his courage  before opening the door.

"Do you think he's going to be alright?" asked Clark as they  watched the nervous man make his way across the street to the  post office.

"As long as he doesn't have a heart attack or something... he'll  be fine."

* * * * * * * * *

All three conspirators bent over the box as Clark, being very  careful not to disturb any fingerprints or DNA, slit open the box  and removed a funny looking contraption from inside. Somehow it  looked even more odd now than when he'd looked through the box  before.

"What is it?" asked Lois as Clark placed it on the table in Dr.  Klein's kitchen.

"I have no..."

"It's a hologram generator," Dr. Klein said.

"What?" asked both Lois and Clark in chorus.

"A hologram generator," Klein repeated, as if he honestly thought  that Lois and Clark really hadn't heard him. But he missed their  ingenuous expressions, so intent was he on his study of the  device. "But I didn't think he had finished it. I wonder if it  really works. I mean, I must admit, the idea looked good on  paper, but even I didn't think it could actually be done."

"What are you taking about, Bernard?" asked Lois.

He looked up at them, then. Blinking, as if he had almost  forgotten they were there. "Oh, sorry. Well, this..." He pointed  at the device. "...is a hologram generator."

"We heard what you said," Lois interrupted. "But... what is a  hologram... whatever?"

"Generator," Klein finished. "Before he went to prison, Dr. Cole  was working on a number of projects. This is one of them. I just  didn't think he'd finished. Do you think it would be okay if  I..." Before completing his thought, Dr. Klein reached over and  pressed the power button.

"I don't think that's..." Lois' voice trailed off when an image  sprang to life in front of their eyes. "Perry?" she asked,  looking at the life-size image of her former boss.

"Are you seeing it, too?" Klein asked excitedly. And then, before  they could even answer, he pressed another button. "I wonder if  the voice activation works, too?"

"Sykes almost ruined her career..." The hologram in front of them  was suddenly speaking some prerecorded message - in Perry White's  voice. "...and she told me in no uncertain terms that one day  she'd get even with him. And that's the cold, hard facts, Ma'am."

"That was the testimony Perry gave at my trial - word for word."

"Are you sure?" asked Clark.

Lois nodded. "I'll remember those words as long as I live. But...  How?"

"The hologram generator has a memory device. It saves its last  few images."

"Saved? By whom?"

"By whoever is operating the device. The machine, in theory..."  Klein chuckled. "...well I guess in fact now, takes a prerecorded  sample of a person's voice and his image so that they can  recreate them to say or do whatever the person operating the  device wants them to do."

"But why would anyone even make a device like that?" asked Clark.

"To see if it can be done," Klein said in confusion, the idea of  needing to have a reason for an invention never having crossed  his mind. To invent was simply... enough. "And..." He looked back  at the device. "He obviously did it."

"He was telling the truth," said Lois, suddenly lost in thought.

"What?" asked Clark as he and Dr. Klein turned her attention back  to Lois who was currently sinking blindly into a chair.

She looked up, searching both their eyes for a moment before  responding. "Perry didn't testify against me."

* * * * * * * * *

"No!"

Clark ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Lois, I know  it's a risk. But I really think it's time to bring Henderson in  on this. He can..."

"Can what, Clark?"

"Use this information to help get your conviction overturned."

"And what about Cooke's death? And what about the ferry disaster?  If we bring Henderson in now... I'll go back to jail - at least  until my lawyer can arrange bail. And we will have tipped our  hand. It will become even more difficult to get information. Even  if we convince Henderson that I was framed, we still don't know  what is going on here."

"How can you say that? Cole is responsible for..."

"What about Joey Bermuda?"

"Well, he was obviously helping Cole."

"If Bermuda was working for Cole, then why are there no payments  from Cole to Bermuda? And what about the two thousand dollar a  month payments? Besides, Clark, Bermuda couldn't have been  talking to Cole last night. Cole's in prison. Bermuda couldn't  just call him up and start talking to him - not without going  through the jailer or something."

Clark let out a breath of frustration. "I just think..."

"Okay, let's go through what we know and see if that leads us  anywhere."

They had left Dr. Klein's some time ago and were now back at the  cabin. Dr. Klein had taken the hologram generator, promising that  he would have it checked for prints and DNA, and that he would  ensure that it was kept in security. Even Clark had to admit, Dr.  Klein didn't appear to be involved - if for no other reason than  that if he had been guilty, the man would have been sweating  bullets when they had confronted him. Watching Klein walk into  the post office had convinced Clark that Klein was as much a  victim in this as Lois was.

Clark sat down at the table. Going through what they knew  couldn't hurt. Then, afterwards, he would try again to convince  Lois to bring Henderson in on this.

"Okay, what do we know?"

"We know that Cooke was receiving two thousand dollar a month  payments. And we know that word on the street is that Cooke was  receiving those payments because he had overheard a conversation  that took place on the docks."

"But we can't prove that last part."

"Bobby Bigmouth's information has always been accurate in the  past. But you're right. We don't know that. We also don't know  what he overheard. But the ferry incident took place immediately  after Cooke's death."

"True."

"And we know that... whatever the purpose was for the explosion  on the ferry, the result was not... successful."

"Okay, so if we go by the pictures in Joey Bermuda's file, I  think we can assume... at least until something better comes  along, that Dr. Klein was the target of that attack."

"Explain?"

"Well, if Dr. Klein isn't involved, then he's as much as a target  as you. His picture in that file. His name on the post office  box. I don't know how it all fits together, but you and Klein are  both targets."

"And Henderson. Don't forget about Henderson's picture. It was  also in that file. So... Cole!"

"What?"

"Cole vowed revenge on myself, Bernard and Bill Henderson. It  fits, Clark. Cole invented the hologram thingy. Cole... said  'you're welcome' to you for your job at the Planet. And he  possibly even knew Sykes. Cooke was just a loose end they needed  to tie up."

"But Bermuda wasn't talking to Cole last night."

The breath went out of Lois. "Okay, so we're back to square one."

Clark rose to his feet. "It's getting late. Why don't we take  time to regroup? Maybe have some supper. It might allow us to  look at this thing in a fresh light."

* * * * * * * * *

Part 18

Supper was finished and Lois and Clark's conversation had  drifted. Clark still didn't have his powers. So how the  conversation had drifted onto its current topic, Clark wasn't  entirely sure. After all, for all he knew, his powers would never  return. Still, Lois wouldn't let it go.

"Okay, I understand why you don't want to tell the world about  Clark Kent. But you know as well as I do that something like that  ferry incident is going to happen in the future. And you know as  well as I do that you won't be able to stop yourself from helping  then, any more than you could stop yourself from helping out at  the car accident or the ferry incident. So..."

"What are you suggesting? You know I can't go public. So just  drop it."

"No - you can't go public. Not now. Not until we reveal what  really happened at the ferry. But then..."

"Not even then. I couldn't live like that. People thinking I'm  some... aberration."

"You could use a disguise. No one would need to know it was you  beneath the disguise. It could be..." She gestured vaguely, as if  silently trying different looks out on him. "...flashy."

"Flashy? Lois, by now you must know me well enough to know that I  would never..."

"Exactly!" she exclaimed in triumph. "No one would ever think of  Clark Kent if they were looking at some flashy, over-the-top  costume. That's why it would be perfect."

Clark got up from the table, making his way to the window to look  out at the perfectly still lake outside. She didn't understand.  She just didn't.

"It's the perfect solution, Clark. I don't know why you can't see  that," said Lois, rising from the table and coming to stand  behind him. "You could change into the disguise and... Presto!  Instant superhero. And then, after you're done, return to Clark  Kent. People could call for you when they were in trouble...  Which reminds me, how good is your hearing? Could you hear a call  of help?"

"Yes. But..."

"But nothing, Clark. It's the only realistic option - well, other  than hiding your head in the sand and hoping that no one will  ever catch you pulling some super stunt ever again. And this way,  you could avoid misinterpretations. You could tell people  yourself what you've done."

"You just want the story," said Clark, turning towards her. He  knew that wasn't fair. He could see by the look in her eyes that  she felt as if he had just slapped her across the face.

But the hurt didn't remain long. Almost immediately, her eyes  flashed with anger. "Fine then! Just keep running away from who  you are. What do I care anyway?"

"But it won't work, Lois. Don't you see that? If this...  superhero as you call him were to suddenly appear on the scene,  people wouldn't call for him, wouldn't want his help. They would  be terrified by what he can do. They would be..." He turned back  towards the window. "...repulsed by him. They wouldn't want him  touching them, administering C.P.R. on them or flying them off to  a hospital."

"What are you talking about, Clark? No one is going to be  repulsed."

"No?" He turned towards her again. "You are."

"What..."

Before she could get her question out, he'd stormed the few short  feet between them, pulled her into his arms and lowered his lips  to hers, waiting for the moment it would sink in what he was  doing and she would, as always, pull away - repulsed at being  touched, at being kissed, by the alien.

* * * * * * * * *

Whatever point Clark had been trying to make was completely lost  on Lois the instant his lips were on hers. For a moment, she  didn't respond - having been taken completely by surprised. And  then, her mind went blank as she felt the soft pressure of his  lips. Her heart skittered and heat filled her belly.

When Clark broke the kiss, as if suddenly realizing that he was  trying to make a point, she flashed back to their first kiss,  where he'd pulled away, claiming she wasn't his type. Determined  not to repeat that moment, she grabbed onto the front of his  shirt, keeping him where he was even as she brought his mouth  back to hers. She heard a low growl escape from the back of his  throat as he pulled her closer.

For a few minutes, Lois was content with simply exploring his  mouth and lips, feeling his strong arms holding her body close.  One leisurely kiss was followed by another. His taste. His feel.  His increasingly heavy breathing.

What happened next, Lois wasn't entirely certain. But it was as  if, without warning, something snapped in both of them. Suddenly,  hands were searching blindly, snaking under clothing, seeking out  skin. Garments became a hindrance, an unacceptable barrier  between them. And almost before she realized what was happening,  they were tumbling together onto the bed.

It flashed through her mind that she shouldn't be letting this  happen, that she should stop this now, because... His mouth found  a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. She moaned, a deep,  guttural sound that she barely recognized as coming from her.  ...because... His hand slid down her body, causing her skin to  feel as if it were on fire. ...because... She tangled her hands  in his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers, rolling them over on  the bed as all reasons for stopping fled her mind. And she  assailed him with a need, a desire she would never have believed  herself capable.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark couldn't quite believe what was happening. He'd thought he  repulsed her and yet, her hands were currently sliding over his  body as if she were trying to touch everywhere at once. He  groaned when her lips found his once again. Her fingernails  digging into his vulnerable shoulders didn't hurt. It felt...  incredible.

Suddenly, she pulled back, panting hard. "No, no, no, no," she  gasped out, sitting back, running her hands through disheveled  hair.

"Lois, what..."

"I can't. I'm sorry, Clark. I just can't."

And suddenly she was gone, throwing on his shirt as she  practically ran out the door.

Clark lay in stunned silence on the bed, still trying to come to  terms with what had just happened. He'd thought she was right  there with him - wanting him as desperately as he wanted her. And  then, without warning, she was gone.

He closed his eyes, trying to get his heavy breathing under  control as he struggled with the sudden drop of temperature in  the room. Skin which had been burning previously, now was  possessed of an unexpected chill. He shivered.

Where had she gone? Was he supposed to follow or did she want to  be left alone? He might be able to order dinner in three hundred  and forty-seven languages, but he had to admit, sometimes he had  serious problems understanding Lois Lane. Maybe he should just  wait - give her time - before going after her. Maybe she'd come  back in on her own and tell him what had made her run.

* * * * * * * * *

God, she'd almost done it again. How could she possibly have been  so stupid?

Making her way over to the dock, she sank down onto it, dragging  her feet through the water.

What was it about Clark Kent that made him so incredibly  irresistible to her? She'd always prided herself on her control.  And yet this was the second time she'd jumped into bed with him  to satisfy her own needs. Okay, maybe she'd gotten control just  in time. But still... How could she have led him on like that?

She felt the full weight of her own guilt settle upon her. Hadn't  she just decided a couple of days ago that this couldn't happen  again? The first time... maybe that had been understandable.  She'd been lost, scared and more than a little relieved that  she'd been able to come to terms with what had happened with  Sykes. But this time... she knew how Clark felt about her. He  believed he was in love with her. And yes, things were starting  to look pretty good in terms of getting her conviction  overturned. The diagram for a bullet that fired by itself. The  hologram generator, still bearing the image of Perry testifying  against her. Yes. She was really beginning to believe that this  all might be over soon.

But then what? She and Clark had been thrown together - by her  need to overturn her conviction and by his need to clear his  name. She had no doubt that he believed himself in love with her.  But Lois knew only too well that high stress situations like this  produced some pretty intense feelings. And that was what was  happening here. When this was all over, she had no doubt that she  and Clark would realize that in reality, they had nothing in  common. Oh, sure, they were both journalists. But other than  that... How could a sweet, mild country boy - albeit, a country  boy with a slightly unusual heritage - and a tough, cynical city  girl have anything in common?

His feelings for her would die within a matter of weeks. And if  she let herself develop feelings for him... No. No she couldn't  risk her heart that way again. Besides, what did Clark need with  someone with as much baggage as she? Just because she seemed to  have no will power at all when Clark was in close proximity was  no basis for a relationship. No. When this was all over, Clark  would undoubtedly come to realize that she was a mistake.

This was lust - combined, perhaps, with a little desperation -  not love. Not for either of them. The emotions he was able to  invoke in her by kissing her, holding her, hell... just saying  her name were nothing more than... pheromones released in high  stress situations. Animal magnetism. No more than that.

Come to think of it, though, she wasn't entirely sure how they  had ended up kissing. They'd been in the middle of an argument or  something. But... why had he suddenly kissed her? She shook her  head. It didn't particularly matter why he'd kissed her. What  mattered was that it couldn't happen again.

Besides, there was a further complication. If everything worked  out, she would undoubtedly go back to work at the Daily Planet -  assuming Perry wanted her back, of course - where she and Clark  would be colleagues. She'd done 'sexual relations with a  colleague' before - Claude. And that hadn't exactly ended in the  best way possible. Rumors. Humiliation. Heartbreak. No. Not  exactly the ideal ending.

Claude had been her first. And a great beginning that had been. A  star struck twenty year-old, swooning over a much more  experienced reporter in his early thirties. She'd thought it was  true love. Visions of riding into the sunset to live happily ever  after had swum happily through her mind. She'd doodled hearts on  her notepads and practiced writing her new name - Lois Benoit.  Stupid, childish dreams.

Oh, she'd had boyfriends before. High school. College. As an  exchange student in Ireland. But she'd never let things get too  carried away with them. They were nice - and she liked them. But  they'd never... really done it for her. They were boys. Claude  had been a man. Oh, well, there was Paul, of course. Her great  unrequited love. But Linda King had slipped in before anything  had really had a chance to develop.

After Claude, she'd become hardened, cynical even. In part, that  was why, although she'd been engaged to Lex Luthor, she'd said  she wanted to wait until they got married. Although, if she were  really honest with herself, Lex had never really been...  irresistible to her. Even when she'd been under the influence of  a pheromone compound that a perfumer named Miranda had invented,  Lois had barely even acknowledged Lex when he'd come to see her.  In fact, she'd not been particularly attracted to anyone during  that time. Actually, that wasn't exactly true. She had hit on a  plumber her landlord had hired to do some work. Fortunately, due  to the fact that he wasn't under the pheromone's influence and  was still pining over a recently deceased girlfriend, nothing had  come of it.

She wondered why her lack of interest in sleeping with Lex, even  then, hadn't raised a red flag with her at the time. In many  ways, she still wondered if she'd even loved Lex. Had she just  been swept away in the illusion romance? The most eligible  bachelor in the world wanted her. It had been a whirlwind  courtship - ending with a romantic proposal, high in the air in  his private jet while on their way to Italy for supper. She  hadn't even thought about her response.

Of course, the end of that relationship had, in some ways, been  even more humiliating than her ending with Claude. She might have  been the one who finally exposed Lex. Still, she could still  hardly believe how close she'd come to marrying the biggest  mobster on the eastern seaboard - and having the rest of the  world privy to her stupidity. She'd been hounded by reporters  from other papers for weeks. At times, she'd wondered if she  would ever get her privacy back.

After that, she'd pretty much quit dating. Not that she hadn't  had men wanting to take her out. The most persistent of these had  been Dan Scardino. She wasn't sure she'd known there were quite  so many creative ways for a man to ask a woman out - or exactly  how many times she could say no. Dan had been cute and charming  and she'd definitely been intrigued. But Lois simply hadn't been  interested in dating anyone. Until... They had been working  together to uncover a plot by Bill Church Jr. to use a drug  called 'Nirvana.' It was designed to make the people taking it  susceptible to suggestion. The investigation had become... a  little intense. In the adrenaline rush that followed, they'd  ended up in bed together.

Afterwards, they'd tried dating. It was one of the worst  experiences of Lois' life. She'd discovered quickly enough that  she and Dan had nothing in common - other than that they both  seemed to be adrenaline junkies. Still, unwilling to admit that  she'd made another mistake, she'd forged ahead - in the end,  making both of them completely miserable.

She could still remember the day, after they had broken up, when  their paths had crossed once again. Lois had been investigating a  story into a couple of very strange deaths. First, a bus driver  had suddenly had a flash back to his days during the Vietnam war  and had crashed the bus before dying of a heart attack. Then a  C.I.A. operative had discharged his weapon on a public street  before dying of a heart attack. Witnesses claimed that he seemed  half crazed, railing about things only he could see. The D.E.A.  had sent Scardino to investigate - fearing there was some new  drug on the street. It had ended up that a man named Baron Sunday  was using voodoo.

After they'd broken the case open, she and Scardino had ended up  back at Lois' apartment, tumbling through the door as they  struggled to remove clothing. All the old feelings had flooded  through Lois. Suddenly, it had occurred to Lois what was  happening. Adrenaline. Hormones. The excitement.

"God... Is the adrenaline what makes our relationship work?"

Only when the words had left her mouth did Lois realize the truth  contained in them. By the look on Dan's face, it was obvious he  realized it, too. Only when they were caught up in the excitement  of the chase did they have anything in common. Dan had left soon  afterwards and Lois had never seen him again.

Her final foray into relationships had been Max. Although that  one wasn't entirely her fault. She'd been lost and scared, with  no idea who she was. And he had been there. So understanding. So  caring. Only afterwards did she realize that, slowly but surely,  he had been chipping away at her support system, alienating her  from her friends and family so that he could have her all to  himself. If it hadn't been for Herkemer Johnson's Vibro Whammy  she might have actually quit her job at the Daily Planet and run  away to France with him like he wanted. She still wasn't entirely  certain why he'd done it. He claimed he'd done it out of love.  But what type of love was that?

And now... there was Clark. The physical draw to him might be  unparalleled in her experience, but that was all there was to it.  Pheromones. Animal magnetism. Lust. It was nothing more than  that. The problem was that he didn't know that. He truly believed  he was in love with her. But that was why it was so important  that she not allow things to play through to their logical  ending. She had to break this off now - before she got in too  deep. She pulled in a jagged breath concentrating on the small  waves her toe was making as she dragged it through the still lake  water.

Lois knew he had come outside without even looking up. She  nibbled on her lower lip. Every second he took to approach seemed  to take a lifetime. What should she say to him? He obviously knew  something was wrong. That meant she couldn't put this off any  longer. He would be tempted not to believe her. He believed his  emotions were real. The only option was to keep this light.

"I'm sorry, Lois," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly.

"Sorry?" she asked, looking up at him in confusion. Why was he  apologizing to her?

"I thought... I thought you wanted... I guess I got carried away.  I swear, I never would have kissed you if I had realized..." His  voice trailed off. He was staring at his shoes. "I should  probably just leave. But I wanted you to know how sorry..."

"Clark, what are you talking about?"

"The way I pressured you into..." He made a gesture with his  hands.

Her eyebrows shot up. He thought he had pressured her? Was he  insane? "Clark, sit down." She patted the spot next to her.

He looked slightly disconcerted. Still, after a moment, he sat  next to her - being excessively careful to keep a respectful  distance.

"You didn't pressure me into anything," she said.

"But..."

"If anything, I pressured you."

"But... I don't understand."

She looked back at the small waves in the otherwise still water,  gathering her strength before looking back at him, determined to  keep her tone light. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't seem  to have a lot of willpower when it comes to you." She hesitated,  nibbling again on her lower lip as she considered her next words.

"Then what...?" He gestured to her sitting outside in the dark.

She forced herself to look at him, keeping any indication of  distress off her face. "Look, farmboy, situations like these  produce some pretty intense feelings. But... they're not real.  All this 'jaws of death' stuff has cranked up our adrenaline  levels. These emotions you're feeling are nothing more than...  stress-induced lust." She patted him affectionately on the chest.  "Believe me I ought to know - I've been here before." She broke  eye contact, looking back at the water - although in the corner  of her eye, she could tell that her words had hit him hard.  "Clark, I'm sorry. I mean, obviously you're..." She gestured  towards him. "What woman could resist you? And what happened in  there..." She shrugged, trying to give the impression that it had  meant nothing to her.

"But if you don't even like me..."

"I like you. I just... I just don't see this leading anywhere.  Obviously, I'm in lust with you. But more than that... It's just  not going to happen. And... I'm sorry. I never should have led  you on like that. It's just one of those things that happens  sometimes."

After a long moment of silence, she chanced a quick glance at the  man seated next to her.

"I'm sorry, Clark." She looked back at the water. "You have no  idea how sorry." In spite of her best efforts, she felt tears  well up in her eyes. She refused to look at him again, even when  he got up and slowly headed away - not wanting him to know how  much this was hurting her. She didn't know why this was so  difficult. These emotions weren't real. So why did she feel as if  she was ripping out her own heart?

* * * * * * * * *

Clark steered the Daily Planet car through the darkened streets,  lost in thought. He wasn't entirely sure what had transpired at  the cabin. He'd kissed her to prove that she was repulsed by him  - the alien. And then... at first she'd been all over him,  leaving him with the distinct impression that she wasn't sickened  by his touch. But then she'd pulled back saying no repeatedly.

Naturally, his first thought had been that it had finally sunk in  what she was about to do with the alien and her feelings of  disgust had registered. Then he'd kicked himself for pressuring  her into something that made her so obviously uncomfortable. Yet  when he'd apologized... she'd seemed truly confused.

She'd gone on to make it clear that she didn't want anything more  to happen between them. A fling - that was the way she had  described their night together. 'I've been here before.' 'It's  just one of those things that happens sometimes.' And the tone of  her voice when she'd said them... Lightly, as if their night  together had done nothing more than... put another notch on Lois  Lane's invisible garter belt.

He put his foot on the gas, dashing around a slower car in a show  of temper unusual for Clark. 'I've been here before.' 'It's just  one of those things that happens sometimes.' Their night together  had meant nothing to her. One of those things that happens  sometimes. Been here before. A one night stand. And, by the  sounds of it, nothing new to her. Probably a regular occurrence.  The most important and special night of his life to date and to  her... a one night stand. A roll in the hay. A quick, meaningless  coupling with no lasting consequences.

He quickly loosened his grip on the steering wheel when it began  to groan under his ever-tightening grip. The Daily Planet  wouldn't be exactly pleased, and he wasn't sure how he would  explain it, if he returned the car at the end of all this with  finger-shaped indentations in the steering wheel.

Maybe she was repulsed by him. Maybe not. But did it really  matter? Her decision to leave him during the night in the motel  room hadn't been a mistake, hadn't been the result of panic or a  need to protect him, it had been because the encounter meant  nothing to her.

He pulled onto the street his apartment was located on and slowed  immediately when he realized the place was still under  surveillance. Being careful not to attract attention, he drove  past, parking where they wouldn't notice the car so that he could  take it without being followed in the morning and walked back to  his apartment, determined that this time he would put this  obviously unrealistic attraction for Lois Lane behind him. She  had used him. It was as simple as that. And any fantasy he'd held  of them riding off together into the sunset was just that - a  fantasy. 'I've been here before.' 'Just one of those things that  happens sometimes.'

* * * * * * * * *

Lois leaned back in her chair and rubbed tired eyes. After Clark  had left to go back to his apartment, she hadn't been able to  sleep. She'd made a decent try of it, of course. But after lying  in the dark, the events of the past few hours running round and  round in her mind, she'd finally conceded defeat, got up and  begun working again.

She'd started by opening a word processing program and typing in  everything they knew or suspected. Cooke had been killed because  he overheard a conversation on the docks and was blackmailing...  someone - suspected. What they did know for sure was that Cooke  was receiving two thousand dollar a month payments in cash. They  also knew that none of their suspects so far had corresponding  withdrawals from their bank accounts.

They also knew that two thugs, working for someone else, had  found them when they'd been meeting with Dr. Klein. According to  Clark, the person who had hired them wanted her alive. But they  had been shooting at Clark. Did that mean they wanted her alive  and Clark dead? What exactly had their intentions been if Clark  hadn't flown them out of there? That, of course, raised other  questions. Who had hired them? They had called him 'the boss'.  Was that important? And how had they found her and Clark?

Joey Bermuda. He was obviously involved. The file they had found,  marked M.D., seemed pretty clear evidence of his involvement. But  in that file, in addition to the plans for a bullet that fired by  remote, there had been four photos. Cooke - who was dead already.  She - who was supposed to be in prison. Klein - who had almost  been killed in the ferry disaster. Henderson - who had not had  any attempt on his life, at least to Lois' knowledge.

Should they notify Klein and Henderson that they might be in  danger? No. From Joey's phone call with... whomever, it seemed  clear that everything was on hold until she was back in prison.  That gave them some time.

Jefferson Cole also appeared to be involved. That made sense.  After all, he had grudges against her, Klein and Henderson - the  people he blamed for his incarceration. According to Dr. Klein,  Cole had created the hologram generator that had an image of  Perry testifying against her. And he knew Elroy Sykes - or did  he?

She sent an email to Jimmy - asking him to look for any possible  connection between Sykes and Cole.

But Jefferson Cole wasn't the man behind this operation. He  wasn't the person Joey Bermuda had been speaking to on the phone  a couple of nights ago. And there was no evidence of the two  thousand dollar a month payments in his accounts.

She leaned back in her chair. So who was behind it? Someone who  wanted her in prison. Someone who wanted Dr. Klein dead. And  someone who had plans for Henderson... plans they had no idea  about. She sat up. That was it. Who would want her in prison and  want Dr. Klein dead? Why not just kill them both? Who would  benefit... Her mind came to an abrupt halt. No. That was crazy.  But... then again, it made sense in a sick sort of way.

Quickly, she shot off a second email to Jimmy and then looked up  when she heard a car approaching. She checked her watch. It was  almost eight a.m. Clark. Getting up and stretching her cramped  muscles, she headed towards the door. She was just about to open  it when...

Smash!

She jumped back when police officers wearing flack jackets  suddenly swarmed the cabin. Before she could react, she found  herself being thrown on the bed on her stomach. Pain shot through  her shoulders when they slapped handcuffs on and began roughly  pulling her to her feet.

She was still in a fog when she first spotted Clark running  towards the cabin. By the look on his face, she knew he was about  to do something stupid.

"No!" she yelled, directing the comment at Clark.

"Just get in the car," said one of the officers, pushing her down  and putting a hand out to make sure she didn't hit her head on  the car.

Still, she knew Clark understood what she was telling him when he  stopped, watching silently, ignoring the officers who were  suddenly questioning him so that he could maintain eye contact  with her. She had no idea if he could hear her or not when she  quietly said, "I'll be fine, Clark. Just follow up on my emails  to Jimmy this morning."

Clark nodded. She wasn't entirely sure if that meant... "Are  your... you know.. back?"

"Are my what back?" asked the officer in the front seat.

Damn. Too loud. Still, she kept her eyes on Clark. He looked  slightly confused. She wasn't entirely sure if that meant he  hadn't heard her or if it meant... something else - especially  when she noticed the Daily Planet car. Clark had obviously driven  back to the cabin instead of electing to fly. Maybe his powers  weren't back yet - assuming, of course, they ever did come back.  She found herself hoping that they did. They just seemed... so  Clark. She suspected he'd be lost without them.

As the car pulled away from the cabin, she directed her mind to  what she needed to do. Perry had no idea she was using his cabin.  She had no idea why Clark had turned up there. Maybe he'd been  trying to track her down, too. As for how she broke out of  prison... well, as far as she knew the Fifth Amendment was still  good law.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 19

Clark leaned back in his chair, feeling frustrated, as the  officer continued asking questions. Clark might not be a lawyer,  but fortunately, he'd remembered just in time that he had the  right to remain silent. And so that was just what he had done.  Still, that hadn't stopped them from bringing him to the station  and continuing to question him.

"You know, Kent. You seem like a decent guy. You just got  suckered by a pretty face. And, hey, we all know what Lane's  like. She could get any guy to do just about anything." The older  man leaned on the desk, towering over Clark. "You'd be better off  fessing up now. Lane will give you up in a heartbeat. And if we  learn about your involvement in her escape from her, you won't  have any bargaining power. No woman's worth that. Especially not  Lois Lane."

Clark fought back his desire to argue. That was what the officer  wanted.

"Come on, Kent. She used you. Don't go to jail because of her."

Clark sighed. His only call had not been to a lawyer. He'd only  had two concerns at the time - whether Lois was safe and whether  Henderson and Klein were safe. But as a result, he'd called  Henderson. Now he was beginning to wish he'd called a lawyer.  Maybe they would be able to get him out of there so that he could  find out for himself that Lois was safe.

The officer sat down on the far side of the table. "Look maybe  you aren't aware of Lois Lane's history. She got engaged to Lex  Luthor because she wanted to get the inside scoop on him. She  uses men, Kent. You're no one special to her. If they offer her a  deal, she'll sell you out in a heartbeat."

Clark could hardly believe he was in this position. He was  keeping his mouth shut because he knew he was guilty. Never  before in his life had he done anything like this. Helping a  convicted murderer escape from prison. Helping her hide from the  law. He believed in the law. So how had he managed to get himself  in this situation? The officer was right about one thing - he'd  done it for Lois. He'd also done it because, as much as this  might go against his upbringing, it had been the right thing to  do. What Lois chose to do now was up to her. For his part, he  wasn't about to say anything that might contradict her.

Besides, if she planned to betray him, there was nothing he could  do to stop her. After all, he was certain she could make quite a  deal if she wanted to. She could give them The Demon, after all.  He didn't think she'd do that. But if she decided to... she might  even be able to walk out of the prison free and clear with  information like that.

"Talk!" The officer slammed his hand on the table causing Clark  to jump in surprise.

Suddenly, the door to the interrogation room opened and a woman  Clark didn't know walked in.

"Don't say another word, Mr. Kent," she said to Clark before  turning her attention to the officer. "I'm Angela Winters - Mr.  Kent's lawyer. Are you charging Mr. Kent with something?"

"Not yet, but..."

"Then, Mr. Kent..." She gestured for Clark to join her. "...and I  will be going now."

Clark was stunned when the officer simply let the two of them  exit the room. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he could  have done that himself at any time. But...

"I didn't call a lawyer," said Clark, keeping his voice low  enough that only the woman walking beside him could hear.

"Inspector Henderson called Perry White who called me," said  Angela.

"Ms. Winters... Are you the lawyer who represented Lois?"

"I am. I'm on my way over to see her next. And on that note, I  will say this..." She stopped, turning to look at him before  continuing. "If they do lay charges against you for assisting in  a prison break or with harboring a fugitive, you will have to get  other counsel. I would recommend a woman named Constance Hunter.  But I have a potential conflict of interest."

"That's fine. But... you're on your way to see her?"

Angela nodded. "But first..."

She led him towards an office in another part of the station.  When Clark walked in, he spotted Bill Henderson. He glanced back  at Angela.

"He said when you called him that you wanted to talk to him about  something. I trust it's not about these charges."

"It isn't, Ms. Winters," Clark responded. "Thank you."

He waited until Angela Winters walked away before turning back  towards Henderson's office.

* * * * * * * * *

Henderson leaned back in his chair and observed Clark for a long  moment. "So you think that now that Lois Lane is back in custody,  Dr. Klein and I are in danger." His tone conveyed his scepticism.

Clark let out a breath. "Yes."

"I'm going to need something more than just..." Henderson paused.  "Okay, can you at least tell me why you think there's a danger to  Dr. Klein and me?"

"We... I have reason to believe..." Clark let out a breath of  frustration, wondering how Lois did it. Did he confess to  breaking into Joey Bermuda's place? But how could he convince  Henderson that there was a very real threat to both him and Dr.  Klein if he couldn't tell him about the file and the phone call?  Taking a deep breath, he decided that Henderson and Klein's lives  were more important than worrying about whether or not he was  arrested for breaking and entering. He just had to remember to  leave Lois' name out of it - at least for now. "I happened to see  a file at Joey Bermuda's place," he began.

"The Handyman? How did you happen to be at his place?"

"It's not important. Anyway, it was a file with a heading  consisting of two initials - M.D. Under the initials was a post  office box. Inside the file were four photos and a schematic of a  remote control device that would cause a bullet to fire without  the assistance of a gun. The photos were of... Lois, Theodore  Cooke, Dr. Klein and you. Now, we know that Theodore Cooke was  killed and that Lois was convicted of murder..."

Henderson was now leaning forward in his chair.

"As for Dr. Klein... we think he might have been the target for  the attack on the ferry. So that would leave you. Now, when we...  I was there, I also overheard a phone call. The indication was  that the rest of the... plan, whatever that was, was on hold  until Lois was back in custody."

"And... Did anyone else see this file - hear this phone call?"

Clark gave Henderson a look of warning.

"Okay, dumb question. But... I don't get the connection. Or are  you saying that Lois Lane is in danger, too?"

"I think she is - but not from this guy. This guy just wants her  in prison. In fact, given that there was a schematic for a bullet  to fire by itself, I think this guy framed her for Syke's  murder."

"You're talking about The Handyman."

"No. We... I think the Handyman was just the front man. I think  someone else is pulling the strings."

"Okay, then I'll have Dr. Klein taken into protective custody  immediately - while we sort this out. And then I want to follow  up on this postal box."

"Oh, right," said Clark, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"What?" asked Henderson.

"There is more I need to tell you."

And with that, Clark brought Henderson up to speed on what he and  Lois had found so far. The hologram generator. The rumors on the  street about Cooke blackmailing someone. The extra deposits in  Cooke's account for about a year before his death.

By the time he finished, Henderson looked slightly stunned.

"Lois Lane's been having a bad influence on you," Henderson  finally said.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, tell me, how exactly did you manage to find all this  evidence?" He waited until Clark shifted under his gaze before  continuing. "Exactly!"

"Bill, I don't know what you're..."

Clark's voice trailed off when Henderson held up his hand.

"Don't lie to the police. You have the right to remain silent,  but lying to the police... That's a different matter entirely.  So... don't say anything." He rose from behind his desk. "Okay,  so I'll get Dr. Klein into protective custody. And I'll get  this... hologram generator?"

Clark nodded.

"And then we'll take it from there. Do you have any idea who is  behind all of this or what their motive is?"

Clark shook his head. "Dr. Klein says that Jefferson Cole was  working on a hologram generator before he went to prison. But I'm  fairly confident that the phone conversation Joey Bermuda was  having the other day was not with Cole. And since Cole is in  prison... I don't know how it all connects - except that it seems  to be by someone who has a grudge against you and Dr. Klein and  Lois."

"Well, Cole certainly fits that description, but... you're sure  the conversation wasn't with Cole?"

Clark nodded.

"Okay, well I'll let you know what I dig up. And in the meantime,  I expect you to do the same."

* * * * * * * * *

Clark had to admit, he felt much better as he headed back to the  Daily Planet. Henderson knew, he was certain, that the  investigation was being done with Lois. But he had deliberately  chosen... not to dig too deeply. Clark had to admit, it was a  relief to have the police in on this.

He wondered briefly if Lois would approve. Still, there hadn't  been much choice. With Lois back in custody, both Dr. Klein and  Inspector Henderson were in danger. No. There had been no choice  but to bring Henderson in on things.

His mind drifted back to Lois' comments in the car as the police  had been taking her away. 'Follow up on my emails to Jimmy this  morning.' He'd heard her well enough. Still, when he'd been  running towards the police, he hadn't had any extra speed or  strength. If he had, he'd have been hard pressed not to just grab  her and fly her out of there. As it was, only her command to stop  had kept him from getting into a fight with the police.

Lois. She was back in custody. He had to admit, he was worried  about that - especially since he didn't seem to have all his  powers. What would he do if she got in trouble? How would he be  able to help her?

He was just about to step through the doors to the Daily Planet  when he was distracted by the squeal of tires on pavement. He  turned, looking back at the street to see a black SUV speeding  past when... Two loud sounds were accompanied by two sharp pains  to his chest.

"They're shooting!"

He heard someone yell as the world began to swirl around him and  then everything went black.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was back at Metropolis Women's Prison after a grueling  interrogation. Not that she'd said anything. In fact, she'd  distracted herself by watching various police officers' diverse  styles. In the back of her mind, she even made notes on different  techniques she might be able to employ in the future when  interrogating... interviewing a suspect. It had been quite an  educational experience.

On the other hand, she was relieved when Angela had arrived -  informing the police that they could charge her with the escape  if they wanted to but that Lois wouldn't be answering any more  questions at this time. Not that she'd answered any in the first  place.

Their questions made it obvious that they suspected Clark had  been helping her. But it was equally obvious that they didn't  have sufficient information to charge him. She was grateful for  that.

After her interrogation, she'd been brought back to the prison.  But she didn't seem to be heading in the direction of her own  cell. She'd tried asking where she was being taken, but to no  avail. That was one of the most frustrating parts of being in  prison - guards didn't feel the need to explain themselves.

Her forehead crinkled as she was led past the infirmary. She  wasn't sick or injured so what... Her thought trailed off when  the guard accompanying her stopped and knocked on a door.

"Come in."

Her entire body tensed when she recognized the voice. Her  suspicions were confirmed when the door swung open.

"Maxwell," she said, stepping cautiously into the office. She  felt a small sense of satisfaction when she realized his left eye  was black and blue.

When he gestured her to a chair, she went hesitantly - not that  she had much choice. Still, she stood behind the chair instead of  taking a seat in it.

"Are you sure you want to be left alone with her - given what she  did to you last time?"

"I'll be fine. Thank you."

Lois opened her mouth, about to ask that the woman stay. But then  she closed her mouth again. The guard wouldn't stay because Lois  wanted her to.

"Why don't you sit down, Lois?" asked Deter, leaning back in his  own chair.

"I'll stand if you don't mind."

Deter shrugged. "Suit yourself."

They seemed to regard each other for a moment, as if they were  two wild animals, circling each other, looking for the other's  weakness so that they could pounce.

"You shouldn't have done it, Lois," said Max finally. "Breaking  out of prison... tsk, tsk, tsk. Not your best idea."

Lois shrugged. "Caution has never been my best quality. Why  change now?"

Deter's eyebrows rose. "Well, this time it got Clark Kent  killed."

For a moment, Lois just stood there, staring blankly at Maxwell  and then, as what he said began to sink in, she grasped onto the  chair to keep herself standing as the room began to spin around  her. How she made her way around the chair to sink down into it,  she wasn't entirely certain.

He was wrong, of course. He had to be wrong. Clark wasn't dead.  There had to be some mistake. He was invulnerable - or was he?

* * * * * * * * *

"I've never seen anything like it. The bullet wounds almost seem  to have closed up on their own."

"A new type of bullet, perhaps?"

"Maybe. Something very hot that cauterizes the wound as it goes  through."

"Does he need surgery?"

"The bullets seem to have gone all the way through him. But we're  sending him for tests now in order to determine what type of  damage the bullets might have done on the way through."

Clark slowly regained consciousness to see two doctors leaning  over him, although they were not looking at his face - they were  looking at his chest. "What...?"

"Hey, welcome back to the land of the living," said one of the  doctors, his face breaking out in a smile as his eyes met  Clark's. "We didn't know if you'd make it. You were shot in the  chest. We don't know the extent of the damage yet, but don't  worry, we're going to take good care of you."

"Where am I?" asked Clark, struggling to raise himself to a  seated position.

"Metropolis General Hospital. Hey, don't try to move. You've lost  a lot of blood and we don't know yet what damage the bullets may  have caused."

"I feel fine," said Clark, swinging his feet over the side of the  bed.

"Hey, what are you doing? You're not strong enough to... stand."  The last word was said as Clark rose to his feet, proving the  doctor wrong.

"Who do I see about getting out of here?" Clark asked, gingerly  touching the wounds on his chest.

"I don't..." The doctor's voice trailed off as Clark started to  pull on his trousers. "At least give us a chance to put a  dressing on that."

Clark looked down at his chest. It probably wasn't necessary. And  given that his powers seemed to be returning, he figured he  needed to get out of there as quickly as possible - before the  doctors were even more baffled. Still, a bandage would give him  something to show people at the Daily Planet who knew he'd been  shot. The only thing he didn't want was... he didn't want them  cleaning up all the dried blood. Because if they did that, they  might realize exactly how quickly the wounds were healing. Right  now, the blood hid the extent of the healing.

"I'm fine," said Clark, grabbing his blood soaked shirt and  putting it on.

* * * * * * * * *

"Clark... son, what are you doing here?" asked Perry when Clark  walked into the newsroom of the Daily Planet. "I was just about  to leave for the hospital - see if you were all right."

"I'm fine, Perry," Clark said, continuing towards his desk.

"Now hold on a minute, son," Perry said, turning and following  Clark to his desk. "You don't look all right." He gestured to  Clark's shirt.

Clark looked down. Damn. He'd forgotten that he was covered with  his own blood. "Looks worse than it is. The bullets just skimmed  me," Clark said. "Bled a lot. But otherwise... I'm fine."

Perry rocked back on his heals, regarding Clark carefully as  Clark picked up the phone and punched in a series of numbers.  "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Lois was caught. I have reason to believe that the person who  shot at me might be out to get her, too. I just want to make  sure... Inspector Henderson, please," he said into the phone.

Perry moved closer, suddenly understanding Clark's urgency - why  he hadn't even bothered stopping to reassure his boss. He  listened in on Clark's side of the conversation when Inspector  Henderson obviously came on the line.

"Inspector, it's Clark Kent. Listen, someone just tried to kill  me. I'm fairly certain... No. Bill, please. I'm fine. But I have  reason to believe it may be the same people who... well, I think  they might be after Lois, too. I'm concerned that she might be in  danger." There was a moment of silence. "You can do that? Okay,  that would be great." Clark hung up the phone.

"What did Henderson say?" asked Perry.

"He has something in mind that might give Lois some protection."

"Did he tell you what his plan is?"

"He said it was best if only he knew the details. The phones  could be bugged. After all, given the scientific knowledge this  creep seems to have access to, bugging the phones at the police  station would be child's play."

"Okay, so..." Perry glanced around as if wondering if there might  be bugs there, too.

Clark's gaze followed his, wondering the same thing. It only took  a moment for Clark to be satisfied that there were none, but he  couldn't exactly tell Perry that. So what... "Let's talk in your  office," Clark suggested.

"What makes you think my office will be any safer?"

"Because when we spoke in there the other day... well, I don't  think that conversation had anything to do with Lois' capture.  After all, they would have found her a lot sooner if they had  your office bugged."

Perry nodded and together, Perry and Clark made their way to his  office. Clark closed the door before Perry spoke.

"So what's the plan now?"

"Before Lois was caught, she told me to follow up on a couple of  emails she sent to Jimmy this morning."

Nodding, Perry made his way back to the door. "Jimmy," he called  into the bullpen when he spotted the young man he was looking  for. "Bring any research you did for Lois this morning to the  office immediately."

Closing the door again, he turned back to Clark. "Any idea what  this is about?"

"No, sir... I mean Perry. But Lois seemed to think it was  important."

Before they could discuss the matter further, Jimmy entered the  office, carrying a number of documents. "This is everything I  could find for... What happened to you, C.K.?"

Clark looked down at his shirt again. Damn. He really was going  to have to get changed. "I'm fine. But... what did you find?"

"Well, first off... Elroy Sykes shared a cell with Jefferson Cole  while Sykes was in prison."

"So they did know each other," Clark said. "Was that all she  asked for?"

"No. She wanted some financial records." He handed the documents  he was holding to Clark.

Clark was confused when he noticed the name on the records.  Still, a moment later he was flipping through the files... coming  to an abrupt halt when he found a record of two thousand dollar a  month cash withdrawals starting about a year before and ending  with the death of Theodore Cooke. He looked at Perry and Jimmy in  disbelief, as if searching their faces would explain exactly what  was going on. It made no sense - none whatsoever. But... the  evidence was there to suggest...

"What is it, son?"

"It's... But why? Why would he do..." Suddenly, his voice trailed  off as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for him just as  they undoubtedly had for Lois. "I've got to go," said Clark  before, without further explanation, rushing out the door and  towards the elevators.

"What did you give him?" asked Perry, coming over to take a look  at the papers Jimmy had shown Clark. "Whose financial records are  these?"

"Dr. Maxwell Deter's," Jimmy responded, his eyes still focused on  the elevators as Clark stepped inside and the door slid shut.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 20

Lois felt a glass of water being put in her hands and  automatically raised it to her lips, not entirely sure what was  going on. She felt like she was drowning, trying desperately to  claw her way to the surface. Clark was dead. Surely Max wouldn't  make something like that up. It would be too easy to check.

"Had a bit of a crush on the country boy, did you?" Max said,  settling back in his chair. "Didn't think you'd go for the smell  of cow manure and the 'straw in the hair' look. Not quite up to  your image."

She focused on Max's face. He looked... smug. Suddenly, the fury  hit her. Without thinking through the consequences, she launched  herself at the man only to find herself blocked by his desk.  Still, Max jumped out of his chair, backing up.

"I'd be careful of that kind of action, if I were you," Max said  although it seemed as if he was slightly shaken by her reaction.  "I might have to have you sedated - for your own safety."

Lois got control of herself, settling back into her chair. He  didn't know that she'd worked out his involvement in...  everything. And as long as he didn't, she had an advantage. She  forced down her anger. Besides, there was so much she desperately  needed to know. And at the moment, Max was her only source of  information.

"I'm so sorry, Lois," Max said, his voice oozing sensitivity.  "But you never should have brought him into this."

"How... how did he die?"

"A drive-by shooting - just outside the Daily Planet."

Lois swallowed hard, fighting the tears that were threatening.  No. Surely it couldn't be true. He was invulnerable. He'd told  her so. Or at least he had been before visiting that damn  warehouse.

Deter got out of his chair coming around to her side of the desk.  He picked up her hand. "Let me help you, Lois. You don't have to  go through this alone. I can help. Let me take care of you."

"Uhh..." She carefully removed her hand from his grasp. Now was  not the time to lose her temper. The information she'd just  received about Clark had her completely off balance. No matter  how strong her desire was to tear this man limb from limb, she  had to keep her cool until such time as she had the evidence she  needed to nail him to the wall. She carefully rose to her feet.  "I just need some time to digest this," she forced herself to  say.

"Of course. Of course. Well, just let me call..." He picked up  the phone.

Lois waited, feeling more claustrophobic by the moment. She  wanted to get out of this office, away from this monster. Oh god.  What if Clark really was dead? How would she survive that? No.  She shouldn't believe anything Max told her. Maybe she could make  a phone call to Perry. Or maybe she could find a way to contact  Henderson. Would there be something on the news?

"Yes," asked the guard, coming into the room.

"Ms. Lane would like to go back to her cell," Max said.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois placed one foot in front of the other as images of Clark  flooded her mind. Clark sitting beside her, looking so dejected  on the dock last night. Clark's expression when they had met for  the first time - looking as if he hadn't seen a woman in years.  His look of amusement as he'd watched her anticipate eating the  chocolate chip cookie he'd brought her. His embarrassed  confession how later that night he'd been watching her through  the prison walls. The wet lock of hair on his forehead after  they'd first made love. His anxiety as he'd waited for her to  pick the lock at Lucky Leon's warehouse. The look of loss she'd  seen on his face after they had watched the message in the globe.

"Through here, Lane," the guard directed.

Lois looked up. "Where..."

"Move, Lane."

She stepped through the door and out into the exercise yard. But  she thought she was being taken back to her cell. Normally, she  wouldn't have objected to such a development, but right now all  she really wanted was to be alone - or to be allowed to place a  call to Perry. Besides, this wasn't her normal time in the yard.  That meant she didn't know who might even be there - what enemies  she might have out here that she'd not yet run into. Maybe that  was the point.

She spun around when she heard the door slam behind her. She took  a deep breath, turning cautiously back around. A group of women  had spotted her and were slowly approaching and in the middle of  them... Diana Stride. She had been one of Intergang's most  successful assassins - until Lois had found a way to expose her.

"If it isn't Lois Lane - nosy reporter," said Stride, slowly  circling Lois.

Lois tried to back away, but somehow while she'd been watching  Stride, she'd been surrounded, leaving her and Stride alone in  the middle of a group of women. Lois raised her hands, tensing  her muscles as she readied herself for the attack she knew was  coming.

At first, a couple of jabs were exchanges as each woman sized up  the other. Then Stride attacked. Her kick was blocked by Lois and  the fight was on. Kicking. Blocking. Jabbing. Blocking. Neither  making any significant progress. Both women were well trained in  martial arts. Then Lois tried a different tactic. Faking a punch,  she struck out with her foot. The punch was blocked. But Lois  landed a good kick to Stride's solar plexus causing her to double  over in pain.

"Look, why don't we just say were even and..." Lois' comment  ended when Diana suddenly straightened holding a shiv. Lois' eyes  focused on the dangerous object as Diana lunged towards her.

Lois managed to deflect Stride's hand, but the force of Stride's  body hitting hers knocked her off balance, sending her sprawling  to the ground. Clark's warning about Max making her dependent on  him by ensuring that she was afraid of the women around her ran  through her mind as Diana Stride attacked.

Lois struck out with her foot, sending Diana Stride tumbling to  the ground as well. Lois leapt on her, trying to get the homemade  prison knife out of Stride's hand. Stride raised a foot,  catapulting Lois over top of her before rising to her feet.  Before Lois had a chance to catch her breath, Stride was on her.  Lois grasped Stride's hand just as the sharp blade descended  towards her throat. Lying on her back on the ground, she  concentrated all her energy on keeping Stride from pushing the  blade further forward. Still, the blade continued to descend,  slowly but surely. She felt the sharp edge begin to cut into her  throat and images of Clark flashed through her mind. At least if  he was dead, she'd be joining him soon. And if not... she just  prayed he'd forgive her for the things she'd said to him the  previous night. That he'd remember her fondly. If she'd known  that this was how it would all end, she'd have never pulled away  from him. She hoped he would come to realize that.

Suddenly, Lois' arms lurched forward as Diana Stride was suddenly  pulled off her. Lois quickly scrambled to her feet to see another  prisoner toss Stride away from her. Lois joined her, focusing on  Stride as the two of them, side by side, took up a defensive  stance.

Diana hesitated for a moment before backing slowly away as the  women around them began to disburse. Lois didn't lower her hands  until she was absolutely certain the danger was passed and then  turned towards her unexpected savior. It wasn't until then that  Lois realized who had come to her aid. But how...

"Detective Reed?" Lois asked, taking in the prison clothes the  other woman was wearing. "How did you..."

Detective Betty Reed raised a finger to her lips causing Lois to  fall silent. She gestured to Lois before leading the two of them  over to a deserted section of the yard.

"What are you doing here?" asked Lois. "I didn't even know you'd  been charged with a crime."

"I haven't been. Bill Henderson sent me. I'm doing some...  undercover work."

"What type of undercover work?"

"Making sure you're safe," Reed said. "Looks like I got here just  in time." She looked down at her hand. "Damn. I broke a nail."

Lois smiled. "Well, if I recall correctly, they're only a dollar  ninety-eight at LexSave. And, hey, your next set is on me."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois and Reed carefully checked outside Lois' cell to make sure  the two of them were alone. Lois' single cot had been replaced  with a bunk-bed. Taking a seat on the bottom cot, they kept their  voices low so as not to be overheard.

"Okay, so why exactly are you here, Reed?" Lois began.

Reed let out a breath. "Bill Henderson called me this afternoon.  He asked me to go undercover here to keep you safe. Apparently,  there was an attempt on the life of... Kent something."

"Clark Kent?"

"Yeah, that's it. And Henderson thinks..."

"Attempted? Does that mean Clark is still alive?"

"I think so. Hey, are you okay?"

"Never better," Lois responded not bothering to open her eyes as  relief flooded through her.

"Anyway," continued Reed, "Henderson thinks the attempt on Clark  might be connected to you - and a possible attempt on your life.  Seems he was right. So do you want to tell me exactly what I  interrupted out there?"

"Just a personal grudge - not directly connected to..." She let  out a breath. "Nothing. I don't know why Henderson thought my  life was in danger."

Reed eyed her suspiciously for a long moment before nodding, as  if accepting that whatever was going on, Lois wasn't going to  fill her in until she was ready.

"So... who exactly knows who you are and why you're here?" asked  Lois.

"Henderson, of course. And the warden. Otherwise... everyone else  just thinks I'm a transfer in from up north."

Lois nodded, not entirely sure she could trust Reed. She could be  in cahoots with Max. Still, if she were, why would she have told  Lois that Clark was still alive? Wouldn't she have backed up  Max's story? And, to tell the truth, even though Detective Reed  and Lois had butted heads a couple of years ago when Eugene  Laderman had been framed for murder, in the end, Reed had done  the right thing - allowing Laderman to stop the computer virus  that was threatening to cripple the world and then helping to  bring down Lena and Henry Harrison, thereby clearing Eugene of  the charge of murder.

Still, could she trust Reed enough to bring her in on everything  Lois and Clark had discovered during the past few days? She  wasn't sure. And until she was, she had no intention of spilling  her guts. On the other hand, Lois had to admit, she was glad Reed  had shown up when she had. And she would certainly sleep better  tonight knowing that she had backup in case Max showed up in her  cell.

"I'm glad you're here, Reed," said Lois.

"Just so you know, Lane, I'm taking the bottom cot."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was asleep almost the instant her head hit the pillow. She  was exhausted. She hadn't slept at all the previous night. And  then, with the stress of the day... every muscle in her body felt  as if were about to rebel. So when Detective Reed had told her  that Clark was still alive, the exhaustion hit her with a force  that made it almost impossible to keep her eyes open. And with  Detective Reed in the bottom cot, Lois found that sleep came  easy.

"Lois."

Clark. She gave a contented moan when he invaded her dream.

"Lois."

Blindly she reached out, seeking him. She bolted upright in her  bed when her hand touched... something. She gasped when she saw  Clark floating beside her bed.

"Clark, what..."

His finger laid across his lips caused her to fall silent. She  suddenly realized that her roommate was asleep on the bottom  bunk. She leaned over the edge, trying to make sure they hadn't  woken her up. But she wasn't there.

"She went to talk to the prison warden," Clark explained.

Lois moved on her cot, drawing her legs up under her allowing him  to sit down as well. He had just made himself comfortable when...  "Clark, what... Are you okay?" Spotting the blood soaking his  shirt, she panicked. Hands began to pull at his buttons,  desperate to know if he was hurt. His hands came up, taking hold  of her wrists and pulling them away from his shirt. She looked up  into his eyes, searching them for an explanation.

"Don't, Lois," he said softly.

It suddenly struck her what he thought was happening. Given the  way she'd attacked him twice now, she had to admit she understood  why he was stopping her. Obviously, he couldn't take the tease  anymore. Not that she blamed him. She'd been running hot and cold  since they'd first met. But this...

"Clark, your shirt."

He looked down at his shirt, cringing slightly, almost as if he'd  forgotten that it was covered in blood.

"Are you... are you really okay?"

He nodded. "I just forgot to change my shirt. I was too worried  about you when I saw those files on Maxwell Deter."

Lois narrowed her eyes. "Clark, have you been... watching me?"

He nodded. "I was just concerned that..."

"How long?"

"For a few hours now. I was half way into the prison when... your  roommate showed up."

She ran a hand over his cheek. "So you're telling me that you  haven't followed up on the investigation?"

"Lois, forget the investigation. I'm here to get you out again.  You can't stay..."

"Clark, I'll be fine. I've got my bodyguard - thanks to you." She  gestured to the cot below hers. "And I think I might be able to  find out more in here than I can out there."

"It's too..."

Her fingers on his lips cut off his words.

"Your next word better not be 'dangerous,'" she warned.

He let out a breath.

"Look, we're close to busting this whole thing wide open. You do  what needs to be done out there. I'll work from in here." She let  that sink in for a moment before continuing. "So what happened  after I was picked up? Did the police give you any hassle?"

"Some. But your lawyer got me out. I brought Henderson up to  speed with the investigation. And I told him that he and Dr.  Klein are in danger now that you're back in custody. He was going  to take Dr. Klein into protective custody and pick up the  Hologram Generator."

"Bernard will love that," Lois said sarcastically. "So... what  happened with you?"

"Two guys... It may have been the same ones that tracked us to  the warehouse the other day. ...in a black SUV took a couple  shots at me outside the Daily Planet."

"Were you able to follow them?"

"Lois..." He gestured to his shirt. "...I was a little...  unconscious at the time."

"But... you're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Clark said before filling Lois in on the whole story.

She listened intently, watching carefully to be sure that he  wasn't leaving out any details he thought might upset her. When  she was satisfied she'd heard the whole story, she began to  relax.

"So I take it your powers are back," she said, gesturing around  them. It was the only thing that made sense. After all,  otherwise, he'd have never been able to break into the prison.

He nodded.

She cocked her head to the side and studied him. "How do you feel  about that?"

He obviously hadn't considered the question. "Well, it lets me be  here - talking to you," he finally said. "So I guess... it's  kinda okay."

She smiled. "I'd say it's so much better than just okay." Her  hand came up to stroke his cheek.

He cleared his throat and, without making it overly obvious,  retreated from her touch.

She gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Okay, well, let's get down  to business. I take it you saw Max's financial records."

"Yeah. There were a lot of interesting things in there. First, it  seems Dr. Deter is mortgaged to the hilt. He has all the  trappings of wealth - the condo in Miami, the retreat in France -  but he's living way beyond his means."

"No liquid assets."

"None. In fact, his bank account is overdrawn. He's got loans to  cover his loans."

"Well, then if he is our culprit, that would explain why he  hasn't paid Joey Bermuda yet. He can't afford to. Do you think...  I mean, if this isn't just some creepy trip into the twilight  zone and Max really is the one behind all this. ...that he was  planning to pay Joey Bermuda off with his inheritance from Dr.  Klein?"

"That's sick."

"Everything about Deter being behind this is sick. So... what  else did you find?"

"In spite of his lack of finances, there are two thousand dollar  a month withdrawals that correspond to the payments to Cooke.  But... I'm not sure I understand. What made you suspect him?"

"It was... a hunch. I started thinking about who stood to benefit  from Bernard's death and from my imprisonment. Who stood to  benefit more from Bernard's death than Max? He's the sole  beneficiary named in Bernard's will."

"Okay... and your imprisonment?"

"Max has been trying to make me... reliant on him. He's been  pushing himself as my only salvation. I think that's why he sent  those two thugs to kill you. He sees you as a hindrance to  getting me to rely on him. If he can cut me off from the outside  world, he thinks he can get me to love him - or at least need  him."

"But what good does that do him if you're in prison?"

"I think that's why the postal box containing the Hologram  Generator was in Bernard's name." She paused for a moment. "What  if Max sent the Hologram Generator to a postal box registered to  Dr. Klein? Then, once Bernard was dead, and I had fallen in love  with Max, he would make sure he found a way to lead the police to  the generator. Bernard would get blamed for framing me. I'd be  released to live happily ever after with Max."

"Wow," said Clark softly. "That's... sick."

"You said that before. But can you think of a better  explanation?"

"No, but... what about Henderson? How is he involved?"

"What if killing Henderson was the price Max had to pay to get  Cole to let him use the Hologram Generator?"

"I don't understand."

"Cole wanted revenge on me, Bernard and Henderson. Max had plans  for me and Bernard, so he made a deal with Cole. He would add  Henderson to his list of... victims if Cole let him use the  hologram generator. Knowing Cole's arrogance, he'd probably been  bragging to everyone about his invention. Most people probably  thought it was all talk. But Max would have known the position  Cole held in the scientific community prior to his incarceration.  And think about it, Clark. Max would be in a perfect position to  make a deal with Cole. He's the psychiatrist for both the men and  women's prison. He could meet with Cole without anyone monitoring  their conversation."

"So Cole provides the generator and the victim - his cell mate,  Elroy Sykes..."

"Sykes and Cole were cell mates?"

"Yeah. Jimmy also found that out this morning."

"Omigod."

"What?"

"Well, I was just thinking. The large withdrawal from Bernard's  account about the same time as the payment to Joey Bermuda..."

"You think Dr. Klein is involved?"

"No. I think Bernard probably loaned the money to Max - maybe Max  said he was short and asked Bernard for help. Max used Klein's  loan to pay Bermuda for the hit on Sykes that sent me to prison.  And then, Max planned to pay Bermuda for Bernard's death when he  got his hands on Bernard's estate. Bernard isn't dead, so Max  hasn't been able to pay."

"That might explain why Max hired a couple of thugs to kill me -  instead of having Bermuda do it. It would also explain the remark  I heard about them wanting you alive - while at the same time  shooting at me."

"That's how I'd add it up, but..."

"...how do we prove it."

Lois let out a slow breath. "Well, we've got to assume that  Bernard and Henderson are still targets so..."

"So...?"

"You need to tell Henderson our theory. Maybe we can set up a  trap. Having Max after both Henderson and Bernard could be a  problem - since we don't know where Max will strike first. What  we do know is that the phone call we overheard indicated he would  continue his mission once I was back behind bars."

Clark let out a breath. "There's a risk to using either Klein or  Henderson, you know. After all, what if we can't control things  and one or both are killed?"

"It's a risk. But something tells me with you around, we have a  decided advantage. Beside, do we have another option? Do they? I  doubt they want to spend the rest of their lives looking over  their shoulders."

"I suppose not."

"But you've got to find a why to be sure you can control where  Max will strike. That means making sure Max thinks he only has  one target and giving him the perfect opportunity to make his  move. Also... could you do me a favor?"

"What do you need?"

"Find out from Henderson if he's sure I can trust Detective Reed  and find a way to let me know."

* * * * * * * * *

Part 21

"So how did it go with Warden Bowers?" Lois asked when Reed  arrived back at the cell.

"I thought you'd be asleep," Reed responded, pushing a strand of  hair behind her ear and not meeting Lois' eyes.

Lois immediately suspected Reed was hiding something. Had her  meeting not been with the Warden? No. It must have been with the  Warden. Clark said that was where Reed had gone. "So what  happened?"

"He gave me a passkey for the prison - just in case I needed it.  But don't get any ideas."

"I'm not going to run again if that's what you're worried about."

"Well, considering what Henderson told me about your case,  running now would be one of your dumber moves."

"So... that took quite a while if all you were doing was getting  a passkey."

"He brought me up to date with Henderson's investigation."

"And...?"

"And... what?"

"What aren't you telling me?"

Reed finally looked at her. "One of the reasons Henderson chose  me to come into the prison to protect you was that he knows I'm  sort of... involved with Warden Randall Bowers."

Lois' eyebrows shot up. "But... I thought he was married."

"Maybe. Okay, so yes. He is. What do you want me to say?"

Lois held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. She supposed  there was a good side to this. Henderson obviously knew what he  was doing in assigning this task to Betty Reed. After all, no  other cop was likely to get the same level of cooperation from  the Warden as Reed. Still... Lois didn't exactly feel comfortable  with the idea that her cell mate, her protector was having an  affair with a married man. On the other hand, Reed was a grown  woman. Her decisions were her own.

"Yeah, well," said Reed in a more conciliatory tone of voice.  "I'm not exactly comfortable with the situation either."

* * * * * * * * *

Maxwell Deter opened the front door and grabbed the morning  edition of the Daily Planet from his front step before making his  way to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of orange juice.  Taking a seat at the table, he skimmed the front page until he  spotted a small article below the fold. 'Reporter Victim of  Drive-by Shooting.' Taking a sip of his orange juice, he began to  read.

His thugs had called, to tell him they had shot and killed Clark  Kent. But Deter wanted to confirm two things. First, was Kent  really dead? Second, did the police have any leads?

'Clark Kent, the Daily Planet's newest reporter, was a victim of  a drive-by shooting in front of the Daily Planet yesterday. Shot  twice in the chest, witnesses said he didn't stand a chance. He  was covered with blood and unconscious before emergency services  arrived.'

Deter continued reading. Nowhere in the article was the term  'dead' used. On the other hand, that was the clear implication.  'Didn't stand a chance.' 'Shot twice in the chest.' 'Unconscious  before emergency services arrived.' Still... Getting up, Maxwell  made his way to the phone, taking a moment to place calls to  every hospital in the city, asking to speak to Clark Kent.

Satisfied that Clark Kent wasn't checked into any hospital, he  sat back down at the table. There was only one explanation. Clark  Kent was indeed dead. After all, if he was shot twice in the  chest and was unconscious, it wasn't as if he was about to get up  and walk out of the hospital less than twenty four hours later.  The omission of the word 'dead' must be because they had been  unable to confirm Kent's death before the paper went to print.

Picking up the paper, he continued reading.

'So far police are unable to give any explanation for the  shooting - treating it, at the moment, as completely random. A  spokesman for the Metropolis Police Department suggested that  Clark Kent might have simply in the wrong place at the wrong  time.'

Deter smiled.

When Kent had shown up on the scene, he'd become concerned that  his entire plan was going down the drain. Lois had latched onto  Kent. But now... He couldn't have planned this better if he had  tried. Lois had broken out of prison - he was suspicious that it  was with the help of Clark Kent - which had allowed her feelings  for Kent to deepen. And now, with Clark Kent dead, she was more  vulnerable then ever.

He couldn't help but kick himself for his impatience before her  escape. He'd moved before Lois was receptive. But he'd panicked,  afraid that he was losing her to Kent. Still, he was certain he  could get past that now. After all, with Kent dead, Lois Lane was  going to be more dependent on him than ever.

Finishing up his orange juice, Maxwell rose from the table.  Placing the empty glass in the sink, he moved over to the  counter, picking a single red rose out of the glass of water in  which he had placed it. Pulling a pair of scissors out of a  drawer, he cut the end off the rose and placed it in his lapel.  Today he would begin the seduction of Lois Lane. He had to look  his best.

Lois Lane was back where he wanted her. Clark Kent was dead. All  he needed to do now was to kill Bernard Klein and everything  would fall into place. He'd have Lois and all the money he could  ever want. Of course, there was one additional problem -  Henderson. He needed to kill Henderson to fulfill his bargain  with Cole. But he had no particular reason to kill Henderson.  And... he had slightly different ideas about how to deal with  that situation. Cole would be... surprised. Besides, it was the  only realistic option if he wanted to eventually clear Lois. Cole  wouldn't be exactly... happy with that development.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois and Reed collected their breakfasts and sat down in the  dining hall, backs to the wall. Suddenly, Lois felt a rush of  wind. She looked around and realized that others had also felt  the strange phenomena. But when nothing seemed to come of it,  everyone went back to eating breakfast.

Picking up her coffee, she noticed a piece of purple paper on her  tray that hadn't been there previously. Taking a brief look at  her companion to make sure she wasn't looking, she picked up the  paper and turned it over.

'Trust Reed.'

She smiled before quickly stuffing the paper even further under  the plate her toast was on. No need to have Detective Reed  wondering about the mysterious note left on her tray by a gust of  wind. Maybe Reed could be trusted... but Lois wasn't about to  trust anyone with that little secret.

* * * * * * * * *

"What?" exclaimed Clark.

"Apparently, Jefferson Cole was killed in a scuffle with a fellow  inmate today," Henderson said again. "Why? Is that important?"

Clark leaned back in the chair in Henderson's office and thought  about that for a moment. "Can you think of any reason Dr. Maxwell  Deter might have something against you?"

Henderson shook his head. "I'd never even heard of him before  yesterday. Why?"

"Then I think you might be off the hook."

"Assuming that his reason for killing Cole was so that he  wouldn't have to kill me."

"Well, that and to keep Cole from talking - or blackmailing him.  After all, Cole is the one person who can identify Deter. Joey  Bermuda might not even know Deter is the one who hired him. So if  he figures he's got to kill someone anyway, why not kill the one  who can identify him? Besides, Cole did what Deter needed him to  do. He was no longer... necessary."

Henderson nodded thoughtfully. "That means we need to use Dr.  Klein as the bait - assuming your theory is correct. But... I'm  not really comfortable with this."

"Let's at least ask him. He'd probably like to have the choice.  But it might be the only way he has for not spending the rest of  his life looking over his shoulder."

"Well, if his attitude when we put him in protective custody  yesterday is any indication, I think he'd rather take a risk."

"Didn't take it well, huh?" Clark asked in amusement.

"Can you imagine what it might be like to wrestle a wild  crocodile?"

"That bad?"

"That bad. By the way, I saw the carefully worded article in the  Daily Planet this morning."

"No lies. But Perry White was really good about it. He agreed  with me that it might be easier for us to follow this story if  Deter thinks I'm dead. I'm not entirely sure if it will work.  There are quite a few people out there who know I'm alive. I  guess there's not much I can do about that now. That brings up  another point. I know it seems as if you're no longer a target,  but... Well, I have an idea. I think, if we are going to use Dr.  Klein to spring the trap on Deter, it might be smart if we  convince Deter that you are no longer a potential target - so  that we can be sure that his only potential target is Klein."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

Clark smiled.

* * * * * * * * *

Maxwell Deter started his car and adjusted the radio station.  Pulling away from his house, he gasped in amazement when he heard  the item being broadcast on the news. It never rained but it  poured.

'This just in. A tragic car accident earlier this morning has  claimed the life of Inspector William Henderson of the Metropolis  Police Department. According to the officer on the scene, the  fire from the car burned so hot that so far, no one has been able  to determine the condition of Inspector Henderson's body.'

The newscaster droned on, but Max was no longer listening. Just  when there was no longer any need to kill Henderson, he'd gone  and got himself killed anyway. The irony was not lost on Max. It  was almost a shame that Cole was no longer around to enjoy the  moment - almost, but not quite. Killing Cole had been the only  realistic option. Especially now, when everything was falling  into place more beautifully than he would have imagined. He was  just pulling away from the curb when his cell phone rang.  Stopping the car again, he reached into his pocket and withdrew  the phone.

"Yes?"

* * * * * * * * *

"I'm due at the prison," Max said impatiently. "What did you want  to see me about?"

Dr. Klein looked up from where he was staring into a microscope.  "Oh, good. You could make it. But you didn't need to rush right  over. I sort of thought you'd stop by after work. Hey you look  sharp. What's the occasion?" He gestured to the red rose in  Deter's lapel.

"No occasion. Anyway, I'm here now. What do you want?"

"Want? Oh, right. I just thought you might want to come on an  exciting adventure with me. I mean, I had to tear out of here so  quickly the other day that we didn't get to finish catching up.  We haven't seen each other nearly enough the past couple months."

"That brings up a question. Why did you run out of here like a  bat out of hell" Deter asked.

"A friend needed my help," Klein explained, mixing up some  concoction in a beaker. "Anyway, I've decided to learn how to  skydive and thought you might like to come."

"Why would you think that?" asked Deter, shaking his head when  Klein offered him the liquid.

"I just thought it would be a good way to relax."

Klein, trying to buy time to get himself under control, took a  swig out of the beaker. " Why wouldn't you want to come? Falling  through the clouds, not a care in the world. Well, except of  course about whether or not your parachute is going to open,"  Klein said, adding a nervous sounding chuckle.

"Well, I'm not interested," Deter said in response to Dr. Klein's  invitation. "It sounds dangerous to me."

"That's too bad. Be good for the old cardiovascular system.  Anyway, if you change your mind, I'm taking off at seven p.m.  tonight. We'll be leaving from the Metropolis Flying Club. I  booked a private class - so if you want to come, there'll be lots  of room."

"Are you the only one jumping?"

"Only if you don't come with me."

"Well, if that was all you wanted, I need to be getting to the  prison." Deter turned and headed for the door.

* * * * * * * * *

"Okay," Henderson said from inside the security room where he and  Clark had been watching and listening to Deter and Klein's  conversation. "The bait is set. Now we just have to see if Deter  decides to take a nibble."

"What makes you think this will work?"

"If your theory is correct, Deter is short on cash. He needs to  move quick. And he needs something that will look like an  accident. What better way to do that than to somehow sabotage Dr.  Klein's parachute? Everyone knows that skydiving is inherently  dangerous. No one would question an accident. Besides, Deter  can't get Bermuda to pull the job - not until he pays Bermuda for  his last jobs. Bermuda is known for insisting on payment. That  means Deter has two choices. First, he could hire the thugs that  tried to kill you. Or, he could do it himself."

"What if he hires the thugs?"

"We neutralize them - leave him with no option but to do it  himself or risk losing this chance. One thing I am concerned  about. Klein sounded nervous. I'm hoping that doesn't tip Deter  off."

"Lois said that Klein gets nervous if he thinks he misplaced a  paperclip. Let's just hope Deter thinks it's standard Klein  behavior. By the way, weren't you concerned about letting Klein  and Deter meet alone?"

Henderson shook his head. "There were a half dozen officers in  the next room, ready to storm the lab if necessary. By the way,  did you notice how sharp Deter looked? I wonder what's up with  that."

"I thought he looked as if he was trying to hard."

Henderson fought back a smirk. "I thought the blue turtleneck  with the black suit and especially the red rose in his lapel made  him look good."

"I didn't think it was anything special," Clark replied.

Henderson chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Henderson said dismissively.

Clark was about to comment when he thought better of it.  Henderson was hitting on a sensitive spot - and he seemed to know  it. It was probably best just to let it go. "What about this...  booking the whole class thing for Klein's parachute jump. Don't  you think it sounds a bit suspicious?"

Henderson shook his head. "When I discussed it with Klein, he  indicated that it sounded like something he would do. Besides,  having only him jumping gives us more control over the  situation."

Clark nodded slowly. "How did Dr. Klein take it when you told him  our theory?"

"He maintains that Deter would never hurt him. I convinced him to  go along by telling him that if he's right, this would prove it.  After all, he's just inviting Deter to go skydiving. And... I  have to tell you, Klein's eyes positively lit up at the prospect  of going skydiving - especially at the city's expense."

Clark chuckled. Motorcycles. Leather jackets. Skydiving. Unusual  experiments with the mating rituals of chimpanzees. One thing was  for sure - Dr. Klein was definitely a character.

"So any idea what he meant when Klein spoke about leaving in a  rush the other day?" Henderson asked. "You rolled your eyes when  Deter asked about it."

"The thugs that shot me tracked Lois and me down the other day -  just after a meeting with Dr. Klein. The only way any of this  makes sense is if Deter knew about that meeting."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Henderson responded.

"Why?"

"Klein met with you and... a fugitive? I could have both of you  arrested."

"Oh. Is that what you're going to do?"

"I'm sort of busy at the moment. But I'm not going to make you  any promises about later."

"Busy?"

"I got word just before Deter got here. Our request for a search  warrant on Bermuda's residence came through - along with an  arrest warrant."

"Do you think that's such a good idea?"

"What do you mean?"

"We don't want to risk Deter getting suspicious. If he finds out  you have Joey Bermuda in custody, he might not take our bait."

"Good point," Henderson said. "Okay, well I suppose there's no  damage if we take him down when we have Deter. But... hey, that's  good news."

"Why?"

"Well, that means I have time to arrest you for assisting a  fugitive."

When Clark's face froze, Henderson burst out laughing. "That was  almost too easy."

* * * * * * * * *

"Have you lost your mind?"

Lois' eyebrows rose as she regarded her cell-mate. "Reed, you  told me that Henderson and Clark are setting things up for Deter  on the outside. We can increase the chances of success if we work  on nailing him from the inside."

"Look, when Henderson told me to keep you safe, I don't think  this is what he had in mind."

"Keep me safe? To spend the rest of my life in prison until they  stick a needle in my arm? Reed, I'm doing this. My best bet for  staying safe is if you help me."

Reed let out a breath. "After everything you told me, I'd say you  already have enough evidence to get your conviction overturned.  Why would you..."

"Because it's the right thing to do. We have enough to clear me.  We don't have enough to blame Max. And I want that bastard - not  only for what he did to me and Sykes, but for what he did to all  the people on that ferry. And..." Lois hesitated. "...I need this  story if I'm to have any hope of getting my job back when I get  out of here. After my failure to figure this all out a year ago,  Perry might need a little convincing that I haven't lost my  edge."

Reed stared at her for a long minute before nodding. "Well, I  guess we can't exactly let the boys have all the fun."

"Now you're talking."

"So what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well..." Lois glanced around. "We need to come up with a plan to  get into Max Deter's office - see if there is anything there that  can be used to nail him to the wall. Deter was almost obsessive  in his note taking. I was thinking about that passkey you got  from the warden last night. If we could just get into Max's  office..."

"I'm an officer of the law. I can't search his office without a  search warrant. And I can't let you do that either so..."

"Damn! Well, what if we didn't break in? Isn't there a plain- sight doctrine that allows you, if you are in a room by consent,  to keep your eyes open. We just have to get... an invitation."

"And how, pray tell, do you suggest we do that?"

"By convincing the guards that one of us needs to see the good  doctor."

Reed stared at her for a moment before a slow smile crossed her  face.

"What?"

Reed glanced around to be sure there were guards nearby before  stepping closer to Lois and speaking loudly. "Come to me, mon  cheri," she said with a bad French accent, before taking a very  startled Lois in her arms, dipping her deeply and kissing her on  the lips.

Lois pushed Reed away, in the process, collapsing to the floor of  the mess hall.

"I wanted you to fall for me - but not that far," Reed replied,  using the same French accent.

"What are you doing?" Lois hissed.

"Everyone should have a hobby - mine is ze making of ze love."

Lois crinkled her eyebrows in confusion. Reed was up to something  - but what? Assuming of course, that she hadn't simply lost...  Lois fought back a smile as a sudden understanding began to sink  in. ...her mind. What better way to earn a trip to the prison  shrink's office than by losing one's mind? But how was Lois to  play this? "Who are you?" she whispered as people began paying  attention to the little drama playing out in the corner of the  room.

"Uhh... Permit me to introduce myself," Reed said giving a  majestic bow while keeping her voice just as loud as before. "I  am Pepe Le Pew, your lover."

Lois fought back the threatening laughter and forced her  expression to remain astonished. Not Lois' first choice of  identities to assume, but she supposed if people could think they  were God or the Pope when they went crazy, one could just as  easily think she was Pepe Le Pew. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Absolutement. My mind has been lost to your beauty, mon sweet  peanut of brittle. I am insane with ze love for you. Crazy with  ze very thought of you, my little gumbo of chicken."

Lois slowly rose to her feet, noticing that the guards were  watching intently now.

"Come to me, mon little darling. It is love at first sight, is it  not?" Reed grabbed Lois and dipped her once again before planting  short kisses all over her face.

Lois struggled in her arms, finally escaping.

"Ooh la la. She likes to play hard to get, no?" Reed said to the  guards.

"Keep her the hell away from me!" Lois exclaimed, wiping her face  in disgust. "She's a wacko."

"You stop resisting me, bebe, and I shall stop resisting you."  Reed took another step towards Lois, only to be stopped by the  guards.

"You're going to have to come with us," one of the guards said.

"You must let me go," Reed responded. "I am ze lover not ze  fighter. But I will fight for my love. I will be ze battleship of  her ocean. She will be adrift at sea without me."

"You're insane," Lois said.

"Come on," said the guard.

"I shall never surrender except to the tender mercies of my  love," Reed said as they dragged her away. "I am ze prisoner of  love. I shall be back and you shall be my captive. You may call  me Streetcar because of my desire for you. Pepe Le Pew shall  never fail. No one can resist my charms. I am ze cabbage. You are  ze corned beef. Ze corned beef is nothing without ze cabbage."

It was all Lois could do to keep from bursting out laughing as  Reed finally disappeared out the doors. If that didn't earn her a  trip to see Dr. Deter, Lois wasn't sure what would. On the other  hand... she had to admit she was a little put out that Reed was  the one being taken to Max's office. But there was not much she  could do about it now.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 22

Deter was completely engrossed in his thoughts as he made notes  in his journal about his conversation that morning with Bernard  Klein. He'd called his thugs - but apparently, like Joey Bermuda,  they were refusing to do any more work for him until they were  paid for killing Clark Kent. These thugs could be so difficult to  work with. He'd tried to explain that killing Klein would ensure  that he had all the money necessary to meet his financial  obligations, but had been unable to move them from their  position.

That meant either hiring new thugs or doing it himself. In that,  there really was no choice. The more people he involved, the more  chance there was that someone would talk. Too many people knew  what was going on as it was. That left the task of killing Klein  up to him. And, when he thought about it now, turning Klein down  so hastily had been a mistake. It was the best chance he had of  being able to kill Dr. Klein in such a way as to keep people from  thinking it was anything more than a tragic accident.

A knock on his door startled him. "Come in," he said, closing up  his journal as the door opened. He put the book inside his top  desk door and locked it before getting up.

"She had some sort of breakdown in the mess-hall," explained a  guard, pulling the woman with her into the room. "Seems to think  she's Pepe Le Pew."

Deter sighed. This was just the type of distraction he didn't  need right now. Still, he gestured the woman to a chair in his  office. He waited until she was seated and the guard had left  before speaking. "So... you're Pepe Le Pew?" he asked.

"Actually the name is Betty Reed."

"Really? Then why would the guard tell me that you thought you  were Pepe Le Pew?"

"I was trying to get a rise out of my cell-mate."

"Why?"

Reed shrugged. "She bugs me." Reed leaned forward, playing with  various things on the desk. When that no longer seemed to be  enough, she got up and began wandering the office, fingering  books and ornaments.

Deter picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers as he  watched. "How does she bug you?"

"I don't know. She's just... arrogant, I guess. Always acts like  she's better than the rest of us. Guess she had some big  important job at a newspaper before ending up here. She just...  bugs me. So I decided to yank her chain a little bit. It was  great watching her freak out."

"Are you talking about Lois Lane?"

"Yeah. That's her. Why? You know her or something?" Reed asked,  turning towards Deter.

"I've seen her a couple of times. So what exactly did you do to  her?"

A real smirk quirked at one corner of Reed's mouth. "I just  pretended I thought I was Pepe Le Pew," Reed said. "And that she  was the cat Pepe is always chasing."

"Why would you choose an aggressive, politically incorrect, male  chauvinist who basically stalks women to be your alter-ego?"

Reed crinkled her eyebrows as she studied him. "I like skunks.  What's it to you?"

Deter considered the situation for a moment. This woman didn't  seem to be any real threat to Lois - Deter didn't want her dead,  after all. On the other hand, Reed's behavior had obviously  unnerved Lois. And Deter didn't consider that a bad thing. "Well,  you're obviously not crazy. So I'm going to instruct the guard to  return you to your cell." With that Deter picked up the phone.

* * * * * * * * *

After he'd managed to get rid of the pesky interruption, he  returned to his thoughts. The seduction of Lois Lane would have  to wait. Right now the perfect opportunity had presented itself  for him to deal with Klein. But how?

If he couldn't hire thugs to do this... He clicked his tongue  against the roof of his mouth. All he really needed to do was to  find a way to sabotage Klein's parachute - a way that the  authorities would never suspect. Unfortunately, he didn't know  anything about parachutes - except, of course, that some idiots  strapped the darn things on their backs and jumped out of  airplanes. So what...

He reached over and pulled the phone book out from under the  phone, flipping it open to... Parachute Jumping and read 'see  Skydiving.' There were a number of listings under 'Skydiving' -  including the Metropolis Flying Club. Taking a pad of paper, he  quickly wrote down the address even though that was not the place  he wanted right now. He needed to learn about parachutes and he  needed to learn it anywhere but the Metropolis Flying Club. Going  to the Metropolis Flying Club would come later.

His finger traced its way over a number of ads before coming to  stop on one for Adventure Skydiving. 'Don't let others decide  your fate. Learn to pack your own parachute.'

A slow smile made his way across his face. Perfect.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois carefully checked to make sure no one was lurking outside  their cell before turning to Reed. "Pepe Le Pew?" she asked,  still fighting back laughter.

"We meet again, mon cheri," Reed responded, using her Pepe Le Pew  imitation. "We need to continue meeting like this." She smiled  and shrugged. "As a kid, he was my favorite Bugs Bunny character.  My favorite thing has got to be the message he apparently has on  his answering machine these days."

"And what's that?"

Reed smiled. "This is Pepe Le Pew speaking," she said. "If you  are a beautiful woman calling, you may leave your name and  number, and if you are a man, fair is fair, you too may leave ze  beautiful woman's name and number."

Lois smiled. "So how did it go? Did you find anything?"

"Well, there was one thing of interest. When I first arrived, he  was writing in a... book. It looked like a journal of some sort.  As soon as I entered, he closed the book and locked it in the top  drawer of his desk."

"Did you get a chance to take a look at it?"

"No. He was there the whole time."

"Why didn't you think of a way to get him to leave the room?"

"Even if he had... I think locked desk sort of thwarts the whole  'plain sight' rule."

Lois let out a breath. "Okay, so that didn't work. What's next?"

* * * * * * * * *

Deter parked his car some distance from the Metropolis Flying  Club. It was bad enough that people would see him. He didn't want  some nosy person able to identify his car, too.

The people at Parachute Adventures had been more than helpful. A  few bucks and a little bit of time was all it had taken. He'd  found out that parachute packing was actually quite difficult. If  it was not done correctly, the parachute would open incorrectly  which could result in it collapsing, twisting or only one side  opening. As a result, great care was taken to be sure it was  packed properly.

So he'd spent the past hour getting a basic grasp on the  procedure - and in particular learning how to pack it so that it  wouldn't open right. The instructor had been more helpful than he  had realized when, after packing it wrong once, the man had  exploded with horror, going into great detail of what would  happen if he ever packed his parachute that way.

He hadn't used his real name, of course. And he sincerely doubted  that anyone would go around to the many parachute places in  Metropolis seeing if he had been there. Now, his trip to the  Metropolis Flying Club would be a little more problematic. But he  figured that if he did this right, they wouldn't even think to  ask the questions that might lead to him.

Taking a deep breath, and adjusting his boutonniere, he headed  into the building marked as the Metropolis Flying Club.

"Can I help you?" asked an attractive blonde at the counter  inside. The woman was in her late twenties, maybe her early  thirties.

"I hope so," he said, giving the woman his most charming smile.  "My name is Elias Mendenhall. And you are...?"

"I'm Constance Lyons."

"So what's a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like  this?"

She smiled. "Aren't you the flirt?"

"Well, you just don't seem like your traditional receptionist."

"I like planes. But you're right. I used to be a magician.  But..." She shrugged. "But no one wanted to see a female  illusionist.  They didn't take me seriously."

"I can't believe you'd let that stop you."

She shrugged. "So what can I do for you Mr...?"

"Call me Elias."

"Okay, Elias. Other than flirting with me, what are you here  for?"

Deter shrugged. "I've been thinking of taking up parachuting and  was wondering..."

"If I could give you a tour?"

Deter smiled. "That would be great."

Constance rose to her feet. "So when did you become interested in  skydiving?" she asked as she led him into the back.

"To tell you the truth, I'm terrified of heights."

She turned to look at him.

He shrugged. "My psychiatrist says you have to confront your  fears."

"Well, jumping out of an airplane is quite a way to do that." She  opened a door, gesturing him to step into a large room. "This is  where the jumpers get ready," she said. "The parachutes are  prepared here and the jumpers get changed here."

"Those outfits look heavy."

"Well, it gets cold up there."

"What's that parachute and suit doing sitting over there by  themselves."

"We have a jumper going up tonight. His chute was prepared  earlier."

Deter nodded.

"So what do you think? You ready to take the... leap - so to  speak?"

Deter let out a slow breath, turning to look at the entire room.  "Do you think it would be possible to just stay here for a while.  Maybe if these things look a little more familiar, it will be  easier to think about jumping."

Constance smiled. "I don't see a problem with that. I'll wait out  front. If you need me, just call. And... don't worry, Elias,  people jump every day. It's perfectly safe when it's done right."

"Tell that to my knocking knees."

Constance chuckled before turning to leave the room.

Deter waited until he was sure she was gone before pulling a pair  of black leather gloves from his pocket, slipping them on his  hands and heading for the parachute.

* * * * * * * * *

"So is everything ready?" asked Clark as he joined Henderson at  the police station.

"Yeah. We're heading over to the Metropolis Flying Club now.  Klein told Deter that the jump would be happening tonight at  seven. We want to get things set up early."

"What's the plan?"

"We'll set up some cameras inside the flying club. Then we'll  maintain a wide perimeter - to be sure we don't frighten him  off."

"Are you sure Dr. Klein will be safe?"

"As I told you, we'll have a couple plainclothes officers in the  club. And the pilots are officers. He'll be fine."

Clark turned as a third man entered Henderson's office. "So...  Are we going to do this?" asked Klein, smacking his hands  together in glee.

"This is an undercover mission."

"Psha," Klein said. "Max is my friend. I'll be thrilled if he  decides to join me. But he's not likely to change his mind. I'm  just looking forward to this skydiving thing. Flying through the  air..." He looked at Clark. "You sure you don't want to join me?  Could be fun."

"I don't like airplanes."

"Oh. Well, don't be ashamed of it. Flying isn't for everyone."

* * * * * * * * *

Deter relaxed on his sofa for a moment before he was up pacing  the floor again. The waiting was the worst part. After a few more  minutes, he made his way to the door. Maybe staying here wasn't  such a good idea. After all, if everything went as planned, it  was possible, even if highly unlikely, that he'd be required to  account for his whereabouts. He should be somewhere that had a  few more people.

* * * * * * * * *

"This is not going to happen," Henderson said. "I think it's time  to pack things in."

"Let's just give it a few more minutes," Clark responded.

"We've been giving it a few more minutes for almost an hour.  Klein told Deter that he was leaving at seven. It's almost eight.  If he hasn't shown up by now, he isn't coming. Besides, we don't  even know for sure that Deter's behind all this."

"But..."

"Clark, we have the hologram generator. That, together with Perry  White's claim that he didn't testify, will certainly get Lois a  new trial. And if we execute both the search warrant and the  arrest warrant on Joey Bermuda and find that diagram you claim he  has about a bullet that fires by itself, I suspect you'll have  enough to clear her."

"But the ferry... or Theodore Cooke's death..."

"We have no way to connect any of it to Deter. Maybe it was The  Demon who brought down the ferry. After all, he was tearing  boards off the side of the ship."

"It wasn't..."

"All we do know for sure at this point is that whether he was  involved or not, Maxwell Deter is not going to show up here  tonight." Henderson picked up his radio and placed a call to  instruct the pilots to proceed with the jump. "At least Dr. Klein  will get his thrill," Henderson said as he led a very dejected  Clark Kent out of the surveillance van parked across the street  from The Metropolis Flying Club.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark stopped beside the fence and watched as Dr. Klein's plane  lifted up off the runway. When they had come up with this plan,  he'd been so hopeful. And now... Henderson's comments about  getting Lois cleared were great. But they still hadn't found a  way to clear 'The Demon.' And now it was beginning to look as if  they never would. But maybe his parents were right. Maybe if he  just gave it enough time, people would forget about the flying  man. For some reason, that thought suddenly didn't seem quite as  appealing as it once had. He wasn't entirely sure why.

"You coming?"

Clark looked up to see Henderson holding the door to The  Metropolis Flying Club open for him. Jogging to catch up he  entered right behind Henderson and then watched as Henderson  began to bark out orders for taking the operation apart. There  really was no reason for Clark to stay there now. After all,  there would be no story. And he was going to have to tell Lois  tonight that they had failed.

Still, for reasons he couldn't explain, he followed Henderson  into a large room where they prepared for the jumps. Suddenly,  something caught his attention. A smell. Something about it  seemed... out of place somehow. But what was... A rose. His mind  flashed back to the red rose Deter had been wearing in his lapel  that morning. He spun around, x-raying closets and walls. But  Maxwell Deter wasn't there. He glanced through the roof, quickly  spotting Klein's plane, but Maxwell Deter wasn't on there either.

He opened his mouth to call to Henderson, but then closed it  again. How could he tell Henderson what he'd discovered? It  wasn't as if he even knew for certain that Deter was the one who  had brought that smell in there. So what did that leave?

He spotted an attractive blonde in her late twenties talking to  one of the officers. Quickly, he made his way over.

"Excuse me. Do you work here?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Were you working here all day?"

"Since eight this morning. I was supposed to be relieved at four,  but my replacement didn't come in. Why?"

"Before we showed up, did a man come by?"

"Lots of men came by. This is a flying club, after all."

"I'm looking for one in particular."

"What's going on, Kent?" asked Henderson as he approached.

"It just occurred to me... What if Deter came by earlier? What if  he managed to tamper with Klein's parachute before we even showed  up?" Clark turned back to the woman. "Did a man come by?  Thirtyish. Dark hair, a little wild looking."

"Quite ruggedly handsome," Henderson corrected.

Clark glared at Henderson before continuing. "Beady eyes."

"Brown eyes," Henderson corrected again. "Tall, well built."

"Not quite as tall as me. A little overdressed," Clark said.  "Wearing a red rose in his lapel."

"Yeah. There was a guy like him. Said his name was... Elisa or  something like that. I don't remember the last name. He was a  doll. Afraid of heights. But wanted to get over it."

"Was he at any point alone with the planes or any of the  equipment?"

"Yeah, he was in here alone for a while. Why is there..." She  finished her sentence to empty air as both of the men questioning  her took off towards the door to the flying club. "...a problem?"

"Wait here," Henderson said when they got outside.

"Where are you going?" asked Clark.

"To the tower - try to get a message to the plane telling Klein  not to jump."

* * * * * * * * *

Murray Mindlin was bored. The traffic was predictable for the  early evening. The backlog from rush hour was beginning to clear.  There had been an accident on the Westgate bridge that had  relegated south traffic to one lane. Other than that, there  wasn't much to report from his position in the LNN traffic  helicopter. He really hoped to get out of this stupid job soon -  dreams of being a correspondent once again played idly in his  mind. Traffic reporters just did not get the respect they  deserved. People watching from home would be suitably bored.  People stuck in cars on the freeways would be rolling their eyes  when told that the traffic was congested. No. He remembered with  fondness the days when he'd been a correspondent. Respect. Women.  Exotic travel. Free beer. Yep. That had been the life. And just  because he'd made one or two little... gaffs along the way, he  never should have been assigned this task. All he needed was a  break. But what were the chances that that would happen as long  as he was stuck with this stupid assignment?

"Let's take another sweep past Lex Towers and call it a..."  Murray's thought was cut off by the sound of an urgent voice  coming over the radio.

"Ground calling Foxtrot, Gulf, Alpha, Juliette, Juliette. Come in  Gulf, Alpha, Juliette, Juliette." And then, again, after a brief  pause. "Gulf, Alpha, Juliette, Juliette, please respond."

Murray looked around, trying to spot the plane being hailed.

"Gulf, Alpha, Juliette, Juliette," the man on the ground said  again. "Can you hear me?" When there was still no response, the  man continued. "If you can hear me, you need to know that one of  the men you have with you... Dr. Klein... The police are here.  They tell me that his parachute has been tampered with. Whatever  you do, you can't let him jump. Repeat. You can't let Dr. Klein  jump."

"Head towards the Metropolis Flying Club," Murray said, changing  the angle of the camera in hopes of picking up the airplane.

"Over there," said his pilot, pointing out the window.

Murray focused the camera on the back door of the plane which was  already open in preparation for a jump. Using the telephoto, he  zoomed in just as an older man stepped up to the door and then...  leapt out.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 23

"Reed, the warden wants to see you."

Lois and Reed shared a look before Reed shrugged and turned to  accompany the guard standing at the door to their cell. Lois  walked to the door watching as she disappeared from sight. Maybe  something had happened. According to Reed the plan had been to  wait until quite late... later than it was at the moment... and  then a guard the warden trusted would come down and get her while  the rest of the prison slept. That way Reed could get updated on  what was happening with the investigation without attracting  unwanted attention. So why was the guard coming to collect her  when it was shortly after eight o'clock?

Not having an answer to that question, Lois was suddenly struck  with an inspiration. Reed might be bound by the rules of search  and seizure, but Lois wasn't. And... She smiled, turning back to  where she knew Reed had put the passkey that would get her  through any door in the entire prison. Reaching under the  mattress on the lower bunk, she pulled the key from its hiding  place and headed out of her cell. It was time for Lois Lane to  get back in the game.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark's heart leapt into his throat when he saw Dr. Klein jump  from the plane. He'd been staring at the plane, listening to the  frantic efforts by the tower to contact it. And although he had  no way of telling them this, there seemed to be a problem with  the radio because no sound was coming through.

His hands had tightened into fists as he'd hoped against hope  that Dr. Klein would chicken out and decide not to jump. He  quickly stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket as he  thought about what he'd stuck there earlier that day - just in  case. The black wool cap he'd used to help out at the ferry  incident.

* * * * * * * * *

The anchor at LNN's news desk put his hand up to his ear and fell  silent for a moment.

"This just in," the anchor informed all of Metropolis.  "Apparently, a man has just jumped out of an airplane over  Metropolis' Flying Club and our information is that his parachute  is not expected to open. We have Murray Mindlin on the line now  and... live video coverage."

Behind the anchor appeared a rather shaky image of a man falling  through the sky, arms outstretched as if he was embracing the  entire world. The man falling from the plane was the only one who  didn't know the trouble he was in.

"Murray Mindlin, what can you tell us about this man?"

"His name is Dr. Bernard Klein. The call that came over the radio  less than a minute ago was the tower trying to get a message to  the plane. The police believe that Dr. Klein's parachute has been  tampered with. We don't know at this point why the police believe  this. What we do know is that the plane did not answer. And the  next thing we saw was this man jumping from the airplane."

"Has anyone else jumped?"

"Not since we've been watching the plane. And looking now... I  can't see anyone else."

"So we aren't even certain at this point if the man we see is the  one who might have had his parachute tampered with?"

"That's correct, Don. We don't."

"How long before we know?"

"My pilot apparently is a jumper. He tells me that Dr. Klein will  have to pull the ripcord in the next minute or so."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois opened the door to Deter's office and snuck in, pulling the  door until it was almost closed. The place gave her the creeps.  She suspected that was because it reminded her, all too clearly,  of Max. She wanted to be able to make a quick exit if necessary.

She headed directly for the desk. The passkey from Reed didn't  work on the desk drawer. Swearing softly to herself, Lois looked  around for something she could use to open the drawer.  Paperclips.

Turning a couple of paperclips into some make-shift lock-picking  tools only took a matter of seconds. Squatting down in front of  the drawer, she quickly worked the lock until, as expected, it  opened. Her heart was in her throat. This was it. She was sure of  it. Max had always been almost obsessive in his note taking. It  would be his downfall now.

Grabbing the expensive leather book, she removed it from the desk  and opened it. It was indeed a diary. She began skimming through  the pages, hoping to ensure it contained the information she  needed before deciding whether or not to take it with her back to  her cell.

* * * * * * * * *

Klein was loving every second. Falling through the air without a  care in the world. It was heaven. A beep from his watch reached  his ears. It was time to pull the cord. Sighing, he reached up  and grabbed the handle and... pulled.

The chute came out above him, jerking him out of his free fall  and then... he felt the wind whip him sideways as the parachute  crinkled and folded. Suddenly, he was back to falling, being  whipped from side to side. This wasn't the way this was supposed  to go. Something was wrong.

He reached above him, trying desperately to straighten out the  wires holding him to the parachute but to no avail.

"Help!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. He looked up, hoping  against hope that there was some way the plane could pull him  back in. But he could no longer even see the plane. "Help!" he  yelled again as he continued to fall.

He looked down. The ground was approaching fast now. He tried to  scramble up the cords of the parachute still attached to him.  Soon he was entangled.

"Help!" he screamed as trees and houses grew bigger.

"Helllllll..." His voice was cut off when he suddenly jerked.  Looking up he found himself staring into a pair of brown eyes,  the only part of his rescuer's face which was not covered by a  ski mask. The Demon.

Klein's natural fear at finding himself face to face with The  Demon was overshadowed by the fact that this... creature, or  whatever he was, was the only thing preventing him from falling  to the ground. He flung his arms around the creature's neck,  hanging on for dear life as they floated slowly to the ground.

Once they landed, The Demon set him down, making sure he was  solidly on his feet.

"Are you okay?" The Demon asked.

"I'm... I'm..." Klein's voice trailed off.

The Demon gave a nod before taking back to the air, disappearing  at a speed that was impossible for the good doctor to follow. So  he stared in disbelief at the last place he'd seen The Demon  until the sound of sirens reached his ears and people began to  swirl around him.

"Dr. Klein?"

Henderson. Klein recognized the voice.

"Dr. Klein? Are you okay?"

"Uhh...yeah." He gestured to the sky. "The Demon."

"What about him?"

"He saved me."

* * * * * * * * *

Reed stared in disbelief at the television screen. When she'd  first entered Randall's office, she'd been watching a man free  fall through the air, the anchor predicting doom and gloom.  Randall, immediately realizing that the report meant that  something had gone terribly wrong with Henderson's operation, had  summoned Reed.

But now... How did The Demon fit into all of this? And what was  he doing saving Dr. Klein? None of this made any sense. She felt  Randall come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her from  behind.

"Not now," she said, wriggling out of his arms. She had to think,  to figure out what was going on, before she'd be able to figure  out how to handle the situation - assuming, of course, there was  anything she needed to do.

The telephone on Randall's desk rang, causing them both to jump.  "Yes," said Randall, answering the phone. He listened for a  minute before saying, "Detective Reed is in my office right now.  Would it be easier to talk directly to her?"

Reed knew who must be on the other end even before she heard his  voice. "What is it, Henderson?"

"We've got a bit of a problem here."

"I saw on the news. Is Deter in custody?"

"That's what I was calling to tell you - Deter got away. I'm  wondering if he went back to the prison."

"Can you find out if Dr. Maxwell Deter is in the prison?" Reed  asked her lover.

"I'll get right on it," said Randall, turning to leave the room.

Reed waited until Randall made his way to the door to his office  before addressing Henderson again. "He's going to find out. In  the meantime, what's the deal with The Demon?"

"How did you know..."

"It's all over the news."

"Well, I'm not sure what to say about that. He just... sort of  showed up. Apparently plucked Klein out of the sky, set him down  and took off."

"I don't get it."

"Neither do I. But I can tell you this: if The Demon hadn't  showed up when he did, Klein would be dead."

"So tell me exactly what happened?" Reed asked, listening  intently as Henderson filled her in.

"What did you find out?" Reed asked when Randall re-entered the  room.

"Dr. Deter is somewhere in the prison."

* * * * * * * * *

Sometime since she'd first entered the office, Lois had settled  into the chair behind the desk, completely engrossed in her  reading. It was all there. Every little detail. Motives.  Setbacks. Deals. Payments. Plans. All of it. It was fascinating -  in a grotesque sort of way. In fact, Lois was so lost in the  content that...

"Well, well, well. What brings you to this neck of the prison?"

Lois jumped from the chair, dropping Deter's journal in the  process. "I was wanting to talk to you."

"Really?" Deter said, making his way over to where the book was  now lying on the floor. Bending down, he retrieved it. "And...  did you find anything to keep you interested while you waited?"

"Oh that. I'd just opened it when you walked in." Lois knew she  didn't sound terribly convincing. She slowly backed up. Until he  made some sort of aggressive move, she was going to play this by  ear. She could always react if...

'...minute I was falling and then, out of nowhere, he simply  appeared..."

Lois spun around, realizing that the voice was coming from a  radio she'd accidentally turned on when she'd backed into it.

'...catching me in his arms.'

'And you're sure it was The Demon?' another voice asked.

'I saw him at the ferry. Yes, it was The Demon.'

Deter walked over to the radio, about to turn it off when...

'Well, thank you, Dr. Klein. To update those of you just joining  us, I'm speaking to Dr. Bernard Klein - the survivor of what  could have been a terrible accident.'

Lois and Deter both stood mutely staring at the radio now.

'Oh, it was no accident,' Klein responded. 'Although I still can  hardly believe he'd do that to me.'

'Are you saying that someone tampered with your parachute?'

'Yes. My protege. Dr. Maxwell...'

'Dr. Klein doesn't have time for any more questions,' a new voice  interrupted. To Lois' ears it sounded like Inspector Bill  Henderson.

Lois started to turn when...

"Freeze. Police."

A woman's voice came from the direction of the door. And contrary  to the instructions, both Lois and Deter immediately spun towards  the woman, only Deter moved too fast for Lois, grabbing her  around the neck and pulling her in front of him.

"Put down the gun," Deter demanded.

Lois flinched when she felt a sharp metal edge against her  throat.

"Put down the letter opener," Reed said keeping her gun trained  on Deter.

"Oh no. That's not how this is going to work at all," said Deter,  pushing the sharp edge harder against Lois' throat.

The point of the letter opener dug in, causing Lois to flinch. By  the look on Reed's face, she suspected Deter had managed to draw  blood.

"Okay, okay," Reed said, suddenly holding her gun so that it was  pointing at the ceiling. "Just let her go."

"Put the gun down."

"I can't do that. Police protocol..."

"Put the gun down!"

"Listen, you're not thinking clearly. The guards have been  summoned. The police are on their way. You're only making things  worse for yourself. If you need a hostage, let her go and take  me."

Lois chose that moment to act, slamming her elbow into Deter's  gut and then, spinning out of his grasp and turning, kicked at  the hand holding the letter opener. When he jumped back, her foot  missed, throwing her off balance and into Reed. Both women fell  backwards. The gun went off, firing harmlessly into the ceiling  before flying from Reed's hand and skittering across the floor.

Before they could recover, Deter dove for the gun. Both Lois and  Reed scrambled to beat him to it.

"Don't move!" Deter demanded, grabbing the gun and pointing it at  them. Both women froze. "Okay, that's better," said Deter. "Now,  you, what do you know?" he asked Reed.

"I don't understand."

"I think you do. What do the police think they know about me?"

"I..."

"I'd rethink that," Deter said, cocking the gun.

"Okay, okay," conceded Reed. "The police know you stopped by the  Metropolis Flying Club earlier today and tampered with Dr.  Klein's parachute."

"How? How do they know?"

Lois held her breath, hoping Reed wouldn't tell the whole truth.

"A woman at the Flying Club remembered you."

Reed narrowed his eyes as he considered this information.

"They came up with this information awfully fast. And you... who  exactly are you? And more importantly, what are you doing with a  gun? I thought you were Lois' cell-mate."

"I'm Detective Betty Reed. I was put in here because the police  were trying to figure out how Lois Lane escaped from prison."

The hint of a smile quirked at one corner of Lois' mouth. That  almost sounded believable.

"So you didn't know she was a cop?" Deter asked Lois.

"No."

"Where did the gun come from?"

"When the warden heard from the police that they were looking for  you, he called me into his office, gave me a gun and suggested I  come by your office. The police know you're in this prison. They  should be surrounding the place even as we speak. You need to put  that gun down and give yourself up. This is only making you look  guilty. Get a good lawyer. You could still get out of this. But  holding us at gun point, or worse, killing us... You won't get  out of that. You need to make a decision now."

"You're right," said Deter, glancing over at where his journal  was again lying on the floor.

"Good. Then put the gun..." As she spoke, she stepped closer.

A gun sounded in the room and Reed cried out in pain before  collapsing to the ground. Lois jumped forward to tend to her.

"Don't move!"

"Look, Max, what are you doing? Reed is right. You'll never get  away with this."

"Well, then you're lucky, aren't you?" Without taking the gun off  her, he made his way to the journal picking it up. "Okay, then,  let's go."

"Max, what are you..."

"You're my ticket out of here. Now, turn."

Lois did as instructed and a moment later, Deter had his arm  around her from behind and the gun was jammed into her ribs.

"You try anything... like that little stunt you pulled a moment  ago... I will kill you," Deter hissed into Lois' ear. "Besides,  think of this as yet another escape from prison."

"What makes you think they will let you out of here with me as a  hostage? After all, I'm a convicted murderer. As far as they  know, I might be your accomplice instead of your hostage."

"Well, you're just going to have to hope, aren't you?"

* * * * * * * * *

"What do we do?" the Warden demanded into the phone.

"Stall him... anything. Give us time to get there," Henderson  responded on the other end of the line.

"And how exactly do you suggest we do that? He's demanding to be  let out immediately, or he'll kill Lois Lane. He already shot  Betty."

"Is she okay?"

"She was shot in the stomach. The doctors here have stabilized  her. But we've got to get this situation with Deter straightened  out before we can get her transported to Metropolis General."

"Stall him, Warden Bowers. We're only ten minutes away. But for  god's sake, don't let him kill Lois Lane."

Warden Bower hung up the phone and returned his attention to the  man standing at the gate, a gun in Lois Lane's side. Bower's  girlfriend was in serious condition in the prison hospital - and  the hospital staff had just reported to them that because of the  set up of the prison, they were trapped and couldn't get her the  medical attention she needed until this situation was over. Only  ten minutes. Or was it? Wouldn't things even get longer if  Henderson and his officers arrived?

"So... what's the verdict, Warden?" called Deter.

Bower hesitated for only a moment longer. "Let him go."

"But, Warden..." one of the guards objected.

"I said, let him go!"

* * * * * * * * *

Part 24

"I don't know what you hope to accomplish," Lois said as she  drove Deter's car through the now darkened streets of Metropolis.

"We're getting out of here. You didn't think I wouldn't have a  back-up plan, did you? We'll be out of the country by midnight."

"Why not let me go?" asked Lois. "I could pull over here. By the  time I'd be able to contact anyone, you'd be long gone."

"Don't be ridiculous. I wouldn't leave you behind to rot in that  hell-hole of a prison."

Lois bit her tongue to keep from saying that she wanted to go  back to that hell-hole. "I just don't think this is smart. Look,  Max, I'd love to run away with you. But this is nuts. We could  both end up getting killed."

"You've just made it all worth while."

"What do you mean?"

"That you want to run away with me. Everything I've done has been  to make that possible."

Lois cringed - not exactly the result she was hoping for. But  then, if she retracted it, if she told him that she really  thought he was a scum-sucking parasite and that she'd rather have  Pepe Le Pew touching her than him, would that make him more  inclined to let her go - or less inclined? She decided that, no  matter how tempting it was to tell him what she thought, it was  probably best to keep her mouth shut. And people thought Lois  Lane didn't know the meaning of subtle.

"Turn here."

Lois did as instructed, heading onto the Westgate bridge.

Sirens. Flashing lights. Suddenly the area in front of them was  filled with police cars, screeching to a halt in a pattern  intended to block off the bridge with frightening speed.

"Stop," Deter said.

Lois did.

"Go back."

Lois looked behind her and was about to back up when police cars  began appearing there, too, blocking any chance of escape.

"It's over, Max," she said.

"It's not over!" Max pulled open the door. Grabbing the journal  with one hand and Lois with the other, he pulled Lois with him  out of the car. Sticking the journal in his coat, he grabbed his  gun and shoved it against Lois as he began backing them towards  the side of the bridge.

"There's no way out, Deter," came Henderson's voice over the  loudspeaker.

His voice was almost overpowered by the sound of a helicopter.  Looking up, Lois could see the LNN call sign just before a bright  light from the helicopter illuminated their position.

* * * * * * * * *

Murray Mindlin was having the best day of his entire life: first,  capturing the botched parachute jump on camera together with an  exclusive Demon rescue; then, landing the helicopter to interview  Dr. Klein himself. From what he'd heard, that interview had been  picked up by every news organization in the country. And now...

When he'd overheard Inspector Henderson on the phone with the  prison warden, he immediately began monitoring the police scanner  so that he now found himself watching a man with a gun drag a  woman out onto West Bridge. He swung the camera around to capture  the police cars blocking off the entrance and exit to the bridge  before focusing on the couple.

He wasn't entirely sure what was going on. But, as he told the  television audience glued to their seats as they watched the  drama unfold, he believed that this abduction was connected to  the near fatal parachute jump earlier in the evening.

It didn't take long for one of his colleagues to recognize the  woman as a fellow reporter. A woman named Lois Lane who had been  convicted in the murder of Elroy Sykes. And soon that story was  being inserted into the drama playing out on the screen.

"I think we can get audio, sir."

"Great!" Murray muttered something into his link with the station  before indicating for his pilot to proceed with hooking up audio.

"Get over." A man's demanding voice came over the audio loud and  clear. Murray immediately patched it through to the station.

"Over there?" Lois Lane responded.

"Get over!" This command was accompanied by the man pushing Lois  Lane with the gun, obviously in an attempt to get her to go over  the railing.

She climbed over cautiously, balancing precariously on the ledge  of the bridge. Murray pulled back on the video in an effort to  show the incredible drop to the rocky river below. The man  pocketed his gun in order to crawl over the railing.

"So what are the chances that they would survive a fall from that  spot?" asked the anchor.

'Well, as you well know, this spot is famous for its suicides.  Only about a quarter of the people who go over have been known to  survive,' Murray responded. "As you can see, the police have  stopped closing in, scared of spooking the kidnapper."

"What do you hope to accomplish by this, Max?" Lois' voice came  clearly over the radio to be broadcast instantaneously to every  home in Metropolis. "You can't get away with this one. It's not  like what you did in blowing up the ferry."

"Did we hear that right?" asked the anchor.

"I thought The Demon blew up the ferry," Murray responded.

"So you did read my journal," said the man on the bridge.

"Yes. You got lucky, didn't you? Everyone is blaming that flying  man. But it was you."

"And you know why I did it? I did it for you."

"And what now? Is this some sort of obscene suicide pact? You're  caught, so you're determined to make sure we die together?"

"No. We're going to live."

"Max, this is a suicide bridge! You can't be thinking that we'll  jump and survive. And even if, by some miracle, we both do,  what's the plan then? Don't you think the cops will be swarming  the river?"

"We have to take that chance."

"I'm not taking that chance." However, almost the instant that  the words left her mouth thousands of collective gasps could be  heard all across Metropolis as a hand reached out and pushed her  off the bridge.

Her scream could be felt in a thousand hearts until... Mouths  fell open and cheers rang out when the man they had nicknamed  'The Demon' suddenly caught her inches from the rocks below.

The picture was fuzzy as Murray struggled to bring it into focus,  but when he finally did, the woman had her face buried in the  shoulder of her rescuer. The masked man suddenly spun back around  when the man on the bridge started yelling.

"You'll never take me alive!" The man's dramatic pronouncement  was followed by a near perfect swan dive off the bridge.

The masked man moved faster than the camera could follow, setting  Lois Lane on the bridge and catching her abductor in mid-air.

"No!" Deter screamed, pulling out his gun and emptying his clip  into the masked man.

People held their breaths as they waited for the masked man to  fall. Then they watched in shocked silence when instead he held  up the hand he wasn't using to hold his passenger, emptying  something out of it.

"Lose some bullets?" the masked man asked.

"Let me die. Or better yet, kill me."

"That's not the way I work," the masked man said before flying  him over to the police cars and delivering him to Inspector  Henderson.

In homes throughout Metropolis, people cheered.

* * * * * * * * *

"Get her a blanket," Henderson demanded, sending one of the  officers still on the bridge rushing to a nearby ambulance. "Are  you okay?" he asked the chilled young woman standing before him.

"Fff...fine," she stammered. "I got splashed by the waves hitting  the rocks. And... I'm just a little cold."

"That's not surprising. The temperature seems to be dropping  tonight. And I suspect you're suffering from a little bit of  shock."

"Where's Clark?" Lois looked around.

"I'm right here," Clark said, jogging up to join them. "Boy, you  gave me quite a scare there."

"Yeah. Well, I scared myself a little bit too," she responded.  "But I had a little help." She met Clark's eyes and smiled.

"Yeah, that was quite the thing," Henderson said. "Any idea who  he is?"

"A great man," Lois responded as she took a blanket from a young  officer and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"It is beginning to seem that we may have misjudged him,"  Henderson replied. "Anyway, I'm going to need to get a statement  from you. And then... I'm sorry, but you're going to have to go  back to the prison."

"Is that really necessary, Henderson?" Clark asked.

"I'm afraid so. But I'll see she's well taken care of."

"Speaking of which, how's Detective Reed? Is she... Did Deter  kill her?"

"She suffered a gun shot to the stomach. But just before I came  over here to talk to you, I found out that she's at Metropolis  General. They've got her stabilized and she's conscious. Doctors  say she'll need surgery. But they're very optimistic," Clark  informed her.

"So, Lane, you feel up to giving me your statement?" Henderson  asked.

"I think so. Did you get his journal? He stuffed it in his coat  when we got out of the car."

"Yeah, we got it, but haven't had a chance to take a look at it.  Is it worth reading?"

Lois nodded. "Everything's there - right from his plan to have me  framed for Elroy Sykes' murder to the death of Theodore Cooke,  the explosion on the ferry and the plan to sabotage Dr. Klein's  parachute. Everything."

"Good. That should help expedite things," Henderson responded.  "But for now... Officer?"

"Yes, sir?" asked a young man coming over.

"Put Ms. Lane in one of the cars."

The officer removed his handcuffs.

"Those won't be necessary, officer," Henderson informed him.

"But procedure dictates..."

"Officer, Ms. Lane is to be treated with the utmost respect. Is  that understood?"

"I understand, sir," said a young man who clearly did not  understand at all.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois was confused as she was escorted through the prison first  thing the next morning. She'd never seen most of these halls  before. So where was she being taken? And why? The guard opened a  door and gestured her to step through before closing the door  behind her. Lois stopped and looked around. The guard hadn't  accompanied her. Was this some sort of set-up?

She took in where she was. It was in some sort of reception area.  She stepped up to a counter. The young woman behind it looked up.

"Lois Lane?" she asked.

"Yes. Could you tell me..."

Before Lois could finish her question, the young woman rose from  behind the counter and disappeared from sight. Lois waited not so  patiently for the woman to return. When she did, she was carrying  a box. Lois watched curiously as the woman opened the box,  removing a brown paper envelope from the top and handing it to  Lois.

"Is everything there?" the woman asked.

Lois opened the envelope. Her watch. Her keys. Her wallet. Even a  pack of gum she'd had in the pocket of her coat on the day she'd  been convicted. Glancing at the box, she even saw the clothes  she'd been wearing on that fateful day. She looked up at the  woman.

"If that's everything, you need to sign here."

"What's going on?" Lois asked.

* * * * * * * * *

The sunshine was almost blinding as Lois stepped through the gate  to the Metropolis Women's Prison. But Lois didn't mind. She took  a breath of free air, almost expecting that at any moment she'd  be tackled by prison guards who had finally realized their  mistake.

"Lois."

Lois blinked a couple times, willing her eyes to adjust. When  they did, she found her lawyer waiting for her. "Angela? What's  going on?"

Angela Winters gestured to her car. She waited until they were  both inside and driving away before speaking again. "Inspector  Henderson contacted the D.A.'s office who contacted me. There is  still a lot of legal paperwork to sort out. But in the meantime,  you're out on bail."

"But... where did the money come from?"

"The Daily Planet. Oh, and Perry told me to tell you to get your  ass over there and begin writing up the story otherwise he's  going to withdraw your bail and throw your ass back in prison -  and I'm quoting directly here."

Lois smiled. "That's Perry."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois kicked off her shoes before plopping down onto Clark's sofa  as she waited for Clark to return from the washroom where he was  changing out of his work clothes. He'd promised her a home-cooked  meal to celebrate her release from prison. At first, she'd been  hesitant - worried that maybe he'd be expecting... something. But  considering his excellent stir-fry at the cabin, she'd been  unable to resist the invitation.

Working today had been great. She'd worked with Clark typing up  the story about her release from prison and the real story behind  the ferry disaster. It had been wonderful seeing words appear  once again on the screen in front of her as she'd typed up the  story. She'd been in such a good mood that she had barely minded  Clark's obsession with making sure every 't' was crossed and  every 'i' was dotted - figuratively speaking, of course. At  least, she suspected that was the reason. After all, Lois didn't  do partners, didn't like partners and would never willingly agree  to work with a partner. Circumstances had thrown them together.  She'd made the best of it. And... okay, so maybe it hadn't been  such a bad experience - except for the amount of complaining he  did every time they'd break into a suspect's home or work place.

Making it clear that The Demon... Lois couldn't express how much  she hated that name. ...the flying man had no part in the  explosion on the ferry had been one of their primary objectives  in the story. It hadn't been particularly difficult after Deter's  confession on the bridge. Still, Lois didn't want any lingering  doubt. After all, it would stand in the way of what she had in  mind.

In truth, that was another reason Lois had decided to come to  Clark's for supper tonight. Their discussion at the cabin had  been... cut short. But after the flying man's second and third  appearances, it was obvious, at least to Lois, that being in the  big city where there were so many people getting into deadly  trouble on a regular basis, Clark's heart would not allow him to  sit idly by. That meant there was only one realistic possibility.  And a black wool cap with two eye holes burned into it was not  the solution. Now all she needed to do was to convince Clark of  that fact. And a supper at his place had seemed the ideal place  to accomplish that.

The phone on the coffee table next to her rang and without  thinking, she reached over to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Umm... I think I might have the wrong number."

"Are you looking for Clark?" Lois asked, suddenly realizing that  she'd picked up Clark's phone.

"Yes."

"Clark's in the washroom right now. Can I take a message?"

"This is his mom... Martha. And you are?"

"Lois Lane."

"The reporter?"

"Yes."

"I saw you on the news being rescued by Cl... that flying man."

A grin quirked at the corner of Lois' mouth. Had she not known  that the flying man was Clark, she might well have missed the  small slip. But as it was... "That's right, Mrs. Kent. I'm just  glad Clark got there in time."

"Was Clark there, too? I didn't see him on the news."

Lois' grin widened. Good comeback. Okay, well she knew that  Clark's parents knew who he was so, why not have some fun? "Yes.  Although you might not have been able to recognize him in that  stupid black mask."

She listened in amusement to the dead silence on the other end of  the line.

"Uhh... would Clark happen to be available yet?"

The woman's voice now sounded nervous, immediately cutting  through Lois' fun. "I'll see," Lois said before placing the phone  on the table and making her way to the washroom. "You're mother's  on the line," she called through the door.

"I'll be right there," Clark called back.

Deep in thought, Lois made her way back into the living room.  Clark almost beat her to the couch, picking up the phone as she  sat down.

"Hi, Mom." Clark's initial greeting was followed by a long period  of silence. Finally... "I'm a reporter, too, Mom."

Suddenly, Lois understood. Put him in a lab and dissect him like  a frog. Wasn't that the warning Clark's father had always given  him? They were afraid that she was about to 'out' Clark. She  understood that. After all, she was a reporter. And this was  definitely a story. But... "Clark, can I talk to your mother?"

Clark crinkled his eyebrows before speaking into the phone. "Mom,  Lois would like to talk to you." He listened to a response before  handing Lois the phone.

"Listen, I know you don't know me," Lois began as soon as she  took the phone. "And, yes, I am a reporter. But let me assure you  that I would do nothing to hurt your son - or you. And I'm well  aware that if I published a story about Clark, I'd do both.  But... Well, that brings me to the reason I wanted to talk to  you. I have an idea."

"What's this idea?" asked a man on the other end of the line,  informing Lois that Clark's father was probably on the line now,  too.

"Well..." She glanced over at Clark. "First, you should be aware  that I brought this subject up with your son a few days ago and  he brushed me off, but..."

"Lois, what are you doing?" asked Clark.

Lois rose from the couch, turning her back to Clark. "Mr. and  Mrs. Kent, I might not be willing to write the story, but I know  that other reporters won't be nearly as accommodating. After all,  as I'm sure you recognize, this is a big story - huge. Whoever  breaks this would be looking at a Kerth at the very least. Maybe  even a Pulitzer."

"So what are you saying?" asked Martha.

"Your son has an inherent need to help. I'm sure you'd agree with  me there. He can't seem to help himself. And I assume that's  because of the values you've instilled in him. Anyway, I've got  an idea of how he might be able to help without fear of getting  caught."

"What are you suggesting?" asked Martha, sounding interested now.

"I think he needs some sort of... disguise - something a bit more  convincing than pulling a black wool cap over his face - that he  can put on when things like the ferry disaster happen. Something  so bold that people will never think to look behind the  disguise."

"Lois, I don't..." began Clark

She shut him up with a glare.

"I think we need to talk, Mrs. Kent," Lois said.

"Call me Martha," Martha said. "And... I think you're right."

"What are you doing, Martha?" asked her husband.

"Shhh," Martha responded. "Lois, would you put Clark on the  line?"

* * * * * * * * *

Part 25

It was incredible. The last two times Lois had flown in Clark's  arms, she'd been unable to truly appreciate the experience. But  now, on this impromptu trip to Kansas, she was able to take in  everything. And it was awesome in the truest sense of the word.

She glanced at her traveling companion, but he was looking  straight ahead. He was obviously still upset that she had gone  over his head to his mother with her idea. But she was right.  Lois Lane never backed down when she was right.

Slowly, her eyes traced the profile of the man carrying her. With  the wind blowing his hair back and his glasses off, he was  incredibly handsome. He'd taken off his glasses for the flight  which Lois found somewhat odd - as if the glasses and flying  somehow didn't go together in his mind. But why the glasses in  the first place? He'd told her that he had incredible vision. So  what was the deal? Was it some sort of disguise to make him  appear more vulnerable? A slow smile made its way across her face  as an idea began to develop.

She looked around as they slowed, flying over the fields of  Kansas until a small farmhouse appeared on the horizon. As he  landed, setting her down, she began to have a case of nerves.  Meeting his parents was... scary somehow. She couldn't say  exactly why. After all, he was nothing to her - except perhaps a  friend although that was still somewhat in question. But for a  reason she couldn't name, she wanted his parents to like her.

"Hey, relax," Clark said as he began leading her to the house.  "They'll love you."

"I'm not very good with parents." It ran through her mind that  his folks likely had someone very different than her in mind for  their son. Someone meek and mellow, who would put her life on  hold to support her husband. And that was not Lois. She gave her  head a shake. She wasn't the little woman, coming home to meet  the parents. She was the co-conspirator, trying to win over the  mother in hopes of pressuring the son to go along with her  scheme.

They had just arrived at the top of the back steps when the door  was suddenly thrown open and she stepped back, loath to interrupt  the heart-warming welcome between son and parents. A kiss on the  cheek was the best she could hope for during a reunion with her  parents. So she felt somewhat lost when she observed the bear- hugs taking place on the porch of the old farmhouse.

"So..." said Martha when she was done greeting her son. "...you  must be Lois Lane."

"Yes, Mrs. Kent," Lois said, cursing the slight tremble in his  voice.

"My, she sure is pretty."

Lois pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's okay if I say that, isn't it?" Martha turned to ask Clark.

"Ask Lois, Mom."

"It's fine, Mrs. Kent."

"I told you on the phone, my name's Martha. And this is Clark's  father, Jonathan."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kent."

Jonathan chuckled. "It's Jonathan. Believe it or not, Mr. Kent is  still my father."

"I read your story about Bonnie and Clyde," Martha said. "It was  fascinating. One thing I never really understood though. Were  they the real gangsters or were they just... copies?"

Lois glanced at Clark, somewhat surprised at the question. "Well,  they were clones. But they seemed to retain all the memories and  behaviors of the originals."

"Who would even think of bringing back someone like that?" said  Clark's father. "I mean, if you could raise someone from the dead  to talk to, why not Churchill or Gandhi? What could a person  really learn by resurrecting someone like Bonnie and Clyde?"

"I read that Hamilton was planning on doing research into gene  manipulation," Martha said. "Hoping to find a way to...  manipulate the criminal gene. So he brought back the worst of the  worst." She looked at Lois who nodded her confirmation. "Anyway,  that's a story for another time. So... let's not stand out here  in the cold. Come in. Come in." Martha took Lois' arm and led her  into the house.

"Thanks for having me, Mrs. Kent," said Lois.

"I'm glad you came. And I'm very interested in what ideas you  might have to keep my son out of trouble."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois sat in apprehensive silence when she'd finished explaining  to the Kents what she had in mind. They were sitting around the  kitchen table, pie and tea on the table in front of them. Lois'  pie, to this point, had gone almost untouched. Not because the  pie wasn't good. The small bite she'd had was excellent. But  between the fact that she was nervous and that she'd been doing  most of the talking, the pie had been left uneaten.

"So... what do you think?" she finally asked.

"I told you, Lois," Clark immediately began. "I don't want to  become some hero. I just want to live my life in peace."

"And that would be great, Clark. But you seem to have a few more  problems doing that than saying it. You've been caught on  television four times since you came to Metropolis."

"But, Lois... All that flashy stuff... That's just not me."

"I think that's Lois' point, honey," Martha said.

"Don't tell me that you agree with Lois?" Clark asked.

"I think she's got a good idea. It just wouldn't be you to sit  back if there was something you could do to help. Your father and  I taught you better than that. But if you keep going the way  you're going, it's only a matter of time before someone 'outs'  you. What did you have in mind for his face?" Martha asked,  obviously a long way ahead of her son in her thinking about this.

"Nothing."

"Nothing as in you haven't thought about it?" asked Jonathan. "Or  nothing as in... nothing."

"Nothing as in nothing." When everyone just stared at her in  disbelief, Lois rose to her feet. "Clark, how long have you been  wearing the glasses?" she asked, coming around to stand behind  him.

"Ever since my early teens. I just felt... more comfortable, I  guess. The lenses are made of crystal lead - to keep me from  accidentally..."

"...x-raying the girls' locker room," Lois completed.

"Yeah. I guess. But I don't get..."

"So we..." She took Clark's glasses off and placed them on the  table. "And we..." She pushed his hair back off his face.  "Basically we just change his looks enough that people don't look  at him and see Clark Kent."

"But why not a mask?"

"A mask tells reporters that he's hiding something," Lois said,  getting into her argument now. "But without a mask... There's  nothing to uncover. We just make Clark Kent the one wearing the  mask." She picked up the glasses.

"I like it," said Martha. "So we distract people with the flashy  costume. And then we make them think there is nothing more to  learn about him by letting them see his face."

"Exactly!"

"So what are you thinking for costumes? For some reason, I see a  cape."

"It would look great when he's flying."

"Exactly. And what about..."

"What do you think of all this, Dad?" Clark asked, interrupting  the two women. "You've been pretty quiet sitting over there."

"I learned years ago not to interrupt when you're mother has an  idea. And..." He gestured to the two women at the table.  "...something tells me it just got worse. You might as well  accept that you're not going to get a word in edgewise until  they've talked themselves out."

Martha shot her husband a dirty look. "So, Lois, what do you say  I pull out my old sewing machine, and we see what we can come up  with?"

* * * * * * * * *

Lois and Martha lay sprawled out on the bed in the spare room,  scraps of material littering every corner. They'd been at this  for hours and still they hadn't come up with anything that was  remotely satisfying to either of them. Although, where Martha had  come up with so many unusual fabrics on such short notice was a  mystery to Lois.

"I think he needs a name. Maybe that will help us find the right  costume," Lois said.

"Well, after he saw the globe, he told us that his birth name was  Kal-El. What about using that?"

Lois shook her head. "I think we need something more..."

"...heroish?"

Lois nodded.

"Well, what about... something..."

"...bigger than life. Like Splendid Man."

"Or Majestic Man."

"Or Brawny Man."

"Or Magnificent Man."

"Or Glorious Man."

"What about Vainglorious?" Clark called from the washroom.

"You just worry about the costume," Martha called, causing Lois  to grin.

"I suppose we could always call him Resplendent Man," Lois  suggested.

They looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously  saying, "Nah."

"So... what about that one? How does it fit?" Martha called into  the washroom.

"I don't know, Mom," Clark called back.

"Well, come out here so we can see it."

The door slowly opened and into the room, wearing a blue body  suit with a red cape and yellow belt stepped Clark. Both women  felt their breaths catch in their throats as they stared at him.

"I knew it," said Clark. "I look stupid." He turned to head back  to the washroom.

Lois immediately jumped up, grabbing his arm to stop him and turn  him back towards them. "No. No... You look..." She swept her eyes  slowly down his body. "...great."

She met Clark's eyes and they stood there for a moment as if  lost. Lois was relieved when Martha joined them, pulling on  Clark's cape to straighten it.

"It's a little tight," Clark said.

"Cuts down on wind resistance," Martha said as the two women led  him over to the mirror so that he could see it himself.

"Well... what do you think?" asked Clark.

"One thing's for sure," Martha said. "No one's going to be  looking at your face."

"Mo...om," Clark groaned as the two women burst out laughing.

"Still... there's something... something missing," Martha  continued before being struck with a thought. She rushed over to  the bed, pulling a trunk out from beneath it and opening it.

Lois and Clark watched as she searched through the trunk,  obviously on a mission. And then, a slow smile lit up her face.

"The baby blanket we found you in so many years ago and..." She  pulled out the S-symbol, holding it up. "...this."

Lois recognized it immediately. The same symbol that had been on  the ship and the outfits his parents had been wearing during the  message in the globe. "That's perfect. It's... super. That's it!"

"What?" asked Martha and Clark.

"Superman."

* * * * * * * * *

"So what do you think, Clark?" Martha asked. Clark was still in  the costume. On the other hand, the scenery had changed. They had  once again retreated to the kitchen table to enjoy a cup of  coffee. "After all, the decision is ultimately yours."

"I just... I don't exactly feel... like me," Clark said, looking  down at himself.

"That's the point," Lois said. "When you're in the suit, you're  not Clark. You're Superman."

"I don't..."

"Clark is who you are," Lois continued. "Superman is what you can  do. Of course, that means you need to invent a personality for  him. Maybe... try deepening your voice and... fold your arms  across your chest."

Clark did as instructed.

"Put your feet a little further apart, honey," Martha added.

When Clark followed the instructions this time, Martha and Lois  shared a look.

"What?"

"It's just..."

"...perfect."

Clark let out a breath, sinking into a chair. "What do you think,  Dad?"

"I agree with your mother. The choice is ultimately yours, but...  I think it could work."

All three sat there then, waiting silently for Clark's final  pronouncement.

"Well... I guess if I have an effective disguise, it will allow  me to help when things like the ferry explosion happen without  worrying that someone will recognize me."

* * * * * * * * *

Lois pulled the Daily Planet car into a parking place at  Metropolis General Hospital on her way into the Daily Planet  first thing the next morning. Her first night in her own bed, in  her own apartment had been wonderful. She'd almost been tempted  to spend the day there - putting away the things Clark had  brought back from the cabin and just... getting familiar with her  own things again. But there was too much to do. She wanted to  check on Detective Reed before heading into the Daily Planet.  Although she no longer worked there, she, at the very least,  needed to return the Daily Planet car.

She made her way to the room she'd been told Reed was in,  stopping outside the door when she heard voices.

"It's over, Randall." Detective Reed's voice was unmistakable.  "This whole experience has showed me that I deserve something  better - not someone else's leftovers."

"But I love you," Warden Randall responded.

"You're not free to love me. And I can't live with the guilt  anymore. I'm sorry."

Lois stepped back, staying out of view when Randall Bowers made  his way out of Reed's room. Lois gave a ten count before planting  a smile on her face and stepping into the doorway. Knocking on  the doorframe brought Reed's head up to look in her direction. It  was obvious to Lois that Reed was fighting back tears.

"So... how you feeling?" Lois asked, keeping her voice  deceptively light.

"Not too bad," Reed said, gesturing Lois into the room. "They  tell me I'll be up and around in no time."

"Well, that's great. After all, what would I do without my Pepe  Le Pew?"

The reference brought a genuine smile to Reed's face. "Uhh... I  knew you'd come round, mon little chunky of chocolate," Reed  said, once again reverting to her bad French accent. "We will be  ze lovers in no time."

Lois laughed, taking a seat on the side of Reed's bed. "So tell  me... what were you doing storming into Max's office alone to  arrest him?"

"Not you, too," Reed groaned. "Henderson and Randall have both  bawled me out for that already."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'd probably have done the same thing.  It just seems... not exactly police procedure. I'd have thought  you had to wait for backup - or maybe bring some of the prison  guards with you."

"Well, it wasn't exactly my intention to attempt to arrest Deter  before backup arrived. But when I went back to the cell to tell  you what was going on and discovered both you and my passkey  gone, it wasn't as if I had much choice but to go to the only  logical place for you to be."

"Oh. But... well, why not bring some guards?"

"There wasn't time. Besides, prison guards aren't trained as  cops. They wouldn't be qualified to serve as backup in that sort  of situation. That's what the boys in blue are for."

Lois smiled. "Well, I have to say, I'm glad you did come. Even  if..." She gestured to the bandages on Reed's stomach.

"All part of the service," Reed said.

From there, their conversation proceeded quite naturally until  something caught Reed's attention. Lois turned to see the small  television playing softly in the corner of the room.

Reaching for the remote control, Reed turned it up.

"The plane has been flying circles in the sky over Metropolis for  the past hour, trying to burn up its fuel before attempting a  landing," the anchor said as the screen played pictures of a  jumbo 747. "When they couldn't tell if the wheels had come down,  they contacted the tower. Apparently a fly-by the tower revealed  that the front wheel was only part way out. So now all we can do  is wait to see if the airplane will survive the landing. Wait!  What's that?" the anchor asked as a brightly colored object  appeared next to the plane.

Both Lois and Reed automatically leaned closer to the screen to  get a better look.

"Ten to one odds it's the flying man," said Reed.

Lois smiled. It was amazing how quickly people seemed to have  quit calling him The Demon. Her mind flashed back to what it felt  like flying in his arms on their trip to Kansas. She felt a  sloppy grin settle on her face.

"So... what was it like flying with him?" asked Reed.

"What?" asked a startled Lois in return.

"When he caught you after Deter pushed you off that bridge."

"Oh, right. That."

"Of course that! Don't tell me you've forgotten already."

"No, it's just... well, it was so short, and I think I was in  shock. I can't say I really remember it." Lois was grateful when  Reed didn't follow-up on that line of questioning and instead,  both women returned their attention to the television screen.

* * * * * * * * *

Part 26

Clark took a deep breath, flying up next to the cockpit. When he  saw the startled looks on the faces of the pilots, he almost lost  his nerve. Then, planting a smile on his face, he gave them a  small wave and pointed down. When they nodded, he realized he'd  made his point.

Flying under the plane, he quickly pulled the front tire the rest  of the way out, causing it to click into place. His ears told  him, even before he saw their faces, that the pilots realized  their landing gear was now down. Floating back up next to the  window, he made a gesture towards the airport. They nodded and  signaled to the tower what had happened and that they were coming  in. Clark accompanied them through the landing, just to be  certain there were no other problems. He waited until the  airplane came to a complete stop and fire engines and people  began running towards them before taking to the sky once again.

"Wait!" yelled a man holding a notepad.

Clark turned, instantly recognizing Myerson. For a moment, he was  tempted to run, to hide. But drawing on every ounce of courage he  possessed, he floated around, folding his arms across his chest  and landing in front of them, taking up the stance Lois and his  mother had suggested.

"Who are you?" asked Myerson.

"I'm..." Clark hesitated. He couldn't do it. He couldn't call  himself Superman. It seemed... arrogant. "I'm a friend," he said,  remembering to keep his voice deep.

"Do you have time for an interview?" asked Myerson.

"Or a press conference?" said Murray Mindlin.

"Not at the moment," Clark responded before pausing. "I promised  Ms. Lane an exclusive last night when I rescued her off the  bridge," Clark said, pleased with himself for finding a way to be  sure the press would link him with the flying man in the mask. It  was important there be no question that there were not two flying  men.

"But surely..."

"I'll tell you what," said Clark. "I'll give a press conference  tomorrow it you like, after I've fulfilled my obligation to Ms.  Lane."

He took off then, disappearing into the sky as a growing number  of reporters yelled questions after him.

* * * * * * * * *

After Lois returned the car keys to the motor pool, she headed  into the newsroom, determined to find out what her colleagues  were saying about the newly unveiled hero. When she saw the  majority of them gathered around the televisions, she joined them  there. After a few minutes, it became obvious that although some  people were still skeptical, the majority seemed to think he was  the best thing to happen to Metropolis since sliced bread.

Turning from where she was watching the television, Lois noticed  that Cat was leaning over Stan's shoulder. Seeing Cat leaning  over a man's shoulder wasn't exactly an unusual sight. Or  wouldn't have been if that man hadn't been Stan, the paper's  editorial cartoonist, an over-weight balding man in his mid- fifties. Not Cat's usual type.

Curious, Lois made her way closer.

"No! The color's wrong!" Cat said.

"You said 'brown,'" Stan responded.

Lois glanced around Cat to see that Stan was attempting to draw  the new superhero who was looking decidedly like a comic book  character.

"Not brown brown.  Not dull, insipid mud brown... More vibrant,  more radiant. Bedroom eyes!" Cat exclaimed when she finally  figured out how to say it.

"But... well, if he's an alien, maybe he doesn't get the old...  you know... itch," Jimmy said.

Jimmy's comment made Lois realize that she wasn't the only one  who had joined the group. Jimmy was there. And so, ironically,  was Clark. He must have just returned after his big debut as  Superman. It was still amazing to her how fast he was able to  move.

Lois had to fight back a giggle that rose involuntarily in her  throat at the startled look on Clark's face in response to  Jimmy's comment.

"One way to find out," Cat said suggestively.

This time, Lois couldn't keep quiet. "A possible visitor from  another planet arrives on Earth and all you can think of is  hauling him off to your lair and trying him out?"

"Test drive, Lois. A couple of hours behind the wheel, I'd know  for sure if we're talking import or domestic." Then, before Lois  could respond, Cat turned back to Stan. "No! The features are too  coarse."

Lois glanced over at Clark who was making his way quietly back to  his desk.

"Think noble," Cat continued. "Think..."

"Greek God," Lois murmured, her eyes firmly on Clark.

His head snapped up, reminding her only too late of his  extraordinary hearing powers. She quickly looked back at Cat and  Stan.

"So... what's this for?" Lois asked.

"So far no one has got a clear picture of this new hero. Perry's  livid. We need to have something for the front page of the Daily  Planet tomorrow morning," Cat explained. "No. The chin should be  more... chiseled. It's a chin that stands for something."

Raising her eyebrows, Lois watched for a moment more before  turning back towards Clark's desk. She was half way there when  she hesitated. Clark looked... depressed. She glanced at Cat and  then back at Clark as Clark's comments about becoming an  aberration flitted through her mind. Jimmy's question about  whether he was... a sexual creature was obviously playing on his  mind. So how did she... A slow smile crossed her face as she  covered the remaining distance to Clark's desk. When he didn't  look up as she approached, she knew she was right. He was  obsessing.

Leaning over his shoulder, she breathed into his ear. "Definitely  an import. Far too good to be domestic." Before he could respond,  she turned and walked away, knowing he was staring after her.

"Lois?"

She glanced back at the sound of him calling her name to find  that he was jogging over to her.

"I was just wondering..."

She braced herself, wondering if her off-the-cuff comment had  made him think that she was now willing to pursue a relationship.

He glanced around nervously, making sure no one was close enough  to overhear, before speaking. "I was just wondering if you wanted  to do that interview I promised you."

Her eyebrows rose. He had remembered his promise. She glanced  around. "Yeah, but... well, it might be more convincing if  you..." She made a wavy motion with her hand. "That way no one  will question that Superman gave me the interview."

Clark cringed. "I still don't understand why we can't just call  me Kal-El."

"Image, Clark. People need a bigger-than-life superhero."

"But isn't that sort of... an arrogant name?"

"You won't be the one giving yourself that name. I will. Now quit  belly-aching, go change into the suit and get back here. Jimmy  will be thrilled to have a chance to use that camera he carries  around all the time. Besides, it will save you from having to  look at that hideous picture Stan is drawing." She gave him a  small push towards the elevators. "Go."

* * * * * * * * *

Jason Trask moved closer, using the crowds of reporters as a  cover as they began to gather in front of a platform outside the  Daily Planet. He'd spent the morning pouring over the article  Lois Lane had written for the paper on this so called...  Superman. No other name had been given for him. Trask preferred  his original name. The Demon. The article had claimed he was from  a now defunct planet called Krypton and was here to fight for  Truth, Justice and the American way. But Trask was no fool. This  Superman was nothing more than the front runner for an alien  invasion. And his attempt now to win the hearts and minds of the  people of Earth made him even more dangerous than when he was  blowing up ferries.

Ignoring the crowd, Trask made his way cautiously towards the  front of the crowd as The Demon floated slowly to the platform to  land in front of the microphones. The oos and aws that  accompanied The Demon's arrival made Trask feel literally sick to  his stomach.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," began The Demon, "let me just begin by  saying that how pleased I am to be able to stand before you. I'm  hoping in the coming weeks and months that we will get to know  each other very well. But for now, I'm prepared to answer any  questions you might have for me."

"What happened at the ferry?"

"I was nearby when I heard an explosion. So I donned the mask and  went to see what I could do to help."

"Why the mask?" asked another reporter.

"I was new here - and wasn't sure how I'd be received. I  guess..." He held up the mask. "...not one of my better ideas."

This comment was followed by laughter from the crowd.

Trask ignored the questions as he continued to inch closer to the  platform. When he was finally there, he reached under his coat  and removed a small box. The break in at his warehouse recently  left him with the distinct impression that The Demon had been  affected by something in or around that ship - otherwise it would  never have been abandoned on the floor in the middle of the  warehouse. An inventory of the warehouse that followed revealed  that a small globe that had been found with the ship was missing.  Between that and the symbol on both the ship and The Demon's  chest told him there was a connection. And something in the  warehouse had hurt The Demon. He had a theory about that.

Slowly, he opened the box. The Demon's voice faltered and the  alien stumbled slightly. Trask quickly closed the box. Not here.  Not now. Not while the entire world was singing The Demon's  praises. But soon... very soon... Yes. Trask would save the world  from this threat - especially now that he knew he had the means  to do it.

* * * * * * * * *

It was mid-afternoon and Lois found that she was unexpectedly  nervous as the doors to the elevator slid open, leaving her at  the top of the stairs to the bullpen of the Daily Planet. She  took a deep breath, relishing the smell of printer's ink. She no  longer worked there - at least officially. Oh sure, she'd come in  to work with Clark on the stories about the ferry and the  overturn of her conviction. And then yesterday, she'd been there  when Superman had 'dropped in' for his interview. But she wasn't  exactly an employee.

And none of that meant Perry was going to be willing to take her  back on a full time basis. After all, he had his quota of  reporters - at least to the best of her knowledge. Besides, how  was Perry supposed to trust her investigative skills after she'd  simply accepted her conviction for Sykes' murder?

She made her way to Perry's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Perry growled.

She opened the door and made her way inside, closing the door  softly behind her.

"What can I do for you, honey?"

"I... sort of need a job," she said.

Perry crinkled his eyebrows. "Well, it just so happens I have an  opening."

"Really? Don't tell me it's in sports. 'Cause maybe my dad  was..."

"Relax, Lois. It's on the city beat. Besides, did you really  think I'd let the reporter who pulled in the first Superman  exclusive get away?"

Lois let out a breath. "Thanks, Perry."

Perry gave her a wink. Then, when she continued standing there,  he continued. "So... what are you doing standing around here? Get  to work," he barked.

Lois quickly hustled out of the room, looking around the newsroom  until her eyes found Clark's desk. Clark's desk. She found  herself amazed at how easily that desk had become his - even in  her mind. For a reason she couldn't explain, the idea of Clark  using that desk didn't bother her at all.

He wasn't there so she headed over, wondering if she could find a  free desk close to his. She stopped, confused, when she realized  that all his stuff was gone. She gave her head a shake. Trust  Clark to think that she'd want her own desk back and find another  one for himself. But where was the man himself.

"Jimmy," she called when, although she couldn't see Clark, she  spotted Jimmy.

"Hey, Lois. You back?"

"Yeah."

"That's great."

"I think so, too. By the way, do you know where Clark is?"

"Gone."

"Gone as in..."

"I was told he handed in his resignation this morning. Hey, are  you okay?"

"Uhhh... yeah," Lois responded in something of a daze.

"Because you look a little pale. Why don't you sit down and  I'll..."

His voice trailed off when Lois turned and headed back to Perry's  office without so much as another word.

* * * * * * * * *

Clark didn't bother looking up from his packing when he heard a  knock on the door to his apartment. "Come in," he yelled from his  bedroom. "It's open."

His hands hesitated slightly when the scent he'd come to  associate with Lois Lane was picked up by his incredible  olfactory sense. For a moment, he had to fight off the feeling of  intoxication he always experienced when she was in close  proximity. He'd made his decision. Her being here did not change  anything.

"Hi."

"Hi," Clark responded, glancing at her before returning to his  task, hoping the tedious activity would help him stay strong,  stay focused. If she were here to assuage her own guilt, which  she undoubtedly was, he had no intention of helping her do it.  Not that he wanted her to feel guilty, of course. But he had no  intention of staying in Metropolis just so she could tell herself  that she had not driven him away.

She had made it more than clear where he stood in her life. He  was a notch on her garter belt, a conquest, a one time roll in  the hay - no more. And by her comments, he knew that he wasn't  the first - and in all likelihood wouldn't be the last. 'I should  know. I've been here before.' Those words had echoed in his mind  on a regular basis since she'd uttered them.

She would be cleared of her charges. He had also been vindicated.  And so, it was time to move on, to find a life for himself where  he was not tormented daily by thoughts and images of Lois Lane.

"I talked to Perry," Lois said. "Clark, you don't have to leave.  Perry made it clear that he wants both of us."

"Hmph." So he was right. That was the only reason she was there.

"What do you think you're doing, Clark? Quitting your job at the  Daily Planet. Have you gone completely insane?"

"It was your job, Lois. Besides, I thought you'd be happy to see  me go," Clark said, continuing to fold his clothes and put them  in a box. "And I don't have to stay here to be Superman. He can  work out of anywhere. Or are you afraid of losing your source to  the latest Superman story?"

He felt bad when he saw her flinch and knew by the confusion on  her face that she had no idea what had made her the brunt of his  attack. He turned back to his packing, determined not to hurt her  again.

"You know that's not it. I just..." She hesitated. "I don't want  you to leave."

"Why would you care if I leave or not?" he asked, forcefully  putting a shirt in the box and turning towards her, his promise  not to hurt being wiped from his mind by her last statement. She  didn't want him. Yet she didn't want him to go. How dare she?  "You've made it abundantly clear how you feel about me. I was  another notch on your garter belt - nothing more. So why should  it matter to you if I stay or not?"

She looked down.

"Come on, Lois - why?" He walked over to her, backing her up  against the door frame placing a hand on the wood beside her head  as he leaned closer, demanding an answer. Let her deny it if she  dared. Their eyes met and locked for a long moment. "Why?"

"I..." She broke eye contact, looking down.

"Why?" he asked again. "Why should I stay?"

"We're friends," she finally managed to get out.

"Friends." His voice was cold, causing her again to meet his  eyes. "Lois, do you have any idea how hard it is to work next to  you every day and not be allowed to touch you, to kiss you, to  make love to you? How do I go back to 'friends' after..." He made  an erratic gesture with his free hand. "...everything?"

She wanted to break eye contact but couldn't seem to bring  herself to do it.

"How do I want less? How can you expect me to want less?" he  asked, continuing to stand there, just staring into her eyes for  a long moment. "Look, just forget it," he finally said when she  still failed to respond. Turning, he headed back to his boxes.

"Clark, don't..."

"Why not? I love you. I want more than just to work next to you  every day."

"Clark, you don't even know me! How can you claim you love me?"

Clark stopped his packing, turning towards her as a new idea  suddenly struck him. Was it possible his assumptions had been  wrong? Was it possible that Lois' continual withdrawal from him  had more to do with her fears that he didn't really love her than  indifference on her part?

"Clark, can we... talk?" she asked suddenly.

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"No, I mean, cut past all..." She gestured with her hands. "Look,  can we just sit down and really talk? No games. Just... talk."

Confused by this sudden development, he gestured her towards the  living room and waited until she sat down in a chair before  taking a seat on the couch.

She studied her hands for a long moment before looking up.  "You're going to have to forgive me if I don't get this quite  right. I'm not exactly... used to opening up. So I'm not exactly  sure where to start."

"Just tell me what you feel."

She met his eyes for a moment before looking back down at her  hands. "Feelings are transient," she said softly. "Look, maybe  it's best if I just told you where I'm coming from here." She  took a deep breath. "I've not been involved with a lot of men.  Three actually - other than you." She looked up then. "I take it  you know what I mean by 'involved.'"

Clark nodded, slightly surprised to discover that the number was  a lot smaller than he'd come to believe - especially when he  already knew two. "Luthor, Deter and..."

Lois looked back at her hands. "Luthor and I never... Okay, look,  that's not important here. Claude was my... first. He was a  colleague at the paper. Older than me. And I was in love... or  thought I was. I was working on a big story and... the next  morning when I woke up, he was gone. So was my story. He even won  an award for that. Didn't even thank me for my... 'input.'  Anyway, when the relationship ended, the rumors at the Planet  were wild. It was a long time before I could walk into a room  without it falling silent."

"Lois, I'm not..."

"Please, Clark. Just let me finish - before I lose my nerve."

He remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"My third... lover..." She stumbled slightly on the word. "...you  know. Maxwell Deter."

Clark was impressed with how quickly she had regained her  composure after using a word she was obviously not comfortable  with. Everything about this conversation was hard for her. He  could tell that by the way she kept hesitating. But for reasons  he didn't yet understand, she was stepping out on a limb that she  feared would be cut off behind her. And she was doing it for him.  That had to mean something.

"It's my second... that I want to talk to you about." She took a  breath. "His name was Dan. He worked for the D.E.A. He'd been  asking me out for weeks. I kept saying no. Anyway, we ended up  working on a big story together. It was intense and exciting  and... we ended up... in bed." She paused. "I'm not sure why.  I've thought about it a lot since. And the only thing I can think  of is that the excitement of the story caught up with me and... I  let things get carried away. I know. That's a lousy excuse. It  never should have happened."

"Did you love him?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I told myself I did. I mean, why else  would I have..." Her voice trailed off. "We tried to make it  work, but... we had nothing in common. Nothing. He had this weird  obsession with modern art that I couldn't... I guess that's  neither here nor there. The point is that the feelings I had for  him... Clark, they were nothing more than... adrenalin induced  lust. But because I couldn't let myself believe I was capable of  a one-night-stand, I pushed the relationship, insisting that we  had to make a go of it."

Clark suddenly understood where she was going with this. Claude,  a colleague, had made her doubt her ability to know someone  else's heart. Dan had made her doubt her ability to know her own  heart.

"Are you seeing a pattern here?" she asked.

Clark nodded.

"Obviously, I'm attracted to you. And you seem to be attracted to  me. And maybe if we hadn't started things out so fast, or in such  uncertain times, or if we didn't work together..."

"So let me quit - and date me."

"What?" asked Lois, obviously completely thrown by his  suggestion. "Clark, you can't quit. You're too good. And someday  you'll be great. You can't..."

"You mean more to me than a job - even a great job."

"But... You don't even know me. How can you give up a great job  for someone you don't even know?"

"I know enough."

"Like what?"

"I know you fight for the little guy. I've read your stories for  years."

"It's my job."

Clark shook his head. "You could have stopped investigating this  story when we found the evidence we needed to prove that you  weren't guilty. But you didn't. You wanted my name cleared. You  wanted to be sure Deter couldn't do any further damage. No. Lois,  you're never going to convince me that this was for a story. It  was about truth. It was about justice. It was about everything  that you created Superman to be."

"They're your values, too."

Clark cocked his head to the side. "See. So you know a thing or  two about me, too."

"Clark, I just think..."

"So what else do I know about Lois Lane?" he continued,  interrupting her response. "I know that you've got a stubborn  streak a mile long - especially when you believe you're right -  which is most of the time. And I know that you're brilliant -  which is why you usually are right. You have a tendency to be  impulsive - jumping into the pool without checking the water  level. And you know no fear when it comes to investigating a  story."

Lois looked down, chewing on her lower lip.

"I also know you're a hopeless romantic. I suspect you cry at old  movies and have a secret stash of romance novels hidden  somewhere."

Her head snapped up. "How could you possible know..."

"But you've quit believing that real romance exists," Clark  continued. "You want to believe. But you don't." He paused,  allowing that to sink in, before continuing. "I can see it when I  look in your eyes. I can feel it whenever we kiss or touch. But  real romance does exist, Lois - just as love exists.

"And I know you're passionate. You're passionate about your  beliefs. You're passionate about your job. And god knows you were  passionate when we made love. I know you put on a hard exterior.  But behind it all, you've got one of the softest hearts I've ever  known."

Sometime during his monologue, tears had begun to well up in her  eyes. He moved off the couch to come over and crouch in front of  her. Reaching out to cup her cheek with his hand, he forced her  to meet his eyes.

"And you are, without question, the most beautiful woman I've  ever seen. Do you have any idea at all the feelings you can evoke  in me just by looking in my direction? When you hurt, I hurt.  Your victories are my victories. In my heart I believe that you  and I... we're soul mates, Lois. So don't tell me I don't know  you well enough to be in love with you."

Lois let out a soft breath. "For a spaceman, you're the most  romantic person I've ever known. Earth guys don't stand a chance  against you," she whispered.

A small smile quirked at one corner of Clark's mouth.

"But, Clark, I just don't think..." Her voice died when his thumb  fell across her mouth.

He hesitated for a second, allowing his thumb to trail over her  lips, gently tracing them. "Then don't think." Moving slowly, he  leaned towards her until his lips were less than an inch away  from hers. "Just feel."

Still, he didn't move closer - leaving the choice up to her. Her  eyes drifted to his lips before, almost as if she had no will of  her own, she reached up, running a hand gently down his cheek as  she closed the remaining distance between them, touching her  lips, ever so gently, to his before pulling back. A soft moan  rose in her throat as she moved back in. Lips gently probing,  questioning, as heat flooded through her body. Still... Although  it took everything she had, she managed to break the kiss. "I..."  Her voice trailed off when her eyes again met his.

"Do you love me?" Clark asked.

"I..." She searched his eyes. He was crouching before her,  completely open, completely vulnerable. He'd laid it all on the  line. Amazing, especially given the number of times she'd pushed  him away since they'd first met. And the way he was looking at  her... making her feel as if she was the only woman in the world.  Her heart responded. Yes. She did love him - probably more deeply  than she had ever loved anyone in her entire life. Was it real?  At the moment, it sure felt real. She broke eye contact. "Oh,  god, I do love you, but..."

His lips were again on hers, cutting her off.

"Clark..."

"Be fearless."

"What?"

"Lois, I know you know the meaning of being fearless. I saw it so  many times over the last few days. Do you think this doesn't  scare the hell out of me? I'm hopelessly in love with a woman who  has done her best, over and over again, to push me away. I'm  scared. But... I think that this... whatever it is between us is  worth the risk. I guess... I guess what I'm asking is that you  show some of that fearless spirit with us. Risk your heart. Take  a chance on me... on us. I can't promise you it will work out.  But I really believe it's worth the risk."

"You're worth the risk," she corrected with barely more than a  whisper.

"Lois..." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her once again.

She let out one small breath, conceding defeat before responding  to his actions. Her hands snaked up his chest and around his neck  as he dropped to his knees between her legs, pulling her closer  to make his body one with hers.

Finally, he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers.  "You're really high maintenance, you know that?"

She smiled. "But I'm worth it."

He moved away far enough to look into her sparkling eyes. "Yes,  you are," he responded, kissing her once again. "So..." he began,  moving down to nibble on her neck. "...does this mean we're going  to try dating?" When she didn't respond, he looked up.

"On one condition."

"What?"

"You can't quit your job. Perry will kill me if you quit. Seems  to think you're a good reporter or some other such nonsense."

"Are you sure, Lois? Because I don't want you to..."

A slow smile lit up her face as he spoke. "Just kiss me,  lunkhead," she finally cut in.

"Lunkhead?"

"In the best sense of the word."

"There's a best sense to that..."

Clark's question was never finished because Lois, having grown  impatient with their banter, chose that moment to bury her hand  in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. One kiss quickly led to  two and soon the heat, the passion that had existed between them  since the moment of their first meeting could not be held back  any longer. Hands began to wander. Clothes mysteriously began to  come undone. His hands slid under her blouse and up the bare skin  of her stomach. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Lois," Clark whispered, pulling back. "Maybe we should just take  things..."

"Take me to bed, Clark," Lois said, cutting him off.

A rush of wind and they were in his bedroom. The boxes on his bed  were quickly pushed aside as they became lost in each other to  the exclusion of the rest of the world.

* * * * * * * * *

Lois woke to the sound of whooshing air. It took her a moment to  realize where she was - tucked snugly in Clark's bed. A glance at  the window told her it was the middle of the night. They'd spent  hours 'getting to know' each other. She grinned. Of course,  they'd reacquainted themselves with each other's bodies. But  then... she could still believe their talk. She might not know  how he squeezed his toothpaste or whether he remembered to put  the seat down on the toilet, but what she did know was that he  had one of the truest hearts of anyone she'd ever known. She only  hoped Perry hadn't fired them both for disappearing all day. She  stretched and sighed. Clark must have heard a call for help.

She still wasn't entirely sure all this was really happening. But  Clark had been right about one thing. She was willing to risk her  life for work, so why not risk it for love? And if what she was  feeling now was any indication... she really could get used to  this love stuff.

She couldn't believe how lucky she was. After everything she'd  done to push him away, he'd come back swinging, laying his  feelings on the line in an effort to get her to open her heart. A  grin quirked at the corners of her mouth as something she'd seen  years ago on The Bugs Bunny Show flashed through her mind. Pepe  Le Pew. 'Most men would get discouraged by now. Fortunately for  you, I am not most men.' Detective Reed would be proud.

In fact, at this moment, she wasn't entirely sure why she'd been  fighting this so hard. She might still have a lot to learn about  Clark Kent - and he about her. But what she did know was that she  absolutely adored him. It was almost as if her body had  understood that this was the real thing even before she'd allowed  her mind to accept it.

If they had met at a different time in her life, maybe things  would have happened slowly. Maybe she'd have taken the time to  really get to know him before allowing things to develop beyond  friendship. And maybe if they hadn't slept together, he'd have  been slower in admitting his feelings for her as well. Still,  none of that mattered now. They might have taken things further,  faster than she was really comfortable with. And now they might  be struggling to catch up. But she had no intention of walking  away from what she suspected was the best thing to ever happen to  her.

Growling slightly, she shifted positions as she allowed herself  to think about his embarrassed confession after they'd made love.  She'd been lying across his chest, completely overwhelmed. So  overwhelmed, in fact, that she couldn't recall the exact wording  of what she'd said. But she did remember the essence of it - some  question about where he had learned to make love like that. The  way he suddenly shifted beneath her had brought her head up so  that she could look at him.

"Clark?" She hadn't been entirely sure what she'd said wrong.

"I know that after..." He made an erratic gesture to the two of  them. "...you've got no reason to believe me. It's just... Well,  before us I'd never actually..."

"Never actually... what?"

"You need to understand. I'd... dated.  But... that thing? The  intimacy threshold?  The big threshold." He had emphasized the  word 'big.' "Until our first night together, I'd never  actually... crossed it. I'd stepped right up, gotten a good look,  but..."

"Omigod." Lois could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"I'm not exactly normal.  So I had always asked myself, do I  really belong?  Am I supposed to have a life with someone or...?"

"Omigod." Couldn't she find something else to say? But for some  reason she couldn't quite wrap her mind around the concept.  Although, thinking back now, he had let her take the lead that  first time. At the time she'd just thought he was letting her do  what she wanted... needed. But now... wow!

"Lois, are you listening?  'Cause I'm kind of pouring my heart  out here."

"Huh? Oh right. It's just..." Words failed her. "But... oh, god.  Did I... Were you waiting for marriage or something? Did I take  that from you? 'Cause it just never crossed my mind that you... I  mean, I didn't think that... Why didn't you tell me to stop?  'Cause I would have..."

Her comments where cut off when Clark suddenly rolled her over  beneath him and took her breath away with a kiss. When the kiss  finally broke, she could hardly remember her own name, much less  what she'd been saying.

"I didn't stop you because I was already in love with you. Lois,  you're the woman I've been waiting for. I have loved you from the  beginning."

Her heart felt as if it had come to a complete stop. There had  been no choice in how to respond. She'd pulled him back to her,  kissing him with an abandon she hadn't allowed herself to give  into before. And this time, when they'd made love... Lois hadn't  realized how complete an experience it could be. It wasn't just  physical. It was spiritual. Body, heart and mind all joined  together in her love for this man.

She heard another rush of wind and smiled. He was back. She  watched as he walked into the room in his red, yellow and blue  suit. He stopped when he realized she was awake. She could tell,  by the sheepish look on his face, he still felt a little  embarrassed about the suit. She sat up slightly, allowing the  sheet to slip further down her body, instantly wiping the look of  embarrassment from his face.

"You coming back to bed?" she asked.

A rush of wind and a whirl later, he was in bed beside her. She  burst out laughing, only to have that laugh turn to a moan when  he began nibbling at her neck. Oh yeah. She really could get used  to this love stuff.

* * * * * * * * * THE END * * * * * * * * *

EPISODES FOR THE 'NAME THAT EPISODE' GAME (Rules explained at  beginning of story):

1-01 Pilot part one -

1-02 Pilot part two -

1-03 Strange Visitor -

1-04 Neverending Battle -

1-05 I'm Looking Through You -

1-06 Requiem For A Superhero -

1-07 I've Got A Crush On You -

1-08 Smart Kids -

1-09 The Green, Green Glow of Home -

1-10 Man of Steel Bars -

1-11 Pheromone, My Lovely -

1-12 Honeymoon In Metropolis - 1

-13 All Shook Up -

1-14 Witness -

1-15 Illusions of Grandeur -

1-16 The Ides of Metropolis -

1-17 Foundling -

1-18 The Rival -

1-19 Vatman -

1-20 Fly Hard -

1-21 Barbarians At The Planet -

1-22 The House of Luthor -

2-01 Madame Ex - 2-02 Wall of Sound -

2-03 The Source -

2-04 The Prankster -

2-05 Church of Metropolis -

2-06 Operation Blackout -

2-07 That Old Gang of Mine -

2-08 A Bolt From The Blue - 2-09 Season's Greedings -

2-10 Metallo -

2-11 Chi of Steel -

2-12 The Eyes Have It -

2-13 The Phoenix -

2-14 Top Copy -

2-15 Return of the Prankster -

2-16 Lucky Leon -

2-17 Resurrection -

2-19 Target Jimmy Olsen -

2-20 Individual Responsibility -

2-21 Whine, Whine, Whine -

2-22 And The Answer Is... -

3-01 We Have A Lot To Talk About -

3-02 Ordinary People -

3-03 Contact -

3-04 When Irish Eyes Are Killing -

3-05 Just Say Noah -

3-06 Don't Tug On Superman's Cape -

3-07 Ultra Woman -

3-08 A Chip Off The Old Clark -

3-09 Super Mann -

3-10 Virtually Destroyed -

3-11 Home Is Where The Hurt Is -

3-12 Never On Sunday -

3-13 The Dad Who Came In From The Cold -

3-14 Tempus, Anyone -

3-15 I Now Pronounce You... -

3-16 Double Jeopardy -

3-17 Seconds -

3-18 Forget Me Not -

3-19 Oedipus Wrecks -

3-20 It's A Small World After All -

3-21 Through A Glass, Darkly -

3-22 Big Girls Don't Fly -

4-01 Lord of The Flys -

4-02 Battleground Earth -

4-03 Swear to God, This Time We're Not Kidding -

4-04 Soul Mates -

4-05 Brutal Youth -

4-06 The People v. Lois Lane -

4-07 Dead Lois Walking

Table of Contents

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

Part 01

Part 02

Part 03

Part 04

Part 05

Part 06

Part 07

Part 08

Part 09

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26